#and its not that about having different roles either i just find myself playing star lord a lot

[greasydumbfuck]

thought it was funny

[nickmarini]

Ayden���s Build 

TL;DR: Barbarian 1, Druid  2 (Circle of the Stars), Paladin 8 (Oath of the Ancients), and Cleric 9 (Peace Domain). Feats: Squire of Solamnia, Remarkable Recovery, Warcaster, Knight of Crowns, Spelldriver, Tough.

Building Ayden was a joy and a journey. To begin we were told we had 20 levels to work with and stats of 20 across the board. The only thing I knew about Ayden from the session 0 was that he was going to be a Cleric of the Everlight and that I wanted to make him the best support character I could. I also knew that the Dawnfather was aware of the mission briefing and so would have directed his growth to the task at hand. 

Stats of 20 meant multiclassing into any class was possible and that any ability score based bonuses or proficiency based abilities were going to be very good. I figured that with a warlock and a sorcerer we’d have some pretty good counterspelling and 9th level spell access, so I didn’t worry myself about either of those, instead focusing on making sure we all survived. 

The Dawnfather and The Everlight share 2 of 3 Domains. Life and Light. The Everlight’s 3rd domain is Peace. The Peace Domain cleric is an excellent subclass and its 6th level ability, Protective Bond, was something I knew I wanted to build around. The ability to take hits for, and aid, my siblings while teleporting around the battlefield is an excellent support ability and it also lets allies in the bond do the same, fostering sibling unity and cohesion.

With the Dawnfather having Nature as his unique domain separate from the Everlight, and literally sending himself to Exandria to infiltrate a city full of the greatest mages of the age, the Oath of Ancients Paladin seemed like an obvious path. It is the nature Paladin, (his domain) and 7 levels gives you both Aura of Protection and Aura of Warding. This means as Ayden moves through the battlefield with Protective Bond he will be granting allies +5 to saves from his cha as well as resistance to damage from spells. Incredibly good going up against the wizards of Aeor he knew he would encounter. I didn’t want to go to 10 with Paladin because I didn’t want to be immune to frightened. I just felt that fear played too large a role in the reasons the gods were here and although aura of courage is probably my favorite ability going back to 3rd edition, I felt like it wasn’t right for Ayden. He had to fear in order to reinforce his need to hope. 

These two classes were set relatively quickly and then I began looking at how else I was going to build him out. 

I really liked the idea of being able to grant my allies some extra attacks and so I was looking at battle master to get commanders strike and goading attack as well as maneuvering attack to help take hits for and position my allies. Action Surge is also a great ability that could really come in handy if I needed to save someone and needed one extra action to do so. 

I was also looking at the 2nd level Divination Wizard ability Portent. The ability to fully dictate 2 rolls is very powerful in certain circumstances, especially if the numbers are very high or very low.

Both these seemed good but weren’t feeling totally right from a character perspective. They felt too forced.

As I was playing around with these two classes I was also building Aydens backstory. I really liked the idea of him being agriculturally focused, as this aspect of the Dawnfather is actually his youngest. Sun begets days, and thus time and seasons, and as civilization evolves agriculture follows. The fighter levels lent the idea that he has spent some time training under a knight or some such warrior, and I knew that he would eventually find his way to Trist to begin his tutelage and become her cleric. I liked there being these different eras of his life. 

It was around this time that I got an awesome email asking me to describe Ayden visually so that the incredibly talented Hannah Friederichs and Cael Lyons could begin to bring Ayden and the Dawnfather to life. I wanted Ayden to be a simply dressed with a shield he took from his mentor, but no sword for striking. They sent 4 sketches and told me I could mix and match as I desired. Image #1 however was exactly as I had envisioned him. It was the simplest and had this depth to his eyes that told the story of a much older soul in this 15 year old body. It was so perfect that it made me realize I had been going in the totally wrong direction with fighter and wizard. The concepts of nature and agriculture were suddenly staring me in the face. It was not wizard, but druid, and his mentor could have taught him to be a paladin as easily as fighter, but if he is the bringer of agriculture who has he brought it to? A remote tribe still hunting and gathering was the answer. Barbarian therefore replaced fighter. I can’t tell you how influential the sketch I received was. It felt like a bolt of lightning suddenly clarified everything. 

I was for sure cleric 6, Paladin 7 and now looking at druid and barbarian. 

I didn’t know Druid subclasses very well but Circle of the Stars jumped out from the pack just with its name. The Sun after all is a star. When I read its 2nd level abilities Starmap and Starry form it was so obvious. I can cast Guiding Bolt to set up those attacks I wanted to grant, and I can glow instead of wild shape and either heal more or have a massive bonus to maintain the concentration spells I knew I wanted to cast. For the keeper of time to know how to read the stars just felt right. It also feel right that the druids of a tribe that had been hunting and gathering during the tumultuous Calamity would have learned to navigate by the stars, a singular constant in an every changing age. 

Barbarian has a number of interesting subclasses but none felt like they clicked. 1 level of Barbarian though, for a character with 20 dexterity and 20 constitution, catapults your AC to 20 and it also gives you a proficiency in Constitution saving throws if you take it as your first class, again reinforcing those concentration rolls. He was found as a child by this barbarian tribe and his first class is also his first community. Barbarian was the strong foundation I would build upon. 

I was now Cleric 6, Paladin 7, Druid 2, Barbarian 1. Reorganized to be the order Ayden would have taken them in it becomes the following:

Barbarian 1, Druid  2 (Circle of the Stars), Paladin 7 (Oath of the Ancients), and Cleric 6 (Peace Domain)

4 more levels to distribute. As a player who has mostly played 3.5 (I think downfall just about doubled the amount of 5E I have played) feats are my absolute favorite things, so getting to multiples of 4 in class levels to grab some was something I wanted to do (also I didn’t have to worry about ability score increases)! I had already given one feat up by taking barb and druid but I made up for it with the human variant. I also took the Knight of Solamnia background to give me Squire of Solamnia, the prerequisite for Knight of the Crowns which would give me the ability to grant attacks to my allies without needing battle maneuvers. 

So I upped paladin from 7-8 for a feat and then decided to take Cleric from 6-9 because it gave me a feat and access to the spell Dawn. I mean the Dawnfather should be able to cast Dawn after all! 

Now to feats

1) Background: Squire of Solamnia to give me the prerequisite for Knight of the Crowns

2) Human Variant: Remarkable Recovery. I knew I’d be taking extra damage so having 5 extra hp from any healing I get might just be the difference. It also plays into his background. He had to leave the Barbarian tribe he brought agriculture to because his skin could not retain the ceremonial tattoo ink that would have symbolized his initiation into the community. 

3) Cleric 4 Warcaster to get advantage on those concentration checks, that along with proficiency and starry form of the dragon means I need to take 28 damage (56 if it’s a spell) to even have to roll, and when I do I get advantage and proficiency on the check. Getting me to lose concentration is gonna be a task. 

4) Paladin 4 Knight of the Crown getting to grant an attack proficiency times per day combos wonderfully with Starmaps free guiding bolt, conveniently also proficiency times per day. 

5) Cleric 8 Spelldriver I’m gonna be casting a bunch of spells so the ability to cast multiple each turn is going to make my support spells come out much faster. I have a big fam to take care of!

6) Paladin 8 Tough I really went back and forth between this and Inspiring Leader. Granting all my siblings 25 temp hp is amazing but ultimately I decided that as I’d be tanking a bunch of damage I’d need toughness. Toughness gave me 15 more hp than Inspiring leader would have, and I ended up going down to 14 at one point so it was a decision that very much paid off by a single HP! Don’t wanna pop a deathward if you can help it!

Last but not least we were granted 2 magic items. One very rare and one uncommon. For my uncommon I chose a cloak of resistance, a parting gift from the tribe that Ayden could not join. This upped my saves to 11s or 17s and took my AC to 23. For his very rare magic item I took a spellguard shield, inherited from the knight who brought him from the remote tribe to Trist‘s school, giving me advantage on saving throws vs spells and magical effects and inflicting disadvantages on spell effects targeting me. Combine that with resistance to spells from Aura of Warding and that’s a nasty nasty combo v wizards. 

All in all Ayden’s build is an incredibly hard to target tanky support character who can move through the battlefield protecting his allies and being an absolute nightmare for enemy spellcasters. The only thing I really didn’t fully consider was just how much damage he would take from Warding Bond which totally bypasses all those wonderfully crafted defenses. As crazy as it is, I think we barely got to scratch the surface of Aydens full potential and it’s probably good those mages decided to cast spells at everyone else because Ayden was going to be a tough character for a spell caster to crack. The Commanding Rally did get to shine allowing characters who specialized in weapon attacks to get a little extra out of those 20 level commitments. Ayden’s build was crafted to keep his siblings alive and let them shine as bright as possible together. I’m very proud of him!

If you read all this then you’re as nerdy as me and deserve a reward!

[runawaysiren940]

gold star discourse seems completely alien to me bc it comes from a space where you are far more likely to stumble upon the concept of same sex relationship. i encounter it being used so vigorously only when i came to anglo radfem space. previously i only saw it in a context of discussing foreign radfem lit.

i grew up in Ukraine. Growing up I had no exposure to any kind of media with lesbians in it. I definitely had experienced same sex attraction during that time but i didn't have any words or examples to describe and compare it with. I haven't been attracted to a man in my life, but bc attraction to women was nonexistent to me, I simply assumed that I just really wanted to be friends with that one particular girl. I found out about lesbians being a thing at 12 through fanfiction, but I conseptualised lesbians as something real only at 13. I accepted that i am one at 18. So here, between 12 and 18 I had an excruciating phase of despair that came from assumption that one day I have to marry a man and have children. It legitimately made depressed and apathetic. Now, I believe that had i not discovered who lesbians are, i still wouldn't have gone forward to push myself into a relationship with a man, bc originally I was already on a route of acceptance that i would be alone forever. But other lesbians in my environment may not be like that. Thought Im sure if they are lesbians, nothing would make them like men, even if they pretend or compromise or force themselves. Bc our real feelings have always been there, but bc they are unnamed and abnormal, at best you brush them under the rug, at worst you start to think that you are broken.

I know that experiences are different, and where ones bend under pressure, others persist, and it's the same with lesbians i guess. your environment plays a large role in what your behaviour would look like. some people find it easier to conform, even if it not pleasant. I dont know why we suddenly think that lesbians are somehow immune to societal pressure. It matters whether you were a part of a demanding religioun or culture or environment, whether your country has anti-gay laws, whether your family is conservative, whether your family is religious etc.

i think this is quite different from pseudo-lesbian crowd of het and bi women, and that the latter is a product of q*eer movement and their ideology. they just gave an acceptable way for lesbophobia that was always present in the society. it's nothing new. i distaste the term "comphet" nowadays bc of that shift. I know that 7/10 time it's going to be bi/het/q*eer girl pretending. so i get this desire to gatekeep, i do. I just don't want to throw those lesbians, who were less fortunate under the bus bc a bunch of western hets decided they want to be special. I think lesbians who discover themselves later in life, in the middle of having a family or in a relationship with a man, deserve support and compassion.

i don't have particular hate for the label gold star either, in fact I can be considered one. I just don't feel any connection to it so i don't care and don't use it. I dont think that their vilification is deserved, maybe even lesbophobic. Generally is, to me, its a term of pride for being able to be your authentic self at all times. So it's not bad on its own. So, when its used to put down other lesbians based on their lived experiences, I don't think that's a gold star label problem, but rather just misogyny. it all boils down to plain old "women are held to a higher standard by everyone, even by other women in the movement". It goes both ways of the discourse too.

as for polilez, i have to say that for me thay were very much tied together for the longest time. for some time i had ties with russian radfem community. there polilez discourse was very, VERY strong. However, they were approaching it from some kind of a moral ground. That being a polilez was morally correct, the only correct way of being a radfem, otherwise you are mingling with an enemy and are a traitor. they were arguing that all female nudity is sexualisation and objectification, that lesbians objectify women if they speak sexually about them, that absolutely all sextoys are bad and a part of patriarchal adaptation habits, that sexuality is purely social and to argue otherwise is misogyny etc. it was borderline lesbophobia, and generally just toxic environment. it was very hostile to the new members or to different opinions. and honestly, not very productive, since it was limited to twitter discussions only. I left the community long ago bc of rampant lesbophobia and xenophobia, I dont know if they came to any conclusion since then.

I personally don't like the idea that my sexuality is a political identity. I went through the same psychological and social trials as most women and came out of it still a lesbian. I also don't believe in their interpretation of 'all personal is political'. My sexuality should be neutral, i dream to see the day when it's finally just a neutral characteristic, like hight or hair colour. I don't want to perform activism in my bedroom either. I do want to have a relationship with a woman who will reciprocate and not treat it as some kind of a political praxis.

There's the concept of heurmimatical injustice (spelled wrong but I'm on my phone so) where you don't have the words to explain your experience + the presentation of heterosexual partnership as am obligation, not a thing to be enjoyed by women...

Thank you for your story ☺️

[stardust-in-my-mind-blog]

just another star pilot

Larque pouted, elbow on the table and left hand holding her cheek. Her right hand reached over to twirl her straw around in her water. The ice clicked together.

"I don't know. I guess it's all strange. I'm used to playing sixty three different characters depending on the situation. Kind of an occupational need in the smuggling business. You have to get people who aren't trusting people to trust you quickly. I must have a lot more mirror neurons than most people. Mimicry and being disarming has gotten me out of quite a few sticky situations..." her voiced faded and she smiled at her glass.

Her smile tilted more to the left now. She almost had a dimple. She'd always wanted to have a dimple. Dimples were really cute. She bent to drink from the straw.

"It didn't carve me out much of an identity. I don't think I ever had one. I think I've been running away from myself since I was a child. I never really got to have an identity then, either. I was always playing a role, rarely able to even wear what I wanted. Sure, everything was provided for... provided I behaved in the way others wanted me. No one wanted me, they wanted me in the role they had of me in their head. I had to choose between survival or painful liberty. I chose faking my own death and getting lost in the galaxy. Now I'm realizing I never chose anything. It's all been surviving or playing a role or escaping yet another mess I got myself into. I've always kind of been lost. It's hard to find yourself when you never made yourself. Maybe that's what I'm learning now."

The droid bartender had no expression, and was obviously programmed to pretend to listen and care about its human patrons. It even had a sympathetic tilt to its head as it blankly washed the counter. She was comforted by emotional unavailability, and when she thought about that for a second, she realized there was a problem there.

Add it to her tab. She had about half a hundred problems to solve and absolutely no energy to do it tonight.

"I have two dominant mental states. I have one where I am clever and charming and completely delighted by everything and easily inspired. Then I have the empty one. The one where I just observe everything and absorb the situation to process later. I'm fearless, but I'm also looking for trouble. I talk without thinking and make situations awkward and people are either fascinated for good reasons or attracted for bad ones."

She looked over at the droid. He'd finished with the counter cleaning so he just stood there with the tilted head. It was deepened in angle. He almost looked silly and it warmed her heart. "But I don't think either of those is me. Or maybe it is. I think I'm jealous of you, Ten-Zen. All these emotions and biochemical responses they inspire in my blood stream which then fire off the lighting of my nervous system and impact the heart that keeps beating even though I don't know how it ever started. Sometimes my heart feels dense like stone and sometimes it feels hollow like a drum. You don't have to deal with any of that. But you're also at the mercy of whatever being buys you and programs you. You don't get to choose. I get to choose."

Her arms folded themselves on the bar and she placed her head into them. Her voice was muffled when she spoke again. "Thank you for listening, Ten-zen. Can you get me another plum wine? I'm going to drink it and stare blankly off into the distance until I figure out a plan. One that will actually maybe work."

The droid said something about the service being a pleasure and walked stiffly over to where the assortment of multi-colored bottles of spirits were kept. Larque spun around on the bar seat. She didn't know it did that. She looked to her left and to her right before giving it one more spin just to experience it consciously. By the time the droid came back to place the glass of wine in front of her, she'd already gotten out her pens and journal and was furiously scribbling away.

[screadingchallenge]

Behind the Keyboard Volume 26

Behind the Keyboard is a series of interviews with different Schitt’s Creek fanfic authors. The series will last as long as there is interest (from authors) and capacity (from me). If you are an author from the Schitt’s Creek fandom who would like to participate, send a DM to this account.  

Each author was given ten questions. The first five questions are the same for every author, the last five will vary.

Let’s meet our next author:

@maxbegone / maxbegone

How many fics have you written? Oh, so many. Overall, 87 on ao3.

When did you publish your first fic on AO3? I’ll admit that I deleted an entire docket prior to starting up again a few years back, but my earliest listed is back in January of 2018 for Critical Role.

Describe your writing process from “Oh, I have an idea” to pushing publish on AO3. I complain about it to myself, talk (re: complain) about it to my friends, and flesh it out in multiple very messy documents, including my notes app on my phone. My eventual process is bullet-pointing a bunch of things I want to include, breaking it down by chapter if need be, and bolding the text I haven’t written into the fic yet. If I get an idea while I’m in the middle of writing a scene for something later on, I immediately add it to the bottom of the document and keep going, otherwise I’ll forget. I also tend to write scenes out of order exactly on what I just said; if the scene comes to mind and I know it won’t happen for a long time within the story, I write that first just to grind it out. Regardless, it still means I’m writing, even if it’s not linear. Have I mentioned this method is messy?

Tell me about your most recent fic? What do you love about it? Is there anything you think you could have done better? My most recent fic isn’t for SC, but the last SC fic I posted was here comes the jackpot question in advance back on new years eve and I still love it. The Kacey Musgraves version of New Year’s Eve played continuously throughout the holidays at work, and the more I heard it, the more I wanted to write something having to do with it. To me, it’s cozy and representative of my favorite time of year (winter in Manhattan). It’s comfort to me, and I know I’m not the only one when I say I tend to write things that are pretty self-indulgent. This was one of them.

What advice would you give to someone who’s thinking about publishing their fic for the first time? Just go for it. It doesn’t matter whether or not it lands, what matters is that you hit “publish” and took that leap. Try not to look at kudos or hit counts too obsessively either, because someone is going to find it and love it — the numbers don’t dictate the quality of what you’ve written. Just because the fic doesn’t make its rounds and skyrocket doesn’t mean it isn’t good. It’s hard, but try not to compare yourself. This goes for more than just fanfic.

Do you write for any other fandoms? Which ones? I started out with Critical Role, delved into a few pieces for The Last of Us, a game and story that holds a very near and dear place in my heart (this piece in particular is one of my favorite things I’ve written), and I’m currently writing for 9-1-1: Lone Star. Who would’ve thought a procedural drama would come to mean so much to me? Then again, who would’ve thought that about a half hour comedy, too? Yet, here we are!

What’s one question you would like to ask Dan Levy about writing? What does your process look like? As in, what’s your ideal time of day, what sort of environment do you look for, do you have background noise or music, or complete silence?

Fill in the blank. You couldn't pay me enough money to write…kink. I just. No.

