#(related: this happening just after jonathan dies oh my heart)

[mias-deardens]

Jor-El is almost always framed as this older man, with at least some salt-and-pepper hair going on to highlight his age and wisdom, but the more I think about it, the more I want to see a young Jor-El.

Like imagine Clark building/going to the Fortress for the first time, and he’s in his early-mid twenties, and he sees the Jor-El hologram. Clark sees himself just after graduation.

And Jor-El, he’s brilliant, sure, but the scientists’ guild on Krypton doesn’t listen to his warnings cause they see him as a kid. And he can’t even put together a good argument because he hasn’t been taught to make one to the guild yet and he can’t keep his emotions in check when he tries and just sounds hysterical.

Or maybe they play it the way they did in My Adventures with Superman, where Clark hasn’t even hit double digits yet and sees this overwhelming, domineering figure and is terrified. Then he goes back years later and that menacing, war-hardened face is actually just as scared and inexperienced as he is.

And whatever knowledge is embedded in the Fortress and the AI comes out sounding wise and omniscient cause that’s how it’s supposed to be delivered, but words that actually come from Jor-El, his hopes and dreams for his son, his depiction of Krypton’s end, they’re all filled with emotion and character and little verbal and physical tics and habits that make it so much clearer to Clark that there’s no grand plan. He wasn’t sent to Earth to save it or conquer it or teach them.

He was sent to live, by a terrified young man who just wanted to give his son the chance to do so.

[incorrectbandofbrothersquotes]

Dear Heart - Chapter 10

Dick Winters x Melanie Davis

Summary: Melanie Davis is a nurse from North Carolina who has lived a sheltered life since her father died. Her father’s best friend, Colonel Sink, invites her to experience more as a regimental nurse for the 506th PIR of the 101st Airborne. She embarks on the adventure of a lifetime.

Tag list: @thoughpoppiesblow​​​​ @primusk​​ If you’d like to be added, let me know!

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: First of all, sorry this update took so long! I’ve got a new OC to introduce here and I wanted to get her right. I hope you guys enjoy Juliet as much as I do :) Thank you again to @mercurygray​​ for being a wonderful beta reader, as always <3 

Warning(s): None for this one :)

Chapter 1  Chapter 2  Chapter 3  Chapter 4  Chapter 5  Chapter 6  Chapter 7  Chapter 8  Chapter 9

Chapter 10 here we go!!!

Haguenau, with its slushy streets and unpredictable explosions, was a welcome reprieve from the hellish woods of the Bois Jacques. The improvements were small, but they had roofs over their heads, food in their bellies, and rumor had it that later there would be showers. Unfortunately, danger still lingered close by - right across the river. 

Melanie slipped and slid all the way to the company CP to check on Lipton. She was keeping an eye on his pneumonia so he wouldn’t have to go to the hospital. Dick had objected to this at first, but she assured him she could manage. Lip was too valuable to leave the company now, and Dick couldn’t argue with that. 

When she arrived, she saw Webster - clean and fresh from the replacement depot. She nearly did a double take when she spotted him. Holland felt like years ago now. Though he looked much the same as he did then - a handsome young Harvard man. 

“Oh! Hello, David,” she said pleasantly. “Glad you could join us.”

“Thank you,” he returned earnestly, for he knew she was the only person who said that without any sarcasm behind it. “How are you, Melanie?” 

“Oh, just fine,” she said. “How’s the leg?”

“Good, thanks,” he replied. 

Melanie had tended to him herself. It was a flesh wound, so she didn’t need a doctor. Just disinfectant, stitches, and a bandage, and he was good as new. She offered to cover for him if he wanted to get back to the line, but he refused. Now that she had seen combat first hand, she couldn’t say she blamed him.

She turned her attention back to Lipton. “Now, Lip, can I ask you to set those papers down at least long enough for me to take your temperature?”  

Lip nodded and let the papers in his hand fall into his lap. Luz pulled up a chair for her. She thanked him and took a seat while the thermometer did its work. She leaned closer to feel Lip’s forehead, which was still burning up. 

The temperature climbed and she frowned. “Still a fever. How’s the cough?”

“It’s okay,” he said, but then lost himself in another fit.

While she waited, another new face entered the room. A lieutenant she did not recognize. He introduced himself as Jones, and explained he was looking for Captain Speirs. As if summoned by the mention of him, the new Easy CO appeared. Melanie wasn’t quite sure how she felt about Speirs yet. There was no denying he was successful, but there was something frightening about him. He was so...intense. And she’d heard the rumors about what he did on D-Day, though she didn’t know if she believed them. Even having spent more time around him, she couldn’t make up her mind about whether he was capable of it or not. 

Lip began to introduce Jones, but Speirs cut across him. “Listen, for Christ’s sakes, will you go back in the back and sack out? Lieutenant, tell him he needs to be in bed.”

One thing Melanie appreciated about Speirs was his indifference to her presence in regard to her gender. Ever the practical leader, he seemed to just appreciate that she was there. Man or woman, if there was help, he took it. She did wish he would call her Melanie, but that sort of familiarity took time. 

“I can’t order him around, Captain, but I do agree with you,” she said, casting a stern look at Lip. 

“I will, sir,” Lip said to Speirs. “I was just trying to make myself useful, sir.”

“You can do that by listening to the nurse,” Speirs replied.

“And you won’t be useful to anybody unless you get better,” she added. “Do try and get some rest.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said tiredly. 

“Very good,” she said, patting his arm. “I’ll come back by and check on you later.” 

With Lip seen to, Melanie headed back to her billet. Now that they weren’t cut off, she had a stack of letters from her mother to sort through. She had only made it through about half of them so far, and though their contents steered more and more toward questions about her and Dick, she was eager to hear the news from home. She also had a few letters from her friend Rose, so when her mother’s letters got to be too much, she had something to fall back on. 

When the first letter from her unread stack from Lilian began with a question about Dick and his intentions, Melanie gave up. She could never make her mother understand what was between her and Dick, and so there was no use trying to explain it. She picked up Rose’s letter and began to read. She made a face at its contents. 

“Bad news?”

Melanie looked up to see Dick in the doorway. For a fleeting second, she took absurd notice of the bit of scruff on his face and admired it. He looked rather devil-may-care. So much so that for a moment she forgot her distress entirely. She shook her head to clear it, set the letter down, and nodded sadly. 

“I’m afraid so,” she said. “My friend, Rose...her husband is missing somewhere in the Pacific.” 

“This is your high school friend?” he asked. 

Melanie so rarely spoke about her loved ones back home, but she had mentioned Rose more than once. Rose was married to Patrick, a Marine. They had a little boy, Jonathan, and Melanie was his godmother. She nodded again.

“Yes,” she said. “Oh, how awful…Poor Rose…”

“I’m sure he’ll turn up,” Dick said, trying to sound convincing. “Could be captured.” That was certainly wishful thinking. He’d heard that the Japanese rarely, if ever, took prisoners. But he wouldn’t poison Melanie’s mind with that information.

She didn’t reply for a long moment, her eyes fixed on the letter, deep in thought. Then she sat back against her chair and sighed. Almost dreamily. His brow furrowed as he watched her. She turned her face to look out the window, and the light illuminated the bruises that still faintly clung to her skin. 

“This might sound like a horrible thing to say,” she said. "But you know, I sort of envy her. Husband, baby. Everything is...decided, it’s there. I know deep down that it worries her, having Patrick gone, but I...I envy that she had those things to lose." She looked at Dick. "Does that make sense?"

He knew exactly what she meant. Dick listened to the way some of the other men talked about their wives, and he did sometimes feel a little jealous that they had someone who was so counting on their return. True, it made the stakes higher - his frequent reasoning for not admitting his feelings to Melanie - but there was a certain beauty about that risk. 

“It makes sense,” he told her. “And I think it’s only human. She may envy you that you get to be part of the action, while she has to stay behind. Or that you don’t have something so heavy to worry about.”

Melanie considered arguing this. If anything happened to Dick, she’d be devastated. But of course, that was not something she could say. And besides, he was not her husband. Losing him would not put her in the same position as Rose socially. She would only have comparable heartbreak. She decided to change the subject, distraught at the very idea. 

“Did you need something?” she asked. 

“Yeah,” he said. “There’s a patrol tonight. Sink wants you and Roe on standby in case of any casualties.”

“A patrol?” she questioned. 

He nodded, his own displeasure at the idea clear in the slight downturn of his mouth. She wished there was something she could say to comfort him, but unfortunately, they both knew it was no good. 

He explained the basics. Fifteen men from Easy Company would cross the river and try to capture a few Germans they knew to be residing in one of the buildings near the shore. Hopefully, they would have information to help the Allies push further into Germany. Melanie didn’t think the risk was worth it, but she didn’t have to say so. She knew Dick felt the same. But orders were orders. 

“Alright, I’ll try and have some things prepared,” she said with a sigh. If she had time, she might have gone to Colonel Sink to ask him about this patrol and if it was really necessary, but it seemed decided. “Would you like me to come to the briefing?” 

“Up to you,” he said. “I was just going to tell you to get some sleep while you can. Patrol sets off at 0100 hours.” 

She expected him to go then, but he lingered, looking at her as if there was something on the tip of his tongue. She searched his face for what it might be. 

“Is there anything else, Dick?” she asked.

There was, but he wouldn’t say it. Truthfully, he felt he related to Rose. After almost losing Melanie to a crumbling building, and wondering what she’d been through before those five days in the woods (which he still wondered), fearing that whatever it was had cost him his closeness to her, he realized he had done a lot more worrying about her lately. He was at the relative safety of battalion, while she had taken a position much closer to danger. The tables had certainly turned since D-Day. 

He shook his head. “No, that’s it. Get some rest. I’ll see you later.”

He turned to leave, but was blocked by the appearance of a striking blonde woman. He stopped just before colliding with her, his surprise evident on his face.

“Crikey, sorry!” she gasped. She was English, based on the accent. “My fault!”

Melanie’s brow furrowed with confusion as Dick shuffled out of the way of the newcomer and her face came into view. She was beautiful with thick, wavy blonde hair, eyes the color of rain, and an enchanting smile. She clearly wasn’t military since she was in civilian clothes. Her presence was all charm and warmth, from the second she entered the room. 

“Juliet Fletcher,” she said, extending her hand. “You’ll have to excuse the sweat, I walked all the way through town. You wouldn’t believe how difficult it is to get a cab out here.” 

Melanie and Dick both chuckled and shook the woman’s hand. “I’m Melanie Davis, and this is Captain Dick Winters.”

“I see I’ve made it to the right place,” Juliet said. “I’m a reporter with the London Pursuit, and Colonel Sink said I can bunk with you while I cover the regiment.”

Melanie blinked, surprised by Colonel Sink allowing a war correspondent - especially one who was both female and English.  

“Most of my colleagues went to cover our own lads, but I thought I’d see what the Yanks are up to,” Juliet continued. “I hate to be unoriginal.”

Melanie and Dick exchanged an amused glance as Juliet stepped further into the room and set her bags down. 

“I promise you’ll be glad of the company,” she said. 

“Why do you say that?” Melanie asked, curious. 

“Well, there can’t be too many other women out here,” Juliet said. “With all the whistles I got on my way here, I’m quite certain we stand out.”

Melanie smiled again, feeling seen. Though the men knew better than to whistle at her. She thought it was out of respect for Colonel Sink, but really most of the men understood Melanie to be Dick’s girl, whether Dick and Melanie were aware of it or not. 

“I’ll let you get settled,” Dick said, then he turned to put his hand on Melanie’s shoulder. “I’ll see you later.”

“Of course,” Melanie replied, her gaze lingering on him just a moment longer. Her eyes flicked down to the stubble on his chin again for one last look at it. 

“Nice to meet you, Juliet,” he said, and then he was gone. 

Juliet glanced between where Dick disappeared and Melanie’s face. “You two seem rather smitten, is he your boyfriend?”

Melanie flushed. “Oh, no, nothing like that.”

“Would you like him to be?” Juliet asked. 

The pink in Melanie’s cheeks deepened. “Well - I mean, I care for him, but -”

“What’s the matter?” Juliet pressed. “Family doesn’t approve?”

“We’ve never met each other’s families, so -”

“Oh, is he married?”

“No, he’s -”

Juliet’s nose wrinkled as she interrupted again. “Does he want you to do unusual things in the bedroom?”

The color drained from Melanie’s face and her eyes went wide as an owl’s. “No!”

“These are just routine questions,” Juliet said. 

“Are they?” Melanie wondered, shocked. 

“Of course,” Juliet answered, appearing completely earnest. Until she burst out laughing, which put Melanie at ease. “I’m joking, Melanie. We only just met, I’d never ask what your boyfriend likes in the bedroom. Unless of course you need to talk about it, in which case, I’m all ears.” 

Melanie blinked. She hadn’t met many reporters so she wondered if they were all as fast-paced as Juliet, whose mind seemed to run a hundred miles a second. She felt like she should be offended by the remarks, but she wasn’t. She found it all a bit silly. Which she appreciated after the news from Rose and the impending patrol. Juliet was like sunshine in this bleak and gray winter. She retrieved a cigarette from the box in her pocket, struck a match, and lit it, taking a long drag, and looking very graceful in Melanie’s opinion. 

“Dick and I are strictly platonic,” she said. “But I appreciate the offer for a confidant.” 

“Anytime,” Juliet said with a puff of smoke around the word. “I hope we can be friends.”

“Me too,” Melanie agreed. 

“Seriously, I don’t have any friends,” Juliet said. “People hate reporters.”

Melanie softened. Juliet was not teasing now, she was being honest. Melanie saw it in her eyes, the loneliness.

“I assure you, I have no such prejudice,” Melanie said. “Now, what can I do to help you settle in?”

Juliet had packed light, which was to be expected. But she had brought along her typewriter, which Melanie was surprised Juliet was able to carry at all. It was heavier than lead, and would have had Melanie tipping over if she tried to travel with it. As they got Juliet set up, they got to know each other more. Melanie did enjoy being in the company of a woman again, and the friendship she felt reminded her of her time with Renee and Anna, who she missed a great deal. Juliet explained that she had met some of the 101st before while they were in Aldbourne, which was part of what drew her to covering their unit now. 

“You didn’t make any friends?” Melanie asked. “I’ve found our boys to be rather friendly, especially with beautiful women.”

Juliet smiled. “Oh, they were perfectly kind. But it is hard to keep up once they’ve shipped out.”

“I understand,” Melanie said. “Why, my friend back home - her husband is in the Pacific and she gets so impatient for his letters. Of course now, he…” she trailed off, reminded once more of Patrick’s danger and Rose’s heartache. 

“Was he killed?” Juliet asked. 

Melanie shook her head. “Missing.”

“Crikey, I don’t know which is worse,” Juliet said. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“That’s not the only bad news,” Melanie confessed, and explained about the patrol. Juliet listened carefully, brow knitting over her eyes as she took it in. 

“It’s quite risky,” she remarked. “From what I’ve read, the war’s supposedly almost over.”

Melanie bit back a scoff. “Not quite. I wish it were, though. These men have been through enough.”

“You have too, I expect,” Juliet said. “Were you with them in Bastogne?”

“I was for the last week or so,” Melanie told her. “And I barely made it through that little.”

Melanie shuddered to recall those days. Not only because of the grueling nature of the battle, but also her distance from Dick. Things were beginning to get back to normal between them, but she could feel that he was still curious. She appreciated that he wouldn’t push her, but it made her feel guilty to keep something from him. 

“I’d love to get your story, if you’re up to sharing,” Juliet said. “I’m sure you’ve got a unique perspective.”

“I’m sorry, but I’d rather not,” Melanie told her. “If anyone’s voice deserves to be heard, it’s the men who were out there for weeks.”

Juliet shrugged. “I understand. I hope you know your voice matters too, though.” When Melanie didn’t reply, she continued. “Besides, I’m more interested in this patrol you mentioned. D’you think I’d be allowed at the briefing at least?”

Melanie pondered this, grateful for the change of subject. “We can certainly ask Dick. Or Easy’s CO, since that company will be executing the operation.”

“Great! When can I meet him?” Juliet wondered. 

Melanie admired Juliet’s eagerness. “I’ll be going by the company CP this afternoon to check up on Sergeant Lipton. Come with me, and I’m sure we can find out.”

“Perfect!”

The girls set out for something to eat. And Juliet was constantly making Melanie laugh. Not because Juliet was necessarily trying to be funny, but her remarks were unusual and amusing. Melanie felt like she’d been sent a sweet blessing - she couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed this much. This winter had been the hardest of her life, and not only because of the weather. So much had happened to her. But now she felt like spring was right around the corner. 

Neither Dick nor Speirs were at the CP when Melanie and Juliet stopped by, and Lipton was about the same as far as his illness went. Melanie introduced her new friend, and Lip was welcoming to her. Melanie once again stressed his need for rest, and he promised her he would sleep within the hour. 

“I think Winters and Speirs are out by the river,” he told them. “They’re checking things out for the patrol.”

“Thank you, Lip,” Melanie replied. “We’ll go find them.”

She turned to go, but quickly realized that Juliet was not following her. The reporter was glued to her spot, and some of the color had drained from her face. She looked...rather frightened. 

“Did you say...Speirs?” she asked Lipton. 

He nodded. “Yeah. Captain Speirs has been our CO since Foy.”

She swallowed. Melanie’s brow furrowed. She guessed that perhaps Speirs was one of the people from the regiment Juliet met in Aldbourne, but judging by her face, it would not be a glad reunion. Juliet looked as if she were braced for impact. Melanie grew concerned. 

“I understand if you’re a little afraid of Speirs,” she said. “He’s -”

“Hey, I ain’t afraid of nothin’ except spiders, which is completely normal,” Juliet interjected, somehow both defensive and joking. She took a breath. “Okay...okay, you may see some things…”

Melanie immediately formed a hundred questions about that, but Juliet marched out of the building and into the street. Evidently, there would be no explanation of what Melanie might see upon finding Speirs. Melanie eagerly followed Juliet outside. She tried to strike up conversation again, but Juliet remained silent. Her eyes looked straight ahead, and yet, they were unfocused. Melanie gave up trying to talk before they finally reached the river bank, where Dick did in fact stand with Speirs, looking out at the water and the enemy on the other side. Melanie cleared her throat, and both men turned their heads. 

As soon as Speirs’ eyes landed on Juliet, the already thin air suddenly became colder and sparser. Melanie cast Dick a sideways glance and saw on his face that he felt it too. The tension was like a dam about to break. Juliet shifted uncomfortably under Speirs’ icy glare. 

“Hi, Ron,” she said quietly. “You look - you look good. I know you probably don’t think so, since - well, you know. Not that you were ever terribly concerned about things like that - I mean, that’s not to say you aren’t nice looking - I was just - you know what? I’m gonna stop now. You look well. War suits you.”

Juliet bit her lip, clearly regretting the last remark, but she didn’t try to correct herself again. Speirs did not reply. He only stared at her, his gaze alone seeming to order her away. Melanie stepped closer to Dick, for a shiver had gone up her spine. Beats passed in strained silence. 

“I wrote to you,” Juliet went on. “Several letters. Did you -”

“I didn’t read them,” he cut across her. His tone and expression were alarmingly blank.

She swallowed the sting of it. “That’s alright. I understand completely.” He continued to look at her in stony silence so she changed the subject again. “So, you’re a captain, now, are you? That’s nice! Congratulations!”

“Thank you,” he said hollowly. 

“You deserve it,” she said. “Really.”

Speirs did not answer that. He only scowled.

Dick leaned over to whisper in Melanie’s ear. “What is going on?”

“No idea,” she breathed back. “They’ve got some sort of history, but I don’t know what.” 

Dick only nodded and looked back at Juliet, who was becoming more and more despondent by the second. He decided to rescue her. 

“Did you two need something?” he asked, so the group could hear. 

“Juliet was wondering if she could be present at the briefing in order to cover the patrol tonight,” Melanie said, eyes darting between Speirs and Dick. 

“No,” Speirs said shortly. 

“Please don’t make this personal, Ron,” Juliet sighed. “My editor is really counting on me getting a story out here, and -”

“Well, she fucked up, Jules, she trusted you!” he snapped. 

Juliet blinked, taken aback and wounded by the biting reply. Melanie got the distinct feeling Speirs was not talking about the story when it came to a breach of trust. Her mind was swirling with questions now. How did Juliet and Speirs know each other? What had happened to make him hate her so much? And could it be fixed?

Speirs took a deep breath and let it go slowly, his shoulders relaxing as he exhaled. He looked at Juliet again. “Your mother, is she feeling alright?”

“Mhm,” Juliet said with a nod. “Yeah, much better.”

“Good,” he replied. 

With that, he walked off. Melanie was completely bewildered. Speirs seemed like he was about ready to spit at Juliet, but then he asked about her mother? It was all so odd and complex. Dick watched Speirs’ disappearing form. 

Melanie had a horrifying thought as she watched Speirs depart and Juliet’s expression sink. When two people miscommunicated, and things shifted between them, the relationship could easily come to a devastating and tragic end. Melanie examined the change in her and Dick’s relationship since Terry assaulted her. If she couldn’t find the courage to share with him, would they become like Juliet and Speirs? All hurt feelings and unsaid intentions? What would happen to them if she gave into her fears and didn’t trust him with her heart?

[feralnumberfive]

TUA Season 3 Wishlist

Hello everyone! Since Season 3 was announced to start filming in February of 2021, I thought that it would be fun to make a wishlist of songs that anyone would like to see in the new season. I'm quite passionate about music and often think of songs that I personally believe would fit the show well. I know a lot of others do this too and thought that it would be fun to share our beloved songs with the fandom!

Guidelines/Information

You may submit as many songs as you want!

You may submit them to my ask box or send me a message (I don’t bite!)

You may request not to have your username by your song(s) but if not I your username will be attached to your song(s).  | Ex. “Help!” by The Beatles @feralnumberfive   OR   “Help!” by The Beatles “Anonymous” 

The songs don’t have to be by the original artist. If you’re submitting a special version or cover of the song, please specify that

Feel free to attach scenarios for your song(s)! They can be as brief or as detailed as you want them to be, but please try to keep it to one paragraph or less for your explanation | Ex. “Teenagers” by My Chemical Romance ((Scenario: Five killing tons of enemies. He’s gone mad with anger and glee. The horror of those being slaughtered, seemingly by a teenager)) |

Some lyrics really hit hard, y’know? Similar to the scenario guideline, feel free to submit a song and lyrics from that song that you think would match a character/specific scenario | Ex. “Evil Woman” by Electric Light Orchestra (I think the lyrics, Evil woman how you done me wrong, but now you’re tryin’ to wail a different song, would match Diego’s mixed feelings on Lila if she returns in S3)

It’s not required that you have a scenario/lyrics with your submitted song(s), so no pressure! Some songs just give off good vibes that fit with the atmosphere of the show. You can even submit songs and simply say (This gives off “Character name” vibes)

You can even just name a band! Some bands have tons of bangers that just match the vibes of TUA or of a TUA character

The scenarios don’t have to be serious, they can be odd or fun!

If a song is requested more than once, I will add the amount of times it was requested in parenthesis next to it 

If you see a song on the list that you really like, you can send (+1 for “insert song title here”) and I will add a tally to it

If you see a song on here that does or does not have scenario/lyric(s) and you think “Oh yeah I can imagine a scenario/lyric(s) for this!” go ahead and speak up! If requested, I will add your username to the scenario you created. If you’re not comfortable with having your username next to your scenario, I will simply put you as “Anonymous.” Same thing with the username and “Anonymous” if you want to tack on that a song gives “Character name” vibes | Ex. Song by Artist “username of person who submitted it” (Scenario: blah blah blah) || (Scenario: blah blah blah) by “username” || (Scenario: blah blah blah) by “Anonymous” || (Lyrics: blah blah blah) by “Anonymous” || (This song gives of “Character name” vibes) by “username” |

This will be open until the Season 3 Soundtrack is released (It will be fun to see if any of the songs in this wishlist are actually on the official S3 soundtrack!) 

The guidelines will be updated as the wishlist progresses. Most of the time I won’t reply to the song requests sent through my ask box, but I certainly will add your requested song(s) to the list. If you see that I haven’t added your song(s) after updating the wishlist, please reach out to me. Don’t be afraid to ask me any questions! 

