#I’m not used to writing stories that don’t involve pain and tragedy so be nice

[aristaspark]

Chapters: 1/2 Fandom: Jurassic World: Camp Cretaceous (Cartoon), Jurassic World: Chaos Theory (Cartoon) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Brooklynn/Kenji Kon Characters: Kenji Kon, Brooklynn (Jurassic Park), Darius Bowman, Brand and Darius Bowman's Mother Additional Tags: Fluff, Love, Young Love, Comfort, Romance, Second Kiss, Soulmates, Sweet, First Love, Canon Compliant, kenlynn Summary:

After a few months on mainland, Kenji and Brooklynn finally manage to have their (second) first date.

[allthefilmsiveseenforfree]

Dear Evan Hansen

You may have seen some ~online discourse~ about the film Dear Evan Hansen, an adaptation of the 2016 Broadway musical, and you might have wondered what all the hubbub is about. I mean, it’s a feel good story about a senior in high school, Evan Hansen (Ben Platt), who has some pretty severe anxiety and depression. While trying to fulfill an assignment from his therapist to write a letter to himself, his letter gets picked up by another student, Connor (Colton Ryan) - and later that day, Connor kills himself. Connor’s grieving parents and sister Zoe (Amy Adams, Danny Pino, and Kaitlyn Dever) are desperate to learn more from the boy they think was Connor’s best friend - after all, Connor’s suicide note was a letter addressed to “Dear Evan Hansen.” And, as you can imagine, Evan tells them about the unfortunate mistake and sits with them in their grief as they struggle to pick up the pieces of their lives. 

Just kidding! He lies to them, repeatedly, elaborately, expansively for months, constructing an entire false friendship with Connor that never happened, and ingratiating himself into the wealthy nuclear family he never had, in large part because he wants to get into Zoe’s pants! THIS IS THE PROTAGONIST OF THE STORY. Oh, and it’s a musical so there is a lot of singing and crying and singing WHILE crying and sometimes crying and not singing at all. But the #inspiration, you guys. 

Things I liked:

Pretty much everything but the story and Ben Platt’s performance. The supporting cast is stacked, and all of them do a great job at elevating material scraped directly out of a diaper worn by someone who just chewed their way through a copy of the DSM-5. 

A couple of the songs are damn catchy - “Waving Through a Window” and “You Will Be Found” are standouts for a reason - and here’s the thing, Platt sings them well. But as you’ll discover, there’s a lot more to a movie musical than just singing your part. 

Stephen Chbosky, the man behind every deep thought I and a lot of people in my generation had in 2006 after he wrote The Perks of Being a Wallflower, is a pretty good director. I particularly enjoyed the fanvid-type cuts in “Waving Through a Window” in conjunction with the lyrics, and his use of interstitial shots to flashbacks (and sometimes flashforwards!) is a neat little bit of shorthand that I thought was used sparingly enough to be effective. 

Amy Fucking Adams. She’s holding on so hard, so desperately to the idea of who her son could have been, rather than the reality of who he was, and she is full of such deep pain that is masked by an almost endless supply of patience with Evan and relentless positivity. All this made me want was Enchanted 2 even worse than I already did. 

Super into everything Zoe wears - the costuming department did a great job, and now all I want to do is live in mom jeans and baggy sweaters.

Did I Cry? I teared up a couple of times because I’m not a completely heartless bastard and when Amy Adams offered Evan Connor’s college money, my heart broke for the lie Evan had thrust upon her, and Julianne Moore’s song got me good, because she’s just a single mom to Evan who is doing her goddamn best. 

Things I hated more than the time I dropped a frozen gallon container of fruit cocktail on my pinkie toe in my parents’ garage and it turned black and I thought it was gonna fall off:

Ben Platt is 28 years old. He originated the role of Evan Hansen on Broadway, so in many respects it makes sense that he plays the role in the movie, except for the one kinda sorta important thing where he looks like a wizened old crone standing amongst a sea of children doing his best twitching, cringing Hunchback of Notre Dame impression. If you want someone to convincingly play 20 years their junior, hire Paul Rudd. Otherwise, please don’t ask me to believe that this supposed 18-year-old has crow’s feet. 

And that twitching nervous energy is a huge part of the black hole at the center of this film - he’s playing to the cheap seats and walking through the halls of his high school like a wet chihuahua. It’s an excruciating acting choice to watch - he doesn’t just have anxiety, he is on the verge of a nervous breakdown seemingly every second of every day. Like honestly, where is only-mentioned-never-seen Dr. Sherman, because this young man’s meds are NOT WORKING DR. SHERMAN. 

There’s such a lack of self-awareness on behalf of the writing, directing, and performance by Platt. There’s one song, “Sincerely, Me,” that offers the only glimpse of commentary about what Evan is doing, by pointing out the malicious ridiculousness of him writing a series of fake emails as proof of his and Connor’s friendship. 

Also what high schoolers email this much?? I know this was written in probably 2014 or so, but has a bitch never heard of a text? Even a DM? This whole plot is constructed around the premise that high schoolers are just constantly, constantly emailing each other. 

Everything - and I mean EV-ER-Y-THING - about Evan’s relationship with Zoe is so creepy and disturbing that with a soundtrack change, this could easily be a horror movie. He attempts to get her to like him by describing to her all the things her brother noticed about her - oh wait, I’m sorry, all the things HE noticed about her while he was skulking in the shadows following her around for years, watching every move she made, and it ends with him singing repeatedly “I LOVE YOU” because following a girl around and never having a conversation with her or knowing her at all is love, right? This was clearly written by the same people who chose “Every Breath You Take” as their wedding song because Sting is hot and they never actually listened to the damn words. 

And it gets about 10 billion times worse when Zoe goes to Evan’s house alone, takes him up to his room, and sings “I don’t need reasons to want you” and that was the moment I was that person I hate in a movie theater and I pulled out my phone to Google who wrote the music and lyrics to the musical (we were in the back row of the theater no one was behind me THIS WAS AN OUTRAGE EMERGENCY) and of motherfucking course it was written by Benj Pasek and Justin Paul, 2 men who heard about meeting an actual human woman from a friend one time but otherwise are unfamiliar with the concept. 

Lastly, enormous serial killer vibes from Evan sending unlabeled flash drives anonymously through the mail with no note in an attempt to right his wrongs. That’s not catharsis, that’s how the next installment in the Saw franchise starts, with Evan in a Billy the clown doll mask showing up on the screen and asking if you want to play a fucking game. 

Also, I know it’s not possible for the narrative to justify this in a way that could be satisfying based on Evan’s actions, but what is with this thing where single working-class mom Julianne Moore is turning down rich people’s money for Evan to go to college? Like, obviously we can’t have that happen in the movie but in real life, fuck your pride! Take those rich people’s money!

I also know how movies work but nothing annoys me more than a giant group of high schoolers all getting beeps and boops to indicate text notifications all at the same time because I don’t know a single person under the age of 55 who keeps their ringer on. That shit is on vibrate AT MOST, and I feel like that’s a millennial thing. 

The emotional climax of the film is obviously Evan’s WAY TOO LATE confession, but the idea that it’s prompted by Connor’s family suddenly getting a lot of internet hate is, frankly, laughable. If Sandy Hook taught me one thing, it is that no tragedy is immune from trolls who live only to cause other people devastating emotional pain on the internet. That shit starts day 1. Apparently no one involved in this production has ever been on Twitter?

Also it feels like there should have been a dog somewhere in this movie and there was no dog, so points off for that too. 

Perhaps Dear Evan Hansen isn’t nearly as deep as it aspires to be. Perhaps it’s a morality play, a simplistic message of “Don’t lie, kids, lying is bad!” Major studio movies wrap themselves up with a nice bow at the end so everyone can feel good about themselves and leave with a happy ending, but the moronic cruelty on display here makes that feat feel impossible. We’re left with Evan in an orchard, reading Connor’s favorite books and staring into the big blue sky with all the self-actualization he’s earned now as a lil treat. And if Evan Hansen looked like an actual 18-year-old, it would be a lot easier to extend more empathy to him and his not-fully-developed prefrontal cortex, but it’s a little harder with this fully-grown, weathered man who was old enough to remember seeing Liar Liar in theaters. 

Dear Evan Hansen, 

Get some actual help and a haircut and maybe you can grow up enough to have an actual healthy interaction with any other living person, ever.

Sincerely, 

Me

If you liked this review, please consider reblogging or subscribing to my Patreon! For as low as $1, you can access bonus content and movie reviews, or even request that I review any movie of your choice.

[maxbegone]

AND WE ARE BACK! 

Part two of the Schitt’s Creek Community Fic Rec is here! This time, we focused on celebrating our favorite AU’s! Once again, this is dedicated with love to the the authors of this community! Every participant chose one AU (which was a little hard to do for some) to share and why they enjoyed it.

Thank you to everyone who submitted!

@bestwisheswarmestregards​ // @brighter-than-sunshine​ // @danieljradcliffe​ // @devilstelephone​ // @fishyspots​ // @imargaery​ // @justwaiting23​ // @patrickbrewsky​ // @rockinhamburger​ // @roguebabyinyourstore​ // @rosebuddsmotel​ // @stuck-on-your-heart​ // @the-13th-wheel​ // @thedidipickles​ // @thisbuildinghasfeelings​ // @yourbuttervoicedbeau​

And a very special thank you to anyone who has ever written anything in this community! 

Everything is posted below the cut, and you can check out part one here! 

**As always, if I missed an author’s tumblr handle, please let me know! 

@bestwisheswarmestregards​

Odd Man Rush by @samwhambam​

It’s David and Patrick and Hockey! Three of my favorite things! Also the ending is one of my favorite endings. It’s so sweet! It’s part of the series score and all of the stories are so cute but this one is my favorite!

@brighter-than-sunshine​

Thanks For Choosing Bagged! by dinnfameron

I love this one because the dialogue is so adorable, and true to David and Patrick! I can totally see the characters getting involved in something like this, like a different version of a rom-com.

@danieljradcliffe​

Going Down by concannonfodder

This is one of the best stories of NYC!David and recently out Patrick while they're both trying to find themselves. It's beautifully written and my favourite part is that each chapter switches between David and Patrick's POV. It does a great job of highlighting the aspects of their personalities that we know and love but shows them to us in a new light.

@devilstelephone​

sustineo by @rockinhamburger​

The contemporary art discussions between Patrick and David are interesting and important to the story. Patrick still cares for and emotionally connects with David In a world that is so different than Schitt’s Creek. I liked that Sebastian Raine was the evil force without being included as a character.

@fishyspots​

Welcome to Cabaret by @vivianblakesunrisebay​

It's lovely from start to finish! In this 'verse, Christmas World didn't pull out, so David didn't get the lease for the general store. Instead, he gets roped into helping Moira with Cabaret, and meets Patrick (kind of) through that. I love the way this author writes. The dialogue is in-character, and the plot is wonderful and pulls out moments from canon and reimagines them in some truly inspired ways. I'm such a fan of all of this author's works; this was the first one I read, and it remains my favorite.

@imargaery​

David.; or, a Tale of Misapplied Sense by Siria

A Jane Austen D&P AU and it is BRILLIANT. If you're an Austen fan, you will be able to immediately pick up on how well this author adapted Austen's style, wit, character descriptions, and ability to whack you over the head with romance when you're not even ready for it yet. Siria is a very experienced fanfic writer, but writes for many fandoms, so I think that's maybe why it doesn't have that many hits? I'm so glad I clicked on it. I want to wrap myself up in this story. I want to make a podfic out of it. I want to put it on a t-shirt and wear it every day. Also, it's in a regency AU where homophobia isn't a thing, so you don't even have to worry about that. I want to tell you more, but that would spoil it. Just read the damn thing and thank me later.

@justwaiting23​

You Were the Ocean, I Was Just a Stone by @al-ex-an-d-er-hamiltons​ 

The image of a curly haired fisherman Patrick is enough but this whole fic is such a sweet concept. Their interactions in this are so reminiscent of the show but also so different because they already know each other vaguely, and I come back to this fic over and over just because it's the perfect mix of angsty miscommunication and fluff.

@maxbegone​

Known and Be Known by ahurston

As someone who tends to lean toward canon/canon-divergent stories, this was a refreshing take on an AU. Beautifully written and wonderfully raw, ahurston conveyed the vulnerabilities between both David and Patrick so wonderfully. “The mortifying ordeal of being known,” personified in fanfiction format. With humor and some wonderfully hot scenes peppered throughout, this fic was just brilliant from start to finish. I love when authors explore Patrick's insecurities and vulnerabilities - they aren't written about as often as David's are. I implore you to read this, if you're able.

@patrickbrewsky​

Bound by Symmetry by barelypink

They say write what you know. I instead read what I know. David is the accidentally fantastic teacher we all wished we'd had in high school, and some of us wish/hope we are or might be one day. This fic is a great exploration of combining everything David knows he is (creative, bright, v.knowledgeable about art) and all the things he thinks he's not (empathetic, a role model, great with kids, selfless, kind, & big hearted) The selling point quote: "And it feels good, David realizes, to have a job that means something, a purpose beyond himself. A place where he feels like he belongs, just like his students." (David Rose proves he is both a good and nice person).

@rockinhamburger​

Blackbird, Fly by distractivate 

This is a post-apocalyptic story about love, connection, and hope, with a central theme of growth from destruction. I could not put this one down; I read it feverishly in one sitting, desperate to soak up every word. I love this fic because it is what I like to think of as an exemplar for transformative works (one of ao3’s top values). I love the way the fic stretches toward the light in the dark. It makes me think: about the quintessential elements of these characters, what remains the same despite changed circumstance, and what inevitably shifts when these characters we know and love are faced with a situation far outside their experience or comfort. This story likely hits differently in 2020, when post-apocalyptic narratives feel much less distant than they might have just a year ago. And yet, all the more reason to read an incredible work about hope and resilience and transformation.

@roguebabyinyourstore​

Fifteen Hundred Miles by MoreHuman

Where do I even begin with this fic? I was at first skeptical about what reason David Rose would have to willingly subject himself to a trek through the wilderness out of his own volition. Well I’m so glad I ignored that admittedly stupid part of me because this is one of the mostly beautifully crafted stories I have ever read. Patrick and David are individually on their own journeys of self-discovery, but the way they help each other find what they sought... It’s breathtaking. Their feelings for each other bloom so organically over their time together that despite the circumstances laid out before them, the miles that they stumble and walk and run bring them miles closer to each other. Closer to the love that they both didn’t know they needed. The characters come alive and are identical to their canon selves. The dialogue and banter are spot on David and Patrick. The writing itself is superb. The tropes are incredible, the pining and *oh no there’s only one tent.* The slow burn is tantalizing but in a way that feels true to a genuine love story. The way the setting somehow breathes in tune with the characters, the way they leave messages behind in the trail register—conveying more than they can utter aloud— and the way their families communicate with them throughout their time on the trail through letters. All of the elements of this story ground it in universal truth, in feelings that are not only relatable, believable but demand to be felt. I can wax poetic until I am blue in the face, but really... Read this story. And then reread it a million times.

@rosebuddsmotel​

I Carry These Heart-Shapes Only to You by @ladyflowdi​ and @ships-to-sail​

There are over 180,000 words in this WWII AU, but not one of those words is wasted. It is gorgeous in its prose, and incredibly romantic without romanticizing the very real pain and tragedies of the era in which it exists. It's not an easy read by any means, but it's the kind of cathartic emotional journey that is more than worth it in the end.

@stuck-on-your-heart​ 

kiss from a rose by mihaly ( @davidroseshusband​ )

What can I say about this very special fic that would do it justice? In this story, Alexis stars in a Bachelorette-style dating show and it’s every bit as brilliant as it sounds. On top of the incredible characterization, there are little surprises at every turn, there’s pining, and of course, there’s love. Secret love, even. This fic is truly addicting – I promise you won’t be able to stop once you start reading, and it will leave you feeling so satisfied (and if you’re like me, a little misty)!!!

@the-13th-wheel​

Hold Me Like You’ll Never Let Me Go by @mooodlighting​

It is a wonderful short AU where Patrick and David where they meet at an airport after they get snowed in. It is cute, there is longing and pining that just make it a wonderful read!

@thedidipickles​

Beneath the Winter Snow by Distractivate

The writing is so utterly gorgeous all the way throughout that I frequently needed to take breaks to breathe. The author *perfectly* builds an Olympic world that I can totally see my favorite characters inhabiting, and the resolution is gorgeous. All of Distractivate's AUs are amazing, but this one still stands out.

@thisbuildinghasfeelings​

How Do We Get Back by @unfolded73​

This one deals with a literal alternate universe, which is the first thing I loved about it because I had never read a fic quite like it before. It's a beautifully written 60,000+ word masterpiece that definitely makes me feel ALL the feelings. In addition, it is absolutely riveting. I could not stop reading until I got to the end.

@yourbuttervoicedbeau​

Make It To Me by figmentof ( @rosesdavid )

Epistolatory fic is SO hard to pull off and the author does such an incredible job with the way the characters shine through even though we only see them interact via text message. This fic is my comfort food and I reread it regularly <3

Anonymous Recs:

Just Breathe by olivebranchesandredwine

I love this one because it's got Patrick as a yoga teacher (hot!) and shows David being proactive about anxiety and it's just such a lovely story.

Shall I Stay? by alladaydream ( @maybewecandreamalittle​​ )

This is so worth the 100k wordcount. 18-year-old David and Patrick sweetly leaning into first love, a lot of angst and pining in the middle that allow them both to heal and grow, and a heartfelt reconciliation. Plus, two bonus cherries on top with artist!David and a beautiful epilogue in which they (spoiler) live happily ever after. The tone and pacing of this fic is so good, and I always go back to it when I want to read something comforting.

Your Heart is Keeping Time with Me by @yourbuttervoicedbeau​

I haven't seen 50 First Dates, but this fic is better than the movie could ever be. The author's writing is so beautiful and her David who has amnesia and her Patrick who wants to help him are just PERFECT. I want more and more and more of this.

Once again, thank you to everyone who participated and thank you to every single person who has written something in this community! It would be wonderful to do a part three, but for now, enjoy some alternate universe fics! 

[moth-song-archives]

The Insatiable Flow of Time (1/8)

I remembered that I can make posts here too huh! Anyways, I wrote a post-MAG200 fic <3

I’ll reblog it again with the link to ao3 if you’d prefer reading it there :D

Rating: Teens and Up Archive Warnings: Choose Not To Use Categories: F/F Relationships: Georgie/Melanie, Georgie & Jon, Jonmartin (mentioned) Characters: Georgie Barker, Melanie King, Jonathan Sims, the Admiral, Basira Hussain (mentioned), Rosie Zampano (mentioned), Martin Blackwood (mentioned)

Additional tags: Diary/Journal × post mag200 × Post-Canon × Canon Compliant × Rated for swearing and me doing my best to write a fitting epilogue for my most fave story of all time × Bittersweet × Hurt/Comfort × Grief/Mourning × Gentle-Sad-Soft × Fluff × Non-Sexual Intimacy × Tenderness × Generally Hopeful Ending × Ambiguous/Open Ending × Catharsis × You know how TMA is a tragedy? ... yeah × Hope Punk × dealing with the fallout of surviving a literal apocalypse × Moving on and letting go × Trans Georgie Barker × Nonbinary Melanie King × Melanie uses any pronouns but needs to (re)discover this first × and is then mainly referred to with they/them pronouns for diary-simplicity × Melanie is ace in my heart ♡ × Jon is also enby but it only gets referred to in passing × Georgie has a Type™ × Character Study × i love them all so much × Nonbinary aspec author × it's very hope punk and somft BUT ALSO VERY SAD × in like a cathartic way × because i like causing pain :') × pre-written and updates every 2-3 days

I think I might use it to… rediscover myself. That’s what I liked about journaling in the first place, I think. Getting to think about things outside of my own head, putting it out there so I could move on? Maybe it’s time to return to old coping mechanisms and try again. Even if I haven’t really changed. Even if I should’ve changed. Right?

As the world tries to piece itself back together, Georgie grapples with her past, her present, and her future by keeping a diary. She also keeps having this strange, recurring dream that involves Jon. Post MAG200.

Finished at ~12k, will upload over the next couple of days <3

Day 3 - Evening

Melanie is sleeping. Basira is also sleeping, on the sofa in the living-room. She doesn’t really know what to do with herself, these days, so for now she’s staying with us.

I am not sleeping. I’m so far beyond tired that I can’t sleep anymore. It’s been... how long? More than a day, certainly. I’m at the kitchen table and the night outside is darker than any I’ve ever seen. There are no street lights and a million more stars than I could’ve ever imagined. I wish Melanie could see them too :(

Back before everything in my life went wrong, I used to be really good at this. I think I got my first diary when I was... seven, maybe eight? I used to be obsessed with it. I guess I stopped writing in college, after the incident, because it felt... wrong? Like I was lying to myself, trying to fabricate emotions that just weren’t there, keeping up with things that no longer seemed important or note-worthy. Mainly, I couldn’t make myself care about anyone or anything anymore.

