#but everything can be foreshadowing. if you squint hard enough.

[sciderman]

I know you’re British but if anything, you’re like tobey. I KNOW in my heart you sound american

tobey IS american! so of course he sounds american! but you're not off the mark, because whenever i speak to anyone here in the uk they usually don't think i'm from around here. it's usually a way people break the ice with me whenever i meet a stranger. they always ask where my accent is from - i always say "born and raised in london", and they always throw a "but you lived in america, right?" and i say no. no. i just watched way too many cartoons.

i don't think americans think that, necessarily, when they hear my voice. i don't think an american would think i'm american, but british people definitely don't think i'm british, so i'm somewhere in the middle. i'm some very marketable in-between.

i remember being in an online chat with a few people from all around the world, with another british person who i knew actually HAD lived in america. and the group fawned over their (apparently more british than mine) accent and i was like wow. im right here. so, you might not think it if talking to me on my own, but when i'm sat next to other british people you may be like "ah yeah. sci is like... diluted british."

if you're curious for a voice reveal, the 7 year anniversary stream is below, if you can tolerate terrible mic quality and my nervous giggles.

[lvlyghost]

The Things I Never Said: Part 3

Pairings: Simon 'Ghost' Riley

Summary: You're required for one last mission.

Word Count: 2.5k

Tw: aaaaaangst, hurt with a lot of comfort. injuries, mentions of blood, kissing and slightly suggestive but nothing too explicit. price has to make a hard choice:(poor grammar, bad english ofc💅🏻 foreshadowing to my price fic 'salvation' if you squint.

A/N: i'm not gonna lie, when i wrote the first part of this fic i was bored and never in a million years did it cross my mind y'all would like it this much. sorry if this isn't as good, this is the final part of it, although i plan to write little drabbles every now and then. this was such a nice ride 🩷✨ thx for the support; remember english isn't my first language, corrections are welcome 🤍🐸

Masterlist✨ Part 2

Desk rotation wasn't fun, but it seemed to be the only suitable work for you considering your pregnancy, besides, it would allow Simon to keep an eye on you. At least he's sure you'd be safer in the military base than alone in your home.

Your only companion as you sit in the tech room is nothing more than a computer with two screens and Jimmy, the other tech guy who sits in the far corner across from you.

True to his word, Price had saved you and Simon a horrible martial court plus being discharged. Technically you're no longer a part of the 141 task force which is already upsetting to all of your team; instead working strictly under Price's command and assisting the different branches of the military. Meaning you're no longer subdued to Lieutenant Riley, therefore you're not his subordinate, at least not directly.

You respond to Price and only Price.

Nearing the end of your first trimester your swollen belly has started to show, the same you try to dissimulate by wearing bigger shirts than you would usually wear, but enough for Simon to notice when he'd place a big calloused hand on your stomach.

'It's... tiny.' He had stated, to which you laughed softly.

'Of course it is, your hand is massive!'

You shake your head, with a small smile on your lips as you remember that scene.

"Everything good?" You ask your companion.

"Mhm. You know you're the best for creating the security system right? Not a single breach or flaw. Couldn't ask for a better partner."

"Is that a chai?" Completely ignoring what he just said you point the white disposable cup next to him. He looks between you and his drink.

"Yeah? Didn't know you liked it, here... have it. I can get another." He assures you when you hesitate.

You thank him with glowing eyes and excitement. Cravings... you're embarrassed of the amount of food you've asked from Simon in the middle of the night. Sushi, pizza and even peaches just for the sake of the baby.

He's being the gentlest man on earth. Caring and supportive. Your phone buzzes as you're about to start to work. The screen lights up with a message from your Captain. Huffing you stand up, letting Jimmy know you'll be back in a few minutes, or so you thought.

You're not prepared for the hell unfolding inside John's office.

You're able to hear male voices from the other side of the hallway. You don't know why but your heart begins to race, knocking twice once you've reached the brown wooden door.

"Come in!" Price shouts from inside.

You open the door, greeted by John's hardened eyes and Simon's back as he hunches over the Captain's desk. Confused and much to your dismay there's a gigantic folder between the two men, your eyes fall on Ghost's trembling frame.

He is enraged.

Body buzzing in anger as the soft click of the door interrupts the silence that's fallen suddenly inside.

"You wanted to see me Sir?"

Price slowly stands, Simon doing the same, turning his head ever so slightly to watch you from over his shoulder.

"I need to talk to you, sweetheart." Price begins.

A deep breath exits Simon's chest.

"What is it?" You take a step closer to them, until you're standing next to him, crossing his arms over his chest he remains silent.

"We need you. For a mission." He states. "It's important, sergeant. I don't think anyone else would be able to pull this off." Your eyes dart back to your boyfriend. Staring daggers at his superior. "I'd never ask for this if I had to."

"Bloody hell Price, she's not fucking going!" He is seething.

The gut-wrenching feeling sets in your belly, tossing and turning with anxiety. Simon isn't taking this well and you don't want to see him like this, it breaks your heart.

"How important, Sir?" You ask.

Ghost snaps his head towards you. Jaw tightening, and calls your name ever so softly.

"Don't." He barks. "Don't fucking play the hero, kid." He warns you.

"I'm not trying to play the hero, Simon." You talk back. "I'm trying to figure out how to get this done. I might have someone else that could go in my place." Price sighs. "Can I do it from the base? Maybe I don't have to leave the compound."

"Reports say the files are heavily encrypted. It's the Russians, sergeant. We're not dealing with amateurs." He turns to Ghost emphasizing the last word. "You more than anyone should understand, Lieutenant."

"Not when you're bloody sending her to a suicide mission!"

"These are not my orders Simon! General Shepherd wants her! I tried to talk him out of it. I can't do much more, son." You swallow when Simon starts pacing around like a rabid dog, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Is there any way I can do it? She can guide me through it the whole time..." he's back, leaning closer to his Captain. "I know I...-"

"Unless you know how to code and decrypt systems to perfection it can't be, Ghost. I'm sorry."

"It would only slow down the mission, get you caught. And in danger..." you reasoned, mumbling and staring down to your feet. There's no one else. Not even Jimmy. The one you had in mind.

Simon's mouth snapped shut.

His eyes are helpless when he connects them with yours. The realization of what's about to happen sinking in his core, he tried. He really did.

One long stride and he's embracing you, so tightly you think you'll suffocate; you hug him back, head resting right over where his heart beats frantically against his ribcage.

"I'm coming with her." He snarls. "Not Kyle, not Johnny. And certainly not someone from fucking KorTac." He turns to glare at Price with a death stare. "It'll be me, no one else."

-

"John's devastated." You tell him. Your back pressing against his hard chest. The water in the bathtub is warm, and smells like lavender and sandalwood. After the catastrophic meeting a few hours ago, Simon was too outraged to remain at the base so he drove both of you back to the safety of his apartment. You rest your head on his left shoulder, enjoying the delicate touch of his hands on your lower belly. He hums, almost absentmindedly. He didn't want to think about Price, or the mission for all that matters. All he can think of is you. He sighs, closing his eyes he presses a kiss on your hair.

"Bloody fucking bald cunt." He spits. You snort at his comment. Shepherd was a complicated man, and hardly one you could negotiate with once he had his mind set on something or someone.

"When do we have to...-"

"Tomorrow." Your lips are pressed into a thin line. "I'll be there no matter what, right next to you, love." He reassures you. You were never one to hesitate during missions but now... releasing a shaky breath you turn your head to look at Simon.

"I'm scared..." Simon's body goes rigid. The hand on your stomach halting. "It's not even for me, you know?" Swallowing your free hand reaches down to find his own, lacing your fingers with him. A muscle becoming prominent in his jaw as he grits his teeth.

"Nothing will happen to you. Bloody count on it, yeah? First shite I deem dangerous I'm pulling us out of there, understand?" You nod.

"Promise me you won't get hurt." There's a moment of silence that becomes unbearable the longer it extends. "Simon..." his eyes are fixated on yours, shining with what you can only describe as worship. The faintest of smiles spreads across his features.

"Don't you worry about me, sweetheart. Not for one second." Breathing deeply you pull him down for a kiss. It's slow and tender; makes you forget about all the difficulties you face. Biting down his lip, Simon takes it as a sign to further deepen the kiss. Tongues finding each other in a fight for dominance. "Don't wanna think about what tomorrow holds. I have you here right now. That's all I need."

-

Your mind goes back to the moments you and Simon shared last night. It was so simple, so real.

That's how things were supposed to be.

Easy.

Not heart wrenching, not stifling down a cry as you watch him get shot. A bullet that was aimed at you .Breaking in had been easy. Way too easy for your liking. But you thought that for once maybe a mission wouldn't be a pain in the ass. The hardest part was getting inside their systems; John was right. It was hellish even for you. It took more time than what you had anticipated. No one would've been able to pull it off.

"Whoever is behind this, they're good." You acknowledged as you type down the codes that will eventually get you in.

"Bloody brilliant you are, kid." Simon watches from the other side of the room, eyes scanning the hallway every now and then looking for any possible hostiles. You send him a coy smile.

"Keep looking at me like that and I'll get no work done."

"How am I supposed to look at you then?" He asks

You don't answer because the screen in front of you suddenly shifts from 'Access denied' to 'Access granted'.

"Got you." You whisper. Simon stands straight. You plug your USB and start downloading all the information as well as setting a virus so their system gets permanently damaged.

"What is it?" He gruffly asks when the files finished downloading on your own device. Clearing your throat you try to ignore the horrible pictures you just took a glimpse of.

"Just... insanity." Is all you can say. A loud metallic sound echoes in the room, you never get to see the person behind you. Ghost's eyes widen and he barks an order your ears don't register, static fills your eardrums. The gunfire starts but lasts mere seconds. Crimson blood splutters from Simon's body.

You stand up, knocking down the chair as you jump out and run where Simon's injured body kneels. You fall down grabbing him by the face. The pain you're feeling deep inside has never been worse.

"I'm fine." He hisses. "Just my fucking shoulder."

As if that would make you feel better.

"Let's get the hell out of here." Your lips quiver. You run back to retrieve the small USB drive.

The body of a man lays down, a pool of blood forms around him. He was hiding behind you the entire time. Had Simon been distracted the outcome could've been atrocious. Yo don't dwell on it.

"Come on, baby." You urge him, crouching down to help Simon as much as you can to get him standing. His weight is just too much for you, you think, when he finally raised to his feet.

"S'okay love. Don't... don't overwork yourself. I'm too heavy, don't wanna get you hurt because of me."

Tears form in the corner of you eyes at such selfless act.

"You're the one who got hurt because of me, Simon." You stammer.

"So what? Would fucking die for you." You shake your head but keep close to him. Pressing down the wound on his shoulder as you head towards the exit. "Evac point is ten minutes away. We should be fine." The gun that rests on your thigh feels heavier than it should.

You're lucky, you guess as you walk away from the god forsaken building.

Lucky that you have him by your side, even when his blood stains your fingers. He's there, you're there and you're making it out alive. Wounded or not, Simon would never let anything happen to you, that's how deep his love for you was.

He wasn't like his dad at all.

He was real, caring, something not much people knew. Not in their lifetime.

The amount of blood he was losing was inhumane. An injured shoulder couldn't cause someone to lose this much blood, you ponder. Your black shirt feels sticky and damp, you take a quick glance and hold back a sob. Another gunshot wound, one he didn't care enough to tell you about and you didn't notice, too scared to even think.

Far in the distance between two big threes a black truck awaits. Johnny's face dropping when he noticed Ghost's decaying form. He rushes in your direction, taking him off of you, carrying his weight. He gives you a concerned look.

"Johnny..." you choke up. "We have to save him, please."

-

It's been the worst 48 hours of your life since you landed. He got two surgeries done in order to remove the fragments from inside his body. You were exhausted, barely ate or slept. It almost felt criminal, selfish, when your eyes started to close and finally gave in.

Then the nightmares came.

Ones where he didn't make it back and instead you had to leave him behind and never got to meet his child.

A warm feeling spreads from your skin. A faint touch. Are you still dreaming? His face erupts in your subconscious mind and you cry again. He's fine.

When you slowly open up your eyes you're met with blue eyes and a raspy voice.

"Don't neglect yourself for me, kid." You're speechless, the searing pain in your heart eases. He knows you so well. Knows you haven't left his side. "Takes more than a bullet to keep me away from you." When you don't move nor speak he continues, clearing his throat. "Come here, sweet thing."

There's a new wave of tears that fall mercilessly down your cheeks. You carefully climb up next to Simon's good side.

"Don't you ever scare me like that!" you weep. Sobbing uncontrollably Simon hushes you. Murmuring words of comfort in your ear. The anesthesia is still making him feel dizzy but that doesn't stop him from kissing every part of your face. Your hair, your forehead, your cheek and finally your lips.

"Let's leave this place for a while. Go on vacation while we still can..." you beg.

Simon's lips twitch. He's smiling down at you.

"What do you have in mind doll?"

You breathe deeply.

"Greece. I always wanted to go to Greece."

There's moments in life when you doubt you'll get a happy ending. Being with Simon at first was pure coincidence, something that had evolved from deep admiration and respect, which then turned into something more. It turned out to sleepless nights at the common room with the task force. Longing stares during briefings. Looking after each other during missions.

The training sessions together. Lending his massive leather jacket because you were always reluctant to bring your own. That one night he couldn't resist it anymore and went to your dorm. How you felt under his touch, oh he was touch starved when it came to you. And when he learned he was going to be a father, that moment would be ingrained into his memory until his very last day.

"Greece it is."

It's a promise.

TAGS:

@nijiru @illyanam1011

[id0what1want]

What does Cereza look like and how tall is she compared to the other characters and pokemon (it feels weird calling them characters)

*me vibrating at the exact frequency required to shatter glass* yeah I can do that for you

(I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ASK (scroll to the end for some sketches of Cereza))

SO FOR STARTERS

Cereza is NOT tall, she's like maybe five feet somethin' short. She's Kieran's height during the Teal Mask and stays the same height forever. She does wear thick boots or sneakers all the time though in order to remedy this. Chunky soles are also good for traction and she climbs everything. She likes having stompers. Cereza seems taller than she is cuz she's all arms and legs, little gangly creature. She's also very sticklike, if you shook her she would make a rattling sound. All her muscle is very lean. Compact cryptid. I should clarify that I subscribe to the headcanon Kieran gets a growth spurt over the timeskip between the Teal Mask and the Indigo Disk. I think he shoots up to Amarys's height but still has issues with slouching so he might not seem like exactly the same height. Height is evidently in his genes if Carmine is any evidence. He's not done growing. (Cereza is pissed that she's not getting any taller and Kieran IS STILL GROWING) Cereza looks fucking hilarious next to all her huge freaking pokemon. Little creature next to big creature(s)

Cereza's hair is very specific in color and style in my brain. It's very wild and thick, as well as very long. It's the same consistency of a Hex Maniac's from the gen 6 games. Cereza's hair is ash blonde/white, exactly like the ash white option in game except the white streaks are even whiter (especially in the Indigo Disc, partially because fluorescents). It's very pale and muted, probably a shade lighter than the ash white in game depending on the lighting. Her hair is nigh constantly in low twintails that reach about her hips to maybe her thigh in length (it does grow over the timeskip, but it's so wild that it's kinda hard to notice especially since her bangs don't change). She will do little mini braids in her hair sometimes purely as a fidgeting habit to keep her hands busy or that piece of her hair isn't cooperating, and she wants it outta the way. Cereza's hair is the perfect length and consistency to play with and do things with. Lacey has to use every ounce of self-control in her body not to play with Cereza's hair. Deadeye has no such self-control and will bite at Cereza's hair all the time. Hair color refs!!

(DUDE THE IMAGES ARE SO BIG HOW DO I MAKE THEM SMALLER-) and also a hex maniac for hair texture reference

Moving on, Cereza's eyes are a darker red in Teal Mask, more discreet, but in the Indigo Disc they've gotten more saturated to the point of becoming a startling red. Her eyes are really big and round and sharp at the same time?? like they're round but her eyelines and eyelashes are pretty sharp. Her eyelashes are dark and pretty long. I would say her eyelashes are a dark DARK brown as opposed to black. Her eyes are very reminiscent of Briar's but a slightly different shape. Her pupils have a four-pointed star shape. This is not foreshadowing anything /lying

Cereza also has a beauty mark under each eye, perfectly identical and symmetric. (research says they're called tear moles, and they signify bad luck or hardship in life. It fits for plot reasons you'll see later lmao) She also has faint freckles all over, they're light enough that they aren't visible at a glance but you can see 'em if you squint. They would be more visible if she went out more during the day. Cryptid ass.

Posting this sketch is genuinely so scary like putting my own art on the internet? BLEGH. Giving people a visual of my own character? BLEGH.

Alright that's Cereza. Have some bonus sketches of the boys.

might transfer them to digital. idk. Anyway, thanks for staying this long!!!!!!

✨Do whatever you want forever✨

~ Cytoplasm

[queen-beefcake-sqx]

Ask game, feel free to comment for both fandoms please or skip for one.

2,6,7,9 16, 17, 21, 22,

I'm going to like.... jump around to whatever fandom I feel like for each question.

2. a compelling argument for why your fave would never top or bottom

Okay so I did this for Disco Elysium so -- He Xuan would never bottom. My compelling argument is he told me personally. Next question.

6. which ship fans are the most annoying?

I'm sorry but all ya'll Qi Rong fans who keep trying to find him a boyfriend... I support you, but maybe go stand over there? please????

7. what character did you begin to hate not because of canon but because how how the fandom acts about them?

Again, did this one for Disco Elysium, so again tying into the above answer... Qi Rong is a character I'd like to be able to spend more braincells thinking about, because I think there COULD be some interesting meta I could make about him, but the fandom seems to have a very predetermined way of thinking about him and writing him that makes it so hard for me to want to engage.

9. worst part of canon

I feel like I can't speak on DE just because I haven't finished or explored it as thoroughly as I'd like to yet. For MXTX books... God I'll be so honest it was silly and fun the first time, but I cringe rereading the whole Statue Mecha scene near the end of TGCF. It's so ridiculous and outlandish that it breaks emersion for me a bit.

16. you can't understand why so many people like this thing (characterization, trope, headcanon, etc)

Okay, I'll be SO HONEST -- as someone who's come to better accept his trans masc-ness because of Kim Kitsuragi -- I'm kind of shocked at the sheer amount of trans!Kim fics. And I guess there's a part of me squinting at it going, "Isn't there something a little weird about ascribing transmasculinity to a character who -- in the real world -- is part of a race that's often feminized (the "pretty Asian boy" stereotype) and is visually the most slender and short of the male characters? Like? That feels a little weird to me, ya'll..."

(Like, not saying stop, I get it, and the fanfics handle it really well on the whole, but also like... I think it's worth asking ourselves (1) WHY Kim gets this treatment over Harry or another character and (2) WHAT kinds of queerness we're ascribing onto characters. Especially in light of stuff like me seeing KimHarry on a yuri poll.... like. come on ya'll. A tiny bit of critical thinking) (and again. not saying "don't write queer characters" but maybe like... consider diversifying your options).

17. there should be more of this type of fic/art

Tip Top Racer Kim. Why the fuck are none of you writing Tip Top Racer Kim Kitsuragi AUs. Why. Where's the art. Where's Kim in tight fitting racing uniform huh??? (which. uh. if anyone has a good artist you'd recommend for a commission....) (I am LEGALLY obligated to drop my favorite DE fic now just so you all can see THE POTENTIAL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40802268) Also not enough Jean crossdressing fics, send tweet. That blonde wig is all I think about and there's so much unresolved in that choice....

21. part of canon you think is overhyped

In Disco Elysium, who the FUCK are these student communist dudes everyone is talking about because I LITERALLY haven't seen them.

Also for TGCF, the underwater kiss scene. The actual kiss is honestly secondary to me to EVERYTHING ELSE happening in that moment because people seem to forget how INSANE the circumstances are.

22. your favorite part of canon that everyone else ignores Oh for my MXTX fandoms that's easy -- I am easily the second most Beefleaf brain rot person you'll ever meet and the Black Water Arc of TGCF is everything to me. Everyone always talks about the climax and the beheading and sure that's cool but the BUILD UP? The visit to Fu Gu and watching the performance of He Xuan's massacre? The Truth or Dare game in the temple? The foreshadowing with the Water and Wind master statues? The visit to Shi Qingxuan's terrace and the poetry written there? BREAKING SQX OUT OF HER PALACE BECAUSE SWD IMPRISONED HER? AND THEN SQX WALKING AWAY FROM YUSHI HUANG'S FARM AFTER "MING YI" TRIES TO GET HER TO STAY BEHIND? None of you talk enough about the LENGTHS He Xuan went to to try to avoid getting SQX involved in SWD's death and it makes me ABSOLUTELY INSANE ON A DAILY BASIS!!! I am chewing on glass about this!!!!

