#and he goes 'were going to 1860!' and the way he says it makes it abundantly clear he didnt MEAN to go to 1860

[panlight]

I still can't get over Jasper being in high school. Can you imagine him, stiff and with a thousand yard stare, doing a book report in front of the class about what he did this summer. Or having to do a group project and meet up at some random kids house to record a video on the how cool chemistry is. SM really goofed up by making Jasper half feral and then shoving him into high school were kids have to do all sorts of silly and dumb assignments.

Yeah. And I don't think it adds anything? There's no narrative reason he has to be in school. Just say he's a few years older than the others, or he goes to a charter school because reasons, or he's homeschooled or whatever.

I mean I generally find the idea of them going to high school at all pretty ridiculous. It could work, maybe, if their cover story weren't so laughably weird (our 20-something parents adopted teenagers barely younger than they are! and they take us out of school on sunny days to go camping!), they weren't all publicly dating their foster siblings/legal cousins, and if they put a bit more effort into actually blending in. Also if they seemed to get anything out of it? They all seem to hate it. They don't seem to be enjoying being around their physical-age peers, or learning new slang, or keeping up with pop culture or whatever other excuse. It's just so Edward can meet Bella in school.

But Jasper is the one for whom it's the MOST ridiculous. He's the one who was leading the most adult life before he even became a vampire, and then AS a vampire was living as the second in command in a vicious vampire army for 90 years or so . . . and now he sits in high school classes? He does group projects? Writes papers on The Great Gatsby?

Edward, Rosalie and Emmett were immediately taken in by Esme and Carlisle, they went from living with their human parents to living with Dr. and Mrs. Cullen; they've been frozen in that teenage/young adult phase of their lives the whole time, so it makes a little more sense in my head for them to go to high school (although at 20 and 6'5" Emmett is too old and too big, like . . . trying to pass him off as a sophomore or whatever just, again, seems counterintuitive to BLENDING IN), but Jasper makes zero sense. He's not in that headspace. He hasn't been since the 1860s. And THAT's not even getting into his control issues. Again, maybe if the high school thing were presented as a way for them to help them get used to being around human blood with their siblings around to monitor and support them or whatever, but even then seems like a big risk.

I think SM would answer this with "he does it for Alice" but like . . . does Alice even want to be in school? She's was on her own for awhile before meeting up with Jasper and the Cullens, too. Like Jasper, she wasn't introduced to vampirism with 'parents' there to look after and provide her like Ed, R and Em were.

They're in high school so Edward can meet Bella. That's the real reason. But that doesn't mean the rest of the 'kids' have to be there, especially the physically older ones like Jasper and Emmett.

[smilingformoney]

The Eternal Summer

IV. Cowboy Blues

Summary: Elliott Marston/Reader | Judge Turpin/Reader | Elliott makes his intentions clear - just in time for Turpin's arrival.

Read now on Ao3 or below the cut:

It had been the longest, strangest month of your life.

What you and Elliott were, you couldn’t say. But it certainly wasn’t what anyone had envisaged when your husband had ordered you to keep his cousin’s bed warm while he made arrangements in Melbourne.

For one thing, he was only supposed to be a few days behind you. Yet here you were, one month later, still at Elliott’s station with no way of knowing where your husband was, if he was ever coming to collect you, or if he was even still alive.

You begged Elliott to send men to Melbourne to search for news of Judge Turpin, but with Quigley on a rampage in the outback, Elliott’s men were dwindling every day, and he couldn’t spare any until Quigley was put down.

So you were left in limbo, separated from your husband, unable to move on.

All you knew for sure was that you didn’t want to let go of how comfortable you were with Elliott. You welcomed his touch, his kisses, and when he took you, you felt like he was giving you pleasure just as much as he was taking his own.

Yet you still missed your husband, and it made everything so much harder. Your cunt might be on loan to Elliott, but was it even possible for your heart to be too?

One morning, you must have seemed particularly down, because Elliott asked you to accompany him somewhere. He didn’t say where, or why - he simply saddled up his horse, ensured you were securely sat behind him, and rode a few miles west, until he finally slowed the horse to a stop and helped you down.

You looked around. You were at a nearby town, in the graveyard behind the church. Elliott reached into the bag affixed to the saddle and withdrew a bunch of flowers. He took you by the hand and silently led you to a grave.

The gravestone was one of the larger ones like you’d seen in the graveyard of St Dunstan’s in London, which were double the width to accommodate two graves: those of a husband and wife. This gravestone, like some of those, marked one grave and one reserved plot; one spouse had died and waited to be joined by the other.

A wilted dark-crimson rose sat at the foot of the grave. Elliott bent down to clear it away and replaced it with a single pink carnation from the flowers in his hand. As he stood up, you looked at the gravestone and read:

Here lies Victoria Marston 1826 - 1860

Underneath was a blank slate, room reserved for her husband - for Elliott.

“We were only married for a year when the sickness took her,” Elliott said quietly, speaking for the first time since you’d left the station.

You looked up at him. You knew he’d been married before, but only because he’d mentioned it once the first day you met. Otherwise, there was no trace - no belongings left behind, no children. Only this one gravestone, a plot of ground, and the flowers Elliott brought.

“It was five years ago, and still I visit her grave once a month. I loved her very much. I… still love her.”

He closed his eyes and shook his head, as if refusing to let grief take hold of him.

“I will always love her. Every day I spend with you, [Y/n], it’s… the happiest I’ve felt since I lost her. And yet, I feel twisted with guilt, as if I’m betraying her somehow. I know it’s not true, that she’s dead and gone… yet still I feel as if I’m betraying my vows to her.”

He turned to you, eyes looking into yours searchingly.

“I’m telling you this, [Y/n], because I want you to know that I understand how it feels when your heart yearns for something that goes against the vows you made. But sometimes… it’s time to move on.”

He held up the remaining flowers in his hand.

“These ones are for you.”

Red and white roses. One didn’t have to be well-versed in floriography to know what those meant.

“Elliott…”

You glanced at the pink carnation on the grave, then back to the roses in his hands.

“My husband isn’t dead, Elliott. He’s coming for me.”

How did you know? You couldn’t, not really. But a part of you knew, some part of your soul that was intrinsically linked to that of your husband, knew he was alive, and you’d see him again.

“You don’t have to leave with him, [Y/n]. You can stay. Stay here, with me. I’ll keep you safe. From him, from anything — and I would never hurt you.”

“Safe from him?” you echoed, frowning. “He’s my husband, Elliott. He’s not a danger to me.”

“No? Then why are you so frightened of him?”

You ducked your head, ashamed to let Elliott see the truth in your eyes.

“I’m not scared of him,” you lied. “I love him,” you said truthfully.

Elliott took your chin between his fingers and forced you to look at him.

“No good husband offers his wife to another.”

“And does a good man accept the offered wife?”

“I don’t claim to be a good man, [Y/n]. I never did. But I believe I was a good husband to Victoria… and I would be a good husband to you. You could be free, free to be whoever you want to be. I can give you that freedom.”

You shook your head, trying to ignore the tears that were welling in your eyes.

“Even - even if I wanted to stay, Elliott… I can’t marry you.”

“Why, because you’re already married? Petition for divorce. It would be granted on grounds of cruelty, I know it would.”

“Do you think any judge is going to let another judge’s wife divorce him?”

“Then he’ll divorce you. You’re an adulterer, after all.”

You took a step back, wiping an errant tear from your eye.

“He’d never. He loves me, Elliott. He’d fight for me.”

Elliott’s hand twitched near his gun.

“So will I.”

“Don’t you dare! Not everything can be settled with a gun, Elliott. I’d never forgive you.”

“And I’ll never forgive myself if I let you leave with him.”

“Why are you saying this now, Elliott? We’ve been… whatever this is… for a month. What’s changed today?”

Elliott gestured towards the carnation on his wife’s grave.

“I’ll always remember her. But I’m not coming back here. I want to move forward — with you, [Y/n]. We can be a family here, you, me and Tommy.”

You blinked, taken aback. “…Tommy?”

“Of course,” Elliott said as if it were obvious. “You think I’d continue employing him if I married you? From what you tell me, you practically raised him, so we’d adopt him as our own and - mmph!”

You cut him off when you grabbed him by the lapel of his waistcoat and pulled him in for a kiss. He was taken aback for a moment, but he quickly melted into the kiss, one arm wrapping around your waist to hold you tight while the other kept hold of the flowers you still hadn’t accepted from him.

You kissed him until your lips were numb, and when you finally parted for breath, your skin was sore from rubbing against his facial hair, but you didn’t care.

“Is it too late to accept those flowers?”

“Was that really all I had to say?” Elliott said breathily, and you laughed.

You took the flowers and held them up to smell them. They were fresh and stunningly beautiful. You had no idea a land as barren as Australia could bloom something so lovely.

“I’m… I’m not saying yes,” you said, your voice hardly more than a whisper. “But I’m not saying no. I need time.”

Elliott nodded.

“I understand. Shall we get home? I’m expecting Quigley to show his face any moment now, and I need to be there when he does.”

Home. Was that not London anymore?

***

You arrived at the station in the mid-afternoon, and while Elliott tied the horse, you made your way into the house to find a vase for your flowers. You heard movement in the house, but you paid it no mind, assuming Elliott’s servant was going about his business. After placing the flowers in a vase from the kitchen, you opened the door to the lounge and let out a yelp of surprise when you saw a figure sitting on the sofa with a book in hand. Your immediate thought was that it was Quigley, waiting for Elliott to get home to shoot him, but as the moment of shock passed, your mind caught up with your situation and you realised that you very much recognised the visitor, even from behind.

“William?”

Your husband turned to you. Yes, it was him, it was really him! His skin had tanned in the sun, but no doubt yours had too.

“Darling,” he said with a smile as he put the book down, and he was hardly to his feet when you threw your arms around him. You recognised his smell, the feel of his body against yours, the low rumble in his chest as he chuckled at your enthusiasm.

“Oh, Will, I was so scared,” you cried, head buried against his chest. “I thought you’d died or - or decided you didn’t want me anymore…”

“Oh, bunny, you don’t have to worry about that. I’m sorry I took so long to come for you. The administration in Melbourne is a nightmare, it took a week just to get a house, and another two until I was satisfied it was hospitable enough for you. Did you miss me, then?”

You sniffed and looked up at him. “Very much so. I don’t want to be parted from you for so long ever again.”

William smiled. “You won’t, I swear it. I need my bunny, after all. Won’t you greet your husband with a kiss?”

You squealed happily and lifted yourself on your tip-toes to kiss him. You’d missed this so much, his warmth, his touch, his taste. William wrapped his arms around your waist and held you close against him, his tongue desperately seeking yours, as if a month without you had parched him desperately.

Hearing movement and voices from within his house, Elliott kept his hand over the barrel of his gun as it sat in its holster, ready to whip it out at a moment’s notice. When he pushed open the door and saw another man holding you close, lips and tongue accosting yours, he nearly did draw his gun - until he realised who it was.

He was still tempted to shoot him down.

“Finally arrived, then, cousin,” Elliott said instead, leaning back against the doorframe with his arms folded, as if it were a perfectly normal scene for him to walk on.

You made a muffled grunt of surprise, as if you’d completely forgotten whose house you were in. William finally withdrew his tongue from you, panting heavily, his eyes blown with lust as he looked down at you with a hungry grin.

“Elliott!” you exclaimed, looking over to him, and you felt a pang of guilt when you saw the way he was watching you. “So sorry for the lack of decorum. But isn’t it wonderful? William’s finally here, and he’s alright!”

“Yes. Wonderful.”

“You could be happier to see me, Elliott,” William said with a raised eyebrow, finally tearing his eyes from you to address his cousin. “You’ll no longer be encumbered with hosting duties. I do apologise for stretching your hospitality so far.”

“Nonsense, [Y/n]'s been excellent company,” Elliott replied with a nonchalant shrug. “She’s patched up all my clothes, and my men’s, and fulfilled all the duties she would if she were my own wife.”

“Yes, I bet she has. Well, we’ll be off soon, so you won’t have to bear her company much longer.”

“Do we leave very soon, my love?” you enquired, fear suddenly striking your heart that you might find yourself leaving Elliott too soon.

“Not tonight, obviously, it’s getting dark. And I’m not just here for you, darling, I have other matters to attend to. This Quigley business, Elliott, we’re hearing all about it in Melbourne and he’s stirring up quite a storm. If he shows up here, I’ll arrest him and bring him in for trial myself.”

“Oh, no need to trouble yourself with Quigley, William, I’m expecting him soon enough and I’ve got it quite in hand.”

Elliott patted the gun on his hip with a confident smirk.

“You’re aware of the arrangement I have with Major Ashley-Pitt?”

“Yes, well, if you kill him, so be it. It’ll be much less hassle than escorting him back to Melbourne. Now, if you don’t mind, it’s been a long ride and I’d like some rest. Do you have suitable quarters?”

Elliott scratched his beard thoughtfully. “Well, there’s the men’s quarters, but that’s not good enough for a man of your standing, I suppose. The only bed I’d imagine is suitable would be my own. Go ahead and make use of it, I can bear to sleep in the lodge for a night.”

“Very gracious of you, Elliott, thank you.”

“Of course. Get yourself rested up, William, I’ll get the servant to make dinner for three tonight.”

“Excellent. Come along, [Y/n].”

William placed a hand on your lower back. You glanced at Elliott apologetically, then allowed your husband to guide you to the bedroom.

“Lord have mercy, [Y/n], the hold you have on me,” William said with a groan of relief as he pushed the door closed behind him. “I’ve been unable to sleep without you by my side. Dress off, darling, I need to see you.”

He assisted you with the lace of your dress, although his method seemed to involve a lot more breast-fondling than your own. You let the dress fall away, and William let out a moan of desire when your breasts popped out of the bodice. He grabbed at the waistband of your bloomers and pushed them to the floor, then stood back to get a good look at you.

“Even more beautiful than I remembered. Have you lost weight?”

You looked down and examined your figure. “I suppose I have,” you mused. “The food isn’t as luxurious out here as it is in London.”

“Hmm, I hope Elliott’s been feeding you properly. I won’t have my wife wasting away.”

William placed his hands on your hips as he looked you up and down appraisingly. He smirked in satisfaction, then turned you around to look at you from behind. He ran his hands over your rear, and you shivered with anticipation. William hummed with approval, then pulled your body against him, his hard cock pressing against you through his trousers.

“Oh, I have missed this. Have you missed me, bunny?”

“Yes, yes, I missed you so much, my teddy bear,” you mumbled, then gasped when William slid a hand between your legs and pushed a finger into your folds. He slipped in with ease, and you heard the familiar squelching noise that betrayed your arousal.

“Mmm, you must think me such a cruel husband, getting you addicted to my cock then taking it away for a month. How your cunt must have cried out for me. No matter… I’m here now, and I’m going to live in your cunt until you swell with child. Get on the bed, darling, else I won’t be able to contain myself much longer.”

“How do you want me, sir?” you asked obediently as William stepped back from you to undress himself.

“However you want, darling. It’s the least I can do after starving you for so long.”

He was letting you choose the position? Perhaps a month in Australia had changed him, too.

You climbed onto the bed and laid on your back, head on the pillows, your legs open and ready for him.

“Ah, classic missionary, is it? If my bunny insists.”

“I want to see you, Will.”

William grinned. “Good. I want to watch your face as I fuck you again. I had to take the whores in Melbourne from behind, I couldn’t stand looking at their faces knowing they weren’t you.”

Your heart dropped, and you shrunk into yourself slightly. William, meanwhile, finished undressing himself and climbed on top of you, apparently unaware of the effect of what he’d said.

“You… took whores in Melbourne?” you asked quietly.

“Of course I did,” William replied curtly, as if the question were obvious and bothersome. “You know how hot-blooded I am, darling. Did you expect me to abstain for a month? Don’t worry, I didn’t finish inside any of them. Now, keep your legs nice and wide for me, bunny…”

You obeyed, although your heart wasn’t in it anymore. He slipped inside you with ease, and you whined as you felt him stretching you out, and though you’d ached to see his blissful face again, now you felt nothing but anguish knowing he’d shared that same intimacy with however many whores he’d found in Melbourne.

You wished now you’d asked him to take you from behind so you could hide your face from him. You settled instead for wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders and burying your face in his neck, letting him think it an act of intimacy, when really you were hiding the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes.

It had been a long time since you’d tried to hide your anguish as William fucked you into the bed, uncaring if he even noticed your feelings, but it was a skill you’d picked up early and one you remembered now as easy as breathing.

He was grunting loudly with each thrust, and if you didn’t know any better, you might have thought he was being loud on purpose, making sure that Elliott could hear you from the lounge, reminding him that he was your husband, reclaiming your cunt that had merely been on loan.

Elliott could, indeed, hear his cousin’s passions through the walls. He heard William’s grunts, the squeaking of the bedsprings, the thud of the headboard against the wall, the slapping of skin against skin. But what he distinctly didn’t hear was you. He knew how vocal you were; with the intensity of the way you were being fucked right now, you should have been moaning too. So why weren’t you?

He knew he should leave. He could sit out on the porch, practise shooting, get some work done around the station. He had no cause to sit at his desk as he was now, staring blankly at his ledger, fooling himself that he intended to work when all he could do was sit and listen to another man taking you in his own bed.

Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to leave. He thought that if he did, William might know somehow that he wasn’t there to protect you, and what was now just selfish lovemaking would turn into something worse.

So he stayed, staring blankly at the ledger, and when half an hour had passed, Elliott had to give his cousin credit where it was due - he had considerable stamina for his age.

Eventually, Elliott became so used to the noise that it became background noise, and he was actually able to get some work done. By the time the noise stopped and William’s grunts were shortly replaced by his snoring, an hour had passed.

Elliott closed his ledger with a sigh, then stood up to stretch his legs. Just as he did so, the bedroom door opened, and he spotted you in a nightgown scurrying across the hall to the bathroom.

A few minutes later, you emerged, and you jumped when you opened the door to find Elliott standing against the doorframe, waiting for you.

“Sorry, it’s all yours,” you mumbled, thinking he wanted the bathroom. You stepped aside to let him in, but instead Elliott wrapped both arms around your waist and pulled you in close.

“Did he hurt you?” he asked, so quietly you almost couldn’t hear him, even with his lips pressed against your ear.

“No,” you replied softly.

“Then why are your legs shaking?”

You glanced down and realised that your legs were indeed shaking, as if you were a newborn foal walking for the first time.

“I’m just tired. I need to rest.”

“Come and sit down.”

“…Alright.”

Elliott led you back into the lounge and sat you down on the sofa. He disappeared into the kitchen for a few moments, then returned with a glass of water, which you took gratefully.

“I’m surprised you can ever sleep at home with those snores,” Elliott commented as he sat down next to you and delicately wrapped an arm around your waist.

You smiled. “It took some getting used to, but now I can’t sleep without the sound of snoring. That’s why I never complain about yours.”

“I don’t snore!” Elliott protested, and you laughed.

“Not as loud as that, but you do. It’s fine, I told you, I like it. Especially when I wake up first and I can feel your breath on my neck… and even in your sleep, as soon as I move you pull me in close and kiss me…”

You smiled, blushing, then your heart dropped slightly when you realised you’d probably never wake up next to him again.

Elliott looked at you, saw the sadness in your eyes, and made a decision. He took your glass from your hand and set it aside, then crouched down on one knee in front of you, taking your hands in his.

“It doesn’t have to end, [Y/n]. Stay with me.”

You closed your eyes, willing the tears not to spill.

“I can’t,” you whispered.

“[Y/n], I just had to sit here and listen to that man fuck you for an hour solid, and not once did I hear a peep from you. He doesn’t even know how to please you! You think he cares about your happiness? I can give you so much more, [Y/n]. I can give you freedom. Freedom to be who you want to be. To discover who you want to be. Tommy too, we’ll adopt him and he’ll be free from his service. Don’t you want that?”

“It’s not that simple, Elliott,” you said with a shake of your head. “I love my husband, I’d never hurt him.”

“Then let me hurt him.”

You looked up at him in disbelief through watery eyes, and you could tell from the hard look in his eyes that he was being completely serious.

“No,” you said firmly. “Not everything can be solved with a gun, Elliott.”

“Then how do we solve this?”

“Don’t you see? We don’t! We can’t. There’s no resolution here that doesn’t break my heart.”

Elliott sighed, closed his eyes resolutely, then bowed his head to steel himself. It was now or never.

He looked at you. You, with your eyes full of tears, holding them back even now in an attempt to be strong. You, who had done nothing wrong in your life, and was being punished for it with a marriage to a man you thought you loved, but when you spoke of how he treated you, how could you love a man like that?

Only a heart strong enough to love a man like Judge Turpin could be capable of loving Elliott Marston.

That was the irony of it all. If you weren’t married to his cousin, you’d be free - but you’d have never come to Australia. You’d never have met.

There was no way your love could be anything but doomed.

But it was real. He loved you, and he knew you loved him. You proved it every day with your sweet words, your blushes and smiles, your kisses and your embraces.

But you’d never say it, not while married to another man, not when to admit it was to break your own heart.

Well, his heart was breaking anyway. He might as well go all the way.

Elliott reached up to cup your face in his hands, his thumb wiping away an errant tear.

“[Y/n]… I love you.”