I think I want to find that person again, now that it’s over. Try and… move on? And Melanie encouraged me :) I guess that’s the main reason. I found this notebook in one of the domains when we were rescuing people. I don’t know what I originally wanted to do with it, but I did end up forgetting about it until I went through my bag again today. It smells like fire and is a bit singed in places, but I kind of like that? I think I might use it to… rediscover myself. ...that sounds very pretentious, but this is just for me, so...

And I like that it’s just cheap paper scribbled on with a shitty biro. Maybe I’ll just burn it when all the thoughts are on the paper instead of in my head. When I can sleep again. And the prize for the most dramatic way of closure goes to Georgie Barker! But yeah. That’s what I liked about journaling in the first place, I think. Getting to think about things outside of my own head, putting it out there so I could move on? Maybe it’s time to return to old coping mechanisms and try again. Even if I haven’t really changed. Even if I should’ve changed. Right?

But I don’t feel any different. Shouldn’t I feel different, now that they’re gone? The entities, I mean, though Jon and Martin seem to be gone, too.

I keep remembering Martin’s expression when he told us to go early, how upset he was.

Honestly, I can’t say I’m surprised. As long as I’ve known Jon, he’s always done what he thought best. It used to drive me up the walls, but I also admired it, I think? I never would’ve told him that, but… Well. He’s gone now.

It’s over, all of it.

And I still can’t sleep.

And Melanie is still blind, and I still feel empty, and my fear still hasn’t come back. Everyone who died is still dead, and the trauma is still there. There were angry mobs in the streets, and people got killed.

I can’t quite believe that Jon and Martin went with them. I can’t believe they left us behind to explain the entire mess.

 We’re back in our old flat. It’s so weird to be back home. Everything looks the same, as though no time passed at all. Nobody knows what date it is. How long were we caught in there?

Outside, it feels like spring. There are birds everywhere, singing their hearts out. Sounds like more birds than there used to be, too. The trees are leafless and dead-looking, but Basira pointed out that they’re getting there... and it feels like spring.

I haven’t slept properly in 3 days because the questions keep me awake. It’s not that I’m worrying, really, just… thinking? I think I could sleep better if the worry had come back, but it hasn’t.

As far as we can tell, all modern devices are broken, too. Computers and phones and such, digital cameras, generators... we don’t even know what the rest of the world looks like. I hadn’t realised how much gets controlled by computers these days, we don’t even have central heating or water access in our flat. Rumours and news are spreading person-to-person, like in the Olden Days. We only have emergency systems that were installed in case of nation-wide blackout. I guess I’m glad we don’t actually have a blackout, we just need to get the computers back to work. (If I understood it correctly.)

Melanie thinks it’ll all come back to life in a few more days. I certainly hope so. I also hope I’ll stop feeling like this. Or rather, not feeling like anything. It’s so strange. Like in the first days after the incident, when I just felt numb?

They’re gone! I want to feel like a person again! What if I never get myself back?

 They’re actually gone.

 What will we do with our lives now? Basira isn’t the only one who feels uprooted. I think the whole world feels like that right now.

I hope my computer comes back soon. I miss music, and making things. My photos, all those memories.

I don’t want to lose all of that. I want to start fresh, but not without records of the past.

…I’ve had a lot of time to think about that, specifically. Records, and futures.

What the Ghost is done, right? There’s no fun in creepy ghost stories if you’ve been through an actual, living nightmare.

I think I want to start new with that, too. When everything works again, that is.

New world, new future, new podcast. I like that. I think. Make a record of what happened through eyewitness accounts? Or is that too similar to the Statements… then again, it’ll be more like interviews. And I think we shouldn’t forget.

We owe them that much.

I’ll have to talk it over with Melanie tomorrow. Maybe.

We’ll see.

God, I think maybe… maybe I can actually try and sleep tonight. Writing does seem to help.

 Note to self: thank Laverne for suggesting it. (Also for being there for Melanie. And listening to us. And stopping with that culty nonsense. She’s the only one we found so far, but she actually listened to us. Strange to think that in this world, I have to be grateful for someone not worshipping me for some dumb reason?!)

   Day 4 - Morning

So. Three things.

1) I did manage to fall asleep after all! I’ve always been a bit of an insomniac, especially after the incident, so actually getting some proper rest felt really good.

2) I somehow woke up right as the sun went up! I think I’ve never seen a dawn this beautiful? I watched it from the bedroom window and I’ll definitely describe it to her in detail when she wakes up! The Admiral was sleeping on our pillow, right next to her head, snuggled up against the back of her neck and shoulder... it was so cute. I can’t believe my phone and camera still don’t work! Melanie has that old polaroid camera somewhere but we haven’t found it yet, and I wish my art skills were any better. I did draw a sketch of the two of them though. I’ll cherish it forever, no matter how shitty it is :’)

After everything that happened, the Admiral is still a bit weird around us. He started out really aggressive, calmed down a bit, and now… now he’s weirdly skittish? Meows a lot. Keeps walking around the flat. The only thing that even remotely returns him to how he used to be is tuna. It’s weird.

But seeing him like that, with Melanie? I love him so much.

I think he’ll be okay.

But before I forget, and why I actually got out the diary at this ungodly hour instead of trying to go back to sleep now that the sun is up…

3) I had a really nice dream. And... I don’t even know. I think I want to try and hold onto the feeling? I don’t think I’ve felt that… deeply… in a long while. Maybe the last time was before all this, when we decided to move in together. Before all of this happened.

For a moment, I felt like I was whole again :’)

It didn’t even have Melanie in it, which is very rude tbh. I think Jon was there? The Admiral, too. We were just chilling on the sofa, watching netflix I think... It felt so... mundane??? Casual, somehow??? Like it was normal to feel like that and I just... I want THAT. I want to feel like that again, instead of this weird… blank nothingness? I want that all the time, not just when I’m riding a high or feeling so terrible that it pierces through.

I don’t know if that makes sense but this is just for me anyway so I suppose it doesn’t have to.

 I think I should feel bad about Jon being gone, but I still don’t even feel relief at it being over. Just this vague numbness.

I hate it so much, except I don’t, actually, I just know that I should?

Melanie keeps saying that I need a therapist but if we’re being honest here, I guess I need one the least? The whole goddamn world needs therapy right now. Including the therapists. And I’ve been dealing with this for a long time now.

I guess I keep hoping it’ll just go away somehow.

 Anyways. Enough introspection, I’m going back to bed. I hope I don’t wake them! :)

  Day 4 - Evening

 It’s night now, the sun went down hours ago. We have a bunch of candles, but I’m trying to use them sparingly, so I just have one lit. I put a glass of water next to the candle so now the light gets magnified a bit more. It’s a weird atmosphere, but I kinda like it? Feels… cozy! :)

I’m still not over how everything looks the same, but nothing works like it did before, and there’s this… burden? This collective trauma everyone went through. It feels so surreal. So many things are still broken… it’s like we woke from a collective nightmare, but pieces of it still remain, floating around.

And we just sent it away with the tapes. I really hope those other worlds are doing better than us, but what else could we have done? I… try not to think about it. I know I should, but I still can’t really bring myself to care, or even feel overly guilty for that? …

 Melanie fell asleep with her head in my lap half an hour ago. I was reading to her. She says she loves the sound of my voice, so I’ve started doing that in the evenings. (I still love that we had separate crushes from a distance on each other for ages because of youtube and WTG. We’ve been talking about that a lot, too.)

She still has nightmares, but apparently she’s also been having good dreams, and she looks so peaceful right now. The last few days have been a lot, but in comparison to before, and even before then…

It’s over. We made it out. We get to have a future together. I still can’t quite believe it. :)

 I guess I’m writing again (despite already having done so in the morning) because it somehow helped yesterday and I’m hoping to replicate that. And I have a lot to think about. It’s been a long day.

Basira is still out there, helping out where she can. I think she feels guilty. Melanie says she doesn’t because there was no other choice, but I know her, and I know that she’s lying.

There’s always another choice. We just say that to make it easier to bear.

I hope she knows she can come talk to me when she feels ready to tackle it.

I hope I ever feel able to tackle it myself. No. I will talk to her when I’m ready.

We did talk a bit about things, of course. Melanie doesn’t really remember her dreams, most of the time, but apparently she’s been alternating between horrifying nightmares and a really nice, recurring one that sometimes happens after the nightmares. She doesn’t really remember much of it, but she mentioned it after I told her about the Jon dream. Not what it was about, just… in general.

From the way she talked about it, I think her dad might have been in it? I’m actually not sure, but the way she smiled…

She has that little smile on her lips again, even now, dreaming. The soft one she gets when she talks about good things. About him.

About me.

(I still can’t believe she chose me. How impossibly lucky? How did I ever deserve her? But then, it’s not about that, is it? She is mine, and I am hers, and… life will be good. I know it will be.)

 She’s been smiling a lot more, these past few days.

[fanfic-corner]

Bisexual Dean

9/12/20 - Is Dean canonically bisexual? That’s a fun question (it depends on where you live, I suppose). Anyway, nothing is stopping you from reading these beautiful fics involving a very bi main character.

Tabula Rasa by Dangerousnotbroken on AO3. (78,340 words).

Tags: Writer!Castiel, Bartender!Dean, Past Relationship, Magic, Canon Typical Violence, Mentions of Alcoholism, Mentions of Past Child Neglect, Mental Illness, Witches, Ghosts, Bisexual Dean, Bisexual Castiel, Angst, Slow Burn, Memory Loss.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: Once upon a time, Castiel Novak had everything. He had a happy home life, a full scholarship, and, if he played his cards right, a promising journalism career. And on top of all of that, he had Dean. Then tragedy struck, as it tends to do, and Castiel lost everything. At thirty six, he’s got none of those things. He’s got no family to speak of. He’s got a job investigating purportedly true tales of the supernatural for a magazine no one reads. And worst of all he hasn’t seen Dean in nearly twenty years. So when research for an article turns him on to a witch who apparently grants wishes in exchange for stories, Castiel figures it’s worth the risk. If making a deal with a witch can get him Dean back, what has he got to lose?

Notes: This was absolutely amazing; written beautifully, with a fantastic plot.

Take You To The Country by almaasi on AO3. (18,987 words).

Tags: Historical AU, Propositions, Eloping, Newspapers, Fluff, Forbidden Love, Misunderstandings, Pining, First Kiss, Established Relationship, Running Away Together, Moving In Together, Childhood Friends, Marriage Proposal, Businessman Dean, Farmer Dean, Emotional Dean, Bisexual Dean, Domestic Dean Winchester, Clockmaker Castiel, Autistic Castiel, Frustrated Sam.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: A Dean/Cas 1950s AU. Dean reads an elopement proposal in the town's local newspaper, written by some old soul in love with their best friend. He's mid-way through expressing to his brother how beautiful he finds it when Dean realises the proposal is for him.

Notes: I love Sam’s subsequent letters to the newspapers at the end, it was just a really good idea done really well.

A Little Slice Of Heaven by onamelancholyhill on AO3. (112,265 words).

Tags: Slow Build, Friends to Lovers, Falling in Love, POV Dean Winchester, POV Third Person, POV Castiel, Bakery and Coffee Shop AU, Episode: s4e17 It’s a Terrible Life, Alternate Universe - Human, Explicit Sexual Content, Bisexual Dean, Idiots in Love.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: Jim Morrison once said, “The most important kind of freedom is to be what you really are.” That was Castiel Novak’s motto in life, and the reason why he accepted his grandmother's inheritance and took the responsibility it implied. Dean Winchester, a remarkable accountant at Sandover Bridge & Iron Inc., however, had other priorities. He lived to serve, hidden in a mask that didn’t allow him to be honest with himself, but lonesome and boring. When destiny made their paths cross, in a less than promising way, with Dean as the instigator and Castiel as his victim, Dean’s mind started wandering, in between pies and cakes, coffees and muffins... What if Mr. Morrison was right? After all, as the guy used to say, "there can’t be any large-scale revolution, until there’s a personal revolution first."

Notes: This was so cute and I adored the plot! It’s making me want to rewatch It’s A Terrible Life but I’ll live.

Just Like You by imherecauseimnotallthere98 on AO3. (35,717 words).

Tags: Homophobia, Homophobic John, Hurt Dean Winchester, Protective Dean Winchester, Established Relationship, Protective Castiel, BAMF Castiel, Protective Sam Winchester, Angry John, Angry Dean Winchester, Angry Sam Winchester, Protective Bobby Singer, Awesome Bobby, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Scared Dean, John Being an Asshole, Swearing, Bisexual Dean, Pansexual Castiel, Past Child Abuse, Accidental Outing, Death Threats, Fluff and Angst, Implied Sexual Content, Sharing a Bed.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: When John shows up at their door in the middle of the night, the Winchesters and Cas start looking into who or what could have brought him back. Meanwhile, Dean struggles to keep his relationship with Cas a secret from his father, with some help from Sam. The tension rises between the Winchesters as Dean shows John that he is no longer the obedient little soldier he once was, and tries to establish himself as an equal with his dad.

Notes: Bobby and Sam are icons in this and should have followed through on their threats. That will be all.

Walk Through Fire For You by purple_charlie on AO3. (2,332 words).

Tags: John Winchester’s A+ Parenting, Angst, Pride, Marijuana Use, Polyamory, Gay Cas, Bisexual Dean, Bisexual Gabriel, Everyone is Queer.

My Rating: 4 stars.

Description: Boyfriend. The word still feels foreign in Dean’s mouth, still brings back echoes of John Winchester’s thinly-veiled (if even that) homophobia. "Man up, don’t be a sissy, I didn’t raise a fairy". It’s a swollen blister in the back of Dean’s mind, throbbing with pain whenever a stranger’s eyes linger too long on Cas’ hand in his, whenever a waitress double-takes at how close they sit in diner booths. But here, dirty dancing with Cas in a warehouse full of other queer folks, Dean wants to shout from the rooftops- I’m Dean Winchester, I drive the baddest car in town, I lift heavy things for a living, and this is my boyfriend.

Notes: This was so sweet it nearly made me start crying - Cas deserved to be told that he was loved!

Bottom’s Up by mnwood on AO3. (28,103 words).

Tags: Fluff and Crack, Wing Kink, Domestic, Smut, Bisexual Dean, Resolved Sexual Tension, Established Relationship, Wedding Planning, Partying, Weddings.

My Rating: 4 stars.

Description: Sam could’ve kissed them both when he got to the bunker one day to find a string of clothing (his heart nearly burst with hope when he saw the abandoned flannel and trench coat) leading to a very naked pile of limbs tangled on the couch. Just kidding. Of course it wasn’t the couch. Sam always imagined it as the couch because the fact that he actually found them on the dining room table had tainted the happiness of the memory.

Notes: Jesus, I did not need that level of detail into Dean and Cas’ sex life (but it was very funny).

Stories Are Made Of Mistakes by wildhoneypie on AO3. (4,942 words).

Tags: Human Castiel, Diners, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Bisexual Dean, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Slow Build, Case Fic, Domestic, Didn’t Know They Were Dating.

My Rating: 4 stars.

Description: In which Cas is human and doesn’t understand basic concepts like: clothing, Mythbusters, moisturizer, and Greek food. Dean is…Dean and doesn’t understand basic concepts like: boyfriends, language, how to tell your friend that he’s a walking miracle, and when not to quip.

Notes: This was so cute and I live for human Cas. I also love the recurring ‘no fucking quipping’ joke in this, although the idea of Cas swearing broke me a bit!

And this one, which has no Destiel content but a very bi Dean:

Uniform of a Winchester by monsterfuckerdean on AO3. (20,591 words).

Tags:  Canon Compliant, Missing Scene, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Bad Parent John Winchester, Young Sam Winchester, Young Dean Winchester, Pre-Season 1, Episode: s5e2 Free to Be You and Me, Angst and Feels, Queer Themes, Character Study, Diners, Sibling Love, Family, Friendship, HBO SPN.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: We all know the story of the amulet Dean wears around his neck. But what about everything else he wears?

Notes: Okay, I have to admit that I am loving the HBO SPN vibes even though I am fully aware that if it was a real show I wouldn’t watch it. This is so good though, and the writing is gorgeous!

My friend came out to me as bisexual this week, and paired with the mess that is the Spanish dub, I thought this would be nice as a little reminder that it doesn’t matter how the show ended, because the fans will always be here and we will always be supportive. Anyway, enjoy!

[streets-in-paradise]

I want to talk about some of the main family relationships in Troy

As I already told once in one of my posts, I adore to overanalyze family relationships in the media I consume. I’m still in the process of writing another one as a second part to my sibling relationships post talking of more family relationships from various of my fandoms but, since that one is taking me too much time to finish, I'm writing now this shorter one for my Troy appreciation series. 

I already started this ramble in the same post I referenced. There I talked about my favourite family bond in the entire film, the sibling relationship of Hector and Paris. Still, there is a lot to discuss about family dynamics in the story this movie tells. Even since I was writing that post I kept thinking on how many family related story arcs this movie has and how, if you pay close attention to those, you can capture the essence of the characters. Because of this, I decided to dedicate a separate post to the main family relationships portrayed there and the important role they play in the development of the story. I will try to skip the ones i already talked about before. This are, for most part, the relationships inside the trojan royal family. Since i already discussed those, most of this will be about family bonds of the greek characters. 

As i stated in previous posts, this is a talk about the characters and actions in the movie. I’m not talking from an adaptation” movie vs book” point of view. I can occasionally mention some of the differences but there would be more references than comparisons. 

As always, i apologise for any possible mistakes in my writing. I’m still in the process of getting used to writing long texts in english. Also, I give proper credits for the images to the original sites hosting them. 

Agamemnon and Menelaus 

The movie establishes them clearly as the main antagonists. Precisely, one of the many scenes I love in this movie is the one in which they show up to the gates of Troy commanding the greek army and they argue with the trojan princes over the terms of the combat between Paris and Menelaus. The first thing I always notice in that one is how alike Hector and Paris look when they get down from their horses, it reminds me of the actual part of the Iliad in which it is said that Paris gets confused for a brave man because of his looks. Going back to my point, in that scene I get the vibe of opponents these characters have just by the display of the dynamics between siblings. 

Agamemnon is using his brother’s problem as an excuse for a war highly profitable for him. Menelaus is aware of this and he doesn’t care because he is too consumed by his wish for revenge and, it seems that this mutualistic beneficial goal is what sticks them together. Their first scene together, when Menelaus goes to Mycenae asking his brother for help, summarizes their relationship in a great way. Menelaus seems to have a rather servile attitude towards his brother and Agamemnon clearly takes advantage of that, having in that particular time a perfect excuse to attack an enemy he had wished to conquer for a long time. If you think about it, this is the exact opposite relationship of Hector and Paris. I love how well this scene fits as a contrast to the argument in the ship scene of Hector and Paris . In both, Menelaus and Paris are basically asking for the help of their older bros, one doing it on purpose and the other one half aware. Their family relationships are established so well by those two scenes. 

Going back to the one scene I mentioned first, the exchanges between characters are awesome. Not only because you can appreciate directly how this differences play a role in the conflict, but also because you can totally appreciate how every character involved is the exact opposite of the one who challenges. The exchange between Hector and Agamemnon is fantastic. I love how Hector cuts the crap on Agamemnon’s cocky bullshit, their short interaction is priceless.Also, i almost feel bad for Paris because “ the sun was shining when your wife left you” is his best line in the entire movie and he gets his ass kicked by Menelaus immediately afterwards. I like how, despite being a coward, Paris is a sassy little shit. 

Something i need to add about these brothers is that the Director’s Cut adds a better perspective on Agamemnon’s care for Menelaus. There are many short hints, especially after Menelaus’s death, that show how he actually cared for him. I think that this small glimpse should have stayed in the final version. Even when Agamemnon is a piece of shit of the worst kind and his brother was not very different, it is nice to see him caring for something else than his own imperialist desires from time to time and to get a real family vibe from those two.

Achilles and Patroclus 

Before starting with this two i want to clarify that i am fully aware of the very different interpretation their relationship got in this movie. I heard that the romantic approach was explored in Troy: fall of a city. I haven’t watched it yet, it is on my to watch list and at some point i will do it. Now, speaking of what we have seen in the context of the movie, i have to say that i love the adorable family bond they have since the first scene they share. This is by far my second favourite family bond in the film. 