[bluntforcefem]

carcinization, babey!

so floating around blaseball spaces have been blink’s lore on how the garden has affected the flowers’ players, and recently, mads’ stuff on how the call got the firefighters, which makes it sound like they got murdered but that’s fine. and i started thinking about carcinization, because becoming a crab is about a lot of things, like gender and crabs and being a Part Of The Team and love, y’know, crab things, but it’s also about what is left in the “absence” where a [mumbles vaguely] killed god was at some point, and it’s also incredibly up to interpretation! 

anyway! crabs players.

so, a basic thing of how i view carcinization: it’s both connected to debbie and not. at some point, it was because of her, and now it’s not, but it is, kind of. it’s about baltimore and it isn’t. it’s about the crabs and it isn’t. what it is about, in no uncertain terms, is the person being carcinized! on some level you have to be willing to be carcinized for it to happen. if you walk into the baltimore crabs and you say fuck this shit i don’t want this, it’s not going to happen. there’s obviously a lot of nuance to this, but the basic foundation of it is that it is voluntary! and it’s reversible. and despite being a very, very physical thing, carcinization is about emotions.

i’m going to do players in order of who i have the most thoughts about! because some crabs are definitely definitely thought about more by others than i do, haha.

so luis acevedo! traded to the crabs in the season 7 elections, from the garages. they’re a hologram, and they’re constantly shifting both their appearance and identity subconsciously or manually to suit them how they see fit. they have a very very very solid sense of identity despite this, and they’ve been around, you know? centuries old. so they get to baltimore and they kind of already know what they’re getting into, except they have no idea at all, really. 

and i think they see carcinization from this outsider’s perspective, like, this is something you get when you’re a part of the team, this is something you get when you’re truly from baltimore and you’re truly a Crab, and they want it! they really do. because the crabs weren’t super important to them at first but they become important, and they want that connection to what becomes their family. but they don’t get it, not from an outside source. it’s because they’re a hologram, kind of, but mostly their identity is malleable by them and not many other things, and that’s the way they’ve crafted it. 

so luis rolls up their sleeves and goes okay, bitch, guess i have to do everything myself around here! and they carcinize themself, essentially, they give themself chitin one day and blue blood the next and claws and legs and every time they want to change they do, and i don’t think they quite realize until late into the Up that this is their carcinization. that this is their connection to the team, because they made it that way. and they run into the place where all the crabs hang out like holy fucking shit is this what it was? and they’re all like yeah?? we figured you knew?? and [luis vc] i fucking did NOT. it ends happily for them, either way.

next is [squints at hand] squid galvanic and jacoby podcast! these two are extremely intertwined for me specifically in relation to their experience with carcinization, because they’re both playoff births, right? they’ve only truly existed on the immaterial plane for a couple years, maybe, squid longer. and i think while the shadows are normal now that the fk apple is up (something i will elaborate on   later), they used to be not so great. and squid and jacoby were born into the shadows and not baltimore, really, and carcinization couldn’t reach them there. and then squid’s out, and it is seeing baltimore for the first time in its life, and the crabs for the first time, too, and finn invites it to go swimming in the extremely toxic bay with her because it can! 

and it does, and it wakes up the next morning with chitin plates interlocking up its spine and patches of it along its jaw, and it maybe freaks the fuck out, a little. because nobody explained this to it, because nobody thought they had to? but once it gets explained and it knows what’s happening, squid is overjoyed. it wasn’t a part of the crabs like the rest were in Up, and now it’s a step closer to that, and it’s happy about it. plus, it makes it look really cool, and i think it likes the feeling of sort of being Distinctly Inhuman in another way than it already is.

jacoby, on the other hand, doesn’t get carcinization. like, they get it on an objective level? and i think they understand it, sort of, in the way that you can understand it when it hasn’t really happened to you yet. i think they’re too unsure for it to happen, and when they’re more confident they get some hermit crab carcinization, but it’s… very slow. one step forward two steps back. i think that being a replacement for a bad pitcher that got foreshadowed has made them a little too anxious in their abilities, and their carcinization reflects that. sometimes squid peels stray bits of chitin that tried to grow on its vampire squid half and sets them on jacoby’s head and they laugh about it, though, and it makes it easier. 

i think about tosser’s carcinization in the context of it reflecting self-confidence a lot as well. the general thing about tosser is that after the real bad reverse sweep before the first peanut fight, he lost his carcinized arm! normal arm time. he blames this on debbie, and on carcinization not seeing him as good enough anymore, but carcinization isn’t the one seeing anything, really. tosser, on some level, has taken a hard enough blow from that loss to lose the confidence and motivation that made that arm carcinize to begin with. in the Up the rest of the team helps him build his own arm, artificial, and it’s once again the self-made connection to your team. you don’t need carcinization to be a crab, it’s something you foster yourself, and tosser is an original, and he’s had that connection and only made it stronger. i think once he gets down chitin and muscle begins to interweave with the metal, a bit, but nothing nearly as much as before. he’s okay with that, really. prefers it.

tot fox is a fox. she wears that funny crab hat you know the one. she doesn’t mind carcinization, and carcinization doesn’t mind her, but they’ve never really interacted, i think. she gets some extra legs to scuttle around with after she kills the sun and she’s happy with that.

dreamy and nagomi are both very carcinized, i think. nagomi found strength in the ever-changing nature of it and everything about it, in contrast to the heavy stasis of lady friday, and dreamy’s an original crab! however, i think while nagomi’s carcinization has remained just as heavy and strong as ever, dreamy’s faded and molted off over siesta. not for lack of wanting, but because with the sudden absence of the crabs, it sort of weakened her connection to it, and then over the decade it just sort of retreated back into itself? and she misses it, of course, but she learns how to live without it. and then the crabs come down, and i’m always thinking about sim’s minific where the carcinization comes back all at once. dreamy knows before anyone that the crabs are back because the chitin lining her jaw is back in full force and she can feel it, intrinsically, like something coming home to her. moco is less carcinized to begin with, but i think their armor grows chitin plate to replace rusted and missing pieces.

i’m sleepy now, and i don’t have particularly strong articulated thoughts on the rest of the crabs’/former crabs’ carcinization, so you should come to the crabitat at tillmansucks.com and ask about them! because i do love them very dearly. (pedro davids my beloved)

thank you for reading! love a crab

[lemonietrinket]

nct/wayv masterlist

number of works: 48+

begun: 20/08/2019 last updated: 11/12/2020

key

request ✤ musical ♫ halloween/spooky ☾ christmas ❅ oddball ♧ idol birthday present ✧

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

drabbles

Not the Reason ||| Taeil x Reader ✧ ||| fluff, mild angst ~ taeil finally admits something small, and maybe its a step towards the biggest confession of them all

Arms ||| Johnny x Reader just fluff ~ sleepy cuddling with johnny

Pro Gamer ||| Taeyong x Reader ✧ ||| fluff lol ~ playing animal crossing with your boyfriend, and hes not having a lot of luck

00:13 ||| Taeyong x Reader timestamp ||| angst mostly, fluff ~ late at night you hit a depressive spiral after feeling very ignored by your friends

Yuta x Insecure!Reader angst, reassurance fluff ~ because of your insecurities with your body, you make sure youre never as physically close to your boyfriend as much as you want to be. yuta wants to fix that ~ warnings: body insecurities (kept vague, but focusing around chest and stomach), general feelings of upset, tears, swearing (1x f**k)

Epilogue ||| Kun & Reader smutty undertones, lil fluff ~ prequel to ‘Candy Baby’, involves a soft, embarrassed and ultimately curious kun, and an accidentally nosey reader

Peace ||| Kun x Reader big fluff ~ waking up with kun is great—but you know what is also good? falling right back asleep again

Victory ||| Ten x Reader fluff, humour ~ sad ten wants cuddles and mean reader wont give him any

Merigold ||| Jaehyun x Reader angst with tiny fluff ~ when buying flowers for your date, you end up falling in love—with the wrong guy

Safe Haven ||| Mark x Reader big fluff ~ while waiting for your boyfriend to come home, you sit curled up on the sofa, stuck on the edge of sleep

Catgroove - Parov Stelar ||| Hendery x Reader ♫ ||| humour ~ pranking hendery with a classic

Pair ||| Jaemin x Reader ✤ ||| solid fluff ~ you wait for your boyfriend to come home so you can spring a surprise

reactions

How NCT would comfort you after a bad day fluff, bit of angst, some curse words ~ kind of just what it says on the tin

How NCT 127 would react to accidentally hurting you fluff, some tiny spicier elements, but they’re so mild, attempts at humour, tiny bits of angst in some? ~ scenarios in this are only very small things, and are mostly he members being clumsy/forgetting to be a bit careful in normal everyday situations—no one gets really hurt!

How NCT Dream would react to you getting the hiccups pure fluff, humour

Small Displays of Affection in Domestic Life with Dream pure fluff and bad humour 

oneshots/imagines

Stay ||| Taeil x Reader fluff ~ boredom strikes you in your tired state, leading you to think back on the night before

Dreams Come True ||| Johnny x MakeupArtist!Reader ✤ ||| fluff, small angst if you squint, some more inferred heated elements ~ johnny is kind to all the members of staff, and so you believe that he thinks no differently of you

Kestrel ||| Johnny x Reader ♧ ||| wistful angst, fluff ~ youre on the cusp on a huge change in your life, but a part of you cant let go, and youre not sure how youre supposed to

Lie to Me ||| Johnny x Reader subverted angst, fluff, smutty undertones ~ you and johnny dont agree on everything. and this time neither of you are great at backing down

Save A Nation ||| Johnny x Reader ❅ ||| humour, lil fluff ~ unistudent!johnny knows how hot he is. oh he knows. he also knows that a certain someone has had a crush on him for a very long time. and he also knows youre not confident enough to address it. but this is the catch for you, you see: because he is

Candy Baby ||| Yuta x Reader ❅ ||| lil fluff, humour, lil smutty undertones ~ you and your boyfriend are shopping at a special lingerie store. though not for the reasons that anyone may first expect…

Entranced ||| Yuta x Reader fluff, lil smutty undertones ~ waking up in yutas arms in the morning, bc who doesnt want that

Mishap ||| Yuta x Reader humour, lil fluff? ~ yuta is not known for his woodwork skills. he is also not particularly known for any common sense that would also come with it. however, good things can be made of the worst scenarios, and yuta is not completely inept—no matter what winwin tries to assert.

Cosiest Place on Earth ||| Kun x Reader big fluff, some humour ~ where Kun is relaxing in peace, and a certain someone decides its a prime time to ‘annoy’ him 

Home ||| Kun x Reader ❅ ||| big fluff ~ just cuddling with your long-time boyfriend after a busy day with the rest of wayv

Snow Drift ||| Kun x Reader ❅ ||| fluff, humour ~ going sledding with your boyfriend, what can possibly go wrong?

A Good Reason to Break the Law ||| Doyoung x Reader humour, fluff ~ doyoung does love you. and you wouldnt really call yourself a rule-breaker. yet you always find a way to worry him—which isnt particularly difficult, if you were honest

Baby Baby ||| Doyoung x Reader ♧ ||| fluff ~ a long day out leaves both you and bf!doyoung exhausted, and though its nowhere near over yet, you at least you have each other

Dinosaur ||| Doyoung x Reader fluff, humour, heated elements ~ doyoung was worried to meet your family, but he needn’t have been

Definitions ||| Doyoung x Reader ❅ ||| fluff ~ you’re studying with doyoung after returning home for christmas

Fail-Safe ||| Ten x Reader ❅ ||| big fluff ~ cuddling late at night with your slightly clumsy boyfriend

Aster ||| Jaehyun x Reader ✤ ||| fluff, mildly heated elements ~ just some calm, soft times in bed with a very shirtless jaehyun

Ladder ||| Lucas x Reader ❅ ||| humour, fluff ~ you love your bf lucas, you really do. but sometimes, his chaotic tendencies led him into all kinds of trouble. and you never, ever laugh at him. totally. not even when he puts himself in a compromising position. not even once.

Spirit ||| Xiaojun x Reader ✤ ||| fluff, little bit of sad ~ bed cuddles with your boyfriend after a hard day

Look Down ||| Mark x Reader angst, bits of fluff ~ mark invites you to a pretty bridge at sunset to finally confess to you

Ready ||| Mark x Reader ✧ ||| fluff ~ first time hand-holding with a shy, slightly awkward bean

Beautiful Like the Moon ||| Jeno x Reader ✧ ||| fluff ~ moongazing with your boyfriend to celebrate the end of his birthday

Strength ||| Jeno x Reader fluff ~ even with a cold you cant be stopped, and jeno loves you all the more for it

Sun vs Sun ||| Haechan x Reader humour, fluff ~ playful times out camping with hyuck and the others. but mainly hyuck.

Lung Crusher ||| Johnny x Reader x Haechan ✤ ||| fluff, humour ~ after a long day, you and johnny are peacefully dozing on the sofa. you expected the two of you would be left alone, but youd be wrong

Loved ||| WayV x Reader ✤ ||| big sad, big fluff, big humour ~ everyone needs to be taken care of sometimes, no matter how strong they are. and so when you come home from an awful day in the outside world, you are blessed to have several people come and pick you up again, setting you back on your feet ~ long fic ~ - NOTE: this is the old version of a new multiparter fic seen below, named Love. This version, Loved, will not be edited or updated but will be kept up for the slightly different series of events that it follows in comparison to its new version.

multi-parters

The Code ||| Doyoung x Barista!Reader slight angst, some fluff, mostly a mystery ~ doyoung has a thing for a barista at the best cafe in town, and after finding out the boss there is super strict, he counts his chances out. however, a bizarre set of events lead to an opening for someone clever enough to take it, and luckily his heart has chosen well. Part One ~ where doyoung remembers a special moment and confesses much to his own regret Part Two - coming soon ~ where doyoung begins to find strange numbers on his averley recyclable cups

King and Lionheart ||| King!Jungwoo x RoyalKnight!Reader ♧ ||| angst, fluff ~ inspired by the song of the same name, jungwoo is your king who you serve with your life, and you are his beloved knight in shining armour Part One ~ where you flee with nothing but the clothes on your backs and one another Part Two - coming soon ~ where you fight

Love ||| WayV x Reader ✤ ||| reader big sad, lots of fluff, quite a bit of yearning & foreshadowed drama Main Story ~ everyone needs to be taken care of sometimes, no matter how strong they are. and so when you come home from an awful day in the outside world, you are blessed to have several people come and pick you up again, setting you back on your feet. though, not everything is as a clear cut as you perhaps once thought ~ long fic ~ - slow updates - Ending One - Kun - coming soon . Ending Two - Ten - coming soon . Ending Three - Sicheng - coming soon . Ending Four - Lucas Extra Special fluff, soft angst ~ ft jungwoo & reader; you and xuxi have an impromptu slumber party where your feelings are finally admitted to one another with the accidentally prompting on jungwoo’s behalf . Ending Five - Xiaojun Jigsaw Puzzle fluff, bit of humour ~ after finding the hedgehog’s plastic bowl broken, you and xiaojun head to the pet store to buy a new one . Ending Six - Hendery - coming soon . Ending Seven - Yangyang - coming soon

Camping ||| NCT 127 & WayV x Reader fluff, some spicier elements sometimes ||| choose-your-own-story Start - in progress: 9,575 words collectively so far - - slow updates - ~ where you go camping with nct 127 & wayv, and end up in the most boring tent after dark during a small storm

extra

Vibe Checking NCT ~ don’t ask just read

[roccinan]

I love myself, but not today

*gasp* Me? Actually writing on a writing blog??? Shocking! 

I don’t really know where I was going with this or if I’ll ever expand it and post to AO3 so for now, this drabble stays here. It’s a character study/backstory exploration for Andres (again, not exactly a headcanon I 100% believe, just an idea with some darker turns). Goes with Alvaro’s “same father” hc and can be read as compliant with Corners and also Hermanito (to a smaller extent) 

Warnings: referenced child abuse, referenced illness and drug abuse, implied sexual abuse, misogyny/sexism, references to child birth, POV 2nd person, intentional vagueness

Relationships: Mostly Andres-centric (asdfasdf no I do not condone whatever’s going on in his head); a side of #hermanos, some berlermo foreshadowing if you squint

Not sure if anyone will read this, but if you do, hope you like this experimental chunk.

I love myself, but not today

Your name is Andrés de Fonollosa. And you’re a son of a bitch. Anyone who knows a lick or two about you will say you’re a fucker from hell. A bullet for a heart and a cock for a brain. They’ll call you a vile, wicked thing that should have died in your mother’s womb. But you know it’s not true. Because the truth is, you are much, much worse.

There is a man inside you (one day you’ll give him a name), festering under skin like the once-swell of your mother’s belly. If you’re in the mood for lying, you can say he was born on a sour day, the exact hour you felt the twitch of Mamá’s nerves in your dying bones. But no, no. This man has lived with you since your first breath. You can say he fed on you until he broke out, a grinning thing of blood and teeth. 

But the truth is-- he fed you. 

Your life is hell. You don’t need anyone to tell you. You learned all about hell before heaven ever crossed your mind. You knew dirt before you thought of clouds. Knew the taste of iron and salt years before sugar touched your tongue. Back then- at least- you can admit, “Andrés de Fonollosa” did nothing for you. He doesn’t stand between you and the cigarette kissing your skin, doesn’t wipe the piss from your mother’s legs, doesn’t stop the hands tugging at your hair. You owe Andrés nothing and you owe (you’ll give him a name one day, this man you nursed since birth) everything.

You love your mother, or so you say. That’s what sons do. But when she looks at you, there’s a message between her dull eyes, one that says, “I wish you were never born.” It’s a silly thought from a feeble thing. Women, you decide, are fragile and weak. (No, a little voice says, they used to be strong, until you looked over the shoulder of her lover and saw her sobbing in a corner, withered bones and wasted salt, doing nothing to stop the blood from leaking off your lip.)

You love your mother, or so you think. You cannot say the same for your father. But in spite of your best efforts, she leaves you in hell. Once, to the powder because it’s all she can procure. And twice, when her eyes glaze over atop wet sheets. You think you should let her die. Think she might as well have died when you dragged yourself out of her womb, a warhead choking on her cord. A stretching, wrinkled piece of flesh, the prune that your father left. You won your fight with her before she even had the chance to strike.

Maybe if you had his face, she would be happier. You don’t know. You’ve never been lucky, but you like to gamble. So even as a babe, you chose to wear her face instead of his. A ghost of who she was, a challenge from your birth.

You don’t cry when Mamá dies. Because she’s not dead, not really, not when her phantom lives in your face, your blood.   

Someone says you look like a woman, but maybe he meant to say you look like your mother. It doesn’t matter. You crush his nose with the flat of your hand. Cartilage crumbles under your palm like clay. It’s not so hard to hold your own after that.

Then you think of crawling out of hell, swimming off when no one’s lurking. Looking. But you’re a spiteful thing. Not a coward, you tell yourself. Only a son of a bitch who finally grew a fucking spine. So you turn back and climb down.

This is your den, your hell. And you are king. 

It won’t be long before you learn of the sanctity of marriage, or so you claim. Before you dip your toes into the power of vows and a whiff of luxury always at the tip of your brain, you almost settle for a vapid face and cheap lipstick. Between your girl and the widow who offered to teach you French, you don’t really care who kisses you so long as there’s someone to hold your dick. (A woman, though, always a woman. Never a man. Never again.)

Until she traces the scar- one among many- on your hip one night, whispering her hand down the jagged edge. She says she likes it, “sexy, manly, a battle scar.” It’s a wakeup call. You end things there, and you don’t care if she cries and screams and calls you a bastard fucked in the head (what else is new?). You’re not going to waste any more time on the smell of cigarettes and dust on the road.

She called it a battle scar. But you know it’s a sign of defeat, an angry mark on skin that tells the world you’re nothing better than a rat on the street. No different from the men that claw at each other’s throats over anything so much as bristled pride. Your pride is of a different sort, a dignity you no longer want to lose.

Some men aim to kill. Others aim to hurt. And you, you aim to prove a point. 

And you’ve wasted enough of your youth on blood and spittle, in some effort to keep the reins of your domain. So you leave without a word. You are a gentleman, or so you say. From now on, you have a goal. You’ll walk up the hill of dirt, even if you have to limp, and pull yourself up to the looming sky. You will wash the blood off with soap and spend the rest of your life with silk and cotton, and preferably a docile, coy bride (or two, three, maybe five) at the altar. You dream of Dulcinea’s arms and a bed in the clouds, the farthest you can fly from the rotting dirt that birthed you.

No one will scar you again. And it doesn’t matter what you do to keep it that way. Better them than you, after all.

Then your father dies. He leaves a boy behind, a boy who until now, you believed grew up with everything you made do without. You see him out of spite, because no matter which pelt you choose, you’ll always be a bastard through and through. You hear that he’s frail, as pitiful as you are strong, and you think it’s mighty funny that your father built him so much worse than he built you. A pungent taste of irony, the gleeful voice says.

But when you finally speak to him, that tart voice dies, and the road shifts beneath your feet. He comes to call you “Andrés,” without a trace of disdain on his tongue. Only “Andrés.” With a needy timbre he tries to hide. His hand too shy to touch yours, even after days, weeks, months. He says, “Andrés” and you can hear the concern floating within, the faint hope that you can love him back. He calls you “Andrés” as if you were always Andrés, not something spat out and told to die.

Your name is Andrés de Fonollosa. And you’re a son of a bitch. You come from hell. But the thread of light that lures you out isn’t a hill of dirt or a sunny sky. It’s the voice of your brother and the shy smile on his lips. The Isaac to your Ishmael.

Sergio Marquina is, you think, the first spot of light in your wretched life. 

----

The second spot of light is an accent from across the sea. 

[ttooccaa]

The impeccable timing of everything - Chapter 5

5/5

And so it ends.

Rating: Teen

Ao3 link

Taos

December 22, 10:45 MST

Ed was teleporting all over the center and doing all the work that he could, which while not necessarily unusual was quite alarming considering the pace he was going at. He was buzzing with energy and that had the other teens who were currently lounging in the shared space  interested in what exactly was going on with him.

Miriam leaned against the table like she was conspiring and asked “What’s up with Goldie?”

Wendy smirked “Heard that he finally got a day off to hang out with his boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?” Miriam blinked her black eyes at the group of teens.

Wayne who currently had the two fun sized speedsters staring intently at his hands spoke up “Yeah, you know, the one that goes really fast and constantly makes that one dumb pun.” He continued rubbing a shiny piece of plastic against a crystal created by Kole. The other ginger was also looking at him with interest in her eyes.

“Bart.” One of the twins clarified, a hint of excitement in his voice. The two of them have been picking up English quite steadily, especially with everybody else’s eagerness to teach them.

The Brazilian nodded and then pointed at Wayne blinking quizzically towards Kate, who for her part only rolled her eyes and made a face of utter defeat and annoyance. Miriam just sighed and started twirling a lock of her black hair between her fingers. She had seen the other speedster a couple of times around the Center, though never talked to him. She continued musing over the new found knowledge that he was the peer counselor’s boyfriend, until a sudden gold light caught her attention.

Ed appeared next to the group of teens and grinned “Glad to see you’re all getting along.” Wendy rolled her eyes endearingly. He smiled and continued talking “Just so you know I’ll be leaving soon and since Neut is in Detroit, no official peer counselor will be here, of course you can always text or call –“ he was cut off by Leslie “Yeah, yeah, we won’t get into any trouble, promise, cross my heart and all that.”

Ed rolled his eyes, but smiled nonetheless, a lot had happened over the last few weeks after Intergang was caught… on Earth that is. So many new metas had been rescued and almost all of them had no other place to go to but the Center, so a new one was planned to open up soon in Detroit. That, among many other things had eaten up all the time Ed had, so his promised date with Bart had been pushed back. He was glad he had all the others who had been part of the Center since it’s beginning, Neut had of course done everything he could, but again he was only one man. So both him and Ed were eternally grateful to Wendy, Leslie, Andy, Celia and many others who had stepped up and taken up some of their responsibilities. He smiled gently at the thought and relaxed a bit – ‘Yeah, I can totally trust them to handle every-‘

“Aha! And that is how you make a shiv out of a toothbrush!” Wayne proclaimed, holding up the sharp piece of plastic for the three gingers to inspect.

Ed sighed and raised an eyebrow, a pointed look directed towards Leslie. She just grinned and gave him a thumbs up. “At least pretend you’re going to be fine until Bart and I head out.” He said.

“Bart is coming?” Menos exclaimed happily, the twins had taken a natural liking to Bart, mostly because he was funny and his terrible spanish even more so. Mas was turning the toothbrush shiv around in his hands.

“Si, though only for a bit.” Ed explained while walking over to the twins and taking the diy weapon away.

“Hey! That took a long time to make.” Wayne exclaimed.

Eduardo just threw an unimpressed look his way which Wayne retaliated by rolling his eyes. The Argentinian pocketed the shiv deciding to deal with it later.

Kate piped up “So what do you have planned for today?” She slowly moved away from her seat and went over to Wayne. The teen was still sulking over his make shift weapon being taken away.

Ed blinked at her.

The blonde ruffled Wayne’s hair and started cooing at him as if he were a little child, his annoyance was steadily growing. Just as he was about to smack her she turned back towards Ed “Okay, you’re doing this on purpose. For your date obviously?” She clarified.

The Argentinian rubbed the back of his neck “Geez, does everybody know?”

They all gave him mumbles of agreement, except Wayne who was grumpily glaring at Kate who had thrown her arm around his shoulders “Don’t worry, champ, I’m going to get you the best plastic toothbrush money can buy!” Just as the black haired boy, was about to answer her with something that the kids around should definitely not be hearing, he was cut off by Ed.

“We’re going to hit up the Christmas market, walk around, the usual.” A small smile appeared on his face just from imagining it.

“Well doesn’t that sound just lovely, hope nothing goes wrong, ya know, as it usually does.” Kate smiled brightly at him, while Wayne was grumping something next to her.

‘Yeah, I hope so too.’ The young hero was just about to answer her, but she was too busy poking Wayne in the cheek, as he turned towards her, eyes red and murder clear in them, the distinctive crash of something heavy and metallic hitting the ground echoed. Everybody looked Wayne, who just raised his hands up. Ed audibly sighed and turned toward the noise, looking tired “What do you people have against the tables?! There are made of metal as to not be easier to destroy!” He mumbled and then teleported towards the commotion.

The other teens just shrugged and continued on.

Central City

December 22, 10:00 PST

Bart was at home with Jay, happy for a day off. After Intergang had been stopped, the League and all other heroes had been working hard on following up leads, investigating and saving metas both on Earth and in Space. Though the Green Lantern corps were mostly the ones handling Space, even after all this time some of the League’s members were still not welcome in some parts of the Galaxy.

Kid Flash was eating breakfast while scrolling on his phone, Jay was doing much the same, except he would occasionally move his phone closer or farther away from his face, squinting his eyes. When Bart was done he collected both his and Jay’s empty dishes and went to put them in dishwasher.

Jay put his phone and smiled “So, you and Ed are going out today?”