Here’s the Playlist created from the Wishlist

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6QRajb4Nap3hjjs2KcWQYc

Wishlist

Gimmie! Gimmie! Gimmie! by ABBA @feralnumberfive ((Scenario: Five rescuing his siblings))

Eleanor Rigby by The Beatles @feralnumberfive ((This song gives off Vanya vibes)) 

Rich Kids by New Medicine @feralnumberfive ((Scenario: The Hargreeves arrive in 2019 to find that they have been replaced. The Sparrow Academy quickly springs into action and attacks The Umbrella Academy)) 

Lonely by Palaye Royale @feralnumberfive ((Lyrics: | So sick and tired of being alone, so long, farewell, I’m on my own | I feel like these lyrics represent Klaus feeling alone due to his siblings ignoring him and him being a living person haunted by ghosts)) by @feralnumberfive 

Toxic by Britney Spears “Anonymous” ((Scenario: When they are all talking about Reggie))

girls by girl in red “Anonymous” ((Scenario: When Vanya is talking/thinking about Sissy))

WAP by Cardi B “Anonymous” 

Manic Monday by The Bangles “Anonymous” ((Because 4/1/2019 and 11/25/1963 were both Mondays, so the s3 apocalypse should be too))

Just the Two of Us by Grover Washington Jr. @feralnumberfive

Teenagers by My Chemical Romance @feralnumberfive | but really everyone in the UA fandom wants this | ((Scenario: Any fight scene with Five going ham))

Everybody Wants To Rule The World by Tears For Fears @feralnumberfive ((Scenario: Something sad))

Stayin’ Alive by the Bee Gees @feralnumberfive ((Scenario: The siblings get into deepshit™ and have to fight their way out of it))

Dear Wormwood by The Oh Hellos @feralnumberfive ((Scenario: Evil/Sparrow Five returns back to his family or Five struggles with his killer urges and impulses from his killer DNA))

Bit by Bit by Mother Mother @feralnumberfive

Lay Me Down by The Oh Hellos “Anonymous” ((Lyrics perfectly fit Five: “Fire and brimstone fell upon my ears, as their throats of open graves recited fear, like the bullets of a gun they drove my tears, and my feet to run the hell out of here”//“I was born a restless wayward child”//“I owe it to my brothers to carry them home”))

Vampire Money by My Chemical Romance "Anonymous" ((Gives off Klaus vibes))

Arms Tonite by Mother Mother @burnyouwithacigarettelighter ((Lyrics: | I died in your arms tonight, I slipped through into the afterlife, | Would totally fit anything to do with Ben’s death))

Oh Ana by Mother Mother @burnyouwithacigarettelighter ((Scenario: Any scene with Five just generally being a badass and/or the rest of the siblings!!))

Black Sheep by Metric  “Anonymous” ((Lyrics | Our common goal was waiting for the world to end, now that the truth is just a rule that you can bend you crack the whip, shapeshift and trick, the past again, | Which is SO five and anything about the commission or the apocalypse OR | I’ll send you my love on the wire, lift you up every time, everyone pulls away, from you,” | For luther/the siblings perspective on him.))

Everybody’s Gotta Live by Love @feralnumberfive​ ((Gives off Five vibes and also a bit of the siblings in general))

I’m Gonna Win by Rob Cantor @feralnumberfive ((All of the lyrics match Five so well))

Running In The 90's by Max Coveri/Maurizio De Jorio @latinofireball ((Scenario: For an Umbrella and/or Sparrow family dance))

The Sharpest Lives by My Chemical Romance @fandoms-or-life ((Scenario: Group fight))

Hayloft by Mother Mother @bi-ginny-weasley ((Gives off Five vibes and would be great in a fight sequence)) 

bad idea! by girl in red @pr-ingles 

Silver Lake Queen by Diplomacy @purplegrapefruit ((Scenario: Any woman-being-badass moment, bonus if it's all the girls and Klaus))

Blackbird by The Beatles (accidentally replied without getting your name, sorry about that feel free to reach out to me again :[ ) ((Scenario: I am really intrigued by the Sparrow in the comics who could turn into a flock of crows. I think Blackbird could be a good song for her. Especially since its about the yearning to be free which I think will come to pass with at least some of the Sparrow Academy members. It could be played in a moment when she is considering how trapped she and her team/siblings are under Reginald))

Cold Cold Cold by Cage The Elephant “Anonymous” ((Scenario: Maybe for a fight scene or the end of an episode when everything has gone tits up))

Daddy Issues by The Neighbourhood @b99detectivealpaca ((Scenario: Anything related to Reginald)) 

Footloose by Kenny Loggins “Anonymous” ((Scenario: Dance scene that will inevitably happen))

Girlfriend by Avril Lavigne “Anonymous” ((Scenario: Also for the dance scene that will inevitably happen))

Rät by Penelope Scott @sukker-sugar ((Scenario: Sth related to reggie, and specifically with the lyrics | Experiments and sacrilege in the name of public good | They taught me everything just like a daddy should |))

Time Warp (Cover from CAOS Soundtrack) by Ross Lynch, Jaz Sinclair, Lachlan Watson, and Jonathan Whitesell @theladyfae ((Scenario: A random scene in a club where everyone's dancing to it but then it cuts to the siblings fighting against multiple enemies))

Waiting For The World To End by Mother Mother @feralnumberfive ((Gives off Five vibes and the lyrics match him so well))

1983 by Neon Trees "Anonymous" ((Just gives off Season 3 vibes))

Skyfall by Adele @fudgemutt ((Scenario: For when the whole Umbrella family comes together and works as one, and specifically the lyrics | Let the sky fall, When it crumbles, We will stand tall, Face it all together, At Skyfall | ))

Dirty by Grandson @fudgemutt ((Scenario: An epic Five fight scene, and specifically the lyrics | Do you have enough love in your heart, to go and get your hands dirty? | ))

The Day Before You Came by ABBA "Anonymous"

Tiger by Abba @notmireelname

Tropical Loveland by ABBA @notmireelname

Twisted by Missio @feralnumberfive ((Scenario: Give loses his goddamn mind))

Heart Of Glass (Cover by Miley Cyrus) originally by Blondie @feralnumberfive ((Scenario: Five losing his mind and thinking about his family or something to do with Klaus cause it gives off Klaus vibes)) 

Without Me by Alec Chambers “Anonymous” ((Scenario: Five finally snaps at his family after they continuously blame him for their problems))

Something’s Gotta Give by All Time Low @enjoltairesimp ((Scenario: A badass fight scene, preferably one that includes Diego))

Any songs created by Mother Mother (not a song, just a statement) @enjoltairesimp because it would be amazing 

Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds by The Beatles @enjoltairesimp ((Scenario: A reunion scene with Klaus and Dave)) 

Music Of The Night by Andrew Lloyd Webber (either version from the Musical or Movie) @feralnumberfive ((Scenario: Five either turning to the dark side or being convinced to do something "bad"))

A Good Song Never Dies by Saint Motel @life-needs-abit-of-madness ((Vibe of the song is so good)) 

Hotel California by Eagles Everyone in the UA fandom ((What else do we need to say? S3 will match Vol. 3 Hotel Oblivion of the comics. It's an absolute killer bop that needs to be in S3))

Cold Cold Man by Saint Motel @life-needs-abit-of-madness

La Jolla by Wilbur Soot @sukker-sugar ((Scenario: Either someone dies (but like klaus in s1, they get resurrected) and we see this in the background while they talk to god, or we see the siblings lounging around and talking about what they'd do after the shenanigans™ are over with that in the background ))

When I'm Sixty Four by The Beatles @feralnumberfive ((Something with Five))

Just A Girl by No Doubt @feralnumberfive ((A badass scene of any girl character fighting//bonus if it's Allison or Vanya since they're the only two girls in the Umbrellas))

You're The Devil In Disguise by Elvis Presley @life-needs-abit-of-madness ((Scenario: A fight scene))

You Don't Own Me by SAYGRACE @give-the-boy-a-hug ((Scenario: Someone's walking away after a fight))

Ballroom Blitz by Sweet @feralnumberfive ((This would be soooo good for a fight scene with dancing or a fight scene in general))

Hand Me My Shovel, I'm Going In! By Will Wood and the Tapeworms @feralnumberfive ((Would be awesome for a fight scene))

My Generation by The Who @feralnumberfive ((Another fun song for a fight scene))

Hopelessly Devoted To You by Olivia Newton-John @feralnumberfive ((Either the siblings' or just Luther's feelings towards Reginald))

You’re The Best by Joe Esposito @feralnumberfive ((Scenario: Either Luther, Diego, or even the whole family having some sort of montage of overcoming their issues))

Rumor Has It - Adele @alex-mercerss ((because what better song for Allison to have playing for it, plus I’ve seen it mentioned a few times somewhere))

Show Me How to Move - The Elwins @alex-mercerss ((this is such a fight scene song no matter where you put it))

Really anything off of Let Live and Let Ghosts by Jukebox the Ghost @alex-mercerss​ ((half of this album was literally written about the apocalypse))

2econd 2ight 2eer by Will Wood and the Tapeworms @feralnumberfive ((Could absolutely imagine Five losing control and killing to this song))

As the World Caves In by Matt Maltese “Anonymous” (( I think it would be good where five is having a flash back to the apocalypse or he sees his family die but he cant do anything bc the cube is making his fear come out therefore it is just a hallucination))

I Heard A Rumor by Bananarama @uuhhhhwhat ((Scenario: A scene where Allison is sad and thinking about Ray and/or Claire))

There's a Good Reason These Tables Are Numbered Honey, You Just Haven't Thought of It Yet by Panic! At The Disco "Anonymous" ((Scenario: A Five fight scene))

Are You Satisfied by MARINA "Anonymous" ((could work for anything Luther related because the lyrics describe him so well))

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

S.T. REWRITE - S2:E9; Chapter Nine, The Gate - [Pt. 1]

A Will Byers x Reader Series

The survivors turn up the heat on the monstrous force that's holding Will hostage, and Y/n's powers are put to the ultimate test in the process. Eleven makes plans to finish what she started.

A/n: heads up, another ask the characters is coming up at the end of this book so if you plan on asking questions relevant to the plot I do ask you hold off until the rest of this episode. If you have just simple or silly non-plot related stuff I guess I don't mind taking them here 😊 thx for reading!

Also, the El/Dustin/Lucas reunion [and friendship tbh] is criminally underappreciated and always makes me cry happy tears. Same with El and Joyce. Always broke me, always will. Duffers, give me more. Also, Max blushed in this scene, and yall can @ me I don't care, but it happened.

||3rd Person POV||

Their feet shakily carry them across the floor to each other. Their hearts both stop as they gaze one another, both in their own unique form of shock.

"Eleven." Mike's voice barely tumbles out in a strained whisper.

Her smile grows bright at the sound of her name on his tongue, a sound she had missed all these months.

"Mike!" She gasps tearfully, and they collapse into a tender hug.

For a moment they relish in one another's embrace, not caring they have to stumble for balance as they cling to one another. More sniffles and tearful gasps spill from their lips as the others look on in a mixture of sadness and excitement filled shock.

Apart from Max, who's brows furrow above her widened eyes as she leans in close to Lucas in a whisper.

"Is that...?"

Dustin and Lucas nod silently, still in as much disbelief as the collective few.

Finally, but all too soon for the pair, Mike and El break apart.

"I never gave up on you," Mike swears. "I called you every night. Every night for--"

"353 days." She finishes softly, drawing out another look of shock on the boy. "I heard."

Despite the small but taunting thought that had always lingered in the back of her mind that told her otherwise, he does not get mad. He merely tilts his head in confusion.

"Why didn't you tell me you were there?" He asks gently. "That you were okay?"

Before she can form a proper sentence, Hopper speaks up from where he had previously stood rooted to the ground.

"Because I wouldn't let her."

Mike swivels on his heels to find Hopper looking back at him, solemnly. Mike stumbles back agape as Hopper glides forward, and gestures in waining and worn down stress over the girl.

"The hell is this?" He grumbles softly, relief flooding his voice. "Where the hell you been?"

"Where have you been?" She spits back, in an equally sounding failed attempt at anger.

His gun hangs limply at his side as he takes El into his embrace, who gladly accepts by coiling her arms around his large frame in content.

"You've been hiding her," Mike gasp gravely. "You've been hiding her this whole time!"

Everyone flinches as the Wheeler boy launches an unexpected attack on the chief. He jumps forward, throwing his weight into his arms as he shoves the man.

"Hey!"

He turns, knowing the fight this boy is going to attempt and grabs at his shirt to steady him. Mike fights against his effort briefly, but he can't hide the spark of fear in his eyes as Hopper towers over him.

Hidden amongst the stunned group, Y/n shuffles on her feet nervously as she witnesses the strength of Mike's wrath. And yet, numbly, her feet carry her forward to accept the damning sentence she always knew would befall her. Her guilt had grown thrice its size in the brief moments of Mike and El's reunion and she can keep the secret no longer.

Weakly, she tugs Mike away from the chief in half-hearted protest.

"Mike,"

Her voice comes out in a wavering and cracking demand and she has to try again to be heard over his cries of protest.

"Mike!"

Finally, he, rips his attention -and arm - away from Hopper's hold, and whips his head to snap at her. Her hand remains wrapped around his sleeved arm as if hoping her gentle touch will soften the blow. But even she knows it not make a difference.

"What?"

Her eyes flicker from him to Hopper and El in a frightened manner.

"What?!" He demands. "You can't seriously be defending him?! He hid her from us! He knew!"

The words she ached to say died on her tongue, though she knew now she didn't have to tell him. Her e/c eyes went glassy, her bottom lip began to quiver and his eyes suddenly shifted.

"No," he whispers, eyes jumping from El's new attire to towards hers as he shakes his head. The pieces had fallen into place. "No, you wouldn't...?"

"I'm so sorry, I-"

He rips his arm away from her in disgust and cradles it against his chest. The small act creates another crack in her heart as he looks at her in fury and loathing. Will already looked at her like this, and now Mike, too.

"What the hell is wrong with you people?!" He demands, glare flying between Hopper and Y/n. "What is wrong with you?!"'

"Mike, I wanted to tell you--"

"BUT YOU DIDN'T!" His anger is now fully directed at Y/n. "YOU DIDN'T TELL ME!"

It's Hopper's turn to tug Mike away from Y/n, but again, Mike violently rips himself away.

"It wasn't safe!" Y/n pleads.

"Bullshit!" Mike shoved the girl in front of him away.

"Mike-!" El interjects.

In his anger, Mike doesn't seem register her pleas. All of his attention - and pain - directed soley on Y/n.

She stumbled back, not surprised at such a harsh response but she tries to stay calm for the sake of everyone around her. Her hands begin to darken as heat bubbles to the surface.

"I can't believe you, Y/n!" A fresh batch of tears welled in his eyes but he dismissed hers. Unable to care.

He shakes his head, not knowing why he even bothers to ask but it slips out in a dark whisper. "How long have you known?"

Y/n takes a long, shaky deep breath. Her voice quivers as she speaks.

"The day Dart escaped, and... and right before the Mind Flayer got Will on the field."

His face twists into a bitter scowl. "Five days? You've known for five days?!"

"And it's been killing me, Mike! But she said it would keep you safe!"

"Killing you?! It's been killing you?! You think I give a shit? YOU LIED-!"

He storms after her again, ready to shove her but his hands never reach her shoulders. Her body tenses as he charges and a small, involuntary burst of energy explodes around her, protecting her.

He falls back in a yelp of pain, Hopper is able to catch the boy before he reaches the ground and everyone watching - those especially who hadn't previously known about Y/n's abilities - flinched in shock. Several items around her within a two-foot radius shook and even tumbled off the shelves and tables. Y/n looks at everyone and then back at Mike in a worried glance.

"Mike, are you okay? I didn't mean--"

"Get off me!" He swats at her outstretched hand and she flinches.

Hopper's fuse runs out and his voice comes out in a thunderous bark.

"Hey, hey! Alright!" He discards the gun against the wall. "ENOUGH!"

The two bickering friends falter at the volume of the man's voice and stumble back when he reaches for them. A firm hand on either of their shoulders, he looks them in the eye with a scowl.

"Enough." he seethes, prying Mike off of Y/n and begins pushing him in the direction of Jonathan's room. "Let's talk. Alone."

Everyone watches in surprise as the two storm off down the hall, now stewing in the shock of all that has unfolded in the past few minutes alone. El shuffles on her feet, her eyes trailing two of the three people she cares of most as they disappear down the hall, unable to shake the stress of her situation and the harm it inflicts on everyone.

"Protecting her! Protecting her?" Mike fumes.

"Now, Mike--"

"You guys really expect me to forget the fact that you two blatantly lied to my face that she was alive?"

"Mike--"

"For a whole year?!"

"ENOUGH!"

Mike's eyes widen suddenly in shock, it dissolves quickly but his anger does not. Hopper sighs, bringing a hand to rub at his eyes before shrugging at the kid with a hardened expression.

"You are going to listen to me, and you're gonna listen to me good. I kept her from you,"

He says to Mike admittedly, then gestures in the direction of the living room.

"and so did Y/n. And that sucks. I get it kid, but you have no idea what kind of consequences you and your family and anyone - including your friend -," he points to the door again, still seething with anger. "face just knowing she's alive. It is an IMMEDIATE and PERMANENT target on your back."

"Oh, what so I should be THANKING you?"

"I'm not asking you to thank me!" Hopper screams back, voice, and fuse straining. "I'm asking you to try and understand!"

"I don't! I don't understand!"

"That's fine. That's fine! Just do not blame her, she's upset enough as it is."

"I don't blame her! I blame you! I blame you!"

"That's fine, kid." Hopper spits through a fake smile, and he throws his arms up in surrender "That's okay. In fact, blame me for all of it. El, your friend, even this damn Mind Flayer, or whatever the hell else you can think of. That's okay with me, but--"

"NO! Nothing about this is okay! Nothing about this is okay!" Mike launches another attack on Hopper who stumbles back.

He eases his arms out, trying to calm the kid down. But Mike does not relent. All of his heartbreak and misery since the moment she disappeared in the cloud of ashes, to every moment of radio silence with his walkie. It all erupted out of him and he charged at Hopper, swinging punches left and right into his gut until he was backed up at the door.

"You're a stupid, disgusting-"

"Okay. All right!"

"-lying piece of shit!"

"Stop it! Stop it-"

Hopper makes a grab at the boy's arms, trying to calm him down.

"LIAR! LIAR! LIAR!"

"It's okay. Stop it!"

As he had with the Will just minutes ago, Hopper wraps his arms around the boy in a hug. And though Mike continues to cry out, his efforts against Hopper begin to weaken before fading out altogether.

"Liar! Liar! Liar!"

Mike is now collapsed into Hopper's chest and allows his cries to drain him completely. His tears streak his pinkened cheeks and stain Hopper's coat. All frustration with Mike evaporates completely and all that's left beneath is the fatherly instincts he had never let go of. He holds him tighter against his chest and lays his right hand on Mike's head with his chin buried in his hair.

"You're okay, kid." He whispers. "You're okay."

Mike's whimpers disappear into Hopper's chest though they still manage to coat the silence. Hopper holds the boy tighter, his hands rested gently against his shoulders and he whispers once more.

"I'm sorry, kid."

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

After their disappearance down the hall, El gladly found herself in the embrace of Lucas and Dustin. Like Mike and Y/n, they looked the same apart from the inevitable touch of time she noticed. They had approached her timidly, but each wore similar blinding grins. El has trouble battling a smile at them and to their surprise, she eagerly launched into a hug that they gladly accepted.

"We missed you," Lucas says.

"I missed you, too," she murmurs contently.

"We talked about you pretty much every day," Dustin says, and her small smile returns.

She pulls away to look at them, but her soft brown eyes widen when she notices Dustin's smile. Curiously, she reaches out to Dustin, poking her finger at his mouth as he pulls back confused.

"Teeth," she says.

"What?"

"You have teeth,"

Dustin and Lucas share a chuckle through their still matching grins. Dustin nods, smiling extra bright to show off his new set of teeth.

"Oh. You like these pearls?"

Dustin rolls his tongue in a purr, and El's eyes grow wide as saucers in concern. Lucas and Dustin chuckle in response. They had indeed missed their friend very much, especially her confusion and shock to most regular things.

"El?"

The boys parted for Max who approached her with a shy and eager smile.

"Hey, um," she blushed, extending her hand. "I'm Max. I've heard a lot about you."

El recognized now why the redhead was so familiar, and her gaze flickered to her outstretched hand. That small flame of jealously in the pit of her stomach licked at her heart again. Intentionally ignoring the gesture of the girl and the girl herself, she pushed past her, bumping her shoulder with Max. Max's blush darkened, this time in embarrassment and she looked at the floor in hurt.

El was more focused on the woman she had spotted across the room. The first adult to ever put El needs before anyone else, even if it meant finding her son would be next to impossible. The first person to ever treat and care for her as she was, not a weapon, but a child deserving of love and nurturing. The woman who now stood across the room with tears in her eyes, a quivering smile and arms open wide as if she was her own daughter.

She collapsed in Joyce's warm embrace and no sooner did they both burst into tears. El melted in her gentle and soothing touch, and an audible whimper escaped her when she felt Joyce's palms rub small and gentle circles in her back.

It was the cozy and safe motherly embrace she had longed for all her life.

"Hey," Joyce coos softly in her ear. "Hey, sweetheart."

Another small cry bubbles out of her mouth and for a moment she feels embarrassed for wetting Joyce's jacket, but Joyce doesn't seem to care. She pulls apart from El and strokes her cheek and hair lovingly. Instinctively, scanning the girls face for any signs of injury.

"Hey," she coos again, and El sniffles.

"Is he okay?" She whispers.

Joyce tilts her head, a crooked but sweetened smile forming at El's worry, and her thumb strokes her cheek one last time.

"It's not looking good, sweetie." El's face falls at the answer, and she fears she got here too late. Her eyes pick up again and begin scanning the room when she realizes her greetings aren't done.

Her eyes land on Y/n across the room who had fallen silent after her encounter with Mike. She was far in the corner, her hand picks at the ends of her sleeves and she looked up cautiously at El.

El turns and crosses the room to her best friend.

"Y/n..."

Y/n's eyes flutter around the room briefly, all too aware of the prying ears. Cautiously, her old name slips out. "El..."

For a moment they stew in silence, not knowing what to say and the others watch befuddled at their behavior. By now they know that Y/n had discovered El's survival, but that was all they knew. But seeing them together now, both dressed in similar bold outfits they were able to piece together the two had spent some time together in the past few days. Particularly, the rest of the party.

"You came back," Y/n muttered, surprised.

"I saw everyone in danger," El answered. "I had to come home."

Y/n's eyebrows twitched ever so at the word before frowning. Her eyes flicker behind El briefly at the others, to see if they were listening. To her relief, she saw Joyce send her an understanding smile before pulling the others away into the kitchen.

"I thought you were home. With your sister. Someone who understands you," Her words came out more bitter than she anticipated but she makes no effort to take it back.

"She does, Y/n. What it was like there... Something you won't ever understand."

A look of hurt flashed across Y/n's face and her eyes take her somewhere else. Anywhere that wasn't El. She didn't want her to see how upset she was.

"But that is good." She says gently, causing Y/n's eyes to flicker back at her before returning to the floor. "It was a bad place, and... it was not your fault."

Y/n now looks back at El, her brows still creased in a frown but at least she was showing she was listening.

"How I grew up. I don't blame you."

The Henderson girl's expression softened, but her frown still lingered. She seems to consider her words, and then her attention falls to the inside of her jacket. She begins digging inside and finally she pulls out the files. The words Missing Experiment scribbled on the front. El's stomach sinks, her lips creasing together in a nervous habit.

"Then why did you keep this from me? You know that I've been searching for answers, and you had them with you that whole time! Why?"

El shifts on her feet, and when she speaks she mentally scorns herself for her wavering voice.

"I was afraid."

Y/n shakes her head with a somber and disappointed look. "Afraid of what, Jane?"

Tears started to brim in El's eyes now, not only at her mistake and the guilt it brought but the sound of her name on Y/n's tongue. It didn't feel right. Jane didn't feel right. Not anymore.

She licks her lips nervously, before answering.

"That you would leave. That once you had them... you'd go back home and I... wouldn't be able to see you again."

"El-" Y/n stops, sighing at the floor as she shakes her head. Still not used to the name. She looks back to her friend. "Jane. I wouldn't do that. You're my friend, and I wanted to help you. I did help you!"

"The truck," El threw back with a quirked brow.

Surprisingly enough, Y/n felt a weak chuckle bubble up.

"There's a very good reason why I didn't want us to ride in a truck. But I told you, we could have found another way! A safer way,"

Why is Y/n so afraid of trucks? El wondered.

"All I'm trying to say, Jane, is that I wouldn't have turned around and left as soon as I got what I was looking for. Friend's don't do that. I wanted to find out about myself, sure, but I wanted to help you, too." Y/n explains in sad exasperation. "I wouldn't have just left you..."

"But... you did?" El asks confused.

"Because they said they wanted to get rid of me!"

El looked taken aback.

"That's what I was trying to tell you. They didn't want me there and they were going to get rid of me. Besides, I asked and you said you were going to stay... You understand why I couldn't, right?"

El nods looking to the floor. She takes a deep breath and looks back at Y/n, searching her eyes. She feels a tug at her heart.

"I'm sorry, Y/n."

