#I found out he died after I published my story

[lightofraye]

Happy Birthday, Dean Winchester

I decided to write a little short story in honor of one of my favorite characters from Supernatural. Please enjoy.

Note: I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, translated, or published to any third-party sites, apps, or AI generators/readers. (Reblogging it is fine.)

Divider: credit to @talesmaniac89

Dean let out a contented sigh as he walked back into his home, stretching out his body. He’d spent the majority of the day in celebration with Sam, his parents, even with the Harvelles, Bobby, and Rufus. The restored Roadhouse—if one could call it that in Heaven—was everything Ellen had ever wanted, but couldn’t afford to do when they were still living.

The new Roadhouse was enormous. One whole room was established for billiards, with a section divided off for darts. Another section was for the various taps, all of different flavors that she’d always wanted to experiment with. The bar room alone was constantly crowded, filled with people the Winchesters they’d encountered in the past, friends, allies, and people they’ve met and saved. Heaven was a dream come true.

When Dean had told Sam that the first time, Sam smiled. There was a peace that settled over the brothers once they’d died, Dean from the rebar, Sam from illness. Dean no longer had to fight, to live on the mission of the hunt. He could finally, finally, finally rest.

It took Dean some time to adjust to the fact he didn’t have to hunt anymore. That he could sleep as long as he wanted, eat and drink what he wanted, wander around the new Heaven without fear, without issue. No monsters, no darkness, no demons.

The first few… he supposed he could call it ‘months’, as time didn’t really flow the same on Heaven as it did on Earth… had been devoted to a great deal of rest, of healing. He reconnected with his parents, spent hours talking with John. That particular conversation was hard, forced Dean and John to turn introspective and eventually come to terms to their complicated relationship.

Then there was Sam. God, Sam. His baby brother. Decades passed for Sam since he’d last seen Dean, yet for Dean, it had been a drive around Heaven. Dean was astonished at the fact Jack recreated Baby for him in Heaven. Or, as Jack tried to explain, Heaven was the fulfillment of their wishes, of their inner most needs.

Evidently, a part of Dean would always need the Impala around. When Sam saw it, his first reaction was to laugh.

“You really can’t live without this car, can you, Dean?” Sam remarked, after they broke their hug at the bridge.

“What’s wrong with the Impala?” Dean demanded, grinning.

“Nothing, Dean, nothing at all,” Sam said with a smile.

The brothers had taken a tour of Heaven. They found their parents, caught up with Bobby, found the Roadhouse—and God, there was Jo, smiling, and Ellen, her usual rough self. Then Ash came swaggering out with his usual conspiracy theories and Dean could only smile.

Months—if you wanted to call it that—passed. A kind of peace sank into Dean’s soul. Jack visited often, which was strange at first, but eventually, it dawned on Dean that Jack wanted to reconnect to humanity.

“Why me?” Dean asked one day as he and Jack strolled around the rolling hills of Heaven’s version of Lawrence, Kansas.

Jack was silent for a moment. He looked human, sounded human, the same young-faced man Dean remembered from Earth. His aura, however, was vastly different. Potent, powerful, with infinite calm. “You ask why I’m choosing to walk with you over the billions of souls here in Heaven,” he confirmed.

“Yeah.”

“You and Sam were essentially my human fathers,” Jack said calmly. “You taught me how to drive, remember? And spent the day with me when we feared I would die.”

“I remember,” Dean said, thinking back. It was one of the few rare times he allowed someone else to drive Baby. “We fished, had some hamburgers, and I let you drive like a madman down the road because we were alone.”

A flash of a smile passed over Jack’s face. “I remembered.” They walked for a few moments in companionable silence. “Sam completed my education, but you began it.”

“Me? Jack, when we first discovered you, I wanted to kill you,” Dean said, startled.

“I know.” Jack gave him a serene smile. “You showed me the darker sides of humanity. You carried so much rage, Dean. You were scared, because I was the son of Lucifer. Sam balanced that with his compassion.”

Dean stared at Jack, more than a bit confused. “I don’t get it. You’re sayin’ I showed you the darker sides of humanity and that’s why you wanna talk to me now?”

Jack paused, rubbed his forehead. “I was not clear. Forgive me, Dean.” He regarded Dean thoughtfully for a moment, then said, “In recreating—in reforming Heaven—this was one of the aspects of humanity I had to take into account. The weight of darkness on humanity’s soul. And you were my first experience with it.”

“You’re sayin’… I helped you with this?” Dean asked, glancing around the idyllic landscape about them.

“What helped you the most, Dean, when you found yourself here?”

“You mean, besides Baby?”

Jack’s smile flickered into appearance. “Yes, besides the car.”

Dean pondered it for a long moment. “Peace,” he said at last. “There was a sense of… peace. Even before Sam came here, I felt peace.”

“Exactly,” Jack said. “I had you in mind, Dean. I wanted you to find rest and peace once you came here.”

“Jack…” Dean swallowed hard. “Thank you.”

“Happy birthday, Dean,” Jack said with a calm smile.

Dean blinked. “What?”

“It’s your birthday, according to time on Earth.”

Jack took him to the Roadhouse, where the Harvelles, his parents, and even Sam, had decorated it. There were streamers, decorations in a variety of color. Dean was shocked, gazing around in utter surprise. Then the rest of the guests arrived.

He suffered through a discordant version of Happy Birthday, teased by Jo about the cake—a decent replica of the Impala in cake form. Dean wasn’t sure if he could bring himself to cut it, which amused his family.

“Come on, Dean, it’s cake,” Sam urged. “You’re supposed to eat it.”

“It’s also a damned decent copy of Baby, Sam!”

“Oh come on, Dean,” Mary said with a smile, rubbing his back. “How many times can you say you ate your car?”

Amused, Dean allowed the cake to be divided into pieces. It was a flavorful vanilla cake with a fruitful layer. He chatted, socialized, drank beer, and had several pieces of cake. It wasn’t so bad. Then Sam pulled him aside to a quiet corner.

“I know this is Heaven and it’s basically whatever you want is granted,” Sam said, reaching into his pocket, “but… I made this for you before. It makes sense that I make it for you again.”

“Sam, what—” Dean was rendered speechless as Sam took his hand and placed it in his hand: the amulet. The childhood amulet Sam had gifted him all those years ago. It was almost an exact replica, down to the color. “You’re kidding me.”

“I wanted you to have it here, in Heaven.”

Dean smiled, putting it on. “Thanks, Sammy.”

Sam chuckled, and the brothers embraced. “Happy birthday, Dean.”

[kimyoonmiauthor]

Reviews and Critiques and how to handle them.

So the second best treaties about this was Holly Lisle's Mugging the Muse (2000), which, BTW, I read much later, because she'd stepped down by then from Forward Motion. At the time I read it, it was free, but now it's paywalled, so it has gems in there, the most useful of which is don't jump on paychecks and budget. Learn how to do Writer Tax returns. Remember to truly LIVE to write better *cough Barthes should have known this one. And the last one is how to take critiques.

The one on critiques goes like this: She used scream and shout when she got critiques and sometimes cry. She'd go into the bathroom and scream and let her do this. And then force herself to act professionally. The BEST of us at this process still fucks up once in a while. The trick is to not fuck up too often.

This is my second best treaties I've seen and heard about it. The first treaties I ever learned about how to take critiques is from my former teacher/advisor, Thomas C. Joyce, who unfortunately died of cancer some years back.

I do remember the names of the people. But as I don't have permission to use their likeness and I don't want them to be harassed. The people who are living (as far as I know) I will not name. I am also including my own fuck ups, because it's only fair. But the core of this is mostly Tom Joyce. Who said something on the order of don't call me "Mr. Joyce, it makes me feel weird. Call me Tom."

He was my advisor at the Young Writer's Camp–a summer writing camp. For this reason, I'll call him Tom.

I wanted to write this treaties out because he never wrote it anywhere... and I might remember parts of it wrongly, but I 100% used this to post to Nanowrimo's first critique threads, and then for the critique forums, which served as the core of a lot of critique groups online?? (not sure about that). And I listed the rules he gave me during critiques. Also that there has been a rise in people who can't take or give critiques and they think doing so won't help their writing. So, I won't write it as eloquently as him, and honestly I'm writing this quite sad because I do wish it was his words here instead of my fuzzy memories of him.

Let me dip a bit into memory lane first, so you get a sense of who Tom was. Tom smoked. He knew he smoked a lot and didn't particularly care. He liked to give this lesson on perception. with music, showing that the simpler things in life aren't always first. And that the source of stories can come from anywhere–not just writing.

When I met him he was a bit portly, which he'd sometimes point out about himself and had salt and pepper hair, which was curly. He'd often talk about how he wanted to lose weight.

He had this calm and cool demeanor about him, but also warm. So when he gave you a critique, it felt like he was reaching into your writerly soul and he could pull out your intentions in an instant. He not only saw where you were, but more importantly, where you were going and intended to go. I aspired to be that sort of critiquer.

He never judged you on your process to write. He had no lessons about that. And he based the entire time around critiquing and making sure you had something for the group. If you wrote on clay tablets, I think he wouldn't care. He'd likely joke loosely about it, but he wouldn't care and say, can you share it?

We did not write the same genre. We did not have the same process to write by a long shot. I never really read his writing and since he was an advisor, he rarely talked about his own writing or boast. He was a cool character because he was HUMBLE and he pressed it into you that YOU MUST STAY HUMBLE at every point of the process. Brave enough to share, but humble enough to take critiques.

He loved anedotes. I probably got my love of making up extended analogies from him.

He was not just a good writing teacher he was the BEST writing teacher I've ever had. And fuck it—I've read a TON of ass novel writing manuals from Aristotle to the present and I've heard author interviews all over the best, I would rank him as the best.

He was so memorable that when I finally got something published he was on my top list of people to show because I'd promised myself I would do so, but when I looked him up so I could pass the story to him, I had found that he'd died of cancer. I was DEVASTATED.

The fact we didn't write the same didn't matter because his lessons around critiquing. His process was this:

You write. You get critiqued. You take the critique gracefully to your face. You learn to critique. You learn both of these processes and perfect them and apply them, and you get better as a writer. He had several large arguments for this process and why he didn't want it to be regimented into telling people how to write.

Remembering his lessons, I posted his loose list of critique rules to early Nanowrimo boards–I posted the first critique threads for first pages and queries, but never his justification for them, because I didn't think it was my place to, but he's not published it himself and I think the internet is forgetting. And I don't think we should forget Tom Joyce since he taught me some really excellent lessons that I think you need to know.

So loosely, Tom's treaties on taking a critique goes something like this:

On receiving a critique:

Stay silent when people critique you. No. Hold your tongue (Fuck, I'm really still working on this one).

Remember any time they put into the critique is a blessing.

Only open your mouth to fact check the person. If they think the US flag has green, you can POLITELY correct them.

Stop explaining your work before you give the piece. He taught me this one. I still struggle with it. I still repeat the advice, but I still have issues.

Do not argue with your critiquers. I've fucked this one up too.

Critiques aren't always right and sometime you have to divine what they are really getting at.

On giving a critique:

When you give a review try to balance the review out. You give 3 bad things, you give 3 good things list them out. Do a summary for your review. YOU MUST find something good to say about it.

Try to read the entire piece before you comment.

Honor the wishes of the author. If they don't think something is working, try to figure out why.

Do your best to separate "Not for you" versus objectively written bad.

Be SPECIFIC. That's more important than the length of your review. He drove this into me.

He argued, the more you critique other people, the better writer you become. And the more you consume, in general, the better writer you become. The more you recieve critiques, the better you become. It's a two-way process, not a one-way process.

His arguments are pretty much why I dislike the whole idea that people don't "have time to give critiques" and thus don't want to give one back. No. If you do 10,000 critiques and get better at them and get 10,000 in return and learn to apply them well, you get better as a writer. Focus on your craft and the writer you want to become.

And now you can see why even though we did not write the same genre, I did not know his writing work, I did not have a matching writing process, that I treasured his lessons. He also had this thing where he was super, super cool with however people wrote. He never, ever disciplined how one should or should not write. He simply said, produce the writing–that's the most important part. And then get it critiqued. We did do occasional writing lessons, but he never ranked that as important.

Now for his arguments on why he thought these things.

So, as a younger writer I struggled and still struggle quite a bit with the first rule. The shut up and listen to someone tear your baby apart.

How to Receive Critiques

First Rule: Stay silent when others critique you and NEVER argue with your critiquer.

His argument went this way: You, the writer are never going to win against a critic. Your entire existence is going to be criticism. You have choices. You suck it up, and accept it is part of the writing thus owning it. You incorporate the suggestion. Or you do better next time.

He had an anecdote, which he liked to tell about this writer who fought against a critic and screamed and shouted and the writer lost.

The result of you fighting against a critic, according to Tom, is that you gain a bad reputation. ALWAYS. Never fight your reviewers.

As Holly Lisle said, go scream into a pillow somewhere, but shut the fuck up and get off the internet. Don't post it onto boards. Tell a friend privately, but don't post it in public. Give yourself a set amount of time to get back to it.