Do your IRL friends and family know you write fic? I would sooner frisbee throw my computer out a window and follow suit. Nope, no, nada, no.

What are your three favorite tropes? You know, I’ve been writing for a long time and I’ve been on Tumblr for longer than I care to acknowledge, and I still have trouble defining tropes. I legitimately just had to Google the definition again because I feel like I never get it quite right — found family, whoops this grumpy old man is now suddenly the father figure to some kid, idiots to lovers. 

[sassycassie-s-writing]

Mountain Night

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): A Court of Thorns and Roses Series/Rhysand

Rating: PG-13/T (lots of implications but nothing explicit)

Original Idea: Just kinda skimming back through ACOTAR and felt like it.

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) This has a couple extra headcanons of mine sprinkled in here, just to fill in gaps. Thanks. Enjoy!

^^^^^

I stood in front of the fireplace next to Rhysand, watching the flames. Somewhere within the Mountain, a bell tolled eight, agreeing with the clock on Rhys’ mantel. Rhys’ shoulders slumped. “Amarantha’s gonna be summoning me any time now,” he said. Dejected, exhausted. But not defeated.

I reached out and held him. “Not much longer now. The forty-nine years of Tamlin’s curse are almost over. Then… then we’ll see if we can break the spell on you and the other High Lords and get out of here,” I said into his shoulder. I traced my fingertips over his shoulder blades, where his wings met his back when he had them out. Amarantha didn’t even know he had wings—and he wanted to keep it that way.

“We can only pray,” he said, wrapping his own arms around me.

The mating bond thrummed between us. Neither of us had accepted it. Acted on it. If we did, Amarantha would smell it on us. Destroy me for what I meant to Rhys, just to torment him. It drove us both mad—wild, occasionally—but we’d fought it for years. We could fight it until we were free.

I kissed his barely-exposed collarbone, where the hint of his tattoos were poking out.

“Happy Starfall, Rhysand,” I whispered.

He shuddered. “Happy Starfall, darling,” he replied. His voice shook slightly. He blinked away tears and released me from the hug. Still holding one of my hands, he lifted it to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to my knuckles.

His eyes, so dark blue they were violet, seemed to be piercing right into my soul. “I swear to you, when we’re free, we will never have to hide our love from anyone,” he said.

I smiled. “That will be nice.”

His voice dropped to a whisper, “Go. Be safe. Walk through the walls as a shadow so she doesn’t see you leaving.” He pressed his forehead to mine.

“I will.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.” I let his hands go. Darkness swam over my skin, almost like how they did with Azriel. Az… I missed our family.

Tears brimmed in my eyes. I backed toward the opposite wall from the fireplace, my lower body passing through the unrumpled bed. I wiped the tears away, staring at Rhys for as long as I could before I was swallowed by the wall.

I lingered in the wall for a while, letting my tears fall in the privacy of the stone. Inches from Rhys, yet I may as well have been on the other side of the Wall on the farthest end of the human continent. Forty-nine years. So close, trapped, together Under the Mountain. Mates unable to accept their bond for fear of their lives.

I heard the door open to Rhys’ room. “Well, hello, handsome,” Amarantha’s smooth voice greeted.

The sound sent me running. I knew Rhys hated every single night she forced herself on him. I knew he wouldn’t want me to hear. Knew he was ashamed of it, but willing to keep doing it to keep our family and our home safe.

I loved him all the more for it.

Even if the dormant mating bond chafed against me at the thought of another female in bed with my mate.

Stupid territorial instincts.

I burst out of the stone in my own bedchamber. Small, not particularly grand. Sometimes I imagined it was the guest room I usually occupied in the Velaris townhouse. When I was desperately in need of comfort. Neither Rhys nor I had seen the sun much in the last forty-nine years. Sometimes, in midsummer, Rhys, Helion, me, and a few closely trusted people would gather in one of our bedchambers and let Helion glow, imitating the sun.

Then Rhys would cast a blanket of darkness through the room. Darkness and those glittering stars. A night sky we never got to see either.

Neither High Lord had enough power to hold the light or dark for too long, but the brief snatches we got of both were enough to keep hoping. Enough to keep us from breaking entirely. From shattering down to our very souls.

I collapsed on my bed. Nuala and Cerridwen appeared a few minutes later. Just to sit with me. Their touches were light as I cried. It felt like they were barely embracing me. But I knew they were there. Appreciated their care and concern. As well as their company. If it weren’t for Rhys and Helion, I would have certainly gone mad a long time ago.

“My lady,” Nuala said softly, “how may we ease your pain?”

I shook my head. “Just… just sit with me a while.”

The twins nodded. “We serve and protect,” Cerridwen said.

The three of us stayed on the edge of my bed for hours. Hours, I knew, Rhys was spending with Amarantha. On Starfall. Because she knew he loved it, and she wanted to deprive him of it. Just as, if she found out we were mates, she would want to deprive him of me. Slowly. Painfully. In every way possible before I finally died. Hoping to break him beyond repair.

But my High Lord’s soul was forged in hotter fires, even, than this half-century-long trial. He would never let her break him. Even if she found out about his relation to me.

Long after midnight, Cerridwen pulled a small comb out of my hair that I’d forgotten I’d put in. A small, silver thing with a single star engraved into the top. No jewels, just metal. A simple ornament to remind myself it was Starfall. To remind Rhys.

Even if I had forgotten I put it in.

The twins helped me with the stiff buttons of my tunic and shirt and then left me for the evening to finish undressing and climbing into bed.

I didn’t sleep.

Forty-nine years, and I never slept the night of Starfall. Nor the Winter Solstice.

—

Rhys slipped into my room well into the next morning. I was still lying in bed, eyes closed but awake. He set a hand on my shoulder.

I opened my eyes.

His wings were out.

I sat up quickly. “What—why—”

He just held a finger to his lips. “So you know it’s me. Not some illusion. She didn’t see. I didn’t let them out until I closed the door in here.” His wings tilted backwards and then disappeared.

I leaned my head onto his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around me.

“This kills me,” he whispered. “I should never have brought you to that party. Then you wouldn’t be stuck here.”

“It was my choice too,” I reminded him, sitting up from his shoulder. “I thought… I thought you’d need backup. Someone to distract anyone who came too near while you were getting into her head to make her confess. It kills me that I didn’t think to test your drink for curses. Sniff it for poisons. I want to kill her for all she’s taken from you. For the fact that we’ve lived like this for decades. That I can’t take you to be mine because of her. Some nights it makes me sick thinking about my mate being forced to bed a different female. This isn’t your fault, Rhysand. It’s mine too.”

I never called him his full given name to his face unless I was serious about something. He knew it too. Which was why his violet eyes finally met mine from where our knees were almost touching.

“I don’t deserve you,” he muttered.

“I feel the same way about you.”

He kissed my forehead.

Forty-nine years. The bond had snapped into place thirty years ago, even though we’d known each other for two centuries before that. Thirty years of not being able to even kiss him on the lips for fear of us both losing control and accepting the bond on both ends. Slamming our scents together in an unmistakeable sign we were mates.

“I promise, I’ll find a way to get us out of this,” Rhysand vowed, voice low.

“I’ll help any way I can,” I said.

It wasn’t a bargain, per se. Not the type that required a tattoo. Just a quiet promise between two people in love.

Nuala appeared in the room. “Amarantha’s calling a party for tonight,” she said. “Throne room. The usual.”

“Thank you,” Rhys and I said at the same time. She nodded and disappeared.

Silence stretched out between us for a few minutes. Long enough that it started to make me uncomfortable. I got out of bed and started selecting clothes for the day. Awful, immodest, wicked, Under the Mountain clothes.

“What do you think?” Rhysand finally asked.

“About?” I tested.

“The party tonight.”

“It’ll be just like all the other ones.”

“Wanna shake things up?”

“No. A party just like all the other ones is how we’ve survived this long.” I picked up a brush from where it sat on my basic vanity, set my clothes bundle where the brush had been, and started to detangle my hair. “We survive by playing our roles. Wearing masks even worse than those at the Spring Court, stuck to their faces. The people here—they know what you are. They know what I am. They know I will pretend to tolerate their company while the monster inside sizes up its prey. They know you do the same thing. Changing it now won’t be good for us.” I shook my head.

“What if you arrive in your most revealing gown and we pretend to be lovers that will use and discard each other?”

I didn’t answer until I finished brushing out my hair. “You know that would be dangerous.”

“It would distract Amarantha.”

I threw the brush across the room, where it bounced off the padded headboard, soaring an inch past Rhysand’s ear. “I’m not talking about Amarantha!” I snapped. Rhys looked startled, though the expression smoothed out after the blink of an eye. “You know why we can’t do that to each other. Not now. Because… because—” I squared my shoulders. “—because having you so close, playing that game… you know neither of us would be able to help it. We’d come back here, shred each other’s clothes, and tomorrow Amarantha would start slowly butchering both of us.”

He looked away from me, down to his knees. I crossed to the door that would lead to my tiny adjoining bathing room. “I know,” he said softly. He stood up and stomped over to me as something seemed to rile his temper. “But don’t assume for a second that she hasn’t noticed you have never taken a lover your entire time here. Everyone else has—except you.”

“So what?”

“She doesn’t like being beaten at her own game. Everyone else takes lovers because she expects them to grow more and more wicked and base as their souls wear down and break. For pretty much everyone else, she’s been right. She thinks she broke me like a prize stallion with very little effort. She sees that you’re not breaking—and she’ll want to start working on wearing you down. Tamlin’s deadline is crawling ever-nearer and she’s getting paranoid and restless. She’ll turn you into entertainment just for defying her like this.”

My shoulders slouched. “Even so, she’d never give up you. And I’m not about to take any other male while I’m here, knowing it’s you I should be taking.” The barest flicker of feeling twitched at the mating bond between us. Which emotion, I couldn’t place.

Rhys looked thoughtful. “She’d let me have a side-dalliance as long as she suspected there was nothing behind it. No care, no emotion at all. Just base, primal, carnal instincts we’d later toss aside.” He shrugged. I missed the sight of his wings sweeping the air with his shrugs back home.

“I still don’t think it’s a good idea,” I said.

“Your choice.”

It was always my choice. Even when things directly impacted him, or hurt his feelings, it was always my choice. “What about your choice?”

“Well, given I suggested it, I think you already know what my choice would be.” He gave me one of his best, sensuous, seductive grins. Wickedly flirtatious. Appealing to that part of me that was absolutely feral deep down. My chest tightened and I clamped down on the longing rising in my heart.

“Fine. But we can’t let—we can’t let the bond solidify. She can’t know.”

Rhys grinned. “I think you’re going to need to choose a different dress, darling.” He gave me a wink.

If I hadn’t already thrown my hairbrush at him, I’d have done it again.

[gallavictorious]

What staple fics of the fandom would you recommend for someone just starting to read gallavich fic?

Hiya there, nonnie – and welcome to the glorious world of Gallavich fic, if you're new to it!

On the one hand, I'm very much the wrong person to ask because staple fics tend to be AU:s and that's not really my cup of tea. On the other hand, I am a librarian, so never let it be said I balk at giving recommendations about stuff I haven't actually read or isn't necessarily to my personal liking. 😉

To make this list, I sorted Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich fics by bookmarks on AO3 and selected the first ten that I've either seen talked about a lot or have had at least a look at myself. This is admittely not a great way to curate a rec list, so for better and more initiated recommendations, maybe check in with the the amazing ladies of @gallavichfanficlibrary? They'll have you covered! If anyone else feels like chiming in with fandom classics for nonnie, I'm sure they'd be grateful. 🙂

Sexual Harassment in the Workplace by shamlessquestions

AO3 Summary: Mickey just needs to keep his head down and stay out of trouble at his new job. Still trouble always manages to find him and when it takes the form of his red haired boss, Mickey's not sure he can resist even if he wanted to.

Comment: The Gallvich fic with the most bookmarks and the most kudos on AO3. You’ll hear this one mentioned a lot! Fair bit of explicit sex scenes.

The Increasingly Poor Decisions of Ian Gallagher by shamlessquestions

AO3 Summary: "It's fuck all about heat or chemistry or any such shit, Gallagher. You and me...it's just a thing that cannot happen. The sooner we both accept that, the better off we'll be."

Comment: Mickey's the right hand man of a Chicago mobster. Club dancer (and college student) Ian starts ”dating” said mobster. Gallavich sparks fly. High stakes and quite a bit of action in this one. Explicit sex scenes.

Take Me In by MintSauce

AO3 Summary: Mickey's Dad finds out about Mickey being gay and even though Ian's not there, but he finds the Gallaghers are still willing to take Mickey in.

Comment: If you enjoy Mickey becoming friends with all the Gallaghers and bettering himself/beginning to heal from the abuse at Terry's hands, this might work for you. Heavy focus on Mickey, as Ian isn't actually there for most of the fic (though he's never far from Mickey's thoughts).

Like Real People Do by grayola

AO3 Summary: At the age of 26, Mickey Milkovich gets his first apartment, his first wifi connection, and his first kiss. How he gets from wifi to kissing is a complicated story. Mickey is socially anxious. Ian is a frustratingly lovable escort working through an app. Mickey downloads said app. The rest is history.

Comment: Fan favourite from last year. Very soft. Not a lot of plot, just Ian and Mickey falling very, very deeply in love (and dealing with their mental health issues in a lowkey, everyday sort of way). Heavy use of texts and messaging, making for something of an old-school fic feel. Explicit. A companion piece, told from Ian's POV is currently being published: Everything About You.

eighty-four by kissteethstainedred

AO3 Summary: “I slept with Mickey Milkovich last night,” Ian whispers.

“So?”

“So—” Ian stares at his phone for a second. “I slept with Mandy’s fucking brother.”

“Ian, what do you want me to say? Congratulations? You’ve been dating Mickey for almost a year,” Lip says, sounding confused as fuck. Ian blinks. That can’t be right. Ian’s only seen Mickey in pictures with Mandy. He’s never even met the fucking guy. How can he be dating him?

Comment: College fic. Time loop, so great if you’re a fan of that! Mandy plays a prominent role. At 13k words this one is way shorter than any other fic on this list.

Our Stubborn Love by TheWaywardBride

AO3 Summary: In which, after years of being separated by more than just prison walls, Ian and Mickey try to find their way back to each other.

Comment: Canon-divergent slow burn told from a bunch of different POV:s. Something of an ensemble piece, although Ian and Mickey are the focus. Doesn't shy away from Ian being in a very bad place post-5x12.

None the Wiser by loftec

AO3 Summary: AU. Slow burn. The real time accounts of Ian visiting Mickey's dingy diner and slowly becoming his friend.

Comment: WIP, with irregular but still happening updates. Domestic, with strong focus on the character's emotional lives. Mickey's a father to Yev, even though him and Svet are long since divorced. They're not kidding about the slow burn.

This is the Road To Ruin by bricoleur10

AO3 Summary: The day Ned asks Ian to rob his house the redhead almost says yes – why shouldn’t he, after all? Ned seems nonchalant enough about the whole thing, he’ll get some free expensive shit out of the deal, and if he plays his cards right maybe he can even convince Mickey to be his accomplice – but something stops him from going through with it.

The third-eldest Gallagher has never been much of a believer in fate or divine intervention or destiny or anything like that – can’t be, with the life he’s led – but he just might have become one, had he only known how that one seemingly insignificant decision had changed the course of his entire life.

Comment: Straight up canon divergence, capturing the early season Gallavich feels before hurtling down the road not taken. Some angst, but with a happy ending. Mandy and Lip play prominent parts.

Cooperative Gameplay by grayola

AO3 Summary: At nineteen years old, Ian Gallagher’s stuck. Stuck in a minimum-wage job he hates. Stuck in the same boring routine--sleep, wake, work, take your meds, Ian!, try not to lose it day after day after day. But after his little brother introduces him to MICK MILK, a frustratingly hot horror gamer he watches on YouTube, Ian's life will never be the same. ♥️

Comment: WIP (but with regular updates). Darker than Like Real People Do, but with a similarly emotional focus. Depicts online fandom on Twitter and Instagram in a rather knowing way. Explicit sex scenes. This fic, and these versions of Ian and Mickey, currently has its own fandom.

The Boyfriend Experience by anomalously

AO3 Summary: The Prompt: Ian: sex worker (male escort, explicit videos: stripping, masturbation, etc) Mickey: client who's an avid fan who gets up the courage to hire ian for "the boyfriend experience" I saw a porn star who said she only sleeps with 1 client & it inspired me.

Comment: WIP, last updated in 2017. Commonly held to be worth reading in spite of not being finished. Quite a bit of explicit sex, occasionally with a bit of BDSM thrown in.

[about-faces]

The director Joel Schumacher has passed away, and everyone's reactions have boiled down to two topics: 1.) "He was the guy who made the bad Batman films," and 2.) "Hey, he did lots of great films besides the bad Batman films!"

Thing is... I get it. I remember being a teenage comic fan in the 90's. Not just any comics: especially Batman! But ESPECIALLY Bart especially Two-Face. I remember how "Joel Schumacher" was a name that could invoke white-hot rage in myself and everyone in the fandom. He was our modern equivalent of Dr. Fredrick Wertham, the boogyman who had (far as we were concerned) single-handedly destroyed the mainstream credibility of superheroes.

Look at that picture, and try to imagine that this was the face so loathed and mocked by Batman fanboys in the 90′s.

Never mind that Schumacher didn't WRITE the Batman films. The main credit for that goes to Akiva Goldsman, who has gone on to win an Oscar and continues to find A-list success despite ruining other geek properties like Jonah Hex and Dark Tower. Never mind that Schumacher was at the mercy of producers who wanted the movies to be nothing more than merchandise machines and toy commercials. No, Schumacher was the only name associated with the films, and he was cast at the villain.

The fact that he was openly gay played no small part in making him an easy target.

One year after the disastrous release of the infamous Batman & Robin, the beloved fan-favorite cartoon Batman: The Animated Series (then rebranded as The New Batman Adventures on the WB network) produced an episode that featured a pointed jab at Schumacher. The episode was titled "Legends of the Dark Knight," a reworking of a classic 70's Batman tale where a group of kids share their own ideas of what the mysterious Batman is really like.

Halfway through the episode, the kids are overheard by another kid, who shares his own ideas about Batman. The kid, whose name is Joel, has long dirty-blond hair, and works in front of a store which bear the sign "Shoemaker," despite clearly being a department store. He waxes dreamily about the reasons he loves Batman: "All those muscles, the tight rubber armor and that flashy car. I heard it can drive up walls!"

This last line--a reference to a silly bit in Batman Forever--he says as he flamboyantly tosses a pink fur stole around his neck. To drive home the joke, one of the kids dismisses, "Yeah, sure, Joel."

At the time, it seemed like a cathartic joke for us REAL Batman fans. Now, it's clearly just cheap and gross. Instead of any actual criticism about the films, Joel Schumacher was just seen--even if just subconsciously--as the fruit who ruined Batman.