And there it was. The truth of the matter, laid out in three simple words.

I love you too, Elliott. Let’s get married tomorrow. We’ll adopt Tommy, have more children of our own and live out our lives together as far from London as we can get.

That was what you wanted to say. And maybe you would have but for the fact of your husband, asleep in the other room. Yes, he could be cruel, and he cared more for his own pleasure than your comfort, but without him you’d not be here at all. You’d still be on the streets of London, Tommy would have hung from the gallows, and you’d be all alone, if you were even alive.

How could you repay that with heartbreak?

So instead, you closed your eyes, not wanting to look at Elliott as you broke his heart and your own instead.

“You can’t,” you whispered. “I’m sorry, Elliott.”

“[Y/n] —”

“The lady said no, Elliott.”

Your heart dropped when you heard the familiar sound of your husband’s voice. When had the snoring stopped? How long had he been standing there in the doorway, listening to Elliott pour his heart out to you?

Elliott stood and whirled around, his hand instinctively jumping to the gun on his hip.

William had apparently been awake long enough to dress himself, although in the Australian heat he had forgone the cravat and waistcoat over his shirt.

“I let you fuck my wife for a few weeks, and this is how you repay me? By trying to steal her from me? You may have borrowed her cunt, Elliott, but her heart is mine.”

Elliott sneered, his hand tightening slightly on the handle of his gun.

“Of course she thinks she loves you, William. She had to convince herself of it, because the alternative was hating you.”

William glanced at Elliott’s hand that gripped the gun, and he smirked.

“Are you going to shoot me, cousin?”

“Here and now? No. I’d not do you the dishonour of shooting you unarmed. But if you don’t have a gun with you, I’ll lend you my second revolver.”

“Why on earth would you do that?”

Elliott stepped towards him menacingly, fingers twitching as he resisted pulling the gun out there and then.

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m going to duel you for her.”

***

You hadn’t dressed in such a hurry in all your life. You were fairly certain you hadn’t laced your bodice up fully, but that was hardly your main concern right now.

You rushed outside to find the two men pacing around, each checking their guns. A small crowd of Elliott’s men had formed, jostling and laughing with each other, as if they were getting ready to watch a sports match.

You ran up to Elliott and grabbed his arm.

“Elliott, don’t do this, please!”

He looked up at you, a fierce look in his eyes.

“He’ll never let you go, [Y/n]. You know that. This is the only way.”

“I’ll never forgive you if you kill him.”

“I won’t shoot to kill. I just want to hurt him.”

You sniffed. “You’re hurting me, El.”

Elliott frowned, looking imploringly into your eyes, desperate for you to understand him, but you couldn’t.

What you did understand was that he and your husband were men, and men always did what they wanted, regardless of your feelings. This was no different.

So you stepped away, retreated to the porch, and sought comfort in Tommy, who was waiting for you there.

“Don’t look, Tommy,” you said dully, unable to tear your eyes away from the scene in front of you.

“I’ve seen loads of duels by now.”

You didn’t argue. Tommy was still a child, but he was growing into a man, and he’d do what he wanted too.

The men took their marks. Elliott had promised not to shoot to kill, but what of William? He held no issue with sending men to the gallows, but would he fire the shot himself?

Did either of them really expect you to want to be with him if he killed the other?

“This is the last chance,” called Cavanagh, who was apparently officiating the duel, as William and Elliott took their stances. “Lord Turpin, do you forfeit the duel and give your wife up to Mr Marston?”

“Of course I bloody don’t,” William snapped.

“Mr Marston, do you forfeit the duel and give up your pursuit of Lord Turpin’s wife?”

“Never.”

“Alright, then. Count of three. One, two… three.”

BANG-BANG!

The sand at Elliott’s feet blew in the air, and he laughed as he realised the shot hadn’t landed.

Your relief that Elliott was unharmed was short-lived when you looked over to William and saw that he’d fallen onto his side.

“Will!”

You ran to his side as fast as your legs would carry you over the sand, and skidded to your knees next to him. William was cradling his shin, which was bleeding profusely, and you immediately tore apart his trouser leg to expose the wound.

“Fucking bastard! He shot me! Your fucking boyfriend shot me!”

“I know, I know, I saw! Just hold still and let me look at it.”

Bloody Elliott and his bloody perfect aim. The bullet had just grazed the lower leg, and was probably lying around in the dirt somewhere. Even so, you knew from your own experience that it was a painful wound, so you didn’t begrudge the stream of swear words currently spewing from your husband’s mouth.

You tore a strip off your dress and wrapped it around his thigh to keep the bleeding as limited as you could to allow you to get him inside. You turned to Elliott’s men, who were still gawking, and shouted, “One of you help me get him inside!”

They hesitated, but behind you, Elliott nodded, so Cavanagh jogged over to pull William to his feet and let him lean on his shoulder as he hobbled back into the house.

You watched them go, fraught with worry for your husband, then turned to Elliott.

“Happy now?!”

Elliott shrugged. “I told you I wouldn’t shoot to kill. Just be glad I didn’t shoot him in the dick.”

You scoffed, then turned your back on him to follow William into the house. Cavanagh had just sat him on the sofa when you came in, and the servant poked his head around the door.

“Do you know how to clean a wound?” you asked him.

The servant nodded - why hadn’t you ever learnt his name? - and sat down on the floor, already with a cloth and bowl in his hands. How many times had he cleaned up a victim of Elliott’s gun-happy rages?

“I don’t care what he thinks his duel means,” William hissed, gritting his teeth against the pain as you knelt by his side. “He won’t have you.”

“No, of - of course not. I’m still your wife, William. I’ll always be your wife.”

“Try and leave here with her, and I won’t aim for the leg,” Elliott said from the doorway, his voice dripping with venom.

“Try it, you bloody bedswerver!” William shouted back. Whether it was the pain in his leg or the emotions of the whole situation, you couldn’t tell, but any sense of decorum your husband had was long gone. “I swear, I’ll drag you to court and sentence you myself - bloody hell, man, be careful!” he shouted at the servant, who was now dabbing rubbing alcohol on the wound.

“The only way you’ll leave here is alone or in a casket!”

“Stop it, both of you!”

You surprised even yourself. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d raised your voice - and it had certainly never been at a man.

You stood, fighting back the tears that were welling in your eyes.

“It’s always the same with you men, fighting over who has control! I’m sick of it! You both claim to love me, yet neither of you seem to give a damn what I want!”

Elliott stepped towards you, looking you in the eyes earnestly.

“Then tell us what you want, [Y/n],” he said calmly, with none of the anger he’d been showing your husband. “Look me in the eye and tell me truly you want to leave here with him, and I won’t stop you.”

You hesitated.

“I… I don’t know what I want,” you said truthfully.

William scoffed. “You never know what you want.”

“Have you ever asked her?!” Elliott spat.

“I don’t need to ask her, Elliott, I know what she wants. Better than she does! Don’t let this man poison your mind, [Y/n] —”

“Poison her mind? With what, independent thought? God forbid.”

William grunted as he pushed himself to his feet, his leg now wrapped in a bandage. He and Elliott stared daggers at each other, both men’s faces twisted with hatred. William put a possessive hand on your shoulder.

“Very well. Let her choose. She won’t choose you anyway, Elliott. What, marry you and live out here, in this backwater desert? We live a life of luxury in London, don’t we, [Y/n]? In a few months we’ll be on our way back there and this whole debacle will be behind us. You’ll be nothing but a memory to her.”

Elliott sneered, then glanced at you, and his expression softened when he saw the tears in your eyes. He looked back at William.

“We’ll sort this Quigley business, then I want you out of here. Whether or not she leaves with you… that’s up to her.”

William considered the proposal, then nodded curtly.

“Very well. Until then.”

***

Dinner that evening was the most awkward affair you could have envisaged.

You were grateful that the servant, more observant than perhaps Elliott gave him credit for, had moved your chair to be seated next to your husband, making for you the awkward decision of whether to sit with Elliott as you always had, or to move next to William.

You did your best to fill the awkward silence, asking William about Melbourne, his work, the house he’d taken so much time and care to find for the two of you.

“And how do you find Australia herself?” Elliott asked, speaking for the first time since you’d all sat down. “She’s a harsh mistress, not every man can handle her.”

“Far too hot, but nothing I can’t handle.”

“You’ve certainly tanned, darling,” you said, raising a hand to gently touch William’s cheek. “I always thought you don’t get nearly enough sunlight cooped up in court all day. You look healthier now.”

William looked at you and swelled with pride at the compliment, then raised an eyebrow at you.

“And you, my dear, appear to have burnt. Did you overcook yourself?”

You withdrew your hand and blushed, although there wasn’t much skin to turn red that wasn’t already.

“I… sat out on the ridge too long. I was - um - waiting for you. Elliott had to bring me back before I roasted completely.”

William glanced over at Elliott. “I’m surprised you let her burn as much as she has, Elliott. Or do you like your girls crispy?”

Elliott’s jaw twitched. Before he could speak, there was a knock on the door, and one of his men let himself in to ask him about the reward for Quigley.

“Do you suppose he’ll be here shortly?” William asked with mild interest when the man left.

“Yes, I think so. I’ve got what’s left of my men guarding the whole station. That does beg the question, however, of what I’m going to do with the two of you.” Elliott pointed at you with his fork. “That man’s not getting remotely near you, that’s for sure. You’re staying inside.” He chewed thoughtfully, then said, “I suppose we don’t want you dying either, William.”

“I don’t intend on putting myself on the front line to protect your station, Elliott,” William scoffed. He placed a hand over yours. “I’ll look after [Y/n].”

Elliott didn’t seem to approve of that, but he said nothing about it.

“And what about you, Elliott?” you asked, your voice laced with worry. “I don’t want you dying either.”

Elliott smirked with self-assuredness you prayed wasn’t misplaced.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll kill Quigley before he has a chance to blink.”

After dinner, William retired for an early night, not having taken the nap he’d meant to take earlier on account of spending an hour fucking you instead. Although you weren’t tired, you obligingly went to bed with him, and when he fell asleep two orgasms later, you slipped out of his tight grip and got back into your dress.

You followed the sounds of gunshots to find Elliott around the back of the house, shooting at apparently nothing.

“What are you doing?”

Elliott turned around, and smiled when he saw you were alone.

“Just emptying my revolver. I want it freshly loaded when our visitor shows up. And I couldn’t stand to listen to William fucking you again, so I thought I’d pretend these fence posts are his dick.”

“Elliott, you shouldn’t say that,” you said in hushed tones, glancing around as if your sleeping husband could hear you from inside the house.

Elliott chuckled and wrapped his spare arm around your waist to pull you in close. You hesitated, but your body reacted to his so naturally, you found yourself melting into his embrace. He smiled and kissed the top of your head.

“Everything’s going to be alright, [Y/n]. I promise you.”

You looked up at him, desperate to say the words you never could, your heart aching from being torn in two.

“You said you’re sleeping in the lodge tonight?”

Elliott nodded questioningly.

“Maybe we could… go there now? Together, I mean…”

A devilish grin broke out across his face, and you ducked your head in embarrassment at your own forwardness.

“Well, well, well… sweet Lady Turpin, sneaking out of bed to proposition another man while her husband sleeps. You have grown bold, haven’t you?”

“I… we don’t have to… I don’t mean — I just want to be alone with you for a bit. Is there something wrong with seeking a bit of companionship?”

Elliott leaned down to kiss you, but then a shot rang out in the distance, and you were both jolted out of the moment, both of you turning towards the direction the shot came from.

“Maybe Scotty’s got Quigley,” suggested one man as he came jogging around the corner.

Elliott rolled his eyes, then took your hand and wordlessly pulled you away towards the lodge.

“They’ll warn me when he’s here,” he said, his voice low with the darkness that he saved for his men but dissipated when he looked at you. “Until then… you’re right. A bit of companionship is just what we both need.”

The lodge was a cabin near the back of the station, nothing as comfortable as Elliott’s house, but it was much better than the men’s quarters, and when the door closed behind you, you could almost forget you were anywhere at all. The lodge was the world as far as you cared, and nothing mattered to you in that moment but Elliott and his wandering hands as he pushed you up against the wall and kissed you as if he could only breathe air from your lungs.

You clung to him desperately, any sense of propriety or reservation forgotten the moment you closed the door.

Elliott grabbed hungrily at your bodice, pulling it down to release your breasts, and you whined into the kiss when he began pawing at you with desperation, as if it was his last chance to touch you and he might be interrupted at any moment.

You finally gasped for air when Elliott pulled away, your already sore skin stinging from the friction of his facial hair, but you didn’t care.

Elliott dropped to his knees in front of you and pulled your dress down past your hips. He let out a hungry growl when he saw your cunt, and you gasped when he buried his face between your legs, tongue desperately seeking the sweetest spots that he knew only took well.

The fact that his cousin had finished inside you only a short while ago did nothing to deter Elliott as he passionately made out with your cunt, and you felt your stress melting away with each lick, each contented hum from Elliott’s lips that betrayed the pleasure he found in worshipping you.

When his tongue began caressing your sweet spot with gentle yet rapid caresses, your orgasm came over you like an explosion. Elliott held your thighs firmly in his large hands, steadying you as your legs buckled beneath you, and he took your weight with no protest as you shuddered through your high, only pulling back when he was satisfied you were completely sated.

You were so lightheaded that at first you didn’t realise Elliott was making no move to take his own clothes off, and in fact it wasn’t until he was guiding your arms through your sleeves that you realised he was redressing you.

“Aren’t you going to fuck me?” you asked, feeling a little dejected that he apparently had no interest in you.

“I don’t need to fuck you to show you how I feel,” Elliott said softly. He took your hand and led you over to the nearby couch, and when you settled into his arms, you felt like you could fall asleep there and then.

“You’re right,” he murmured in your ear. “I just want to be alone with you for a bit.”

“Then why did you use your tongue if not to ready me for you?”

Elliott chuckled, his warm breath tickling your ear.

“You’ve been fucked enough today, [Y/n]. I wanted to make you feel good. Did it feel good?”

“Yes,” you admitted.

“Good. That’s all I care about anymore.”

You must have dozed off for a bit, because before you knew it, night had fallen and you were awoken when Elliott lifted you gently to move away from you. You blinked, bleary-eyed, wondering why Elliott was leaving. He opened the door and you heard the noise of a galloping horse, prompting you to shake yourself awake and follow Elliott outside.

The horse came to a stop in the middle of the station and you caught up with Elliott just as he met up with the half a dozen men that had gathered around the riderless horse.

A piece of paper was pinned to the horse’s saddle. One man tore it off and opened it to read, “Anyone can leave safely before dawn except Marston. The girl will not be harmed. Yours cordially, Matthew Quigley.”

Elliott snatched the paper from the man’s hand and screwed it up in anger. “He must think I’m stupid! This just means he’s gonna spring something on us in the night. Alright - nobody sleeps.”

He grabbed his hat from Cavanagh’s head. “Give me that!” he snarled, taking the jacket too, before taking you by the arm and leading you back towards the house.

“Come on, we’ve got to get you safe.”

“But the note said —”

“I know what the note says. Don’t believe a word of it. A monster like him, he’ll shoot anyone in sight, innocent or no. Go back to bed with your useless lump of a husband, meanwhile I’ll keep the monster at bay.”

“You expect me to sleep now?” you asked as you crossed the threshold, and Elliott stopped in his tracks, clearly not intending to follow you in.

“Sleep, read, fuck, whatever you want. Just stay safe. Quigley wants me, which means for once you’re not safe by my side. The only other man I trust to protect you, God help me, is William. Promise me you’ll stay inside.”

“I promise, El. Just - be careful, okay? Don’t do anything stupid.”

He smiled smugly. “Don’t worry, darling. I’ll outfox this snake if it’s the last thing I do.”

[dolphin1812]

I always expect to feel sad because of Jean Valjean when reading this book, but I wasn’t expecting to feel sorry for Hugo! This part of the long paragraph on the changes to Paris that he isn’t getting to see was especially moving:

“So long as you go and come in your native land, you imagine that those streets are a matter of indifference to you; that those windows, those roofs, and those doors are nothing to you; that those walls are strangers to you; that those trees are merely the first encountered haphazard; that those houses, which you do not enter, are useless to you; that the pavements which you tread are merely stones. Later on, when you are no longer there, you perceive that the streets are dear to you; that you miss those roofs, those doors; and that those walls are necessary to you, those trees are well beloved by you; that you entered those houses which you never entered, every day, and that you have left a part of your heart, of your blood, of your soul, in those pavements. All those places which you no longer behold, which you may never behold again, perchance, and whose memory you have cherished, take on a melancholy charm, recur to your mind with the melancholy of an apparition, make the holy land visible to you, and are, so to speak, the very form of France, and you love them; and you call them up as they are, as they were, and you persist in this, and you will submit to no change: for you are attached to the figure of your fatherland as to the face of your mother.”

By beginning with “you imagine,” Hugo stresses that one doesn’t come to value their home by missing it; they always love it, and simply aren’t aware of how much they do until they’re parted from it. He even goes as far as to say that Paris is “holy land” and a “father” (technically “fatherland,” but positioned as an actual parent through juxtaposition with the mother), making the relationship between him and the city (and by extension, his Parisian readership and the city) both sacred and familial. Aside from his frustration with Haussmann’s restructuring of the city (it’s not said outright, but I think that’s what he’s referencing with “demolitions and reconstructions”), Hugo’s break from the narrative here also reminds his audience where he’s writing from: exile. While Hugo’s directly apologizing for any discrepancies between present Paris and Valjean’s Paris and explaining why he can’t write about the present city, he’s also drawing attention to his personal context right before Valjean’s flight from the authorities from the closest thing he’s had to a home in this novel, the Gorbeau house (Montreuil-sur-Mer was a shelter, but I think the addition of Cosette and the love between them in the Gorbeau house makes it a home). Implicitly, then, we’re made to see a link between the 1820s authorities that drive innocents from their home because of a legal system that constantly seeks to punish the unfortunate and the political situation that got Hugo exiled. Valjean and Hugo aren’t the same, of course. Valjean is largely punished for his class, and when explicitly political concerns affect how he’s treated (like that person who was upset he referred to Napoleon as “the Emperor”), they’re still mediated through that lens. Hugo was upper-class and suffered for his political opinions specifically. Still, the shared injustice and loss of safety binds them together and encourages the reader to reflect on present-day France (the 1860s) through the lens of the 1820s.

(Side note: we’ll return to the idea of the country as a parent later on, as part of nationalist discourse)

Now, to return to Jean Valjean:

The hunted stag reference is a very blatant way of showing that he feels like prey, although it’s also a bit funny in how technical it is (giving the specific term, for instance). Given how often Javert is compared to a dog, it’s not surprising that Valjean would choose a dog-confusing technique to throw him off his scent.

I like Hugo’s use of the full moon. Most of the escape scenes I’ve read with the full moon have positioned it as either a guide for the fleeing person (because they can see where they’re going) or a threat (others can also see them). We saw this when Valjean stole from the bishop, the light making his escape very obvious. Here, though, the light is a way of showing us Valjean’s intelligence (as well as his oversights). It’s true that he misses the ways in which this light can be used to hide from him, but he also manipulates the light and shadows to his own benefit, demonstrating his caution, intelligence, and resourcefulness. His ultimate decision to use the light to reveal his pursuers isn’t just a way to raise tension; it’s a way for Hugo to elaborate on his character. Valjean may be very limited in the risks he can take and, consequently, can be forced into really unfavorable situations, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t clever. The image of Javert and his men as ghosts until his face is suddenly illuminated by the moon is also terrifying and, as a result, effective. It’s dramatic, fun, and appropriately scary to Valjean.

[thevampirediariesdiary]

DAMON/ELENA BRACKET ROUND 1.3LL

1.22 Damon has just been pestering his brother (“It’s Founders Day! I’m here to eat cotton candy and steal your girl”) and Stefan is insisting that Damon needs to abide by his dictate that history not repeat itself. Damon says, “I get it, I’m the better, hotter, superior choice, and you’re scared now that Katherine’s out of the picture I’m gonna turn all my attention to Elena, but don’t worry!  Elena is not Katherine.” “You’re right,” says Stefan, “she’s not.” but Damon is already staring over his shoulder, at Elena in 1860s garb with her hair in perfect Katherine curls. she sees the brothers, and with a mischievous smile that could be for either or both of them, curtsies.

1.14 Elena goes alone to the Salvatore boardinghouse to try to get Damon to trust them again. “I’m gonna have to change the locks,” he says when he sees her. She tells him she’s not going to apologize for getting the grimoire without him, because she was trying to protect the people she loves - “But so are you, in your own, twisted way, and as hard as it is to figure, we’re all on the same side because we all want the same thing.” “Not interested,” Damon says. “Yes you are, because you were willing to work with us yesterday!” Outrage and hurt fly across Damon’s face before he settles into wry self-deprecation: “Fool me once…shame on you.” Elena switches tactics abruptly: “Okay, when we were in Atlanta, why didn’t you use your compulsion on me?” He shoots back, “Who’s to say I didn’t?” Elena is taken off guard, and says, “You didn’t.” He raises his eyebrows. “I know you didn’t,” she repeats more firmly.  “But you could have. You and I…we have something. An understanding. And I know my betrayal hurt you, different from how it is with Stefan, but I’m promising you this now, I will help you get Katherine back.”  He appears to struggle with this before saying, “I wish I could believe you.”  She takes her necklace off, holds it up.  “Ask me if I’m lying now.”  She puts the necklace on the ground and faces him. Damon picks up the necklace and fastens it back around Elena’s neck, while she looks up into his eyes. “I didn’t compel you in Atlanta because we were having fun,” he tells her softly. “I wanted it to be real…I’m trusting you.” Then his voice hardens: “Don’t make me regret it.”

old propaganda under the cut:

1.22

1.14

[zestlessrind]

Your style of drawing Sebastian and Ciel are so cute!! I'm just curious what is Seb holding in the comic and when he goes "do you want to do this the hard way or easy way" what does that mean??