The ends of Y/n's lips twitch into a soft smile. She inches forward, and for a moment El fears something bad will happen. Like Y/n will shake her head and leave. But she's delighted to find how wrong she was when Y/n pulls her into a hug.

"I'm sorry, too." She whispers.

Both girls begin to sniffle, drawing the attention of the others who had previously parted into their own conversations to give them some space. After a moment, they pull away.

"So," Y/n says, offering a hopeful grin. "friends?"

El felt as if all the weight she had held on her shoulders vanished, and something the girls both noticed now was a much stronger bond forming before their very eyes. This bond was only established and sealed forever by what El said next.

"Sisters."

They smiled brightly at one another, and El's quickly melted into a shy smirk.

"El." She says finally.

Y/n's expression fell into that of a confused frown.

"Huh?"

"El. Not Jane," she looks to the floor sadly before muttering. "Never was."

Y/n's lips molded into a sympathetic smile, and the pair met in another hug. El felt the warmth return, the warmth that had disappeared the morning Y/n had back in Chicago when Y/n mumbled contently into her ear.

"I'm really glad you're back, El."

They break apart, a soft look echnaged between one another with grins to match.

"Me too," El mutters.

Suddenly El's smile fell. It was replaced with a shocked look, and she turned to look between Y/n and where Joyce had dissapeared, the panic setting in.

"Will!" She says in a worried realization. "Can... I see him?"

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

El opens the door slowly to ease its creaking, and timidly she steps inside. Joyce and Y/n follow closely behind as El approaches Jonathan's bed that holds a sleeping Will. El kneels beside the sleeping boy, Joyce, and Y/n taking a seat on either side of the bed. El watches his chest steadily rise and fall, and she notes he is just as pale and weakened as he had been the last time she saw him in the void.

"H-He's not doing well," Joyce eases.

El hesitantly places a hand on his bedside, and she feels a small lump in her throat.

"I know," she mutters sadly. "I saw,"

Joyce and Y/n look to her in slight surprise.

"What else did you see?" Joyce asks.

El looks between her friend and Joyce, sadly. Her stomach begins to coil into several knots, and her hands began to clam up at the question. El recognizes the feeling all too well, it was the same feeling she'd get whenever she had to get into the bath. Or when Papa made her repeat words from men in different rooms, or when he asked her to hurt the poor cat. It was a feeling she had almost every second she was inside that lab, the room, or any time Papa was near. It was an awful sickly feeling, but as she looked at Will now, she knew.

It had to be done.

She knew what she had to do.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

El stood before the Byers kitchen table with Joyce and Y/n. Her eyes bore into the back of the notepad where the two words that sparked this dark feeling inside her were scribbled out in red.

CLOSE GATE

Y/n's eyes widen when she sees their translation for the first time. It dawned on her what Will had been telling them, and she recalls what El had tearfully admitted at the quarry just one year ago.

"The gate," she mumbles.

A look of realization hits Joyce, and she points to it eagerly. "You opened this gate before, right?"

El looks up and off to the distance, stuffing down her last bit of hesitation and she answers in a hoarse whisper.

"Yes,"

"Do you think you think if we got you back there, that you could close it?" Y/n looks worriedly back at El. The task was no doubt a large one for El to handle all alone, and though she knew it was likely their only hope, it made her fear for her.

What would happen to her? But then a simple thought crosses her mind, perhaps from the smaller corner of her mind that wanted to provide assurance and she asked herself.

It was just a gate right, surely it couldn't be that big?

Right?

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Black Lives still and always will matter! Please do what you can!

Text “ENOUGH” to 55156 or sign this petition to demand justice for Breonna Taylor

[Link]

NAACP #WeAreDoneDying Petition

[Link]

Sign the Movement for Black Lives' petition to push elected officials to fight against the militarization in communities of color:

[Link]

+++

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[troop-scoop]

Mistakes & Regrets V

Summary: When a trip to your Dad’s hometown of Hawkins goes wrong, you end up in the year 1983, and have to learn how to cope with being stuck in the past.

Pairing: Steve Harrington / Future!Reader (like, a really slow burn)

A/n: Italics are memories!

•••

You were scared, and alone.

The star and moonless sky sent chills up your spine, and the cold made you feel like it was winter. But this place didn’t have any seasons. It was just cold, and empty. And slimy.

It always felt like your feet were slipping whenever you tried to sneak around whatever those things were around you. They were terrifying, growling, and faceless.

And you made a big mistake, you’d ran away, you broke the rule of never going into the woods alone. This was on you. And you wanted nothing more for your phone to work. To be able to call your dad, either one of them. You wanted to apologize for being an idiot, for not being responsible.

You were hiding, holding your keys. They were too loud. All the keychains you had on it were jingling drawing attention. You were trying to take them off of the ring as quietly as you could, the first one to go was your Millennium Falcon keychain, quietly slipping it into your backpocket. The second was the Avatar keychain, that one being slipped into your hoodie pocket. You needed to seperate them, keep it so the jingle was no longer there. So you could get by them easier.

The last one you hesitated on. The rose quartz crystal keychain your brother had bought you from the dollar section in Target for your birthday. You didn’t really have an opinion of crystals, you thought they were pretty, so you kept it on your keyring.

You hesitated, before deciding against it, holding your pepper spray as if it would do anything, the pale pink can being gripped in your hand, fingers wrapped tightly around it, your nail polish a dark shade of purple, contrasting the pink, even in the dark.

“Could you find a way to let me down slowly.” You sang as quietly as possible, holding the keychain in your hand, trying to calm your down as much as possible. They’d seen you once. You didn’t want to risk it again. You’d lost your skateboard along the way, having dropped it the moment you saw one of those. . . things.

“A little sympathy I hope you can show me.” Tears were close to going down your cheeks as you grabbed your bag, holding it to your chest as tightly as you could. Your phone died a day before. And you’d been here a total of two. Evading the creature’s, never really getting a good look at them. Just knowing that they towered over you and looked emaciated, and their hands were huge, if you could even call them hands. They looked more like claws. And reminded you of the Windigo from that one video game whose name kept slipping your mind. And that’s what you called them, because that’s what they looked like, even if they weren’t because you knew these things had to be a different species, not a cannibal turned monster from Native American lore.

“If you wanna go then I’ll be so lonely.” Your low voice cracked a bit as your grip on the

sketchbook inside of your bag tightened. Your knees meeting your chest as you held the red material of the Jansport bag.

“If you’re leaving, baby, let me down slowly.” A loud noise came from down the street. Away from where you were hiding. Looking from the tree branches to the dark uninhabited houses you saw one of them moving. But you moved quicker. Hopping down from the tree and carrying your bag while you ran

•••

You didn’t know where you were going, you were pretty sure you were just running. Maybe there was something behind it. Some reason you were going towards the center of town, like a gut instinct telling you that you needed to go, run away from the motel you’d been living in for the past months.

The second the bowl had shattered and Linda snapped you out of it, you’d ran, going for your room again, and packing a few things you thought were necessary, and you went running down the street, it’d been 15 minutes now.

And at the end of those 15 minutes, you turned a corner, and almost ran straight into an older woman, who looked upset, and frazzled. An unreadable look on her face. But you knew it wasn’t a happy one. Maybe one of being deep in thought? Contemplation maybe.

It took everything in you not to call her what you knew her as, but you also knew that would get a strange look before she left. But as she steadied your by grabbing onto your shoulders, you grabbed her arms.

“Mrs. Byers! I was just looking for you.” Realization struck, your instincts telling you to run into town, where Joyce would be at the coroner's office, to tell her that Will couldn’t possibly be dead, because you were still there, you hadn’t disappeared like in all of those movies where something bad happens and someone was never born.

Or this could be like in Avengers, where something caused another timeline to happen. But then what would that mean for you? For the rest of your family here? For Will? Would he really be dead?

You refused to believe that. It didn’t feel right.

“I’m sorry? Do I know you?” Joyce looked more confused than she could have ever been in the entirety of her life.

“No, you don’t.” You spoke sadly, looking down to the ground, blinking away quick tears before looking back up to Joyce. “I’m new to Hawkins, just please listen, this is about your son-”

“If Jonathan told you anything-”

“There’s no way he’s dead!” You interrupted, grip on her sleeves growing tighter before she slowly pulled her hands away from your shoulders, eyeing you cautiously, almost as if you’d found out a secret.

“Wh-what?”

“You’re going to think I’m crazy, like, psych ward level crazy, like needing to be so heavily medicated that I wouldn’t be able to function normally-”

“Sweetheart, I’ve been the crazy one in town the past few days. I’ve seen it. . . What’s going on?”

You felt your heart swell a bit when she called you ‘sweetheart’ because that was what she’d always called you. Dad called you ‘baby’ and she always called you ‘sweetheart’. You blinked away more tears as you tried to muster up the courage to speak, but you couldn’t.

Carefully, and almost hesitantly, you pulled off your bag, and opened it. Taking out the large notebook and closing the backpack again, flipping to the page you were looking for, the image you and your dad had drawn together. You handed over the  sketchbook, and you saw her eyes widen a little as she looked down at the carefully drawn image.

“This is- this is Will’s Dungeons and Dragons character-”  

“Will the Wise, Right? A Cleric, a healer, he’s clever and smart, and he helps people! And that’s my character that he helped me make when I was nine, she’s a half-elf rogue, I named her after Elizabeth the first!” You explained.

Growing up, you played D&D with your Dad and uncles whenever they came to visit or you went to visit them. They weren’t actually related to you, but rather the kind of uncles that everyone else had, the uncles that were your parent’s best friends. They all helped you make your favorite character.

“When you were nine? Will’s only been playing with his friends for a year and a half? Right after he turned 11, he asked for the set for his birthday, there’s no way, and he doesn’t know you. He has three friends.”

“Check the date. Upper right hand corner.” You told her, watching as he eyes darted to the date on the paper, and you watched as her face fell before she looked back up at you.

“January 21st 2019? That’s. . . like 40 years from now-”

“36, actually.” You corrected quietly, a small shrug given when her face now turned into a scowl at how you corrected her.

“What are you saying?” She asked cautiously, flipping through the sketchbook. “I know I have no right to say someone else is crazy, I mean- I’m talking to Will through my christmas lights, you being from ‘2019’ sounds more believable.”

“There’s no way that Will’s dead, because I’m his daughter.” You admitted to her.

“Tell me something about him then. Only someone who knew him would know.” She demanded, closing the sketchbook and handing it back to you.

“He has a birthmark on his right arm, I had the exact same one, but then I burned myself on a pan, and it went away. . . Um- His favorite song, it’s ‘Should I Stay Or Should I Go’ from The Clash. Uncle Jonathan introduced him to it. Dad introduced it to me.”

Joyce’s face was once again, unreadable as she stared at you, eyes tracking over your face carefully, catching every detail, and everything that was asymmetrical. Everything that made you look like a Byers.

“Oh my God. You’re not lying.”

•••

“So, I’m your grandmother.”

You nodded as you grabbed the boombox, setting it down on the table, examining the christmas lights she’d put up around the house. It looked like something a crazy person would do. Put up this amount of christmas lights. And paint the alphabet on the wall.

“And you have two dads?”

You turned your head to her, giving her a look. You’d explained everything to her, how your dads had met, how you’d been conceived and born, how you’d grown up, and who your brother was. How close you were to your Uncle Jonthan, and that your favorite non-related uncle was Uncle Lucas, which sold her even more into the fact that you were really from the future, and were really her son’s daughter.

“Yes, I have two dads. But I’m biologically Will’s.” You explained once again.

“Okay.” She said quietly, taking the tape out of the boombox, rewinding it with a pencil. “Alright, one more question.” Joyce started again, making you sigh. “How’d you get here?”

You paused, looking down at your dirtied and almost ripped converse. You didn’t quite remember. All you could remember was running into the woods after getting away from Enzo’s, trying to take a short cut to the motel, and then you fell through the ground, into something cold, and gooey. What you imagined it would feel like to stick your hand into a dead body for an autopsy. But you didn’t remember anything after that. Just waking up, in dirty clothes laying on the ground in the woods, backpack on, skateboard gone. And you had gotten up, legs feeling weak, and wobbly, before you’d found yourself back in town, but it had all been different. You hadn’t realized that it had been a different century until you’d gone into Melvad’s and saw something with the expiration date of ‘November 28th 1983.’

“I don’t remember. But I remember I made a mistake, and I ran off. And I regret it. If I could take it back I would.” Looking back up you noticed she was looking up at you, sympathy written on her face, and you knew what she was thinking. And you knew that one day her sympathy or your situation would turn to empathy for your Dad. Who would be going through what she was now.

You reached down and pressed ‘play’ before standing up straight again, giving her a soft smile as you looked up at the lights. This was not the house you’d assume belonged to a perfectly sane woman. And yet, it did.

“Come on Will!” You yelled “Do your weird magic bullshit!” Joyce started a bit before standing up.

Banging came from the wall, and you turned your head to look over. Joyce stopped the music and went to the spot on the wall where the banging continued, with you following shortly after.

“Mom?”

Joyce gasped. “Will?”

“Holy shit.” You murmured

“Mom?” The boy asked again, banging on the walls continuously as if trying to get through. Something told you that it wasn’t as easy as Joyce thought it was by running outside while you placed a firm hand on the wall, nails digging into the wallpaper and peeling it away.

“Will?” You questioned.

“Where’s my Mom?”

“Will!” Joyce yelled, running back inside seeing that the wallpaper in her living room was ripped off and you were staring at what looked like a thin layer of skin. Maybe a membrane. You didn’t like it, and that feeling came back, of being on a roller coaster drop, but the drop never ending. It was a bit sheer, and you could see the outline of the small boy banging against the membrane.

“Mom!”

“Will! I’m here! I’m here!” Joyce yelled back.

“Hello? Mom?”

But when she put her hand over the membrane you froze up, standing and watching in terror, because all of a sudden, you knew how you got here, and the growling of something getting closer to Will made a shiver run through your entire body, goosebumps showing up on your skin.

“Mom, it’s coming!”

The image of what ‘it’ was was fuzzy, but you saw it, like a memory. Almost ten feet tall, and so skinny their bones protrude, and almost sickly pale, white skin stretched out over the body. And the claws. You could almost feel the scratch of one of them against the back of your neck.

Reaching a hand up to your neck you could feel a skinny and elongated bump in your skin

that had never been there. But it felt like a scab. Like a scab over a healing scar.

“Tell me where you are! How do I get to you?” Joyce cried, her hand over Will’s.

“It’s like home, but it’s so dark. . .It’s so dark and empty. And it’s cold! Mom? Mom!”

You couldn’t even attempt to hold back the tears that were burning at your eyes and making

your vision blurry as you could hear the echoes of your own voice, calling out for an older version of him, the version that knew you the entire time you’d been alone. You’d been scared, and freezing in just a t-shirt and pair of ripped jeans. Holding a broken skateboard that you’d landed on in your fall.

It came to you briefly, running into the woods after Pa had yelled at you at Enzo’s. But then the rain had gotten worse, turning into the thunder, and loud noises never really scared you, it was the lighting that was a little too close to you that had you running, searching for any way out, yelling and screaming for both of your fathers, for anyone.

And then you took one wrong step, in the wrong direction. And you fell into the ground, instantly feeling cold, and as if the temperature was going to kill you. It felt like falling through cold slime before you’d landed on your skateboard, breaking it in half.

Everything there had echoed, and it felt like the entirety of the town had been placed inside of an infinitely large and inescapable cave. You’d cried out even louder for your Dad, getting no response. You’d begged and pleaded for the nightmare to go away, but it never did. You remembered screaming out “Dad! Dad please, I’m sorry!” And then you remembered waking up in the woods, sun shining down on you, a real sky in view.

•••

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[somuchbetterthanthat]

Look at me unable to shut up about soulmates. Like, literally. This is so long it should probably be on ao3 but also? i started on tumblr so you’ll get all the typos, sorry not sorry.

Jonah appears on Jon’s throat when he is eight years old; he probably wouldn’t have noticed, if his grandmother hadn’t raised his chin and frowned in a quiet, pensive way and asked: “Is that why you’ve been so agitated, Jonathan? Have you met him?” 

Jon has no idea what she’s talking about until he’s staring at the elegant, old-fashioned name on his skin in a mirror. He thinks of Mr Spider, and a cold, terrified chill runs down his spine. Can monsters have a first name? Is this a promise or a threat? Is it even linked at all? 

His body shakes badly, and in an unusual display of affection for both of them, his grandma pats his hair and sits him up her lap. 

“There there,” she says, and her voice is gentle. “No need to fuss, Jon. Whoever Jonah is, he’ll be good to you. Soulmates always are.”

*

Georgie appears barely two months after they’ve met; he wakes up one morning and it’s right there, on his hipbone. Maybe it was here before. Jon doesn’t spend a lot of time inspecting his body. 

The next time he sees her, Georgie’s grin is wide and warm and she hugs him just a bit tighter than she usually does. “Oh,” he says, and she laughs and says “Oh, indeed. Guess we’re stuck together, eh?”

Jon’s heart is hammering in his chest. He hugs Georgie a bit tighter, too, feeling overwhelmed and quite stupid. “What a bother,” he says dryly, and it means the world that Georgie just laughs harder and doesn’t let go. 

He’ll be good to you. Soulmates always are, had said his grandmother. Jon barely thinks of Jonah, these days. But now he’s got Georgie, and he thinks he definitely wants to be good to her. 

*

Well. He tries, at least. 

He’s pretty sure he does. 

When she says, “please Jon” tired and angry, he realizes that, maybe, being good to Georgie means stepping out of her life for good, and does just that, telling himself it doesn’t feel like losing a part of himself. 

*

“Did you know,” Elias Bouchard says slowly, at the end of Jon’s job interview, “that the Institute was founded by Jonah Magnus?”

Jon feels a speck of irritation cross his mind; of course he’s known. He read everything  he could about the Institute before applying here. Anybody googling the Magnus Institute would know, it’s one of the first line of its wikipedia page. 

“Yes, of course I do,” he says, and it comes out rude and disdainful; he winces, but Elias Bouchard only looks amused. 

“I didn’t mean to offend,” he says with the shadow of a smile. “I think that you’re going to fit just fine in our Institute, Jon. May I call you Jon?”

“I, er -- yes,” Jon blinks, startled. His past interviews have never left him with the impression that it should be so easy. “Does that mean --”

“The job is yours, if you want it,” Elias nods. “I can have your contract ready for next week.”

“Ah, uh -- good,” Jon says dumbly. “I mean -- Thank you, Mr Bouchard --”

“Oh, please,” Elias waves his hand; “Do call me Elias. Everybody does.”

“Right,” says Jon. “Elias.” 

(It feels -- odd in his mouth. Elias’ smile stays bland and polite, but his eyes fall on Jon’s throat, just for a second, before moving back up; they look piercing and hungry and pleased, and Jon leaves as fast as he can, his skin itching.)

*

Jonah Magnus being his soulmate becomes an office joke the moment his colleagues spot the name on his throat. It’s hilarious, you see, because Jonathan Sims never seems to leave the Magnus Institute, married to his work and to the place. Jon rolls his eyes and lets people talk. As far as teasing go, this one is mild enough not to be too bothersome and, besides, it’s not like he’s actually ever met his Jonah. (Not like he really wants to, when he thinks of what happened with Georgie.)

(And if, sometimes, he grows curious and look up as much as he can from the elusive Jonah Magnus, well.) (It’s not like anybody can see him do so.)

*

“So, are we going to talk about it or --” Tim says, staring quite obviously at the name on Jon’s wrist. 

Jon hates the way his cheeks flush. “I’m sure there are plenty of Gerard out there, Tim,” he says primly. “Besides, I don’t think chatting about soulmates is any way relevant to a good work environment --”

“I mean, it is sort of work related if your soulmate is Gerard Keay from the statements,” Sasha points out, and Jon stares at her like she’s thoroughly betrayed him as Tim laughs. 

She gives him a sheepish grin but still high-fives Tim when he holds his hand up. Jon scoffs. 

“We don’t have to talk about it if Jon doesn’t want to,” Martin snaps behind him. 

His tone is unusually biting and Jon is taken aback for a moment. He really didn’t think Martin of all people would defend him on this particular subject. The man is probably the sort of sappy and romantic person that thinks finding his soulmates means a happy ending. Jon, of course, knows better. Still.

“Right,” he says. “Thank you, Martin.” 

Sasha and Tim exchange a glance; now they’re looking properly chastised. Jon brush his fingers against Gerard’s name, and pretends he isn’t just a bit hopeful that this is Gerard Keay, and that somehow, it means he’s not as dead as his research has led him to believe.

*

“Jon,” says Martin in a rush when they scramble up to move far away from the wall which is starting to break right in front of their eyes. “There’s -- there’s something I think I should definitely tell you, I think, before --”

He doesn’t have time to finish his sentence. In the midst of everything else, Jon quite forgets it too.

*

It takes him three weeks of forced bedrest to realize there is a new name just above his heart; he stares at it for a very long time in the mirror, unable to think of what to do about the familiar, terrible handwriting of Martin Blackwood scribbled on his chest. 

*

Jon is still laughing, stupidely relieved, when Martin says: “Also you’re my soulmate. And I know I’m not yours, but I mean, since you want honesty --”

Jon’s laughter dies in a cough. Martin stares at him with wide eyes like he can’t believe he’s just said that, cheeks flushed bright red and chin  stubbornly up, and Jon opens his mouth, closes it back, and then he says “oh.”

“Yeah, so, I’ll just. Be. Going back to work, now,” Martin mutters. “Unless you want to, to accuse me of anything else or --”

“Martin,” says Jon, a bit helplessly. 

It would be so easy, to say, you’re my soulmate too. But he watches Martin’s tense posture, the way he’s looking at everything but Jon, and he remembers Georgie. The words die in his mouth, and Martin says, voice too high: “it’s alright, Jon.” and flees the room before Jon can figure out what to do. 

*

Jon tells himself it’s best not to tell Martin. Martin deserves someone who can be good to him, and that’s certainly not Jon, especially not -- now. 

Martin thinks that it’s alright to bully Jon into going for lunch now that Jon knows about the whole soulmate thing. 

Jon keeps agreeing, and Martin keeps smiling, and sometimes, Jon’s almost able to forget how hellish everything else in his life has become. 

*

He calls Martin first. He calls Martin first as he flees, and Martin doesn’t answer. 

Fair enough, he thinks, a bit hysterically. Jon messed up everything the second he didn’t tell him, anyway, and, and just because they’re soulmates --

*

“Hey,” he says numbly to Georgie when she opens the door. 

Georgie stares at him for a long time. “Jesus Christ, Jon.”

His hip itches. Jon makes a joke he doesn’t recall afterwards. Georgie lets him in, and hugs him tightly. It feels like coming home. 

*

“Is there anything else?” Elias asks. 

Jon stares at him for a very long time. “Are you still lying to me?” he asks; now that he knows what to look for, it’s like he can feel the power tingling in his throat. Elias’ eyes flutter and his mouth curls into a slow, intensely pleased smile. 

“Lying can have very many different meanings,” he tells Jon. “There are, indeed, a great deal of things I don’t intend to tell you until you figure them out. I don’t personnally consider it lying, though you might.”

“I --” 

“Go clean yourself up, Jon,” Elias continues. He sounds almost gentle, and Jon wants to rip his throat out. “We can discuss more about what will need to be done once you’re feeling a little bit less -- shaken up.”

“Fuck you,” says Jon.

Elias’ lips twitch again. 

*

Nikola caresses Jon’s hip; Jon’s wrist; Jon’s heart; she cooes at each name, teases Jon with every single one of them. She lets her thumb lingers on Jonah the longest. 

“Isn’t it quaint,” she laughs. “Do you think he’s listening?”

Jon makes a noise; she laughs harder. “Of course I’m sure he’d like to watch, but he can’t, can he? Oh, but we’ll find a way to talk to him, won’t we?”

Jon doesn’t know when the tape recorder appears; he merely knows he feels faintly relieved when Nikola grabs it and stops touching him, winking at him conspirationally instead. “Elias?” she preens into the recorder. “Can I call you Elias?”

*

“You’re mine, too,” Jon blurts out awkwardly.

Martin slowly blinks. “... What?” he asks.. 

He sounds like he’s been punched right into the stomach, high and breathless, but he’s still holding Jon to dear life, and Jon hides his face deeper into his shoulder, breathing in deeply, and he says, his voice hoarse: “You’re my soulmate too.”

“Oh.” Martin’s voice is small. “Oh. I mean did you -- is that -- where -- I --”

“I’m very bad at being a soulmate,” Jon cuts him off. He’s aware he’s gripping Martin’s too tight. “And I think I’m turning into something dangerous, and there are people out there who wants to kill me, and I need you safe -- Nikola saw -- she saw your name, and I don’t want her to --”

“You’ve -- got my name,” Martin merely says. 

“I -- yes, I’ve had for a -- it doesn’t matter, I’m saying you’re in danger --”

“You’ve got my name,” Martin repeats. 