Over time, the hatred for Schumacher lessened. Starting with Blade, X-Men, and Spider-Man, on through to Batman Begins, Iron Man, and onward, superhero movies became huge mainstream successes, with greater fidelity to the source material than most adaptations we saw up to the time that Schumacher "killed" the superhero movie. There was no point in hating him anymore, if there ever was (again, Goldsman more deserves that ire, if you're gonna be angry about anyone. Why does he still get work?! WHY IS HE NOW WRITING FOR STAR TREK?!?!).

But even still, especially among Millennial and Gen-X fans, Schumacher is still--at best--considered a low point for fandom. Even though the same generations have come to appreciate and love some of his other films, such as The Lost Boys, Phone Booth, and the chillingly-prescient Falling Down, there's still this need for people to dismiss the Batman films as embarrassments that are best forgotten in favor of Schumacher's better films. And if they're to be remembered at all, it's to trash them all over again in a tone suggesting that the films are objectively, irredeemably bad.

Except they're not. Oh sure, if you go in looking for a grim and gritty capital-M "Mature" take on Batman, of course you'll hate them, just like you probably also hate the Adam West Batman show. Remember, that show also used to be hated by decades of Batman fans because of how it didn't take the comics seriously.

... except it did. The show was VERY faithful to the Batman comics of the 50's, which often out-weirded and out-sillied its TV counterpart. If anything, the show made some of those stories even more entertaining with camp value and jokes that added different levels of enjoyment to the adults watching. Comic fans resented how Batman became a pop culture joke, and increasingly fought against anything that was colorful and campy (which makes me wonder if this might also be related to latent homophobia). Whether or not they admitted/realized it, the Batman fans of the 70's and 80's carried a chip on their shoulder about a show that DARED to make Batman FUN.

And really... how is that any different than Schumacher's two films?

You don't have to agree, but I think Schumacher's films are fun. I think Batman Forever is highly entertaining, that Tommy Lee Jones and Jim Carrey are bringing their hammy A-games as much respected actors like Burgess Meredith and Caesar Romero brought to their roles. Same goes for Arnold and especially Uma in Batman and Robin. They KNOW what movies they're in, and they're all having a blast.

(How many of us remember the exact line Eddie says at this moment? I bet you probably do too, which should tell you something about how memorable this movie is)

Now, BF and particularly B&A are by no means GOOD movies, but you can't tell me that you couldn't have a blast putting the latter on at a party and riffing it with friends. It's not a pretentious, ponderous, self-serious slog like, say, the shit Zack Snyder cranked out (apologies to the one or two cool Snyder fans here, I just find his films interminable). Even besides the many things I could say to defend Schumacher's Batman films (that's a whole other essay), you can't say they were boring. They were entertaining, even if on a level of making fun of the film, and that is NOT as easy as it looks.

Let me put it to you this way: Batman Forever has, objectively, one of the worst takes on Two-Face I've ever seen. He's one-note, he's kind of a rehash of Nicholson's Joker, he gets completely overshadowed by the Riddler, he gets killed by Batman in a way that completely betrays the whole “DON’T KILL HARVEY” arc with Robin, and worst of all, he CHEATS on the coin toss. That alone would be enough for me to condemn this depiction in any other Two-Face story.

And yet, even I--the most passionate, opinionated, and picky Two-Face fan you will EVER know--still have a soft spot for Tommy Lee Jones' take on ol' Harv. He’s just too fun, too flamboyant, too damn extra not to love. If only all bad takes on Two-Face could be this fun!

But that’s the thing: it’s not because the script was good. Oh god no. I've read the script, and if it were put on the page like a comic, I would have hated it just like any other bad Two-Face comic. I have to imagine that, as director, Joel Schumacher deserves the bulk of the credit for pushing the restrained and laconic Tommy Lee Jones into that oversized performance, and making it a delight to watch despite everything it does wrong.

I'm rare for my generation to have learned how to stop worrying and love Schumacher's Batman. But the younger generation, the up-and-coming Gen-Zs getting into Batman, don't share the same grudges we did. There's a genuine, shame-free enjoyment of those films among The Kids, many of whom are LGBTQA+, who love the jokes, the silliness, the camp, the Freeze puns, the swag of Uma Thurman, and the homoerotic subtext between Two-Face and the Riddler. Maybe it's just a reaction to so much GRIM, SERIOUS shit that DC and their fanboys are trying desperately to push even today.

But comics--especially Batman--have a long history of colorful, stupid, fun shit. Schumacher's films carried on in that tradition, and they should be appreciated on their own merits by those of us who aren't limited by narrow ideas of what Batman "should" be, and who still remember how to have fun.

Schumacher's Batman films should no longer be seen as embarrassments. They didn't ruin superheroes. They didn't ruin Batman. They didn't even ruin Two-Face. Nor should they be disregarded in favor of Falling Down, like losers in a respectability competition. They're fun. They're entertaining. And they didn't pretend to be anything else.

And if you still think they're bad... I mean, objectively, you're not wrong! But be mindful of the reasons WHY you think they're bad, because on another subjective level, you may not be right either. And it's certainly not worth holding a geek-grudge over after twenty-five years.

[oakensherwood]

Okay, let’s talk about Maid Marian. Let’s really talk about Marian. So often I see her character disparaged as a damsel in distress without agency of her own, but that is honestly so far from the truth. In fact, Maid Marian is considered to be one of the earliest examples of the “strong, independent woman” character archetype. Not only is it untrue to call her a damsel in distress, it’s also unfair.

As with many stories, Robin Hood is a story filled with men. I love it, but there’s no denying it’s a story filled with men. As the only prominent female character in a story that has been retold for close to 1000 years, centuries of ideas about femininity have been funneled into this singular character. Among the array of male characters, we see many ways to be masculine: smart, witty, artistic, strong, brave, charitable, loyal, both fighters and lovers. All of the characters have been adapted through the years, but Marian can still be distinguished as the only canonically present female character in the main cast.

Other women we traditionally see include Alan’s bride, the Prioress of Kirklees Abbey who murders Robin, Marian’s serving woman, and a few queens. Various contemporary novels, films, and TV representations have added women to the cast to even it out, but Marian is still the only primary female cast member. As such, centuries of what it can mean to be a woman have been reflected through her.

Let’s take a look at what exactly that has looked like through the years.

One of the things I love best about Robin Hood as a legend is that it is constantly evolving and changing for the needs of the audience. Across centuries and decades it has been changed to suit the ideas of the day. Even the oldest extant documentation of Robin Hood is not considered the “original version” because there is no way of really knowing when or how these stories started, or how long it took for them to be written down. 

So, just as there isn’t a standardized Robin Hood, there isn’t a standardized Maid Marian. We know that she was added later in the Robin Hood tradition, during the 15th century as part of May Day celebrations, and quickly became a common character in future iterations of the Robin Hood story. Her origins are still murky at best, and it’s impossible to pinpoint the very first time she was introduced. 

Her many origins include a shepherdess named Clorinda from Child Ballad 149, an unrelated Marian character in 15th century May Day games who happens to also have a lover named Robin, and a historically based woman named Matilda Fitzwalter appears in Anthony Munday’s “Huntingdon” plays from the 15th century. Furthest from our understanding of Marian is a play titled Robin Hood and the Friar, very merry and full of pastime, proper to be played in May Games. In this play we find Marian as a “trull” a.k.a. prostitute, employed by Friar Tuck. A far cry from how we know both Marian and Friar Tuck today. So far, she’s a working woman, a noblewoman, a romantic interest, and a prostitute. 

The best known and most enduring of these early variations is Child Ballad 150 (you can read it in full here). In this ballad, we see Marian dress as a boy, and go into the forest fully armed, to seek out her lover, Robin Hood. When she finds him and does not recognize him, they begin to fight and Marian handily beats him in their sword fight. Robin immediately asks her to join the Merry Men, they recognize each other, and return to camp for feasting and a “happily ever after” full of adventures. 

- Child Ballad 150

“With quiver and bow, sword, buckler and all,

Thus armed was Marian most bold.”

This ballad is reminiscent of introductory stories of the Merry Men -- Robin meets a stranger, they fight, the stranger wins, and Robin offers them a place in his band. 

We can clearly see in Child Ballad 150 that Marian was considered Robin’s equal and a regular member of the group from early on her individual tradition. Other parts of her early tradition survive as well -- she’s a romantic partner for Robin, and a noblewoman.

As we progress forward in Robin Hood traditions, we continue to see the story change. Notable changes occur during the Victorian period, when general interest in Robin Hood stories was revived thanks to the publication of Sir Walter Scott’s Ivanhoe (1819) and Howard Pyle’s The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood (1883). Marian does not appear in Ivanhoe and is mentioned only once in Pyle’s book, and is effectively written out of the story entirely. 

Despite this, we see other novels and stories released as Robin Hood grows in popularity, and here is where we begin to see the idea of a damsel in distress begin to gain traction. As is true in every retelling of Robin Hood, the story changed to suit its audience and to suit the ideas of contemporary society and intended audience. 

Victorian literature is full of interesting and lesser known works of Robin Hood, as a result of a Victorian obsession with medievalism and with Robin Hood. Maid Marian and Robin Hood: A Romance of Old Sherwood (1892) by J.E. Muddock features a very distressed Marian who does need rescued and has very little agency. Other Victorian works take a similar tone and cast Marian as a damsel, but this is not the narrative that ultimately survives this period of Robin Hood resurgence. 

Thomas Love Peacock published a novella simply titled Maid Marian (1822). Interesting to note, because Robin only appears briefly as a supporting character in Ivanhoe, this is actually the first true Robin Hood novel as a story by itself. Here we see an active, and independent Marian, evocative of Child Ballad 150.

‘Well, father,’ added Matilda, ‘I must go into the woods.’

‘Must you?’ said the Baron, ‘I say you must not.’

‘But I am going,’ said Matilda.

‘But I will have up the drawbridge,’ said the baron.

‘But I will swim the moat,’ said Matilda.

‘But I will secure the gates,’ said the baron.

‘But I will leap from the battlement,’ said Matilda.

‘But I will lock you in an upper chamber,’ said the baron.

‘But I will shred the tapestry,’ said Matilda, ‘and let myself down.’

- Thomas Love Peacock, Maid Marian (1822)

Matilda does indeed go to the woods, takes on the name Maid Marian, and rules the forest with Robin Hood. Other Victorian works take a similar approach to Marian and show her as involved and capable including Maid Marian, or the Forest Queen (1849) by Joaquim Stocqueler, which follows a more traditional Robin Hood storyline filled with adventures and danger.

Later classic works include an active Marian as a member of the outlaw band, as well. Roger Lancelyn Green (1956), Charles E. Vivian (1927), and Paul Creswick (1917) all write a Marian who speaks for herself and works with the outlaws, often dressed as a man. 

Hollywood enters the scene of Robin Hood retellings as early as 1908, but the oldest surviving Robin Hood film is Douglas Fairbanks’ Robin Hood (1922). This silent movie, groundbreaking in budget and sets, features Marian (played by Enid Bennet) as a strong character who holds her own throughout the film. After this, we see another groundbreaking film, The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938) starring Errol Flynn and Olivia de Havilland. This film is widely thought to be the gold standard of Robin Hood films, and I am definitely in that camp. Marian has more agency in this movie, and the lovely Olivia plays a rather coy noblewoman. While we don’t see her taking up a sword in this film, we see her developing the plan that ultimately rescues Robin from the hangman’s noose, successfully warning Robin and his men of Prince John’s plans, and standing her ground while on trial and defending her ideals. Yes, she is rescued from prison in the climax of the movie, but she also plays a vital role in rescuing Robin earlier in the story.

Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves (1991) begins with a woman of action, but at the end sees Marian rather helplessly forced into a marriage and moments away from being sexually assaulted when Robin literally catapults himself through the window to save her. 20 years later in Robin Hood (2010) Cate Blanchett’s Marian is fully capable in combat and is shown to be a responsible and dedicated lady of Loxley, working the fields and caring for her home.

Meanwhile in a contemporary TV adaptation, Marian is depicted as a Robin Hood figure herself, known as the Nightwatchman. (2006, BBC’s Robin Hood) Although the writers later did a disservice by (unpopularly) killing her character as a season finale, Marian was still depicted as competent and in charge of her own choices and actions, and in fact rescues herself from an unwanted marriage. 

Contemporary Robin Hood literature also features an active Marian. Jennifer Roberson’s Lady of the Forest (1995) and Lady of Sherwood (1999) present Marian as a noblewoman who, over the course of the text, takes control of her own story in her capacity as a member of gentry, Lauren Johnson’s The Arrow of Sherwood (2013) sees an incredibly historically inclined retelling of the Robin Hood story, and includes a dedicated and politically savvy Marian. She doesn’t run into the forest, but makes a real difference through her smart decisions and political manipulation. Robin McKinely’s The Outlaws of Sherwood features Marian as an excellent archer, better than Robin, and she easily slips in and out of the outlaw camp as needed, is skilled in woodscraft, and is a valued and substantial member of the outlaw group. Honestly, I think it would be difficult to find a literary retelling that doesn’t include an active Marian character. 

So where do our ideas of Marian as a damsel in distress ultimately come from? I have a few theories.

First, we see the archetype of damsels in distress throughout other fairy tales and folklore, so it’s tempting to assume that Marian is the same and portray her as such, and there are examples of her character playing that role either in whole, or for part of the narrative.

There are unfair assumptions made about medieval women in general, that ignore the powerful positions women could hold, and the amazing things that women did during this period. When people picture medieval women, they are often embroidering tapestries, being forced into unwanted marriages, being beaten by their husbands, and dying in childbirth. There is truth in stereotypes, but there’s also room for deeper understanding of the historical context, and a wider story to be told that includes women standing up for themselves and exercising their own strength and skills. (It’s not good feminism to overwrite real women’s history.)  

We see this stereotype most often in movies and TV adaptations, which are highly visible and memorable, cementing ideas about the Robin Hood legend (and Marian) in the general psyche. 

Children’s picture books, perhaps one of the first introductions a person might have to Robin Hood, tend to play out the story like a traditional fairy tale and Marian is again likely found in an upper tower, calling for help. 

Some find it demeaning for Marian to ever require saving, or to be saved by anyone other than herself. I feel differently about this. People rely on other people, and it’s not inherently weak to ask for support from someone, especially from a romantic partner. The story of Robin Hood is good fun, but it’s also full of danger and peril. It’s not surprising that various characters need to be rescued by friends and lovers throughout various tales. Robin Hood, Little John, Will Stutely, Sir Richard of the Lea, Alan A Dale’s bride, and yes, Maid Marian. All of these characters have stories where they require smart and daring rescues, and they’re exciting stories! Because Alan’s bride and Marian are women, this does not exempt them from the support of their male friends. They deserve to have someone watching their back. I am not offended by Marian needing help; it’s not only human, it’s a staple for a multitude of characters in Robin Hood lore.

As with much of media, Marian is the single female in what’s otherwise mostly a boys’ club. She has been the single point of reference in this story for women for centuries. I find that incredible. She was my favorite character as a child because she was the only woman, the only person I could potentially see myself in. With a global story such as Robin Hood, that’s not an insignificant role. No matter what her part may be in any given retelling, there are pieces of women from centuries long past and not so distant. I find that fascinating, worth respecting, and that’s why she’s my favorite character to this day.

tldr: Drink your respect Maid Marian juice.

[salt-warrior]

Alright folks... it’s time for me to forever shame myself, because I’m publishing a crack fic. I’ve NEVER done that before because I usually just write crack fics for my own enjoyment, but this crack fic was inspired by a post that @impossiblesuitcase wrote. So thank you for that, lovely. Also thank you @cosmicnovaflare for pushing me to write this, I love you always. 

This crack fic is a crossover of three of my own fanfictions. So if you have not red Unsinkable, The Echo of Silence, and The Time it Takes to Fall, then literally none of this will make any sense. All three play vital roles in this story. Seriously, you’ll be in the dark so don’t read it unless you’ve read all of them.

Again, this is a crack fic so it’s even more wildly unrealistic than my other writing. And I am also going to pretend I never wrote it because I am ashamed. The original endings are the real endings in my mind. You have been warned. 

So without further ado, I present you with 6,249 words of crack fic that I wrote in one sitting yesterday instead of doing my homework. Enjoy.

Tags: @shellyseashell @cindersassasin @gingerale2017  @healing-winston-pratt @winterrhayle @just2bubbly @f-r-o-p @idkchatie (I’m only tagging the people who were really angry with Unsinkable because I think a lot of you have read all three of those stories? If not, then sorry for the tag, I love you guys<333)

Until Forever Ends

Before Kai’s father had passed away, he’d told Kai to pursue what he needed to find peace. He’d probably meant something along the lines of falling in love with another girl or switching up his career. Surely he hadn’t intended for his son to look into the mythical sisters of life and death.

It had been a long day, with him first going to his father's funeral, then to see Cinder's gravesite one last time. He hated leaving her there, but he had hope that when they would meet again, he would speak to her and not a marble headstone.

He'd mailed notes to all his friends that morning. To Scarlet and Wolf, Jacin and Winter, and Cress. He'd detailed an adventure across the world that he would be having. After all, his father had left everything he owned to Kai, and he wanted to make the most of living. Of course it was all a fantastic lie; he was traveling the world, and perhaps it would be an adventure, but it was more of a journey than anything else. And he didn't plan on ever coming home.

Because even if he found what he was looking for, he couldn't return to his friends. They wouldn't understand—they couldn't understand.

So he would travel to the ends of the Earth, and he would find her.

***

Kai sat on a sandy beach, the waves lapping up over his legs, his nostrils filling with the scent of salt. The sky was gray and the air cold, but he could not feel its bitter sting. His clothes were torn ragged and his hair grown long and shaggy. If one were to gaze upon him, they would believe him to be insane. But he did not care. He was on the hunt for the sisters of life and death— and he was close.

It had been months since his father’s funeral; months since he’d left Cinder’s grave back in Arizona. He’d flown across the sea and traveled to lands he hadn’t even known existed. He’d slept under the stars and beneath the blanket of darkness. He’d listened to stories of people who lived their lives over and over in search of love and those who had been played for fools. He’d seen much and learned even more.

He’d heard tales of the two sisters: one life and the other death. They began as whispered fairy tales, told to him by drunkards and fools. But as he investigated further, he discovered that the sisters were real.

They existed throughout all the lands of the world, always under different names. In some lands they were simply Life and Death, while in others they were Angel and Demon or creatures of the Earth. He simply knew them as Light and Darkness. He only hoped to call out to the sister of light and life, not the one of darkness and death.

Throughout all his travels, no one had ever been able to tell him how to call each sister, only that they came to the cries of the brokenhearted who claimed, and fervently meant, that they would do anything to bring their love back to them. It had to be a plea for love that consumed one’s entire soul— but his soul was filled with Cinder, and Cinder alone.

He watched the black sea as it foamed about him. There had been conflicting views as to where one had to be when summoning either of the sisters. Some claimed that the person had to be in the place of their lover’s birth, while others explained that you had to be in the exact place of their final breath. One woman had even claimed that without the body of his dead lover still warm in his arms, he could not bring her back. Kai had shivered at that proclamation, with Cinder dead and in the ground for well over a year.

