#I tend to only ever play support characters but I think I love clarity enough to take her out shooting people in the face from time to time

[theraphos]

realized it's been a while since I last played city of heroes, and an even longer while since I last made blorbo tribute characters in city of heroes, so of course while I was awake for most of last night I opened up the launcher and got silly. "horatio" is a mastermind with robotics + empathy, so he can go around repairing everybody. "clarity" is a sentinel with dual pistols + willpower, and her battlecry is set to mercy is malware because of course it is. crispin, meanwhile, is a cosmetic pet that casts shield and constantly gets himself into trouble, which I find entirely appropriate.

[inessencedevided]

A very overdue cql/mdzs fic rec list

for @accidental-child ​

I am so sorry this took me so long Axel! The pandemic has really done a number on my time-management skills and things like this often fall behind :/

The fics complied here are the ones i have not recced in the list for @helianthus21 before. You can find that one here, so you can check it out as well :)

The Wei Wuxian makes a wish series by natcat5

My attempt at a summary: this is a madoka magica AU (which i had not watched prior to reading this fic). Cultivators, in this universe, are created when a teenager makes a wish to the creature named Kyubey, which than grants them their wish and the power to fight witches, strange and destructive creatures of despair that lure people into their labyrinths. Wei Wuxian, at the beginning of the story is not a cultivator, but his friends are and so is the mysterious new student at his school, lan wangji, who follows him everywhere and seems to be obsessed with preventing him from making a contract.

My comment: my attempt at a summary does not do this story justice and is really just a setup. Honestly i cannot put into words how much I loved this story. It kept me on the edge of my seat the entire time. It made me laugh, it made me cry for entire chapters, it drew me into it's world so much that I freaking dreamed about it! (I'm not kidding, I really did) Honestly, this fic deserves so much more attention than it is currently getting. Not only is the plot expertly crafted, with reveals that shock you and leave you reading, but the author also just gets the characters. The best thing an AU can do, in my opinion, is take familiar characters, put them in unfamiliar situations and then manage to make the way they react believable. And this AU nails that! The conclusion and the choices that Wei wuxian and lan Wangji make in the end felt exactly right. Not to mention, it has a stellar ensemble cast! Everyone is here (except Xichen sadly and I kind of think it is deliberate because without him, Lan Wangji lacks a support system). Again, I cannot recommend this story enough. It is, without doubt, my favourite fic series in this entire fandom. (Caution however: Do read the warnings in the tags and notes and take them seriously. They are there for a very good reason.)

Agapé (home is in your arms) by estel_willow

Author’s summary: Lan Xichen is in isolation. Wei Wuxian visits him. Together they find their way back to happiness, to clarity and to home. 

My comment: This one focuses on both Lan Xichen’s and Wei Wuxian’s issues and lets them resolve them together. I am such a fan of their characterisations in this fic, as well as Lan Wangji’s even though he is not the focus. I love it when non-romantic relationships are the focus of fics and especially when they are central to the character’s resolving their own issues and moving forward in life and that is exactly what happens here.

until you're big enough by lostin_space      

Author’s summary: Lan Zhan is sad and not hungry; Lan Xichen asks Nie Mingjue to help him. 

My comment: This one is a really short and sweet read about how Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue parent the their younger brothers. I just really liked how the author portrayed todler Lan Zhan, as well as these two teenagers doing their best to be the parents that both he and Nie huaisang lack. 

Night Music by Manogahela                

Author’s summary: There is a music that plays in the night at Cloud Recess....but there isn't suppose to be. Lan Xichen investigates the mysterious dizi music that can be heard from the Jingshi at night following the Siege of the Burial mounds.

My comment: I absolutely adored this one, mainly for two reasons: 1. I love an outsider perspective and Lan Xichen’s, at this point and with his limited knowledge is absolutely wonderful. First, he isn’t even sure is what he thinks is happening really is happening and when he is sure, his feelings are, understandably very conflicted. 2. The author’s style compliments this fic so well. Since most of it happens at night and Xichen isn’t entirely sure that he can trust his senses, there is a certain dreamlike quality to it that the author writes beautifully. This fic is part one in a series. Part two is a WIP, but also very much worth the read!

Company by WithBroomBefore                

My summary: In which Wei Wuxian is whipped within an inch of his life by Madam Yu when he is fourteen and comes to stay at the cloud recesses. He and Lan Zhan become friends.

My comment: My summary once again does not do this fic justice. Because it is so much more than just that. It’s such a beautful exploration of friendship and love and bodily autonomy. Wei Wuxian has a lot to work through in this fic, but really, so has Lan Zhan who has the opportunity to make friends at a much more mellow pace than in the novel/show and panics a little less because of it. The war still happens but has much less dire consequences. All in all, this fic left me with a wonderful warm feeling in my chest.

you are safe / loved / worthy / enough by everythingispoetry                

Author’s summary: One of the more timid-looking posts, in pale greens and creams and yellows, says Hello, I'm managing to be fairly high functioning right now but I'm really not doing as well as it may appear, and Lan Zhan feels as if someone sneaked into his mind and read his most secret thoughts, the ones he's never even dared to admit to himself.

(In which Lan Zhan, to his own dismay, finds himself with the help of the most obnoxious, cheerful, cheesy self-care instagram account known to men.)

(And Wei Ying.)

My comment: Listen, I have a complicated relationship with fics that depict mental health struggles in characters. They are all so incredibly valid and I’m glad they exist (every single one of them, no matter if i like them or not) but due to the fact that they tend to come from the author projecting their own issues onto characters (which is NOT a bad thing! that is what fanfic is for!) they are often hit-and-miss when it comes to characterisation. But this story ... it just GETS Lan Wangji. If someone told me a scenario in a modern AU that leads to him developing an anxiety disorder and depression, this is what I would have come up with. Because let’s be real, Lan Wangji is a perfectionist to boot, insanely competitive and needs to live up to his family’s expectations, while also not having much of an emotional support system outside of his brother and uncle. That’s a dangerous cocktail in the modern world and just screams of a burnout waiting to happen. So Lan Wangji, off to university, living alone in a strange city for the frst time, spends all his time in a carefully calculated study routine but slowly realises that the path he set out on was not one he chose because he liked it but simply the one that was laid out for him by his background and family, which then leads to him questioning the reason behind what he does. That reads as incredibly real to me. A good AU, in my opinion, takes the characters and their inherent characteristics and lets them meet new and unique challenges that they never would have encountered in canon, which then leads to new and interesting character developement. And this AU manages that perfectly! (Plus, if you are a university student like me who sometimes suffers from crushing anxiety about the path they chose in life, this is insanely relatable. What? I never said I wasn’t biased :P)

porn (but not actually) and waiting (a lot of it) by hyacinth4maria    

Author’s summary: Lan Xichen sighs as he settles into the couch next to Lan Wangji.

"What are you looking at?"

Lan Wangji, without pausing from typing the names Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian in the Love Calculator 3000, says, "Porn."

Lan Xichen chokes.

- Lan Wangji has a crush. Lan Xichen hadn't realized his little brother was growing up.    

My comment: this one was hilarious! Just Lan Xichen being both absolutely exasperated and amused by wangxian’s pre-teen drama. I almost choked laughing at the line that coined the title. The author has these characters down to a T and they used their powers to attack my laugh-musccles :D

the field meets the wood by astronicht     

Author’s summary: Wei Wuxian is a dark shadow in the barley. Wei Wuxian is sorry for the kind of compassion that he is about to hand out.

(in which Lan Wangji is stolen for salt, and Wei Wuxian unravels the world, a little)

My Comment: HOLY FUCKING SHIT THIS IS SO GOOD. Do you ever read a story and just marvel at the author’s mind? This is one of those. The sheer genius of giving Wei Wuxian the ability to pull entire beings into non-being! The absolute galaxy-brain idea to link the canon mythology to modern astrophysics!!! Wei Wuxian creates a motherfucking black hole in this one!!! And it’s SO well written, too! The author does not shy away from Wei Wuxian’s sharp edges and his darker side but goddamn if he is not still loveable anyway. Just GO READ THIS FIC!

Abandon your post by StarsAlignNomore        

Author’s summary: After months as Chief Cultivator and separated from his soulmate, Lan Wangji follows Wei Wuxian out into the world. He searches for him. He finds him. He kisses him. They reunite, they talk, they resolve. Sometimes Bichen lends emotional support. Chenqing bites. Little Apple is there too.

Your typical Post-Canon-Reunion-Fic with much more emphasis on their spiritual weapons than expected.

My comments: This one just left me with a lot of mushy feelings. Also I adore the way the author emphasised the relationship between Lan Wangji and Bichen. And by the end, Wangxian finally figure shit out through actual open communication. Absolutely beautiful!

[jesatria]

Fic: Simple Pleasures, Chap 10

Title: Simple Pleasures Fandom: Kushiel’s Legacy Characters: Isidore d’Aiglemort, Anne Livet Pairings: Isidore/Anne Word Count: 8,468 Rating: NC-17 Summary: The story of Isidore d’Aiglemort & the gardener’s daughter of Lombelon. WIP. Disclaimer: I do not own Kushiel’s Legacy. This is only for fun & no profit is being made from it.

Previous Chapters:

1. The Visit

2. Desire

3. The Harvest Festival

4. Triumph

5. Gifts

6. The Eagle Unbound

7. Lighting the Candle

8. The Longest Night

9. The Final Parting

Chapter 10: The Sword of Camael

           Things had, to put it bluntly, not gone according to plan.

           They’d known. Somehow, they’d known. The Royal Army had known my plan and adjusted its position accordingly. They’d hidden it well, too—I’d had no idea until I heard shouts and the sound of steel on steel as the Glory-Seekers fell upon my loyal forces. And it wasn’t just them, oh no—a portion of my own army, Allies of Camlach, men from Camaeline houses owing fealty to me as their sovereign Duc, joined them. Their attack had been enough to halt my plan and throw everything  into disarray. Though, I thought bitterly, mayhap that was actually for the best.

           I’d been played for a fool.

           Selig never meant to honor our agreement.

           I cursed myself for a fool for not having seen it coming. He meant to invade; all the intelligence confirmed that. I thought I could use him for my own ends and stave off invasion. How could I have been so blind? We’d have been cut to pieces if the traitors hadn’t kept us busy. As soon as I saw the Skaldi cut them down when they tried to make their escape, I knew. The Skaldi had no way of knowing those men had betrayed me. We made our escape into the mountains, where I could be reasonably certain of our safety. No one knew them like we did, after all.

           It was after we retreated safely that the priests came to denounce me. All of them, every priest of Camael left in the army. I’d never been overly close with Camael’s priesthood, not like my father had been. I tolerated them of course—how could I not when I was sovereign Duc of Camlach?—but I was never one to ask for their blessings upon me before battle. Better to rely on my own skill and steel than any aid from the Terre-d’Ange-that-lies-beyond. Nonetheless I never made any protests or barred them from following my armies to battle. It was tradition, after all, and the men took comfort from their presence.

           Still, I will not lie and say I didn’t feel deeply uneasy when they made their denunciation. “lsidore d’Aiglemort,” began the most senior of them, “you have betrayed the sacred trust of Elua and his Companions. You have let the Skaldi in the passes, transgressing against the throne of Terre d’Ange. You have turned away from your duty as Camael’s scion. You have shown yourself to be without honor. Camael has withdrawn his favor.” With that, all the assembled priests turned their backs on me and walked away. No one dared hinder them. They’d not betray us to the Skaldi. To the Royal Army, mayhap, but not the Skaldi.

           I glanced at the faces of the lords and captains gathered around me. Several of them were clearly uneasy about what had just transpired. Our situation was precarious enough for the proclaimed loss of Camael’s favor to be unsettling. Anne would’ve been horrified, pious as she was.

           Anne.

           Anne.

           Did she know? With Lombelon lying not far from the main road leading from the war zone to the City, it was likely she did. Word of the invasion and my treason would spread quickly. That thought, that she knew what I’d done, filled me with more shame than anything else. The failure of my plans, being played for a fool by a Skaldi warlord, earning the condemnation of the priests of Camael… all of that paled in comparison. If I were to get myself out of this mess and see her again, what would I say to her? I’d kept all of it from her and in doing so had lied by omission. Hard as it had been, it was necessary. By keeping her ignorant of my plans I kept her safe, and thank Elua I had! From that particular danger, at least.

           The other danger was considerably greater.

           A Skaldi horde was now on the loose in Terre d’Ange led by a warlord more cunning and charismatic than any in living memory. With the clarity of hindsight I could see now that I’d underestimated Waldemar Selig the exact same way most D’Angelines underestimated me. All Camaelines think with their swords indeed. Such a fool I’d been, not to see it. And now all of Terre d’Ange was in deadly peril. From what intelligence we’d been able to gather, we learned the Royal Army had retreated to the fortress of Troyes-le-Mont and the Skaldi were besieging them. I breathed a small sigh of relief at that, for it meant our situation was less precarious. Selig would be too preoccupied besieging Troyes-le-Mont to take the time to kill me. He’d be hard-pressed finding me anyway, for no one knew the mountains like the Allies of Camlach.

           There were no other options. We could do nothing about the Skaldi, not when there were some thirty thousand of them to our four thousand. No, for now we would remain hidden in the mountains while I considered my options.

 **

           The situation did not improve after that first day. I wept until I thought I had no more tears to shed. I had been thoroughly shaken to my foundations and could find nothing to grasp to steady myself. Again and again I pondered how well I’d truly known Isidore, that I didn’t think him capable of something like this. There was a whole side to him I’d not seen, and in my worst moments I questioned our entire relationship. Was what passed between us real? Yes, I told myself. If he was faking his feelings, then he missed his calling as a player. The love I saw blazing in his eyes, the raw emotion I heard in his voice when last we parted were proof his feelings weren’t feigned. Mayhap if he’d confided in me, I could’ve convinced him not to go through with it. Mayhap I could’ve gotten him to see that this was folly. I shook my head, dismissing such thoughts from my mind. I would drive myself mad with such thoughts, and I needed clarity of mind more now than ever.

           The changes were immediate. As soon as word of Isidore’s treason spread through the manor and village beyond, the stares and whispers began. Conversations would halt when I walked by or else folk would whisper behind their hands, thinking I didn’t hear what they said of me. “That’s the one. Spread her legs for a traitor and let him get a child on her!” became all too familiar. Some of the folk of the village even went so far as to spit at my feet. They clearly thought I was somehow party to Isidore’s treason, or at least guilty through association. I’d shared his bed for years, after all, and now carried his child. Some few shopkeepers in the village even refused to sell to me, turning me away with claims that they didn’t sell to a traitor’s whore.

           The mood in the manor was another matter. I was not regarded with as much contempt and suspicion among people I’d lived and worked with for years. Some, such as Thèrese and Marcel, voiced support for me, claiming I’d never stand for treason. I appreciated their words, though it did not escape my notice that they regarded me with greater wariness than before. Innocent of treason I might’ve been, but I was still lover and would-be consort to a traitor. Then there were the others, who regarded me with similar scorn as the folk in the village. It was not quite as blatant, but it was there all the same.

           I’d never felt more alone. There was not a single person I could speak to about my troubles, not in the manor anyway. So I paid a visit to the shrine of Elua. It was a place I knew well, having visited it many times. The same priest had tended it too, for as long as I could remember. If anyone could ease my troubled heart, it was him.

           I removed my shoes and stockings before approaching the shrine. The grass was a pleasant tickle against my bare feet. I always liked going about barefoot in the warm weather.

           “Anne.”

           I turned to see a familiar priest of Elua approach. “Hello Brother Michel.”

           “Have you come to make an offering?”

           “No. I was hoping I might speak with you.”

           “Of course.” He gestured to the small house adjoining the shrine. “Shall we go inside?”

           “Yes, thank you.” Had I not been so far gone with child, I’d have sat on the grass, but I had trouble rising from such a position in my current state. Once inside, I seated myself in a chair beside Brother Michel’s bookshelf. He sat in the chair opposite mine and spoke.

           “I’ve heard the news of the Duc d’Aiglemort. Is that what you wished to speak with me about?”

           “Yes,” I replied softly. “Please believe me when I say I knew nothing of his plans. Suspicion has fallen on me, in both the manor and the village.”

           “Of course I believe you, Anne,” said Brother Michel. “It is plain to see that your heart is troubled. Had you been party to d’Aiglemort’s treason, I do not think it would be so.”

           “Thank you.” I didn’t think I could stand it if our priest of Elua held me in suspicion. “Things have been… difficult since the news reached us. I never had the slightest inkling that he was plotting treason. I’ve been struggling to reconcile that knowledge with the man I know.”

           “A common sentiment for someone in your position. It is only natural for you to wonder how well you knew him when you had no idea he was plotting treason,” Brother Michel observed.

           “It’s not just that. There have been moments when I’ve wondered whether my love was misplaced, or if his love for me was false,” I confessed. My chest felt tight at the admission—saying it aloud made it more real than it had been inside my head.

           “What does your heart tell you?” Brother Michel’s voice was impossibly gentle.

           “I…” The words caught in my throat and I had to force them out, “I don’t think his love for me is feigned, and what I feel for him I know to be true.”

           “Then you should take some comfort in that. Love is no easy thing, Anne. It is hard, hard and even cruel. We all struggle at times to remain true to Blessed Elua’s precept. If your feelings for the Duc d’Aiglemort were not true, I doubt you would be feeling as you are now.”

           “I have always tried my best to follow Blessed Elua’s precept,” I said, “but I’ve never had such trouble before now.”

           “Again, you must look to what your heart tells you. All I can say is the course of love does not always run smooth.”

           When I left Brother Michel later that day, I felt a bit better about my situation, some of my doubts dissipating. They were not gone entirely, but I felt comforted at the thought that it was Blessed Elua’s will. Our hearts had been joined, and even the knowledge of Isidore’s treason was not enough to completely sunder the bond between us. There was no sense on dwelling on what I now knew about him; best to confront him about it when I saw him again. That I resolved to do, for I had to understand. I had to know if I was to be his consort and the mother of his child.

           None of that made it much easier to face the constant suspicion and outright hostility. For the first time in my life I wished I could run away from it all, leave Lombelon for somewhere no one knew who I was and whose child I carried. To the City, mayhap. The problem was that I was hardly fit to travel in my condition with my time nearly upon me and besides that, the thought of leaving behind everything and everyone I knew filled me with fear. No, Lombelon was my home and there I would remain. I couldn’t think of having my child anywhere else. But that didn’t mean I had to remain in the manor for my lying in. Instead, once summer came and the pear trees were in bloom, I took myself to the shrine of Eisheth.

**

           In the days of my youth, my father had me study the geography of Camlach until I knew it like the back of my hand. When I became Duc and formed the Allies of Camlach, I used that knowledge to create a system of pathways through the mountains which allowed us to move quickly through the province when needed. I made use of that knowledge now.

           We spent a couple of days at that first campsite, then moved to another deeper in the mountains. The Skaldi had neglected to pursue us, being occupied with the Royal Army, but I thought it best not to take any chances. It was a wide valley ringed by mountains, hard for a horde of Skaldi to find. Our options were limited. Scouts reported that the western passes had been sealed against us. Ysandre and de Somerville were taking no chances. Unfortunately, they also cut off our baggage train. That, needless to say, presented difficulties.

           One of the first things I did after we settled into our initial campsite was order an inventory of our supplies. The results were not encouraging: we were limited to what we carried and a small portion of the baggage train quick enough to avoid being cut off with the rest. It wouldn’t last long, even with reduced rations. Of necessity I ordered men with the necessary skills to hunt and forage in the surrounding area. We were very fortunate that it was early summer. I had to hope that would be enough until we could replenish our supplies in full.

           I had no idea when that would be.

           I had no idea how to get myself out of this mess.

 **

           The shrine to Eisheth proved to be the sanctuary I needed in the days leading up to the birth. The priestess and her acolyte welcomed me in and promptly settled me in a small guest room off of the shrine. It was a cozy room, with a comfortable bed and windows looking out on the shrine’s herb gardens. A good place for a lying-in, I thought. Mayhap not the expected choice, but it would do. If the priestesses were surprised at my appearance, they said naught. I didn’t share with them why I’d left the manor, nor did they ask. If was a huge relief to take refuge somewhere no one cared I was Isidore’s consort and carrying his child. I needed that badly after all I’d endured these last weeks. Now all I had to do was endure childbirth.

