#and infinitely better than her being a character who only appears to cry and scream over gojo dying

[lavenderjewels]

some of the comments about shoko for this jjk chapter would make you think she personally told yuuta and gojo to die, then spat on his grave

[itstimetotheorize]

The bizarre mystery of the Little Nightmares 2  episode 2 comic

For those of you who are unaware, a few weeks before the little nightmares 2 game was released, the developers had announced that they would be releasing a new 6 part digital comic series. From what we were told, this comic series would update two “episodes”  every two weeks until the games eventual release.

of the many episodes that were seen, the most popular of the six  were the first and last, episode 1 and 6. Naturally, these two episodes gained an enormous amount of popularity due to our main protagonists mono and six being the main focus. However, aside from these two episodes, the other four presented an entirely different character. The four kids seen in these episodes were, the spoon girl, lollipop kid, ghost child and The toddler. 

At first, many fans had assumed the digital comics were created in order to help explain events that had occurred before mono met six in the little nightmares 2 game, in other words, many of us had believed that these comics were classified as prequel material for the events of the game....or at least....that's what we thought....

A few months after the games release, theorist such as myself began to work day and night trying to figure out every little detail  within the game in order to make sense of what the heck was actually going on in the little nightmares world, especially after “that” ending. In the midst of writing my own theories as well as reading and analyzing everyone elses, I began to notice that not many people had gone back to the little nightmares 2 digital comics in order to try and analyze details we might have missed.

Now, out of all of the things we saw and analyzed within the digital comics, there was always two little details that made many of us question the events of the comics, but for the longest time we never really bothered to think about it to much, because at that time...it seemed as though the answer was obvious, what am I talking about exactly? well, I’m talking about something that happened in the little nightmares 2 episode 2 comic. 

In episode 2, we once again watch another new child called “the toddler”  trying to survive within the little nightmares world. Near the end of the episode, the toddler wakes up from a horrific dream where he is killed in the very hole he is resting in. Frightened, he takes no chances and immediately leaves. As the boy marches on, he suddenly hears the terrifying screams of another child nearby. 

Curious, the boy follows the direction of the scream and comes across an old outhouse with a tv next to it, the tv suddenly turns on and the boy immediately becomes entranced by the televisions light.  Sadly, as he continues to stare at the tv, the thin man reaches out from the other side and all that is heard of the child are his frightened screams. 

As the panel draws away from the tv its revealed to us that the thin man had kidnaped the toddler and dragged him into the television.

When first seeing this episode, many believed it was the developers way of telling us that the thin man had spent much of his time kidnapping various kids around the world. Because of this belief, many of us had theorized that despite being locked up in the tower, within the pale city, the thin man was still fully capable of leaving, after all, we theorized that its was his main goal to search for mono and six. HOWEVER, upon reading episode 2, I couldn't help but feel that something was off and I’m sure there were a few others who felt the same. What exactly felt so off about this episode? well, for starters, this may sound strange but...something about that scream the toddler heard in the forest... didn't make sense.

And I know what you are thinking, “ well that was obviously just a kid screaming in horror as he/she was being taken by the thin man”, yes, I understand that.... but......as  I heard that scream over and over again, I couldn't help but feel it sounded like it was almost....”non human”

when the toddler was kidnapped by the thin man and he lets out his own screams of terror, I, as well as other, did not question it, because it genuinely did sound like a child screaming out in horror....so then... why didn't the other scream sound just the same to us?....unless....what if there was something else going on with that other child?...but what? the comics were short and did not present much information to the audience. In hopes of coming up with a breakthrough I decided to once again go back to the little nightmares 2 game and wait to see if some of the events within the game would help.

 As I watched the tower chapter of the game, for what feels like an infinite amount of times, I began to realize something....something so horrific that it could possibly once again topple every theory I had about the little nightmare's world and lead me and many other back to the theory board in order to make sense of EVERYTHING all over again!.... what exactly was so shocking? well.....the screams heard by the toddler in chapter 2....the very screams we believed at the time were just the cries of another terrified child within the little nightmares world....were NEVER the screams of someone we didn’t know!....whos were they exactly?...well.... they were the screams of MONSTER SIX!!!

But what on earth could this possibly mean???!!! Monster six was the final fight within the game, when mono faced her, he had already killed the thin man after being relentlessly chased by him....but if this is true then why was the thin man shown to be alive within episode two of the comics?!....unless.... What if episode two didn't take place before the events of the game...what if...it took place after mono freed the thin man in the game!! 

Perhaps this could explain why the toddler never encountered the hunter in the forest or near the outhouse, the hunter could very well have been already shot by the time the toddler was traveling through!.....but even if this is true, it still doesn't explain why we heard monster sixes scream in the episode or why thin man made an appearance in the forest rather than stay in the pale city were mono was located ...unless... what if something else was going on?

In the game, after the thin man captures six, six is later seen crying out for mono to help her escape the television.

unfortunately, once mono does free her from the tv, the thin man reaches his hand out and kidnaps six once again!

 As many of you may already know... this is the last time we see normal six.  As the thin man once again begins to pursue mono, mono manages to outrun the thin man on the trains by separating the railcars, 

after this moment however, we don't see the thin man again until after mono exits the manhole cover. The thing that doesn't make sense about this whole situation is... why didn't the thin man just reappear in the same area mono crashed the train?

 The thin man clearly has the ability to teleport to different parts of the pale city without the need of the tvs, after all, we even saw him appear in front of mono after he exited the manhole cover near the end of the game.

 So then, why didn't he do the same thing back when mono crashed the train? what was he really doing in that time? and most importantly...where did he go?!...perhaps we were already given an answer to his whereabouts, long before the game was ever released...

What if after realizing he couldn't catch up to mono on the train, the thin man made the decision to search elsewhere. In the midst of his search, did the thin man decide to go back into the television? expecting mono to walk past another screen so he could better find him? just like how he did every other time in the game?

What if the thin man did sense the presence of a child coming near another television...if he did, then what if the child he found on the other end of that television screen.... was never mono...it was the toddler! 

But if this is what happened to thin man during his brief absence, then what exactly happened to six during all of this?....perhaps we were also given an answer to that  as well.

Many of us had theorized that after thin man captured six, six had begun to feel the effects of the towers hypnotic  transmission as she was dragged through the television screen. After she was taken by thin man a second time and thrown back into the towers hypnotic light, the tower could have very well begun the process of turning her into monster six! and judging by how twisted her limbs are near the end of the game, its possible that the process of being distorted caused six to scream out in horrible pain! in the midst of her transformation, her screams could have echoed throughout the tower (just like her music box did ) and was heard by all those that were near a television, including the toddler!

Mono may not have heard her painful screams because he was already to far away from any tv at the time. The only thing he did find of six, after she became lost in the towers transmission during her time in the tower, was the one piece of her that was still desperately trying to cling onto the cruel reality it was fading from, shadow six!

Regardless of what is actually going on, this does beg the question, if episode 2 of the little nightmares 2 digital comics were to really take place in the middle of monos confrontation with the thin man and not before the events of the game, then what about the rest of the episodes of the comics? do they really all take place before the events of the game or is the timeline of the comics just as scattered as our speculations towards how the loop of the game and the little nightmares world is occurring?...honestly....whos to say....until we get some more information towards the lore of this world, everything’s still just a theory, a little nightmares 2 theory!

[littleeyesofpallas]

BLEACH - Name Games(?)

I was asked about zanpakutou stuff.  I don’t know that many have names and kanji choices that super jump out at me at a glance, but the ones that do come to mind all seem to have references to Buddhist icons that I’m sure don’t come across in English very well.  I tangentially touched on that when talking about Mayuri while doing my rambling series of posts about shinigami names, so I figure that'd be my entry point.

I don’t know that this will amount to a lot of posts, but if I had to pick one to start with the obvious choice would have to be Urahara Kisuke’s zanpakutou, Benihime.  It has a lot of wordplay involved that doesn’t come across in English all too obviously, plus a little religious reference tacked onto the very end.  I remember this being kind of a well circulated bit of trivia back in the 2000s but I don’t know that it’s persisted after all this time, so hopefully this isn’t too obvious to people.

The name itself, Benihime[紅姫] is written pretty straight forwardly as 紅: ”Crimson”/”Deep Red” and 姫:”Princess.“  The release call okiro[起きろ] generally gets translated as “Awaken” which is accurate, but “Get up” works as well, but technically it can also mean “Stay awake,” but that’s really more a semantic issue for English, in Japanese the phrase is used identically in either situation.  In the context of Benihime being only the second shikai we ever see (after Zabimaru) it seems like a concealed sword being told to “Wake up” makes the most sense, but there’s a bit of a case for “Stay awake” that I’ll get to a bit later...  (Also worth noting real quick is that this kind of “rousing” verb is specifically about being awake -vs- asleep, and doesn’t extend to the English colloquialisms relating to “[sexual] arousal.”)

Also, it’s never directly referenced, but both in cane form and in shikai form, Benihime has a unique blade shape that suggests that the sword blade has been broken; It lacks the distinctive Kissaki[切っ先]:”Point-area” of a katana blade, and the blade’s Hamon[刃文]:”Wave-pattern” doesn’t follow the edge of the blade properly at the terminus.  This plays into the themes well go on to address, so keep that in mind...

But the fun comes with the various techniques Urahara uses with Benihime over the course of the series.

The one we get almost immediately is Nake[啼け] which the English translations erroneously called “Scream.”  But the Japanese use of the word, as far as I can see, refers to “call (out)” or “bark” or “chirp” generally in reference to an animal noise or to make noise like an animal.  It can also mean “sing” as an extension of the same use but in reference to bird song.  But as a bit of colorful language it’s commonly used in the context of smut and romance to describe little gasps, whimpers, and yelps.

The “Scream” translation seems to have been taken from the Chinese use of the word, which is similar to the Japanese, but includes the additional animal sound “Howl” and by comparison can refer to “crying (loudly)”, “wailing”, and “weeping.”

A curious detail is that when Urahara first uses this to defend from Ichigo’s newly discovered Getsuga Tenshou technique, Benihime produces a red shield, and it’s actually hard to notice at a glance, but the blade of Benihime is dripping with blood as a result, even though neither Urahara nor Ichigo actually got cut by it.  However, when Urahara uses this a second time when defending Ichigo from Yammy, there is no bleeding blade effect.

This shield is also later given the name Chikasumi no Tate[血霞の盾] written as “Shield of Blood Mist.” This all works to reinforce the association with the “Crimson” aspect of the name specifically with blood.

With the same “Cry!” command Urahara can also use his own zangeki projectile, like Getsuga Tenshou.

Kamisori[剃刀] is just the word for “Razor,” it appears to produce the same effect as when “Cry” is used offensively rather than defensively.  It’s possible Kubo chose to retcon “Cry” into being defensive only and renamed the attacking move as “Razor.”  It was never made especially clear...

And Tsuppane[突ッ撥] which is a weird construction of “Stab”/”Pierce”/”Prick” and “Reject“/”Exclude” but it’s a homonym with Tsuppane[突っ撥ねる] meaning “Reject“/”Spurn“/”Turn down.“  These two can be tabled for now as well, but they’ll fall into place by the end...

Finally, Shibari[縛り] means “Bind“/”Restrain”/”Tie up” but it’s specifically the shorthand name for the Japanese method of rope bondage sex play.  And in conjunction with this Urahara uses Hiasobi, Benihime, Juzutsunagi[火遊 紅姫 数珠繋] which breaks down as 火遊: “Fire Play,” "Crimson Princess” again, 数珠繋: “Prayerbead Chain.”

So, if it wasn’t clear where we were headed with all of these, Blood, Crying, Razors, Spurning, Rope Play, Fire Play, and s Chain of Beads might seem all over the place if you take them at face value, but the central theme being evoked here is BDSM.  Which lend an extremely curious tone to Urahara’s character.  More over, there is the broken blade imagery I mentioned before.  Back in the day I had sort of wondered if maybe breaking his sword had been part of Urahara’s exile*, but the state of the blade never got properly addressed, and even the exile would just sit on the backburner for years...

*At the time, I associated it with Kuukaku and Ganju’s similarly severed blades, but they also weren’t ever addressed.  The impression I’d gotten from the overall designs had been that when the Shiba family were stripped of their shinigami nobility status their zanpakutou were all broken as a means of rendering them incapable of ever effectively fighting back against Soul Society.  I also just kind of assumed there would be a similar explanation for Yoruichi’s conspicuously absent zanpakutou.

But there’s an extra detail in this...  We know how zanpakutou work: a Shinigami imprints their own soul onto a blank sword, their sword spirit develops in their inner world, and through meditation they can commune, negotiate, and make peace with their sword.  At the highest levels of that mutual understanding they can summon their swords out into the world, first as shikai and then as bankai, increasing in power and finesse the better they understand their sword spirits and thus themselves.

We see distinctly, in the case of Yumichika, that an inability to make peace with their swords can result in sub-optimal powers: Yumichika has his intentional misnaming of his sword and partial release; Zaraki has his entire inability (at first) to call on his sword at all; and Ikkaku and Shuuhei both have disagreements with the attitude of their swords --Ikkaku calling Houzoukimaru lazy, and Shuuhei being uncomfortable with Kazeshini’s bloodlust.

But we know that Ichigo took a short cut to forging this deep lifelong friendship with his sword, and the fact that the two aren’t in sync and don’t communicate with one another well is a repeated hurdle for Ichigo.  Thanks to Urahara’s special doll Ichigo just summoned Zangetsu directly into the outside world, requiring zero meditation or self reflection on his part.  And Urahara used this same method, to achieve bankai in just 3 days.

So, Urahara rushed his bankai training, his blade is broken, and its techniques all point to a BDSM theme.  The way I always saw this was that it sounded like Urahara forcibly subdued Benihime instead of ever negotiating with her.  His sword is broken because he broke it himself as part of asserting dominance over it. (not unlike how Mayuri broke his own shikai as a form of punishment after the Szayel fight)  And it lined up with a lot of the ongoing ominous tones surrounding Urahara all throughout...  At least until he just kind of vanished during the long drag of the Arrancar Arc, before being hurriedly shoved into the Arc finale.

So when we did finally get his bankai reveal in the Blood War Arc, some things fell into place rather neatly, but others felt a little out of sync with everything else...

Viz translated Kannonbiraki Benihime Aratame[観音開紅姫改メ] as “Opened Red Princess Neo” which isn’t strictly speaking wrong, but it communicates nothing of importance.   観音開: doesn’t really have a clean English equivalent, but it refers to what I can only think to define as “opening outward in two pieces from the center.”  Specifically this tends to reference double doors, or similar but not explicitly door structures like windows or shutters, etc...  It also refers to filleting a fish or dissecting a body in an accordant manner: with a central incision with two flaps peeled back from it. It’s the term used for a “Butterfly cut” in cooking.  Benihime is just “Crimson Princess” again, no alternate kanji or homonym play like some other bankai, plus 改メ: which is a suffix indicating “revised”/”modified.”

There’s also what I assume was intentional wordplay here where the  観音 in 観音開: “double-door” is the name of the Japanese Buddhist god(dess) Kannon.  Kannon (based on the Chinese Guanyin, who is a highly modified interpretation of what was the Hindu Avalokitesvara.) is worshiped as a goddess of infinite mercy.  So  観音+開: might imply something like “Opened Kannon”/“Kannon Unlocked”/”Empty Kannon” evoking imagery of the Goddess herself opened up on an operating table, tying back to the specific physical feature of being opened up from a center line, like double doors.

So the actual vibe of the full name is something like...

“Dissected Goddess-of-Mercy: Modified-Bloodred Princess”

Which has some wild and sinister implications, not dissimilar to Mayuri’s Ashisouji-jizo.  They share tones of corrupting or defiling the divine, and specifically gods of mercy and protection, distorted and mutilated.

[invisibleinorange]

Chapters: 14/? Fandom: Bridgerton Rating: T Warnings: Presumed Character Death Relationships: Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington,  Eloise Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington(besties),  Bridgerton Family Dynamics, Simon Hastings/Daphne Bridgerton Characters: Colin Bridgerton,  Penelope Featherington, Eloise Bridgerton, Anthony Featherington,  Benedict Bridgerton,  Portia Featherington, Violet Bridgerton, Genevieve Delacroix Additional Tags:  Bridgerton, Polin Summary:  Unexpected bad news arrives for the Bridgerton Family (and friends) regarding Colin's travels. This will be a series that is set after "The Duke and I" or season one of the show. It is a companion piece to "Goodbyes".

It had come to pass that Portia Featherington hadn’t been wrong about everything. Penelope couldn’t help but begrudgingly give her mother some credit as she paced the small room she was waiting in for her wedding: the books had ruined her.

Everything that she knew about life and love came from the pages of the damn things.  Even if she had always had her doubts whether she would actually get married, the small bit of her that held up hope had this foolish fantasy of what it was supposed to be.

When she’d pictured this day, Colin had always been her  romantic lead.  It had been that way even before she was old enough to fully understand her feelings.   It felt a little bittersweet that he couldn’t at least be part of it.

If he couldn’t be her husband, she would have at least felt better having him there as her friend.  Knowing that he fully endorsed her choice would have been important. All she could do now was assume that he would have be happy to see her well-matched with his brother.

She was still anxious about it, as fond as she had become of Benedict in recent weeks.  She’d felt as if they’d made progress in transitioning from whatever they had been to what they were going to be.  It was all tentative, a bit weird but it was no longer awkward to converse at length or hold hands.

They were both trying.

There was a lot more that would come after the wedding and that was what she was terrified of.  Violet in her infinite wisdom had attempted to have an adult conversation with her about wifely duties when her own mother neglected to call on her for such a thing.  Then Daphne had made an appearance and attempted her own conversation.

She wasn’t quite sure if she was supposed to be excited at the prospect of her wedding night or terrified.

Either way it went, she knew that there was no real pressure to do something that she didn’t feel comfortable with. Benedict might not have approached the subject but she knew he wasn’t the sort to demand anything.

They were going to do something different and it might take her time but she was going to be happy.

She just had to work past her nerves first.

She was mid-stride through her forty or fiftieth spin around the room when the door opened and in strode her mother.  

Penelope had invited her (and her sisters) to the wedding. They were her family even if things had dysfunctional at times. That didn’t necessarily mean that she wanted to open herself to feedback or criticism for her choices or the timeline of them.

She also wasn’t quite sure her nerves could handle a third conversation about her duties as wife.  

“Mother,” she said with a polite nod and bow.

Her mother seemed to stand there for a long moment, looking her over as if appraising the situation.

“This dress will do,” she said after a long moment.

Penelope’s dress was one of the new ones that had been purchased in recent weeks.  It wasn’t white but it was a pale blue and had white lace over it. It wasn’t as extravagant as the dress she might have worn if it hadn’t burnt but she was pretty content with it.  She’d even added little blue flowers to her red curls.