It’s definitely giddy, now. Jon refuses to be endeared. “Martin -”

“No, no, I get it, danger and all -- but I mean, I mean, it’s been years Jon, literal years --”

Jon never asked Martin about it before; he doesn’t get to ask much more right then. Martin takes a step back, and he’s grinning wide and stupid, and Jon feels his own treacherous lips curl up in answer. It’s not exactly a surprise, when Martin bends down and presses his mouth against his. It’s a terrible idea, an absolutely horrendeous, awful idea, of course, but not a surprise. Jon lets himself be kissed and closes his eyes all the same. 

*

So Gerard is dead.

He’s no less impressive, and Jon feels awkward and eager and flushed. 

“Oh no, I’m er - Jonathan Sims? I’m with the Magnus Institute --”

Gerard stiffens. “Jonathan?” he repeats. 

Jon’s mouth runs dry. He carefully raises his left hand, and the name written on it. “Hi,” he says. 

Gerard looked at it for a long time, and then he huffs a laugh. “God, figure.”

His ghostly fingers meet Jon’s, cool and so light Jon barely feels them. On his right wrist, Jon’s name is written in his terrible, rushed handwritting. Jon’s heart skips a bit.

“Figure,” he agrees, and they both smile dryly at each other.

*

“Be careful,” says Georgie on the phone, soft and tired.  

“Please, don’t die,” Martin murmurs against his lips, terrified and hopeful all at once. 

“Thank you, Jon,” had merely said Gerry, when Jon had agreed to burn his page.

*

Elias stares right into his eyes, and his hand smooths over Jon’s collar; his thumb lingers on Jon’s neck, and Jon feels -- something.

“Good luck,” he tells him. 

“Do you have a back-up plan if I die?” Jon can’t help but ask. 

“You’ve been quite successful so far,” Elias tells him. “I’m sure you’ll be just as efficient tomorrow.”

“I’m glad one of us is feeling confident,” Jon mutters sarcastically. 

“Always, Jon,” Elias smiles, and Jon thoroughly wished it didn’t appease him as much as it does. 

*

Jon dies. 

Jon comes back.

Jon’s alone. 

It’s fitting, of course; Jon’s always been alone, apart for a few years, thanks to Georgie mostly, and he exhausted her into leaving, eventually -- not only once but twice, which has to be a rare enough feat to be mentionned. Nobody likes to speak about unhealhty soulmates, but Jon’s aware that it’s exactly what he is.

Four soulmates, and one of them is dead, the second knows better than to stay, the third is -- the third is so deep into danger than Jon has no idea if any of his words will ever bring him back, and the last never had the decency to show up.

Jon can’t think of Gerry, or Georgie, or, god, Martin;

So he stares at his throat, and looks over Jonah’s name. His oldest soulmate. He idly thinks that maybe they were all right, the ones who spent years joking about Jon being bounded to the Institute, to a man dead for centuries, the one who’d started it all, the one who was probably as much a monster as Jon has become --

Can monsters have first names? 

Jon does. He caresses Jonah’s name and thinks there’s something familiar in the pretentious and graceful way the ‘J’ is written. It’s right there, he muses. At the edge of his mind. The mysterious Jonah --

“Jon?” calls Daisy from behind him. 

“Mmmh?”

“You okay? Basira said -- I mean, you’re getting pretty intense here.”

“Oh,” he says, letting his hand fall at his side again. “Sorry, I -- sorry.”

Daisy looks at him up and down. She looks as tired as he feels. “C’mon,” she says. “I’ve found board games we haven’t played yet.”

*

Jon looks at Georgie and Melanie from afar. He’d never realized, before, what it truly meant to be envious. Jealous. He turns away with damp eyes.

*

“Look, I know we can’t talk,” Jon manages to say. “But something’s real wrong and I just wanted to make sure --”

Martin sighs. He feels so distant Jon’s heart is growing cold just looking at him. “I’m fine, Jon; I’m handling it. Just - trust me, alright?”

“You know I do,” Jon says numbly. 

Martin’s kiss on his cheek is icy. “Thank you,” he whispers. And then, with a little itch breath he adds: “I love you.”

He’s gone before Jon gets a chance to say “me too.”

*

Jon stares at his throat every day, now. He feels restless and ravenous, pulled by something bigger than him, and he knows, deep in his bones, that he won’t be able to resist its call. He’s never been able to. 

“You’re losing it, Jon,” Basira says quietly. Dangerously.

“So are you,” Jon says. He doesn’t need to look at her to see her tense. He is still staring at his throat. “We need to go see Elias.”

“No, we’re not. He’s well proven by now he’s utterly useless --”

“I’m sorry,” says Jon calmly. “I didn’t say it right. I’m going to see Elias, and I don’t bloody care what you or him think about it.”

*

Elias smiles, when he sees him; of course he does. The prison suit doesn’t hide his throat like his pressed collars and ties used to, and Jon reads his own name on his skin without any surprise at all.

“Jonah,” he breathes out, and Elias’ smiles gets brigther, his thoughts melting gently into Jon’s. 

“Hello, Jon,” he says fondly. “Is it time?”

Jon has no idea what he’s talking about.

(Jon knows exactly what he’s talking about)

Yes, he thinks.

Marvellous, Jonah thinks back. We’re going to be so good to each other, Jon. Just wait and see. 

[thecoleopterawithana]

When you were young and your heart was an open book

Don’t Let Me Down | Paul’s Upbringing

John, because of his upbringing and his unstable family life, had to be hard, witty, always ready for the cover-up, ready for the riposte, ready with the sharp little witticism. Whereas with my rather comfortable upbringing, a lot of family, lot of people, very northern, ‘Cup of tea, love?’, my surface grew to be easy-going. Put people at their ease. Chat to people, be nice, it’s nice to be nice.

— Paul McCartney, in Barry Miles’ Many Years From Now (1997).

Paul grew up in the warm embrace of a loving family. There was hardship, certainly: they were definitely working-class, and the war had been unkind to the cotton exchange business, so it fell on mother Mary to be the main bread-winner of the family, as a domiciliary housewife. Her nursing job also made it so they were always on the move, from one new outskirt council estate to the next, “always on the edge of the world” that was the rebuilding of a war-torn Liverpool. But despite this surrounding instability, the core of the family itself was a safe harbour of reliably loving parents.

I got my compassion for people from my mother. She was a midwife. I think that would probably be the most important quality. Again, respect and caring for others.

— Paul McCartney, interview w/ Jonathan Wingate for Record Collector: Paul McCartney gets back to work (July 2007).  

[My mum] was very kind, very loving. There was a lot of sitting on laps and cuddling. She was very cuddly. I think I was very close to her. My brother thinks he was a little closer, being littler. I would just be trying to be a bit more butch, being the older one. She liked to joke and had a good sense of humour and she was very warm. There was more warmth than I now realise there was in most families. [...] They aspired to a better life. That idea that we had to get out of here, we had to do better than this. This was okay for everyone else in the street but we could do better than this. She was always moving to what she saw as a better place to bring her kids up.

— Paul McCartney, in Barry Miles’ Many Years From Now (1997).

Not only had this notion of rising out of their current situation been instilled in Paul and his brother Michael from an early age by his mother – by encouraging them to speak “the Queen’s English” and insist on their education, for example – his father, Jim McCartney, also did his best to pass down his values of “Toleration and Moderation”, a good education and a special emphasis on an honest and responsible work ethic.

I think I got my respect and tolerance for people from my dad, which is a pretty cool quality to inherit. He was very big on tolerance, my dad. It was a word he used to use all the time. I think I grew up with that attitude. You know, you’d say, ‘Bloody hell, I hate that guy.’ and then you’d stop and go, ‘Alright, wait a minute, maybe he’s got a point,’ and you’d try and consider it from his or her point of view. I think that was a great lesson.

— Paul McCartney, interview w/ Jonathan Wingate for Record Collector: Paul McCartney gets back to work (July 2007).

He had us out aged about nine. I was virtually a door-to-door salesman by the time I was twelve. [...] I was certainly not shy with people, I think because of all these activities my dad encouraged us into. I think it's probably very good for your confidence with people. It was all right. That was my upbringing.

[...]

My parents aspired for us, very much indeed. That is one of the great things you can find in ordinary people. My mum wanted me to be a doctor. 'My son the doctor' - and her being a nurse, too. No problem there. And my dad, who left school at fourteen, would have loved me to be a great scientist, a great university graduate. I always feel grateful for that. I mean, God, I certainly fulfilled their aspirations, talk about overachieving! That was all bred into me, that.

We had George Newnes Encyclopedias. I can still remember the smell of them. If you didn't know what a word meant or how it was spelled, my dad would say 'Look it up.' I think that's a great attitude to take with kids. It steers you in the right direction. It was part of a game where he was improving us without having had an awful lot of experience of improvement himself. But I always liked that, and I knew I would outstrip him. By going to grammar school I knew I'd fairly soon have Latin phrases or know about Shakespeare which he wouldn't know about.

— Paul McCartney, in Barry Miles’ Many Years From Now (1997).

Just from these passages alone, we can spot the origins of Paul’s tolerant and caring nature, social skills, self-reliance, and tireless drive for self-improvement (with its nuances of social climbing and fierce competitiveness).

All in all, it was a good solid childhood: exploring the woods outside of his house – “Mother Nature’s Son” through and through – playing and running from Speke teds with his friend George Harrison, going to school and working the occasional odd job, helping his family and making them proud.

And then, Paul McCartney’s secure existence was shattered.

My head was in a whirl, only then I realized, I lost my little girl

On the 31st of October 1956, Mary McCartney abruptly dies from complications following her mastectomy. She’d been admitted at a far too advanced state of breast cancer after she’d kept working – while in pain – for several weeks, choosing not to divulge this symptom or the fact that she had a lump in her breast to her colleagues.

The whole family is caught unawares, but the boys especially are mostly kept in the dark.

I remember one horrible day me and my brother going to the hospital. They must have known she was dying. It turned out to be our last visit and it was terrible because there was blood on the sheets somewhere and seeing that, and your mother, it was like "Holy cow!' And of course she was very brave, and would cry after we'd gone, though I think she cried on that visit. But we didn't really know what was happening. We were shielded from it all by our aunties and by our dad and everything.

— Paul McCartney, in Barry Miles’ Many Years From Now (1997).

The boys are sent away to stay with relatives, noticing that something was wrong but unaware of what was going on, unable to actually say goodbye.

Two days later, it’s too late.

Paul is 14.

As Jim comes to break the news, and his brother Michael breaks down in tears, Paul has an unexpected response.

Mum was a working nurse. There wasn’t a lot of money around – and she was half the family pay packet. My reaction was: ‘How are we going to get by without her money?’ When I think back on it, I think, ‘Oh God, what? Did I really say that?’ It was a terrible logical thought which was preceded by the normal feelings of grief. It was very tough to take.

— Paul McCartney, in Ray Coleman’s McCartney: Yesterday & Today (1996).

It would not be the last time that Paul McCartney’s initial shock response to grief is considered “flippant” or “callous” by the people around him; a fact that has haunted him throughout his life.

I’m very funny when people die. I don’t handle it at all well, because I’m so brought down that I try to bring myself up. So I don’t show grief very well. It actually leads some people to think I don’t care, and I do. I’m not good at it like some people. [...] But I’ve always been kind of inward about those things. So I just deal with it myself.

— Paul McCartney, in Ray Coleman’s McCartney: Yesterday & Today (1996).

By virtue of nature or nurture, Paul exhibits from early on an extreme difficulty or unwillingness to deal with his less pleasant emotions.

His response to the alarm that is pain is to deny that it is ringing altogether.

And this manifested not only in inadequate optimism for some situations, it most often took the shape of what appeared to be too hard and cold pragmatism. Some people, unfortunately, saw his defence-mechanism of turning completely rational in the face of crisis and mistook it for him not caring; when, in fact, he cared so much that his only solution was to try and shut it off.  

He carried with him a great burden of guilt and regret; not concerning his reaction to his mother’s death but also due to other misdemeanours and minor hurts he’d caused her when she was alive.

There's one moment that I've regretted all my life which is a strange little awkwardness for me. There was one time when she said 'ask' and she pronounced it posh. And I made fun of her and it slightly embarrassed her. Years later I've never forgiven myself. It's a terrible little thing. I wish I could go back and say, ‘I was only kidding, Mum.' I’m sure she knew. I'm sure she didn't take it too seriously.

— Paul McCartney, in Barry Miles’ Many Years From Now (1997).

In retrospect, he even theorized that the lyrics to his acclaimed ‘Yesterday’ were related to his mother’s sudden departure.

With ‘Yesterday’, singing it now, I think without realising it I was singing about my mum who died five or six years previously, or whatever the timing was. Because I think now, “Why she had to go, I don’t know, she wouldn’t say, I said something wrong…”

— Paul McCartney, interview w/ Pat Gilbert for MOJO: Don’t look back in anger (November 2013).

So in the aftermath of life completely pulling the rug from under his feet, Paul was not only struggling to deal with his own emotions, trying to bury them far from sight as best as he could, he was being consumed by terrible guilt for doing exactly that.

More than that, he was under the care of his uncle and aunt for several more days, trying to rally his brother so that they wouldn’t appear ‘softies’ in their cousins' eyes, while friends and family tried to hold together a shattered Jim McCartney, “whose first thought was to join his wife”.

Seeing his father break down like that had a huge impact on Paul.

My mother's death broke my dad up. That was the worst thing for me, hearing my dad cry. I'd never heard him cry before. It was a terrible blow to the family. You grow up real quick, because you never expect to hear your parents crying. You expect to see women crying, or kids in the playground, or even yourself crying – and you can explain all that. But when it's your dad, then you know something's really wrong and it shakes your faith in everything. But I was determined not to let it affect me. I carried on. I learnt to put a shell around me at that age.

— Paul McCartney, in The Anthology (1995).

This is very important.

Not only had the only reality he’d ever known been destroyed by his mother’s sudden death, his own father – who was supposed to be this strong, unshakable pillar in his life – couldn’t be relied on to hold it together.

Paul had been let down. He was on his own.

Fear steems from a feeling of powerlessness. You feel painfully vulnerable to whatever life might throw at you, at constant risk of being hurt again, and the only solution is to be on the lookout. Be prepared.

Paul was caught unawares because the people he’d counted on to always be there suddenly weren’t. And with his compassionate and reasonable nature, he probably didn't even blame them at all. But the facts were that Paul had been left hanging, not once but twice, when he needed them the most. So he kind of lost his faith in everything.

Life is chaotic and unpredictable; and people, through no fault of their own, are just as inconstant.

And so, in order not to risk being let down again, Paul took matters into his own hands. He tried to escape the pain and dread of being powerless by seizing control of whatever he could. And that was mostly himself.

And so begins Paul McCartney’s saga of isolating independence and other control-issues.

As Paul said above, he’s “always been kind of inward” about grief and other “negative” emotions. He’d rather be alone at this stage because he doesn’t want to expose his vulnerabilities. Not to others and much less to himself. So he needs a distraction. Something to devote himself to that’ll take his mind off the pain.

The saving grace, as usual, was music.

— Paul McCartney, The Q Interview (2007).

His brother Michael, probably the closest observer we could have of this period, recounts how Paul was like in the aftermath.

Paul was far more affected by Mum’s death than any of us imagined. His very character seemed to change and for a while he behaved like a hermit. He wasn’t very nice to live with at this period, I remember. He became completely wrapped up in himself and didn’t seem to care about anything or anybody outside himself.

He seemed interested only in his guitar, and his music. He would play that guitar in his bedroom, in the lavatory, even when he was taking a bath. It was never out of his hands except when he was at school or when he had to do his homework. Even in school, he and George Harrison used to seize the opportunity every break to sit and strum.

When we left our auntie’s house and returned home, it was agreed that Dad, Paul and I would take it in turns to do the housework.

“We’re a family on our own now,” Dad said. “We’ll all have to help.”

But time after time when I came home from school, I would find that Paul hadn’t done his bit. I would go looking for him and sometimes I would find him, up in his bedroom, perhaps, sitting in the dark, just strumming away on his guitar. Nothing, it seemed, mattered to him any more. He seldom went out anywhere – even with girls. He didn’t bother much with any of his friends except his schoolmate George Harrison and John Lennon, who was at the art school next door. Work and work alone – his school books and his guitar – appeared to be the only thing that could help him to forget.

— Mike McCartney, Woman: Portrait of Paul (21 August 1965).

So Paul takes to complete dedication to work and music to help him ignore his pain. And he’d rather go through this process of burying it on his own. We see him isolate himself from his family and friends, according to Mike socializing mostly with George, also in the context of playing music. John is also mentioned; this could be a smudging of the timeline in Mike’s recollections, as Paul would only meet John the following year. That or Paul’s mourning lasted until the autumn of 1957, when John was enrolled in art college.

We also have a clue about how guarded Paul was with his “negative” emotions – how resilient he always wanted to be – that no one imagined he would be so affected by his mother’s death as he was.

This will also be a repeating theme through Paul’s life: his wish to always be strong, positive and reliable will make others and himself overestimate his imperviousness to trauma. People will then feel free to burden him with their own pain or unload their frustrations on him, without feeling that there would be consequences; because Paul is so tough as to be unaffected by all that. This proved, time and again, not to be true.

His true strength arises, in my opinion, not in the fact that he is unshakable but in his determination to quietly pick himself up again and again.

Losing my mum when I was fourteen was a major tragic event in my life. But, when I think about myself, I am, overall, pretty optimistic, pretty enthusiastic, pretty much into getting on. One of the reasons being, she would want that. I know for certain she would want that. I know Linda would want that. I know John would want that, and George would want that. My dad would want that. They were very, very positive people. And the idea that their deaths would plunge me into some sort of morose depression would bother them. I know that for a fact. So that helps me to not go there.

— Paul McCartney, interviewed by John Colapinto for the New Yorker: When I’m sixty-four (4 June 2007).

But as a 14-year-old Northern lad, his tactic of picking himself up didn’t involve dressing the wounds, which would continue to bleed silently in the recesses of his mind.

I certainly didn’t grieve enough for my mother. There was no such thing as a psychiatrist when I lost her. You kidding? I was a 14-year-old Liverpool boy. I wouldn’t have had access to one and I do now.

— Paul McCartney, interviewed by Nigel Farndale for The Telegraph: Love me do (17 May 2002).

But soon, Paul would find an even greater outlet for his love of music, almost magical in its specialness:

Someone to perform with.

[ebaeschnbliah]

CHANGING  OF  THE  GUARD

________________________________________________________________

A metaphorical reading of Sherlock BBC, The Sign of Three (and beyond)

The beginning of Sherlock BBC, The Sign of Three, really leaves no doubt what the theme of its story is about. When the eye of the camera zooms slowly in on Speedy’s and the famous black door with the number 221 in Baker Street, it seems to take it’s path right through a literal wood of pointy, black spears. Fences built of iron spears that guard the place..

It starts with a row of spears in the forground. When those get blurry, even more spears from midfield move into focus. Finally the camera reveals spears also in the background. That makes three levels of spears, one might say.

Three levels of spears stand like guardians in front of 221b Baker Street. Could those three levels symbolize the three stabbing victims of The Sign of Three? After all, each one of the three characters is depicted as guard, as protector ... and each one of them gets stabbed. 

TBC below the cut ...

Stephen Bainbridge 

He is a Private in the Household Guard of the Queen. The Grenadier Guards is an infantry regiment of the British Army. The current regiment is known as the 1st Regiment of Foot Guards … ’Every foot soldier bears the mark’  (Soo Lin, TBB). How surprising is it that the ‘East’ zooms in on Bainbridge before he gets stabbed by Jonathan Small? 

Also … the gesture of the woman is interesting. Two Vs make a W (or a M … depends on the turning). It also lets me think of Culverton Smith’s W-gesture in TLD, in the short clip with the man disguised as cock (x).

Modern Grenadier Guardsmen wear a cap badge of a "grenade fired proper" with seventeen flames (x). Foot soldiers linked to exploding grenades … what a lovely coincidence, especially regarding the ‘passions’ grenade from TFP. :)

When the changing of the guards takes place, Bainbridge is already wounded and slowly dying. He got stabbed before the changing.

The name Stephen is of Greek origin and means ‘crown’ and ‘that which surrounds’. Saint Stephen was stoned to death and is regarded as the very first Christian martyr. 

Another little detail caught my attention as well. Just a word used twice to describe a person. 

SHERLOCK: “Elite Guard.” JOHN: Forty enlisted men and officers. SHERLOCK: Why this particular Grenadier? Curious.

And in TRF Sherlock sais:

SHERLOCK: This little boy; this particular little boy ... who reads all of those spy books. What would he do? JOHN: He’d leave a sign?

Max Bruhl left a sign. Stephen Bainbridge wrote a note. Not much of a difference, I think.

Guardsmen   Max and Claudette

 James Sholto

He is a retired Major of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers and Captain John Watson’s old commanding officer. A decorated war hero but not to everyone. Something went wrong when he led a team of new recruits into battle. ‘They all died’ (just like AGRA). Major Sholto, badly wounded, was the only survivor. Press and families gave him hell. Deaththreats and hate almost turned him into a recluse, into a most unsociable man, who spends his retirement way out in the middle of nowhere.

I’m quite sure this has been mentioned before, the 5th Northumberland Regiment on Foot (’foot soldiers’ too) still uses their ancient badge … St George killing the dragon (x)   Every quiver of his beating heart

‘He destroyed us all’  …  somehow these words sound very similar to the one Sherlock uses in TFP, in a situation where he considers himself to be a soldier: ‘Five minutes. It took her just five minutes to do all of this to us. Well, not on my watch.’ 

As mentioned above, Mary’s dialogue in TST matches the description about the incident with Sholto’s recruits almost identically …  ‘something went wrong’/’but it went wrong’ … ‘I was the only one who made it our’/’they all died; he was the only survivor’. And Mary considered AGRA to be her family ... ‘we were family’. 

Major John Sholto is an original character from ACDs novel The Sign of Four. His sons are called Thaddeus and Bartholomew. The renaming of the Major’s first name - from John to James - must have been a deliberate choice. A choice which is reflected in the skip code of TEH ‘John or James Watson … saint or sinner ... James or John’, as well as in John Watson’s middle name … Hamish (Scottish for James).

Major Sholto’s room number is ‘two oh seven’. This reminds me of the ‘double oh seven’ codeword for the ‘flight of the dead’ in ASIB. Two and double …. both means 2. Sure, the number on the door reads 207 but then, it happens several times in this story, that things told and things shown are sometimes not quite the same or vis versa. 

When the wedding guests leave the church and the reception takes place, Sholto is already wounded and slowly dying. He has been stabbed before.

Sherlock investigates the cases of both guardians

Bainbridge’s note reaches him sometime during the wedding preparations. John and Sherlock arrive just in time to save Private Bainbridge’s life. The case though remains unsolved.

Without knowing it at the time, Sherlock investigates Sholto’s case during John’s stag night. They call the investigation of the ghost-man the ‘Mayfly Man’ case. It remains also unsolved.

Sherlock includes both unsolved cases into his best man speech at John’s wedding and here at last, all the puzzle pieces fall into place and Sherlock is able to solve both cases, which are closely related. As a consequence Major Sholto’s life can be saved as well. 

The person responsible for the attempts to kill Private Bainbridge and Major Sholto is:

Jonathan Small

‘Brilliant, ruthless, almost certainly a monomaniac - though, in fairness, his photographs are actually quite good’ … that’s how Sherlock describes the killer. Small’s motive is revenge. He is convinced that Major Sholto is responsible for the death of Small’s brother Peter, who had been among the killed recruits. It seems that Private Bainbridge merely had the misfortune and got randomly chosen for the rehearsal of Sholto’s murder. But ... why this particular 'foot soldier’? (I’ll come back to that question later)

Jonathan Small grins like Jim Moriarty and wears a checkered shirt like John. He is a brilliant, ruthless monomaniac and obviously also a womaniizer who has no problems to woo half a dozen women, almost at the same time, into telling him well-kept secrets. Basically … a perfect blend of Jim Moriarty and traditional John ‘three continents’ Watson. 

Like Major Sholto, Jonathan Small too is an original character from ACDs novel The Sign of Four. His name has not been changed. Only together with his female and not-canon counterpart Janine, Mary’s bridesmaid, who seems to be a lovely blend of Irene and Jim, the name chosen for the antagonist of this episode, appears to gain a special significance. 

Janine - deiminutive of Jeanne, female form of John … ‘little Johnny’

Jonathan - diminutives are Jon, Jonni ... though not related to ‘John’ regarding the meaning of the name, it can still be heard as … ‘little Jonny’  (’You can talk, Johnny-boy. Go ahead.‘ Jim, TGG)

None other than ‘little Jo(h)nny’ (the H makes the difference) is responsible for the almost murder of Private Bainbridge and Major Sholto, the first two stabbing victims of this episode. 

