#but the two people who’ve commented have been…not mean but not exactly kind either

[whatapictureisworth]

.

[deepspacedukat]

I was going to add a comment to your post about ST:PIC, but I felt maybe this was too long and personal of a comment. And I don't even need a response if you don't feel like giving one. But I wanted to say, I understand, at least a little. When the DS9 episode with Jadzia's same sex kiss aired the first time on live TV, I was watching, and my mother turned it off and said it was disgusting. It's not like I was a little kid either - I was a teenager. I didn't see the end of that episode until it was streaming on Netfix decades later. My mother watched TOS when she was younger, so you would think that she would've understood that Star Trek likes being on the cutting edge of social commentary.

Anyway that was almost 30 years ago and I wish the real world had changed more in that time. I'll also add that my mom turning off the TV that day didn't stop me from eventually thinking that both Bashir and Jadzia were the best looking actors on the show. That weren't Romulans.

Thank you so much for sending me this, my friend. 💜 I hope you’re okay with me responding to this publicly (if you’re not, please let me know and I’ll take it down asap). Seriously, this message and all the other responses I’ve gotten have been really positive, so thank you! 💖

I’ve been trying to think of a reply to this beyond a simple ‘thank you,’ because I definitely want to make sure what I say is meaningful (especially given the personal nature of your message). Because this message 100000% deserves a meaningful response. This is a really important topic.

It’s nice to know I’m not alone. I mean, obviously, I’m sorry you had to go through that, of course, but thank you for taking the time to tell me about your experience. Moments like both yours and mine aren’t pleasant, but they do serve to illustrate a couple points.

I’m gonna pop them under a readmore. This is just a little dig for a silver lining to all this. Feel free to ignore if you like. I just felt rambly and had a few thoughts bouncing around in my head.

1.) Reassuring Non-Uniqueness - Almost anything you go through has been gone through before. I’m not downplaying anyone’s experiences by any means! Own your story! It’s your own! Your experiences are important! What I do mean is that if you’re looking for a solution to a problem you’re facing, there are likely a lot of people who can tell you what they did/how they faced a similar problem. You can learn from their experiences and take comfort in the fact that someone knows how you’re feeling (or at least have a pretty good idea of what you’re going through). You’re never alone. There are people who’ve been where you are and who will stand with you. (Also, you can make some pretty awesome friends in the process.)

2.) Failure To Replicate - Hatred and bigotry are obviously bad things. Do I even need to say that? Hopefully, people know that already. For the sake of my sanity, I’m going to assume people do know that. Once you get to a certain point, you start to realize that if you’re recognizing hatred/intolerance in your parents that you don’t share, while the hatred is bad, by simply recognizing that you don’t share it, that means their attempts to teach you to be intolerant like them have failed. Instead of raising their kids to be exactly like them, the goal of every good parent should be to raise their kids to be good people. As long as people keep failing to raise their kids to be hateful like them, the number of kind people in the world will keep growing. [insert “Task Failed Successfully” meme here]

I know this isn’t like...a super comprehensive essay, but I did want to toss out my two cents in case it helps someone.

...Also, on a less serious note: You’re very right, Julian and Jadzia are both SUPER ATTRACTIVE. *giggles in bisexual*

[hopeymchope]

Wonder Egg Priority finale thoughts

My Tumblr has a lot of anti-bully content, so it was probably no surprise when I began to watch and enjoy Wonder Egg Project this past spring. The series famously hit production delays that forced them to put out a mid-series recap episode, and that decision in turn forced them to push the final episode until late June. But now that the series (or at least season 1) is out there and complete, I thought I’d talk about how it all shook out in the end as well as the questions it left me sitting with.

For the uninitiated, here’s a bit of the context: Wonder Egg Project deals with four middle-school teen girls who’ve undergone hardships either at home or at school or both. They all lose someone they care about to tragic suicides, and then they discover the titular wonder eggs. They get these eggs from a vending machine and then, when they fall asleep, they enter a dreamworld where these eggs hatch to reveal a young person who recently committed suicide. For that night, it is the duty of the girl who got that egg to fight and defend that suicide victim from monstrous enemies that represent their abusers and oppressors. The girls are told that if they protect enough of these victims over many nights, they will be able to resurrect the specific person they lost to suicide. But of course, if you get injured or killed in the dreamworld, it affects your body in reality as well. 

The squad: Ai, Neiru, Rika, and Momoe.

Obviously, bullying is among the topics most frequently explored here, but we also deal with so many other terrible things that people might experience during childhood and adolescence. Physical, verbal, and sexual abuse are all on the table. Coming to terms with one’s gender identity is raised. It’s a show that manages to tackle a lot of heavy subjects through the lens of what’s essentially magical girl combat. I mean, there are no outfit transformations or any of that stuff, but still.

With THAT out of the way, let me talk about how the series wrapped up.

It’s clear to the viewers that there’s a lot that doesn’t make sense during the show — it’s intentionally very trippy and ethereal at times — and there’s also a lot that raises obvious questions even if you grasp it. Where do the eggs and their connection to the recently deceased come from? How do the psychological traumas of the various egg-children manifest as monsters that can literally kill you? What’s the deal with Acca and Ura-Acca and their freaky dummy bodies? What are they getting out of this whole deal with the eggs and the girls? What do the repeated references to the “temptation of death” mean? How does access to the Egg Garden even work? Is it really possible to resurrect their dead friends? Is Mr. Sawaki a predator or a chill guy or what? Why did Neiru’s sister stab her? And so on. 

The writers could’ve opted to keep things mysterious and hazy and metaphysical for the entire run or they could’ve provided lots of explanations and tried to ground this weird story in some sort of strange logic, but I’m actually pleased that they opted to go down the middle. There are answers for many things, but not for all. And when those answers come, they typically just raise more questions as well as doubts to their validity. 

SPOILERS for the finale/”special episode” below the cut.

So, obviously the answers for Acca and Ura-Acca are centered around Frill. Frill is this interesting fusion between the artificial and the organic; her body can be injured like any regular physical body, but she’s actually an A.I. on the inside. Acca and Ura-Acca are the exact reverse of this — they’re human minds inside of completely artificial bodies. Exactly how Frill started invading girls’ minds to lure them towards suicide is kept incredibly vague, but she serves as the embodiment of the “temptation of death” that was so-often referenced in the show. Frill doesn’t really appreciate life or care about the finality of death, making her a pretty natural foe for the heroes who have spent the entire series learning to appreciate their lives and bemoaning painful losses.

Can you even believe this bitch?

Acca and Ura-Acca also have documents talking about how warriors of Eros need to battle against Thanatos, the embodiment of death, but what’s that all about? We don’t really get into it. Is Frill somehow Thanatos herself? I mean... I guess maybe you could go that route, but I sincerely don’t think that’s meant to be the case. I assume she’s just another player in the game, and she happens to have taken Thanatos’ side in things. Her artificial existence and resentment of her fathers leads her to treat death flippantly. She was programmed to be selfish sometimes, and that selfishness has ultimately manifested itself in the worst possible ways. Intriguingly, we see Acca and Ura-Acca act similarly selfish in how they drive our four heroes to risk their lives just to battle Frill. Acca in particular shows that he’ll risk anyone’s life to get to Frill, who killed both his wife and daughter. But Acca never has to risk his own life. He’s just risking other people. Both sides of the equation are treating human lives like disposable pawns in some kind of war game. 

Y’all are SUPER-SKETCH.

It’s never really clear how these eggs work. We’re told that the Accas created the eggs, and honestly, I could’ve figured as much on my own. But they don’t try to explain how the eggs can contain the souls of suicide victims or how they manifest those people into dreams, and frankly, it’s probably better not to try.

I was really shocked that the girls actually manage to resurrect their dead friends. I was 100% certain that was going to be a scam and the point was going to be about learning to move on and live for the moment and appreciate those bonds while you had them, etc. And there is some of that. Alas, the price of resurrecting those people they care about is that the people in question no longer know them or remember them. That was pretty brutal... having our heroes nearly die over and over in service of people who ultimately will no longer care about them at all. Although they did the impossible and brought someone back to life, they had to lose those people all over again. I suppose this, like much fo the finale, emphasizes that we should appreciate our relationships while they last, because you can lose them for so many reasons. Regardless, I’m not surprised that Momoe just wanted to quit and avoid getting hurt after that. It’s understandable.

There’s a lot of discussion around parallels in the last two episodes. Parallel worlds with alternate versions of the self are raised multiple times, Ai gets an awesome encounter with a parallel version of herself that really brought her emotional journey to a head, and we even have to deal with a doppleganger of Neiru at the end. This leads to the revelation that Neiru looks exactly like her formerly deceased sister... a fact that presumably was part of what drove the sister to attack Neiru in the first place. Given that we’ve already been told that they were both genetically engineered, their identical appearances don’ seem that strange. But then the finale tells us that Neiru’s one dream is “to be human,” and suddenly the characters assume Neiru was an A.I. just like Frill. That... seems like a leap to me. I mean, she was genetically engineered to lead her company and never had a family of her own; no wonder she feels inhuman! So I’m not sure if I should take this at face value.

Neiru real or fake challenge

Another thing that I don’t think we can take at face value is Mr. Sawaki’s explanation of Koito’s death. In episode 12, we meet a parallel version of Ai who actually killed herself. The big boss monster for Ai to fight while protecting Alt-Ai? It’s a dark, abusive version of Sawaki. And our Ai inexplicably assumes this monster was made from her own fears. A very bizarre conclusion to jump to when you remember that every single boss monster has been the abuser of the victim that the girls were defending in that episode. By all available evidence, the Sawaki monster should be a parallel-world Sawaki who is very much exactly the scumbag he appears to be! Notice how Alt-Ai never says a damn word about the Sawaki Monster - never asks who he is or why he’s like this, etc? She’s not even surprised. That just lends further credence to my belief. FOLLOW THE EVIDENCE.