Bart grinned “Yeah, we finally got a day off! Totally crash”

The original Flash smiled gently “The life of a superhero is a busy one, full of uncertainties and changes that occur faster than you might think.”

Bart rolled his eyes endearingly at his guardian “Is that a gentle way of telling me to take my costume with me?”

The other Flash only smiled knowingly. The teen sighed, but complied non the less and quickly put the suit which had been compressed into a tiny square in the pocket of his red hoodie. “Hope I won’t need that today.”

“You and me both.”

“That sounds quite a lot like foreshadowing.” He looked at the clock “Anyways, I gotta go, see you later!”

“Have fun! Also bring the boy around for dinner sometime!”

“Will do!” Bart replied while putting on his jacket and dashing out of the back door, so fast that nobody would be able to see him. His excitement was growing with every mile.

Taos

December 22, 11:15 MST

Ed had just sorted out the situation with the table and was standing in an empty corridor, writing things down on his phone and reworking a schedule, when he heard the whoosh of the wind and felt a pair of arms wrap around his waist and a chin rest on top of his shoulder “Hi, babe.” Bart said right next to his ear.

“Hey.” Ed responded, putting his hands on top of Bart’s and leaning his head against the other teen’s. After a moment, the Argentinian turned around, putting his arms around Bart’s neck. The speedster smiled and leaned forwards gently kissing Ed. The kiss quickly deepened and after a bit, they separated and looked into each other’s eyes, the sappiness of the situation too much for both of them to handle, so they smiled and laughed.

Bart took Ed’s hand into his “Ready to go?”

The golden one squeezed his boyfriend’s hand “Just gonna check on the others one last time.”

The speedster became visibly excited “Oh, I haven’t seen everyone in forever, especially Mas and Menos! Hope they haven’t been feeling the mode without me around.” As busy as all the heroes had been Bart’s visits had become few and far in between, but enough for the twins to be utterly enamoured with the speedster.

The couple walked over to the shared space and as soon as Kid Flash was spotted by the twins he was immediately jumped by them, they were talking in super speed, which wouldn’t be a problem for him if it weren’t in Spanish. He literally exhausted all of his spanish vocabulary in those few seconds of conversation. Ed would probably never get used to that level of rushed talking but even he could see his boyfriend was starting to struggle a bit, so he turned towards the twins “Do you want to explain to Bart what Wayne showed you today?” The small gingers stopped their super fast talking, grinned at the idea and grabbed Bart by the hand, pulling him over to the other teens. Ed smiled at Bart stumbling behind them and also started walking after the trio of speedsters.

The twins were enthusiastically waving the crystal which Wayne had used for the shiv, in front of Bart’s face. With every new sentence their speech would get quicker and quicker, while Bart was grinning and looked genuinely interested in what the kids were showing him. The other teens also greeted him. Ed smiled and put his hands on hips looking at the endearing picture.

Miriam looked Bart over, then turned her gaze towards Ed and noticed how absolutely whipped the peer counselor looked, she then decided that they were a good match and smiled to herself. She did think though that it was quite peculiar that there were so many speedsters, actually wasn’t the one in the Outsiders close to their age, he also had brown hair very similar to Bart’s… maybe she shouldn’t dwell too much on it. It seemed that faked ignorance was preferred in this situation.

During all of that Ed was talking with Leslie, Andy and Wendy, making sure they had everything under control and to call if anything, anything, happened. The three girls just laughed and told him to relax, it’s not like they were completely left to their own devices, what will all the staff around. Ed teleported to get his jacket. Afterwards Bart said his goodbyes to the twins by hugging them and waved to the rest of the group. Eduardo did the same, but also ruffled Wayne’s hair. Before the other could protest Ed took Bart’s hand and they teleported away.

Taos

December 22, 12:17 MST

The two young superheroes appeared a bit farther away from the Christmas Market, in a small alley. They didn’t want to draw too much attention on themselves, though the chance of Ed not being recognized at all was small. Not having that much of a private life is a price all superheroes without secret identities had to pay. Nonetheless the boys’ excitement overshadowed any kind of stress they might have. Unlike a lot of couples the two of them weren’t particularly nervous about their first date, it’ll be a lot like hanging out except with more handholding and kissing.

They walked over to the entrance of the market, a huge wooden arc with mistletoe and all types of Christmas decoration hanging from it. As soon as the speedster saw the mistletoe he quickly kissed Ed on the mouth, before the other could even realize what was going on. The Argentinian just smiled and blushed slightly, gripping Bart’s hand tighter. The market was outside and made up of a ton of little booths decked out in anything Christmas and Winter related. There were stands with traditional foods from all over the world, Bart definitely wanted to try all of them. There were also ones with Christmas themed carnival games or ones selling handmade decorations. There were also people showing off different crafts.

The two of them just started walking around, looking over the many stalls. Ed felt Bart’s hand slightly buzzing in his, like he was holding himself back from running around at super speed and checking everything out. They first stoped for Bart to get something to eat, he got a grilled potato with a generous amount of butter on top of it. Ed just opted for some hot chocolate.

Afterwards they stopped at a carnival game and Bart burst out laughing while grabbing his phone to snap a picture of an action figure. Ed leaned to look at his phone, then promptly snorted after seeing the ugly bootleg, almost melting off face of what was apparently supposed to be Garfield’s character from “Space Trek 3016”. Though everything about the figurine was wrong, including Beast boy’s skin which was a bright pink. It was then that both boys knew that they needed to have this thing. Ed and Bart looked each other in the eyes determination clear.

The Argentinian grinned and indicated for the bored looking teen working there that they were going to play. He paid her and received some blunt darts with which to pop the colourful balloons. He handed Bart two of his four and they both took aim. Ed managed pop one balloon and so did Bart, but it was enough for the ugly piece of plastic, which was quickly pocketed by the shorter teen. “Gar is going to love this little guy!” Bart announced, patting his jacket’s pocket protectively.

“Well make sure the little guy is safe and comfortable in there, wouldn’t want him to be scratched for BB.” Ed grinned while nudging his boyfriend.

Bart looked offended “Excuse me, are you telling me how to raise my child?”

“Your child? From what I remember I paid for him.” The teleporter crossed his arms over his chest, feigning being offended.

“Oh! Well then, I guess I’ll see you in court!” Bart declared, a sour expression on his face. They started at each both looking annoyed with one other, until they laughed.

They continued walking until Ed saw a trash can in which to throw away the plastic cup from his hot chocolate. After he came back Bart took his hand once again. They walked around the market, the two teens were looking at a particularly delicate sculpture of a deer made from glass, when a few people approached them “Excuse me!” A particularly confident girl said, slightly spooking both of them, making Ed almost drop the deer. He quickly put it back on the shelf and both him and Bart sighed in relief. They turned around, with Bart speaking first “Yes?”

The group that had approached them was made up of two girls and three boys, all of them were silent, until the girl who had spoken earlier said “It really is you!” She pointed at Ed. He blinked at her and awkwardly raised his arm in a wave “Uh, yeah?” Bart couldn’t help but find his awkwardness endearing.

“El Dorado!” One of the guys exclaimed. Ed just continued staring at them and they at him. While he wasn’t bad at talking with strangers or talking in general, something about meeting people who would actually call themselves his fans always made him really uncomfortable, he didn’t feel like he’d done anything particularly deserving of them.

Bart nudged him and he spoke up “Can I help you with anything?”

The girl from earlier grinned “Can we get a pic together?”

Ed looked at Bart who just shrugged “Yeah, of course, no problem.”

“Awesome!”

Bart offered to take the picture, Ed was in the middle of the group of friends all of them smiling brightly. Afterwards they chatted a bit more, Bart also joined in on the conversation, all of the awkwardness melting away. The Argentinian only asked that they don’t upload the photo right away, he didn’t want to risk making a scene, if people decided to show up just because he was there. The other teens understood and with that they said their goodbyes.

When the group of fans was out of earshot, Ed sighed “Well that went way better than expected.”

“I still can’t believe that you can have full speeches at the Center, but get so tongue tied just because of a few fans.” Bart said.

“Well, I am getting better at it, also sorry that having fans is still such a crazy concept to me.” Ed defended.

The speedster laughed “I don’t see why, you’re pretty dang crash, amigo.”

Ed raised an eyebrow, smiling “Just “amigo”?”

The speedster rolled his eyes at his boyfriend and quickly kissed him “You know what I mean.”

Ed smiled softly, looking into Bart’s green eyes “Hey, want to get some churros?”

“Do I want to get some churros? What sort of a question is this? Of course, I want churros!” Bart exclaimed.

They walked over to a stand and Bart bought churros, afterwards they leaned against the back of a bench and looked up at the grey sky, the sun was high in the sky, but was covered by clouds, so it couldn’t be seen. They ate the sweet treat, just enjoying each other’s company. Ed piped up after bit “Today has honestly been amazing.”

“Has?” Bart teased.

“You know what I mean.”

Just as they were slowly leaning in, closer and closer to each other, letting their combined heath keep them warm both of their cellphones rung, it was the special ring that indicated that it was something that has to do with either the Outsiders, the Team or the League. Both of them quickly answered, though as much as they didn’t want to admit it out loud, they hoped it was something unimportant, like Canary had punched the coffee machine and they needed a new one. Of course, it was never things like that, but one could hope.

Garfield’s voice greeted them from the other side “Calling everybody, an extraterrestrial being that has been suspected of trading meta-humans will be crash landing in the desserts near Taos, I will send the exact coordinates-“ Bart and Ed made eye contact and Bart sighed deeply “God, I hate it when Jay is right.” He put on his superhero suit before anybody was even aware of what was going on, his civilian clothes hidden someplace safe. There were a few people already staring at them, a small group forming around the two heroes. They were too focused on the mission to notice them.

Both of them put on their earpieces used for missions and responded to Beast boy, Ed started talking “Kid Flash and I are closest, we will be heading there right now.”

The young heroes looked at the coordinates “Super speed or teleportation?” Bart asked.

Ed thought for a second, while he didn’t need to see where he was going in order to teleport there, not anymore that is, his powers worked best, when he had either already been there or had somebody he knew be at that place right now, to use as something of an anchor. “Super speed.” He decided.

Bart grinned and before Ed knew it, he was being princess carried towards the soon-to-be crash site.

Taos

December 22, 18:53 MST

They arrived within seconds, just in time to see the ship crash loudly into the dessert. “We’re on sight, the target has just crash landed.” Ed informed.

Garfield responded “Me and the other Outsiders will be joining you shortly, restrain him if possible.”

“Got it.”

After a moment Barbara’s voice was heard from the earpiece “The alien is known as Manga Khan, he is a dealer, basically in intergalactic broker that specialises in anything valuable –“

“Including meta-humans?” Bart asked. Him and Ed were moving slowly towards the crashed ship, nothing had happened yet. The only thing coming out of it was smoke, but other than that it looked fine.

“Yes, he was being investigated by the Green Lanterns, after evidence was found that he had dealt meta-humans, he tried to flee, but was chased and eventually forced to land here.” Oracle explained.

Just as she said that rapid fire shot out of a side of the ship, almost aimed at Bart and Ed, though it was haphazardly. Ed teleported away and Bart ran between shots, eventually the metal piece collapsed due to the many holes it had. From the inside a human looking, metallic suit with a golden shine could be seen. The man was holding a huge gun, it looked like the weapons Intergang had used. He was shooting without a rhyme or reason just generally trying to get the two always moving superheroes. The shots were so many and so sporadic that even Bart had a hard time getting close to him. The next moment he was next to Ed, they were both hiding behind a sand dune. “Okay, this is not working out.” Bart was clearly annoyed.

“He will run out of shots right?” Ed suggested, they both poked their heads from behind the dune, only to be met with a bunch of laser shots, they quickly ducked back. “Or not…”

Bart put his hand around his chin, as if in deep thought “If we brake the gun, we will have enough time to capture him.”

“We could use that metal rope or whatever it is.” Ed pointed towards the long, but sturdy looking piece of metal right behind the metal alien. One problem solved, but there was still the other one, they had to somehow brake or get rid of the gun.

El Dorado put his hands down, when he felt it in his pocket, Wayne’s shiv. He got it out and held it up right in Bart’s face. Immediately Kid Flash knew what he was getting at, he grabbed the shiv and once again ran into the line of fire. He started moving so fast that everything around him became slow, but even then weaving around all the lasers was a challenge, but he managed it just to get close enough so that he would get a clear throw at the gun. He threw the shiv and the sharp plastic hit bullseye. They were back in regular speed and the alien technology was shaking and smoke was coming out of it. Manga Khan quickly threw it to the side and it exploded. A second later El Dorado was behind him, weaving the cord around his upper torso and arms. The alien was quickly restrained and he just gave up. The rest of the heroes were informed of what had transpired.

“You know, maybe shivs should start coming with the costume.” Bart mused, both of them standing next to the extraterrestrial, looking at him.

Ed leaned against him “Who knew they could be so useful…”

“Wayne.”

“I think he was just trying to be a bad influence.” Eduardo grinned.

After he said that all the other Outsiders arrived with Bio-Ship, Green Lantern also came.

Hal Jordan smiled at the two heroes “Good work.”

“No problem.” Bart grinned, glowing with pride, Ed just smiled.

Garfield also congratulated them, honestly to Ed it felt like much ado about nothing, but he wasn’t going to complain. The alien was quickly taken in by Green Lantern where he would be questioned. Also more Green Lanterns arrived to deal with the alien ship and whatever damage it had done.

All of the Outsiders got into Bio-Ship and set a course for their base in Hollywood, though not without Bart quickly getting his civilian clothes back.

Hollywood

December 22, 18:35 PDT

As they arrived all of them sat down on the big sofa in the center of their base. Ed leaned against Bart, who threw his arm around his shoulders.

“Sorry about your date, guys.” Jaime said.

Both of them shrugged “Eh, most of it was perfectly fine, honestly I wasn’t particularly surprised when we got the call about the alien.” Ed said, loosely holding Bart’s hand.

Kid Flash, now in regular clothes, raised his pointer finger “The life of a superhero is a busy one, full of uncertainties and changes that occur faster than you might think, sonny!” He said sternly.

Jaime laughed “When has the OG Flash ever said “sonny”?”

“Excuse me, do you or do I live with him?”

They all chuckled at Bart and Jaime’s usual play arguments.

Suddenly Ed remembered something and teleported away, next to where Bart had thrown his jacket over one of the chairs. He teleported back, Bart was already grinning “Don’t think that even for a second we forgot about our favourite leader!” The Argentinian said, also grinning.

Garfield raised an eyebrow.

“Here, this is just a small token of our appreciation for our fearsome leader.” Ed placed the pink action figure in Beast Boy’s hand. All of the Outsiders went to see what had just happened. Cassie was the first one to react by snorting loudly “Oh my god, this is beautiful.”

“Hey!” Beast boy tried to sound annoyed, but was also smiling due to the sheer ugliness of the toy.

“I don’t know man. I think they’ve got you spot on.” Virgil commented, dangling the small figure from it's arm.

Jaime also joined in “I never would’ve guessed that pink was your colour!”

Garfield quickly snatched the figurine back “Har, har, at least I even have action figures for people to bootleg!”

Ed was back on the same place on the couch, leaning against Bart. They were both laughing at their team’s antics, when Victor who had previously been quiet, spoke up “Well, looks like the two of you had a dandy ol’ time on your date!” The smirk evident in his voice.

“Dandy ol’ time?” Virgil questioned.

Victor just shrugged and broadcasted a picture on the big screen right in front of the sofa, a mixture of awws and laughs was heard from the team, while Ed and Bart just blushed bright red.

The photo was taken just as they were about to head out and deal with the alien, Ed was in Kid Flash’s arms in a princess carry with Bart grinning wide and Ed looking surprised. It was posted from one of those trashy news magazines with the tag line “A new ship rising? Blink and you’ll miss ‘em! #toofast #ElDoradoxKidFlash”

Ed and Bart looked each other in the eyes, both of them with unreadable expressions, but then they just laughed.

All in all a pretty good day in the life of two teenage superheroes.

[kauriart]

The Journals of CSR : Chapter 5

The Storyteller

A Dragon Age fic  |  Cullen x f!Lavellen  |  Read it on AO3

It is easy to forget the world is not the high stone walls of Kirkwall.

That the tides don’t align themselves to the breath and beating heart of the city. That the heavens don’t split and weep for the sole purpose of washing the blood and grit from the flagstones.

Dangerous.

But easy.

Though really, Haven could be its own extension of Kirkwall — a second cousin, maybe. Or an estranged uncle — things keep blowing up, after all.

It’s a bit galling to realize that all this doesn’t make the top five lowest points in Varric’s life. This — the Conclave, and Haven, and a thousand people gone in an instant. It barely makes top ten. It may be that the horrors he's experienced have always taken on a strangely intimate flavor — the blood-red of Bartrand’s eyes; the taint crawling slowly up Junior’s veins; the stitching on Lady Amell’s neck coming apart beneath Hawke’s shaking hands; Anders and a dagger and an impossible choice.

Bianca.

The near-fatal blows of an eventful life.

Things better left buried under miles of repression.

Death by inches. Death by greed. Death by monstrosity.

Death by a broken heart.

He should be grateful, really. Most people don’t survive enough to know what it’s like to have your soul chipped away in bits and pieces and still stay standing. But what the hell does it say about him that he can just take this kind of shit in stride?

They’ve more than their share of the walking dead shambling about Haven, with glassy eyes and bleeding hearts. Innocents who never had to weather a storm this rough before, and aren't quite up to dealing with the cold.

Metaphorically and literally.

And there's so much damned cold.

The air is white and blurry, but the ground is depression brown, trampled ugly by the downtrodden, and who the hell else is anything but?

Not him, and certainly not ex-Knight Captain/Commander Rutherford, who just so happens to be crossing from the much lauded war room, back to the training field, as he does dozens of times a day. The ruff on his fancy new surcoat makes him look like he's hunched over, half-buckled from the weight of the world. Snow swirls around his ears.

“Curly,” Varric nods in greeting when Cullen gets close, and the Commander startles, but recovers quickly enough.

“Serrah Tethras.” He says stiffly, because Cullen is nothing if not needlessly rigid. And it's a whole other level of alarming that Cullen's Cullen-ness is honestly comforting in times such as these.

At least it's familiar, and Varric would pay good coin for familiar right about now.

Or maybe it's just that Cullen is about as unshakeable as they come — splintered apart and fused back together so many times that he's always bracing for the worst, which is apparently... bracing.

Go figure.

"How's Lefty?" Varric asks.

“Um… Lefty?”

Varric flutters his fingers, pantomiming a flare of magic from his palm. “Not my best work,” he concedes with a lopsided shrug. “But it’s been a tiring week.”

“That it has,” Cullen agrees bleakly. He looks old when he says it, though Varric isn't sure he can imagine Cullen as young.

(Hard to imagine Templars as boys — all smooth-cheeked and innocent, though Karras was probably a dick from the moment he was born. Cullen… well, Varric's never been sure. Too many dickish qualities, but his heart's in the right place, sometimes. Probably.)

(Once, for sure.)

He’s got one of those appallingly open faces, does Cullen. All stalwart cheekbones, and big vulnerable eyes, and that particular brand of Ferelden skin that telegraphs every shift in his emotion.

A wonder the man doesn’t grow a beard.

There’d be less… pink overall.

"Don't think I didn’t notice that you didn't answer my question, Curly."

"Um," Cullen runs a hand through his hair, melting snow flattening the curls. "The Herald is—  She's…"

And oh, that's quite an increase of pink.

Foreshadowing?

Poor Curly.

"Portable?" Varric offers, grinning.

Cullen nearly chokes, which is damn satisfying even if it’s a little heartbreaking. “Coping,” he says firmly, and runs his hand through her hair. “As best as she can. Better than we could have expected, in truth. Cassandra thinks—” He pauses, clearly mulling over the spilling of Inquisition secrets to someone with no official rank or loyalty to the organization. But if there’s anyone in the world who needs a confidant — not a friend, surely, that's not a word for the pair of them, ever — it’s Cullen. “Cassandra thinks she’s ready to join us at council. Or, she thinks she ought to, at least.”

"Really?" Varric raises a brow, "I'm impressed by the sudden expansion in the Seeker's vocabulary. Usually she just says things like 'lie to me and I will kill you'." He clips the syllables at the ends like all good Navarran’s do.

"I'll have to tell Cassandra that your impression of her is improving."

"Ha!" Varric chuckles. "Your funeral, friend."

Shit. That slipped out.

Cullen blinks, and there's a noticeable beat in the conversation, as if they are both trying to regain their footing after a near tumble down the stairs.

The Commander recovers first.

"Cassandra thought I should ask.” Cullen rubs at the back of his neck, which is nearly as pink as the rest of him. “But perhaps it would be better if... you... asked her.” Cullen glances at him, and then swiftly away, still worrying at the back of his neck. “She likes you," he says almost  apologetically. "She's… comfortable talking to you."

Varric makes a small sound of amusement. "Lefty’s not comfortable talking to anyone. But I'm sure she's noticed my easy-going nature, and general lack of authority."

Cullen frowns. "This reminds me of Kirkwall," he says after a moment, and sits.

"Doesn't look much like Kirkwall. Doesn't smell much like Kirkwall either. Plus it’s freezing. You sure you’re not trying to change the subject?” But his heart aches for what he lost, and he had been thinking much the same, so he asks: “What parts?"

Cullen squints as flurries of snow begin to drift down on them. "The fear."

Varric makes an agreeable sound. "I'd have gone with overrun with apostates, myself."

The easiness in Cullen's expression recedes momentarily, turning sharp and brittle. "Technically there aren't any apostates anymore. Besides, I’m not sure I’d describe Kirkwall as overrun with them,” he says with a stiff sort of offended professionalism. “But I understand the comparison.”

“That’s magnanimous of you.”

“So…” Cullen glances at him, and holds his hands out to the little firepit. “Will you ask her?”

“I suppose. Does this make me a Vice-Admiral of the Inquisition, or something?”

“No,” Cullen makes a sound that could almost be a laugh. Almost. “And I haven’t the authority to promote you, anyway. To any rank above Lieutenant. The council would have to approve by majority, and since Cassandra holds one of the votes…”

Varric shakes his head sadly. “A brilliant military career, squashed before it can even begin.”

Cullen raises his brows dubiously.

“I choose to interpret that look as flattery,” Varric grins. “And you’re welcome.”

“Er, thank you,” Cullen adds hastily. “For… your assistance in this matter. And for… well, thank you.” He inclines his head and rises, awkwardly brushing the snow off the seat of his pants.

"I don't like you much," Varric calls out to Cullen's retreating back.

The Commander pauses mid-stride, and shoots him a bemused look. "No one does. But I won’t hold it against you."

Varric watches the Commander trudge away. Thinking how this conversation was more than he talked to Cullen in the whole six years he knew him in the Gallows. Thinking how this conversation was almost pleasant.

What is the world coming to?

Everything changes.

Everything stays the same.

Cullen may have traded crimson for burgundy, and skirts for breeches and whatever the hell is slung across his shoulders, but Varric'll bet he's got the Sword and Flames tattooed on his skin somewhere appropriately masculine. And no matter what he thinks of the Order now, it takes more than a few months to break with a lifetime of indoctrination.

And if Haven isn’t overrun with apostates, it still has two more than any good Templar is willing to suffer.

And Cullen’s always been such a good Templar.

Still.

Varric remembers that he almost heard Cullen laugh.

Almost.

*

Read it from the beginning 

[frangipanidownunder]

Fox Mulder’s Guide to Building a Pool: part 2

Read Part 1

A/N This is in answer to an anon prompt: Mulder builds a pool in the yard. It ran away from me so I’ll post it in two parts.

This is set post IWTB and assumes Season 10 didn’t happen. Because it shouldn’t have, am I right? Angsty to start with.