‘Little Johnny’ also happens to be another word for penis … the ‘meat dagger’.

Who’s the third ‘victim’ then?

Mary Elizabeth Morstan

She is a character full of surprises who starts as a simple nurse who marries John Watson in TSOT. Among Sherlock’s deduction-word-cloud in TEH the term ‘guardian’ can be found and only one episode after the ‘wedding’, Sherlock outs her as facade … his very own facade, because the Empty Houses in Leinster Gardens, on whose front walls Mary’s face is projected, are Sherlock’s property. 

Mary Elizabeth Morstan isn’t her real name either. It’s the name of a stillborn child from a gravestone in Chiswick Cementry. This connects her character to the other stillborn child of this story ... Rachel Wilson, the pink lady’s daughter from ASIP. The initials A.G.R.A. stand for Mary’s true name, she tells later … but soon this turns out to be incorrect as well. A.G.R.A. was a group of four undercover agents who worked for the British Government. Prior to her ‘retirement’ Mary had been a member of that group. Sherlock describes her as ‘super-agent with a terrifying skill set’. Based on the current status, her two first names are Rosamund Mary … the family name is still unknown (if there even is one). 

Why should Mary be the third stabbing victim?

Readers of my theories will probably know that I’m playing for a long time now with a mind palace scenario which stretches from the beginning, most likely in PILOT (or even before) to the end of S4 (x). Back then I wondered ...

Is it really so farfetched to consider the possibility that Sherlock tries to deduce and solve the mysteries and problems of his own live - and his falling in love with John - at first in his mind? Before he comes out?

Over decades - since ACD - the story of Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson has been told by the famous 'unreliable narrator’. Could it be that this time - with Sherlock BBC - the world will get the true story? Finally told by Sherlock himself? By looking right into his heart and mind and soul? By showing how his brilliant mind works? How his heart and soul expand and grow?

Would TPTB do such a thing? Stay in Sherlock’s mind over the span of multiple episodes? Follow his train of thought … show his evolution … in such a way? I don’t know. But it sounds thrilling to me. (Nov 2016)

Based on those early ideas I gradually came to the conclusion that Sherlock BBC tells the story of how Sherlock Holmes deduced his own persona. He does this the same way he investigates his criminal cases … by setting up scenarios in his mind and repeating those until he has found the correct solution (The Stage is set). Investigating his own case - the pink one - in such a way, would mean that all the characters which appear on Sherlock’s ‘mind stage’ represent different aspects of himself. Some of them may be based on real life persons, most of them are probably entirely created by Sherlock’s imagination. I like to compaire this process to a ‘mind journey’ or to a long (dramatic) dialogue, Sherlock holds with himself. This propably doesn’t happen during a dream or in a state of coma, as I thought back in 2016. A lot of time and thinking has gone by since then. Nowadays I presume that a conscious thinking process would fit better with the literal character Sherlock Holmes, whose deductions are always built on facts, science, reason and logic. It would be rather OOC that a man like Holmes would base an important, life changing decision on anything else than his razor sharp mind. Anyway, it’s just one of many theories.

Mary now … ever since I noticed the lot of similarities this character shares with Sherlock (x) my view on her started to change considerably. To me she isn’t the woman anymore who comes between Sherlock and John but instead the facade Sherlock Holmes created and married to his traditional, eternal friendship with John Watson for the sole purpose, to hide his romantic feelings and his sexual desire for the friend behind this protective wall. Mary is Sherlock’s facade, his guardian, his firewall … because:

John can’t ever know that I lied to him. It would break him and I would lose him forever – and I will never let that happen. Please … understand. There is nothing in this world that I would not do to stop that happening.

In my opinion, these are Sherlock’s own words and they express his fear of what might happen to the uinque friendship he shares with John, if the friend ever discovers the true nature of his feelings for him. Sherlock would do anything to stop that happening, even if this means that he has to incarcerate his emotions inside a high-security facility, behind elephant glass and chain his sexuality with iron bonds to a wall in a padded cell, like a hound from hell.  

The ‘meat dagger’ incident

Sherlock tells the wedding guests - Major Sholto sits among them - about the unsolved Bainbridge case and asks if any of them has got a theory how that guard might have been stabbed. What kind of murderer can walk through walls, which weapon can vanish? Molly’s fiancé Tom (both characters are mirrors for John and Sherlock) assumes it could be a case of ‘attempted suicice by meat dagger’ ... something that would have been self administered. 

A lot has been written since then about the ‘meat dagger’ as a metaphor for 'penis’ …. for ‘little Johnny’.  :)

Sherlock sees only one feature of interest in the whole case … while he tried to solve the mystery, the eternal friend saved the life of the guard. And just the same happens a little while later with Major Sholto, the other guardian. It turns out that both men - both guardians - have been stabbed by the same killer … Jonathan Small … little Jonny, the meat dagger ....

There’s only one other character in this episode who has been stabbed unknowingly as well. That’s Mary. And in her case it’s indeed … ‘stabbed by meat dagger’ because Sherlock deduces her pregnancy by the end of the episode. Or expressed in computer language:  the firewall has been penetrated by the virus.

The ‘father’ might be John or David, Mary’s ex. It doesn’t matter if one views the story metaphorically where all characters represent aspects of Sherlock himself. Going by his looks, David is clearly a mirror for John, while his history regarding the constant online observation of Mary, connects him to Mycroft, the brain. David seems to be a ‘blended’ mirror like Jonathan Small (John/Jim) or Janine (Irene/Jim). A mirror who represents the ongoing interest of the brain in the feelings hidden behind the facade. 

When Sherlock marries John and Mary, he puts a guardian in front of his true feelings for the friend. He tries to ‘downgrade’ those feelings. And yet, Sherlock allows three ‘social ancounters a year’ but ‘always in John’s - the traditional friendship’s presence’. That sounds very much like the ‘calculated risk’ Mycroft takes with Eurus. Both ‘brothers’ seem to be ‘love-addicts’ in need of a fix, once in a while … when the burden of ‘holding oneself to a higher standard’, of ‘keeping oneself right’ gets too heavy … or too boring. In that case it could propably happen that one takes the frustration out on the wall … then the wall has it coming …  :)

The moment of revelation

When Sherlock is blinded by the flashlight of ‘little Jo(h)nni’s’ camera, he suddenly realizes that the cases of Bainbridge and Sholto are connected. That the stabber has to be the same person. It’s the moment when the first domino piece falls and knocks over the next, and the next, and the next …. leading to a chain reaction of revelations at the end of which Sherlock knows without any doubt that his new facade had been penetrated again … this time though by a ‘kill shot’. He’d been hit by AMO (the perfect ammonition), fired by the crack shot that is his eternal friend. The seed of love has been laid without Sherlock noticing the ‘chink in his armour’ through which Cupid’s arrow hit home. Now love has taken root behind his facade and is growing. 

The name chosen for that love is Rosamund - Rose of the world, as the dialogue in TST confirms. There’s a real rose of that name - Rosa Mundi - an old rose depicted in a work of Sandro Botticelli “Virgin Adoring the Sleeping Christ Child”. This rose is also known by the synonym ‘rosa versicolor’ - which means ‘rose of many or changing colours ... iridiscent’.

The word iridescence is derived in part from the Greek word ἶρις îris , meaning rainbow, It is the phenomenon of certain surfaces that appear to gradually change color as the angle of view or the angle of illumination changes. (X)

Sherlock - the ‘virgin’ he is called in ASIB by Jim and Irene - announces the pregnancy of Mary (I still wonder if this means that he is the 'Gabriel’ of A.G.R.A. - the angel who announces virgin Mary’s pregnancy). And during the stag night, John is labeled with ‘Madonna’. Another name for Virgin Mary. This turns the eternal friend also into the ‘virgin’, just like Sherlock and Mary. Another ‘sign of three’ one could say. 

Three virgins - three novices - who will now start a new journey on a way they have never travelled before. Sherlock will finally encounter romantic love and accept it ‘it is what it is’, the facade will ‘get retired in a pretty permanent sort of way’ as the brain blatantly puts it in TST and the traditional ‘eternal’ friendship will have to change into a romantic-sexuell relationship. A morphing together of friendship and sex - John and James - would be a quite logical consequence, I guess.

In TST the little baby is christened with the name Rosamund, a name that can be traced back to ‘rainbow’ … Rosie for short.  And rosy=pink!

‘Oh, what a night! ... I was never gonna be the same … I felt a rush like a rollin' ball of thunder spinnin' my head around n' takin' my body under’ 

No wonder this song has been chosen by the creators to accompany this scene. Overwhelmed by emotions - surprise, confusion, amazement, shock, joy, panic, uncertainty, concern, fear - Sherlock isn’t able anymore to carry on with this ‘wedding’ .... with this renewed ‘changing of the guard’. He walks away alone into the night. The case is solved. Sherlock is aware of what happened. Now he has to deal with the consequences. Should he really replace his guardian again or should he finally stop pretending, stop lying, drop the facade and confess his deepest secret?

Because if you tell them and they decide they’d rather not know, you can’t take it back. You can’t unsay it. Once you’ve opened your heart, you can’t close it again.

This confrontation, Sherlock fights with himself, becomes the centrepiece of the following episode (HLV) where Sherlock is completely torn into. One half of his being, still protected by the facade, is at war with the ... ‘other one’, the slowly increasing emotional side of him. But somewhere deep inside his mind he probably knows already that this is a war ‘he must lose’. And so Sherlock has to go deeper ...

TAB doesn’t only take Sherlock back to his literal roots. In this episode Sherlock investigates again two of the main threads of the story and ties them together through the ‘bride’ … FALL and HOUND. Mary, the facade, feels already ‘left behind’ and John, who represents Sherlock’s now fully acknowledged, tender feelings, directed at his friend ... ‘does grow up so fast’. The episode ends with Sherlock, who throws himself into a torrent of water=emotions and follows Jim Moriarty, Mr Sex, down the Reichenbach Fall … right into the emotional rollercoaster that is Series Four. 

Like the investigation in TAB, this series runs backwards as well. TST repeats the events of S2 and S3 while TLD zooms in on S1. I persume this happens because Sherlock applies an ability he describes to Dr. Watson as ... ‘reasoning backwards’:

“In solving a problem of this sort, the grand thing is to be able to reason backwards. That is a very useful accomplishment, and a very easy one, but people do not practise it much. In the every-day affairs of life it is more useful to reason forwards, and so the other comes to be neglected. There are fifty who can reason synthetically for one who can reason analytically…Let me see if I can make it clearer. Most people, if you describe a train of events to them, will tell you what the result would be. They can put those events together in their minds, and argue from them that something will come to pass. There are few people, however, who, if you told them a result, would be able to evolve from their own inner consciousness what the steps were which led up to that result. This power is what I mean when I talk of reasoning backwards, or analytically.”  (ACD  A Study in Scarlet, Conclusion) 

There’s one important change though, which will alter everything. Sherlock now adds baby Rosie, the pink seed of love, the AMO-factor, to his equation. As a consequence his mask, his facade - that what ‘thatched’ and guarded him - crumbles and falls. And Sherlock accepts the change … It is what it is. 

Then, in TFP, the third episode of S4, Sherlock puts the results of his deductions under the sharp lens of his emotional core, for the ultimate experiment … the final distillation … to produce at last a clear solution. Still missing is the chemical reaction that should follow the application of that solution, one might say. :)

Back to the three ‘guardians’

My husband is three people

During the wedding preparations, John tries to interst Sherlock for this curious case. John says the sentence ‘my husband is three people’ twice, interupted only by this short dialogue:

SHERLOCK: Major James Sholto. Who he? MARY: Oh, John’s old commanding officer. 

Taking John’s words ‘my husband is three people’ literally, then he is talking about his own husband … which will soon be Mary. Husband, not wife, because Mary represents an aspect of Sherlock, his facade, his cover ... his ‘thatch’. As mentioned above, when Sherlock marries John to Mary, he puts a guardian in front of his true feelings for the friend … one could also say …. he places a commander at their/his side. And this is exactly what Mary does in later episodes. She decides who mowes the lawn, chooses the name of the baby and that it is her to take John home and not vis versa. 

Husbands can be equated with facades, with commanders, with guards. All of them serve as protectors and defenders of Sherlock’s true feelings for the friend. 

Who could have been the first ‘husband’ … the first facade, the first guardian?

Neither of us were the first

This is what Mary tells Sherlock, while John welcomes his ‘privious’ commander. Is she really talking about sexuell experiences of her brand-new husband with another man, just to taunt Sherlock? Viewing the Mary-character as an aspect of Sherlock himself and not as a real wife that comes between two men, I heavily doubt this. Applying a metaphorical reading to the story, wouldn’t it be much more likely that this conversation is about their - Mary’s and Sholto’s - assigned profession. Neither of us were the first … guardian.

Mary is the husband to be, the most recently chosen facade, John’s new commanding officer, an undercover agent of the government.

Major James Sholto is John’s old commanding officer, Sherlock’s previous facade, which turned out to be not strong enough. 

The only other guard in this story is Stephen Bainbridge, Private in the Household Guard of the Queen. The foot soldier named after Saint Stephen, the first martyrer. 

And isn’t there somthing strikingly similar regarding those three guards as well as a noticeable increase in drama and strength, which so often happens when sequences are repeated on Sherlock’s mind stage?

Private Bainbridge guards the Queens Palace. The ‘East’ zoomes in on him, then he get’s stabbed by ‘little Jonny’ - the meat dagger - without noticing it. A changing of the guard takes place. Bainbridge almost dies beneath a shower of water.

Major Sholto guards the Queens country. He fights on a battlefield in the East beneath a burning hot sun. Something goes wrong and all the recruits under his command die. Badly wounded himself, Sholto has to leave the service and change into retirement. He gets stabbed by ‘little Jonny’ - the meat dagger - and almost dies.

Mary secretly works for Mycroft, the government, the ‘queen’ -  as an undercover ‘super-agent with a terrifying skill set’. Her last operation took place in the East. Something went wrong and a lot of people died. It first looked as if Mary had been the only surviver (like Sholto). She marries ‘Johnny-boy’ Watson, gets stabbed by his meat dagger, becomes pregnant and …. dies not long after ‘PINK-RAINBOW-ROSIES’ birth.

The Sign of Three is about the ‘changing of the guard’. It takes place inside Sherlock’s head. But the marriage of John and Mary, that Sherlock arranges so heartbreakingly beautiful (and so strikingly yellow), turns out to be utterly pointless. Because the bride, the husband, the new commander, the facade is already pregnant ... had been stabbed before the wedding ... before the changing of the guard. 

The Yellow Face connection

This isn’t new. It has been discussed before in this interesting meta  About Yellow Face  by @darlingtonsubstitution  (sadly the part below the cut is gone) from 2017. As mentioned in the comments there, the creators of Sherlock BBC once refered to their favourite ACD stories. Yellow Face was among them but ... they wouldn’t be able to adapt it, because of the sensitive content, they said. This isn’t quite true though, it seems. On the contrary, the colour yellow features most prominently in Sherlock BBC … and not just the colour itself. 

It starts with Sherlock’s and John’s first date at Angelo’s. The whole scene is drenched in yellow. PILOT even more than ASIP.

A secret code of ancient cyphers, sprayed in yellow paint, leads to the Yellow Dragon Circus. 

Golden cats and big ‘yellow’ felines - lions - roam the story. 

Yellow is the colour of the smiley face on the wall of the 221b living room. 

There’s an assassin who carries a yellow ladder and a yellow tool case with a gun in it. 

A bright yellow mask has been placed inside a box, alongside a train, a phone, nicotin patches and a note. 

The main colour of the wedding ... bright yellow. It’s the wedding that leads Sherlock to the revelation ... to his love deduction. 

A canary trainer, a trainer of yellow birds, turns out to be the killer. 

Norbury, the case of the Yellow Face from canon, plays a vital role in TST 

The finish of a race is marked with a bright yellow band that floats slowly to the ground while a ‘confessing’ serial killer, who is a mirror for John, passes as winner, signaling a W with his fingers, while the fingers from the ‘East’,, next to Private Bainbridge, signal a double V.

Yellow is the colour of the sun, of fire, flames and explosions.

Yellowbeard ….

But one of the most important links to Yellow Face is the following one:

JOHN: Mary, I may not be a very good man, but I think I’m a bit better than you give me credit for, most of the time. (Sherlock BBC, TST) 'I am not a very good man, Effie, but I think that I am a better one than you have given me credit for being.'  (Grant Munro, The Adventure of the Yellow Face)

This piece of dialogue connects John to Grant Munro, the husband of Effie, the woman who hides her secret child from a previous marriage behind a yellow mask. She doesn’t do it out of some dark or sinister motive as Sherlock Holmes is convinced at first. Her former marriage had been legal and she'd loved her late husband dearly. Lucy, her little girl, can truly be called a child of love. But Effie fears to reveal Lucy, because the girl is ‘different' and the mother is anxious to lose the man she loves now, because of this. She is torn into between the love for her child and the love for her husband.

She (Effie) drew a large silver locket from her bosom. 'You have never seen this open.'

'I understood that it did not open.'

She touched a spring, and the front hinged back. There was a portrait within of a man, strikingly handsome and intelligent, but bearing unmistakable signs upon his features of his African descent.  (ACD, The Yellow Face)

ACDs Yellow Face is a case without crime, without any devious betrayal. Instead, it’s about love and the fear to lose  love, because at that time in ACDs story, it’s about a love not accepted by many. 

'That is John Hebron, of Atlanta,' said the Lady (Effie), 'and a nobler man never walked the earth. I cut myself off from my race in order to wed him; but never once while he lived did I for one instant regret it. It was our misfortune that our only child took after his people rather than mine.   (ACD, The Yellow Face)

In ACDs Yellow Face, the ‘first husband’ is of ‘African descent’ … just like Private Bainbridge, who is the ‘first guardian’ - the first of the three ‘identical husbands’ - in Sherlock BBC, The Sign of Three. He is the one who represents Sherlock’s earliest facade … the guardian of the Queen’s Palace.

Just like @darlingtonsubstitution presumed more than two years ago, I’m now more convinced than ever, that Moffat and Gatiss did adapt ACDs Yellow Face and they not only included it in Sherlock BBC, they made it into the main theme of their story (beside ‘hound’, ‘fall’ and ‘scarlet/pink’). In their version though, the focus shifts from ‘unacceptable’ skin-colour to ‘unacceptable’ sexuality. 

Sherlock BBCs baby ... Rosie ... Sherlock’s baby ... represents love. And this love is pink and has been given a name that can be traced back to ‘Rainbow’. The Sign of Three tells the story of the ‘changing of the guards’ and how Sherlock finally discovers the AMO-factor that will alter his life completely.

When I discoverd Sherlock BBC for the first time (back in 2011) I was thrilled by that fascinating crime drama and its two charismatic leads. Now, after 13 episodes, it has grown into so much more than just an excellent crime drama among others. The way I read it, Sherlock BBC is a wonderful and stunning story about equality. Inside Sherlock’s mind, the great detective doesn’t only solve the greatest secret of his life. No, the actors Sherlock chooses to represent the different aspects of his persona, are as diverse as the colours of the rainbow. They are old and young, male and female, beautiful and ugly, strong and weak, rich and poor. Neither gender, sexuality nor the shade of skin colour or from which corner on this planet someone comes, is of any importance. Anyone can be a part of this Sherlock Holmes. That’s what makes this adaptation so absolutely unique to me. Sherlock himself becomes the rainbow of his own story. 

Thanks for reading to anyone who is still there. :))))  I leave you to your own deductions. And thanks @callie-ariane​ for your invaluable scripts.

December, 2019

________________________________________________________________

Episode spanning metaphorical reading of Sherlock BBC: 

From PILOT to TGG  ….      About the meaning of S1 

From ASIB to TEH  ….  The big question - what is the meaning of Reichenbach

[naysaltysalmon]

Shoutout to @tiburme for tagging me~!

Rules: Name 10 favorite characters from 10 different things and then tag 10 people.

Oh, massive spoilers below btw.

1. Gon Freecss from Hunter x Hunter: My favorite shounen protagonist by far. At first you think he’s your typical happy-go-lucky bouncy boye :D who definitely doesn’t have abandonment issues or self-destructive tendencies that literally actually almost kill him later on, and then, uwu... The amount of complexity that Gon has as a protagonist who hardly ever has stand-alone development is nothing short of astounding. How during the Chimera Ant Art his characterization totally dips off to the side to become an unknowable entity even to the audience, while still retaining amazing character development regardless -- not to mention how brilliantly daring his decision to threaten Komugi is that nearly every other author with such a happy-go-lucky protagonist would shy away from in cowardice -- is absolutely surreal to me. The more I think and write about Gon, the more I fall in love with him. If I ever meet his father, and by that I mean his real father, the creator, Togashi, I have nothing else to say but,,, well done, sir.

2. Tanjirou Kamado from Demon Slayer: I’m really hoping the Demon Slayer movie comes out soon because I absolutely love this boy and how charming he is. Unlike most protagonists, not just of shounen anime but of seemingly macho story lines that involve power-ups and training in general, Tanjirou never lets go of his kind heart. (Welp, except maybe in some cases when he’s facing the Upper Moons later on -- I haven’t caught up yet -- but WE’RE GONNA IGNORE THAT for now.) From the beginning, Tanjirou’s kindness isn’t an obstacle holding back his power, though other characters pose it that way, but rather he cultivates his empathy to grant peace to the demons he faces. He smiles in the face of anyone who treats him poorly because of his cluelessness, and that’s just so heartwarming to see, and dare I say subversive to the hardened, calculating, and cocky male protagonists we so often get. Good job, Gotouge.

3. Joseph Joestar from JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure: Giorno Giovanna was a close second, but I gotta go with Joseph. He’s the one who made me fall in love with the series, and with the later parts too. Unlike Jonathan Joestar, who was chivalrous and manly, Joseph was a riot: colorful, arrogant, funny, but also extremely clever. I absolutely loved his, “Next you’ll say...!” because at first I expected it to just be him being an overconfident asshole and eventually he’d be proven wrong at the ~Dai Pinchi Moment~ (please excuse my weeb speech, I legit didn’t know what else to call it), but then he hit the mark every time and eventually I was just waiting for when he’d pull that out and it was so hype. Also I surely can’t forget his transformation as an old dude in Part 3 -- him screaming “OOHHHH MY GAAAWDDDA!” and “HOLY SHIIIT!” murdered me every time. And of course, last but not least, the raw fucking emotion when Caeser died -- the dude actually gave a shit and wasn’t made entirely of wit and absurdity, but heart too. Joseph set the tone for what JJBA was as a whole for me (fuck off with that “but Part 3/Part 4 is the best Part” bullshit, Part 2 will always be top tier for me because of Joseph Joestar’s brilliant, bright, and beautiful absurdity -- but Part 5 was really good too). Araki really is a genius.

4. Link from The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess: My love for this series is a bit older than the series I’ve already mentioned, and TLoZ: TP was actually probably the first time I got seriously obsessed with a fandom. I love all the Links in their own ways, but Twilight Princess really drove home the “lone wolf chosen by the gods, fighting against the world” narrative for me. It made me feel important and strong at a time when no one cared about me. Seeing Link struggle silently through his quest with villagers who meant well but did nothing for him, and Midna who started out as a reluctant acquaintance and eventually became so much more, meant so much to me at the time I played the game. I will always love Twilight Princess the most because of what it did for me at one of the darkest times in my life, and because I felt completely and utterly immersed in every part of the story and gameplay through Link’s character, who was, and in many ways, still is, so relatable to me: Silent courage really is what I use to get through every day.

5. Greedling from Fullmetal Alchemist (Brotherhood): For once I’m not naming the protagonist of a series! Lissen, I still smile whenever I see the slightest reference to Edward Elric, but now he’s more of my childhood love. He’s just a part of my personality already? LOL. Anyway, FMA(B) has so many good characters that choosing just one doesn’t feel right (I mean, same with HxH tho). I say Greedling because that encompasses both Ling and Greed though, two of my favorite characters from the series! Ling’s apparent childishness in constantly running away from fights, making other people pay for his food, and failing to grasp the seriousness of the situation (until Lan Fan’s arm gets cut off lol oops) is so adorable and entertaining. He’s the best kind of idiot asshole, and I especially love how he teases Ed. After him and Greed fuse, Ling’s stout heart becomes even more apparent, as he constantly eggs Greed on to remember his past life, his friends, and become someone outside of Father/the Dwarf in the Flask. Conversely, Greed’s nonchalance and (of course) avarice are nothing short of entertaining and heartbreaking. Greed’s realization at the end, when he finally admitted to himself that what he wanted all along were “friends like these,” completely crushed me the first few times I watched FMAB. And when he’s screaming in the tunnels under Central after having killed Bido, remembering his friends, and he doesn’t understand why, and later attacks Wrath/King Bradley... that shit was so entertaining and cathartic to watch. None of his development feels like forced redemption, nor like it was too little development, since it mostly happens in the background and away from the “validating eyes” of the protagonists other than Ling. And at the end, when Ling and Greed work together to take down Bradley and all the soldiers invading Central HQ... it’s so beautiful. Many have said this before but I’ll say it again: Hiromu Arakawa wrote the perfect series.