He liked to say stop throwing stones at glass houses. It's not going to work.

No lie, his cool attitude over this still has me screaming at times, HOW DID YOU DO IT? I still try to override the impulse. It's so hard.

Second rule: Every time someone bothers to critique you it's a blessing.

They spent time, and effort consuming your product. As he liked to say THEY ARE A PAYING CUSTOMER. Treat your customers correctly.

And if they are not paying, they were paying their time with you. They cared enough about your work and you to give you a critique.

You have to suck it up and do better.

BTW, if you watch the Youtube Channel, Wait in the Wings, this argument comes up over and over again. When you fight the critics, you lose the majority of the time. When you honor they came to the show and did understand it,

They really cared about you and your art to do this, no matter how cutting it is. Learn to breathe, move on and figure out what to do next.

Third Rule: The only time you open your mouth AFTER the person is done, is on two cases:

The first is to say thank you. The second is to fact check something obvious.

There is no green in the American flag, for example.

DO NOT ARGUE WITH YOUR REVIEWER and don't use this opportunity to try to feel superior to them. WTF man, go back to shutting up. TT

I still struggle with this. I'm swallowing my own feelings as I'm saying thank you. And I'm fighting the voices. And Tom acted like it was easy.

Fourth Rule: Stop explaining your work before you show it.

No lie, my other professors who have given critique sessions also said this. My typography teacher said this, which I keep repeating to myself, "Stop explaining your work. Say that you did the best that you could for the time you were given."

But Tom's logic went like this: Every time someone picks up your work, are you going to be beside them to explain what you MEANT by this or that. Will you be in their ear to talk about your intentions? Let them read the work themselves.

No, it's on you the writer to communicate it better.

Most of the time it's on you, the writer to do it better. (go back to rule number 1 on why).

Fifth Rule: No really, don't argue with your critiquers

It will only end in a bad reputation. Learn how to let it go. Move on. Either take the advice or leave it. See if it works, but at least try it. But arguing with your critiquers will result in nothing good.

How to Give Critiques

First rule: When you give a review, try to balance the review out.

If you give 3 bad things, give three good things, but remember that the person has feelings, so put the good things first. The best critique is good things, bad things, summary. We'll get into how to sort a critique later.

Tom liked to say, remember there is a human being behind that work. And that you won't get that mercy in real life once your work is "out there."

Second rule: Try to read the entire piece first before you comment and then make your comments.

This is your basic reasoning of trying to figure out what the writer is trying to achieve instead of hyper focusing on what they did wrong.

Third rule: Honor the wishes of the author

Spoken and unspoken. If they think something is not working, try to figure out why and some solutions one can do to fix it. Don't just say this thing is wrong. Figure out why. This process will make you also a better writer.

Try to make the piece in front of you better for the author, not how you would write it. He repeated this a lot so you got it. It's not about you and OMG, I would insert dragon here because I could do it better. No, face the piece in front of you and find ways to help the author where they are. You may ultimately disagree and they might not take your advice, but make sure it's about the author, not you.

Rule 4: Do your best to sort "Not for you, versus objectively written bad."

He didn't write romance, fantasy, or Science Fiction. It didn't matter to him or this process. Because there are some commonalities and if you read widely enough, you will know what is good or bad. Don't discriminate like that. If you're struggling with this go to the previous rule about honoring the wishes of the author.

Rule 5: Be specific as possible on why you like or dislike the item in front of you. This helps to sort it out later.

If you say, character is lame. That's not helpful. If you say I dislike the character is diving off the cliff without motivation and I don't know why and the physics don't make sense, that's a lot more helpful to the writer.

He would say too, that the more you're specific and drill down to why, the better you become as a writer. This is why DOING critiques is as important as receiving them. Do the best you can as a critiquer and be specific as possible. It will develop your writer brain and editor brain better.

And I should insert around here:

Revenge critiques are counter productive to you becoming a better writer.

He didn't say this. But I think he would agree given the previous treaties, especially on the idea that the writer is always going to lose.

OMG, you said info dump in MY STORY was bad. So I'm going to find every instance that you info dumped and point it out to you.

Your hurt feelings shouldn't be entering into critiques. Go outside, do something else, come back. You aren't in a place of learning. And sometimes what works for one story will not work for another. Sometimes people do it on purpose and go back to the previous rule about the intentions of the author.

The writer who never honestly critiques and revenge critiques and doesn't listen to critiques, never improves and gets better.

How to Sort Your Critiques

Sort them into these tiers/categories:

Grammar

If you're crying over grammar mistakes, get over it. Just take it and agree or disagree. Do better next time.

Facts

The Earth isn't perfectly round, but it's not shaped like a pear either. The Wizard of Oz wasn't originally propaganda. Greensleeves aren't written for Anne Boleyn. These usually hurt less, but often can dissolve entire stories. This is why you should research. Make sure every single quote is true and truly attributed. This is because facts in your story you don't want that to pull out the reader at any point and you don't know who might be reading it.

Core story issues.

This or that character doesn't work. The intention and impact aren't the same. These are the ones that hurt the most. These are the ones in critiques one should be careful of the most. And the ones that are going to hurt you the most.

The problem is often sort story issues are also the hardest to divine and the hardest to fix.

Critiquer might have had a different emotion from your intention, so remember what I said about being able to reach into other people's writing and figure out their intentions and then work with that? Yeah, this is where it comes in handy to make your own writing better. Sometimes they point to a thing, but it's not that thing.

Say comments are,

this character is boring.

This character doesn't do much.

I think this character is lazy.

But you've written the character on a hot summer day where they are baking out of their mind.

How do you punch it up to make it better? Your KEY ideas on why they aren't moving are "Hot summer day." So punch that part up and give more specific details so people get it. So people get that it's so hot people can't move.

And when the person said the character is lazy, the commentary feels more like deprication rather than true laziness.

That's how you divine the comments. It's not well, this character needs to change the entire scene so it has more action. It's how do I do this scene better so it communicates more.

BTW, Botchan by Natsume Soseki is a masterclass in how to get your character into total inertia such that you actively hate them, but at the same time you understand them.

Tom would say something like, once you get the critiques what you do with them is up to you. Ignore them, take them, but realize that what you don't take is likely to show up as a critique later.

Seeee... both critiquing and receiving critiques makes you a better writer. I'd also argue, it makes you a better person, too.

Short anecdote.

I was on a board and this writer was complaining about this review she had which said that the clothing she had was "inaccurate" and she argued that it was an other world fantasy setting so she could do whatever she liked. And she wanted to know if she should reply and get revenge on the critiquer. A few people were comforting her and egging her on.

I pushed against it gently by asking for the specific critique lines pretty much repeating Tom's advice on how to take a critique. The critique isn't always right, you have to divine, etc.

She stated she loosely based the costumes on a particular century of clothing. So I looked it up for her. I pointed out that stays during that century had changed a lot over time and the underwear changed the outer clothing. So it was possible the person was objecting to the underwear and the outer clothing not matching. I named the pieces of underwear that had changed during that time period and pointed out there is a huge difference for us for 1990's clothes versus the next decade. And that previous eras were no different.

What she needed was someone to cold sort the comment, point out she needed to do research and point out that sometimes physics can't be explained away by an other world.

Don't argue with your critiquers. Also, stop encouraging people to do this???

She ended up deleting her entire post. If you can't take critiques. Get someone to cold sort your critiques for you.

Haha. I have an awesome self-nominated writer's assistant who refuses to be paid, even though I tried to pay her. She knows me sooo well, when she gives a critique and I'm in writer meltdown mode saying, but I could do this or do that. She says in a flat voice, "No, you're going to do this and this is why." I hide this from the public, but damn. You need people like this in your life too.

'cause as much as I'm going off on Tom's rules, I also occasionally fail them. I'm still trying to be as calm cool and collected as he appeared to be about this sort of thing.

How to Know you're getting review bombed.

The account is brand new

All of the review ratings are at extremes. No 3 star reviews.

All of the reviews are targeted.

None of them are specific about the book.

The hazards of making the writer the primary marketer such that they have to do the job of 3 people: Writer, Publicist, and Marketer. Separate your modes. Compartmentalization. Learn it. It can be healthy.

But really, go back up and read. The writer is always going to lose. The more you care about it, the more likely you're going to be review bombed. Fighting reviewers never does you any good.

Bonus Round

The person that you're worried is better than you is probably thinking the same thing about you.

In another words, it's not a battle against others.

In my Young Writer's Group, I deeply admired this guy's writing for his ideas, how he was able to cobble things together with this sort of balance. And I had this kind of feeling like I could never do what he did. I mean he had this kind of deeper detail I felt I was missing. Plus his ideas—fucking clever.

All the time he'd come up with the "obvious" idea that I wanted to be able to write. It's the kind of stuff that you go, OMG, of course.

Flat out envy on my side. And then one day, I heard him talking about how was I able to come up with so many ideas so quickly to other people in the group and that he deeply admired my ideas.

I was shocked. I thought it was one way the entire time. Of course, honor code, not typing up his name, and not typing up his ideas, but the spirit of it is this: You're in a battle against yourself. Your critiquers when you're honestly facing them, and not say, trying to get enough points to post your work, are truly helping you, but you critiquing them is also helping you.

There's still a few of his ideas I keep waiting for him to publish, so I can do spins on them. I still hope he's writing, because writing is a community effort.

Stop being intimidated by other writer's brilliance and find your own. You'll get there too. But damn, I still want to see at least two of his ideas make it onto screen/in a book. I keep looking for him. A few of my former critique partners got published. Dave, hello. And another one that too recognizable by first and last name.

If you can't take reviews, don't read them.

This comes from repeating Writing Excuses episodes–people have writer's assistants do it for them.

I had mine (self-nominated one) look up rare cat breeds... but yeah, some people have them do normal things.

Sometimes writers ask agents to filter them for them.

All you writers, stop stalking Goodreads and writing reviews about your stories/books. I know, but it's not going to do much anyway and the more you care, the more likely you're going to get review bombed or pull a Cait Corrain.

Remember, One Star reviews can be good actually

One star reviews tell you how to improve your product. The maker of Instapot in an interview said he oly reads one star reviews.

Also, sometimes one star reviews have told me that I absolutely want to buy the product in question.

If there are 10 reviews of 1 star by white reviewers saying that white writer wrote it better and it's about say, Chinese history. That says to me, I want to buy your book. I want to understand why they think it's substandard. I want to see what you did to break away from the common popular narrative.

If there are a ton of negative reviews on a product that says this item is too small but I have dinky hands and I want the product to be smaller, that's also useful to know.

One star reviews are not the end to the world. People don't go by purely star ratings. They also look at what the reviews say and how they say it and which people think that review is accurate.

One star review that says they don't know how a story about Jane Austen in Outer Space turned into a sex comedy with a tentacle squid monster? Please, please give me that book.

Stop hyper fixating on star ratings. People often will judge for themselves if it's for them or not. And you pushing back, force deleting the reviews giving that sort of guidance isn't going to help you. As Tom said, you're going to lose, so lose right.

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Precious Truths: Part I

Fandom: Bridgerton

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x F!Reader

Summary: After your father finds out you've been writing under a male pseudonym, he threatens to marry you off to an atrocious man unless you find yourself a husband within a month's time.

Ever since you were little, you found solace in poetry. Your mother highly encouraged your governess to have you read any and every poetry book that was ever made. The imagery and feelings it produced was something you never experienced before.

After your mother died, your father forbade you from reading poetry. He forbade you for ever mentioning your mother again. Their love was strong and true. As a result, it caused your father deep heartache. He became cold, heartless, and cruel. A drunkard and a gambler. Fortunately, his sister, your aunt, had moved in and became lady of the house. She became your mother figure, but she could only do so much.

She snuck you poetry books when she could. The words now being the only part of your mother you had to connect to.

Because of this love, you began to write poetry yourself. You only ever shared it to your aunt and friend, Kate Bridgerton nee Sharma, another lover of stories and poetry. Both having expressed their hopes of you publishing your writing some day.

"Maybe some day," you'd always say.

What they didn't know was that you did publish your poems. You went under a man's pseudonym, Arthur Talbot. His poetry books were becoming popular among the ton and it brought you joy and a sense of thrill whenever someone mentioned his name to you.

You'd recite your his poetry readings held at Lady Danbury's often. Everyone was always in awe of how the words poured out of you with intense and deep emotion.

But the one who was most taken with them and you, was none other than Benedict Bridgerton.

_______________________

The small group break out into applause and you curtsy. Lady Danbury walks up to you with a proud grin on her face, "Another splendid performance, Miss L/N. I can tell you deeply resonate with Talbot. "

You bow, "Thank you, Lady Danbury. His words mean a lot to me. It's as if he and I are one." You hold back a laugh as you express your gratitude to the hostess.

"Well, I think this calls for a break," the older woman turns to face her guests, "Everyone please enjoy some refreshments."

People begin to disperse, leaving the sitting room for other parts of the Danbury estate.

You're standing off to the side, watching those around you, when your dear friend, Benedict, approaches you. You smile wide at him, "Ben!"