           I had a good idea of what to expect. Women will often speak of such matters before an impending birth and I’d heard plenty throughout my life, usually with those women who never lit the candle chiming in to say they didn’t regret their decision. The others didn’t shy away from describing just how painful giving birth was. “Felt like I’d been run over by a wagon when it was over,” one put it. Thus, I approached the birth with a combination of apprehension and eagerness for it to be over and done with. The priestess examined me and assured me that everything was ordinary and I was due any day now.

           Those last days seemed to drag on for an eternity. There was naught for me to do but sit around and wait for the pangs to start. Truth be told I couldn’t complain too much, as I hardly felt up to more than that anyway. Normally I’d be well-occupied with the gardens as summer came. I missed it dearly. Even though I hadn’t worked as a servant for months now, I was still not quite used to idleness. I had plenty of it now, and more time to think than I could’ve possibly wanted. I spent it thinking on the birth to come. Better to keep my mind on that than on anything else.

           I’d been staying at the shrine for a little more than two weeks when it finally happened. The priestesses were quick to take me to a different room from the one I’d been staying in and settle me on the bed. At long last, the babe was coming.

 **

           We were surrounded.

           It was actually rather impressive that they managed it, though I’d not bothered to post more sentries than the minimum, not this deep in the mountains. My first thought was that the Skaldi had come to finish us off after all and I immediately began considering potential routes of escape. There was no way we could make a stand in the valley, not when we were surrounded on all sides. The only option was to fight our way through. Before I could think on that any further, the sound of trumpets rang out in the valley. I looked up to see several banners prominently displayed, too far away for me to make out their devices.

           “Isidore d’Aiglemort!” Ghislain de Somerville’s voice rang out from the hills. “We wish to parley. We send our heralds in good faith! Will you honor the concords of war?”

           Was there much of a choice? They had us surrounded. If we tried to make an escape, we’d be at a disadvantage attacking uphill while they held the high ground. No, our only option was to treat with them. I knew Ghislain to be an honorable man, not the sort who’d lure us into a trap. It was too difficult to shout up, so I gave an exaggerated bow as a response. A moment later a small group bearing what was unmistakably a white flag of truce made its way to the valley floor. They were immediately surrounded and brought before me. As they approached, I noticed a second banner flying beneath the flag of truce, an unfamiliar device of a jagged circle of red pierced by a golden dart on a black field.

           “What is your message?” I greeted them, cutting straight to the point.

           “We come bearing an offer of truce, your grace,” said the standard bearer. “Will you agree to treat with us?”

           “I don’t see how I have much choice,” I retorted. “Yes, I will treat with you.”

           The standard bearer nodded. “We will remain here as a gesture of good faith while you speak with our leaders.”

           “Done.”

           It did not take long for me to assemble an escort. We went armed, but I elected to leave my helm behind as a gesture of good faith. I’d certainly be in need of that going forward. We followed the path the heralds took until we reached the top of the trail. L’Agnacite archers stood to either side of it, each with an arrow nocked and pointed at my head. I ignored them and made straight for Ghislain de Somerville. “I am here, cousin. You wished to speak with me?” No sense in bothering with excessive courtesy or appealing to friendship—whatever friendly association I had with Ghislain in the past was long gone now.

           “The emissary of Ysandre de la Courcel, Queen of Terre d’Ange, wishes to speak with you, your grace,” said Ghislain. I took a moment to scan the forces surrounding me then, looking for the emissary. My eyes widened in shock when I caught sight of a number of warriors with blue whorls tattooed on their faces.

           “My lord.”

           I turned my attention to a D’Angeline woman who stepped out from the crowd to stand before me. There was somewhat distinctly familiar about her. “You,” I said, frowning as I tried to recall where I’d last seen her. “I know you.”

           “Yes, my lord. I gave joie to you at the Midwinter Masque when Baudoin de Trevalion played the Sun Prince. You remembered, when last we met.” It came to me then, the palace, a chance encounter with a Servant of Naamah. “You were fostered among the Shahrizai. They should have taught you to recognize the mark of Kushiel’s Dart, my lord.”

           My gaze flicked over to her left eye, taking in the red mote in the brown of the iris. She was right—no one could spend four years fostering with the Shahrizai and befriend Melisande without knowing of anguissettes. “Delaunay’s anguissette. I remember. Melisande begged a favor, for a plan gone awry. I thought you gone, among the Skaldi. But your lord’s death was not of my will, anguissette.”

           “So I am given to understand,” said Phèdre nó Delaunay.

           I raised my eyebrows. “You are not here for revenge? Then what?” I turned my attention to the many blue tattooed faces clustered around us. “You bring the Picti? Why?” Then it dawned on me. “Delaunay. That’s what he and Quintilius Rousse were about.”

           “My lord, this is the army of the Cruarch of Alba and Ghislain de Somerville. And we are here to offer you the choosing of the manner of your death.”

           My men did not take kindly to that and reached for their swords. It was hardly what I wanted to hear, but I’d agreed to this meeting. I held up a hand and my men fell back into place. “How do you say?”

           “You are a dead man, Kilberhaar,” she stated plainly. The blood left my face at the sound of the Skaldi’s name for me. “Waldemar Selig used you for a fool. He’ll not let you live, if he defeats us; the D’Angelines know you for a traitor, and will not abide it. Selig’s smart enough to clean up after himself, and wise enough to leave no blade aimed at his back. I know, I spent considerable time in his bed, thanks to you. You’re dead, no matter who wins. We can offer you a chance to die with honor.”

           There it was, laid plain before me, the reality I had to face. There would be no escaping this alive. I threw my head back and tossed my hair over my shoulders. “What possible reason would I have to take it, anguissette?”

           “I am Phèdre nó Delaunay and I can give you a reason, my lord. Because if you do not, and Selig prevails, Melisande Shahrizai will dance upon your grave.”

           Her words were a knife to the heart. Melisande, my old friend, who’d befriended me when I was newly come to the Shahrizai and homesick, who’d encouraged my ambitions from the very beginning. A friend. I called her a friend. I thought she felt the same way about me. I could only stare at Phèdre nó Delaunay. “Melisande was in league with Selig?”

           “Yes, my lord. I saw a letter, in her own hand. I know it well. I ought to. You would be well-advised to do her no more favors.”

           I cursed and turned away from her then, looking out over the valley where my army waited below. That was it then, the truth. Melisande had used me to serve her ends and discarded me once I’d served my purpose. What a fool I’d been, to think her my friend! She’d done the same thing to Baudoin; I was blind to think she wouldn’t do it to me. Her betrayal of Baudoin should’ve been a signal to me of her true nature. She’d played me very well, shaping my ambitions into a tool for her own use, and I’d been too damned blind to see it. Again I cursed myself for a fool. It seemed to be happening with increasing frequency as of late.

           Well, if Melisande and Selig thought I would meekly accept the hand they’d dealt me, they were sorely mistaken.

           “I am the sword you would plunge into Selig’s heart,” I said, keeping my back to the crowd.

           “Yes, your grace. Camael’s sword.” That was Ghislain de Somerville.

           I laughed harshly. “The betrayer of the nation turned its savior.” Below, a crowd had formed around the messengers. We’d been starved for news, and they were no doubt at work filling my men in on all that had transpired since our flight. My men, who I’d led into this disaster. I had a responsibility to them too. “Will you feed them?” I asked Ghislain. He would understand. “Ysandre cut off our supply-train, and sealed the doors of Camlach against us.”

           “We will,” he promised.

           I turned and met his eyes. “What do you propose?”

           “I propose that we unite our forces and mount an attack on Selig’s army,” he gave a faint smile, “and strike as hard as we can for Waldemar Selig. No one’s asking you to die alone, cousin.”

           “Selig is mine,” I declared with a calm I didn’t quite feel. “Swear it, and I will grant what you ask.”

           “I swear.” Ghislain’s expression grew stern. “Do you pledge your fealty to Ysandre de la Courcel, on Camael’s honor, and in the name of Blessed Elua?”

           “I’ll pledge my loyalty to the destruction of Melisande Shahrizai.” Ghislain glanced over at Phèdre, who gave a slight nod. That was enough for them, it seemed.

           With an agreement reached, the army made its slow descent into the valley. It was quite fortunate that we were encamped in a valley large enough to accommodate another army roughly the same size as my own. We’d not be remaining long in any case. I rode beside Ghislain and the others as we made our way down.

           “You were the Cassiline, weren’t you?” I asked the stone-faced Cassiline Brother who rode beside Phèdre nó Delaunay. “I remember. Melisande’s favor.”

           “Yes, my lord,” he replied with bitterness in his voice. “I was the Cassiline. Joscelin Verreuil formerly of the Cassiline Brotherhood.”

           “You’re better off. Steel and faith are an unnatural mix. I’m impressed, though. I’d have thought slavery would kill a Cassiline. I’ll want to hear, later, all you know of Waldemar Selig.” With that I left them, for I had other matters requiring my immediate attention. There would be time to speak of such matters during our war meeting.

           The meeting took place as soon as the army was settled and the logistical matters were seen to. The sight of the Albans with their blue tattooed faces and unwieldy war chariots caused quite a stir in the camp. An Alban army crossing to D’Angeline shores. No one would’ve believed such a thing possible, yet it had been done. Mayhap our own mission was not entirely a reckless gamble.

           All but the absolute necessities I carried with me were lost with our baggage train, and Ghislain’s command tent had been left behind in Azzalle, so we had to improvise. We did have maps, which were updated to include the current positions of the various armies. The discussion went on for some time. The Albans had no concept of battle formations, which meant time had to be taken to explain it to them. Once that was seen to, the planning moved more swiftly. The final plan we settled on was relatively simple: the Camaeline infantry would form the front line of assault against the Skaldi. I knew well how disciplined my own men were and there was no one else I’d rather have holding the line. When the Skaldi rallied from the initial attack, the Albans would swoop in from the wings and engage them. Then the infantry would split and my cavalry would ride through to meet the Skaldi. Both Phèdre and Messire Verreuil were certain Selig would be on the front lines. We would have to fight our way through a horde of Skaldi to get to him.

           “How good is he?” I asked once the planning was done. “Do you know, Cassiline?”

           “He disarmed me,” he answered. “In the heat of battle. He is that good, my lord.”

           I studied the Cassiline for a moment, taking his measure. Their discipline was not like what we were taught in Camlach, and Camaeline boys almost never joined the Cassiline Brotherhood. Still, I knew enough to have respect for their fighting prowess. “Then I shall have to be better,” I said quietly, hand on the hilt of my sword.

           There was silence while my words sunk in, then Joscelin Verreuil spoke again. “Don’t wait to engage him. He’ll move inside your guard if you do. He fights without thinking, the way you or I breathe. And don’t be fooled by his size. He’s faster than you think.”

           I nodded, acknowledging his words. “Thank you.”

 **

           All my life I heard stories of the agonies of childbirth. It was a common enough complaint among women that it was a topic of conversation when we worked together in the kitchen or at other chores. Going into this, I thought I had a good idea of what to expect. I was wrong.

           No amount of previous knowledge could’ve prepared me for this.

           It was agony, mayhap a hundred times worse than the strongest pain I’d previously experienced. The priestesses of Eisheth, who had plenty of experience of midwifery, told me to take deep breaths and exhale slowly. This was meant to give me somewhat to focus on besides the pain, and it did for a time.

           The room they took me to was commonly used for patients, including women giving birth. The bed was laid out with clean sheets and piled with pillows. They propped me up on the pillows after stripping me down to my shift. I hadn’t been at it for long before I was asking myself why exactly I’d chosen to do this of my own free will. I could’ve lived my entire life without knowing such horrible pain, but I just had to light the candle. At least those were my thoughts before the pain wiped away anything else.

           I couldn’t have even begun to guess how long it went on. Every minute felt like an hour. I cried out until my throat was raw and my face was wet with tears. Then—finally—it ended. I was so exhausted and out of it that it took me until I heard the sound of an infant crying to comprehend what had just happened.

           “You have a son, Anne,” said one of the priestesses.

           A son.

           I had a son.

           Isidore and I, we had a son.

           Later, when I lay on clean sheets with my son sleeping soundly in my arms, I could not stop marveling at him, this new life I had brought into the world. Such a miraculous thing, that I should carry him inside my womb for nine months and now I was seeing and holding him for the first time. After so much anticipation it was almost hard to believe he was finally here, but he was. He was wonderfully real. I studied his tiny face. Sometimes babes come out of the womb strongly resembling one parent or the other. I couldn’t see that now. Mayhap it would become apparent in time. For now I was content to delight in this new life we created together. He was perfect. I’d always hoped to have a child, and now I had one. Looking at him, I knew that I would do absolutely anything for him. My love for him was absolute. “I hope you have silver hair like your father,” I whispered, then pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, “Maslin.”

           The name we’d chosen for him. His grandfather’s name.

 **

           There is a certain calm in facing one’s impending death.

           It came with the absence of doubt. All uncertainty lies stripped away and the hand of fate presses down. One knows, in that moment, all hopes of struggle and escape are futile. There will be no clever stratagems at the last minute, no daring escape from the scaffold. All one can do is accept fate and walk calmly toward it.

           I had only one full day left. One day. There was enough to do with the preparations for the battle that I had little time to dwell on that realization. I did not think of how my plans had gone wrong and what might’ve been. I did not think of all those places I wished I could see, things I could do, people I could see one last time before the end.

           All but one.

           Anne, I’m so, so sorry. The woman I loved, who I’d wronged in my folly. I would never see her again. Our child would grow up fatherless. Everything I promised—consort status for her, an inheritance for our child—would never come to pass. That was my fault. Both of them would bear the taint of association with me, being the lover and child of a traitor. If I succeeded in what I meant to do and killed Selig, at least I could give them somewhat to be proud of.

           When I had a moment to spare, I wrote one last letter to Anne. I owed her that. I didn’t bother trying to explain or justify my actions—what was the point of that now? I only hoped she could find it in her heart to forgive me and not raise our child to hate me. Just before we were set to march, I entrusted the letter a courier. By the time it arrived at Lombelon, I’d be dead.

           We left early the next day. Just before we broke camp, word came that the siege defenses had fallen and the Skaldi were at the gates of Troyes-le-Mont. We would be just in time, it seemed. The march out of Camlach and into Namarre took most of the day—it was sunset when we arrived in sight of the besieged fortress. The Skaldi surrounded it completely, a vast horde larger than any seen in Terre d’Ange in a very long time. Siege towers could be seen here and there, corroborating what Ghislain told us. We made camp in the foothills, far enough back that the Skaldi scouts wouldn’t detect us but close enough that we could see the area clearly.

           “We’ll wait for daybreak,” said Ghislain once we were encamped, “and pray they know us for allies in the fortress. The sooner they counterattack the Skaldi rear, the better our chances.”

           “You think they’ll flock to aid the d’Aiglemort eagle?” I inquired. “Don’t count on their being quick, cousin.”

           “My father is no fool. Drustan’s men are flying the Cullach Gorrym. He’ll know,” Ghislain assured me.

           “If he can even see the Black Pig, over thirty thousand howling Skaldi.” I shrugged. “We’ll do as much damage as we can, and pray it’s enough to break the siege. But for every minute your father hesitates, and for every minute it takes for them to marshal a counterattack, we’ll die by the hundreds.”

           Our discussion was interrupted by one of the chevaliers sworn to Phèdre nó Delaunay, who cried out and pointed to a line of prisoners just visible in the distance. Horror and revulsion rose within me as I saw they were all women. I knew the Skaldi had a fondness for D’Angeline women, had even freed women they took captive in raids. But knowing and seeing are different things. This was in part my doing. This might well be the fate that awaited Anne if we failed. I felt sick at the thought of her being brutalized and violated by the Skaldi. I glanced over at Phèdre, who was visibly shaken by the sight. Her face was pressed into her Cassiline’s chest and she was shuddering. I had done that to her.

           “I am sorry,” I said softly. “For what was done to you both. For what it’s worth, I am sorry.”

           It felt good to say it. Joscelin Verreuil met my eyes and nodded.

           “Daybreak,” said Ghislain, voice filled with grim determination.

           We returned to the camp shortly after that, to see to the final preparations. The sense of calm I’d felt since accepting my fate was still with me, now pared with a greater sense of urgency after seeing the Skaldi at the gates of Troyes-le-Mont. We could not fail.

           That will not happen, I reassured myself. We will not fail.

           I will not fail.

           When night fell, I retired early. I wanted to be sure I was well-rested for the battle to come. It was surprising, how easily sleep came. I slept soundly, until I felt someone kneel down beside me. My hand instantly went to my sword and in a moment it was pointed at the visitor’s throat. “You,” I said as I recognized Phèdre nó Delaunay, “what is it?”

           “My lord,” she replied softly, “the fortress will be ready for your attack.”

           I sheathed my sword and stared at her. “You’ll be captured.”

           “Not before I gain the wall.” She shivered, despite her cloak. “The Skaldi camp is full of D’Angeline women. I can get close enough. And I can give a warning Ysandre will understand.”

           I shook my head. “Do you not understand? Selig will make you talk. You’ll give us all up for dead.”

           “No. No, my lord. I am the one person who will not.”

           Reflexively my gaze went to her left eye. It was too dark to make out the mote. I pushed my hair back from my face and asked, “Why are you telling me?”

           “Because you, my lord, are the one person who won’t try to stop me,” she replied. “Help me get past our sentries. A hundred lives for every minute, you said. I can save a thousand, at least; mayhap three times that many. I gave you the choice of your death. The least you can do is honor mine.”

           I couldn’t argue with that. Instead I gave a curt nod and rose from my position. Together we walked to the edge of the camp where one of my men was posted as a sentry. I called him aside and he turned his attention to me. I did not watch as Phèdre nó Delaunay slipped past and made her way to the fortress, trusting instead that she knew what she was about. There had been no doubt or hesitation in her words to me and I wondered if it was Kushiel who’d set her to do this. She was his Chosen, after all.

           Kushiel, who I would be meeting soon.

           Before long, the first rays of the sun broke over the horizon. Every preparation that could be made had been made. I checked my armor, weapons, and horse as I did before every battle. It would not do for any mistakes in that area today. Beneath my armor and padding I wore one of the shirts Anne made me. Her handkerchief was tucked into my pocket. Mayhap I was being sentimental, but there was somewhat comforting in having the gifts she’d given me on my person when I went to my death. I wondered what she was doing now, if she hated me for what I’d done. I wondered if our child had been born, the child I would never see. Maslin for a boy; Louise for a girl, we’d decided.

           Forgive me.

           All around me, D’Angeline soldiers prayed to Camael. Normally the priests would make offerings and lead the prayer, but of course we had none. To my surprise I found myself kneeling to join them. “Camael,” I murmured, “I know that I have disgraced myself and betrayed your sacred trust. I ask not for your forgiveness, only that you let me wield your sword in defense of Terre d’Ange one last time.”

           There was no answer. I hadn’t expected one.

           Ghislain de Somerville and I positioned ourselves on one of the hills just past the camp, a good vantage point to survey the battle. My cavalry waited in position nearby. It was in truth a beautiful early summer day, with the sun shining and nary a cloud to be seen. All in all, not a bad day to die.

           As I watched my infantry march forward and engage the Skaldi, the calm I’d felt deepened and the focus I always had during battle came upon me. It was familiar, yet also sharper. The world narrowed to the field of battle and everything else vanished. The Skaldi broke upon the Camaeline shieldwall like water on rocks. The L’Agnacite archers positioned behind the shieldwall fired volley after volley of arrows into the mass of Skaldi. Whatever discipline Selig managed to instill in them was starting to unravel as they charged the shieldwall again and again. If the numbers were more evenly matched, I daresay they might’ve held for quite some time. Instead, the tide of Skaldi was moving forward to flank them.