But there had been one account that had remained etched in his mind. A scholar somewhere in Europe, who had quoted the lines of Edgar Allen Poe’s last poem to Kai.

“And neither the angels of Heaven above

Nor the demons down under the sea

Can ever dissever my soul from the soul

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.”

“The sea would be the best place to call one of the sisters to you,” the scholar had said. “For that is their home. With the Angel above and the Demon below, they will hear your cries.”

So Kai went to the sea.

Slowly the gray sky melded into black, allowing for the stars to dot the emptiness and the moon to shine across the waves with hints of white light. He knew he should have been cold, and perhaps he was, but there was nothing left in him but the aching wish to be with Cinder once more.

“Cinder,” he whispered her name through chapped lips. “My love. I would do anything–” his voice broke off with a sob, tears falling like the spray of the ocean. “Anything,” he reiterated. “To be with you again.”

The waves of the sea began to swirl about him, pulling him off the beach and out into the waves. He screamed as his head dipped below the water, but a bubble of air had formed around him, preventing any wetness from glancing across his skin.

Everything seemed to grow lighter, despite the darkness he had remembered seeing. The waves danced about him in hues of deep purple and foam green. Fish swam around him in a flurry, and even the stars in the sky appeared to stand in closer proximity to himself.

Then everything slowed, and Kai found himself thrown back upon the sandy beach shore. He laid upon the ground, staring at the moon in the sky, which seemed within arms reach. He lifted a hand as if to touch it.

A hand reached out to brush against his fingers, and Kai pulled back. Silhouetted against the moon was the most glorious woman that Kai had ever beheld. There was no beauty comparable to her own. Her skin was dark and lined with gold tracings that resembled the very waves of the sea. She wore a dress of crimson that covered her figure elegantly, and jewelry of gold lined her ears and neck.

“Oh my stars,” she gasped, jumping back from him as she gazed upon his face. “It’s you.”

Kai was too shocked to speak. He dropped his hand back upon his chest as he looked up at her. His eyes mapped the kindness in her face and the confusion in her eyes as she gawked at him. All that he could register was that he was in the presence of an otherworldly being.

At long last her words caught up to his thoughts and puzzlement of his own registered in his mind. “Do we know one another?”

The woman’s face softened, and she shook her head slowly. “No, I suppose we do not. Or at the very least, not in this lifetime; not in this world. I am Light, the sister of life and all things which make life beautiful. For what reason do you weep so?”

Kai’s heart skipped a beat at her words. He pushed himself up so he rested upon his knees before her, looking up at her glorious face. She glowed, as if she were the moon itself, rather than just having it shine behind her.

“My wife,” Kai explained, “Cinder, died. She is gone from this life, and I wish to be with her again. I… I just wish to be with her again.”

“You are a fool to call down a deity on purpose. You could have just as easily received my sister,” Light exclaimed, though there was a certain sorrow hidden behind her gaze. “But you have been shadowed with luck upon this day. I can sense your pain, and the both of us know that you could call upon me only if your very soul screamed for your love and your love alone.

“I do not often grant requests of such a sort, unlike my sister, who joys in tricking lovers to be her slaves for all eternity. I find that traveling into the next world is the best option— that waiting for Darkness to collect you and transfer your soul fresh and new into another world is the best way to go.” She stopped speaking, then fell to her knees so she and Kai were at eye-level with one another. “But I have met your soul in another world— one where it knew only pain. I have met many creatures of the Earth through my eons of serving them. I aid those in all the universes known alongside my sister. But in all that time I have never stumbled upon the same man twice.

“And it is for that reason that I shall grant you your request,” Light said, touching her fingers against Kai’s cheek. She winced as she wiped the tears from his face.

Kai couldn’t breath, unable to process the words she was speaking to him. He would be with Cinder once more— she would be returned to him. All would be right in the world once more.

“However, I cannot reunite you with the girl you knew in this world,” Light explained with a sigh. “With your love gone for over a year, that piece of her soul has already passed into a new universe— it has been wiped of all her joy and all her sorrows. That piece of Cinder now abides somewhere else.”

Within an instant, Kai felt his world crumble into a thousand pieces. He hated himself for believing that it had been possible— that he could be with Cinder once more. But he was too late; he had waited too long. Now he would have to live the rest of this wretched life without her and hope to meet her in another universe.

“Do not fret, dear child,” Light chided, smoothing the hair back from his face in a motherly fashion. “For there is hope yet.”

“There is?” Kai asked.

“Yes; for while that fraction of Cinder that you know has vanished into another world, her soul still resides in other universes. You see, the soul lives thousands of lives, all in different realities. For it is not one solid being, it is an entity that never ceases to exist, and can exist in more than one place at once. The only problem being that the more time it spends in one universe, the more corrupt and destroyed it becomes. If your soul could recall other realities, you would understand of what I speak, for this was the exact circumstance under which we last met.”

Kai nodded along, pretending that he had even the faintest idea of what she was speaking of. She let out a great exasperated sigh, shaking her head. Light dropped her hand from his face and got to her feet.

“Your mortal mind cannot begin to comprehend the meaning of eternity. For while you shall live forever, you will not know it. There is a block upon your soul to cause you to forget; that is why it pains man so much to try and imagine living for forever.

“But that does not matter now. For when you are dead, your soul shall endure cleansing once more and be whisked off into another life in which you shall live and love and die again. Exhausting, isn’t it?”

Kai stared blankly, completely at a loss for words.

Light looked down upon him, stars shining in her eyes. “Dear child, there is another world in which your dearest love lived with you, but you were taken from her. Her soul aches for you in the way that yours aches for hers. I have never before transferred a soul to a different reality without death occurring first, but I have also never stumbled upon the same soul twice. Yours is a soul filled with more love and loss than any other I have come to know. So upon this night I shall reunite you with your love.”

The ocean began to swirl about them once more, pulling Kai into its great depths, but this time he did not scream. Light began to rise into the air, her arms spread wide as if to cup the moon above her hair. The wind howled, twisting the coils of her black hair about her face and the crimson swathes of fabric about her body. She was a glorious arrayment of red and gold and shining light.

Above the wind, Light shouted in a tongue lost to mortals, for it was the language of the first of mankind, and it had been forgotten. The sea continued to spin around Kai, fish of every color swimming about him. He was in the eye of an oceanic tornado.

Still Light rose higher into the air, pulling her crashing waves about her as she ascended toward the moon. All that Kai could see were the many sea creatures and the luminous goddess above him, growing brighter every moment.

A high-pitched scream filled his ears, though it was not a human one. It blocked out the sound of the waves and the echoing chants of Light above him. It filled his very being as the blinding light penetrated his soul.

And just as he wondered if this would be the destruction of his very soul, everything went black.

***

Kai awoke to the roar of the ocean, and felt an instant rush of cold tear through his body. His mind flashed with the memories of calling Light to him and begging her to send him to a life in which Cinder lived. He could recall the overwhelming light that had surrounded him, and the screaming that blocked out all other thoughts as the goddess rose above him in a tornado of the sea.

He pushed himself up and stared out at the waves. It was bright— the middle of the day by his reckoning— and warm. People stood in the ocean waves wearing an odd assortment of clothes rather than bathing suits. Or at least, they weren’t the kind of bathing suits that Kai knew.

A few people stared at him with quizzical looks, though Kai couldn’t deny that he probably deserved them. He wasn’t sure how long he had been laying upon the beach, though he was almost certain it had been some time.

“Are you alright, mister?” A kid asked, looking down at Kai. His cheeks were pink from sunburn, though it wasn’t particularly hot out.

“Yeah,” Kai said, getting to his feet and dusting off his jeans. The boy watched him warily. “Hey kid, what day is it?”

“December second,” the boy replied.

“And,” Kai scratched behind his ear. "What’s the year?”

The boy gawked at him for a moment, as if he thought Kai were either very dumb or very strange. “1912,” he said the year slowly, his slightly syrupy accent not helping. “What year did you reckon it to be?”

“I don’t know.” Kai glanced around, trying to gauge the situation. He didn’t know much about 1912. Actually, he knew nothing about it other than it was a couple years before World War I broke out. “Hey kid, where are we?”

The child, who couldn’t have been older than ten gave him an incredulous stare, then glanced over his shoulder, as if to check for his mother. “Savannah, sir,” he said.

“Savannah…”

“Georgia, sir,” the kid said, taking a couple steps back from Kai.

“Okay.” Kai sucked in a breath between his teeth, trying to think of what to do next. He was beginning to panic, for he did not know where to find Cinder in this different time and place. He didn’t even know if her name was Cinder, or even Selene.

“Hey kid?” Kai asked, glancing back down to talk to the boy, but he was running toward a woman glaring daggers at Kai.

Releasing a sigh, Kai walked away from the beach and toward the bustling town. People shot glares at him as he walked down the streets. He wasn’t exactly dressed in the way a normal twenty-first century guy would be, but his jeans and shredded red t-shirt didn’t fit in with the people surrounding him either. But there wasn’t a thing he could do about it; he had no money and no connections. He was alone in a world that did not belong to him. He couldn’t even be certain that Georgia meant the same thing to these people as it did him.

He was beginning to wonder if perhaps this was all some ridiculous dream, and whether or not he would wake up soon. But he’d thought that a lot over the past year, praying to whatever being that saw over mankind that Cinder wasn’t dead— that he wasn’t alone. That he could be with his wife once more.

And then he saw her.

Her hair was longer than she’d ever worn it in his reality, nearly reaching her waist, and she wore a pale pink dress that fell well past her knees. But if those details were strange, it was nothing in comparison to the buggy she was pushing in front of her. Kai felt his stomach drop. Was she married to another man? Had she chosen Thorne in this reality instead of him?

Panic gripped him, but before he could run and hide in an alleyway, she glanced up and right at his face. Her eyes widened with shock, then joy, then fear. It was that last look that made his heart ache. He had known Cinder for seven years, but never had she looked at him in such a way.

She sunk to her knees, hands gripping the front of the stroller. “Kai,” she breathed, staring at him now with absolute horror. A tear traced down her cheek and fell to the concrete like a single drop of rain. The pain on her face ripped through his body— he could not stand to watch her suffer so.

He rushed to her side, kneeling down upon the ground beside her, much like Light had done with him the night before, or whenever it was that he had spoken with the goddess. She shook as he brushed her hair from her face and cupped her cheek with his hand. “Cinder,” he whispered, voice low. “I know that this is confusing and frightening, but I need to talk with you. I have things to explain.”

“But you’re dead,” she sobbed, turning her face away from his and shutting her eyes tight. “You didn’t make it off the ship alive. They told me you drowned. They told me you were dead. You’re dead. You’re just a figment of my imagination. You can’t be real.”

“Cinder,” Kai hushed, glancing around them. There were people walking past them, staring with curious eyes, but none of them looked nervous for Cinder’s sake. “Cinder, I know that I’m dead here. And I know that my explanation for my being here might not make any sense, but I need to speak with you in private. I can explain everything. I will explain everything. I just need for us to go somewhere where we can’t be overheard.”

She opened her eyes and the look of absolute shame in her eyes caused his heart to stop. Tears traced down her cheeks in abundance; Kai had never known Cinder to cry in such a way. He worried that she would say no— that she had moved on. That his coming here was a burden upon her. But slowly, she nodded her head.

***

They went to a park just down the street from the beach. It was run-down, with a sad swing set of splintering seats and an abandoned jungle gym. There were no children around, or even any people for that matter, a fact that Kai found almost strange. Though at his inquisitive look, Cinder simply looked away from him.

She led him to a park table that sat somewhat lopsided but was sturdy all the same. She parked the buggy beside her, drawing the cover up so it shielded whatever was inside.

Kai took a seat across from her, bouncing his legs with nerves as he watched her and she looked away. He didn’t understand why she was acting in such a way. He hadn’t had much time to think of how he expected her to react to him appearing to her out of nowhere, but it definitely hadn’t been this. Confusion, yes. But this show of shame was frightening.

“Cinder,” Kai said, tilting his head in an attempt to get her to look at him. “Cinder, what’s the matter?”

She inhaled deeply, a great shuddering breath. Then finally, she looked at him. Her eyes were red and her cheeks puffy. But despite the remorse coloring her features, she was still his Cinder. She was the girl that he had met at ASU his Junior year in college. She was the girl he had fallen in love with.

“They told me that you died,” she whispered. “I-I–”

“Alright,” Kai cut in, not wanting her to believe that she had insulted his memory in any way. After all, he was dead in this reality. He did not wish for her to believe that anything she had done after his death was wrong. “Sorry, love, I really don’t mean to cause you any harm. I just– I don’t know how to explain what I’m about to tell you.” Somehow his words came out slow and calm, though he felt rather as if he were about to explode. “But I need to tell you something, and I only ask that you listen to the entirety of my story because it might sound somewhat preposterous.”

She nodded her head slowly, tears wiping at her eyes.

Kai told their story, starting from the day he had met her back when she still lived with her step-sister. He explained that he had loved her for five years in silence before finally proclaiming his love for her when she’d explained that she’d never been in love before. He told her how they had gotten married only three months later and lived two years together happily before she’d died in a dreadful car accident.

She listened silently, her tears drying and her eyes hardening and he explained how Thorne had been in love with her and how Kai had gotten into a fight with both him and her father. She never once interrupted him, even as he explained his months of mourning, then his months of searching for a way to conjure one of the sisters of life and death.

It was only when he told her of how Light had appeared to him on the beach and brought him to her world through an oceanic tornado filled with moonlight that she chose to interrupt.

“What?” She hissed, tilting her head at him in that I-don’t-believe-a-single-word-coming-out-of-your-mouth sort of a way. If she had been the Cinder of his universe, he knew that she would have asked him how high he was.

“I know it sounds ridiculous,” Kai said, “but you have to believe me. I know that I don’t belong here— that I’m not meant to live in this world. But before you died you told me that you believe in soulmates. That you thought that every person had another half. You told me when we got together that you could feel that it was right— that it was a whisper in your ear that it was me. And I didn’t believe in soulmates then, but I do now. My soul loves your soul. It has loved it in universes that I don’t even know of, but it adored you all the same. My love for you will never die, no matter how many times I die myself. You are the only one that I will ever love. I cannot help it. My soul cannot think to love another so long as it knows you.”

“But this doesn’t make any sense,” Cinder whispered, her guards coming down. “Even if you were from another universe and you loved me there, I assure you that you would not care for me in this one. Not after what I’ve done to you.”

“Did you kill me?” Kai asked, half curious and half terrified.

Cinder let out a slight, hiccupping laugh. Kai did not feel at ease.

“Cinder,” Kai said, growing serious once more. “I don’t know what happened here— what happened to me— but I know that no matter where we are in the space-time continuum, my soul will always love yours. But if you wish me to leave you, I will.” His mouth went dry with the words, but he meant them. No matter how much it hurt to be parted from her, he would do what she asked of him.

“I’m married,” Cinder blurted out. “After you died, I married Carswell. We were engaged to be married before I eloped with you in London, but when I came back and you were dead, Kingsley thought that it would be the best option. That it would be better for everyone, especially the–”

She buried her face in her hands, but all Kai could think of was that she had married Carswell Thorne— her best friend in his world. The one who had told her that he was in love with her the day that she died. The Carswell that had fought with him at Scarlet and Wolf’s house. His blood boiled with rage, though not with Cinder. She had done what she had to to survive. But Thorne— he would have gladly hit him again.

Kai sucked in a breath and returned his thoughts to the more pressing matters. He had no clue what had happened to him in this life. For all he knew, Carswell Thorne had killed him and forced Cinder to be his bride. Maybe that’s how things had worked back then. Kai was no history major, but he knew that honor was often important to people. Perhaps there had even been a duel.

“What happened to me?” Kai asked, his voice soft. “How did I die in this life?”

Cinder drew her hands down from her face, but kept her eyes averted from him as she said, “You drowned. We were on the Titanic–”

“The Titanic?” Kai interjected, with a gasp. “Like Jack and Rose?”

“I– I don’t know,” Cinder said, furrowing her brow. “But we were sailing home and the ship– the ship sank. You forced me onto a lifeboat even though I said I wanted to stay with you.” She glared at him. “And you went down with the ship. You drowned. Or froze. I do not know, I wasn’t there with you when you passed from this life and onto the next. But you left me.”

“Oh,” Kai whispered. His body deflated. “I’m sorry.”

“You should be sorry,” Cinder sneered, then she shook her head. “No. No, you were just doing what you thought was the right thing. You saved me. And you saved–” She shut her eyes again, then finally reached out toward the buggy and pulled back the top to uncover what lay inside.

Oh course Kai knew what strollers were for, but before that moment he hadn’t really considered that there would be a child inside— at the very least, not her child. His child.

But it was his child. He could tell just by looking at the small infant that he was both Cinder and Kai mixed together. He was still young, but no longer a newborn. Great black tufts of hair rested on his head, and when he opened his eyes— Kai let out a gasp. They were exactly his own.

Cinder rocked the child back and forth, running his finger over its face in a soft, motherly way that made Kai’s very soul ache. They’d had a child together, and Kai hadn’t gotten to be there. It didn’t even particularly matter to him that it wasn’t exactly his child. He should have been there, but he wasn’t. He hadn’t been there for Cinder or their baby. He had abandoned them.

“I’m so sorry,” Kai blurted, devastation seeming to carve his heart out of his body. “Cinder,” Kai sobbed, his eyes stinging with tears. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I– I did abandon you. I’m so terribly sorry.”

“Shhh,” Cinder hushed, reaching a hand across the table and laying it over Kai’s. She looked startled. “Kai–” she started, then shook her head. “Kai, I’m mad at you, or him, or– I don’t even know. I’m mad that you saved me when you didn’t save yourself. But I will never be mad that you saved him.”

Kai stared down at her hand on his and saw the tracery of an old burn. It wasn’t as severe as the one she had had in his universe, but it was still there.

Cinder seemed to realize herself and pulled back. She bit her lip and stared down at the baby, brow furrowed.

“I named him after you,” she whispered after a time.

Kai opened his mouth as if to say something, but nothing came out.

“Kaito Rikan Prince,” Cinder continued, not looking at him. “I just– I saw him, and I knew who he was. It didn’t matter that my mother thought that he should have my grandfather’s name or that Kingsley thought he should be named after himself.” She made a face at that. “I knew that he should have the name of his father and his grandfather because they had helped to save his life.

“But now that you’re here, I– I don’t really know if that fits. It would be confusing to have two Kai’s around. But Rikan— I don’t know. I think that perhaps he could be a Rikan.”

“Uh-huh,” Kai breathed, still reeling.

Cinder looked up at him, her eyes softening. “I still don’t understand everything that happened, and in all honesty, I don’t believe you understand it all either.”