"Another splendid performance, Miss L/N," he lifts his glass to you.

You chuckle, "Thank you. But I think Arthur Talbot deserves just as much praise. They're his words after all."

Benedict nods, "Yes, but you perform his words so beautifully."

You look away, feeling a heat crawl up your cheeks. Benedict clears his throat, "I take it you still have no marriage prospects since you haven't mentioned anyone courting you."

You look back up at him and snort, "Ben, this is my fourth year in society. I highly doubt I'll ever find a man willing to marry me at this point." You cast your eyes down to play with a thread on your skirt, "No one wants to be married to someone who has gambling drunkard father. Doesn't matter if he's a Lord or not."

"If my brother, Anthony, managed to find love and a wife, you will to, Y/N."

You scoff, "How dare you put me in the same category as Anthony."

"I agree," you turn to see said brother and Kate, approaching you, arm in arm, "You're much better than my husband," Kate says with a smirk.

"Still disgustingly in love, I see," you arch a playful look at your friend.

"Very much so, I'm afraid."

Anthony unhook his arm from Kate's and moves towards Benedict, "Come, brother. Let us let the ladies socialize." He takes Benedict's glass and downs it in a gulp.

The younger brother frowns, "I was drinking that."

"Then we shall grab another and drinks for the ladies," he pats his brother's shoulder and Benedict groans, following his brother out of the room.

You and Kate take a seat on the couch and catch up while the men grab drinks.

_____________________

"So, have you finally decided to court Miss L/N?" the eldest Bridgerton asks.

"We are friends, Anthony. Nothing more."

"So you don't love her anymore?" Anthony asks with a curious gaze, taking a sip of brandy.

"...I didn't say that. Besides, you originally didn't want me involved with her because of her father. Isn't that right?"

"Yes, well, we are the not the sins of our parents. Miss L/N is a lovely woman. She's smart, well-read, not to mention she laughs with you even when your jokes aren't funny."

Benedict's brows furrow, "I am funny!"

Anthony takes another sip of his drink and sighs, "What I mean to say is that I think you two would be a fine match. Besides, it's not like any other man is interested in her."

Benedict immediately clenches his jaw and takes a leering step towards his older brother, "Don't talk about her like that."

Stunned by the sudden change of his brother, Anthony takes a cautious step back, "I meant no harm, brother, but is it not true? It's been years since she's stepped into society and very few men have made an effort to court her."

Benedict lets out a deep breath and apologizes, "I'm sorry."

Anthony clears his throat, "All I'm saying is that you've had several chances to be with her. If you don't take the opportunity, you may lose her."

_________________________

"I apologize for missing another one of your recitals," Kate says, grabbing your hand and intertwining her fingers with yours. Ever since she married Anthony, you two have become acquainted due to your paths crossing whenever you came to see Benedict.

You shrug, "You've heard it all before, Kate. Just another one of Talbot's poems."

"You're quite smitten with this poet, it seems."

You laugh, "I can't help it! His words are as if he speaks to my soul!"

"Maybe I should write to this Talbot and see if he'd like to ever attend a Bridgerton ball."

You shake your head, "Oh no. Please, don't. People say never to meet your heroes, so I don't think I would want to meet him."

Kate shrugs, "As you wish."

Anthony and Benedict come back with drinks in hand. Anthony hands Kate a glass and Benedict hands you one.

"Thank you, Ben," you give him a grateful smile and he smiles back, "Of course."

He sits in the chair beside you and you two fall into discussion about the poem you recited, all the while Kate and Anthony give each other knowing looks.

[hopelesslyprosaic]

A Different Kind of Queen of Crime- five ways that Dorothy L Sayers changed the way we see Sherlock Holmes

For my first Holmesian post- a crossover with one of my more usual subjects on my other blog! For when one is talking about Sherlock Holmes, in particular Sherlock Holmes scholarship, there are nor many more pivotal names than Dorothy L Sayers. Sure, Christopher Morley may have had a greater impact on Sherlockian culture, and Richard Lancelyn Green on Holmesian scholarship, to name only a few- but Sayers's contributions to scholarship and "the game" were early and underratedly pivotal.

If you're a Sherlock Holmes fan who is unfamiliar with Sayers's influence, or a Sayers fan who had no idea she had any interest in Holmes, keep reading! (And if you're a Sherlock Holmes fan who wants to know what I think about Sayers, check out her tag on my main blog, @o-uncle-newt. Or, more to the point, just read her fantastic books.)

There's a great compilation of Sayers's writing and lecturing on the topic of Holmes called Sayers on Holmes (published by the Mythopoeic Press in 2001), though some of her essays are also available in her collection Unpopular Opinions, which is where I first encountered them. It's not THAT extensive, and it's from an era in which Sherlock Holmes scholarship, such as it was, was still very much nascent. While a lot may have happened since Sayers was writing and talking about Holmes, she got there early and she made an immediate impact- and here's how:

She helped create and define Sherlockian scholarship: Don't take this from me, take it from the legendary Richard Lancelyn Green! At a joint conference of the Sherlock Holmes Society and Dorothy L Sayers Society, he said that "Dorothy L. Sayers understood better than anyone before her the way of playing the game and her Sherlockian scholarship gave credibility and humor to this intellectual pursuit. Her standing as an authority on the art of detective fiction and as a major practitioner invigorated the scholarship, and her...Holmesian research is the benchmark by which other works are judged. It would be fair to say, as Watson said of Irene Adler, that for Sherlockians she is the woman and that …she 'eclipses and predominates the whole of her sex.'" We'll go into a bit more detail on some specific examples below, but one important one is that, as Green notes, Sayers was not only a mystery writer but an acknowledged authority on mystery fiction, whose (magisterial) introduction to The Omnibus of Crime, a then-groundbreaking history of the genre of mystery fiction, included a highly regarded section on the influence of Holmes on mystery fiction. She was able to write not just literate detective stories but literate critiques of others' stories and the genre (as collected in the excellent volume Taking Detective Stories Seriously), and as such, the writing she did on Holmes was well received.

She cofounded the (original iteration of) the Sherlock Holmes Society of London: While the current iteration of the Society lists itself as having been founded in 1951, a previous iteration existed through the 1930s, founded as a response to the creation of the Baker Street Irregulars in New York and run by a similar concept- the meeting of Sherlock Holmes fans every so often for dinner at a restaurant. Sayers, who seems to have been much more clubbable than Mycroft Holmes, helped run the Detection Club on corresponding lines as well. (Fun fact, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle was invited to be the first president of the Detection Club! However, he refused on grounds of poor health and, either right before or right after he died, the Detection Club met for the first time with GK Chesterton as president.) While the 1930s society didn't last, and Sayers didn't decide to join the newly reconstituted club in 1951, her presence from the beginning was key to the establishment of Holmesian scholarship.

She helped define The Game: Sayers didn't invent The Game, as the use of Higher Criticism in the study of Sherlock Holmes came to be called. (The Game now often refers to something a bit broader than that, but it's a pretty solid working definition to say that it is the study of Holmes stories as though they took place in, and can be reconciled with, our world.) Her friend Father Ronald Knox largely invented it almost by accident- as Sayers described it, he wrote that first essay "with the aim of showing that, by those methods [Higher Criticism], one could disintegrate a modern classic as speciously as a certain school of critics have endeavoured to disintegrate the Bible." This exercise backfired, as instead of finding this analysis of Holmes stories silly, people found it compelling and engaging- and this style of Sherlockian writing lives on to this day in multiple journals. Sayers, with her interest in religious scholarship as well as Holmes, was well equipped to both understand Knox's original motivations as well as to carry on in the spirit in which further Game players would take his work, as we'll see. She also wrote the line that would come to define the tone used in The Game- that it "must be played as solemnly as a county cricket match at Lord's; the slightest touch of extravagance or burlesque ruins the atmosphere." While comedic takes on The Game would never vanish, her establishment of tone has lingered, and pretty much any in-depth explanation of The Game will include her insightful comment.

Some of Sayers's ideas became definitional: Here's a question- what's John Watson's middle name? If you said "Hamish," guess what- you should be thanking Dorothy L Sayers. (When this middle name was used for Watson in the BBC Sherlock episode The Sign of Three, articles explaining its use generally didn't bother to credit her, instead saying that "some believe" or a variation on that.) She was the one who speculated that the reason why a) Watson's middle initial is H and b) Mary Morstan Watson calls Watson "James" instead of "John" in one story is because Watson's middle name is Hamish, a Scottish variant of James, with Mary's use of James being an intimate pet name based on this nickname. It's as credible as any other explanation for that question, but more than that it became by far the most popular middle name for Watson used in fan media. Others of Sayers's ideas include that Watson only ever married twice, with his comments about experience with women over four continents being just a lot of bluster and him really being a faithful romantic who married the first woman he really fell for (the aim of this essay being to demolish HW Bell's theory of a marriage to an unknown woman between Mary Morstan and the unnamed woman Watson married in 1903, mentioned by Holmes in The Blanched Soldier); that Holmes attended Sidney Sussex College, Cambridge (she denied that he could have attended Oxford, having gone there herself- fascinatingly, Holmesians who went to Cambridge usually assert that he attended Oxford! Conan Doyle of course attended neither school); and reconciling dates in canon (making the case that one cannot base a claim for Watson's mixing up on dates on poor handwriting as demonstrated in canonical documents, as it is clear from the similarity of different handwriting samples from different people/stories that they were written, presumably transcribed for publication purposes, by a copyist).

She wrote one of the only good Holmes pastiches: Okay, fine, I'm unusually anti-pastiche, and genuinely do like very few of them, but this is one that I love- and even more than that, it's even a Wimsey crossover! On January 8 1954, to commemorate the occasion of Holmes's 100th birthday (because, of course, he was born on January 6 1854- Sayers was more in favor of an 1853 birthdate but thought 1854 was acceptable), the BBC commissioned a bunch of pieces for the radio, including one by Sayers. You can read it here (with thanks to @copperbadge for posting it, it's shockingly hard to find online), and I think you'll agree it's adorable. The idea of Holmes and Wimsey living in the same world is wonderful, the way she makes it work is impeccable, and it's clearly done with so much love. Also you get baby Peter, which is just incredibly sweet!

I got into Dorothy L Sayers, in the long run, because I loved Sherlock Holmes from childhood and that later launched me into early and golden age mysteries- but it was discovering Sayers that brought me back full force into the world of Holmes. Just an awesome lady.

[thoughtidtry]

Dress pt.1 - LN

SUMMARY: Lando's best friend can't keep pretending he's not her everything. Not after missing seeing him in person for so long. PAIRING: Lando Norris X LongDistanceBestfriendfem!reader A/N: Inspired by Lando's race win and song Dress by Taylor Swift. First time publishing my fanfics so I’d love to hear what you think! Almost 2K..... I'll do a pt.2 cause I still have more thoughts on Lando with this song. Part: 1 2 3

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Our secret moments in a crowded room. They got no idea about me and you"

Lando couldn't stop smiling at his phone in the paddock, not when you were the one texting him. All the drivers knew about his best friend, who they never got to meet.

"She's a busy person"

He would declare anytime they teased him about meeting you or asked if you were coming to a race. It wasn't that he didn't want you to come or that he didn't want you to meet the other drivers, more he didn't want to share your time. He wasn't lying to them per se you were busy and had moved to America for university as soon as you both had graduated secondary school. It didn't matter he had never actually invited you to a race.

"I'm spilling wine in the bathtub. You kiss my face and we're both drunk"

He could remember the night or well day you left like it was yesterday. The night before your flight, he had stayed over to spend as much time with you as possible. The giggles you made sneaking back into your room after your parents had gone to bed were almost as intoxicating as the wine you had brought back. You both stayed up drinking and reminiscing over the years you had spent together.

Somehow you had both ended up in the bathroom attached to your room. Too drunk to sit let alone stand, you had made yourself comfortable in the bathtub while he was seated beside you leaning up against it. He doesn't remember what was said or how it happened, but he will never forget how soft your lips felt against his or how you sighed after the kiss with a dopey grin as if a weight had been lifted off your chest.

The next morning he woke up in your bed but you were nowhere to be seen. A note on the bedside table along with some pain meds was all that was left.

Tried to wake you to say bye before my flight, but you wouldn't wake up. I don't know how much we drank but I've got a killer headache and can't remember anything so thanks for that. Text me when you wake! Love, Y/N

You had always kept in contact but he never would tell you what happened that night. He didn't want to lose you even if that kiss would haunt him every time he closed his eyes. You managed the time difference well, never judging the other for being up or asleep at random times throughout the day.

Late-night calls when you wanted to tell him something funny between classes changed to funny things your friends had done once you graduated from university. Even the early morning drunken messages he'd get around the time he woke up were moments he cherished. He missed having you next to him. Wished you would come home, but you have your life now in America and found a good job after university.

"All of this silence and patience. Pinning and desperately waiting"

Little did Lando know, the other drivers had stolen his phone and gotten your number long ago just waiting for the right moment to use it. Daniel was the first to reach out and introduce himself explaining Lando had wanted to let you know his phone had died.