           I met Ghislain’s eyes and could tell without asking he had the same thought I did. We exchanged brief nods and I signaled for the Albans to attack. They charged forward, cavalry on the right and war chariots on the left with infantry swarming behind both. The sight of them sent a wave of shock through the Skaldi; I suspect it was the blue faces that did it. Whatever it was, the Skaldi were entirely unprepared for a horde of Albans. Thus far, the battle was going as we’d hoped it would. My time was coming soon. I parted from Ghislain and joined my cavalry, taking my place at their head. We moved into position, ready to charge as soon as I gave the command. I watched closely as the infantry dug in and held their position against the onslaught.

           The time was now.

           I signaled the charge and spurred my horse forward. A horn sounded the call and as one, the line of infantry broke in two. We charged forward into the breach and struck the Skaldi with the force of a hammer. I did not need to look back to know the infantry had reformed behind us. Swords singing, we laid into the Skaldi.

           . Yes, this is what I was meant for, to wield a sword in battle, I thought as I slew. My blood was up, as it always was during battle. Scions of Camael were made for this. I was relentless as I drove forward to my goal. Those Skaldi foolish enough to get in my way fell to my sword and did not rise again. “Kilberhaar!” they shouted at the sight of me. Many of them fled. “Kilberhaar!”

           Good, I thought. I want them to know. I hadn’t bothered tying my hair back for that reason. I wanted him to know.

           Pain blossomed in several places; I ignored it, only registering that I’d been wounded. Camael’s battle fire was in me now, and I wondered if he’d forgiven me enough to give me his favor one last time. Ahead, a large Skaldi man shouted orders from atop a tall horse. Selig. It had to be. He turned to see the charge heading straight for him. In response he raised his sword in the air and shouted, “Kilberhaar!” A moment later he was charging toward me.

           Excellent. Come at me and we will see who proves the better!

           The waves of Skaldi parted to let Selig through. No doubt they were filled with excitement at the prospect of a duel to the death between us. Ahead, feu d’Hellas fell from the trebuchets atop the fortress wall. It was quickly followed by the drawbridge being lowered into place. The D’Angeline forces were across it a moment later and fell upon the Skaldi with all the pent-up rage and frustration of an army that had endured a siege for many weeks. I allowed myself a small sigh of relief—Phèdre nó Delaunay had gotten her message through.

           Men fell all around me, D’Angeline and Skaldi both. I did not pause for a moment to note who among my men they were, only noting that the line of cavalry was growing steadily thinner. I took notice when my standard bearer went down, aware now that I’d been separated from the rest of my cavalry and fought on alone.

           A spear thrust got my horse in the neck; I jumped free as he fell. Selig was nearly upon me now, and I did not like my odds on foot against a skilled mounted opponent. Best to even the odds. I slew the nearest Skaldi warrior and grabbed his battle axe. As Selig approached, I threw it left-handed. It hit his horse in the neck and it went down with a mighty crash. Selig was on his feet a moment later.

           The stories did not exaggerate. Selig was a large man, mayhap a few inches taller than me and a fair bit broader. He was also fresh, or at least fresher than I was. As I looked upon my enemy, the man I’d sworn to kill, Camael’s battle fire burned hot within me. Lend your strength to my sword arm one last time, I prayed. With that, I stepped forward to engage Selig.

           Joscelin Verreuil had not been inaccurate in his assessment—it was immediately apparent that Selig was a natural-born swordsman. He was quick for such a big man too. Any wrong move, any faltering on my part would almost certainly prove fatal. The noise and commotion of the battle around me faded until the world might’ve consisted of only the two of us. I kept on the offensive, not wanting to give him any opportunity to press an advantage. I managed to score a few hits on him, though nothing fatal. Unfortunately, he was able to do the same to me.

           I pushed the pain of my wounds aside. In Camlach, we learn from a young age how to deal with pain, not to find pleasure in it as an anguissette would but to build tolerance for it. I’d been practicing weapons and riding in all kinds of weather since I was a child. We endure the cold and fight no matter how sore or exhausted we are. If Selig thought to wear me down this way, he would be sorely disappointed.

           I studied him as we traded blows. He was good. He was very good.

           I was better.

           Even now, with me wounded in several places and hardly fresh, my Camaeline reflexes, honed over years of practicing the sword relentlessly, were just that little bit faster than his. He faltered for just a moment and I saw an opening. My sword found a gap in his armor.

           Selig sank to his knees, gazing up at me in disbelief. Did he actually believe the tales that he was proof against weapons? If so, he went to his death disappointed. My strength at last gave way and I sank to my knees beside him, both hands gripping the hilt of my sword as I thrust it home.

           It was done.

           I was avenged. Terre d’Ange was saved. Anne and the child would be safe.

           My hands lost their grip on the hilt of my sword and I collapsed. The end was near now. There was no more denying or postponing it. I would soon be in Kushiel’s realm, where I’d face the One God’s punisher and whatever justice he sought to serve me. And for the first time since I’d accepted my fate, I was afraid. I knew enough of Kushiel from my time with the Shahrizai to feel certain I was unlikely to receive much mercy from him. I tried to take comfort knowing my loved ones would not die at the hands of the Skaldi.

           They would know I’d died a hero.

           A nearby woman’s voice startled me out of my thoughts. “We are all alike, in the end, and none of us to be had merely for the taking.”

           It took me a moment to place the voice, but when I did I couldn’t help but laugh. Here I was contemplating Kushiel as I lay dying, and his Chosen should appear before me. “Phèdre nó Delaunay,” I whispered, clutching at her hand, “I am afraid of your lord’s revenge.”

           Confusion flashed over her face before realization dawned. She held a waterskin to my lips. ���You have paid, my lord, and paid in full. And Kushiel sends no punishment we are not fit to bear.”

           Her words were strangely comforting. I felt some of my fear dissipate and in the distance I heard the beating of bronze wings.

           I drank the water she offered and took my last breath, surrendering my soul into Kushiel’s keeping.

 **

Dear Anne,

           By the time this letter reaches you, I will be dead. I can only hope that when you receive it you will also hear the news that I gave my life in service to Terre d’Ange. I go to my death with the knowledge that my sacrifice might serve to wash away my sins and that you and our child will live in a Terre d’Ange that is free and safe.

           I know I have hurt you deeply and you are owed an explanation for my actions. A letter is an inadequate medium for such a thing. If I could see you one last time, I would try my best to offer an explanation. Since I am denied that, this letter will have to suffice. I was a fool, and allowed myself to be played for a fool by those I should’ve known better than to trust.

           I owe you several apologies. To begin with, I should’ve kept you better than I did. Had I not been so occupied with my foolish plans, I’d have made you my official consort sooner. It pains me to know I’ve left both of you without the support you will need. I should have named our child heir to Lombelon. Mayhap it is pointless to dwell on such mistakes now, but I feel you should know how deeply I regret those mistakes and the consequences they will have for you.

           Here at the end I find myself thinking on all the time we spent together. What we had I cherish with all my heart and there is no part to me that does not regret how my own deeds have cut our time short. Never doubt that I loved you, and our child too, with all my heart. I hope you too will look upon our time together fondly. I hope you might in time share some of those memories with our child.

           I hope someday both of you can find it in your hearts to forgive me.

                         With all my love to you both,

                                   Isidore

[length-of-rope]

Not everything is black and white. There’s no “bad guys” here.

I feel like this fandom doesn’t do well with nuanced situations and tends to look at everything in a very black-and-white manner. Which is a shame because I feel like the way the characters have behaved so far has made a lot of sense. This isn’t a black-and-white situation here and neither of the characters should be villainized nor left off the hook.

There seems to be a lot of Lucas and Lucille comparisons going on here, which are completely unwarranted and they seem to come from looking at both Eliott/Lucille and Elu relationships at a very surface level. Lucas is worried about Eliott potentially being triggered by someone who’s in a very turbulous time in their recovery has to mean he’s controlling, right? Well, no.

Here’s the thing about having an MI. It’s not something that defines people who have it. We’re not suddenly incapable of making our own decision nor are we any less of an individual. However, pretending that MI doesn’t have a significant effect on our lives and relationships is… not a good take to have. Lucas being cautious of potential triggers to Eliott’s treatment is not him being controlling.

Before I say the next thing, I want to say that I’m a person with an MI who’s had suicidal thoughts and self-harmed in the past. I’ve been through therapy and was able to find a way to manage my issues for the most part. But it took me YEARS to get to this point in life and I sabotaged myself and screwed people over in the process. Recognizing that was an important part of my recovery. Now onto what my experience has taught me.

Navigating around a person’s MI is not an easy thing. It’s not. No matter how much the two people care about each other, no matter how much trust there is in a relationship, there’s a balance that needs to be found.

On one hand you want to ensure that you’re not encroaching on a person’s autonomy and individuality, while keeping an eye out for something out of the ordinary. And where do we draw the line, really? How much can we ask of the other person and how much we just have to agree with and accept as their decision? Is it okay to ask them to take their meds, or should we just accept it when they say that they don’t want to take them anymore even if those meds have a tremendous impact on their behaviour and well-being? Should we be okay with a person on heavy medication drinking and taking drugs and risking overdose or should we say something? Should we insist on keeping a person in the midst of a depressive episode company or should we respect it when they want us to leave, even if we have a strong suspicion that they’re suicidal? Those are not easy things to navigate and sometimes there’s a very thin line between being respectful of someone’s autonomy and being neglectful. 

Lucas has been trying to navigate this aspect of his relationship with Eliott for a year and so far, he’s been doing a decent job of it. While Eliott has his insecurities, those stem more from his internalized issues rather than the state of his relationship with Lucas. He’s been able to recognize that Lucas was worried multiple times but not once (not even during the clip on Saturday) did he call Lucas controlling. And that, more than anything, tells me that Lucas has done his best to give Eliott the space that he needs and be there for him when things are tough.

What we’ve seen so far this season was Lucas having an impulsive reaction to seeing someone in their bed but he did not try to interfere with Eliott and Lola’s friendship in any way, even accepting and supporting her playing a role in Eliott’s movie. He chose to trust her and even attempted to bond with her because she was important to Eliott. The fact that he was worried that someone who’s in the middle of a very unsteady recovery could potentially trigger Eliott wasn’t nearly as unfair as people think it was. That’s a perfectly valid concern to have. Now, we can argue about whether or not it’s a concern he should have voiced to LOLA of all people, however I don’t think his intention was to bring her down with that comment. I can go into all the ways this behaviour is different from Lucille but this is already quite long so maybe another time.

Now, onto Lola. 

She has a lot of issues and has been through a lot of trauma at a very young age. She’s only at the beginning of her recovery and has many slip ups but holy fuck, she’s really trying. The real Lola, the one we see when she’s not under the influence of any substances and weight down by her pain, is gentle and empathetic. She cares about the happiness and comfort of the people close to her and does what she can to make them feel cared for. She’s a loving and gentle person.

But addiction and pain are ugly things. Hurt people hurt people. We’ve seen this happen a couple of times this season, how nasty and hurtful Lola can be when she’s suffering. We saw it in how she spoke to Maya when she was drunk, how she blamed Daphne for her addiction, the hurtful word she said to her father when she blamed him for her mother’s problems and in how she played with Eliott’s insecurities on Saturday. All of this is quite familiar to me, I’ve done the same things time and time again to the people I loved and it didn’t matter to me how that was affecting them at the time, too preoccupied with my own pain. Lola knew what she was doing on Saturday, she deliberately called Eliott to join her and played on his insecurities, made him question his relationship with Lucas, because she wanted him down in the pit with her. It made her feel less lonely and seen. 

Lucas wasn’t wrong when he said she was being selfish on Saturday, because she was. Selfishness is not just one thing, it’s not always about gaining something valuable at the expense of hurting others. Sometimes, selfishness can come from a place of unbelievable pain and desperation. The way we feel overshadows everything around us and we fight to get ourselves out of that place, without considering how much our actions can affect the ones we love. But once the moment of clarity comes, we get to see the consequences of our actions and are left with the feeling of guilt.

None of this makes Lola a bad person and she deserves to be loved and cared for. That doesn’t change the fact that the people she hurt when she was in her dark place are also entitled to their feelings of hurt and anger. 

We don’t know how much Lucas knows about what happened that night, perhaps Eliott told him what Lola said about their relationship, perhaps he didn’t. However, he clearly knows enough of it to understand what was her intention in calling Eliott that night. Is he wrong to be so harsh with her? Yes, for sure. No one should ever speak to another person so harshly but it too comes from a place of pain and he tried to avoid the confrontation twice, before he lost his temper. It’s quite possible he will regret his words as soon as he calms down as well.

In short, there’s no “bad guys” in this scenario. Only people who have normal, human reactions to hurtful situations in their lives. It’s okay to understand that while Lola messed up, she recognizes her mistakes and is still trying her best, and that does not make her a bad person. We can also understand that Lucas’ is entitled to his feelings of hurt, because Lola’s actions affected him in a big way, too. None of them are bad people, there’s really no need to pit them against each other.  

[trevor-brown-artist]

I Lost a Nephew During the Pandemic but He’s Still Alive

When the abused becomes the abuser the circle is complete, and the trauma has won, the cycle will continue.

Wow it was just about two decades ago when I first met my nephew. He wasn’t my nephew yet he was one of the twins of my former brothers very beautiful and intelligent girlfriend and soon to be fiancé. They had invited me up to their single bedroom home in Beacon, I think for thanksgiving. Quick aside this was before I had learned about the cult-like history in his girlfriends past where they didn’t celebrate things like holidays. 

I remember his best friend was named Oscar this maybe Latino dude a bit quirky but he had passed my muster in not being a total deadbeat. I still feel strongly that the people you surround yourself with reflect your own character. And my other former sibling surrounded himself with clear losers.

Kelly’s twins were paternal not identical and it was so curious to me that one was dark-skinned and one was light-skinned this physical duality also mirrored their significantly different personalities even so young they were their own people. I thought naturally I’d have an infinity for Marcus the darker twin because I had experienced the colorism that we don’t like to talk about in Black families and was of course rooting for team dark-skin! 

Justice’s shy temperament and more sensitive nature mirrored my own behavior at his single digit age. Both of the boys were adorable as you tend to be at that age and I enjoyed rough housing with them in my siblings very sparse living room.

As I think of this time, it reminds me there was a time before my anxiety about eating in public and I’m realizing that some of my anxieties may have been caused by the traumas and injustices I faced by the hands of the ones who I thought should be taking care of my interest. Silly me.

We shared a meal and I ate but didn’t stuff myself always being conscious about watching my weight. And afterwards we played my Justice League Monopoly a great after dinner game for friends and family. They day I met my nephew was a happy day and a very fond memory before everything went to shit.

Now this is the moment I should probably recount those shitty things but you know I don’t feel like rehashing the past and the poor decisions others made that effected me so negatively. So let’s skip ahead twelve years. Marcus has become a young minister at the Kingdom Hall and besides being an amazing student is a beacon of heteromantic role models, playing sports and ministering with vigor as he goes out on missions, handing out tracts and surpassing quotas.

Justice has become more and more aloof had stopped going to the Hall and his once pristine grades had begun to dip and I had begun to think in our brief contact that he may be queer so it wasn’t a surprise when his uncle called me and told me that his parents had put him out the house right on his eighteenth birthday. Damn!

The marriage was started amidst homo-anatagonistic roots and had produced a queer son who was an anathema to the doctrines and dogma of the families faith. The same faith that made me a pariah at the nuptials had claimed another victim. And even though my other former brother set up a call with me and my allegedly queer nephew there was no foundation for the boy to trust me or even know me. As I had predicted so many long years ago the start of their marriage dictated by his grandmother had ended up in me being frozen out of my siblings life and when the coupling produced a child, I had met him less than a handful of times. 

Here I wanted to assist my nephew but his parents had succeeded in him not getting to know me, and my assistance fell on very deaf ears and a young man who was very isolated felt even more isolated and I was horrified because there wasn’t anything more I could do. I can’t make a bond where there isn’t one, no matter how much I wanted that.

Someone had offered me a place to stay an offer that I later took them up on, so I wanted to pay it forward and I offered my nephew the same. When we spoke about this years later he said he had no recollection of this offer and I told him I wasn’t surprised he had just been rejected by his entire family and even though I was offering a lifeline he didn’t really know me from Adam and his trust in family had been so obliterated, that my earnest offer was like no offer at all because it held no value in his head. Because the seed was set that “family” equals pain. And who in their right mind would deliberately walk towards pain?

I had lost before I began but the urge for me to be a better uncle than my aunts and uncles always made me want to strive to attempt to be there for nieces and nephews even though I had continually been ousted, because I can only see children at the pleasure of their parents. 

Uncles and Aunts hold no legal sway with our court system unless they have legal custody of one of their siblings children. I learned this the hard way when I lost visitation rights with my youngest former siblings children and took the grandmother to court with the kids great grandmother to attempt to get the rights to see the kids. I wouldn’t see those kids again for ten years and then only briefly.

I did try to keep in touch with Justice the uncle he didn’t know very well, and I know he secretly resented for being just like him. But one more card marked “Return to Sender”, had all but wiped out my will to continually chase after kids that clearly didn’t want this uncle in their lives, albeit that decision was being made for them. 

His number was disconnected and his social media presence was seemingly non-existent. I probably didn’t do a durable search being so disheartened about trying to connect with a family that didn’t seem to want me and I apologize for my human frailty in this moment. But it’s not because I didn’t want to find him, I had lost the hope that I ever would.

I think his cousin had mentioned his brother and I had a photo of my light-skinned twinned nephew at what looked like some university, in a cap and gown and I wept that it seemed like he had made it through even though he was discarded like yesterday’s trash. I contacted his twin and asked about contact information and was told he could only be found on SnapChat I set up an account just to get in touch with him called UncleTrevor674. 

I wanted to reconnect with him let him know I had been looking for him without success. And albeit his current internet presence was more robust I was missing the keywords Beacon and Florida. I didn’t know he had went down south for a few years and curiously enough had returned to Beacon. I saw now that adding these words did indeed make him easier to find but my own pain and hurt didn’t allow me the clarity to think of these things. I was excited to reconnect with him and attempt to have the relationship with him that I had been denied for so long.

But this was seemingly doomed because by my very nature of being his uncle I was the enemy, albeit when checking the receipts I had never done anything untoward to him. I was grouped in with all the people who had done wrong by him and even though I had tried repeatedly to be present and show an interest in his life, his friends, his interest, the damage had already been done. And my open hand was met with hostility and displaced anger, a pattern I knew all too well from my interactions with my former siblings who seemed to blame me for the fact that we were separated as children here again I was the target of the wrath of a young man whom I only wanted to connect with and support as best I could, and try to be the uncle to him that I never had.

His past traumas were much louder than the love and support that I offered and to protect myself I had to do the most painful thing I had to ever do with a niece or nephew I had to withdraw from the relationship and hope that time would heal the wounds that I didn’t cause, and that maybe someday I would get back the nephew I had actually lost decades ago but just never knew it.

[sophieakatz]

Thursday Thoughts: Writing Advice (Part 1 of 3)

I recently stumbled across this writer ask meme about pieces of writing advice, and I was having so much fun thinking about it that I decided to just respond to them all!

1. Nothing is perfect

This is one of those truths that can be used for good or ill.

It’s easy to see the flaws in your own work, to hold your own writing to a higher standard than literally anyone else would. It’s good to say “nothing is perfect” to assure yourself that your work is good enough.

But if someone has called you out for using racist stereotypes in your writing, and your response is, “Well, nothing is perfect! So leave me alone and don’t tell me to fix it!” That’s bad!

Allow me to misquote the Talmud and tell you to keep two pieces of paper in your pocket, and take each out as you need it. The first says “nothing is perfect.” The second says “I can, and should, always do better.”

2. Don’t use adverbs

Adverbs are tools. Understand their purpose and use them wisely.

To prove my own point, I could not have written that second sentence without an adverb – “wisely.” The purpose of an adverb is to modify a verb or an adjective. It wouldn’t be enough for me to just say, “use them.” How should one use them? Wisely!