So in the finale, when our version of Mr. Sawaki claims (via a VERY awkwardly inserted voiceover) that Koito’s death was an accident after she tried to ruin his reputation because she fell in love with him, why should I believe any of it?! The previous episode introduced me to Abusive Sawaki! Sure, we don’t have any reason to assume our Sawaki is That Dick, but we JUST learned that he’s certainly capable. Furthermore, how could Koito suddenly be the ONLY accidental death among all of the available suicide victims in the dreamworld? She shouldn’t have even appeared there if it was just an accident! Although I’d like to believe that Sawaki was someone who Ai and the girls were jumping to conclusions about based on nothing... but it sure doesn’t look that way from here. And given how the show ends things, I fear we may have a hard time learning anything else about Sawaki. Ai changes schools and runs away, there is zero comment on what happened to Sawaki’s relationship with her mom... he’s just gone now.

As the final episode winds down, we see Rika and Ai fall back into bad habits, as they all treat Neiru just like they treated the girls they tried so hard to save. Rika acts disgusted by a friend and abandons her, treating Neiru the same way she treated Cheimi. When Neiru finally reaches out to Ai and calls her, Ai ignores the call and throws her phone away, thereby ignoring her friend’s needs in the same way she ignored Koito’s when she failed to record the bullying Koito was experiencing. You might even be able to connect Momoe’s choice to walk away for the sake of self-preservation to her decision to reject Haruka and walk away, honestly. And to compound the bad news that the show gives us near the end, we skip forward months to learn that Ai, Rika and Momoe have all drifted apart. Ai is in a new school, but we don’t see her with any new friends. She’s back where she started the show.

The difference, however, is that she doesn’t seem hopeless and lonely. She seems wistful, sure, but she never seems beaten down. She still treasures the friendships she built even if they wind up fading away. So there’s still a message in here about moving on, because even if you lose a person or a connection, it will forever matter.

*insert engine rev-up noises*

In the final moments, we see Ai preparing to run in the exact same pose she used back in episode 1 when she first stood up to the abusers within the dreamworld. This time, she runs to grab her chance to reunite with a dear friend. She takes charge of her own future and her own self-worth, somehow gets back into the Egg Garden (even though Rika wasn’t even allowed to enter after she rescued her specified victim, so uh... how did Ai get back in exactly... ?), and insists she’s going to use the eggs to see Neiru... even though the eggs only let you see the dead up to this point, so uh, that doesn’t really make any sense either. Consistency, motherfucker — DO YOU USE IT?

Amidst all the uncertainty that the finale left us with, at least we can see Ai find herself in a more confident place. She spends much of the series learning to stop running from her problems in the real world. Even after she gains confidence in the battles of her dreams, she struggles to face reality. It’s a huge step when she returns to school. Yet even in the very last episode, she opts to run away to a new school rather than cope with seeing Koito each day. But at last, she decides to take charge of her reality and try to reunite with her new best friend, Neiru. She’s wavered on her path, but ultimately, she’s grown. Although you could simultaneously argue that she’s failing to learn the lesson that rescuing Koito should’ve taught her...

“Ai Ohto is BACK!”

I don’t think any of us expected this finale to be a cliffhanger coming into it.  And unfortunately, we don’t know if there will ever be another season or a movie or anything. Given how people reacted to this finale with such overt hate, I really don’t expect anything more. And I think that would be a goddamn shame. Even with a finale that doesn’t quite stick the landing, I still found it fascinating and engaging. The series is more than worth the trip for the characters, for the themes and topics it explores, and even for the fluid action scenes and music. And this is a series that was made by first-time writers and a first-time director! Yet I’d easily call it one of the best animes from the past couple of years. For total newcomers, that’s a goddamn TRIUMPH.

So I hope we reunite with these girls again. I hope Ai manages to get the band back together, find out exactly what’s going on with Neiru, and face down Frill. Even if they never wind up in some ultimate battle with Thanatos, I don’t know that that’s the point. All of us are in a battle with Thanatos every single day, after all. They just need to show how they’ve all gotten stronger together and truly overcome the “Temptation of Death” by beating back Frill (and her ridiculously powerful dreamworld bug-people) as a unit. 

But maybe that’s too obvious and simplistic of a message for a show like this one. Maybe this complex ending centered on the main protagonist’s self-actualization and the value of fleeing relationships is more in keeping with the melancholy nature of the series. 

... I still really want to see the more obvious happy ending, though. I think they deserve it.

[bedbellyandbeyond]

Wolfman’s Dilemma

(Story Post)

Dax was still at work when Wano called him, so he called the doctor’s office to ask if someone could check on his partner before he could get home. Reid volunteered to make a house call as soon as he heard about Nathan's incident. Nathan was still shaken by his partial transformation. He had gone to lie down after a shower like Wano had suggested, but he couldn't rest well. When Reid did arrive, he sat with him in his bedroom and Nathan had a hard time explaining to the doctor exactly what happened because he didn't want to try to remember. “Well, this all sounds like it would be pretty upsetting, so I understand this isn't easy for you,” Reid comforted, after receiving all the details he could. “But if you think about it, this could be a sign of progress.” “No, I know…” Nathan mumbled, wrapped up in a blanket. “I just don’t like the connotations. If my anger is what made that happen, then that could mean I'm very dangerous. More so than ever.”