As i said before i have a weakness for family relationships and tragedies regarding them are the biggest pain i can imagine. I don’t have anything against romantic Achilles x Patroclus, i just enjoy a lot the family approach it took here. First, i think it happens because i saw the movie far before reading any piece of trojan war related fiction and second because I happen to enjoy seeing family bonds more than romantical ones. My basic example for explaining this is the complaint I had over Kili x Tauriel and how it kinda shifted the focus of the previously established family story of the Line of Durin. If i have to choose between  a family or a romance story of any kind, I will always end up more interested in the first option because i relate to and enjoy those better. 

In this version, they are cousins with a very brother like relationship. I feel like here Patroclus acts like a little bro that hero worships Achilles. We know that his parents died and Achilles took care of him but we don’t know when that happened. What we do know is that his protection is the only aspect Achilles feels responsible for in his life. His bond with him reflects the best and the worst of him. It displays his softer and his most terrible side. Without paying close attention it looks like the romantic subplot with Briseis is the part of the plot that is supposed to show his soft side and, partially, it does but i think that job is already done earlier with the introduction of Patroclus. The story with Briseis serves mainly as support of what was already established there. The kindest, more human side of Achilles is clearly there when you look at his interactions with Patroclus. 

One of the main reasons why i enjoy this relationship so much is because, plotwise, it serves as a perfect point of encounter for the two main heros’ characterizations. Despite all the effort the storytelling makes in pointing out the many differences between Hector and Achilles, these two apparently opposite men share the same limitation. Hector’s goal is to protect his country, Achilles’s goal is immortality through fame, but both find themselves lost when their reckless younger relatives endanger themselves and both react the same way. When Paris was at instants of dying by the hands of Menelaus Hector had to choose between saving him or letting him get killed for the good of Troy. The man who serves as paradigm of honesty and sacrifice, the most noble hero of the story, broke the agreement and killed Menelaus. He broke a pact and gave his enemies an even better excuse for war that will doom Troy because his brother’s life was at risk. Achilles’s madness over grief for Patroclus fits so well family related in this particular narrative because it originated in the same feelings. Paris and Patroclus may be opposites, one being a coward and the other the embodiment of reckless courage, but both become the limit of tolerance for Hector and Achilles. At the end, both heros are driven by love for their families. In this version where Hector and Paris have this strong bond that works perfectly as a mirror for Achilles and Patroclus, it fits so well for them to be family. The chain of deaths unleashed with Patroclus’s death becomes a natural response to the bonds previously mentioned between the four characters involved. Everything becomes a big family tragedy and that is devastating. 

One more comment i will make about them is that i also love how some of Achilles’s friends add some more sweet or happy hints to some scenes. Eudorus, despite the formal servant-like way in which he speaks to Achilles, gives me a long time friend who is almost family vibe. Of course, i have to mention Odysseus here as well. Patroclus and Achilles sparring scene has an amazing chill domestic fun tone and he adds even more fun to the moment once he arrives. They are the most likeable greeks of the movie and you get such a friendly feeling of them. I live for these guys. The main scene they shared is the happiest of the film. 

Bonus mentions 

The Director’s Cut has a lot of scenes that help you understand some of the characters' motivations and lots of them are family related. One small scene I wish really hard the should had kept is the one in which Priam explains the reasons for his deep religious devotion. He listens to the high priest’s terrible advice and ignores his son’s wiser words not because he is a nice but dumb and inept king. He believes Apollo saved Hector from a disease when he was a baby boy. There is a reason for his blind, sometimes naive, faith in Apollo’s protection.Other cut out moment with a similar meaning is the one in which Andromache tells Hector she lost seven brothers in a previous war. She is tired of losing people, her husband is all she has. Having this in consideration her story turns even more tragic. 

I could mention a few more characters and moments but this is getting too long so i will end it here. I think it is enough for the topic i wanted to write about and the only main character i feel i skipped a bit here is Priam but i had talked enough about the trojans and how much i love them so i think it is enough. 

I enjoyed writing this, as fast as i can i will upload the general post for family relationships i’m working on and i’m thinking of making a special one like this for lotr.  @hrisity12​  I tag you as i always do in all my Troy content. 

Thanks for reading this ramble i intended to keep short but, as always, ended up longer than i expected. 

[lacrow]

SXF Collaboration Story

@nonokoko13 , @sxfobsessed , @nagy-bari

First off I’d like to apologize. Under my insane direction, this little ficlet has turned into a 12k behemoth. Therefore I will be positing it in two parts (and also linking to ao3 since I threw it in with my one-shot collection). I’ll add the link to Part II when it’s edit/posted. Thank you to everyone who helped come up with this idea, it was a lot of fun to write!

Title: Cabernet Makes Her Clothes Fall Off

Rating: T

Part I: ao3

Part II: tumblr, ao3

Parties Involved: Loid Forger, Yor-Briar Forger, Anya Forger, Bond, Franky, Yuri Briar, Becky Blackbell, Camilla, Dominic, Millie, Sharon Mission Objective(s): host a dinner party for friends and acquaintances, [INCOMPLETE] Reporting Status: [IN-PROGRESS] ADDENDUM 1 [NIGHTFALL]: After careful review of last night's mission report, it has come to my attention that Twilight's conduct has been highly inappropriate for that of a WISE agent. I recommend personnel changes be made for the ensured success of Operation Strix. ADDENDUM 2 [TWILIGHT]: Sorry, I forgot to save you leftovers. ADDENDUM 3 [NIGHTFALL]: That's not what I meant, and you know it. ADDENDUM 4 [HANDLER]: He's married. Also, thank you for the leftovers, they were delicious.

Part I

A cacophony of sounds emanated from the Forger house as Yor frantically tried to get things ready for what was sure to be a total disaster.

In just a few hours, guests would be arriving for an impromptu dinner party that she had no right organizing in the first place. It wasn't her call to make, not without consulting her husband first, but...she went and opened her big mouth anyway. Now she was suffering the consequences for it, and not just her, either. Yor looked up through the window above the kitchen sink as she desperately went about getting things ready for the evening's festivities. Loid and Anya stood by the door as they started to put their coats on. The latter had her school backpack on, though in lieu of books and pencils it was instead filled with a change of clothes and some toys.

"I'll be back soon to help set up," Loid called out to her. He went to gather his hat and gloves. "I already called the Blackbells' nanny and told them I can't stay long."

"Ok," Yor replied meekly. Half of her wanted to tell him not to rush. The other half desperately wished to ask the opposite of him. "Please be careful you two."

"Bye mama!" Anya looked over at Yor as Bond came up to sniff her goodbye. "Have fun with your party tonight!"

The Forger matriarch couldn't help but to frown. "You do the same at your friend Becky's...do everything her parents tell you, okay?"

"I will!" Anya replied back. She smiled brightly in anticipation at her upcoming sleepover, though it waned the longer she stared up at her mama.

Yor had no way of knowing her daughter was reading her mind. If she did, it wouldn't have made her feel as guilty when Anya suddenly ran around the corner and wrapped her arms around her leg in a tight embrace. That wasn't to say she didn't appreciate the gesture; if anything she desperately needed it at the moment. It's just that she assumed Anya's hug was less out of fondness and more out of pity, though in the end she accepted it all the same. Yor knelt down and pulled Anya in close as Loid waited by the door with a well-hidden smirk on his face.

"Love you," Anya smiled encouragingly, eyes closed in content.

"I love you, too," Yor teared up a little. She squeezed her daughter tight. "I'll see you tomorrow."

They held each other for a moment. Though she didn't want it to end, Yor ended up being the first to let go. She smiled at Anya before the little girl waved and skipped off towards the door. Already turning the knob to leave, Loid let their daughter out first before turning to his wife. He said nothing, but gave a small, comforting smile to her before exiting. She nodded as a silent thanks before watching him leave, and it soon became just her and Bond. The Forger hound sat there with his tail wagging, and he looked up at Yor with an expectant look on his face.

Yor glanced down at the dog and sighed. "Well, Bond...time to get back to work."

Bond said nothing back, as was to be expected.

/*\

"You're joking, right? Not even a housewarming party?"

A familiar face; the deadpan look of an unimpressed Camilla, though to Yor she seemed just as pleasant as ever. If only the poor girl knew what every other woman working at city hall knew, which was that Camilla loathed her with a(n admittedly waning) passion. No one had the heart to say anything though, which was mostly why they stayed silent as Yor revealed to them that she and Loid had never had a get-together at their house before. Individual people, of course, but never more than one person at a time.

"Er, well...no?" Yor's lips squiggled. Was that a bad thing?

"Really, Yor, you're hopeless!" Camilla shook her head, exasperated. "Don't you and your husband have any friends?"

Yor blinked. "Well, of course we do. You, for starters."

Camilla's jaw dropped as the other women snickered behind her. Yor continued. "And I suppose that includes Dominic, as well? Also Loid's friend Franky, and his co-worker Fiona, and-"

"-Alright, alright, I get it!" the blonde woman grumbled, waving Yor off. "Fine, you have friends. So why then haven't you hosted before?"

Yor frowned a little. She knew why; it was because Loid was always tired and she was terrible in the kitchen. If there was going to be party then he would have to do the cooking, and Yor didn't have the heart to ask that of him. Not when he had so much on his plate already (pun unintended). Still, Yor could see where Camilla was coming from. She had been nice enough to invite her over to a get-together at her house, while Loid and herself had never shown the same courtesy back. It was rude, and not to mention suspicious.

Couples invited people over for dinner, right? So then, what would people think if she and Loid never did?

The more Yor thought about it, the more she realized her attempts at playing house were falling short again. Yor looked up at Camilla, Millie, and Sharon, and all of a sudden she felt self-conscious. They seemed to be waiting for an answer that Yor couldn't give them, or at the very least one she refused to share; that her marriage was a sham and she didn't know the first thing about entertaining guests. It was the truth, but they weren't meant to know that. All Yor could do was think about what her husband would do in her situation. What would Loid's response be?

He'd make it happen. One way or another, he'd pull through like he always did.

"W-well," Yor stammered. She flinched a little. "Why don't you all come over this Saturday?"

The other women paused, most of all Camilla. The three of them threw glances at one another, suddenly finding the spotlight reversed on them. They seemed to have a wordless conversation amongst themselves, while at the same time Yor kicked herself for opening the door to her home like that without talking to Loid first. He liked his privacy just as much as she did, and the weekend was one of the few times he got to relax (and even then it wasn't guaranteed). Yor's head started to slowly spiral; what if he got called into work, or she suddenly had to take a contract-killing job on short notice? This was a bad idea. She had to rescind her offer, and fast-!

"-Do you want us to bring anything...?" Camilla asked reluctantly. It almost looked like it pained her to say it out loud, mostly because it did.

Yor froze. The worst case scenario had come to pass, even more so because she had brought it upon herself. She stood there as three pairs of eyes stared at her once more, only there was no going back this time. The window of opportunity for backing out had already passed, and the only thing Yor could do was try her best to swallow the quickly growing lump in her throat.

"...N-no," Yor shook her head. She gulped. "...My husband and I will cook something for dinner..."

/*\

"I'm a horrible wife," Yor lamented as she straightened out her white polka dot dress. "I never should have agreed to this. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!"

"It's fine, Yor," Loid eased. He closed the oven door and threw his mitt onto the stove top. He turned towards her. "There's no reason to beat yourself up."

Yor frowned. Loid sighed. They both looked to the clock on the wall next to them and immediately came to the same conclusion; their guests were fashionably late. A quarter past six and no one had shown up yet, but that ended up being more of blessing than anything else. Loid had gotten held up at the Blackbells' a little longer than expected, and Yor had only just barely finished cleaning by the time he made it home. She at least had it to where all he needed to do was fix up the casserole for later; the rest of their home, from the living room to the bathroom, was immaculately spotless.

"So remind me again who all is coming?" Loid asked uncomfortably as he looked back to the kitchen. He was fairly certain there was enough food, but...

"Well..." Yor thought for a moment. "The girls, so, Camilla, Millie, and Sharon. Dominic as well, and he of course told my brother so Yuri's coming, too. And also Fiona-?"

Loid shook his head. "She won't be coming. Something came up at work and she won't be able to make it."

Some hostage situation at the embassy, last he heard. Nothing Nightfall couldn't handle, though it'd certainly take her the whole night to sort through it all. Tragedy aside, it at least worked in favor of Loid's dinner planning. Along with some easy-to-make finger foods, there would be more than enough to keep everyone satisfied. On top of that, they'd rearranged the furniture in the living room to open it up a bit more. They had also moved the dining room table up against the wall, and Loid even got a hold of a couple breakfast nook chairs (courtesy of WISE) for the counter at the kitchen window.

This little shindig of theirs was turning into quite the gathering. Loid smiled a bit at the thought, even as Yor continued to look up at him in dismay. He had half a mind to reassure her some more, but knew it would only fall on deaf ears. Instead, he took it upon himself to leave her for a moment to go digging in the pantry. He fished out one of the cheap bottles of wine they'd gotten for the evening's festivities. Yor immediately held her hand up to protest, though karma had come full circle to spite her. She didn't listen to Loid. Therefore, neither would he listen to her.

A moment later and he arrived with a glass in his hand, filled halfway with blood-red courage. "Everything will be fine."

"I know..." Yor replied weakly as she took the wine glass from her husband. "...I just feel guilty for dragging you along with all this."

"Hey, we're a team," Loid reassured her. He smiled again, and Yor's face became flushed. "You just focus on enjoying yourself, and I promise it'll all work out."

For what felt like the first time that night, Yor gave a smile back. A small one, of course, since she still had a million things running through her head, but at the very least she gave Loid the response he was looking for. Yor closed her eyes and took a sip and, as if her husband had been right all along, there came a knock at the door immediately after. Yor paused; she quickly tried to swallow her wine in order to answer it properly, though Loid was already opening the door by the time she had composed herself.

They both figured it must have been Yuri (since he was usually quite punctual), but Loid's face fell flat as someone else came into view. "I hope I'm not late!"

Shaggy hair. Scraggly chin. A stature half that of Loid's; the man glowered. "Franky, what the hell are you doing here?"

"I'm here for the party, of course!" Franky gave a stupid grin as he held up another bottle of wine. "I didn't get the invitation, but I figured you must've forgot!"

"...Right, of course," Loid's eyes narrowed. He continued to glare while Franky grinned. "Must have slipped my mind..."

Stiffly, Loid stepped back to allow his friend entry. He looked to Yor as Franky shuffled in, and he shuddered to think what an unaccounted for guest would mean for her party. Surprisingly, his wife seemed pleased at Franky's presence. She set her glass down and gave him a proper greeting, to which Franky did the same. He placed the bottle of wine on the counter after shedding his coat, and immediately made a b-line for the bathroom. The door shut behind him as he made his pit stop, leaving both Forgers alone again for a moment.

"I'm glad Franky could make it!" Yor smiled.

"Likewise," Loid added flatly. He shook his head in dismay.

"Next time I'll be sure to remind you to invite him," she added while grabbing his arm.

Loid relented with a smile to his wife, though the inside of his head was working overtime trying to sort through possible scenarios for the evening. It's not entirely that he didn't want Franky there (part of him truly didn't), but the less he mixed up Twilight's affairs with Loid Forger's the better. Not even taking into account just what a bad idea inviting an SSS agent into his home was, having Franky and Fiona there would have thrown a whole headache of problems into the equation. Nightfall could have handled herself well enough, but Franky...

He prayed to whatever god above that the little fool could behave himself. Just for one night.

All Loid could do was have a little faith, though that wasn't really his M.O. He'd try not to worry in the meantime, but would continue to keep an eye on Franky for the rest of the night. He eased up on the guy once he emerged out the bathroom and approached him and Yor for pleasant conversation; his initial terseness passed, and the three of them actually got on well enough for a time. For how long, specifically, Loid couldn't say. Before any of them knew it, there came another knock at the door. This time Yor was the one to answer.

"I'm so sorry I'm late, Yor!" an impassioned voice cut through their home, and Loid knew right away it was Yuri. "I got held up at work and missed my train!"

"That's okay, Yuri, so is everyone else!" Yor smiled, and Loid did, too. She was letting the guest situation roll of her shoulders, which was good.

There was a shuffle at the door as both Briars came inside. Yor took her brother's hat and coat, and he smiled pleasantly at her in silent thanks. The moment his head swiveled in Loid's direction, however, that pleasantness quickly took a nosedive. Yor was none the wiser, of course, though Loid was more than aware of his brother-in-law's killer vibe. He smiled.

"It's good to see you again, Yuri!" Loid chimed politely. His smile grew as Yuri's turned even more.

"Loi-Loi," Yuri bowed his head stiffly in acknowledgement. Beside him, Franky cracked up at his friend's stupid nickname.

Yuri's eyes fixed on Loid and Yor's other guest. Likewise, Franky looked to Yuri. This was the first time either had met each other properly, though Franky was more than familiar with Yor's brother and his position as an SSS agent. Admittedly, it was a bit unnerving for Franky to be in his presence, especially with that...weird look he stared at him with. Loid had warned him about it multiple times; the dude was nuts about his sister. Him being friends with Loid probably didn't lend him any favors, so his opinion of him probably was at rock bottom at the moment.

Nowhere to go but up from there, right? "Hiya! The name's Franky, nice to meet you!"

Franky held his hand out to shake. Yuri glanced at it before looking back up. He offered no hand of his own.

"Yuri! Don't be rude!" Yor chastised her brother from behind. He cringed and glanced at her over his shoulder. "Franky's my friend, too!"

The Briar boy turned back around to find two smug smiles waiting for him; an obvious one from Franky, and a thinly-veiled one from Loid. Whether he noticed them or not, Yuri made no comment. He simply shook Franky's hand (reluctantly) and offered a halfhearted hello in reply. The two promptly separated and went their separate ways. Franky followed Loid into the kitchen while Yor stayed behind to talk more with her brother, and both groups kept up conversation for a time until another knock came at the door.

Camilla and Dominic. The pair entered, both carrying offerings for the party; a tray of enticing appetizers and another bottle of wine, respectively. The couple were met with multiple greetings and they offered their own before splitting up almost immediately. Loid showed Camilla into the kitchen while Dominic stayed behind to talk with Yuri. Franky joined everyone else in the living room, seeing as how there wasn't a lot of room in that tiny kitchen for three people. Besides, Loid didn't trust him in there, which was fair.

"Thank you for the food, but you really didn't have to go through all the trouble," Loid told Camilla as he dug into the cabinet for plates.

"Well, Dominic insisted we bring something, and it's a recipe I've been meaning to try out for a while now." She stood off to the side to stay out of his way.

"It smells great, can't wait to try it," Loid smiled pleasantly. A moment later and he procured the dinnerware. Camilla offered to take them into the living room for him.

Loid handed the plates off to her. Camilla turned to walk away, but paused as Loid spun around to gather his own appetizers. She shifted uncomfortably as she scanned him up and down; a nice dress shirt, perfectly sleeked hair, muscles, and an air of confidence that most men spent their whole lives pretending to have. Loid Forger had it all, and Camilla couldn't fathom just how in the hell Yor ever bagged such a hot husband in the first place. Seriously, how? It was downright frustrating just how perfect he seemed; the man could cook, raise a daughter, deal with Yor, and still seem nonchalant about everything. If she didn't know any better, Camilla would have said his and Yor's marriage was some kind of front for the mob or something. There was just no way...

"...Babe, you alright?" Dominic's head suddenly popped into the kitchen. "You're spacing."

Camilla jumped out of her skin and nearly dropped the tin, in no small part because she was caught red-handed thinking about Yor's husband. Luckily for her, Dominic didn't come to that conclusion. He smiled and waved her over and, after she shook herself out of it, Camilla followed him obediently towards the living room. The two of them dropped the food off on the dining room table on the way, which was joined by Loid's tin soon after. He stuck around to open some of the wine bottles, and Yor had half a mind to offer him help but ultimately decided against it. He was good at popping corks, and she would have honestly just gotten in the way.

Yuri, Camilla, and Dominic stood off to the side and chatted. Franky kept Yor company until Loid appeared a minute later, and the three of them sat gathered around the coffee table while they waited for the other guests to eventually arrive. So far, so good, Yor thought to herself as she scanned her apartment. Wine glass in hand, she let out a poorly hidden sigh of relief. At that point, Loid smirked. He must have been thinking the same thing she was, at least that's what Yor assumed. He leaned over the table to pat her shoulder comfortingly, and she flinched at his touch (out of habit) before quickly relaxing. Her husband was right; just enjoy the evening, and everything would work out fine.

She nodded to herself and took a sip of wine, and a small smile tugged at her lips soon after.

/*\

Millie and Sharon arrived stag together soon after. With Franky taking up the baton for Fiona, everyone Yor had invited ended up coming. Bond was promptly kenneled in Anya's room (with plenty of food, water, and a bone) and the party was in full swing. 