The best advice I ever got about adverbs is that they should be used when they are necessary for clarity.

If I write, “Sophie smiled happily,” that is not a necessary adverb. It is already obvious from the fact that I am smiling that I am happy. Using “happily” is redundant and uninteresting.

If I write, “Sophie smiled sadly,” on the other hand – that is necessary. The adverb changes the picture that you make in your head, and the sentence is more interesting as a result.

3. Write what you know

I get why people use this as advice. I’m much more a fan of saying “know what you write.”

Feel free to go beyond your own individual experience when you write – but for god’s sake, do your research. Expand what you know, so that you can write.

4. Avoid repetition

Like adverbs, repetition is a tool. Use it wisely.

What can repetition accomplish?

Emphasis – highlighting something as important.

Memorability – helping the audience remember.

Familiarity – we tend to like and believe what we hear over and over.

Musicians understand this. Listen to the Hadestown soundtrack and keep a tally of how many times Orpheus is referred to as “a poor boy” or Eurydice as “a hungry young girl.” Listen to the Hamilton soundtrack and count how many times Burr opens a song with “How does a –?” Think back on all the times you heard the new hit song of the year and you shrugged it off, but a couple weeks later, after you heard it on every radio station, on everyone’s Spotify playlist, in every YouTube ad – it “grew on you.”

The trick is using repetition just enough that it provides a useful structure, but not so much that it’s noticed to the point of instilling boredom.

5. Write every day

Sure, why not. If you write just ten words every day for a year, you’ll have nearly 4,000 words at the end of it – a short story. If you write a hundred words every day for a year, that’s almost 40,000 words – a decent novella. Writing every day is a good way to end up with something written.

But don’t beat yourself up if you don’t or can’t write every day. Writing takes effort. You have other things to devote energy to – work, school, groceries, cleaning, socializing, confronting your own mortality, finding out how season seven of Clone Wars ends.

I encourage you to notice all the things that you do every day which isn’t officially “writing” but is still a part of being a writer.

Now, this is something I struggle with. I go months without touching my novel, and it’s easy for me to dismiss that time as “not writing.”

But I send emails. And I write essays for school. And I jot down thoughts and dreams in my journal. And I read – you have to read in order to write. And I spend time on my walks and in the shower imagining dialogue and figuring out character paths and themes for my novel, all things that will help me when I do get back to writing it. And I have all the smaller projects I gave myself – this weekly blog post, my weekly poem or quote, my fanfiction.

If you’re a writer, then you’re a writer, whether or not you write every day.

6. Good writers borrow from other writers, great writers steal from them outright

I’m not sure what the distinction is here between “borrowing” and “stealing.”

Stealing is definitely a part of writing, though. I’ve written about this before – check out my old article on stealing bicycles as a writing metaphor.

7. Just write

Oh I am a BIG fan of this one. Even if you don’t know what to write, just write. So many pages of my journal open with the line “I have no idea what to write about.” Eventually, as you ramble, you start writing about what you wished you would be writing about. And then you find yourself actually writing.

8. There’s nothing new under the sun

Sure, but the art is in making something familiar feel new. I wrote about this a couple weeks ago in this Thursday Thoughts.

9. Read

Yes, yes, yes! Read to find out what’s out there. Read to learn the conventions of your genre. Read to ignite your love of the craft. Read to discover your people. Read to add tools to your toolbox (or pieces to your bicycle). Read to find agents and editors and publishing imprints. Read to learn what stories are not being told. Read to be a writer.

10. Don’t think!

Thinking is a tool. Use it wisely.

The best parts of my writing I’ve discovered not while writing, but while thinking about writing.

Just don’t think yourself out of writing altogether.

11. Write what you love

You’ll certainly be happier writing something you love than something you don’t love. You won’t love everything you write, though. It can still be good and valuable even if you don’t love it. But if you love it, or if you can remember why you loved it, you will come back and finish it.

12. Never use a long word where a short one will do

Forget the length of the word. Is it the right word?

To paraphrase Mark Twain and Josh Billings, the difference between the right word and the almost-right word is the difference between lightning and a lightning bug.

If you do find yourself needing to choose between two words with identical definitions, and the only difference between them is their length, then think about the effect of the word on your reader. Read the sentence aloud a few times with either option. Different words have different connotations; they evoke different moods. It may in the end just come down to which word feels right for this moment.

13. Less is more

No, it definitionally is not. See my above thoughts about adverbs, repetition, and long words vs short words.

All words are tools. All words have a purpose. Is it the right word for this moment?

14. Never use the passive when you can use the active voice

Again, active voice and passive voice are tools! They have purposes!

The simplest way to differentiate between the two is that active voice is “the girl threw the ball” and passive voice is “the ball was thrown by the girl.” Both make sense. Both describe the same action. But one places the emphasis on the girl – the subject – while the other places the emphasis on the ball – the object.

Are you trying to create a sense of immediacy, to immerse the reader in the moment? Use active voice. He did this! She did that! Bam! Pow! It’s happening right now, and we know exactly who did it!

Are you trying to create distance between the reader and something in the moment? Use passive voice. He was being followed – by who, we don’t know. Passive voice adds a touch of mystery or disassociation.

15. Show don’t tell

How do you show? How do you tell? There are engaging ways to do both, and boring ways to do both. Do what the moment needs.

In prose, I recommend setting up with showing and then hitting your reader with a tell. Say your protagonist is standing alone in a room. Then, a woman enters. Show the protagonist’s reaction to that woman – their heart pounds, they tear up, they grab a chair for support…

And then, in the narration: “Her mother had been dead for five years, and yet there she stood.” Bam! A well-placed tell which contextualizes the reaction.

Plays and screenplays come down on different sides of the “show vs tell” debate. Film usually does more “showing,” while a stage play usually has more “telling.”

This comes from writers leaning into the limitations of the mediums. The first few lines of any scene in a Shakespeare play lets you know the location and time of day, because they didn’t have the scenic or lighting elements available to show it.

While a film can cut to different places and times quickly and easily, many plays are set in just one or two locations to remove the need for frequent scene changes. A play will capitalize on the characters’ reactions to and conversations about unseen offstage events, while a film will show these offstage events.

These are not hard and fast rules, of course. Plenty of films stay in one location, and plenty of plays jump around from place to place. It’s worth noting that standard formatting for plays and screenplays highlight this typical difference. In a stage play script, the dialogue (what we’re told) is left-aligned while the action (what we’re shown) is indented. In a screenplay, the action is left-aligned and the dialogue is indented.

Neither showing nor telling is superior. They are both tools. Use them wisely.

To be continued...

[theonceoverthinker]

It’s Nice To Meet You

Summary: An unorthodox use of Henry’s cellphone makes for an unexpected first meeting between Ella and Emma.

Featured Dynamics: Glass Believer, Ella and Emma, Captain Swan, Ella and OG Killian

Links:  AO3     Fanfiction.net

A/N: This was a fantastic request for my 300 follower spectacular by @latinacinderella. This lady gives me very chill requests. Like between this and “Talk Tales Over Cocktails” (Which I consider something of a counterpart to this), the fics that come from her requests are just nice and breezy. And I like that! Besides, Ella’s had a hard life! She deserves some chill moments, am I right?

Anyway, she requested to see Ella and/or Lucy encounter Storybrooke, Emma, and/or OG Hook in some way. I did something a liiiiiiiiiittle outside of the parameters of that request, but in a way that still holds to the spirit it so, I hope you enjoy it!

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

When Henry Mills started his journey across the realms, he didn’t pack a lot. In the small bit of storage space his motorcycle and his single satchel provided, he packed a dagger with his initials engraved on it, two changes of clothes, a few Apollo bars, and his single most prized possession: his cellphone.

But this cellphone, like much of Henry’s life, was far from ordinary.

As a last gift from his mother before he went to explore the worlds, the phone was magically enchanted with a battery that would never die and a digital album filled with gigabytes upon gigabytes of pictures and videos of his family so that no matter where he went, they’d be with him.

Once Henry and Ella’s friendship took off, Henry showed Ella both that phone and its digital library of his family’s history. No matter how much of the library she was shown, there was always a new story to tell about the adventures of his very extended family.

Ella loved the album. She liked its convenient feel in her hand, its impossibly smooth shape and surface, and the clarity of the pictures and videos the device held.

But mostly, she loved the family that it contained.

Henry Mills was indeed a gifted storyteller. When he spoke of his parents, grandparents, and all of the other going-ons of his family tree, his very words painted the idea of home for Ella. She could practically smell the lasagna at Granny’s, taste the cookies from Snow White’s oven, and see the hundreds of antiques at Gold’s shop as Henry made them real for her with the power of his words.

Fate really hit the nail on the hammer with his role as The Author.

A just as fate had led him to that title, it had led Henry and Ella to each other.

Every morning, Ella was reminded of that by the feeling of the locket against her heart and the feeling of her beloved next to her.

Today, though, only one of those things was where she expected it to be.

As Ella woke up -- before even her eyes greeted the day -- her hand reached for Henry, expecting to feel a soft blanket that leaned against his muscles.

But when her hand fell, the only thing on the other side of the blanket was the hard floor of their tent.

Ella finally opened her eyes and formally greeted the day, sad to see that she was indeed alone. That sadness was short lived however, as she noticed a piece of parchment atop her beloved’s pillow. Scrawled upon the parchment was a small note that Ella could recognize as hosting Henry’s handwriting. She picked it up and as she read it, she felt a blush flourish against her cheeks.

Dear Ella,

I’ve gone fishing with Hook and Jack and didn’t want to wake you. Besides, I know you like a little bit of alone time every now and then, so I figured you could take some time off from the resistance and enjoy a morning to yourself. We should be back by midday, but rest assured I’ll be thinking of you until then.

Love,

Henry

Romance wasn’t something that Ella ever expected to be in the cards for her. Thoughts of vengeance for her stepfather’s death and a hopelessness that came with spending years as a servant for her stepfamily had put the idea far out of her head. A future free from all of them was the best outcome she thought she could hope for.

But just as he had challenged the notion of revenge being her destiny, so had Henry changed her mind about that too. Now, the sweet words and gentle touches she had gone her so much of her life without were things she could hardly part with any easier than the air in her lungs.

In a way, she supposed that wasn’t surprising. After all, Ella knew plenty about the family he came from and for the most part, love was never too far from them.

And soon enough, that might apply to her too.

It made sense. Ella was already well acquainted with one of Henry’s mothers, and with a family that was just a magic bean away, it was reasonable to assume she’d encounter the rest of them before long. Additionally, if things stayed as good as they were now -- and Ella had a locket pressed up against her chest that gave her a strong impression that they would -- they might one day consider settling down in the same town as them.

What would that be like?

In truth, Ella hadn’t afforded the prospect much thought beforehand. The resistance and the newness of their relationship had prioritized living for the moment, and that’s exactly what Ella did. But the fact was that the revolution against the plights of their kingdom would one day end, leaving a future that needed to be accounted for -- one that could feasibly lead them to a cozy house nestled in the heart of Storybrooke.

But that begged the question, an inquiry that was just as interesting as it was somewhat daunting:  How would it feel to live in Storybrooke?

If Ella was honest with herself, perhaps a bit too overwhelming for her liking.

Ella had never been good dealing with large groups of people. Throughout her time with the resistance thus far, she forewent growing closer to the movement at large, preferring the smaller bits of company provided by Tiana, Regina, Jack, Henry, and Hook. The few occasions where she did need to interact with the other members was kept to a minimum. That was more than fine with her and the sentiment seemed to be reciprocated. It wasn’t unheard of for those in the camp to keep to themselves outside of their own personal circles and otherwise mind their own business.

But from how Henry described life in Storybrooke, Ella had a suspicion that that wouldn’t necessarily fly there. Storybrooke was a small town with not a small amount of people there who not only liked but deeply cared about being involved in each other’s lives. They never let an occasion to get together and throw a party pass them by and polite conversations tended to run longer than they ever did in this realm. Even though Ella knew they were likely all lovely people, the thought of just an afternoon of that, let alone a potential lifetime was a lot to take in and maybe more than Ella felt herself able to handle.

And it’s not like she didn’t want to be able to.

Just as Henry’s stories had somewhat freaked her out with the family’s closeness, they had also charmed her in the other side of that particular coin. In the same vein that said closeness was borderline suffocating, it was also a means of support. While Ella felt uncomfortable opening up to so many people, she didn’t want to dismiss the possibility of finding new friends and pseudo family members. After all, had she not done so for Henry, she would have denied herself the happiness she now reveled in.

There was a feeling of guilt in the matter -- something Ella knew Henry would never want her to feel and that only served to make her feel even more guilt. It was a frustrating cycle and one Ella genuinely wanted to move on from. She wanted to open herself up more and she wanted to want to take to Storybrooke as easily as Henry did, but she just wasn’t there yet.

And she wondered if she would ever be…

No. She wouldn’t allow herself to fail so easily. Just as she was doing with her stepsister’s threats, here had to be a way to combat this.

Perhaps, all it would take was to view Storybrooke’s many denizens in the same way that Henry did.

Suddenly, an idea struck Ella for exactly how she’d spend her morning off. She leaned over to Henry’s things and felt around until she felt what was always to her an unbelievably thin surface, especially given all that it held. Once the device was in her grasp, Ella pulled it out and placed it on the blanket in front of her.

Henry once told her that his phone was only one of many pieces of technology from his world. Ella personally found that hard to believe. In addition to the odd-looking and somewhat violent games he had on there, his phone had collections of pictures far more numerous than Ella could possibly count. In her time playing around with the device, she had never once reached the bottom of the assembly of family memories.

Maybe today, that could change.

Delicately, Ella picked up the phone. On what Henry called, his ‘lock screen,’ there was a picture of he and Ella on his motorcycle that Regina had taken not long after they started dating. Upon seeing the picture, she softened, all thoughts of distant anxieties abandoned. It hadn’t been there the last time she checked, and the spot that formerly held a picture of characters from this movie Henry told her about, “Star Wars,” was now held by them.

How could her Henry make her fall in love with him so much, even when he wasn’t around?

Ella looked forward to finding that little secret of his out throughout the rest of their lives.

After staring too long at the picture of them, the screen went dark. It sometimes did that when Henry went on long tangents about that movie or when...they occupied themselves in other way -- namely, with each other’s lips -- so Ella wasn’t too surprised to see it happen now. Ella made a move to press the button that would bring the picture back when suddenly, the screen turned entirely light blue.

Speechless, Ella tried to make sense of what happened. Had she broken something? All she had done was brought up the lock screen. She hadn’t even tried to put in the combination, one she knew quite well, even once.

Nervous, Ella picked up the screen, looking closer. The power blue that covered the front surface of the phone was still there, but Ella, no longer as plagued by her immediate shock, noticed that the color was...swirling. The contents of the screen slowly spun, like a vortex of the sky on a perfect day.

Ella watched it. The thought had just occurred to her to get Regina’s help when suddenly, the blue screen had begun to be overtaken. Slowly from the center, the image of a woman began to push out the blue, soon overtaking it entirely.

Before Ella could move a muscle or take in the woman on the screen, a sound came from the phone -- though not its speakers like it usually did when Henry showed her a video. No, the noise was just there, as if another person was in the tent with her.

Or rather, as if the woman was in the tent with her.

But that wasn’t the strangest part.

No, the strangest part was what she said.

“Henry?” she called. The voice wasn’t panicked as it searched for Henry, but called casually, as if calling someone in for dinner.

And then the woman noticed Ella. For a second, she paused, taking her in. The woman’s eyes bulged, as if she had just had a big realization about Ella.

“Hey,” she said. This time, she was more in a state of surprise.

Ella blinked, and in that fraction of a second, her mind caught up to her and like pieces of a puzzle, clues came together to fill her in about exactly who she was talking to.

For but a single second, Ella studied the woman in front of her -- the long blonde hair that reached well below her shoulders, the green eyes that held an inquisitive stare, the light bump in her belly, and the leather jacket that was the color of a juicy pomegranate.

Who else could it be?

“You’re Emma Swan,” Ella said. There was an essence of disbelief in her voice as she said it, mirroring the one Emma had when she seemed to realize who she was.

Emma, now apparently over her shock, nodded and smiled, her finger offhandedly aimed at Ella in a pondering fashion. “And you’re Cinderella, right?”

“I actually go by Ella now,” Ella pointed out, not the least bit upset about Emma’s mistake.

That didn’t stop an apologetic look from overtaking Emma’s features.

“I’m sorry,” she said, a meekness in her voice that was a far cry from the confidence Henry’s tales had painted her with.

“It’s okay,” Ella eased. “But yeah. I just started going by Ella again recently.”

“Ella,” Emma repeated, smiling once more as the word comfortably settled in the space between them. “Well, Ella. It’s nice to meet you.”

Ella returned the grin. “It’s nice to meet you too. Henry’s told me so many stories about the Savior of Storybrooke.”

“Hopefully good ones?” Emma teased.

“Well, he wasn’t too happy when you confiscated his X-Box -- whatever that is -- a few years ago,” Ella retorted, smirking. “But apart from that, he’s got nothing but good things to say about you.”

Emma snorted. “Did he tell you that he failed his math test before I confiscated it?”

“No he did not!” Ella said, gasping in mock scandalization. “Looks like he has some explaining to do!”

Suddenly, Ella realized something.

This impromptu meeting with her beloved’s mother was just that: impromptu.

She hadn’t called for her, but for Henry.

“Oh! I’m sorry! I forgot to tell you: Henry went fishing and won’t be back until later today.”

Emma frowned and snapped her fingers. “Damnit,” she muttered. “I always seem to miss him by just a bit. And I’ve got to go to work soon, so I won’t be able to call until basically midnight, and I’m pretty sure midnight for us is also midnight for you guys.”

Ella was about to say that she’d have Henry call her back tomorrow, but a thought struck her.

“Emma, how exactly did you reach us here?”

Just like that, Emma’s frown disappeared, replaced with a proud grin. “Magic,” she replied, with a casual wave of her hand. “Regina taught me a long time ago how to communicate with mirrors. And a few weeks ago, I had a thought. I figured that since a phone screen can reflect your face like a mirror, maybe I could use Henry’s phone screen to talk to him. I’ve been trying it out lately, but Henry either doesn’t have his phone on him or he does, but can’t hear me talking over his motorcycle.”

“That thing is so noisy,” Ella cosigned.

“Tell me about it. And I thought it was bad when Henry was revving it up all night in the garage back in high school. But, at least now I know that this actually works, and as a bonus, I get to meet you!”

“I guess we could call it a happy accident.”

“I like that. So, considering that you have Henry’s phone, I take it that you two are...close?” Ella giggled at Emma’s expression. There was a hopeful smirk where a simple grin had been but a moment ago. She could tell how Emma was trying so hard not to be too nosy, but was also looked too excited to expect Ella not to think that that’s exactly how she felt.

“Yes,” Ella confirmed, her grin now wide enough to show teeth. “We’re together.”

Emma looked at Ella, positively beaming with happiness.

“That’s great!” Emma nearly shouted. “I’m so happy for you two!” As soon as she was done speaking, she blushed, clearly embarrassed at her over excitement at the news.

But in truth, Ella loved it.

“Thanks!” Ella said, finding herself beaming as well. “I guess I don’t have to worry about a disapproving mother?” she teased.

Emma tapped her chin, smirking. She released a wicked hum before speaking. “Nah,” she dismissed with a wink. “You’re a good kid, and you’re good for my kid.”

“You think so?”

“Definitely,” Emma answered, not skipping a beat. “Henry’s got a good heart. You must be pretty amazing if it lead him to you. And honestly, you seem amazing. I mean, sword fighting a prince’s army, riding a motorcycle after a minute-long lesson, and joining a resistance movement, and all in the same day? That’s impressive.”

Ella felt her cheeks redden at the thought of all that Henry had told her. “I guess Henry’s had his own stories to share about me?”

“You have no idea, Ella. Henry’s always been an passionate kid, but when he told me how you two met -- that look in his eyes -- it was like magic. And trust me, I’ve become quite the expert on the subject these days. So yeah, like I was saying -- I think you two are gonna be great together.”