“We don't know that,” Reid stated, rubbing Nathan's arm. “We don't truly know what caused any of this to happen and unfortunately, yourself and Wano were the only ones witness to it.” “So, then what? Am I supposed to try to make it happen again?” Nathan asked. “Well, not if you don't want to,” Reid explained. “But, it might be best to keep an eye on you for a week or two in case it does occur again involuntarily.” “So, you mean staying at APID,” Nathan sighed. “Even when I'm off wolf cycle…” “I consulted with Dr. Aias before coming here and that was their suggestion, yes,” Reid admitted. Nathan rubbed his forehead. “I guess it's not really a cycle if I start turning into a wolf thing in the middle of the day on off days…” “Again, it's your choice, Nathan,” Reid insisted. “Camilo's coming by as well to talk to you as this pertains to your case. He might make other suggestions for you.” Nathan nodded. His phone went off and he checked it. “Dax just got off work and he's coming straight home…” “That's great,” Reid commented. “And your language suggests the relationship is pretty serious. I'm glad it's working out.” “My language?” “Aye, you said he's coming home,” Reid said. “You have separate residences, don't you?” “Yeah, well… I can't handle the twins on my own, it's too much, and I don’t know what I was thinking when I offered for Wano to stay here,” Nathan said. “Dax has been…the glue keeping this hell house together and keeping me from going insane. I don't know what I'd do if he wasn't around.” Reid smiled and shook Nathan's shoulder enthusiastically. “See? I knew you two would be good for each other. Aren't you glad you went for it?” Nathan chuckled lightly. “I suppose I am… I guess I just didn't feel like I deserved someone new yet… And I feel bad dragging him into this whirlwind of a life I have right now.” “Nathan, you're a bit too selfless,” Reid commented. “Dax wouldn't be with you if he didn't want to be. The people around you are around you because they like and care about you.” “I know, I know… I just...” Nathan sighed. “No, you're right.” “Anyhow, I can stay until Dax or Camilo arrives, however long you'd like,” Reid said. “Wano seems to be doing well with the twins. Is he a good babysitter?” “Yeah, they love him,” Nathan said. “I think it might be maybe the depth of his voice? I don't know. He follows instruction well enough and he loves to play with them. Maybe he'll be a good dad… Did he explain why we got into an argument?” Reid nodded slowly. “Aye… Trying to make a wee one before he's gone. I can understand your frustration. Wouldn't want that happening under my roof, if I had one.” “Right? I get that he's an adult and he can do what he wants, but also I'm partially responsible for him because I'm letting him stay here,” Nathan said. “If Jeffrey gets pregnant, I have no idea how that'll complicate Wano's case to stay here.” “Well, at the end of the day, these really are things that should concern Wano himself more than you,” Reid reminded. “You’re doing a really nice thing, letting him stay here with you but you don't have to shoulder all his problems. They're not yours and you're not his father.” “I know, you're right,” Nathan sighed again. “I just want to see him get to stay here. He's worked hard to stay. He's improved a lot.” Reid smirked as he observed Nathan. “You know, the wolf might have something to do with this. Sometimes animals who've just given birth will adopt newborns of other species, even if they're an animal they'd usually pray on, like a lioness adopting an oryx, or vice versa, a chicken adopting a kitten. Only for you, your adopted newborn is a full-grown adult alien from another planet.” “I can't help it if he has the emotional intelligence of a twelve-year-old,” Nathan said. “But it's even more reason he shouldn't be having a kid!” “You can't make that decision for him, though,” Reid said. “And you can't make that decision for Jeffrey either. At the very least, one of them has experience as a parent…” “From what I've heard though, his cousin does most of the caregiving…” Nathan mumbled. “Och, you need to stop concerning yourself with them,” Reid said. “You can put your foot down about what goes on in your house, but outside of that, you can't be meddling in their business.” Nathan nodded. “…I bet Jeffrey’s pregnant already anyway…” Reid rubbed his back. “Come downstairs for when Camilo arrives. Eat something. I’d like to see the wee twins again. How're they holding up?” “They're alright…” Nathan said getting up. “I probably should feed them, but Grace refuses to nurse unless she's a pup, but she bites me…” Reid followed him. “Do you pump?” “I do, but they refuse to take bottles from me,” Nathan said. “Dax? Wano? No problem because they have no other choice. But me, all they want is tit. Am I going to have breasts my whole life now?” “We can worry about that later, and you can take my word from personal experience that breast tissue can be dealt with,” Reid assured, chuckling a bit. “Ah, right… Yeah, I guess,” Nathan considered. “Anyway, Wano should be playing with the twins right now… He lets them bite his arms and legs and stuff because he thinks it'll toughen them up but I'd rather he didn't normalise it… I'll show you.” “Aye. Please.” They got downstairs and Nathan broke up the playfighting so Reid could take a look at the twins. They both turned to human for him which he was a bit unhappy about because he really liked to study their animal sides, but he acknowledged that it was good training that they remain human in the presence of strangers. Camilo arrived a little later and they talked in the kitchen while Wano showed off the twins to Reid in the living room. Nathan explained everything he could to Camilo about what had happened. “That is a very new development indeed,” Camilo commented as he took notes into a tablet. “We haven't seen any kind of half transformation like this… Have you asked Nari yet if he knows of werewolves like that?” “He's away on a vacation right now,” Nathan said. “I don't want to bother him with this at all until he's back…” Camilo nodded. “I understand… Well, right now since this is a one-time incident, I don't know that there's much we can do. But, now that we know it's possible, I'd ask you and those around you to video document this type of transformation if it should happen again.” “So, you don't think I should be watched?” Nathan asked. “Well, I don’t know that it's absolutely necessary, but if that's what you want, you could stay a few nights at APID,” Camilo considered. “It's up to you.” Nathan shook his head. “I want to stay home... But only if you really think it's safe.” Camilo patted Nathan's arm. “You didn't hurt anyone, you just transformed. Since having your wolf cycle nights at APID, we haven't observed any violent behaviour at all, only a bit of protective behaviour towards your kids.” “Dax said the wolf bit Dr. Aias once,” Nathan said. “Ah, well yes, but that was just because they needed to draw blood,” Camilo acknowledged. “Wasn’t that the night of Wano’s incident?” “Yes, it was…” Nathan sighed, not enjoying the thought. “Right, it’s possible you could tell your friend was in trouble that night and you were restless. Wolves have exceptional sense of smell. You might’ve smelled blood,” Camilo hypothesised. “You're really okay. Seems as long as the wolf is well fed, they don't hunt.” Nathan exhaled. “Okay… Yeah… Thanks.” “Don't worry,” Camilo assured him. “Your support system is great, and we aren't afraid of you. Everyone is here to help you.” “I get it, I just wish I knew someone else who was going through all this like me,” Nathan said. “I at least had Kent for a hot second, but now I have no one… My kids aren't even the same as me They just transform whenever they please.” Camilo pursed his lips. “Well, maybe you're not alone…” Nathan perked up. “Is there someone else? With APID? Another werewolf? Or were-anything?” “Well, no… I just meant, um…” Camilo waved a hand. “Well, you know, there's the wolf we caught on your bodycam that night.” “Oh." Nathan frowned. “But they attacked me. I still have the scars.” “Yes, but if we tracked them down, we might have answers for you,” Camilo suggested. “Well, maybe… I don't, know. I feel like we tried that lead and it got me nowhere. And pregnant.” “Yeah…” Camilo folded his hands. “But if we could find someone with a similar affliction as you willing to talk with you, you would want that, right?” “Yes, if it's possible, yes,” Nathan said. “The only person I know that's as close to my condition as me is Dax but his thunderbird situation is still very different.” Camilo nodded. “Okay. Can you come in for a meeting tomorrow? I want us to talk more about your options, but I also want to consult with Korsgaard about some stuff beforehand.” “Yeah, for sure,” Nathan said nodding. “Honestly, I talk to you so much, I forget Korsgaard’s my actual case worker…” “Yeah, he does do a lot of work behind the scenes, but he's looking into potentially retiring soon,” Camilo admitted. “I think he's holding out until Maya's grown.” “I get it,” Nathan said. “Do you think you'll take his place?” “Honestly, I don't really know,” Camilo said. “I mean, I like it, and it's been great work while I've been in school, but once I finish my PhD, I might look around… I want to stay at APID though.” Nathan smirked. “PhD classes, a job like this, and a baby at home? Are you sure you're only human?” Camilo smiled sheepishly and rubbed his neck. “I'm just trying my best…” “I could never…” He motioned to the living room where Wano was flexing with the animal twins gnawing on his arms. Reid was just sitting by, taking notes of his observations. “I can't imagine trying to get through my masters when I was your age if I had these two on my hip…” “Should we do something?” Camilo asked worriedly. “No, Wano likes it,” Nathan said. “He calls it ‘warrior play’. It's been really difficult trying to train bite inhibition and I’m so tired all the time, it's easier to just let them do whatever exhausts them…” “I see. It'll take time,” Camilo said. “Have you talked to Yori about it? They might not be exactly the same, but there's likely some issues he's had with the triplets.” “Yes, trust me, Dax has learned a lot from having the triplets in his class,” Nathan recounted. “The very first day of school, Skylar bit a kid that touched her granola bar and later Marco ate his own homework. We've been in contact with Yori's partners, because the kids just seem to fall in line for Yori without much trouble.” “Oh, I see…” At that time, the front door opened, and Dax came inside looking worried. “Nathan, I’m sorry I couldn't leave sooner!” Nathan got up from his seat and went over to hug Dax around the waist. “It's okay. Reid and Camilo have been here to talk to me.” “Ah, good! Are you alright?” Dax looked over his partner for traces of the transformation described to him over the phone. “You look okay, but are you?” “Yeah, I'm fine now,” Nathan said. “Talking to these guys has calmed my nerves a lot and the transformation didn't last more than a minute.” Dax nodded. “Good.” He kissed his forehead. “I’m glad you're okay. And the twins are alright?” “Yep, they're still their usual selves,” Nathan said, motioning to the pair now climbing onto Wano's back and jumping off like goat kids. “I think if anything, my transformation made them excitable.” “That probably makes sense, I think,” Dax said. “Reacting to your transformation I mean.” Reid got up and came over. “Nathan, if you don't need me any longer, I should probably head out.” Nathan nodded and shook Reid’s hand. “Yes, thank you for coming over on such short notice.” “Don't mention it,” Reid insisted. He patted Dax's arm. “Good to see you too, Dax.” “Likewise,” Dax said politely. “Drive safe.” “Aye.” Reid headed out the door. “I should probably get going too,” Camilo said. “Nathan, can we get you in for a meeting first thing at ten?” “Yeah, sounds good,” Nathan confirmed. “I'll see you there.” “Alright, see you,” Camilo said going to the door. “You take care of him, Dax. We're trusting you.” “Don't you worry, I'll be here,” Dax assured. Camilo smiled and waved. “Bye!” “See you tomorrow,” Nathan said as the assistant left. Dax went to see them off and then made sure the door was locked properly before going back to his partner. “Tomorrow, would you like me to join you?” Nathan looked at Dax and contemplated it. “Usually I'd say no, but if you can spare the time, I would appreciate it…” Dax smiled and kissed Nathan's forehead again. “I'll be there, don't worry.” “Thank you,” Nathan said. He took Dax's hand and squeezed it gently. “I appreciate you so much.” “Also on the phone,” Dax recalled. “Wano said you got upset because he’s trying to make a ‘legacy’ with Jeffrey.” He motioned the air quotes. “Do you want me to talk to him about that?” Nathan sighed, glancing over to Wano, now rubbing both twins’ bellies. “No… At least not tonight… Just let him be. It’s not our business at the end of the day. I made it clear though that he can’t have guests here without permission.” Dax nodded and gave Nathan a proper kiss this time. “You’re going to be alright.” “Thanks. I hope so…”

[crystalninjaphoenix]

Wyvernlair

Fantasy Masks AU: Chapter Three

A JSE Fanfic

Ta-da! Another chapter! :D This is the one I was talking about, with a lot of worldbuilding and new characters. It’s also one of my longer stories, and I had to cut out a scene near the end, but don’t worry, you’ll see that next time. Now that Chase is officially part of the Masked Phantoms, it’s time for him to get to know the layout of Wyvernlair, meet new people, and learn new things. So get ready for a whole lot of all that. Hope you guys enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

It was clear that Jackie was eager to have someone new to show around Wyvernlair. He led the way, pointing out important features of the camp. Most of the center area was taken up by tents for people to stay in. In addition, there was an area dedicated to cooking, with campfires and stacks of pots and dishes, a wide, clear area for people to practice sword fighting and other combat, and a large space for storage.

All this was fairly normal for any camp. Or at least, that’s what Chase figured, considering he’d never been in a camp of any kind. But he was pretty sure that the massive skeleton made Wyvernlair much different than any other camp. Every bit had been planned around the bones embedded in the ground. The tents were encircled by the dragon. The cooking fires were dotted around the leg bones. The combat field was spread out along the wings that extended out from the rest of the body. And the storage was inside the oversized ribcage, canvas stretched over the gaps to keep out the weather.

Inside the ribs was the most incredible place Chase had ever been. He kept his head craned upward, following the curve of the ivory bones, each one big enough that it would take three full grown men to encircle it. The storage inside the ribcage was much less impressive in comparison, though he did have to admit he’d never seen this amount of weapons, armor, parchment, and foodstuffs in one place. Not to mention all the miscellaneous items as well, like lanterns and chests for storage.

“Oh, you need a jacket!” Jackie suddenly said, bringing Chase back to the conversation. “You can take one of the communal ones, over here.” He grabbed Chase’s hand and pulled him to the side of the ribs, where the chests were full of various clothing, each labeled with types and sizes. “Unless you’re a cloak person?”

“Uh, no, I...jackets are good,” Chase said dazedly.

“Great! What are you, a five?” Jackie waited for Chase to nod, then headed over to the appropriate chest. “We don’t have that many fives left...a lot of people have measurements around there.” He flipped open the chest lid. “Um...yeah, there’s just one. Hope you like yellow.” After a bit of rummaging, he pulled out a dull flaxen jacket and tossed it in Chase’s direction.

Chase fumbled for a bit before catching it. It was a fairly normal jacket, and he quickly pulled it on. Autumn in the mountains was not a time to walk around without one. He’d been chilly all through their walk.

“Alright, all that’s left is the skull,” Jackie said. “I don’t know how often you’ll be in there, but it’s good to—”

“I’m sorry, I’m still caught up on the fact that I’m inside a dragon skeleton,” Chase interrupted.

Henrik, who’d been following the tour quietly and letting Jackie do all the talking, suddenly burst into laughter. “I told you. It is shocking, isn’t it?”

“Well...yes!” Chase looked back up at the curve of the ribs above him, slowly shaking his head. “I heard dragons were large, but I didn’t really...picture it, before this.”

“Technically, this is not the skeleton of a full-blooded great dragon,” Henrik said.

“What?”

“The dragon that most people think of, with four legs and two or more wings? That is a great dragon,” Henrik explained. “I’m sure you noticed this one only has two legs; it was likely a wyvern/great dragon crossbreed.”

“Hence the name ‘Wyvernlair,’” Jackie added.

“What’s the difference?” Chase asked.

“Wyverns only had two legs and larger wings. They walked a bit like birds do,” Henrik continued. “And they were usually much smaller. There are some accounts of humans riding them. So this was either an abnormally large wyvern, or it was a crossbreed with the great dragons. Which, yes, could grow as big as this, but that was not so common.”

“Elders,” Chase muttered. The fact that there were once creatures as large as this roaming the land, big enough to encircle half a town...it made him glad they weren’t around anymore.