“But,” Cinder continued, closing one eye as if she were cringing at herself. “I know that every night for the past eight months I have cried for the pain of missing you so. I know that you have never left my thoughts for even an instant, both in waking and in sleep. I know that my soul loves yours, and while I do not know how long it has cared for you, I know that it always will.

“I know you’re not the you that I knew, but you also are. You’re my Kai, and not just because you look and sound like him. You watch me with that same careful way, and your laugh is the same. And strangest of all, you calm my very soul. It’s as if it knows that it’s you.

“I don’t know if you still want me,” Cinder swallowed, “after all that I’ve done. But please believe me when I say that I do not love Carswell— he is my dear friend and nothing more— and he does not love me in return. Not in this life.” She looked down at her child— their child— and smiled wistfully. “But if you do still wish to be with me, if your heart can still love me in spite of my most grievous offenses, then I will run away with you once more.” She grinned at this, the way one did when a happy memory was stirred in their conscience.

“You… You want me?” Kai asked, breathless.

Cinder looked up at him, her eyes wide. “I will always want you, Kai. No matter the time or place, I will always desire you to be by my side. Always.”

Kai watched her, his eyes searching hers for any falsities; he found none. Slowly, a smile spread across his face.

They were staring at one another, eyes that had not gazed upon the other in far too long. They were poisoned souls standing before their long sought-after cure. But now that they had found one another, neither knew what to do.

Hesitantly, Kai stood and walked over to the other side of the table. He sat close enough to touch her, though he did not. He simply stared at her, wordlessly, and she stared back.

“Kai,” Cinder whispered, breathless. She still held the infant in her arms, but he had fallen fast asleep. “Kai, I–”

“I know,” he chuckled, leaning in close to her. They were both inclining toward the other, as if through a magnetic pull. He could feel her breath as their faces rested inches apart. Neither moved in, both too scared of what would happen next.

Then Cinder muttered his name, and Kai closed the gap between them.

She let out a little gasp, as if surprised. But she kissed him back, and it was as if she had never left him— as if the past year had not happened, and they had been together all the while. He brought his hand up to cup her cheek, his fingers brushing back stray strands of hair.

They broke apart, both flushed but smiling all the same. Kai couldn’t stop staring at her, and reveling in the fact that he had found her. They were together once more. She wanted him.

After a time of shared smiles and conversations about the other’s universe, Cinder asked Kai if he wanted to hold the child, and he accepted happily. And when the baby rested in his arms, tears slipped from his eyes as love overtook his soul. He’d thought about him and Cinder having kids many times during their marriage, though they’d never quite been ready for it. It didn’t even matter that this child belonged to the Kai of this world and not to him— he loved him all the same.

They made plans for what they would do— how they would leave this place and start a new life together. Cinder would pack her belongings and they would take a train to the west. She had all her money from her dowry, and the Prince estates had been left in her name after the deaths of both Prince men.

When they parted, it was a sweet farewell, filled with promises to see the other soon, for they would never abandon the other again.

***

Kai leaned back into the couch, careful not to disturb baby Rikan as he slept. He adored the feeling of holding the small child in his arms and his small stirrings in his sleep. Even the little sounds he made caused for his heart to melt.

“Hey Kai,” Cinder called, walking into the room. He shushed her, nodding his head down toward the sleeping baby, though there wasn’t much worry. Rikan was a heavy sleeper. “Oh, sorry, Ri,” she whispered, tip-toeing over to the pair of them and settling herself down beside Kai.

She grabbed a quilt from beside the couch and laid it over hers and Kai’s laps. Then she settled her head on Kai’s shoulder. She reached her hand up to rest under Kai’s, smiling as she looked down at their baby.

They had left Georgia the same day that they had met one another there, randomly deciding to take the train to Colorado. It had been a somewhat frightening journey, with both of them worrying whether or not someone would come after them, but so far, no one had. They’d been settled into their apartment for over three weeks, happy and together at last.

There were still many things that they both didn’t understand, about one another and the situation. But at the end of the day, they were Cinder and Kai— even if Cinder was still confused about the fact that Kai’s last name was Crown and not Prince, though she did claim it was growing on her.

“I love this,” Cinder said, brushing the black tufts of Rikan’s hair. “It feels right, you know?”

“Yeah.”

“For so long I felt a dreadful emptiness within me, and while there’s still a sadness for what I’ve lost, it's not as great. It’s manageable.”

“I know what you mean.” Kai kissed the top of her head. “We’re different, but the same at the same time. It’s different, but it’s also… just us. We’re still us.”

“We’re still us,” Cinder echoed, letting out a sigh.

There were so many things in Kai’s life that didn’t make sense, but it had been that way even before he’d entered into an alternate universe. He hadn’t understood why Thorne had proclaimed his love for Cinder, or why Chandler Blackburn hadn’t been able to love his daughter. Even his own crushing grief had been confusing at times. And while this world was different in customs and manners and the ways in which society functioned, none of that mattered. For so long as he was with Cinder, all of it was okay.

“I love you,” Kai whispered.

“And I love you,” Cinder said. “And I’ll love you so long as my soul survives, for you’re the only one, Kai. You’re the only one I shall ever truly love.”

“And you are the only one for me as well.” Kai grinned. “And I will love you for forever and ever. No,"  Kai said, his eyes searching hers and seeing only Cinder. "I will love you until forever ends.”

[alpacaparkaseok]

Mine

13. Agust D

Genre: Min Yoongi x oc

Warnings: none

Word Count: 4.2k

I have a surprise for you guys in this chapter!!! 😊😊 Aaaaand we’re all set up and ready to go for the finale! 

2 Months Later

Anacortes, Washington, USA

The distant sound of a bell pulls me back to reality, and I turn to face the wind. Waves are pushing their way onto the shore, the choppy water fighting for my attention.

I watch as the ferry grows ever closer before putting my earbuds into my ears to answer my incoming phone call.

“Funny, I was just thinking about you,” I smile as I close my eyes.

“Really? What a coincidence. What are you up to right now?”

“Just about to board the ferry. You?”

“I’m going to head to bed soon.”

“Wow, so early. You’ve become so disciplined!”

Yoongi’s breathy laugh fills my ears and I can almost picture him rolling his eyes if I close my eyes tightly enough. “I’m assuming you’re not available to facetime?”

Frowning, I shake my head even though he can’t see me. “No, too many people around. You’ll just have to deal with the beautiful sound of my voice.”

“That’s what I was afraid of.”

It’s been two months since I last saw Yoongi outside of Bong-cha’s apartment. The chill that comes with currently residing in the northwestern United States is almost the same as I felt that morning when we said goodbye.

‘Young Rising’ came out just over a month ago, and it’s received a lot of success. Thankfully it was just enough to help me land a role that is already receiving speculation for possibly being a critically acclaimed role.

It wasn’t the one I originally wanted, that role went to Bryce Dallas Howard. I suppose I’ll have to try for a 1700’s romance some other time. This time around I get to play the daughter of one of the first lighthouse keepers in the United States and all the crazy events that unfold. It’s fun, and getting to take the ferry out to the San Juan islands here in the state of Washington is an added bonus.

My favorite part of the role? Every morning I get to sit here and watch the ocean and talk to Yoongi.

“Rude, but I’m not surprised. Isn’t it barely midnight there? You really are heading off to bed early.”

“Yeah, it’s midnight. What can I say? It was a long day and I’m exhausted.”

Now that I listen closer, I notice the hint of tiredness in his tone. “Why? What happened today?”

Yoongi sighs as I get up to board the ferry. Another great thing about being here in Washington? It’s cold and rainy enough that nobody bats an eye at me. I’m decked out in my raincoat and my beanie is pulled down low. During this time of year there aren’t many tourists either, so most mornings it’s just the ferryman and I. Today there are a couple of small groups milling about, though.

All the better. It gives me an excuse to not facetime Yoongi and have him laugh at my bundled up state. Which, for the record, he finds hilarious.

“Promise not to laugh?”

“Promise.”

There’s a second hesitation before he speaks up again. “I miss you.”

It’s a blow straight to the heart, and I cling to the railing so as to not fall overboard. We try not to dwell on our current state too much, things are complicated enough. Still, it’s nice to know that I’m not the only one struggling with this.

“Why would I laugh at that?”

“I don’t know, you like making fun of me and how weirdly sentimental I can get-”

“Soft. That’s the word you’re looking for.”

“...right. How could I forget.”

“I miss you too, Yoongs. A lot.”

It’s silent on the other end of the phone for a little while, so I just lean up against the railing and watch as the ferry begins to edge out to sea. Once again I close my eyes against the crashing waves and try to convince myself that I’m sitting in the genius lab or making a mess of things in the kitchen.

How could a span of less than a week affect me so much? It’s a question that I’ve come back to many times over the past couple of weeks. Occasionally I get a moment of understanding. Sometimes that understanding comes late at night as I cuddle up in bed, propping my phone up to chat with Yoongi as he sits at his desk in the genius lab and tells me about what he’s working on.

Just watching him mumble incoherent things under his breath and seeing his eyes flit back to his phone to check that I’m still there makes me realize that there’s so much going on here. So much going on whilst being so far apart.

At least the media frenzy has died down a bit. Sure, there’s still a lot of theories tumbling around, but the mobs of heartbroken fans seems to have lessened significantly.

“Are you sure that’s everything, though? What else have you got going on?”

“What, me missing you is not enough?”

I chuckle into the phone. “Nope.”

“Fine, you caught me. We’re finishing up the final touches on the mixtape and I always just get really stressed before a release, you know? Like you did the night before ‘Young Rising’ premiered?”

Shuddering at the memory I groan. “Ugh, don’t remind me. But what is it exactly about this mixtape that has you so nervous? I mean, this isn’t the first time you’ve released one. Maybe whatever helped you de-stress last time will help you this time around, too.”

There’s a long pause but I wait patiently for him to speak. The island is just coming into view now, I’ve probably got about fifteen more minutes before I’m officially on the clock and have to hang up.

I hate that part.

“I’m not so sure...it’s different this time around.”

I frown. “What’s so different? You’re even more loved?”

A wry laugh on his part. “No, not that. It’s just...this mixtape, these songs...they’re even more personal this time around. Sure, I’ve talked about some pretty personal things on my previous mixtapes, but this time around the entire mixtape is personal.”

That’s news to me. Ever since Yoongi changed the concept of the album he’s kept everything under lock and key. He told me he kept most of the tracks, ‘My First Mistake’ obviously being one of them. Other than that, though, I have no idea what to expect.

“Yoongs...I think that will make this mixtape your best one yet. Really. People will be able to relate to it, and they’ll love you even more for it. Just, get some sleep tonight. You’ve worked your hardest - don’t try to brush it all off, you’ve nearly worked yourself to the ground over this mixtape! - and that’s all you can do. I’m absolutely positive it’ll be great.”

“Thanks, Car. So what scenes are you doing today?”

We get lost in the conversation for the remainder of the ferry ride before suddenly the ferry is coming to a stop. I hurry off the boat, the tell-tale change of tone tipping Yoongi off to what I need to do.

“Talk to you later?”

“Yeah, sounds great. Get some sleep!”

Yoongi chuckles. “Will do. Have a great day.”

I sign off the phone and roll my shoulders. One of the producers, Melissa, is waiting for me in a little golf cart.

“Hey Cara, ready for the day?”

Grinning at her, I jump into the passenger seat. “Definitely.”

🌙

It’s the middle of the night when I’m awoken from my slumber, and I groan as I contemplate just turning my phone off. It was a late night, I’ve probably only been asleep for a couple of hours at this point.

When I see who’s calling, though, I pick up.

“Bong-cha?” I ask blearily. “What’s up?”

“Have you listened to it yet?!”

I hiss as Bong-cha screams into my ear. “What are you talking about? Did you and Jimin finally kiss or something?”

“No, you idiot. Yoongi’s mixtape!”

My eyes widen and suddenly I’m completely awake. “His mixtape? I-it’s out? When?”

“It just dropped like an hour ago! Didn’t he tell you? I mean, I get that he wanted to surprise everybody, but I thought he’d at least tell you.”

I’m already on my music app, searching for Agust D. When I finally hit search, I scream involuntarily.

“That little punk! He didn’t even tell me!”

“Wait, Cara!”

“What?”

“Just, listen to it.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do, weirdo.”

“No, but really listen to it. I mean, it’s about you.”

My chest stops rising as my air gets cut off. “What do you mean it’s about me? We already knew about ‘My First Mistake’-”

“No, not just that track. I mean it’s all about you. Just look at the name of it! Isn’t it a little weird that he didn’t stick to his m.o. and title it ‘D-3’?”

I was in such a rush to click on his profile that I didn’t even bother to look at the title. When I do, I come gasping up for air.

Mine.

Written there in big, bold letters is the word mine.

“That doesn’t mean any-”

“Nuh-uh, you listen to the mixtape and then we’ll hash out the details. Got it?”

“Fine. Call you in the morning?”

“Isn’t it already morning for you?”

“Yeah, 4!”

“Right. Yeah, call me later.”

Clicking off the call, I take a deep breath to steel myself before clicking on the album. 8 tracks stare back up at me, most of them I recognize from that first night in the genius lab. The leading track is ‘My First Mistake’, which makes me smile. When my eyes trail down to the final song, I can’t help but click on it.

My Last Mistake. Turning the volume up, I sit back against my headboard and listen. And then, note by note, I fall under his spell.

Yoongi’s heartbroken voice talks about details of his life, how he goes by many names. The world knows him by Suga. His true fans know his other name, August D. Min Yoongi controls the strings of those two personas. A heavy beat pounds out the words alongside him.

Then the music slows, becomes calmer. Clearer.

In the most tormented voice he can manage, Yoongi talks about a girl that called him Yoongs. He talks about a girl driving under the stars that called him Yoongs and how in that moment, he decided that none of the other names mattered anymore, just so long as he could hear her say it one more time.

As the song falls from its crescendo, Yoongi brings up his last mistake.

“What’s your last mistake, Yoongs?” I whisper, hoping for an answer.

He answers it a moment later, the same melody from ‘My First Mistake’ being played out, only this time it’s on the guitar rather than the piano.

He’s reminded of his last mistake every time a plane flies overhead and he can’t run fast enough to catch it.

🌙

The entire mixtape is hauntingly beautiful.

As I finish listening to “Naksan”, a song set Naksan park, and what I assume to be the gazebo that overlooked Seoul, I lean my head back and sigh.

There is so much we don’t say. There is so much that Yoongi has never said, but now I’m beginning to realize why he was so nervous about this mixtape.

Here, crammed into these eight songs that talk about everything from t-shirts to being oceans apart, Yoongi says everything he never could before. It’s obvious, painfully so. He didn’t try to cover anything up.

I am so dead.

Yet, I can’t find it in myself to care. The only thing I wish I could do right now is show up at his apartment and sit down on his couch. Maybe eat some food, and watch as he fumbles for an explanation to this mixtape that is no longer a mixtape but more a cry out into the void.

And of course, don’t even get me started on the title track. The song that the album is named after, “Mine”.

In it Yoongi recalls his dreams of having a big car and house, and how he gets to call all those things his now. He has it all, essentially. And yet, the one thing he wants more than anything is far from him.

‘I have it all, I hear them say it. I have it all, they chant over again. When will they realize that it means nothing to me, if I can’t call you mine?’

Dragging myself to check Twitter, I see what the number one trending topic is right now.

#Mine

And in second place?

#CaraisMine

Somehow, I can never quite make it to first place. How disappointing.

Groaning as I realize that the sun is about to come up, I linger over Yoongi’s contact information.

One call. That’s all it would take. A single phone call, and maybe everything would change. But what would I even say?

Hi, it’s the girl that’s ridiculously in love with you. Do you feel the same way? Great! Let’s end our careers and live in Fiji!

As enticing as that sounds as I watch the rain pouring down, I know that it’s unrealistic. I’m here, caught up in some strange, long-distance relationship that’s technically not a relationship.

And Yoongi’s there, hopefully receiving all the praise he deserves for coming out with yet another great mixtape.

So I just let the dim light from my phone fade out before slipping back down under the covers. I know what Yoong is thinking now.

Ball’s in my court. But how on earth do I return it?

🌙

Seoul, South Korea

“And she still hasn’t said anything about it?”

Yoongi knows that Taehyung is trying really hard to understand his current predicament, but if he asks him if he’s heard from Cara one more time, he’s going to lose his mind.

“No.”

“Have you reached out to her?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Sighing, Yoongi rubs his hands over his face. “First, because it’s only 8 o’clock in the morning over there. Second, I basically just told the world about my feelings for her, I think I can give her a little space to breathe before jumping on her.”

Taehyung plops down beside Yoongi, his eyes wide. “You’re really stressed, aren’t you?”

Somehow the question makes Yoongi laugh. “You think?” He feels restless; he has for the past two months. He thought releasing the mixtape would diminish that feeling, but instead it’s been heightened to the point that he can’t hardly sit still anymore.

Which is saying a lot, because Yoongi loves sitting still.

“Hyung?”

“Hm.”

“I think you should borrow my car and go for a drive or something. Just get out for a while. You’ve been cooped up in this studio for weeks; it’s messing with your head.”

Sometimes Yoongi forgets how much everyone cares about him. It’s in times like these that he remembers. Without saying much else he takes Taehyung’s keys that he extends to him and heads out.

When he gets into the car, he doesn’t know where he’s going. His mind is filled with worry and doubts and worst of all, regret. Was he too blind in his feelings that he overlooked Cara’s? After all, maybe she’s listening to the mixtape right this very moment and wondering why he would write something like this.

Maybe she hasn’t called him yet because she’s trying to come up with a way to let him down easy.

Yoongi drives and drives, turning up the music so as to drown out the thoughts in his head. He drives on and on, clueless to the fact that it’s the middle of the night and he should really be heading back to the apartment now.

When he parks before a lit path that leads up, Yoongi realizes that his body knew this entire time where he was going.

Without questioning it further, he hops out of the car and shrugs on his coat and mask. It’s late enough that hopefully most people will have had the sense to go home.

As Yoongi climbs up the path he only passes a couple of people; a couple that are too tangled up in each other’s embrace to even notice him. The path continues ever upward until he’s panting, but he’s grateful for the burn in his lungs. For a brief moment, his mind isn’t consumed by the what ifs of his current situation.

As Yoongi clears the final steps, his gaze immediately turns to the gazebo just down a ways. It’s the same as before, the night a similar one to that night when he watched Cara from afar before mustering up the courage to go talk to her.

Tonight there is one major difference. As Yoongi edges closer, there’s a tightness in his chest. There’s some part of him that half-expects Cara to appear, leaning up against one of the pillars and looking out at the city.

As Yoongi steps into the gazebo, that wish vanishes into thin air.

It’s empty.

Cara is not here. Yoongi is, though. Which has proved to be the most miserable thing in the world over the past two months. Cara is gone, but somehow Yoongi is still here and seeing her everywhere he goes.

The songwriting and production process is enough to make anyone go a little insane. Usually, once the project is finished, Yoongi feels like he can finally breathe again. He’s able to enjoy the fruits of his labors.

Not tonight.