Ella felt her heart warm at that comment. Regina had taken to her presence in Henry’s life rather quickly and now, Emma had too. On some level, she knew that winning over anyone from Storybrooke wouldn’t be an obstacle -- they seemed too kind to ever make themselves come across that way -- but the validation was still very much appreciated and it felt nice to be welcomed into Henry’s family with such ease.

Or at least part of what was a very big and extended family.

Now that that thought had made its way back to the forefront of her mind, Ella mused on Emma for a moment. Emma had a story of her own, one that Ella felt a kinship too, especially in her current situation.

Henry’s tales always illustrated Emma’s story in particular as something more complex than just some badass woman with a leather jacket and a gun. No, there was also the story of a woman who found her family, fell in love, and became a leader after a lifetime of wondering if she’d leave any impact whatsoever on this world at all, or if she’d even want to. It was a a journey of taking comfort in one’s connections and learning how they can be empowered through them, rather than things to be feared or avoided. And now, just judging by the gentleness that surrounded her through her posture, smile, and eyes, Ella could tell that Emma was happy beyond all belief with her life in Storybrooke.

Maybe with Emma lied the key to getting the same thing for herself.

Perhaps there was more Emma Swan could offer than just a sweet first encounter.

“Emma,” Ella started, admittedly more than a touch nervously. “Can I ask you something?”

Emma seemed to be able to tell that Ella’s question was more subdued than previously and settled herself accordingly from her former state of sheer giddiness. “Of course,” she answered. “What’s up?”

“How did you settle into Storybrooke life?” Emma raised a brow, clearly confused by the inquiry.

“What do you mean?”

Ella bit her cheek as she sought words of clarity. “What I mean is, Storybrooke’s a really social place and I know you weren’t when you first arrived…” Before Ella even attempted to further her sentence, she groaned. “I’m sorry. I’m bad at this. And that’s what I mean.” Emma raised a hand, as if asking her to settle down.

A look of realization and understanding overtook Emma’s features. “I guess Henry’s told you about the rest of his family.”

“Yes,” Ella responded. She was so tempted to place her hand over her face, but held back as not to further embarrass herself.

But Emma looked calm and better yet, understanding. With her eyes, she encouraged Ella to keep on going.

“It’s just a lot,” Ella continued. “And don’t get me wrong: you all seem great and kind. I guess I’m a bit more reserved. I want to fit in, but I know myself and I know that I tend to not do great with large crowds, especially if they’re as involved as Henry’s stories make them out to be.”

Emma shrugged. “Unfortunately, he’s not wrong.”  Another groan was working its way up Ella’s throat, but she stifled it.

“I guess what I’m asking is if we end up in Storybrooke, how am I going to manage there? I don’t want to come off as rude, but I can’t see myself being as open as everyone else there is. And I figured since you weren’t always like that, according to Henry, you could give me some pointers.”

Looking through the screen, Ella saw Emma biting her lip, seemingly contemplating what she said and nodding as a likely chugging train of thought rode through a lifetime’s worth of experiences. “I get it,” Emma consoled. “In this realm, we call it being introverted. I’m like that too.”

“Then how did you get...unintroverted?” The snort that Emma seemed to only barely able to stifle told Ella that her word choice was incorrect. Ella playfully rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean.”

Emma gave her a soft smile. “I do. Can I tell you a little secret?”

“Sure.”

“I’m still freaked out by it -- the whole social thing. I look at Henry and my parents and even Killian and they’re so much better at this than me. They’re the ones who initiate all of the conversations. They’re the ones who extend invitations to hang out. They’re the ones who remember everything about everyone. I don’t remember what the spices were in the deviled eggs at the last Doctoberfest! How do they? Who pays attention to that stuff?” At those last statements, Ella instinctively felt her face scrunched, confused. Emma looked to catch onto that. “Sorry, that’s another story for another day.”

“Why would anyone eat eggs from the devil?”

“They’re not actually from the devil. It’s just a weird name thing,” Emma dismissed. However, Ella wasn’t just about ready to drop the matter just yet.

“Who name things after the devil?”

Emma smirked. “Do you want my advice or not?” she teasingly chided.

Ella returned the gesture. “Fair enough.”

“What I mean is it’s a struggle for me. I get the feeling it always will be. I’m like you -- an introvert. It doesn’t go away, at least for most people.”

Another groan escaped Ella. “So am I doomed?”

“I never said that,” Emma assured. “It’s just different for people like us. But here’s the thing: People in Storybrooke get that. The town’s a lot of things, but more than anything, it’s understanding. If you talk about your limits and you’re nice about it, the people here will get it if you need to take a step back every now and then.” Emma snapped her finger, as if recalling something. “And trust me -- neither of us are alone. Regina’s more introverted too and so is Henry’s other grandfather.”

“Rumplestiltskin?” Ella clarified. Emma nodded. “Yeah, he seems the type.”

That seemed to surprise Emma. “You’ve met him?”

“Yeah. I haven’t talked to him yet, but apparently, he came to this world recently.”

Emma nodded. “Noted. But,” she continued, “I promise you, Ella, you’ll be just fine if you and Henry end up here. And if it helps, even if I’m still struggling with the social stuff, I have learned a lot too just by being here and getting close to the people I love. It all builds, so just let yourself take it one day at a time. Start things off with a simple ‘it’s nice to meet you,’ and follow your gut for the rest. Sound good?”

Ella took a moment to absorb her advice. It certainly made Storybrooke seem a lot less scary. It was still a bit nerve wracking, but Ella now felt a surge of determination that hadn’t been there before. Besides, if a fellow introvert like her could find happiness there, Ella had a feeling that she could too, especially given the start that her family in this realm had given her. And by the time that she and Henry might move to Storybrooke, Ella knew she’d be even stronger and more capable.

“It really does,” Ella said, her smile wide with the very confidence she knew Emma had in herself as well.Thank you, Emma.”

“Happy to he-”

“Emma! Were you able to get in touch with Henry this time?” It was a man’s voice that called and subsequently interrupted Emma. A series of increasingly loud footsteps followed, leading to what was clearly the sound of an opening door.

“Killian,” Emma said, a surprised bliss clear in her tone. Ella felt her heart warm at it, thinking of how Henry’s presence so often gave her that exact feeling. “No, I wasn’t able to get him today. He’s out fishing.”

“My apologies, love. It’s my fault that he’s so drawn to the sea’s call.” Killian’s shadow was now visible on the screen and Emma must have been able to tell. She looked at Ella in a way that seemed to be asking her if she was comfortable meeting Killian like this.

And Ella -- ready -- nodded.

“But I did meet someone else.” Ella saw the screen twist in Emma’s wrist so she was now facing Killian. “Killian, this is Ella, Henry’s friend!”

Killian beamed upon seeing her and hearing her name. “Ella! How nice it is to meet you!”

“And it’s nice to meet you too, Killian!”

“So you’re the woman my boy’s had his eye on! How are you two getting by?”

“Very well,” Ella answered. “But, we have got to talk about your sword fighting lessons. I thought you were a pirate, Captain Jones, but Henry doesn’t exactly fight dirty.”

Killian laughed heartily. “Don’t blame me! Blame his goody two shoes grandfather!”

“I don’t know about that, Mr. Good Form,” Ella shot back, earning herself a similarly hearty laugh from both herself and Emma.

For the next half hour, the three of them exchanged stories and updates about life in their respective realms. Emma asked if the resistance needed their aid, and while Ella told them they’d be alright, she stressed that she wanted to see them when things finally quieted down.

At the chime of a clock in the distance of Emma’s side of the phone, Emma frowned.

“We’ve got to take off,” she said. “We’re already late as it is and while I don’t have to worry about anyone signing my paychecks, I’d rather not get an earful from who or what ever might be at the station when we arrive.”

“Two doubloons says it’s about Granny going on another drunk crossbowing spree.”

“It’s okay,” Ella assured, laughing all the while at the image Killian so kindly painted her. “I’m going to take a bit more time for myself before Henry gets back.”

“You definitely deserve it. And tell Henry that we love him!”

“Of course!”

“It was nice to meet you!” Emma and Killian chorused.

“It was nice to meet you, too! And Emma, thank you for everything.”

KIllian placed an arm around Emma’s shoulders and Emma gave her a final appreciative grin at Ella from the other side of the phone.

After that, the swirling light blue appeared once more briefly before dissipating back to the blackened screen. Ella checked the phone to make sure that everything was back to normal and when the image of a happy couple holding each other upon a motorcycle appeared, she knew that it was.

Content, Ella laid back in her bed and as she had initially planned, went through Henry’s phone. The light bit of tension that had been in her belly whenever she looked at the collection of memories was still present, but lessened. It was especially so when she encountered pictures of Emma. Within her gazes as she decorated trees and carved up pumpkins in a room filled with people -- through Ella had no idea why she would be doing either of those things -- Ella saw not only hope for herself, but a friend who would help her realize that hope’s full potential.

An hour later, Ella heard shifting sounds outside of her tent, though she knew immediately just who it was on the other side of it.

True Love was funny in that way.

As she expected, the folds of the tent soon split to reveal a joyful Henry from the other side.

“Hey!” he called. Ella felt her heart swell as she looked at her lover. The bottoms of his pants as well as his shoes were dirty and he had an odor that she could definitely say was reflective of his morning’s activity.

“Hey! How was fishing?”

“Pretty good, but don’t ask Jack or Hook. They’re a bit...jealous.” Giggling, Ella gestured for him to come lay by her side once more. Henry didn’t hesitate before joining her and colliding their lips in a satisfying and hungry kiss. When they finally broke free after a few minutes, they held their stare as their heavy breaths rhytmically pulled their chests up and down.“And how was your morning alone?”

“Well, it wasn’t exactly a morning completely alone.”

Henry’s face fell. “I’m sorry,” he cooed, his head tilting sadly. “Resistance stuff?”

“No, and it was fine,” Ella assuaged. “I actually had a really nice chat with your mother.”

“Really? I thought she went to go visit my grandpa today.”

Ella smirked at Henry’s bewildered expression. “Wrong mother.”

If Henry’s face looked taken off guard before, he now looked like a child lost in the middle of the woods without so much as a compass to guide him. “Wh-what? You talked to Emma?”

“Yes, I did! And tomorrow, Regina’s going to help us call her because she loves and misses you.” Ella then smiled as she finished talking.

Henry softened, clearly still bewildered, but just as clearly happy about the implications behind that very smile. Just as Killian had done to Emma before they ended their conversation, he looped his arm around Ella’s shoulder.

“I knew you guys would get along. You two are a lot alike.”

“More than you could imagine.” Ella pulled Henry closer, contently cradling her head in his neck as she beamed. “And Henry?” she whispered.

“Yeah?”

“I know about the math test.”

[kryptsune]

A note about WTU {IMPORTANT PLEASE READ}

🌼So I am about to head to bed last night not feeling the best only to get a comment on AO3 on chapter 21 of WTU. If you want to read it go ahead but I have a few things I want to discuss and talk about considering that I do not want this to become an issue. Look I made WTU M for a reason. It is dark and has adult themes and content (though admittedly not even close to some of the stuff I have seen or read). It is not a fic for the faint of heart. This story will not change and I am not going to conform to people’s scrutiny either. Let me first start by stating that I make specific things vague for a reason. Those that have followed this blog for a while will remember my explanation as to why violence happens the way it does. I don’t feel I need to justify anything to my readers. If you have questions I am more than happy to address them. That said to have someone skim the fic after the notorious chapter 6 and write in the comments irks me. 

Guys the material and that frickin scene is not lost on me trust me and before anyone gets high and mighty with me in regards to Sans and Frisk let me explain why this scene exists and attempt to explain Sans actions in a spoiler-free way. I will not sugar coat that it is extremely difficult for me to do so and I will do my best. I also want to point out that I am in no way justifying his actions what I am trying to do is explain the two very different mindsets that exist in this world and how that clash causes ch 6 and how it is dealt with. 

Why do I make certain things vague? I suppose that is a good place to start. The whole point of my lack of clarity is supposed to have the reader (that is all of you) come to your own conclusions. There are a lot of themes in WTU and making assumptions and judgments is a big one. You are supposed to take a side that is the whole point. You can choose to be like Chara or you can choose to be like Frisk. Now I know what happened in that chapter concerned a lot of people specifically because it gives off that abusee falling in love with their abuser vibe. That is not the case at all and I want to make this perfectly clear, I DO NOT APPROVE ANY SUCH RELATIONSHIP IN THE SLIGHTEST. IT IS HORRIBlE AND I WOULD NEVER EVER EVER EVEN THINK ABOUT THAT TOPIC IN ANY OTHER WAY THAN DISGUSTING.  If it bothers you so much why is it in the fic especially since it is marked as Frans? Oh boy howdy, do I wish that I didn’t have to even write it. It made me sick for weeks as I attempted to handle that chapter and the one following it. I do not take these things lightly and I never will. I can not go into detail as to why the scene is in there however what I can say is that it is important and by important I mean there is no workaround (trust me I have tried it just does not have the same impact). Let me explain why this is:  1. Humans and monsters are different. They have different moral standards. One thing to them is different for humans due to biology and culture. Monsters who want kids need to both desire that outcome. Anything else is just fun/way to pass the time/ relief. What Sans does is not out of malice. In his mind, he doesn’t see the situation the same way Frisk does or us for that matter. That is the point. I am not justifying what he does, far from, and I want to be perfectly clear that it is there for a reason. It is vital to his and others character development. Sans is not a bad character. He is a conflicted character. One that is aggressive due to (plot spoilers) and backstory. If I explained it I feel people would understand but I am not going to do that as it would ruin more than 2/3 of the entire story. 

2. There are consequences to his actions. Oh, boy is there. I won’t state what they are but trust me when I say his actions both in the physical violence and the sexual hit him hard and for a very VERY long time. 

3. This is not solely a Frans fic. Firstly, people tend to automatically assume that this is all Frans shipping when it is actually quite the opposite. This is a story about how that comes to be but I won’t sugar coat anything in it. I treat my readers like adults and I will continue to do so. Second in this point is that Frisk does not fall in love with Sans... there is a reason I use Sans instead of Red. Sans is the person she first meets, the horrible monster that does all the things I have alluded to before. Red is not. Yes, they are the same person physically but not emotional/mentally. The point is that he changes and grows and sees a side to himself that he can not stand. Said situation is just the straw that breaks the camels back. After the events of Book 1, there is at least a 5-year gap. At that point, the past is in the past.

4. The story is not to its rebuttal yet. What do I mean by that? Well, the truth of the matter is this is an incomplete PUBLISHED story. I know exactly what I am doing and it is planned from start to finish. My readers do not. I do things in a very specific fashion that holds purpose and relevance for characters or chapters to come. Waterfall is a big one and eventually you will see what I am talking about as it will further dive into chapter 6s purpose. What I will say is this, after this scene in Waterfall the dynamic changes for the better. I promise you. I know some people are holding out for the hope that Sans will stop his shit. I can promise that to you, he will. 

5.  It is a work of fiction. This is a big one. There are plenty of novels or fictional works out there that have these kinds of material in them but something like that gets a pass while I get scrutinized? How is that remotely fair? I will handle the topic with respect and maturity as I always have. I have had people go through this and being a victim myself I understand where these kinds of comments come into play. That said. I can’t say this enough that it is important and I treat it as such. If it still bothers you and you want a further explanation as to the reasons I cannot state message me. I will explain. I am not doing so publically as I know people who don’t want the story spoiled. 

After all of that, all I can say is that you can choose not to read it if it bothers you that much. What I ask is that you respect my decisions as an author and take a step back. There are very few that know the full story and I keep it that way for a reason. The first book in the Welcome to the Underworld series is not for everyone. That is the point. It is meant to make you think and reflect just like the characters I am writing for. At the end of the day, you can either trust me in these decisions or not that is entirely up to you but I ask that you give me a chance and opportunity. I am very open with my work I am more than happy to clear up things privately for others. Guys, I put my heart and soul into his fic and those that really enjoy it I appreciate your continued support. We are all on this roller coaster ride together and I am thankful so many have stayed on with me.  It is always darkest before the dawn everyone, hang in there. Book 2 is pretty much all fluffy drabbles or mini stories. There is a reason I call the Underground the Underworld instead. It is supposed to have many allusions to Hell for both it’s inhabitants and it’s human captee. The darkness that I place in the story is supposed to make the good and happy all that more meaningful and impactful. I hope that eventually others begin to see those underlying themes. Thank you for reading this if you went through this word wall. I just felt like I needed to explain this a little further to avoid any unsavory conclusions. 

[ganymedesclock]

Honestly, though, I think the Blue Paladin being a looked-down-upon position and the impetus to try and cast Lance as another- mainly Black, but some people are eager to see him stay with Red or interpret him as a sort of secondary Right Hand figure rather than a Heart figure- boils down to a couple of things:

Heroism that puts supporting others above personal glory is seen as unheroic. Dull, uninteresting, this isn’t the sort of thing we tell stories about- we want to see heroes who take the front lines and take charge and have specific victories that were all them. An example of this is s4e6, where Lance personally inspired and empowered Allura in a very big dramatic manner, impossible to miss- and people don’t consider that a heroic moment for Lance. Only Allura- because Allura’s making the magic happen.

If you’re a character that supports others, there’s a common assumption that only the characters you’re supporting are important here- that you are accepting a subordinate or less important position because of prioritizing your connection over personal glory.

So because of this, a lot of misreading of Lance’s character goes on where he’s assumed to be dismissive of his accomplishments, when if anything, we’ve seen that it tends to be the opposite.

Insecure, needy Lance? Is the Lance who tries to play himself up, usually trying to exaggerate traits he doesn’t actually have. “I’m the cool ninja sharpshooter”? No, Lance, you’re not a cold stoic precision sniper or a too-cool rebel hotshot. You’re a compassionate sweetheart who uses your rifle scope to check on your team and that’s a wonderful thing to be.

Lance’s arc as a character is about outgrowing the need for personal glory. He’s set up in narrative contrast to people like Keith and Shiro whose personal demons are often that they try to give more of themselves than they actually have to lose.

Lance’s demon is trying to get in people’s way for short term glory. He does it in s2e4, he does it in s1e1. And in both situations, things go badly, he messes up, he feels bad. He’s adaptable enough that he is able to take roles from other people, and he’s exploiting a chunk of his real virtues to do so- but being an envious chameleon doesn’t do him any good.

Narratively, in the beginning of s1e1, Lance was acting as “Red Paladin” in a sense. Keith had abandoned his role and fled, burnt himself out, and Lance had moved into his place. This was, he told himself, good. Keith’s role is important, heroic the way people tell you heroes are supposed to be, he’s the cool guy out in front, he just snaps orders and people listen because he’s determined and a prodigy.

Lance is shown to be the one with a greatest sense of stories, who quotes action movies. He’s aware of popular media and what that means.

S4e4 also shows us that Lance is an actor who actively revels in the idea of presenting something that isn’t him, but that he thinks flatters him more, or that other people will like.

Keith is a very stereotypically heroic figure. It makes sense- he’s The Leader in every other continuity, and Voltron is an old property. Tracing back to the original GoLion? An entire generation of heroes were inspired off the original Keith. He’s bright-eyed, passionate, determined, a prodigy, he’s got that troubled temper.

And Lance saw that. And Lance was very jealous of him.

Because Lance isn’t a prodigy. He’s good, but he got there by hard work and diligence. He’s shown to have struggled with school and dislikes it. He’s not a brooding cool guy- he’s actually kind of a bubbly sweetheart.

So I’m not completely mad with the people who write off Blue, and insist that Lance is being sold short, because... they’re sort of being hilariously meta here, in that the whole idea that Lance’s brand of heroism is systematically devalued is something they’re already toying with in-universe when a sneakier underlying point of Lance’s character arc is he feels the desperate need to be anybody else to feel valued and important.

Here’s the thing though: that quest is doomed from the start. Because ultimately... Lance knows who he is. He has to, in order to be an actor.

Lance knew Blue’s virtues, without ever being told them, having specifically interrupted Allura to get her not to tell him those virtues, because he tells them to her in s4e6.