Winter

November rushed headlong into house and yard with blizzards and ice storms and squealing winds under the doors. The pool project remained as frozen as the ground but his brain was always planning. Winter was the end of things, yet, even as he scraped freezing condensation from the inside of the windows, he felt a kind of resurgence. Like his bare, unadorned spirit had rested enough to begin anew. It helped that he spoke to Scully often, random phone calls, text messages with links to articles she’d found on cryptid sightings or arcane deaths. Her emoji use was spot on. Aliens and foxes and ghosts and a solitary blue heart.

Christmas Eve and she sent him a message about a sighting of a ‘gargantuan, hirsute humanoid’ in a Florida forest and after reading it with a sense of comforting familiarity and relieved distance, he googled the meaning of the blue heart. Trust, harmony, peace and loyalty. Reading into emojis had to rank right up there on the Fox Mulder Chart of Weirdness but the idea of it, that she had carefully researched this colour and chosen it as the one to close off her messages to him, took root in his own heart and he felt a burst of that same restless energy that had plagued him for months.

He walked to the back door, chancing a look out. A smirry rain fell, leaving the bare branches oily in the low light. Further around, the pool, sunk below the hard, cold earth was a gaping dark mouth, the concrete bearing the marks of months of bad weather. In one corner, debris from the yard had collected, twigs and small stones, plastic wrapping floating in the grimy pool of melted snow that covered the base.

The sound of her voice as she picked up the call pulled a smile to his lips. She sounded pleased to hear from him. Excited almost.

“Hey.” It was an extended version of her usual greeting. A stretching of the word into something more. His heart skipped. “I know you don’t celebrate, but Happy Christmas, Mulder.”

It would have been typical for him to make some flippant remark about stockings or mistletoe but instead, he raked up the trash in the pool as he wished her season’s greetings and listened to her stories of wrapping gifts for the kids at work and the terribly formal staff dinner where the turkey was overcooked and the hasselbacks were rubbery and she left early so she could pull on her pyjamas and robe and watch It’s a Wonderful Life and then, after a breathy pause, added, that it wasn’t the same on her own.

“What’s that noise?” she asked.

He could have said it was the sound of his heart breaking free of his ribcage but he shook his head at himself and took a deep breath. “Would you believe me if I said I was cleaning the pool?” She laughed and he burst right through her green light. “Did you want to come over, Scully?”

She would very much love to, she said, and he held the phone to his chest while he scraped out the detritus against the side wall one-handed. The first flake of snow landed and he looked up to the silver heavens and whispered a thank-you.

Guilt crept in when he saw a parcel in her hand. “I didn’t get you anything, Scully.” He took her coat, the bag of groceries and the gift and she said she’d forgive him and he grinned at her as he rattled the box until she tutted and snatched it back from him.

“I’ll put it under the tree,” she said but the living room was empty of seasonal decor and she looked down at the gift and her feet and he wondered if he could pull out all the boxes in the attic to retrieve the decorations but she shook her head and laughed through her nose. “Don’t worry about it.” She could still read him like a book.

The intensity of the storm took them by surprise, heaping snow against the window sills and the door and Scully’s car until everything was silent-white and glistening. He poured brandy over ice and she sank into the couch next to him wrapped in a blanket and wearing a resigned smile.

“It’s fine,” she said. “I’m not due at mom’s until New Year. I was going to be working but that changed, so I have no plans.” She squeezed his knee and there was a glint in her eye that had him almost believing that she’d engineered the weather, just like that Holman guy from years before, but Dana Scully MD was no lovelorn meteorologist. She was the sender of blue heart emojis, the bringer of turkey steaks and farmer’s market vegetables, she was the best present ever, the three wise men and more.

She was also a little tipsy, he thought, eyeing her reddened cheeks and the way she shucked off her boots to tuck her ankles under her ass. He hadn’t seen her so loose for years. He’d spent too long ignoring her that by the time she left she was coiled like wire rope and just as cool to touch.

“If this storm keeps up maybe we can skate on your pool,” she said and giggled, pressing her fingers under her nose.

“You want to rush me to ER with multiple fractures on Christmas morning, Scully?” He swallowed the liquor.

Her face straightened and she cleared her throat. “It will be strange, won’t it, being here tomorrow? Waking up on Christmas morning together. It’s not something we’ve done for…”

“Three years,” he said and let that settle between them before adding, “but I’m looking forward to it.”

“Because it feels like we’ve moved past…all that?”

All that. All that rage and disappointment. All that bitterness and rancour. All that unsaid. Too much said. “Because it feels fated,” he said. And she pulled a face. “Preordained, inexorable.”

“Destined,” she said, leaning forward. “Portentous?”

He chuckled. “That has a negative connotation, like foreshadowed. It’s more ominous than auspicious.”

“I’m going to have to take back that Thesaurus and buy you something else, Mulder.” She nodded to the present on the table.

“I used to be poor,” he said and she quirked her eyebrow. “Then my partner bought me a thesaurus and now I’m impecunious.”

Her snort was half-laugh, half-surprise. “We’re not…”

“I know.”

The next morning dawned clear and Mulder was already awake. Had hardly slept. Like a child at Christmas, he thought wryly, impatient for his gift. Scully wasn’t for unwrapping though. At this stage, he was lucky she was here to decorate his living room. The brightest star. An angel.

She was dressed in his old anorak he’d used years before to clear the yard when they first moved in. It surrounded her like a canoe, pointed hood above her head and falling to almost her ankles. She was dragging something behind her, leaving a thick trail through the snow. Mulder opened the door and she huffed through, revealing her treasure – a small pine tree, dripping melting snow in grey piles on the floor.

He found a box of decorations behind a wall of old books, dusted them off and climbed back down the ladder. She’d made cocoa and found marshmallows from that Mary Poppins bag of hers. She added a dash of brandy with a hair of the dog wink and they made the tree pretty.

Flipping pancakes, he watched her as she sat in the chair near the window, wrapped now in one of his sweaters, pink-stockinged feet crossed. “If you squint through these blinds, Mulder, and use your imagination, of which you received a wild and overly large share, it looks like there’s a snow monster in the pool.”

“Are you still drunk, Scully?” He bent beside her, close enough to see the dark skin on the mole above her lip.

“I am not, look! There. See it? It’s got shifty eyes and a long nose.”

He rubbed at his own features and she jabbed his hand away.

“It’s there. I swear. Come on, I’ll show you.” She shot up and dragged him outside where the cold shrunk his skin around his bones. The sky threatened to unload again and she shivered despite her layers. He slunk an arm around her shoulders and she swayed into him. “There. Look. See?” Her finger pointed but he couldn’t have seen a thing beyond the fact that she was there, right next to him in the dead of winter, gesticulating to a lump of frozen water.

“At least when Frosty the Snowmonster dies, the pool will be quarter full,” he said, holding open the door for her. She dipped under his arm and it felt like old times.

Spring

Blossom hugged the ends of branches, pom-poms of pink dipping on the breeze. The sun was watery-warm and birdsong amplified the hope of the season. He’d tiled the pool himself, enjoying he exact nature of the work. The water delivery contractor was late but the from his vantage point on the front deck, Mulder couldn’t care less. Just for an hour or so, he could afford to do nothing. He told himself he deserved it. He let his eyes slip shut.

“Can’t a girl get a fanfare any more?” Scully was standing at the foot of the steps, casual in blue jeans and a fitted mint-green tee, her hair was pulled back in a scruffy ponytail that usually signified she was about to get messy.

He made trumpet noises and she bowed when she reached the deck. From her tote she took out a bag of pastries. He liked this version of Scully. He liked her very much. This soft, coquettish variety gave him hope like the spring and made him feel lighter.

“I’ll make coffee,” he said and ushered her through with a theatrical wave.

The truck arrived two hours late but that was two hours passed with Scully who spent her time asking questions about the pump and the pool fence requirements and whether he was going to plant a garden and how much she loved the mosaic tile design on the bottom and whether he’d considered a shade sail. She wrinkled her nose and her freckles danced. He had a vision of her sunburnt and cranky.

“I’ll order one before the heat hits,” he said, solemnly.

“Don’t do it just for me,” she said, over the din of the hose being unravelled from the truck.

As though he would do anything for anyone else. He’d spent much of the time since the Father Joe case doing things only for himself. He couldn’t see it then, but his focus had narrowed beyond the scope of voiceless victims, beyond the purview of his domestic responsibilities and from his refreshed perspective, he could see now how Scully had been cut out of his orbit.

“Did you imagine this when we first moved in here?”

“You designing and constructing a pool, sundeck and safety fence? Mulder, when we first moved here you couldn’t have built a house of cards. Remember when the screen door fell off the hinges and you tried to fix it but ended up breaking the drill. You were so angry, a wounded animal fighting off any help. I thought…” she covered her eyes with her hand to watch the water running over the bottom of the pool, steadily rising, filling the void. “I should have left sooner. Maybe you would have rediscovered this…this spirit of yours earlier.”

“You think your leaving prompted me to do all this?”

“Didn’t it?”

“It took more than three years of you not…”

She sucked in a breath and it dawned on him that she was still hurting too. Would it ever stop? Or was the pain destined to be a constant companion to remind them of their failings? Was building a pool really just a diversion from the agony of Scully being gone? Was her position at the hospital just her version of a building project? She was building herself a better life and he was building a pool.

“I’m sorry,” she said, reaching for his hand and squeezing gently. “For not trying harder.”

The drone of the truck’s motor stuttered to a halt and he looked down at her. She was gazing at the water as it slapped at the sides, settling. “You have nothing to apologise for, Scully. I closed off, shut down, kept you out and then got mad at you when you made a new life.”

“We were both pretty closed off, Mulder. Talking for hours but never saying enough. Remember how we used to spend days on the road and never have to say a thing. We could go for miles in silence. It didn’t bother us then, so when did that change?”

“I think the truth of it is that we were both just talking at each other, trying to get our voices heard, but we didn’t care to listen for fear of actually hearing.”

She raised those brows of hers and smiled. “That’s very deep and heartfelt.”

The truck reversed and he looked down at the water and the moving outline of the blue love heart he’d tiled at the bottom of the pool. “Just like my pool.”

The first time she came over for a swim, she presented him with a new beach towel. It had a fox face on it and she was so proud of herself. She let him splash her and she bombed him and he didn’t want her to leave but he watched her drive away and sat on the verandah for hours after the sun went down.

She phoned to say she was coming over again and that gave him an idea. After all, he owed her two gifts now. So he went online and shopped.

Taking the parcel, she dipped her head in gratitude. “This better not be a beach towel with Big Blue on it, Mulder, or I swear to God…” She ripped the package open scattering paper everywhere. She held it up. It was a one-piece swimsuit the colour of those Caribbean island beaches, azure, the colour of her eyes. She pulled a face, whispering a wow and telling him he shouldn’t have because people might talk.

“Let them talk,” he called out, as she slipped into the house to change. “What else could they say about us that we haven’t heard already, Mrs Spooky.”

When she returned, she was wearing the bathing suit and a knee-length cream sarong. She pulled a wide-brimmed hat out of her bag and went to put it on but he stopped her.

“Just one more thing,” he said, finding the smaller parcel. “This is a very late birthday or really early Christmas present. Take your pick.”

“Another gift? You already got me this suit and I’m wondering if I should really spend the afternoon with a man who buys lingerie for a single woman…”

“It’s lingerie?” His voice was high-pitched because he was genuinely curious and a little sorry about her use of the word single which seemed unnecessary but she grinned wickedly and he breathed out in relief. “Damn. If I’d have known that I would have bought that red lace number…”

“Don’t push your luck, Mulder.”

The small gift was wrapped in silver frosted paper decorated with a gold bow. She opened this one with much more care and when she lifted the lid and saw the silver chain with the blue topaz heart pendant, her eyes filled with tears. “It’s beautiful, Mulder. You shouldn’t have. It’s too much.”

“Trust, harmony, peace and loyalty. Blue hearts. That’s what they mean.”

“Uh-huh.” She turned and he clipped the necklace under the hair. “You’re reading a lot into an emoji.” Was he? Maybe. Did he care? Not much. She turned to face him, stood on tiptoe and kissed him, softly, gently, with love. “But you’ve always looked beyond the obvious. And that’s why I love you.”

Love. Not loved. He took her hand and walked her to the edge. “Ready?”

She didn’t answer but tugged at his wrist and pulled him forward so they both plunged into the deep blue, going down and down.

[theusurpersdog]

The Beggar Queen

Following up my post on Daenerys in A Game of Thrones, I also have a lot of thoughts on her arc in A Clash of Kings. In many ways it’s a very unexpected continuation of her story; at the end of A Game of Thrones, she has just hatched three dragons and walked out of a burning pyre, seemingly at the top of the world. Instead of a more typical fantasy story, A Clash of Kings sends Daenerys back down to being powerless. There’s a reality to how GRRM writes the story; sure, she has three dragons, but what good are they in the middle of a vast desert? What good are they when they can’t even fly or breathe fire yet? These are all questions Daenerys has to try and find answers to, while also trying to keep her and her people alive. And she’s also trying to build an army and fleet to take her to Westeros while navigating the wonders and horrors of Qarth.

The Bleeding Star

When Daenerys is about to step into Drogo’s funeral pyre in A Game of Thrones, she looks up to the stars and sees a streaking red comet blazing across the sky, and sees it as a sign of her dragons. That same comet guides her through the Red Waste in A Clash of Kings:

The Dothraki named the comet shierak qiya, the Bleeding Star. The old men muttered that it omened ill, but Daenerys Targaryen had seen it first on the night she had burned Khal Drogo, the night her dragons had awakened. It is a herald of my coming, she told herself as she gazed up into the night sky with wonder in her heart. The gods have sent it to show me the way.

The comet is the connecting thread between everyone in the story. From each point of view character, we learn some new truth or interpretation for what it means:

Cressen had never seen a comet half so bright, nor yet that color, that terrible color, the color of blood and flame and sunsets

- Prologue

That night she lay upon her thin blanket on the hard ground, staring up at the great red comet. The comet was splendid and scary all at once. "The Red Sword," the Bull named it; he claimed it looked like a sword, the blade still red-hot from the forge. When Arya squinted the right way she could see the sword too, only it wasn't a new sword, it was Ice, her father's greatsword, all ripply Valyrian steel, and the red was Lord Eddard's blood on the blade after Ser Ilyn the King's Justice had cut off his head.

- Arya I

Doubtless that was what they told Joffrey; Sansa was not so sure. "I've heard servants calling it the Dragon's Tail."

"King Joffrey sits where Aegon the Dragon once sat, in the castle built by his son," Ser Arys said. "He is the dragon's heir—and crimson is the color of House Lannister, another sign. This comet is sent to herald Joffrey's ascent to the throne, I have no doubt. It means that he will triumph over his enemies."

- Sansa I

When Bran repeated that to Osha, she laughed aloud. "Your wolves have more wit than your maester," the wildling woman said. "They know truths the grey man has forgotten." The way she said it made him shiver, and when he asked what the comet meant, she answered, "Blood and fire, boy, and nothing sweet."

- Bran I

All of those descriptions of the comet have one thing in common – Daenerys Targaryen. Whether it be Cressen seeing Fire & Blood in the sky, Arya seeing beauty and horror and Valyrian steel and blood, Sansa calling it the Dragon’s Tail and Arys Oakheart seeing it as the coming of Aegon’s heir, or Osha’s warning to Bran of “blood and fire, and nothing sweet.”, Daenerys is tied to the comet. Because it was meant for her. In the House of the Undying, Daenerys learns that the warlocks sent it to guide her to Qarth so they could feed off her and her dragons.

So, what does it mean, that this comet belongs to Daenerys? I think it’s very similar to how waking the dragon was used in A Game of Thrones. All of our protagonists find horror in the red streak across the sky, where only our antagonists (such as Theon) believe it belongs to them. In one way, all of the ominous foreshadowing for the comet is because the Warlocks were trying to kill Daenerys with it. But, the symbolism of the comet aligns shockingly well with Daenerys’ own path. She thinks it’s a sign of her reign, of her coming glory in the Seven Kingdoms. But instead, it leads her toward ruin; while she narrowly manages to escape the House of the Undying, following the comet almost kills her. The comet is just like the Queenship she’s chasing in Westeros; this thing she can’t let go of, that she’ll follow blindly, until it destroys her.

The comet also allows us to fully understand what Daenerys now represents to the people who saw her step out of Drogo’s Pyre:

"We follow the comet," Dany told her khalasar. Once it was said, no word was raised against it. They had been Drogo's people, but they were hers now. The Unburnt, they called her, and Mother of Dragons. Her word was their law.

Daenerys is very far from a normal political figure or leader; she is a messiah figure to her people, the product of hundreds of years of magic and prophecy. Her khalasar will follow her through the desert chasing a comet, because they watched her do the impossible. This kind of relationship she has with her people is crucial to understanding how Daenerys reacts to them. She puts an immense amount of pressure on herself to live up to the legend that made her the Mother of Dragons:

They are not strong, she told herself, so I must be their strength. I must show no fear, no weakness, no doubt. However frightened my heart, when they look upon my face they must see only Drogo’s queen. She felt older than her fourteen years. If ever she had truly been a girl, that time was done.

Daenerys knows her people are the weakest, the oldest and youngest, the outcasts, the people who cannot provide for themselves. So they turned to her, their only chance after the rest of the Dothraki abandoned them. And Daenerys is aware of this, and trying desperately to save her people and herself, but she doesn’t know how. Her dragons are only hatchlings, and all the enemies she made when Drogo died leave her no choice but to take her people through the Red Waste. As we’ll see later, her magical abilities failing her forces her to become a political and practical leader of her people, whether she is capable of that or no.

In later books, Daenerys begins to gather other followers, but in A Clash of Kings, the Dothraki are all she has. And they follow her because might makes right within a khalasar, and no one is mightier than the young girl who walked out of a fire with no burns and three dragons. Later books are much more invested in examining both the good - but especially the bad - that this kind of relationship can cause between a ruler and her people, but that part of Daenerys’ arc is already set up here in A Clash of Kings.

This dynamic does give us a glimpse into the altruistic part of Daenerys that is still there, and especially on display when Doreah dies in her arms:

Jhogo said they must leave her or bind her to her saddle, but Dany remembered a night on the Dothraki sea, when the Lysene girl had taught her secrets so that Drogo might love her more. She gave Doreah water from her own skin, cooled her brow with a damp cloth, and held her hand until she died, shivering. Only then would she permit the khalasar to press on.

Daenerys gives Doreah some of her own water, knowing that the girl was going to die anyway, just to ease her passing. She holds her hand as she dies, and refused to let Jhogo and the khalasar disrespect Doreah.

Daenerys is aware of the huge sacrifice her few followers made to be with her, and she’s willing to sacrifice tremendously to repay their loyalty.

The Dragons Are All The Difference

In my last meta, I talked a lot about how Daenerys is the truest possible version of what a Targaryen is, Fire & Blood writ large, and how much that has to do with the connection she shares to her dragons; and that theme is built upon even more in this book.

Now she has actually hatched her eggs, but quickly realizes that having dragons doesn’t help you feed your people:

Yet even as her dragons prospered, her khalasar withered and died.

The dragons eat many times their weight a day (and while that doesn’t seem like much since they’re so small, it’s important to remember that Dany’s people are starving to death) and don’t offer anything in return.

This is another case where the dragons function as a stand-in for Daenerys. While she gained tremendously from everything that happened at the end of A Game of Thrones, by becoming a khal and hatching dragons, the people who follow her lost everything. They didn’t even choose to stay with her; the environment she helped create was rejecting of their weakness and left them behind to die with her. And while they have their “freedom” now, it doesn’t mean much when Doreah dies in the Red Waste. Having dragons doesn’t make Daenerys capable of actually saving these people she’s led into the wilderness.

When Daenerys and her khalasar finally find the city they name Vaes Tolorro, at first Daenerys wants to make it their home:

In the coolness of her tent, Dany blackened horse-meat over a brazier and reflected on her choices. There was food and water here to sustain them, and enough grass for the horses to regain their strength. How pleasant it would be to wake every day in the same place, to linger among shady gardens, eat figs, and drink cool water, as much as she might desire.

And later, this happens:

"I've brought you a peach," Ser Jorah said, kneeling. It was so small she could almost hide it in her palm, and overripe too, but when she took the first bite, the flesh was so sweet she almost cried. She ate it slowly, savoring every mouthful, while Ser Jorah told her of the tree it had been plucked from, in a garden near the western wall.

The specific fruit Jorah gives her, a peach, makes this very important. In this same book, Renly tries to get Stannis to enjoy a peach in their last conversation, and Stannis will never stop thinking on what Renly meant by it; to us, it’s quite clear that the peach is the little pleasures in life, joy, happiness, pausing to love the things and people around you. The heartbreak of Stannis as a character is that he will never be able to understand the world in that way; the heartbreak of Daenerys as a character is that a part of her can sit and simply savor a peach, but something pulls her away from it; and, of course, that something is dragons:

She dreamed of Drogo and the first ride they had taken together on the night they were wed. In the dream it was not horses they rode, but dragons.

The next morn, she summoned her bloodriders. “Blood of my blood,” she told the three of them, “I have need of you. Each of you is to choose three horses, the hardiest and healthiest that remain to us. Load as much water and food as your mounts can bear, and ride forth for me.”

And while this choice is fairly reasonable at the time, since she doesn’t know what awaits her in most directions, she thinks later that she could go back to Vaes Tolorro:

Part of her would have liked nothing more than to lead her people back to Vaes Tolorro, and make the dead city bloom. No, that is defeat. I have something Viserys never had. I have the dragons. The dragons are all the difference.

The dragons always stop her from turning back, from being happy where she is. They are her reason to take the Seven Kingdoms, the motivation she has to restore her family to the glory Aegon the Conqueror raised it to.

A part of Daenerys wanting to turn back to Vaes Tolorro and start her kingdom there, is an interesting contrast to her thoughts on conquering Westeros:

Dany had no wish to reduce King’s Landing to a blackened ruin full of unquiet ghosts. She had supped enough on tears. I want to make my kingdom beautiful, to fill it with fat men and pretty maids and laughing children. I want my people to smile when they see me ride by, the way Viserys said they smiled for my father.

But before she could do that she must conquer.

She has all these wonderfully idealistic dreams for her kingdom, yet all of them are made meaningless with the line “But before she could do that she must conquer”; while she wants everyone in her kingdom to be happy, she’s going to have to kill their Kings and Lords and many of the people before she can achieve that goal. The fact that she has to reclaim the Seven Kingdoms by nature means she will force many to sup on tears. But Vaes Tolorro gives her an out; a ready-made city, a rich oasis in the desert, where she could be Queen and grow her people.

But that will always be too small for Daenerys Targaryen, seed of Kings and Conquerors. She will never be content with the small matters of Essos, not when the Red Keep and the throne that by right is hers is sat by the Usurper and his dogs. The connection she has to the Targaryens who took their dragons and conquered Westeros is always going to pull her away from the part of her that just wants simplicity.

Daenerys’ understanding of how dangerous her dragons are is also touched on when she is in Qarth:

And they must be trained as well, or they will lay my kingdom to waste.

She thinks a lot about how she wants to go back to Westeros, and how she wants to avoid laying waste to it. It’s very interesting to note just how aware she is of her dragons’ destructive nature this early in the story, because it suggests she is much more culpable in their actions than some people want to admit. A lot of characters in the story make decisions that end up being disastrous, but are too young or had no reasonable way of knowing how tremendous those decisions would turn out being – the two obvious examples being Sansa telling Cersei that Ned intends to leave King’s Landing, and Bran warging Hodor – and most people file Drogon’s murder of Hazzea as a similar accident for Daenerys. Yet she is already aware that without training they will completely devastate the lands of Westeros, and actively thinks she should try and train them to avoid that. So, once they are much bigger and flying around Meereen killing sheep, it seems like willful ignorance on her part not to do something about them. I think this is so important because the line between Daenerys and her dragons has always been thin, and the further the series progresses the more that line blurs, so Daenerys choosing to look passed or ignore how violent her dragons are is very interesting in the context of how she views herself.

Viserys Always Said. . .