At first he laughed at himself, back when he’d first started learning about Cara from Bong-cha and curiosity overcame him. He thought it was silly of him to want to learn everything about her and what it was that made her tick. There was just something about her that made Yoongi dive right in.

Of course, the boys had noticed. Even Bong-cha, who hadn’t known him for very long, had noticed the difference Cara had made. That was before they even met. Before any of this had even started.

Yoongi knows his place. His place as one of the most famous stars in the world, his place in the group’s dynamic, his place among his family. His place among ARMY. Yet, when he met Cara, it was like the ground disappeared under his feet and he’s been falling ever since.

He used to come to Naksan park often and just think. He’s not one for hiking around outdoors, but something about the view and the beautiful architecture of the gazebo and old city walls that line the path have helped him think.

He used to stand where Cara stood, and think about everything. However there was one topic that he tried to avoid at all costs: love. It wasn’t because he didn’t believe in love or didn't want it; if he’s learned anything from his time with ARMY he’s learned about love. But there was always this giant, impenetrable wall that stood between him and love.

Yoongi knows his place, and because of that clear role he has also always known that him falling in love with someone other than his fans was off the table.

That night when he came to meet Cara, he was coming to tell her just that. He was coming to tell her that he was a horrible human being that was dangerously close to breaking that unspoken rule, and he needed to mark a clear line in the sand. Friends, he had thought We can still be friends.

Yet, as he’d watched Cara head to the same spot; the same pillar he had frequented so many times, his words had gotten caught in his throat. She’d looked out over the city and Yoongi would have given anything to know what she was thinking.

Instead, he’d just asked for what so many people had been unable to give him throughout his career.

Just someone to sit in silence with.

No demands, no questions, just be together.

And as Yoongi sat swimming in his feelings, Cara’s head resting on his shoulder, he learned something about himself.

Yoongi had avoided the topic of love for so long not because he didn’t think it was appropriate for his lifestyle, but because he’d known deep down that the chances of him finding someone he was willing give everything up for were nearly nonexistent.

Cara’s hand was wrapped up in his, sharing his pocket. Quiet breathing, feeling warm despite the oppressing chill. No demanding answers, just sitting together.

He had realized that while he was looking for someone to convince him to leave everything behind, he was sitting beside someone that already understood. Someone that would never tell him to abandon it all just to be together.

He was sitting beside someone that might just be open to the possibility of being together, and would be open to the chaos that would ensue. There was no need to change everything to be together, but there would be the need to fight for that privilege of calling Cara his.

As Yoongi now steps into the gazebo and rests on the bench opposite from where they had sat, he remembers when it all started.

The night after he’d watched ‘Under Nine’, he’d felt restless and wandered up here. It was the first time in over a year that he’d come here. He knew why he didn’t bother to anymore; he didn’t feel inspired anymore when he looked out over the city.

Yoongi had seen the world, and he’d fallen out of love with it.

It was a horrible, lying, cheating thing. He’d seen too much suffering, fought so hard against it just to see evil rise up again and again.

Yet when he came up here that night after watching Cara on screen and seeing that humanity can be beautiful even in all its flaws, something amazing had happened.  

He looked out over the city, and a little spark had jumped up in his heart. That night, Yoongi looked out over the world, and began to fall in love again.

Yoongi has never been very confrontational. Some may think he is simply due to his status as a rapper, but that’s never been the case. However, he is known for his undeniable work ethic. For his unending effort to obtain what he thinks he deserves.

When Yoongi placed a letter into the mail a few days ago, he was reminded of why he was going to do everything in his power to make this work.

When he looked at Cara, he thought that she deserved a chance at love, too.

Giving one last look out at the city, Yoongi gets up and stretches. There are a lot of uncertainties swirling about right now, but there is one thing he is completely certain of.

He is going to do everything in his power to give him and Cara a chance.

🌙

Anacortes, Washington, USA

I have mail.

It’s the first time in a long time that I’ve gotten mail, but I can’t fight the feeling of dread as I wonder if the awkward pleas from fans are about to start up again. There’s a single envelope addressed to me sitting on the ground in front of my hotel door, which I scoop up before heading back inside.

No work today; we’ll be taking a two week break to wait out the rainy season before picking things back up again. I’m grateful for the small reprieve, I would much rather stay cuddled up in my blankets today while I try to wrap my mind around everything.

I haven’t reached out to Yoongi yet. Granted, it’s only 10 am, but I still feel a little guilty. I just want to make sure I have my thoughts in order before I freak out, you know? After all, there’s still a chance the mixtape being about me is just a coincidence...right?

Stacey, my PR rep, just got off the phone with me. Nobody really knows where I am right now, which is good. There are perks to being holed up in a small town in the northwestern United States.

She gave me an earful on how many calls she’s received over the course of the last few hours from various magazines and gossip collectors. When she asked me if there was a statement she would like for me to relay, I blanked. Stacey just laughed and said she’d come up with some vague for the time being.

My attention returns to the item in my hand. Cautiously opening up the letter, my brows furrow as I take out a small slip of paper and a piece of thick cardstock.

Cara,

Hopefully this gets to you when it’s supposed to. I thought of just sending you an email but that seemed to detract from what I was going for. You understand, don’t you? When you told me about your break from work, I managed to pull some strings. Follow the directions on the back of this letter, I’ll be waiting for you. And no, I can’t do this over the phone. It’s an ‘in-person’ kind of thing.

Yours,

Yoongs

Flipping the letter over I frown when the directions are in French. Then, scrambling for the cardstock, my mouth drops open as I see just what Yoongi is talking about.

One boarding ticket for tomorrow morning, leaving at 10am.

Destination?

Paris.

Previous - Next

only one chapter left! 💛💛

taglist: @eusticenatalie @agustneeds​ @prdshobi​ @oceandeep​ @taylorroe3​ @dreamcatcherjiah​

[sadviper]

Confessions of a Seducer: Woo Do Hwan Interview with Hong Kong Esquire, July 2018

The time is 9:21 PM. Like any other city, New York is vibrant and teeming with activity after dark. Lights glisten throughout Manhattan. This reporter, Patrick Soon, has an appointment to interview Woo Do Hwan at this time. It feels right to interview him late at night. This year, Woo Do Hwan is still only 25 years old. His drama, “The Great Seducer” is the reason for his recent rise in popularity. In it, he acts as a 2nd generation chaebol who deliberately gets close to an honors student named Eun Tae-hee with the intention to get revenge for his friend. However, he unconsciously becomes attracted to her without realizing it.

Seduction is the theme of this drama series. Woo Do Hwan is its living embodiment.

The night is dark. He arrives on set where the photoshoot is taking place, enveloped with a mysterious aura. The amazing seductive power that he exhibited in the drama is present here, demonstrated to all as he appears in the midst of “Quiet Nights”, a soft jazz melody that permeates the air.

He has a quality that is different from others

We never deviate from the topic of seduction for the purpose of the interview. In Korea, there was a strong reaction to the drama series after it aired. Typically in Korean dramas, the male lead is either entirely warm and loving, or the type of guy who is very strong but is still full of love and righteousness. The type of role that Woo Do Hwan plays in “The Great Seducer” is rare: he’s edgy, defiant, a little bit dangerous, wrapped in an aura that might very well kill you. 

This series focuses on the classic kdrama subject matter of upper class angst. Within this structure, he sets new goalposts that redefine the image of a male lead actor--simultaneously cool and fragile, conflicted and gentle.

Following the broadcast of the drama, the positive feedback went far beyond Woo Do Hwan’s expectations. I paid him high compliments, telling him he was the breakout male lead character of the new generation, that this series placed him into the public consciousness of Hong Kong audiences. His expression clearly showed his astonishment.

WDH: “You said that I became an Adonis through this drama. I’m pretty embarrassed--I don’t really know how to respond. Maybe I should just accept your compliments and thank you.”

He humbly smiled and laughed after he said those words. It was like being with two different people; the feeling of someone fresh out of school versus a man with dark powers of attraction.

The drama is full of seduction, danger, and excitement, so I asked Woo Do Hwan if he ever encountered any kind of temptations in his own life. He took the question seriously, and fell deep in thought. Then he replied with a hint of embarrassment, “I have to give it some thought, if you want me to tell you what are the most difficult things to resist. That’s because at different points in your life, different things will tempt you. Lately, the greatest temptation for me is sleep. I was very tired during filming and kept wanting to just pass out. I have to sleep; so more than once, I would skip meals and go straight to bed. I want to perform well, so I try to grab every chance I can get to sleep. That way, I can stay focused and not wander off while filming.”

He likes women who are straight-shooters

In “The Great Seducer”, Woo Do Hwan plays a chaebol heir who at first treats love like a game. But once he starts dating Tae-hee, without realizing it, he becomes deeply attracted to her, only to discover after the fact that he has fallen in love. Not just love; through her, he rediscovers meaning in life. 

WDH: “I feel that the character I play is very similar to who I am as a person. When I find my true love, I will give my all for the other’s sake, just like him. I can walk through fire and do anything for her. The most important thing is giving her happiness.”

There is an unspoken rule that women do not like men who are perfect, pure, goody-two-shoes. Woo Do Hwan’s role in the drama, with his aura of mystery and soul-slaying power to captivate, confirms that unspoken rule that men can’t just be normal if they want to appeal to women.

Woo Do Hwan couldn’t help but laugh when I shared my thoughts. 

WDH: “Sometimes I wonder whether I’d be attracted to someone mysterious or to someone happy, upbeat, and straight-forward. Personally, if a woman can talk to me about anything and everything under the sun, then I will find her attractive. That’s because heart-to-heart communication is important to me. If she is too mysterious, then I won’t know what to do. She’d give me the feeling of being hard to get close to. So if I were to date, I would definitely choose someone who makes me feel relaxed and comfortable. Any important relationship should have no reservations, pressure, or secrets. There should be no need to hide anything. That’s what I believe.”

Noona romances

Woo Do Hwan’s focus and involvement with only one person is a testimony to how seriously he treats romantic relationships. I listed five qualities that could be used as a new definition for masculinity: Seriousness; the ability to mesmerize; manliness; mystery; and lastly, being easy-going or easy to get close to. 

Many kdramas have been using noona romances for their thematic material. As the trend increased in popularity, it caused an upswell in discussions in Korea, opening up a new possibility of redefining masculinity.

WDH: “I also recently found out that noona romances are very popular in both dramas and movies. It’s an interesting phenomena. I don’t think love has anything to do with age. As I previously said, the most important things in any kind of relationship are honesty, communication, and trust. If each party thinks of the other as The One, then age shouldn’t be a factor.”

The father as the role model for your life

Woo Do Hwan’s career is only just starting to rise. He spoke frankly that he didn’t have time for romance at this stage of his life.

There is a movie called “The Divine Fury” that he is about to film. He was cast to play a completely different role from “The Great Seducer”, and will go head-to-head in direct confrontation against Park Seo-joon. In this movie, he plays a Machiavellian character who manipulates and betrays others without hesitation.

WDH: “I’m looking forward to acting this role. I’m so grateful to my family who helped and encouraged me after I entered this career field. My father is the person I admire the most, and my family are the most important people in my life. Since I was young, I already respected my father. Now that I’m an adult, I keep reminding myself to learn from him, and hope that I will become somebody like him.”

The interview is drawing to a close. I said, “You’re absolutely a rising star.” He immediately responded with a humble smile, “If you want to talk about what’s fashionable, let’s talk about local hotspots. If I don’t need to work, I’d ask my friend to join me at the Nanji Hangang Park (a resort area for picnicking and camping near the Han River?). I feel very relaxed in those kinds of places. After camping, then along the way, I’ll visit rooftop bars and cafes in the ___ area (in Cantonese, sounds like “Lee Tai Yuen”). I like to enjoy my coffee or handcrafted beer, and just relax and talk until nightfall. That’s the kind of life that I like.”

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

Notes: Not my translation, I just bothered someone to give me the rough idea, and I cleaned up the aftermath, chortling over the endless amounts of “amazing seductive power” that Woo Do Hwan was overwhelming this Patrick Soon guy with. Apparently the interviewer was being excessively roundabout in his writing, so I just...made stuff up since I couldn’t verify accuracy, ahaha. I’m irked that this article isn’t on the HK Esquire website, so this is for internet posterity I guess?

Finally, I seriously hope WDH got paid beaucoup bucks for sitting on dumpster lids and bare doorsteps in NYC, my god. ;__;

[betweentheracks]

My question is regarding styling for promotional work in the US - I see so many female stars who are in a different outfit, with full hair and makeup, for their interviews, sometimes with multiple changes per day. And then, there is their male costar slouching along in jeans and a rumpled shirt for a whole days worth of appearances. Is there a contractual requirement placed on female stars or is this just an industry norm? Thank you in advance for any insight you can offer!

Ah, look at you go Greyface! Taking a real stab right into the black heart of the style industry. How bold and perceptive of you! 🤭

The simple and direct answer is, this is a double standard.

The more complex path that still leads to same resulting answer is very worth traversing though and is filled with the peaks and plummets of the fashion industry's history. So, naturally, we'll walk this way together and take a look.

Buckle up, rack mates, this ride is a doozy. 

The following is my insight and perception as a professional stylist and is subjective to my position and role. 

It is a well and widely known fact of fashion and beauty that at the heart of all the glitz and glamorous there is a horrible ugliness beneath. It is treated as an unseen slight or even a "secret" we shouldn't talk much about. It is as old as fashion itself and has only been worsened over time and with the evolution of marketable style and beauty standards. Women are more promotional than men = women are more desirous than men = women are the pitch and men plunder fame by proxy.

Sex sells. Point of fact; type face bold print. This is the truth of fashion and entertainment and is a marketing strategy at this point.

Specifically, however, it isn't that "sex" sells but rather which sex sells. As in which gender is the apparent and clear choice to use as a promotional feature and living advertisement. The answer is, as it has been for ages now, women. Feminine features are fair and pleasing to behold. They can be dressed up and toned down; styled into an ideal of wanting and craving. Women can be influential to both male and female audiences by beckoning men's gazes to the treats she has for them (treats being whatever it is she is being used to stage and sell) while sitting loftily as an iconic standard of beauty for women to reach for and in turn take up anything to help achieve this ideal (meaning they'll buy whatever is being promoted in their wish to be like the woman on the package).

This strategy and double standard extends well beyond the immediate scope of fashion or upselling the brands of luxury labels. It is also very present in the entertainment industry as a means to promote films, television, and other media. You'll see an actress working the promo circuit or doing interviews dressed to the nines even in casual and laid back styles and then you'll blink and she's done up entirely different but no less coifed and glamorous. Meanwhile her male counterparts and costars are parading about in very understated styles or even sloppy attire, sometimes dressed out in high quality suits but still not quite up to snuff. The efforts of stylists clearly more aimed towards maintaining the woman first and the man second, if at all.

The second and less often discussed pigeon hole that fuels this sexist standard is money. Femme fashion, while typically more expensive, is still unquestionably more versatile than menswear. This is because fashion profits more off female consumption and interest than male and thus caters to that market with more variety and visibility. Wardrobe budgets for filming are skewed with more money funneled into the styling of an actress or female celebrity with a limit on how much is spent on the men. This is symbiotic with the pricing of menswear being less than womenswear but altogether more durable in its make.

It's frustrating and awful and I am ever so glad and thankful that it is slowly having attention called upon it by those within the industry. As modern style continues to evolve and dilute the boundaries between gender stereotypes and typecasting, this double standard becomes more and more frail. Many voices have started gathering in outrage over such rampant and asinine misogyny. Men have come forward to demand that they are as equally marketable and appealing, women have put their foot down and refused to be sexualized or sensationalized. There is the rising trend of androgyny and transgender recognition. Each step is in the right direction and in pursuit of an equal playing ground where women and men can each be glammed up and used as a standard for beauty or poised as a pinnacle of style.

I work extensively with male clients to this effect. I not only enjoy gender neutral styles but have clients that have made it clear they like the glamor of femme styles and want their image to be a balance of masculine and feminine. My oldest client wears heels and likes glittering eye makeup and has often made a case to be allowed to wear skirts or dresses, while my only female artist prefers more of an asymmetrical blending of menswear with feminine accents and likes her footwear to be the type that she, in her words, "can kick ass and stay looking class" while wearing.

There's an uptick in the emergence of queer brands and LGBTQ+ labels in the US with ideals/ethics steeped in the goal of gender neutrality and equality. With them comes the new hope for fashion's future where gender lines are not drawn and women are not the golden rule of promotional value for their supposed sexy/cute/inviting stereotype.

I hope to see men as a campaign centerpiece for lingerie, make up, and other needlessly gendered interests and women in ads for suits and leisure activities such as fishing or mudding and the other inherently male coded interests. I hope to see all gender typecasts and molds fall away entirely with people simply promoting things they enjoy. To see a full cast given the same amount of primping and stylized effort when making the rounds to talk up their projects.

Progress is slow but the world of fashion hinges upon welcoming change and being influenced by current climates and trends just as much as it influences outwardly. One of these days this double standard will be stripped out and the industry will again be revolutionized or it will become obsolete.

Beauty is beauty; people are people; style is style. Promotional/marketable viability cannot stay relevant against the might of such simple truths. The coming years will see the divide between gender being filled as designers and labels fight to remain prominent empires of fashion, and from there other interrelated industries will have no choice by to comply lest they find themselves stripped bare ass naked and lacking affiliations.

This post went and became a sort of tangent, whoops. I'll rest my rambling here and call it good. I intend to make a full post detailing the reshaping of fashion in the height of today's evolving inclusivity of gender roles and norms and the correlation of how fashion has long since been steps ahead in this movement. This ask happens to be a good sounding place for what some of that content will look like.

Fashion and style was never intended to give distinction between the masculine and feminine nor to place significance on gender. Segregation in fashion was initially between wealth and status; a determination of class in way way back when clothing first became an expression. Originally, fashion had no actual gender associations and men and women all worse similar styles of robes that would now be considered dresses. Class and wealth gave way, buckling to the thought of using one's showy status to promote goods to be traded and this was the birth of marketing women as a means of interest. Ever since it has been an internal struggle between ethics of material misuse of rights (sexism) versus capital relevancy (turning profits via brand visibility). A number of fashion houses are guilty of going with the flow and hoping the fortune and reputation made along the way could either cushion the blowback of systemic misogyny one day being aired out or could be used to steadily alter the trajectory of style's evolution.

Consider fashion as a tightrope act being performed between the politics of brand recognition and the conceptual idealism of expression. One small and out of sync step will result in a dire fall with no way of knowing if there is a safety net to pardon a brand or label from plunging into obscurity. This is why the fashion industry prefers taking time to plan careful steps forward and seldom rushes out. Fashion keeps pace while also staying baby steps ahead to change the course of current societal trends, even willing to sometimes relinquish any ground it has in effort to remain on the wire at all. It's a precarious give and take.