Loid started to drop off plates in front of people, and he couldn't help but be thankful that Handler had secretly requisitioned him the extra chairs. It was just enough for everyone to have a seat, though he distinctly remembered her shaking her head initially at his request. Not that she wouldn't do it, but more to do with the fact that he was going native, as she had so eloquently put it. A dinner party for his wife's friends? The higher-ups would rip them both a new one if they got wind that Twilight was blowing agency funds again over something stupid.

Regardless, she wrote it off as a business expense for an upcoming mission.

Handler always was a sucker for parties.

Loid just needed to save her some leftovers, which was easy enough. A couple missing appetizers and a suspiciously absent square of casserole were tucked safely away in his fridge for his boss. The spy game could get weird sometimes, and vicarious party attendance was just one of those things that agents did to keep themselves entertained during missions. Usually that involved going out of their way to secretly acquire a bottle from the bar to bring back to a safe house or finding out a way to smuggle out a whole chunk of wedding cake without being seen by the bride and groom. It was a stupid inside joke amongst spies; that being said, Loid was no stranger to it. He fully expected the same from Handler the next time she attended a party for a mission.

"Thank you, Loid!" Yor beamed up at him as he pulled up the chair next to her. All the plates had been delivered, and he held the last one in his hands as he sat down.

"Yes, thanks for cooking. It looks great," Sharon added politely across from them. At her side, Millie echoed the sentiment while trying hard not to eat without everyone else.

Loid nodded and waved off their praise. Meanwhile, Yuri grumbled from his spot against the wall. He of course wasn't about to afford his brother-in-law any good will, though Franky next to him had more than enough for the two of them. He stared down at the food in front of him with big eyes and watering mouth; it was by far the best looking thing he'd seen in a long time. He wasn't necessarily the healthiest eater at home. Mostly his pantry was filled with noodles, cereal, and the occasional box of macaroni. This was a downright feast.

There was only one thing missing, and he almost forgot it before digging in. He hadn't eaten anything all day so he'd abstained up until then, but now was definitely the time for a tall glass of wine. He swung down from his chair and shuffled into the kitchen as the rest of the party cut into their food and carried on in conversation. Nobody paid him any mind, save for one man whose head immediately shot over when he noticed a familiar bob of scruffy hair struggle to uncork another wine bottle. Loid quickly excused himself with no one the wiser.

"No drinking," he stated firmly as he came up behind Franky and lifted the bottle from his hands. The latter spun around incredulously.

"Excuse me?" Franky guffawed. He held his arms out to the side to accentuate just how insulted he was.

"Do you remember what happened the last time you drank at my house?" Loid replied flatly. His voice was hushed. Their conversation needed to be quiet.

Franky considered for a moment. He genuinely gave it some thought before slowly shaking his head. "Er...no?"

Loid pinched the bridge of his nose. "You nearly blew my cover, plus you convinced me to spend thousands of dalc on a castle rental for Anya!"

"Hey, that was your fault for listening to a drunk guy!" Franky shot back, which only caused Loid's eye to twitch in annoyance. "Also, what are you talking about?! Yor's drinking and she's way worse than I am!"

"I can handle my wife. I can't handle both of you," Loid shook his head like a father reprimanding his child.

"She's your fake wife!" Franky whispered back loudly. "I'm your best friend! You're really just going to cut me off like this?"

Loid leaned over his so-called best friend. Their height difference was on full display, and Franky gulped. "This whole party was Yor's idea! It's important to her, and I'm going to make sure it goes off without a hitch. If that means keeping you dry for an evening, then so be it!"

Twilight made a brief reappearance; those cold eyes he was known for were suddenly aimed directly at Franky, and they got his point across loud and clear. With a reluctant nod, Franky agreed to skip the booze. Loid soon eased and nodded back before leaving to return to the other guests. That just left Franky alone by himself with an open wine bottle and a half-full glass on the counter in front of him. He grimaced at the thought of pouring it back into the bottle, a social faux pas if there ever was one. Dumping it certainly wasn't an option, either. Franky was never one to waste a good drink, regardless of the situation.

The newly-sober intelligence agent put his brain to work and came up with a quick solution; if Loid thought so lowly of him at the moment, why not prove him wrong? He was trying to score points with Yor (probably, he really didn't know why Twilight cared in the first place), so maybe if he helped make sure she had a good time then that might make him back off a little. Yeah, that's it! He'd pour the rest of the wine and treat her to a glass, then...well, he'd think of the rest later! His first priority was to make sure Yor was liquored up. Can't have a good party without feeling good, of course!

It all made sense. At least, it did to Franky, anyway.

With a smug grin, he filled the remainder of the glass. The bottle glugged in his hand until there was nothing left, and he promptly disposed of it before carefully curling his fingers around the cabernet meant for Yor. He focused intently on the red liquid as he walked, staring down at it to make sure that none of it came splashing out. Franky narrowed his eyes and suffered full on tunnel vision; for all the years he and Twilight had known each other, also taking into account what a connoisseur the latter was, it was a downright shameful how little Franky knew about handling wine.

Anyone who had ever carried a glass before knew to look forward when they were walking, not down at their hand.

Nobody noticed him at first. He scooted into the open room and crept up while everyone was eating and talking. Yor had her back to the wall, and Loid's was towards him. All the better to surprise the Forgers with a kind gesture, Franky plotted. He let a sneer cut across his face as he arrived and cleared his throat, summoning his hosts' attention.

"Here you go, Yor!" Franky announced obnoxiously. All eyes turned towards him. He lifted his nose haughtily in the air. "I thought you might like a glass of wine-!"

-He suddenly stopped.

Not of his own volition, but because something had caught his foot and sent the rest of him reeling forward. Franky's eyes widened, and he looked down to find he'd tripped over one of Bond's stupid chew toys. He hadn't seen it before. It was too late to do anything about it. Already he was lurching towards Yor and Loid, and even if he caught himself from falling over there was no stopping the overflowing cup in his hands from spilling everywhere. Franky watched, captive, as cabernet rained over the one person Loid had done his damnedest to please that evening.

Yor sat helpless as her white polka dot dress suddenly splattered blood red. Warm liquid stained her and her clothes, and the rest of the party froze for a millisecond as what was happening still registered in their brains. Then, immediately after, Loid jumped up. Yuri and Dominic did so as well, while the women covered their mouths in disbelief. Yor stared down at herself in shock as her brother and husband clamored around her, though it was Dominic that ended up gathering all the available napkins to sop up whatever wine was left puddled around her.

Franky ultimately didn't fall. He caught himself at the last second, though he quickly wished he'd landed flat on his face and passed out from the trauma. At least then he could have been spared from Twilight's wrath; when Westalis' legendary agent quickly ascertained his wife was alright and promptly spun around, Franky could feel his soul being pulled out from his body. And the worst part about all that was, Loid wasn't alone. For the first, terrifying time, both he and Yuri seemed on the same wavelength. The two pierced through him with blood lust in their eyes. An SSS and WISE agent both teaming up to gut him; hell had certainly frozen over, and Franky felt the chill down to his bone.

"...Franky!" Loid menaced. He said nothing more. He didn't have to. The mere mention of his name alone was enough to make the agent quake in fear.

Yuri on the other hand was far more animated, though Dominic was at least on standby to forcibly reel him in. "How dare you spill wine all over my sister you q-tip-headed moron!"

"Hey now, it was an accident!" Dominic reasoned with a pained smile, even as Yuri tried to break free from his grip in order to pummel Franky's face into casserole.

"...H-he's right," Yor piped up reluctantly. Everyone suddenly got quiet and spun around to face her. "It's fine, you two. I'll just...have to rinse off in the shower real quick."

Loid paused. He looked at Yor to find her already standing up. She hid her face with a frown, and immediately Loid's heart sank. With a muted excuse me, she walked past Loid and the other guests on her way to the bathroom. The party watched in silence as she darted into the bathroom. No one made a peep, not until the door closed behind her; at that point, things picked back up exactly where they left off. Yuri went to rip Franky a new one. Dominic did damage control. Camilla and the girls mumbled to each other in hushed tones, and Loid was left standing there in the middle of it all. He stared at the bathroom, disheartened. He wanted to help, but knew there was nothing he could do at the moment besides keep the party going. He had to. For Yor's sake.

With a heavy sigh, he flipped on the switch once more. Back to being Loid Forger, the perfect family man.

With a fake smile and calm demeanor, he went about trying to put everyone at ease. Yuri was by the far the most difficult of the bunch to appease, but after much pandering (and an honest promise to kick Franky's ass later) Yor's brother finally calmed somewhat. He sat far off at the other end of the living room away from everyone else, and once he settled down the rest quickly followed. Conversation slowly picked back up, even more so once the sound of a shower being drawn came from the end of the hall. Yor was getting cleaned up. She'd be back at the party in no time, and the thought was enough to finally get things back in full swing. Franky was still the odd-man out, but Loid didn't care about that. The twerp.

New house rule, Twilight thought to himself as he went back into the kitchen to pour the ladies some more wine. No more WISE agents at social functions.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Weird “Humor.”

Good morning everyone! Decided to write something nice and short today because I know a lot of you are here for that. I haven’t done it in a while, so I hope you appreciate my return :) 

Scene: Dr Krill (an alien with arguably the most experience dealing with humans) is being interviewed on-record during the intergalactic convention of psycho-bio-medical science.                                      

Q: WHat was the hardest thing for you to get used to the first time you stepped aboard a human ship?

A: To ask that question I would have to tell you about practically everything that happened to me while I was there. Living with humans is hard, and strange if you aren’t human. Everything about them is strange, and more complicated than it needs to be. For the longest time I had trouble keeping up with their communication.

Q: I was told that human communication is relatively simple.

A: Whoever told you that has never met a human, when humans speak they use oth verbal and body language to demonstrate their point, and worse than tha, they intentionally use irony, hyperbole, sarcasm and humor to communicate what they are saying.

Q: What is ... humor.

A: “\Now, as the humans would say sit back and rela because you just opened a massive can of worms.

Q What

A Exactly, human communication doesn’t make sense unless you spend time with them. You practically have to BECOME human to understand anything that’s going on. As for the case of humor, it is very complicated, and I still don’t quite understand it. I have experienced the phenomenon of humor in a way I don’t think is possible for many of my species. I’ve tried to explain it before, but it’s Ike explaining the color blue to a creature who seems primarily in infrared, they just won;t get it.

Q can you try?

A Of course I will. Humor is the appreciation of a specific situation or turn of phrase, but even that is completely inadequate to explain what humor is. It’s a….. primarily social, but not always, experience that is designed to help a group of humans empathizes, connect, or diffuse a situation. It is very important to be able to see the humor when with a group of humans because it will strengthen a social bond between you and them.

Q Can we have some examples.

A Well…. this could potentially be a long list so forgive me if I ramble on.

Humans have these things called jokes, sometimes they are stories and sometimes they are clever word play. The story joke generally begins with something that seems normal or at least plausible but the ... punch line (as the humans call it) is designed to be absurd, exaggerated or unexpected. For example you have three humans stranded on an island, one has dark hair, one has red hair, one has yellow hair. They dark hair human gets tired of this, and tries to swim back to the mainland, halfway across she drowns. Eventually the red hair human gets tired of being on the island and tries to swim as well, but she drowns halfway there. Finally the light hair human decides to try. She gets halfway to her destination, gets tired and swims back.

Q And what makes that funny. Two humans died.

A It’s funny because the last human got halfway there and swam back implying she could have made it all the way to the mainland but was too dumb to do so. Exaggerated lack of intelligence, and an absurd situation.

In the case of word play you can say something like: what do you get when you cross a centipede with a parrot. ONe of those is a creature with many legs, and the other one is a bird capable of mimicking speech. THe answer is a walk-in-talkie, a type of short-wave handheld radio.

Q I don’t get it.

A I wouldn’t expect you to. It requires a very in-depth knowledge of human history and culture. Some other things that can be considered funny to a human include.

Non-human things trying to do human things, and this includes animals exhibiting human behavior. HUmans find it very funny when less intelligent creatures exhibit human behavior. THese can include strange un-animal noises and even an animal trying to do something that normally only humans do

This rule also applies to their own offspring. A small human attempting to do something above their capabilities, like speak or, even, attempt a skill is greatly amusing to humans.

Sometimes the jokes that humans use don’t even involve irony, but are designed the annoy the person they are targeted at. In this case the targeted human might expect the answer to be clever, but instead get something that is either obvious or really stupid. In this case what is funny is not the joke itself, but the reaction to the joke. Sometimes these are called anti jokes and are specifically designed to be funny by way of not being very funny.

Q Can you demonstrate that to us?

A Yes of course.

What is big, red and bad for your teeth.

Q I don’t know, what?

A A brick

Q Well….. yes I suppose.

A You see it's funny because not only is it obvious, but it also implies that someone threw a brick at someone else’s face.

Q Humans consider other people’s pain entertaining?

A OH yes, very much. This gives rise to two types of humor. Watching others get hurt and the dark humor.

Dark human involves saying something gruesome or wildly inappropriate. I am under the impression it is a way to test how socially close a group of people is. Because if you are with an unfamiliar group of people you don’t know how they will react to a potentially offensive or dark joke, and so may not use one. If a human deployed one, they may be gaging the reaction of those around them. I would say that, on average, humans have a lot of very dark thoughts, and the knowledge that other humans also have dark thoughts brings them more socially close. IF you can make a dark joke around a human that implies than you can say other inflammatory things without getting into trouble. As I was saying humans have a lot of dark and sometimes aggressive thoughts, and the ability to vent and share them is very important for mental health, but they need to make sure they find a proper group to confide in.

An example would be: what is the difference between a truckload of bowling balls and a truck load of dead babies….. you cannot unload the bowling balls with a pitchfork

Q: That…… is…. disturbing.

A: It’s a little bit funny

On the other hand, watching other people get hurt is a complicated type of humor.

It may be funny because the other person was doing something stupid, or against the rules, and it is entertaining to see them get what was coming to them. Humans like justice.

Sometimes it is designed as a way for humans to empathize with another being. Seeing someone get hurt wincing and then laughing about it is a way of saying I feel your pain, but I’m glad it’s not me.

Of course there is the humor that involves laughing at someone you genuinely hate who got hurt. IN this case you have always desired to hit that person, but it is not socially acceptable, but watching them get hurt by something else causes a sort of….. release of tension and anger.

Sometimes humans watch just to make themselves feel better that they aren’t in that situation or their life isn’t that bad.

In large groups, this is a way for humans to practice empathy and also socially bond with those round them

Q You said earlier that it was an important tool in defusing situations…. how does that work.

A Well that its a very good question and it comes with, what I think is the most interesting aspect of human humor.

IF you’re with your friends, and one of them runs face first into a pole, you may think it is funny, but it’s only funny if the person isn’t hurt, or a couple days after the incident when the person is fine. In both cases it is a way to demonstrate relief or test to see if the other person is ok. It can even be used to let others know that you're ok.

Human history is filled with some of the greatest and most horrible tragedies imaginable, and for every one of them you will be able to find jokes. Studies have shown that the use of humor is a proper and helpful outlet to the emotions that come with tragedy. You may hear a human say that there were only two options in a situation “It was either laugh or cry.” Both include the release of emotion which can be cathartic.

Assume there is a tense meeting between group of humans Violence is about to break out, but someone makes a joke. The atmosphere is diffused and social bonding occurs allowing the humans to be less hostile towards each other, and probably get something done.

In cases of humans who have experienced past trauma, I find that the healthiest, mentally healthiest, humans have a habit of making fun of the trauma. In many cases it helps them to cope with what happened and serves as a sign to let others know that they are doing ok.

Q And there are other types of humor as well?

A If I were to talk about all of them, we would be here all day. I think the important takeaway from this is that humans use humor  primarily for reasons of social bonding. If a human thinks you are funny they are more likely to like you and more likely to be your friend. Even in human relationships, the funnier you are the more likely you are to find a mate, so to anyone planning to spend time with humans, I would recommend putting a great amount of focus and study into their humorous.

[undignifiend]

Theme Ramblings - On Evil, Honesty, Violence, and Better Ways to Rule Number Two (Local Windbag Spends All Night Pontificating Again)

I really like Trollhunters and Tales of Arcadia. I feel like it addresses important themes that I also want to address in my own writing, and I feel like that is part of what makes it an awesome world and story to explore, through the original stories, and through fanfiction. I find exploring ideas within an already established world is very helpful and therapeutic. So here are my current thoughts on some of those themes, which have also been informed by various other stories. Narrative is one of the ways through which we process the world. And one of my goals is to learn how to do that with clarity, practicality, and compassion. So here’s a bit of what I think I’ve learned so far.

Warnings: Talking about violence, with pain and trauma. Stay safe. Also, spoilers for Tales of Arcadia - Wizards, and for the film You Were Never Really Here.

+++++

‘Evil’ is not a word that holds a lot of weight with me, at least not the way I feel it’s commonly used, especially in stories. Some bully without any redeeming qualities beating someone up for a power trip is a common motif, but I don’t find it a compelling or useful model of how or why some people act shitty, or how to possibly fix it nonviolently. As something of a determinist, I don’t believe our decisions just pop out of a vacuum - rather, that they are informed by our experiences, which we react to in healthy or unhealthy ways depending on what we think we understand and what we want to protect.

Or at least I think that’s a nice idea, but I don’t know how practical it actually is. For instance, maybe there are actual people who are just idiots, cowards, or cruel and nothing more, and interacting with them in a good-faith manner is an entirely hopeless waste of our limited time - especially when those mofos are actively threatening people. “They’re complex people, too!” seems kind of irrelevant when they’re calling for killing those who disagree with them, for example.

Maybe I’m having trouble with this idea because I haven’t actually recognized such mind-numbing simplistic malice in anyone directly involved in my life. I’m starting to think I might be spoiled that way.

I also want to emphasize that I’m not even remotely claiming “Everyone is right in their own ways”. Some mofos out there are objectively incorrect. I’m currently convinced that we all think we’re right, but not that we all are. Or that even when we realize we’re wronging someone, we tend to spin narratives that twist the situation to make ourselves look better, or even like we’re “The Real Victims! D:” to justify and excuse something we may otherwise deem tragic.

What horrifies me (what I’ve witnessed) is when harm is done by people who think they’re doing the right thing, or that they’re justified, or that it’s normal. People who otherwise have potential to do good, making a selfish call out of fear, anger, apathy, a misplaced sense of righteousness, or even just a desperate and ill-advised attempt to feel seen or important. The ‘evil’ that scares me most is a loss of perspective that leads to (and justifies or excuses) tragedy. That loss of perspective, I also think, is a key part of what makes propaganda possible. Calling someone ‘evil’ is often intended to deface them and simplify them into a problem or obstacle to be rid of - no longer a complex individual, but a symbol of all that is wrong with the world - a bully or ‘monster’ without redeeming qualities. (Often represented as something “subhuman” that we supposedly don’t have to feel bad about killing.) An external threat to vanquish in favor of facing whatever horrible truth we’re running from, or what conditions led to people acting in these harmful, tragic ways. (And if we can understand those conditions, perhaps we can guard against them and hopefully even save some lives and change them for the better?) I think calling someone ‘evil’ is not only impractical (and useless when it comes to diagnosing why someone is behaving a certain way, or how to effectively either help them grow up or maybe at least help prevent them from causing more harm), I think it opens the door for otherwise good people to do horrific things, all the while avoiding the root of the problem, and calling themselves justified and heroic.

That’s part of why I’m so excited about Wizards. (Finally got to ToA!) I appreciated Arthur as an example of what’s familiar to me, and the kinds of thinking I want us to learn to recognize and avoid. His grief was relatable - we’ve all lost someone, and we all have people we want to protect. But it’s monumentally important that we don’t commit Arthur’s tragedy, and take our pain out on others. And it’s also important that we don’t dismiss the pain that others are struggling to cope with, as Arthur dismissed Morgana’s and the trolls’ when he called them evil. And part of why I genuinely like Arthur as a character (not just an antagonist) was that he came around and admitted that he was wrong, and wanted to repair the damage he did.

At least until his Green Knight chapter, the motivations of which I’m still unsure of. I’m not the sharpest crayon in the shed, but it seemed like a non sequitur to me... after a certain point. If you have some insight into what’s going on with him, I’m all ears. I’m a little worried I might just be projecting my issues again.

So far, here’s what I think I can glean: I relate to the lines “How can I be at peace when the world is still broken?” and “He awoke to a legacy of a violent and awful world.” I don’t want to get into the specifics of my own experiences, but I understand the horror of “waking up” to a horrifying reality, and the motivation to try to change it somehow. The all-consuming restlessness of it, and the inability to escape or reconcile it, and the constant, never-ending tension that slowly rips you apart and isolates you from everyone and poisons your faith in humanity because you’ve looked into the abyss so long you now recognize that it’s where you’ve lived all along. Because no matter what kind of new equilibrium you scramble for, the truth remains that terrible, unnecessary harm is being done, and will continue to be done (and justified and excused and even laughed at) by otherwise good people until we all die out - and that will be our legacy even as we continue to squawk empty platitudes about how intelligent and compassionate and special we are, and nothing makes any of that okay.