One part of Daenerys’ story that isn’t talked about enough, is how devastating Westeros will be to her. In A Game of Thrones, she thinks to herself that all the doors will be red in the Seven Kingdoms. She knows that the house with the red door and lemon tree in Braavos is the last place where she felt at home, and ever since then she’s been running from one place to the next, a guest in the house of strangers trying to take advantage of her and her brother’s name. She watched her brother slowly lose his mind the more they were turned away, and had to suffer through his abuses. But when she marries Khal Drogo and meets Ser Jorah Mormont, all the things her brother said about Westeros are suddenly within her reach. Instead of thinking that a house in Braavos she can never return to is her home, she can tell herself that the Seven Kingdoms are her real home; they are the place where she’ll finally feel as if she belongs. She builds it up in her mind as this place where all the doors could be red, every house a home to her. And all the things Viserys said about how beautiful it is also stay with Dany:

She wondered whether Aegon’s Red Keep had a pool like this, and fragrant gardens full of lavender and mint. It must, surely. Viserys always said the Seven Kingdoms were more beautiful than any other place in the world.

And when thinking of Westeros, Daenerys specifically thinks that it is home. Previously in A Game of Thrones, Viserys misunderstands her when she says “home” because Daenerys had never viewed Westeros as her home. But now all of that has changed, and Westeros has become a promise to her. She never feels quite at home with the Dothraki, she certainly does not feel at home in Qarth, but waiting for her across the Narrow Sea is the most beautiful place on earth - and she is going to be the Queen.

But us readers have spent much more time in Westeros than Daenerys has, and we know that almost everything Viserys said wasn’t true. The Red Keep is a beautiful castle, but it has no pools or gardens that could compete with Xaro Xhoan Daxos’ manse. Even at Westeros’ height, it lags behind as far as arts and architecture and all the small beauties Daenerys is so enamored by in Essos. And Westeros is far from its best; while Daenerys sits in Xaro’s pool dreaming of gardens of lavender and mint, the War of the Five Kings is tearing Westeros apart. It was never going to live up to the place Viserys told Daenerys it would be, but the War of the Five Kings leaves it broken and fractured in a way Westeros had never seen before. It is not going to be the home Daenerys needs it to be.

The idea of Westeros being Dany’s house with the red door is something that follows her through the next two books, as well. In A Clash of Kings, Daenerys has firmly rejected any other future she could have to chase the Iron Throne, but she has yet to hit the emotional lows that A Storm of Swords and A Dance with Dragons bring her to. She has almost never felt at home her whole life, and the exclusion she feels from both the Dothraki and the Qartheen pushes her further into the promises of Westeros’ red doors, but she is not hopeless in Essos yet and still enjoys so much of its cities and cultures. The next two books will find her in Astapor, Yunkai, and Meereen, though, and her hatred of those cities will make her emotional dependence on Westeros grow.

A Horse Girl With A Curious Pet

A huge part of Daenerys arc is how out of place she is. A combination of being the daughter of a disgraced King from a place she’s never set foot, to being a little girl running from place to place never settling, to being sold as a child bride to the Dothraki, Daenerys has never actually had a people or a place where she feels she belongs. A lot of her more problematic characteristics come from the need she has to find a place where she feels at home.

Being a Khaleesi is the closest Daenerys has come to being somewhere she feels she belongs, but the last few chapters of A Game of Thrones saw that completely implode. While she still has a khalasar and her own blood riders, there’s a distance she has from the Dothraki that is heightened in A Clash of Kings. This book is an introduction to a lot of the issues people point to when saying Daenerys is a colonizer and white savior:

She glanced at her bloodriders, their dark almond-shaped eyes giving no hint of their thoughts. Is it only the plunder they see? she wondered. How savage we must seem to these Qartheen.

The Dothraki sacked cities and plundered kingdoms, they did not rule them.

Daenerys does not understand the Dothraki, and is still an outsider among them. When she enters Qarth and sees all the beauty and splendor of the city, she quickly favors their way over that of her khalasar. Daenerys’ thoughts on the Dothraki are far from simple, since she herself is the victim of their more negative views on people and women specifically, but she also refuses to see them in a different light. She doesn’t even consider the possibility that the Dothraki could settle in Westeros and adjust to a more permanent lifestyle; instead she tries to find a new army to take Westeros with.

It’s really hard to find the line on what is reasonable from Daenerys in this situation, and what is her being irrational. She was sold to Khal Drogo as a child bride and brutalized for weeks or months, and then saw her life fall apart when she demanded the Dothraki be more humane in their warfare, so certain misgivings she has are reasonable.

But Daenerys doesn’t acknowledge her own culpability, and how she herself is not that far removed from the “savagery” of the Dothraki. When she thinks on how the Dothraki sack and ruin cities, it is in the context of her using them to conquer the Seven Kingdoms. Even though she could take her dragons and khalasar and live a perfect and peaceful life in the Free Cities, Daenerys is choosing to take an army – which she views as savage – and conquer a continent.

And there is a certain dismissiveness she has when addressing their beliefs and customs:

Other searchers returned with tales of other fruit trees, hidden behind closed doors in secret gardens. Aggo showed her a courtyard overgrown with twisting vines and tiny green grapes, and Jhogo discovered a well where the water was pure and cold. Yet they found bones too, the skulls of the unburied dead, bleached and broken. "Ghosts," Irri muttered. "Terrible ghosts. We must not stay here, Khaleesi, this is their place."

"I fear no ghosts. Dragons are more powerful than ghosts." And figs are more important. "Go with Jhiqui and find me some clean sand for a bath, and trouble me no more with silly talk."

In the above exchange between Daenerys and Irri, she does have a point. If they decide not to stay in Vaes Tolorro, they could die of dehydration and exhaustion; Daenerys does not really have a choice, they must stay in the ghost city. But she has no patience for the religious beliefs of the Dothraki, and how important they are to the culture, referring to it as “silly talk”. As we see in later books, there is often a logic to Dothraki superstition and Daenerys would be better off if she took Irri and Jhiqui’s advice into consideration.

Speaking of how Daenerys overlooks how important some things are to the Dothraki, I think this passage is especially illuminating:

“We are the blood of your blood,” said Aggo, “sworn to live and die as you do. Let us walk with you in this dark place, to keep you safe from harm.”

This is right before Daenerys going into the House of the Undying, when she is telling her blood riders that she must go alone. One thing that I want to make clear, is that the blood riders are very different from any other type of group sworn to protect their King/Queen; the Knights of the Kingsguard, for example, are sworn to die in defense of their King, but are under no oath to die if their king does, and won’t be punished by death if they save themselves instead of their king. Dothraki blood riders, on the other hand, are sworn to die after they avenge their Khal; so, if Daenerys dies, she has sworn her blood riders to committing suicide. The interesting thing is, Daenerys never really thinks much about that; I think, in her mind, blood riders were something that khals had and so she should have them too, never really thinking further on what she was swearing these men to do. Daenerys builds her brand on being very anti-slavery, and the blood riders live much better lives than chattel slaves, but there is something interesting to the idea that Daenerys has a group of men essentially chained to her – because their lives depend on hers, and as the quote above shows, they actively seek out to be with her when things are most dangerous; not because they want to protect her, but because they are risking their own lives when they let her leave. Of course, she didn’t force them into being her blood riders so they chose this, but Daenerys never thinks on what her choices mean for their lives when she does something risky.

Daenerys’ thoughts on the savagery of the Dothraki leads her to distance herself from the Dothraki when she arrives in Qarth, and she begins acting like the Qartheen to try and win their favor. She dresses in their traditional clothing, lives in Xaro’s palace, does not comment (or think to herself) on the city’s slaves, and tries to use their political systems to buy an army and fleet to sail to Westeros. This leads to some conflict with Jorah, who is instantly distrustful of Pyat Pree and Xaro Xhoan Daxos. Their arguments over the Qartheen are so insightful as far as both of their characters individually, and the relationship they have.

The things Jorah tells Daenerys about Qarth are not inherently wrong, and he actually gives her good advice. From his perspective, Daenerys has told him she thinks Xaro and Pyat Pree will help her win her crown, but he knows by instinct these men are scheming, so he tries to remind her of the reality of conquering Westeros. But the problem is the way he delivers the advice, and how he assumes Daenerys is much more naïve and stupid than she is:

Sometimes he thinks of me as a child he must protect, and sometimes as a woman he would like to bed, but does he ever truly see me as his queen?

Daenerys is aware of how he views and sexualizes her, but she also notices the way he sometimes treats her as if she’s a child. The way Jorah talks to her makes Daenerys both sad and upset; even her closest advisor doesn’t treat her like a Queen.

But Dany isn’t entirely blameless in why her advisors don’t fully trust her to act as Queen. It becomes much clearer in the Plaza of Punishment, when she doesn’t reveal her plan to Barristan or Jorah for really no particular reason, but she has a problem of communicating with her advisors. Since we are in Dany’s head, we understand that she too is nervous and distrustful of Xaro and Pyat Pree, and is trying to use them just as much as they want to use her. But all she tells Jorah is that she thinks they will help her win her crown, when she is actively taking measures to protect herself from Xaro and Pyat Pree. While she is still outsmarted a bit by the rich merchants of Qarth, Daenerys sees through a huge amount of their lies and flattery. Knowing that Pyat Pree would only show her the parts of Qarth that fit his narrative, Daenerys picked groups of her men to search every street of the city, both day and night. She also keeps guards with her dragons all day and all night, in case someone were to try and steal them.

It says a lot about him that Jorah naturally assumes the least of her, but it becomes a growing problem for Daenerys that she is unwilling to explain her actions to anyone. The reason for that, of course, is that she is Daenerys Targaryen, blood of the dragon, and her word should be law. She has an expectation for how people should treat her as a Targaryen Queen, and I’ll get into that more below, but it is a huge factor in how she interacts with those under her when she disagrees with them. She rarely understands why people don’t jump to follow her.

And as Daenerys grows further from Ser Jorah and the Dothraki, she is trying to win over the people of Qarth. As I said above, she is trying to use them to get to Westeros, so she never invests in them the way she did the Dothraki, but in order to win their favor she has to follow their customs and traditions. And to do that, she takes advantage of Xaro’s own ambition, by living in his palace and using his ideas to make enough money to buy the Thirteen and Pureborn into her favor.

I really want to emphasize how well Daenerys is treated in Qarth, even though they refuse to help her get to Westeros. I titled this “The Beggar Queen”, because Daenerys thinking of herself as one is extremely telling as to her expectations of people around her. Here is how Daenerys lives in Qarth:

Trader captains brought lace from Myr, chests of saffron from Yi Ti, amber and dragonglass out of Asshai. Merchants offered bags of coin, silversmiths rings and chains. Pipers piped for her, tumblers tumbled, and jugglers juggled, while dyers draped her in colors she had never known existed. A pair of Johos Nhai presented her with one of their striped zorses, black and white and fierce. A widow brought the dried corpse of her husband, covered with a crust of silvered leaves; such remnants were believed to have great power, especially if the deceased had been a sorcerer, as this one had. And the Tourmaline Brotherhood pressed on her a crown wrought in the shape of a three-headed dragon; the coils were yellow gold, the wings silver, the headed carved from jade, ivory, and onyx.

Yet this is how she thinks on all of her gifts:

I have become the most splendid beggar in the world, but a beggar all the same.

The people of Qarth are willing to give Daenerys everything the entire world has to offer, except the Iron Throne. And even though Daenerys has received plenty from Qarth, she leaves feeling used:

They never saw me for a queen, she thought bitterly. I was only an afternoon’s amusement, a horse girl with a curious pet.

I think this highlights a certain attitude of entitlement Daenerys has. If you look from the perspective of the Qartheen, they have no incentive to help her reclaim Westeros. She wants to sail immediately, before her dragons could help her with the conquest, and she wants to take their ships and their soldiers to do it. She can’t offer them any improved position, because they are wealthy beyond comprehension, and she can’t offer any improvement in their businesses because they already trade freely with Westeros. The only thing she is offering is the name Daenerys Targaryen, which is meaningless to the Essosi who never loved the Valyrians, and never had any investment in who sat the Iron Throne. Yet Daenerys, even though she has almost nothing to offer, refuses to beg:

“Tell me the words of the Pureborn,” prompted Xaro Xhoan Daxos. “Tell me what they said to sadden the queen of my heart.”

“They said no.” The wine tasted of pomegranates and hot summer days. “They said it with great courtesy, to be sure, but under all the lovely words, it was still no.”

“Did you flatter them?”

“Shamelessly.”

“Did you weep?”

“The blood of the dragon does not weep,” she said testily.

The only gift Daenerys keeps of all the riches she received from men looking to see her dragons, is the crown made to look like a three headed dragon:

“Viserys sold my mother’s crown, and men called him a beggar. I shall keep this crown, and men will call me a queen.” And so she did, though the weight of it made her neck ache.

It’s very symbolic that the crown makes her neck hurt, but it’s also very interesting how she draws parallels between herself and Viserys. Being placed in a position where she is trying to buy and negotiate her way to the Iron Throne, she starts to understand the fevered madness that drove her brother:

She hated it, as her brother must have. All those years of running from city to city one step ahead of the Usurper’s knives, pleading for help from archons and princes and magisters, buying our food with flattery. He must have known how they mocked him. Small wonder he turned so angry and bitter. In the end it had driven him mad. It will do the same to me if I let it.

The idea of being passed over, of being laughed at, is enough to make Daenerys have to pause and check herself. She understands how begging to lesser men, when she is the blood of the dragon, could break her brother.

The rejection from the Qartheen is another step in the long walk Daenerys is taking to isolation and paranoia. A Dance with Dragons is the arc that most focuses on how paranoid and alone Daenerys is becoming, but even back in A Clash of Kings, she is starting to mistrust everyone around her; and for good reason. Daenerys is young and incredibly beautiful, and also has the only three dragons in the entire world. Once she hatches them, it becomes incredibly hard for her to distinguish who follows her or wants to have a relationship with her because of her, or if they simply want her dragons. Xaro Xhoan Daxos tries to trick Daenerys into marrying him, because Qartheen custom would allow him to claim one of her dragons. The warlocks also are trying to use Daenerys for her dragons, as they try and lure her to the House of the Undying to feed off the magical energy she has.

Quaithe is introduced in this book, and from the start she tries to warn and guide Daenerys against people who want her only for her dragons:

From her Dany received only a warning. "Beware," the woman in the red lacquer mask said.

"Of whom?"

"Of all. They shall come day and night to see the wonder that has been born again into the world, and when they see they shall lust. For dragons are fire made flesh, and fire is power."

All of the elements in Daenerys life start to add up to her feeling alone and cornered; she doesn’t trust the Dothraki to take Westeros, the Qartheen have refused to help her sail the Narrow Sea, she is fighting with her closest companion Jorah, and the mysterious maegi Quaithe is warning her to trust no one. All of this leads to Daenerys going to the House of the Undying for answers, but I’ll get into that more below.

What is very interesting about Daenerys, though, is that after the House of the Undying goes so poorly, she throws herself back into the Dothraki culture. As a show of defiance to the Qartheen who take all of their gifts and kindnesses back after she burns the Warlocks, she searches the docks while clad in the garb of the Dothraki. The lesson she learns from Qarth is that she hates compromise. She tried fitting in with them, to play their games and follow their rules, and they still refused to take her seriously. They accepted her gifts, listened to her case, and politely but unequivocally said no. So, what was the point? Why did Daenerys give up the Dothraki, why did she bother bribing lesser men?

In the following books, she will try exceptionally hard to make compromises to rule cities, but she hates it. Even though she wants to do these things for her people, each and every time it takes a part of her, and she starts to lose sight of why she even wants to help the people she hates and rule a city that is determined to deny her. Compromise does not sit well with Daenerys.

Daughter of Three

The main points of Daenerys’ chapters in this book are foreshadowing and prophecy. I’ve always found A Clash of Kings to be such a great book on its own, but an absolutely amazing second act to A Game of Thrones, because the first book sets up in the very first chapter the high fantasy conflict with the Others, and ends on the incredibly high fantasy aspect of Daenerys walking out of a burning pyre with three dragons; but in between, the story dives deep into the political and personal stories of our protagonists. And while people still argue which element this story is “really about”, I think Clash does a great job in establishing that the answer is both. The War of the Five Kings pulls the political plotlines into harsh focus, with character like Catelyn, Tyrion, and Davos consistently acting and reacting to the respective Kings, and characters like Sansa and Arya who focus on the personal fallout of war; but A Clash of Kings also sends Daenerys and Bran on their magical journeys, and permanently sets them on very high fantasy paths. In the same book that sees the political foregrounded, two of our main characters leap forward in their magical progression. Daenerys in particular highlights the way the political and magical intertwine, and how the two can work together.

The climax of Daenerys’ arc in this book is extremely magical. The rejection of Xaro and the Pureborn leaves her feeling like the answers offered by the Warlocks is her only choice, so she goes to the House of the Undying. Once she’s inside, she sees a whirlwind of visions that give readers a glimpse into the past and the future, as it relates to Daenerys and the rest of our characters. I’m going to try and break all of them down, and what I think they mean and why the Undying choose to show them to her.

There’s two different sets of visions Daenerys sees when she is in the House of the Undying; the first visions she sees as she is trying to find the Undying, and is tempted to look into doors. This is how Pyat Pree describes them:

“Within, you will see many things that disturb you. Visions of loveliness and visions of horror, wonders and terrors. Sights and sounds of days gone by and days to come and days that never were. Dwellers and servitors may speak to you as you go. Answer or ignore them as you choose, but enter no room until you reach the audience chamber.”

The visions Daenerys sees are of the Five Kings tearing Westeros apart, the Red Wedding, Ser Willem Darry in the house with the red door, the Mad King telling his pyromancers to burn King’s Landing, and Rhaegar talking to Elia about the Prince that was Promised. These visions are separate from the prophecies she receives from the Undying, and I don’t think we’re supposed to connect them to Daenerys or to each other. Some of them go together, but some of them simply don’t; I think GRRM intentionally separated them to show these aren’t necessarily about Daenerys, or even connected in any way. I do think the visions connect to Daenerys in thematic ways, though.

The first two she sees, of small men who represent Kings tearing the woman meant to be Westeros apart, and of a dead King with the head of a wolf at a feast, clearly go together. The first she sees is what the Five Kings do to Westeros, and the second is the climax of the war and its technical end, when Robb Stark is killed at the Red Wedding. These two visions don’t connect to Daenerys as much as they are a broad foreshadowing of GRRM’s world and his books to come; but I think it’s interesting that the glimpses Daenerys sees of Westeros are horrific, terrible things. I’ve always found the use of the phrase “mute appeal” to describe how Robb looks at Daenerys to be very interesting; GRRM only uses it twice more in the series, once to describe Ned’s pleading gaze, and then he describes Jinglebell as looking at Catelyn with mute appeal before she kills him. It’s as if Robb is begging Daenerys not to do something.

As Daenerys runs from the horrors of the Red Wedding, she sees her room from the house with the red door:

“Little princess, there you are,” he said in his gruff kind voice. “Come,” he said, “come to me, my lady, you’re home now, you’re safe now.”

Daenerys remembers that Willem Darry is dead right before she enters the room, which Pyat Pree told her she absolutely must not do. But that vision is the one thing that tempts her, brings her right to the threshold. In this case, turning around was the right choice; but I think this vision has broader imagery. Daenerys, so many times, comes so close to turning around and being the “Little Princess” again, an innocent child who didn’t want to conquer a place she’d never been. But she always turns around. She’s tempted the most in A Dance with Dragons, when she thinks of having a house with Daario free of being a Queen, but she can never commit to that kind of life. It’s not her anymore; she can’t go back.

Then she sees her father in the Throne Room, getting ready to burn King’s Landing. On a meta level, this vision exists mostly to set up Catelyn’s last chapter with Jaime, as well as Jaime’s A Storm of Swords arc; but it is also the vision most connected to Daenerys. For the first time, she’s seeing the real version of her father, the truth of the man she wants to remind people in Westeros; and she’s seeing her future, too. Daenerys was right when she thinks the people of King’s Landing will greet her like they did her father, because she’s going to burn the city.

Her last vision before reaching the Undying is of Rhaegar talking to Elia Martell, and naming his son Aegon. This is the only vision that Daenerys understands; she has no idea what the first two are, and doesn’t connect the vision of the Mad King to her father, but she does know Rhaegar. This is the first time she hears the phrase “the dragon has three heads”, which will chase her through Storm and Dance. Rhaegar also says that his son is The Prince that was Promised, and that “his is the song of ice and fire”. A Clash of Kings is the first book that really starts to introduce the overarching prophecies of the series, and it’s interesting to see The Prince that was Promised introduced in this context; Rhaegar knows something that we don’t, something about his son.

When Daenerys finally finds the Undying, she sees a second set of visions, this set all about her. First, she gets her prophecies of three:

. . . three fires must you light. . . one for life and one for death and one to love. . . Her own heart was beating in unison to the one that floated before her, blue and corrupt. . . three mounts must you ride. . . one to bed and one to dread and one to love. . . The voices were growing louder, she realized, and it seemed her heart was slowing, and even her breath. . .  three treasons will you know. . . once for blood and once for gold and once for love. . .

It’s very interesting that these prophecies end on the note of a treason for love. Someone is going to betray Daenerys for someone they love, and that’s the end; I don’t have a firm grasp on the other treasons, fires, or mounts, but this one, to me, has to be Jon.

Next, Daenerys gets her mother of dragons prophecies; this is the first:

Viserys screamed as the molten gold ran down his cheeks and filled his mouth. A tall lord with copper skin and silver-gold hair stood beneath the banner of a fiery stallion, a burning city behind him. Rubies flew like drops of blood from the chest of a dying prince, and he sank to his knees in the water and with his last breath murmured a woman’s name. . . mother of dragons, daughter of death. . .

The three things connecting Rhaegar, Rhaego, and Viserys seems to be that all three were the Heir to the Iron Throne when they died. Their three deaths help to push Daenerys into taking the Iron Throne. Daenerys having the title daughter of death is extremely fitting with her previous imagery; everything about her life has come from death. Rhaegar dying, the Mad King dying, her father’s fleet being destroyed on the night she was born, Viserys being crowned in molten gold, Drogo and Rhaego’s deaths. She is the product of tragedy.

These are the next visions she sees:

Glowing like sunset, a red sword was raised in the hand of a blue-eyed king who cast no shadow. A cloth dragon swayed on poles amidst a cheering crowd. From a smoking tower, a great stone beast took wing, breathing shadow fire. . . mother of dragons, slayer of lies. . .

The first two are clearly Stannis and Young Griff/Aegon VI, and seem pretty straightforward; she slays the lie that Stannis is Azor Ahai, and that Young Griff is Aegon VI. The last one is a lot less clear. I really can’t say what this is. I know some people think the Stone Beast is Jon Connington with Greyscale, but to me that seems meaningless in light of the second lie. Why would both Young Griff and Jon Connington need separate lies? Jon Connington isn’t lying about anything. The imagery of a great stone beast is very prominent in all the books; from the prophecy of Azor Ahai waking dragons out of stone, to Sansa being described as a winged beast escaping the Red Keep, to Davos’ description of Dragonstone. I just can’t quite pin down what GRRM is foreshadowing.

The last prophecy she receives is this:

Her sliver was trotting through the grass, to a darkling stream beneath a sea of stars. A corpse stood at the prow of a ship, eyes bright in his dead face, grey lips smiling sadly. A blue flower grew from a chink a wall of ice, and filled the air with sweetness. . . mother of dragons, bride of fire. . .

All of these are pretty clear; Drogo was her first fire, then Euron, and finally Jon. The description of Jon “filling the air with sweetness” is very ominous, and just makes me even more confident he is the treason for love. I know there are some great metas that discuss sweetness in Daenerys’ arc, I just can’t think of any right now. But the idea of sweetness being bad, and foreshadowing a treason from Jon, is really highlighted by Daenerys hearing this prophecy in Qarth of all places. Time and again, the city’s exterior of sweet smells and beautiful buildings is used to hide the treachery underneath.