6. Ciel Phantomhive from Black Butler: Another protagonist! And another older obsession of mine. Ciel remains in my mind to this day mainly for his heartlessness in relation to his age, and the fluidity with which Toboso tells his story. Normally when authors write younger characters into their serious stories, they make “child adults” of sorts, but Ciel feels totally realistic to the extent that he is both childish and adult to me. Obviously, Ciel is responsible and (normally) level-headed due to being the head of the Phantomhive household, but also from trauma. Yet, his cruelty at times is what sticks in my mind the most: You really feel that he’s someone who feels he’s been abandoned by the entire world, given his experiences, and that makes him disregard or use others sometimes in order to reach his own ends. Normally, authors would be too cowardly to let their protagonists, let alone child protagonists, go to such lengths to avenge their family, or carry out their duty as the dog of the military (looking at you, Arakawa -- she’s still a goddess tho). But Ciel is unforgiving. He lies to Snake and tells him his troupe is still alive. He murders the entire troupe because he’s triggered -- a childish decision, but driven with adult-like power due to trauma. It’s devastatingly riveting, and I cannot forget his unrelenting, contained rage to this day.

7. Ahsoka Tano from Star Wars: The Clone Wars: This one may come as a shock to most of you, because I hardly ever post Star Wars let alone Ahsoka content on here -- but it’s true. Other than the blatant, half-assedly inserted heteroromantic partner they gave Ahsoka in, like, idk season 3??, Ahsoka is a fucking goddess. From her origin as a wee baby in the earlier seasons who didn’t really know what she was doing and was a bit of a cocky brat, to how she matures and becomes wise, resourceful, and fierce in the later seasons, I just love Ahsoka’s design and character to this day. The episodes that stick in my mind aside from the obvious are when she’s possessed by the Dark Side of the Force on that Force balance planet and her arrogance becomes so exaggerated that she threatens and attacks Anakin, her teacher. It was so fucking cathartic. Normally female characters, let alone young protagonist female characters, are never allowed to show the ugly sides of themselves in fiction, since women are always portrayed as perfect beautiful majestic angels or some bullshit like that. (Or they’re cocky/sexy/slutty villain women. ‘Kay then.) Seeing Ahsoka devolve into her basal desires and come out of it like hardly anything happened and she’s still a perfectly valid character was so amazing to see on a meta level; it wasn’t about her learning a lesson or anything, it was a thing that happened like any other character and then they moved the fuck on. I also distinctly remember the episode where she was trapped on that island/planet and she had to take out the aliens that were after her all by herself. That was so fucking empowering to watch and god fucking dammit I need to rewatch this series now. And of course, let us not forget the fact that the entire time, we were all expecting Ahsoka to just be another domino in Anakin’s downfall -- and she was, but not through the refrigerator -- but through walking away from it all. That was so powerful and moving -- and heartbreaking. By the end of TCW, her character carried weight and agency in the narrative, and god, I only wish whoever wrote her could write more female characters in the future.

8. Tigress from Kung Fu Panda: Maybe another surprise, but I think she deserves this spot. Tigress is a female character who starts out as kind of an antagonist, given how she outright tells Po to leave the kung fu temple within the first day of him arriving. She’s even jealous of the fact that he’s chosen as the Dragon Warrior rather than her -- but that’s due to the backwash of years of trying to live up to the memory of Tai Lung in order to please Shifu (which means “master” in Chinese but ok I’ll shut up now), her master and mentor over the years. She never says this out loud in the movie, which is what makes her character more believable. Others even joke about how stoic she is (and not in bad taste). Her character development is definitely present for those who are looking -- but I put her on this list because I’m so happy the movie doesn’t make it some huge dramatic emotional thing, because so often in media women are depicted as being overly-emotional and here Tigress is just a hurt child trying to make her mentor happy. But, she gets over it, her and Po become allies, even friends to each other -- she and Po talk like equals in the second and third movies, and she even tells him to back out of the fight with Lord Shen and he listens (I mean he doesn’t stay put but he doesn’t undermine her opinion either lol, like most jokesy protagonists of Western media would -- looking at you, Marvel). I like Tigress because she’s an antagonist without being a bitch, she’s powerful without being overpowered, and she’s not sexualized despite being a well-trained, at times jealous, and even emotionally awkward kung fu master. And I almost forgot to mention the best part: There is never an indication of romance between her and Po, or any other character, for that matter. She’s perfectly capable, complex, and lovely on her own terms. And that’s that on THAT.

9. Bilbo Baggins from The Hobbit: I wanted to include at least one character protagonist from a live-action movie/book, lol. I feel like Bilbo’s pretty self-explanatory. He doesn’t wanna go on an adventure because he likes his doilies and warm sheets, but then Gandalf seduces him with the call to the outside world and possible death (LOL), and he fucking goes for it, grumbling the entire time. Isn’t that what any of us would do if given such a proposition? I like to think so. Bilbo obviously has his own gradual, evil transformation with the One Ring, becomes murderous and uses it to disappear, and grows a strong bromance with the King Under the Mountain (which happens in both the movie and the book), but I think what I like about him is that he really feels... down-to-earth? Like even though the adventure changes him, it never feels like he’s been stretched in a way that makes his core character traits of grumbling and bluntness disappear. He gets better at the whole adventuring thing, for sure, but he remains Bilbo, at least, to me, throughout the journey. It was heartwrenching watching him try to save Thorin in The Battle of Five Armies, honestly, but Bilbo’s the kind of character that I feel like has his own story and mythology aside from The Hobbit, and maybe that’s just the result of J.R.R. Tolkien writing the lore for every aspect of his universe, but My Point Still Stands. He feels like his own man apart from the series he’s in, yet he’s still so much fun in his series.

10. Barley Lightfoot from Onward: And last, this one is because I saw Onward yesterday and was pleasantly surprised by the characterization in it -- and anyone who thinks differently can kiss my *ss. :) I was not expecting the movie to take the twist of fleshing out the “annoying” (more like adorable) overconfident nerdy big brother. Normally those characters are swiped to the side because God Forbid The Comic Relief Have Any Sadness In Them. I was expecting the movie to focus on Ian’s journey to meet his fatha and that the movie would pull something stupid at the end like “oh actually there’s another phoenix gem underneath the school” or “actually since only his legs appeared then you still have 24 hours with him” or some shit like that, but I guess this isn’t an anime so those absurdist explanations wouldn’t hold water anyway. But still, for a kid’s movie, I was NOT expecting this movie to go so hard with the characterization. For once, the main character doesn’t get what he wants at the end, and instead realizes it’s his big brother, Barley, who’s been looking out for him his entire life. Meeting his dad would betray that reality. What happens instead is that the lovable big brother never actually said goodbye to their dad before he died, because when their dad got sick, said brother ran away from the hospital room in fear of all the life-sustaining equipment. (Is this some meta thing about Chris Pratt and Guardians of the Galaxy? Off topic and call me stupid, but I didn’t realize Chris Pratt plays him until I saw everyone freaking out about it afterward on Tumblr laksjdflak.) So instead, the lovable big brother talks to the dad at the end, and unconfident younger brother grows confidence and thanks big bro for being with him his entire life. It was so touching, dude. I cry. But the moment that sticks in my mind the most was when Ian was crossing the invisible bridge... Ian needed to have confidence in himself to be able to cross over a chasm in their path, and Barley knew that if Ian didn’t believe in himself, he would fall and die. They tie a rope around Ian for good measure, and Barley encourages him the entire way, but halfway over, the rope comes loose and slips off. Barley sees this and starts panicking, but of course continues to encourage Ian so that Ian will get to the other side. What got to me wasn’t the fact that he faked it for Ian, but that there are actual tears running down his face as he’s encouraging Ian to get to the other side, because he knows otherwise Ian wouldn’t have the confidence and would fall to his death. Like dude, that raw, complex emotion in a kid’s movie?! DUDE?! I was fucking surprised. The clear anxiety and grief in Barley’s face as Ian’s totally clueless and even dancing around in the air was just too much, omfg. Of course, then it’s played off for laughs, but... I guess that makes sense for the annoying overconfident nerdy big bro character. :’)

Okay these are way longer than I anticipated and I’m sorry, but also I’m really not. Hope you enjoyed reading my thoughts on my favs!

Seems I don’t talk to that many people on here anymore: @stupidbluejay @mirycactusito @chronicstarlight

[spectraling]

My problems with S3

Salty rant in no particular order below the cut

What the HELL happened to the Byers? They went from being the emotional heart of the show to literally having one brief scene together in ep1 and then Will and Joyce had a hug by the end of ep8, which btw Jonathan DIDN’T EVEN JOIN IN ON??? He was literally in the background in that scene, are you trying to tell me my boy Jonathan Byers would not come out to hug his family after all that shit they just went through???? Jonathan and Will spent like what, four episodes standing next to each other and they barely even exchanged a single line?? Not a comforting touch, a hug, anything??

The Byers’ financial situation and how that could’ve given them some interaction, weight to Joyce’s desire to move and also the Byers talking about that AT ALL was lying right there for the taking. Joyce and Jonathan both had obvious concerns about losing their jobs

Joyce got to spend time doing something else than worrying about Will this season which was nice (instead running after manchild Hopper, great), but where are the repercussions of that? With the growing up theme I was hoping for Joyce to start to look into herself, about letting go and who she is when she’s not a mom

Jonathan was once again reduced to being Nancy’s sidekick, spending most of his time following her around and standing next to her while she drove the plot forward with a vengeance. He spent most of his time in the beginning being an abrasive grump and his pov was barely there with the lack of Byers fam content, which made his argument seem as weak as it did in s2. His scenes with Nancy hit the ground running, were rushed and few and far between. As soon as Jonathan was not by Nancy’s side he disappeared entirely from the plot until she called on him again. He didn’t have one single scene without her

Nancy Wheeler would never, ever stoop so low as to mock Jonathan for a) his socioeconomic position and b) his trauma with his dad. A super ooc low blow. Nancy can obviously be ignorant about how economical strife affects others, but actively mocking him??? This is not the Nancy that approached Jonathan “the freak” in s1 and expressed her concerns despite the entire school side-eyeing her. At least Jonathan got to sass back at her later

Where was Nancy’s backstory that was hinted at before the season? Was hoping for her to get some development OUTSIDE of her rallying to save the world 24/7

Will starts out the season having a semblance of an interesting, very relatable arc (abandonment issues, afraid of growing up, done with The Straights) that then goes nowhere in lieu of The Plot and Will just... doesn’t have a lot of beef with the MF. This thing and the other monsters of the UD fucked him for life, let him have something badass to do like I dunno, give him powers you cowards, let him fight the MF you cowards

Also let Will talk to his family about his issues, or have it be a point that Jonathan is now busy with Nancy and how he misses him. Jonathan being somewhat conflicted about spending all this time outside his family and the potential guilt and effect that has on him. Will destroyed Castle Byers that he and Jonathan built together, where the hell were my brotherly feels???

There was a lot of talk about “new pairings” with the characters, but everything felt very same-y. Jopper goes off on their own, jancy does the same thing, El and Mike have a ton of screentime devoted to just them, Steve and Dustin amped up their bromance to eleven, etc. Even when characters that usually aren’t grouped together were in the same scenes, they barely got anything to say or do (Lucas being said to “become closer with Jancy” was a flat out lie or referred to literally physically standing next to them). Where was Nancy and Joyce solidarity, El and Will siblings, Mike and Nancy bonding over their family falling apart, Jonathan and literally anyone but Nancy?

Villain focus completely shifted from the US government to the spoopy, evil Russians with their spoopy language. Stereotypical, tacky and bland af. Being American is Great and in no way problematic! Go patriotism/capitalism!

The abundance of action and cgi. Omg all of the action sequences. It felt like 70% of the season was spent on El throwing shit around with her powers and Hopper fighting Russian dudes. I remember being halfway through the season and thinking they really should’ve slowed down the plot. But that’s an issue with too little time for too many characters. I had no time to bond with any of the characters I liked since the plots were So Big and So Many that they ate up every opportunity for emotional intimacy and reflection. We had time for a goddamn ad for coke but not for the Byers to interact like once???

Also the whole infection/MF working in the shadows thing? Completely wasted potential. It was set up to induce paranoia in the characters and the MF tricking, playing with and torturing them, people not knowing who to trust which could’ve lead to some really compelling scenes. Nope, it’s just a big meaty version of the MF and now it’s running around town trying to fuck El up while nobody conveniently notices and tons of people died but who cares

Robin was shoehorned into the plot and magically had all the skills it took to figure out the code, could decipher Russian with no previous knowledge (the languages she listed as knowing are not at all related to Russian and why tf does she know so many languages??). At least she slapped Stobin in the face and gave us some actual LGBT rep since the doofuses are hellbent on beating around the bush with Will infinitely

Erica was 100% SASS and nothing else. It got old really quick

The entire plotline with Steve/Dustin/Erica/Robin took up about 60% of screentime with memes and sassy jokes and provided about 5% of relevance in the grand scheme of the plot. Everything they found out in the Russian facility could’ve been relayed by the Russian guy Jopper kidnapped

Which btw, why did a random Russian dude take up that much screentime? He had way more emotional development than 80% of the core cast. Also did we need that much Murray?

Speaking of, I did not need Murray doing his creepy, invasive psycho analysis thing on Jopper like he did Jancy last season. It was terrible and lazy writing then and it’s terrible and lazy now

Steve complaining about popularity “not being that great really” made me want to punch him in the face even more than usual. Nobody gives two shits about a rich white boy who got everything he pointed at, all the popularity and more girls than he could count at school while stomping on the outcasts

Also didn’t need that jab at Nancy in his heartfelt scene with Robin (which was funny bc Robin has a lot of similar traits to Nancy)

Karen and Billy was gross, but at least Karen stopped herself to go back to her unfulfilling but legally sound marriage. No need to rock that boat unnecessarily! A completely mediocre man is just fine for her I guess. At least she got a kickass scene with Nancy

Why in the fucking world did Billy get as much screentime as he did. Why on earth did this asshat, racist abuser get some bs sob story about his awful childhood when we have 47 other, way more sympathetic and interesting characters that could’ve been explored instead. And then he did some stupid “grand heroic sacrifice”. I cried more when the Russian dude died

Max was a victim of Billy’s abuse for years which was completely undermined by her ooc constant concern for him and overblown grief at his death

El being oh so concerned about Billy when she knew he was the asshole who had abused his friends Max and Lucas (and beat up Steve) before felt really insincere

Hopper was a huge, loud, violent jerk this season and I’m not having it. I felt sorry for Joyce having to put up with him and then he presumably died heroically (??? he’s obviously still alive guys) and I...didn’t really care? Was kind of on the Jopper train but have no hopes for it now. Where was their supposed “history” together that was hinted at before the season? It just felt like Hopper constantly acting like a huge, controlling manchild and Joyce having to pep/comfort/discipline him. No sense of back and forth support

What the fuck was that music number with Dustin and Suzie?? Omg cringe. I could feel how the characters all died inside

On the subject of music, they stole Jancy’s theme song and gave it to Steve and Robin and then Mileven. Mileven also stole Jancy’s “I love you”, which was clearly hinted from the name of the song on the soundtrack titled “The first I love you”, which is literally a rehash of their theme “The first lie” in s2. A huge slap in the face to end the season with

[yespoetry]

Control the Echoes

By Jonathan Russell Clark

Her spoken sentences tended to omit proper nouns, leaving only discursive, aimless run-ons that veered off one point, switched to another, swooped again, got murky, and finally landed not really anywhere specific but simply where a period arbitrarily stopped them.

“You were here when they told me,” she’d say, “and so you know that I’m not trying to do anything like they said I did, but they keep coming at me, and I don’t know who or what or where anymore, because there isn’t anything like that that I want, and I said that I was fine yesterday because I saw her over there, you know the young one, the one with the, oh what’s her hair like, and she wasn’t asking because like I said I wasn’t saying anything if I didn’t want to.”

The hospice info pamphlets said to go along with whatever she said, but how do go along with that? It didn’t take long, though, for me to figure out the purpose of going along with the things she said. If you don’t, you have to ask for clarification, or you have to contradict them, or you have to interrupt an already tenuous thread—and none of it with any results. It’s the flow that’s important, not the content. If I’d stopped my grandmother and said, for example, “Who are they?” she’d look at me as if I’d just asked her the most nonsensical thing, since of course she didn’t know who they were, because who they were didn’t matter. What mattered for her was some deep need to express, to communicate something, even if that something didn’t come out explicable. It was the act of talking that compelled her, and any obstruction jammed the rhythm and frustrated her. And since no actual clarification or sense came from any question we asked her, it was obviously better to let the linguistic current expel forth unimpeded.

Among her verbal hemorrhaging were numerous references to her long life: sometimes she’d wonder why her parents hadn’t been around to see her; sometimes she asked if I knew her brother, and where was he; and other times it seemed the words were some uncontrollable reverberation of various points in her nine decades.

An echo of herself.

*

In Aleksander Hemon’s novel The Lazarus Project, there is the following line: “Nobody can control resemblances, any more than you can control echoes.”

If there is a sound and a reverberating obstacle, there is an echo. There is no judgment in the existence of that echo, no choice, no accusation of agency, no life in it. Nobody accuses an echo of hyperbole, of lying, of falsifying the expanse of its resound. It is simply there because it is there.

*

 Three years. Three years. Three years. Three years.

I’ve never reached a fourth anniversary with a partner. All four of my major relationships ended at three, never developing the ability to speak in complex sentences, never learned to count past ten or understand the concept of time or tell a story about what happened to them.

My relationships died before they began to truly become independent. The failure of my love—its inability to keep something alive—repeats in my mind and through me when I meet someone who moves me. The joyous noise of new love echoes off the obstacle of my past failures, and I can no more control it than I can family resemblances.

*

My mother looks like my grandmother, and my sister looks like my mother, but my sister really looks like my grandmother. I see each of them in each other, in little softly articulated ways, as subtle as color schemes in well-decorated interiors, minute spots of this shade, that one, which unite a space of otherwise unconnected things.

*

Echoes are beyond our control—unless we alter the geography of where the sound is made.

*

Echo is a nymph in Ovid’s Metamorphoses, who is condemned to repeat the last few words of whatever Narcissus says. So when he asks, “Is anyone there?” she responds, “One there?”

I am standing in a cavern at Old Man’s Cave in Ohio, where I’m from. I yell out, “HELLO!” and hear loud and clear my voice coming back to me: ELLO Ello ello lo lo o.

Echoes do not return our words; rather, they transform them.

*

From Lacy M. Johnson’s essay “The Reckonings,” in which she grapples with notions of justice and retribution for the man who kidnapped, raped, and tried to kill her:

I carry these stories with me because I don’t know what else to do with them. The details may differ. If it is not the story of an abusive lover, perhaps it is a mother, or a father, or an uncle; or it is the story of a friend who has been killed by a stranger while trying to do the right thing, or a woman who is shot in the back of the head while asking for help; it might be a story about the abuse of power, or authority, of the slow violence of bureaucracy, of the way some people are born immune to punishment and others spend whole lifetimes being punished in ways they did nothing to deserve.

These horrific and common stories demand a corresponding action—some form of symmetrical absolution, as in movies where the villain is righteously killed by the victimized hero. “Then, as now,” Johnson writes, “we want to transform our suffering: to take a pain we experience and change it into the satisfaction of causing pain for someone else.”

Later, on becoming a writer: “I’ve called myself a writer now for more than half of my life, and during all this time, I have learned that sometimes the hardest and more important work I’ve done has meant turning a story I couldn’t tell into one that I can—and that this practice on its own is one not only of discovery but of healing.”

*

The American Psychiatric Association has this to say on PTSD:

People with PTSD have intense, disturbing thoughts and feelings related to their experience that last long after the traumatic event has ended. They may relive the event through flashbacks or nightmares; they may feel sadness, fear or anger; and they may feel detached or estranged from other people. People with PTSD may avoid situations or people that remind them of the traumatic event, and they may have strong negative reactions to something as ordinary as a loud noise or an accidental touch.

*

Echo tries to touch Narcissus, but he repels and rebukes her, saying, “Hands off! May I die before you enjoy my body.” To which Echo replies: “…enjoy my body.”

*

Mark Z. Danielewski’s novel House of Leaves features a chapter dedicated to echoes. This chapter has caused much consternation in readers: if you Google “house of leaves echoes” you’ll find numerous threads asking why this section is included in the book at all.

From that chapter:

Nevertheless, above and beyond the details of frequency shifts and volume fluctuations—the physics of ‘otherness’—what matters most is a sound’s delay.

Point of fact, the human ear cannot distinguish one sound wave from the same sound wave if it returns in less than 50 milliseconds. Therefore for anyone to hear a reverberation requires a certain amount of space.

*

My grandmother, out of necessity, does the same things everyday: she gets out of bed, takes medications, eats some fruit or toast, sits in her chair and watches TV. And she talks. In circles, full of non sequitors, wholly incomprehensible. Though there is sometimes a hint of frustration or helplessness in her words, she does not seem unhappy.

And yet she is losing herself. Has already lost most of herself. This self now—the one that still lives, functions, talks—isn’t her. So she isn’t happy; she is gone.

It is this echo that seems happy.

*

From Salman Rushdie’s The Enchantress of Florence:

The painting is an allegory of the evils of power, how they pass down the chain from the greater to the lesser. Human beings were clutched at, and clutched at others in their turn. If power was a cry, then human lives were lived in the echo of the cries of others. The echo of the mighty deafened the ears of the helpless.

I repeat: echoes do not repeat; they transform. It may be slight, it may seem miniscule, but it is not the same as the original vibration; it is like a recollection of it, a memory.

Memories fuzz the details. They make them murky. They soften the edges of some parts, intensify the sharpness of others. But we do not mistake memories for current realities, no more than we believe that a son and a father are the same person, merely because they share traits, look alike, echo each other.

*

Imagine the inside of yourself. Not the physical inside but the abstract inner space—the spirit or the soul or the heart or the essence—whatever you want to call it or believe it to be.

Imagine it as an open expanse of sky, or an endless field of grass, or a wide ocean. Imagine these impossible geographies filled with items: the house you grew up in; your first pair of glasses; your crush on your neighbor; the backpack you lost on the subway; the books you read and remember; the words that hurt you, that healed you, that gave definition to something that before was inarticulate; the shape of your calf; a painting by a friend; the hope you carry that persists in the face of repeated failures. It is you who connect this space of otherwise unconnected things.

Now imagine moving through these expanses—flying, walking, swimming—brushing up against the items, through them, past them, around them; touching them, holding them, feeling them. Imagine the culmination of these touches, these brushes, how they add up in your fingertips, give you a sense of surfaces, a variety of weight.

Imagine a sudden interruption in these spaces—a wall bounding upwards forever, a cliff with no foot routes, a curved shaped you can’t get above or below or around or inside. Imagine trying to continue moving through the space, but not matter what you do, you can’t get above or below or around or inside this interruption. In vain, you attack it with your fists, which only serves to confound your sense of touch, which before had been the entire point of moving. You have no options. Like some Biblical figure, like some mythological cypher, you yell at the interruption, condemning, berating, pleading, accusing, decrying…

But your words do nothing to it; they only echo back, mocking your futility.

*

When Narcissus first hears Echo in the woods, before he rebukes her, he calls out to her, “This way! We must come together.” Echo replies: “We must come together.”

*

We do not know what to do about my grandmother. She is not she and yet she is.

I do not know what to do with my new love, how I can deflect the echoes of my three-year pattern. Every love is different and yet shades of similarity persist.

We do not know how to get over trauma—not fully, not completely. Those echoes will always be there; we can no more control them than we can control the cause of that trauma.

We do not control the echoes of us; we can only control our own volume, the spaces we create sound in, our voices. We cannot control the sounds of others—“the physics of ‘otherness’”—but we can to the best of our ability change our distance, our space in relation to the echoes, to maybe get close enough to the source, that we can hear it no longer. We must turn the stories we can’t tell into ones that we can. We must reverse the echoes of power.

We must come together.

Jonathan Russell Clark is a literary critic. He is the author of An Oasis of Horror in a Desert of Boredom (Fiction Advocate), on Roberto Bolaño’s 2666. A former contributing editor at Literary Hub, his work has appeared in the New York Times Book Review, Rolling Stone, the San Francisco Chronicle, Vulture, Tin House, The Atlantic, The New Republic, the Columbus Dispatch, The Georgia Review, The Millions, LA Review of Books, The Rumpus, Chautauqua, PANK, and numerous others.