“I appreciate your approval,”  Penelope offered after a moment, deciding that she should just be grateful that they decided to show and actively be a part of this.  “You should probably find your seat. Anthony will be presenting me.”

It was a bit of a slap in the face. If her father had been alive, he would have been the one to do such a thing. He was long gone and Penelope hadn’t considered herself a member of her mother’s household since she’d left it.  Anthony, as misguided and overprotective as he could be at times, was the only person deserving of such an honor.

Portia might have wished to object but she closed her mouth as soon as it opened.  Instead she decided to proceed with her original mission for coming.

“I won’t trouble you for long,” she told before snapping her fingers and a servant came with a box.  She opened it and inside was a beautiful, ornate veil.   “This is a family heirloom of sorts.  I’d thought to give it to one of your sisters but your father insisted it be put aside for you.”

Penelope could gloss over all the negative undertones to just see the fact that it was actually quite remarkable. She’d honestly not planned to wear a veil at all but it looked as if it belonged with the dress.  Her mother would have sold it if she’d had the inkling. The fact that she was there at all with it said that somewhere she did actually care about her.

It was enough.

She turned to allow her mother to help her pin it properly in her red curls, a light smile playing on her features.

“Thank you for this,” she told her quietly.

--

Benedict was grateful for his mother because Violet had this strange way of making things always come together, even when there was a limited amount of time to do it. Weddings were relatively simple affairs in the great scheme of things. In a family like theirs, it was harder logistically to get everyone around.

As he gazed around the church, he was glad to have all of them.  Violet was sitting up front with Gregory and Hyacinth on opposite sides.  Eloise was to the right of Hyacinth which brought a smile to his face because she’d joked that she might sit on the other side of the aisle.  Francesca was behind them with the Duke and a visibly pregnant Daphne. The only other people were those on the other side – Penelope’s mother and siblings.

The whole situation felt surreal to him. There was literally no scenario where he could imagine wedding Penelope Featherington before recent months.  He had always felt like he’d known her but he hadn’t known her at all. He felt as if by getting to know her better, he’d seen her potential.

He could even imagine being happy which was more than he ever thought he could say about most of the other potential matches he could have had in the Ton.  It was going to take them time but he liked where they were.  There was no rush to become something that they weren’t.

He would be patient and a good husband to her.

He didn’t get married every day though so he did feel a little nervous about the whole situation.  He’d definitely had to ease his nerves with a drink beforehand.

As he caught sight of Anthony at the entrance, making a gesture that things were to begin it all begin to set in.

Everyone sat quietly but they all sort of blurred out of space when he saw Penelope move into the entrance with him.  He’d never quite had such a visceral reaction to her before but she really was vision.

She seemed nervous so he offered her a smile and she returned it as she approached on Anthony’s arm.

They were both shaking by the time her hand was in his and the clergyman began to speak.

--

The doors crashed open with a thud making such a disturbance that there was no way to ignore it.

Every single head turned including that of the bride and groom.

Colin Bridgerton was a dusty mess of a man but out of the darkness of the hallway, he appeared to the audible sound of gasps.

Everyone was so focused on his appearance that it was only Benedict and Colin who felt Penelope go limp.  The shock had caused a fainting spell and it was any wonder that Benedict caught her. Colin couldn’t quite get to her at the moment.

“Colin!”  Violet Bridgerton practically screamed, moving from her seat toward her wayward son.  She didn’t stop until her arms were around him.  He hugged his mother for a moment,  shaking off his own disbelief at everything that was happening.

Concern washed over him at what was going on before him. He couldn’t properly even focus on the words that were coming at him from family members as they touched him and made sure that he wasn’t some apparition.

“Mother, I – please, I need to-“  he tried to explain, to get out of her grasp and direction the attention to the person maybe needed a little more attention at the moment.

For her credit, she did let him go long enough for her gaze to realize Penelope was still out cold.  The fact her child was back from the dead was temporarily forgotten as the need to care for the problem at hand send her moving with him up toward the front pew, where Benedict has maneuvered the unconscious girl with a little help from Portia Featherington.

Her blue eyes began to flicker back open after a long, quiet moment. She came back to life in a minute, fully prepared to fight. Her body upright, terror on her face.

“I’m dead,” she said after a long moment when she caught sight of Colin and his concerned eyes.  “I’m clearly dead because you are dead.”

If he hadn’t been so worried about her, he might have laughed.  Instead Colin reached for her wrist, dipping enough for her hand to his chest so she might see that he wasn’t dead.

“I promise you that I’m here,” he told her, eyes finding hers. “I’m alive. I’m here and I’m never leaving again.”

There was clearly a lot that needed to be said.  More than just to her but in that moment it was just nice to see her face, to know she was okay even if she’d gone from fainting to crying.

He didn’t quite know if what he wanted to do was appropriate at the moment.  Whatever business he had with Benedict could wait, for now the urge for violence was low.

“…I wouldn’t miss your wedding,” he said after a long moment, trying to lighten the mood to make her stop crying.  “I just had to be my dramatic flare to things.”

“Wedding?” she asked.  Oh God, she’d completely forgotten she’d been in the middle of her own wedding.  She shot an apologetic look to Benedict, biting her lip.  Colin’s hand was still over her own and she didn’t want to let go of it but she wasn’t sure what was okay anymore. “I just can’t believe you’re actually here. I should have never encouraged you to go. I should have stopped you.”

“It’s okay,” Benedict said, giving her a quiet nod as if reading her thoughts. He turned to the clergyman and politely explained that there wouldn’t be need for his services after all.  The wedding wouldn’t be happening today – if ever.   As he completely made way for Colin to take back his place in life, Penelope couldn’t help but feel a little sad to lose something she didn’t really know that she wanted.

Whatever she felt about that didn’t lessen how she felt about the fact that Colin was home. He was real and he was there with her.   The fact he was touching her and looking at her like that.

“You were only trying to encourage me to do what you thought I needed to be happy,” he told her with a nod.  “I maybe could have done a better job communicating after I left.”

It was Daphne who interjected this time, socking him hard in the arm.  Simon didn’t even try and stop her.

“You could have communicated with your family that you weren’t dead,” Daphne told him.  “We’ve already replaced you with Penelope.  We thought giving her your bedroom would be in bad taste though.”

“I don’t know that sorry is going to cut it.  I was sort of out of commission for a lot of it – it’s a long story,” he tried to explain.  “I am sorry though.  Very sorry and – I don’t want to know how I’m going to make it up to all of you.”

Apparently something that had been said triggered something in Penelope because her response was to start looking around, “ANTHONY?”  she practically screamed.

Anthony came darting at his name though based on the tone, he wasn’t sure that he wanted to be there.

“Colin sent the dress not some … scorned lover of Benedicts trying to kill me,” she said after a moment.

“Wait, what?”  Colin couldn’t help but ask.

“He burnt the dress and everything else in my wardrobe,” Penelope informed Colin.

Colin’s murderous side turned on Anthony.  If they hadn’t been in a church, there would have been blood.

“I was trying to protect her,”  Anthony said in his defense.

Penelope apparently caught onto the fact, Colin’s ability to keep cool with fleeting because she felt her hand tighten in his and it did calm him down just a little bit.

“It was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever owned,” she told him honestly, kindly.  “Can you please never have someone send a vague note with no signature again?”

“I promise,” he said after a long moment. “And I’ll buy you whatever your heart desires then keep it far, far away from my idiot brothers.”

Penelope smiled at that.

There was honestly so much to say and it was going to take time.

She definitely couldn’t talk as openly as she might wish with half the family still waiting on their opportunity to chat with the recently returned.

They exchanged an extended gaze that didn’t make giving them that space any easier.

An exaggerated, pained sound coming from Daphne was enough to pull them from their moment.   She was too early in her pregnancy to be making any sounds like that but all the excitement couldn’t possibly have been good for her.

“Go be there for your sister,” she said after a long moment.

“We’ll take more later?” Colin asked.

She nodded and that was all he needed to run off to assist the Duke and everyone else in getting Daphne’s needs met.

[miss-spooky-eyes]

OC Inspirations: Devinahl & Indy

I was (delightfully) tagged by @vespertine-legacy​ a while ago and I’ve hesitated to do this because I knew I was going to talk WAY too much - but it was weighing on me, so I decided to open up about the sources from which I stole, that is, drew inspiration for Devinahl and Indirae.

What three fictional characters is your OC a combination of?  

This doesn’t apply to every OC - not even mine - but its certainly true for a few : Many of our characters are, to an extent, inspired by characters we see in movies, books, games, TV shows, etc.

Does this apply to any of your OCs? Was it a conscious decision on your part or not? Is your OC a combination of three (or more) fictional characters?

If so - post some GIFs / pics and tell us about them! What does your OC draw from other characters?

Too much Devinahl & Indy chat after the cut.

DEVINAHL

The truth is that when I came to creating my Imperial Agent Devinahl, and in particular fleshing out her backstory in far, far too much detail, there were some sources that I went to extremely explicitly and deliberately. And chief among them was ...

1. Garak, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine

That’s right. Garak from Deep Space Nine. Plain, simple Garak. Outcast. Exile. Spy. Addict. Perennial liar. Patriot. Terrorist. Would-be genocider. Very good tailor.

(If you haven’t seen DS9, then you need to. It’s like Star Trek, but if it was actually good? And Garak is a big part of what elevates it.) 

Is it weird to compare my ancient video game Barbie/gorgeous sex bomb badass assassin and seductress to a cold-blooded space lizard who spends his days hemming pants? Possibly. But there are aspects of Garak’s character that, consciously and unconsciously, I made parts of Devinahl’s DNA. 

Firstly, Garak is a patriot. He loves Cardassia so much that despite seeing its flaws with absolute clarity, despite having been exiled and reviled by it, he would die without question to serve it (of course, he’d much rather make someone else die). And while seeing that as a weakness, despite knowing that the Cardassia he has committed to serving is disappearing before his eyes, there is still a part of him that believes that that commitment - that neverending sacrifice - is noble. The only noble part of him. That’s central to Devinahl’s character (which is, in turn, the way I made sense of the IA storyline). That while hating and despising the Sith, she would nevertheless believe in the Empire - not so much believe that it is good (at best, I think she sees it as order and stability where the Republic is corruption and chaos) as believe that her commitment to it is the only redeeming thing available to her.

Secondly, the way that Garak will take his needs, vulnerabilities, sincere emotions and package them in ways which gets him what he has to have to keep going, without ever giving up full control? Particularly in the extraordinary episode The Wire, in which a dying Garak tells Dr Bashir a series of lies about himself in order to elicit Bashir’s forgiveness, because he needs to be sincerely forgiven but without ever telling the truth?

Out of all the stories you told me, which ones were true and which ones weren’t? My dear doctor, they’re all true. Even the lies?

That is everything I tried to do with Dev, particularly in my fic about her and SCORPIO, particularly when it comes to her and Arcann. To know what she needs, as Garak needs absolution from Bashir, and tell just enough truth - put herself into just vulnerable enough a position - to get it, but never without reserving something, holding something back, whether it’s the knowledge that she can maneouvre herself out of SCORPIO’s clutches at any time or her real name? That’s a fucking survivor.

Thirdly, the relationship between Devinahl and Sifter (the spymaster who finds her as a traumatised child and grooms her for Intelligence) and specifically, the deathbed scene I wrote in Riddle was directly inspired by Garak’s relationship with Enabran Tain and that death scene. 

Yes, Devinahl was not Sifter’s actual daughter, but in every real sense she was formed by Sifter - and had Sifter had just one day with Dev like Tain had with Garak, Dev would have been lost. She would have turned herself into a carbon copy of Sifter, and she would have died. But the bittersweetness? The acknowledgement that the parental figure you love will never, not even now that they’re dying, love you as you want them to?

‘I should have killed your mother before you were born. You have always been a weakness I can't afford.’ ‘So you've told me. Many times. ...’ ‘Elim, remember that day…in the country. You must've been almost five.’ ‘How can I forget it? It was the only day.’

(The love and infinite sadness with which Andrew Robinson says that line, ‘It was the only day’? I’m crying just thinking about it. Anyway, it was everything I was thinking about and wanted to achieve in that scene.)

Oh ... and Devinahl’s ambiguous relationship with her implants? Well, Garak also has an implant in his head. And that’s all I’m saying about that.

2. Oryx from Oryx & Crake by Margaret Atwood

A novel character rather than from TV or movies, I hope that’s OK. And I know that there are ... very problematic elements to the way Atwood writes about Oryx, her family, her culture, her background. But she was one of the strongest elements that went into creating Devinahl and her backstory.

There were specific aspects of the story Oryx tells to Jimmie - particularly the parts about being told to scream and make a fuss if a man tries to take you away to a hotel room, and then being told not to make a fuss when a man tries to take you away to a hotel room - that became part of Dev’s story. But there was also a general attitude and way of looking at life I wanted to capture and incorporate. Oryx’s philosophy of value?

Of course (said Oryx), having a money value was no substitute for love. Every child should have love, every person should have it. . . . but love was undependable, it came and then it went, so it was good to have a money value, because then at least those who wanted to make a profit from you would make sure you were fed enough and not damaged too much. Also there were many who had neither love nor a money value, and having one of these things was better than having nothing.

I wanted to create a character who could look at life and suffering and abuse, even her own, and view it in that dispassionate way which horrifies someone from my middle-class Western background - and then I wanted to test that idea, to bring it up against SCORPIO and have SCORPIO try to break it down with torture, to see if it was just a cool facade/necessary illusion. I wimped out of really testing that belief, instead having Dev always know that she could get out of her situation/having her find a way to be loved without truly having to sacrifice her protective patterns ... but if I was a little braver and better, I’d have tested it to breaking point. How far can a character go who thinks like that while still remaining, on some level, compassionate/human/likeable?

3. Saffron (Firefly)

I could have gone Black Widow (definitely the inspiration for Dev’s aesthetic in terms of outfit etc). But the plain truth is that I thought more about Saffron while dreaming up Devinahl/writing her backstory than I did about Black Widow (yes, Widow turned her weakness into strength in a manipulative fashion all the time, but Garak did it better, and other than that she mainly looked after boys in a way that I did not want Dev to be limited to). 

Firefly, for a show that had - what - 13 episodes? - exercises far too much of a hold on my imagination and Saffron, especially in the first episode in which she appeared, was such a tremendous character. The way that she found exactly the triggers to turn each member of the crew inside out? (And if she’d had more time, it absolutely would have worked on Wash and Inara, too - it only didn’t because she had to hurry.) Dev has that. I can’t write it, because I suck, but she has it. 

Oh, and nobody will ever know Devinahl’s real name (apart from you, if you read my fic about her backstory) and she’d die before letting you know it. That’s straight from Saffron. As is, I suppose, the man who would accept her just as she is without needing to push to know her secrets, except it worked out a little better for Dev and Arcann than it did for Yolanda and Durran Haymer because Dev and Arcann will always have pegging.

INDIRAE

(This will be a lot shorter than the section on Devinahl, I promise.)

1. Steve Rogers, Captain America (and whatever else)

I have never been super into the MCU, but the key reference I used to find a way into Indy’s character, back when she was nothing more than a cool-looking Cathar Bounty Hunter, was Steve Rogers. (November can attest to this)

Indy’s physical size - she’s six foot if she’s an inch, and big - is key to her personality, but equally key is the idea that she would always experience that size as uncomfortable and slightly alien to her. Like Steve Rogers, she started out as the scrawny kid always getting beat up by everybody ... And when she got her strength (with a hefty assist from the toxic waste run-off into what was her family’s only source of water) and suddenly got TALL and STRONG? She did not like bullies - which was what led her to help Coda out of a jam at the spacesport and started them on their road.

(If there’s a better way to play the BH storyline than as a stone-cold mercenary with an utterly unwilling heart of gold ... then I don’t know about it.)

2. Xena, Xena Warrior Princess

I’ll be completely fucking straight with anybody about this (so to speak): I love Xena, I had an obsession with it as a teenager I’m still unpacking, and the show tends to feed into my characters in an ... odd way.

Indy is physically imposing like Xena, is the main thing; and her dynamic with Coda owes a lot to Xena’s with Gabrielle (although Coda is as big and tough as Indy, she is the fast talker/smooth operator to Indy’s laconic strongman). I wanted Indy to dominate action scenes the way that Xena does, be that kind of a force of nature; and watch her struggle to find ways to channel that charisma, to need Coda’s help to understand how to do it.

3. Dottie Henson, A League of Their Own

OK, first of all, I do not want to hear any kind of mockery. This is, unironically, one of my favourite films of all time.

Again, we come back to the core theme of a character struggling with her own greatness/potential. That’s what is the most fascinating through-line of A League of Their Own: Dottie, this unbelievable baseball player/physical presence (yes, she’s very tall, just like Indy) who is so terrified to admit that she wants anything more than her smalltown life and dreadful husband, even while the evidence of her talent and passion for the game is burning up these ... fields? Diamonds? I don’t know baseball apart from this film.

Indy certainly hides behind not wanting to be a bounty hunter. She doesn’t believe in any Mandalorian nonsense about romanticising what is an unglamorous job. She’s just doing it for credits and afterwards, once she’s secured her family’s future, she’s totally going to go home and settle down in some acceptable, domestic way. Being on the Mantis��with Coda, it’s absolutely just a means to an end. She doesn’t want to be there, she doesn’t care about it, it’s not who she is, she doesn’t need it. This life, the adventure, the freedom, the fighting for survival, it’s certainly not what gets inside her and what lights her up, no, not at all. 

Oh, and Dottie is also a reluctant leader. She doesn’t see why her talent should put her in the position of telling other people what to do - but then, on the other hand, she sees so clearly what they need to be doing, and when she says to do it, they listen. She doesn’t want to carry this team, but they’re only a team so long as she carries them.

(Don’t worry, Coda’s not going to let her lie to herself for too long.)

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #281

“is there a method to your madness, is it all about pride? ‘cuz everyone i know, they’ve got a demon inside.”