After the prophecies, Daenerys sees a whirlwind of past and future events:

Shadows whirled and danced inside a tent, boneless and terrible. A little girl ran barefoot toward a big house with a red door. Mirri Maz Duur shrieked in the flames, a dragon bursting from her brow. Behind a silver horse the bloody corpse of a naked man bounced and dragged. A white lion ran through grass taller than a man. Beneath the Mother of Mountains, a line of naked crones crept from a great lake and knelt shivering before her, their grey heads bowed. Ten thousand slaves lifted bloodstained hands as she raced by on her silver, riding like the wind. “Mother!” they cried. “Mother, mother!” They were reaching for her, touching her, tugging at her cloak, the hem of her skirt, her foot, her leg, her breast. They wanted her, needed her, the fire, the life, and Dany gasped and opened her arms to give herself to them. . .

The vision of her “Myhsa” moment leads into the realities of the Undying:

The Undying were all around her, blue and cold, whispering as they reached for her, pulling, stroking, tugging at her clothes, touching her with their dry cold hands, twining their fingers through her hair. All the strength had left her limbs.

The wording is intentionally similar, because we’re supposed to connect the Undying feeding off Daenerys, and the reaction she has to “her people”. In A Dance with Dragons, she turns Quentyn Martell and the swords of Dorne away because she’s not going to leave Meereen, maybe ever. Daenerys loves being a savior to the people of Essos, the feeling she gets when they scream “mother!”, the feeling that what she’s doing is right and good. But apart from those incredible highs, when Daenerys has to live in the choices she made to lead the Essosi, she just hates it. In A Storm of Swords, she does give her people fire and life, opening her arms up to them, but it’s not sustainable. Her fire burns out, and she’s left feeling empty and alone and more than anything angry at the people who made her choose to stay.

The Dragons Are Returned

After Pyat Pree and the Warlocks betray Daenerys, she has finally had enough of Qarth; the warlocks hate her for burning down the House of the Undying, Xaro hates her because she turns down his proposals, and the people hate her for all she’s done in Qarth. And if they all hate her, Daenerys is done playing their games.

The next time she goes out, she does so in the traditional garb and sandals of the Dothraki, with a bell in her hair to signify victory against the Warlocks. When Illyrio Mopatis comes through with Arstan Whitebeard and Strong Belwas, Daenerys commands them to name her ships Vhagar, Meraxes, and Balerion; the world will look upon her ships and know that the dragons are returned. Where she wavered from her the Dothraki, by the end of A Clash of Kings, Daenerys is ready to double down on the “savagery” of them. She’s tired of playing nice, of diplomatically talking and negotiating. This book perfectly sets Daenerys up for the path she decides to take in A Storm of Swords. She’s going to get the army she needs, no matter what.

Even if it means Fire & Blood.

[veliseraptor]

the endgame reaction post

I know you’ve all been waiting for it. It’s 3:30 am right now so this may not be totally coherent and I’m almost certainly going to forget things, but here goes.

HERE BE SPOILERS. LIKE, PLENTY O SPOILERS.

I went into this movie with one main question and that was “is Marvel going to stick the landing on what they did in Infinity War?” my answer?

sort of. I...didn’t dislike it? I liked parts of it a lot. but mostly my reaction, frustratingly enough, is kind of a “shrug, with a few ‘into it’ and a handful of ‘oh no thanks.’ I cried a couple different times but overall my emotional response is very...muted. 

this could be a function of my being depressed right now, but I also think it’s because this movie...just didn’t hit the right notes, for me. it did a lot of things right, technically, and it had a lot of character moments, but it felt...I don’t know, something indefinable was missing for me. 

I’m going to try to unpack that later, but let’s break things down a little.

the good

NEBULA, oh my god, Nebula in this movie was fantastic. her moments with her younger self (I’m always going to be here for older/younger self confrontations with characters with her specific brand of issues) especially, but also...in general, I felt like this movie did very well by her. and ohhhh god “you can change” “he won’t let me” my feelings. 

i’m gay for Carol’s new hair and that’s that.

WAS THAT A FUCKING FLYING HORSE? WHERE DID VAL GET A FLYING HORSE. IS THERE A FLYING HORSE FARM IN NEW ASGARD

Thor and Frigga’s conversation. I...did not like almost anything else having to do with Thor in this movie (more on that later, and I know everyone and their mother has already written about this), but that conversation was...so lovely, and I’m glad Frigga got that after her fridging in The Dark World, and the “I was raised by witches” line obscurely delighted me.

this is the SECOND time we’ve seen Loki transforming into Steve onscreen and I’m just saying that Loki being obsessed with Steve? #confirmed

also, Loki taking advantage of chaos to bolt with the Tesseract is golden and while it is seriously unclear what happened to the timelines altered by intervention (more on this later too) I’m going to assume that this means there is at least one Loki out there having the time of his goddamn life

more on this later, but there were some great Natasha moments in this movie as far as character work, and I am still very into her “five years later” hair. also lots of good Clint and Natasha stuff like we haven’t seen since the first Avengers movie, so that was nice. (the arrow necklace!!)

while I have caveats about it, the ending they gave Steve was pretty much what I was expecting and the best I could hope for, so I think that’s a solid “good”

I have absolutely no caveats about Steve giving Sam the shield, and everything about that scene passing it on was delightful, and Steve and Peggy dancing made me cry, so there’s that. 

STEVE’S WORTHY CAUSE OF COURSE HE IS

the whole concept of a time heist is super neat.

SO WE ALL SAW THAT A-FORCE TEAM SHOT, RIGHT? THAT’S SETTING US UP FOR AN A-FORCE TEAM, RIGHT?

wanda fucking wrecking thanos yes girl

the bad

the big obvious one first: the stuff with Thor. as a whole bunch of people have explained: it’s not the weight gain, it’s how his character change after the five year jump is treated. it’s the fact that roughly 75% of the character beats for him in this movie are weighted for humor, that even the emotional moment with Frigga is undermined by the “eat a salad” line, that while he gets moments with his grief they tend to be undercut for a laugh. 

also the fact that he...doesn’t get anything back? I mean, while it’s true of Bruce to a certain extent, and obviously Natasha, Thor really doesn’t have any of his losses ameliorated. Tony gets Peter back, Steve gets his life with Peggy, and Thor...? I just...it feels like his character arc in this movie wasn’t, and I’m severely uncomfortable with how much of a fatphobic undercurrent (overcurrent?) it felt like there was in his scenes.

and while I love the idea of Queen Valkyrie, it doesn’t really feel earned, and feels like it shackles her to a role where she doesn’t really fit.

the final battle felt...tacked on. it felt like there was a feeling that “oh, we need an epic battle where there’s a whole army on both sides” and I...didn’t need that? it felt like a Lord of the Rings battle in my superhero movie and something about it felt very...mmm weird. I mean, I’m almost never one for Big Final Battles With Armies (with the major exception of the ones in Lord of the Rings) and it didn’t work for me here. 

though I did enjoy “keep away with the Infinity Gauntlet”, that was a fun game.

Gamora and Nebula should have been given the chance to face Thanos again together at the very least, and preferably strike the killing blow. The fact that that was given to Tony...annoys me. I mean, I can see why they did it - they needed him to have a big hero moment for his big hero sacrifice, and it was emotionally effective (I assume, if you weren’t me), but...that victory should have belonged more principally to those two, and I’m disappointed that it didn’t.

so I guess all that “foreshadowing” in Loki’s death scene was...nothing? that was just...what it looked like? I mean okay I’m not surprised but I am disappointed

the ugly

SOMEONE DATE THOSE CARS IN THE END SCENE WITH STEVE AND PEGGY, HOW THE FUCK DOES THAT EVEN WORK, so, like, is that an alternate timeline? did Steve live a seriously down low undercover life with Peggy and that’s why it never came up that oh yeah, she was married to someone who looked exactly like Steve Rogers? how does this fit in with the Winter Soldier!Peggy? I DON’T UNDERSTAND.

basically this movie did the time travel stuff but didn’t really think all of the time travel stuff through as much as it needed to, imo. time travel plots are hard, and messy, and very quickly get confusing, and this was definitely one where they were doing some “don’t look too close!” prestidigitation to keep the holes from showing.

but I’m thinking about it and the holes are showing and I want to know how this works, are the Disney+ shows going to be alternate timelines? I assume because Vision’s going to be in one? and if Sam’s still Falcon then he’s probably not Cap in that one? BUT I DON’T KNOW it’s all very confusing.

Natasha...Natasha. I was spoiled for her dying, though I didn’t know the circumstances, and I...gah. I wrote in my notes on my phone “I wanted Clintasha BUT NOT LIKE THAT” and that’s...kind of how I feel about it? I honestly thought she was safe, is the thing. of all the characters I was worried about, she wasn’t one of them. but in retrospect...I really should’ve been. if they’re trying to shuffle the original six out of the line up then...but I felt like “surely they won’t kill their only original female Avenger, surely the optics of that...” but no, nope.

and while she wasn’t fridged per se it did feel like a lot of the energy of her death went toward providing five male characters with angst, which... [squints]

...and now I’m thinking more and if it’s been five years then all of Peter’s friends should have graduated high school. or were they not going to high school? was school suspended for five years because of the apocalypse? are we going to get fallout from this in Far From Home? 

I’M TELLING YOU THERE IS SO MUCH HERE THAT JUST DOESN’T MAKE SENSE maybe it will moving forward but...I really don’t get how they’re going to sustain this five year jump forward timeline...

GUESS WE’LL FIND OUT

basically I think what I’m coming out of this movie with is “end of an era and that makes me emotional, also there is some stuff here I like but mostly....eh” and honestly I think I’m okay with that being where I land. 

I said last year that I was going to hold off on my final verdict for Infinity War until I saw Endgame, because it seemed like they were, whatever they’d said, setting up a two movie arc. I thought there was some possibility that what they did in this movie might “save” Infinity War for me, or make me think it was worth it. 

part of the reason I don’t feel like I can say Marvel did really stick the landing here is because it didn’t. they stuck a landing. they had, like I said, a lot of the pieces in the right place. 

but I’m still feeling vaguely dissatisfied. 

[order-progress]

I used to have a really entitled outlook on life. In my mind though, I was entitled to my thought processes because it was where my mind existed in the place having had come from a once far more turbulent era. Back then I didn't question things that werent outwardly obvious. I didnt question the unremarkable identities of things that exhibited no distinctions amongst one another. Life was a stream of experience, and I just did the best of choices I decided to arrange, or really actually, more like shuffle choices into a messy pile and pat myself in the back cause I could squint at it my mismatched pile of non related events and not feel guilty for putting off routine, structure and goals.

I guess it isnt so surprising to anticipate that like all my other experiences, disicpline would present itself when and if I needed it to be summoned out of wherever creative and yet very hard to imagine location i would imagine it arriving at some future, ambiguous date, just in time to make no work look like fancier no work and with ribbons on it.

Something very common happened to me, something that is happinning right now all around the world, no matter how many days, or years after i first posted this here.

My boyfriend broke up with me.

I wore my entitlement pretty high that day, because somehow, despite there having been no carefully executed plan made on ky end--some masterpiece scheme of genius where one could really see there existed some reasonable and healthy attention to tackle to fucking problem.

Nope. My mother fucking entitled ass decided id actually be shocked. Not even fake shocked. Thats how you know you have lost touch with your surroundings, because big things happen in your wake..while your awake and yet somehow your stuck on who killed the butler in the library with the candle stick.

What makes this one of the most significant event despite its occurance being fairly common globaly, is that his presence had caused me to become more aware of more of the things I would have otherwise taken in stride, none of these events were remarkable on their own, but collectivelly, I had inadvertantly cleaned up my mindspace to find neatly organized clusters of thoughts no longer blending into the subconcious like 70's urban grafitti.

I didnt hold that moment to some disporportionately skewed sugar coating scale just to get ribbons on them after they were organized,I just acknowledged them, like a breath,where as before, they were simply obstacles or pit stops that would perpetuate the chronic attention deficit I had welcomed into my head. I like to think of ADD as the worlds most innefective street sweepers, they sweep alright, but they just make a bigger mess and then you got things in places they have no business being in.

I was in a place of low self worth because of an accumulated collection of short lived and half assed adventures, disastrous endeavers and the nefarious presence of something so obscured, so black and forboding, made me avoid certain places for simply not wanting to deal with the house keeping it wouldve required to mitigate its destructive intentions.

I kept myself busy to not force the acknowledgent that this would become a source of not only my insecuruties, but then in addition to its ever increasing interconnectedness, its complexity. Its chambers that hardened like a mystical kight of armor, whose drawers were full of destructive objects and thoughts that rattled in their confinement as a means of foreshadowing something so sinister, I could not then yet fathom the destrutive ways its icy talons would engulf and twist into my everyday life simply to create chaos, and it didnt register that this was a problem because amidst this battle royale of fragments and bits of poorly put together patterns, Francisco's presense was a light whose emimation lulled me into a complacecy I hadnt anticipated

It wasnt that in this period, that I conciously made a decision to disregard the growing issue, it was the novelty of being in a loving, beautiful and mature relationship with someone that as each day grew, so did my conviction that this person was becoming the brightest fixture in an ever cramped confined hallway of possibilities.

As I stood there aware of this moment, feeling a satisfaction and a gratitude I had never felt before, I realized that I had come so far on autopilot, it was a move that was almost instinctual, I rolled my sleeves up, put on the rocky theme song, got my gym bag ready, went and bought like every stupid unessecary stupid trinket shit people buy to feel like their getting a handle and a good start on some shit, but really it just becomes the infuriating bag of junk that is now the obstacle between you and the door handle to exit your car and actually start your project.

I felt a sense of urgency, I saw how unequipped I had been and while I was and it was this moment that taught me how much I loved him. I reckognized that somehow I was one of those fucking weirdos that jumped through those seedy ass short cut type scenarios in life to give you the same effect of the real thing in less the time, kind of like a GED vs high school diploma, or plan b instead of condoms.

I recognized that there was an innate element of unneccesary risk involved in many of my accomplishments. The risk was usually always a concious decision that I would accept a certain amount of totally unnecessary consequences that typically would define the life of those people who you catch specific glimpses of in mysterious times like dawn or dusk. And be like..yea i could totally see that guy having to figure out what to do with the llama he inherited as a result of some gamble.

This was no longer an acceptable risk. It wasnt that i thought it was dangerous or scare him away, its that I am not the kind of man that wakes up and sees the problems his factory has and finally knows how to fix it and then just be okay with going to bed and put it off.

This is where I get annoyed again. I knew that I wasnt capable of actively doing something against him, because we both agreed on things, and also neither of us was completely high as fucking kite on methamphetamines while operating a forklift to tune a paino yet.

I couldnt ever feel bad about atheletes who ugly cried after being disqualified for juicing to get an unfair advantage in the sports world.

Yet once again my overwhelming confidence, my lovable man mentality of "fuck a map or tools you got grit, spit and teeth". Prevailed.

Im mad because it was this moment right here. In a sea of me being happy to grow and learn and doing the rignt thing. I saw a place i overlooked, its presence was almost like a marker that there were many other areas i needed to work on, and i got sad.

I didnt feel good enough. I felt like a mess. I felt dissapointed at the pride in nothing I had taken so many times. I was finally proud of the changes i was making again, only to be reminded in a very real way of how I never had structure, never had a fail safe implemented effectively to instead of adopting either anxiety or no fucks about an event that could have been in my power to mitigate, i either didnt even notice I missed it, or didnt care.

As I started seeing the mountain of work I had to do, I wondered what it meant about how effectively i could handle other things moving forward, it was an irrational fear that I had that I would dissapoint him because I wanted us to be happy. But i am an artistic person, people who work with details to make a larger picture learn early on how to work details, and I never evaluated just how shoddy my altertanitive crash course was like getting PlAN B instead of putting a condom on.

I can handle pressure effectively. I can be okay with my decisions. What I cant do is open up a factory, see everything that was negelcted when I now know how to fix it, and then go to sleep like nothing bothered me.

I never in my life found myself in a place where i came face to face with old life and it made me feel sad or humilated. I felt like a fraud for just having gotten lucky that everytning worked out, while he worked hard.

I suddenly felt something I never experienced before, fear in love. The moment where you realize your not a piece of shit because you actually dont want to let someone down, the moment when you feel bad because you walked around in life with luck you didnt give a second thought to and passed it off as hard work. And here was this beautiful man, whose life was suffering and hard work, and you realized all of it at once, and there I was, eager fucking beaver captain america man of the house cause now i feel like a god damned engineer since i could assemble an ikea 3 piece wrench-back the fuck up motherfuckers.

I just felt humbled and i felt driven. I also felt the pressures rise up around me and I dont know why I couldnt look away from the sight of the realization of how id been. And its not like i did it all on purpose, but from that moment on, it was as if I had something to prove to myself that at that time I couldnt understand yet because I hadnt reflected yet. And as I was taking the scenic route on ways to "punish yourself is actually how we fucking motivate ourselves around here cus were fucking men" the bigger I created something inside me that wasnt ever there. And then as the places that I had been tendering to and growing in started to not be kept, pressure in my life at home happened. And for the first time in my entire life I was embarrassed at my life.

I remember the moment I felt it, my mom leaving me at work after I lost my car. I walked 2 miles in the cold because i was infuriated that I allowed another event I could have forseen to happen.

I never in my life reflected this intensley on my actions before. Having him in my life made me realize I had been holding myself to a higher standard because I am at my best when I when I am actively building towards something. I opened a place in me I never saw with those eyes and it hurt me. I tried to let him in, and to be honest, the insecurities of him seeing all that mortiified me..not because I would be seen as a slob or this or that, i was just dissapointed that I for a time during when I needed it the most in my early life, I wasnt necessarily taught healthy ways to do things. Mostly because I came to this country at 10, didnt know english, parents worked all the time until i was 16 and then dad got sick with brain cancer and we caught it after he had a seizure cause dad apperently loved moonlighting as my biggest fan when he would go reading my journal at night.

I didnt know how to explain it to francisco. I was feeling. New concept, i was feeling out of sync, i didnt understand why it hit me so hard. I was trying to look away and orient myself on the present.

I could have just dealt with that. But i suddenly felt raw and vulnerable. My boyfriend and I were getting into arguments because I just wanted us to be closer due to this need i didnt know how to vocalize about what I was going through, and he hesitated because he probably thought id leave him if i saw his dirty secrets.

That was the one thing he really never appreciated about my love. I just knew. If everything else was as evident ..like this feelings and where they came from and how to process them healthy while ...it just all got too much. I didnt know how to tell him what I needed. I just needed him.

I started to feel like i wasnt tethered to the focused areas I was so eager to work in. I just kept telling myself communication is key we will get through it.

Then I the drugs did something I didnt expect them to. They turned off this guilt and switch. They gave me the quiet to make them come down to a more manegeable place where I wasnt overwhelmed anymore.

Because I couldnt process this in words at the time, i didnt know how to express that to him. It led to me feeling guilty for not understanding why i enjoyed doing the drugs aside from the stimulant effect. When i tried to explain it to him, it was like trying to coin a cheesy motto for a doomed cereal commercial in french, basically everuthing sounded like something he had no understamding or could relate to.

I started feeling depressed because i could see that although from his perspective we were fighting..

I was even more frustrated becauese we werent fighting. I was pretty much crying, trying to tell him in french something he didnt understand while he was yelling at me in english about me not respecting him by not speaking english.

This was the worst fucking part. Because part of the issue that led me here was accountabiliyy and communication.

I kept telling him in the only way i knew how.please im sorry i know things are getting worse. But this isnt how we are.

I thought we could get through anything.

In his mind he saw a piece of something, he ignored my emotional attachment to it..and i mean i cant blame him, other people never quit.

But even in those moments i knew i wasnt going to be other people.

And suddenly i was alone. I was depressed. I had realized that it wasnt us that was th issue so i tried so hard to communicate more effectively that he got frustrated and said i talked in loops. I felt so alone because i understood his frustration and i just needed him to trust me. But that was the perfect storm when i just got so alone feeling from his inability to just not look at me how i felt at myself. And i honestly tried to fix it in the middle of him running away and the most painful thing was that he couldnt understand and i didnt know how to say it.

I dont blame him for leaving

But a part of me breaks to my very core to know that if he just literally lookrd at me like yes i was going crZy but i was just hurting and overwhelmed.

All i wanted and needed was him.

The worst. Pain was that he didnt see that.

And i needed to explain it. And he didnt let me.

I felt like i was desperatly trying to express something of real explaination. I just honestly was desperate to because he was running.

I

[ahouseoflies]

The Best Films of 2019, Part VI

Yes, I know that it’s almost March. Thanks for taking the ride. GREAT MOVIES

22. Apollo 11 (Todd Douglas Miller)- To disrespect this movie is to disrespect the moon landing itself so... I do like listening to the Walter Cronkite snippets about "the burdens and dreams of all mankind" and smirking at the idiots who talk about "back when people just read the news without editorializing." 21. Waves (Trey Edward Shults)- I could have done with five fewer shots of people holding each other, and the foreshadowing could be more subtle, but, man, Shults takes some huge swings here, for a more powerful effect than either of his previous films had. It isn't often that a colorist gets a single card in the opening credits, but it makes sense for a film that stands out as much as this loud, woozy piece does. I don't think there's anything as present-tense this year as a character drunk-driving to Kanye West's "I Am a God." 20. Jojo Rabbit (Taika Waititi)- The dissenters of Jojo Rabbit have been pretty uniform in their negativity, and I think their stance has to do with not wanting to be told what to think or feel. (Putting "an anti-hate satire" on the poster has to fire up those haters.) This movie is not subtle or ambiguous, but you know what? Casablanca is a pretty didactic movie too. Let me back up from the C-word. For me, the film's emotional scenes are better than its comedic scenes, but in either form, Waititi directly engages with a ten-year-old in a way that neither romanticizes him nor condescends to him. That's such an imperfect, transformative age in a boy, and not enough movies are willing to wrestle with how ugly it can be. Roman Griffin Davis is pretty good, but he's spotted by sincere, compassionate performances by Thomasin McKenzie and Scarlett Johansson. It's possible that Johansson has never been better. I totally understand why someone with her sex symbol baggage would resist playing mothers; if I've done my homework, this is the first time she has done it, even though she's a parent in real life. But her maternal scenes here are heartbreaking in their patience, particularly in a scene for which her character "plays" herself and her absent husband. Besides uncorking a more vulnerable part of herself, Johansson nails the performative aspect of being a parent, resisting the urge to make everything a lesson but wanting so desperately to be a positive example for a kid who needs one. 19. Honeyland (Ljubomir Stefanov and Tamara Kotevska)- I greatly prefer the term "non-professional actor" or "first-time actor" to "non-actor" because it's only human nature to act differently when being filmed. The second even a camera filming a birthday party captures you, you start to perform. But in handmade stone houses in rural Macedonia, the subjects are true non-actors. They have no affect because, in all likelihood, they have not seen a movie before. So the way that Hatidze lived over the course of the three years of this project--with purpose, focus, and wisdom--seemed new to me. Honeyland is the gift that I always hope for from documentary and (especially) foreign documentary: a slice of life that I never knew I needed. 18. Under the Silver Lake (David Robert Mitchell)- Andrew Garfield's Sam spends a lot of time on his balcony surveying his apartment complex, staring at a topless woman in a way that recalls Marlowe in The Long Goodbye, one reference point among hundreds. Sometimes he watches through binoculars, sometimes he watches through blinds--blind imagery that shows up over and over again in a movie about voyeurism. Anyway, this neighbor keeps parrots, who we're told as kids can "talk." Not that the animals have any conscious intention with their mimicking, but they replicate what they hear or are taught. The words are signified without any signifiers, so it's hard to even classify the noises as speech. Maybe those noises are everything--a tie to our species that reveals impressive intelligence--but maybe they're nothing--a silly hope of a world that seems less alone. And that subjective interpretation of code is the clearest metaphor in an otherwise elliptical, bizarre, sprawling, sui generis film. It's messy alright. Some of the threads lead nowhere, but in a movie about order and chaos, that's obviously the point. The scene with The Songwriter--barely any of the characters have names--is over ten minutes and might not have any narrative consequence. But in the moment it's earth-shattering and urgent. And maybe I'm the obvious audience, but I'm not going to complain about anyone taking a dance break for "What's the Frequency, Kenneth?" 17. 1917 (Sam Mendes)- Weirdly enough, a Lauryn Hill line kept bouncing around in my head as I was nervously tapping my foot: "It could all be so simple, / But you had to make it hard." This is a direct story told with impossible technical aptitude. 1917 isn't saying anything new, but have you ever seen a plane crash ten feet away from the camera forty-five minutes into an unbroken take? No offense, but do you remember when we were all impressed that Creed had a five-minute fight in one take? Blimey. 16. American Factory (Steven Bognar and Julia Reichert)- It's a rare documentary that makes its case so gracefully and so forcefully at the same time. The film ends so conclusively that it could be considered labor activism, but it's so fair that the union-busting schmucks are willing to joke around with the filmmakers without obfuscating at all. The obvious forebearer for this sort of boots-on-the-ground snapshot of American labor is Harlan County U.S.A., but American Factory is more staid and less concerned with setting because, you know, this could be anywhere.The Chairman is the best villain since Thanos, and as he looked back on his life while walking around his empty cabana, I had to squint a bit to make sure he wasn't purple.