In my worst, most melodramatic moments, I even understand the ‘Let it all burn, if it can’t be saved’ mentality. But I don’t have a lot of patience for defeatism, so it’s not a mentality I can take seriously for long at all, and that’s where my understanding (if I may be so pretentious?) of the Green Knight stops. Because I know there are many others who have seen what I’ve seen and feel the same way I do, and believe that a better way is possible, however distant, and who have done loads more than I have to change it. And (perhaps more importantly) I know that even those who perpetuate some of the same harms I want to stop, and even crack jokes about it, are still good people who mean well, and have their own pains to cope with.

What I want is for us (and our heroes) to recognize when we are being dishonest or unfair, and to call ourselves out, even when it’s inconvenient (or when it feels impossible, like when we’re scared, angry, or hurt). I love and admire people who can face their feelings and uncertainties honestly, and I want to be like them, because I believe that’s the most important, constructive kind of courage there is, it’s part of growing into a stronger, kinder person, and this stupid world needs a lot more of that in it.

And I think the whole topic of Evil is connected to our fascination with violence, and those who are skilled at it. (Though I’m not here to say ‘Violence Bad’. I know it’s not that simple.) In some situations, no other method has a chance of saving you or those you want to protect, and if you find yourself in such a situation, it pays to be good at violence, and to have friends who are, too. The stakes are high, so it makes for great drama, and is prevalent in stories all over the world. This also makes it a rather dramatic delivery system for Justice - or the Retributive version, anyway. Retribution is visceral, and easily understood, and speaks to our instincts of promoting and preserving status (teaching others not to screw us over or They’ll Pay), and discouraging harmful behaviors by harming the perpetrators...

I consider myself a rehabilitationist. But I understand the draw of retribution. I really do. The vast majority of my intrusive thoughts revolve around it, in particularly violent manners. It’s not fun, and it doesn’t feel powerful, and it feels weird to me to see stories that portray it as powerful, rather than as a failure or a loss. I understand the emotional desire to punish someone who has hurt an innocent. But I also understand it to a degree that transcends its original feelings of righteousness, takes itself to eyebrow-raising extremes, and makes me sick. Retribution has been glorified all throughout our history, and it scratches a primal itch, and yes, sometimes it may be the only available answer in order to prevent further harm. (Rehabilitation requires far more resources than Retribution, often making it impractical or overly risky in contexts of scarcity. I think that’s a huge factor in why ideals like Law, Justice, and Decency break down in a lot of Post-Apocalyptic story environments. It’s not just that our sense of Order has collapsed, it’s that we no longer have the infrastructure to support the ideals that Order was established to protect - though I would Not say that our current “justice” system in the US is rehabilitative or even ethical, but that’s a whole other rant.) But beyond that, I don’t believe Retribution is practical or productive. I believe it’s tragically ironic, loses sight of context and systemic issues, lends false-credence to the idea that people are the way they are due to innate, immutable qualities rather than taking their environment and experiences into account, and as a result, opens the door for good people to, again, do and justify horrific things.

It’s a hard, brutal film to watch, but I recommend You Were Never Really Here. The violence in this film feels far more real than the violence I’ve seen in any other because they don’t dress it up, or make it flashy. It’s more like something you’d see in a hidden-camera documentary. And their honest treatment of it was a visceral reminder of what violence actually is.

It puts a gut-wrenching twist on the ‘revenge fantasy’ and what it actually means to watch someone suffer and die. Even someone who had it coming. There’s a painful empathy to this film in its treatment of the characters and all the rituals (harmful or not) they use to cope with the violence they in turn have suffered. And the climax of the film centers on the awful realization that, despite his efforts, the protagonist was unable to protect someone from violence, or having to inflict violence of her own - like him, she’s marked by it now, too. She absolutely did it in self-defense, but the fact that she had to do it is still tragic. She has to live and cope with it now, as he does. And in the final scene, there’s this hellish sense of separation between them as they are, and the comparatively bright, happy lives they might have lived if they had not had to go through such horrific experiences. It’s unstated, but there’s this intense feeling that they’re haunted. Like they can be near that bright, happy life, but never cross the veil to reach it, themselves. The film ends with the girl deciding to try and find some happiness anyway. (“It’s a beautiful day.”) It’s not a happy ending, but it’s a hopeful one. It’s not a Good Triumphs Over Evil story. It’s a painful confrontation with an awful reality, and the struggle to find a way to carry on somehow.

And that resonates. Because we all know to some degree or other what it’s like to confront something awful, something we can’t just deny or forget or reconcile, and to try to find some way to cope with it. That tension can be so painful that it’s understandable (but still not excusable) why people sometimes try to pin it all on a scapegoat - so they can take something insurmountable, and turn it into something they can fight and triumph over. It’s a form of processing our grief, but it’s unfair, dishonest, and harmful, and inflicts more grief on others.

Anyway, in this fanfic I’ve been puttering around on (and trying to explore these themes through), Jim tries to solve things non-violently (as he often tried to do in the show, which I really like). Someday/night, he might not have the option, or can’t see any other way out. He knows that he (or someone else) is being seen as an outlet for someone’s frustrations - they’re using him as a symbol to project their own problems and issues on - something external they can beat up and triumph over in place of something intangible.

If he’s going to fight this outlook, I think he has to understand it - on more than a theoretical level. He has to go there himself. Maybe he punches Steve after all. (Maybe in the 2nd draft - or maybe later in the current iteration.) And he hates it. He’s changed forever, but not the way he expected to be. He feels capable, and righteous, and he doesn’t regret standing up for Eli or himself, but he doesn’t feel good. Because even if it’s easier to just dismiss Steve as a bully, and even if it occurs to Jim to do that - and even if he can feel it viscerally for a moment, Jim isn’t going to lie to himself. He can still see what Steve is, past his own anger. Steve is lashing out because he feels wronged and powerless, and he’s acting like his dad because that’s who made him feel that way, and that’s who showed him how to deal with those same feelings. Steve is a kid trying to process what he’s been through. It’s easy to forget that when Steve is trying to beat Jim down - when Draal has been trying to beat him down, too - and he’s had enough of all these angry people twisting their ideas of him in their heads and taking their anger out on him. He fought back because he couldn’t see any other option for handling it, and Steve was not willing to give him one. But from this, Jim knows how it feels to be demonized (seen as a manifestation of someone’s problems, some enemy to vanquish). And it becomes monumentally important to him never to succumb to that way of thinking, himself.

He’s not a crusader. If he has to fight and hurt or kill someone, it’s not because he thinks they’re a manifestation of evil. It’s because he does not see any recourse in stopping them from hurting or killing others. To him, violence is a tragedy meant to prevent another tragedy. And whether that justifies it or not is a question he will have to carry.

A lot of the combat we see in media, I would classify as “action”, and not violence. The vast majority of the time, it’s a choreographed dance that’s fun to watch, full of cool stunts that look like they’d be fun to do. It’s more like competitive eye-candy than anything else.

It’s fun, and I like the idea of writing that, but only in the context of sparring, or play. I don’t even want to call those “fights” or make a distinction between those and a “real fight”, because fighting is violence, and I hope to write about violence as honestly as I can. That’s part of what I like and admire about a lot of Guillermo del Toro’s other works, too. It’s not a dance, and it’s not glorious*. It’s ugly, terrifying, and it hurts to watch, and it makes us worry for his characters all the more, because it forces us to acknowledge how vulnerable they really are.

*Or, glory as it’s often treated, I think. If there really is any glory to be had in real violence, I think it’s in the willingness to act in a crisis to protect others. Terror is notoriously paralyzing, so this is where the value of training comes in - as a kind of autopilot mode to fall back on, and suppress our panic in the moment. The emotional fallout and trembling will come after the crisis has passed, but in an emergency, not knowing what to do, and feeling helpless, can be one of the most devastating weapons against us.

Sparring and training can be a fun and exhilarating test of skill, where no one intends to maim or kill you. It’s completely different from fighting. In a fight, the goal is not to learn or grow or compete, the goal is to either kill someone, or hurt them so badly that they can’t try to hurt you (or anyone else) anymore (or enough to give you time to get away). It’s very stressful and often traumatizing. One wrong move will have lasting consequences, if you’re lucky enough to survive to put up with them. Even if you win, odds are, you’re going to get hurt - maybe permanently. It’s the visceral understanding that someone has decided to disassemble you, and the only way to stop them is to disassemble them first. It’s an ugly reminder of the components of our bodies, and how fragile they really are.

“There are better ways to finish a fight than punching someone in the face.”

I agree with this - there are better methods of conflict resolution, and we must use them. And I really like how Jim carried this forward in sparing Chompsky and Draal. But I also felt like Claire fundamentally failed to understand what she had witnessed (and maybe I’m the one who misunderstood). I just didn’t appreciate what I felt was a lecture from someone who didn’t get it. Not that I’d wish for her to get it - it’s a horrible position to be in. When someone is actively trying to hurt you, it’s hard as hell to remember those better ways, and there’s no guarantee that they would work - at this point, you have to get the attacker to stop quickly. Steve resisted all other attempts to defuse the situation, and I don’t think it’s fair to blame someone for fighting back.

“A hero is not he who is fearless, but he who is not stopped by it.”

But I’m also not going to put down someone who still seeks to defuse a situation, even despite the risks. That’s a huge gamble, and it requires a massive amount of courage and good faith in the other party, and it won’t always pay off. But when it works, I believe it can open up possibilities that might not otherwise exist, because to demonstrate good faith in someone is to demonstrate that you are Not The Enemy. I think Douxie demonstrated this marvelously with the Lady of the Lake in Wizards. He gave up the most powerful weapon he had - or what was left of it - to free Nimue rather than fight her when it looked like she was about to End everybody. Once he realized the truth of her situation, he took action to alleviate it - because he wasn’t going to beat up a prisoner, and he did not consider her imprisonment acceptable in the first place.

Jim is not a pacifist, in Trollhunters canon, or in the AU idea I’ve been messing with. He will fight to stop others from killing, and he might end up having to kill in the process if all other attempts fail. But (at least in this AU thing) he will see it as a tragic failure to bridge a gap. He refuses to succumb to the way of thinking that presents his opponents as evil, even if that would make it simpler for him to process their horrific actions. They’re living, complex beings, not symbols of everything wrong with the world. And often, the reason they’re trying to hurt others to begin with is because they have succumbed to that “seeing their opponents as evil” way of thinking, themselves. As Jim sees it in Building Bridges, that Lie is everyone’s greatest enemy. It’s part of what allows otherwise good people (like Arthur and Morgana) to do, justify, and condone horrific things.

He will fight if he must, but he will do his best to reach others first, to show them the truth, and try to find a way to effectively address whatever underlying pain is causing them to lash out. If Maria Edgeworth has a point about how “The human heart opens only to the heart that opens in return,” Jim will transcend “human” by taking the risk of opening his heart first (whether or not he also becomes a half-troll in this AU idea). I currently think that’s the most profound way to prove that “evil” view wrong.

This is not to say that he will do so incautiously. Jim takes his role as a protector seriously, and he will do what he must in service to that. But he sees potential in others, and values it. He’s not a saint, but he strives to be understanding and compassionate. And that’s damn hard work. It takes effort to be good, and to see the good in others, especially when you’re hurting.

[maidenof-thesea]

Snakes and Butterflies | Preface

Pairing: Jimin x reader

Genre: Soulmate Au!, Fluff, Angst, Smut (Maybe, still debating)

Words: 2.1k 

Warnings: MC briefly mentions self harm but she recovers. 

Note: So this is my first series, I sort of dabbled in writing when I was younger. so I’m no expert but feedback is appreciated. I always enjoyed reading fan-fictions and always wanted to try it myself. Hope you like it! 

"So your room will be on the 3rd floor, facing the parking lot behind this building" I say to the couple in front of me as I hand them the keys to their hotel room. When they both reach for the keys I see their soulmate marks both matching arrows. I look up and feel my fake customer smile come on my face as I met their gaze. "Elevator is on the first hallway to your right as soon as you leave out the door. Dial zero if you have any questions." As soon as the couple is out of hearing range, I let out a sigh that Fernando, the security guard, hears.

"It's almost time till you get off," He says. "I have 7 more hours to go.."

"Oh you’re right" I say, as I look at the time on my phone. "Time to go home to the love of my life: my Yuki."

"Y/n, you need to go out and have fun like other girls your age," He says laughing and rubbing his beer pot belly. "You never know, you might just meet the love of your life...which would be nice in times like these.."

"Times like what?" I say counting out my last cash drop of my shift. "Did you see something on Facebook again? I told you so many times--"

"I saw this on the local news!" He says with red blotching his cheeks. "Young girls! Young girls around your age getting abducted! They turn up later on having no memory only that their Soulmate marks are gone!"

"Let me guess," I say printing out my paperwork and logging out of the system so that I could wait for my relief to come running through the door late again. "All these girls had a bunch to drink while having this so called 'fun' you say and this happened to them."

He stammers for words and in comes running my coworker who happens to work the graveyard shift. I saluted her and  I gestured for her to hurry up and clock in since guests are pulling in the parking lot. She smiles and hurries to start the beginning of her shift, while Fernando walks me to my car.

"Okay," He starts when we reach my car. "Perhaps not now but later when this whole ordeal dies down." I hum in response ready to get in my car as I unlock it, but he stops my door from opening. 

"I just worry about you, that's all y/n. Most girls either rebel or try very hard to find the one that matches their Mark but you.. you hide behind those sweaters and let no one near you, I've never even seen your Mark-"

“Fernando," I say grasping his shoulder. "There's no need to worry, I'm just letting fate decide for me. We've been blessed with this, surely fate means for me to come across them at some point in my life." I feel my other hand clench at the word 'blessed'. Surely to me it was a curse. I force myself to smile and I see that it works, he's convinced. "I just want time for myself. I want to grow into a person that feels like she's lived her life and is willing to open up and welcome someone." That wasn't a lie, that was genuine and I felt my voice wavering with emotion. Emotion I didn't know I still had. Fernando pats my hand and opens my door. I roll down the window after starting the ignition. I smile as I hear his radio go off, my coworker stating she needs him upfront. 

"Alright then miss," he says smiling. "I will let you go now and get some sleep!" I wave at him, as I reverse out and start the short drive home. My smile fading off my face as I clenched the steering wheel, willing myself to force unwanted emotions and memories away and drove the short distance to my home.  

The reason I decided to move out here to one of the beach cities was to escape. I found solitude in the sounds of the waves. My friend Jennie had recommended me to stay in this house alongside her family’s private beach, once I had told her my plans of moving out. She told me the rent would be really cheap which was impossible to believe but she told me that her family was planning on making it an airbnb during the summer and that they needed someone to manage it. She offered a wage but of course I declined, I just told her to hire someone to clean and I’ll manage the rest. 

It had been a year since then and now summer was just peaking over the horizon again and I knew I was gonna have to take time off to get everything situated. As I got through my door, my beloved Yuki, my tonkinese cat greets me with her purring and rubbing around my ankles.

“Hello my precious, how was your night?”

She purrs and licks my petting hand. I go to take off my coat and shower before bed. As I strip my work clothes, my arms catch my glance and from the conversation from earlier, I am reminded just how much of a freak I am. Where there should have been a Mark, lied just my skin. Scarred skin, to be exact, scars that matched my finger nails.

Rather than face the questions and pity in people’s faces, I rather hide. Hide just how pitiful my life has been. As the warmth of the water envelops me, I don’t feel the need to hide, at least not here in my own home, well that is till the summer. I force the pity I have for myself away and hum a tune. After that I fed Yuki a late night snack and turned on the TV to watch some Netflix. Just then my phone dinged and I saw a message from my mother. 

Mom[10:47 pm]: Have you seen this? Link: ww.foxnews.com/missingMarks

I clicked on the link and apparently the news I thought was just local made national news. 

“Today in a small town in southern California, tragedy has struck for several young adolescents who were out enjoying their youth when their very futures may very well change forever.” I rolled my eyes at that. They’ll live. “These women were abducted and their Soulmate marks stripped from their arms. All of them have no recollection of their whereabouts in the last 14 hours. Here’s Nancy with one of the victims.”

The clip changes to a girl with her eyes blurred out but it was evident that she was crying as she kept wiping her face. 

“I swear I just needed some air, I stepped out for a bit and I woke up at some park and this excruciating pain in my arm… my Mark was gone, almost as if it was burned off! How am I ever-gonna find them?!” 

Once again I had to resist the urge to roll my eyes, although a part of me was reminded of my teenage years but now older me, thrives in independence. My phone dings again, indicating another message from my mother.

Mom[10:52 pm]: They think there’s some Neanderthals out there taking Marks away… is that even possible? I thought they were extinct…

Me[10:52 pm]: I thought that was just a bedtime story??

Mom[10:55 pm]: Seriously? It’s in the history books! Why would you think that?

Me[10: 57 pm]: You know why… I don’t really care for things involving those stupid Marks. Besides I learned that along with basic math, how am I supposed to remember that?

Mom[10:57 pm]: I know sorry. But you should at least know our history!

Me[10:58 pm]: Ok I’ll watch a documentary on it on Netflix right now

Mom[10:59 pm]: You just got off work! Go to sleep!

Me[10:59 pm]: yea yea goodnight <3

“Maybe we should just sleep Yuki?” I say as she jumps on my lap and continues to purr and make herself comfortable before I could even get up. “Oh well guess I’m not moving.”

I grab the remote and start Netflix and about to click on Stranger, a Korean drama that I binged in the night prior but a new planet earth documentary catches my eye. This time instead of endangered species it’s about Neanderthals, an extinct race of human beings.

“Would you look at that?” I say tilting my head in curiosity. “Guess I am gonna learn our history.”

As the documentary starts to play, I get a text from my boss that she needs me off for tomorrow so I could work a full shift the day after and I internally groan but realize I can sleep in tomorrow. The theme song of Planet Earth starts playing and I am reminded of my childhood when I see the photograph of the Neanderthals, they look more ape like than human. I begin to wonder if they really actually looked like that or if they were exaggerated or not. Would they still look like that or would evolution help them adapt among humans now? Assuming that they were still alive…

“Humans and Neanderthals have always had their differences and constantly were at war with each other. Evolution had blessed humans with the abilities to procreate faster by aiding humans to find suitable partners. Each generation of humans was more beautiful than the previous. The Neanderthals, unfortunately were unable to evolve like us human beings and they would rape and pillage humans in order to procreate. Thanks to our advancement in evolution, humans were able to develop better weapons and eradicate the Neanderthals…”

“Okay,” I said rolling my eyes, raising the remote control. “Enough of that genocide bullshit.”

“But what if that’s all a lie?” a man obscured in the video said. On the bottom where typically the name of professors or researchers would be credited, the name ‘John Doe’ was instead. This caused me to raise my eyebrows. This man did not want to be known. Of course what he just said is considered blasphemous. “What if I were to tell you that humans are not the apex predators-that we never were the apex predator? That our ancestors may have won the war but fabricated history for their benefit?”

“That’s quite possible,” I mumbled. “But how could you possibly obtain the evidence to prove that?” 

“Of course there is no evidence left to prove that but I have dedicated my entire research into finding the remaining Neanderthals. Our ancestors could never locate the actual origin of the Neanderthals-”

“Seriously? I thought that place was just a myth!” I exclaimed, rousing Yuki from her sleep. With the flick of her tail she hopped off the couch and headed to my bedroom to sleep on my bed. “Sorry baby.” 

The documentary went on and on about the possibility that Neanderthals may live among us. That everything we know is a lie, that Neanderthals were the ones who evolved, they were the ones that had Soulmate marks… but there was no evidence to support it.

I turned off the TV when the credits started to roll. “Well another documentary to piss off the republicans.” My eyes started to feel heavy and instead of going to my bed I just pulled the throw blanket over myself and fell asleep. 

“Y/n look! Fireflies!” a boy with crescent moon eyes and Cheshire smile came running up to me with cupped hands. On his arm, was a Soulmate mark that wrapped around his entire arm, like a snake. It was the most beautiful I had ever seen. Most marks were abstract symbols but this was the first animal one I had ever seen.

“Can I see, Jimin?” another boy said excitedly running with buck teeth, almost like a bunny’s. 

“No I want to show Y/n first!” and the boy called Jimin reached me and opened his hands.