You had shrugged it off, with how much Lando talked about the other driver it didn't seem that surprising to you that Lando had given your number to him. It was no surprise to Daniel how friendly and kind you were, but how smart you were was a shock. He never would have imagined their little Lando was friends with a lawyer.

Carlos and Oscar followed soon after hearing more about you from Daniel. They both said they wanted to get some stories of Lando as a kid to make fun of him so they begged Daniel for your number and to not tell Lando. You had a laugh retelling stories to them both that you knew Lando would be embarrassed about.

Max and Charles on the other hand had respected Lando's privacy when it came to you until they were added to a group chat with you made by Oscar without Lando's knowledge.

You didn't speak to the other drivers much in the group chat so you had forgotten it existed most of the time. They would send you pictures of Lando doing goofy things every once in a while, but that was about it. Never once did you think to mention it to Lando, it was a little secret look into his world and the photos gave you a way to know he was having fun. They reminded you of all the good times you both had shared together.

"Flashback when you met me. Your buzzcut and my hair bleached. Even in my worst times, you could see the best in me."

Secondary school hadn't started out easily for you, having moved away from all of your primary school friends. As a farewell, you all decided to color each other's hair. You had ended up a platinum blonde which made you stand out even more on the first day of school. Making new friends was hard at first. Most of the time you felt alone in a sea of unfamiliar faces.

It was probably the worst time of your life looking back. At least until a boy with a cheeky grin and sassy comebacks made it his mission to befriend you. At first, you didn't know what to make of the boy. Turned out his friend group had done something similar to yours but had buzzed all their hair off instead of dyeing it. He saw the girl with good grades who sat alone every day not as a freak like everyone else but as someone worth taking a chance on. You had no right to fall as fast as you did, but you couldn't help it. He was funny, kind, and well perfect.

"Flashback to my mistakes. My rebounds, my earthquakes. Even in my worst lies, you saw the truth in me."

As secondary school went on, Lando changed, not as a person but physically. No longer was he the straggly, small, buzzcut kid. He got taller, grew his hair out, and even became charming in a way you would never have imagined. Looking back he could remember getting his first girlfriend and how excited he was only to have his heartbroken.

He dated around more from then on, never getting attached to another girl. By developing a confident and flirtatious appearance he could avoid being hurt again. It worked on everyone as he gained popularity, everyone except you. You saw him for who he really was, always there to catch him when the mask slipped off and he shattered on the ground. Something he would always appreciate you for.

"All of this silence and patience. Pinning and anticipation"

When the drivers had first approached you with their plan you were skeptical.

Would he even want to see me after all this time?

You thought. You two had always talked about meeting again but your schedules never aligned. He always had a race or you had a case that you couldn't miss. They talked about how Lando had seemed down the last couple of weeks while you had been busy with a case, how they thought he missed you, and that they had a race in America soon. Blowing care to the wind you agreed. How could you miss the chance to see him again?

Clutching the hem of your shirt as you walked into the paddock for the first time, Daniel was waiting past security to show you around. Oscar had been able to pull some strings and get you a Race Day VIP pass without Lando knowing. You texted in the group chat and Daniel had been sent to come get you so Lando wouldn't notice. He couldn't stop talking about how excited he was to see the look on Lando's face as you two walked.

"Say my name and everything just stops. I don't want you like a best friend."

Soon enough Lando's laughter fills the air as Carlos holds his shoulder while bending over in laughter as well. You stood still for a moment watching to carve this memory of him into your mind before moving closer.

You smiled a bit to yourself, he was always the life of the party, always finding a way to make everyone around him laugh, and as always oblivious to his surroundings. He was still the same Lando you had fallen for all those years ago.

"Hey, Lan."

You said once you were a few feet away. Lando froze for a moment before turning around to look at you in shock. He couldn't believe you were here. Really here standing in the paddock only a few feet away next to Daniel of all people. He decided he didn't care how it happened only that it did.

Your hands started to shake as he stared at you. You wanted to hug him, kiss him, do something, but you were stuck. Stuck looking at him with hope in your eyes that he would say something, do something. Anything.

Carlos chucked at Lando's state before patting him on the back.

"Well, are you just gonna stand there? You know it took a lot of planning to get her here."

Lando snapped out of his trance, looking in between Carlos and you before breaking out in a sprint straight for you with the biggest smile on his face. He lifted you up by the waist spinning around with you in his arms.

It felt so good to have you in his arms again after all this time. At that moment, he realized it didn't matter how long it had been you were his home and he wasn't gonna let you go again.

[missbliss12]

Just letting you know, there's an anon going around messaging people that you ship a child with their caretaker and urging them to reconsider interacting with your posts

Thank you to the anon who messaged me about this, and thank you to the anon who is unhappily engaging with my work! As a fine artist, comic artist, and person who likes to think about culture, stories, and history, I’ve been wanting to write about the Dynamic Duo for a while. This is a good opportunity for getting those various drafts together. And for anyone who’s curious about DC comic dynamics and likes, like me, to play with comics… I hope this can be an interesting little read into the various ways of reading Batman and Robin, and why one might choose to engage in a queer reading of “Brudick.”

Bruce and Dick: Father and Son, Brothers in Arms, Partners Fighting Crime

First, Bruce and Dick can certainly be read as “Father and Son.” There are several Dynamic Duo stories from various decades that do this, some of which I quite enjoy.  

Like in Batman Vol. 1, No. 20 (1944), where Bruce has to fight Dick’s corrupt blood relations to retain guardianship of his almost son/best friend.

And in writer Tom Taylor, artist Bruno Redondo, colorist Adriano Lucas, and co.’s Nightwing comics, including Nightwing Vol. 4, No. 100 (2023).

But “Father and Son” isn’t their only definitive relationship.  

Dick wasn’t adopted by Bruce at first for logistical reasons inside and outside of text (the difficulties of single men adopting kids during the 40s, when Batman and Robin was first published, for example.) There are comics that describe them as brothers for example, including when Dick first leaves to attend university as a young man and when he dons the Batman cowl after Bruce “dies.”

Batman & Robin Vol. 1, No. 7 (2009) by Grant Morrison, Cameron Stewart, and co.

Batman Vol. 1, No. 217 (1969), by Irv Novick, Dick Giordano, and Frank Robbins.

(Said vow of manliness was then followed up by Dick crying like a heartbroken heroine of a 1960s romance comic.)

Young Romance No. 125 (1963)

Dick and Bruce have even, on significant occasions, denied being father and son (though one could choose to read that as the first step of a cautious, tsundere journey towards patrilineal bonds)

Batman Vol. 1, No. 439 (1989), by Marv Wolfman, Pat Broderick, Adrienne Roy, and co.

The bond that Bruce asserts with Dick in this compelling story is based not on him replacing Dick’s parents, but on bonding with him as a similarly traumatized and wounded child.

This resonates with the words of David Mazzuchelli, fantastic mainstream and indie comic artist behind Batman: Year One. In the “Afterwords” section of Year One, Mazzuchelli describes the pair as being a pair of innocent, un-sexed twelve-year-old boys (Bruce mentally) who connect as best friends pretending to be heroes. 

(Take a look at Austin Kleon’s blog for the full post where this comes from – all photo credits to him)

This reading of the Dynamic Duo who are mainly partners, fighting against the crime that destroyed their parents, vibes with Darwyn Cooke’s beautifully rendered DC: The New Frontier (2004).

As Batman explains, they are “two lost souls who found each other”... romantic, no?

2. Bruce and Dick: Romantic Partners

With all the various interpretations of Bruce and Dick over the decades, from the perspectives of various writers and artists, there is also room for a romantic reading. Not just the comic panels taken out of context and spoofed on the internet. From this Reddit post… 

…To “A Brief History of Dick: Unpacking the gay subtext of Robin, the Boy Wonder”, a great summary by Glen Weldon, author of The Caped Crusade: Batman and the Rise of Nerd Culture. The comics themselves are ripe for various – *eh-hem* – creative readings and misinterpretations.  

Canon Jokes about Batman and Robin’s Relationship

But Bruce and Dick’s ambiguous relationship is also referenced in DC’s canon comics, like World's Finest Year 6: The Imp-Possible Dream (1999) by Karl Kesel, Peter Doherty, and Robert Campanella.

By aligning Dick with Lois Lane, damsel in distress, DC’s officially published comics pokes at the stability of a purely platonic father and son relationship between the Dynamic Duo.

Then there are the much more disturbing jokes from the Joker in Arkham Asylum: A Serious House on Serious Earth (1989) by Grant Morrison and Dave McKean. 

Joker makes plenty of insinuations about Batman’s mental wellness and his attraction to a Robin. Queerness as pathological isn’t new to Batman – it’s embodied in the Joker, a lipstick and acrylic-wearing man obsessed with another man. Joker not only evokes drag queens; in Batman: The Dark Prince Charming (2017-2018) by Enrico Marini, he even dresses as one.

It’s easy to forget the Joker’s queerness with Heath Ledger’s highly popular elemental Joker, Joaquin Phoenix’s sad boy follow-up, and the heterosexual, Harley Quinn-touting Joker of the Batman animations. But I think Joker has lasted – and surpassed Robin in popularity – because Robin was a good boy who was scandalously attached to gay jokes while Joker was a bad guy, who one, historically, could easily accept as being evil.

And then Robin became the Joker.

Like Sin City, Frank Miller’s infamous Batman: The Dark Knight Strikes Again is a testosterone and titty fueled extravaganza. And it makes Dick a Joker mutant targeting Bruce’s new sidekick, former female Robin, current lovely Catgirl, Carrie Kelly. A side-by-side comparison shows who is more desirable and healthy amongst them.

Dick envies Carrie, going so far as plotting to steal her body by skinning her alive. 

It’s not a good look on Dick. It is also sad, twisted, and one of the most fascinating ways Frank Miller could have acknowledged Dick’s mixed cultural legacy within DC published comic (even one set in an alternate universe). Here is a panel of Dick declaring his wicked love, driving Bruce to (lover’s) suicide.  

So there is room for laughable and sick interpretations of romantic Brudick. Now let’s take a look at a healthier option for these not-quite lovers, enemies, partners, and family members.

3. Batman’s (and Robin’s) Queer Liberation: Fredric Wertham, Feminism, and Kevin Conroy

I’m personally captivated by a romantic reading of Bruce and Dick. Stories revolve around conflict and that poses A LOT OF PROBLEMS. It also has led to plentiful interesting fanart and fanfiction that tries to make sense of decades of stories with a cohesive narrative. While there’s plenty of porn (which, no anti is entitled to shame others about), it also involves strangely compelling coming-of-age stories that few other slash pairings can inspire.  

Also, Bruce and Dick’s queer potential is really important for Western comics history – it’s part of what Fredric Wertham M.D. took comics to task for in the 1950s, leading to a (flawed) study, a Senate Hearing, censorship and comic codes, as well as the creation of family friendly female characters! Wertham clearly read the comics as queer – and that still holds currency for other LGBTQIA comics fans who see themselves in Batman and Robin. 

Excerpts from pg. 190 of Fredric Wertham’s Seduction of the Innocent (1954):

Wertham also accuses Wonder Woman and her friends of loving women to the detriment of men on page 193:

DC superhero media has a history of deviant queerness – to say no is to deny an important facet of comics history. 

Mining said queerness can give room for female characters to be more than objects of men’s violence/sexual objectification. One of my favorite Batgirl comics gets Batgirl away from Dick Grayson, putting her on her own journey of friendship, love, and self-fulfillment in the capable hands of Babs Tarr.

From Batgirl, Vol. 4, No. 40 (2015):

Other female characters who have flourished when given the ability to be more than love interests include Batgirl’s bestie, Supergirl, in Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow (2021-2022) by Tom King, Bilquis Everly, and co.

Superhero stories are so big, full of questions about what makes a person moral and how/whether they can ever truly belong. Do stories that play with Bruce and Dick as romantic connect to those ideas? They certainly do.

And, as we see from the autobiographical comic of Kevin Conroy, iconic voice of various animated Bat-men, these questions and deviations can enrich our superhero stories too. Excerpts below from “Finding Batman” by Kevin Conroy, J. Bone, and Aditya Bidikar, published in DC Pride 2022.

The Batman and Robin stories are so strange, plentiful, and varied – there’s room for various interpretations, none of them “wrong.” 

If the anon who’s messaging other social media users to stop looking at my art wants to tackle issues like child exploitation, or if they want to support girls and women who are in danger of incest or rape, they can donate and spread awareness of organizations like Save The Children, Planned Parenthood, and others using ProPublica’s Nonprofit Explorer.

And for wholesome DC comic recs with gals of color, I recommend DC comics like Diana and Nubia: Princesses of the Amazon (2022) by Shannon Hale, Dean Hale, and Victoria Ying and Girl Taking Over: A Lois Lane Story (2023) by Sarah Kuhn and Arielle Jovellanos. My twin collaborator and I are also working on stories that tackle superheroines and intersectional feminism – stories which criss-cross with our platonic and romantic Brudick stories!  