Three paragraphs later, truly, I yield to the length of this post and am done. I can’t guarantee this was even close to what you wanted to know and for that I am sorry. I get swept up by the passion I have for the inner workings of the business and lose myself (and my train of thought so if this doesn’t make a lick of sense, that would be why lol). Still, I do hope some of this sheds a little light on the matter. 

[westywrites]

The End of a Not-Life

A long while ago, I had a follower celebration contest. For the winners, I am writing either short stories or poems based on the ~vibes~ of their blogs. Here is the first one.

This story is inspired by @yvesdot blog. Coming in at 1960 words, it is a musing on the power of choice and the roles we play in the world, featuring a vampire narrator :)

(Also, some characters are Jewish. As I myself am not religious, I did lots of research to try to accurately and respectively include this aspect. Please let me know if any of it is unintentionally disrespectful and I will eagerly change the story to take the new information into account!)

The End of a Not-Life

This night is no different than any other, as familiar as the leather notebook in my hand.

The neon-tinged gloaming of the city does not reach my park bench, my seat of observation. The sun will soon finish its descent, and the bars where humanity worships its mortality will disgorge their familiar stream of drunken patrons. It is the same in the twenty-first century as it was in the seventeenth, only the colours that light it have changed.

I sit as I always have, notebook and pen at the ready. Watching, waiting. Bearing witness with the city-bound trees.

Inevitably, a drunken soul will venture the shortcut down the dark path. They will come across the swing set. A joyous place of play turned sinister in the night; the familiar made unfamiliar. They will see the thing upon the swings. A child, they will think.

They will be wrong.

The thing on the swings will smile, wide eyes glinting in the darkness. And the poor, drunk human will know their mistake. Far too late. They will know then what it means to be mortal.

Beyond the sought-after embrace of alcohol, that is.

It is a simple story. One told innumerable times with infinite, inconsequential variations. Yet, I find there is so much to ponder in those variations. So I wait, I watch, I record. And another story is added to my study.

The creature-that-is-not-a-child knows I observe its violent tradition. It throws a knife-blade smile in my direction — a promise of a good show to satiate both our ancient hungers.

I raise my bottle in return. The ruddy liquid inside clings to the glass as it moves. Its warmth against my lips reminds me of when I was the creature in the dark, flashing too-sharp teeth behind painted lips as I delighted in the fear of my next meal. I bored of that struggle long ago.

It is easier to chronicle the machinations of terror without blood on my fingers to smear the words.

I wait, I watch. I run a thumb over the supple leather of my notebook. Familiar.

A blank page meets my pen as the story begins again.

Drunken humanity pours out under the twinkling neon. They shield their eyes from the brightness of the false stars.

The dark treeline must seem a solace. A sanctioned hold of the natural world, free from the glaring bright future. But the darkness holds worries that cannot be predicted.

Sure enough, one decides to brave the dangers of the dark. A woman with an unsteady, staggering step. Her taloned shoes are in her hand. Perhaps the alcohol has heightened her courage. Perhaps the desire for her safe, warm home makes the shortcut too great a temptation.

Whatever the reason, she steps out of the light and onto the path.

Her jacket is draped over her shoulders, bright red against long black hair. Red. I cannot help but smirk at the appropriate colour for what awaits her. She stumbles forward, and the neon glow relinquishes her to the dark.

She stops.

A digression from the familiar story, the woman stands still. Blinking. Thinking as she wraps a hand around her necklace. She is close enough that I can smell the alcohol that mingles with her perfume. Her heartbeat is steady; she does not stop from fear. Not yet, at least.

In my centuries of observation, the story has rarely changed. But the woman does not continue on her way.

She turns to me.

She smiles.

And the story is ruptured.

Her stumbling steps bring her closer. She places herself on the bench next to me, glancing at my notebook as I close it.

“Aren’t you cold?” Her voice rings through the dark, bearing little trace of the drunken state that inspired her to walk home barefoot.

“No,” I reply. Simply, coldly. I can feel the eyes of the not-child watching in the distance. The woman does not know she is prolonging her gruesome death.

“You’re writing in the dark.”

I nod.

“The park is officially closed after dusk.”

“And yet here we both are.”

“I was passing through, you’re sitting. There’s a difference.”

“You’re sitting now,” I point out. Perhaps she will realize my cold tone is a request for her to move on. To continue the story.

“I made a choice.”

An unusual choice indeed.

“You’re not talkative.”

“I did not come here to talk.”

“No.” She shakes her head, her dark hair falling into her face. A strand of it sticks to her lipstick, the same bright red as her jacket and dress. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t want someone to talk to. A person makes a better listener than a notebook.”

I look at her, narrowing my eyes. “Do you not know how dangerous it can be for women to talk to strangers in the night?”

She laughs. Her drunkenness tinges the sound of that, at least. “I made that choice too,” she says, her eyes twinkling.

“And my choice is to sit in the dark, alone.”

“I don’t think that’s true. Or else you wouldn’t have been watching me.”

“I like to watch.”

She shakes her head again. “No one wants to be just the observer.”

“It is a choice that was made for me long ago.” I do not know why I admit this to the woman. Yet, I cannot help my fascination with this human who has interrupted my night by diverging the story of her own death.

She places a hand on my arm, removing it quickly when I tense. “We always have the freedom to choose.”

I scoff.

“The world tried to tell me I’m something I’m not, so I made a choice.” She gestures vaguely to her dress before her hand wraps once again around the silver chain of her necklace. “I make that choice every day, no matter what others say.”

“This is not that simple.”

She laughs again. “Who I am, who I choose to be, is anything but simple, trust me.” She pauses. Her lipstick stains her teeth red as she bites her lip. “What do you like to be called?”

Her question is so unusual, I respond only with a furrowing of my brow.

“I mean, what name do you like to go by?” Her smile is gentle.

“No one has called me anything for a very long time.” Why am I talking to this human? She is about to die; it does not matter what I answer. And yet...

The look in her eyes is somehow familiar.

“Why do you ask?” I do not know why I ask this either.

“Names are important. They tell you who someone is and tell you something about them. Chosen names do even more.”

“I still do not understand why you came to talk with me.”

This time, her necklace drops on top of her dress. A small Star of David shines silver against the shimmering red fabric. “I made a choice,” she repeats. Her smile shines too.

“What do you hope to gain from this?”

She shrugs. “A small step towards a better world.”

“And if I told you your part in this world will end tonight?”

“Is that a threat?” She laughs again. I am beginning to think I will miss the sound when she continues to the inevitable end of her story. “Well, I would tell you that, though I’m not sure how, I must have served my role in this world and there is a reason for my untimely death.”

I shut my eyes for a moment. There is no reason here, only the old hungers of older terrors, recounting the same old stories. I am sure I can hear the not-child growing impatient.

“But I’ll admit,” the woman continues, looking up at the tree branches above us, “I wouldn’t want to die tonight.”

The sombre moment presses down on me with all the weight of the sky. Inklings of private feelings are rising inside me, the feelings I must bury to bear this wretched not-life of mine.

“After all,” the woman turns her gaze to me, face lighting in a smirk, “it would be a shame to die right after I met you.”

I blink, and my memory paints over the woman’s face with the face of another. A woman from a lifetime ago who told me we did not need to suffocate under the weight of our dresses. She pressed a wooden Star into my hand and said, we are made in the image of God –an immaterial being, neither man nor woman. If I felt the same, did that not make me closer to God, therefore, not a monster?

She only realized I was destined to be a monster when she felt my teeth pierce her neck. Her body fell, drained and pale, at my graveside.

I am not the same as I was then. I know I am a monster. And the woman staring at me now is flush; her smooth, brown cheeks ruddy with liquor and life.

“We did not meet,” I tell her. “This is not part of your story.”

“My story isn’t over yet. Neither is yours.”

“We do not get to decide that. What we might want does not matter.”

“We do. It does.” Her voice is hard, determined. “If you do watch people, if you write it all down...” She runs a finger along the edge of my notebook. “You should understand that the choices we make, the things we want and what we do about it, that is everything that matters.”

I pull my notebook away from her. “The nature of the world will always overpower us.”

“The name I’ve chosen for myself is Aliza,” she says, standing. “In kabbalah, it signifies joy, the ability to rise above nature. I do everything in my power to prove myself worthy of the name.”

I shake my head. I am not meant to know her before she dies.

“I don’t know your name; I don’t know if we’ll meet again.” She looks out into the darkness and takes a deep breath. When her eyes meet mine again, they are alight. “But I know this isn’t the end of my story, and it isn’t the end of yours either. We get to write what happens next.”

With that, the woman - Aliza - turns and strides back to the path, shoes in her hand. Red jacket blood-bright against her black hair. She stumbles only once.

In the night, on the swings, shine the familiar eyes of the creature-that-is-not-a-child. It smiles, teeth knife-sharp and ready.

I am on the path, watching Aliza move toward her end. I do not know when I stood. The leather of my notebook is smooth in my hand. She cannot yet see what is coming.

In all my observations, in all my notebooks, in my centuries of studies on humanity and fear and hunger, the same story echoes throughout time. Lives lived and lives lost, as simple as that. Thousands of people who would be forgotten, the end of their story unknown. The choices they made at the end, all those slight variations… I have always thought myself a passive observer who knows nothing about the people I watch die.

Yet, one could say that in studying those variations – their choices in their final moments of life – I know all those people in every way that matters.

Now Aliza is walking toward her death. I know her name. I know her choice. My notebook is heavy in my hand; its pages filled with the very thing that made all those people human.

Suddenly, this is my story too. And for the first time in centuries, I make a choice.

[fencesandfrogs]

cloudtail’s daughter — worldbuilding & logistical things

so i've been working on an au re. dovewing being the direct child of cloudtail and brightheart. check out my cloudtail's daughter tag for more info, because i'm basically just jumping in this time with minimal context.

that said, i think this is relatively self-contained. it's mostly thoughts about the world of warriors, lumped in with specific changes for the au purposes.

[3.8k words, 14 min read. section headers, very long paragraphs. paragraphs in parathesis and italics are sidebars that can be skipped. a lot of spelling mistakes because my grammer checker cuts me off after like 2k words. sorry.]

section one: po3

so i've said before i want to minimize the changes made specifically in po3 for the purposes of this au. a) because that means i only have to keep track of 6 books worth of content (i've given myself through bramblestar's storm to get to the point where it could mostly fit into canon, but for reasons that are obvious re. my dovewing/tigerheart take, tigerheart's shadow would be a little weird, but not out of canon. anyway we don't get any tigerheart pov in this so who knows what he's thinking.)

anyway, hollyleaf plays a significant role in the ending three books of the rewrite, getting her own pov in book 4 the forgotten warrior. so she can't go exactly the same way it happens in po3. i need her back in thunderclan by book 2 for beavers, not book 5. also, she still needs to end up mates with fallen leaves. because changing that would count as a major series change that could have an impact on the future continuity and this series rewrite is intended to be fairly self contained.

right. so hollyleaf has her shit a bit more together, but she still kills ashfur and goes into the tunnels. the difference is we're ignoring the entire hollyleaf's story novella. don't get me wrong, it was a really good novella, but she doesn't have that much time. i'm not interested in figuring out the details of what happens, but she returns to the clans either before book one or in book one, i haven't decided. she continues to see fallen leaves fairly regularly, though, including spending irregular nights with him. everyone just kind of...accepts hollyleaf's ghost boyfriend, because no one wants to upset hollyleaf again.

lionblaze's personality is not entirely nonexistant in po3, contrary to popular opinion, but he does have to support an entire book in this rewrite, and it's the weakest book in the arc, so he's gotta have something. i've nudged him to be a bit gregarious and open. you know, big and friendly and warm. terrifying in battle though.

jayfeather ends on much better terms with brightheart. i know he doesn't really end on a bad note with her, but this is also to help story flow a bit.

other changes will, i'm sure, crop up here and there, but those are the three major ones. i've got tonnes of changes i'd like to make, but i'm keeping it minor. (notably, if it were up to me, jayfeather would do his back in time sequence once, not twice, and it would be in omen of the stars. hollyleaf's ghost boyfriend would add more solid ground to it, and that would be established in book 2, but as i've decreed the rules, it is not up to me.

also, dovekit and jaykit would be siblings, and dovepaw would become the medicine cat dovefeather, and jaypaw would be the warrior jaywing. that's a bigger change though for a different au.)

section two: family dynamics & a bit of genetics

so one thing i really like in omen of the stars is how close dove/ivy/white are. it's really cute. cloudtail and dovekit are super close in the first book, and brightheart, dovekit, and ivykit are going to stay close throughout their lives. (cloudtail will also stay close with his daughters, but dovewing and ivypool consistently look to whitewing for support, and brightheart is good for that too.)

i have whitewing as still existing because age wise, i think it makes sense for brightheart to have her younger litter at dovekit and ivykit, than for them to be her first litter and for amber/dew/snow continue to exist. (in my hypothetical jaywing/dovefeather au, this is reversed.)

i'm not keen on her being close with her younger sisters. i do think, for future story purposes, whitewing and birchfall would have amber/snow/dew. this is a super unimportant change because the only part of that litter that matters is that lilykit is fostered so that lilyheart can then foster twigkit and violetkit, and there's 0 reason that whitewing can't be responsible for that.

(be honest, did you even remember that chain of events? did you even remember who raised lilykit? did you even remember sorreltail was her birth mother who died? yeah, that's what i thought.)

anyway, i've danced around the specific genetics of how we get a grey dovekit from a white cloudtail and a red brightheart, and you may think, "matthew, one paragraph isn't dancing around it," and that's because you have no idea how much i care about this and how much i have to say about this. if you don't want to read 1.3k words about cat genetics, skip to the next section. the last two paragraphs is the only part that's even kind of important.

so. i've put a whole lot of thought into this. because obviously dovekit is responsible for being grey to make the whole bit work about her, you know, being dovekit, and dovekit must be dovekit for dove's gentle wings to work. so this is important.

i'm going to walk through the two options: tortie brightheart and tortie dovewing. (*technically, calico brightheart and either for dovewing, but i'm keeping it brief.)

(an aside that's totally skipable: so there is a gene on the extension locus E/e which causes cats born black to turn to amber, which definitely could be brightheart, but it's pretty rare, so i'm sticking with my calico assumptions. that said, in brightheart's official art, there is a black ring around her nose, implying a very specific silver tabby to amber deal. given her kit coat isn't described anywhere i can find it, i'd say it's actually the best description of brightheart. that said, best description is not the most likely. anyway, if this were the case, i wouldn't need all of this write up. so know that there's an easy solution, but i'm choosing to ignore it because of its rarity and because i don't want to check if brightheart could have inherited the silver genes she would have had to for this to work. it's definitely possible, given that frostfur has the same deal as cloudtail, see below, and lionheart could be golden --- as in the formal word for a cat with certain genes, a color linked to silver, but, well, i just can't find it likely. i'll add a short description of how it would work at the very end of this though.)

in either case, cloudtail is the same, so i'll address him first.

so, cats have four genes on the white allele, Wd, Ws, w, and wg. Wd is dominant white, and it could be what cloudtail has, but since he has blue eyes, it would be likely for him to be deaf, and, because it's dominant, there's a low chance that neither dovekit nor ivykit inherit it. is what i would be saying if whitewing wasn't his first daughter. she is also solid white with blue eyes, so to me, that makes me thing he has Wd- (as in, any other gene.)

the other option, Ws, requires him to be WsWs to be fully white, and brightheart to be either WsWs or Ws- for whitewing to inherit WsWs. given that ambermoon and dewnose are not fully white, it seems that brightheart is Ws- and cloudtails is Wdw (or Wdwg) in order for their theoretical image to be correct.

(an aside of even less importance: ambermoon's father was not cloudtail. the short explanation is that she shares one X chromosome with princess, who was XX --- see my discussion of tortoiseshells below, we know princess wasn't one, so she can't be XXo --- and one with brightheart, who's XXo or XoXo. therefore, ambermoon and princess cannot both have accurate canon descriptions because one of them needs to be a tortie. i think it's more likely she was sired by a red tom. yes, it is possible for kits in the same litter to have different sires, and yes, that is necessary, because no one else has dominant white in thunderclan AFAIK. this means making her birchfall and whitewing's gives a bit more wiggle room in all this. a bit. she could also have the same thing covered on brightheart in the above slide, but that's complicated for other reasons.)

brightheart is almost certainly Wsw or Wswg. they're not both wgwg because that leaves no options for ambermoon, who i'm interpretting as not having any white. cloudtail inherits from princess wg because of birman gloving demonstrating on her white paws (there are other ways, but given her description, which fits it almost identically, i'm going with that.) so for white, we have Wdwg for cloudtail and Wsw for brightheart.

ivypool inherits Wswg so she can have her inconsistent white, and dovewing inherits wwg.

now, we don't know anything about cloudtail's father, except that he's white too (or cloudtail couldn't be white.) princess is light brown tabby, which is something i'm having a hard time deciding her genetics for, so we'll work back to that (neither of the obvious options leads to a cat that looks like princess, because of how tabbies work, the combination is likely not to be obvious anyway) if i decide we need her genetics.

right so for dovewing to be solid grey, two things must be true: cloudtail and brightheart must be either Dd or dd (dilution). brightheart, i don't believe, is dilute, because i've seen cream on cats and it's far closer to sandstorm's color than brightheart, so i'm calling her Dd. cloudtail can be either.

dovewing is dd, and so is ivypool. that's how you get light grey.

now, either cloudtail or brightheart have to have a B- black phenotype. (special case included, if you read the aside) and i think it's more likely to be cloudtail. then, brightheart can be blbl, which is cinnamon, and would help hide her tortie-ness. (we're covering that later.)

at this point, dovewing is more or less settled. if you're comfortable with this type of genetics, you can probably work it out. dovekit inherits B-/dd/wwg, and she's everything we need. the fact that she's not a tabby does kind of matter, but not really, because the nonagouti gene is recessive so even if cloudtail was a masked tabby, he can still be Aa and brighheart can be Aa, so she won't show. that makes dovewing B-/dd/wwg/aa, for those following along at home.

ivypool is a tabby, so she'd be B-/bb/Ws-/A-.

okay, we have the core of them settled down. there's a lot more that goes into types of tabbies, but that doesn't really matter here. the last bit that matters is the tortie issue.

as is a somewhat commonly known fact, tortie cats are almost always female, because the phaeomelanin (red pigment) gene in cats is sex linked to Xo (vs X for eumelanin, the black gene). this is expressed as O/o when discussing the specific gene, but since we only care if its dominant, the XO/Xo distinction is slightly faster to type if X means black and Xo means orange.

anyway, these are codominant, if a cat has two, they'll be expressed at random. that's how tortie cats exist. since for the vast majority of cases, only female cats have two X chromosomes, only female cats can be XXo.