Lance’s story- Lance’s maturation as a hero- is the chameleon needs to shed its skin here. That is to say- Lance doesn’t need to find his sense of self, or his brand of heroism. He just needs to trust it. He needs to come to value, independently, that he himself and his contributions are enough.

Because many prior incarnations of Lance have been competitive hotshots- but that element of his character has always been vindicated by giving him the Right Hand position, where that drive and reckless energy are rewarded, are the natural infrastructure of his narrative position.

It’s VLD that says, “No. That’s not who Lance is. Lance isn’t the cool guy Han Solo archetype. He is more than this.”

VLD Lance, however warm, ‘fiery’ or energetic his outer layer seems, ultimately has a core of water and ice. Elements symbolically linked to patience, compassion, clarity of focus. And fittingly, we see that he has advantages his prior incarnations never did. In many prior continuities- Year One, Third Dimension, Force- Lance was a hazard onto himself and others. He’d take huge risks to show off or feed his own grudges or threaten to split the team over not being made leader. And even when Force made Lance a gunner, he was a short-range gunslinging brawler and his aim was hit or miss.

Conversely VLD Lance’s weapon basically spells out what his deal is. He has a devastating advantage over the entire rest of the team in having the single longest range and the best aim. Lance is preoccupied thinking he’s unheroic for not being right up in everyone’s business the way Keith Shiro, and Pidge fight- but VLD Keith picking up a gun is a markedly terrible shot. He has better weapon accuracy throwing his sword.

The spotlight, up in the center of everyone’s attention, is not a good place for a sniper. But Lance, by his bayard, that took that form specifically to tailor itself to him, is definitely a sniper. He’s the kind of person who sitting back out of the spotlight means he can rain precision-targeted hell onto just about anybody else on the battlefield. In the comics, Pidge’s analysis of her team’s weaknesses specifically has her ID Lance as the most dangerous member of the team, over Shiro, Keith, or Hunk.

Why?

Because as soon as she’s distracted with any of the others, Lance is going to snipe her in the back.

Because Lance is a team player, he fights at a distance, and taking your attention off Lance to focus on Keith or Shiro, the people who are much more natural spotlight grabbers? Is a huge mistake, but one that you’re set up to make. Because the whole point of a sniper is you don’t know they’re there until two of your buddies are dead from projectile attacks.

Consider Lance’s counterpart on Team Sincline.

Ezor is literally a disappearing act. She’s no sniper, but, rather, instead, her contributing factor is being an infiltrator. While other people have seized her enemy’s attention, she creeps around, follows them invisibly. She’s the one given the high-impetus job on Puig in s3e2 as the one who flushes out the leader and captures him, specifically with those same sort of Blue Paladin mentalities.

Because Ezor’s not the spotlight type- she’s the type you forget about right up until she flickers into sight in the middle of nowhere and gets you in a sleeper hold.

Now, it is difficult for Lance to make this adjustment for a deeper reason than just insecurity, and that’s also, Lance is full-stop the feelings guy! He yearns for connection and meaningful emotional bonds, and in that sense, he has some growing and adjustment to do. His reflex is to try and grab people’s attention, be flashy and showy. Again, in s4e4, when basically told to market themselves, Lance isn’t just the only one comfortable, he’s actually genuinely thrilled, and when Hunk points out what they’re doing feels kind of stupid, Lance contradicts him with “they’re loving us!”

Widespread approval is fantastic in Lance’s book. The only problem is, again... his actual brand of heroism doesn’t work very well with spotlights.

There’s a certain amount of growing pains for Lance, where he’s in the process of coming to grips with the realization that he really is a hero, but the kind of hero that shortsighted stereotypical media says isn’t important. Because oh, sure, nobody actually wants to be without the Heart, but nobody wants to give them the time of day or actually admit that any of their rough tough cool guy heroes need something as wimpy as, y’know, emotional labor or anything.

The important thing to keep in mind though is this is a way modern media is absolutely bullshit, and, that’s something that VLD is specifically dismantling the fuck out of. 

Because, spoiler: if you have emotions. you need emotional support. This is not negotiable. There is a reason I call this role the Heart, when the heart is a vital organ that will genuinely fuck you up real good if it’s not working properly.

In s3e3 the reason things did not go to hell was Lance and Blue. That’s not because “Lance is Keith’s babysitter” it’s because Keith has exploitable Red Paladin weaknesses and one of those is instability. So does Pidge. So do Shiro and Allura to a slightly lesser degree.

The thing is that taking care of each other and yourself emotionally is actually a damn important skill in literally any group of people you want to work together for any stretch of time. The other thing is that there is a flat-out gendered devaluation of this, in that this is a kind of heroism frequently demanded from women, but treated as nothing to write home about or actually heroic at all.

People in the fandom genuinely say that Lance is in a bad role, that he’s being shafted, that he can’t be doing anything important when he’s the feelings guy in an environment that has been held down by a dictator for so long that the overpowering sense of despair and hopelessness is genuinely a barrier to progress that they had to grapple with at the Balmera in s1e5 and that nearly got them killed in s1e9.

[obsidiancorner]

Tag Meme

I was tagged by the stellar @astroshorts. Thanks for the tag, my lovely. xoxo

The last…

Drink: Pomegranate Seltzer Water

Phone call: I missed a phone call from my boyfriend earlier when he was at the store. The last person I actually talked to, though, was my beloved little sister (I don’t care if I’m only a minute older. She’s the only little sister I get dammit.)

Text message: Also my sister

Song you listened to: Semi Charmed Life by Third Eye Blind

Time you cried: two words: Story Core. That shit had me in tears.

Have you ever…

Dated someone twice: I have, in fact, dated Rob twice. 

Kissed someone and regretted it: yep.

Been cheated on: Yep

Lost someone special: Yes. Both grandparents on my mom’s side were incredibly special people and I miss them both dearly. 

Been depressed: short answer- yes

Gotten drunk and thrown up: Yep. In my early-mid twenties, I was friends with a functioning alcoholic and she would always con me into trying to keep up with her... because I was stupid, I tried. It never ended well. DO NOT DO IT. Your liver will thank you. 

Three favorite colors: Blue, purple, and green

In the last year have you…

Made new friends: I joined Tumblr this year, so all my mutuals count (I think?) but I’m especially close to a few of them. 

Laughed until you cried: In this house and/or with the sister I have? Absolutely. There is a lot of laughter in this house, despite the chronic depression that my entire family is plagued with. 

Met someone who changed you: Yes. They didn’t make me. They just inspired me to be better and I changed for the better as a result. 

Found out who your friends are: the ones who constantly support me and push me on, despite my insecurities. 

Kissed someone on your facebook list: Aside from Rob (because duh), no. 

Do you have any pets: A beautiful dilute torbie (cat) named Kokomo and a Shi-chon named Sadie. 

Do you want to change your name: My last name eventually... maybe? I don’t know if Rob and I will ever marry... but aside from that? No. 

What did you do for your last birthday: Sat at home, probably perusing Tumblr.

What time did you wake up: I’m a parent of a child on the Spectrum who keeps absurd sleeping hours... I couldn’t even begin to tell you. It was still dark and I hadn’t had my coffee yet so brain functions were at a bare-minimum, so there’s that. 

What were you doing last night at midnight: Watching That 70′s Show with Rob before bed.

Name something you can’t wait for: the day I can get my drawing tablet

When was the last time you saw your mom: I live with her because Rob and I need help with Jenna. She requires constant supervision and is usually a two adults to one kid ratio requirement. 

What are you listening to rn: Rob is watching Season 2 of The Walking Dead right now so lots of screaming and zombie gurgles?... it’s just kind of on in the background. So is the home screen tinkling of the PS4, the occasional popping of the carbonation in my seltzer water, and the clickity-clack of my typing. 

Have you ever talked to someone named Tom: There were several “Thomas” boys in my school growing up... So occasionally from elementary school up until high school graduation. 

Something that gets on your nerves: people that bully others online.     -> this was astroshorts’ answer and I’m leaving it there because I’m the one who argues for or helps support the one being bullied. Anon posters get argued for because they probably won’t come out to defend themselves... hence anon to begin with... but if it’s someone who will fight back on their own? I just give support. 

Most visited website: Tumblr, my Google Drive, and my Redbubble store after I’ve posted anything about it. AO3, as well, when I post stuff. What can I say? I’m addicted to the sinking feeling when a piddly amount of views come in... That’s a lie. I’m usually painfully optimistic only to have that optimism squashed. lol *shrug* oh well. 

Hair Color: a medium brown.... It’s my natural color. 

Long or short hair: I usually keep my hair long. an inch or two below the shoulders at a minimum. Usually it’s around the small of my back. 

Do you have a crush on someone: Rob, I guess? Does it count if you’re in a committed relationship with the person? 

What do you like about yourself: I’m opinionated... And whichever person hit my inbox with that comment about loving reading my opinions on stuff, I freakin’ love you. Your Anon comment made me cry. 

Blood type: A Negative. 

Nickname: Beccaboo. Got it in band in high school and it’s just sorta stuck. 

Relationship status: Long-term committed relationship 

Zodiac: Cancer sun, with Mercury and Gemini heavily influencing my whol chart. 

Prounouns: she/her

Favorite tv shows: iZombie, The Walking Dead (and Talking Dead), That 70′s Show, 

Tattoos: 4- A gemini sign (gemini/cancer cusp but mercury is heavy enough an influence that my cancer sun doesn’t show much) on my right shoulder, a star pattern on the small of my back, an autism one on my left side, and a locked heart on my left wrist.  

Right or left-handed: depends on what I’m doing. For writing, right. For almost everything else, left.-> oddly enough, astroshorts, same. 

Surgery: Tonsils when I was 6. 

Sport: Horseback riding and Marching Band. Anyone who says people who march don’t have any athleticism, I call bullshit. Marching Band members put in long hours of constant marching and playing through a week. They work not only arms and legs, but lung capacity as well. It takes an incredible amount of effort to be a good marching band. That means keeping up top lung performance at the 7:59 time mark as you did before the first minute of an 8-minute show is through. I can promise you that after having marched, sometimes with ungodly spiteful step size, for that long, even a football player would be saying that what band members do takes athleticism. Fact. We had several football players in our band who had to skip their halftime talk with their coach to march with the band. And that’s not even mentioning constant playing through parade routes that can range anywhere from one to three miles in length on average. Marching Band is a goddamn sport. 

Vacation: I’ve been to Australia, the Continental Divide in Colorado, all over Ohio, Washington D.C., North Carolina, New York City, Illinois, Lake Huron in Michigan, Illinois, Indiana, and the Great Smoky Mountains in Tennessee. I want to go to Greece though.  

Pair of shoes: My Converse sneakers. They have a nifty design on them. I also have a super-comfy pair of stilettos that I love dearly. 

Eating: what about it? I used to not and was in the “target weight range” but looked sickly because of malnourishment. Now I do eat and am somewhat overweight but look and feel much healthier. For clarity, it wasn’t really an eating disorder. I ate when I was hungry but was always stressed so I almost never ate. I would go days without eating before realizing I hadn’t eaten in forever and would eat a bowl of cereal or a couple slices of pizza. 

Drinking: only on select nights when I “wine and write”... alcoholism runs in my family so I definitely don’t make a habit of drinking too much. In my youth it was something to do with the crew... now it’s just me and my characters every so often. Never to handle a problem. that’s a slippery slope I have no business being on. 

I’m about to: go to bed, probably. it’s 10:58 pm at this moment. 

Waiting for: the day I can get a better computer for art and my drawing tablet. 

Want: the drawing tablet, in the most immediate sense. In the long term, though, it is to know that Jenna will eventually be able to make on her own. Rob and I won’t be around forever and I worry about what will happen to her when we are gone. If we can’t get her current path altered to one better suited for her needs, I’m terrified of what will happen to her if something were to happen to me and Rob prematurely... even more so when we are all older. 

Get married: Maybe someday but Rob and I are in no rush to even get engaged. We love each other deeply and are in a committed relationship and that is good enough for us. 

Career: Right now I’m a stay-at-home mom. But I would love to get an art career to take off... though the odds of that are slim to none. 

Which is better:

Hugs or kisses: hugs. I’m picky about who touches me at all... so I’m especially picky about who is kissing me. 

Lips or eyes: eyes

Shorter or taller: I’m 4 feet 10 inches tall (1.47 meters for my metric friends) so take a guess... I need someone taller to help me reach shit.

Older or younger: older

Nice arms or stomach: arms. Dear god, arms. 

Hook up or relationship: relationship

Troublemaker or hesitant: Hesitant... I guess? I tend to keep my nose pretty clean. 

Have you…

Kissed a stranger: No

Drunken hard liquor: I’m 29...

Lost glasses/contact lenses: I don’t have either... though I probably should... It’s getting harder to see some things clearly. White lettering on a tv’s guide screen? difficult from too far away. Digital clocks? tough to decipher from too far away. I used to be able to read that stuff from another room. 

Turned someone down: Yes

Sex on the first date: Yes.... but we had been friends for years so it wasn’t exactly the same as, say, a blind date that ended in a one-night stand. (No judgement. You all do you... just make sure you’re protected.)

Broke someone’s heart: Yes. Bonus points for me for two people breaking each other’s hearts simultaneously. I’m an over achiever and he was too. But I miss him, even though it could never have been... both of them, actually. timing is a bitch sometimes. 

Had a broken heart: Yes... see above

Been arrested: Nope but I did grow up in a small town and worked as a third shift server at a local restaurant so they let me sit in the back of their cop car while they chatted with me while I was on break once. They were fun cops... went to high school with one. 

Cried when someone died: yes... isn’t that fairly commonplace when someone who is close to you or you love dies?

Fallen for a friend: Rob was a friend for years before we started dating. I’ve known him for almost 15 years and we’ve been together for 10. Other than Rob, though, a couple times. See mutual heartbreak comment a few bulletpoints above.  

Do you believe in:

Yourself: No

Miracles: I believe stuff happens that has no viable explanation at present. That doesn’t necessarily equate to a miracle though. It just means it can’t be explained right now. 

Love at first sight: No

Santa claus: Who made this meme?

Kiss on the first date: Of course.

I’m going to be a fun-sucker and not tag anyone else because my primary circle is in the Dragon Age fandom and I know most of them have already done it. If anyone WANTS to do this, of course, feel free and say I tagged you so I can see your answers! <3

[fortheloveofcringe]

My Newfound Narrative

It’s been an enchanted, beautiful October. So many highs more than the lows. Or maybe I’m saying this because for the first time in my life, I really started counting my blessings more than being depressed and introspective like before.

 It cut through my bone. Everything that I went through with this year. But it’s like a nightmare, or maybe a dream I can’t almost remember correctly. I wake up everyday wondering if everything is real, still. Bad memories fading like ashes in the wind that previews a clear blue sky afterwards. My treacherous mind finally cooperating with me. Finally I am my mind. I’m not some crazy superstition or imagination of the worst anymore. I am my best self. I have waited for this in years. I can’t believe this.

 4:24 A.M. and I still can’t process what to exactly write. Usually it flows through my hands effortlessly, specially when I’m dealing with something painful. I guess the side effect of being too happy is losing some basic writing skills perhaps. I’m happy. I can’t believe this. I keep on saying thus because I really can't. I AM HAPPY. Memories of the party a night ago (22nd) keeps on flashing in my head. Girls and gays twerked on me like I’m some frat dude and I didn’t flinch one bit, I was having the time of my life, I had faces all over my face, I had men taking photos with me, grinding against my body, I was drunk, I felt so loved, FOR THE FIRST TIME, I was screaming my lungs on stage as an emcee to gauge the audience, I was owning the crowd like I have never before. I danced to so many songs I can’t remember which appropriate dance steps I used for each dope beat. All I know is, I was in motion, I’m not no more stuck or feeling stuck, and I know, with the skin of teeth, that this year has been the best year of my life. I wouldn’t go as far as saying I wasn’t myself that night because of intoxication, I believe I have reached a new level of me, WTH, super BET, LOL. When I went home, I was wet from the foam party. I had to deal with a little bit of anxiety, but nevertheless that was exactly what I wanted, my smelly bed, my dusty books, my aging laptop, after long crazy weeks of dancing on heels and falling in on them, dressing up, editing images, making videos, hosting, playing music, taking videos, having fun, connecting with others. I still haven’t found a best friend, but I know he will come. He will make me feel, like I don’t need to do all these things just to be recognized. He will stick around with me because, I’m a nice man. And I believe this, I have been kind, when I started being kind to myself.

 It’s not just butterflies and rainbows. I lost people along the process, not because I was becoming spiteful like I used to be, but finally I have enough self respect to prioritize myself above others and what others would feel. I stopped bad thoughts from entering my head, like how I would stop food that shouldn’t be in my body, or situations have been a little better because now I understand I am my own reactions, my reactions define me and I decided to fit and tailor them accordingly. I cut people off who made me unnecessarily uncomfortable, I ended connections that didn’t seem genuine. When you become successful, people tend to show who they are. Some become envious when they are not above you anymore and you’re not the same small man you used to be. They would take out their daggers and start poking holes in your back not knowing your back has long been gone and away. You’re free from their ghosts and you’re free from your own cage.

 With that said, I have more than enough reasons to be completely and undeniably thankful.

 I’ll start with my crown.

 I’m a beauty queen. I am Queen of Asian 2019. I have never remotely and possibly considered walking on heels around a crowd because I’m usually a geek in front of a computer, but I did.

 When I first entered ADFC, I saw this bond paper with the print, “THE AUDITIONS” King and Queen of Asian 2018. It inspired me, how our school was that inclusive compared to others, but I wasn’t ever considering it. I didn’t fit the mold, until recently, conceivably.

 It was just a funny thought as I jam to TS’s reputation that time, to join a pageant. I wasn’t in my best shape, I was incredibly chunky and had so many acne that time. I felt ugly. I really do believe everything that you go through leads you to some unexpected triumph. When I dated my instructor earlier last year and ended by 9th of the New Year’s day, I thought I was going to kill myself by the end of February 14. First love ya’ll. First love has that toxic spell. But I told myself, “Hey, a few months from now, you’ll be skinny because of depression and you’ll be more attractive than before because you’ll take his insults on your physicality as a match that’ll light a fire of self-care culture within you, how about that?”

 So Crystal Powers, where do I begin. This name. My name. A pseudo with so many meanings. It originated from Ariana Grande’s song “The Light Is Coming”.

 There is a part on the music video of that song where Ariana holds this glowing orb of light which I translated to as some sort of symbol for consciousness. I used this image when I meditate. Sort how the Buddhist speaker Dandapani would tell me how to meditate on his Youtube videos. My mind works this way as of today because of this culture I made within me. My consciousness is like this glowing orb and my memories are like paintings on a big dark hall of a universe. I take this glowing orb on a bad memory, all I will ever think about is bad things, I take this glowing orb on the good stuff, I’ll feel good, thankful, happy contented. I’m glad I chose the right paintings to highlight. I call it “The Crystall Ball Power.”

 I introduced Crystal to the world, 4 days after my 25th. The name is actually derived from a few aspects.

 "Crystal" came from the very crystal skyscraper crown insignia/logo of the Mister & Miss ADFC that I co-designed with our Creative Director, the royal prince himself, Direk Andrew  Duma-up and our Art Director, Hon. Rachelle Pineda, my idol (this is still an understatement of how much I admire her), a few moons ago. It is a symbol of unshakeable power and transparency. Sharp, Polished and Beautiful. The last name, "Powers" came from my all time favorite Filipino Drama TV show character played by Eula Valdez and of course Ms. Jodi Sta. Maria, "Amor Powers". A woman whose wit and resilience mirrors mine.  I could have chosen something like “Amber” which could be a name within my real name, but I wanted the feminine creation of me to be of meaning. A total Glamazon of unpredictability and electricity.

 It all went by so fast. I did mistakes but damn, I have a few trophies, a few sashes, a crown sitting in my room and a 5 inch, miraculously, not broken pair of beige colored heels, and memories I WOULD TREASURE more than the rhinestones I had on my body that night.