The fireflies floated up the sky and both me and the other boy stared in awe. The other boy proceeded to try and catch the fireflies once more and when I looked back at Jimin, he was already staring at me with a gleam in his eyes. He reached for my hand and when our skin made contact, a shiver went through the both of us. When I looked at our joined hands, I noticed that instead of a snake tail on his wrist, the snake’s body seemed to morph into particles and the particles continued onto my arm and morphed into butterflies..like a puzzle piece.

“Y/N-”

Next

Masterlist 

[mimzy-writing-online]

Some Blind Things I (and actual blind person) Have Done

I talk all the time about what’s realistic for a blind person to do and how to write a blind character who isn’t a complete media myth of touching faces and super powers... soooo, part of that is knowing what kind of things an actual blind person (me) fucks up doing because I’m blind.

These moments include: Me sarcastically telling people I cannot see the thing they’re doing. Moments where I have zero manners. Moments where I do have manners. Making people uncomfortable because they’re staring at me. Great phrases like, “I have too much ADHD to count to eight.” and “It’s literally illegal for me to drive.” and “Wait, who are you?” “That’s not how we talk to people Mimzy.” My cats’ growing concern that I can’t see them or tell them apart but continuing to love me. Channeling my inner Toph Bei-Fong. Updates on the ongoing insomnia writing.

There’s no chronological order to them, I’m not sure there’s going to be any order to them at all, but it’s 3 am and I can’t sleep and it’s called the Late Night Writing Advice Blog for a reason.

(I definitely did not have to double check my own blog title while typing that, definitely not)

Note: This list gets a little long, but it’s a funny read and I was up until 4:30 (this note is from a future Mimzy who’s almost finished posting this, after 1.5 hours)

Additional Note: Feel free to send anons with commentary or reblog with commentary because I would love if someone enjoyed this. Like, these are stories of my life, please appreciate them.

The Things!

-My best friend and I hang out mostly at night because of his 9-5 job, and he still lives with his parents who probably don’t like me so when we hang out we’re mostly driving around on random adventures and coffee/tea runs and late night dinners. 

So it’s night, and my night vision is awful and I have to wear sunglasses anyway because what I can see is painfully bright headlights so yeah I see basically nothing.

With my best friend, I have

1. after asking him a question: “Did you nod at me and I just didn’t see it.” “I did nod.” or after waiting long enough for a response he’ll realize what he did on his own and say, “I was shaking my head no, sorry.”

2. Reaching into total darkness to touch his shoulder and touched his armpit instead.

3. Dropped something from my bag onto his messy car floor and asked him to find it for me because it all looks blurry and grey-black down there, even without sunglasses

4. Sensed he was going for a high five and I gave him a perfect high five. Surprised, he wanted to test it again. I completely missed.

5. “We’re passing the oil refinery, so enjoy hearing, touching, smelling, tasting that.” plus 3 other identical jokes on the same drive. “Hey, can you stop making blind jokes, I’m starting to hate them these days.” “When did that happen?” “When one not-great classmate slash sort of friend made them all the time.” “That’s a shame.” “Blind jokes from sighted people are also super repetitive. The only blind jokes I seem to like are from other blind people.”

6. Him: “You’re rolling your eyes behind your sunglasses, I can tell!” 

7. Once we saw snow once our way driving home from Las Vegas. It was March, it was after midnight, and the warmest it had been at any point in that night was 40 degrees Fahrenheit (4.4 degrees Celsius. That’s a real comparison?? That’s a scary number to an American who’s barely ever left California. We were driving through the mountainy area of California where the temp really drops and for three seconds we saw snow in the wind. Well, he saw it. Something moved, it was small and flaky but like... that was actually snow and I couldn’t see it? (this was three, almost four years ago)

8. Last weekend we drove around the rich neighborhoods to look at Christmas decorations because I love Christmas lights because for ones light actually looks pretty instead of painful and I can see it at night without hurting, so it’s nice. I love the pretty visual things. Blindness will not take the pretty visual things from me! And the decorations just make me so happy and I wanted to do that last year but never did, so we did that this year

9. I also told him about the cripple punk tag on Tumblr last weekend and he was delighted to know it exists because he’s got other chronic health issues including downright awful knees.

Other blind things not directly involving my best friend

1. I have paused writing to ask a sighted person if it’s realistic for my sighted characters to see X item from Y distance away. Usually my dad with his stupidly perfect vision.

2. Realizing I’m forgetting what sighted people can see. It’s been four years since I saw like a normal person. And all my sighted memories are literally blurry from age.

3. But I still have dreams where I see normally. And then dreams where everything is too bright like in real life and I cannot see and what is happening???

At home, specifically

1. I have three cats who I can’t tell the difference between. I have a small black and brown tabby cat. A black and orange tortie cat who is slightly heavy but medium build. An all black cat who is huge and has the longest fur I’ve ever touched on a cat. I cannot tell the difference between them until I’m up close. Especially if the lighting bad.

2. Tonight I almost set my laptop on top of Remy, my brown and black tabby, because I didn’t see here a foot away from me, curled up next to my leg, somehow blending in with my orange and blue comforter. Her concerned look I did see and was horrified by my almost fuck up and apologized profusely for.

3. Cannot see Felix, my black cat, half the time if the lighting is bad and have almost sat on him, put my feet in his face, tripped over him, etc. because he blends into the shadows and oh my fucking god I cannot see that.

Note: Remy cuddles with me all the time. Felix adores me but will not be caught dead cuddling anyone because dignity, but if he’s in my room and nobody’s around to see he’s insistent on cuddling. Rio (black and orange tortie) is devoted to my mum, and she knows she makes me nervous when she suddenly jumps on me and I get really shifty and squirmy and not fun to cuddle with, so we’re cool and I give her pets but she doesn’t usually crawl onto me unless she wants to make my mum jealous.

4. Can sneak up on family members and friends because I move so quietly, so at least there’s that. Not a blind thing, but it makes up for some things.

5. Have walked up to someone I thought was a friend, realized I don’t know them, and the first thing out my mouth was “Wait, who are you?” and then a close friend (and the party host) grab me by the shoulders and say, “That’s not how we talk to people,” and just like, where are your manners Mimzy, wtf, but I never saw that stranger again so it’s okay.

Side Note: blindness aside, I do have a habit of just rudely speaking my mind in not-appropriate settings because I just don’t care and don’t have the anxiety to at least act like I care. They’re very satisfying, but usually very rare moments.

6. Please stop moving things around the house!

7. “What do you mean there are cobwebs?” *Shines a flashlight at the dark corners of my room* “oh my god...”

8. Me, to my family members, “Please close those curtains, light hurts. Please turn off that lamp, it’s too bright in here.” *me, later turns off most of the lights in the house* Family members: “Why is it so dark in here? I can’t see.” *Me, channeling my inner Toph Bei-Fong* “Oh no, what a tragedy!”

9. Mum is the only one who vaguely appreciates my light sensitivity because she also has snow vision (a mild case) and has a little light sensitivity, sometimes, on her bad days.

More Not Quite Appropriate Things!

There are so many things that I say only to realize that there is a very nearby stranger who heard that out of context and it sounded so bad.

1. Best Friend (while I’m walking down stairs just fine, by myself, don’t need anyone’s help, I can do it!) “There are eight steps.” “I don’t need your help.” “I know but--” “I’m fine!” “I’m just trying to help.” “I have too much ADHD to count to eight anyway!”

“I have too much ADHD to count to eight anyway,” is exactly what two strangers heard while walking right behind me.

Why would you sneak up on someone who’s so obviously blind??

2. “Sea foam green is an ugly color anyway.” I was in a mall, it was well lit and I was using my cane and managing with my crap vision, but I managed to see that specific color I hate on a dress right next to me, and the woman walking on the other side of the mannequin display heard that and did a double take on my obviously blind self.

Or so I’m told by my mom who could see what happened.

3. Similar to above, I was in the Artist Village in San Diego, which is a huge tourist trap, and I was sort of a tourist too, but it’s freaking outdoors, so I have the cane and sunglasses. And I’m in an Artist Village (very visual thing) with my parents, so out of place. And this random dude was apparently staring at me. Cannot see him, absolutely no idea which direction my mum is pointing towards, everything is blank and weird and not see-able, but I turned my head and by some miracle looked directly at him and he freaked out and looked away.

4. “Oh yeah, make fun of the blind person!” sarcastically, but loudly, somewhere public after a joke a friend had made that I was actually okay with.

5. “Driving and hiking are my two biggest weaknesses,” said out of context to people who didn’t know I was blind.

6. “I forgot you were blind.” “Well I didn’t.” More channeling of Toph, I think.

7. “Why can’t you drive?” *points to cane* *he does not get it* “It’s very illegal for me to drive.” *does not get it* “They’re blind dude,” classmate says. “Very blind.” “You seem to get around just fine,” says the man who only see me indoors with the very best lighting scenario for my vision. “Yeah, but that’s because I have the cane.” “So?” You seem just fine, he seems to think. How dumb are you? I definitely think. “Why do you need the cane?” “Because I would die if I didn’t have it. I have almost died. People would die if I tried to drive.”

8. Later: “Did he think you could just drive and use your cane to feel the road or something?” “I guess.”

9. More questions from other people who don’t know me very well asking why I can’t drive. “Because it’s illegal.” Their confusion is wondering specifically why it’s illegal rather than thinking I’m not actually blind. I explain the laws in the driving handbook, because I have read it (unlike some people I guess. How did you miss the ‘drivers must be able to see at least 20/40 with their best corrected eye” and I haven’t been in that category for two years.

Note: My day blindness came two years before my vision acuity reached visually impaired status. So, like, two years of wishing I had a cane but thinking “I’m not blind enough” and still being terrified in certain situations and risking my life walking around without one or some sighted guide.

Similar Public Things

1. I can see indoors pretty well so I get by on prescription glasses and no cane (I see 20/70 - 20/100 with glasses) but sometimes the mall is crowded and nobody gives me space and I’m just not comfortable getting so close to people, so I bust out my cane (and maybe my sunglasses too) so I look extra blind and people will give me the space to walk without running into someone.

2. Have also done that just because the indoor lights were also too bright and I need my sunglasses.

3. Have stared at my phone in public with cane/sunglasses, or tried taking photos with it, and I get so many weird looks because blind people see nothing I guess, none of us have any vision at all! (read sarcasm)

4. Walking into a coffee shop I’ve been to before and I know they change their teas all the freaking time. Also got the cane. “Hi, can you tell me what iced teas you have right now?” “Oh, they’re all on that sign.” *blank look* Do you not realize I’m blind? I’m thinking. “What kind of black tea do you have? Do you have any tropical black tea?” (because they usually do and I love tropical black tea, and they did that day too, so I ordered that.)

5. I cannot read menus. Those restaurants that have the menus above the register are awful, evil. Cannot read. In the wonderful days of my childhood I didn’t have prescription glasses for my moderately not great but still mostly functional vision (my dad has perfect vision and no concept whatsoever about what it’s like to not be able to see those things!) So imagine my parents dragging me to restaurants like that and I’m 10 years old and supposedly can read perfectly fine but I cannot read that menu and I think it’s some personal character fault of mine that I just don’t know how to read those kinds of menus, so I have to ask my mum to help me choose a food to order and eat, and then that’s the only thing I ever order any time I ever go back. So, I’m quickly getting sick of those places because I only eat one item there and I want to try something new with a restaurant with those nice hand held menus, but those are sit-down restaurants and apparently they cost more money, sooo...

6. That was a rant I went on with my best friend last weekend

Side note: It’s almost 4 am, my mum just woke up, saw the light on in my room from under the crack of my door and said hi. I’m at a point right now where she just expects it and isn’t one to judge (unlike my dad who has zero insomnia because he has hypersomnia and I don’t know how humans do that)

Side Note Ten Minutes Later: My laptop is at 10% but I plugged it in because dammit I am finishing this tonight and it will have all the things.

7. “Hey, where’s the trash can? I can’t find one.” *also mistakes a trashcan and a human being just sitting still. All the time* “Why not just litter then?” best friend asks, knowing exactly how I’ll respond. “I have manners!”

8. I hate traveling even a little by myself. My orientation and mobility skills with my cane aren’t that bad, but they’re not good enough for me to feel comfortable walking around by myself anywhere that isn’t super familiar with routes I already have practiced and memorized (school, close friend’s houses or apartments, the blocks in my neighborhood I’ve walked 500 times coming too and from school or walking dogs with my parents). Anywhere unfamiliar or wide/open or crowded or God Forbid, OUTSIDE is a source of terror and will not let my traveling companions leave me alone for longer than a few minutes and certainly not walk away on my own.

9. Will not go to bars because I present female and I am visibly disabled and that makes me look like an easy target and why would I risk that unnecessarily?

I’m gonna cut it off here. This is a long post, and I need to just finally go to bed. Goodnight. I hope you enjoyed it. Feel free to send anons with commentary or reblog with commentary. I’d like to know that someone liked this.

[ao3porcelainstorm]

poison ivy & stinging nettles 26

On Ao3

Masterlist

Pairing: Sherlock/OFC

Rated: M

Warnings: eventual violence, torture, swears, adult themes (no explicit smut)

Chapter 25 - Chapter 27

Chapter 26 - Fall

The Journal of Amelia Brenner

My therapist suggested I try writing down my thoughts. She said it might help me reflect on all that’s happened, a way to take on the grief.

I don’t really have a lot to say. I don’t think. I’ve never really been a writer, words are hard to come up with. It’s fair easier to throw a bottle of red paint at a wall and call it anger.

So I’ll just write down what I know.

John’s started up with his therapist again. I guess he’d stopped since meeting Sherlock, but since everything- he’s not doing well. I don’t think any of us are.

We moved out of Baker Street. There’s too much there. Everything just radiated Sherlock Holmes and I think the memories are still too fresh for both of us.

Ruthie is letting us rent the apartment above the old flower shop. The whole building was rebuilt and renovated. It’s better than it was before the fire- if I’m being honest. Not to mention, it’s bigger and doesn’t have the distinct smell of human flesh and sulfur.

John’s at work a lot more. When he’s home, he goes straight to bed. Sometimes he’ll come home stumbling from the pub.

I get it. I’d done my fair share of drinking alone, watching Doctor Who reruns all day.

Molly won’t answer my calls. I’m worried she’s not doing well, but I can’t find the energy to get dressed and visit in person. I can’t find the energy to do much anymore.

I tried painting the other day and ended up kicking a hole through the canvas. John came home and found me with a bottle of Merlot, laying in the middle of my room- the walls coated with thrown bottles of paint.

He suggested I get a day job to pass the time. Maybe he’s right.

All of my free time had become Sherlock.

I followed him to crime scenes, talked to him, laughed with him, slept with him. Everything was him. I didn’t mind. It wasn’t bad at all. For once, it was nice to feel important, to help bring happiness to others. I was spending time with the man I love and my best friend, every day.

Who could ask for anything better? I loved my life and now it’s careening off the rails and no matter how long I stare at the cliff I’m headed toward, I refuse to accept the reality for what it is.

Sherlock Holmes is dead, and there’s nothing that will change that.

(--)

Amelia had been through her fair share of no-win scenarios.

It wasn’t missed that the majority of them had happened since Sherlock stumbled into her life, but she wouldn’t have traded the experience for anything. Life lessons and finding love; all that nonsense.

So, when Moriarty wasn’t convicted for his part in the large crimes he’d committed in broad daylight, she realized that once again, they’d fallen into his game. A game where there were never any winners in the end.

Sherlock didn’t handle the news well. He was short-tempered, distracted, and when the little girl screamed as she’d recognized him, Amelia didn’t miss the murmurs and rumors that stirred after he fumed out of Scotland Yard.

She didn’t miss the uneasy look John shot her, or the other officers’ eyes boring into her back- more rumors that connected dots regarding her relationship with the detective.

He’d had a meltdown before they tried to arrest him, ranting about Moriarty making his move.

He was in the spotlight now, John had mentioned so much after the painting had been returned and Sherlock’s photographs peppered the front pages of local papers.

It was a wise time to strike, on Moriarty’s part, even Amelia had to sheepishly agree with the logic.

When Sherlock, and soon John, were arrested, Amelia hurried out to watch the men run off- Sherlock acting like he’d lost his mind.

She sprinted after them, promising Greg she’d calm them down. Figure out what happened.

Clear his name, was the unspoken promise between her and the unnerved inspector.

The boys moved fast, reminding Amelia exactly who she was working with. They were a step ahead of her the whole day.

Sherlock was getting desperate and did his best work in those cases. People tended to underestimate those at the end of their rope, and she’d almost fallen into that trap.

Thankfully, John shot her a text after an hour into her search.

An address tied to some reporter Sherlock had mentioned during the trial.

It was something, and she hoped the detective hadn’t mucked up the whole thing. The media would have a frenzy with his seemingly insane actions of the last twenty-four hours. She already was dreading the newspapers in the morning.

The British media was a brutal, cruel monster.

She arrived at the address, electing to listen to the voices inside bickering when a familiar voice commented behind her.

“You know what I love about a tragedy?” Moriarty purred when Amelia spun around. “It’s always preventable. Some miscalculation, some overzealous emotional decision- but the hero overlooks the obvious solution.”

Something snapped in Amelia. Fueled by a rage she’d ignored in lieu of healing, she shoved him back against the hallway wall.

He seemed genuinely surprised by the outburst, laughing quietly when she pinned his neck under her forearm, cutting off his breathing.

“Why shouldn’t I kill you?” she snarled. “I have every reason to.”

“They’ll think Sherlock did it-,” his face was turning blue, but still he grinned at her. “Fraud.”

Amelia hissed an insult under her breath and pulled away. He was right. Of course, he was right. This was his show, his story, and they were all playing their parts perfectly.

“Keep an eye out for the papers tomorrow, love,” he coughed, grabbing a grocery bag off the ground, humming a familiar tune under his breath.

Something clicked in Amelia’s brain and before he could unlock the door, she whirled around and slammed a fist into his gut.

It wasn’t the most powerful hit, but he still reeled over in pain, and that was enough for her.

“You’re not going to win,” she snarled in a low voice. “I’ll kill you myself if it comes down to it.”

“I don’t doubt that for a second,” he smirked and slipped into the apartment.

(---)

John met up with Amelia at the Diogenes Club.

He was thumbing through paperwork that he’d taken from the reporter when she’d arrived, frowning deeper with every word he read.

“He was sold out,” he murmured, handing her the files.

“What?” Amelia blinked in confusion, reading through the intimate details of Sherlock’s life.

A twisted review of the good he’d done, skewed by some distorted story about some actor named Richard.

Richard, whose face belonged to the monster from her nightmares.

The whole thing reeked of Moriarty, but the details...

They involved things only she or John would know and included some things she never knew. Intimate details. Personal details that only family might know.

“You think Mycroft told him?” she whispered, handing the file back to her friend. “When he in custody? That doesn’t make any sense.”

“I know he did,” John stated firmly. “Who else? We didn’t.”

The thought sent a chill up Amelia’s spine. His own brother. No wonder Sherlock seemed like he was slipping. The whole world was attacking him at every side.

“Is he on his way then? Mycroft?” she asked and John sighed, shrugging.

“Apparently,” he murmured, shaking his head at something he read. “They said he’s usually here by now.”

Amelia nodded and stood up, hand on her phone in her jacket pocket.

“I... I’m going to wait outside,” she mumbled. “I don’t think I could look Mycroft in the eye if he actually did this. We can... Just let me know when you’re done.”

John wasn’t paying much attention when she slipped out and started dialing Sherlock’s phone.

It rang twice before someone picked up.

“Sherlock?” she inquired quietly into the line.

“Are you safe?” he quickly questioned.

“Yeah I’m- I’m with John,” she replied. “Where are you?”

Amelia swore she heard a breath of relief through the line.

“Hospital,” he answered briskly. “Molly is... She agreed to let me stay out of sight here.”

“What’s your plan?” Amelia asked.

“Not yet,” he replied tersely. “I can’t tell you yet.”

“Then you know whatever it is, I’m here to help,” she stated firmly.

“I know,” he paused. “Just stay with John. I’ll be in touch.”

The line went dead, and Amelia shoved the phone back in her pocket. She paced around the sidewalk in front of the Diogenes Club, head ringing.

Moriarty’s words kept playing in her head. A tragedy.

It was clear what was happening, between the story and the doubt the maniac had sowed in everyone’s heads. The public would slaughter him alive when that bullshit story hit the shelves the next day. Sherlock, while a difficult and moody person, was sensitive to the opinions of others, no matter how he tried to play it off.

This had the potential to break him.

Amelia didn’t like the thought of where this could lead. She didn’t like the thought of losing what little peace she’d cultivated in her life. She was scared shitless and shaking when John found her waiting outside.