“It was really lucky that we found this place,” Jackie said. “Not because of the skeleton, but because of its location. There are no trees growing near the bones, so we have room to spread out, and we have our backs to a rock wall, which makes it more defensible.” He paused. “Anyway, the last part on our tour is the skull, and then we can set you up with a tent. Oh, actually, the spare tents are kept here. Let’s grab that now.”

“I get my own?” Chase said, surprised.

“Of course, we have plenty to spare,” Jackie said casually. “We brought a whole bunch up, but recruitment has been slow.”

“Nonexistent,” Henrik muttered. He reached into one of his belt pouches and took out a small flask, taking a quick drink.

“Well...yes,” Jackie admitted. “But let’s go, we’re almost done!”

The skull was just as massive as the rest of the skeleton, with wicked sharp teeth as tall as Chase. He stared at them as Jackie and Henrik led him around to the back, where there was a slight gap where the skull met the spine. They passed through that gap and ended up inside. Much like the ribs, the skull had been converted into a room, with canvas blocking the eye sockets and nasal cavity to make a rough roof. This wasn’t as large as the storage, but it was still at least three times as large as Chase’s cottage. There were more chests in here, and a few rickety desks where people—masks always nearby—sat, reading and writing on parchment. They all glanced up as the three men entered the room, then looked away.

In the middle of the skull was a large circular table, made of solid, dark wood and surrounded by chairs. Various maps were spread out on the surface of the table, held down with weights.

Chase glanced at the largest map, and immediately recognized it as a map of the kingdom of Glasúil. A detailed one, too, covering almost all of the island. The Dragon’s Teeth mountains ran down the center, with the smaller Northaven range branching off to the east, along the northern shore. The Southern Moors were present, slowly merging into the sea. Rivers and forests he’d never heard of crossed the parchment, and each major town and city was represented by a labeled black dot. The only part of the map left blank was the area to the west of the Dragon’s Teeth, which simply had “Wyldwood” written across it.

“Oh hey, you like the maps?” Jackie asked, noticing Chase’s attention. “We use those for planning stuff. A lot of strategy and meetings happen here. This is also where we keep all our records and sort through all our messages with other Phantom locations. Since you’re part of the group now, you’ll eventually go on missions, and if that’s the case, you’ll have to write a report and deliver it here.”

“Missions?” Chase repeated. His head was starting to swim a bit with all the new information.

“Well, if you want to,” Jackie said awkwardly. “I mean, you could stay here and do medicine with Henrik, or be part of our administration—”

“Administration?” This time, Chase laughed a bit when he repeated the word.

“Organization is very important,” Schneep emphasized. “There are a lot of us, and we do a lot of things. If we have no organization then we do not know what we’re doing!”

“Yeah, and those things we do are...missions,” Jackie said.

“Alright, what kind of...missions?” Chase asked.

“Depends. We might need to investigate someplace, or something, or someone. We might need to go in and stop an act of injustice, or rescue people who’ve been hurt.” Jackie paused. “If...if we’d heard about the King’s plans for the mountain villages to burn, then we could have...shown up. In time.”

Chase felt his stomach twist at the mention of the burning villages. There was guilt in Jackie’s voice; he clearly felt awful that the Phantoms couldn’t do anything to prevent that. “Well.” Chase took a deep breath. “I guess we’ll have to make sure things like that don’t happen again.”

Jackie nodded. Henrik placed a hand on his shoulder, and that seemed to steady him. He drew himself to his full height and stiffened his posture. “Exactly. The King may think he can get away with any of this, just because of his position. But the people will not stand for it. We will not stand for it. As long as his actions cause death and damage, we will work to remove him.”

For a moment, Chase was in awe at the resolve Jackie showed. He wasn’t that physically intimidating, being almost a head shorter than Chase and a head and a half shorter than Henrik, but he had a commanding aura. Maybe the strength of his conviction was catching. “Exactly,” Chase said. “That’s—that’s what I want to do.” His simple statement sounded lame in comparison.

Jackie smiled. “And that’s why we’re so glad to have you.” He relaxed a bit, looking over at Henrik. “And if Schneep likes you, then I do, too.”

Chase couldn’t hold back a laugh. “I-I’m sorry? What did you call him?”

Henrik’s expression fell. He took his hand off Jackie’s shoulder and pushed him with his shoulder. “I told you, stop using that.”

“But it’s so fun to say,” Jackie said cheerfully. “Chase, did you know that Henrik’s surname is Schneeplestein?”

Chase fought to stifle his giggles. Now he remembered that particular fact from his first meeting with Henrik. “That’s—well, I’m sure that’s a usual surname in Alterde—”

“It is not,” Henrik said wearily. “It sounds just as ridiculous over there. Go ahead, laugh about it. Get it out of your mind now.”

“No no, I’m fine, I promise.” Chase coughed a bit, clearing his throat of laughter. “At least you have a surname.”

“Ah, it is common to have one where I am from,” Henrik waved away the comment. “I know here it is a nobility thing, but not in Alterde or its neighbors.”

“Really?” Chase said, interested.

“Really. And it is much easier than your family names,” Henrik said bluntly, turning to leave.

“Hey! Wait for us!” Jackie took Chase’s hand and the two of them followed Henrik out of the dragon’s skull.

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

“Chase? Are you awake?”

The first thing Chase heard when waking up was someone calling his voice. Instinctively, he rolled over and stretched his arm to the right. Only to be met with nothing but empty space. Oh. Right.

He opened his eyes to a canvas wall and ceiling. He’d gotten his tent yesterday, and Jackie had shown him how to set it up in a spot near the dragon spine. From there, the rest of the day had passed slowly. Awkwardly, too, as Chase didn’t feel up to approaching any of the masked people who were part of the Phantoms. It felt...strange. Like he was constantly intruding on something. So he just spent time in his tent, and when dinnertime rolled around, he showed up to get some stew from the cooking fires then went off to eat on his own. Eventually, the sun set, and he figured that was time to go to bed.

“Chase?” The voice called again.

“Henrik?” Chase asked, sitting up and wiggling out of the bedroll he’d been given.

“Oh, you are awake. Can I open the flap?”

“Go ahead.” It wasn’t like he was indecent or anything. He was actually still wearing his clothes from the day before. Maybe he should check out the storage, see if they had anything else he could use.

Henrik pushed open the flap of the tent and ducked inside, pushing his owl mask up onto his forehead. “Ah, good. I have something for you.” He held out a folded piece of parchment.

Puzzled, Chase took it. “What is this?” He asked as he unfolded it.

“Well, now that you are a Phantom, there are some things you need to be familiar with,” Henrik said. “Jackie put together a schedule for you for today.”

Chase silently looked at the words. He blinked. Then squinted. Then looked back up at Henrik. “Um...I’m sorry, but I...can’t read this.”

Henrik didn’t even have a response for that. “You...cannot read?”

“I can, but only a little,” Chase admitted. “I know the alphabet and numbers, but as for words, I can read what I’m familiar with. Food, animal names, archery gear. Things like that.” He trailed off into a mumble, somehow embarrassed. Reading had never been an issue before. Everyone in town knew enough to get by. But now, he wondered...was that not normal?

“That’s okay,” Henrik said, picking up on Chase’s tone. “Jackie was the same way. We had to teach him.” He chuckled a bit at the memory. “I will explain, then. After breakfast, you will meet with Nemet in the infirmary, she will give you a basic medicine check. To see what you know and fill you in on anything you need. Then you will head down to the tip of the tail, and meet a man there called Tripp. I understand you do not know that much about magic, so he will give you an overview. Then there will be lunch, and then you will head to the combat field to start training with Holly and Lukas.”

Chase started. “What was that last name?”

“Lukas,” Henrik repeated. “You will probably be working with him more, since you seem inclined with bows, and not closer combat.”

“Right.” Chase nodded. That name sounded familiar, like he’d heard it recently...

“Then come back for dinner, and I will check up on you,” Henrik continued. “And by then, hopefully you will know what you want to do most in the group. Medicine, organization, and such. And we will get you a temporary mask.”

“So, why masks?” Chase asked. “I like the idea, but...why? Who came up with it?”

“Oh, the mask concept was Jackie’s idea, but the animal part was added by—by someone else,” Henrik said. There was an odd pause there...was he going to say something else? A name, perhaps? “We wear masks so people will not recognize us. Many of us have friends and family who would be at risk if the King’s people knew we were working against him. Like, for me. You know I am a traveling doctor, yes? Well, when I met you last year, I was already working with the Phantoms. Can you imagine what would happen if someone recognized me as a rebel?”

Chase shivered. “Yea, I can.” If the King was willing to burn down the mountain villages for an unknown reason, what would he do to find one of the rebels? With that thought in mind, he slowly stood up. “So...I’ll get started, then. Meeting with all these strangers.”

“Do not be nervous, Chase,” Henrik said gently. “Everyone new we find has to go through something like this. And these are some of our best people.”

“Thanks,” Chase said. “That’s good to know.” Still, his stomach was slowly tying itself in knots as he headed towards the cooking fires, about to start the day.

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

After a quick breakfast of toasted bread—light, but with those stomach knots, still hard to get through—Chase headed up the gentle slope towards the infirmary cave in the rock wall. Slipping through the flap in the canvas, he found it unchanged from the day before, when he’d been discharged. Nobody was inside, except for...

“Ibis?” Chase asked.

“Hello, Chase.” Ibis smiled at him. Her mask was off, revealing her features and round, dark eyes for the first time. “It’s good to see you again. And please, my name is Nemet.”

“Oh! Oh, I’m supposed to meet with you.” That explained why she was standing near the entrance, she was waiting for him.

“Yes, yes.” Nemet nodded. “Henrik has told me to give you a basics in medicine.” She turned and headed towards the back, indicating he should follow. “Come, come. This shouldn’t take too long.”

Nemet had set three chests on top of each other, making a sort of rough chest-height table. On top of the flat surface of the chest-table were a series of bottles and bags, each one neatly labeled. “Here. These are some of our common tonics and medicines we use here. Tell me what you recognize.”

Chase considered the layout before him. There were probably about thirty in total, if he had to guess. “This is for colds, right? And fevers? And this one, too. And these dried leaves, they’re for nausea. Oh, and this will put you to sleep if you put it in water or stew. This is a salve, also for fevers. And this is a balm for sores. And this will stop infection on cuts and scrapes. And...that’s what I know.”