Has anyone ever told you that you looked like a celebrity? No, just a video game character and an animated movie girl when I had black hair. What color is the pillowcase(s) on your bed? Brown. Do you have a favorite day of the week? Tuesday because it’s reset day in WoW and as a mount farmer, that means I get to try my raids for the week again to continue to be denied. :’) Have you ever been in an art show? An art show, I don’t think so. I’ve had two or three things in an art museum, though. Would you consider yourself to be well-exposed to life or sheltered? I’m pretty split down the middle, I’d say. I’ve seen far more emotional pain than I think most young adults have, but at the same time, I’ve very under-exposed to adult experiences. How high is your pain tolerance? It depends on the type of pain. I can particularly say I do NOT handle stomach pains well, though. Have you ever played the game Halo? Nah, those weren’t my type. Have you ever had to learn lines for a play/skit/movie? Only songs sung together for plays in elementary school. Never solo. Do you like your nose? … Sure? Kissing someone with facial hair, do you mind? I don’t care. Would you ever like to be a stunt person? I’m fucking dumb, I read this and thought “you mean little people?” until I read the last person’s answer lmaooo. Anyway, no. I’m not ballsy enough for that shit. Are you a pyromaniac? I find fire pretty, but it still can scare me if I’m too close to it. Are you one of those people who listen to songs on repeat? 110%, it’s literally what I’m doing now lmao. Can any of your friends sing very well? SARA. Would you ever enter any kind of pageant? No, no, no, no. I really don’t support pageants of any type I can think of, beauty in particular. What a way to scream “HEY THEY’RE BETTER THAN YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!”, again, especially in beauty pageants. That fucks people up. What a way to start things like self-loathing, eating disorders, body dysphoria, etc. Do you have piano fingers? Mom has always told me that, “like Grammy.” Have you ever slept on a beach? YIKES, no. I ain’t fuckin’ with the tides going in and out or just a massive wave. I’d also feel WAY too vulnerable. Would you like to be taller? I’m cool with my current height. Are you a fan of piercings on the opposite sex? I just like piercings in general. Have you ever been attacked by an animal? No, besides play getting too rough. Is there a movie that makes you cry every single time you watch it? It’s easy to do that lol. The Notebook in particular will 100% make me tear up. What's your opinion on Johnny Depp? He’s an incredibly talented actor that I find very attractive, but I don’t know him as a person. Can you speak in different accents? Just British and southern. Who was the last person you mocked/mimicked? My nephew, playfully of course. If you write, isn't writer's block the most horrible thing? THE ABSOLUTE WORST. What size shirt do you normally wear? Ugggghhh generally 2XL, I think. It can be one size smaller or one size larger depending on the shirt. Has anyone ever aimed a gun at you? Yikes, no. Have you ever written a song? Just poems. Do you believe there is life on other planets? It’s possible, but I don’t particularly lean a certain way, I think. The universe is just… infinite, you know? But also the circumstances that life rose within Earth were so remarkably perfect to support it that I don’t entirely know if it’s been duplicated elsewhere. When was the last time you fell? Around two weeks ago? I have extremely low blood pressure naturally but also amplified by medications’ side effects, and I got out of bed too fast when I woke up. Hurt my knees pretty bad and barely missed my head hitting the couch. Do you have any sort of debt? I do NOT want to think about this. Is there a specific time period that interests you? The era of dinosaurs of course, as well as the Renaissance, just to name a couple. Do any of your friends own an expensive car? *shrugs* Have you ever been on a train? No. Have you ever been in a parade? No. Are you, or anyone you know, an atheist? I know plenty. Have you ever sent a celebrity fan mail? No. Have you ever been in a musical? No. Is there a friend's family that makes you feel like you're family too? Yeah, Sara’s. Even though I’ve only been with them not that long of a time, they’re wonderful and made me feel so welcome. Do you ever have a fear of getting close to new people? Boy, do I!!!!! It’s funny though, because at the same time, I want to be close with people; I want to rush to the point I have a close friend. It’s weird. What is the worst things about work? N/A And the best? N/A Do you like to sleep in? Not really, honestly. I feel groggy and lazier than I naturally am lmao. Do you like to be an early bird? Well I’m in my best mood in the morning, but I don’t like waking up early. However, I’ve been planning a morning routine to adopt once we move that involves waking up at like 7 or so, so we’ll see how much I enjoy mornings then. But oh boy do I have a habit of saying I’ll do something and then not doing it, so… What is something you notice you just don't watch? History stuff and usually action. Last thing that bothered you even if just a little bit? Something Miss Tobey said to me a few days ago. Last thing that seemed a blessing from above? I don’t believe in supernatural “blessings,” but I’ll bite. The thing that made me happiest recently was uhhhh… I actually don’t know. Nothing that REALLY felt “blessing-ish.” Do you usually drink diet or regular soda? Regular; I can’t do diet. It tends to taste horrible but more importantly the artificial sweetener gives me a wicked headache. Are you on a diet? Not a diet, no. I’m more so just trying to make it a habit to simply eat better and not snack. Someone you highly respect who is not in your family? Sara’s dad. Did you say 'goodnight' to anyone last night? I don’t think I did. Does anyone ever comment on the appearance of your handwriting? People tend to point out it’s really nice. Have you looked at anyone's Facebook profile lately? Whose? Nah. Did you have a cake for your last birthday? What kind? Yeah, red velvet. Can you recall the first horror film you ever watched? How old were you? I actually don’t think I can. Maybe Paranormal Activity? Or The Blair Witch Project? When’s the last time that you mailed a letter or a package to someone, and who was it to? Sara’s bday gift I think. The last book that you checked out from the library? I haven’t done that in years. What was your pet’s last vet visit concerning? Roman got neutered, and the only time I took Venus to the vet was when I first got her and she refused food for almost a year. Changed the tactic of warming the mouse up and she was more than happy to snag it. Which animals do you tend to go check out first at the pet store? The reptiles, because they’re closest and also my favorite section. Last medication or item that you picked out from the drugstore? Nicole picked up a bunch of my prescriptions that needed refilling. Do you usually have a big list or a small list when you go to the grocery store? I don’t do the shopping here, so it’s not my choice. How much was the last check you deposited? How about the last amount that you took out? I have no clue. Have you ever been admitted into the emergency room? For what? Being suicidal and then a suicide attempt. Have you ever been arrested before? Ridden in the back of a police car? No to the first, but yes to the second because that’s just how you’re transported from the ER to the psych hospital here. Have you ever been a victim of a house fire? Thank God no. When did you graduate high school? 2014. How much gas can fit in your gas tank? N/A Does your vehicle break down a lot? N/A What’s the longest you’ve ever had to wait before being seated at a sit-down restaurant? I want to say at LEAST 45 minutes once. Can’t remember why it was so busy, though. Have you ever had a cavity before? How about a root canal? A tooth pulled? Braces? I’ve had cavities and braces, but thank Christ no root canals, and I’ve never had to have a tooth pulled by the dentist, either. Which art forms do you appreciate the most? Man, you can’t ask this to someone who enjoys art so deeply. Like I really don’t know what I enjoy *most*. Music can give me chills, poetry can be so rich and, well, poetic, and traditional artwork strikes awe and makes you wonder how they do it. I just adore art. What is your favorite zoo animal that you would like to set free? To start, I have very mixed feelings about zoos, but I guess I am *mostly* in favor of humane, adequately providing captivity to a certain degree as this allows for conservation of especially endangered species, and zoos also make it easier to study and understand the silent voices of those we share the earth with. As well, they offer a safe environment to expose the fearful to all sorts of animals, and I feel it is very, very important for humans as the alpha species to care for and understand (as best our language barriers allow) our wonderful neighbors. That being said, I definitely believe that a lot of zoos under-provide for their animals, and this is horribly heartbreaking so that I absolutely disagree with their “right” to own and display animals, but for this specific question, I am going to use my state’s zoo as the standard here. Ashboro, imo is pretty damn great and generous to their animals (you should see the miles of land the elephants, bison, antelope, and rhinos have!), but the exhibit that comes to mind first when mentioning animals I’d like to set free iiiis… you know, I don’t know. I was going to say the polar bears since it can get STUPID hot here in the summer and their abode doesn’t have a great amount of ice that survives the sun, but at the same time I’d be very wary about returning a polar bear home for… obvious reasons. I say “I don’t know” because I’m not gonna pretend to know what ample space is for so many different kinds of animals. Damn, now I really wanna go there. Wow this was a long answer to a p simple question lmao. Favorite kind of fish? I don’t have a distinctly “favorite” fish, really. I don’t know enough of ‘em, but I can say I really like clownfish and angelfish. What kinds of museum artifacts fascinate you? Whew, as someone who took Art History just last year in school, ancient art pieces of all sorts! It is so, so fascinating, watching the evolution of art and to see how the urge to just create extends so, so far back into history. Have you ever gone to court before? For a disability case, yes. Also to convince a judge that I didn’t need to stay in a mental hospital for I think the original plan was around six months. What is the last song that you danced to? Ha ha I watching Hotel Transylvania with my niece and nephew and did the macarena with ‘em. What’s your favorite alcoholic drink? Margaritas or sangrias. Is there anyone that you’ve visited in jail? No. Are you more likely to fly in an airplane, or pick people up/drop them off at the airport? Historically, pick people up. Which sporting event would you be most likely to sit through? Dance competitions. Favorite flavor of ice cream? Cone or dish? Any sprinkles? My favorite Basic Bitch flavor is vanilla, just with chocolate syrup. Cone or dish just depends on what I’m feelin’, really. I hate sprinkles on anything; the texture throws me off. Have you ever cut your own hair? No. What do you eat most frequently? Uggghhhh some form of bread, probably. Are you a fan of video games? Yeah, but not as much as I used to be. What's your favorite color combination? Idk really, I like a lot. I will say though that orange and black excites me bc Halloween Vibes. Did you share a locker at school? No. What's one sport you could never play? Wrestling, ew. Have you ever sung karaoke? Oh god no. What is the oldest age you think should wear makeup? lmao BRO tell me this a joke How old were you when you went on your first date? Idr, sometime in the 7th grade, if group dates in middle school even count? lol Has anyone besides your family seen you naked? Yeah. If so, who? An ex and probably doctors at some point? Did your parents sign you up for anything you hated as a child? Sunday school, really. Have you purchased any cool objects from a foreign country? Considering I’ve never left the country, no. Are you on a laptop or a desktop computer right now? I only have a laptop. Do you remember anyone's number by heart? No, but I seriously need to memorize my mom’s. Do you live above, below, or on the Equator? Above. Do you know how to use Photoshop? I know how to do a decent number of things, but I’m definitely no expert. Where was your first job? I was a sales associate at GameStop. What's the best place you have ever eaten? Olive Garden is fucking fantastic, fite me about it. Do you own a hair straightener? No, I don’t need one. Are you barefoot right now? I always am at home unless it’s cold enough to need slippers. Are you subscribed to any magazine? Nah. Do you need AC right now? No; it’s actually pretty cold inside rn. Do more people call you by a nickname or your first name? It’s just a derivative of my first name; “Britt.” But I guess that classifies as a nickname. Name something you're proud of. Deciding to actually *try* to move on and making massive progress through it with That Person. Lately I’ve wondered if I truly have, though. My PTSD has been really bad of the late. Does any accent annoy you? I can’t say it “annoys” me, given you can’t really control your accent, but I do find it difficult to understand extremely southern accents, even as a local. Do you take vitamins? This just reminded me I’ve been out of my Vitamin D prescription for a while… oops. I’m supposed to take it for my legs. When was the last time you took aspirin or some other pain reliever? Yesterday, actually. I had a pretty bad headache. When was the last time you deeply regretted something? God, last night, I was remembering and accepting some things. Lemme just say I regret the everloving fuck out of the subject. What is something that you regularly wear that makes you stand out? Besides my lip ring, nothing in particular. Do you prefer small birthday parties or big ones? Small. I just don’t like big gatherings in general. What song are you listening to now? “Creatures X: To The Grave” by Motionless In White. What was the most traumatic experience of your life? The breakup w/ Jason. I’ve told the story enough in surveys and I don’t wanna recite it again. Who was your childhood best friend? Brianna. Are you still friends now? On Facebook, anyway, but we don’t talk. If not, why? We just drifted apart. What is one career you don't think you could do no matter how much it paid? Butcher. No fucking way. Have you ever edited Wikipedia? No. Have you ever edited any other wiki? Oh yeah; I’m an admin at the Silent Hill wiki and have invested hours upon hours upon hours helping out there for years. I’m also a content moderator at the Team Ico wiki, and I’ve also assisted a lot at the meerkats wiki because it is a fucking grammatical and formatting catastrophe. I think that’s it? Wait no, I did a few fixes on the Dragons of Atlantis wiki when it was still at the Kabam website, too. Is there a website [besides social networking] that you check almost daily? Yeah, a few. Do you get scared when you know some virus or sickness is being passed? I wouldn’t say I get scared, no. Just more aware and cautious. What’s the worst illness you’ve had? I’ve had a fucking wicked stomach virus before. (TMI alert?) I would not stop puking to the point it was agonizing to the point of tears because my muscles were so exhausted. Which do you prefer: M&M's, Skittles, or Reese's Pieces? BITCH can I choose all???? But in almost any chocolate-related case, I will choose a Reese’s product. Where on your body would you never get a tattoo? I don’t plan on getting a face tattoo, or at least a big one. Maybe something small and cute. OH YEAH EW absolutely never getting my sclera tattooed. That looks painful as a motherfucker. Honestly, have you ever stuck gum under a table or desk? No, that shit is disgusting. If your parents could read your thoughts, would you be in trouble? Not usually. Mom might be mad sometimes when I’m angry at her. Have you ever egged somebody's house or car? No, that’s childish as shit. My childhood house was egged once, so it pisses me off especially. Do you like licorice? UGH no, that shit is disgusting. Did anybody ever read bedtime stories to you when you were younger? My mom did. Which natural disaster do you find the most terrifying? Tornadoes or earthquakes. Do you have a favorite Johnny Depp movie? What is it? Alice in Wonderland. If I gave you a Yo-Yo right now, could you do any tricks? Nope.

[rosesisupposes]

Destined, part 25

aka Confessions, Vol. II

Character Tags: Virgil/Anixety ; Patton/Creativity ; Patton/Morality ; Logan/Logic ; Remy/Sleep ; Dante/Deceit

Chapter Pairings: Loceit

Chapter Warnings: Sympathetic Deceit, implied relationship that starts with an imbalance of power, character death (old age)

Reader Tags: @residentanchor @royally-anxious @bewarethegrammarpolice   @nightmarebeforevirgil @jemthebookworm @arandompasserby  @sparkly-rainbow-salt @astral-eclipse​

Summary: After centuries of acting as an oracle to heroes, quest-seekers, and villains alike, Virgil just wants to live as a normal, modern human. For someone who can see infinite probabilities, you’d think he’d know better.

<<Chapter 24 | Masterlist | Chapter 26>>

read on ao3

“Wait!”

Dozens of glowing forms turned to face Virgil, to the extent that they had faces. His yell was still echoing through the endless void.

“Before you decide on my judgment, can I get an answer a different question?”

Cassandra huffed, but Agnes nodded.

“When I sent the sorcerer back in his own timeline, it had an effect on my nonmagical friend Logan who was just... standing there. And it was definitely Sage magic, nothing of his own or even of the sorcerer’s,” Virgil said nervously. “Did I… did I hurt him, somehow?”

Agnes came to sit beside him on a chair that had appeared just for her purpose. “I noticed that, too, and did some digging before everyone else finally caught up and brought you here. It turns out, Sages aren’t actually that different from humans. Physiologically, in fact, we’re identical, when we manifest. We are just able to collapse the growing up process to the juncture of our choice when we emerge from the ether, and our consciousness remains past the limits of the body. Humans are technically just as immortal as we- their essence remains the same through lifetimes, even when their consciousness and body are lost. All that separates a human from a sorcerer from a Sage is the degree of connection to the ether. I have been exploring the ethereal world since I relinquished my last mortal form, and I have found the inert former consciousnesses of sprites, and fairies, and all manner of magical creatures here in the ether. A genetic lottery determines what form that essence will inhabit upon its descension, but as the years have passed, less and less connection to the magic of the ether remains.

“I believe your friend was affected by a dramatic change in the life of his essence. The sorcerer Dante’s choice had a profound effect on the being-that-was-Logan’s essence before Logan the human came into being. This is what I theorize, at the very least. Before we Elders confer, I’d like to test my theory. Join me in looking back at the moment of the sorcerer’s choice, won’t you?”

The older woman offered her hands. Virgil hesitated, wary of yet more Sage magic, but his need to have answers was stronger than his fear. Two pairs of glowing hands clasped and light surrounded them both as the two Sages looked back in time together.

Dante slips up the steps of the Tower silently, his feet shod in soft cloth to avoid detection. He uses the key he’s had since the second month of his apprenticeship to open Septimus’ workroom door.

It is pitch black in the foyer, but Dante has no need of witchfire to navigate. He knows this room better than any place in the world, better than the house of his parents, far better than that horrible ‘foster home’ with its unfeeling stones and isolated chambers that held trapped whispers of past screams.

He sneaks confidently past stacks of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves into the study. A very dim glow from the banked fireplace outlines the dark shadows of desks covered in books and scrolls, the chairs where Dante had spent so many hours studying, and Septimus’ ridiculous but brilliant reading contraption.

Dante’s heart twists the slightest bit as he notices the dim outline of Septimus’ tea mug precariously perched atop at least four books and three manuscripts. Such disarray only ever happens when Timus is diving particularly deep into his studies, usually because he is trying to quench some emotion or other. He’s always so timid and scared of letting any feeling affect him, but he still manages to be so kind and supportive of Dante himself.

Shaking his head to rid it of thoughts that could cloud his resolve, Dante proceeds to the back room. The light of the shield spell is more than bright enough to see by. Under the royal blue glow of Septimus’ magic lies the staff. The Staff of the Sprites, created in a grand ceremony honoring the four tribes’ old gods. All it waits for is to be brought to the old gods’ altars to lock in the power of the tribes and their magics. Dante has already made a plan to proceed directly to each one, and thanks to the Sage, he knows that once the wood of the staff is in union with the stone of the Fire Altar, he will have the power he craves. He will be able to eliminate the threat of humans from the magical world. He’s been judged as a threat, as a powder keg about to explode, for his whole life. Why shouldn’t he prove them right if he can save all magic folk while doing so?

About to collapse the shield spell, he pauses. He knows exactly how to do so from all those times Septimus released the spell so that Dante could study the staff for his research. The complex gesture is so familiar to him, he knows he could perform it in his sleep. But just now, the lack of Septimus’ presence makes him doubt.

If he goes through with this, he’ll never be allowed or able to see his mentor and friend again. Not that the man will even want to see him, he’ll be so disappointed. Why does that thought hurt so much? He is resolved, isn’t he? He’s going to save the magical world, damn the consequences. Why would this tiny thing, this friendship with a fellow sorcerer, overpower all his reasons to act?