[hubcat99]

Funny Little Creatures Chapter 3

I am so glad that everyone seems to be enjoying this! I have a few more things I would like to flesh out before a BIG SURPRISE, so please be patient with me... also I’m so sorry I think the chapters keep getting longer and longer T^T

The Beginning

Previous Chapter

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" OUT OF THE WAY" Jonathan called out, a little too late for most of the poor workers in the south office wing as he blurred past them.

Racing down the hall towards the room that held the one person he wanted to see the most since coming back from his mission.

Jon slid between other soldiers, giving a brief salute to certain high ranking ones trying not to get himself kicked out. He wasn't as kind to the office clerks, as he bumped into either them or the stacks of papers they were trying to carry. Jon ignored the spikes of pain coming from his left arm sitting in a sling, as he not so gingerly hit it against things while he ran.

"Move you slow asses!" Jon called out again, joyfully, as he ignored his poor temporary handlers chasing after him, losing them in the crowd of workers left to pick up the mess he had created.

Sergeant Evan Fong was currently looking over a chart in his hands, ignoring the noises around him. He heard shouts but dismissed them since he wasn't directly involved. Evan was focused solely on the chart, rereading the information to try and push aside any rising concerns.

"Evan!" Delirious slid to a stop at Evan's office door, with another stupid shit eating grin plastered to his stupid handsome face that somehow always warmed Evan's stupid heart.

Delirious was at least mostly dressed in his military uniform properly this time he greeted Evan. His black boots were laced up neatly and shined, his dark blue pants ironed with the correct belt. It was all good until Evan looked at his top half which was a disaster.

"H.. hey why you staring?" Jon stammered, while trying to catch his breath and look natural as he leaned against the door frame.

Evan was staring because Delirious had on a grey wrinkled tank top half tucked into his pants, with his military jacket haphazardly balancing just barely on his bruised shoulders. He groaned heavily, seeing stubble on Delirious’ face and his hair was looking like he had just crawled out of bed.

Evan sighed and massaged his temples. "Lord give me some kind of strength..." He muttered. "Delirious, you're back?" He smiled softly at the other man practically vibrating in front of Evan.

"Yeah! I worked really hard and really fast so that I could get back to you!" Jon's tone had a possessive edge to it.

Evan frowned. "Back... to me?" He kept his voice level, not wanting Delirious to know just how happy that made him.

Jon nodded, sitting in a chair near Evan and spinning mindlessly. "Yeah! I hate the other handlers they give me when you have to stay and do paperwork,” He said with an almost childlike pout. “..... I think Clark died this time," Jon added like an after thought.

Evan froze, turning his body more to completely face him and stared at Delirious. "Clark is dead?" He asked.

Jon kept spinning. "Ah.. Yeah I think that's what that handlers name is... Was." Jon giggled. "He wasn't wearing a D.O.G patch, even though he was barking orders at me," Jon laughed hard, finding the joke funny.

Jon suddenly stopped spinning, slammed his boots on the floor and stared at Evan. "We should get breakfast! Oh oh oh! Even better! We should get Luke and THEN we should get breakfast!"

Evan was quiet, his eyes darting around the floor as he tried to think "...... Delirious, did you kill Clark?"

Jon giggled more and leaned out of his chair closer into Evan’s space. "Why would I do that? They would throw me in the pit again Evan and I don't like it there." Jon kept his piercing blue eyes on Evan trying to read his face.

Evan looked up clearing his throat and glanced back at the chart again. "I see... So... You want breakfast?" He smiled

Jon sat back in his chair giggling like mad. "Yeah! Oh and Luke! Let's get Luke!"

"Do you mean Cartoonz?" Evan asked him, getting out of his chair slowly.

Jon got flustered, standing up abruptly which made his chair roll out of Evan's office. "Ah! Yeah! I know what I meant... Cartoonz! Let's get Cartoonz!"

"Is there a reason you want to have breakfast with him?" He closed the chart and sat it on his desk, studying Jon's reaction.

Jon blinked a few times, not understanding at first, then beamed innocently. "Cause we're brothers!"

Which wasn't true and Evan knew that. They weren't even related the tiniest bit by blood. Delirious started to follow Cartoonz around calling him that after the incident.

"Oh. And his brand new handler is asleep at his desk.” Jon jerked his thumb behind him to the open office across the hall.

Evan sighed and shook his head. "Of course Ryan is asleep," he groaned softly. He studied Jon once again.

"Why don't we get your arm looked at?" He suggested calmly.

Jon gave his left arm a look and shrugged "Can't it wait till sometime after breakfast?"

He stepped over to him. "Delirious, your arm is in a sling. What happened out there?"

Jon smiled and quickly leaned over to ghost a kiss on Evan's lips. “Thanks for caring"

Jon then just as quickly left his office. "I'll be waiting at Lu-- Cartoonz's room! Wake up Ryan and hurry over to breakfast!"

Evan froze again. He wasn't expecting the kiss, and he lightly touched his lips in wonder.

Evan was left alone in his office hearing only his other coworkers, Ryan's soft snoring and the blood rushing in his hot ears.

He shook his head and turned towards Ryan, steeling himself to wake up the small bean of his co-worker.

Ryan jumped awake, his light chocolate brown hair messy from sleeping at his desk, and his glasses were askew on his nose. "Huh?!"

Evan smirked. "Wake up sleepyhead."

Ryan stood up, knocking over his chair and fixing his grey uniform.

"Ah, sir Fong! Mister Fong! Sergeant Fong!" Ryan saluted the other man in his black and gold uniform, his hair and glasses still a mess.

Evan chuckled. "At ease. Didn't sleep well?"

Ryan relaxed and smiled faintly. "Ah... no... the alarm sounded in Cartoonz's room last night..." he added, his smile fading.

Evan frowned. "What happened?" He sat down in the chair that Delirious had vacated.

Ryan sighed, feeling foolish for telling a commanding officer, though younger, about his worries.

"My cell got the code so I rushed to Cartoonz's room," Ryan righted his chair and sat in it. "And I followed protocol to make sure his heart rate would go back down..."

Evan shook his head. "More night terrors... Did he take his medication?"

Ryan nodded, choosing to leave out what happened after that. "With some nagging.... I think he hates me and I'm not sure how the council think I'm a good fit for him."

"Well... He's probably still dealing with what happened to Mark." Evan rubbed his neck.

Ryan licked his lips. “I ah.. felt a little uneasy so I secured his door with the outside lock.”

Evan stared at him. "What??"

Ryan blinked, his heart jumping up into his sore throat. "Was I not supposed to?"

He sighed. "I... How bad was he...?"

Ryan looked away, about to admit to everything, until his confession was cut short by a loud commotion, and military personnel running past Ryan's open office door.

Evan whipped around. "What the hell??" He hurried to the hallway and looked down it, his eyes widening at the sight.

Delirious was standing on the secretaries desk in the front of the section for Evan's neighborhood of offices. Delirious was screaming for a key to Cartoonz's room and kicking at anyone trying to touch him.

Ryan gasped behind Evan. "Oh no... I didn't know he was back.. this.. this is my fault. Delirious must think Cartoonz is in the pit."

Evan groaned hard, dragging his hands down his face. "Please shoot me..." He mumbled as he hurried over to Delirious. "Down soldier!!" He called out.

Jon hopped down off of the secretaries desk and landed in front of Evan, standing a few inches from his face when he straightened.

To Evan, Delirious looked wild and mad like an animal ready to attack. He leaned closer into Evan's space till they were touching noses. "Why is his room locked?"

Evan kept his gaze fixed on Jon. "Ryan locked it last night."

Jon shot daggers at Ryan from over Evan's shoulder. "Did he..."

"Delirious, focus on me." Evan ordered his D.O.G. by grabbing his shoulder

Delirious blinked and smiled at Evan, giggling a bit. "What part of you should I focus on?"

"At this point, I don't care." He sighed. "If we do a wellness check on Cartoonz will you behave?" One brow raised on Evan's face.

Delirious blatantly stared at Evan's lips and smirked devilishly. "I will mostly certainly behave and get breakfast like a good boy Ev.”

Evan nodded. "Good. Ryan? Let's open his room."

Ryan swallowed, starting to regret applying to swap departments. "Yes Sir"

After a few deep breaths, Ryan stood straight and walked with Evan as Delirious trailed behind them, looking bored and yet alert of his surroundings.

Ryan looksed over his shoulder at Delirious who caught his eye and showed off his teeth. "How do you do it..." Ryah said in a hushed voice turning back to look ahead.

Evan blinked and looked at Ryan. "How do I handle him?" He asked. When Ryan nodded, he shrugged. "I dealt with a really hard case a few months ago involving Jack. Remember that incident?" He rubbed at a scar on his neck. "Compared to him, Delirious is just over emotional sometimes."

Ryan blinked and nodded. "Yeah I remember that.... didn't know you were involved..."

"Directly involved. I was his initial handler." Evan glanced back at Delirious and smiled softly. "Delirious isn't as bad as he was."

Ryan nodded again taking it all in. He looked at Evan when he heard Delirious giggle from behind them. “You... You even seem to have this silent agreement with Cartoonz... "

"Silent agreement?" He raised a brow and looked at Ryan as they turned the corner leading to Cartoonz's room

Ryan stepped up to the door while carefully pulling his keys out. "Maybe it's because of Delirious but he never bothers you..."

Ryan unlocked the door, letting it fall open after he turned the knob.

The room was mostly dark aside from the bathroom light, casting a faint glow on Cartoonz who was sitting on the edge of his bed facing them.

[ilovearticlesoffaith-blog]

God Loves You with a Greater Love

This is my commandment, That ye love one another, as I have loved you. GREATER LOVE HATH NO MAN THAN THIS, that a man lay down his life for his friends. Ye are my friends, if ye do whatsoever I command you.

John 15:12-14

The great love of God will change your life forever. This love is greater than anything found on earth. When a man says to a woman, “I love you”, it cannot be compared to the greater love that I am writing about in this book. Your mother may love you, your father may love you; but none of them will die for you. Your boyfriend may love you and your girlfriend may love you, but none will die for you. This book is about the greater love of God. When you open up your heart to receive this great love, you will be born again. If you open up your heart to this great love from God, you will become a new creation and live a totally different life. If you open up your heart to this great love from God, you will escape your punishment in Hell. You deserve to go to Hell and so do I. But through the love of God who sent His only Son that we might not perish, we can be born again! Hallelujah! We can become new creatures! We can escape the outer darkness and the torments of Hell. What manner of love is this that we can be called the children of God? What great salvation has been shown to us that Jesus should shed His blood to save us from our sins! I want you to open up your heart and enjoy the great salvation that Christ offers to you. I am sad to say that many Christians do not understand salvation. That is why I am writing this book. Salvation is rarely preached about these days. It is time for us to bring back the solid foundations on which Christianity will forever stand.

Seven Things You Should Know about Greater Love

1. There are different kinds of love, but Jesus’ love is the greatest. God has a special kind of love which is the greatest kind of love in existence. Just look at these Scriptures which describe God’s love. What manner of love is this? God’s love is the great love, the everlasting love and the greater love.

Behold, what MANNER OF LOVE the Father hath bestowed upon us, that we should be called the sons of God: therefore the world knoweth us not, because it knew him not.

1 John 3:1

But God, who is rich in mercy, FOR HIS GREAT LOVE wherewith he loved us, even when we were dead in sins, hath quickened us together with Christ, (by grace ye are saved;)

Ephesians 2:4-5

And we have known and believed THE LOVE THAT GOD HATH TO US. God is love; and he that dwelleth in love dwelleth in God, and God in him. Herein is our love made perfect, that we may have boldness in the day of judgment: because as he is, so are we in this world. 1 John 4:16-17

The LORD hath appeared of old unto me, saying, Yea, I have loved thee with AN EVERLASTING LOVE: therefore with lovingkindness have I drawn thee. Jeremiah 31:3

The Beloved and the Greater Love I once knew a young lady who had a beloved. This beloved young man wanted to marry the young lady but he did not treat her well. He seemed to be torn between his beloved and some other girls. Their relationship was tumultuous, to say the least. One day, this young lady finally came home and said, “It’s over.” She was tearful because her heart was broken by the broken relationship. But I comforted her and told her that God would give her somebody else, an even better beloved. After some months God answered our prayers and a nice young man came out of nowhere and fell in love with her. They seemed to be enjoying their relationship and one day I asked the young lady, “How is your new relationship?”

She smiled and said, “It’s far greater than the first relationship. God has been good to me.” In other words, she was experiencing a greater love and a better relationship. So I asked her, “Why is this relationship better?” She said, “I didn’t even know that this is how happy I could be. I didn’t know there was a much greater love that I could experience.” Indeed, this young lady experienced a greater kind of love. This is how God’s love is. It is a far greater kind of love. What manner of love is this?

2. The love of Jesus is greater than ‘the love of brothers’.

Seeing ye have purified your souls in obeying the truth through the Spirit UNTO UNFEIGNED LOVE OF THE BRETHREN, see that ye love one another with a pure heart fervently.

1 Peter 1:22

Many families have disintegrated despite the fact that they are related. They break up and fight each other time and time again. The love of Jesus must be far greater than the love between brethren.

The Kidney Donation

One day, there was a prayer meeting in which prayers were offered up for a brother who needed a kidney donation. They declared their love for this brother and wanted him to continue to live through a kidney donation. However, as the prayer meeting went on, they realised that no one was prepared to donate his kidney even though that was what they were praying about. Finally, the leader of the prayer meeting decided to allow God to choose whose kidney should be donated.

So he took a feather and told the gathering that he was going to throw the feather in the air and whoever it landed on would have to donate his kidney. Everyone agreed to this process of divine selection. He threw the feather in the air. Up it went and came sailing down, amazingly, in the direction of the leader himself. Suddenly, the leader began to shout and blow at the feather so that it would not come to him. It was evident that no one was prepared to donate his kidney; not even the leader. It is one thing to say you love someone but it is another thing to have the “greater love” which makes you sacrifice yourself for him.

3. The love of Jesus is greater than the love of women. Many songs have been written about the love of women. Actually, most songs are written about the love between men and women and yet much of the pain in the world comes from the break-up of the relationships between men and women. Oh, how easily the love of women goes sour! The love I am writing about is the greater love.

I am distressed for thee, my brother Jonathan: very pleasant hast thou been unto me: THY LOVE TO ME WAS WONDERFUL, PASSING THE LOVE OF WOMEN.

2 Samuel 1:26

AND JACOB LOVED RACHEL; and said, I will serve thee seven years for Rachel thy younger daughter. And Laban said, It is better that I give her to thee, than that I should give her to another man: abide with me. And Jacob served seven years for Rachel; and they seemed unto him but a few days, for the love he had to her Genesis 29:18-20

AND THE KING LOVED ESTHER ABOVE ALL THE WOMEN, and she obtained grace and favour in his sight more than all the virgins; so that he set the royal crown upon her head, and made her queen instead of Vashti. Esther 2:17

The love of women is the love of the female body; with this kind of love the woman gives her body to a man to indulge him. The love of women is short-lived. Most women are unable to keep the attention of a man for very long. I had a friend who had two girlfriends. I asked him how he could have two girlfriends at the same time. Then he answered, “I used to have eight girlfriends when I was in sixth form but now that I am in the university I have only two.” This young man had a very short attention span for the different women in his life. The love of Jesus lasts longer than the lust a man has for different women. The love of Jesus has lasted throughout the centuries. It has persisted until it reached you and me. The love of Jesus Christ is a far greater kind of love than the love a man can have for a woman. There are limitations with this love of women. Even the most intense couples need counselling shortly after they are married. Many who say “I love you”; “You’re my dream”; “I’m so happy I met you” will often say the same things to another person. Obviously there is something missing in this “love for women”.

The Widow

There was a certain pastor who lived happily with his wife until he died unexpectedly. The wife was heartbroken and she cried continually. Her pastor tried to counsel her but she could not be comforted. One day, she went to the graveside and wept from morning to evening. As she cried she scratched and clawed at the grave. She wanted to pull her husband out of the grave.

One day, the pastor had a vision and he was taken to Heaven where he saw the husband of this lady. To his amazement, this man was very happy in Heaven. He spoke to the pastor and told him that he was very happy to be in Heaven. The pastor told him, “Your wife is crying every day and she cannot be comforted.” Then the dead pastor told him something truly shocking. He said, “Oh, don’t worry about my wife. The Lord told me when I got here that she was going to be okay and that He was even going to give her a new husband who would be better than me.” He said, “Please tell my wife when you go that this is what the Lord said.” “But she won’t believe me.” “Don’t worry, the pastor said, I will tell you a secret between her and me. When you tell her she will know that you have spoken to me.” Then the dead husband told him a secret that only he and his wife knew. After the vision, the pastor called this woman and told her that he had seen her husband and that she was going to have a new husband who would be better than the old one. She said, “No way, it can never happen. I will never have a new husband and no one could be better than my husband.” Then he told her the secret. She screamed and said, “You have been standing outside our window to listen to our conversation.” It was then that she realised that it was a real vision. As time passed she did marry again. One day the pastor asked her, “How is your new marriage?” She smiled sheepishly and said, “Indeed this new husband is far greater than my first husband. I am experiencing a greater love.”

This lady experienced greater love in her second marriage. Indeed, there are lesser and greater kinds of love but Jesus’ love is a far greater love than the love of women or the love of brethren.

4. The love of Jesus is greater than the love of a nation. People claim to love their countries. But when the country is poor, they claim citizenship of another country if they can. A lot of Ghanaians and Nigerians have changed their nationalities and are now proud to be British, American, Italian and German citizens. People change their accents and dissociate from their countries at the slightest opportunity. But Jesus Christ stayed by His cross and died for the whole world. The love of Jesus Christ is far greater than the love anyone can have for his country.

5. The love of Jesus is greater than the love of a mother for her children.

Can a woman forget her sucking child, that she should not have compassion on the son of her womb? Yea, they may forget, yet will I not forget thee.

Isaiah 49:15

Mothers can and do forget their children. Some mothers drop their children on the doorstep of another and turn away forever. Indeed, the love of a mother is a great thing to behold. But it cannot be compared to the greater love that Jesus exhibited when He gave up His life for the whole world.

6. The love of Jesus is greater love because He sacrificed Himself for us. This love is greater because one usually gives something when he loves. Jesus did not give us money, houses or cars as some do; He laid down his life! He gave His life; He did not live to be seventy years. He poured out His blood for us. The blood is the life. He gave us His life by giving His blood.

HEREBY PERCEIVE WE THE LOVE OF GOD, because he laid down his life for us: and we ought to lay down our lives for the brethren.

1 John 3:16

And from Jesus Christ, who is the faithful witness, and the first begotten of the dead, and the prince of the kings of the earth. UNTO HIM THAT LOVED US, AND WASHED US from our sins IN HIS OWN BLOOD.

Revelation 1:5

The Man in the Deep Freezer

One day, a young man met a lady and told her how much he loved her. This young lady was enthralled by the love the young man showered on her and decided to marry him. They got married, moved into their new house and bought furniture, a deep freezer, a fridge and all the things they needed to make a happy home. One night, they were in bed when armed robbers broke into the house. The husband managed to escape into the living room and did not know where to go next. When he saw the new empty deep freezer, an idea occurred to him to jump into it and hide in it. When the armed robbers could not find him, they beat up his wife and maltreated her. As the wife screamed and called for help the husband was nowhere to be found because he was hiding in the deep freezer. When the armed robbers finally left, he came out of the deep freezer to console his wife. But she would have none of it. “You don’t love me,” she said. “If you had loved me you would have come out of the deep freezer to save me.” The husband said, “I love you but not that much.” Then he continued, “Don’t you understand? There is nothing much that I could have done. Those guys would have killed me. I would have lost my life trying to save you. I would have been a hero but I would have lost my life.”

Later on when the lady went to church, she heard the pastor preaching, “Greater love hath no man than this that a man lay down his life for his friends.” Then she realized that her husband had been unable to lay down his life for her. Even though he did love her to an extent, her husband’s love could not be compared with the love that Jesus had for her. Jesus Christ laid down His life for her. Her husband did not do that.

7. You shall not escape if you neglect such a great love. To ignore, to despise and to neglect the greater love of Jesus is to leave yourself to suffering and unhappiness. If you reject such great love, I wonder who will love you in future.

How shall we escape, if we neglect so great salvation; which at first began to be spoken by the Lord, and was confirmed unto us by them that heard him;

Hebrews 2:3

The Desperate Beauty

When I was in the university, I knew many beautiful Christian girls. There was this particular Christian girl who was outstandingly beautiful. All the young men wanted to be in a relationship with her and marry her. She received many letters from many young men. She simply read every letter and made fun of the people who had written to her. She would show the letters to her friends and they would have a good laugh. Eventually, she left the university and fewer and fewer young men were interested in her. At a point no one proposed to her anymore. As the years went by, she became desperate and decided to join a church where the pastor did not have a wife. After some time she realised that the pastor was not noticing her so she decided to dance in front of him during the praise and worship time. Somehow, he still did not notice her.

Eventually, she decided to go and propose to the pastor herself. She went up to him and said, “I would like to marry you. Will you marry me or not?” But he did not want to marry her. How embarrassed she was! What a shame! Someone who was desired by so many people now had no one who loved her and wanted her. You see, if you reject great love you will one day regret it. A day will come when you will not get such love showered on you. You will live to discover that you cannot escape if you neglect the way of salvation that Jesus brings. The Grieving Widow

One day, I met a lady whose husband had died. Her husband had been a pastor who had died in his early forties. She told me how her husband loved to pass by her and make swipes. She said, “Anytime he walked past me at home, he would touch me. But I did not like it. I did not appreciate his constant touching.” She proceeded to tell me about how he had been stricken by cancer in the midst of his years. According to her, a time came when he would lie down at home, unable to raise his hands. She would pass by him, as at other times, but this time he could neither raise his hands nor give her one of his cuddles. She said, “As he lay there dying I wished so much that he would stretch his hand and touch me like he used to.” But it was all over. She had rejected his love many times but wished she could have it again. The very thing you reject may be the only way by which God will bless you. Open your heart to the greater love of Jesus and enjoy His love, forgiveness and blessing.

by Dag Heward-Mills

[lfthinkerwrites]

Tales From Gotham Academy: Backstory

Penelope (and the readers) find out about Edward’s past. 

The next afternoon, the end of school bell found Harley and Penelope in the latter's office, talking about what had transpired yesterday. "So, Eddie still hasn't told you what's up?

Penelope shook her head. "No. He didn't pick up his phone when I called last night. He hasn't said a word to me all day. He didn't come to the teacher's lounge during lunch break. He wouldn't even come to visit me after his computer lab."

Harley looked at her aghast. "What!? But he always comes to visit you after his computer lab! What's the matter with him?"

Penelope sighed. "I wish I knew." She'd never seen Edward like this. Even when they argued, which, given their temperaments, was unavoidable, he never, ever shut her out like this. For better and for worse, he communicated what was bothering him. This wasn't like him and it worried her as much as it annoyed her. "It's obviously connected to the trip, somehow, but I just can't figure out how."

"Did ya ask Jonny and Jervis?"

"I did," Penelope answered. "But they're as clueless as I am."

Harley tapped her finger against her chin, puzzling this out. "Maybe it's about something that happened before he started working here. Lina's known him longest, maybe she'd know."

"Maybe," Penelope concurred. Come to think of it, other than anything relating to college or Ellen, Edward very rarely spoke about his life before he started working at Gotham Academy. She knew enough to know that he'd had a difficult childhood, so she'd never pried further, but that left a lot of blank spots in his biography. She huffed. Just her luck she'd had to fall in love with a mystery man. She was about to get out of her chair and follow Harley's suggestion about finding Selina when there was a knock at her door. "Yes?"

The door cracked open and Jervis walked in with a nervous expression on his face. "Um, White Queen? Dormouse has locked himself in the Computer Lab and won't come out."

Penelope exchanged a long-suffering look with Harley and sighed. "I'll be right there." She got up from her chair and, along with Harley, followed Jervis down the hallway that led to the Computer Lab. Just what was Edward up to now?

When the trio arrived, a small crowd had gathered outside the lab, made up mostly of students. Thankfully, as far as Penelope could tell, Ellen wasn't there. She'd be at Pam's club right about now with Duela Dent. Jonathan was there, however, banging his fist against the closed door. "Edward!" he shouted. "Open up!"

"Go away!" Penelope heard Edward's voice from inside the lab. "Can't a man sulk in peace!?"

"Not when students need to use the damn lab you can't!" Jonathan shouted back, his patience clearly already at an end. "Stop acting like a spoiled child and open the door before I get Miguel to break it down!"

"Do your worst!" Edward challenged.

Jonathan's face darkened. Time for Penelope to step in. She gently pushed her way through the growing throng of students to Jonathan's side by the door. As he was about to bang his fist against the door again, Penelope cleared her throat. Jonathan paused, looked at her, and acknowledged her with a nod. "Afternoon, child."