“Impressive,” Nemet nodded.

“Really? That’s only a fraction of the total,” Chase said doubtfully.

“Most people who join up only know redleaf, bainruish, and seedbane.” Nemet indicated each medicine as she listed them. “Fevers, cuts, and...well, I’m sure you know what seedbane is for, even if you said nothing. You are married, after all.” She laughed as Chase slowly turned red. “Ah, my apologies. The point is, you are ahead of most others.”

“Do we really need all of these?” Chase asked, quickly moving on.

“Oh, yes. You know that when people gather together that sicknesses spread easily. Many of these will help to cure a specific disease, while others are a general tonic, like redleaf.” Nemet paused, then picked up about ten of the medicines and put them on the floor. “Henrik says you are not so much caught up on magic, so we will leave these ones out of our discussion for now.”

Chase started at that. The concept of mixing medicine with magic made him...uneasy. He may not know that much about magic, but he knew it could be dangerous. “I was wondering, Nemet, what did you do before you joined the Phantoms? I know Henrik’s a traveling doctor, are you the same?”

“Not exactly.” Nemet shrugged. “I was a student of medicine back home.”

“And where was that?”

“A land called Kha’Nyphthis.” Nemet grinned a bit at Chase’s confused expression. “You would not have heard of it. It is to the south, on another continent, but not the same continent as Henrik’s Alterde. We have great schools and libraries there, the best in the world. I was learning to become a doctor, and had almost finished my schooling, but one of the final requirements was to learn the medicine of another land. I chose here, Glasúil, because you are well-known for your medicine. But then I arrived, and saw the state of things, and...ah, well.” Her expression fell for a moment.

“I’m...sorry,” Chase said awkwardly. “Do you...ever think about going back?”

Nemet nodded briefly. “Of course. I have family, friends. But I cannot just abandon things. It’s not in my nature to leave things unsettled.” She took a deep breath, and moved on. “But as for your basics in medicine, let me start by getting you familiar with the ones you didn’t know.”

It was a while later before Chase left the infirmary, his head feeling stuffed with all the new information Nemet had drilled into him. Already, some of it was starting to slip away. And he immediately knew that he could never be a doctor. If these were the basics, he couldn’t even begin to think about what would be required to complete the training to become one.

But he didn’t have time to let all that new knowledge sink in. Judging by the sun’s position, it was getting close to noon, and to lunch. He still had to meet up with someone else before it was time to eat. So he hurried onward, running along the curve of the dragon’s bones, following them as they got smaller and smaller, until they eventually merged into the packed ground. Chase slowed to a stop and looked around, confused. This was the end of the tail, wasn’t it? So...where was—

“Hey you’re the new one, right?”

Chase yelped and spun around. A man was sitting between the spine bones of the dragon, almost unnoticeable in the shadow between them. “Yeah, that’s me,” he said slowly. “Are you, uh...Tripp?”

The man nodded, hopped to his feet, and walked over to Chase. Standing up, he was short, even shorter than Jackie. He wore a dark brown cloak that reached his knees, and of course, a mask. This one was shaped like a ram’s head, complete with curved horns, and the black symbol on the forehead was actually four different symbols arranged in a diamond formation. After a moment of looking at them, Chase realized they were the suits often used on playing cards. How...odd. The man reached up and took off the mask, ruffling his golden brown hair and revealing dark eyes. “Tripp, son of Seamus,” he said shortly. “And you are...?”

“Chase. Son of Brody,” Chase said automatically. “Henrik told you I was—”

“You’re not up-and-up on magic and need a course, yea,” Tripp interrupted, swinging his mask around his finger. Chase took a step back despite already being far away. If that went flying, those plaster horns would do some damage. “And he asked me to do it ‘cause I’m our second best guy.”

“You’re the—?”

“What do you know already, Brodyson?” Tripp continued. “Ever met a magic-wielder?”

“There were a handful in town—”

“Sorcerer, wizard, enchanter, oracle, witch?”

“I...what?” Chase blinked. “I...think they were all sorcerers.”

“How many?”

“Only a handful, about six or seven?”

“For a village of four hundred or so people?” Tripp laughed. “Everyone must’ve been magically impotent.”

“Could you slow down?!” Chase snapped. “I thought you were supposed to teach me about magic, not make fun of me for not knowing anything!”

Tripp paused. Then grinned. “It’s just banter, Brodyson. I didn’t mean offense. But hey, you called me out. Good on you for that. My apologies.” His grin faded. “But I’m not jokin’ about that. There should’ve been at least four times that number of magic-wielders in a town that size. What happened? Were the seekers bein’ lazy for the past few years?”

“...Seekers?” Chase repeated, puzzled.

Tripp looked up at the sky. “Oh, elders. They haven’t been showin’ up at all, have they? If you don’t even know about them—alright, we’ll start from the beginning, then.” He sat down on the ground, folding his legs under him. Slowly, Chase sat down across from him. “You know of the five branches, right? I’m pretty sure everyone in the world’s at least heard their names.”

“Yes,” Chase said, nodding. Wizards, sorcerers, enchanters, oracles, and witches. He mostly heard about them in stories, and was especially fuzzy on the details about those last three.

“A common mistake people make is thinkin’ these are all different things.” Tripp started drawing in the dirt with his finger. “When really, all magic is the same. It’s like a tree—just because each branch might look different, doesn’t mean they don’t all come from the same trunk.�� And, in keeping with that metaphor, he drew a rough outline of a tree with five different branches. “All magics can work with each other, and there’s a lot of similarities in between them. For example, do you know the difference between wizardry and sorcery? They’re the two most well-known of the branches.”

“Um...if I’m being honest, I’d always been under the impression that wizardry was more powerful,” Chase said tentatively.

Tripp snorted in disbelief. “Some wizards would like to think that. But no. More varied, yes. But not more powerful. Here, it’ll be easier if I go over them all one by one.” He started to draw symbols by each of the branches, starting with a crude stick figure. “Sorcery is the most common magic besides witchcraft. It crops up in people at random. If you got twenty-five people in a room together, one would probably be a sorcerer, even if they didn’t know it. Its source is inside the person themself. And what it does is manipulate the world. Like...this.”

He pressed a flat hand against the ground next to him. After a moment, the dirt started to move. Then suddenly, pillars of rock shot through the dirt, rising from underneath the surface. Chase gaped as the solid stone started to twist, winding around each other to form a braid of rock. Then Tripp removed his hand, and the rock froze, as if it had never been moving in the first place. For a moment, Chase was stunned, then he managed to ask, “S-so you’re a sorcerer, then?”

“Exactly,” Tripp grinned. “Why d’you look so surprised? You said you knew sorcerers before.”

“Well...yes, but I hadn’t...seen their magic too much,” Chase admitted. He remembered one time when Gwen, the weaver’s daughter, had pulled water out of the well. It just streamed out of the depths and sailed right into her bucket. But occasions like that were few and far between.

“Hmm.” Tripp scrunched his face up, thinking. “Well, besides that. Each branch of magic has its strengths and weaknesses. Sorcery’s strength is that it comes from within. As long as a sorcerer doesn’t drain too much energy, they can use their magic forever. And its weakness is that you need a material to manipulate. Like just now, I reached down and pulled rock up from underground. But there’s a limit to the range where your magic can affect things.”

Chase nodded. “What about wizardry, then?”

Tripp sketched a rough outline of a necklace next to another branch of the tree. “Its strength is its variety. Wizards aren’t limited by what things are present, they can conjure out of thin air. But its weakness is in this: the ‘focus.’” He tapped the necklace drawing. “Unlike sorcery, wizardry doesn’t come from within. Wizards are channelin’ it from outside, from the layer of magic that coats the world. But to do so, they need a specially-made thing called a focus. It’s usually a necklace, ‘cause that’s handy, but it can be any shape, as long as it’s made the right way. These dragon bones, for example. They’d be real good to make focuses with.” He knocked on the nearest bone. “About one in fifty people are able to channel wizardry.”

“And now we reach the end of my knowledge,” Chase mutters. “What’s the next most common?”

Tripp paused. “Enchantment.” The image he drew in the dirt now was a misshapen lump. “Damn. That’s supposed to be a brain.”

“Ah. Right. Because enchantment is the magic of the mind, isn’t it?” Chase recalled, casting his memories back to the stories he’d heard that included enchanters.

“Hmm. Yea.” Tripp pursed his lips. “How do I explain them...Well, strengths. They’re the only magic that can work with your mind. Illusions, talking in your head, things like that. But as for their weaknesses, enchanters can’t change the world for real.”

“Is it true that enchanters can control your actions?” Chase asked. “There’s a story, the Dark Damoen—”

“The crazy old man who made Erinthold worship him as a god? That’s a famous one.” Tripp nodded. “Well, it’s true. Some could change your thoughts and make you do things you wouldn’t. But that takes a lot of power, and besides, most enchanters are decent people, like all the rest of us. It’s just that we remember the bad ones because they shock us. And only about one in a hundred people are enchanters, anyway. Don’t worry about it. There are a few Masked Phantoms who are enchanters.”

Chase nodded slowly. The thought of the old story sent shivers down his back, but he should probably trust the magic-wielder. He clearly knew more “What about...the oracles?”

Tripp drew a symbol of an eye in the dirt. “Those are the rarest one. You only get an oracle one in a thousand, if you’re lucky, and they’re not usually that powerful. You’ve probably heard that they issue prophecies of what’s to come, or that they might even be able to manipulate time itself. Well that’s all bullshit.”

“Wh—” Chase was so surprised at the frankness that he choked on his own gasp. After a few moments of coughing, he continued in a hoarse voice. “What do you mean?”

“Oracles can’t manipulate time, that’s the most insane rumor goin’ round about magic there ever was,” Tripp stated. “They get visions of what’s most likely to happen. It’s not for sure, and really, most oracles are wrong. But huge strength there, knowing the most likely future. And it comes with a big weakness. A couple, actually. One, they have to speak their visions out loud while it’s happenin’. It’s a magic...what’s the word?” He snapped his fingers for a bit. “Compulsion. That’s it. They’re literally forced to do it, can’t stop that. And two, the visions are all they can do. They have no other magic. And because of that, some say that oracles are cursed, not gifted.”