He lifts his hands to begin the counterspell, but memories flood in. Septimus looking up from his desk, interrupted for the first time in hours, with his hair askew and glasses almost falling off his nose. Timus greeting him without a word, just a silently-handed mug of Dante’s favorite tea. Late-night laughter as Dante describes his fieldwork struggles, Septimus urging him to tell him everything, commiserating and teasing in turns. Blue-and-gold eyes catching his for the first time as the university’s most famous young scholar finds a frustrated teenager hiding in the library stacks, trying to cry off his latest rejection in private. A warm hand shaking his as suddenly, he has a master in his studies, only seven years old than himself. Septimus and his support throughout the political maze that had been his experience at the university. Septimus and his willingness to fight the headmaster and the faculty on Dante’s behalf. Septimus and his unconditional belief in Dante’s abilities and knowledge.

Dante can’t go through with this. It is no tiny thing, this friendship. It never has been. It has been everything. It is everything.

His hands fall to his sides, and he turns and leaves the backroom. Back through the study, through the dark library, back into the black corridor. He walks a path almost as familiar as the study through the tower to Septimus’ sleeping quarters, but hesitates at the door. It is so late - will Timus even want to see him? He knocks quietly, figuring he’ll leave when it fails to wake the scholarly sorcerer.

Footsteps sound. The door opens. Septimus is holding blue flames in his free hand as he blinks through hastily-donned glasses at his late-night visitor.

“Dante, you’re back! Are you… are you quite alright?” he asks softly.

Instead of answering, Dante realizes there are tears welling and spilling out of his eyes. “Timus, I am so sorry,” he chokes out of a suddenly-tight throat.

Septimus immediately pulls Dante into his quarters and closes the door behind him before hugging him tightly.

“You’re here, and you’re safe, Dant. You have nothing to apologize for.”

“I do though, I almost did it, I wanted to-”

“But you didn’t,” Timus interrupts him. His voice is thick. “You came back. You came here. That’s all that matters.”

“I don’t know how you can say that. You don’t even know what I’m talking about…” 

“Don’t I?” Two pairs of gold-streaked eyes meet in the scant light of the living room hearth. “The staff, and your research on it… you’re a brilliant scholar and sorcerer. You figured out the exact steps of the final ritual. Or, if I suspect correctly, the four final rituals.”

Dante gasps, pushing himself out of Septimus’ hold. “You… you knew? And you let me leave?”

“Dant, I didn’t let you do anything. You were always going to leave the university at some point. All I could do was hope you’d come back, and not just for the staff.”

“I… was going to. Just now. I was going to steal it and never been seen again until I had all the power it could offer,” Dante says, walking over, away from that painfully-understanding gaze, and staring out the chamber window. “I was going to leave this place forever. And everyone in it.”

“Why didn’t you?” Septimus asks softly. The scholar refuses to be hopeful. He refuses to let himself wish for the answer he wants to hear.

Dante quietly regards the sleeping university sprawled out below the window. It all looks so much more peaceful at night. Just smooth stone and dark tiles lit by moonlight. The night shows none of the daytime imperfections of prejudice and politics.  “I would have been abandoning you,” he replies at last. “After all we’ve been through together, and all you’ve done for me, that was what stopped me. I couldn’t bear the thought of knowing I’d betrayed your trust.”

The hard knot of emotions threatens to loosen itself in Septimus’ chest. “I… I am glad you decided to refrain. And I’m gladder still that you’re here now.”

Dante turns to look at him, raw and vulnerable. “Timus, can I sleep here, or in the study? I don’t think I can handle the dormitories tonight.”

“Of course, Dant. You’ll stay here, not the study. You’ll hurt yourself trying to sleep in those chairs.”

Septimus leads Dante to his bedchamber and gives him an extra nightshirt. They settle on their own separate sides of the sorcerer’s enormous bed.

As he’s about to drift to sleep, exhausted by the day, Dante hears Timus’ soft voice, and feels a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

“Dant, I’m so glad you came home.”

Later, Dant will blame sleepiness for his response. “It’s not the university, you know. This place has never been my home. No place has ever been home, not since I was a child. It’s you, Timus. With you, I���m always home.”

Later, Septimus and Dante will talk about this moment. Later, they’ll ask each other how they feel about their relationship that started as mentorship but became so much closer. Later, they’ll carefully discuss how they might navigate the implications of two sorcerers, two faculty members, and the appearance of impropriety if they were to pursue this further.

For now, though, Septimus pulls Dante into his arms and holds him tightly, and Dante wraps his arms around him in return. In the morning, neither will have let go.

Pearly light swirled in Virgil’s vision as he was dragged a bit forward in time, following the thread of new choices that began that night in the university tower all the way to its new conclusion.

Septimus dies an old, old man. He has become headmaster of the university, and the school has increased its reputation despite, or perhaps because of, the massive influx of socereri of any, all, or no genders. His essence, lighter and easier now than in any other possible timeline, fades from his physical form as it ascends into the ether. The Sages are able to watch the pale nimbus of blue light rise into the queue of essences waiting to reform, with a pale yellow light joining mere moments later. When the light-that-was-Septimus reaches its turn to manifest once more, the consciousness and memory have faded entirely, and the connection to the ether too. But the spark remains, that burning desire for knowledge. It will serve well in its next life.

Agnes released Virgil’s hands. Virgil felt his cheeks - they were damp. He had done that. He had made a positive difference, by giving Dante a true second chance. And he had saved Logan- someone whose essence became Logan - from the loss of one for whom he had cared deeply. That whirlwind of magic that had surrounded Logan after Dante’s disappearance, and the heat accompanying it, had been the lost years and potential returning to their essence.

He had saved Roman from harm, and he had helped create a more positive outcome in the past that spilled into the present. Even if the Sages decided on a death sentence, Virgil was content.

“If you are quite done coddling him, Agnes,” Cassandra barked out. “We have a punishment to decide on. As much as I would like to exclude you, we need all of us to deliberate, or we will all be just as guilty of breaking our Law as this one is.” She gestured to Virgil, glaring.

Agnes patted Virgil’s shoulder. “Take heart from your deeds, dearie. I’ll be fighting for you.” She smiled, and walked back to join the group. A haze surrounded them as they all faded into incorporeal forms, become a single entity with hundreds of minds that could debate as quickly as thought.

Virgil conjured a couch from the floor of the ether and settled in to wait. There was nothing more to do, now. Whatever the Sages decided for him would be final, and he wouldn’t get to hear a word of their argument until their decision was reached.

Hope for the future and worry for the outcome were equally useless.

author notes: The minute I realized I’d created the chance for Dante to have an  alternate timeline, I knew I had to give both my magic nerds a happy ending.

Anyway, just one chapter left to wrap this thing up. Are you ready?

[preserving-ferretbrain]

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

by Wardog

Monday, 23 July 2007Wardog opens the inevitable slew of Harry Potter by bitching and moaning.~Reviewing Harry Potter has got to be something of a pointless endeavour; I mean, if you like Harry Potter you'll read it anyway and if you don't, well, you probably have more self respect than I do just about now. The truth of the matter is, I don't like Harry Potter any more. Once, upon a time, when they were tautly-plotted, slim-line, above-average children's books I was very fond of them. But now that they're a sprawling, insufficiently edited Phenomenon I can't read them without frustration, and yet seem to be incapable of, you know, stopping. It's depressing, I think I need a twelve step programme. Given that the book has evolved beyond conventional reviewing (and that's not a good thing) here are some assorted observations.

Needless to say: spoilerific, including death spoilers

Plot & Pacing

As in the preceding two books, this is completely wrecked. Although it has a beginning and a reasonably climatic ending sequence (the Battle of Hogwarts, because that's all we ever really cared about anyway, wasn't it?) everything in between seems jerky and uneven. Essentially, it consists of long stretches of exposition interspersed with pockets of reasonably exciting action sequences, as Team Potter infiltrate the Ministry, Gringotts, Malfoy Manner and finally Hogwarts with varying degrees of success and pointfulness. If I was feeling generous, I would comment on the thematic nature of these incursions, and how resonant it is that everything that Harry was introduced to in the earlier books as a source of protection and authority is now corrupted. But I'm not feeling generous; Harry, Ron and Hermione spend an enormous quantity of the book sitting in a magically protected tent in the middle of nowhere, dithering between hallows and horcruxes and reading Rita Skeeter's biography of Albus Dumbledore.

Aside from one or two chapters at the beginning of the book, the Harry Potter books have always been told entirely from Harry Potter's point of view. The reader sees what Harry Potter sees, and hears what Harry Potter hears. This comes with attendant advantages and disadvantages. It brings the reader close to Harry and makes you root for him, it also rigidly controls the flow of information between author and reader. But it also means that for anything to happen, Harry has to be there. That's why he spends such a lot of time crawling around beneath his invisibility cloak listening in on plot dumps. Needless to say, the same holds true of the seventh book; the whole wizarding world is at war but we hear of it as Harry does, through daily prophet articles and occasional communications. There's no sense of scale or grandeur. It's unpleasant, yes, and oppressive but it packs only a limited emotional punch because the reader, like Harry, it stuck in a freaking tent.

Furthermore, a large portion of the book is told through letters, extracts from books, articles, memories, long autobiographical interludes from minor characters who suddenly turn out to be important. It's not precisely tedious but the preoccupation with the backplot, as ever, hinders the build to a dramatic climax. There's even an intermission, I kid you not, an intermission in the final showdown so Harry can peg it off to Dumbledore's office to re-live the last seven books from Snape's perspective. Perhaps I'm old fashioned but I don't think three chapters from the end is a good place for a massive exposition.

I'm not saying there aren't good bits, because there are. Neville kicks Dark Lord ass, for example, Dudley, of all people, has a moment of touching redemption and Luna remains just fabulous throughout. But the book seems to have no sense of itself as, well, a book. Books need to build to something, books need pace and structure, books need to be edited! But as Dan said, it's not a book, it's source material.

Style

Perhaps a demonstration is in order...

A quote from Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets:

"Hang on..." Harry muttered to Ron. "There's an empty chair at the staff table.... Where's Snape? "Maybe he's ill!" said Ron hopefully. "Maybe he's left," said Harry, 'because he missed out on the Defence Against the Dark Arts job again!" "Or he might have been sacked!" said Ron enthusiastically. "I mean, everyone hates him --" "Or maybe," said a very cold voice right behind them, "he's waiting to hear why you two didn't arrive on the school train." Harry spun around. There, his black robes rippling in a cold breeze, stood Severus Snape. He was a thin man with sallow skin, a hooked nose and greasy, shoulder-length black hair, and at this moment, he was smiling in a way that told Harry he and Ron were in very deep trouble.

Aww. Just typing that out made me nostalgic for happier times when I actually used to enjoy reading Harry Potter. A quote from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows...

And then with a little shudder the elf became quite still, and his eyes were nothing more than great, glassy orbs sprinkled with light from the stars they could not see.

I know they are very different books and the seventh book is infinitely "darker" (I'll come on to this later) in tone, setting and intent from the second, and I also know that there's something like seven real world years between them. But if this is evidence that JK has developed as a writer, I would like to point out that she appears to have developed a rambling, overwritten and overwrought style in place of the clean, sharp and witty one of the earlier books. You're meant to get better, the more you practice, right?

I could, perhaps, forgive the above but it's not an isolated incident. The stars are cold and unfeeling throughout; it's worse than being in a Hardy novel. And people don't just die, they die with Tragic Gravitas, their "eyes [staring] without seeing, the ghost of [their] last laugh still etched upon [their] face." A little less verbiage and a little less hysteria could have benefited this book immensely.

Character Death: the Massacre of the Minors

Characters die in Harry Potter, we have always known this. JK Rowling makes a big deal of it. It's how we know she is writing Serious Literature for children instead of a bunch of silly books about a teenage wizard. Reading the books, it's obvious that JK prides herself on her portrayal of death and its after-affects on the loved ones of the deceased.

The suddenness and completeness of death was with them like a presence - The Deathly Hallows.

This is at its best when it's understated, for example the lingering psychological consequences of the death of his parents on Harry which seeps through the pages of all the books. When it is all about Making A Point about JK's conception of herself as a writer, it is unsurprisingly less effective. I don't mind that Sirius died, I mind very much that he died to Show Us Something About The Nature of Death.

The Deathly Hallows has a higher death count that Hamlet, except that they're all relatively minor characters including, of all people, Colin Creevy, the poor pointless bastard. This says nothing to me about the harsh and futile nature of warfare, but it does scream "cheap shot." I hate it when authors kill off their emotionally engaging wallpaper characters just because they can and then expect the reader to applaud them for being dark and courageous. I felt exactly the same way when Joss Whedon gratuitously killed off Wash in Serenity. It was easy to kill Wash, he was a great character who everybody loved but he was also completely irrelevant in terms of the plot. His death was a quick way to wring an emotional reaction from the audience without causing the writer any inconvenience to do it.

People die by the bucketload in Deathly Hallows (including Harry's owl, for crying out loud), but none of the deaths are meaningful, with the possible exceptions of Fred, Remus and Snape. Most of them, including Lupin's, occur off camera and are thus stripped of any emotional resonance whatsoever. I can't help but suspect that JK must have loathed Remus, one of her most popular characters, by the end. He spends the whole book dashing in and out of focus being stripped of any plot and then, oh look, by the way he's dead. And Fred was essentially a

spare

Weasley, having, you know, an identical twin. It's the most cowardly half-hearted selection of deaths I think I've ever encountered.

Against this arbitrary massacre, the survival of all the main characters seems both ludicrous and damnably unfair. I'm not saying that I wanted Harry, Ron, Hermione and/or Ginny to die but if you're going to make a hoo-hah about how being a children's author is like being a cold, callous killer you probably ought to stick by your machete.

Which brings us nicely onto...

Dark, man, dark

I have one answer for this and it's oh pulease.

Having waited around politely for Harry to finish school, Lord Voldemort has finally got round to taking over the wizarding world. Quite a lot of nasty things happen in Deathly Hallows and there's a 1984ish air of secretive corruption and control but Harry Potter's darkness is about as sophisticated as a teenage goth's, and remains about as cosmetic. The nastiness is always a hazy, unconvincing background to the well nigh miraculous survival of all the main characters. Hermione, for example, gets captured by Bellatrix at Malfoy Manner and, although she horribly tortured in a scene that is genuinely chilling for about half a second, she shrugs off the experience with the ease de Sade's Justine. And Hogwarts may degenerate into a horrendous nightmare of cruciatus-enforced discipline but the students respond to this with a Blytonesque "down with those rotters" jolly hockey sticks glee that completely undermines any sense of oppression or abuse.

Similarly, although Lord Voldemort swoops around being threatening and imprisoning wandmakers, the Death Eaters themselves continue to be the most appallingly incompetent bunch of nazi-wanabees ever to grace a page. Not only do they routinely fail to capture or kill (and, occasionally, even recognise) the three teenage wizards who keep infiltrating their strongholds but they spend so much of the book being punished for ineptitude by their own master, it can almost be considered a form of self-harm. Regardless, it's hard to take them seriously as opposition.

It is mildly interesting to see Harry himself stooping to some of the unforgivable curses with barely a qualm. But this seems to be less a case of dark, man, dark than convenient, man, convenient.

Paging Lord Voldemort

This is an aside connected to the general incompetence of the Death Eaters. In the seventh book, the Dark Mark seems to function primarily as a communicator, which means the greatest dark wizard, like, ever spends the book being yanked about the country by his incompetent minions. There isn't a scene like this in the book, but there should be:

Random Wizard: ARGHRGHGH!!

Lord V: CRUCIO!

Random Wizard: ARGH! Mercy! Mercy! I'll tell you everything. Please ... stop the pain.

Dark Mark: [ring ring]

Lord V: I'm sorry, I have to take this... [talking into his elbow] Hello, yes, Lord Voldemort here ... I see ... are you absolutely certain of that? You thought you'd captured Potter fifty pages back. Oh. You've definitely got him this time. On my way.

Remus, Tonks and Sirius

Let's move on to character for a bit. I have always thought the Remus/Tonks relationship felt bolted on, and suspected it was a "ya boo sucks" to fanfic writers which made me even less sympathetic to its inadequate presentation. As Harry and Cho and Harry and Ginny have comprehensively revealed, human relationships, especially romantic ones, are not JK's strong point. But Remus/Tonks, partially because we only ever see it second and third hand, has always seemed particularly lacklustre. Harry, as a protagonist, does not preoccupy himself with the moods and inner workings of his companions; therefore in Half Blood Prince we were occasionally told Remus and/or Tonks looks sad or angry or otherwise distracted but then left to either draw our own conclusions or hear about the reasons long after the events that inspired it.

This unsatisfactory portrayal continues, unabated in Deathly Hallows. Off-camera, they get married, have angst, and Tonks becomes pregnant. Remus comes on-camera long enough to angst further and then retreats back into married bliss. Their child is born (Team Potter are sitting in their tent as usual at this point), Remus evinces delight and then he and Tonks are both killed at the Battle of Hogwarts. To say it's massively dissatisfying and frustrating is to do massively dissatisfying and frustrating things a great disservice.

Oh and as a footnote to this, it turns out that Sirius has girly pics on his bedroom walls. Just to make it absolutely clear that he's straight, completely straight, you got that slashers?

Dumbledore

You would have thought the one concrete advantage to Dumbledore being definitely dead would be avoiding the long Dumbledore Explains The Plot chapter at the end of the book. But, no. Death just isn't the handicap it used to be in the olden days and it happens anyway. Stab me. Stab me now.

Just as Order of the Phoenix tore away the veil of unquestioning admiration and idolisation Harry (and, presumably, the reader) felt for the Marauders in a conceptually interesting but badly executed way, Deathly Hallows does the same for Dumbledore. Harry is forced to confront the truth that his beloved mentor was a real person, a man with faults and weaknesses just like any other. I always found Dumbledore a little difficult to take but it's hard to tell how much that was deliberate on the part of the author (he's the worst headmaster in the world, for example - imagine you were in Slytherin house at the end of Philosopher's Stone, how would it feel to have the house trophy goiked out of your hands by some random world saving after the whole hall had already been decorated in your house colours, saving the world is all very noble and everything but it's hardly a legitimate extra curricular activity) and how far it was me reacting against his role as a plot device, explaining or withholding information on the most spurious personal pretexts to make life easier for his author.

But the fact of the matter is that Dumbledore is too imperfectly drawn in books one to six to be effectively interpreted as anything other than a two dimensional mentor figure. Therefore Harry's Dumbledore-related angst in the seventh book interferes with the smooth running of the plot and feels completely hollow because ultimately it doesn't matter. He's dead, for God's sake, dead. It's just too late in the day to care about Dumbledore's family skeletons and, since he was always presented to the reader as a kindly jelly-bean eating mentor figure, the additional "complexity" feels like an unconvincing and irrelevant ret-con.

That Bloody Epilogue

Of all the stuff that was leaked onto the internet before the book was officially released, the epilogue was the only one I investigated. I dismissed it as a clever parody. It was just too sickening. Draco's receding hairline had to be a joke. The legion of incestuously named rugrats, ha ha, very funny.