Thank you! And I’m glad you asked, now I can share a fun fact :) (warning it’s a bit long)

TLDR: What he’s holding is called a Nelson’s Inhaler. And bc he’s a kid. (Long/ in-depth explanation vvvvv)

Before modern asthma treatments as we know them they had a few different remedies that they tried to use from artificial/manual breathing, to peppermint oil to open the air way (which you can see them do in book of circus!) and most common was smoking or inhaling medicinal herbs. I didn’t want to go the herbal cigarettes route since you know, and there was actually a few different types of “inhalers” at the time but Nelson Inhalers specifically were patented in the 1860’s so in my mind they’d be more common place and make more sense for how old Ciel is.

This is what they look like

Any ways, when it comes to when he says “the easy way or the hard way” it’s just because kids usually don’t like taking medicine, and I remember not liking my inhalers as a kid because I thought they tasted bad and took too long to take. On top of that Ciel is very stubborn and prideful and doesn’t like seeming weak so I think that would add to the whole “I don’t want to it’s yucky. Make me.” Of it all, even though he knows he’s showing signs of not breathing well enough.

[theoncomingdoo-dah]

Episode 1.3 The Unquiet Dead

so I actually used to be kinda neutral on this episode. not my least favorite but not one of my favorites

WILL THAT CHANGE? Stay tuned.

not gonna lie, the opening is genuinely creepy.

seeing this opening, the BETTER ONE, after seeing the one for series 7 so many times is kinda a trip

LITTLE DETAIL! The way that Nine is talking to Rose in the opening while the TARDIS is in flight sounds very...insisting. Like FUTURE WAS BUST, LETS GO TO THE PAST NOW SINCE I PROMISED YOU A TIME MACHINE. Almost like he's kicking himself for where he took her first, so now they need to go somewhere better. I never noticed that!

And the fact that he chose Christmas as the time to bring her. Something safe and nice. He was really trying. 🥺

"Not a bad life?"..."Better with two!

on God, one of my favorite Ninerose quotes. Especially with the teeny tiny awkward pause after it.... GAHHH LOVE IT

Nine just smiling after Rose passes (when she can't see him) Please. PLEASE.

then he says her in the dress and her hair put up, the look of disbelief in his eyes like "wow, she can look even prettier??"

AND SHE JUST ASSUMES THAT HES GONNA MAKE FUN OF HER?? ROSE PLEASE

And then the draw back. He always has to keep his cards close to his chest.

CRIME AGAINST NATURE WE DIDNT GET TO SEE NINE IN HIS 1860 OUTFIT. THERE ARE PICTURES. WHY DIDNT IT HAPPEN.

Rose you look so pretty

WHEN THEY LINK ARMS AAAAAAA

He is just BEAMING

hahaha wales jokes

people screaming! bad stuff! Nine: "AW HELL YES"

FANTASTIC

The scene between Nine and Charles Dickens is great. Honestly amazing.

Nine talks him up and how amazing he is only to be like "Yeah that one thing you did, that was shit"

God I love him so much

Nine goes from being interested in the pipes but the MOMENT he hears Rose, he gets all serious. MMMMM LOVE IT

KICKS THE DOOR DOWN FUCK YOU

Another quick switch! After grabbing Rose, he says "hi!" with a big smile, only to get all serious again about the walking dead, then smiles again when he gets brag about finding Charles Dickens

When Rose goes off on the undertaker, Nine just stands in the corner, cheesing. I fucking love this dynamic.

Also another detail? More than likely when Rose was talking about the undertaker hands "having a quick wander", that was probably Gwyneth. (since she grabbed Rose's legs to put her in the herse.) Complete accident.

JUST SHUT UP

But he still apologized later. 🥺

He's honestly being so understanding with Charles! Like "You're not stupid for not believing, there's just more to the world than you don't know about."

There's she goes. Rose "what are your pronouns and would you like to join a union" Tyler.

Another detail. Gwyneth mentions that Rose has been thinking about her father alot. "More than ever." Rose is now a time traveler. This means that Father's Day was not a spur of the moment thing. She'd been thinking it over for awhile, maybe even working up the courage to ask the Doctor if she could go back. That's...alot.

BAD WOLF MENTIONED EYYYYY

how long have you been standing there Nine

"I love a happy medium." sir shut up before I kiss you on the mouth

When the Gelth mention "The Time War", Rose looks over in Nine's direction. And he looks distressed...

Charles gets drunk after the seance. Fair.

I really like the "moral dilemma" exchange between Rose and Nine here.

Love the fire thing that happens when the Gelth reveal their intentions.

NINES FUCKING PISSED

I can't help but think while Rose and Nine are locked behind the bars that he's thinking "dammit I fucked up again"

IN CARDIFF 😬

"I'm so glad I met you." end me. just end me now.

Charles interrupts the moment but for good reason, he's excused

man I miss when the forehead kisses were platonic and sweet and wholesome 😑

FANTASTIC

"Down, boy."

I really like the ending to this one. I can't tell if Charles is really happy or still kinda drunk. Either way it's great.

Conclusion:

NEVER FORGET WHAT THEY TOOK FROM US

-referring to Nine in his 1860 outfit-

[h-worksrambles]

Oh, I’ve been looking forward to seeing your spoiler heavy thoughts on this section. Another excellent analysis and I have some points of my own I’d like to share. As with my previous reblogs of your posts, I’ll go scene by scene and full spoilers below.

Chase’s inner thoughts give us a little more insight into his struggles with hallucination and sleep paralysis. While this doesn’t have as much bearing on Carl’s route as others, it is an effective way of establishing uncertainty before moving into more overtly supernatural territory, as even our protagonist is unsure what is real and what isn’t. I’m fascinated at your point that sudden changes to sleep schedules is a real thing that can affect one’s sleep paralysis. Definitely provides an interesting extra layer of context. And adds a poignancy to Chase’s struggles with trauma and how they constantly follow him. Even starting fresh in college, well out of Echo, all it takes is something as mundane as a night shift to bring back his old demons.

“I mean, once, after I’d seen a scary movie about possession, I’d been afraid to go to sleep for weeks, mainly because my nightmares can seem so real.” - Given both the truth of Chase’s own character AND how Carl’s route unfolds, the irony is practically dripping from this line. As you yourself say OP, not only is Chase’s worse nightmare happening to him the whole time, it’s about to happen to his best friend.

James Hendricks:

Chase’s research into James Hendricks really struck me on closer inspection this read through as I noticed just how much of it is thematically relevant to the rest of the game.

James is presented as an immigrant to America in 1825, a victim of prejudice and parental abuse. As an adult he goes on to become an embodiment of colonialism, and a perpetrator of racism and abuse in his own right. The cycles of exploitation and violence interspersed throughout America’s history are yet another circle. One that pulls people in and results in them spreading further harm. James and John’s relationship is immediately set up as unhealthy as the reader is instantly altered to James’ history of ‘prejudice against the Natives’. Thus there is an immediate oxymoron given that we immediately learn they were apparently lovers. And given that The Smoke Room has later confirmed that James was much younger than John, this only further enhances the uncomfortable power dynamic in their relationship. Toxic relationships are yet another integral theme of Echo that is hence repeated through the town’s history.

I also so took note of how the game specifies that “He married Emma, a girl half his age in 1860.” This on its own, uncomfortable as it is, is not inherently remarkable, given that women would be married off as young as possible at such a time. But given what is revealed about James over the story, I think this is pointed out to the reader for a reason (plus, just because it was normal for the time has never stopped Echo from pointing out how deeply predatory the practise of marrying young women and girls off could be: see Marcy from The Smoke Room as a horrifying example).

The death of John Begay is a painful reminder of the homophobia and racism that still dogs the town. John, whose indigenous heritage makes him an easy scapegoat, is hanged for the ‘crime’ of sodomy, while James, a rich white coded man, escapes thanks to his money and influence. And as we learn, the actual truth is still more uncomfortable. James was not the only true culprit but was guilty of something much, much worse. Later, James dies from an unusual insect bite in 1891, a further extension of the symbolism of spiders in the narrative (again, I’ll save my thoughts on this for Flynn’s route). But for now, consider how James is killed years after the fact, by a creature which arguably symbolises Echo’s themes of trauma and entrapment (again, I’ll get to this more another time).

The strewn photos are of course, the first sign of James’ Hendricks ultimate goal: to conceal the monstrous truth of his actions, by destroying the evidence. Because as always, this town needs secrets.

-What I mostly want to enforce is how many of the integral themes of the story, so many of the ugly aspects of the town, resurface in James’ history: Racism, abuse (familial and spousal), homophobia, colonialism, toxic relationships, and the inescapable nature of the past. He is the embodiment of the town’s corruption, both a victim and perpetrator of this circle of suffering, one rooted in the real systemic undercurrents of America itself. I don’t wanna say James is the ‘true villain of the whole game’ but he is an essential part of the tapestry, a crucial link in the chain. Even if the portrayal of ghosts in Carl’s route may speak to a different, earlier plan for the text, it still lines up with the nature of the story that we got.

-Back upstairs, Carl starts to become uncomfortable when Chase suggests getting him a change of clothes and shaving his beard. Chase has consistently been a support to Carl because he’s the one person who has never forced Carl to be anything other than what he is. However, he has also been guilty of being too passive, too negligent to his friend’s issues. I agree that this significantly well meaning ab selfless behaviour on Chase’s part. In fact I would argue that Carl’s route put’s especial emphasis on Chase’s character arc of learning to get out of his own head and be more empathetic to the people around him. Every route gives Chase a significantly different character arc. Some positive, some negative. And in this route, this aspect of Chase takes centre stage. With that in mind, we see Chase starting to change. Perhaps somewhat aware of these mistakes, after their conversation the previous night, Chase attempts to make more of an effort to help Carl. But unfortunately he ends up perhaps pushing too hard, too fast. Like everyone else on his life, Carl feels he is once again being talked at. Pushed to change himself into someone he’s not.

-Jenna calls Carl to chastise him and Chase for not spending the day with the rest of the group. I certainly agree with your emphasis that Jenna’s literal possession is not properly addressed as a context and she gets unfairly demonised for moments like this in parts of the fandom. Questions of character agency and how much say the characters have when they’re at the whim of supernatural forces comes up pretty frequently in Echo discourse, but I’d say this example is pretty clear cut.

The thing is, to an extent, possession aside for the moment, Jenna isn’t completely wrong. Chase and Carl have effectively shut themselves off from the rest of the group and refused to engage with them. It’s understandable why. The group’s dynamic is far from healthy and the two wanting to disengage from that is fair. But it’s also another case of both of them doing something they have done repeatedly, especially Chase. Taking the easy option even if it hurts the people around them. There’s a lot of complicated emotions at play. When Chase criticises Jenna’s bad attitude or Leo for sulking because ‘Leo’s day didn’t go the way he wanted’, he’s not wrong. Jenna is pinning the blame on Carl for a much wider, more complicated topic. But perhaps shutting themselves off isn’t the best approach for either of them. Especially since they were all so angry at Flynn specifically for refusing to engage with the group despite it being the last time they’ll all see each other. It’s another example of Howly being able to write complex arguments where everyone reacts in a way true to their characters and no one is 100% right or wrong. He doesn’t rely on strawmen for his arguments which is a sign of good writing.

A minor tragic detail. Chase notices that Carl’s uncomfortable reaction mirrors his reaction to the surprise party. But he doesn’t realise that this implies he’s put Carl in that exact kind of situation again. Instead he comments on how he appears ‘cute’. He’s trying so hard to be a better friend and he’s not quite getting it, bless him.

I also want to touch on Chase and Carl’s dynamic here because I’m not necessarily sure it’s a sign of density on Chase’s part. There’s a hesitancy and a lot left unsaid as Carl tentatively makes advances towards Chase. And while Chase may not always comment, he is clearly aware. He’s already had the option ti kiss Carl. I kind of like how the two slowly shifting their relationship to something more than platonic is done in quiet moments without much commentary from either character. They’re both well aware of what’s happening, but they’re both trying to figure out what they are to each other right now.

Raven:

Ok. Before we get to Raven, there’s a bit of an elephant in the room that needs to be addressed, one OP has briefly touched on. When you read criticisms of Echo, a very common one is that Carl’s route is the weakest. Or at least that, as the first to be completed, it doesn’t entirely line up with what the story evolved into later. Howly himself has said it kind of embarrasses him compared to his later work. And there’s even been suggestions floated for one of Echo Project’s other writers to take a shot at rewriting the climax, (thats still up in the air at the time of writing). Now, while I personally believe that Howly is being a touch harsh on his own work, I do agree that it is the weakest route. But I don’t necessarily want this to turn into a review of the game’s technical quality. So I’m going to try and take a good faith reading of the text and what it’s going for as writ, and leave it up to you to decide both whether I’m right about Howly’s intent when writing this and whether it works in execution. Is this a pre defence because I might be about to start reaching? Maybe.

Anyway, let’s talk about Raven. Raven is a pretty polarising character. It’s often said that he feels out of place, or lacks the necessary character development or connection to the wider story a person with this much screen time should have. You’ll often hear people say that you could take Raven out of the climax of Carl’s route, and replace him with Flynn, or Jeremy or several other characters with a bigger stake in the plot, and it would work better. But since this is the story that we got, I want to talk about what role Raven arguably does serve as it stands now.

Raven is one of several characters who were designed and named in tribute of one of Echo’s backers. Certain financialsupporters were able to have a character of their own cameo in the game (a fair inclusion in a game monetised solely through Patreon and donations). But I think when you line up these backer characters, their shared function is somewhat interesting. They all serve to give the one of the characters a social circle outside their extremely complicated, borderline toxic group. Raven is a well adjusted character remote from the group’s baggage. One Carl could potentially be much closer to if he were not so trapped in his own head (and room). He could be closer to Carl, but he isn’t, and there’s a reason for that. In that sense, he serves a similar narrative role that Daxton does for Flynn (and Carl to an extent), Julian does for TJ and Kudzu does for both Chase and Leo (the former in a romantic sense and the latter platonically). Much healthier alternative friendships and relationships who could do a lot of good for these characters and help them make a fresh start if they aren’t so weighed down by their baggage. The best thing for all these characters would be to get as far away from Echo as they can and start fresh with new relationships like these. He also serves to provide comedic levity as the story plunges into much darker territory. (Side note: the only two anomalies to this theory as to the role of the backer characters are Injy, who is purely a cameo and Micha. Though arguably Micha is important to getting Jenna to question her assumptions about the people who stayed in Echo, so he arguably still works in service of this analysis, as he is an interpersonal relationship that makes Jenna a better person, even though he’s arguably tied more closely to Chase and Leo).

And for the most part, I will leave it there. That’s my take on Raven, why he faces criticism and why I still think he works in the final product (mostly) even if I agree with some of the critiques of his role.

Anyway, before moving on, there are two other details that stood out to me about this scene.

-The game points out that Carl eats notably less when he’s out in public, because he’s expecting to be judged because of his weight. In retrospect it shines his back and forth with Flynn in a new light. For all the times Flynn rather cruelly made fun of his weight, he is at least comfortable enough around his friends that he doesn’t have to hide himself that way. He has no shame eating around the group because, for all their faults, he knows that they know him well enough not to judge him for something so unfair.

“If someone isn’t homophobic, gay relationships are usually “cute” or “adorable”.- Chase’s response to Raven’s inquiry about his relationship status provides a little more insight to why he was so uncomfortable as a queer man in Echo. The best treatment he could expect is condescension (intentional or no) if not outright bigotry. Or at least that’s how he felt, even if that may not have been Raven’s intention.

Chase’s dream:

Chase feels something crushing down on his body, opening his eyes to find the room tinged in blood red light. He feels a presence in the room laughing mockingly by his ear, but it leaves when he closes his eyes.

When he opens then again, Carl’s room is still empty and something drags him through the house into the crawlspace screaming threateningly at him. My personal interpretation is that this is another sign that the two ghosts that haunt Carl’s mansion are growing more active as the hysteria builds. It could be either James Hendricks or John Begay. If it is James, he has recognised that Chase is a threat because he has started to uncover the truth. If it is John, it may because he sees Chase as allied with Carl (and James by extension) hence why he acts so violent later in the route. I personally believe it is the latter, as James is later characterised as relying on charismatic manipulation than outright threats of violence like this.

Friday:

-Chase begins to figure out that Carl is tampering with the information about James Hendricks. Including the passage about John Begay. Clearly, James’ influence over Carl is growing stronger and more frequent.

Chase and Leo at the diner:

-Chase and Leo’s talk in the the diner has been a long time coming. This follow up to their complicated situation has been building since the prologue. First of all, it forces Chase to confront that he’s been putting his relationships on hold to hang out with Carl. It’s a moment where Chase has to recognise his desire to avoid a difficult situation as somewhat selfish, when Leo attempts to bring back a topic Chase has been pointedly avoiding. It’s a moment that plays into Chase’s character arc in Carl’s route of becoming a more considerate friend to the people around him.

However, what dominates this discussion is Sydney’s death and how badly it affected the whole group. Leo is finally able to express his feelings of survivor’s guilt and how it fuelled his overprotectiveness towards the rest of the group. This puts his later actions in his own route, including his controlling behaviour and fixation on their old pack, into perspective. However, it’s clear there is more going on here. This conversation is cathartic but it only scratches the surface of everything wrong with the group. Leo needs to believe that the main thing that damaged everyone was Sydney’s death, and to an extent, he’s right. But he ends up simplifying the topic because he needs to believe that this situation fixable, that their group isn’t beyond repair. When Chase mentions that Carl’s anxiety is more complicated than just an after effect of that incident, Leo ignores him. When Chase tries to say Jenna was able to find fulfilment by leaving Echo, Leo plows on. This belief that everything wrong with the group all goes back purely to Sydney fuels Leo’s decision to go back to the lake and find closure. The attempt is admirable, but the baggage weighing down this group is far more complicated than that alone. So he ends up rushing things, effectively manipulating the others into coming to the lake, trying to resolve ‘eleven years of baggage’ in one day. As well meaning as the attempt is, it’s doomed to disaster. This arguably the most well intentioned attempt Leo makes to reunite the group, but it also demonstrates that, out of naivety or sheer stubbornness, he is greatly underestimating the complexity of everyone’s situation.

I also appreciate your commentary on how the ‘afternoon sun’ invokes the sunrise/sunset motif of Chase and Leo’s relationship that has been touched on previously. Indeed, the game even uses the same sunset background for this scene as the epilogue of Leo’s route. This is actually a touchingly pleasant moment between Chase and Leo that highlights how much of their conflict is rooted in a lack of communication. The most sincere moments between the two, (Leo’s good ending, their conversation in Flynn’s route, Leo opening up about his problems in Jenna’s route) are the moments where they talk, openly and frankly, instead of using each other as emotional crutches to not think about their problems. And they’re both better for it. However, as much as Leo needed to near that the group are adults and not his responsibility to herd together (nor should he blame himself for Sydney’s death) this scene only scratches the surface of the pair’s issues. When Leo tries to hint towards the topic of ‘you and me’, Chase notably doesn’t comment. Leo clearly has not given up on revisiting this topic and reconciling and Chase, for all his growth, is still avoiding the issue. There is still hope that the pair’s friendship at least can be salvaged, but only if they talk honestly, even moreso than they did here. Whether they succeed in doing so on other routes remains to be seen…

Saturday:

Carl’s sprite now changes for the rest of the route after his beard and outfit have been changed. While Chase and Raven are excited to see him cleaned up, it serves as an effective visual indicator of Carl being changed, made into a different person, which pairs with the underlying subtext of rest of the route.

-The player is given a minor choice about whether to encourage Carl to where the beanie or not. Interestingly though, regardless of the player’s choice, Carl will still wear it. For the first time, when he’s at his most uncomfortable, when he feels like even Chase is unduly pressuring him, Carl puts his foot down and makes his own choice. It’s a choice that backfires, but it’s still a significant, if subtle, moment in his character arc.

Note that when Chase opts to tell Carl about the plan to go to the lake (the thing Leo was reluctant to do for the rest) he agrees it’s a good idea, despite arguably being the most socially anxious of the group. Yet another sign that a little emotional honesty would do this group wonders and attempting to manipulate everyone back into being friends (however well intentioned) rather than just speaking honestly is doomed to disaster.