Chase thought about that. If he had the choice, would he take knowing the future for being forced to share it? Maybe. Maybe if he knew what could happen next, he could stop terrible things. Like...his heart panged, and he shied away from the thought. No, that didn’t sound too bad. People would also know what the future held, what of it? He’d take that risk.

“And the last magic,” Tripp said, snapping Chase out of his thoughts. “Witchcraft. It’s actually the most common.”

“Really?” Chase said doubtfully.

“I bet you’re goin’ by the stories, where witches are old people that stay in shacks and give out potions,” Tripp said, drawing a bottle next to the final branch. “But really, the magic of witchcraft isn’t in people, like all the others. It’s in the land. It’s part of the world’s magic. Plants with strange properties, the parts of magical animals...these can be mixed together to create amazing effects. And anyone could learn how to do it. In fact, most of us here have.”

Chase suddenly remembered earlier, how Nemet had put away some of the medicines during their meeting. It was because he didn’t know much about magic...“Wait, you mean anyone could make potions? Become a witch?”

“Well, not anyone,” Tripp muttered. “If you have magic of your own, you can’t learn witchcraft. The knowledge just slips away, and if we try anyway, nothing works, even if it should. You can’t use more than one magic. It’d be like tryin’ to hold onto every single branch of a tree.”

“If the tree was small, though?” Chase joked.

“It’s not. The magic tree is big, and the branches are the type where you need to hold on with both hands,” Tripp said firmly.

“Oh. I...see.” Chase cleared his throat. Clearly, using more than one magic wasn’t something to make light of. It was too impossible. “And...what about those seekers you mentioned earlier?”

Tripp was eager to move on. “Seekers are wizards that can sense the presence of magic. What’s supposed to happen is that these seekers are supposed to stop by every town twice every year. In practice, that’s faded away. Most towns only see them once a year, and the farther away you get from Suilthair, the less often you’ll see them. My town where I grew up, they came by every three years. But if you don’t know what they are, then...have you ever seen them?”

At that, Chase had a vague memory of a group of strangers visiting Hilltown when he was a child. They were dressed finely, and the image of an elaborate brooch one of them was wearing flashed in his mind. The next day, Hanson, an old friend of his, announced to all the kids that he was going away for ‘special school.’ “Not in years. Long enough for me to forget what they are.”

Tripp huffed. “I bet it’s not worth the effort to come all the way up here. Bunch of nambies.” He rolled his eyes. “Seekers are employed by the royal family. They find young magic-wielders and offer to give them schoolin’, to learn how to use their magic. Schoolin’ that’s funded by the crowns. It’s not required—I never went—but it’s encouraged. Otherwise you might end up having magic shootin’ out of your—”

“Is that why most wizards side with the King?” Chase asked, remembering what Henrik said about the source of the village fire.

“Part of it. But wizards especially have a reason to keep on the King’s good side.” Tripp paused. “Those focuses I told you ‘bout, that wizards need to use their magic? The crowns fund the makin’ of those, too. And the sellin’. And everything about them.”

“Oh.” Chase’s eyes widened with realization. “So...if a wizard decided to oppose the King, then there’s a chance that...they wouldn’t have access to a focus anymore? And...their magic?”

Tripp nodded. “That’s why most of us magic-wielders in the Phantoms are sorcerers and a few enchanters.”

“No oracles?”

“Oh, elders, no. You heard how hard they are to find. Wish we had some, though. That’d be helpful.” Tripp stretched his arms, then stood up. “Anyway, that’s all I have to say. You got it all?”

“I think so, yes,” Chase said slowly. He looked up to the sky, mentally reviewing everything he’d heard. Sorcery, wizardry, enchantment, oraclulary, and witchcraft. All very different, all with things they could do and limitations that slowed them down. That made sense. He nodded to himself...and then noticed the position of the sun. “Shit!” Chase shot to his feet. “It’s noon! I have—after lunch, I—”

“More meetings, huh?” Tripp raised an eyebrow, then pulled his ram mask back on. “Let me guess...Lukas and Holly? Better hurry, Brodyson. Not good to be late for those two.”

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

Chase swung by the cooking fires to grab some food, then hurried over to the combat fields, along the dragon’s wings. Originally, he wondered if the wing bones would get it the way, but apparently the dragon had died with its wings spread out as far as they could be, leaving ample room in between the bones. The packed dirt was lined with targets, crude dummies made of sacks of hay tied to sticks, and racks of wooden training weapons. Occasionally there were random chests or tents set up to create obstacles to fight around. As he ran out onto the fields, he passed many people, some sparring in groups, others practicing on their own. None of them paid him any mind.

Now that he was here, he wasn’t sure where to go. The fields took up all of the space cleared by the wings, which was, as it turned out, quite a lot. Maybe he should have asked Henrik for descriptions of the people he’d be meeting with. Feeling his nerves eating away at his stomach, he turned to the nearest person, and asked, quietly, “Excuse me, I’m looking for Lukas and Holly?”

The person turned around, looked down at him, and smiled. “Oh, it’s you! You’re the new one!”

“Um...yes,” Chase said slowly. It was just now occurring to him how...big this person was—this woman was, actually, judging by her voice. She towered over him, and her sleeveless tunic showed off the muscles of her tattooed arms. Strange to be wearing no sleeves in the chill mountain air, but she probably wasn’t bothered.

“I’m Holly.” Her smile widened. “Daughter of Rose.”

“Oh!” Chase blinked. That name didn’t fit her at all. But alright, he wasn’t one to say anything. “Chase, son of Brody.”

“Lovely to meet you.” Holly grabbed his hand and vigorously shook it. She wasn’t wearing her mask, but it hung around her neck. A bear. And the symbol on its forehead was the same as the one on Jackie’s wolf mask: a circle with two dots inside.  “Me and Lukas, we’re in charge of combat up in Wyvernlair. Speaking of which...” She turned around. “Luke! He’s here!”

Chase leaned around Holly to look at who she was addressing...and suddenly felt cold, despite his jacket. Now he remembered where he heard that name before. While he’d been sick with the shivering in the infirmary, he’d overheard a conversation between Jackie and a man in a fox mask. That man had wanted to throw him out of camp, but Jackie had refused...and now, Chase was staring at that very same man.

“I can see that,” Lukas said shortly. He was facing a series of targets, and didn’t turn to look at Holly and Chase. Instead he merely took another arrow from a quiver on his back, nocked it on his bow, and shot. The arrow flew straight into the center of the farthest target, which was barely the size of a hand spread wide.

“No you can’t, you didn’t even look!” Holly scowled, and turned back around. “Sorry about him, Chase. He’s been snippy.”

“Well I wouldn’t be snippy if I hadn’t been standing out here for an hour, waiting for someone who didn’t bother to show up on time,” Lukas snapped.

“I’m not an hour late,” Chase protested weakly. Even behind the fox mask, Lukas’s expression was twisted with frustration and annoyance.

“It’s a matter of principle,” Lukas said, finally turning to face Chase. When he did, Chase noticed the symbol on his mask for the first time: an X, with a dot to either side.

“Let’s just get into it,” Holly said, folding her arms. “Now, Chase. You’re a hunter, yes? So you have some experience with shortbows.”

“I can shoot, yes,” Chase agreed. “But I’ve never heard the term ‘shortbow’ before.” Lukas rolled his eyes, a motion that was partially hidden by the mask but still visible enough for Chase to catch.

“It means a smaller bow, in comparison to Lukas’s massive beast of a longbow over there.” Holly gestured towards Lukas’s bow; it was almost as tall as him. “Shortbows are better for mobility and closer range, while longbows are more suited for staying stationary and shooting long distances.”

“Ah.” Chase nodded. That made sense; bigger bows were more powerful, but also harder to draw back and move around. Amabel once tried to shoot Chase’s own bow when she was seven, and couldn’t pull the string even a little.

“I’m assuming you’re a fairly good shot,” Holly said, rubbing her chin. “So you’ll probably need to work with me more. I’m in charge of close-range combat, while Lukas handles the long range, with bows. So if we’re to—”

“Hold on a moment, Holly,” Lukas interrupted. “I want to see what he can do.”

Holly shot Lukas a dirty look. “There’s no need—”

“Of course there is. We should know what our starting point is.” Lukas turned and walked towards a nearby weapons rack, picking out a smaller shortbow and a quiver of matching arrows. He headed back to the others and thrust the tools at Chase. “Show me how well you hunt.”

“...alright. I will.” Chase took the bow and quiver slowly. He didn’t like being tested, especially not when the test was proposed by a man who clearly thought he was some sort of spy for the King and might be looking for an excuse to kick him out. Should he pretend to be worse than he actually was? No, that would just be complicated. He’d shoot normally.

He stepped up to the place Lukas had been standing, facing the targets, and strapped the quiver onto his back. For a moment, he examined the bow. Solidly built. Looked newer than the one he used back home. And had these odd curves...was this a recurve model? He’d heard of them, but never used one before.

“Soon, please!” Lukas called.

Holly promptly hit him on the back of the head. “Take your time, Chase! Don’t worry!”

Chase nodded. His mouth was suddenly very dry. But he swallowed his nerves, adjusted his stance, and nocked an arrow. He hit it against the back of his head in the process of taking it out of the quiver—not being used to wearing it on his back—and glanced back at the two watching to gauge their reactions. Holly looked supportive, but Lukas was unreadable. He looked away again.

There were ten arrows in the quiver and ten targets set up in front of him. He must need to hit all of them. So he drew back, aimed, and let loose the arrow.

Ten arrows.

Five of them hit the closest targets. Two of those hit their target’s center.

One hit the edge of one of the farther targets.

The remaining four missed.

Feeling a sinking feeling in his stomach, he turned back to Holly and Lukas.

“Wow. That was the most utterly average thing I’ve ever seen,” Lukas said bluntly.

“You hit more than I can!” Holly said positively, giving him a short round of applause. “That’s great!”

Chase nodded silently. “I...I’m not used to this bow.”

Lukas hummed. He went to collect the arrows, giving Chase a side-eyed look as he walked past. It seemed as though his suspicions hadn’t been assuaged. If anything, he looked even more wary.

Holly walked up to Chase and clapped a hand on his shoulder. Chase promptly lost his balance from the force of the contact, and Holly helped him right himself. “Sorry about that,” she said. “And sorry about Lukas. He’s just...he has a hard time trusting people. I’m sure you’ll win him over.”