Oh wait.

No.

That was real.

It was really real.

Dear God.

Worst. Epilogue. Ever.

Conclusion

Sadly, everyone else I've spoken to (with the exception of Dan, obviously, but we share a brain) has been deeply enthusiastic about Potter. So perhaps I'm just a grumpy old git and didn't deserve to enjoy it.

It still sucks though.

Themes:

J.K. Rowling

,

Books

,

Young Adult / Children

~

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Arthur B

at 19:21 on 2007-07-23Don't worry, I am also grumpy about Potter. I briefly considered actually bothering to read

...and the Half-Blood Prince

in order to prepare for

Deathly Hallows

, since I'd stopped after

Order of the Phoenix

, but in the end I couldn't be bothered - especially after I got around to reading summaries of it, and reading patches of it in Borders.

Thoughts:

- Speaking of cheap shots, doesn't Voldemort randomly kill the Sorting Hat for no good reason?

- And doesn't Voldemort essentially die because of a totally newbie mistake? Which Harry carefully explains to him before Voldemort goes ahead and screws up anyway? Doesn't Harry basically loophole his way to the win?

- Aren't

these people

overreacting a little?

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Wardog

at 20:42 on 2007-07-23Oh I totally forgot about the random death of the Sorting Hat! And, yes, Harry Potter wins by being a PC - he is the Joe Williams of children's fantasy.

That is a slightly over-reaction, yes...but people are not sane when it comes to HP.

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Mystiquefire

at 18:36 on 2007-08-11Trust me you are not the only one who thought this book sucked.

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Wardog

at 21:38 on 2007-08-11I think I'm so bitter because I was once very into Harry Potter. And I think I've become incapable of recognising its strengths any more. I mean what I've come to think of the puzzle-box aspect of the books (plots within plots) is probably better done than I give it credit for being. For example, according to the friends I have who still like Harry Potter, if you go back, you can genuinely trace a hint of the "true" Dumbledore throughout all the books. Sadly I genuinely can't be bothered.

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empink

at 12:12 on 2007-08-24

Sadly, everyone else I've spoken to (with the exception of Dan, obviously, but we share a brain) has been deeply enthusiastic about Potter. So perhaps I'm just a grumpy old git and didn't deserve to enjoy it.

No, you are not. My hate for DH grows with time's passing, actually, and though I'm well out of my tween years, I'm not yet a grumpy old git or anything approaching it ;).

Well, I might just be plain grumpy, but that book was enough to make me so, even when I just expected more possibly crappy source material for fanfic, fanart and so on. While it hasn't seemed to have as great an effect on fannish output in my little corner of fandom (mostly because of extenuating wankumstances), what little effect it *has* had has produced fic and art I'm still avoiding. Not because the fans I keep track of are not talented in their own way, but because I still can't bear to read things that are compliant with Deathly Hallows, cracktastic though they may be. Instead of making me chortle at the weirdness of fandom, the cracky ships that have sprung up just make me see more red. More...more epilogue. *shudders*

The whole book was just so *bad*, in places where it wouldn't have taken more than a little judicious effort to be the opposite. The few good bits it had just weren't enough to hold back the tide of useless jokes, stupidities, non-characterizations and daft deaths. It therefore feels hugely ironic that DH is the only HP book I have a copy of to this date (well, a paper copy).

Then again, I doubt I could reread the earlier books now without rolling my eyes and sighing knowing what is ahead for Harry. Incapable of recognising the series' strengths looks about where I'm standing now.

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Wardog

at 10:54 on 2007-08-27Many thanks for the comment - one of the problems with DH in terms of fandom, perhaps, is that it closes off more avenues than it opens, if that makes sense. Especially in terms of the Epilogue of Death because everyone is permanently dating the person they were doing at school. I wouldn't say no to a bit of twisted Dumbledore/Grindelward m'self but I can't see it eclipsing the amusing if pointless popularity of Scorpius/Albus-Severus (just *shudder*). Sadly, I have copies of all the books and although I tried to re-read them a few months ago to prepare for DH I couldn't actually get beyond 3. Sigh.

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M Harris

at 11:19 on 2007-10-04One of the most irrating things in book seven was Voldemort's lack of a plot or any sort of meaningful action. I spent the duration of the book waiting for him to kidnap people Harry was emotionally attached to and torturing/killing them until Harry came to him. We are continuously told of how unusually smart and clever and intelligent (and handsome)Tom Riddle was. So it is completely out of character to have him become inept. But of course Lord Voldemort being strategic and cunning would mean that Harry would have to form some sort of plan, and as he is clearly incapible of that I guess JKR had to stick with him sitting in a tent for a very long amount of time while Voldemort killed time by killing minor characters.

Another thing that really angered me was JKR writing that Snape based his entire life on the fact that he was in love with some girl when he was fifteen. It made his character lose any sort of depth he had gained through the other books. The dialogue between AD and SS of "After all this time?" "Always." made me want to kill people.

The halfnaked!pictures in Sirius' room could have ONLY been put there as a "fuck you, I'm writing the book" from JKR to the slashers. I have no idea why she felt so threatened that she needed to close that particular opportunity for straying from 'everyone is straight and get married to people they met when they were eleven and have large amounts of children named after dead relatives' Deathly Hallows.

(Hahahaha, Dumbledore/Grindelwald is canon, because she can't write another book to insert girl!porn in to say otherwise.)

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Wardog

at 12:40 on 2007-10-04Indeed, Voldemort's ineptitude is particularly annoying in book full of things that are particularly annoying. I remember those halycon days when Voldemort was actually rather scary... the drinking unicorn blood business really traumatised me. To be fair, the whole seven book arc is so unwieldy I'm not sure I could easily come up with a way for Voldemort to have been effective by book 7 without completely hindering Harry's ability to take him out. I think it actually comes to the contradiction that lies at the heart of most children's books (and for that matter a lot of detective stories): why is that the group of feisty kids able to take out fully grown villain when conventional law authorities have failed, or why is this cocaine-saturated amateur able to catch the criminals who have been defying the finest minds at Scotland Yard. Most texts go some way towards smoothing over these inconsistencies (i.e. the Secret Seven always end up alerting the police when it comes to the crunch, Sherlock Holmes is a specialist in a proto-forensic techinque that - although nonesense in the modern day - is unknown to the authorities) but JKR manages to have the worst of all possible worlds: hugely powerful wizard we should all be scared of who has taken over *the entire ministry of magic* versus one short-sighted kid with an expelliarmus.

And, yes, you're right - the whole Lily business makes Snape much less complex and interesting than he used to be.... although I almost hovered on the verge of finding it just a little bit sweet. I was desperate for emotional connection by that time in the seven hundred page monster.

Dumbledore/Grindelward? Ouch.

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Melissa G.

at 15:07 on 2009-12-08So, I've been in a "reading sporks of Harry Potter" mood which led me back to many of the articles here, and I just wanted to point something out about Colin Creevey's death, and maybe someone else has said it already, but...it is not actually possible for him to have been there to die.

It's said that he snuck back from the Hog's Head into Hogwarts to join the battle. The only problem is: he can't have been at the Hog's Head in the first place. He wouldn't have been at Hogwarts that year - being Muggleborn, he would been arrested and sent to concentration camp(?) - so he couldn't have been evacuated from Hogwarts to the Hog's Head to sneak back. And he couldn't have gotten into the Hog's Head from the outside because Hogsmeade has a curfew curse thing that would go off if anyone was walking around the streets late at night. Perhaps he Apparated into the Hog's Head? But why? How would he have even known the battle was going on then?

I know it seems obsessive, but it's just that it was such a cheap shot, and it isn't even possible given the rules she set up. Arg.

[themyskira]

The 18th Letter: A Love Story - Part 1

I’ve been meaning to talk about this one for a while and, re-reading it, it’s even more awful than I remember.  Practically its only saving grace was that it was cut down from the originally proposed 96-page hardcover graphic novel to a 66-page three-parter that languished in the anthology comic Legends of the DC Universe, where it went almost completely ignored by mainstream continuity.

Christopher Priest has written acclaimed cape comics for both Marvel and DC, including what’s often cited as the definitive Black Panther run. Unfortunately, I only know him through his work on Wonder Woman, which, I think it’s safe to say... isn’t his best.

Writing about his experiences as an occasional WW fill-in writer, Priest describes the frustrations of having to treat lightly with the character and not rock the boat. Wonder Woman is, of course, a major corporate property, and it seems at the time (in the mid-to-late nineties) DC was particularly anxious to protect that. Says Priest, “I was absolutely forbidden from making Diana interesting”. (I take some issue with that, but okay.)

So The 18th Letter arose out of a desire to do something with Wonder Woman that had never been done before. A story that was “edgy and controversial” and had something to say about the character. A story that was “relevant to the political and social climate at the turn of the century” -- and one that “could only happen to Wonder Woman”.

Which is how we ended up with this utterly execrable story about a man who uses mass slaughter to blackmail Wonder Woman into fucking him.

Priest got one thing right: you ain’t gonna see any writer trying to pull this shit on Superman.

Needless to say, there are some heavy trigger warnings for what follows. This story is rife with abusive and coercive behaviour, attempted date rape, victim blaming, slut shaming, normalising of abuse and general shitty treatment of women.

Prolog

We open on scenes of a city being pounded by missiles and civilians dying horrifically while Wondy struggles against the bombardment.  In the accompanying narration boxes, an unseen character pervs after Diana.

She was too late. Much too late.

(Here we pause dramatically on what is meant to be Diana straining with the effort of catching a downed helicopter before it crashes, but instead appears to be a porno tracing worthy of Greg Land.)

Her name was Diana. And I adored her. Which was why I sent for her— in the most compelling way I could think of.

The most compelling way he could think of was a missile that killed dozens of civilians. Because this is a love story.

Diana’s surrounded by human desperation and she’s struggling to save them all. The people cry out to her in broken English, and a bearded man confronts her angrily: “Help us!! I demand it, American hero—!!” Diana protests that she’s trying and the man responds by slapping her in the face and screaming that she’s a liar.

…it’s hard not to read this as a cynical, simplistic commentary on American foreign relations. “We do our best to help them and they spit in our face and accuse us imperialism! We just can’t win!! Like, I know you’re dying and stuff, but do you have to be so angry about it? Can’t you see you’re making Wonder Woman sad?”

Okay, maybe I’m reading too much into it. It’s possible Priest is just trying in a hamfisted way to establish that Diana wants to save everyone and it pains her that she can’t, setting up a clear reason for to seriously consider the gross “proposal” she’s about to receive.

Voiceover again:

She was the soul of an unborn child incarnated within a body of clay and endowed with special gifts from the gods themselves. I was a homeless spirit cursed to wander the earth. Reaching out for a moment of peace— and finding only— a living death.

Then a blonde in gold spandex and rocket boots attacks Diana with a shooty-energy-staff.

Sigh. This is Helena Kosmatos, aka Fury, and she deserves so much better than what Priest has planned for her.

Helena exists due to an accident of continuity. See, after Crisis on Infinite Earths rebooted DC’s continuity in 1986, the modern Fury — Lyta Trevor-Hall, best known for her role in Neil Gaiman’s Sandman — still existed, but her mother — the Golden Age Wonder Woman — didn’t any more. DC had to come up with a new parentage for her, so Helena Kosmatos was introduced as a World War II-era heroine who is an avatar of the goddess Tisiphone, one of the three Furies.

I don’t believe she’d ever interacted with Wondy before this story, and I actually think reintroducing her in the modern era as a Wonder Woman supporting character was a great idea… if only it hadn’t been handled so spectacularly badly.

Diana and Fury’s exchange is clunky and reads like an unproofed second draft: Diana asks Fury who she is and why she’s attacking, but Fury responds instead as though she’s been asked who sent her. The answer to that is nobody: “I just heard you were coming here — and thought it was high time we met.”

Then she drops the bombshell:

“I’m your sister. And I hate you for what you’ve done to me.”

Then she proceeds to pound Diana into the ground while deriding her legendary powers. “Somebody told you you were unique. Somebody said you were her only child. You were lied to. And, ever since your first appearance, I’ve meant to correct things.”

(Check out Diana’s gravity-defying cape)

Diana breaks free and beats Fury into the pavement while protesting that her mother had no other daughters. Fury… it’s not clear how she does this, but apparently she uses her super-strength (and rocket boots?! fuck if I know.) to rapidly tunnel underneath the pavement and pop up behind Diana, then throws a tank at her and flies off.

those hips those thighs what the fuck am i looking at

(In retrospect, I don’t think they’re even rocket boots, I think it’s just shitty art.)

Diana is then approached by a soldier, who announces that she has been sent by “Michael Lysander, leader of the East Vladonian Resistance” — in other words, the man responsible for all the bloodshed. Her message: Come see my master and he will stop the war. Diana replies that she will see him only after he declares a ceasefire. The soldier says she will relay the message and, oh, by the way, Lysander “prefers to be called by his Epigoni birth name— Alcmaeon.”

The name causes Diana to make this face:

...yeeeeeeup, that’s what alarm and perhaps some puzzlement looks like, alrighty.

Voiceover again:

My agent saw it in her eyes. Alarm— and perhaps some puzzlement. It was a name she’d heard before. And, I’m sure she must have wondered… why a dead man wanted to see her.

Interlude: Parados

The Justice League discuss Diana’s decision to involve herself in the conflict in Vladonia.  The JLA’s charter prohibits taking sides in international disputes, but Diana’s mission in Man’s World is to bring peace, and in this instance, J’onn worries that these two mandates might come into direct conflict.  This is actually an interesting idea, and it’s a shame that Priest didn’t try to explore it in more depth instead of going full Indecent Proposal on Diana.

Interlude: First Episode

Three editing fuckups in one, with a title boxes that is

incorrect (it should read “First Episode”; the interlude is over),

uses the wrong lettering style (it’s inconsistent with all the other title boxes, which use a distinctive font and border), and

in the wrong place (it's at the bottom of the Interlude page, whereas it should be at the start of the following page).

Back to the voiceover.

Which was how I knew she would come. Immediately after I ordered the cease-fire. I could hardly breathe. After all, I’d waited a lifetime…

fuuuuuuuuck offfffffff.

Writing elsewhere about this story, Priest has described Alcmaeon as — direct quote — “Tom Cruise. He is the most arrestingly, unexpectedly charming and disarming person to ever appear in a DC comic … a guy most any woman on the planet would fall immediately in love with”.

So naturally he looks like Doctor Psycho’s younger brother.

Also, when Diana meets him, he’s cleaning a gross shit-covered toilet. Because he might be a supreme dictator, but he’s also a manly man of the people, I guess? His explanation is that he’s short on staff at the moment and, well… and…

um.

HE DOESN’T KNOW IF AMAZONS NEED TO SHIT

WHAT THE ALMIGHTY EVERLOVING FUCK CHRISTOPHER PRIEST

WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU

WHAT--

YOU--

FUCK--

Alcmaeon invites Diana to dine with him — after his female lieutenants help her to “freshen up”, of course, because dinner with a sleazy predator just wouldn’t be complete without a change of costume into an outfit that he has specifically picked out.

If she stayed in there more than thirty seconds, I knew I could begin to build trust between us. And trust was all we needed. I’m sure she looked for cameras that weren’t there. Advanced science to trap her in my castle. Not yet realising I didn’t want to trap her— I wanted to win her.

mate, you’ve used the threat of further civilian deaths to lure her into your creepy castle and now you’re manipulating her into donning a hand-picked outfit and sitting down to dinner with you; I think we’ve already established you don’t give two fucks about consent.

Here’s Diana “freshened up”, by way:

Diana isn’t amused, either: “Children are dying, and you’ve got me playing games with some lunatic claiming to be my sister.” And again we run into some bad continuity. Diana has no reason to connect Fury with Alcmaeon, and in fact Fury explicitly said she wasn’t working for anybody. Considering this story reportedly took Priest almost three years to write, this is some very sloppy work.

Alcmaeon: Ah. I see you’ve met Fury. Diana: Fury? I’ve heard that name… she was a heroine… Alcmaeon: Yes. During the Second World War. Now she’s a little, well, loopy— and obsessed with me.

noooope nope nope nope nooooo thank you.

Things the world does not need more of:

Waifishly beautiful heroines driven mad by the inability of their female minds to handle ~terrible power~

Hysterical women antagonists acting craaaazy because of a maaaaan

Pretentious-ass writer bros sabotaging powerful heroines to prop up their Deep and Complex date-rapist warlord villain

Alcmaeon says that he has brought Diana here to fulfil a prophecy — the 18th Letter — and then dives into his backstory, and we get a half-page of prose summarising the story of Alcmaeon from Greek mythology. Here’s the potted version:

Alcmaeon’s mother conspired to kill his father by sending him into a fatal battle.

Alcmaeon killed his mother to avenge his father’s murder, and was hounded by the Furies for his crime of matricide.

He’s basically Orestes but less interesting.

Anyway, then some other stuff happened and he wound up being killed, it’s really not important to this story.

Diana’s getting fairly shitty with Alcmaeon now, particularly as she’s noticed that there’s a forcefield surrounding the palace, which he claims is defensive, but also conveniently prevents her from leaving. Not creepy at all.

And now we’ve come to the Indecent Proposal part of the story.

Alcmaeon bullshits long and hard about how this is his ancient homeland by right, and he’s fighting a war of liberation, and there’s going to be a lot more large-scale civilian death and suffering before it’s done, and there’s nothing that the UN or the US or even the JLA can do about it— but it juuuuuuust so happens…

“I’ll give it all up — recall my forces, end the bloodshed — stop the war — in exchange for one night with you.”

THE END WHAT A SATISFYING CONCLUSION I’M SURE WE CAN ALL AGREE THIS WAS QUITE THE ah fuck there’s more.

Alcmaeon is shocked!! shocked!! that Diana would even think that he’s trying to coerce her into sex against her will! Nonono, he’s just trying to coerce her into hanging out with him against her will, in the hope that she will realise the fundamental truth that they are meant to be together now and forever! Noooothing predatory about that!

And again, I remind you that this bloke is supposed to be the most sexy and charming and arresting man in the DC universe.

As Diana leaves to (ugh) contemplate his bullshit offer, Fury appears in the door and goads him.

Fury: Crash and burn, Alcmaeon. Alcmaeon: No… not yet, anyway. Her mission in life is to teach the virtues of her people. She wants to teach me. Fury: So do I, Alcmaeon. So do I.

And we end on a final voiceover from Alcmaeon:

She was too late. Much too late. Which was what I had in mind when I started that war. For the express purpose of winning her— in the most compelling way I could think of.

YEP. THAT’S RIGHT. This worthless shitheel started a massive civil conflict, killing innocent civilians and destroying countless lives, for the express purpose of coercing Wonder Woman into banging him.