[alpaca-clouds]

Arcane Season 2 - How Bad Pacing Can Ruin Everything

So, Arcane season 2 ended. And I am sorry, I need to vent.

I am honestly not sure whether the rumors are true and this were originally meant to be more seasons. The Riot CEO apparently denies it, but then again, I have seen CEOs confidently go out on stages to talk about a project which they knew was cancelled at that point in time. So, sorry, but I will never ever trust a CEO. Lying is like 50% of their jobs. Being greedy is the other half. Sorry, not sorry.

I am gonna write something about disability in Arcane (overall) during the next few days, but let me just talk a bit about the pacing issues of season 2.

Spoilers for season 2 - all of it - obviously.

Believe me or not, but I know the exact issue of Arcane season 2. It is called: Too many characters. Too many plotlines. It is something that easily happens when writing an ensemble story (no matter what the format is you publish the story in - it happens in books, movies, shows, games). At times it works fine if you manage to weave the entire ensemble into the same main plot. But as soon as you wanna give everyone their own little storyarc with a bit of their own themes, it often goes haywire. Either you will end up dropping some characters to the side and not properly finish up their story, or you will end up rushing everything. Neither is gonna be good.

Here I am mainly thinking... Was the entire Black Rose/LaBlanc stuff planned to be there from the beginning? Was it put in later? I mean, given that the entire story felt like it might set up Mel as a Champion for LoL... How do I put it? Mel was too overdesigned in the show, to not be a future Champion. That was my feeling from the beginning. I don't know if they gonna make her a Champion, but man, it feels like it.

But no, the main issue really is the pacing. There is just too much stuff happening.

I will remain, that the thing that shows this better than anything was the second "arc" of season 2. Episode 4-6. And the general way the entire Caitlyn, Vi, Jinx thing plays out. We have the following things happen in the first six episodes of season 2:

Cait's mother dies

Cait swears revenge and asks Vi to assist her as an enforcer

Vi does not want to. Ends up getting drunk.

Vi decides to do it anyway.

They do a bit of chemical warfare for good measures.

They go down there. Fight Jinx. Vi cannot do it - partly because Isha.

Cait breaks up with Vi and becomes the evil fascist dictator

Vi becomes an alcohol addict.

Except, never mind, Caitlin is already feeling shitty about it next episode.

Jinx gets Vi and Magic Pixie Dreamgirls her out of her new-found addiction.

Jinx and Vi are good again. They go help Vander.

Cait meets Vi for the first time since the break up. They instantly are back on the same page.

Like, there is so many plothooks in this storyline alone that do go completely unexplored.

There are two characters here, that do play a role in the last three episodes too and that felt like they were some proper characters at some point. Those two are Maddie - the Scottish-dialect enforcer girl - and... Frankly, I do not feel like looking up the name. The big burly one, who after the break-up takes care of Vi.

Those two feel like they were at some point meant to be more real characters. But because of the pacing, they are barely ideas. Maddie starts making out with Caitlyn because...? I don't know. Because I literally do not know anything about this character but "she is an enforcer", "she is queer", "she is attracted to power(?)", and thats it.

And the other guy goes with Vi because... Uhm... I don't know. I know literally nothing about this chaaracter other than that he is big and an enforcer. *shrugs*

It most certainly feels like there was some planned version of this show, in which Cait and Vi both had a proper corruption arc. In which we really saw the two of them struggle. In which we actually saw Piltover and Zaun under the control of Commander Caitlyn and Noxus, and saw the horrible things they were doing and what it was doing with Caitlyn. In which we also saw Vi struggling with addiction and stuff.

But that was not the version we got in the end. Instead in this version... things go magically well.

Hooray?

Same with Jinx. Her mental health issues just magically get better when Isha is there, because that is what the story needs to happen now.

Here, too, it also feels like huge chunks of the story are missing. It feels like there was a story going more into the relationship of Sevika and Jinx for a bit. But if that story had been there once, it was most certainly no longer there. It was hinted at, yeah, but that's it.

And then there is the entire magic plot.

Look, I think among the fans of the LoL Lore I am not the first one to say: "Yeah, trying to marry the worldbuilding of Arcane to the established Runeterra worldbuilding does not work, because of the magic." Runeterra so far was always a fairly high magic world - at least that was implied by comics and short stories. Magic was a common thing in this world. Otherwise we could not have that many magic champions and a whole place whose entire thing it had been: "We are anti-magic Nazis building mage concentration camps!"

When Riot said, that Arcane was now the main canon, A LOT of fans of the lore were like: "You get that it is not gonna work." And yeah, Arcane Season 2 clearly shows how it doesn't work.

Because the way they put in the entire "Mel is magic, also the Black Rose is a thing" stuff just... It did not fit in the entire plot around it. Because Arcane had been designed as a world where magic was very rare and strange. But now Mel had to be magic and somehow had to be connected to the Black Rose.

Also... What the fuck even happened there in the end? Why put that in? Why make Mel go against LaBlanc? I am sorry, but that was simply too much for this plot. The entire Black Rose stuff stuck out of this plot like - pardon the pun - a thorn.

Generally there are several relationships that feel, like they had at one point been a whole more explored, but then got dropped to the wayside.

As I said, Sevika and Jinx are definitely an example. Ekko and Heimerdinger as well. I also feel like what was episode 7 of the show was probably originally more than one episodes and slower paced - though it still to me was the one episode in this, that kinda worked in of itself. And that the Ekko and Jinx relationship was better established.

I also feel that Viktor and that echo of Skye was probably at some point supposed to actually have talks. Like: "I will miss talking to you." - "No, you won't." Okay? THEN SHOW ME THEM TALKING PLEASE?!

Which kinda brings me down to the main thing that happened because of the pacing issue. Season 2 of Arcane knew only two extremes in terms of "Show, don't tell". Either it goes full "music video" in whcih indeed it just shows us shit without context or dialogue - or we get the information just via dialogue, in a complete tell.

This also shows in the last episode, with the entire thing of Piltover asking the Zaunites for help, after brutally surpressing them forever. Yeah, I see where they were going with this. About being the bigger people and planting seeds and what not. But frankly, there might have been a time and space for a story like that, if properly told (you know, with giving more of the Zaunites a voice in this story, showing more of the conflict and spacing this plot out over several episodes). But a) it was not properly told, and b) a world in which several genocides happen while Trump somehow won a second term is not that world. Yes, b) is not the fault of anyone working on Arcane. That was simply bad luck on their part. But a) is very much their fault - and even if we did not have a Palestinian Genocide and no second Trump term: Without a) being done properly, it would not have worked. It would have just not felt quite as miserable.

You know, the most frustrating thing about this was, that... While I think that one way or another I would still have hated how the show handles the topic of disability (again, I will write about this during the next few days), I generally might have liked the same plot, if it had been given the needed space to breathe.

Like... Sure, I would have never really been on board with "fascist Caitlyn", or rather with "fascist Caitlyn, who gets then forgiven by everyone". But I could have somewhat swallowed it, if that forgiveness had to be earned. But because of the breakneck speed of this show, it never got earned. I am not even talking about redemption arcs here - those are always a headache - but specifically about the fact that Caitlyn gets instantly forgiven by everyone.

Also, lol. The entire thing with Ekko convincing Jinx to come along off-screen. That was unelegant.

Heck, it feels in the first four episodes, as if there was an arc being set up for Sevika in general. And it feels like that arc needed to happen, given that Sevika ends up on the COUNCIL OF PILTOVER in the epilogue. However, that Arc just does not happen. Then, like... why set it up?

That is general the issue. There is a lot of set-up and very, very little payoff to any of it.

And here is the thing. I have heard people argue about whether or not this was meant to have more seasons. But frankly: I do not think that the writers who wrote season 1 would have written this story this way had they known it would be two seasons.

Mind you, compared to some people I would not rate the writing in season 1 higher than maybe 6 or 7 of 10. It was solid, but not overwhelmingly great. But season 2 in comparison is a 2 of 10, maybe a 3 of 10, if I am being gracious.

And frankly, I do not think any writer, who is in any way worth their salt, would write a story where a main character goes evil, and then do exactly nothing with it. I mean, sorry, us writers, we are a dramatic bunch. And we will not resist the drama being served on a silver platter unless we are forced too. I cannot imagine a single writer, who will go with the end of episode 3 and then not write a bunch of angst with Caitlyn and Vi - unless they were forbidden.

And mind you, CaitVi is by far the ship I am least invested in. But it is simply such a glaring example of where the plot is rushed in a way that it hinders the character arcs.

Oh, and also... Lest. Lest in the first six episodes clearly felt like a character, who was going to play a role. Only to then disappear to not be seen again during the finale. What happened to Lest? Is she dead? Is she alive? I guess we'll never know.

*sighs* I am sorry. I really am. I am just... very disappointed. This has been a mess. And I think it would not have needed to be.

Like, the animation is still the most pretty thing ever made in the world. But man... The plot? The plot sucks balls. And not in the sexy way.

[lesbiansforboromir]

Hey! I am going to talk briefly about the sexual abuse allegations against Fr John Tolkien (as in JRR Tolkien's eldest son). I have no idea how to start this post, nor really how to write it, nor even really that I should?

But I've known this for a long while now and been holding it in the back of my head for all that time and I have never seen it mentioned by anyone, which does seem wrong to some degree. Like we have all these private notes from JRR Tolkien and there's a whole film about his life and Edith's too, and there is this very curated view of the Tolkien family as a whole. But this is relagated to niche wiki entries. Like you have to click on Fr John Tolkien's specific wiki entry to read about this, it is not included in his summary on the main 'tolkien family' page. And, kind of notably, the most prominent accuser died extremely bitter about it's suppression, his daughter says "It tortured him. Until the last 12 months of his life, it was all he spoke about." [source]

John Tolkien, as in JRR Tolkien's eldest son, was accused by at least six individual men (then boys) of sexual abuse when he was a catholic priest. Christopher Carrie was the first and I think only one to do so publically, but after he did so others came forward with their stories. We know about this because of an IICSA investigation that was conducted after the whole catholic priest abuse story broke. You can read about their specific investigation into John Tolkien [here]

None of these allegations were prosecuted due mainly to John Tolkien being nearly at the end of his life by the time he was officially accused, though Christopher Carrie recieved a settlement from the archdioscese for 15000£. However, the only other thing I will add to all this is that according to the Guardian, Carrie, and Carrie's family he actually went to John Tolkien's home to confront him about the abuse before accusing him. And in a recording Carrie took of the conversation, John Tolkien (who had alzheimers) claimed to not remember if he had done it. He did, however, claim to have been abused himself as a child in his home by one of his father's friends, though he doesn't name anyone. [source]

So, that's it! I found this out a few years ago because I wondered why we hear a lot about Edith, Christopher and Michael from the published Tolkien letters, but John is kind of absent. My guess is this is why. My hope is people will agree that this is information that should be known? But I could be wrong about that, and of course legally speaking this was never and can never be proven whatsoever.

[entwinedmoon]

This month is the 40th anniversary of John Torrington’s exhumation and autopsy. I’ve been doing real-time daily updates over on this post to show just how long and drawn out the process was. It took over a week, starting from when Beattie arrived on Beechey to when they first started digging to when they finally got the coffin open. Right now, those updates are in a bit of a lull because, after they dug down to the coffin, they had to wait for permits to move onto the next part, so there won’t be another Daily Torrington Dig update until August 17.

While we’re waiting for Beattie to get his permits to crack open a cold one (Torrington’s coffin) with the boys (his scientific research team), you can check out my Torrington blog posts to keep the spirit of the season going. The posts Sacred to the Memory of and A Star Is Born would be especially applicable right now as they explore Torrington’s death, exhumation, autopsy, and the media’s response to the photographs of his well-preserved body.

But there’s something else I wanted to share here, another type of media response that I’ve known about (and had a copy of) for a while. I shared it years ago on Twitter, thinking it would get a laugh there, but that was, er, not the reaction I received, so I’d held off on sharing it anywhere else because I thought most people would find it inappropriate. However, I was reminded recently by a friend (don’t know if they want to be tagged here or not, so I’ll go with not) about the existence of this particular piece, and I realized that this might be something that would be more appreciated here on Tumblr, where we like to photoshop Torrington’s corpse into memes, ship him with the guy he’s buried next to, and want to see what he would think of Takis and flavored vapes.

The article I’m referring to is the story about Torrington that appeared in the Weekly World News.

If you’re not familiar with the Weekly World News, it was a notorious tabloid that made up absurd stories and pretended it was real news. Some news stories were actually true—so it wasn’t completely like today’s The Onion—but there were also plenty of clearly fictional articles, featuring bizarre, often supernatural stories, such as Elvis sightings, a double-decker bus mysteriously found at the South Pole (“scientists” claimed aliens did it), or Bat Boy, a boy who was part bat, part boy.

Torrington’s level of fame within the cultural consciousness of the time meant that he, too, got to experience the tabloid treatment.

(CW: pictures of Torrington’s mummified body beneath the cut)

Published on March 3, 1992, was this front-page story:

Man buried in 1845 brought back to life!

Sailor’s coffin frozen in arctic ice 147 years!