“It’s fine,” Chase said distantly. “I mean, not everyone’s going to immediately welcome someone new into a group like this. You need to keep secret. There are risks.” Still, Lukas’s distrust, combined with his mediocre shooting skills, left him feeling a bit down. Like a cloud passing over the sun, everything just seemed...disappointing.

Lukas returned, arrows in hand. “Do it again,” he said.

“Elders and Sisters, Luke, we don’t have all day,” Holly protested. 

“He needs to practice,” Lukas said, stone-faced.

“He needs to start with me! You can’t handle all your problems from a distance, especially in our situation. What’s he to do if a King’s man jumps him from behind and all he has are arrows?”

“It’s fine,” Chase repeated. He rubbed his arm; they hadn’t given him an arm guard, and despite the jacket fabric, his skin still stung from the bow string. “We have until dinner.”

Holly gave him a look, but sighed and stepped back. “One hour of shooting, then it’s my turn.”

Lukas nodded. “Deal.”

Chase sighed a bit, and took the arrows from Lukas. It was turning out to be a long day.

[franniebanana]

CQL Rewatch - Episode 12

So, we start this episode with our heroes having to give up their swords. I like that with everything he’s been through, Lan Wangji doesn’t put up a fight here. He willingly gives up his sword without any resistance. It’s the smart move: he’s already injured, the Cloud Recesses has been nearly destroyed, his brother is missing (and in the book, his father is also dying). And it stands to reason that Jin Zixuan is the one who protests—his clan so far has been protected from the Wen Clan: they are wealthy, they certainly are a large clan, and they have the resources to keep the Wens at bay, seemingly.

“Though I am disgusted with Wen Chao, I’m not gonna bring any trouble to our family during this time.” Welp. That was short-lived. I think this thought of his lasts for about 12 hours before he can’t take any more of Wen Chao’s shit.

As if regular Wen Chao wasn’t horrible enough, now we get sleazeball Wen Chao. This is, of course, important later, that he takes a liking to MianMian. She’s essentially marked from this point on. But can I say that I love how she’s the one who steps up to assuage Wen Chao, rather than the Jin Zixuan? She steps up like a boss, takes Wen Chao’s gross comments in her stride, and stops her master from making a big mistake.

And it’s nice to get some actual character development for Jin Zixuan too. Prior to this, we know he was engaged to Jiang Yanli, but had no interest in marrying her. He basically acted like a big dick, without any real redeeming qualities. But now we see that he is not interested in going along with the Wens’ indoctrination, even though his dad told him to just be a good boy. Brings in the theme of the younger generation wanting to pave their own path. The older generation (the majority of the clan leaders) end up being pushed aside. Their ways don’t work against the Wens. A lot of our heroes (I use that word lightly in some characters’ cases) end up being forced to grow up really fast here—they come of age as they are literally fighting a war. They form identities on those battlegrounds. Idk what I was saying, I started to ramble.

And just as a side note, Wei Wuxian kept glancing at Lan Wangji throughout that scene, maybe searching for a reaction, maybe an opening to speak, maybe just wanting Lan Wangji to look at him—seeking that connection. I think he is desperate to find out what has happened since they parted in Qinghe.

Ugh, Jiang Cheng, I couldn’t care less about your little crush on Wen Qing! Stop being so emo about her! Seriously, this is the dumbest thing they added into Untamed. This stupid “romance” that amounts to nothing and really adds nothing to either character, especially Wen Qing. Omg but imagine if they had gone with their original plans to make Wei Wuxian hook up with Wen Qing—the drama between him and Jiang Cheng! Or maybe this was the compromise. Like, “we need to make Wen Qing the romantic object for one of the boys…hmm…who should we pick…Eeny meeny miney mo….” I hate it, really. I don’t give a damn about the comb or the eventual life of loneliness that you have ahead of you, Jiang Cheng. Just stop. You’re not marriage material—you’re not fit for that, okay? You get to be a grumpy uncle, at best.

This will never not be funny to me. The absolute gall he has here, to gleefully volunteer to recite, and then to decidedly recite the wrong principles. But see what I mean about him immediately causing trouble? He’s looking for a window to talk to Lan Wangji and he finds it in misbehaving and forcing a punishment onto himself. It’s as if he’s fine behaving and being a good boy for the Jiang Clan, unless something is going on with Lan Wangji, which it most certainly is. More fuel for the fire for Jiang Cheng, I’m afraid, more proof that perhaps Wei Wuxian values Lan Wangji just a little bit more than him.

Also, everyone’s reactions here: Jiang Cheng is pissed (of course), Nie Huaisang is bemused (“Oh, you rascal!”), Jin Zixuan seems to be impressed (“You go, girl!”), and Lan Wangji…I think this is the first time that Lan Wangji actually looks at Wei Wuxian. They don’t make eye contact, but he looks up, and as his eyes flick back down, it’s as if he’s uttering a silent “thank you.” It’s such a quiet moment, juxtaposed to Wei Wuxian noisily reciting the Gusu Lan principles. I think Lan Wangji is just so appreciative here to know that he isn’t alone. He may seem alone—his clan lost many, his brother is missing—but he is most certainly not alone, because Wei Wuxian is here too. I’m getting all emotional now.

Okay, now they’re making eye contact, hahaha! Do I think Lan Wangji is a little annoyed that he has to cart shit around? Probably a little. But I actually think that he’s more annoyed that Wei Wuxian might be making things harder for them all in his desperation to have a talk with Lan Wangji. Like I said, Lan Wangji appreciates that Wei Wuxian is with him, making him feel that he’s not alone, but he also doesn’t want to make things worse. His clan is in a bad state right now, and at this point, he has to still be concerned that if they go too far against the Wens, that could come back and spell bad news for their families. Wei Wuxian has already forced that issue to the back of his mind, because he’s so focused on finding out what happened at Cloud Recesses. I can understand why Jiang Cheng is pissed, since Wei Wuxian told him he’d keep his head low, and he’s currently doing the opposite. More tension, I love it!

It’d be really easy to look at this scene and make it all about wangxian and how Lan Wangji loves Wei Wuxian so much and would do anything for him (this is, of course true), but that’s not what this scene is all about. It’s about three out of the five major clans seeing how oppressive the Wen Clan is, it’s about standing up for what’s right, even if it looks like you’re going to lose the fight. Jin Zixuan could have kept his head down and continued to shovel shit, but he didn’t. He stood up and used all the clout he had to try and put a stop to the abuse that Wen Chao is doing against Wei Wuxian. At this point, we know that Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian will help each other out—it’s happened before, it’s not news (not that I don’t fucking love it), but Jin Zixuan, who up until this point has had a pretty poor relationship with Wei Wuxian, didn’t have to do anything, but he did. He knows this is wrong, he can see what the Wen Clan is doing is wrong, but he’s mostly powerless to stop any of it. His threats are inherently empty, but nevertheless he tries. It doesn’t mean he likes Wei Wuxian, but it does mean that he knows Wei Wuxian is right to stand up to the Wens.

I love this. All of this. Lan Wangji putting himself between Wei Wuxian and Wen Chao, only to be whipped aside, and then getting up (on his broken leg) and doing it all over again. Just like Jin Zixuan, he’s literally standing up to injustice, but it’s different, right? It’s different because this is Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian, two people who’ve been through dangerous situations together, two people whose beginning was extremely rocky—but they are two people who grew to understand and need each other. I don’t think either one of them could pinpoint that need, but I think it’s there, just below the surface. Lan Wangji could never stand aside and watch Wei Wuxian be abused, and the same is true for Wei Wuxian. Right or wrong, they have a desire to protect each other. Because, like I said before, I think Lan Wangji knows they are all treading on thin ice right now. He’s seen his home destroyed and he likely doesn’t want the same thing to happen to Wei Wuxian. I would be amazed if he wasn’t thinking about that right about now—how will my actions affect him? Nevertheless, he won’t stand by and do nothing, even if it means taking that risk.

I also kind of wonder what Jiang Cheng would do here. I feel like he would try to protect Wei Wuxian (he does so later with his mother), but at the back of my mind, I still feel like Jiang Cheng has this deep resentment of Wei Wuxian that is always hiding just below the surface, just waiting to show itself. Wei Wuxian got himself into this mess, and maybe, in Jiang Cheng’s mind, he deserves the punishment. And that’s not to say that Jiang Cheng would agree with the Wen Clan, because obviously he does not, but part of me thinks he might be thinking, if only a flicker of a thought across his mind: “Serves him right.” I have a dark fascination for Jiang Cheng—I don’t want him to ever really be a good person hahaha.

Can I just point out that Lan Wangji never lets go of Wei Wuxian here, and it is a thing of beauty.

Until this moment, of course. Wen Chao asks if Lan Wangji wants to join Wei Wuxian in the dungeon, and 100% Lan Wangji was ready to do just that until Wei Wuxian stops him. He makes the decision to be taken alone. He doesn’t want Lan Wangji to get in any more trouble. He’s got to realize by now that Lan Wangji was taken to Qishan by force and probably finds that idea disturbing at the very least.

The look on his face really kills me here. Again Lan Wangji is in a situation where he is powerless. This is just like back at the Cloud Recesses. He fought—yes, he fought with everything he had, but in the end, he couldn’t stop them. He had to give up the Yin Iron shard, he had to go with the Wens to the indoctrination. And here is again: he tried to stand up to them, but ultimately he’s forced to give up and live to fight another day, as they say. And if you look at Jin Zixuan, he’s visibly annoyed—he feels like he shouldn’t be treated this way, that his standing in the Jin Clan should protect him from this. Lan Wangji, though? He looks defeated here. Not fall-on-the-ground-sobbing-defeated, but definitely defeated. He wants to do more, but realizes that he can’t. This whole mini arc for him is like one battle with himself after another. He’s struggling to find what exactly is his place in this world, what’s his place with Wei Wuxian, what’s his place in his own clan.