[duhragonball]

[FIC] Luffa: The Legendary Super Saiyan (62/?)

Disclaimer: This story features characters and concepts based on Dragon Ball, which is a trademark of Bird Studio/Shueisha and Toei Animation.   This is an unauthorized work, and no profit is being made on this work by me. This story is copyright of me. Download if you like, but please don’t archive it without my permission. Don’t be shy.

Continuity Note: About 1000 years before the events of Dragon Ball Z.

Previous chapters conveniently available here.

[24 November 236 Before Age.  Extraliga.]

The Shockmaster’s punch hit home, and Luffa staggered backward from the force of the blow.  Yet she stayed on her feet.  The yellow aura that flashed around her body thrummed as strong and as steady as ever.  A second later, she reached up with one hand to touch her jaw, then she stood up straight again and chuckled.

"Good one," she said.  "But you’re still holding back.  You still don’t want to kill me."

"I WON’T KILL, LUFFA," he insisted.

"That’s right, you won’t sink to my level.  You’ll just get one of your soldiers to finish me off, right?"

She looked around at the Wistian soldiers who had gathered around the two of them.  "How about it?!" she shouted.  "Anyone here want to try to kill me?  Your leader’s too scared to do it himself."

The Shockmaster made an irritated growl, and readied another punch.  Luffa turned her back on him.

"Fair warning!" she called to the soldiers.  "The last guy who tried to finish me off?  He’s dead.  So maybe you ought to run away while you still can.  Or stay and fight, if you have the courage.  Shocky needs all the help he can get!"

The Shockmaster threw a second punch, but this time Luffa dodged it.  She grabbed his forearm, and swung him forward, using his own momentum to send him flying into his own soldiers.

"Come on!" she screamed.  "You’re warriors, aren’t you?! You came here for a fight didn’t you?!  Well I sure as hell did!"

She raised her left hand and swung her arm towards the sky, pointing two fingers directly above her head.

"Vengeance Canon," she muttered.

A streak of crimson light erupted from her fingertips.  A moment later, a point of light appeared in the sky, indicating a ship she had destroyed.

The soldiers were dumbfounded.  Most of them either stared at her or looked fearfully to the Shockmaster.  A few of them moved in to help him up, but he was on his feet before they could touch him.

"Vengeance Cannon," Luffa said as she fired again.  Another point of light appeared in the sky.

The Shockmaster charged towards her, and she leaped into the air, avoiding him with ease and landing squarely on the top of his glittering silver helmet.

"Vengeance Cannon!" Luffa shouted, firing into the sky once again.    "You were right, Shocky.  You won’t kill me, not as long as you keep trying to toy with me the way you did last time!  If you don’t start taking this seriously, you won’t have any ships left!"

He roared and grabbed for her ankles, but she had already jumped down from his head and now stood directly behind him.  When he turned to find her, she delivered an elbow to his voluminous gut.

"Vengeance Cannon!" she screeched, firing at the sky again.  "Do something about it!"

At last, he stopped chasing her and stood his ground, summoning more of his power.  Luffa watched him with perverse fascination.

"That’s it!" she screamed.  "More!"

*******

In orbit, the Shockmaster's invasion fleet had broken formation and moved to a higher orbit to avoid Luffa's attacks.  Most of the crews had no idea who was firing upon them.  The working theory up to this point had been that the Extraligans had some new weapon in their arsenal, something powerful enough to shoot down enemy ships from the surface, but small enough and mobile enough to avoid return fire.  

But a number of mercenaries in the fleet had the ability to sense ki powers, and when Luffa's was suddenly revealed, they reported it to their leaders.

"It can't be her," insisted Cosia, the robotic captain of the mercenary ship Infinite Recursion.  "She couldn't have fired upon us and concealed her ki at the same time.   It doesn't compute!"

"I don't know how she did it," replied Ty-83.  The humanoid man was one of the few organic beings in the universe to earn Cosia's trust.   "But I've sensed Saiyan power before.  Only this is beyond any Saiyan I've ever encountered.  It has to be the Super Saiyan.  Captain, if she gets past the Shockmaster, there'll be nothing to stop her from destroying us next."

"The Shockmaster is our client," Cosia said flatly.  "If we abandon him now, we will forfeit our payment, to say nothing of the damage to our professional reputation."

"We can't spend our pay if we're dead, Captain," Ty-83 said.  

Cosia considered this for a moment, calculating whether her nickel-rhenium frame could survive the destruction of her ship.  

"Helm, take us to the opposite side of the planet from the battle," she commanded.  "And tell the engine room to be ready to take us out of the system.  For now, we will wait and see how the Shockmaster handles this."

*******

The Shockmaster tried to hit her again, and this time she hit back, their fists colliding at the midpoint between them.  The impact made a sound like thunder, and the air around them seemed to ripple from the sheer magnitude of the forces at play.

Many of the soldiers watching decided to take Luffa’s advice and ran.  Many more were too stunned to move, and they became engrossed by the battle that unfolded before them.

The Shockmaster continued to throw punches, only for Luffa to block with punches of her own.  This repeated itself over and over, faster and faster, and then the two of them vanished from sight as they began to move across the ground and through the air, much faster than any Wistian eye could follow.

It was at this point that Tigon regained consciousness, and slowly began to re-establish control of the camp.

"All personnel, full retreat," she said weakly, still rubbing her face from where Luffa had batted her away with her tail.  "We expected something like this.  Find a radio and raise III Corps.  Tell them to rendezvous with us at coordinates... 67J."

The troops were shaken, but they still followed orders.  She could sense the Shockmaster’s power had been withdrawn from her body, and she wondered whether that meant he was being careful... or desperate.

*******

"Do you want to know where you screwed up?" Luffa asked.

The Shockmaster refused to dignify that with a response.  Luffa had tried to bait him with idle chatter in their last fight.  That she was doing it again only proved she had learned nothing from her past defeat.

And yet, he found her new tactics bewildering.  Before, she had focused on gathering large stores of ki and unleashing it in big attacks.  Between these onslaughts, she would dodge and use diversions while she gathered her strength to try again.  None of this had worked against him, but he understood the basic approach.

This time, she was fighting at an even keel.  She would dodge and block, and sometimes strike, but she wasn’t building up to anything.    It was as if she was trying to wear him out, except that was impossible.  His powers had sustained him for millennia.  In their last encounter, she had been the one to collapse from exhaustion.  He had expected her to try to end this quickly, before her body succumbed to the strain.

It all felt like a trap somehow, but he didn’t seriously expect her to explain that to him.

"You’re incredibly strong," she said.  "But you don’t understand war.  You’re just used to dominating enemies with your power.  It’s made you sloppy.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m speaking from personal experience.  I know how tempting it can be to fall back on brute force."

He charged his left hand with power until it glowed bright violet, and fired a burst of energy at Luffa’s head.  She ducked, batting the blast away with her right forearm, and moved inside his reach to hit him in the abdomen.

"I’m not saying you’re a lousy fighter," she added, as though the last exchange had never happened.  "You beat me, after all.  But you couldn’t finish the job.  Just like you keep blowing this invasion."

"YOU THINK MY REFUSAL TO KILL MAKES ME WEAK?!" he shouted, unable to resist her taunting any longer.  "YOU’RE WRONG!  I’M MORE THAN A MERE FOOTSOLDIER, LUFFA.  I’M THE HOPE OF THE WIST, THE SAVIOR OF CIVILIZATION."

He put his hands together and launched a torrent of lighting from his arms.  The bolts of energy surrounded Luffa like a cage, and for a moment, she seemed to be stymied.

Then she made a loud, sharp cry, and the entire energy structure dissipated in a field of yellow flame.

"Yeah, that’s what I’m talking about.  You think your powers solve everything, so you forget about tactics and focus on big picture stuff.  Only, the big picture doesn’t tell you how I got here so quickly.  Be honest, you thought I wouldn’t show up here for another three weeks."

She was right.  All of his intelligence reports put Luffa on a remote planet in the center of the galaxy.  It was less than half the distance to Extraliga than his fleet had traveled, but only his fleet had known the date of the invasion.  So how did she anticipate his arrival three weeks in advance?

"I got here two days ago," Luffa said with a grin.  I’ve been picking off your ships as soon as they entered orbit."

"YOU'RE LYING!" was all the Shockmaster could say.

"You should know better," Luffa scolded.  "After all, you’re the guy who gave me the idea.  You used a wormhole to launch the first invasion, so I used my own wormhole to come here and stop you."

"HOW DID YOU FIND A WORMHOLE FROM EXTRALIGA TO YOUR OWN WORLD?" the Shockmaster demanded.

"I didn’t," Luffa said with a shrug.  "I asked the faeries who lived in yours.  They built one for me.  You remember Queen Phenylal, right?  You forced her to let you move your troops through her domain.  Well I liberated them, so they owed me a favor.  I asked if they could construct a new wormhole for me, and they were happy to do it."

She held up her thumb and forefinger, spacing them less than half an inch apart.  "It’s not a spacious as the one they live in.  No more than eight feet across, but that’s plenty of room for me to make the trip."

"BUT I SHOULD HAVE SENSED YOUR PRESENCE ON THIS PLANET WHEN YOU ARRIVED!" the Shockmaster protested.

"I’ve been masking my energy," Luffa said.  "Not just from you, but from anyone else who might leak my plans before I was ready.   I can’t conceal all the power I’m putting out right now, but I can dial down my ki just low enough that I can hide it from you.  Turns out that’s still enough power to take potshots at your fleet, and to run around the planet so your goons can’t tell where it came from."

She dodged a kick and laughed.  "You people probably thought the Extraligans had some mobile surface-to-orbit cannon!  Only, how could something so powerful move so fast?!"

"HOW?" the Shockmaster snarled.  "YOU DIDN'T HAVE THAT ABILITY--"

"Before? No," Luffa said.  "I’ve been learning some new tricks, Shockmaster.  I knew you’d come back here, and while you’ve been rebuilding your army and polishing that stupid helmet of yours, I’ve been preparing to stop you."

"THEN WHY DID YOU WAIT UNTIL NOW TO CONFRONT ME?" the Shockmaster demanded.  "YOU COULD HAVE DESTROYED MY SHIP BEFORE I REACHED THE SURFACE."

She laughed again.  "You’re a fool," she said.  "What sort of a coward do you take me for?!  There’s no way in hell I’d be satisfied with a hollow victory like that!  Besides, you’d probably survive and fly the rest of the way to the surface on your own somehow.  You seem like the kind of guy who can pull off a stunt like that.

"No.  I want to beat you one-on-one.  No distractions, no soldiers running around, no meddling spouses to get in my way.  That’s why the Extraligan army hasn’t attacked you so far.  I told them to steer clear of you, and to focus on fighting your other forces."

She was almost giddy as she boasted of her plan.  "You probably thought you were overwhelming our defenses, but this whole time we’ve been herding you like livestock, she said with a twisted relish in her voice.  "And now that I’ve got you all to myself, out here in the middle of nowhere..."

"YOU’LL LOSE, LUFFA.  YOU CAN’T MAINTAIN THIS POWER LEVEL FOR MUCH LONGER.  I DON’T NEED TO DEFEAT YOU, I JUST HAVE TO OUTLAST YOU."

"Is that so?" Luffa said with a smirk.

Without warning, she screamed, and the aura surrounding her expanded in size.  The Shockmaster backed off, thinking she was preparing to unleash some offensive move, but it never came.  She was simply raising her power... raising it beyond what he had thought possible.

"NO..." he said, unable to hide his amazement.  "IT’S IMPOSSIBLE..."

When Luffa finally stopped, she looked at him and snorted.  "'Impossible?'," she scoffed.  "You know, I hear that word all the time.  I’m going to make you choke on it."

She rushed towards him and grabbed his hands, locking fingers with him.  He tried to shove her away, only to find that he couldn’t.  And she was still pushing forward, her teeth clenched as she grunted and huffed with effort.

And then he started to feel himself move backward through the air, in spite of his efforts to resist.

"Well?  How about it, Shockmaster?!" she shouted.  "Is this possible?!  What about this?!"

Before he could summon the additional power to stop her, she swing him by his hands around in a circle, and flung him to the ground  like a sack of laundry.  The impact of his body left a crater, and as he lay face up in the dirt, he could see her looming over him, cackling with delight.

*******

As Luffa battled the Shockmaster over the night sky of Extraliga, her only concern was that maybe things were going a little too well.

She had been looking forward to this moment for months, and she had been a little nervous at first, but now that she had finally gotten the Shockmaster to take her seriously, she was starting to enjoy herself.  Occasionally, she turned her ki senses to the rest of the planet, in search of any sign that things had gone wrong.  So far, she had found none.

She had divided the conflict into three theaters.  On the Orbital Theater, she had softened up the Shockmaster’s fleet prior to attacking him.  Soon, a Federation fleet would be arriving to finish them off.  When that happened, they could land ground troops to assist the Extraligan military on the Surface Theater, and mop up the Shockmaster’s ground troops, though Luffa suspected they might not need the reinforcements after all.

The third theater was simply herself versus the Shockmaster in isolation.  If anything went wrong, she supposed she could try to defeat him quickly, but she didn’t want it to come to that.  He was still a formidable opponent, and while she was much stronger now, she didn’t want to make the mistake of underestimating him again.  Also, the Wistian troops were counting on him to lead them to victory.  By keeping him occupied, Luffa could effectively paralyze the Shockmaster’s army.  They would fight defensively while they waited for him to win, and that attitude would give the initiative to her allies.

Besides, it was more fun this way.  The Shockmaster managed to land a hard right to her jaw while she was sensing the troop movements, but she managed to avoid his follow-up attack.  She had a worthy opponent, and a planet-wide set-piece battle going on at the same time.  It was the nearest thing to heaven that she could imagine.

But the Shockmaster still wasn’t using his maximum strength.  She wanted to push him to his limits before beating him, both to satisfy her pride and to ensure his attention was focused on her instead of his objectives.  Fortunately, she knew just the thing to get his goat.

"Oh, by the way," she said casually.  "You can forget about the Recollector."

"WHAT DO YOU KNOW ABOUT THAT?!" the Shockmaster growled.

"Oh, plenty," she said.  "Those rebels on your home planet?  I’ve been in touch with them.    They did some research, and found out why you wanted to take this planet so badly.  They contacted me because they knew I was the only one who could stop you."

"YOU WON’T STOP ME!"

"Yeah?  Well, how about you beat me, and you can drag me over to the Recollector and show me just how stupid I was to get in your way!  Or did you come here for something else?"

"YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT!  A SAIYAN COULDN’T COMPREHEND THE POWER OF THE RECOLLECTOR--"

She ducked a right hook and slipped around to his back, and kicked him with both feet. Before he could hit the ground, he stopped in midair and turned to face her, only to be bombarded with ki blasts.    He weathered this storm, and started firing back.

Luffa noted that he was ramping up his power.  She had struck a nerve. 

She wanted to strike it again.

"Here’s what I 'comprehend'," she said.  "Your worthless planet used to be a big deal a long time ago, because they had some power source called the Ur-Ember.  Right?  Only it was destroyed, along with Wist’s moon.  After that, Wist just had to make due with whatever they had left."

She flew through the crossfire, slipping between the Shockmaster’s ki blasts until she reached his person.  Then she drove her elbow in to his abdomen.  He tried to grab her, but he was too slow, and she flew straight up and kicked the chin of his helmet as she avoided his hands.

"Only you couldn’t accept that, could you?" she continued.  "You wanted to go back to the way things used to be.  Eventually, you found out that Extraliga used to be a Wistian colony.  I guess that explains why there’s a wormhole between them."

He managed to grab her by the shoulders and pin her arms to her sides, but she simply grinned at him and continued her story.

"The Recollector was some doohickey built by the last Sorcerer King of...of... well, I forget which dynasty it was.  I’m interested in history, but I'm not that interested.  It was supposed to be used for archaeology research.  Instead of digging up relics, you’d turn this thing on and pluck objects out of the distant past, back when they were still new.

"But the Recollector was abandoned on this planet.    Forgotten, along with the colony, until you rediscovered it.  You wanted to go find it and use it to pull the Ur-Ember out of the past, right at the moment Wist’s moon was destroyed.  Then you can take it back home with you and use it to jumpstart your little fantasy, right?  Well, you might have pulled all that off, if I hadn’t come along."

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?" the Shockmaster asked.  She heard a trace of panic in his voice, and chuckled.

"Who, me?" Luffa asked.  "I haven’t done anything.  The rebels on Wist found out about all this.  I just relayed the message to the Extraligan government.  Once they knew what you were after, it didn’t take them too long to track it down."

"YOU LITTLE FOOL!" he shouted.  "YOU THINK THEY CAN HIDE IT FROM ME?!"

"Oh, we aren’t going to hide it," Luffa said.    "We’re going to destroy it."

"NO!" the Shockmaster cried.  He tried to squeeze Luffa in his hands, but she just laughed.

"Yes," she said darkly.  She set her teeth and growled.  Gradually, she pushed back against the Shockmaster’s hands, until finally she force his arms away with a burst of golden light.

Seeing him stumble backward like this was a thing of beauty.  She dove after him and started punching him.  His helmet, his chest, his legs, they were all fair game.

"You don’t even know where the Recollector is, or you would have secured it when you had the chance.  No, you didn’t want to take any risks, so you tried to invade the planet with as little destruction and bloodshed as possible.  You were going to wait for the planet to be completely pacified, and then you’d start searching for it.  Well, it’s too late for that now."

"NO!" he screamed.  "YOU THINK THAT YOU’VE OUTMANEUVERED ME, BUT YOU’RE WRONG!  I’LL DEFEAT YOU, AND THEN I’LL--"

He tried to shove Luffa away with his ki, but she crossed her arms over her face and blunted the force of it.  Then she delivered a kick to the side of his head, and he went tumbling to the ground.

"You still don’t get it, do you?" Luffa shouted.  "You lost the moment you decided to spare my life, Shockmaster.  I’d be grateful for your mercy, except that you thought I’d slither under a rock and hide like a pathetic animal while you went on with your scheme."

She dropped down beside him and grabbed him by the collar of his sleeveless jacket.  "For you, this war is just a means to an end.   But me?  Hah!  Before I was a Super Saiyan, I was a mercenary, from a family of mercenaries.  I was bred for war.  I was steeped in war.  I killed my first hostile when I was three years old.  At seven, I was reading battlefield maps and tactical readouts.  I was teaching aliens how to fight when I was sixteen."

He began throwing punches, and she deflected each one with ease, backing away slowly to invite him to come forward.  "Unlike you, I know how to fight a war.  How to gather intelligence, how to deploy troops, how to manipulate my enemy, and how to utilize my allies."