Hush-hush new drug revives corpse, say doctors!

Yes, according to the Weekly World News, John Torrington was brought back to life in 1992. There’s even a full article all about how it happened.

MAN FROZEN SINCE 1845 BROUGHT BACK TO LIFE!

Scientists revive seaman trapped in ice 147 years!

Sailor back from the dead still thinks James K. Polk is President of the U.S.!

By Cal Sanders, Special Correspondent

The perfectly preserved corpse of a British sailor who was buried in an icy grave after he died on an Arctic expedition in 1845 has been revived by scientists—147 years later!

And while Petty Officer John Torrington’s health is fragile at best, the team of doctors who illegally plucked him from his grave and brought him back to life say he is aware of his surroundings, walking with help and might very well be able to lead a normal life “if this man has the psychological strength to adapt to the 20th century.”

“It’s hard to believe but this man thinks James K. Polk is President of the United States and insists that horses and sailing ships are the best and fastest ways to travel,” Dr. Hermann Richter said in his report on the experiment that brought Torrington back to life.

“Electric lights literally scare the hell out of him and to be perfectly frank about it, he hasn’t quite decided if he’s dead or alive. About the best we can do at this point is take his recovery one day at a time.

“If Torrington survives we will have produced a living piece of history. If he dies, at least we’ll be able to say that we tried to do something that might ultimately have benefited all mankind.”

The decision to steal Torrington’s corpse from its grave in northern Canada couldn’t have come easy for the Richter team, which issued its report to selected European newspapers “from an undisclosed clinic in Germany.”

For starters, the young man’s grave has stood as an unofficial monument to the courage and determination of 128 adventurers led by British explorer Sir John Franklin—adventurers who gave up their lives to chart the last 300-mile-leg of the treacherous Northwest Passage between 1845 and 1848. Torrington’s body was exhumed once before, in 1983, but it was carefully reburied after scientists took a small tissue sample to determine the cause of death. As it turned out, Torrington died from lead poisoning after eating provisions out of tins that were sealed with the dangerous and often lethal metal. Needless to say, news that Richter and his associates secretly exhumed the body a second time, smuggled it into Germany and succeeded in bringing it back to life have infuriated many experts, some of whom consider the theft of the body criminal. Richter himself insisted that Torrington is in good hands and will be free to go when he is strong enough.

The doctor went on the say that he understands why the experiment might sound extreme to some people but he believes that the revival of Torrington “furthered the best interests of medicine and science.” Richter’s report did not include any of the techniques that were used to revive Torrington but it did mention “an exciting new drug” that might one day make such revivals routine.

Because he died of lead poisoning, it is also believed that Richter and his team somehow cleansed Torrington’s tissue of the deadly metal before bringing him back to life. For the record, Torrington was a man of 20 when he died. Now he looks like a man of 80, photos supplied by Richter show.

“A century and a half of death is enough to age anyone,” said Richter.

There’s a lot to unpack here—the morally dubious German doctor with a mysterious, Frankenstein-esque resurrection method; the burial and exhumation dates both being off by one year for some reason; the short, skinny guy in the obvious bald cap that they thought would pass as Torrington; and so much more. Interestingly, a lot of the article seems to focus more on how scandalous it is that Dr. Richter stole Torrington’s body, as if the writer thought that the revival of a long-dead corpse wasn’t enough of a scoop. Also, I’m not sure if Torrington would even have been aware that Polk was president in 1845—was he the sort of guy who paid attention to international politics? Wouldn’t it have made more sense for him to think Victoria was still queen?

Many people might be offended by such an article, but the Weekly World News never cared about who they offended. Unsurprisingly, one of those who did take umbrage with the story was Dr. Owen Beattie.

In a short article in the Times-Colonist Metro about a week after the Weekly World News story ran, we got to hear Owen Beattie’s reaction.

HEE-(T)HAW . . . It was standard checkout rag fare. “Man Buried in 1845 brought back to life” shouted a recent front page of Weekly World News. “Hush-Hush New Drug Revives Corpse,” it continued.

These startling revelations bore some significance for both the wax museum’s Ken Lane and University of Alberta anthropologist Owen Beattie. The man purportedly thawed like last night’s dinner was John Torrington, one of three sailors from the Franklin expedition buried on Beechy [sic] Island. The Franklin expedition—and John Torrington—feature large in the wax museum’s arresting Frozen in Time expedition. Torrington’s body was exhumed from its Arctic grave in ’84 by Dr. Beattie, who determined death was from lead poisoning.

Neither Ken nor the anthropologist felt their respective professional worlds crumbled with the News article. (It ran with a photo of an emaciated looking chap being assisted by doctors and reports that Torrington is terrified of electric lights, still believes Polk is the U.S. president, and horses are the only way to go.) Ken shrugged it off with a what-can-you-expect-from-a-checkout-rag laugh. The anthropologist wasn’t quite so forgiving.

He refused to comment on it at all, insisting that his research speaks for itself. Apparently John Torrington was quite dead when he was exhumed and equally so when buried after the autopsy. But then that’s not the sort of stuff that sells check-out rags.

While it’s perfectly understandable that Beattie would not appreciate something like the Weekly World News’ fake story, what I find most interesting about this snippet is that there was a wax museum with a Franklin Expedition exhibit that included Torrington??? Does that mean there was a Torrington wax figure???? Where is it now????? Can I buy it?????????

These very important questions aside, it’s fascinating to see that Torrington was well known enough to make it into a “checkout rag.” Maybe it’s not the legacy he would have wanted, but at least it’s worth a good laugh.

[kell-eramis]

Skybound Spoilers ahead//

Okay so my thoughts may be a bit disorganized because it is 4 AM but I was thinking and doing research on two small essays I’m writing comparing transformers characters to tragic characters of ancient greece (and rome) and I realized a blatant parallel in Skybound

So I’ve long believed that Starscream’s arc in Skybound is reflective of a cycle of power and hubris that parallels Megatron, however until now I only thought it was subtextual—however, in the FCBD spexial we see Megatron’s fate.

He is shot by Starscream—who takes out his right optic— out of the ark and into space, thereby ascertaining Starscream’s position as leader during the first 7 issues of Transformers. This happens after Optimus cuts off his right arm.

During these 7 issues, we see Starscream twice again in a similar position, both within the comic panel and within his in-universe position.

During this confrontation, Starscream, where she was previously on the left, is now on the right, where Megatron was, as she confronts Cliffjumper and Carly. Attempting to squish another human—Carly—he is knocked over the edge of the Ark to fall onto the ground. This is both the same metatextual and physical positions as Megatron was in, and we once again see this with her and Soundwave’s confrontation.

Soundwave is now on the left, as the righteous usurper, while Starscream is on the right, grasping at the remnants of leadership and power, to no avail. Her right wing is blown off by Soundwave, once again paralleling Megatron, and his left optic is ripped off by Laserbeak. She is then thrown off the edge of the cliff, left to die just as Megatron had been.

HOWEVER: also in the annual we see that Megatron is not dead, and is vowing vengeance against Starscream (who had supposedly died already by the time this was published—yet alludes to a future confrontation).

This leads me to conclude that my previous hypothesis, that Starscream is in fact not dead, is quite likely.

However, it is notable that where Megatron’s right optic was taken out initially, it is Starscream’s left optic that is taken out. I posit that this is meant to parallel a previous non-canon story set during the G1 continuity, Redemption Center.

During Redemption Center, it is Starscream’s left optic that is damaged, and as a result of that plus subsequent injuries, she loses her memory and is found by the Autobots, where Optimus and her bond. At the end of the story, he is a changed mech, who realizes that perhaps by following Optimus’ example, not Megatron’s, she can lead the Decepticons properly. Since we’ve already seen Starscream emulating Megatron in the current Transformers, as well as these other parallels, I strongly believe we have not seen the end of Starscream, and we might be about to see Daniel Warren Johnson’s take on a redemption arc for Starscream.

[libraford]

I'm a little frustrated making this scrapbook because I had the idea to put some quotes from grandma's memoirs into it both to give it a little more color and to create a more intentional sense of narrative because grandma didn't always keep things that were historically significant- she kept movie tickets and play programs. And I wanted to combine the 'life at home' visual story with the photos of ww2 and kind of play with the idea of two worlds waiting to come back together again. Trust me, I'm sobbing a little working on this because even though grandma wasn't a great writer you knew she meant the things she wrote.

But what's making it frustrating is that she didn't intend to publish this. It was intended to be a story that she wrote for her sons so that they would know where they came from.

My uncle found it and wrote a real presumptuous foreword about it, about how it was an important read for future generations, about how different the world was in the 1940s, about the lesson we can all learn from grandma and truly its a 'must read.'

And then his son published it for profit literally 3 months after she died.

I love my grandma very much, but it is not a 'must read.' There are plenty of accounts of what it was like to live in America during WW2 and she spends a lot of time talking about how she grew up poor and didn't have this, that, or the other thing. She was a good writer, but she had a tendency to ramble, write things out of order. She was first and foremost a poet and when it came to writing a story she often forgot where she left off, and she did not have an editor.

I want to take my uncle by the shoulders and tell him:

"Matthew. Matthew. Look at me. Some things are not for sale. Take this message and pass it on to your son. Tell him that if I die first and he tries to pull this on me it means he's next."

[acesw]

Knowing our Arcanists 12: Pavia

Welcome to entry twelve of my series: "Knowing our Arcanists"! This is a series in which I introduce and tell the stories of our fellow characters in Reverse: 1999. Today's character is the one and only: Pavia!

Disregard my previous post about Зима being the first one hit with the yaoi beam, he was the meat shield before him. I think I'd want to have his accessories even if they're horribly cheap. Lets get started.

Pavia is a mixed individual born on July 24th in Rome, Italy. When he was young, he was sent to Piedmont and lived there for many years before moving to Sicily. Pavia's arcane skill is a physical manifestation of his trauma with isolation, turning into a pack of wolves molded by darkness.

He's a mercenary that is currently active in the 90s, known for doing jobs left and right. He's an excellent mercenary, but tends to lack collaboration skill and is adamant in working independently.

As a child, Pavia was born from both arcanist and human parents. His mother, who came from Piedmont, moved to Rome to be with his father. At one point after Pavia was born, his mother had been sent to an asylum whilst his father went missing, leading him to be sent to Piedmont to be raised by his aunt.

Likely unbeknownst to him, his mother died back in Rome, and his aunt was overcome with grief. To her, Pavia looked a lot like her sister, and he was a troublesome child. Being taken over by such grief and hate, she confined Pavia in the basement for a long time as he grew up.

Confused and enraged, Pavia did all sorts of things to try to get out of the basement. Cry, fume, attempts to yield and apologize to his aunt, but the door never opened for him.

At first, he had access to the outside, being able to see passersby who crossed Piedmont to travel to different regions in Italy, even meeting a traveler who talked of film to him. But over time, natural light ceased to exist in his world, leaving him in the dark.

Out of that isolation came his friends, the wolves that gathered around him and allowed him to rest easy in the endless night. Like imaginary friends who never seemed to fade away since daylight never reached them. They became family to him, ones who would never leave him behind.

When he became older, he gained that strength to break out of that basement. What became of his aunt is unknown, but he became the infamous mercenary afterwards, traveling from Piedmont to Sicily. With quick and straightforward work, he gained his hard earnings, and

At one point, he worked with a man named James Burton, who published a book named Reminiscences, who described Pavia to be a "madman" and a "punishment." Many jobs later, he found himself hired by the Timekeeper in the Foundation, but didn't realize 'til way too late that he can't back out of it now.

Pavia can be described as a very aggressive and prideful individual. He uses threats to keep people distanced from him and to allow him to work on his own. This resulted in a lot of complaints about him, but he was never one to care.

When he does make friends however, his aggression can become affectionate; while he puts little trust in those around him, he'll always be open to talk of his gore-y and violent fantasies.

He's also an avid enjoyer of art and sweets, wearing cheap and handmade accessories, even wearing patterned shirts and sporting tattoos. He's often found eating gelato and tends to be very specific about its refrigeration.

The trauma coming from long-term isolation runs deep, often making Pavia uncomfortable when working with others. He shows great aversion to collaboration and affection from those around him unless its his close friends: the wolves that grew up with him.

All with names, they're who Pavia can put his full trust in to walk through the cold and dark nights across the world. He'll rarely ever sleep, instead taking the time to admire the dark skies and the guiding moonlight from above.

[pascaloverx]

OUR SECRET — MYG

final chapter

Summary: You and Yoongi are having an affair. No, you are not being his lover. But the world is not ready to know that an idol is dating someone. So you two were doing your best to make sure no one found out. Until he breaks up with you. His mistake.

Author's note: It was a beautiful journey to write this fanfic. But unfortunately, it comes to an end in this chapter. I will miss all the readers of this fanfic, which was so precious to me. Thank you all, and until next time.