(as an aside, that's another reason for the clans to find sol strange. i know the clans have a lot of male calicos, but sol was the most distinctive one, since redtail died in the prologue and i can't recall any others off the top of my head.)

anyway, dovewing needs to inherit XX to be fully black (grey), so brightheart needs to be tortie to pass on one to her and remain orange. alternatively, brightheart is XoXo and dovewing is a tortie. i'm sticking with brightheart tortie because that's actually how i pictured her, so i like it better, but it doesn't really matter, since the cream on dilute torties is actually rather subtle.

ivypool is the same as dovewing, although she could be a tortie if dovewing isn't and brightheart is, something i quite like the idea of.

now, for option 3, the cryptic option in the aside. basically, to summarize, you can get black cats who turn orange over time. the end result is a cat who looks very much like brightheart if they start silver tabbies (like ivypool could be), up to the black ring around her nose in the official art. that makes it the best way to describe brightheart.

however, it's pretty rare, so i chose to ignore it for my analysis. if brightheart did have this gene, then nothing would change about dovekit and ivykit from their canon descriptions, nor would her's change, except for her apprentice art, which would need to be updated as spreading orange over silver.

this is also the only option that gives us fully red ivykit, something i have decreed adorable.

over 1k words about cat colors later, here's my take: dovewing and ivypool with somewhat mirrored tortie spots (they'll never be perfectly mirrored, both because ivypool has white and because its entirely random) is cute and adds something extra to all of that art where they're mirrored.

i'd rather have straight red brightheart because she's got so much art very clearly not calico, and i'd rather have the two sisters match each other for cinematic drama than change brightheart. the accurate thing to do would be calico brightheart because it could be easily hidden by the right genes on the B locus, but i don't want to do that. so. i hope this was illustrative.

section three: clan culture

this here has no impact on plot but i've read a lot of worldbuilding stuff developing distinct cultures for the clans and honestly, that's why i'm so sad book 6 takes place with two shadowclan narrators. unfortunately, dovewing and ivypool are, like, crucial to the success of the clan cats, so they need to be there.

that said, were i to write this, i would certain write novellas for lionblaze and jayfeather.

anyway, i'm going to take what we've come to see as "standard clan culture" as thunderclan culture. they have a good deal of contact not with twolegs but with kittypets (compared to the opposite for riverclan) in the old terretory, so it makes sense they developed a more rigid, militeristic life, less free and less spiritual than the other clans necessarily. they're trying to be tough in front of the kittypets.

riverclan is just kinda...chill. they like flowers and shiny things. they copy twolegs because its fun (cats irl do this because they want to be like you --- being like you seems safe to them, but these kitties do it because its fun.)

so they make, not flower crowns because, no thumbs, but certainly weave flowers into den walls and leave petals places. (to everyone who keeps putting things on cats heads, please try doing that with the most patient domestic cat you know, and then i'll let you quietly correct yourself. i mean, continue doing it for fun, but if you seriously think that's possible...)

i do like the idea of them making wreathes its just, like, no opposable thumbs guys. maybe the medicine cats do it for religious holidays.

anyway, they have patrols far less regularly than thunderclan. they're also the most true to real cat schedules: most active at dawn and dusk. that's when fish are active.

so they're not lazy, sleeping all day, they get up earlier than all but the earliest risers in thunderclan and shadowclan. (windclan wakes up early too, we're getting to them.)

they also make shrines, but they don't really have a ton of weight to them. they're copying what they see.

when cats die, however, the trinkets lining their nests are dispersed to their loved ones, and one or two are added to a collective pile/arrangement somewhere. riverclan has been pretty clear their nests float (although i can't tell you why, considering they just evacuate when that happens and have to rebuild), so the most useful thin i can think of is to preserve the trinkets.

they also are one of the two clans to celebrate proper holidays. there's not a good sense of order to them, but when a celebration is needed, a celebration is had.

that said, unlike thunderclan, the warrior vigil does remain strong in riverclan. this is because twolegs are far more common in their territory, and so learning to be quiet when necessary is important, and the vigil reinforces that. riverclan cats are also really good at sitting still: you have to, to be able to catch fish.

shadowclan is pretty serious, but unlike thunderclan, they're serious about religion. being a medicine cat in shadowclan is a pretty serious deal. they tend to die young. (i'm stealing this mostly/entirely from warrior cats redux because i can't get it out of my head.)

they retain bringing apprentices to the moonpool in the new territory. it was always an important deal for them, whereas in thunderclan it's kind of like "oh yeah make sure that happens," like a mastery project in high school or a first year seminar in university.

they also care a lot about their ancestors. i believe blackstar is the one who called the names of the fallen during every gathering? yeah. that's because remembering the dead is really important in shadowclan.

they've got a lot of nursery tales about ghosts who grew vengeful once their names were forgotten, fading from starclan but not allowed to fully die. so. when everyone dies real fast like that, carving their names into everyone's memory is super important.

(if it wasn't blackstar who did that it is in this au.)

anyway, they've got a good amount of order to their life, like thunderclan, and the camp is also a lot quieter. in thunderclan, kits are under a good amount of danger from badgers and foxes and hawks, oh my!, but pine forests are a bit safer, since foxes are the only serious predetor.

i mean, it's complicated, and i can't really figure out what biome to base this analysis on, but i'm sticking with "foxes are all shadowclan really has to worry about" because it works for me. so shadowclan kits are allowed (suprivised) out of camp much earlier.

i know this contradicts tigerheart's shadow, and my choice was either "shadowclan: militant about protecting kits" or "shadowclan: dgaf" and i'm going with "after brokenstar, they did get real protective of their kits, which is when tigerkit was born and raised, but over time, they've relaxed back to their natural state of chill"

anyway, they're probably the most similar to thunderclan, but dovewing vibes there so much better because there's a real sense of order for purpose, not just because. so there's less shouting about who is going on patrol and who's hunting. the dawn patrol is leaving because if you're up at dawn, you need to secure the territory. etc.

and while she's part of a prophecy, shadowclan revers the prophecy itself, not dovewing. dovewing is not special for being a part of it, she's just doing her role for clan life. her role happens to be different than the usual, but so what? she's just a cat.'

also, they have holidays. namely, the new moon is a big celebration night, but they also celebrate the seasons, and new life. this is part of why tigerheart gets so homesick: even dovewing, his wife, doesn't share this part of life with him, and he misses it.

finally, windclan. i don't know honestly what to do with them. they're supposed to be the most spiritual but that's not reflected in how they're written, even in like tallstar's revenge, so i don't know. i think they're the calm riverclan crossed with the more focused on protocol of clan life thunderclan.

they rise early because rabbits, and their hunting patrols are smaller and less organized. based on the books, they just run full wild after rabbits most of the time, which means they scare off the other ones for a while, so it makes sense to have a mentor and apprentice go out every hour or so during the waking day to grab a bunny or bird than for a bunch of cats to feed the clan for a day.

they do have a lot of respect for medicine cats and leaders. starclan isn't seen as something the average cat has any connection at all with. i have a hard time keeping track of who complains about what in the broken code and avos, but i feel like windclan gets angry at some point about shadowsight's visiosn.

anyway, so a cat like jayfeather is like "oh he real cool" and that's fun for jayfeather. everyone expects great things from him. because, you know, medicine cat and in a prophecy? can you imagine i mean shame he came to be via crowfeather and leafpool but you'd be a fool not to admit he's a credit to his parent's names.

they're also pretty proud. and private. very private. no one knows at all what goes on in windclan. i'd not put it past them to have a secondary camp to move to if they get uncomfortable with so many people knowing where their camp is.

i mean, how else do you explain them keeping the tunnlers secret for so long? i mean, like completely secret, no one else knew about them secret, we found out about them in a super edition secret for so long?

section four: medicine cat shit

this is a short section, but i want there to be the idea, especially in shadowclan and windclan, that medicine cats are really important to the integrity of a clan, so they need to be spiritually pure. this doesn't mean they can't have been warriors, but they can't break the code.

that's why thunderclan and riverclan medicine cats share herbs so much more than the others: if windclan and shadowclan leadrs say no, medicine cats are risking a lot by disobeying.

this is also part of why leafpool steps down when the truth comes out. what she did is bad enough, but it will be far worse for crowfeather if she doesn't step down, and shadowclan and windclan will come for her head.

nightcloud and breezepelt are also angry because not only did crowfeather have kits out of clan, but it was with a medicine cat. that's like having sex out of wedlock with a nun.

and that's pretty much all i have for this. most of it was taken up by cat genetics, because integrity matters to me.

[aion-rsa]

How Final Destination Went From Real-Life Premonition to Horror Phenomenon

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The year 2000 was a scary one for horror films and not always in a good way.  

While American Psycho and The Cell offered up visually striking nihilistic thrills to genre fans, the majority of horror movies released at the dawn of the new millennium were at best forgettable and, at worst, lamentable – yes, we’re looking at you, Leprechaun in the Hood.  

This was the year of duff sequels like Book of Shadows: Blair Witch 2, Urban Legends: Final Cut and, though it is painful to admit, Scream 3. Horror fans were screaming out for something different, something exciting. They found it with Final Destination.  

Discarding the stalk-and-slash thrills that had enjoyed a revival in the years following the release of Scream, Final Destination centered on a group of high schoolers who end up avoiding a fatal plane crash thanks to a premonition, only to discover there is no escaping death’s plan as one by one they are offed in a variety of brilliantly inventive “accidents”.  

Released in March of that year, Final Destination was a sleeper hit with word-of-mouth helping the film to clean up at the box office, earning $112 million off a $23 million budget with more than half of that coming internationally.  

To date, it has spawned four sequels as well as a variety of novelisations and comic book spin-offs while a franchise reboot is also on the horizon.  

Read more

Movies

The Final Destination Movies, Ranked

By Sarah Dobbs

Jeffrey Reddick has worked on several films during his career to date but he’s probably best known as the creator of Final Destination. It’s something he has come to terms with.  

“It’s probably going to end up on my gravestone, it’s such an ironic title,” he tells Den of Geek.  

“Sometimes I’ll be out and I will hear someone say ‘you just had a Final Destination moment’ and it will make me smile. The whole thing just took on a life of its own.”  

Nightmarish Origins  

A screenwriter and director, Reddick recalls how his neighbors in rural Jackson, Kentucky, would laugh when his six-year-old self would tell them about his plans to work in the movie business.   

An avid writer and reader of Greek and Roman mythology, he recalls spending his formative years watching horror movies with his friends. His mother was only too happy to indulge his burgeoning interest too, knowing it kept him out of trouble elsewhere.  

Reddick’s life began to change after he saw A Nightmare on Elm Street.   

“That film cemented my love of horror. I was this 14-year-old hillbilly from Kentucky but I decided I was going to write a prequel. I went home, banged it out on my typewriter and sent it to Bob Shaye.”  

The legendary head of New Line Cinema initially dismissed Reddick’s draft out of hand, returning it with a note explaining the studio did not “accept unsolicited material.”  

Undaunted, Reddick sent the script back with a note telling him “Look mister, I spent three dollars on your movie and I think you could take five minutes on my story.”  

Shaye was impressed and struck up a bond with the youngster that saw him sending everything from scripts to posters to Reddick during his teenage years.  

When Reddick moved to New York to study acting, age 19, he was offered an internship with New Line, which would become a full-time role despite acting being his “main passion.”  

“Diversity in casting was not a thing at that time,” he recalls.  

“My agent was like ‘I don’t know what to do with you as an actor. We can’t put you up for gangsters or pimps and you don’t rap and you don’t play basketball.”  

“So  I figured, screw it, I will just write stuff and put myself in it.”  

Reddick was present at New Line during their company’s early 90s creative heyday and credits the experience with helping him get Final Destination off the ground.  

“I learned a lot about how to get a movie made. I knew that to make a movie that connected with an audience you had to tap into something that was universal. Death is the ultimate fear.”  

As luck would have it, the idea actually came to Reddick while on a flight back to Kentucky.  

“I read about a woman who was on vacation and her mother told her not to take the flight she was planning to take home as she had a bad feeling about it. The woman changed it and the plane she was supposed to be on crashed.”  

At that point however the idea wasn’t Final Destination. It wasn’t a film either. It was an episode of The X Files.  

The Truth Is Out There  

“I was trying to get a TV agent at the time and they recommended I write a spec script for something already on the air. I was a huge fan of The X Files and thought about a scene where somebody has a premonition and gets off the plane and then it crashes and used that as the plot.”  

“It was going to be Scully’s brother Charles who had the premonition. He gets off the plane with a few other people but they start dying and Charles blacks out every time there is a murder so people suspect he is doing it.   

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TV

I Still Want to Believe: Revisiting The X-Files Pilot

By Chris Longo

��The twist at the end was that the sheriff who had been investigating alongside Mulder and Scully the whole time had actually been shot and flatlined at the same time as the plane crash.  Death brought him back to kill off all the survivors, including Charles.”  

It would have made for a great episode except it was never submitted to The X Files. Reddick showed his spec script to some friends at New Line who were so impressed, they told him to develop it into a treatment for a feature, which was eventually purchased by the studio.  

Producers Craig Perry and Warren Zide were brought onboard to develop the story and set about tweaking his idea.  

“Originally the cast of survivors were adults because I wanted to explore more adult themes but Scream had come out and teenagers were hot again so New Line got me to change it”  

In a twist of fate, two established writers from The X Files, James Wong and Glen Morgan, were brought onboard to rejig Reddick’s script.   

“My version was definitely darker and more like A Nightmare on Elm Street,” he says.  

“In my script, death would torment the kids about some kind of past sin they felt guilty about. They would then die in these accidents that ended up looking like suicides.”  

For example, Todd’s death saw him chased into the family garage by an unseen specter where he accidentally ended up rigged in a noose triggered when his dad opens the automatic garage door.   

Death is all around us  

Ultimately that death scene and several others were ultimately scrapped in favour of what would prove to be the franchise’s calling card.  

Reddick credits Wong and Morgan with coming up with the idea of having the film’s key death scenes kicked off by a Rube Goldberg machine-like chain-reaction that would see everyday things colliding to create a lethal scenario. It was nothing short of a masterstroke.   

“It created this notion that death is all around us,” Reddick says.  

“Death would use everyday things around us. It made it more universal and allowed us to set the deaths in places where people go all the time. The payoff would be fun but it was the build-up that had you on the edge of your seat.”  

There was one major sticking point for the studio though: the presence of death, or rather the lack of.  

“I fought really hard to make sure we never showed death because for me, if you didn’t show it, it could be something someone, no matter their belief system, could project onto our villain. That was a tough sell for the studio. They would be like ‘this doesn’t make any sense, you can’t see it and you can’t fight it’ but that’s the point, it’s death.”  

“Luckily both James Wong and Glen Morgan were very insistent we never show it and tie it in to a specific belief system.”  

Reddick credits the move with helping Final Destination become “an international phenomenon”.  

“It struck a chord with people around the world. It broke out beyond the horror audience.”  

Casting dreams   

When it came to casting, Reddick had a clear idea of who he wanted in the lead roles, even if the studio’s opinion differed drastically.  

“I had a wish list with Tobey Maguire and Kirsten Dunst as my two leads but New Line was like ‘well…’”  

He might not have got his first pick but Final Destination boasted an impressive cast of up-and-comers who had already made waves among teen audiences.   

Devon Sawa had starred in Idle Hands, while Ali Larter was known for Varsity Blues and Kerr Smith was a regular on Dawson’s Creek. There was even room for Seann William Scott, fresh from his breakout turn in American Pie who was drafted in on the recommendation of producer Craig Perry, who told Reddick “you’ve got to get this kid, he’s going to be huge.”  

Even so, Reddick was left a little unhappy.  

“One of the conversations we had early on was like ‘Just remember this is set in New York, which is one of the most diverse cities in the world so let’s make sure we have some diversity in the cast’ and they were like ‘oh we will’ and then there wasn’t anyone who wasn’t white in it.”  

New Line chief Bob Shaye did find a way to make amends on some level at least, casting Candyman horror icon Tony Todd in a cameo role as a mysteriously foreboding mortician.  

“He called me up and said they had got Tony Todd and I flipped out. He is an icon. Such a talented, serious actor.”  

As well as co-write the film, Wong took on directorial duties while each of the film’s death sequences would require careful planning, his first aim was to have the film start with a bang by creating as terrifyingly realistic a plane crash as possible.  

“We want to do for planes and air travel what Jaws did for sharks and swimming,” he declared in one interview.  

Yet the film would later garner criticism for its eerie similarities to the explosion and crash of TWA Flight 800 off East Moriches, Long Island, New York in 1996 where 16 students and five adults died.  

“There was some criticism that the movie was written to exploit this real-life crash,” Reddick recalls.  

“I even realised later they used footage from one real-life crash which I wasn’t particularly happy about.”  

Indeed, much of the news footage shown in the film actually came from the 1996 crash.  

That didn’t stop the film becoming a major hit and spawning a sequel within three years.   

Final Destination meets Game of Thrones  

Reddick returned to write the treatment for Final Destination 2, determined to move the franchise away from its teen Scream origins.   

“We had tapped into that zeitgeist and didn’t have to do that again. I wanted to expand the universe and subvert it, so I had it open by following a bunch of teens who are then killed off.”  

Once again, divine intervention led to divine inspiration for the opening set piece.  

“Originally, I was going to have it open with some kids going to spring break and they stop off at this hotel and there is a fire but the producers were not sure. Writers always say you should go out and live life – life informs you and a lot of inspiration comes out when I go out for a walk.  

“I was driving back to Kentucky to see my family and I got stuck behind a log truck and the idea just came to me. I pulled off the highway and called Craig and was flipping out with this idea for a log truck on a freeway.”  

The resulting freeway pile-up that leads to multiple deaths is one Reddick ranks as his “favourite scene in the entire franchise.”  

“The second film is my favourite. I wanted to create a sequel that didn’t feel like a remake of the first. It went in a more fun direction – but it’s still scary.”  

That first sequel also represented the last of which Reddick was formally involved in, though he remained very much in the loop as the Godfather of the franchise, revealing that producers had been “looking at scripts before Covid hit.” 

He also revealed that, at one point, things looked to be heading in an altogether different and thoroughly fascinating direction.  

“There was talk about setting a Final Destination back in Medieval times. Like Game of Thrones in Final Destination. Craig Perry worked with a writer and they talked about the idea and put a teaser trailer together [which has leaked online].   

“I would go and see that movie in a heartbeat but the studio said that the reason Final Destination was so popular was that element of deaths in normal, everyday situations.”  

Future Destinations  

Reddick hasn’t given up on a return to the franchise though, hinting at a “unique” idea he has for a new film that is simply too good to reveal yet.   

In the meantime, he has been busy writing and directing Don’t Look Back, a film that shares some surface similarities with Final Destination and is painfully relevant to society today.  

“It’s a mystery thriller about a group of people who witness someone getting fatally assaulted in a park and don’t help the person and somebody films them and puts it online. The public turns on the witnesses and someone or something is coming after them.”  

Eager to make more horror films and celebrate diversity in his work, Reddick remains immensely proud of Final Destination and the impact it has had on audiences.  

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“It’s cool. To have one movie that is going to be talked about after you die is a life goal. If that’s what I leave behind as a legacy that’s enough – but I still want more.” 

Don’t Look Back is available on DVD & Digital from 14th June

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