"May I?" Penelope asked. Jonathan stepped to the side to allow her access to the door. Penelope gave the door a brisk knock.

"Fuck off, Jon!" Edward shouted.

Penelope bit back the choice words she wanted to say in response, instead keeping her tone measured. "Edward? It's me."

There was a long pause before Edward spoke sheepishly. "Oh. Hello."

Well, at least he hadn't snapped at her. Penelope bit her lip as she thought of how to approach her boyfriend. Well, if he wouldn't come out..."Edward? May I come in?"

There was another pause, then she heard footsteps approach the door. Another second, and she heard the telltale sound of the door being unlocked, and Edward's footsteps retreating back into the room. Jonathan gave Penelope another nod, and she entered the lab, shutting the door behind her.

The lights were still on in the lab, thankfully. Edward sat at his desk, his arms crossed across his chest and a sullen look on his face. "Eddie?" Penelope asked, approaching him. "What on Earth is going on? Are you alright?"

"I'm not going on this trip," he said vehemently. "Gordon can't make me."

Penelope considered her next words carefully. "I take it there's more to this than just how awful these field trips are. It's something about the park specifically, isn't it? Do you have some kind of history with it?"

Edward let out a deep sigh, then chuckled a bit. "Can't keep anything from you, can I Darling?"  He sighed again. "It's not the park itself. It's the company that owns it. Competitron. I used to work for them as a video game developer."

Penelope came closer to him until she was standing right next to him. "Go on."

"I went to work for them right out of college," he said. "I signed a work for hire contract for them to create games. Before you say anything, I realize now, of course, that was a poor choice to make, but I was a 22 year old with a student loan debt and a baby girl to support. I wasn't in a position to be too discriminating."

"I wasn't going to say anything," Penelope said, raising her hand. "I take it you hated working there."

Edward let out a sharp bark of laughter. "Hardly! I loved it! I love creating puzzles and games. I've always loved it. Sure, the hours were horrible, but that was a small price to pay for being able to do what I loved. I was the one who created Riddle of the Minotaur you know. That game helped put Competitron on the map." As he spoke, he began to smile. Then his smile fell.

"What happened?" Penelope asked.

"Daniel Mockridge happened," he seethed.

"Who is Daniel Mockridge?"

"The CEO of Competitron," Edward explained. "After Riddle of the Minotaur broke sales records, he gave himself a raise, so I thought I deserved a cut of the royalties as well. He thought otherwise. He fired me."

This was the first she'd heard of Daniel Mockridge, but she already disliked the man. "Why didn't you sue?"

"Oh, I wanted to," Edward said. "I began to look into getting a lawyer, but," Edward's shoulders sagged. "Then Diane died. Ellen needed me to be a hundred percent present, physically, mentally, and emotionally. I let it go and tried to get work elsewhere, but Mockridge had badmouthed me to other gaming companies. Finally, the only job I could get was teaching here, and that was thanks to Selina. And here we are."

Penelope reached over to gently grasp Edward's hand. "I'm sorry, Eddie."

Edward smiled ruefully, then squeezed her hand back. "Well, this may not be the job I wanted, but I don't regret being able to be close to Ellen. Or meeting Jon and Jervis." He brought her hand up to kiss her knuckles. "Or you for that matter." Penelope flushed a bit at the display of affection, then her heart sank as Edward let go of her hand and scowled again. "I'm still not going on this trip though."

"Edward," Penelope said, not unkindly. "I know you have a bad history with Competitron, but you shouldn't let it control you."

"Mockridge set this whole thing up," Edward continued as if he hadn't heard her. "It would be just like him, too. He'll probably be there at the damn park, ready to humiliate me all over again."

"Edward," Penelope said seriously. "Don't you think you're being just a bit paranoid?"

"No, I'm not!" Edward retorted. "And I'm not going on this trip. I'll sit in this lab in protest. Gordon will have to drag me onto those buses kicking and screaming next Friday!"

Penelope rolled her eyes. Time to play hardball. "There's no reason to do that, Edward," she said, moving behind him. Edward watched her with suspicion but said nothing. "I'm sure if you asked very nicely, Harley would be more than willing to trade with you." Edward opened his mouth as if to speak, but she placed her hands on his shoulders and gently began to rub like she knew he liked. He hummed happily and leaned back, closing his eyes. "We could stay on campus together," she said in a low tone, moving her hands up to run her fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp. He was limp in her touch, like a kitten, and she knew she had him right where she wanted him. Time to move in for the kill. "Of course, that would mean that you'd be letting Ellen go on a notoriously chaotic school trip completely without parental supervision."

As expected, Edward's eyes opened in a flash. He looked stricken for a moment, then he peered up at her and his eyes narrowed. "I know what you're doing," he said. "You're attempting to use my love for my daughter against me."

Penelope smirked down at him. "Is it working?" She already knew the answer and from the look on his face, he did too. The one thing she could always count on was that push come to shove, Edward would always, always put Ellen first.

Edward glared half-heartedly at her. "You've been spending far too much time in Selina's company, Darling. This is the most blatantly manipulative thing I've ever seen you do. Have you no shame?"

Penelope shrugged. "Clearly not. I work at this school, don't I?"

Edward continued to scowl, then he sat back up. "I could just not let Ellen go," he said. "Check and mate."

"That wouldn't be fair to her. And she'd be furious with you for a long time. It's one thing to not let her go if you have a genuine concern for her safety. It's something else entirely to prevent her from going on a trip just so you can avoid going on it. You're a better man and father than that."

Edward's leaned back and his face softened a bit as he looked up at her. "You really believe that, don't you?"

Penelope allowed her face to soften. "I wouldn't be with you if I didn't."

Edward smiled at her then, and it was plain to see how much he completely adored her. He took a deep breath, then got up out of his chair. "Very well," he said regally. "For you and Ellen, I will go on this trip." He grinned wolfishly at her. "I do expect you to make it up to me, however."

"I'm sure you do," Penelope said dryly. "You can come up with a list later. Let's get out of here before Jonathan makes good on his threat and gets Miguel to break down the door."

[ohscorbus]

Harry Potter and the Cursed Child: Saturday 28th July, 2018

Today was one of my favourite shows. Part One especially. It wasn’t perfect, lines were forgotten and tricks didn’t work, but there was something about it that made it special. I saw a cast that were now exploring the depths of their characters and were enjoying it as much as the audience. It felt new and the magic was very much alive.

PART ONE

Act One, Scene Three

So before Albus walks into Scorpius’s carriage, there’s always another student who walks in first, and then walks back out again very quickly once they realise it’s Scorpius Malfoy. Today said student sat down, saw Scorpius, and then literally screamed. It was hilarious, then utterly heartbreaking. It made me wonder how many students truly believe the rumours and are genuinely terrified of Scorpius. Can you imagine having to live with that? I bet it’s even worse after he’s returned from the Voldemort AU because then he’s seen how awful he can be. I wonder, in his lowest moments, if he fears these students are seeing what’s inside of him, and what he could be, and whether they’re right...  *slams hands down on her desk* Give me Scorpius’s struggle with his mental health after all the shit he’s gone through! 

Act One, Scene Four

“My son is suffering” - Draco feeeeels. I loved the way James said this today. Instead of its usual power, today he just sounded broken. He said it was his son that was suffering but clearly, so was he. Doesn’t that just break your heart? Draco is about to lose his wife and his son is being bullied at a school far away and he can’t do anything about any of it. Everything is falling apart and the fact that he can’t mask that in his voice, to Harry Potter while in public, says just how bad it must be.

Act One, Scene Ten

Scorpius properly leaned back in and sniffed as he tried to distinguish what Rose smelled like. I can’t with this boy. It’s like, the more he tries to save the awkward social interaction, the worse it gets... #relatable

“Do we hug?” - Scorpius is always surprised by this hug. No one has ever played it any differently. Until today. Oh Jonathan. Jonathan, Jonathan, Jonathan. So Scorpius was still initially shocked by it but it only lasted a second. Then as Albus pulled away, what had just happened seemed to dawn on him and Scorpius’s face instantly lit up. He was shining like a thousand suns. The very definition of pure joy. He liked that hug and he wanted more, and he wanted more now. So he immediately leaned straight back in and stretched his arms out, already half way round Albus and trying to bring him back into another hug. Sadly Albus stopped him but honestly… the way he just didn’t even hesitate before he went back in for another hug. Or the fact that he wanted another hug. Bless. Oh and his line!!!! So yeah, in case you hadn’t picked up on the fact this boy likes his hugs all Albus-y, his tone of voice said it loud and clear. “Do we hug?” didn’t sound confused like it usually does, today it was hopeful and full of excitement. Just like Scorpius.

Act One, Scene Eleven

“I feel like I’ve learnt a lot about me, something about you” -  After this, Scorpius turned round and bent down as if to start climbing back down into the carriage. This was enough rebelling for him, thank you very much. (Bless him.) Albus had to go over and stop him :’)

Jonathan gave me some serious Anthony flashbacks today. Remember Floorpius? Well his spirit lives on. Like the train roof today? Scorpius spent most of it on the floor, legs in the air (or worse, hanging off the side of the train!!!), and flailing like you would not believe. There are no words. All I could think about was that red panda video. Here’s a gif from it that perfectly demonstrates Jonathan’s Scorpius on top of the train roof once the Trolley Witch starts throwing exploding pumpkin pasties at them. The other red panda’s reaction isn’t far off from what Albus was doing to be fair... 

(You know how I like to think Albus’s Animagus form is a fennec fox? Well now I’m imagining Scorpius being a red panda. I mean, I still think he’d be a great fainting goat, but the idea of a tiny fennec fox and a cute fluffy red panda running around together is too cute. Also, a Malfoy turning into something so red would be amazing haha.)

Act One, Scene Nineteen

So green liquorice laces are used on stage for the Gillyweed. Fun fact. Anyway, I don’t know what happened today but Joe must have had triple the amount (and then some) of what they tend to have. So when he pulled out his handful (understatement of the year) and dumped Scorpius’s ‘share’ into his hands, Jonathan’s face was priceless. I love the fact that Joe could have taken more so at least they would have both suffered but nope. He kept his usual amount and gave the excess to Jonathan to deal with. And when I say deal with, I mean eat. I’m not sure if it was a growl or a desperate wail sound he made as he took a mouthful of the laces but whatever it was, it was great. I’m sorry for laughing at your expense Jonathan but you know… if it’s worth anything, I think it handled it like a pro. By which I mean Scorpius would have been proud :’)

Act Two, Scene Six

“Still get a tingle, don’t you?” - You know when you get a full body shiver for no apparent reason? The kind that leaves you with goosebumps? Well that’s what happened to Scorpius today when he was looking at Hogwarts through the trees. He had tingles you could actually see. I really liked that because this scene gives me that exact same feeling. It’s hard to describe but there’s something about seeing Hogwarts through their eyes that makes it one of the most magical parts of the show.

Act Two, Scene Nine

“I can’t, okay?” - Albus said this quietly to Scorpius as he held his arm. This was for Scorpius’s ears, not Harrys. Then when he speaks again (“We’ll be better off without each other, okay?”), it’s said much louder and definitely for Harry’s benefit. He wants his dad to know he’s following the rules even though the way he previously spoke to Scorpius tells us his heart isn’t really in it.

Act Two, Scene Sixteen

“Well, I wasn’t a loser before I met you” - I’ve never heard an audience collectively respond to this line with ‘ohhhh’s so loudly before. These guys were invested. I LOVE IT. (I’ve said this a thousand times before but a good audience makes a great show exceptional. To hear so many gasps and awww’s and laughs makes it feel like you’re seeing it for the first time with them. The shared excitement is infectious and it picks everyone up. That energy isn’t lost on stage either.)

You know the hug after their argument? Well when Albus pulled him in, Scorpius completely relaxed in his arms for a second. It was like he ceased to have any control over his limbs. (Which to be fair, is not unusual for Scorpius.) You know what his arms reminded me of actually? That time Harry lost all of his bones! I’d add a gif but you all know it... Anyway, he properly fell into that hug. Then as soon as the hug was over, Scorpius went straight back in for another hug, just like last time, but this time Albus let him. Good times.

PART TWO

@torestoreamends​ pointed out a few shows back how much Scorpius whispers in part two but I hadn’t really thought much of it until I was watching where and when he was doing it today. Because, correct me if I’m wrong, people with a stutter generally stutter less when they whisper. (And sing which you know, also explains a lot.) So it makes sense he’d do this. He’s under enormous amounts of stress in this part, something in which will only exacerbate the issue, so I love the idea of him getting around that. He knows there are times in which his speech cannot fail him. He needs to get these words out. He needs to be seen as calm and collected. (Does the Scorpion King stutter? Will Delphi see it as a weakness?) But also, there are moments when he whispers to Albus just because he can. Albus isn’t going to judge him for talking quieter or getting closer to be heard. He accepts this about Scorpius and so Scorpius is comfortable doing it. 

Act Four, Scene Three

“My geekiness is a-quivering” - His arms were literally shaking. Scorpius was looking down at them like he’d never seen them do this before. But then Albus ran over and called his name to focus him and went through his breathing exercises with him, so you know, this is clearly something that happens on a regular basis. Have I told you how much I love Albus and Scorpius recently? Because I do. A lot.

Back to Scorpius freaking out over his arms though. You know he’s that kid who had a massive growth spurt overnight and still hasn’t quite figured out what to do with his limbs now. It’s funny because my nickname for Scorpius was Bambi for another reason, but this just confirms its accuracy. (Also, before you ask, no! It’s not because his mother died! I’m not that heartless!)

Act Four, Scene Eight

“We can hug too if you like...” - I feel like this has been said before but it occurred me today why I loved the fact it’s Draco who now runs to Scorpius and stops before they hug, rather than the other way round like it’s always been. So in the Voldemort timeline after Draco pushes Scorpius away from his desk, Scorpius backs away as far and as fast as he can. He doesn’t willingly get closer again after that. (Sometimes Draco comes round the other side of his desk and gets closer but it’s never Scorpius anymore.) So I wonder if maybe Scorpius is still a little wary? I’m not saying he’s afraid of him because he knows his dad isn’t that person. But to want to hug him, in front of everyone, after everything that’s happened? Maybe Scorpius is just nervous and unsure, but I personally like the idea that he’s deliberately stalling. Waiting. Needing his dad to make the first move here. So when he does, and his initial run towards his son is done without hesitation, I think it floors him. Because this is his dad. He’s right here and he wants this as much as he does. It makes the line ‘we can hug too if you like’ say more than it actually does. It’s more than Draco asking permission. It’s Draco being equally nervous and unsure. He’s all too aware of how much Scorpius knows about his past now. He’s lived through it. Yet he doesn’t (and can’t) hide the desperation in his eyes to have his son back with him safe and sound. I wonder if in a way, he’s not just asking for a hug, but for forgiveness. For his past, for letting all this happen, for who he was and could have been. I can’t imagine how Draco must feel when Scorpius launches himself at him for that rib breaking kinda hug. It’s so much more than just a hug for them both. It’s a sorry. It’s a promise. It’s relief. It’s love.

Act Four, Scene Ten

“Blimey! There are two of them!” - Hermione and Scorpius looked across at each other at this and smiled, sharing this really sweet moment. I loved the happiness and reassurance in Hermione’s eyes at Scorpius’s own gleeful pride. They both took this as the highest compliment. The fact that Scorpius’s attention was on Hermione rather than worrying about his dad’s reaction (which I’ve sometimes seen in past) says just how much that comment, and Hermione’s reaction to it, meant to him. I don’t know if this was just a today thing or whether it’s a Franc and Jonathan thing, but I loved it and hope to see it again!

Act Four, Scene Eleven

“Then kill me” - You could see the adults all instantaneously lowering their wands or at least faltering slightly at her words. It made the fact that Albus did the opposite even more obvious. He too faltered here but was then quick to steady himself. It obviously was not what he was expecting her to say but he kept his wand raised and aimed directly at her, and was ready. (He wasn’t, but he trying to convince himself otherwise.) It’s always fascinating to see how Albus reacts here. He’s angry, and if there’s anything we’ve learnt over the past five hours is that this kid acts impulsively when he’s emotionally compromised. Yet it’s the logic he tries to apply over it that gets him in these situations. He convinces himself it’s the right thing to do and then his stubbornness enforces it. But to give credit where credit is due, when he backs down, he does so sincerely.

I probably should have mentioned this before, but this was my first time seeing our new Hermione, Franc Ashman. I absolutely adore her! I loooove her voice. There’s a tone in it that reminds me of book Hermione. She speaks with authority but there’s still that softness there which makes her who she is. I’m really looking forward to her year ahead : )

[takaraphoenix]

Book Adaptations Wishlist

Let’s start with my biggest fandom that is based on a book-series. Percy Jackson and the Olympians, by Rick Riordan.

I’m one of the... very few who likes the Percy Jackson movies. Most certainly not in the sense of them being adaptations of the books. Hah. Good one. No, I view them more as “motion picture fanfiction”. I mean, damn the pretty cast they got. I love Clarisse and Chris in particular. And I will forever be grateful to the first movie because without it, I would have never in a million years found the books simply because I’m not a big reader so the only way I ever learn about books is by watching an adaptation and deeming it to be my taste.

Now, things with PJatO were a little more complicated than that. Back before the movie hit theatres, I was checking out all the releases announced for the year and among them was this. The word “Thief” in the title caught my attention because I love a good con movie or show. I clicked it and back then the link only lead to the book and a section about it getting an adaptation, so that’s how I found out it was a book adaptation. Reading the synopsis of the book, I thought it sounded pretty cool. Next step was, of course, to check the character list. Because I love Greek mythology.

Main character a son of Poseidon. That’s cool. I love elementals, particularly those with water-powers. And there, not far down, was the name that got me hooked. Nico di Angelo, son of Hades. HOLY UNDERWORLD YES. Hades is my favorite male god. That his kid was listed as one of the main characters of the series - and NOT as a bad guy, because if modern adaptations taught me one thing, it’s that American authors love to paint everything in black and white and anything related to the underworld had to be the devil.

So Nico di Angelo was why I went to see the movie. Needless to say, Nico wasn’t in it because he only joins the series later on. But I did like the movie, Percy was cute, I was still curious to meet Nico, so when I found myself on a classtrip to Munich weeks later and was dragged from store to store and ended up in a bookstore where all six books (I do count The Demigod Files as part of the original series too) were on display at the time, I impulse-bought them.

I loved them. A lot. We’re not gonna talk about Heroes of Olympus here because that will take too many hours of my time. Let’s just say I don’t love them.

But yeah, the movies are not good adaptations of the books.

Then again, personally, I think that no movie can ever properly do a book justice. You can’t take a story that unfolds in like 500 pages of book and cram it into a two hour movie. You’re forced to cut sooo much out of it. It just doesn’t work.

That’s why I’m a huge fan of this new trend of adapting books as TV shows. It’s a very good way of covering more ground, taking things slow and giving the plot its due.

I’m desperately waiting for a good Percy Jackson adaptation. But I don’t want it to be live-action, to be honest. I mean, between Grover’s furry butt, Chiron’s horse-hide, the monsters and pegasi and demigodly powers, the show would need a huge special effects budget. And that’s just not gonna happen. So it’ll look cheap as fuck. Which would be an utter shame.

No.

I want a Percy Jackson cartoon show. I’d entrust DreamWorks with this. DreamWorks has done some amazing cartoon shows the last decade - Voltron, Dragons, Trollhunters. Particularly the cooperation with Netflix is working well for them. And with the team behind Avatar, like they’re doing with Voltron, I could REALLY envision a Percy Jackson cartoon. Imagine Percy water-bending like Katara or Korra, Nico looking like Keith in goth-clothes, I’d be dying to see that. Particularly considering that Avatar and Voltron use this beautiful 2D art style. I wouldn’t object to quality 3D like Trollhunters and Dragons, but I’d prefer 2D. I’m an old-fashioned gal like that.

To me, that would be the perfect way of adapting Percy Jackson.

Aaand I got a little lost in Percy Jackson. It happens. Oh well, I guess this is gonna be a long-ass entry then.

What I wanted to say was that I thoroughly approve of the TV show adaptation of books. I know I love Game of Thrones and Vampire Diaries and, of course as you may have noticed if you know me at all, Shadowhunters. All books I haven’t read (though I’m trying to read The Mortal Instruments. I’m just slow). I’ve just always been more of a TV-show kinda gal than a book-reader.

Now, if only they’d adapt the books that I actually love to read. That would be amazing. But somehow, I read stuff that doesn’t even get movies. Sure I read Percy Jackson and that got two failed movies, but we already covered that.

Because yes, I actually do read. Books that I haven’t met through their adaptations.

My all-time favorite book is Wicked, by Gregory Maguire.

I started reading it back in 2010 when I was doing an internship at our cozy local little bookstore - a very homey little place that was specialized on fantasy and sci-fi books. And Wicked was relatively fresh out back then and stood there in the special display and drew me in because of the green-skinned lady. I have a thing for green-skinned ladies, but that’s between me and Shego. So I started reading it during my breaks, when I had nothing else to do. Ten pages here, twenty pages there. By the time my internship ended, I was too hooked to forget about it so I bought it.

I saw its musical adaptation twice. Once in Stuttgart, the German version, and then when I was in London for the first time, the English version.

I love that musical as much as I loathe it.

The same as The Lightning Thief movie. And I mean it. Literally the same. You can view it as live-action fanfiction, but you can not with half-a-mind view it as an adaptation. It has as much to do with the book as The Lightning Thief movie had to do with The Lightning Thief book. That is to say, the characters shared the same names, but neither their behavior nor their physical appearance actually fit. And the plot, if you cook it down to a very basic one sentence summary - “Percy Jackson has to find the Lightning Thief” and “Elphaba Thropp rebels against the wizard” - fits, but do not ever dig for actual details, because those do not cover what happens in the book.

As a musical lover and someone who can view an adaptation as a separate thing from the source-material, I thoroughly love the musical. But as someone who loves that book to bits and pieces, I hate that the majority of people have only ever heard about the musical and are most likely not even aware of the book or haven’t bothered reading it and are now actually under the impression that all it is is a cheesy love-story. Which it is not. The romance is a foot-note in this long masterpiece that is basically a metaphor for the holocaust. And I will never be able to forgive the stupid fix-it shit of “Oh, Fiyero was turned into the scarecrow and they lived happily ever after”. No. They don’t. Or the fact that they turned my favorite character into a vindictive piece of crap.

(Okay, so maybe I am not as able to separate the two as I like to think, but cut me some slack they turned Elphaba’s trusted friend into a literal heartless tin-man who wants to slaughter her. What the fuck is that even.)

And I got lost again.

So, yes, I want a Wicked adaptation done right. A TV-show. After all, this is a book that literally covers her entire life, from birth to death. It tells a pretty long  story and I’d like to see it done right, instead of turned into a high school musical love drama, as the musical did. Not to mention I want to see the polyamorous relationship between Elphaba’s parents and Turtle Heart, maybe if we take more time for her childhood, we’d get more feels for the threesome too. Her two gay friends Crope and Tibbett. Her own “maybe not quite just friends” with Glinda. Her bisexual son who was entirely cut out of the musical. I mean, maybe we cut the girl out who married the Cowardly Lion, but uh they never had sex because she was a rape survivor who had no interest of ever having sex again - perhaps was even asexual, though it was never explicitely stated in the books - and only married him for safety reasons and all that did connect them was deep friendship?

I’d also like to mention my favorite book-series - while Wicked is my favorite book and its direct sequel Son of a Witch might be the only book I ever read within a literal day because I couldn’t put it down, the third and fourth books were a little on the... drawn out and exhausting side of things.

The Bartimaeus-series by Jonathan Stroud.

Bartimaeus is my favorite book-series, because it is - from start to finish - perfection. And Bartimaeus himself is a sassy little shit. We’d definitely need voice-over narration to not forget his sass. Can’t decide if I’d want it as a cartoon or as a live-action show though. But either way, I’d kiss the feet of the person who would fucking finally decide to adapt that book-series. I mean, seriously, among all the many, many shows and all the many, many adaptations these days, how has no oneever thought about giving this book any form of adaptation? It deserves it. It really does deserve a good adaptation.

And then there’s just one more. My favorite childhood books.

The Woodland Folk, by Tony Wolf.

I don’t think many people have ever even heard of this. It’s from an Italian author and as a child, I only owned two out of the twelve books that existed. But they were my most often read books. I knew them by heart, literally.

I later on, as a teen, bought the missing ten books on the internet and devoured them.

Those books are the reason I got hooked on fantasy, why I am obsessed with fairies and mermaids and witches. Tony Wolf’s illustrations in those books are the reason I always wanted to draw. They are beautiful and sweet and they would make for an amazing cartoon.

I know out of all of those books on this wish-list, this is the one that’s most far-out-there and will probably never happen, but I’d be ridiculously happy if it did.