Carl’s interview:

Carl’s interview is the culmination of a slowly building tension across the past few days. Carl has been pressured by his family to interview for a job he doesn’t feel cut out for. He’s then pressured by Chase, the one person he thought would never ask too much of him, to reinvent himself in a way that feels uncomfortable and unfamiliar. As Carl himself says ‘this isn’t me’. And that attempt to be someone he isn’t causes his interview to fail, in turn sending him spiralling further into self defeating misery. Carl will never become more self reliant if he continues going along with what other people tell him is best for him as they talk at him. If his heart’s not in it, he’ll inevitably be doomed to keep failing. This is why he needs to decide what he wants for himself, to find his own motivation. Because otherwise he’ll only either continue to stagnate in his room, or throw himself repeatedly against the wall as he tries to appease other people. Not for the last time this week, Carl became someone he isn’t to make the people around him happy, which is a miserable way to live one’s life.

It’s at this moment that Chase finally realises ‘that I’d become exactly what he said I wasn’t, what he liked me for not being.’ Chase, realising he hasn’t been there for Carl as much as he could have, which is further muddled by the growing feelings between the two, has tried to help Carl as best he can. But ended up pushing too much, too hard. Carl liked having Chase around because he never put pressure on him, but the consequence was that Chase could be noncommittal, and not help enough when Carl needed it. In trying to fix that, he ends up doing the opposite, exactly what Carl’s parents, Jenna, and everyone else in his life keeps doing.

However, even if the circumstances leading to it were unfair, Carl’s ability to maturely accept that ‘I’m the one that screwed up the interview’ is a sign that he is growing. And it allows him to move onto another difficult social situation without complaint. Much like the beanie choice, this is a small subtle moment that shows Carl is slowly coming into his own.

The lake:

The group find the lake has changed dramatically in all the time they’ve stayed away, something Chase alluded to at the river. Just as ‘Echo is trying really hard to stay alive’ so too Leo tries desperately to keep their group alive.

At first, the meeting is just as much a disaster as expected. Flynn blows up just as he did last time. Leo’s attempt to moderate quickly turns into aggression. It all looks like it’ll end the exact same way. Only this time, Chase, the most indecisive member of the group, intervenes. In an act that he admits is ‘really just for me’, Chase steps out into the lake that has symbolised both his self expression and his trauma for years. And in doing so, he inspires the others to come join him. For just one moment they’re able to face their fear and find a moment of catharsis and healing. Chase’s inner thoughts capture the thesis of the entire game: that you can’t change the past. And, as important as honesty and communication are, that also means accepting that there are some things you can’t just talk out. Sometimes, you can just accept reality and move forward.

…But doing that is much easier said than done. And sometimes one moment of clarity isn’t enough to magically fix anything.

-As Chase succumbs to sleep paralysis, metaphorically bound/anchored to the place of his trauma, dangerously close to dying the same way that Sydney did, he hears a voice mocking him for thinking it would be so easy. Is it Sam? Is it Sydney? It’s unclear (though given Sam is often represented by a distinct font, I’m inclined to think it’s the latter). I think that OP is correct that this may be another sign that the supernatural influence may have been imagined slightly differently in earlier drafts of the story. But this holdover still serves the theme. In fact, given we’re on the cusp of the hysteria, this might be that Chase getting his own little taste of it, as Echo itself weaponises his guilt against him.

-This moment causes the previous tranquil atmosphere to collapse. Nearly losing another friend in the exact same way they lost their first is so damaging that the group spirals into chaos. Flynn’s anger at TJ finally breaks, as does Leo’s at Flynn’s. For a moment, they came close to finding healing, but it wasn’t enough, and now they’re more torn apart than ever. As far as Carl’s route goes, this is the end of the friend group. Only Chase, Carl and Jenna will go on to have a large role in the narrative. Leo, Flynn and TJ are left to the hysteria, which will likely magnify their existing conflict, and as we later learn, destroys their fragile relationship for good.

-Carl’s route is arguably the most removed from both the death of Sydney, and the mass hysteria. As such, it is recommended by the developers to be played first. And I believe this moment is why. Carl’s route gives is glimpses of what the group needs to do to heal, but it’s not enough. Leo and Chase get to talk, but they don’t unpack everything. The group attempts to face their trauma, but it only lasts a moment. We’re given a taste of how these people could become better, but it’s also made clear that these issues go far deeper than originally thought. It will require us to go deeper, play more routes, if we want even a hope of any kind of more lasting recovery. Contrary to what Leo thought. Sydney’s death was clearly just the tip of the iceberg of everything that’s wrong here. It will take far more than this one moment to fix things.

And that’s all for my interpretation of this part of Carl’s route. Thank you once again OP for providing these book club analyses and I look forward to your next one.

(Indenting here because this app keeps cutting off the last paragraphs of my posts on mobile, thanks Tumblr(!))

-Carl’s route is arguably the most removed from both the death of Sydney, and the mass hysteria. As such, it is recommended by the developers to be played first. And I believe this moment is why. Carl’s route gives is glimpses of what the group needs to do to heal, but it’s not enough. Leo and Chase get to talk, but they don’t unpack everything. The group attempts to face their trauma, but it only lasts a moment. We’re given a taste of how these people could become better, but it’s also made clear that these issues go far deeper than originally thought. It will require us to go deeper, play more routes, if we want even a hope of any kind of more lasting recovery. Because this? Clearly wasn’t enough. Contrary to what Leo thought, Sydney’s death was only the tip of the iceberg of everything wrong here. And any lasting solution will require much more than this one moment. And that’s all for my interpretation of this part of Carl’s route. Thank you once again OP for providing these book club analyses and I look forward to your next one.

And that’s all for my interpretation of this part of Carl’s route. Thank you once again OP for providing these book club analyses and I look forward to your next one.

-Carl’s route is arguably the most removed from both the death of Sydney, and the mass hysteria. As such, it is recommended by the developers to be played first. And I believe this moment at the lake is why. Carl’s route gives glimpses of what the group needs to do to heal, but it’s not enough. Leo and Chase get to talk, but they don’t unpack everything. The group attempts to face their trauma, but it only lasts a moment. We’re given a taste of how these people could become better, but it’s also made clear that these issues go far deeper than originally thought. It will require us to go deeper, play more routes, if we want even a hope of any kind of more lasting recovery. Because this? Clearly wasn’t enough.

And that’s all for my interpretation of this part of Carl’s route. Thank you once again OP for providing these book club analyses and I look forward to your next one.

Furry Visual Novel Book Club: Echo Week 5

Hi everyone, here is the SPOILER discussion post for “Echo - Carl’s Thursday/Friday/Saturday”  

Links: Previous - Next - Original - Spoiler Free Version

Feel free to respond in reblogs/replies/or asks :D

Keep reading

[lesbiten]

i love how nonfunctional nines tardis is like it doesnt feel like this cool scifi spaceship it really feels like a shitty car that he stole from a fucking dumpster

[dadsbongos]

the lov beach episode hori's too scared to give us

Movie/Game/Show: My Hero Academia Dynamic: League of Villains/Reader (Platonic) Warnings: uhh idk actually, dabi's kinda horny ig, i don't usually include this as a warning but swearing (there's quite a bit of it), feminine pronouns Summary: this is just 1860 words of me shutting my eyes, plugging my ears and ignoring the current state of the manga (: (beach episode type beat) ~~~

Pulling the large sun hat tighter on her head, (Y/n) looks over as her leader strolls up to the van Spinner had stolen earlier in the day. She quirks a brow at the man, putting a gentle hand over his handheld and pushing it down when he doesn’t notice her, “That’s what you’re wearing?”

Tomura huffs and steps back, narrowed eyes focusing on his black jeans and hoodie, “What’s it to you?”

“You’re wearing a hoodie in this heat, first of all, and also - it says ‘12 year old in gaming mode’, you’re asking to get bullied.”

“Yeah, well,” he grumbles as he tries to find an insult for the woman before resigning himself to mumble out a, “you look like you raided a college chick’s closet” while returning to his game.

“I think she looks great!” Twice piped up from inside the large van before yelling once again, “Absolutely hideous!”

Dabi nodded slightly from his window seat, pulling the strings of his hood so as few inches of his face as possible were showing, “I agree with him.”

“Which part?” (Y/n) crossed her arms, shooting the man a glare.

“Yep.”

“Dickface,” she hissed, reaching up to swat at Dabi’s arm through the rolled down window before turning to climb into the van, “A dickface who is also wearing a black hoodie in this heat. You two are actual nutjobs.”

“Van’s got AC,” Dabi shrugged off her concerns, still not even looking her way as she settled into the seat between him and Twice, “Didn’t know you cared so much, doll. Pretty sweet of you.”

“If you pass out from a heat stroke, I’m not the one taking you to the hospital,” she leaned over into the midrow seats of the van to glare at Tomura as he sat down, “That goes for you, too.”

“I’m not the one with a fire Quirk.”

“Just get Himiko some blood and she’ll take ‘em in all disguised! Let them die!” Twice pitched in with his own ideas, earning a shoulder pat from the woman.

“Good ideas, big guy, I like them.”

“Rude ass,” Dabi kicks at (Y/n)’s leg.

“I’m your boss, if you let me die you’re fucked.”

“Nobody’s dying on this trip, what the fuck are you guys talking about?” Spinner already appeared exasperated with the group and he’d barely been in the car for a second.

Compress got into the passenger seat as Spinner buckled into the driver’s side, he looked around before noticing an absence, “Where’s Toga?”

Suddenly, the door to Tomura’s seat is lugged open with a force, an overly excited blond teenager jumping over her boss and into the open seat beside him.

“You could’ve just gotten in on the other side,” Tomura clenches a fist to keep himself from slapping Himiko’s arm and causing a deathly accident.

“I didn’t know which side you were sitting on, so I just guessed!” Himiko giggles as Spinner starts the car.

“Asshole,” Tomura shakes his head, “This trip is pointless.”

“Kurogiri wants us to bond and stop fighting all the time,” Compress cuts in, “That’s why I’m in charge.”

“We’re adults- " (Y/n) interrupts herself, “Dabi, roll up the window, we’re pulling out of the safe zone.”

Dabi merely keeps his eyes closed behind his sunglasses and presses his head back against the neck rest of his seat.

“Roll up the window.”

“God, these winds are fuckin’ noisy, huh?”

“I hear ya, man!” Twice shouts before shaking his head, “Dabi, be nice to (Y/n). She’s your elder.”

“By a fucking year! Man, fuck you, Dabi,” the woman reaches over and presses the button to roll up the window herself, “Motion sickness or not, you don’t get to be a douche.”

“It’s actually exactly what it means, doll. Sorry to burst your bubble.”

“Stop calling me doll.”

“Ugh,” he grins at his own upcoming remark, “the princess makes a harsh demand.”

“I’m this close,” she pats his chest to make sure he opens his eyes before holding her index finger and thumb nearly pinched together in front of his face, “to beating your ass.”

“Here,” he reaches up and takes her fingers and clenches them together, “now you have to. As soon as we get to the beach, you have to fight me or else you’re a coward and a liar.”

(Y/n) grits her teeth and snaps her eyes shut, “I’m gonna lose it,” she leans into Twice’s side and looks up at him, smiling at the slightest hint of a concerned look behind his mask, “How’ve you been, big guy?”

“Perfectly fine!” he shakes his head before whispering, “I didn’t piss before we left and now I regret it.”

“Aw, want Spinner to pull over?”

“I think he’ll crash the car if I ask.”

“He’d be killing himself too, so I don’t think he’d be too cool with that.”

Twice quiets down as he notices the woman’s eyes beginning to flutter shut with drowsiness. Then, a sense of guilt beats at him as he sees the serene expression crossing his friend’s face. So calm and sweet - he truly adored his friend, and he wanted to do right by her. So, leaning down, he murmurs, “Sorry for calling you old.”

(Y/n)’s eyes dart open and immediately find Twice, she raises a brow at the man and shakes her head as her eyes slowly begin closing again, “I… it’s fine, dude, don’t worry about it.”

Dabi, as usual, is quick to jump into a conversation that was never his, “Old lady tempers, gotta be careful around them.”

“I swear to fucking God, Dabi!”

“What? What do you swear?”

“Shut the hell up!” Spinner snapped at children in the back seat, “You’re distracting me, loud asses.”

“Dabi started it!”

“I’m ending it!”

“Stop yelling,” Tomura commanded the group, carefully stuffing his handheld into his large front hoodie pocket and resting his head back, “I’m going to sleep and if I get woken up, I’ll kill you all.”

None of them believed him - not at all - but out of an odd respect for their leader’s need for rest, they stayed relatively silent as he slept. Murmurs and whispers being the loudest volume of their voices as Tomura snoozed in the van.

Eventually, Spinner came to the reserved spot on the beach that Kurogiri definitely didn’t hire people to kill civilians over. Himiko leaned over and gently shook Tomura awake as Compress popped the trunk to the van. (Y/n) shifted toward Dabi to ensure he was also awake and starting to feel less queasy before getting out of the middle seat so he and Twice could exit.

“Alright, there’s changing rooms…” Compress trailed off, looking around before sighing, “Nowhere in sight.”

“I’m already fine,” (Y/n) waved off, grabbing towels and an umbrella from Spinner, “You guys can take turns changing in the van while I set shit up.”

“I call first!” Himiko cheered, excitedly bouncing back into the van as the men all walked off to provide the teenager the privacy and distance she needed.

(Y/n) did as she’d said and began laying down towels and propping up parasols in the sand to provide shade. As more and more of her friends collected themselves along the beach, she spotted her almighty leader once again making a fashion mistake.

Bright, neon green and orange striped swim trunks hung over his hips and he didn’t avoid the woman’s stare. She purses her lips, “Who the hell goes clothes shopping for you? They shouldn’t be making executive decisions like this.”

Tomura shrugs, “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?! Shigaraki, you have to be fucking with me.”

“I’m not,” he sits down on a towel under the parasol’s shade and returns to his gaming, “It’s probably Kurogiri but it isn’t like I ask him.”

“Holy shit. You’re an actual man-child.”

“Oh no, what gave me away?” he sarcastically whines, rolling his eyes at her.

“You being shameless about it is slightly worse…”

“(Y/n)!” Himiko cheerily calls, “Come join me in volleyball!”

“Is Twice playing?”

The blond looks over to the man in question and nods in approval.

“Are Quirks allowed?”

Another nod.

(Y/n) pats Compress’ shoulder, “I’ll let you take this game.”

Dabi comes up from behind while Spinner serves the ball on the beach, he’s removed his hoodie and now only rests in loose shorts that come to his knees and a white shirt. He scratches the back of his head in an uncharacteristically unnerved manner, “Not swimmin’?”

He earns a small shrug in response from the woman, “I’m not all too committed to the idea. At least not now.”

Nodding slowly, Dabi sits down at the edge of the towel unoccupied by Tomura and begins pulling at the fraying threads.

Sighing to herself, (Y/n) is slightly ashamed at how easily her heart softens upon noticing how uncomfortable Dabi seems. He doesn’t usually show as much skin as he is - which isn’t much - and he doesn’t usually throw himself into events where he’d be forced to interact with the others. He feels naked on the beach and he’d rather be dead than continue to suffer this embarrassment. And so, a body comes down onto the towel with his.

“Want company, misery?”

“Baking to death in the sun couldn’t get worse, even if it’s with you,” Dabi leaned back to rest against the woman’s legs.

“Wow,” (Y/n) fauxly gasped, sarcasm ripe in her words, “You being sweet? I never thought I’d never see the day.”

“Right? Thought I’d be dead by now,” his head tips back even more to lay it’s full weight on her legs, “You’re comfortable to rest on, old lady.”

“I’m gonna beat the shit out of you.”

“You still owe him an ass-beating from the car ride,” Tomura jumped in, a snarky smile on his lips as he spoke.

“I’m starting to think you won’t actually beat my ass,” Dabi grins smugly, “Like me too much.”

“I would destroy you in a fight, Dabi.”

“Hm, well, until you stop being a pussy and actually fight me, doesn’t sound like that’s the truth.”

“I swear to- " (Y/n) loudly huffs and cuts herself off before groaning, Dabi- "

“I’m no God,” Dabi paused to wink like the cheap bastard he is, “Unless you want me to be.”

Before the woman can respond, there’s a “heads up!” shouted by Himiko and a volleyball is hurtling towards the arguing duo. Tomura immediately leans over, not quite paying attention and sticks a hand out to block the ball, accidentally decaying it in the process. The leader comes to a stand and tosses up his hands, “What the shit, Toga?”

“Man,” the teenager whined, stomping her foot in the sand, “you destroyed the ball.”

“You almost destroyed (Y/n)’s face!” Tomura's voice quiets and softens to avoid upsetting the young girl over a mistake, “There’s probably another ball in the trunk.”

“I said ‘heads up’,” Himiko rolled her eyes, sending Twice off to find the spare volleyball in question.

(Y/n) rolled her eyes, “Oh, so all better, then?”

“Exactly!”

“No! That’s not how that works, Toga!”

Dabi snickered at the back-and-forth before giving a mock dreamy sigh, “Ahh, the sound of Kurogiri’s bonding plan working perfectly.”

[inkblotgalaxies]

This is absolutely fascinating, especially as an Italian American reading this. It goes without saying, but at this point in time those of Italian heritage in America and most certainly thrown into the “White” category along with WASP demographics. And that is completely valid because like — yeah, we benefit from the same privileges as any other white person at this point, save for getting made fun of for long and sometimes hard to pronounce last names.

But something I always grew up hearing from my father was the otherness of Italians when they first started coming to the United States — people not getting into certain schools because “they didn’t want a WAP as a student” (that is a direct family quote, please take that with a grain of salt). There was a definite otherness regarding our darker features and complexions and the poor living situations many were forced to live in in cities like Manhattan. It’s the white-but-not-white-enough situation.

It still lingers in a lot of ways with Mediterranean ethnicities, I think. My cousin is Greek and her and I both grew up with people making fun of our last names because nobody could pronounce them (or, if they could, they could not spell them). We were constantly aware of how we had more body hair or, at the very least, more visible body hair than our friends. I got saved the ridicule regarding food (because I grew up in a part of the country in which Italian food was intensely normal, and I would argue it just is across the board in the United States), but my cousin would most certainly get a side eye or two regarding the food she would eat with family, or how “weird” her Church was. For years and years and YEARS I put so much pride in having an Irish-English mother, and how that side of the gene pool helped me to be really pale in complexion. I wanted blue eyes desperately and waited with bated breath to see if my eyes would turn green like my mother’s did as she got older.

I mean, hell, there are running jokes across the Internet about how Italians aren’t real. People make fun of the cadence of the Italian language all of the time (the Mario Bros. as a franchise doesn’t exactly help with that, but it’s… Mostly harmless). Myself and my cousin’s families are constantly criticized for being loud (for “yelling” all of the time), for having massive families, for the way we treat said families. We live with this “yes, but slightly to the left” mentality.

Are Italian-Americans nearly as othered as they were was LMA wrote Little Women? Absolutely the fuck not. It’s a point I constantly have to bring up in family gatherings, even. There is a part of me, though, that adores that Laurie is technically me in a lot of ways — half Italian, half Anglo (based off of “Laurence” as a surname). But you make a fantastic point in the inclusion of him and his white-otherness in context.

Which is why it is so fascinating that I, a modern reader who only saw the most recent adaptation movie before picking up the book in my twenties, read Laurie and went “oh, shit, he’s Black or Southeast Asian”! Because the language used to describe an Italian or Mediterranean heritage back in the 1860’s is now the language one would use to describe someone of Black or SEA descent. That is fascinating and makes me love literature even more because interpretations shift. Isn’t that wonderful? It is entirely possible that the original intention went over many people’s heads as it nearly did mine (I sort of had a feeling about the Italian thing while reading, but again, it was historical brain versus modern brain going “hey, neat!), but it’s so cool to learn about the original intention post-script, too. It’s unlocking further context and I love that. And I love that it makes me feel seen, in a way.

[Edit: which is WHY I want, going forward, for them to cast a person of color in his role or, at the very least, someone with a darker complexion. A mixed-race individual as we see it through a modern lens would be perfect for that “white but not quite white ENOUGH” mentality.]

(Also, per your tag commentary, there is no problem being incensed about it. I think it’s fantastic and I do hope that my own rambling comes off coherent enough, ahaha. ALSO also, bonus points for the note regarding shifting versions of masculinity, but that is another topic all together!!)

@thatscarletflycatcher

This is at BEST a lukewarm take but like… We’re all in agreement that the FIRST person to most easily be cast as a person of color in any future Little Women adaptation is Theodore “Laurie” Laurence, right?

The guy is literally described as having brown skin, big, black eyes, and black curls. I legitimately thought he was written as Black or Southeast Asian until the word “Italian” came up in the book. (And this is coming from a woman whose literal father is a Sicilian Italian with a darker features!)

Don’t get me wrong, you could easily make any of the characters POC if you wanted to — ESPECIALLY if you’re going the modernization route with your adaptation — but I’m just saying. Laurie is by far the first candidate, in my mind.