She sidestepped him, and drove the point of her elbow into his ribs, staggering him.

"I wasn’t completely sure I could get strong enough to fight you like this," she admitted.  "And a good friend of mine told me I’m more sensible when I’m around other people.  You have to learn to be careful when you’re as strong as I am, you know?  It got me thinking about how to beat you.  Not just win this fight, but to utterly crush you.  That’s why I contacted the fairies to make me a wormhole.  That’s why I stayed in touch with the rebels on Wist.  That’s why I’ve been relying on the Extraligans to keep your goons out of my way.    And I’ve got my wife handling the Recollector."

"SHUT UP!" the Shockmaster shouted.

"It keeps me motivated, you know?" Luffa said.  "I always wanted to beat you, but now I’ve got to, because if you somehow make it past me, you’ll have a clear path to her.  Thinking about that, well, I think it helped me with my training."

He began to scream, and Luffa made a satisfied grunt.  She’d been pushing him, trying to break through his cool and calculating demeanor, and now her taunts and jibes had finally paid off.  She could sense his ki rising, and while she was impressed, it wasn’t quite the increase she had expected.   It didn’t bother her too much.  If this was his limit, she could still have a good match with him.  

And if he still had more power to call upon, well, she had plenty of time to wring it out of him.

NEXT: Recollection

[anon--h]

So what I am doing right now is essentially elaborate fanfiction. Season 2 of Supergirl was written extremely clumsily; it had a few great ideas that didn’t get explored enough and a few horrible ideas that got explored too much. The trailer and recent announcements that Mon-El will return really don't inspire much confidence and I am not even sure I will continue watching if things will proceed as poorly as I fear they will. 

We reached the point that I am convinced a fanfic writer can do better, and so a fanfic writer shall.

To further handicap myself, I won't retcon the established plans. Reign is still gonna show up, Maggie is still there but is getting even less screentime, Supercorp and Karolsen are still not happening, Kat gets to be in 4 episodes tops and Alex's dad is still out in the woods somewhere. Okay? Okay. Let's get started.

So let’s make like the Supergirl staff and put Mon-El first. Short version: no, Mon-El isn’t in this season. If it were up to me, we’d be done with his character the moment season 2 ended. His arc was done. He serves no further purpose other than distracting attention away from Kara. Any capable writer would at least give Kara time to mourn and/or develop before even hinting at bringing him back, otherwise what was the point? So, Mon-El is benched for at least 1 season. I’d bring him back for the season dealing with Kara’s clone (whenever that may be) because there he may actually add to the plot. If however we are contractually obliged to keep him in the CWniverse, I would have him recruited by the Legends of Tomorrow. This would be a chance for him to further explore what it means to be a hero, give him a chance to show us what he's like without Kara's infinite patience/support and actually place him in the position of the moral compass for a change. That could actually be fun. Show us what season 2 kept telling us and actually let him show that he is a hero now. Get Steel out, get Valor in. They basically have the same powerset anyway. Instead of history expert Nate, they now get alien expert Mon-El.

Now let’s discuss Kara’s arc; 5 words that were never spoken by the writing staff of season 2. Now Kara is understandably a little lost after the events of season 2. She's upset, she feels alone, she barely shows up to work at all. Of course, she insists she is fine, but she doesn't conceal her emotions very well. We get glimpses of her Scooby Gang visiting her, trying to cheer her up. We get Winn, Lyra and James visiting her, trying to take her mind off of things by explaining monopoly to Lyra. Lena calls her, very blatantly hinting at an invention that could easily make the frontpage of Catco magazine. She is genuinely surprised to be visisted by Snapper instead. Eliza visits, J'ohn visits, even Maggie and M'Gann visit, but no one really gets through to her. Finally, we get a very emotional couch scene with Alex, who tells Kara to grieve for as long as she needs. It’s not strange, no one thinks less of her for it, she has every right to take some time to heal.

But this is a superhero jam, so things needs to go down and we get the first appearance of Reign. She just crash-landed on earth and is lashing out, laying waste to an entire city. J'ohn tries to go at it alone with M'Gann, but it is swiftly made clear that they lack the firepower. Kara is called into action and when Alex explains that J'ohn is in danger, she leaps right out the window. Reign, being made by a Zor-El, ceases her violence against the martians when she sees Supergirl appear and recognizes her crest. The two begin their fight, while Reign demands to know why she was made. A question Kara can't answer. Mirroring Man of Steel, we see some large scale destruction going on. Kara saves who she can, but it only results in her further getting pummeled. Reign being one of the big bads this seasons beats the snot out of Kara, but because of a timely intervention of Alex, Kara manages to wound her enough to force a retreat, ending the first episode.

The second episode we find Kara in civilian clothes at the DEO. The news shows Supergirl fighting Reign and blaming her for yet another alien that attacks humanity to get to her. Kara tries to shrug it off, but is put on the same story by Snapper. "The Daxamites were looking for her specifically, this grey woman is after her as well. Grrrr endangering the public grrrrr." Kara tries to defend herself, but Snapper explains that objectively, we are 2-for-2 in hostile alien invasions seemingly caused by Supergirl. To make matters worse, Livewire has been spotted in National City again, and seems to be calling out Supergirl specifically to get under her skin. Livewire goads her, taunts her and seems to have gotten significantly more powerful. Finally, she goes for the cheap shots and mentions 'that cute sidekick that used to hang out with her.' and asks if he kicked the bucket so soon, laughing at his incompetence. Kara loses it and Winn depowers Livewire through science magic and James’s help. Even beaten to near death, Livewire continues taunting Supergirl, finally daring 'the girlscout' to kill her already. Kara seriously charges her eyes, and screams in anger, about to kill a person, but Alex talks her out of it. Livewire is put into DEO custody by a trembling Kara, who begins breaking shit in a rage the moment she is out of sight. She tries to explain her frustration, but breaks down crying and is hugged by Maggie and Alex in an attempt to calm down.

We end episode 2 with a red streak in space, getting closer to earth, zooming in on the US, zooming in further to National City, zooming in further and further until it reaches Kara's appartment and crashes down. 'Kara Zor-El of Earth. You have great rage within you. You have been chosen to join the Red Lantern Corpse."

That's right, this season will essentially be Supergirl's Venom arc. Different logistics, same core deal. This may not be the most original course of action, but I see some major benefits. We get to explore Kara, her emotions and relations to the other characters, it puts the agency back with her, opens up a realm of new story possibilities and space shit gives J’ohn something to do besides barking orders and fumbling his relation with M’Gann. Melissa Benoist is a good Supergirl and definitely not a bad actress. Giving her the chance to express more anger and extreme emotion in her character would make for a fun performance. Finally, it gives her a costume change (because come on, third season without a new outfit?). It's not a permanent change because duh, Venom arc. The ultimate enemy this season will be both Reign and Kara's own self-destructive rage/grief. She’ll return to her classic outfit for the finale, having learned to healthily deal with her anger. Of course, the Red Lantern lore needs to be changed a bit to make it fit, but that's nothing CW isn't used to. Chances of a CW Green Lantern are pretty low and no one else is using it, so let’s go nuts with it.

Kat Grant, during the first episodes of the second half of the season will be the one to talk some sense into Kara. “Supergirl is a symbol of hope, not this little ball of insecure rage she’s pretending to be now. I swear, it’s that red kryptonite episode of hers all over again, minus the sex-appeal”. “Of course she’s angry Kiera. Everyone gets angry. Ghandi got angry, but we don’t let that anger define us.”

So, Kara decides to try and take the ring off, but a part of the red lantern lore we’re not changing is that this is impossible without aid of a blue lantern. Still, Kara very consciously tries to keep her anger in check from here on out, but ends up killing a man by flipping out in rage near the end of the season. I suggest bringing back Maxwell Lord to close off that chapter and because my self-indulgent ass deserves something nice. By the end of the season Kara manages to take the ring off and defeat Reign in her classic outfit, as is the standard for Venom arcs. To take the ring off, she will need the help of temporary Blue Lantern Alex, James, M’Gann or Lena. All 4 of them inspire/experience great hope in one capacity or another. Green might be a better fit, but you know, story purposes.

When bringing peace to Kara, both red and blue rings get rejected by their owners and the season finale can commence. My inner supercorp shipper says Lena has to be the blue lantern. Bringing her in contact with Saint Walker would be a fun exploration of her relation with aliens, but I really want the series to continue exploring the relationship between the Danvers sisters. Speaking of which…..

Alex needs to close her daddy issues arc and she needs to close it fast. What started out as a fairly interesting subplot has lost all pace, agency and consistency. Homecoming was one of the most embarrassing episodes of season two and the sooner we’re done with the Jeremiah arc, the better. So here’s what’s gonna happen. Seeing Supergirl get reckless and more aggressive sends CADMUS into panic mode, because ‘omg, evil kryptonian waiting to happen’ and they task Jeremiah with one last job. He agrees, but demands to do it *his* way. Cut to the next scene/episode and dad Danvers surrenders himself to the DEO. Obviously, no one trusts him and J’ohn is determined to keep him under constant surveillance. Alex and Kara hear about it immediately and they try to talk about their grievances, but Jeremiah is shady af. He explains seeing Kara as a red lantern concerned him, but we’re still in the early parts of her arc at this point; she is convinced she got it under control and is stronger than ever. Meanwhile, he sees the dangers of a kryptonian going mad with rage. He tries to convince Alex to see it his way, but after his last stunt in season 2, she remains supportive of Kara. In CADMUS’s attempt to retrieve him and Jeremiah’s inevitable double cross, Jeremiah dies while taking down Hank Hanshaw. It A) makes his sacrifice worth something and B) rid us of Hank Hanshaw. I’m sorry but he doesn’t work as Cyborg Superman, getting rid of him is a kindness. Unfortunately, a sample of Kara’s DNA was delivered to Lilian Luthor for project Galatea, leading into the Power Girl arc in one of the following seasons. Important! Alex, Kara and Eliza get a chance to mourn. Give us a few scenes, a few establishing shots, showing that Jeremiah’s death is acknowledged by the characters. Show how Eliza reacts to the sudden closure of their tragic relationship. I know, duh, but I feel like it should be mentioned because as established; I don’t trust the Supergirl writers. Also, it is kind of a theme this season. Alex’s engagement and probable marriage to Maggie this season may have to be the B-plot for her. Considering Maggie is getting less screentime, this’ll give us some scenes where she can support her gf with her plot, while the two are fantasizing about and planning their wedding. A season-spanning plotline for Maggie would be fun, but is unlikely to occur and even less likely to be handled well. Going by the promo, I suggest turning the plot upside down and allow Maggie to cut her homophobic father out of her life entirely because she is a grown woman and doesn’t need that toxic influence in her life. If the SG writers think of that themselves, kudos. If she has to be the bigger person and forgive her homophobic relative just because he’s a relative, my eyes might pop out of my skull from rolling too much.

I am honestly not sure what game the writers are playing with Reign and Lena. It is actually the only plot for season 3 I am sincerely interested in seeing play out, along with the Sanvers scenes. Allegedly Lena and Reign are linked somehow and I sincerely hope we’re not getting a distant siblings/lena is half alien reveal. Because that’s stupid. And really dumb. And stupid. Instead, I suggest making her what Mon-El should have been; a reflection of Supergirl. Reign/Sam becomes what would have happened if Kara had not been raised by the Danvers and used her powers for selfish ends. She isn’t even looking to conquer. She just wants answers about her existence and live in the comfort she feels she deserves, but goes about her quest with no regard for human life or decency leaving a trail of destruction in her wake. Unintentionally however, she becomes entangled with Lena Luthor and the two become good friends. As Sam, she becomes Lena’s secretary, sadly dropping fan favorite Jess but furthering her parallels with Kara. Meanwhile Lena helps her find out about what she’s made for as bessie mates. Sam will try to physically destroy Lena’s enemy for the season and Lena will have to play moral compass. ‘I’ll kill everyone in this room.’ ‘Sam no.’ ‘Sam yes!’ This will cause some fun tension between Sam and Kara too, as they can only shoot each other nasty looks when Lena is in the room. Reign being a CW villain probably isn’t going to survive the season finale, which is a shame cause they could really use another recurring villain. Considering CW has been trying to paint Lena as a potential villain since the beginning of season 2 however, this is as good a time as any to do it. Supergirl won’t deal the killing blow to Reign but Lena, primed by Lilian, will blame her nonetheless. Bonuspoints if she discovers her identity in the process, reducing her friends list from 4 to 0 in one bad day.

So those are the main plotlines I’d lay out for Supergirl season 3, connected by a theme of dealing with grief. Kara learns that it’s okay to be angry in her grief but to not let it consume her. Alex mourns the death of their dad in a pretty healthy way, surrounded by friends and family, though perhaps feels a little guilty for being so glad with getting closure and her upcoming wedding. Lena deals with the death of Sam in an unhealthy manner, tries to push Kara away and might go down the path of an anti-hero next season.

I know this is just elaborate fanfiction. Of course I do, I said so at the beginning of this thing. But, I felt it necessary to make a point. Season 2 was an awkward, clumsily assembled mess and even folks with only a passing interest in storytelling could have done better. I am not excluding the possibility that the Supergirl writers/producers will surprise me next season, but if they continue the trends set by season 2, I will probably drop the show by episode 5.

I mean, I can always watch the Sanvers and Reign/Lena scenes on youtube later.

[secretshinigami]

just that much is nothing

Author: @acerbicapplecoffee For: @jeevas-exe Pairings/Characters: Amane Misa, Mello (mentioned), one weird OC Rating/Warnings: G Prompt: An AU where Misa is Mello’s younger sister, but when Mello leaves, she doesn’t know how to cope. Author’s notes: The title is honestly stolen from the English translation of bloodthirsty butchers’ “ソレダケ”, which I’ve been listening too much to recently; the epigraph is a jakugo from Zenrin-kushu. Also the whole text is a pure psychological drama of average quality, so beware! :D

One mind lost in the plum; The body, chanting, now utterly frozen — unaware.

Mama, I don’t understand, why don’t you answer, why are you saying nothing, he is your son – have you loved him at all? Don’t be silent, why are you silent; why haven’t you locked the door so he wouldn’t leave, why haven’t you held him back, why have you let him go; mama, why… why couldn’t you do at least something?..

When you hurriedly open up the window of a tiny flat on the fourth floor where you spend night by night, as your friend consented once, and peer into another person who has appeared so familiar somehow, and glare at his features with an anticipation of recognizing, but make a mistake every time – I do not know this person, his hair is shorter and height is much bigger than necessary, and he slouches, too: they do not even look alike, how could I confuse them? – then the uncountable mistakes turn into tears which must not be revealed but must be hidden after you bury your head in the pillow or cover your face behind the sleeve instead, and this is what you never are able to succeed in; when you tensely keep your eyes fixed on the lantern glow and the outlines of the stations which your evening train swiftly passes by and cannot find the person who might have, as if by magic, get to know that you are right here and look for you as desperately as you do look for him – but may it be simpler, without any magic: if only you could catch the very sight of him, at least from afar, under one of those lanterns, and understand clearly where should your steps be turned to – honestly, may it be any way, because the most important is to find and to retrieve, – then the images of the days bygone overshadow your eyes with the mist and force you to fall in an unrestrained and afflictive slumber; when you walk down the streets and feel that if you don’t quicken your step, even a hundred years are not enough for these searches, and who needs the old and ugly you then, and the flows of unknown faces and backs do not ever dry up, and the grey high-rises occlude over your head, and you begin to walk faster and faster, and the walking is becoming the running, and you are running to the aim only you are aware of, and running in an unknown direction, and running in attempts to catch him up, because he’s turned back, he’s turned back and noticed me, why is he running away, I’m his sister, he leaves me again, too fast, I can’t keep pace, then your strength is gone sooner or later, you hardly drag your thin legs and stumble and tear a sole, and fall down on the asphalt and skin your knee, and everybody looks back at your voice, absolutely everybody but the person you pursued so ineptly: he has already disappeared as if he has never showed up here; when you try to hear all the conversations around and to distinguish the voice of each person, because any voice may be the exact one you have been listening to the very childhood and the last words of which unceasingly respond with a scream in your ears, then it all turns out as you are doing something silly again, and therefore, in a minute or two, you refuse this idea in annoyance and anger: you have heard so much that your head is splitting – you have heard so much that have not heard anything at the same time; when you endlessly fly above the clouds, there is always one thing you suddenly recollect and the same second collapse on the ground; and when you look at the sun, it eventually burns out on your eyes as a mark of blindness.

Misa has been looking at the sun for as long as she could remember herself.

And the doors are slammed with a crash again, the house is crying something after her, the bag is hitting her back, a sole has scraped along the pavement, a turn, fingers are clenched into fists, she wants to screw up her eyes and shout, and it does not matter what will come after; she is so small, but the city is so big and has no bounds, is it the day, is it the night, I don’t want to stay here anymore, I’ve been trying so hard but still can’t find you, where are you?..

She was walking for a very long time, as if in a delirium, and did not notice herself walking anywhere: her hair had tousled and blouse had become crumpled, her legs were barely getting off the ground and almost stumbled against each other, she did not understand the road and did not understand that any other people except for her brother and herself still existed, because it did not matter and because she needed nobody of those other people, and all that time Misa dreamed that if she waited a little bit more, around one of the identical buildings’ corner a dear silhouette would finally appear, and Misa would not be mistaken, that would be her brother who had hoped to find her as much as she had, and they would reunite merrily, as if no more than an hour had passed since the moment of parting, and would come back home, and everything would be fine, even better than ever before, they both would burst out laughing, and the things occurred would never be remembered. However, before the one remembers, the one truly forgets at first and does not lie to themselves, – but Misa is lying.

Misa is lying, stop it, why are you saying such things, this is not the lie but the gilding actually, and it is not that important how she is lying – cute girl, shining eyes, embarrassed smile, tilt of her head, a slight one, preferably to the left, so fragile and vulnerable, are you really cold-hearted, won’t you help me just a little? – much more important is who all these words and thoughts and actions are meant for and what exactly do they conceal. Although Misa does not want to guess, she is indifferent about what is happening right now and if only she could stop thinking, she would shut her eyes tight, curl up and fall asleep noiselessly, but something is constantly holding her on this narrow border, something persistent and disturbing; the urge is to wave it away, and Misa would love to do so, but she is warned by the distant awareness: if she does not cling to this disturbing thought like to a saving thread, something terrible will happen, and she will not have to mourn for anybody after that – the one mourned for will be only her.

The truth might have become the deliverance, but dreams are always more precious than the truth, and the long-awaited figure appears for an instant once again and vanishes far in the alley, and Misa can see again, can feel there is nothing but a dead end any further, and brush aside the hesitation, and willfully, inch by inch, move forward.