15. Ad Astra (James Gray)- Ad Astra declares so that it can suggest. The opening crawl says that the near future is a "time of hope and conflict," but all we see is the conflict: the pirates on a borderless moon that we've ruined with Applebee'ses, the neglected wife leaving her ring on a table, the voiceover that declares, "I always wanted to be an astronaut...for all mankind and all." This film will take place in four parts--Earth, Moon, Mars, Neptune--and each part will offer unique obstacles to challenge our phlegmatic but confused hero. But all of that table-setting allows James Gray to explore. There's a scene in which the Roy character uses a belt to pull himself, one tug at a time, deeper into the unknown, and we see the action through the reflection in his helmet as we're watching his face. We're seeing through his eyes but at a remove, and in this moment we're watching him heave himself into emptiness, thinking that the more distant and lonely and absent he gets, the more of a man he becomes. We know that's not true, but we kind of think it is from the movies, and Ad Astra has a happy ending if only because it wants to disprove that notion. Lots of artistes talk about how they could, without compromise, make grand, big-budget entertainments if they only wanted to. James Gray did. 14. Ash Is Purest White (Jia Zhangke)- In a train on the way to her hometown, the protagonist Xiao casually tells a fellow passenger that she has seen a UFO. Although it comes up later in a sort of magic realism flourish, her statement seemed like a character moment for me. People who see UFOs are either guileless rubes or attention-seeking hucksters, and that's the dance of Tao Zhao's performance. Even after seeing the movie, I can't tell which one Xiao is. Often it changes in the course of a scene. The time when she shows the most agency, firing off her boyfriend's illegal gun to ward off his attackers, results in the time when she is the most helpless, being ordered around in jail. She might confess her ex-con status in a moment of vulnerability, then flake out at the next train stop in an attempt to seize her power back. (It's worth mentioning that there are lots of movies about flaky drifters who don't pay the tab, but few of them are about women.) Even the way that she holds her backpack--frontways--is street-smart and child-like at the same time. This is the second film that Jia has made with a triptych setting, (Mountains May Depart is slightly superior.) and he doesn't make the flash forwards obvious. He invites the performance's same sort of healthy confusion upon the viewer with the formal elements. I, for one, am willing to get probed by these foreign objects. 13. Toy Story 4 (Josh Cooley)- I questioned a late moment in the film, one of the plottier ones in which Woody goes back to save another toy one more laborious time. When I sighed, my wife reminded me, "He never leaves a toy behind." Toy Story 4 is a dazzling upgrade in the series from a visual standpoint, (I gasped again at Woody lying in a damp, sunny patch of concrete.) but it's more of a reminder of the consistent character development and weight that have been blanketing us for twenty-three years. Pixar isn't reinventing the wheel because it is the wheel. Sure, the characters are too numerous and separate now. I miss the OG's Rex and Hamm. But for one thing, that rogue's gallery makes it funnier when, say, Buttercup pops up with a joke out of nowhere. And the new characters, particularly Forky the Nihilist, are so lovable that I wouldn't know who to trade. Toy Story 4 is probably the worst of the franchise, but that franchise--especially when its subtext seems to be questioning people who want to stop intellectual property from evolving--might be the best we have. 12. Clemency (Chinonye Chukwu)- In discussing the aftermath of an execution, Alfre Woodard's warden character Bernadine mentions the mother who will claim a prisoner's body, who will follow through with plans for burial. And I realized, to be honest, that I had never thought about how executed bodies are claimed and laid to rest, though obviously those sad practicalities persist. This whole film is a reminder of the numerous costs that arise from a system that is out of time and out of reason. To that end, every character is fully drawn with empathy. For example, the assistant warden, which could have been a nothing part, has ambitions and fears that give him an arc that shades the protagonist. The Richard Schiff and Wendell Pierce characters make the film about the compromised promises of retirement, but the assistant warden is there to tug us back into law enforcement. Neon ended up putting this movie on the awards circuit back burner, but Aldis Hodge deserves the world. Although the film piles on one indignity too many for my taste, drifting into miserableism, Hodge's performance has a rare possessive quality. Catatonic in his most crestfallen moments and antic when he clings to hope, Hodge drags the audience along with him. The character is quiet, but every word counts. 11. The Farewell (Lulu Wang)- I was not been more thoroughly charmed all year, especially by Awkwafina, who is a revelation in a tricky role. There are a few scenes that get comedic effect through repetition, and it's telling that the subtitles stop by the third or fourth run-through of a line. The movie assumes you're smart, which goes even further than its piercing emotion. Shout-out to Mr. Li, who made me crack up every time I saw him. The elderly sort-of-boyfriend is such a common figure in real life, but I'm not sure I've ever seen that character type on screen. I'm not sure I've seen any of this on-screen, and that's the reason the film exists.

10. Avengers: End Game (Joe Russo and Anthony Russo)- For a guy who grew up in the '30s, Captain America is pretty cool with gay people. 9. Gloria (Sebastian Lelio)- I saw Lelio's original Gloria, the one that he's remaking here, and it didn't do much for me, even though it hit some of the same beats as this one. I wonder what the difference could be...do you think the total commitment of one of the greatest actresses in the world matters? Lelio documents who this woman is to her children, to her mother, to her ex-husband, to her lover, to her co-workers, and it's by tracking the tiny compromises of those relationships that the viewer gets to see the fully realized her. The cyclical editing of those pieces--sing a disco song to herself in the car, rinse, repeat--ends up lulling the viewer into his role of seeing the complete Gloria. It ends up being a fun, absorbing process. I yelled out loud at Turturro for disrespecting my girl. Moore, who is in every scene, sells us on these different versions of the character through complete control of her instrument. She lets headphones slump along her body at work. She kneels down toward a street performer in a more maternal way than she ever presents with her actual daughter. She sits cross-legged with her best friend, as if they're little girls. I won't spoil what she does at the end, when she is at her most empowered. 8. Midsommar (Ari Aster)- I love this movie, but, boy, is it a friendship killer if you recommend it to the wrong person. Whether you liked Hereditary or not is a good predictor for your taste, but I think Ari Aster's follow-up is much better: Whereas the unpredictability of Hereditary makes the mysticism of its final fourth seem like a leap that you either accept or don't, Midsommar is driving so hard in one direction that its dread is even more pronounced. (The prologue is so masterfully deliberate and gloomy that it takes a long time for the film to get back to those depths.) For comparison's sake again, Aster was painting in the colors of hysteria and fractured relationships before, but the new film seems much more biting and vital in the way it depicts modern men and women. I'm thinking of the way Dani excuses herself at the risk of compromising her safety or rationalizes her boyfriend's forgetting her birthday with "Well, I didn't remind him." All of the characters become victims of a misinformed, selfish brand of multicultural tolerance that makes them rationalize evil instead of speaking up, and that acceptance serves the plot way better than the average horror movie's running up the stairs instead of out the door. For his part, Christian, who seems sympathetic at first, takes ideas, drugs, and even women for himself with impunity. (It's important that he's an anthropology student, and it's more important that his name is Christian.) When he colonizes his Black friend's thesis topic, it might seem like a tipping point, but he was one step ahead in using rules and approval for his purposes. None of the Americans bother to stop him, but that doesn't mean that no one stops him. 7. A Hidden Life (Terrence Malick)- "The sun shines on good and evil the same." In the baggy second hour of what might be Terrence Malick's most direct and linear film, martyr Franz Jagerstatter tosses off that line with grace and aplomb, at a time when most of us would have neither to spare. His captors are confused when he denies that his conscientious objection will make any difference in the war or when he doubts that he is more morally evolved than his countrymen. His refusal to pledge an oath to Hitler is a state with no outcome in mind, which the results-obsessed Nazis cannot understand. In that way he is the perfect Malickian hero, which means he is the perfect Heideggerian hero: a man who sees all planes of existence as equal--or at least equally unknowable to him. As a farmer, Franz observes and acts upon cycles, but he is smaller than Nature and the communion he finds with God there. So when he's torn from his family and daily life to be stuck in a prison, he is separated from that concord further and further. The key, however, is that he is no more or less powerful than before, and that knowledge is what gives him transcendental perspective. He is indifferent in the way that only a saint can be. Of course, what I'm describing also makes for a passive protagonist, which is why the cross-cutting to his wife Fani is so effective. She is the one who has to shoulder the burden of his ideals, and Valerie Pachner's stolid performance sells that sacrifice. The overall balance comes from the jagged but precise editing, and the production is all the more impressive for retaining the Malick style despite the absence of most of his regular collaborators. (This is the first time since The Thin Red Line that he hasn't worked with Jack Fisk, but there the production design is, crafting a 1940 Austrian town out of nothing and building a network of water symbolism that I don't understand yet.) In fact, the whirling steadicam and the avoidance of artificial light have more of a thematic purpose than ever if "the sun shines on good and evil all the same." Perhaps the greatest achievement of this film about unjust war is that it made me pray for Donald Trump today. Because if I want to be like Franz Jagerstatter, then I have to believe the light of God shines on him too. 6. Knives Out (Rian Johnson)- A third of the way into this imaginative, absorbing whodunit, I started to talk myself into the surface pleasures of cinema. "So what if it doesn't have much to say; look at these stars going for it with this spicy dialogue and these gleeful twists." Then the subtext asserts itself through a radiant Ana de Armas, and the subtext becomes the text in the final shot. Knives Out is the best of all worlds. Rian Johnson might be the first filmmaker for whom a Star Wars movie ends up being a footnote. 5. Everybody Knows (Asghar Farhadi)- There's a photograph hanging in the library (yes, the stately library) of the patrician family of my childhood best friend, and I'm in that picture. There I am, dressed a bit sloppier than everyone else, near the edge of the frame. Because I was there, as usual, and because they are kind. Everybody Knows is about one of those family friend outsiders, perhaps in a way that no other movie has been. When it's at its best, it's about what those marginal figures can and can't say, can and can't do. The film dips into soap opera territory, but only to sell its message of how secrets beget other secrets. For me, it's another Farhadi hit of approachable, modest conflict that bakes itself into an experience. 4. Marriage Story (Noah Baumbach)- The best divorce movie ever made--by the guy who wrote and directed the former belt holder of the best divorce movie ever made. These luminous lead performances aren't just about saying cutting, hurtful things or reacting to their child's preference for the other parent (or at least the other parent's toys). They're about the internal devastation of realizing you can never take back something you've said. Driver and Johansson each get a chance to sink into one of those moments, and they're joined by a head-tilting, blustery Laura Dern, who gets a Virgin Mary speech that won her an Oscar. And there are jokes! Underrated aspect of the movie: The son is kind of a dipshit. I like that he just hates math and wants to eat candy, as opposed to the cute prodigies we've seen before in this type of movie. They're fighting over a kid only a parent could love. INSTANT CLASSICS

3. Uncut Gems (Josh Safdie and Benny Safdie)- Howard the jeweler lives somewhere in upstate New York, but he has an apartment in the city. It's an apartment that is close enough for him to cab over to his mistress who lives there, but it's far enough away that his family wouldn't bother popping in for a visit. That sort of gap is present throughout Uncut Gems: Family members act differently in the Diamond District than they do at seder, and we first see Howard from the literally vulnerable inside of a colonoscopy, not the animated brio of his tightrope-walking exterior. Of course, the gem of the title is the ultimate division: something pure that the characters are searching for, untouched by the process that Howard, by definition, does. And the film is about how little he can abide by purity. Until now, The Gambler (1974) was probably the best film of this type, a snapshot of a cursed man who seems to be gambling with forces way beyond the game in question. But Uncut Gems is more pathological, more authentic, more intense, and more decisively realized. By focusing more on character than the Safdie Brothers' other work, it offers a unique depiction of compulsive behavior and implicates the audience in rooting for Howard's (technically unrealistic) parlay. By doubling down on his bets or re-uniting with his girlfriend, Howard thinks that he can reinvent himself and start anew. But like the legacy of the Chosen People the film depicts, like the lines on all of these great New York faces, some things are permanent.

2. The Irishman (Martin Scorsese)- "It's what it is." You wouldn't blame someone if he saw the logline and lineup of The Irishman and expected GoodFellas. In fact, this one quotes Scorsese's signature film continually. Instead of slicing onions with a razorblade, old convicts pitch bocce balls. Instead of tracking sumptuously through the Copa, Scorsese's camera wanders through a nursing home. Instead of pistol-whipping Karen's neighbor for getting handsy, our protagonist curb-stomps a grocery owner for shoving his daughter. But there's a GoodFellas staple that is missing. The first fourth of that crime saga closes as Young Henry, played by Christopher Serrone, gets rewarded for staying mum in court. All of his partners in crime cheer him, and he is told that he learned a valuable lesson (in protecting the family and subverting the law). Then we cut to Adult Henry, played by Ray Liotta now, because Young Henry has learned everything he has to know. The Irishman has no such moment of elevation or revelation. Frank is, crucially, played by Robert De Niro over the course of decades because his fall from grace--if there ever was grace--is too imperceptible for any before-and-after divide. The lessons that he learns are just as corrupting as what Henry discovers: Power comes from insularity. Having power means you don't have to prove it. Organized crime, organized labor, and the political process are all the same thing. A code is all a man has, but all codes have limits. However, Frank's corruption, the selling of his soul, doesn't even bring an Asian-inspired chiffonier or a Janice Rossi sidepiece. Frank doesn't get rich; he jams his hands into a plastic ice bucket at the bar next to his couch. He doesn't get powerful; he has to kill because Russell is too prominent to be in the same town as a hit. He doesn't get glory; even a celebration held in his honor is just an excuse for more influential men to do business. Frank is a tool, and he is trapped in a fruitless silence, at best an accessory at meetings. (De Niro is doing quoting of his own. There's a lot of Jackie Brown's Louis in his shrugs and smirks.) As boisterous as Scorsese's films can be, he also knows how to use silence. Robbie Robertson's score is weak, but luckily the film goes without for long stretches, including a suspenseful car ride that begins with a treacherous hug and ends with a malignant secret. The best performance comes from Joe Pesci, probably because his stolid stillness matches the overall atmosphere. Of course, the quietest moments correlate to the loneliest moments: Frank touring a cemetery or sitting with a door half-cracked to a complicit viewer. It's the silence of deliberate toil. Like the mobster ripping up carpet in the lake house, Scorsese is on his hands and knees destroying his own myths.

1. Parasite (Bong Joon-ho)- Parasite is Bong Joon-Ho's masterpiece because it distills the worldview and passions that he previously flirted with into a condensed but elaborate statement. In the same way that Mean Streets is perfectly good but feels like a rehearsal for the slow boil of encircling gangster life in GoodFellas. In the same way that Hitchcock played with the impotent everyman voyeur in a confined setting but didn't perfect it until Rear Window. Like the examples above, Parasite, a true ensemble, is a case of the subtext becoming text. Back in his native country and language, working more or less with realism, Bong is free to take aim at class in a more direct but still wacky way. In all of its crowd provocation--there's so much pleasure in just a suspenseful winding down stairs--the film is destined to be a foreign film gateway drug. But really it just makes we want to take a half-star off my Snowpiercer review since I know Bong can do better now.

[runningonmarvel]

little things in Hamilton

I was extremely, extremely lucky to be able to see Hamilton again tonight, so I made a list of some of the little things in the show that I just love, especially from the specific show I saw.

Act 1

Burr in a red-blood-wine coat when everyone else is in white, even from the beginning

desperate™ Hamilton trying to talk to Burr

Hamilton already touching/hugging Laurens as soon as they meet

Hamilton and Laurens walking off with their arms around each other after the story of tonight 

Hamilton and Laurens doing two handshake hugs in less than two minutes

just so much unnecessary touching between Hamilton and Laurens 

in my shot, at first Hamilton is just by himself and kind of standing still but the ensemble gradually joins in until everyone’s dancing bc they’re caught up in his ideas

Eliza bopping Peggy’s nose in the Schuyler sisters

the entirety of farmer refuted honestly. what a genius song

Hamilton literally jumping up on the box with samuel seabury

King George stomping his foot and the lighting turns blue above him

also rowing his staff like an oar 

the staging and the lighting in right hand man my god it’s amazing

throughout the whole show: Burr serving as the only one “out of time” who can sing with perspective and see the entire scenario to the end play out

Peggy’s celebratory dancing with Eliza’s letters from Alexander in both helpless and satisfied 

Hamilton celebrating by dancing after Philip Schuyler gives him his blessing and then quickly going back to standing maturely when Philip looks over at him with the death stare

Washington fixing Hamilton’s collar before the wedding

Hercules Mullligan as the flower girl; I’ll never be over that

Angelica’s frozen toast as the ensemble and characters spin backwards and the lighting on her

Hamilton and Angelica standing so close in satisfied and he kisses her hand

Hamilton and Eliza stepping away and Eliza facing away while Angelica sings her internal monologue in satisfied

Hamilton and Burr actually sounding like friends in story of tonight reprise: smiling and bantering

Laurens getting offended when Hamilton starts talking to Burr and then drunkenly asking about Theodosia

Charles Lee looking genuinely offended when Hamilton calls him inexperienced and ruinous 

Hamilton’s hand on Eliza’s stomach in that would be enough

Burr literally climbing on the rail and jumping up and down to convey how excited he is about Lafayette. relatable 

passing the letter around in guns and ships until it gets to Hamilton

Eliza kissing Hamilton before he goes off to fight

the harmonies in right hand man and history has its eyes on you

Washington taking off his hat when he’s vulnerable

Hamilton repeating “history has its eyes on me” to himself softly while Washington says it the second time

Hamilton sheathing the sword Washington gave him in time with the music

waving the coats around before Hercules Mulligan jumps out in Yorktown

Hamilton’s boots

Laurens’s high note when he dies

Hamilton continuing to talk to the jury while Burr roasts him

in non-stop, the turntable taking Angelica away from Hamilton while he watches her and the turntable brings Eliza to him

Washington being physically above Hamilton but Hamilton is still so confident and sure

Hamilton letting go of Angelica’s and then Eliza’s hands so he can go to the top of the stairs

Act 2

Jefferson pointing out into the crowd in what’d I miss

Madison giving Jefferson a nod like “this is what we’re dealing with” after Alexander cuts in to introduce himself 

that mic drop in cabinet battle 1

Madison’s love for his handkerchief 

Philip smiling so big after he counts to nine and kicking his feet

then throwing his hands up and running up when he finishes his poem

the callbacks to helpless in say no to this

pink light on Angelica while she narrates her letter to Hamilton

Maria turning away while James Reynolds reads off his letter

Angelica and Eliza being missing for so long around say no to this

all the subtle ensemble consume changes just…. wow

Burr watching from the walkway above for the first cabinet battle

Burr sitting in the chair in the second cabinet battle because he’s a senator

and nodding along with everything jefferson says

the mirror table in the room where it happens

Maria standing in the back for all of act 2 until hurricane and the reynolds pamphlet 

Burr awkwardly going up to Jefferson after cabinet battle 2 and starting to sing about washington

the silence in the audience after “southern motherfucking democratic republicans!”

“follow the money and see where it leads” foreshadowing we know

Washington stepping forward as he takes over singing the address in one last time and hamilton steps back

the entire ensemble getting together in coats to appreciated George Washington

Maria subtly standing behind the Hamilton family in one last time

king george making his assistant move the stool over so he can sit

the red flash in the Adams Administration

Jefferson grabbing the letter in we know and squinting at it with the most incredulous look on his face

Philip standing on the walkway in the shadows during we know

“alexander, rumors only grow. and we both know what we know” followed by the blue lighting and piano

THE WHOLE STAGING DURING HURRICANE: PASSING THE LETTER AROUND AND MARIA HANDS HIM THE PEN AND SLOW MOTION AND EVERYTHING

the incredible amount of paper thrown around the stage in the reynolds pamphlet 

Washington giving Hamilton the most disappointed look of anyone ever when he reads the Reynolds pamphlet 

the actual fake play with a play happening during blow us all away

Philip pointing his gun up before they even start counting

Eliza’s scream in stay alive reprise and moving her hand away 

Hamilton actually sobbing so much in it’s quiet uptown that it’s hard for him to say his lines

Madison crying in his handkerchief, desperate to get back to politics

Burr smiling so big because he’s so sure Hamilton will support him

Jefferson’s reaction of surprise and happiness and a little dance and Burr’s smile slowly fading from shock to anger

Hamilton sending like twenty letters to Burr while he leans on the staircase in shock

the ensemble doing Burr’s weird dances in slow motion while he rages at Hamilton

the finality of the world was wide enough

“near the same spot my son died is that why”

the ensemble member playing the bullet

Hamilton trying to go stand on the box during his monologue like he did in my shot but the bullet is already too close so he has to get down

the sadness in “Burr, my first friend, my enemy”

the philip/laurens actor spinning around to play both of them in two seconds

Eliza just missing Hamilton when he mentions her in his monologue

the stage clearing so quickly and suddenly it’s just him and burr and the dark

Angelica gets to say: “every other founding father story gets told. every other founding father gets to grow old”

the actress for eliza singing “will they tell our story?” instead of “will they tell your story?”

Hamilton and Eliza walking around each other as the ensemble sings and then him guiding her forward at the end

the gasp

[kierongillen]

Writer Notes: The Wicked + The Divine 33

Spoilers, obv.

I suspect this one may ramble. Or it may not. The odd thing is always when things which have been internally discussed forever end up not needing to be discussed in public. For Journey Into Mystery and Young Avengers, I always had the idea of the essay I'd end them with... but when I got there, I shrugged and did a couple of paragraphs which covered the basics.

(There was a grace note in both, in terms of highlighting a motif – Write Your Own Happy Ending and Be A Superhero. Save The World – but that's really minor detail compared to what I presumed I'd be writing.)

Well... I know it's going to be quite long, as I'm going to include the miniature essay on plot twists I lobbed up to respond to a question, just so I can include some WicDiv specific stuff.

So, WicDiv 33. The “Everything you knew is wrong” issue.

Jamie's Cover

Jamie coloured this himself.

There was a lot of discussion over this, in terms of how to resolve the equation that we'd set up. Where to go after the maximalist nature of Dio's 32? I won't mention the other options, as at least some of them may end up being used down the line. One suggestion I quite liked was doing the equivalent of the ABC Look Of Love album...

...which is this scene of posed romance on the cover, and when you flip the album, you see all the lighting and crew. In some ways, that's what this issue does.

But black makes sense on many levels as well. I suspect the idea of the specific bleakness will confound the expectations a little, but the statement of it is very there. We did say this was our Black Parade too.

Worth noting – first cover without a quote on the back. If we were sure the readers wouldn't have looked at the back cover before reading the book, we may have put Lucifer's “Am I the only one who didn't see that coming?” on there. But we couldn't be sure of that, so we didn't.