PREVIOUS NEXT

"When life gives you lemons, make lemonade." Upon reflection, this philosophy could be right, but no one mentions that sometimes, just sometimes, life gives you lemons and you don't have the strength for anything else. It's been two months since your baby passed away. You're trying to move forward, but the path ahead seems so murky, as if there's nowhere to go. Since your daughter's passing, you and Yoongi have been trying to maintain a sense of peace, but it feels like a hollow peace. He works all day and only comes home late at night. You've returned to work as a book editor, doing some freelance work from home.

"How is this going to be?" You ask, with the laptop in your lap, as you stare at the corrections needed for the new book that some new author wants to publish at the publishing house where you work. Yoongi looks at you, bringing a plate of food that he's trying to learn to cook.

"What do you mean by that?" Yoongi speaks as he hands you a plate and takes another for himself. You look, trying to understand if he hasn't noticed that you've been treated like a child since your daughter died.

"I mean, husband, that I know you've been neglecting your concert schedule and what should have been your tour with the boys, because of me. It's noble of you, but you know that I can take care of myself, right?" You say, tasting the macaroni that Yoongi made. He's a good cook.

"Wife, I'm not just doing this for you. It's just that I didn't plan on working at this time. But believe me, I'm working on a new album." Yoongi says as he turns on the television to watch the sports channel. At least that's what you think he's watching.

"Even so, I may seem fragile, but I can be alone. I can even call you while you're away. I don't want you to neglect your life because of me. I'll be here when you come back, no matter where you're from." You say as you set your laptop on the table and sit close to him. You continue eating the macaroni he made. Eventually, both of you finish eating, and you decide to put some music on the television. He looks at you angrily for changing the channel from sports. Then you extend your hand to him, hoping he'll take it so you can dance. After some grumbling, he gets up and pulls you close by your waist.

"You know it's weird for us to dance like this, for no reason after dinner, right?" Yoongi asks, and you feel a bit awkward about saying that you're trying to be spontaneous. It's been a while since you and he have done anything cute together.

"Loving someone means doing senseless things with them, you know? And I think it's been a while since the last time we were romantically together. Our beginning was all secretive and full of passion. Then we had a dramatic breakup that resulted in a surprise pregnancy that left us both grieving for our daughter. We're married now, but I feel like we barely dated. Maybe now is the time for us to do cute, silly, and romantic things." You confide in Yoongi as you rest your head on his shoulder, and you both continue dancing slowly.

"I don't regret any of this, though. Our love story is confusing. Maybe even complicated. But at least I have you. And you have me. And I may not show it very well, but you are the most precious thing I have now. I love my fans, I love my group, but my love for you is greater than the success I have. I know it took a long time for me to say this to you, and I'm really sorry for not being the man you deserved, but I want to be now. Know that." Yoongi says, pulling his head back slightly, looking at you, and you immediately kiss him. A calm and peaceful kiss. Exactly how you want your love to be.

"You know… I could go on tour with you if you need me to. And I think in the future, we can consider expanding our love, but for now, it would be good to take some time to reconnect, you know." You say with your mouth still close to Yoongi's, who gives you a few pecks while seeming very lost in your lips to care much about what you're saying.

"I think this part of reconnecting is very important. Do you want to start now?" Yoongi says and kisses you. A deeper kiss, and extremely needy. Needy for you. You try to show that you feel so much I miss his kisses as much as he does. The truth is, you want Yoongi. You want to give a chance to a flame that has been extinguished for some time. Yoongi holds your face gently but firmly and intensifies the kiss. His hands roaming your body make you feel alive.

"Honey, I think we should take this reconnection to the bedroom, don't you think?" You speak as you move away from him a little and walk at a pace very slowly to your room. Your heart feels like it's going to escape through your mouth, because of your nervousness. But then Yoongi grabs your hand and spins you around.

"I love you." He says smiling slightly and kissing you. You know he loves you. And you feel the same way about him. You then pull him to bed and there you reconnect in the most beautiful way.

Your story continues to be a lesson for some time that not every love story happens in the same way. You loved each other and just when you were separating, you discovered that together you could be better. With Yoongi you faced grief. And with you, Yoongi matured. Fortunately, years later you adapted to married life and he was able to return to being a world-famous singer. You have a mature relationship filled with reconnections. Every year you go to the cemetery to take flowers for your daughter. It seems that sometimes finding a happy ending means going through many barriers. But you're trying to live your happily ever after with Yoongi.

[nausicaamusiclover20]

Omg you’re James works ❤️🥹😊😊😩😩I can’t figure out which era of him I like more so this is like a span? So maybe in 83, James and reader were dating but they broke up. Later, she found out she’s pregnant and she tried to get in touch but he thought she just wants money. Fast forward 10 years and James tries to make amends but then he finds them, it turns out his son hates him because the reader struggled a lot and although they have some money they live very very modestly? And the reader had to sacrifice her dreams as she had to take care of her son? And unfortunately the kid saw the reader cry over a gossip magazine where metallicas “showers with groupies” story was published? That made him despise James? So James has to try really hard to fix it? Maybe in the end he finally proposes? And his son is finally ready to accept him as father?

Thank you so much, I hope you like it❤

Love reclaimed

When James and I broke up, I told myself I’d move on—that I’d leave the memories behind, just like he had. But when I found out I was pregnant, everything changed. I dialed his number, feeling both hopeful and terrified. Maybe, just maybe, this would mean something to him.

When he picked up, his voice was edged with irritation. “Why are you calling?”

My heart pounded as I said, “James, I’m pregnant. This is your child.”

There was a silence, and then he let out a harsh, bitter laugh. “Is this some kind of joke?”

I forced myself to stay calm. “No, James. I just… I thought you deserved to know.”

“You thought I’d buy this?” he snapped, his voice full of contempt. “You’re just after money, aren’t you?”

The accusation hit me like a punch. “Money? James, I don’t want anything from you. I just thought maybe… maybe you’d want to be a part of this.”

He scoffed. “You’re unbelievable. I’m not falling for this. We’re done, alright? Stop calling.”

He hung up, and I stood there, stunned, with his words echoing in my mind. The man I’d once loved had dismissed me and our child without a second thought. Tears filled my eyes, but I steeled myself. I was going to do this alone.

Ten Years Later

Life hadn’t been easy, but I’d done my best for Noah. Our apartment was small, but it was ours. We had a routine, a rhythm, and despite the sacrifices, I’d found a quiet kind of strength in it. But as Noah grew older, the questions started, and so did his anger

One evening, after a long day of juggling two jobs, I sat on the couch, exhausted. As I flipped through a gossip magazine I’d picked up to unwind, a headline caught my eye: _“Metallica’s Wild Nights: Hetfield Showers with Groupies!”_ My heart sank as I read the details, the images of carefree musicians living lavish lives while I struggled to make ends meet for me and Noah. I couldn't help but feel a surge of betrayal.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I thought about all I had sacrificed. I had dreams once—ambitions that felt so far away now. I choked back a sob, feeling the weight of my regrets pressing down on me.

I didn’t hear Noah come home until I heard the magazine hit the table with a heavy thud. Startled, I looked up to see him standing there, his expression twisted in anger.

“Why are you crying?” he demanded, his voice sharp. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, Noah. I’m just tired,” I lied, trying to wipe my tears away.

But he wasn’t buying it. He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing as he caught sight of the magazine sprawled open on the table. “Is it about him?” he asked, his voice low and furious. “Is it about James?”

My heart twisted at the mention of his name, and I could see the anger boiling in Noah's chest. “It’s just stupid gossip. It doesn’t matter.”

“No, it does matter!” he shouted, throwing his hands up in frustration. “You shouldn’t be crying over some guy who doesn’t care about you!”

The truth in his words hit me like a slap. I struggled to maintain my composure, but the floodgates opened. “Noah, I didn’t want you to see me like this,” I said, my voice trembling. “I just thought… I thought he’d be different.”

“Mom,” Noah said, his tone softening, “I hate him. I hate him with all my heart. He’s the reason you’ve had to struggle so much. He doesn’t deserve you.”

I wiped my tears, forcing a smile, even as my heart swelled with gratitude for my son’s fierce loyalty. “I know, sweetheart. I know. But I’m okay. We’re okay.”

“You deserve better than him,” Noah said, his voice firm. “And if he ever shows up again, I swear I’ll make him regret it.”

—---------

Then, one gray, rainy afternoon, I heard a knock at the door. I opened it, and there he was—James, looking older, worn, and regretful. My heart stopped. I wasn’t ready for this.

He spoke first, his voice soft. “I know it’s been a long time, but… I want to make things right.”

I crossed my arms, refusing to let him see the hurt that still lingered. “You think you can just walk back in here and fix everything?”

He shifted, uncomfortable. “I know I messed up, alright? I know I should’ve been there. I’m trying to make amends.”

“Amends?” I echoed bitterly. “You think showing up after ten years is going to make up for the hell you put us through?”

As Noah appeared in the hallway, he looked between James and me, his eyes filled with suspicion. I could feel the air grow thick with tension as James turned to him slowly, his face softening, and took a tentative step closer.

"Hey, buddy," he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm... I'm your dad."

Noah’s expression shifted from confusion to anger, his jaw tightening as he processed the weight of those words. “My dad?” he repeated, voice dripping with bitterness. “You’re not my dad. My dad would’ve been here. My dad wouldn’t have left us.”

James flinched, visibly pained, but he held his ground, trying to keep his tone calm. “I know it doesn’t make up for the past, but I want to be here for you now, Noah. I want a chance to be the dad I should’ve been.”

But Noah’s face only hardened further. “You think it’s that easy?” He scoffed, crossing his arms defiantly. “You think you can just waltz in here, call yourself my dad, and everything’s fine?”

James took a deep breath, his eyes pleading. “I know it’s not easy. I messed up, and I can’t change that. But I’m not the same guy I was back then. I want to be part of your life, to make things right—for you and for your mom. I want to be a father to you both.”

I stepped forward, feeling the heat of the moment. “Noah, I know you’re hurt, and you have every right to be angry,” I said gently. “But James really is trying to make amends. This isn’t just about him wanting to be a rock star dad. He wants to be there for us.”

Noah shook his head, the anger in his voice rising. “What do you even know about my life? You don’t know how hard it’s been for my mom. She sacrificed everything for me while you were off living your rock star fantasy!”

“Hey, I’m not here to argue,” James said, frustration creeping into his voice. “I came to apologize and to be part of your life. I want to understand what you’ve been through. I want to be there for both of you.”

“Why should I believe you?” Noah snapped, his fists clenched at his sides. “You think a few apologies will fix everything? You left! You weren’t there for my first steps, my first words, none of it! I hate you for that!”

The room fell silent, the weight of Noah’s words hanging in the air. James took a step back, hurt flashing across his face. “I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness,” he said quietly, “but I’m here now. I want to be a better man, for you and your mom. I’ll do whatever it takes to earn your trust.”

I felt a surge of emotion as I stepped closer to Noah. “I know it’s been hard for both of us. James was part of my life once, and he was good to me. I don’t expect you to trust him immediately, but maybe we can take this one step at a time?”

Noah hesitated, his anger battling with a flicker of uncertainty. “What if I don’t want you in my life?” he challenged, his voice shaking.

“I’ll respect that,” James replied, his voice steady but vulnerable. “But I’ll be here, waiting, hoping for a chance to show you that I can be the father you deserve. I want to be there for your mom too. She’s had to carry so much alone, and I regret that more than you know.”

Noah's eyes widened slightly, the surprise breaking through his anger. “You think this is a game?” he asked, his voice lowering. “You think just because you’re famous, I’m supposed to want you in my life?”

“Noah, listen,” James said, desperation creeping into his tone. “This isn’t about fame. This is about being a father. I realize now what I lost, and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to rebuild what we can. I want to support both of you in any way I can.”

I felt a lump in my throat as I glanced at Noah. “You have every right to feel what you feel, sweetheart,” I added softly, trying to bridge the gap. “But we’ve been managing. It hasn’t been easy, but we’ve made it work. James can be part of that if we let him.”

Noah's anger began to falter, his voice trembling slightly. “This isn’t just about you, you know. If you want to be my dad, you have to prove it. It’s going to take more than just words.”

James nodded, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. “That’s all I ask for, buddy. I’ll be here, and I won’t give up on you or your mom. I want to be there for both of you, every step of the way.”

Noah looked between us, uncertainty still clouding his expression. “Fine,” he said at last, his voice trembling slightly. “But you have to earn my trust. I’m not just going to forgive you because you want me to.”

James took a deep breath, the resolve in his eyes shining through. “I understand that. I’m ready to show you that I’m serious about this. I’m committed to being a father to you and supporting your mom. It won’t be easy, but I’m willing to fight for it.”

The room was thick with tension, and I could see Noah grappling with his feelings. “You really think you can just come back after all these years and make everything better?” Noah challenged, his voice quiet but intense.

“I don’t expect it to be that simple,” James replied earnestly. “But I want to try. I want to make things right.”

“Then show me,” Noah said, his voice firm. “Show me you mean it.”

As I stood there, watching the two of them, a small spark of hope ignited within me. Maybe, just maybe, this was the beginning of something new. Something better.

“James,” I said, breaking the silence, my gaze steady on him, “just remember that trust isn’t something you can demand; it’s something you earn. You’ve got a long road ahead of you, and it’s not going to be easy.”