After seven steps she falls on her hands, twitches in sharp pain, gasps in terror of the ragged wound and, numb in panic, looks out for brother among the doors, passages and signboards, but the light has faded out, eyes are veiled, so cold, she cannot move, cannot hear, cold pierces the bones, she is alone, wants to shed a tear and forgets to, she is horrified, she is being dragged into an abyss inexorably and there is nobody, there is nobody.

I’m calling for you, but you never answer; sometimes it even seems to me that you don’t want to talk to me at all. You are silent a lot, you hide something, I don’t understand why you have to keep any secrets from me, I’m your sister after all, we’ve always been together, when we were children we promised each other – do you remember? – I’m not hiding anything from you, you’re not hiding anything from me, and we share with each other. We’ve even made a pinky promise – “Finger cut-off, ten thousand fist-punchings, whoever lies has to swallow thousand needles…” Don’t you remember? Really… But it’s okay if you don’t remember, we can do it again, come on, don’t turn away, give me your hand…

What… What’s with your hand?.. You… Why are you looking at me like this?..

Windy.

Take one breath. Take another.

So calm and nice.

Something dirty, something unreal was seen, but has dissipated a long before. Maybe, a minute, or maybe, ten years ago. This is not important – it is so still here that even the seconds running cannot be heard.

That was not a dream, because she sensates such an unity with the world which can exist only during the soundless daydreams, and that means the actual dream is happening right now.

So calm and nice here, there is no need to leave. There is no path leading back anyway.

The wind rises.

Her chest is overflown with the presentiment of the infinite flight.

Realization – at the same instant she will open her eyes, and onwards the unshadowed space which never knew any worry, or malice, or hatred, will unfold.

There is no need to hurry.

She is opening her eyes and drowning into the clear azure sky.

Now you’re sitting quiet and listening to me. Don’t go after me, got it? I’m asking – you got it? And don’t look for me, there’s nothing you can do anyway. I’ve warned you for the first and the last time, remember that well. Don’t go after me.

You go – you are killed.

After Misa woke up, the first thing she consciously distinguished from the dream had turned out to be a black-brown wooden ceiling, and then – the same wooden walls on which the oily spots of dim light were quivering; the room was strangely small and rather resembled a box: the ceiling was overhanging too low, and it seemed that the walls were slowly and almost insensibly shifting to each other even closer and closer, a little bit more and it would be impossible to breath naturally; the windows whether were utterly missing or, boarded up tightly, were conflating into the half-light impalpably; exposed, Misa was lying on the greasy futon: blunt pain extended to her arm which appeared to be slovenly and awry bandaged, Misa did not dare to move it; while looking over the place, she tardily turned her head to the side and - with an odd combination of fear and relieving – realized that she was not the only one in the room.

A person was sitting nearby, on his knees, benumbed as a bronze monument, he did not turn back, did not change his posture and did not show by anything that he noticed Misa or, at least, realized her presence; he was rawboned and stooped at the same time, as though inside his body a barely visible confrontation between an enormous aspiration to hone his position to perfection and a weak-willed want to bend over and drop his forehead to tatami, he was so focused on himself that an impression was being created that he was not breathing, he was not alive at all, and through his stillness he seemed an inseparable part of the room: if he had gone, everything else would have disappeared and the unnatural, hypnotic energy of this piece of space, of this stuffy place absorbed into gloom, of this actual whirlpool inside which hundreds of mesmerized people disappear despite all the pleas to beware, would have dissipated. The seconds and minutes were passing, but person remained as motionless as before, and the staying in in uncertainty and the expecting for the worst were harassing Misa more and more, and eventually she chose rather to break the silence: the tension had reached such an extent that it had become impossible to bear it any longer.

“You… Who are you? Where are we? Is that you who brought me here?..”

Silence.

“Who are you?..”

“No name belongs to him.”

“Where am I?”

“No shelter is given to him.”

“What are you talking about?”

“He plucked a flower that grew on the roadside. He plucked the flower and admired its petals. So beautiful!”

“What do you want from me?..”

“He plucked the flower, hid it and admired its petals. He plucked the flower and killed it. Beauty is evanescent.”

“Killed it?..”

“He turned upset as he thought he would have been able to stop the inevitable. His hands were shaking and his knees had buckled. He was deceiving himself as he imagined he had been almighty and the only worthy to behold the perfection. But people’s minds are like the winds: the one weakened, the other one grew stronger. He beheld the perfection, and although he had lost it forever, he preferred to forget about his own weakness. He threw away a withered stem, locked the door to the room where he beheld and left after swore on his blood that he would regain that distant moment of bliss and would replace with it all the humble and empty years of his life only about to come.”

The person fell silent, and only his shoulders were shivering from the strain: as though he was lost in attempts to refrain something disgraceful that was desperately bursting out of his body, and was literally obsessed with those attempts which had not made sense any for a casual observer; through the person’s every word sadness and obsession were shown, and with every word pronounced that person appalled Misa, however not only that: perhaps, she did not realize it herself for the reason she was unable to disjoin his aloof speech into meanings and notions, Misa had never done suchlike things after all, but Misa’s soul was responding to that speech, as if reminding of something left far behind, intentionally thrown away, – and Misa would not concede of what exactly, even if she had known.

And the person kept speaking.

“He had to find a new flower, and therefore he left, and very soon he managed to. The flower blossomed among the grey stones and blinded the passers with its elegance. Nobody dared to touch the flower: their hands were filthy. But he plucked it in admiration. That flower was doomed to the same fate, and the next one, and another one. What had taken root in the ground is not able to relinquish it; the fragile elegance must not be soiled with touches. He did not understand and did not want to. The only thing he wanted was a moment of bliss.

He brought many flowers to the room. He lost count of broken stems which were thrown away without remorse. And he was inconsolable, aware of the truth that no flower would replace that miraculous wonder which was found in the remote past and was so unwisely lost. And he lost the urge to sleep, to eat and drink, although was not going to stop his searching. Eventually he had weakened. Now he cannot straighten his shoulders and cannot move without fear anymore. Now he barely managed to carry the flower to the room where he behold…”

Misa was not listening to the last words: she understood clearly, if right the next moment she got up from the futon and went for the fadedly illuminated exit which was seen in the opposite wall, the person simply would not be able to stop her, and in that case if the exit was locked, it would be the easiest thing in the world even for her to knock the person over on the floor and take away the keys; Misa did not like the second option: she was not sure of that completely, even though she wanted to be, her legs were trampled and her hand was bandaged, and from the very beginning Misa never thought of such an outcome, she was pursuing the only purpose – to find her brother, and that seemed an easy task, because he constantly stayed somewhere nearby, disappearing and appearing, like a relentless and vicious wraith, however she had neither enough agility nor acumen to predict where and when would she catch sight of her brother again and to comprehend why did he need to mislead her into the depths of endless Tokyo alleys mockingly, – she refused any thinking, and denied them all with a persistence inconceivable for her past self, and just recklessly followed the path that the blond boy wearing a battered sweater on the bare skin was pointing at.

Misa was obliged to get up, come over the person, open the door and escape – obliged to her brother, to his concern, almost alike a father’s one, to their shared memories, to the years spent side by side, to the entire childhood of hers, and, what is the most important, to that absolutely unthinkable – if only it would not have occurred in reality – moment when she realized with fright that her brother, with years passing, estranged from their little world and eventually abandoned it altogether: he was throwing off bonds knowingly and almost imperceptibly to glance, and even Misa barely had time to detect the last, critical stage of his renunciation; she clung to the subtle threads, which were unifying her brother and herself yet, for as long as it was possible, but the threads were torn from the softest touches, and Misa had achieved nothing: another thing, a distinctly extraneous and therefore repellent one, had grown inwards her brother’s life too firmly, it had replaced all his wishes and had become the only need, it was beckoning and compelling to sacrifice for itself; and Misa felt that the place, which before belonged to her alone, was occupied by that unknown thing to which she could not think of any other description except for that it was reflecting in her brother’s eyes since then and was covering his face with an ashen shadow, and she was only able to watch dazedly – until the very end.

That was the reason why Misa followed her brother when he left home.

That was the reason why Misa had to defeat the person who killed flowers.

That was the reason why Misa, despite trembling knees, despite gnawing pain in her hand and deep fear verging upon disgust, is getting up, imitating a firm tread and reaching after the door, the person is close, the person is shrieking, her leg is grabbed, and the unusual strength appears somehow, she is pushing away the person’s hand with a fury, the door is not locked, how it is not locked, is there freedom really, is she lucky at last, oh god, from behind, from the floor, a strangled wheeze is heard, she is almost flying out to the street, the late evening, so cold, she does not recognize the locality, but also has no time to think it over, she is warily gazing around, seeing the road in the end of the narrow labyrinth of naked buildings and rushing to the light.

When I was little – do you remember? – I was bored all the time, and it was interesting only nearby you, and in the evenings I forced you to go outside, almost dragged you by arm, and asked you to show me the stars. It seemed to me that since I was little, there was just not enough height for me to look at them myself, and you were elder and taller, and that meant you could see much more than I did. So funny, though!.. You were not able to see a single thing: no star is shining above Tokyo, but I just didn’t realize it then. And you were elder and smarter, and you understood everything clearly, but always – every time a new story – were telling me about the galaxies that perhaps never even existed. You were thinking up new fairytales, and I believed them. Even now I do. Such beautiful fairytales…

Misa was walking for a very long time, as if driven out, and did not know where she was walking to: everything remained unfamiliar, the cityscape had coalesced into one monotonous high rippled wall, and only the road was responding with the sound of her footsteps; for all that time she had been wandering, her brother had not appeared – or had not allowed to get any sight of him, – although Misa hoped for that endlessly, looking into the abrupt bends of the alleys with a sinking heart. Misa forefelt that their meeting would still occur, but how and when remained in mystery, and that was ridiculous, because it had not been going that way before: Misa constantly, deeply, almost physically perceived the presence of her brother and for that reason clearly understood where her next path would finish at, and trembled, and with her entire soul aspired to the endpoint, which always turned into the deception, and the path started anew, intertwining with itself; and then Misa plodded through the concrete darkness and did not see the one landmark worth her aspiring: no matter how tough it had been for her to manage those ten days spent without a roof above, Misa had known no sign of an absolute loneliness.

Perhaps, she would reel awkwardly, like a doll, would reach out for the walls feverishly, but they all are heartless, they would recoil and push her far away, and she would fall onto the asphalt, but it would tear asunder, too, and there would come an everlasting fall into nowhere – as much cruel as senseless.

She would not even be allowed to break into shards.

And when he appears, Misa does not believe at first. And then, recognising and realizing, rejoices like a child, despite for one vague inexplicable reason this meeting seems for her to be the last one. And then she runs.

The chasing leads her to a grey two-storey building, brother has gone out of sight. but too little time has passed yet: he would not go too far, he has found the way to get inside instantly; a door marked with paint is locked, but there still is a narrow stairway leading to the upper floor area; after climbing up, Misa somehow notices the worn black sweater and blond locks in the aperture of the farthest window and rushes there in a wink – luckily, the frame is not moved aside, but to that moment when Misa manages to enter, the room is already empty.

Her path is coming to its endpoint, but will not start anew, no, it never will, this is the last frontier and there is nowhere to run from here. Everything that has happened to these seconds is nothing; everything that has gone before as if never existed at all.

Misa – impatiently, excitedly, aflutterly – is going down the cracked stairs, and a quiet screech of her pace is impaling the silence.

An unfinished room: the walls not completely painted over, a loose polypropylene film, a lightbulb on a long wire in the middle of the ceiling, the floor stained with the same paint, a few panels are lost, the abandoned tools, a stool, the carton boxes, the windows and doors tightly boarded up from the inside. There is nobody.

Misa does not believe: she is throwing herself to the windows, running from the first to the second and third, pressing against the door, listening to the outwards, banging on the dark boards, trying to rend them, but she is not able to, she has no strength, she is pounding, clawing with nails, getting splinters in her palms and fingers, yelling, straightening in reed, turning pale and very slowly, a tiny step by the tiny step, retreating, and feeling one more wall behind her back, and shuddering, and falling in, and burying into the floor, and cannot shed a tear, and groaning like no human would, and cannot hear herself.

There was no escape for anybody from here, there was no entry for anybody in here.

Nobody was here.

Once long ago people were happily looking into the sky and were blinding themselves, and when they were asked why had they given away their keen eyes to the sun, they only laughed and shaked their heads; but the sun disappeared behind the blue mountains and never came back, and people decided to pretend as if they still owned their happiness, although every single one of them secretly knew they were looking into the void.

[elasticrevenge]

Biography

Series name: DC Comics Canon notes: Post Infinite Crisis Species: Metahuman. History: The daughter of the infamous Madame Rouge, Gemini was deliberately kept at arm’s length in American boarding schools as she grew up, so as to avoid her mother’s frequent brushes with insanity, but also to give her daughter a better life away from the Brotherhood of Evil. Gemini therefore grew up mostly in ignorance about her mother’s criminal activities, an ignorance that was shattered by her mother murder at the hands of Beast Boy. Although Gemini hadn’t seen much of her mother, Laura de Mille had always lavished affection whenever she’d visited and the two had always kept in contact. Gemini therefore felt devastated, a feeling that was compounded when the Brain had Madame Rouge’s body delivered to Gemini along with the explanation of who had killed her. The trauma and raw fury that Gemini felt were enough to cause something to snap inside her, and the powers she had inherited from her mother activated in a much more potent form. Reduced to a shapeless puddle of rubbery protoplasm, Gemini’s whole life collapsed and she suffered a psychotic break that she still hasn’t really recovered from. After several weeks spent trapped as a puddle, unable to process what had happened to her, she was visited by the Brain and Monsieur Mallah and was ‘rescued’ and brought under their tutelage. Gemini spent the next few years training with the Brotherhood of Evil and mastering her powers, becoming one of the most deadly weapons in the Brotherhood’s arsenal. However her desire to take revenge on Garfield Logan lead her into attempt to frame him while he was attempting to revive his acting career in Los Angeles, an attempt that failed with the intervention of Nightwing and Flamebird. Following her failure Gemini returned to the Brotherhood, fighting Batgirl in an attempt to smuggle weapons into Bludhaven and later assisting when the Brotherhood dropped Chemo onto the city, destroying it. Since the events of Infinite Crisis, Gemini has been hiding under an alias while accepting occasional contract work. Personality: Have you ever been given the news that your mother, the only family member you have, has been murdered by one of the so-called good guys? While you were crying your eyes out has your body melted into a mass of goo leaving you deaf, blind and screaming in terror without a mouth to vocalise it? All of these things have happened to Gemini. That trauma changed her from being a normal girl living a happy life with friends and a bright future, to a slightly unhinged sociopath, hell bent on gaining revenge for her mother’s murder. Driven by anger and bitterness and so often sadistic and vicious, Gemini is at heart a lonely young woman, desperately trying to live up to the barbed legacy of her mother Madame Rouge. That desire for revenge has led her down a very dark path, becoming a heartless killer who enjoys taking the lives of others if it will help to ease her inner pain and anguish. Her bitterness is ironically fuelled by the very thing that makes her so proud, her powers. While she views her talents as making her a force to be reckoned with, they have also stripped her of her humanity. She can never take pleasure from the attentions of a handsome man no matter how much her mind wants to because her body will never respond and she knows full well that she is incapable of ever having children. It’s a constant source of despair and frustration and makes it hard for her to form a stable relationship. It took Gemini years to train herself to take a fully human form and by the time she had her teenage years were nearly behind her. Her adult appearance therefore is manufactured from a mixture of old photos and guesswork and is a look she’s very proud of. She quite likes enticing good looking men, although she seldom takes things far considering her physiology, preferring to string them along for her own amusement. Mostly when meeting others, particularly people without powers she maintains an air of aloof superiority. She’s often quite solitary, but if she happens upon someone she’ll entertain herself for a bit trying to manipulate them or pry secrets from them. She might possibly pass herself off as someone else so that she can briefly enjoy healthy emotions and gain a kick out of fooling another. Sympathy and empathy are not strong points, but she is loyal to her friends and is very much out for her own survival. If she thinks someone could be useful to that end or a threat to her, then she might try to charm or ingratiate herself, although she often falls back on intimidation…because really she quite enjoys it. Overall Gemini’s a dark character, prepared to kill casually and inflict pain to get what she wants. But what does she want other than to survive and gain revenge? Living in luxury and getting to do whatever she wants are definitely important, but without a Beast Boy to kill and a legacy to live up to is she just a lost soul with a chance of mending her evil ways? Only time will tell. Abilities: Gemini’s body is made up of a rubber-like protoplasm which lets her change shape into any human animal or object that she desires. While she may look and sound exactly like someone, she does not actually become them as her shapeshifting is purely cosmetic. She may liquefy herself if she wishes, but by far her favourite forms are monstrous creatures taken from her imagination or movies she’s seen. It is possible for Gemini to split herself into multiple forms, but this is something she doesn’t often do, being very taxing on her concentration. The other main application of her powers is stretching. She can extend her limbs or any part of her body to great lengths, often using her elasticity to coil around opponents to subdue them or redirect their own attacks against them. She often attacks from metres away, stretching powerful punches at speeds faster than a bullet. An amorphous being, Gemini is very resistant to injury. Bullets simply bounce off her rubbery body, whilst only the very sharpest blades can pierce her and if they do it won’t hurt her; she can be sliced into a thousand pieces and still pull herself back together with ease. Her principal senses can be enhanced by her to a degree, and she is able to see or hear with whatever part of her body she wishes. Electrical attacks are useless considering that she is made of rubber which is an excellent insulator. Her body doesn’t need food or water or even rest, and because she lacks a brain her mind is hard to access via telepathy. Skills-wise Gemini is skilled in hand to hand combat, often using her elasticity to get past an opponent’s guard. She’s several times stronger than a regular human and almost infinitely flexible, and will use her stretching powers and resilience to overwhelm or simply outlast others in combat. She is a trained spy, assassin and saboteur, but has only been active for a few years and can make mistakes. Gemini is a gifted actress and mimic and is always working on honing her observation skills so she can better impersonate others. Weaknesses: Gemini’s powerset comes with a clear Achilles heel. When rubber is heated it melts, and when it’s cooled it becomes brittle. So blast her with intense heat and she’ll melt into a helpless puddle, expose her to extreme cold and she’ll seize up. The attack must be kept up or she will quickly recover. Hit her with a flamethrower or corrosive chemicals on the other hand and she’ll scream what passes for her lungs out. Those with enhanced senses can often detect Gemini, as although she can fake a heartbeat and raise her body temperature, she cannot hide her scent, the subtle odour of rubber. In terms of character weakness Gemini’s powerful abilities have made her arrogant and over-confident and she can sometimes go into a situation without properly assessing the risks.