[yuzukahibiscus]

my “years of pilgrimage” manifestations as a pianist/musician point of view: a thread 🧵

(i so far only have thoughts for what’s mentioned in the plot as i translated before from the takarazuka webpage.) (i’m also writing this bcs we know everything about what’s going to happen in top hat, but almost a mystery as to how years of pilgrimage would look like) （will add in george sand after more research)

rei: liszt（リスト)

okay so i just read through the franz liszt wikipedia. years of pilgrimage was composed in 1835, published in 1842, so at that time liszt was only 25 when composed, 31 when published. around 6 months before his death in july 1886, he played this to debussy again in january 1886, as the “Third Year” had only been published in 1883. (these are parts that i doubt would happen in the musical so i don’t mind saying it) this implies that “years of pilgrimage” had been a span of his LIFETIME for composition. besides, liszt reached the height of fame in 1844 after leaving marie so he wasn’t so uncertain with himself yet, and it was around 1860s that he started feeling self-doubt (as to why he became sad in 1860s i’ll leave it for the musical to say it, i think they most likely would so i won’t spoil what happened unless you search for it). which if needed to answer questions of “who am i”, it would take longer than 13 years and more than that of the period mentioned. if rei gets a lifelong journey of lizst in this, i will be deeply impressed and expectant of the acting spectrum she’s about to achieve on another level.

madoka: marie （マリー)

also marie d’agoult was a countess who was in a relationship for 11 years, which is 1/7 of his life. i think for a musical-revue kind of production. if the musical were to be in around 90-110 minutes, madoka’s presence may account for 30 mins but not more than that. (despite the above promo pic suggests otherwise which features a prominent presence) even in the wikipedia, the couple were more separated than together due to liszt’s busy schedules in tours.

maiti: chopin (ショーパン)

chopin and liszt share that of friend-and-foe concept. they were both influenced with each other in their early acquaintence and performed together several times before they actually drifted off during 1831 when they first met, to their last collaborative concert in 1841 and they started being uneasy with each other. from a musician’s point of view, chopin was (like salieri to mozart, but less of that hostility) jealous to liszt’s virtuosity (instead of mozart’s genius) and had condemned liszt for playing his nocturnes “the wrong way” and that he demanded an apology from liszt or rather liszt never played it all. from personal relationships, marie d’agoult had been fasincated by chopin, making liszt jealous. liszt was also closely associated with amantine lucile aurore dupin, who later goes by the name most profoundly known as george sand (maybe Otok? confirmed now to be towaki sea)

[valhallanrose]

The Red Plague

The art above was created by Nix Hydra, and can be found in the Minor Arcana Art Book (or where I got it - off the fandom wiki page, because who’s going to stop me)

Much of Zelda’s story in the non-apprentice timeline delves into the plague before, during, and in the aftermath of Vesuvia, and I wanted to compile my lore and headcanons for it in one place before I delve into her story fully. I will incorporate as much canon as possible, but given that that isn’t a large amount of info, a lot of this is based off research and personal worldbuilding. 

CWs for discussions of disease, death, body horror, I guess spoilers but I’m surprised if it is for anyone considering how the info is everywhere in game in all routes. This is also, again, personal headcanon and I don’t expect it to fall in line with everyone’s thoughts on the plague.

The Timeline

I’m going to go with a comprehensive timeline first, and this part is all based on canon information. I’ll try and provide as many sources as I can as well, but some of this is pulled from multiple books and I might forget exactly where something came from. 

As we learn in the Lucio tale, Dawn of the Grub, Lucio strikes up a deal with the wyrm of pestilence (Vlastomil) - his parents’ hearts in exchange for a disease that will allow Lucio to kill them both. The Lucio brought the disease back to the tribe, which weakened his father enough for Lucio to kill him. His mother Morga, however, fights off the disease, referring to it as a ‘summer cold’, and Lucio flees the tribe and joins a traveling mercenary band which allows the plague to spread. 

I don’t have a particular reason why Morga would have survived the plague. Her sprites in the game never show any sign of the plague that are generally acknowledged - no red sclera, no veins, no signs of weakness, so on and so forth. The best theory I can posit is that Morga either genuinely had a summer cold, or that the plague only took hold in Lutz rather than them both. Either way, unsatisfying, but we’re going to call Morga the exception and not the rule. 

Because Lucio did not fulfill his end of the bargain with Vlastomil, the plague continued to spread, following Lucio as he traveled the continent. This is also the point where the beetles appear - more on them later. 

The implication in the game is that the disease reached other countries and areas, but the next canon mention of the Red Plague’s spread occurs in Portia’s route, book X - Wheel of Fortune. A map is discussed where dates, places, and sightings of the plague are noted by Julian in his study of the plague - the Painted Fields, Blue Mountain Ridge, and Annyala Gate are all names that arise. 

Nasmira recognizes the name of Annyala Gate and points out that Nazali was at that battle, in which a band of mercenaries was sighted - and their leader needed an arm amputated, which is confirmed to be Lucio. Nadia states that Lucio came to Vesuvia not long after that battle, and the next time the Plague was seen was in Vesuvia. 

It is never seen again outside Vesuvia, and this brings us to the three years before the game, where Lucio’s ‘death’ heralds the end of the plague, and it is never seen actively again in the Arcana world. 

The headcanons I have are to help establish a solid timeline. Dawn of the Grub tells us the deal is made on Lucio’s 18th birthday, and I personally believe that Lucio’s death occurred on his 40th birthday, giving us about 22 years of time for us to work with for the spread of the plague. 

Some more headcanons mixed with canon:

Lucio is newly titled Count in the tale Travel at Night. Based on personal age headcanons, this tale probably occurs at minimum 17 to 18 years pre-canon, putting Asra at (at most) 10/11, Muriel at 14/15, and Lucio at a startling 22/23. It could occur later, as art style can influence perspective on age, but Muriel and Asra really don’t feel like they could be much older than that. 

During his mercenary days (sometime between the ages of 18 and 22/23) Lucio was contracted by the former Count of Vesuvia, Count Spada. This battle occurs at Annyala, mentioned above, and is the battle where Lucio 

At a certain point, Lucio was contracted by the Count of Vesuvia at the time, Count Spada, for a battle where he "made a name for himself." Story implications indicate that this was the battle during which he lost his left arm. It was amputated by Julian to prevent his death from blood loss. After he won the battle for Count Spada, he became friends with the Count and privy to secrets about Vesuvia and the Palace. Spada would eventually name Lucio his heir, and upon his death, Lucio earned rulership of Vesuvia. 

The plague eventually appears and ravages Vesuvia’s population

Plague patients are sent to the Lazaret away from the city and cremated, then scattered on the beach. 

Lucio contracts the plague and defies the average lifespan of those who contracted it by lasting a few months rather than 3-10 days.

Lucio dies on his birthday, not of the plague but as a result of the ritual he was attempting to gain a new body.

I tried to map most of that out here, and wow, what a sad little diagram. Nix Hydra, y’all are cowards for not going hard on this. I, however, am not, and I am about to go more apeshit than I already have. 

The Spread

Cracking my knuckles on the history degree, baby, I’m borrowing some real life inspiration from across multiple time periods to tie all this together. 

I personally think the whole “Oh, the plague arrives wherever Lucio goes and disappears when he leaves” thing is a copout, and we’re drop kicking that out a window. 

I do believe, as canon states, that the plague follows Lucio. It spreads obviously to regions he visits, but I don’t think it just disappears when he leaves. I really, really want to believe someone would have been smart enough to see the connection if the plague suddenly appeared and was later yoinked out of existence as soon as Lucio left town every single time it cropped up somewhere way sooner than it was noticed in canon. 

I don’t think the plague was as isolated as the game implies, and when it was in Vesuvia, it was probably also elsewhere. The epicenter was Lucio, of course, so Vesuvia faced the worst of it, but I think there would have been pockets with much smaller numbers in other parts of the world. 

Earlier I mentioned a few locations cited in Portia’s route as to where the plague had been before Vesuvia - the Painted Fields, Blue Mountain Ridge, and Annyala Gate. I think once these areas were hit with the plague, it would have continued to spread even after Lucio left. Across multiple routes, it’s made clear that the only ‘cure’ to the plague is Lucio’s death, which is why Julian had intended to kill Lucio after making his deal with the Hanged Man. The lack of Lucio’s presence would have kept the plague from continuing to escalate, but in these regions, it probably would have spread when the region’s people attempted to relocate, or ceased when the population died out. 

Annyala Gate, or the Great Gate, is a location I can dive a little deeper into. It’s the last location the plague was sighted before Vesuvia, and because it ties into my OC Zelda’s storyline, I have many a thought. 

Lucio is in Annyala sometime between year 1 and year 4/5, though I believe it’s on the later end of that spectrum, so let’s say year 4 to clearly predate his title as heir to Vesuvia. For reference, here is a map of the Great Gate as provided by the art book: 

Jeebus. Terrible photo quality. Ah, well, on we go. 

The Great Gate is situated between the Sea of Persephia (left) and the Salty Sea (right), and as the map currently stands, is the only point on land that gives access to the southern part of the world map. In this area in particular, I feel like a number of factors would have kept the plague alive long after Lucio left. 

Narrowest point on the world map for transport of goods between ports and seas, which would be a more efficient route than traveling around the continent to reach the same point

As previously stated, this is the only known access point to the south, and travelers heading through this area could possibly be carriers of the plague or catch the plague from the area 

The only way for the plague to stop would be with the death of Lucio, so once it was inflicted upon this area, it continued to spread and infect the population in adjoining areas 

The game repeatedly has emphasized the proximity of the Red Beetles (known harbingers of the plague) to water, such as the Nopali village in Asra’s route and the red stains attributed to them in Julian’s route, and we receive further confirmation in Portia’s route that the water supplies are contaminated during the period of the disease

Fun bit of trivia from Nadia’s route - in the Strength book, Nadia mentions that she remembers the beetles, and that once they had been used as part of a pigment used to dye fabric crimson, which was all the rage in Vesuvia. Should this trend have continued, people wearing fabrics dyed with this beetle pigment most likely would become infected, and thus, the cycle continued. 

I will also point out here that pigments have been used in makeup across history, and I’m sure applying some beetle-laden makeup would have really fucked some people up. Eyeshadows, blushes, lipsticks...contact with any of these areas, particularly the eyes and mouth, indicate a possibility of infection. 

This does, however, leave a fifteen year (ish) period where the plague would have been active in this region until Lucio’s death. Historically, diseases can last such broad swathes of time. For the sake of displaying precedent, I will point out some examples here:

The Black Death, lasting 1346-1353

The third cholera pandemic, lasting 1846-1860

The third plague pandemic, a major bubonic plague like the Black Death, lasting 1855-1960

The HIV/AIDS pandemic, which has been ongoing since 1981 in the US

However, some of the most devastating plagues have lasted only a few years, which I will touch on later when I discuss Vesuvia’s case of the plague. All of the diseases listed above are additionally categorized with death tolls over a million people.

(On a side note, if you would like to contribute to programs searching for a cure for HIV/AIDS, I will suggest donating to organizations like amfAR, the Black AIDS Institute, or the Elizabeth Glaser Pediatric AIDS Foundation, all of which are linked accordingly and deserve your support if you are capable of making a  contribution)

Remaining question: if the last place the plague was seen was in Annyala, more than fifteen years before it was seen in Vesuvia, what the fuck happened during that time beforehand?

Vesuvia - Before the Plague

Here’s the thing. The timeline given by the devs is a fucking mess. So, what I’m going to propose here is almost entirely theory, and I ask that you keep that in mind. 

Lucio ascends to the title of Count by the time he’s about 22 or 23. Spada dies, presumably, and there’s no noticeable mention of his death via plague or the establishment of the court. 

For some fascinating lore on how the government in Vesuvia works, I’m going to point you to this post by @sunrisenfool​, who has one of the biggest brains and is gracious enough to allow me to reference their work a little for this one. 

I don’t think the court as we know it existed when Lucio became Count. I agree with sunrisenfool here that Valdemar has been the Palace’s cockroach for a while - which was actually also confirmed in the Star book of Portia’s route, in which we see Count Prospero (founder of Vesuvia) summon Valdemar and ask for their aid in creating a city that will never die. The remaining courtiers would be gradually established as time continued on, all demons who struck bargains with the Devil in one form or another placed into positions of power alongside Lucio. We also cannot forget Valerius, who made his own deal with the Devil, and played his own role in this scenario.

We know that Lucio was also a pawn, later on, in the Devil’s agenda to bridge the gap between the main world and the Arcane realms. The ritual discussed in Portia’s Star book is described as a vessel to do just that - 

“...every 777 years, the physical and magical world will collide...the laws of magic will no longer be immutable, and the world will bend to our will...So long as the Countship and canals remain whole, so shall the power to reshape the world. You need only await the conjunction. Perform the ritual and lead the city to glory heretofore unknown. I, Count Prospero, first of my line, declare the founding of Vesuvia. The city eternal. My legacy.” - Count Prospero

It’s confirmed after this scene that the ritual, using the canals as a conduit, opened a ‘door’ so to speak to the Arcane realms. It’s also said there is a three year window to perform this ritual, and that at the time of game canon, we are at the end of that three year window. 

So. Borderline conspiracy time. 

Circling back to the lovely sunrisenfool’s work, I’m going to pull a particular excerpt here:

...the Consul of Vesuvia is the second most important/powerful political figure in Vesuvia, directly after the Count/ess. Aside of the political and civic duties I have already explained, the Consul acts as a “protector” of Vesuvia, albeit not in a paternalistic politically-conservative way (which is how paternalistic policies would be understood in our world). Instead, the Consul is meant to rule the City if the Count is absent or incapacitated, therefore being the subsidiary depositary of the secret of the foundation of Vesuvia, and the importance of it’s Canals.

Lucio makes it pretty clear he doesn’t know much of anything about the ritual during Portia’s Star book, but he was told about it by Spada before his death as it was a secret kept close to the court. That gave him something of leverage, even if he wasn’t aware of it, 

My thought as to why the plague did not spread in Vesuvia sooner is that Lucio had knowledge of this ritual, however minimal, and the Devil needed him alive to eventually use the ritual for himself. So, as Vlastomil (the wyrm of pestilence who granted this curse) was established in Vesuvia as Praetor, the plague was kept at bay for the time being while the city came under the full control of the Devil’s demons. 

I cannot imagine the only person who knows about the ritual is the Count, because that feels like a woefully flawed plan, so I do believe the Consul would have also been privy to such a secret in case the Count was in a position they could not share it due to absence or incapacitation. Basically, a rehash of sunrisenfool’s point, but I digress. 

As the window drew nearer for the completion of the ritual and it became clearer that Lucio knew next to nothing about the ritual and how it worked, the Devil decided to take a different approach. The plague was unleashed once again by Vlastomil, with the goal that Lucio become infected and eventually die, and that Valerius take over the Countship. Lucio no longer was useful to the Devil, and should he be removed from power, someone like Valerius - who knew the purpose of the ritual, who was under the Devil’s bargain by this point - would be an ideal candidate to finish the task at hand. Leverage, it works wonders. 

I don’t think the ritual performed to gain a new body could have been mere chance. I think Lucio knew more than he let on about the canals and the magic in Vesuvia from Spada. Yes, I know the first three were written before Portia, but come on, the timing is insane. He’s no magician, and performing something that complex and magically charged right at the beginning of the three year window when the ritual is supposed to be performed feels far from coincidental. Fight me. 

But, on to what happens in Vesuvia once the plague is free to spread again.

Vesuvia - During the Plague

The first sighting of the plague is in year 20, and I personally believe the plague lasted about two years or 24 months. The period is divided into three ‘waves’ - the first six months, the year leading up to Lucio’s death, and the six months following Lucio’s death. 

The First Wave

The first wave begins when the first known case of the Red Plague is confirmed, and in this period, the spread is rather slow.  

Here is the introduction of the Lazaret, which I do believe is a building that existed before the plague - this is personal thoughts, but the odds of this being the first major disease Vesuvia experienced feel pretty slim, and I do think this was a previously established quarantine that was renovated/expanded for the Red Plague outbreak. In an effort to get ahead of the disease, the space was designated a quarantine, largely staffed by volunteers when the palace seemed to not acknowledge the growing situation. It would slowly begin to increase until the plague boomed at the six month mark, heralding the beginning of the second wave. 

The Second Wave

This is the ‘bad period’ of the plague. I say that loosely, because it’s all bad, but I digress. 

I headcanon that the apprentice dies in the beginning of the second wave, when spread of the red plague rapidly begins to increase and the call goes out for researchers to search for a cure. We know how that story goes, so moving on to the details of this wave. 

There were two groups at this point in the plague - those assigned to research, working out of Valdemar’s dungeon/lab/carnival of horrors studying the plague, and those assigned to the Lazaret, caring for the sick and dying and maintaining the facility. 

I’m going to focus more on the Lazaret for this, as the research aspect is pretty well covered throughout Julian’s route and conversations with him in other routes, and this post is already getting long. 

The Lazaret was home to the dying, where they would be cared for in their final days and eventually cremated. My thought is that the remains of the patients were carefully catalogued in the beginning, returned to families willing to claim them, and those left unclaimed were scattered on the beach at the Lazaret. Later on, as more and more people died, less remains were claimed, leading to the black beaches that still mark the shores of the Lazaret in canon. Often the staff here were a mix of healers, doctors, apothecaries, anyone willing to try anything to ease the pain of such a disease. 

The staff at the Lazaret began wearing layered masks - the plague mask with its herb-stuffed beak, another facial covering beneath for an added layer of protection, and a head covering that sealed the gaps between the mask and the face. They were also required to wear gloves, tight-fitted sleeves tucked inside, and their pants tucked into their boots to reduce the risk of infection through contact. Their days would start in locker rooms on one end of the facility, removed from the patients, and suit up for the day while leaving belongings in the lockers. The end of the shift consisted of showers and disposal of garments to be sterilized, they’d return home in the clothes they came in, and by the time they returned a new uniform would be waiting for them. 

Lucio caught the plague during this period, most likely halfway through. He lasted several months, but the exact length is unknown, aside from he ‘lasted longer than most victims of the plague’ who died between 3-10 days.

I don’t think the averages are entirely accurate. There were most likely some who were asymptomatic until the plague was in very late stages, or those who presented symptoms very early on and survived for long stretches of time. All would die bearing the red sclera, veins, and other symptoms depicted above. Basically, this disease is claimed to be unpredictable, and I think that would also stretch to the duration at which each patient had it. Those who were physically frail likely would have died sooner than those who had been in oprtimal health before the plague, making the times vary rather drastically. I’d suggest perhaps a month at the longest, a few days at the shortest. 

Policy wise - during this period, the ports would have closed, and Vesuvia would have shut down. Nobody in, nobody out, not without rigorous inspection and quarantine before exiting to the city to avoid further spread. Often the only people allowed into the city were doctors from other regions affected by the plague called to help research, but during this year, I would estimate Vesuvia lost easily 30% of its population to the Red Plague. 

The Third Wave

This wave is the period that occurs after Lucio’s death at the Masquerade, three years pregame. I’ll touch a tiny bit more more on this in the next section, but this is where we see the gradual end of the spread of the plague, and the last cases shown in Vesuvia. It’s the end of the plague period, and I give this about six months for the official ‘all clear’ to have been given by those tracking case counts. 

The Lazaret is eventually decommissioned and now sits abandoned, a shadow on the horizon to remind those who survived what had been lost. The city mourned, the gates slowly opened, and gradually, we reach the point of comparative normalcy we see in the game set three years later. 

Vesuvia - The Aftermath

Lucio’s death would, ultimately, mean the end of the plague. Rather than immediately disappearing and all those suffering from it be cured, however, I would be inclined to say that the spread came to a halt. 

The last wave of the plague, in the six months after Lucio’s death, would have been a decrease in new cases until there were no new ones being reported, and the last of the patients who had been infected finally passed. 

The final duties of the doctors at the Lazaret, after all remains are cremated, would have been the incineration of all materials that could not be sterilized. Linens, spare uniforms, unclaimed personal affects, so on and so forth until the time came to return home. I do not remember the exact location, but I am fairly confident of a mention of the MC remembering barrels burning doctor’s uniforms and masks in the days after the end of the plague. It was, for a lack of better words, a purge - an attempt to erase the last physical memories of what the city had endured. 

Events like this are traumatic for all involved. They are painful wounds, and for the rate of death I imagine occurred in Vesuvia, the odds that someone lost no one are slim. There was likely a long period of mourning, and as noted in the present of the game, rarely is the plague spoken of outside of the context of the investigation in the primary routes. 

Many of those medical staff members who survived were those assigned to research at the Palace. The proximity of the staff to the ill at the Lazaret quarantine likely would have made the rate of infection far higher for the caretakers, meaning that often the staff would end up caring for colleagues in their final days. 

Even three years removed, the time of the plague is a raw wound for those in Vesuvia - but I do think the period is fascinating and I love exploring the different facets of it in my own world building. And, well, shameless self promo, but I am eager to write it myself when I get into Zelda’s backstory.