“I was right,” was all he said before tucking her under his arm and pulling her into a hug. She sighed, wishing that all her worries could wash away with the brief respite. When John pulled away, he looked at her directly.

“I’m scared too.”

(---)

The trio reunited at the hospital laboratory.

“The computer code,” Sherlock explained, bouncing a ball between cabinets, eyes fixed forward. “Somewhere in Baker Street... on the day of the verdict, he must have hidden it.”

“What did he touch?” John asked, approaching, eyes following the ball as it bounced between the floor and counters.

“An apple, nothing else,” came Sherlock’s response. He stood up, fist-clenching around the rubber ball, eyes scanning the air as if the answer would appear.

John tapped idly on the counter, throwing out ideas when Amelia saw Sherlock suddenly tense.

It was subtle, but she watched him glance at the pair before turning away, fishing his phone from his pocket and quickly typing out a message.

When he turned back around, John had been oblivious to the action, but he met Amelia’s questioning look with a frown.

He wasn’t going to tell them his plan, she realized when he started wordlessly bouncing the ball again.

A few hours passed, with John falling asleep about halfway through their waiting. Amelia sat propped against the cabinets on the ground next to Sherlock while her phone charged in a nearby outlet- just watching him.

She watched him fidget and check his phone from time to time. She watched him pace, eyes searching for something not present.

Occasionally he’d mumbled under his breath or bounce the ball again.

She watched him do everything in his power to avoid looking at her or John.

That deep, unnerving feeling she’d felt at the Diogenes club had re-emerged.

This wasn’t going to end well, she predicted. She didn’t know how or what was going to happen, but she knew Sherlock well enough to understand when he was a dozen paces ahead and he didn’t seem pleased.

He knew the endgame, and he knew she would immediately be able to tell that something was off. That’s why he didn’t say anything about his plan.

John’s phone rang, pulling the doctor out of his brief nap. A few quick words and bolted up, looking to the pair while he threw on his coat.

“Paramedics, Mrs. Hudson they say she’s been shot,” he explained breathlessly, tossing Amelia her coat off a nearby chair.

“What? How?” Sherlock’s response came coolly. Unphased. Unsurprised, even.

“Probably one of the killers you managed to- Jesus, she’s dying, let’s go,” he started for the door, Amelia following behind without question.

“You go, I’m busy,” he stated, staring off in the distance.

That wasn’t the right response. Amelia stared in shock, looking to John then Sherlock, for someone to say something else.

John’s expression shifted in awe- anger, surprise, frustration all bubbling to the surface.

“Busy-?” he choked out, hands shaking at his sides.

“Thinking- I need to think,” came Sherlock’s short reply.

This didn’t read right to Amelia. He wasn’t that heartless-

“You need to- doesn’t she mean anything to you?” John’s voice broke slightly. “You once half-killed a man because he laid a finger on her.”

“She’s my landlady.”

“She’s dying- you machine,” John spat out, hands body shaking. When he realized the truth to his own words, something crossed his features and he backed away “Sod this. Sod this. You stay here if you want, be alone.”

“Alone is what I have. Alone protects me,” Sherlock replied, still unmoving.

“Friends protect people,” John snapped. “C’mon Mia.”

Amelia sent a final look to Sherlock, her expression falling when he wouldn’t break away from his selected spot on the wall in front of him. Avoiding her.

This was wrong. This was all wrong.

Hurrying after John, he was about to slide in the cab when she felt her pockets, realizing her wallet and phone had been left behind in the lab.

“Go ahead,” she called to him, turning back to the hospital. “I’ll be right behind you!”

John took off without a second thought, while Amelia raced back to the lab, stopping when she saw Sherlock in one of the back halls- headed for a staircase.

To her surprise, he didn’t notice her, his expression lost in thought while he marched forward, almost trance-like. She stood and watched until he was out of sight, her heart thrumming against her sternum.

Something wrong. Her mind repeated over and over.

Her gut said to follow him, but against her instincts, she let him be. She slipped back into the lab, spying her phone on the counter with a new message from John.

Mrs. Hudson is fine. Somethings wrong.

She knew it.

Racing up the hall, she could hear a closing door above her when she reached the stairs.

Rooftop, her brained supplied, and she sprinted up the steps two at a time, pausing at the metal door leading to the roof.

“...nice you choose a tall building, nice way to do it.”

James Moriarty.

There was a beat before Sherlock’s voice sounded.

“Do it? Do what?” he asked. “Yes of course... my suicide.”

Amelia’s chest tightened.

“Genius detective proved to be a fraud, I read it in the papers so it must be true. I love newspapers,” Amelia could hear the voices stepping away. “Fairytales... and pretty grim ones too.”

What could she do? What was there to do?

She wasn’t supposed to be here.

She wasn’t supposed to be listening.

She fumbled with her phone, shaking hands trying to type out a coherent message to John.

Sherlock in trouble. Moriarty here.

Anything-! But before she could send, an adrenaline rush sent a hitter through her arms and the phone tumbled out of her hands and down the stairs.

Nononononono

This was like her nightmares. Her inability to save anyone. Her curse being forced to watch while-

A gunshot rattled the door and Amelia decided she’d had enough. She’d face whatever awaited on the other side, regardless of who pulled the trigger.

She didn’t expect to find Moriarty, dead on the ground, Sherlock looking panicked, and a gun in the maniac’s hand.

“What are you doing here?” Sherlock was on Amelia in a heartbeat, grabbing her arm and spinning her to face him. “You’re supposed to be with John.”

“My phone-,” she stammered gesturing toward the door, eyes still wide. “Sherlock, what’s happening?”

Moriarty dead. Sherlock on the roof. Suicide.

“No, no, you can’t be here,” he ran a hand through his hair. “Amelia, you need to leave. You can’t see this.”

“He’s dead, what are you talking about? He’s gone,” she tried putting words into sentences that would make sense, but the way he was stumbling around made her second guess her attempts at calming him.

“He’s going to kill all of you, he hired assassins to-” he finally managed, his expression resolved in the information. “Unless...”

“You jump,” she whispered, a hand moving to cover her horrified expression. “Sherlock, think logically, there’s- he’s playing on your emotions. He wants you to think there isn’t another plan- we can call Lestrade or your brother-.”

“There’s no time,” he explained, grabbing her arms. “Please, do this for me. Go downstairs. Forget this, forget all of this.”

“Sherlock you can’t be serious,” tears sprung up in her eyes. “You’re being irrational. Let John and I help, we’re your friends-.”

He cut her off with a frantic kiss.

It was a desperate last kiss that would have normally swept Amelia straight off her feet.

Instead, she clutched into the front of his jacket when he tried to pull away and back toward the edge of the rooftop.

“Please, Sherlock,” she begged. “You can’t- I love you. So many people love and cherish you and I... please.”

He was on the edge of the building, legs wavering slightly when he looked down. He took a breath, pulling his cell phone from his pocket.

“I’m calling John,” he stated, hand holding the phone up for her to see.

Right. John.

John would talk some sense into him. He’d see reason when John-

She didn’t hear much of what was said. Her mind was racing, running through ways of saving him.

Pull him down, stop the jump- anything, but every scenario still ended with him plummeting to his death.

Amelia felt so useless. So pathetic. So helpless.

He was determined to make things right and, in his mind, this was the right path. He’d do what he had to in order to see this through to the end.

She stepped closer while he was distracted, and when he turned to drop the phone, he gave her a final look, a sad smile.

“I love you, Amelia,” he said. “And I beg you, please, don’t watch.”

And before she could reach for him, he jumped.

An inhuman noise escaped her, and though every temptation was there for her to watch his descent, she threw herself to the rooftop and buried her screams in her knees.

Screams filled the street. Onlookers yelled for help.

Her heart felt like it’d been ripped clean of her body. Disbelief danced with the reality of what just happened in front of her own eyes.

Everything felt like a dream after that.

Mycroft ended up being the one to find her, his agents approaching the scene first.

Normally, Amelia would have given him a piece of her mind regarding his place in all of this, but she numbly let him guide her to where John was on the street below.

She caught snippets of conversations. People being interviewed by the police, the random clicks of journalists documenting the famous detectives fall from grace, EMTs murmuring about what it all meant.

Her mind was trying to make sense of it all. Trying to pry some semblance of sanity from the chaos around her.

She found John sitting on the back of an ambulance with a patch on his head.

She didn’t say a word as she approached, instead just wrapping him under her arms and letting him choke out a few tears into her jacket. They’d both been left behind.

The tragedy of Sherlock Holmes wasn’t the unpoetic end he’d faced, it was the guilt and questions he’d left behind in those who cared the most for him.

Chapter 27

[womenofcolor15]

‘Sex and the City’ Is Back For A Reboot - Without Samantha! Here's What SJP Has To Say About Their Beef & Why Folks Are Demanding Diversity

“Sex and the City” is getting the reboot treatment (that some are wondering if we really even need). And one character – Samantha (played by Kim Cattrall) – is notably missing. Lead star Sarah Jessica Parker addresses her former co-star’s absence in the upcoming rival. Find out what she said inside….

Yep. You heard right. One of the biggest television series is making a comeback!

”Sex and the City” is getting the reboot treatment, following the show’s initial run (that wrapped up in 2004) and two movies (2008 & 2010). The 2nd film didn’t do great at the box office, but that’s not stopping a revival of the hit television series.

The reboot of the hit series will return as a limited series titled, “And Just Like That…”

According to THR, the 10-episode, half-hour show will debut on HBO Max. It’ll follow the original ladies Carrie (Sarah Jessica Parker), Miranda (Cynthia Nixon), and Charlotte (Kristin Davis) navigating life in their 50s. Lord. Charlotte & Miranda will be parents to teen boys, while Carrie should be living in marital bliss with her husband Mr. Big. However, we wouldn't be surprised if they got a divorce in the reboot.

However, Samantha (Kim Cattrall) is NOT involved with the project. No surprise there. In the past, Kim said SJP is a MEAN girl and that she would never work with her again. All of that tea was spilled when SJP reached out to Kim in 2018 following the death of Kim’s brother.

        View this post on Instagram

                      A post shared by Kim Cattrall (@kimcattrall)

  ”My Mom asked me today 'When will that @sarahjessicaparker, that hypocrite, leave you alone?' Your continuous reaching out is a painful reminder of how cruel you really were then and now," Kim wrote in an Instagram post in 2018. "Let me make this VERY clear. (If I haven’t already) You are not my family. You are not my friend. So I’m writing to tell you one last time to stop exploiting our tragedy in order to restore your ‘nice girl’ persona."

After she unleashed that lashing on SJP, fans KNEW a "SATC" reunion including Samantha never happening.

Despite Kim’s absence, the reboot is still happening:

Sarah, Cynthia and Kristin all posted the same “SATC” reboot promo on their social media accounts:

        View this post on Instagram

                      A post shared by SJP (@sarahjessicaparker)

  In the comments, fans questioned SJP about Kim’s absence and she responded:

"Happy to see you back but will miss Kim/Samantha," one commenter wrote, to which SJP replied, "We will too. We loved her so. X."

”OMG it’s happening. Something is happening. Imma miss Samantha but I’ll take anything right now,” another commenter wrote.

”She will always be there. And we are so excited. X,” SLP responded.

In another response, she addressed the rumors that she doesn't like Kim.

"No. I don't dislike her. I've never said that. Never would," SJP wrote. "Samantha isn't part of this story, but she will always be part of us. No matter where we are or what we do. X."

SJP kept her responses classy and drama-free, which is good because Kim seems like the type that would respond.

“SATC” series creator Darren Star will not be returning as well. Director Michael Patrick King — who won an Emmy for his work directing on the original series — will serve as the reboot’s Executive Producer. Production will kick off in NYC later this year.

Now, the big question is will they DIVERSIFY the reboot? Inclusion has been a huge issue for “Sex and the City,” especially since the show is set in New York City, which is one of the most racially and economically diverse cities in the world. “SATC” hardly had any diversity other than Charlotte’s adopted daughter Lily and Jennifer Hudson when she starred in the first movie as Carrie’s assistant from St. Louis. "My very own Louis Vuitton?!" Chile....

Folks have been sounding off on Twitter about adding some diversity to the cast for the reboot:

why are they doing a sex and the city reboot without Samantha when they could just do a more diverse (non biphobic & transphobic LOL) version of the series with a new cast ? Sex and the City is one of the few shows that SHOULD be redone better

— Shannon (@vsillyanddumb) January 11, 2021

You know I loved sex and the city just as much as any other gay but like can we leave these senior citizens in the 90s/2000s. It’s time for a reboot with a diverse cast.

— Femme Cholo (@mrjld20) January 11, 2021

I won’t be watching the ‘Sex and the City’ reboot unless the casting is much more diverse, they eliminate the stereotypical depiction of gay characters, and present transsexuals with respect and love instead of mocking them and making them targets of jokes. Do better this time.

— Mike Sington (@MikeSington) January 11, 2021

People often forget that Sex and the City 2 was one of the most anti-Arab and islamophobic movies made in recent years so I hope the writer's room of the new series has far more diverse voices this time around. At the very least!

— Hanna Ines Flint (@HannaFlint) January 11, 2021

petition for @hbomax to recreate Sex and the City with a diverse set of main characters instead of the same three white women we’ve seen too many times

— pinksweet (@pinksweet) January 11, 2021

Also, “SATC” fans are NOT here for the reboot without man-eater Samantha!

We have a feeling the reboot will probably be more diverse for the limited series, and not just when it comes to race. Class diversity may be present as well. If it doesn’t, we’re sure cancel culture will kick into overdrive!

Could Samantha be re-cast? Will they add a new friend to the circle? Will she (or he) be of color? We’ll just have to wait and see. Are YOU here for the reboot?

Photo: vipflash/Shutterstock.com

[Read More ...] source http://theybf.com/2021/01/11/%E2%80%98sex-and-the-city%E2%80%99-is-back-for-a-reboot-without-samantha-but-will-it-be-an-all-white-nyc-

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Too Good To Be True - Intro

A/N: This is a continuation of the Christmas mini-series Its Beginning To Look A Lot Like... and I am having a blast with it, so I hope you enjoy it too. This portion serves as a bridge between that 3-parter and the main story, which will take place a few months after the holidays. But first, there’s a conversation that needs to be had. 

Word Count: 2,050

Warnings: British snark and devilish plotting. 

“Where were you?” The words came out of the dark kitchen in that well practiced tone of hers, the one she used when she thought that a person deserved to feel guilty for whatever new tragedy she’d become the victim of. A thin tendril of steam swirled before her face, rising from the tea that she clutched in her hands, like an elixir that could undo all of her mistakes and rewrite them the way that she’d altered them in her own memory. In the cool blue light of predawn, he didn’t need to see the tears on her face to know that they were there, or the balled up tissues on the table streaked with yesterday’s mascara. Brava, mum, another top performance. 

“Out,” Leo answered, letting the back door swing shut behind him. Julia jumped as though she didn’t know how hinges worked or that when you let go of a door, it slams. 

“Out.” She echoed in that damn tone, as thin as the wisps of steam and vanishing in the air just the same. “Out, on Christmas.” 

Leo sighed as he pulled a carton of juice from the refrigerator, unscrewing the cap and leaning against the open door. The harsh white light cut into the kitchen causing Julia to squint, only playing into the hurt expression on her face. “Yeah,” he huffed, bringing the juice carton to his lips. “Had someone to see.” 

She scoffed as he took a drink, the sound somewhere between a dismissive snort and an incredulous but mirthless laugh. “Someone to see? On Christmas?” Yes you old bat. “Who’ve you gone to see then, hmm? Not your father, surely?”  

His blood boiled at the idea. “‘Course not. Got nothin’ to say to him.” 

“Not your brother, not Della.” She had one of the tissues in her hand, dabbing under her eyes with it as she rattled off names. 

“Della’s run off to join Emily’s family, hasn’t she? And who can blame her?” He closed the refrigerator, plunging them back into the early morning semi-darkness, that hour or so between days when it could be the 25th or the 26th depending on which side of sleep you stood on. “Emily’s family are all normal. All people you’d want to be around. And Patrick?” Now it was his turn for a scoff. “He’s the one I should look up to, is he? He’s the shining example I should model myself after?” Fucking wanker would like that wouldn’t he? “Face it, mum, the family? It’s a lie.” 

“And me?” She leaned around her chair, reaching out into the empty space between them to emphasize her loneliness. “Your mother? You left me alone for Christmas and-” 

“Yes, alright? Yeah. I left you. That’s what you want me to say, isn’t it? I left my mum on Christmas.” He tilted his head back, eyes raised to the ceiling in exasperation. “And what’s that got to do with it at all anyway, huh? When did you start to care if I was around on holidays?” Dropping his chin, he stepped closer to the table and gripped the back of one of the wooden chairs. “When you lost everyone else, right?” 

He watched her flounder between protests, eyebrows twitching and lips quivering as “What?” And “Leo, how could you think..?” And “That’s not true!” poured from them. 

“Mum, mum, c’mon stop,” Leo held up both hands, still leaning his lower half against the chair. “Leave it, will you? I’m tired.” He let out a burst of air and let his shoulders fall. “I’m so… Aren’t you tired of it? Of all the fucking pretending? Just… just leave it, alright? I don’t want to have this fight again.” 

“Fight? It’s not a fight, Leo. It’s not a fight when a mother asks her son where he’s gone and spent Christmas!” She stood then, throwing her tissue prop at the table. “It’s not a fight for a mother to know where her son-“

“Twenty seven! I’m twenty fucking seven! You missed out on your give a shit years, alright?” 

She capped her act off by pulling a face of injured shock, sucking in a gasp as her hand went to her chest. “How dare you?” She hissed, recoiling back down into her chair. “How dare you say that I didn’t care about you, Leo. You were my…” She fell off into tears, a fat one splashing onto the tabletop.  

Leo rolled his eyes. “Your what, then? Go on, finish that thought.” Here we go folks, the big finale.

“You were my perfect little boy. My…” 

“Your perfect little lie, you mean.” He nodded, eyes wide. “Yeah. I know. I know what you think. You think that...that, that everything you did for me was right and perfect and good. You think I didn’t realize that Patrick and Della ignored me? You think they couldn’t tell that you treated me differently?” He leaned down to make eye contact. “You think you were protecting me, mum, by keeping everything about this family a secret from me, but really? Really? You were protecting yourself. You were protecting this idea of yourself that you were this perfect mother. Selfless. Giving. Close.” He stood back to his full height and she followed him with her red rimmed eyes. “But you just didn’t want to admit that everything, all of it, was crashing down round your feet.” He actually didn’t want to be doing this, didn’t want that look on her face, all etched with pain and confusion, and he wondered how far his words could possibly penetrate this late in the game. But at least I’ve said it. I haven’t held it in pretending it’s not true.

The sky outside was brightening, the sun rising enough so that they could see one another more clearly, the room and its contents and all the things that had been said in the dark now coming to light. Leo felt some tension release from his back as he sighed, Julia letting go of the rest of her held breath, reclaiming the rumpled tissue with a sniff. “Well.” She cleared her throat and focused on his face. “That still doesn’t answer my question. So where were you? Who were you with? Callie?” She narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips. 

You had to, couldn’t resist, could you? Leo swallowed the venom, letting her take the low road alone this time. I’ll stick to middle ground.   

“No, couldn’t have been, could you have? She’s not speaking to you anymore, is she?” 

Go on, turn the screw then, it’s the last one you’ve got. “She didn’t want to follow her mother’s mistake,” he shrugged. “Didn’t want to fall in with one of us vile Day men.” He saw the flash in her eyes and knew that she’d felt the jab. “If you must know, mum, and I’m sure you’ve done the math now, but if you absolutely must hear it from me, I went to see Benjamin.” Cue gasp. 

“What? Why...Benjamin?” She shook her head, her hands falling to her lap, the fingers of her right hand tracing the base of her left ring finger. All the acting, all the drama, all the rehearsed reactions couldn’t prepare her for the genuine shock of hearing her ex-husband’s name. “Why would you go to see him?” 

The way she curled her lip around the last word made it clear that she’d already started to re-write that memory, too. “Because it occurred to me recently, mum, that good old Benjamin is the only person that I actually know. Once you two came clean ‘bout yourselves, he never lied about anything. He was only ever himself, and he didn’t want anything from you, mum, I don’t give a shit what Dad or Patrick said. You chased him off, always accusing him of… of what? Taking what you gave him? But look. Look, you were wrong, because he didn’t even take anything from you when he left, did he? He could have. You know it and so does he. He could have taken half of everything you never had to work for, but he didn’t, did he?” Julia’s eyes had grown round and glassy as she scratched at a knot in the grain of the table. “Did he?” 

“No,” she barely whispered the word. 