I wrote this facebook posts exactly the night after I was crowned on the 12th of October:

 “I won. Crazy. How? No. It’s not what you think it is. It’s me wearing astronomical heels for the first time and walking with shaking heart and feet but still moving forward. It’s presenting myself in front of a crowd who I know have beauty standards that I don’t fit in. It’s me, running up and down 6 floors to attend complete rehearsals for the pageant that I was supposed to be just a make-up artist for. It’s me helping the other candidates with all of my heart, without irony or agenda, because I know they wouldn’t approach me if they didn’t trust me and I am grateful for them for creating a safe space, a loving, AND FUNNY environment during the whole phase. The tomboys were such sweethearts! Ella was a firecracker, an inspiration even with all of her struggles from the past, she rose above, Yna was the voice of direction, Sammy was my rock and shoulder to lean on, Khem and Kim were the softest and caring hearts(Thank you for the hugs), Ariel reminded me of a young me, Nicole was the sister I never had, Macy was never dull, and she taught me the beauty of silence and grace (and funny sexy stuff hahah), Shannel was the strongest heart among us. Sir Jeff, Ma'am Edz, the organizers and Ma'am Julia for their never ending patience, grit and love, I am forever grateful. I learned this year, to actually love and accept myself without doubt, and these girls taught me that, from everyday being with them. I moved forward because I wasn’t afraid to say sorry when I committed errors from my past and I became honest with myself because I stopped hoping for the approval of others, only the approval of myself, I took the little moments of peace that led me to clarity, to listen to my voice and to rise to every occasion, even when I almost ended myself after terrible events in my life, from bad relationships, losing jobs and all of these downward spirals. I can surely say I am happy to be alive now. This is my full circle moment. Seeing my mom cheer for me amongst the crowd, with support of my aunts and my lovely ADFC family, Ma’am Jai, my handler, for being delicate and gentle with coaching me and providing the fierce looks, Loury and Sir Erick for having back, literally 😉the hardwork was truly worth it. Thank you to everyone who screamed at the top of their lungs to support me. Thank you. I breathe this fire of hope for you.

 One thing checked off of my "to accomplish list" Become a TRUE QUEEN.

 May the Power be with You.

 Crystal Powers. Queen of Asian 2019”

 I think of this post as an elaborate painting of the faces that helped Crystal, become Crystal.

 On the same night, my Aunt Mommy, who was supporting me and watching my every step from the far lands of the almost-winter in Wisconsin, wrote this:

 “An opportune stage name you chose that denotes many meanings. I, as your aunt, attests to who you are since the dawn of time. You are a ball of peaceful energy, giving your abundance of intellect, inherent courage and endurance, confidence, intuition, vision, and love to everything you do.

 Your Auntie Mommy is very proud of you and so dearly loves you.”

 This is all that matters to me now. My loved ones, the people who love me. I had rough words thrown at me for being Crystal. I was specifically instructed to act like a pageant queen by so many souls, but I told myself I wouldn’t be on that stage if I wouldn’t be me. I have people cheering for me now, calling me Queen. Fuck me because this is so surreal. And for the first time in my life, a small wish was granted, I received flowers.

…

 “A flower doesn’t compete with another flower, a flower simply grows.”

 One person I haven’t mentioned publicly about my growth is a man who used to be a person I considered an enemy. He made me understood the very Buddhist principle that I used in my FINAL Q&A answer. He was beside me when we won the championship for the best VLOG in MOR UNIVERSITY which bested out the other top tier schools, he was there cheering for me even when I didn’t need to be cheered for, he was honest with me, to the point where he revealed some dark thoughts that he had about himself, above all we share the “Eye of Providence” as an icon. Charles Diaz, if you ever come across this long litany of thankfulness, I want to again tell you how grateful I am for you. For forgiving me when I committed mistakes against you and showing me what a true regal man is. Thank you for bringing Jai to me, Thank you for being straightforward with me, thank you for so many things, and for being you. Subliminally, you taught me so much. I treasure you, my friend. My Mister ADFC.

 …

 I had fun Misters and Misses of ADFC that night on the 22nd, too.

 My journey on becoming the so called “Visual Director” of the pageant was kind of unconventional. When I came to our school. I wanted to be lowkey. Like a ghost. I was around but I didn’t want anyone to see me because there are repercussions when your are known. I have learned the hard way from my previous school as an Editor-in-Chief at the school paper. You have a huge red dot at your back when people know your name.

 And this lady, had the nerve, to take a chance on me and I will be forever grateful for whatever made her decide to bring me out of my dark cave.

 Hon. Rachelle Erica Pineda just wanted me to overlook and host the activities on the Liberal Arts Days on 2018. It catapulted from there. I wasn’t forming any irony or agenda when I told sir Kim that I wanted to be part of the school. I want to serve the people who served me kindness and compassion when I was losing faith in humanity.

 She and her family had a tough one this year from the Earthquake, the elections, almost everything was crazy for a man to process and yet when I saw her dance during the party, I knew  I want to work for her and her family. They know balance more than anyone.

 I met Direk Andrew Duma-up through her. This man, he is something else. God-tier.

 And yet he’s always so gentle with me. He was always careful with explaining his visions with me. I’m in a daze when I talk to him. And to think he’s an accomplished man. I am in awe. I’m crying as I write these words down because I have always been used to people scowling at me. Both of them never made me feel useless or unwanted. They channelled my pain and depression  by making me do things, completely out of my normal humdrum. They made me create. I love creating. I loved everything they made me do. When I was at that LED wall operating spot, I have never felt so good I my entire life, more than winning the pageant I was in, honestly.

 I was laughing and happy the entire time. Every time I heard his voice and others, at the intercom of the headphones, I was just cracking the hell up. I have never worked with less tension ever before. I felt so uplifted. Being up-close with one moment celebrities will never compare to working with these two precious gems.

 I wish to practice more and improve on my graphic powers to create more beautiful things for them. This is my vow.

 God, I’m so lucky.

 The candidates this year, I had something with them compared to last year, except of course with Charles.

 I had Push-pop candy moments with Jared, got warm hugs from Steph, I shared some thoughts on answering questions and Gummy Bears with AJ, DENVER, VINZLEE, jaw-dropped for this band on stage with Aidan, took photos with Roel and the rest of the dudes and dudettes of the pageant (well gummy worms with others, too) LOL. I had moments with the caring new Mister and Miss of our school. I even fangirled with Renzel for we are both MIDZY’s for ITZY, a k-pop girl group. We were laughing at their photos, I was with their journey even if I intentionally wanted to be just a ghost in the corner because I didn’t want to spill to much with them, because that happens when I get too close. HAHA.

 Okay. I’m going to address this unintentional ELEPHANT in the room.

 Macky.

 Siopao.

 Unggoy.

 Whatever he wants to call himself, but I would very much prefer to call him, baby.

 Ayiee! SHET! AHAHAHHA!

 I don’t easily get crushes on anyone but good lord I’m a mess around him. May effect.

Mc Holden Lamoste is no. 12 in the roster. He’s a good dancer, although he may have been nervous during his talent, he’s a talker, he addresses everyone with a mid arm bump, he smiles like a man who just found 1000 pesos on the ground out of nowhere, he knows how to tease and he talks like he’s gay. Maybe that’s why there is a pull.

 The Macky Pull?

 What the heck. I don’t want it, but I have it. Just like a pimple or a bad tummy moment. Okay that’s just an out of context analogy. All I’m saying is he is incredibly attractive.

 I know how to talk to boys. To everyone really, fuck it, I host. But when we chat, I’m nervous. Incredibly. I missed this feeling. Butterflies. Sunshine on a face, smiling for no God-damned reason.

 I know it’s going nowhere, he is straight, allegedly, as he claimed.

 But if we become friends, I wouldn’t laugh about it really. I need a little more laughter, though and even just watching him lose his bones from dancing too much does the trick.

 …

 The trick I used this year to improve my mental state was to just live in the moment.

 I’ve read somewhere that if you repeat the same pattern of behaviour in your daily operations and expect different results, you are pathologically insane. I didn’t want to be insane. I had to change my game if I want to change my life.

 I started writing in my journals, my unicorn book and my foxes book, compared the entries from my old journals and I saw my pattern of behaviour before. I had so much entitlement. I was so entitled to thinking I could hate everything. My life, the people around me, the circumstances and the harsh experiences I had to deal with at a young age. I was just being human, yes, but it wasn’t an excuse. When I read my entries now, I just smile. The difference is mesmerizing. I write more things of which I am grateful for.

 I have accomplished more things. I’m now a third year student (this is the oddest ever, I never last a year anywhere, I have an extreme case of drapetomania, because of my set-up as a young child, always in another land, nowhere permanent. Corazon Gitano) I have assisted in not one but 3 pageants including the one I competed in, okay I did a lot, my body might be tired but my soul isn’t. THIS IS STRANGE.

When I was hosting that eve of 22nd, I made a conscious decision to make sure I leave with a smile, to find a version of fun that I had never had before.

 Here’s a toast to more things to accomplish.

 Here’s a toast to a the brave hearts.

 Here’s a toast to life.

 Fuck. I’m so happy.

 This is my happiness painted in words. Thank you for reading my happiness. I hope you find and paint yours, too.

[thefairefolk-rp]

Hey, Razmadi! Your original character, Tove Echo, has been accepted!

Name/Nickname: Razmadi

Age: 19

Prefered Pronouns: she/her

Timezone: cst

Activity and Availability (Please answer in words as well as rating your availability from 1-10): As per usual I think

Have you read the rules and FAQ? Yes

IC INFORMATION

Character Name | FC: Tove Echo | Miles McMillan

Age: 479

Species: Faerie (pooka)

Court:  solitary (shark clan)

Occupation: Storyteller

Appearance

Tove keeps his hair long and either tied back or braided. It is midnight black and usually thick and wavy but can become very dry and brittle from overexposure to seawater. In the evenings, he’ll saturate it in oil, oftentimes teaching the nearby children how to braid while he does it. Tove appears to be very lithe and slight with willowy limbs and a height reaching 6 feet.  Tove spends most of his time either in the water or on the cliffs, wearing only a sealskin kilt or a large blue seagrass shawl on land because he feels naked without the brush of the water on his skin. Tove will also wear a seagrass and sealskin sling to put objects that he finds in. He usually gives them to the jewelry makers, keeping a few with odd textures for himself.

Tove, while being very graceful in water, is completely hopeless on land. He almost appears to be a different person as he goes from the purposeful diver to a clunky and haphazard mess. While standing Tove appears to be in a constant state of motion. His head is often either pointed to the sky or turned to listen to one sound or another with greater clarity. It’s very rare for Tove to completely focus on one person at one time. Tove usually has a soft echoing tone but when he snaps it becomes strident and cold. Tove has an alluring song voice; he is able to hit high notes that his peers are denied with a gentle sweet tone. People tend to ignore or barely tolerate Tove because of his blindness. To some his strange mannerisms, silvery eye color and disability make him a cursed being, something to be avoided, shunned or snapped at. Others ignore him believing him to be useless and an annoyance. Children however, seem the most curious about Tove and his strange eye color, they flock around him in the mornings and evenings asking him to sing for them, to teach them a new tune or braid. Some even ask to go diving with him. Their parents usually never allow it however, as some worry that Tove may lose their child in the current causing them to be bowled over and possibly drown; while others believe Tove will drown them on purpose to relieve his cursed nature. Tove would do neither, but no one is ever convinced.

Personality

Tove is gentle and patient especially with children. His peers however are a different story. They seem to make a game out of taunting and belittling him. Tove tries to ignore it for the most part, but sometimes he feels the need to prove them wrong, to prove that he’s not helpless or useless. This often ends in victory or injury, one his Mother is proud of and his Father scornful. Tove while being a strong swimmer has a dream of swimming with whales. One he is determined to fulfill. Tove often tries to mimic their whistles on land, though he admits it doesn’t sound as beautiful as the ones he hears echoing in the sea. Tove also has a type of sixth sense that helps make up for his blindness. He is rather adept at sensing approaching storms or changing currents in the sea. Tove can also weave a fairly strong glamour, however, in order to do so successfully he must have someone describing in detail the object or person and then again describe in detail what he should be glamouring it with. Most people won’t take the time and Tove doesn’t bother to ask.

Background

Tove’s mother is his role model, she’s strict and stern but her number one rule for Tove was to never let anyone tell him what he could and could not do. He took those rules to heart and tried to live by them, it was hard. Especially when his childhood was filled with the common phrases of ‘Oh no you can’t do that you’ll get hurt’ or ‘If you do that you’ll injure someone for sure’ or his least favorite ‘ You’re useless’. He tried to act like it didn’t hurt but sometimes, sometimes enough was enough. He began trying to prove himself, to show that he wasn’t as useless as they all called him, that he could do anything they could do. More often than not he ended up with an injury and belittling lecture from his father. Ronan was just like the others; he believed Tove with his strange black hair and creepy silver eyes was unnatural and cursed. He only spoke to Tove to order him to do something or belittle him. His mother was the only one on his side and her voice shone with pride whenever he came back, successful or not because at least he tried. That was all that mattered to her.

As he grew older his quests to prove himself to his peers waned, until it became very rare for Tove to go on a quest to support his determination to not be useless. Instead he keeps to the sea, diving for shells or pearls, using mainly touch and memory.  Other times he’s perfecting the art of storytelling or trying to come up with a new idea to swim out with the whales. It’s a nice existence in the dark, touch and hearing tells him more about the world than seeing ever could, at least that’s what he tells himself. In the evenings, twice a week sometimes more, Tove pays a visit to the Moon temple to offer his respects among other things. Children often gather round him filling the space that most of his peers leave empty. They like his eyes, often playing a game to see who could find something with the closest color. Tove lets them, it’s of no consequence and it makes him smile. They’re one of the only ones that describe things to him. Most assume that because he was born blind he can’t miss what he never had. Yet he still loves to hear the children describe things that usually he only feels. In return, he sings for them and laughing happily when they join in.  With them there, it isn’t so bad in the dark.

[darthfledermaus]

My Review of The Last Jedi

I’ve seen TLJ a couple of times now. Overall I recommend it. There is much to like and some to love, but there are also problems that are not minor. Below I have some thoughts that include many spoilers. Don’t read further if you haven’t seen the movie.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • •

What I Liked

Quite a lot.

The movie really quite beautiful. Johnson’s use of color and composition to establish pacing and tone are brilliant. I love that so many wonderful artists and craftspeople work at Lucasfilm doing animation, sets, character design, costumes, creatures, and CGI. They are some of the best in the world and I admire their work unreservedly. When Lucasfilm announced with the new trilogy that they would do as much as they could with practical effects I was skeptical that it would look cheesy in this modern digital age, but by now they really have it down.

It is especially great that they used the original molds to create a new Yoda puppet and had Frank Oz back. Unlike James Earl Jones, whose voice work in Rogue One clearly shows that he has aged, Oz’s Yoda is as he always was. Delightful.

The score, again by John Williams, is very good as always. I don’t find it as compelling as in some of the movies (the prequel trilogy, despite numerous problems, had stunning orchestration), but it is easily good enough. (The sound design was perfectly adequate, but it bears note that Ben Burtt, who did the sound in all of the first 6 SW movies, is no longer involved. Sound design is something not usually noticed in an action movie, but his work was brilliant and its absence leaves the new movies without that extra touch of auditory perfection.)

I also like the way Johnson establishes several themes that repeat and resonate throughout the movie. The basic one is of letting go of the past, but others include stepping up to responsibility and learning about one’s true self. I like how these are echoed back and forth between the heroes and villains. The use of humor throughout the movie was well timed and tonally right (some have complained about the Poe/Hux communications gag at the start, but I thought it worked just fine). I think the thematic coherence is a lot of why the movie has scored so well with critics, who really tend to notice that sort of thing.

All of the action scenes are well filmed—it is always clear what is happening, which is often not the case with modern movies. I have come to appreciate clarity very much.

The cast is good to excellent, with no poor performances. The performances by Adam Driver, Oscar Isaac, Daisy Ridley, and Mark Hamill are especially solid, but there are no weak links. Ridley and both of her co-stars have great chemistry together. Andy Serkis also does very well with his portrayal of of what turned out to be a fairly uninteresting villain, doing some fun scenery chewing without overdoing it.

Mark Hamill plays old tired Luke very, very well. Luke was always a flawed character who makes mistakes but comes through at the end. He manages to be true to that history while also being, ultimately, a wise Jedi master.

I thought Kylo was one of the best conceived characters in TFA and I continue to like him TLJ. It was a great decision to not try to out-Vader Vader. His further development into a more mature and capable villain (but not super-villain) makes internal sense and works on pretty much every level. The relationship between him and Rey is very well played.

Similarly, the reveal that Rey’s parents were nobodies was the right choice. There was no established character that she could be related to without causing all sorts of plot problems. As Rian Johnson has said in interviews, the hardest thing that she could have discovered was that she had been abandoned by her now dead, no good parents, just as the hardest thing for Luke to find out in ESB was that his father was Vader. Good choice.

The scene with Kylo and Rey fighting Snoke’s guards is solid, ending with the mutual discovery that they will have to be enemies after all. That is a very well done piece of romantic drama, almost operatic. It fits the emotional scope of of a SW movie perfectly.  

Luke vs. Kylo was also really fun to watch. The choice to have him then pass on is bittersweet, but fit the old tired Luke character they had established since the last scene in TFA. I really hope they bring him back as a Force ghost in the next movie. Hamill has become a fine actor as he has aged and it will be a shame if they do not take further advantage of his talents—especially with the untimely passing of Carrie Fisher.

Speaking of Carrie, I thought she did well with Leia. I think it shows that she was in ill health. It doesn’t look like she had full control of her face and physical movements, for whatever reasons that may be related to a long and sometimes difficult life and career (about which she bravely made no secret during her lifetime). If she had been healthier I think she could have portrayed Leia a bit more fluidly. As it was, seeing her play this role for the last time was evocative and bittersweet. Having Leia display facility with the Force by instinctively using telekinesis to save herself, is a an inspired touch. The final meeting between her and Luke, in which they were able to share one last tender joke, is perfect. Eyes did not remain dry in the audience as that played out.

Finally, the last scene, with a force-sensitive child inspired by the story of Luke Skywalker, is great touch.

What I Was Neutral or Ambivalent About

I don’t mind the porgs. The new character, Rose, is a serviceable but a fairly unremarkable example of the Spunky Female trope. She’s presumably set up as a love interest for Finn, since Rey will almost certainly continue to be asexual (Rey/Kylo is not going to happen) and Disney is unlikely to go with the fan speculation of a romantic relationship between him and Poe.

It was a good choice to get rid of Snoke to make way for the ascension of Kylo, but Snoke turns out to be a generic villain in the same manner that Rose is a generic supporting hero. He is almost exactly the same character as the Emperor is in RotJ. He even dies in the same way—done in by overconfidence in the loyalty of his apprentice, in his throne room, while trying to turn a young potential Jedi who shows great promise. It’s fine that they take Snoke out in act 2 of the second movie instead of act 3 of the third, but that variance in timing from the original trilogy turns out to be the only thing notable about him.

What I Didn’t Like

I thought the script had some significant problems. The biggest was the side plot with Rose and Finn. SW is a genre full of harebrained schemes—the plan to rescue Leia from the Death Star was pretty farfetched, for example. However, this one is not only an obvious long shot, but also nonsensical. The First Order can track ships through hyperspace, OK. All of their ships can do that tracking, but our heroes know (how?) that only one of them is actually doing it. So they need to do, uh, something or other to interrupt it. It’s a bunch of obvious bullshit technobabble that could easily have been streamlined into something that makes more sense. They set it up like a mini caper film but then don’t really follow through. (The bit with the video call to Maz is hilarious, though.)