He nodded, the weight of my words settling on him. “I know. I’m ready to do whatever it takes.”

I took a deep breath, trying to convey the seriousness of my thoughts. “Noah deserves to see that you’re sincere. He’s been through so much without you, and it’s not going to be easy for him to open up. But if you’re truly committed to making this work, you need to show him you’re here to stay—no matter how hard it gets.”

James looked at me, his expression earnest. “I will. I want to be there for both of you. I promise I won’t let you down again.”

“Good,” I said softly, allowing a cautious smile to creep onto my face. “Let’s take it one step at a time, okay? Show him you mean it.”

.........

As days turned into weeks, I watched as James made a genuine effort to connect with Noah. He was patient, attentive, and slowly, I could see Noah beginning to let his guard down. They would share moments of laughter, and I could feel the distance between them shrinking.

One evening, as we were all sitting together in the living room, Noah glanced at James and said, “I guess you’re not so bad after all.”

James chuckled softly, a hint of relief washing over his features. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Then, in a moment that took my breath away, James turned to me. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

I followed him into the kitchen, where he took a deep breath, the tension palpable in the air. “I’ve been thinking about how much I want to be a part of your lives. And not just as Noah’s father, but as your partner.”

My heart raced as I watched him kneel down on one knee, pulling out a small velvet box. “I want to make this official. I want to be a family. Will you marry me?”

Tears filled my eyes as I looked at him, feeling the weight of everything we had been through together. “James…” I whispered, my voice shaky with emotion.

“Just say yes,” he urged, a hopeful smile on his face, his eyes glistening with sincerity.

Before I could even process the whirlwind of feelings inside me, I nodded vigorously. “Yes! Yes, I will!”

James slipped the ring onto my finger, and as he stood up, we turned to find Noah watching us, his expression a mix of surprise and understanding.

“Does this mean you’re really going to be my dad now?” Noah asked, his voice soft but steady.

“Absolutely,” James replied, his voice filled with sincerity, his gaze unwavering. “I’ll do everything I can to earn your trust.”

For a moment, Noah hesitated, uncertainty flickering across his face. But then, taking a deep breath, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around James. “I think I can give you a chance, Dad.”

The word hung in the air, both beautiful and heavy, and I could see the emotion washing over James’s face. His eyes widened in surprise before welling with tears. “Dad… that means so much to me, buddy.”

Noah stepped back, looking a little sheepish, but there was a flicker of hope in his eyes. “Just don’t mess this up,” he said with a small smile.

“I won’t,” James promised, his voice thick with emotion. He looked at me, his heart laid bare. “I want to be here for both of you. I’ve made mistakes, but I’ll do whatever it takes to make it right.”

In that moment, I felt an overwhelming sense of hope. Maybe, just maybe, we could build the family we always dreamed of. I stepped closer to James, taking his hand in mine, the warmth between us a silent vow to forge ahead together.

“Let’s do this,” I said softly, feeling a new chapter unfolding before us.

Then, with a surge of emotion, James pulled both Noah and me into a tight embrace. The three of us stood together, a little family forming in the warmth of love and forgiveness, ready to face whatever came next.

[see-arcane]

You've stated you want a proper Carmilla adaptation that actually stays true to the overall story and characters

That said, what changes and expansions to the story you think would be a good idea?

Carmilla turns into a cat monster when feeding on Laura. Give her cat familiars the same way Dracula got bats. Maybe show one of them eating a bat to hammer home the 'vampires do not automatically = bat imagery.' (Long unbroken stare at book cover designers.)

2. Elaborate on 1) The group of actor-lackeys that keep getting Carmilla planted in homes with hot young daughters to feed on and 2) The mystery vampire who came and went when Mircalla was human and turned her before ditching

3. Let Laura be present for the head-chopping. It's a narrative cop out to make her wait to be told the grisly details after the fact. Having her present, either by allowance or her sneaking out to spy, would at least go a long way towards proving the men weren't murdering some girl in a box, but an actual Monster. On that note?

4. Let Carmilla be Monstrous. She did not turn her previous victims. She did not take a dainty little tiddy sip and run. She has been doing murder. Bertha was killed before the story began--good opportunity for ghost-dream jumpscare for Laura!--and Carmilla only seems fixated on taking her quarry with her when it comes to Laura. She is a serial killing vampire who just happens to also be amorously fixated on this particular victim.

5. Highlight Laura's strange VIP status when it comes to Carmilla's targeting. She dreamed of Carmilla's coming as a young girl. She suffers what could either be PTSD or psychic warning pings that Carmilla's not really gone after the climax. There is something supernatural lurking about in her head and it seems to be aligned with Carmilla's presence specifically.

6. Remember the prologue to Carmilla?

As I publish the case, in this volume, simply to interest the “laity,” I shall forestall the intelligent lady, who relates it, in nothing; and after due consideration, I have determined, therefore, to abstain from presenting any précis of the learned Doctor’s reasoning, or extract from his statement on a subject which he describes as “involving, not improbably, some of the profoundest arcana of our dual existence, and its intermediates.” I was anxious on discovering this paper, to reopen the correspondence commenced by Doctor Hesselius, so many years before, with a person so clever and careful as his informant seems to have been. Much to my regret, however, I found that she had died in the interval.

Someone else is reading out Laura's writing on the subject.

And Laura herself has died after the writing of it.

What are the last lines of the story?

It was long before the terror of recent events subsided; and to this hour the image of Carmilla returns to memory with ambiguous alternations—sometimes the playful, languid, beautiful girl; sometimes the writhing fiend I saw in the ruined church; and often from a reverie I have started, fancying I heard the light step of Carmilla at the drawing room door.

Perhaps our reader, having sadly discovered Laura has passed, wishes to pay his respects at the grave. It is a simple and lovely affair. Sadly a marker declaring she had died young.

(You cannot tell the state of a coffin when it's buried. You cannot tell a coffin is even there.)

The late mourner might see great lambent eyes, still as a cat's in the surrounding wood. Four in total. But they are gone just as quickly as they are spotted. And all that marks their presence is the iron smell of blood on the air.

[theniceandaccurategoodomensblog]

Good Omens and The Crow Road

I read the novel The Crow Road by Iain Banks—the book Muriel is reading at the end of season two episode six and the book that hints at the events of season three.

My thoughts are under the cut. You can also read it on AO3 here. Obviously it includes spoilers for The Crow Road.

The Crow Road

The protagonist of The Crow Road is Prentice McHoan. He is a young man (early twenties) and, personally, I found him to be a bit of a dick though he does mature over the course of the book.

The book meanders and leaps about in time, telling the story in a non-linear way and with switches in point of view. This means that the relevance of events is often not clear as you read them, only becoming clear later on.

The title The Crow Road is a metaphor for death as the novel introduces early on that “he’s away the Crow Road” is a way of speaking of someone being dead.

There are three key story arcs:

(1) No one has spoken to or seen Prentice’s Uncle Rory for years. Rory is Prentice’s globetrotting Uncle who became famous because he wrote a bestselling travel diary as a young man. Rory’s ambition is to write a serious novel he called “The Crow Road”. No one knows where Rory is but Prentice’s father believes that he is still alive because he regularly receives match book covers from different locations all around the world. He believes that Rory is the one sending the match book covers because Rory once confessed to him that as a child he lit a fire that accidentally burned down a barn. Prentice becomes increasingly obsessed with what happened to Rory.

(2) Prentice is estranged from his father and he struggles with this. The estrangement is over belief in God. Prentice’s father is a communist and an atheist. When a friend of Prentice’s dies tragically, Prentice decides that there must be an afterlife and hence a God. The estrangement begins and he moves in with a religious Uncle.

(3) Prentice has an intense and unreciprocated infatuation with a young woman called Verity and does not handle it well when Verity becomes an item with his own brother Lewis. Seriously ridiculous childish drama here. Prentice complains about this all many times and at length to Ash, another young woman who is a more patient friend than Prentice deserves.

Here’s how each story arc lands (obviously this is the big spoiler bit for The Crow Road):

(1) Prentice eventually works out through reading a rough draft of Uncle Rory’s novel that Rory was murdered by another of Prentice’s Uncles for realising that that Uncle had previously murdered his own wife (and Prentice’s Aunt) in a car crash by undoing her seatbelt. The match book covers were being sent to Prentice’s father by a friend of the murderous Uncle to convince him that Rory was still alive. Rory’s body is found in a lake. It is all quite proven as far as Prentice is concerned but the murderous Uncle dies and hence there is no sense of justice, just a mystery solved.

(2) Prentice’s father dies while climbing a church spire by being struck by lightning and falling. At the point of his death Prentice and his father are still estranged. In the end, after solving the mystery of Uncle Rory, Prentice decides that there is no afterlife and no God. Prentice hopes that his father died knowing that he wouldn’t be a fool forever.

(3) Prentice’s brother Lewis marries and has a child with Verity. Prentice finds peace with this and realises that he actually loves Ash, the patient friend who has been listening to his nonsense for years.

Prentice and Ash sleep together and confess their love—I kid you not—in Morse code during sex with a series of squeezes and pushes. Yeah. Sometimes I think we come up with weird stuff in fanfiction and then I read a published novel and… but I digress. Point is, they are in love and they both know it. Prentice is finally growing up. But Ash planned to spend time in Canada and she goes anyway (good for her) saying that if Prentice does love her then they can still be together and simply continue when she returns. That’s where it ends which might sound sad but it actually feels mature and real after Prentice’s carry on with Verity. There’s a general feeling that Prentice has finally grown enough himself to make a relationship work and they are both starting that relationship right.

Implications for Good Omens seasons three:

(1) Good Omens has also been jumping about in time. The story is not being told in a linear manner. I suspect that there are scenes we’ve already seen where the meaning of those events won’t be clear until sometime in season three. I suspect that there are missing pieces to the overall story arc that will also be shown in season three. In short, we don’t have all the information and we don’t know what we truly have.

(2) Season three will involve working out, possibly using a diary or a book of some kind, what has happened to somebody. From simply hearing about the plot of The Crow Road I thought it would be Muriel working out what’s happened to Aziraphale by reading his diaries. Perhaps season three will open with a very different Aziraphale to the one we are used to and Muriel will work out what is really going on (memory wipe, manipulation, Aziraphale lying to enact a plan). This might still be true but after reading The Crow Road I was left with a different idea.

After reading The Crow Road the obvious parallel to Uncle Rory is not Aziraphale but God. God narrates season one but season two is strangely lacking in God’s narration. As Crowley says she’s “not talking to any of us”. Just like Uncle Rory. Yet everyone assumes that Heaven’s orders ultimately come from her. What if they aren’t coming from her? What if they are being sent by the person who murdered her? I think a big focus of season three will be what exactly is happening with God. It won’t necessarily be that she’s dead like Uncle Rory. Not everything is going to line up perfectly with The Crow Road. But finding out where she is and why she isn’t talking to anyone, just what this ineffable game is, will be important.

(3) It is worth noting that in The Crow Road Prentice’s father is sent match book covers to convince him that his brother, Rory, is still alive and in Good Omens we have Gabriel putting Beelezebub’s fly into a Resurrectionist match box. Does this mean anything beyond simply making a connection between Good Omens and The Crow Road? I don’t know. I can’t see any extra meaning to this yet.

(4) Aziraphale, like Prentice, won’t be a fool forever. We can depend on that. He is currently fooling himself because the truth (that Heaven is corrupt all the way down or rather up I suppose) is too painful to contemplate. But this won’t last. Aziraphale and Crowley are currently at odds, but they won’t remain so. Aziraphale’s viewpoint will shift and align more with Crowley’s.

Unlike Prentice’s father, Crowley has already fallen and will be ready when Aziraphale comes to his senses. Their estrangement will have a full resolution.

(5) Aziraphale will move on from his immature infatuation with Heaven to focus on his mature love relationship with Crowley.

Crowley will clearly state his love during passionate sex in Morse code by rhythmically contracting his effortfully formed vaginal muscles around Aziraphale’s hard cock. Wait. What? Crowley, if you are reading this please don’t do that. I know you struggle to put your love into words but that’s not the answer. But seriously, the physical expression of their love will be important. It will be important to Aziraphale. This is consistent with fanon conjecture that physical touch is Aziraphale’s love language and that physical (ie human) expressions of love are what is unique to Aziraphale and Crowley.

(6) This quote slapped me on the face: “Places have an effect on people. They alter your thoughts.” It is very like the Good Omens quote, “form shapes nature”. Aziraphale has been on Earth a long time. I wonder how he will be affected by being back in Heaven? Even if he has returned with a plan, Heaven might start seeping back in. Our angel has never been more vulnerable.

(7) This quote slapped me in the face too: “Faith itself is idolatry”. I wonder what Aziraphale would say about that? Is his faith in Heaven a form of idolatry? Aziraphale needs to shift in his stance regarding Heaven but I wonder where he will ultimately land on God. Will his faith in God be preserved or must that die too? Much depends on what exactly has happened to God and just what kind of ineffable game she is playing. So I suppose we will have to wait and see.