Russell's Cover

What Russell and Matt are doing over on Thor is state of the art superheroics. I've loved seeing what Russell's done across his time with Jason, and the idea of him doing a cover was just exciting. It's meant to be the full range of the medium, after all. I was surprised Russell went quite as maximalist as he did, but also pleased. I love this kind of operatic movie poster cover, and it screams Imperial Phase, including all the cast of the main arc. Dio's the hardest one to spot – that would be the black eyes over it.

IFC At this stage in the arc, working out what on earth to put in the synopsis is tricky. You have to throw your hands up to some degree.

The tweaks to the bios are the other thing – clearly we've got to set up the information required to comprehend the issue for those who may have forgotten it, without just saying what the thing is. For the very close readers, even the fact it's changed will be a tell. It was another reason we didn't do a preview for this issue, and even if we did, we wouldn't have released that page. Velocity in reading is key here.

With Woden we restate “She had some mysterious hold over him” rather than specifically talking about the Blakes. With Minerva we remind people that she was tortured on Ananke's machine, and then distract with a :(  emoticon.

Page 1

I believe the script for this page and the next is in the trade as “Making Of” material, which is fun. Chrissy tends to choose pages in terms of what's interesting, especially if we have something else to show. In this case, it's my drawing for the design of Woden's Secret Base.

My basic description for this was the Bat Cave, which is a man cave, if you squint. Having an enormous penny in it could have been a giggle. We had to have a few passes to get the lighting right on this – debating the colours on the bars of the cage was also tricky.

In terms of pulling out a detail, the suit of armour missing a head on the right would be a useful one. Balancing the “making sure it's visible” while not leaning too much into “LOOK AT THE HEADLESS SUIT” is Jamie's storytelling problem here.

The main dialogue problem was balancing the level of Cass' response here with her noise at the end of the last issue. Swearing to some degree is fine, but it has to be a specific kind of fffuuuucccckkk last issue. It couldn't be a swear that promised too much.

Page 2

And it's Pink Woden! But he's blue. Lighting, everyone.

Well... There was some debate on the colouring of Pink Woden, in various modes, and various reasons, not least the slight differences in colouring in his previous appearances.

(Issue 14 and issue 21-22, respectively.)

Have I said Pink Woden is my favourite fan name? We use it all the time internally, not least because Mimir is oddly hard to remember. Also, if we get used to saying “Mimir” we may end up saying accidentally in public.

Page 3

I had someone reach out to me wondering whether Cassandra choosing to gender someone by their voice and physical appearance was off. It's something I was thinking of at the time when writing it, and it's not exactly a line I'm happy with. But on balance, I felt it more likely that Cass would say that than Persephone would say anything.

Cass is imperfect in her language in lots of ways. I decided she's more likely to apologise about it down the line and kick herself, which I may end up working in, depending.

(You could also ask “why have anything there?” and that's only answerable in terms of the flow of information and ideas and conversation across the whole scene. Difficult Difficult Lemon Difficult.)

Lovely expression by Persephone in the background of the first panel – in fact, her conflicted expressions throughout. I especially love the reflection of the arriving Woden in the reflection of Mimir's mask in panel 6.

Page 4-5

The challenge here was always choosing where to put the page turns in this issue. What are the big beats. In my original draft the LITTLE WODEN BOY interstitial was actually on page 6, which would change the rhythm in lots of ways – not least in putting the Falling God sequence on a page turn. In the end, we gravitated to this. I'm much happier with it.

(Little Woden Boy works as a creepier punchline at the end as well.)

Anyway, hello! It's David Blake.

I... I maybe should save writing for the reveals all together. In fact, fuck it. Let's drop the ask essay here and we can then talk about the stuff I don't include in it. I'm asked whether you change something when someone guesses something, or how that feels?

****

Oh, god, no. Never change anything if someone’s guessed something. Nothing good lies in that direction.

Why?

Okay, let’s talk – with no specifics – Game of Thrones. If you go into the depths of fandom, Game of Thrones is – to some degree, in some areas – a solved problem. There’s a good selection of fan theories (some of which have come to fruition) which have so much meat on them it was clear they had to happen, or the book would break its structure and become unsatisfying.

These twists are available to anyone who wishes to google for them.

The vast majority of people don’t. So… why change the direction of the story? What’s the point of fucking over the enjoyment of the vast majority of people (i.e. making your story make less sense, as you’re abandoning the already existing thread) for playing gotcha on a tiny fraction of your audience?

(As a quick aside – compare and contrast theorising in a fanbase with actual events in the text that’s being adapted. Clearly, anyone who is watching GoT could have googled the synopsis of the book. Equally, anyone who’s read the books knows the big beats. Does the adaptation change the big beats? If surprise to everyone in your audience is all that mattered, you would. We don’t.)

It’s also worth noting that, while obviously some complain on the nature of the adaptation, most fans of a book generally complain that they wish it was more like the book. In other words, things that surprised them (i.e. differed from their knowledge of the text) were less satisfying. They wanted to see the big dramatic beats, even if they’re stripped of their surprise.

Surprise only matters the first time you read something. For me, any worthwhile piece of literature exists to be reread, and will open up more upon rereading. In other words, knowing the twist should add to the rereading of the book. If it doesn’t, and renders the story less than it was, it’s probably a bad twist – which is one reason why I don’t tend to call them “Plot twists” to myself. I call them reveals. The plot doesn’t contort. It’s merely revealing something in the nature of the world the reader was unaware of.

(As an aside, this means that someone who has guessed successful the direction of the plot is actually effectively skipping to their second read of the book earlier.)

There’s the other side of this as well – not just whether a plot beat has been guessed, but the almost inevitability of a plot beat being guessed. GoT fans have had twenty years to puzzle this out. In that period, a mass communication device emerged which allowed fans to talk to one another and share ideas. This machine would have torn apart any plot.

No one individual needs to guess anything. People can make one step in a chain, and then that step is exposed to thousands of minds. If even one of them can make the intuitive leap to the next step, then it continues. No one person needs to be clever enough to see the whole thing. The internet hivemind is Miss Marple, seeing through the most contorted of machinations.

(In passing, this is one reason why Alternate Reality Games are hard to do, because the mass hive mind will figure almost anything out, almost instantly. Equally in passing, the failure to understand this is another reason why Ready Player One is bad, but that’s irrelevant.)

In other words, the reason why twists are guessable is the same reason they are satisfying. A twist that isn’t foreshadowed sufficiently to give the possibility of being guessed by someone is not a satisfying twist, as it – by definition – came out of nowhere.

To make this specific to my own work. In the case of the biggest and most intricate of my current books, WicDiv, we sell about 18k in monthlies and sell 18k in trades (in the first month of release). That’s our hardcore devoted readership. How many people of them actually read the essays in the WicDiv tags? I’d say 500 at the absolute maximum, and likely a lot less. So for a maximum of 1.3% of our readership, we’d derail a still effective twist for everyone else? No, that would be a bad call.

Especially – and this is key – the people who have chosen to engage with a fandom are aware that they may figure something out. They are trying to figure something out. Why take that pleasure away from them?

In a real way, I think, in long-form narrative, pure plot twists which no one in the world guesses are dead in the Internet age, at least when dealing with any even vaguely popular work of art. You can do them in short-form narratives (like a single novel, a single movie and perhaps a streaming TV show they drop in one go) but for anything where you give a fanbase the chance to think, it’s just not going to happen. A creator should be glad their work is popular enough to have enough fans to figure it out.

Yes, I may have overthought this.

But that’s only half the question.

How do I actually feel when someone guesses something that’s going to happen? Well, this is long enough already. Let’s put the personal stuff beneath a cut…

*

I’d say you sigh “Oh, poop”and shrug.

And then you get over your ass, because you know all the above is true. Writers are often megalomaniacs who think they can control everyone’s response to their work. We don’t. We can’t control everything. We can barely control anything. We really have to let go. I’ve said WicDiv is a device to help me improve as a person, yes? It would include in this area. I have to learn to let it go, and internalise all of the above. If I can make most of my readership have the vague emotional response I’m looking for, I’m winning.

I’ve mostly succeeded at this. I’m certainly better than I was two years ago.

(I’ll probably write more about spoilers and twists and stuff down the line. I’d note that setting up twists that *are* easily guessable by the hardcore is part of the methodology. Having a nice big twist foreshadowed heavily is a good way to hide another twist behind it. “Hey – pay attention to this less subtle sleight of hand while I perform the actual sleight of hand over here.” In which case, there’s less of an Oh Poop response and more of a cackling evil mastermind response.)

The sigh can occasionally be accompanied with a “Hmm. I wouldn’t have posted that” or – more likely – “I wouldn’t have posted that THERE.”

To stress, what follows isn’t about my work per se, but culture generally, and is very much personal. This is stuff which good friends disagree with me on.

As a fan, I never tweet my own fan theories. I only tweet joke ones. Even my crack theories I don’t tweet, as they’re normally so bizarre that if they actually DO happen, I wouldn’t want to take the thrill away from people. Even in person in conversation I make sure we’re going into a deep fan hole before sharing them, aware that they may be true.

In a real way, the more likely I think something is true, the less likely I’ll say it. As this is my job, I tend to see basic structural ways stories are heading way in advance of most people. I’m a composer. I know how music works. You have a vague sense of what way they’ll go.

(One day I’ll write down my crack theory for the end of the previous Game of Thrones season. Maybe after next season, as it’s not impossible that they may end up doing it, though it’s increasingly unlikely.)

If I had a really good theory I’ve gathered evidence for? You can guarantee I’d put it beneath a cut. That’s the stuff which bemuses me. It’s a cousin of posting major spoilers about any piece of culture the day it comes out. The worst is one regular twitter trope – I’m always bemused when people do a “Calling it! XYZ will happen” tweet. Which strikes me a little like standing up in the cinema 20 minutes into a film and shouting out that you’ve guessed the ending. This ties back to the stuff I wrote above about twists being less effective in the modern age, except in a place where you can control the context and conversation. People may message in movies, but they rarely message everyone in the room.

(In passing, as it’s vaguely on topic – you may remember the research from a few years ago saying people who know a twist enjoy the story more than people who don’t know a twist. Even if this is true – and a single study should always get an eyebrow raise – it strikes me as a confusion over what “enjoy” means. All pleasure isn’t equivalent, and you can only have surprise on your first time through a work of art. That’s novelty. You can have that and then gain the “not surprise” experience second time through. If you spoil a work, it means the “novelty” experience is something you will never have. You may enjoy something more if you know the twist but you can always rewatch it to get that pleasure. If you’re spoiled, the individual specific pleasure of that first watch has been stolen.)

But that’s a conversation of social mores. Really, it doesn’t change anything in terms of how we act… and sometimes, I even grin when someone gets a twist in advance. The machine is working as intended. It’s actually kind of worrying if no one is thinking something is up in an area you’ve set up to be iffy. And… the alternative is worse – hell, there’s buried twists and details in Young Avengers that no one’s managed to figure out yet.

Twist ending: oh, no, I was a ghost all along.

****

I'm pretty sure the asker was asking about the Woden/Blake/Jon twist, and I'm primarily talking in terms of balancing the various needs of the group.

The problem with this twist was less making sure that people didn't get it, but making sure that everyone understood its import. If, hypothetically, I didn't want (barely) anyone to get it, we wouldn't have mentioned Jon after we introduced him in issue 6. Problem being, everyone needs to know Jon is a person who is Blake's kid when they hit this beat. My solution was to just reintroduce Jon hard, and resolve it, knowing that most people would just accept that. Then everyone knows who Jon is, so the father/son switch makes sense.

(In other words, far better some people suspect Woden is Blake rather than everyone going “Jon who?” Especially because the real horror of the Woden/Blake reveal is in its details.)

There's the other aspect to it as well – it's the sacrificial decoy aspect that I mentioned above. Even if guessed, it's a big enough twist to distract people. I reveal this at the start of the issue, so people will probably suspect that's enough big reveals for the issue. Yet no.

(See also: issue 11's dual deaths)

In reality, I was much more worried about the relatively small leap from realising Woden Is Blake And Jon Is Pink Woden to Mimir Is A Head.

But more on that later, I suspect.

Anyway! Storytelling!

There is something incredibly instantly disturbing about Blake without the helmet on, right?

Persephone's line was tweaked a bunch. I cut it as far as I could while still existing. It's a tiny moment of Rising Action, immediately squashed.

The switch to green as the cage goes to full power, plus Matt Wilson's wonderful pixel effects.

Love the Tron-eque light-bike trails seguing into flashback...

Page 6-7

The first date is just before Ragnarock 2013, where we first saw Jon on the stage in Laura's Flashback in issue 6.

This is a “Performance” by Jon, so is presented as such, in the same manner of Persephone's performance in issue 20. Jamie's integrated circuitry design is great, and allows us to go to a limited palette. 8 panel, 8-bit glory.

And Jon Blake.

You write and discover the characters. Jon has barely been in the book – he has a couple of lines of dialogue in issue 14, and that's it. I always knew why Ananke rejects him as unsuitable, but specifically how that would be articulated was something I thought I'd discover on the page. Writing a new character this far into the book is the sort of thing which keeps it interesting.

I was worried it would be hard, or shallow, as surely all the relevant little bits of me are already taken with the rest of the cast? Within a couple of sentences of typing, I knew I had completely forgotten one Gillen archetype.

I realised Jon was a heroic take on Lloyd/Mr Logos.

I laughed. Of course. Perfect.

The 11 days later says so much about how intricate the timeline is around here. It's the day before Baal and Sakhmet made their public debut.

The “She's a fucking weirdo/language” panel is a joy.

Yeah, Ananke really does like hanging around in people's gardens.

I specifically called for Ananke to be in an outfit from a previous God-creation sequence...

Page 8-9

...so Jamie could reuse the masks and only draw Jon transforming, and pull an extra page out of the budget.

The most embarrassing bit here is that I wrote this from my memory of Mimir's legends in the early drafts, and only remembered to actually check my notes at lettering. In fact, I'd got a couple of minor details of Mimir wrong.

(Or rather, didn't grasp the complexities of Mimir – it's very hard to get a take on Mimir, because the main myths we have of him are contradictory.)

Page 10-11

Man, I want to go to Mimir's club night.

In my original draft I wrote it as Jon cutting off Ananke's “Mimir” so that the god name wasn't revealed until the last page of this whole section. As in, it would stop people putting the book down, googling “Mimir”, realising “Heads” and then possibly seeing where we were going at the end of the issue.

I decided against it, in that's only going to be a tiny fraction of readers. If people want to break the flow of their reading to look up facts, I can't control that. Even then, I also knew it would be far from certain that just because they realised Mimir is a head, that they'd then realise others could be a head before the end of the comic.

And NOT including Mimir breaks the flow for everyone else, and is a bit cheap. Better than that.

That knife gets around.

Page 12

First panel: I never get bored of modern blur photoshop to show this kind of effect.

PoV shots are something I adore in comics. The six-panel grid gives it lots of space as well.

Honestly, that last panel with Mimir's own reflection is the creepiest thing in the world, and I love it.

Page 13

Yeah, I'm much happier with the interstitial here. Horrible.

(To state the obvious: Pinocchio reference.)

Page 14-15

I just imagine the tension in this room. Ugh.

I originally had a bunch more written for Woden here, but cut it. It was much better in the silent. He may say some of it down the line, but cutting it right to the basics – the particularly creepy basics – seemed key.

We went with a normal gun. Normal guns were at the start of the story, and have sort of disappeared. Once more we return.

Lots to unpick in all this dialogue, so won't give anything else. I'll say the whole exchange about the machine was as finely picked over to imply the meaning as much as anything else in the book – that's the thing about comics. The flowery fancy stuff? That's great and fun. But the real job is the compressing of precise exact detail, especially in a book which is nothing but precise detail.

I was chatting to Jamie about issue 34 earlier, and Jamie said how much he likes drawing Mimir's helmet. Looking at page 15 makes me see it – the second and fourth panels are just excellent in completely different ways.

Page 16-17-18

Jamie chose the steady angle, I believe, with a background drop, and Matt working the colours to show the emotions.

First panel is where the last of the fun drips out of Cassandra's expletives, and we're just left with something that's really just offensive and ugly. If there's any point where the issue reaches the black cover, it'd be this sequence.

I'm glad they've got here though.

Clearly, this is a Jamie masterclass. Pick it apart, learn. delight. Like – penultimate panel on page 16. The pause, the glance aside. Perfect. Look across page 17. There's a mixture of emotion and sheer dullness and boredom and fear, and how it all pushes and pulls again.

(“And I got it” is something else)

I believe I've said WicDiv contains a recapitulation of basically everything I've ever done as a creator. Mainly the Jamie and me stuff, but basically everything. I realised Laura's arc on Imperial Phase is me reprising what I did in Generation Hope – probably one of my least remembered things, which strikes me as fair – it only landed properly as we inched towards the end of the year. The plot was basically “Is Hope Good Or Bad?” when the answer was “Her Dad died a few days before the issue started. She's fucked up.” Only in mainstream death-happy superhero comics would that work as a twist. This was a bit like that – we distance the reader from Persephone and just show the actions and see what you make of it.

“Try to be kind. You have no idea what people are going through.”

That was the stuff I'd had planned from the start, but it only got more specific as I got nearer it and WicDiv became what it was. I've talked about having mixed feelings about WicDiv's success. Laura's arc is it writ large. I hate that the definitive work of my career is this. If my Dad was not dead I would not have written this book. There is a guilt and anger that is hard to articulate directly there, and is the material I was mining for this.

On a boring technical level, we did a lot of work with Cass explicitly saying facts to ensure that no one in the readership thinks Laura is confessing to killing her family. In an issue as twisty as this, I suspect some people would have.

(The second panel on page 17 is another one – tall enough to have a bunch of half ideas.)

And Laura, after making a breakthrough, immediately crumbles to another mistake.

The “Laura” line is a nod to the song, and one of the lines in the original WicDiv document sheet.

Page 19

I was going to tweak Cass' line – in some myths he's a giant – but that she's musing gives her a little freedom to dance around what we know.

You know, I suspect one reason why Mimir was never brought up as an option connected to Woden is that he's one of the very few Norse myths who've never appeared in a Marvel superhero comic. Or at least I don't think he has.

Normally we'd put something as big as the head remove on a page turn, but it's a physically small beat, so not something you will automatically recognise out the corner of your eye when you're reading.

I love Cass' thinking face in the penultimate panel. Thinkythinkythinky.

Two major beats happening on this page, of course – it appears Mimir is a head (or a robot head, perhaps?) and Mimir thinks the machine does nothing.

And then we hard-cut to what we do, but it's worth dwelling on this a little. When thinking of plot structure, I talk about a few ways to disguise twists. Earlier, I mentioned a Big Twist can make people suspect the twists are over. This is something I tend to think of as a revealed move. As in, you create a machine of logic with a missing part. You add the missing part as late as possible, and then immediately move to what has been concealed before the audience is able to process the new information.

Hence two beats and a hard-cut...

Page 20-21-22-23

Anyway – this clearly had to be a page turn. To state the obvious.

Steady angle shot here, to have the awfulness of it there. I suspect if I’d had space I'd have had the last panel on page 19 be a third of a page, so the two removed heads could mirror one another.

As a minor detail, Minerva's running feet in the second panel of 20 are really good.

Minerva's gesture on page 21.2 is a joy. I know that feeling, Mini.

I really wanted Inanna to be talking from off panel on page 21, but that definitely would give the game away. The problem with distinctive fonts...

And 22 is the reveal on the heads. Probably best not to say much more about this, as I suspect any of the design elements will intersect with what happens in issue 34, so I'll talk a bit about it then.

Tara and Inanna's expressions really are wonderful.

Luci's line came surprisingly late. The “Talking Heads” interstitial came early. The only reason I wasn't going to use it here was in case I wanted to use it later. I decided I didn't.

Okay... twists.

In reality, for me, it's a case of once you've decided that this is the plot, the only way to do it is dovetail towards an issue like this. Any of these individual beats provide too much connective tissue to the other ones, meaning all must be revealed or none.

(You could argue about Minerva, I suspect. Maybe.)

It's been strange writing a book like this – when so much is there early on. Seeing who got what and who didn't, and how people reinforced people has been interesting. That the core WicDiv tumblr community has never really suspected Minerva was off is in some way a surprise – though I've had people talk about that directly and personally. Blake/Jon and Minerva-is-Off-In-Some-Way were the two twists I would guard, but their primary importance was in how they led to the Heads.

When Ray Fawkes told me “There's a reason you're doing all the decapitations, right?” circa issue 2, I suspected that I'd overplayed the hand by having a literal talking head in issue 3... but it turned out fine.

“Played the hand” is interesting phrasing, and telling. Writing something as intricate as this is like doing a slow-motion card trick, in public, constantly. It is a form of constant stress. I have been paranoid of fucking it up in stupid ways, and it's impacted every single conversation I've ever had about WicDiv. Like just writing one name when I mean another or something. There was a hilarious panic when I added ‘Killer Queen’ to the playlist, just thinking of it as a quite funny Ananke song... and then realised there was only one character in the cast with a connection to the band Queen, and that was Minerva. Should I take it off the playlist? No, someone may notice that, and it's against my rules anyway. I quickly added a few other things to camouflage it.

As if anyone is watching that closely, y'know?

That's an extreme example, but an entirely characteristic one. I have lost sleep over it. Even a year ago, I wished I could just get to 33 and not worry about it. When 33 dropped, it was simultaneously excellent (the response was basically what we expected) and an anticlimax (The amount of emotional and intellectual effort you put into doing this is not worth it. It could never be worth it.) I've been telling friends that I'll never write a story that operates like this again. Partially that is because I wouldn't want to repeat myself, and partially because – as I said above – I think twists are less effective in long-form serialised work in 2017, but mainly as I don't think I want to do this to myself again. I'll find some other way to torture myself.

(Spangly New Thing certainly abandons the Scorpion's-Tale narrative model in favour of an intricate character clock of woe.)

Actually, talking playlists...  I have prepared something. There's a secondary WicDiv playlist which I've been using since July for songs which speak to the end of year three and the remainder of year four. I didn't want to add these songs to the main playlist in case a particularly determined WicDiv fan worked out issue 33 from them. This says a lot about the high levels of anxiety I've been running on for the last few years on this topic. It would be terrible to blow it in such a dumb way. Now, those reading in issues know secrets the trade readers don't. So it's going to be an interesting few months.

Here's the playlist. Keep it mum. I'll add it to the main list when the trade's out. Don't shoot me for the first track.

You may have seen us trying to prod people to reread WicDiv before 33. This was partially in response to a friend who read 33 before it came out who said – I paraphrase – “I wish I could tell people to reread the series now, because after they read 33, those issues are gone, forever.” She's right – it's a pure ‘everything changes’ issue, and you can't reread the comic earlier, because everything has transmuted beneath your fingers.

Which is by our design, but is still a grim thing to think about. We've destroyed all those issues on the shelves, and replaced them with a new story. On the bright side, we've given you 35 free comics. I suspect this returns to Jamie’s and my twitchiness over comic prices, and trying to make ours better value, every way we can. In this case, we want to make rereading valuable and exciting.

SIGH! This has been a journey, friends. I'm glad I no longer have to think about any of the above. There's huge stuff coming in the final year, but it's got entirely its own character and momentum. The cards we're playing with have fundamentally changed. There's so much stuff to come, but it builds from this.

Oh – I'm sort of regretting mentioning the thing about the third theme in the backmatter, as it's clearly the sort of thing that's going to drive a certain strata of reader to distraction – especially as if there's any number of other themes in the book. The one I was thinking intersects a little with pre-existing major themes, and speaks to the particular spin on them. We'll get to it eventually. Don't worry.

Anyway, to sum it all up, clearly with four talking heads, WicDiv is four times as good as Sandman. That is a FACT.

Christmas Special shortly, the trade collection in January, the 1923 Special in February and we're back with issue 34 in March, with the new arc.

Thanks for reading.