If you made it this far, thank you. Go drink some water or something, idk, wellbeing checkpoint bc what a long ass post

[elishamanning]

Kramer: "Well, with us... we ask ourselves, how can something like (the Leverkusen game) happen, and we notice our surroundings asking that, we on the inside ask ourselves that, sometimes we come to a weird conclusion, what, do we have two faces? But we only think that because we only look at ourselves. But what do the Dortmunders think, winning 5-1 against Frankfurt, thus German champions obviously, then they lose 2-1 in Freiburg and everybody's thinking, well, they're not that good, are they. Will Bayern show their Supercup face, or their face-against-us, or against 1. FC Köln? The Leipzigers, do they show their Mainz-face or that outstanding show they put on against Stuttgart? These "problems of consistency" when you're a Gladbach fan, or a Gladbach player, you think 'these are Gladbach-only problems', but the others have them as well. It's always a matter of how you handle it and that you don't let it... well, tear you down emotionally. The important thing is to avoid a negative spiral, mentally, because, as everybody who's ever played football will know, in the end the decisive issue is always in your head (((aaaah, that's a bad translation. It's a mental issue, is what he says.))), and it always will be." Knippi: "Completely agree. And by the way, that's not limited to football." Kramer: "Well, exactly. It's not even worth discussing, when you enjoy doing something, when you're positive about it - it's not exactly a brand-new psychological finding - it'll always turn out better than when you're negative about it. So let's not, after the second matchday, tear everything down, and let's not, after the first matchday, praise everything to the heavens." Knippi: "Did you expect that? Becoming professional footballers, all that stuff that comes with it, besides playing football, all that stuff raining down on you?" Neuhaus: "Well, it just happens, it just all happens automatically. In the end, you become a footballer because you have fun playing football, and you don't much think about that kind of stuff that comes with it. You grow into it and you learn to handle it." Knippi: "So you're not actively getting prepared for that? Because in the last podcast you (Chris) said 'that's the guys from the NLZ' So it's not part of your training there?" Neuhaus: "No, it wasn't a subject in mine." Kramer: "Well to be completely honest, looking back, I thought football would be funnier, or at least less serious, and a bit more honest. That's also why I like this club so much, because I know that here at least you get an honest basis, like, I feel understood here, I have a certain relationship of trust to, for example, Max Eberl, but I wouldn't have imagined, without spilling any beans now, that football's such a not-really-nice business. So this is one of the best things here, for me, knowing that I have an honest and trustful basis that can be built on. And I really wouldn't have ever imagined it all to be so grossly serious. Sometimes I think inappropriately serious, because football is such a beautiful thing and when you get to do it as a profession, plaiyng football, there's nothing easier than joyfully going somewhere every day. These are the best conditions to have, the working hours, just turning your hobby into a profession - everything about football is 'geil', but still you get this completely inappropriate seriousness about it making you go, aw, it's tough. That's a shame I think, I wouldn't have thought so when I started out. I always wanted to be a footballer because, well, for one it's my passion, but also I thought every day would just be fun, and I think it should be, and that in the end that would be performance-enhancing, I'm quite sure about that. (laughing, saying that)." Knippi: "What do you think?" Neuhaus: "Always hard to disagree. The gist is we're all playing football because it's great fun being on the pitch. Of course there are always periods when it's a little harder but all in all and especially looking back you always regard things much more positive

than maybe you felt in that particular moment. (I don't really understand what he's saying there), but anyway the positives should always be front centre." Knippi: "What you just said, Chris, the seriousness, I also think it's too much sometimes. For example if a team's not playing well and the people on the pitch get personally attacked/insulted. I get to witness that when I'm down there, and sometimes I think 'what is wrong with you?', like, I get being unhappy when the team that has your heart isn't doing well, being unhappy, or sad, or disappointed, I get that, but not attacking the players personally. Well thank God that isn't an issue currently, and there's no reason why it should be." Kramer: "No, I don't think that's happened to me in my career... Well, once, playing with VfL Bochum in Aue, I was pelted with snowballs by our own fans but, in retrospect, that was quite funny." Knippi: "Like how?" Kramer: "Well, because we lost 6-1 playing in the snow. I'd say I'm a good player on snow, but, well, Ronny König is the best snow-player on this planet. He (literally he says 'he put four cherries into our basket', meaning he scored four goals... as you probably would have guessed.) So then our own fans, who'd travelled to Aue on a Monday night, threw snow balls at us, and we completely deserved it. And I do think every fan is right, and has the right, to use this outlet, that they're paying money for, to let off steam. Because football, in the end, is entertainment. Only, it doesn't help. What I meant with the seriousness is the whole stuff around it as well. Football is just a game. It's supposed to be fun, but sometimes I think, looking at the newspapers, all the sociopolitical issues, and seriousness... it's still football." Knippi: "Did I just understand you correctly, you're saying it's a fan's right to pelt you with snowballs?" Kramer: "Well... it gets its down dynamic, and it's not too bad. If someone insults me, say, I don't really have a problem with that. I don't take it personally because I don't think it's meant that way. It may not be the right approach and I may not understand their motive, but... that person is angry, they've had a bad week at work, then they come here, and we play badly ("nur hintenrum" - too defensively) so they have a right to...-as a fan, of course, you have to question whether that's doing any good. We've not really had that here in Gladbach and when there were beginnings of it, we had talks with the ultras, and stuff, we're quite close to the fans, so we don't really have that issue here, but you do see it with other clubs, and close friends of mine, they have had situations where I'd really say, now this is too much (I wonder if he's talking of Leon/the end at Schalke here), and that's just not on, but generally, we are an outlet for many and football is entertainment. When you're not being entertained you're entitled to boo. I don't mind. There's just this double standard - look at me, talking again for ten minutes straight (Knippi and Flo laugh), and you have to cut it all afterwards- once again I take ten minutes to get to the point, but you can't - you want to play with a young squad, and they'll make mistakes. You can't boo them. Or you can't say you want to play with a young squad. Very simply put." Knippi: "Tommy Schmitt, your successor at 11Freunde put it quite well there, I thought. It's very counterproductive to boo and whistle." Kramer: "Yes, well, you have to ask yourself, no matter what you do - I mean when you get to the office and everybody's scowling at you, thinking 'what an idiot!', you'll feel that as a person with empathy, like every footballer, and when you're booed, that does something to you... I can promise everybody: booing a player will never make them better, not ever." Knippi: "'Snow-player' you just said. You're not a good 'snow-player'." Kramer: "I'm a GREAT snow-player!" Neuhaus: "They lost 6-1, I don't think he's that great. They wouldn't have lost 6-1, would they?" Kramer: "Well Leon, Leon Goretzka

and I, we still talk a lot about that day. I'd say, Leon and I, we both have these long levers, we really are good snow-players, on a proper layer of snow, like there in Aue. But Ronny König! He's Messi on snow. Awesome, really." Knippi: "Wouldn't it be better to have short legs and a low centre of gravity?" Kramer: "I don't know. I don't think so. I mean, looking at Leon, and myself, AND Ronny König you can conclude the tall ones with the long legs are good on snow." (very scientific, this.) Knippi: "What kind of a snow-player are you?" Neuhaus: "There weren't any snow-games anymore in my time." Kramer: "NLZ, dude!" Knippi: "I know but..." Kramer: "No!" Neuhaus: "Climate change." Knippi: "But in your youth you must have played on snow once, haven't you?" Neuhaus: "Hardly." Knippi: "You're THAT young?!" Neuhaus: "At 1860 we had astroturf with undersoil heating." Knippi: "Did you ever play on clay?" Neuhaus: "...and anywhere in the stadiums today. There just aren't snow games like that anymore these days." Kramer: "He's from Bavaria, they don't have clay. They just have meadows and pastures, they play on the most beautiful pitches. Here in NRW when you're playing Galatasaray Mühlheim you know what's going down? You know what's going down, playing on clay?" Neuhaus: "I can just imagine." Kramer: "You take two weeks before you can go back to school because your legs - you simply can't walk anymore..." Knippi: "You've never played on clay?" Neuhaus: "No, never." Knippi: "You don't know that feeling when your grazed-open thigh is stuck to your jeans?" Neuhaus: "Yes, well, as a little child I played on the street..." (It goes on a bit yet, but I've already fallen asleep twice and I'm not sure these "translations" are making much sense anyway, so I'll leave it at this, now, alright? Flo played on asphalt, so he knows about open wounds from football. And Knippi claims he's still got remnants of clay in his thigh from decades ago. Hehe. I'll do the rest another time.)

first of all THANK YOU SOOOOO MUCH

it's always interesting to hear about a player's mindset

it's really interesting to see how an athlete's relationship with their changes over time. like to have something that was for fun and a hobby turn into your job is a pretty incredible transition. it's something a lot of people experience to an extent, but to have it on this high a level is pretty unique.

Kramer: "No, I don't think that's happened to me in my career... Well, once, playing with VfL Bochum in Aue, I was pelted with snowballs by our own fans but, in retrospect, that was quite funny."

chrikra???? please??? what is this... snowballs???

i also agree that while fans are allowed to show their discontent, it does often cross a line. idk if he was referring to something like leon's ending with schalke, but that instance of schalke fans chasing and attacking the players is something that definitely comes to mind here. i think i actually draw a shorter line than chrikra here.

Neuhaus: "There weren't any snow-games anymore in my time." Kramer: "NLZ, dude!" Knippi: "I know but..." Kramer: "No!" Neuhaus: "Climate change." Knippi: "But in your youth you must have played on snow once, haven't you?" Neuhaus: "Hardly." Knippi: "You're THAT young?!"

omg flo please

i do love the idea of chrikra and leon reminiscing about their old games together... my heart

anyway i love this podcast and i hope they do more of it

and thank you again SO MUCH

[ariainstars]

Thank You, Disney Lucasfilm… For Destroying My Dreams

Warning: longer post.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So… I watched The Rise of Skywalker on Disney+ a few weeks ago. Again.

Sigh.

I guess it has its good sides. But professional critics tend to dislike it and even the general audience doesn’t go crazy for it. I wonder why?

  The Fantasy

When his saga became a groundbreaking pop phenomenon in the 1970es, George Lucas reportedly said that he wanted to tell fairy tales again in world that no longer seemed to offer young people a chance to grow up with them. The fact that his saga was met with such unabashed, international enthusiasm proves that he was right: people long for fairy tales no matter how old they are and what culture they belong to.

“Young people today don’t have a fantasy life anymore, not the way we did… All they’ve got is Kojak and Dirty Harry. All the films they see are movies of disasters and insecurity and realistic violence.” (George Lucas)

I’ve been a Star Wars fan for more than thirty years. I love the Original Trilogy but honestly it did not make me dream much, perhaps because when I saw it the trilogy was already complete. The Prequel Trilogy also did not inspire my fantasy.

The Last Jedi accomplished something that no TV show, book or film had managed in years: it made me dream. The richness of colorful characters, multifaceted themes, unexpected developments, intriguing relationships was something I had not come across in a long time: it fascinated me. I felt like a giddy teenager reading up meta’s, writing my own and imagining all sorts of beautiful endings for the saga for almost two years.

So if there’s something The Rise of Skywalker can pride itself on for me, it’s that it crushed almost every dream I had about it. The few things I had figured out – Rey’s fall to the Dark, Ben Solo’s redemption, the connection between them - did not even make me happy because they were tainted by the flatness of the storytelling reducing the Force to a superpower again (like the general audience seems to believe it is), and its deliberate ignoring of almost all messages of The Last Jedi.

Many fans of the Original Trilogy also were disillusioned by the saga over the decades and ranted at the studios for “destroying their childhood”. Now we, the fans of the sequels and in particular of The Last Jedi, are in the same situation… but the thought doesn’t make the pill much easier to swallow. What grates on my nerves is the feeling that someone trampled on my just newly found dreams like a naughty child kicking a doll’s house apart. Why give us something to dream of in the first place, then? To a certain extent I can understand that many fans would angrily assume that Disney Lucasfilm made the Sequel Trilogy for the purpose of destroying their idea of the saga. The point is that they had their happy ending, while every dream the fans of the Sequel Trilogy may have had was shattered with this unexpectedly flat and hollow final note.

I know many fans who dislike the Prequel Trilogy heartily. I also prefer the Original Trilogy, but I find the prequels all right in their own way, also since I gave them some thought. However, it can’t be denied that they lack the magic spark which made the Original Trilogy so special. Which makes sense since they are not a fairy tale but ultimately a tragedy, but in my opinion it’s the one of the main reasons why the Prequel Trilogy never was quite so successful, or so beloved.

Same goes for Rogue One, Solo, or Clone Wars. They’re ok in their way, but not magical.

The sequel trilogy started quite satisfyingly with The Force Awakens, but for me, the actual bomb dropped with The Last Jedi. Reason? It was a magical story. It had the spark again that I had missed in the new Star Wars stories for decades! And it was packed full of beautiful messages and promises.

The Force is not a superpower belonging solely to the Jedi Anyone can be a hero. Even the greatest heroes can fail, but they will still be heroes. Hope is like the sun: if you only believe in it when you see it you’ll never make it through the night. Failure is the greatest teacher. It’s more important to save the light than to seem a hero. No one is never truly gone. War is only a machine. Dark Side and Light Side can be unbeatable if they are allies. Save what you love instead of destroying what you hate.

Naively, I assumed the trilogy would continue and end in that same magical way. And then came The Rise of Skywalker… which looks and feels like a Marvel superhero story at best and an over-long videogame at worst.

Chekov’s Gun

“Remove everything that has no relevance to the story. If you say in the first chapter that there is a rifle hanging on the wall, in the second or third chapter it absolutely must go off. If it’s not going to be fired, it shouldn’t be hanging there.”

(Anton Chekov, 1860 - 1904)

If you show an important looking prop and don’t put it to use, it leaves the audience feeling baffled. There is a huge difference between a story’s setup, and the audience’s feeling of entitlement. E.g. many viewers expected Luke to jump right back into the fray in Episode VIII, because that’s what a hero does, isn’t it? The cavalry comes and saves the day. And instead, we met a disillusioned elderly hermit who is tired of the ways of the Jedi. But there was no actual reason for disappointment: in Episode VII it was very clearly said (through Han, his best friend) that Luke had gone into exile on purpose, feeling responsible for his failure in teaching a new generation of Jedi. It would have been more than stupid to show him as an all-powerful and all-knowing man who kills the bad guys. Sorry but who expected that was a victim to his own prejudice.

A promise left unfulfilled is a different story. The Last Jedi set up a lot of promises that didn’t come true in The Rise of Skywalker: Balance as announced by the Jedi temple mosaic, a new Jedi Order hinted at by Luke on Crait, a good ending for Ben and Rey set up by the hand-touching scene which was opposite to Anakin’s and Padmés wedding scene. Many fans were annoyed about the Canto Bight sequence. I liked it because it felt like the set-up for a lot of important stuff: partnership between Finn and Rose whom we see working together excellently, freedom for the enslaved children (one of whom is Force-sensitive), DJ and Rose expressing what makes wars in general foolish and beside the point. So if we, the fans of Episode VIII, now feel angry and let down, I daresay it’s not due to entitlement. We were announced magical outcomes and not just pew-pew.

The Star Wars saga never repeated itself but always developed and enlarged its themes, so it was to be expected that delving deeper, uncomfortable truths would come out: wars don’t start out of nowhere, and they don’t flare up and continue for decades for the same reason. In order to find Balance, the Jedi’s and the Skywalker family’s myths needed to be dismantled. Which is not necessarily bad as long it is explained how things came to this, and a better alternative is offered. The prequels explained the old political order and the beginnings of the Skywalker family, and announced that the next generation would do better. The sequels hardly explained anything about the 30 years that passed since our heroes won the battle against the Empire, and while The Last Jedi hinted at the future a lot, The Rise of Skywalker seemed to make a point of ignoring all of it.

  The Skywalker Family Is Obliterated. Why?

Luke was proven right that his nephew would mean the end of everything he loved. The lineage of the Chosen One is gone. His grandson had begun where Vader had ended - tormented, pale and with sad eyes - and he met the same fate. Luke, Han, Leia, all sacrificed themselves to bring Ben Solo back for nothing. Him being the reincarnation of the Chosen One and getting a new chance should have been meaningful for all of them; instead, he literally left the scepter to Rey who did nothing to deserve it: merely because she killed the Bad Guy does not mean she will do a better job than the family whose name and legacy she proudly takes over.

I do hope there was a good reason if the sequels did not tell “The New Adventures of Luke, Leia and Han” and instead showed us a broken family on the eve of its wipeout. It would have been much easier, and more fun for the audience, to bring the trio back again after a few years and pick up where they had left. Instead we had to watch their son, nephew and heir go his grandfather’s way - born with huge power, branded as Meant to Be Dangerous from the start, tried his best to be a Jedi although he wanted to be a pilot, never felt accepted, abandoned in the moment of his greatest need, went to his abuser because he was the only one to turn to, became a criminal, his own family (in Anakin’s case: Obi-Wan and Yoda) trained the person who was closest to him to kill him, sacrificed himself for this person and died. And in his case, it’s particularly frustrating because Kylo Ren wasn’t half as impressive a villain as Vader, and Ben Solo had a very limited time of heroism and personal fulfilment, contrarily to Anakin when he was young.

The impact of The Rise of Skywalker was traumatic for some viewers. I know of adolescents and adults, victims of family abandonment and abuse, who identified with Ben: they were told that you can never be more than the sum of your abuse and abandonment, and that they’re replaceable if they’re not “good”. Children identifying with Rey were told that their parents might sell them away for “protection”. Rey was not conflicted, she had a few doubts but overall, she was cool about everything she did, so she got everything on a silver platter; that’s why as a viewer, after a while you stopped caring for her. Her antagonist was doomed from birth because he dared to question the choices other people made for him. It seems that in the Star Wars universe, you can only “rise” if you’re either a criminal but cool because you’ve always got a bucket over your head (Vader / the Mandalorian) or are a saint-like figure (Luke / Rey).

One of Obi-Wan’s first actions in A New Hope is cutting off someone’s arm who was only annoying him; Han Solo, ditto. These were no acts of self-defense. The Mandalorian is an outlaw. Yet they are highly popular. Why? Because they always keep their cool, so anything they do seems justified. Young Anakin was hated, Jake Lloyd and Hayden Christensen attacked for his portrayal. For the same reason many fans feel that Luke is the least important of the original trio although basically the Original Trilogy is his story: it seems the general audience hates nothing more than emotionality in a guy. They want James Bond, Batman or Indiana Jones as the lead. Padmé loved Anakin because she always saw the good little boy he once was in him; his attempts at impressing her with his flirting or his masculinity failed. Kylo tried to impress Rey with his knowledge and power, but she fled from him - she wanted the gentle, emphatic young man who had listened to her when she felt alone. Good message. But both died miserably, and Ben didn’t even get anything but a kiss. Realizing that his “not being as strong as Darth Vader” might actually be a strength of its own would have meant much more.

The heroes of the Original Trilogy had their adventures together and their happy ending; the heroes of the Prequel Trilogy also had good times and accomplishments in their youth, before everything went awry. Rey, Finn and Poe feel like their friendship hardly got started; Rose was almost obliterated from the narrative; and Ben Solo seems to have had only one happy moment in his entire life. Of course it’s terrible that he committed patricide (even if it was under coercion), but Anakin / Vader himself had two happy endings in the Prequel Trilogy before he became the monster we know so well. Not to mention Clone Wars, where he has heroic moments unnumbered.

The Skywalker family is obliterated without Balance in the Force, and the young woman who inherited all doesn’t seem to have learned any lesson from all this. The Original Trilogy became a part of pop culture among other things because its ending was satisfying. We can hardly be expected to be satisfied with an ending where our heroes are all dead and the heir of their worst enemy takes over. What good was the happy ending of the Original Trilogy for if they didn’t learn enough from their misadventures to learn how to protect one single person - their son and nephew, their future?

For a long time, I also thought that the saga was about Good vs. Evil. Watching the prequels again, I came to the conclusion that it is rather about Love vs. War. And now, considering as a whole, I believe it to be essentially Jedi against Skywalker. The ending, as it is now, says that both fractions lost: they annihilated one another, leaving a third party in charge, who believes to be both but actually knows very little about them.

Star Wars and Morality

After 9 films and 42 years, it still is not possible to make the general audience accept that it is wrong to divide people between Good and Evil in the first place. The massive rejection of both prequels and sequels, which have moral grey zones galore, shows it.

It is also not possible without being accused of actual blasphemy in the same fandom, to say the plain truth that no Skywalker ever was a Jedi at heart. As their name says, they’re pilots. Luke was the last and strongest of all Jedi because he always was first and foremost himself. Anakin was crushed by the Jedi’s attempts to stifle his feelings. His grandson, too. A Force-sensitive person ought to have the choice whether they want to be a Jedi or not; they ought not to be taught to suppress their emotions and live only on duty, without really caring for other people; and they ought to grow up feeling in a safe and loving environment, not torn away from their families in infancy, indoctrinated and provided with a light sabre (a deadly weapon) while they’re still small. A Jedi order composed of child soldiers or know-it-all’s does not really help anybody.

The original Star Wars saga was about love and friendship; although many viewers did not want to understand that message. The prequels portrayed the Jedi as detached and arrogant and Anakin Skywalker sympathetically, a huge disappointment for who only accepts stories of the “lonesome cowboy” kind. The Last Jedi was so hated that The Rise of Skywalker backpedaled: sorry, of course you’re right, here you have your “hero who knows everything better and fixes everything for you on a silver platter”. The embarrassing antihero, who saves the girl who was the only person showing him some human compassion, can die miserably in the process and is not even mourned.

Honestly: I was doubtful whether it would be adequate to give Ben Solo a happy ending after the patricide. I guess letting him die was the easiest way out for the authors to escape censorship. (I even wrote this in a review on amazon about The Last Jedi, before I delved deeper into the saga’s themes.) The messages we got now are even worse.