The trip to Canto Bight is well-filmed, but…problematic. Unfortunately, we have yet another movie made by very rich people about how all rich people are irredeemable monsters. Rose’s declaration that the only way to get wealthy enough to visit a casino planet is to trade in weapons is just stupid. We have a galaxy spanning civilization with pervasive space travel and city-covered planets. Yet nothing but weapons can be traded profitably? Food, minerals, luxury goods, speeders, droids? Nothing? There are no rich movie (er, holovid) producers? The banality of what I can only think of as unthinking Hollywood Marxism-lite, from incredibly rich capitalist moviemakers, is beyond parody. Of course, this could just be Rose’s ignorance (any glance at a typical social media feed shows how little most people know about the culture they live in), but that she is presented as savvy and then says something so dimwitted demonstrates the cluelessness of people making movies these days.

A bigger problem is that the side trip is not just a pointless failure, it is a disastrous mistake. I can live with the coincidence of running randomly another one-of-a kind brilliant hacker after the first one turned out to be unavailable. This is SW after all. The hacker (not named but credited as DJ) is presented as a sort of lovable rogue, and he is played very well (with a great stutter!) by Benicio Del Toro. Then when caught he betrays not only Rose and Finn, but also that he has somehow (how exactly?) discovered that the Resistance is escaping in cloaked ships. That leads to most of those ships being destroyed. 

So the decision on the part of Poe, Finn, and Rose to disobey orders not only doesn’t work, it leads directly to the destruction of what remains of the Resistance. Such self destructiveness on the part of our heroes really falls flat in a SW movie. It’s supposed to be about the heroes making mistakes, of course, but not in ways that foolishly destroy their own cause. In a just world, Finn, Poe, Rose, and their coconspirators would be executed for their disastrous betrayal of their comrades. They certainly shouldn’t be trusted with anything ever again.

Meanwhile, Admiral Holdo is also an idiot. Leia trusts her despite her utter lack of leadership skills. She pushes Poe into mutiny for no reason. This is what ruins the escape plan and destroys almost all of what remains of the Resistance. Her stupidity sticks out as something that clearly happens only because writer needs to move the plot along in a particular way.

The battle on Crait is cool and well shot, but once again our heroes are stupid. They attack, lose a bunch of people they need, then  give up when they realize what should have been clear from the beginning. Finn can sacrifice himself to stop the First Order from cracking their defenses, but Poe calls him off. I get that they want to show character development in both Poe and Finn. Poe is supposedly learning not to sacrifice his people unnecessarily, but this would have been a sensible tradeoff—losing one man to defeat the First Order’s ability to crack their defenses and kill everyone. If that’s not the time to make a sacrifice, what is? I guess Poe has learned to be OK with sending endless nameless minions to their deaths, but not his personal friends. Maybe he will learn more in the next movie.

They also want to show Finn’s development from the bumbling coward he was through acts 1 and 2 of TFA to a loyal  friend in act 3 ofTFA and act 1 of TLJ to a self-sacrificing hero at the end of this movie. Fair enough. But they don’t want him to actually die. So Rose saves him. That leads to the dumbest line in the movie (the second dumbest, already discussed, is also uttered by Rose on Canto Bight). Rose tells Finn that he is a dummy for not realizing that the First Order won’t be defeated by attacking them, but through the power of Love or something. That’s not an exact quote, but the line really is that vapid. This is a galaxy spanning, planet destroying war. It’s going to have to be won by actually fighting the First Order, not by getting nice people together to sing Kumbaya. That’s what led to victory against the Empire (with lots of sacrifice by thousands of unnamed Rebels). There isn’t any way that there won’t be more big battles like that in the last movie of this trilogy.

Finally, there is the Holdo Maneuver (which was filmed stunningly). Let me get this straight. As it turns out, a small ship can use its hyperspace engines to smash a vast super dreadnought. So…why hasn’t that happened in every space battle for the last 10,000 years? Why bother with lasers and torpedoes? Why are there any capital ships? Why didn’t they smash the Death Star with a couple of cruisers? Why aren’t all space battles dominated by hyperspace missiles? Because bad writing, that’s why.

(Also, no one says, “I have a bad feeling about this” in TLJ. How can you call it a SW movie without that?)

Overall

I have been there for all of these movies; I’m old enough to have seen the original Star Wars in the theatres (seven times). I’ve seen all of the others within a few days of theatrical release. I want to like any SW movie, and I do like this one.

The Last Jedi is divisive. The audience approval scores are low; as low as those for The Phantom Menace, which is not exactly beloved. I have seen fan reviews across the scale from “best SW movie since Empire Strikes Back” to “as bad as the worst of the prequels.”

I can understand both reactions. Like the best of Star Wars, we are treated to admirable heroes thrown into heart stopping adventure, villains who are both evil and engaging, beautifully envisioned planets and creatures, big exciting battle scenes, and an operatic plot that pulls us in and keeps things moving. I had a good time watching it.

But there are also ways that this doesn’t feel like the same universe the first two trilogies are set in. All planets are now a 20 minute jump from all other planets. You could understand how the Empire had vast resources through controlling the output of a galaxy; in these movies the First Order has vast fleets and legions solely because the writers want them to. While the Force is clearly space magic, you could find a logic to some people having sensitivity to it that could be developed through arduous training. In these movies Rey is incredibly powerful just because the writers want her to be. In the next movie she will certainly be a “Jedi” despite having no more than a few hours of actual training with Luke. Will Rey’s Super Force Power ever be reconciled with what had been previously established? No, I don’t think they will bother. They just want her to have that power, without having to earn it, so she does. (If it turns out that I’m wrong, and they do present a viable explanation in Episode 9, I will be very happy to admit that.)

Lucas created what felt like a big, lived-in universe, with flawed characters we couldn’t help but fall in love with. He failed with much of the prequel trilogy because it didn’t quite live up to that, and this new trilogy now has some of the same flaws.

I’ve read an interview with Hamill in which he says that this was not the Luke he knew. He had to think of him as a different character in order to play him. He did his best to portray that version of Luke in this movie, but he would never have imagined or written the character that way. (He has since walked back those comments and said that he came to see the legitimacy of this version of Luke.) I’m still thinking about that; people can change a lot in 30 years. But ultimately, to make these new movies the way they wanted, they had to largely disavow the first 6. The Empire was not really defeated. The Force was not balanced. The Republic was not restored. The Rebellion failed. Han and Leia couldn’t be happy together. R2 shut down. Luke failed, gave up, and ran away.

I know they couldn’t make movies without some sort of new peril, but it’s discouraging that the message is that the story we followed for so many years turned out to be largely meaningless. I wonder if better and more respectful writers could have started a new series without that abandonment of previously established plot resolution.

[recentanimenews]

10 Classical Compositions that Anime Loves

For anime soundtracks, Western classical music can be a useful tool. One fewer cue to compose, for starters, and you don’t have to navigate the same rights issues that crop up when licensing contemporary music. Especially for more well-known pieces, there might be dozens of different recordings to choose from for just the right interpretation. Audience recognition helps too - there’s something special about hearing a familiar tune played over a pivotal scene. It’s not always used well (I can think of some very, very bad examples), but when smartly inserted, Western music can make for some truly iconic moments. Let’s take a look at some pieces that show up often in anime.

10. Polovtsian Dances from Prince Igor (Alexander Borodin)

[Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra]

Although Borodin never finished the opera Prince Igor before his death in 1887, the Polovtsian Dances from the end of Act II survive in concert halls worldwide, as well as in pop culture. No. 17, “Gliding Dance of the Maidens,” appears in Kare Kano: His and Her Circumstances, as well as in the second season of Sound! Euphonium arranged for concert band. The piece itself comes from the scene in Prince Igor where the invading Turkic tribe celebrates the khan Konchak. It was intended to sound exotic when contrasted with the Russian folk music associated with the opera’s protagonists. The piece suggests another land, different and unknowable - appropriate for the finale of Blood Blockade Battlefront, when the supernatural world threatens to collide with the real one. It’s also frequently used in RahXephon to represent the Mulians, a mysterious race that controls music-powered clay mechs. Yoko Kanno even quotes its melody in “Garden of Everything,” the B-side of the movie’s ending theme.  In both BBB and RahXephon, the Polovtsian Dances’ ‘foreignness’ emphasizes the long history behind their respective supernatural beings. It’s nice when soundtracks are thematically relevant like that!

9. Symphony No. 8 “Symphony of a Thousand” (Gustav Mahler)

While not as pervasive in anime as some of the other entries on this list, Mahler 8 (dubbed “Symphony of a Thousand” for its enormous orchestra and chorus) is still pretty iconic, figuring heavily in the broadcast order finale of The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya (chronologically episode 6). The text of the piece itself revolves around redemption through love and confidence in humanity, making the symphony possibly one of the most uplifting pieces of late Romanticism. It’s fitting for a grand finale that [spoilers?] hinges on Haruhi and Kyon’s faith in humanity to keep reality from collapsing. No matter how unusual or interesting Haruhi’s alternate world may be, it’s solitary and miserable. To keep Haruhi from remaking reality according to her own whims, Kyon reminds her of the relationships she’d lose in hopes of grounding her enough to return them to reality. Who cares about a fun fantasy world without people to enjoy it with? Why reject everyone you love in favor of danger and uncertainty? Symphony of a Thousand is ultimately about embracing the human attachments we form, perfectly in line with the anime’s themes.

8. Nocturne Op. 9 No. 2 (Frederic Chopin)

[official? rubinstein]

A mainstay in film and TV, this nocturne is probably one of the first pieces people associate with Romantic keyboard music. It’s a go-to cue to telegraph that a character is sophisticated: Austria in Hetalia, one of the antagonists in Parasyte -the maxim-; Glasslip, Legend of Galactic Heroes, Momoiro Sisters, the list goes on. So it’s a nice change of pace when it’s used differently, like in the penultimate episode of Hybrid x Heart Magias Academy Ataraxia. The pairing of sweet evening music with a scene of busty, half-naked anime girls fighting to keep Tokyo from blowing up is hilariously jarring - just the way I like my fanservice anime. It’s totally in character for Hybrid x Heart to shoot for drama and blow straight into camp, and the scene is perhaps the best example of that tonal mismatch in the show’s entire run. I’m not sure how the impossibly shy Chopin would feel about his music being used this way, but hey, it’s not like he’s around to complain.

7. Prelude No. 1 from Well-Tempered Clavier (J.S. Bach) / “Ave Maria” (Charles Gounod)

The Well-Tempered Clavier, composed around 1722 to show off the latest advances in proto-piano technology, is today regarded as one of the Baroque period’s most important works, such that the dozens of preludes and fugues collected in two volumes are the bane of every piano student ever. But while most of WTC is unknown to people outside the music world, the first prelude remains Bach’s most well-known solo keyboard piece (the famous Minuet in G being the work of one of his colleagues). Over a century later, French operatist Charles Gounod superimposed a melody on it, eventually pairing it with the text of a Catholic prayer. The resulting song is about as famous as the original prelude, showing up all over popular culture. Puella Magi Madoka Magica, for an easy anime example. Yurikuma Arashi uses the piece as well, associating it with the bear deity Kumaria (the Virgin Beary, if you will). Yes, you read that right. “Ave Maria” for Kumaria. On the nose? Absolutely. Dead on the fuzzy little bear-girl nose. To be fair, none of the visual metaphors in Yurikuma are any more subtle, so it totally fits. Bless this show.

6. Sonata for Two Pianos in D major, K.448 (W.A. Mozart)

How do you depict a relationship between two musicians? In a duet, of course! It happens plenty in Your Lie in April in both four-hand piano and violin/piano combinations. But why restrict yourself to one piano when you can have two? That’s where Mozart’s K.448 comes in. When he was 25, he composed the two-piano sonata for a joint performance with his 23-year-old student Josepha Auernhammer, who was purportedly in love with him. Although nothing came of that relationship, the circumstances surrounding the piece’s composition perhaps make it tempting to assign romantic connotations to any performance of it. Certain anime take advantage of that: in Ouran High School Host Club (after Tamaki’s bizarre solo demonstration of both parts at once), a duo of middle schoolers learns the two-piano sonata to kick off their blossoming romance. In all versions of Nodame Cantabile, it’s the first collaboration the uptight Chiaki and carefree Nodame undertake together. Handing off the melody between them, Nodame and Chiaki must learn to respect and accomodate their conflicting personalities. It’s important that neither part is simply accompaniment to the other; unlike in a four-hand duet, where one person plays in the lower range and the other in the higher, the two players in a duo must be equally skilled, complementing each other rather than dominating. Chiaki and Nodame’s successful performance of the piece signals their mutual understanding of each other, the start of a complicated but enduring romance/friendship that carries through the rest of the series.

5. “Vocalise,” Op. 34 No. 14 (Sergei Rachmaninoff)

(unknown, but official upload)

“Vocalise,” as its title suggests, is one of 14 songs that Rachmaninoff originally composed for voice with piano accompaniment. These days, it’s often performed by an orchestra or a solo instrument. I have a particular fondness for Rach’s own orchestral arrangement, but the melody on its own is lovely as well. Melancholic and gorgeous, it suggests a profound loneliness. No wonder it tends to show up in heartwrenching anime scenes. In Puella Magi Madoka Magica, a recording of Kyousuke’s violin solo is yet another contributor to Sayaka’s despair. In Night Raid 1931, the piece is a running motif in spy Aoi Miyoshi’s troubled life, first as a joke about his poor violin skills, and then later as a prominent element in his backstory. His attachment to the piece turns out to be in remembrance of a lost love. It’s an expression of nostalgia to a time when his life was simpler, before Japan’s growing militarism erupted full force in Nanking and Korea, complicating his espionage work. The piece’s presence throughout the series in stilted, off-key form is so essential in making the final revelation land, music reaching clarity just as Miyoshi’s motivations do. It’s one of the best creative choices in a politically controversial but otherwise unremarkable anime, and Miyoshi’s story wouldn’t work nearly as well without it.

4. Piano Concerto No. 2 Op. 18 (Sergei Rachmaninoff)

I just mentioned a Rachmaninoff piece, but this one is too good to skip. One of the most notoriously difficult and exhausting pieces in the piano repertoire, Rachmaninoff’s second concerto (affectionately nicknamed “Rach 2”) is a perennial concert favorite. The technical skill and strength required to play the entire thing make it a survival challenge in itself. As such, it’s the highlight of the debuts of both Eugenie Danglars in Gankutsuou and Shinichi Chiaki in Nodame Cantabile. It also shows up in Fairy Tail underscoring the climactic fight between Erza and Azuma in episode 114. Throughout the development, Jellal reassures Erza that he’s supporting her in spirit. The music is well-matched to the action onscreen, reaching the virtuosic climax of the first movement at the decisive moment of the battle. As the final chords land, Erza regains her drive. The show does cut some of the tense buildup that I love Rach 2 for, but nonetheless, the payoff is still damn satisfying.

(On the subject of Rachmaninoff, his third piano concerto - my favorite piece of his - shows up markedly less often; the only anime example I can think of is in Legend of the Galactic Heroes. Maybe someday people will understand the glory of Rach 3. In the meantime, try humming the James Bond theme over Rach 2. It’s a lot of fun, I promise.)

3. Etude Op. 10 No. 3, “Tristesse” (Frederic Chopin)

Today, Chopin’s etudes (Op. 10 and 25) are staples of piano repertoire. Each is a study in a specific keyboard technique. The third etude “Tristesse” (sometimes “L’Adieu”), as it’s now known, emphasizes balance and smooth voicing. The melody - Chopin’s most beautiful, by his own judgment - is still beloved today. It can be heard in the Baccano! finale, as well as in Fullmetal Alchemist (2003) under the title “Tune of Separation,” arranged for string orchestra by Michiru Oshima. My favorite use of it is in the Genius Party short Baby Blue, directed by Shinichiro Watanabe. In the 15-minute film, the melody first appears when Shou sketches out an aimless tune on the piano. It comes back in full force in the dreamlike emotional climax, expressing the bittersweet nostalgia of youth as his childhood friend Hazuki bids him a final farewell. The piece may not have been composed with a narrative in mind, but its reputation as a piece about goodbyes serves it well here in one truly memorable scene.

2. “Clair de lune” from Suite bergamasque (Claude Debussy)

The third movement of Debussy’s Suite bergamasque, “Clair de lune” is one of the most iconic keyboard pieces in French Impressionism, a late 19th-/early 20th-century artistic movement that prioritized conveying a mood over presenting a detailed picture. That focus on atmosphere over a defined melody might be what makes the piece so appealing as a soundtrack. Its sentimental A-section appears in Kids on the Slope, Wandering Son, 18if, and even an inconsequential bath scene in Thermae Romae. Rarely, however, does anything use the entire piece - which means it stands out all the more in Your Lie in April. In episode 15, the piece perfectly underscores Tsubaki’s nighttime heart-to-heart with Kousei. Her lines are timed to match the piece’s phrasing, and as the music becomes more intense, so does her monologue. The flowing B-section expresses her desperation as she realizes that Kousei’s musical career is taking him out of her reach. By the time Kousei reaches the piece’s recap, we get the sense that something has changed. Tsubaki might be the same person she’s always been, but her relationships have been forever altered. Likewise, the last section of the piece sounds similar to the beginning, but elements of the B-section still linger as a reminder that things can’t stay the same. The scene is a pitch-perfect marriage of story and soundtrack, and my favorite use of “Clair de lune” in anything, full stop.

1. Symphony No. 9, “Choral” (Ludwig van Beethoven)

Generally agreed to be Beethoven’s greatest work, Beethoven 9 was unique for Classical-era music in that it introduced a chorus layered over the orchestra - hence the nickname. The symphony is an easy go-to for a grandiose and triumphant score, since the “Ode to Joy” melody from the last movement is immediately recognizable. No wonder it’s popular worldwide - especially so in Japan. The piece appears in Gunslinger Girl, the Nodame Cantabile J-drama, and a number of other shows. Thanks to Kaworu Nagisa in Neon Genesis Evangelion, it’s now also the “sophisticated, vaguely menacing white-haired anime boy” leitmotif - think Shogo Makishima in Pyscho-Pass, for instance. And for good reason! The last scene in episode 24 of EVA is easily one of the most iconic, disturbing moments in anime. The minutes-long still shot and delicious irony of a piece about joy played over Shinji’s worst emotional low leave a real impression. Plus, Alexander Rahbari’s interpretation of the piece is one of my favorites, capturing a fierce rawness that’s often missing in more technically polished recordings.

But because Beethoven 9 is such a seminal work of music, I can’t limit this entry to just EVA. In Yuri!!! on ICE, Otabek Altin’s free skate music is a unique arrangement of the symphony’s second movement. While the original piece was already groundbreaking, composer Taku Matsushiba takes it some really interesting places. Beefing up the chorus and brass sections to make the overall sound even bigger, Matsushiba re-orchestrates the piece to sound decidedly more modern in places. The end result is simultaneously traditional and transgressive, but most importantly, A Lot. EVA may have used the symphony to devastating effect, but this wonderfully cheesy reinterpretation is more special to me for capturing the blend of silly and serious that I love about anime.

These aren’t all of them, not even close. I didn’t even get to Michiru Oshima’s string arrangement of Beethoven’s Tempest Sonata in Blast of Tempest, the infamous Hallelujah scene in Evangelion, or the sheer variety of music used in Princess Tutu, Legend of the Galactic Heroes, and ClassicaLoid. And that’s to say nothing of Yoshihisa Hirano’s habit of quoting other works in his soundtracks: Prokofiev’s Romeo and Juliet in Hunter x Hunter, Bizet/Sarasate in Ouran some vaguely Orffian strains in Death Note. Meanwhile, Yuri!!! on ICE uses both real pieces (Tchaik’s Sleeping Beauty, Mendelssohn’s Violin Concerto Op. 64, Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition) and sound-alikes (Taku Matsushiba’s “Rapsodie Espagnole” resembles Ravel’s Bolero, “Stammi vicino, non te ne andare,” Puccini with a hint of Wagner; and “Allego Appassionato,” Rachmaninoff, what with the absurdly difficult techniques in its latter half). You can find Western art music all over the place in anime if you just look.

On that note (heh), what’s your favorite classical piece in anime?

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Micchy is an enormous dweeb who tries and fails to hide her anime obsession behind a skating otaku facade. Follow her on Twitter @Liuwdere for more vaguely anime-related content. 

By: news+feed@crunchyroll.com