“No.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “So I figured I’d spend Christmas with the one person who hasn’t lied to me in all of this, and you know what? It was the best decision I could have made because for once, for one time, I got to be a part of a happy Christmas, with a normal family, who didn’t all have to walk on bloody eggshells round each other.” He extended his wrists out, the undersides clapped together. “Go on, arrest me. I enjoyed Christmas.” 

“A family?” She ignored everything he said about getting the chance to enjoy Christmas, and went straight to the part that she could use to pity herself with. Of course. “He’s got...a family?” 

“Oi don’t go off the deep end, there’s no babies involved or anything. But he’s got himself someone new, and they’re happy, and her family? They love him.” He gestured with one hand to express just how well Benjamin had gotten on with your family. 

“What’s...what’s she like, then? Is she-” 

“God, no. I’m not doing this, okay? She’s nice. She’s nice and smart and she’s funny and that’s all you’re getting from me.” I’m not gossiping with you over tea like old girlfriends. “Listen,” he knocked his knuckles against the back of the chair. “I’m going back to school. I’ve already decided, and I’m going back for a degree. Business. I’m gonna work for a few months, save up, but Della’s agreed to sublet her old apartment to me now that she’s moved in with Emily and I figured,” he shrugged. “I’m better off finding work in London than out here in the...well, all the way out here. So I’ve just come back to pack up. I’ll be out of your hair in a few days, mum, and then you can go on properly with your grudges.” He let go of the chair. “Honestly, I think it will be better for us, some space. Maybe next Christmas will be different.” Julia nodded, chewing at her bottom lip. “Now, I really am tired. I’m gonna go get some sleep before I get packing.” He waited for an acknowledgement that didn’t come, so he turned on his heel and headed out towards the hallway. “You know,” he turned back in the doorway, gripping the frame and leaning into the kitchen. “I didn’t want this to be...look. I’m sorry this is how it is, mum, I really am. But this is what we’ve got, and I’ve got to find a way to make it work for me.” You can understand that, can’t you? 

“I know,” she said, still staring at the table, voice still wispy and injured. Alright well, I tried. He released the doorframe and vanished, heading up the stairs to the room he’d grown up in. 

.   . .   . .

But it wasn’t the table that Julia was focused so intently on anymore. It was a phone- Leo’s phone. Hesitantly, she reached for it, swiping away the lock screen. Leo had never bothered to set a lock, because he never left his phone unattended. The fact that he had now would have illustrated to Julia how unhappy it really did make him to have to make these decisions, cut these ties, but that would require her to overlook her own ends and means. What she focused on instead as she tapped at the screen, was retrieving the last address that he’d looked up- yours. 

Soon, she had your address, your name, your profession and a list of your accomplishments, all thanks to the internet and a quick Google search. She even had your picture. Making sure that she returned Leo’s phone to the exact spot where he’d left it, she gathered the wad of used tissues and her unfinished tea. Dumping the tissues in the bin and the tea down the drain, she headed out to the greenhouse to trim her ferns and turn everything she’d just learned over in her mind.

.

.

.

@something-tofightfor​ @its-my-little-dumpster-fire  @suchatinyinfinity​​ @thesumofmychoices​​  @gollyderek​​  @malionnes​​  @becs-bunker​​ @warriorqueenofnarnia​​  @elanor-of-imladris​​  @traeumerinwitzhelden​​ @songtoyou​​  @michellemybelles-world​ @obscurilicious @breanime

please let me know if you would like to be added or removed! 

[illegiblewords]

8|

HEY GUYS.

GUYS.

THEY’RE ALL LITERALLY ANGELS.

WINGS INCLUDED.

I’ve mentioned in passing before that the Amaurotines were basically angels, but shit man the Ascians are actually fallen angels.

And like, I stumbled into the Elidibus shot but his wings are made of Zodiark my dudes.

Oh shit.

And not just fucking that.

Time to look back at the lyrics to Shadowbringers.

Some quick disclaimers! 1) There will be bits of this where I just go idk. Because sometimes idk lol. 2) I am 10000% sure that this song has layers similar to how Tomorrow and Tomorrow has layers. Tomorrow and Tomorrow I’ve heard people speculate it could be the people of the alternate Source future or the Amaurotines, and if it is the Amaurotines whether it’s directed at the Warrior or Hades or both is also up in the air. So while there is the very, very literal reading where it’s like yes this is the First and the first arc and focused all about things that happened in the First’s plot, I think the secondary meaning might seriously apply to the overarching patch arc/Ascians as a whole. 3) Pls don’t be afraid to challenge me on shit lol I just found this and am flying by the seat of my pants.

For whom weeps the storm, Her tears on our skin The days of our years gone, Our souls soaked in sin These memories ache with the weight of tomorrow

“For whom weeps the storm/her tears on our skin” honestly the most significant point posed imo outside of nice imagery is that the question needs to be asked. Could be either or both, respecting WoL and co. versus the Ascians/dead Amaurot. “The days of our years gone/our souls soaked in sin” again, could be either side here. Depends on what further gets revealed about the fourteenth member of the Convocation and the summoning of Hydaelyn probably, but I think it’s fair to say both sides got stained in shitloads of blood. “These memories ache with the weight of tomorrow” not only is the history painful, having to keep moving forward and figure out some kind of future in light of it just makes it more painful. Also a note, a few other peeps online noted that Emet-Selch reacted insanely strong/negatively when Urianger and Y’shtola commented on his future. And just as another thread, I want to highlight that the Ascians for a good chunk of their appearances talked about things being foretold.

Who fights? Who flies? Who falls?

FALLEN ANGEL MOTIFS. COULD BE WARRIOR. COULD BE ASCIANS. COULD BE BOTH. AGAIN, QUESTION GOTTA BE ASKED BECAUSE BOTH SIDES GONNA HAVE BLOOD ON THEIR HANDS.

One brings shadow, one brings light Two-toned echoes tumbling through time Threescore wasted, ten cast aside Four-fold knowing, no end in sight One brings shadow, one brings light One dark future no one survives On their shadows, away we fly

First two lines are relatively straightforward imo, WoL versus Ascians there. It could be Emet-Selch versus WoL specifically but honestly I’m unsure. Tbh it could be fellow summoners along with WoL versus Ascians or it could be one person versus one person. “Threescore wasted, ten cast aside” IT TOOK ME. A GOOD WHILE. TO FIGURE THIS OUT. There’s a saying “threescore and ten” that existed historically. Threescore is sixty. Ten is... ten. But basically, back in the day seventy years was the generally accepted average livespan for a human being. Threescore wasted = sixty years of a seventy year lifespan in vain, ten cast aside = ten years of a seventy year lifespan. “Fourfold knowing” I think has a double meaning within too. First, there’s an idea in Buddhism called the Fourfold Round that I think is precisely what this is referencing. These come out to direct knowledge of feeling, direct knowledge of perception, direct knowledge of fabrications, and direct knowledge of consciousness. Given these, I suspect that at minimum by the end of patch 5 the three Unsundered Ascians and the Warrior of Light will all fit into roles within this, and we’ll probably be able to tell which is which. Personally I’m leaning toward WoL being direct knowledge of consciousness because especially when you factor in the Echo that gets pretty wild. An additional level though, four in East Asia is commonly associated with death. So no end in sight coming right after FOURfold seems like it’s missing some foreshadowing of the end. Possibly.

The road that we walk Is lost in the flood Here proud angels bathe in Their wages of blood At this, the world's end, do we cast off tomorrow

AMAUROT IS UNDERWATER IN THE TEMPEST. SHIT’S FLOODED. ASCIANS ARE PROUD ANGELS BATHING IN WAGES OF BLOOD. EITHER THE SHARDS + SOURCE GOTTA END TO REGAIN THE ORIGINAL WORLD OR THE ORIGINAL WORLD HAS TO END TO MAINTAIN THE SHARDS + SOURCE. And casting off tomorrow, if we jump up to previous lyrics about memories aching with the weight of tomorrow--I think this foreshadows being liberated from pain of past and future both to continue living in the present. Again, could be wrong about how that gets interpreted, but I do think a link is there. Also I mean the world is ending, that’s the point you no longer have to worry about what comes next. There is no next.

One brings shadow, one brings light To this riddle all souls are tied Brief our moments, brazen and bright Forged in fury, tempered in ice Hindmost devils, early to rise Sing come twilight, sleep when they die Heaven's banquet leavened with lies Sating honor, envy, and pride One brings shadow, one brings light Run from the light

First two lines, everyone who exists is gonna tie into the tragedy of how the shards + Source came to be and the conflict between WoL and co. versus Ascians. “Brief our moments" through “tempered in ice” I think is referring to the whole strength born from limitations and facing negative emotions/obstacles rather than avoiding them. Hindmost devils means the devils farthest back are the first to rise, which could be WoL or Ascians depending on reading. If it’s the Ascians and they’re taken as fallen angels I mean devils are fallen angels. But that also mixes metaphors given proud angels earlier. If mixed metaphors are a non-issue though, “Hindmost devils” through “sleep when they die” would more or less translate to the oldest devils are the first to act and seize power. They celebrate the coming of night and do not sleep. “Heaven’s banquet” through “pride” again, disclaimer mixed metaphor going on but I think it might be neat if it is WoL and co. or more specifically Hydaelyn. I don’t think it strictly comes to Heaven/Heroes = evil but that Heaven has hidden corruption that makes people feel better about themselves but is kind of ugly. Then again, all of this could probably be flipped too. This section is tricky. But if run from the light = Hydaelyn that shit’s gonna be fascinating. Also, I do think Zenos whether he just attempts or succeeds in nabbing one of the big two primals is actually gonna go for Hydaelyn. Lots of reasons for this including “she won the first time” and “Zenos dun give af about creation” and “she’s right there whereas Zodiark is super scattered” and “Zenos is basically an opposite to Emet-Selch philosophically and might work as another way of exploring negative light connotations”. But run from the light would be reaaaaal interesting if that goes down.

Authors of our fates Orchestrate our fall from grace Poorest players on the stage Our defiance drives us straight to the edge A reflection in the glass Recollections of our past Swift as darkness, cold as ash Far beyond this dream of paradise lost

“Authors of our fates/Orchestrate our fall from grace” the characters involved created the primals themselves, in so doing being the authors of their fates and damning themselves when shit went out of control. Could precede that too and be broadened to other circumstances probably. I do think it is gonna come up that all the bad shit that happened stemmed from choices made though. “Poorest players on the stage/Our defiance drives us straight to the edge” references some Shakespeare. This being “Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player/That struts and frets his hour upon the stage/And then is heard no more. It is a tale/Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury/Signifying nothing.” Shakespeare bit is saying that life is brief and ultimately not real/an act where everyone worries during the brief span of the story but all too fast it’s over. There’s a ton of passion but ultimately it’s small and petty and meaningless. If we link this back to poorest players on the stage and the defiance, it is basically challenging the idea of a brief life being meaningless. So would apply more to the mortal characters. “Reflection in the glass” I thiiiink might reference the idea of real identity versus not real but idek. “Recollections of our past/Swift as darkness, cold as ash/Far beyond this dream of paradise lost” these lines are prob linked as a trio far as I can tell. Memory comes fast as darkness/the coming of night (tying back to sing come twilight maybe? also the end of the world as it is), cold as ash refers to the dead of Amaurot probably. And I’m not positive on that juxtaposition with paradise lost, but it may be suggesting that the dream of perfection rings hollow and there’s a reason that what is now being remembered as paradise is long dead.

Home Riding home Dying hope Hold onto hope... Ohhh... Home Riding home Home, riding home Hope, finding hope... Ohhh...

Shits both WoL and Ascians here.

One brings shadow, one brings light One more chapter we've yet to write Want for nothing, nothing denied Wand'ring ended, futures aligned One brings shadow, one brings light One brings shadow, one brings light You are the light

One more chapter = gotta get closure for Amaurot and the Ascians. “Want for nothing, nothing denied/Wand’ring ended, futures aligned” this took me a bit, and it feels like possibly a reach imo, but my guess for now is: Emet-Selch was talking before about maybe there being a way forward without so much bloodshed. I still think guy’s gonna come back as a clone and I think/hope that we can fuckin’ trust recruit him (”I may even lend you my knowledge and strength” I AM HOLDING YOU TO THAT EMET-SELCH IF I HAVE TO BEAT MY ENEMIES TO DEATH WITH YOUR CORPSE) and find some kind of middle ground that doesn’t just = fuck Amaurot and destroy Zodiark. That would feel too simple to me. I kind of think some sort of rejoining will need to happen... but not simply Zodiark rejoining into a giant monster primal. I think Hydaelyn and Zodiark gotta become one being.

Also. If that is the case Lahabrea better have some fucking good notes to justify that dumb attempt to fuse with Igeyorhm in a first-time aether experiment while fighting the Warrior of Light. Because then it would be more cool even if the timing was still terrible life choices.

But yeah I think that’s gonna tie into futures aligned stuff.

We fall We fall We fall We fall unto the end

One world's end

Our world's end

Our end

We won't end

I am shadow, I am the light

This bit’s p. straightforward lol.

But yeah I am still super jazzed about this feel free to challenge my readings! I think stuff is there, just dunno if what I found correctly identifies the stuff lol.

[twatd]

Getting TWATD at the Wake, ii: The Eulogies

Every month, two writers returned to this blog. They did an essay each. For five years. And now it’s all over.

The Wicked + The Divine #45 came out a month ago, and we’re still at the metaphorical wake. In this part, we pick out two characters we haven’t written much about, consider the paths their lives ended up taking, and write their obituaries. It could get emotional.

Spoilers for... well, for the entirety of WicDiv, I guess, below the cut.

Tim: Endings are bittersweet things at the best of times, and for a series as preoccupied with death and heartbreak as The Wicked + The Divine, we were never going to reach a conclusion without shedding a few tears. Still, there are many ways in which #45 is a happy ending for several of the characters – and that’s truer for Aruna, the god formerly known as Tara, than possibly anyone else.

Looking across the span of the series as a whole, she is a character who has suffered abuse, indignity and manipulation. But here at the end, Aruna is free from many of the troubles that plagued her life both before and during her time as a god. I don’t know if the Aruna we see in 2055 is living her best life, but it seems infinitely better than we could have expected after #13, the issue which gave us a painful glimpse into a character who had remained a mystery up to that point.

Pre-Godhood, Aruna had been made to feel uncomfortable in her own body by sexism and misogyny. That feeling was amplified by her divine transformation and the increased celebrity that came with it, culminating in her begging Ananke for the mercy of death. But Ananke’s manipulation accidentally set up Aruna to transcend the cruelties inflicted upon her. As a miraculously preserved head, she was free from the burden of her body, and free to reinvent herself.

With the help of Jon, Aruna she was able to reject a new form when she wasn’t ready for one – and, once she was, to create one that existed beyond the constraints of traditional biology. Her story touches on themes of transhumanism, not an area that WicDiv has traditionally dabbled in, but one that has some interesting connections with the themes of people seeking immortality. As you might expect given the ideas of gender and bodily autonomy at play, it’s also easy to read through a queer lens.

I’m glad that, while it’s clear Jon and Aruna have developed a close partnership over the years, Gillen and McKelvie chose to leave the exact nature of their relationship open to interpretation.

Aruna’s previous discomfort with the spotlight, and Ananke’s subsequent exploitation of that fact, also ended up benefitting her in other ways. Her distance from the rest of the Pantheon meant she avoided jail time after the events of #44 (it probably helped that it’s hard to handcuff someone when they’re just a head).

You could also maybe draw a line between the sudden outpouring of appreciation following Tara’s death and the way she was able to successfully campaign for the Pantheon’s early release, performing benefit concerts and raising awareness. This goes some way to colouring the previously devastating ending of #13 in a new light, as the insincere chorus of Twitter observers become a platform Aruna is able to use for good.

There’s an important distinction, though – this time around, she was able to approach a musical career and fame on her own terms, as Aruna rather than Tara. Also, the fact that her ‘death’ wasn’t a permanent one doesn’t take away from the tragedy of it, or how the comic made us complicit in the culture that led to it.

Aruna’s story following her ‘death’ could be called WicDiv’s ultimate triumph. The old truism about suicide being a permanent solution to a temporary problem feels especially apt here. Ananke took someone who was miserable and vulnerable, and proceeded to place them in a situation that they couldn’t cope with. Ananke became Aruna’s sole source of ‘support’, isolating her from the other gods, amplifying her insecurities until Aruna felt the only solution was to take her own life.

Strip away some of the details, and the story starts to take on some truly dark parallels, but unlike so many real-life stories, there is a second act to Aruna’s tale.

Once the true nature of Ananke’s plans are revealed, Aruna is eventually able to escape her role in them, retake control of her life, and eventually thrive on her own terms. WicDiv may be a story that largely approaches death as a firm reality, but by giving Aruna a reprieve from her seeming demise, it allows us a glimpse of a real happy ending, in amongst the more complex feelings the final issue evokes.

Alex: Aruna’s story is a happy one because she escapes the cycles that life locked her into. But the god I want to talk about, I’m not sure they ever did. Which might not be a terrible thing – it was always a little different, with Dionysus.

We don’t get much time with Umar before he goes all Olympian, but the moments we do get suggest there’s less of a gap between his two identities than there is for most of the other gods. He’s the guy who drives his friends down to London so they can get wasted on the way, who asks sensitive questions of strangers.

When he becomes Dionysus, the difference is mainly a question of scale. The group of people he’s trying to do right by gets bigger and bigger, and that makes this behaviour unsustainable. That first time we meet him, in issue #8, we get pretty much the whole Dionysus story. Dude takes on everyone else’s troubles, exerts himself to make them feel better, and makes it look breezy – only occasionally cracking and showing the weight of it all.

I’m not sure that ever really changes for Umar. He keeps using his powers to make people happy for a night, even as it starts to take a toll. He waits in the darkness, lets The Morrigan attack him, just to be there for Baphomet. He has faith in the power of the crowd, even as they crush him. He just keeps giving and giving, and it lands him in a coma.

This is Dionysus’ hamartia – the fatal flaw built into every one of WicDiv’s gods, the thing that ensures their downfall. As these things go, it’s not a bad flaw to have.

It marks him apart from the other gods. Gillen has talked about the Pantheon all being aspects of himself, his own flaws built out into characters, people he’s trying not to be anymore. But Dionysus’ flaw actually makes him someone to aspire to.

A spare Gillen quote from my Polygon interview that didn’t make it into the final article: “Umar is someone I'd love to be now… But Umar's a fictional character. Therefore, it's easier for him to be Umar than for Kieron to not be a shithead.” Even in the comic, we see how Dio’s behaviour is unsustainable – but to try and live that way, all of the time, in real life? It’s impossible.

I say this with authority, because in many ways I spent my twenties trying to be a Dionsysus. I’m an Inanna by nature – a pleasure seeker who tries to be kind but can sometimes forget that having the best possible time can have consequences on the people around them. (And, sidenote, it’s a fascinating twist on the archetypes that the god with these traits isn’t the one who, y’know, gave us the word bacchanalian.)

But, to be uncharacteristically nice about myself for a second, my idea of having a good time does tend to include bringing as many people along with me as possible. The version of me I like is the one who always opens up the circle on the dancefloor to sweep up strangers and stragglers. Or spot someone who seems left out and work to change that. Or pour hours into a project that’ll be seen by just a handful of friends, or just one.

I kind of buried that person this year.

This wasn’t an active choice, or something I was even conscious of doing at the time, but looking back I can see the reasons behind it. Firstly, because it’s not always clear whether people actually want these things done for them, or if it’s an unwelcome overreach, and that thought makes me to want up curl into myself and just die. And second, because I’m not good at knowing how to apportion effort, meaning it can involve frankly life-damaging amounts of preparation for very little payoff.

It’s not a sustainable way to live. Dio might be the best possible version of the WicDiv god, but he’s still someone sacrificing his self to become an idea. It kills him, eventually, and #37 shows how he’s remembered for it by the public, the people he gave everything he had to: ‘that guy on drugs’.

But eventually he is repaid by one of the recipients of his kindness, as a little bit of that selflessness rubs off on Baphomet. And Umar joins the rest of the Pantheon as they step back from their defining flaw, allow themselves to become more than an archetype. “I thought it was my job to save everyone,” Dionysus says, and I cry my little eyes out.

Maybe that was the moment I started to realise I’d been stepping back from that version of myself. Or maybe it was talking with Tim (my other, non-fictional model for the sort of person I want to be) about issue #45, when he explained how he read the older Umar: someone in whom all that kindness turned a little bitter. Aged like vinegar, not wine.

My reading is more hopeful than that, I think. The final issue trades in hints and suggestions of lives, but with Umar more than most. And personally, I fill in that blank with a different story: someone who has tempered his need to always put others first, and become more judicious about when and how and to whom he gives himself. And that? That is someone I’d really like to be.