Kylo Ren / Ben Solo

A parent can replace a child if they’re not the way they expect them to be. A victim of lifelong psychical and physical abuse can only find escape in death, whether he damns or redeems himself. An introspective, sensitive young man is a loser no matter how hard he tries either way. A whole family can sacrifice itself to save their heir, he dies anyway.

Rey

Self-righteousness is acceptable as long as you find a scapegoat for your own failings. Overconfidence justifies anything you do. You can’t carve your way as a female child of “nobodies”, you have to descend from someone male and powerful even if that someone is the devil incarnate. You are a “strong female” if you choose to be lonely; you need neither a partner nor friends.

In General

Star Wars is not about individual choices, loyalty, friendship and love, it is a classic Western story with a lonesome cowboy (in this case: cowgirl) at its centre. Satisfied? 

The father-son-relationship between Vader and Luke mirrors the Biblical story of Cain and Abel, saying that whoever we may want to kill is, in truth, our kin, which makes a clear separation in Good and Evil impossible. The “I am your father” scene is so infamous by now that even non-fans are aware of it; but this relationship between evil guy and good guy, as well as the plot turns where the villain saves the hero and that the hero discards his weapon are looked upon rather as weird narrative quirks instead of a moral. 

In  an action movie fan, things are simple: good guy vs. bad guy, the good guy (e.g. James Bond may be a murderer and a misogynist, but that’s ok because he’s cool about it) kills the bad guy, ka-boom, end of story. But Star Wars is a parable, an ambitious project told over decades of cinema, and a multilayered story with recurring themes.

A fairy tale ought to have a moral. The moral of both Original Trilogy and Prequel Trilogy was compassionate love - choose it and you can end a raging conflict, reject it and you will cause it. What was the moral of the Sequel Trilogy? You can be the offspring of the galaxy’s worst terror and display a similar attitude, but pose as a Jedi and kill unnecessarily, and it’s all right; descend from Darth Vader (who himself was a victim long before he became a culprit) and whether you try to become a Jedi trained by Luke Skywalker or a Sith trained by his worst enemy, you will end badly?

Both original and prequel trilogy often showed “good” people making bad choices and the “bad ones” making the right choices. To ensure lasting peace, no Force user ought to be believe that he must choose one side and then stick to it for the rest of his life: both sides need one another. The prequels took 3 films to convey this message, though not saying so openly. The Last Jedi said it out clearly - and the authors almost had their heads ripped off by affronted fans, resulting in The Rise of Skywalker’s fan service. It’s not like Luke, Han and Leia were less heroic in the Sequel Trilogy, on the contrary, they gave everything they had to their respective cause. They were not united, and they were more human than they had once been. Apparently, that’s an affront.

The Jedi are no perfect heroes and know-it-all’s and they never were, the facts are there for everyone to see. Padmé went alone and pregnant to get her husband out of Mustafar - and she almost succeeded - although she knew what he had done and that he was perfectly capable of it (he had told her of the Tusken village massacre himself) because she still saw the good little boy he had been in him; Obi-Wan left him amputated and burning in the lava, although he had raised Anakin like a small brother and the latter had repeatedly saved his life. But Padmé was not a Jedi, so I guess she still had some human decency. Neither Obi-Wan nor Yoda lifted a finger for the oppressed populations of the galaxy during the Empire, waiting instead for Anakin’s son to grow up so they could trick him into committing patricide. Neither Luke nor Leia did anything for their own son and nephew while he became the scourge of the galaxy, damning his soul by committing crime after crime. On Exegol, Rey heard the voices of all Jedi encouraging her to fight Palpatine to death. After that, they left her to die alone, and the alleged “bad guy”, who had already saved her soul from giving in to Palpatine’s lures, had to save her life by giving her his own. The Jedi merely know that “their side” has to win, no matter the cost for anyone’s life, sanity, integrity or happiness.

Excuse me, these are simple facts. How anyone can still believe that the Jedi were super-powerful heroes who always win or all-knowing wizards who are always right is beyond me. Luke, the last and strongest of them, like a bright flickering of light before the ultimate end, showed us that the best of men can fail. There is nothing wrong with that in itself. But it is wrong and utterly frustrating when all of the failure never leads to anything better. If Rey means to rebuild the Jedi order to something better than it was, there was no hint at that whatsoever.

  And What Now?

The Last Jedi hit theatres only 2 years before The Rise of Skywalker, and I can’t imagine that the responsible authors all have forgotten how to make competent work in the meantime; more so considering that Solo or The Mandalorian are solid work. Episode IX is thematically so painfully flat it seems like they wanted us to give up on the saga on purpose. The last instalment of a 42-year-old saga ought to have been the best and most meaningful. I had heard already decades ago that the saga was supposed to have 9 chapters, so I was not among who protested against the sequels thinking that they had been thought up to make what had come before invalid. I naively assumed a larger purpose. But Episode IX only seems to prove these critics perfectly right.

The last of the flesh and blood of the Chosen One is dead without having “finished what his grandfather started”?

Still no Balance in the Force?

And worst of all, Palpatine’s granddaughter taking over, having proven repeatedly that she is not suited for the task?

Sorry, this “ending” is absurd. I have read fanfiction that was better written and more interesting. And, most of all, less depressing. I was counting on a conclusion that showed that the Force has all colours and nuances, and that it’s not limited to the black-and-white view “we against them”. That’s the ending all of us fans would have deserved, instead of catering the daddy issues of the part of the audience who doesn’t want stories other than those of the “lonesome cowboy” kind. I myself grew up on Japanese anime, maybe that’s one of the reasons why I can’t stand guys like James Bond or Batman and why I think you don’t need “a great hero who fixes the situation” but that group spirit and communication are way more important.

It was absolutely unexpected that Disney, the production company whose trademark are happy endings and family stories, would end this beloved and successful saga after almost half a century on such a hollow note. Why tell first a beautiful fairy tale and then leave the audience on a hook for 35 years to continue first with a tragedy (which at least was expected) and then with another (unexpected one)? And this story is supposed to be for children? Like children would understand all of the subtext, and love sad, cautionary tales. Children, as well as the general audience, first of all want to be entertained! No one wants to watch the legendary Skywalker family be obliterated and a Palpatine take over. The sequels were no fun anymore; we’ve been left with another open ending and hardly an explanation about what happened in the 30 years in between. If you want to tell a cautionary tale, you should better warn the general audience beforehand.

The Original Trilogy is so good because it’s entertaining and offers room for thought for who wants to think about its deeper themes, and also leaves enough space for dreams. Same goes for the first two films of the Sequel Trilogy; but precisely the last, which should have wrapped up the saga, leaves us with a bitter aftertaste and dozens of questions marks. 

We as the audience believe that a story, despite the tragic things that happen, must go somewhere; we get invested into the characters, we root for them, we want to see them happy in the end. (The authors of series like Girls, How I Met Your Mother or Game of Thrones ought to be reminded of that, too.) I was in contact with children and teenagers saying that the Sequel Trilogy are “boring”; and many, children or adults, who were devastated by its concluson. There is a difference between wanting to tell a cautionary tale and playing the audience for fools. This trilogy could have become legendary like the Original Trilogy, had it fulfilled its promises instead of “keeping it low” with its last chapter. Who watches a family or fantasy story or a romantic / comedic sitcom wants to escape into another world, not to be hit over his head with a mirror to his own failings, and the ones of the society he’s living in. Messages are all right, but they ought not to go at the cost of the audience’s satisfaction about the about the people and narrative threads they have invested in for years.

This isn’t a family story: but children probably didn’t pester the studios with angry e-mails and twitter messages etc. They simply counted on a redemption arc and happy ending, and they were right, because they’re not as stupid as adults are. I have read and watched many a comment from fans who hate The Last Jedi. Many of these fans couldn’t even pinpoint what their rage was all about, they only proved to be stuck with the original trilogy and unwilling to widen their horizon. But at least their heroes had had their happy ending: The Rise of Skywalker obliterated the successes of all three generations of Skywalkers.

If the film studios wanted to tease us, they’ve excelled. If they expect the general audience to break their heads over the sequels’ metaphysics, they have not learned from the reactions to the prequels that most viewers take these films at face value. Not everybody is elbows-deep in the saga, or willing to research about it for months, and / or insightful enough to see the story’s connections. Which is why many viewers frown at the narrative and believe the Sequel Trilogy was just badly written. This trilogy could have become legendary like the Original Trilogy, had it fulfilled its promises instead of “keeping it low” with its last chapter. As it is now, the whole trilogy is hanging somewhere in the air, with neither a past nor a future to be tied in with.

The prequels already had the flaw of remaining too obscure: most fans are not aware that Anakin had unwillingly killed his wife during the terrible operation that turned him into Darth Vader, sucking her life out of her through the Force: most go by “she died of a broken heart”. So although one scene mirrors the other, it is not likely that most viewers will understand what Rey’s resurrection meant. And: Why did Darth Maul kill Qui-Gon Jinn? What did the Sith want revenge for? Who was behind Shmi’s abduction and torture? Who had placed the order for the production of the clones, and to what purpose? We can imagine or try to reconstruct the answers, but nothing is confirmed by the story itself.

The sequels remained even more in the dark, obfuscating what little explanation we got in The Rise of Skywalker with quick pacing and mind-numbing effects.

Kylo Ren had promised his grandfather that “he would finish what he started”: he did not. Whatever one can say of this last film, it did not bring Balance in the Force. What’s worse, the subject was not even breached. It was hinted at by the mosaic on the floor of the Prime Jedi Temple on Ahch-To, but although Luke and Rey were sitting on its border, they never seemed to see what was right under their noses. It remains inexplicable why it was there for everyone to see in the first place.

We might argue that Ben finished what his grandfather started by killing (or better, causing the death of) the last Jedi, who this one couldn’t kill because he was his own son; but leaving Rey in charge, he helped her finish what her grandfather had started. The irony could hardly be worse.

Episode IX looks like J.J. Abrams simply completed what they started with Episode VII, largely ignoring the next film as if it was always planned to do so. We, the angry and disappointed fans of The Last Jedi, may believe it was due to some of the general audience’s angry backlash, but honestly: the studios aren’t that dumb. They had to know that Episode VIII would be controversial and that many fans would hate it. The furious reactions were largely a disgrace, but no one can make me believe that they were totally unexpected. Nor can anyone convince me that The Rise of Skywalker was merely an answer to the small but very loud part of the audience who hated The Last Jedi: a company with the power and the returns of Disney Lucasfilm does not need to buckle down before some fan’s entitlement and narrowmindedness out of fear of losing money. And if they do, it was foolish to make Rey so perfect that she becomes almost odious, and to let the last of the Skywalker blood die a meaningless death. (Had he saved the Canto Bight children and left them with Rey, at least he would have died with honor; and she, the child left behind by her parents, would have had a task to dedicate herself to.)

The only reason I can find for this odd ending is that it’s meant to prepare the way for Rian Johnson’s new trilogy, which - hopefully - will finally be about Balance. We as the audience don’t know what’s going on behind the doors. Filmmaking is a business like any other, i.e. based on contracts; and I first heard that Rian Johnson had negotiated a trilogy of his own since before Episode VIII hit theatres. Maybe he kept all the rights of intellectual property to his own film, including that he would finish the threads he picked up and close the narrative circles he opened, and only he; and that his alleged working on “something completely different” is deliberately misleading.

Some viewers love the original trilogy, some love the prequels, some like both; but I hardly expect anyone to love the sequel trilogy as a whole. What with the first instalment “letting the past die, killing it if they had to”, the second hinting at a promising future and the third patched on at the very last like some sort of band-aid, it was not coherent. I heard the responsible team for Game of Thrones even dropped their work, producing a dissatisfying, quickly sewn together last season, for this new Star Wars project and thereby disappointing millions of GoT fans; I hope they are aware of the expectations they have loaded upon them. George Lucas’ original trilogy had its faults, but but though there was no social media yet in his time, at least he was still close enough to the audience to give them what they needed, if not necessarily wanted. (Some fans can’t accept that Luke and Leia are siblings to this day, even if honestly, it was the very best plot twist to finish their story in a satisfying way.)

I’m hoping for now that The Last Jedi was not some love bombing directed at the more sentimental viewers but a promise that will be fulfilled. “Wrapping up” a saga by keeping the flattest, least convincing chapter for last is bad form. Star Wars did not become a pop phenomenon by accident, but because the original story was convincing and satisfying. Endings like these will hardly make anyone remember a story fondly, on the contrary, the audience will move to another fandom to forget their disappointment.

On a side note, I like The Mandalorian, exactly for the reason that that is a magical story; not as much as the original trilogy, but at least a little. Of course, I’m glad it was produced. But it’s a small consolation prize after the mess that supposedly wrapped up the original saga after 9 films.

We’re Not Blind, You Know…

- Though Kylo Ren (Ben Solo) has Darth Vader’s stature, his facial features are practically opposite to Vader’s creepy mask. This should have foreshadowed that his life should have gone the other way, instead of more or less repeating itself. - As a villain Kylo was often unconvincing; by all logic he should have been a good father figure. (Besides, Star Wars films or series never work unless there is a strong father or father figure at their center.)

- Like Vader, Kylo Ren was redeemed, but not rehabilitated. Who knows who may find his broken mask somewhere now and, not knowing the truth, promise “I will finish what you started”. - The hand-touching scene on Ahch-To which was visually opposite to Anakin’s and Padmé’s should not have predicted another tragedy but a happy ending for them. - The Canto Bight sequence was announcing reckoning for the weapon industry and freedom for the enslaved children. It also showed how well Finn and Rose fit together. - Rey was a good girl before she started on her adventures. Like Anakin or Luke, she did not need to become a Jedi to be strong or generous or heroic. - Rey summons Palpatine after one year of training. Kylo practically begged for his grandfather’s assistance for years, to no avail. Her potential for darkness is obviously much stronger. - Dark Rey’s light sabre looked like a fork, Kylo’s like a cross. - The last time all Jedi and Sith were obliterated leaving only Luke in charge, things went awry. Now we have a Palpatine masquerading as a Skywalker and believing she’s a Jedi. Rey is a usurper and universally cheered after years of war, like her grandfather. - The broom boy of Canto Bight looked like he was sweeping a stage and announcing “Free the stage, it’s time for us, the children.”

Rey failed in all instances where Luke had proved himself (so much for feminism and her being a Mary Sue): - Luke had forgiven his father despite all the pain he had inflicted on him. She stabbed the „bad guy”, who had repeatedly protected and comforted her, to death. - Luke never asked Vader to help the Rebellion or to turn to the Light Side, he only wanted him back as his father. She assumed that you could make Ben Solo turn, give up the First Order and join the Resistance for her. She thought of her friends and of her own validation, not of him. - Luke had made peace by choosing peace. Rey fought until the bitter end. - Luke had thrown his weapon away before Palpatine. Rey picked up a second weapon. (And both of them weren’t even her own.) - Luke had mourned his dead father. Rey didn’t shed a tear for the man she is bonded to by the Force. - Luke went back to his friends to celebrate the new peace with them. Rey went back letting everyone celebrate her like the one who saved the galaxy on her own, she who were tempted to become the new evil ruler of the galaxy and had to rely on the alleged Bad Guy to save both her soul and her body. - Luke had embodied compassion when Palpatine was all about hatred. Where he chose love and faith in his father, she chose violence and fear. - Luke had briefly fallen prey to the Dark Side but it made him realize that he had no right to judge his father. Rey’s fall to the Dark Side did not make her wiser. - Rey has no change of mind on finding out that she’s Palpatine’s flesh and blood, nor after she has stabbed Kylo. Luke had to face himself on learning that he had almost become a patricide. Rey does not have to face herself: the revelation of her ancestry is cushioned by Luke’s and Leia’s support. Rey is and remains an uncompromising person who hardly learns from her faults.

This is cheating on the audience. And it's not due to feminism or Rey being some sort of “Mary Sue” the way many affronted fans claim. Kylo never was truly a villain, Rey is not a heroine, and this is not a happy ending. The Jedi, with their stuck-up conviction “only we must win”, have failed all over again. The Skywalker family was obliterated leaving their worst enemy in charge.  Rey is supposed to be a “modern” heroine which young girls can take as an example? No, thank you. Not after this last film has made of her. Padmé was a much better role model, combining intelligence with strength and goodness and also female grace. The world does not need entitled female brats.

Bonus: What Made The Rise of Skywalker a Farce

- The Force Awakens was an ok film and The Last Jedi (almost) a masterpiece. The Rise of Skywalker was a cartoon. No wonder a lot of the acting felt and looked wooden. - “I will earn your brother’s light sabre.” She’s holding his father’s sabre. - Kylo in The Last Jedi: “Let the past die. Kill it if, you have to.” Beginning with me? - Rey ends up on Tatooine. - The planet both Anakin and Luke ardently wanted to leave. - Luke had promised his nephew that he would be around for him. - Nope. - Rey had told Ben that she had seen his future. What future was that - “you will be a hero for ten minutes, get a kiss and then die? (And they didn’t even get a love theme.) - “The belonging you seek is not behind you, it is ahead.” On a desert planet with a few ghosts. What of the ocean she used to dream about? - Ben and Rey were both introduced as two intensely lonely people searching for belonging. We learn they are a Force dyad, and then they are torn apart again. - Why was Ben named for Obi-Wan Kenobi in the first place, if they have absolutely nothing in common? - The Throne Room battle scene in The Last Jedi was clearly showing that when they are in balance, Light Side and Dark Side are unbeatable. Why did the so-called “Light Side” have to win again, in The Rise of Skywalker, instead of finding balance? - Luke’s scene on Ahch-To was so ridiculously opposite to his attitude in The Last Jedi that by now I believe he was a fantasy conjectured by her. (Like Ben’s vision of his father.) - Anakin’s voice among the other Jedi’s. - He was a renegade, for Force’s sake. - The kiss between two females. - More fan service, to appease those who pretended that not making Poe and Finn a couple was a sign of homophobia. - We see the Knights of Ren, but we learn absolutely nothing about them or Kylo’s connection with them. - Rose Tico’s invalidation. - A shame after what the actress had gone through because for the fans she was “not Star-Wars-y” (chubby and lively instead of wiry and spitfire). - Finn’s and Rose’s relationship. - Ignored without any explanation. - Finn may or may not be Force-sensitive. - If he is: did he abandon the First Order not due to his own free will but because of some higher willpower? Great. - General Hux was simply obliterated. - In The Force Awakens he was an excellent foil to Kylo Ren; no background story, no humanization for him. - Chewie’s and 3PO’s faked deaths. - Useless additional drama. - The Force Awakens was a bow before the classic trilogy. The Rise of Skywalker kicked its remainders to pieces. - The Prequel Trilogy ended with hope, the Original Trilogy with love. The Sequel Trilogy ends on a blank slate. - “We are what they grow beyond.” The characters of the Sequel Trilogy did not grow beyond the heroes of the Original Trilogy. - The Jedi did not learn from their mistakes and were obliterated. The Skywalker family understood the mistakes they had made too late. Now they’re gone, too.

  P.S. While I was watching The Rise of Skywalker my husband came in asked me since when I like Marvel movies. I said “That’s not a Marvel movie, it’s Star Wars.” I guess that says enough.

P.P.S. For the next trilogy, please at least let the movies hit theatres in May again instead of December. a) It’s tradition for Star Wars films, b) Whatever happens, at least you won’t ruin anyone’s Christmases. Thank you.

[tzigone]

Young Riders futures revisited

So, per previous post, I’ve been thinking about head-canoning TYR futures.  While I definitely think that them all going their separate ways thematically suits, that’s for an ending, and I’m continuing their stories, and I just think it’s more fun to keep the non-real-person characters in the same town.  So, they shall remain the pretty fictional town of Rock Creek.  I’ve come up with some ideas.  Thus begins my long and rambling post.

We’ll start with Teaspoon. He loses his Russell, Majors and Waddell job/salary, but he’s still a US Marshal.  His wages will support him.  Especially as the area grows in population – a lot of his income will come from fees and more people means more fees.  Strangely, though, the place gets a lot more peaceful after war breaks out.  The most die-hard believers head east to participate, and there’s a lot more opportunity for thieves to steal big payloads from either government further east, too. Missouri is a mess.  He’ll be taking up with Polly again.  Eventually he ties the knot a 7th time.  He’s early-to-mid-50s, so maybe has 5-10 more years of Marshaling, then retires and they live on the income from Polly’s saloon.

Rachel is next.  While she did have a job as a teacher, from one source I found, the school year wasn’t that long in Nebraska (an academic paper had an average of 3.5 months in 1870, and I know length of school year by 1869 law was three, six, or nine months, depending on student population size). It’s not going to pay enough to support her year-round in 1860.  So she goes to work at a hotel/boarding house (in some old things I saw quite a few businesses called hotels that functioned like boarding houses for single men, as well). Possibly a maid or waitress, but she may be able to get a cook’s job, and that would pay more.  After that, she’ll meet a baker, fall in love and marry him. I’m considering making him an immigrant, as there were many in the west.  I will need to check old census records to see where immigrants most common came from in that time in place.  He has a successful business, and brings in well more than the average wage-worker, but it’s still not nearly enough for a middle-class lifestyle (as the term was defined then).   They’ll have two boys, so as to avoid the issues of the surrogate-daughter (more little sister, IMO) Lou having received daughter-jewelry. 😊 Since they do have well more than a subsistence income, they are able to save for retirement, which will happen circa 1893.  Death in 1905.

Kid and Lou have rather ample funds.  I gave them $1700 in savings from salary, and another $3500 from Charlotte’s stolen loot.  With this money, they decide to start a business. I know horse breeding and farming are commonly used. The problem is they don’t have a railroad yet, making transportation of grain expensive and probably not a good business option.  Horses have some of the same issue, though they can move on the hoof. But the market – the army is buying up lots of horses, and I don’t think Kid is going to want to support the war effort against the south, even though I’m having him choose not to go back.

So, Kid and Lou have a livery stable. The town already has one, but the town is growing a lot (as mentioned when they moved there). Buy some land, buggies and wagons, some horses, maybe some mules. Given the prices I found for them starting out, I’d say they’ll still have a good bit left over.  This is where advice from Teaspoon and Sam comes in.  Teaspoon can tell them war means inflation and keeping your money in your mattress is a bad idea.  They are not prepared to use banks – this is the era of wildcats and in 1857-1860 almost every bank in Nebraska failed (I’ve seen numerous sources that say only one bank survived, and a couple that say six “financial institutions” did, so I don’t know where the actual truth lay). So, what to with the extra money – put it in land. Rock Creek is growing, so they buy some town lots.  And, with the south seceding, the central route for the Pacific Railroad (later called the Transcontinental Railroad) is very likely to pass.  And a particular fellow associated with the project is buying up land in Nebraska and Sam knows that and so they also buy some lots in Omaha.

They, of course, immediately go get Jeremiah and Teresa after the wedding (St. Joe is not a good place to be). They can change out their paper bank notes for real money while they are there (I never actually checked, but assumed the bank notes to be from a St. Joe bank). Inflation is high during the war, but they do okay.  Lou doesn’t get pregnant the first year, which they’re both pretty happy about. There’s a lot of transition, and they’ve just become responsible for two children, and war is breaking out.  They teach Jeremiah and Teresa how to ride and how to shoot because they need to know how to defend themselves in a dangerous world (neither is amazing at either skill, but they’re competent).  They actually don’t have a child until 1864.  They’ll have five in all. I’ve looked up historical records for average family, and they were larger for their birth cohort (number of children per woman will decline a lot over the second half of the century).  

The Homestead Act is passed and that brings more travelers through Rock Creek and they make more money.  In 1865, the war ends, the railroad finally gets started in Omaha and Omaha raises property taxes. Their lots in Rock Creek have doubled in value and those in Omaha are worth five times what they paid for them.  They sell the land, and some is saved for a house (they’ve been renting) and the rest put into Railroad bonds (the sexy tech of the era).  They build/buy a nice 7 room brick house on two lots and some new furniture.  Jeremiah moves out, Teresa starts working.  By 1868, they are doing rather well for themselves (I did look up find an actual source on earnings for livery stables in the era and kinda work from that) and can hire someone to wash their laundry (no steam laundry yet, still done by hand and more expensive).  Lou spends more than typical on clothing, but they can afford it, and I think it’s canonical, given how many dresses we saw her buy.

As the railroad moves westward, everyone knows they need to get a feeder line to connect to it – if they don’t, the town dies and people move to a town that did.  Business owners are particularly aware of this. Fortunately for them, they manage to sell their town as a good place for a stop, and in 1872, they get one.  The railroad makes more goods available and makes goods cheaper. And is very good for business. Their income goes up.  Unfortunately for them, two of the railroads they bought bonds in fail, and they lose that money.  But the other two are fine, and businesses improves.  Especially after the recession ends in the late 1870s. Their spending increases accordingly, as does their savings.  This era is deflationary, and their income stays similar while goods get cheaper. In 1880, the town gets water and sewer and they add a sink and build on a bathroom. Steam laundry comes in 1882, and everyone who can afford it loves it. By 1892, two of their children have married and they don’t need such a big place. They sell the house and buy a smaller one with modern amenities (radiator, electric lighting, etc.). The children grow up and none of them want the livery stable.  Kid and Lou have provided enough for their old age and in 1902, they can afford to retire.  Lou dies in 1907, Kid in 1916.

Buck obviously had only one salary instead of two, and no windfall.  But he still has a nice savings – he has about $500 (well, he has more, but that’s after keeping some liquid as a cushion) and, like Kid and Lou, takes the advice and invests in land. He doesn’t start a business because he doesn’t think white people will do business with him.  He probably could have gotten a position as a Marshal with Teaspoon and Sam recommending him and his stellar record, but he doesn’t want to go chasing bad guys without someone he can trust at his back.   He ends up a teamster at the local sawmill (there are so many lumber buildings and no log ones, so I think they need to have one) because I could find Nebraska wages for teamsters in the 1860s. The first couple years are tight – he has to rent his own place because the hotel isn’t keen on him, and he buys cooked meals. But things get better.

In 1862, a new woman comes to Rock Creek. She’ll end up his wife, of course. She is 20ish. Her brother is a year younger. They inherited some money from their uncle. They didn’t know him, really – he didn’t live in the same town and they last saw him at another uncle’s funerals when they were 11/12.  Embarrassingly, when their own father died, it was over a month before they even remembered his existence to notify him.  Anyway, she’s using her portion to start a restaurant. Her brother invested in a brewery in another city (investor only – the only thing he knows about beer is how to drink it) and got a job at the sawmill while he waits for his investment to pay off.  The Homestead act has passed, and people are going to be using this route going west, so that’s why this town. Unfortunately for the siblings, their uncle was a crook, though they don’t know it. That’s why the lawyer (who did know it) advised them to sell everything and split the funds and go to some other locale.  They did, for the most part, but kept a few items.  There was a rumor he stole something very valuable before he died, but it hasn’t turned up on the market.  So trouble has followed them to Rock Creek.  Luckily, Buck is there to help.  Item found, and returned.

Her restaurant does well for itself.  She makes about 3 times Buck’s (below average) wage.  But he did well with his land investment. He also bought railroad bonds with the proceeds (he, Kid, and Lou chatted and came to similar conclusions).  Only one of his four failed.  After they marry, she keeps cooking at the restaurant, but after the first child is born, she stops and hires a cook.  So income is down, but still very comfortable.  1868, she hires someone else to do laundry.  She sells her old location and buys a new one nearer the train when it comes through – many businesses are doing the same. Makes it a bit more upscale (but we’re talking Olive Garden or Longhorn v. fast casual, not really fancy). Income increases.

They’ll have four kids in all, with the last born in 1876 (girl, girl, boy, girl).  And his wife really wants to get back to the restaurant. And teamsters’ wages have been going down bit by bit since the train came years ago. So in 1881, Buck quits his job and she goes back to the restaurant. It is, again, a pay cut, but they are still making $1,800 a year between the restaurant and the bonds.  As workers come there, they tend to keep their prices (and income) rising at the same rate as workers’ income. And food prices go down. So they’re doing well.  Finally close down and retire in 1902.  Not sure if any of their kids take it over.  They have about $30,000 altogether and think it will last them until death (banks were paying 4% interest, so they’d have $1,200 just from that.  Inflation in the teens means they spent more than they’d thought they would to maintain their lifestyle, but they have more than enough.  He actually lives the longest of any of the riders and dies in 1923, leaving several thousand dollars for each child.

And I did Lou’s siblings too:

Jeremiah is still a bit tetchy about Lou having left them, though things are better than they were. And he’s nearly done with schooling (I have him 13).  He’s not big enough for a man’s work yet. Now, quite often the normal thing for a child in his circumstance would be working without pay in a family-owned business. As boys got older an became men, they often started getting wages in family-owned businesses (at least for native-born – with immigrants, it varied depending on where they were from).  But they sort of handle Jeremiah more delicately – having them boss him at home and work might make him rebellious, as might him not getting any compensation or paid a lower wage. Plus they want to teach money management.  He can’t get full-time work at first, but there’s seasonal work and odd jobs and half his wages are given to Kid and Lou and he gets to keep half. Gets a little older and starts making far more money. At that point, he just pays them what he’d pay at a boarding house - which is far less than half his wages – and pays for his own clothes and personal expenses.

By time the war ends, he’s 18.  And he’s ambitious.  He’s saved almost $1000 dollars over the last few years.  He found out there were way too many cattle in Texas after years of them not being sold off during the war. They were selling cheap. Many moved them east to sell at much higher prices. But he decided to start his own herd. Bought them in Texas and ran them east.  There’s a line down the middle of Nebraska at which it goes from green to brown and there isn’t enough water that crop growing was widespread (irrigation was too expensive for many).  The land was largely unsettled (by white people) and belonged to the government and cattle rancher would graze their cattle for free on it. That’s what he does. He can’t afford all that many, even at the cheaper prices (he’s got to afford to live to until they have calves that grow up and get sold).  He knows it won’t last forever – Teaspoon can tell him when “the frontier” was much further east than it is now. But he can earn money now and either buy land later or invest in something else.  At this time, some big cattle owners would still allow their cowhands to mingle their stock among his and run them both to the market at the same time. Which he does. It’s seasonal work, though.  He’s making more and more money as his herd grows. The train arriving nearby and making transport much cheaper helps, too.  Has money coming in by 1869 and buys more heifers.  By 1872, his herd can give him a gross income of over $1000 a year and he quits working for others.  Buys a small plot of land to keep horses (for round up – he’ll have to supply his employees) and builds a three-room cabin and a stable.

Now, he does meet a woman.  She’s a former prostitute, and not ashamed of it – she made her money without lying, cheating, or stealing. She’s from St. Louis – grew up in a family that was poor in both money and love.  Her older sister married as soon as she could – got out and didn’t look back, and she thought that was a good idea. She was smart and had aspirations of middle-class comfort, but little opportunity. When she was 13 her father and younger brother died of illness. Her mother took up with a new guy that could support her immediately and left the other kids. But they were all teenagers and “old enough to look out for themselves”.  One older brother did help her get a job as hotel maid and she did that for a couple years. She wasn’t in danger of starving but had a lifetime of being poor to look forward to it and wasn’t keen on it.  She started hearing about how prostitutes out west could make a fortune because there were so many more men than women.  And this was an era when an independent prostitute could do that – that era ended circa 1882.  Without an employer taking the bulk of the money the trick is not to spend all you make – prostitution is a young woman’s game and the money dries up as she ages.  I used some actual numbers of prostitutes that did earn well (the ones that invested that money and were successful enough to be remembered).  She spent about 4 years working and saved up $20,000. Invested in a brickmaking business (again, I got that from something an actual prostitute did) and some others and that generated and income of $700-$800 per year for a few years until she sold out half her investments and bought some Adams Express stock.  

She and Jeremiah start keeping company maybe late 1870.  They marry in 1873. Thing is, she’s not willing to get married in Nebraska. She’s just not willing to risk the laws – she wants to keep ownership and control of her money and income she earns after marriage. She’s making $3600 a year by now, and he’s making about $1500 (and it’s set to grow a lot soon), so they are very well off. The biggest meat market is in Chicago, and Illinois has property rights for married women, so that becomes their new home (he hires someone to stay on his land and be around if needed for cattle business).  And of course, they both reinvest a portion of that, while still living very nicely.  Climbing the social ladder was so important at the time (and for decades), but she doesn’t care much about being accepted by polite society, adopting their values, etc. I mean she likes some of those values, but wouldn’t adopt all of them wholesale.  She doesn’t care too much if she’s socially accepted, especially in a big city with a lot of entertainment options that don’t require social capital. At least, she doesn’t care much at first.  After she has children she cares more, for their sakes.

They rent in Chicago, rather than buy.  She doesn’t have any contact with her family, but as each of his nieces and nephews reach adulthood, they get $600.  Which was about the typical man’s yearly salary.  Anyway, they live well and investments keep growing. The cattle business more so than hers, at first. By 1880, each is bringing in excess of $400 a month.  But more and more cattle on the same amount of grazing land as new ranchers move in and existing herds grow mean it’s starting to be overgrazed. And there’s been more people, too. In 1881, he sells everything associated with his cattle and invests in the stock market, with both safer and riskier investments (advised by his wife).  They have two children.  And just get richer.  By 1909 they earn well over $30,000 a year (net worth is over half a million) and they buy their first automobile. They live long enough for the start of the big runup on stock prices in the 1920s but are both dead by 1928.  Over the years, Kid & Lou, Teresa, and Buck and his wife will invest in some of the same companies (one very predictable and safe and others riskier) that they buy. They don’t risk all their savings, of course, but since he's done so well, they do try some and it does help (I did look up actual old stock and dividends and actually keep track – coming from “the future” did give an advantage, I admit).

I don’t have as many details on Teresa.  I have her born in 1850. She grows up to be short. By time she turns 14, Kid and Lou are doing well enough that they could afford to keep her at home. And the town has a high school. She goes for a year, but most of her friends don’t, and she didn’t enjoy it. And she does like the idea of having her own spending money.  She becomes a part-time dining room girl at the hotel.  She flirts, sometimes, of course. She prefers guys that came to town later – guys she knew when they were children just aren’t that attractive to her. But the town has grown a lot, so it’s not really an issue.  

Anyway, two brothers move to town and open a furniture store in 1865.  They look very alike, and people sometimes think they’re twins, but they aren’t.  The younger one (six years older than her) eventually catches her eye, and they’ll start dating when she’s 17.  The store is providing a decent living for both brothers, and he’s saved up enough for getting started and he proposes. But then his brother decides he wants to try his luck further west and wants younger brother to buy him out so he’ll have a stake. The business is worth it, and it’ll almost double his income (he’ll have to hire extra labor), so he’s younger brother is definitely interested. But it used up his savings and that means delaying the wedding.  But they get married in 1870.  They’ll have four kids.

Teresa is very happy, but is also interested in becoming wealthier, and she’s younger and more prone to listen to Jeremiah than his elders. So she (and her husband) do take more of his stock advice than the older ones, especially as time goes and he’s more and more successful.  At first, in 1872, they just put a big chunk of their savings in the really safe company that is providing 8% returns.  And it’s still a deflationary time, so that’s very good.  And it’s safer than a bank to them at this time. So that’s where they put their savings every so often – they don’t have any other investments (besides the furniture business) for 15 years.   They save a lot of money when young and newly married (and less ten years later) because they’ve been taught compound growth.  And even more because more kids cost more money, which they also understand and don’t want to have to downgrade lifestyle as children are born.  So they save $800 the year after the build a house. Then $700, then $500. By 1885 (youngest is 7), it’s less than $200 saved per year. In 1887, they cash out some of their Adams stock and buy into a riskier company for the first time. In 1889, they move to a new house – with electric, hot water radiators, and just modern everything. At this point they feel confident enough that they can just let their investments grow and don’t need to save anymore, so they are spending more.  

Circa 1897, one of their kids starts working at the business – it takes about six years to transition over completely and for the child to afford the business (started working there part time before grown). They are well ready to retire, having over $70,000 (30 years’ expenses) in savings and investments. Both have died by 1925.

I know, I know – too much time on money and spending and not enough on story. I suck at plots, so I try to figure out “what’s the character’s life is like.” Well, how much income they have a big determiner. So I look up occupations and income. And then expenditure tables (much easier at the end of the 19th century forward than the middle).  Then how do they invest their savings (because I read an interesting article that said that those that did have money to save in that time usually spread it out between risky and safe investments). I know I do too much with stocks – bonds were more common earlier – but it’s much easier for me to find and read the data.  When you do just a business you made up for them to invest it, it gives you more freedom, and I do that some, but I’m never sure if I’m picking something reasonable.

Anyway, then we have to deal with Jimmy and Cody, who were real people, but have fictional counterparts with very differing details. 

Like with Jimmy – I’m definitely having him adore Agnes.  And the nature of his death is too well-known in pop culture to change.  His real history of likely being a Union spy during the war is full of potential.  But does he die in 1876 or does he die years later when the fictional one is 39?

And Cody – can the fictional one have a marriage that isn’t good, but not be so bad that he (falsely) testifies in court (for divorce) that his wife tried to poison him multiple times?  I do feel like three of his four children still have to die young, though.  Obviously, I’d never dream of leaving out the Wild West Show – it’s his most famous attribute.

[ginwhitlock]

Wanna tell us your headcanons about Jasper being married in his human life? How does that history come into play in his vampire life?

You are an oasis in the desert THANK YOU YES (this is going to be very long bc of background I’m sorry)

Alright (I say that... too much) in the time period Jasper was in, early/late 1860s, it actually wasn’t a huge thing for him to be married by 19. What I mean by that is: most people were not married that young, even soldiers (on either side). Is that shocking? It was to me when I found out because weren’t we all told that ppl were popping out babies at 16? (And some were, and actually MOST women around that time period were pregnant on their wedding day according to birth records (read: baptismal records)) But marriage wasn’t usually occurring, especially for men, until about 22 or 23 (my family records from that time period show that).

So history doesn’t tell us he had to be married. BUT what do we know about Jas? Mans a romantic (at least when he’s not fighting for his life) and I believe he would’ve gotten married before signing up for the war. I believe he was 19 when he was turned and around 16/17 when he signed up because he faked how old he was to get in. So married very very young. But it wasnt super uncommon even if the normal age was like 22.

Okay, so... Mrs.Whitlock. Childhood sweethearts. Most likely the daughter of someone in the town closest to him, or in his town, maybe the sheriff (haha yeah this could be a time travel jasper/Bella fic) or another farmer. My favorite idea is that she’s the daughter of the local preacher. In the modern day south (I have experience in both rural Texas and rural/small town South Carolina), you’ve got a church on every corner. But it wasn’t exactly that way back then. You had one, or a couple maybe, and they were of one faith or the other. Methodist was the biggest in that time in that region, so I’m going with that (which works because... I’m the granddaughter of a Methodist preacher... I’m definitely not self inserting...). Let’s say her name is Adelaide (but Bell would also be quite a common name).

Okay so daughter of the preacher, Jasper had loved her his entire life. From birth, to working the fields, to the day when the succession was announced: he kept Adelaide close. With the war looming it was only a matter of time before he was forced into grey. There was a very hard conversation with his father, ending in a stiff ‘yes’ to be allowed to propose to her, as they had been courting, supervised, for quite a long time.

Their wedding was small, those who could make it could come, any northern parts of either family were obviously not in attendance. Adelaide learned a multitude of things in those long hours: Jasper can dance quite well (evidenced by the sullen imprint of his little sisters hell on his boot toe), Jasper’s mother treated her like a porcelain doll in every way that count for an unknown reason, and her husband never took his eyes off of her the entire ceremony.

They had never had time alone when they were courting, just the occasional refreshment fetching when he was out in the field, but her mother always watched from the house. Once, his oldest sister Birdie had run off after telling Jasper’s father she’d go with them to supervise a horse ride. In the small time they got that afternoon he had pressed his lips faintly into the corner of her mouth, not wanting to corrupt the preachers daughter who had just spent the last sun-filled hour reading to him from a book of poems she wasn’t supposed to have. Chaste kisses after that day have never been enough. They would never been enough.

When he got called away for duty, it felt like a funeral. The tears in his sisters eyes wouldn’t stop running, his small compared to his tall frame, look even more fragile. The only thing he could find of life in her was her unusually pink skin and the shine of her brunette curls.

Jasper went off with a picture of Adelaide in his breast pocket, a locket with his parents inside, and left behind the one and only child he didn’t think he had.

He doesn’t return home before the baby is born, and by the time he recieves news of his son’, he’s already on Maria’s guard.

They say that human memories fade, and for the most part that’s a truth, but the stubborn ones, the ones that hurt, stay. It isn’t until Peter and Charoltte leave him to travel the earth by himself that he goes to her grave. Maria let him keep her picture, if not to remind him he can never go back.

He finds his parents, his sisters all with unsurprising last names, even one for him— empty like the rest of the soldiers he’s forgotten. The grave next to his is... shiney. I mean, not like some granite plot you’d find in modern times but clean enough for evidence of upkeep. His delicate fingertips run over the imprint of letters, her name swirls just slightly in the stone, her birth date a known one, her death date... too young. She was in her 40s when she passed, only one child listed.

“She died of a broken heart.”

The voice somehow startles Jasper and he jumps to his feet, the want to bear his teeth just under his skin. Years from Maria have only slightly built his resolve. His red eyes shine into the young man infront of him, a bouquet of lillies hanging from his fist. He doesn’t look frightened.

“My great great grandfather always said that about his mother. It’s a shame how she went. Always waiting for another letter.” The man with his mouth walks past the vampires form and settles the flower into the soil. Jasper feels as if he has no air in his lungs. The man carries on. “He’s the one that wrote to do this. Come care for her after all this time.” He stood, rubbed the dirt off his knees and stepped back, almost shoulder to shoulder with the blond.

“He has this wild idea his father would come back for her. Come see what he left for himself.” He sighed and looked to the still silent man. “Everyone knows he was killed on one of those battle fields. His heart just couldn’t take it. Kinda like hers, ya know?”

Jasper had only found his voice as the man who looked far too much like him for his own comfort, who he knew was wearing his last name, who he created not out of bloodshed but of love, turned to walk to the truck at the end of the field.

“What’s your name?”

The man rose up a hand and flashed a smile at the “stranger” who’s picture had been hanging in his foyer for as long as time wished.

“Jasper Whitlock, sir.”