This fucking dog. I hate this. I hate that they went with practical over CG here. It looks so bad. Has anyone reading this seen Neverending Story? Yes? Okay, that’s what this reminds me of. 1980s special effects, but this was made in 2018. My friend and I are watching the series together (yes, I have two simultaneous rewatches going), and she likened this to Xena: Warrior Princess special effects. I think that’s pretty apt—1990s television, extremely cheesy and hokey. Honestly it ruins the whole scene for me. Xiao Zhan’s acting is great here—he is terrified of that fucking semi-animatronic dog at the other end of that cell. Although, I commented to my friend, if that had been a puppy, Wei Wuxian would have been just as terrified. I definitely relate. Dogs scare me—a lot sometimes. I had several dogs jump on me as a very young child and I’ve really never recovered. That doesn’t mean I don’t like dogs—I like them a lot! But I wouldn’t choose to be around a wild, poorly behaved dog. Like, just no.

Also, since I’m not really commenting on Wen Qing/Wen Ning stuff (because it’s mostly padding to me), but Wen Ning just wants to have friends! Wen Qing is coming from a good place, yes, but he has no fucking idea why she won’t let him talk to Wei Wuxian, a man who he clearly looks up to from the little interaction that they’ve had together. Honestly, I really wish they had kept in the archery contest when Wei Wuxian sees Wen Ning shooting arrows (I know they kind of moved it, but it’s not the same).

Wen Chao is really just trying to stop Wei Wuxian from actually breaking down this cheap-ass door. Seriously, it looks like it’s supposed to be rock, but it’s moving quite a bit. Now I’m just being mean, aren’t I? Honestly I love the low budget stuff (Mystery Science Theater 3000, anyone? I mean the good one. Not that crap that they put out recently), and I’m just poking fun.

Oh, my gosh, I just had a funny thought. How did Wen Chao know that Wei Wuxian was afraid of dogs? Maybe Jiang Cheng told him hahahaha. I mean, not like you’d need to be afraid of dogs to be terrified in that situation. It was a funny thought, in a dark way.

So I took this screenshot to set up a contrast. Lan Wangji is relieved to see Wei Wuxian alive and well, and in pretty good spirits for someone who spent the night with an enormous mythical-like dog. He doesn’t say anything—he just watches.

Jiang Cheng, on the other hand, at first is relieved to see Wei Wuxian, but he quickly pushes him away when Wei Wuxian attempts to make physical contact with him. This isn’t the first time. He did that in Lotus Pier as well. He doesn’t hesitate to brush Wei Wuxian off. I know that Jiang Cheng cares about Wei Wuxian—I know that—but he cares less about Wei Wuxian than he does about other things, like his family. There’s a distinction for him. Yanli, his mother, his father—they are all his family. Wei Wuxian was practically raised as his brother, but it’s clear that he doesn’t see him as a brother at all. He sees him as a subordinate, someone who should listen to him and report to him. I don’t think his anger here is that Wei Wuxian could have been killed, I think it’s more that Wei Wuxian could have caused the Jiangs trouble.

There’s a poignant sense of a loss of their youth here. So much has changed, and it’s changed for the worse. The sense that they took so much for granted is palpable. It’s really sad. And it’s not played for laughs at all. They all miss those days back at the Cloud Recesses when they goofed off, learned a lot, embarked on a journey to find the Yin Iron shards, a journey that ultimately was the root of all the chaos that they are currently living in (again, within CQL verse). I like how it’s just Jiang Cheng, Nie Huaisang, and Wei Wuxian who are actually having a conversation, but they keep panning over to Lan Wangji as they fondly remember their time in Gusu. Like the land he lives in, he has changed too. His scope of the world is so much bigger now: it’s not just about rules anymore, and who’s following or not following them. There are worse things than bringing Emperor’s Smile into the Cloud Recesses.

So Wen Chao has laid it all out before them now: Cloud Recesses has been taken over, Qinghe is going to be taken over, Jin Clan is cooperating but will be attacked if Jin Zixuan steps out of line, and Jiang Clan could be next. Jiang Cheng is obviously upset about the prospect, not to mention Wen Chao called his father a coward. It’s nice to see Wei Wuxian, who only a few hours ago was on the other side, trying to restrain someone else. But he knows now that the Wens are not above anything—murder, torture, absolute destruction—and Wei Wuxian is one of those people who doesn’t mind harm coming to himself, but cannot abide harm coming to others, especially those he is close to. But Wei Wuxian is obviously pissed too, and it’s taking every fiber of his being to resist the urge to lash out again. He understands now: they need to watch themselves during this indoctrination.

There was a time when I might have turned a blind eye to Jiang Cheng’s remarks here, when I might have assumed he was coming from a place of concern. This is not that time. Wei Wuxian is so caring, so kind, so welcoming, and Jiang Cheng is just none of those things. He is very much a person who places his own safety (and his family’s safety) above anything else; he is a person who doesn’t really get it when they say on the plane, “put your own mask on first before assisting others” because he would literally never not put his own mask on first. Know what I mean? And I think the concept of working together here, seeing the Gusu Lan Clan as allies, doesn’t phase him. He’s like, it’s us or them, and he chooses us. And this is all logical, but I’m only saying it because that’s not what Wei Wuxian is about. Wei Wuxian’s “us” includes the Jiang Clan (yes), but it also includes Lan Wangji, Nie Huaisang, and the other clans that are being held ransom by the Wens.

And I still say that Jiang Cheng is continually jealous of the attention that Lan Wangji receives. He wants to be the most important person in Wei Wuxian’s eyes—he is the future clan leader, after all. He wants Wei Wuxian to support him and him alone. He doesn’t understand this loyalty to another clan, especially someone like Lan Wangji, who he still thinks dislikes and disdains Wei Wuxian.

I love their faces. I love how genuine Wei Wuxian is here. I love how he asks several times how Lan Wangji’s leg is. I love how Lan Wangji stoically answers each time that he’s fine. And I hate that the episode ends right here lol. Look at that smile, though! How could you say no to that smile?

Other episodes: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 |

[tarhalindur]

Rebellion’s Biggest Outstanding Question

(Big fat PMMM+Rebellion spoilers under the cut, natch:)

Homura, at the end of Rebellion, believes that she is rebelling against Madoka’s will.  But is she actually doing so?  Or is she acting in accordance with it?

Let me explain.

I’ll start with the point I’m sold on either way (and have commented on at least twice before, including my explanation of Madoka’s other big mistake): Rebellion is directly downstream of Madoka making a single mistake immediately after her ascension in episode 12, a moment when she could not afford to make any mistake at all.  Much like Madoka’s other big mistake in episode 10, this one is not obvious on the surface and only becomes clear when looking at the events through a symbolic lens.

Specifically, a Buddhist symbolic lens.

I’ll leave the full explanation there to this post, which lays out the Buddhist influence on base PMMM’s themes and imagery and on Madokami’s ascension better than I could.  (Although its author is missing a few points.  First, the shot of Madoka expanding to galaxy size is DIRECTLY out of ego death symbolism.  Which makes sense, because there’s enough accounts to suggest that regardless of whether or not it has any deeper meaning beyond brain chemistry the people who’ve had it are describing a single class of subjective experience, and “one’s consciousness expanding to the size of the galaxy” seems to be a common feature of it - I’ve read at least one account of that kind of experience from, of all people, a random Protestant minister who claims to have had such an experience on a vision trip to the Amazon and only later realized that there was precedent for that kind of experience in Buddhist traditions, and he mentions that exact expansion as part of what he went through.  Second, the flower on Madoka’s bow is a rose, not a willow... which makes sense, because “Guanyin/Kannon and the Virgin Mary are two aspects of the same goddess” has been a theory in certain parts for at least a century, and the rose has a traditional association with the latter goddess - there’s a reason they call it the rosary, after all.  (I’ve seen speculation out of a few polytheist/less orthodox Christian circles I keep tabs on that Pistis Sophia is yet another aspect of the same goddess, too...)  Third, note all the mandala symbolism floating around - most obviously Walpurgisnacht’s appearance and Kyubey’s exposition in episode 11.)

And that influence is important here, because part of the process of the escape from samsara is the breaking of all karmic ties to the world.

Except... Madoka does not do this.  She leaves one karmic tie behind.

This one, to be precise:

Now, in theory it’s possible that the tainted miracle of Homura remembering Madoka has another root.  But I have my doubts, and the biggest piece of evidence there is the OST: the track that plays when Homura meets Junko in the finale and offers to give up the ribbons is named Taenia Memoriae, aka “the ribbon of memories”.  HMM,

(That Junko scene is in this regards the single most enigmatic scene of the main series finale to me.  My instinct is that it’s drawing off of Christian mythos again, either canonical or Gnostic, but I can’t quite place what piece; I kind of want to compare it specifically to the Denial of Peter.)

Now, there’s two other pieces here that are worth noting.

1) While Homulilly is described as the Nutcracker Witch in Rebellion, Homulilly’s name and Witch card are first revealed in the PSP game, and there she goes by a rather different epithet: Witch of the Mortal World, nature is karma.  Which is rather on the nose (the Mortal World [shigan] being another term for samsara), but then that’s probably by design - main series PMMM is not subtle at all when it wants to make a point.  And it is this epithet, not the Nutcracker Witch, that the Doppel versions of Homulilly in MagiReco draw off of, which suggests the staff considered it important.  (There’s a second distinction in the latter, because Moemura’s version of the Doppel implies that Homulilly’s nature was originally slightly different again - Witch of the Mortal World, nature is closed circuits - but I think for our purposes here this is a difference without true distinction, much like the Witch of the Near Shore pun for swimsuit!Moemura’s version of Homulilly.)  And there’s echoes of this even in Rebellion: the Clara Dolls are of course referred to as the Children of the Mortal World, plus of course the obvious “Homulilly’s Rebellion barrier as the Mortal World” take.  (Which, hmm.  Hello second-order symbolism - Homura failing to “break out of the egg” as failure to escape the cycle of samsara.)

2) The red ribbons of course suggest a very specific form of karmic tie - the Red String of Fate.  And you can be very, very sure that the staff intended that, too.  To drag a certain piece of key animation back out from storage:

While it’s hard to tell at this size, it sure looks to my eyes like the two ends are specifically tied around the girls’ pinkies.  You know, exactly where the proverbial Red String is said to be tied.

Or, to put it another way: AI YO.

Everything in Rebellion is downstream of this.

But all this is prologue.  Now that we have established the mistake, we can address the actual outstanding question: Did Madoka intend to make that mistake?  People have noted the applicability of Junko’s comments about intentionally making a big mistake when backed into a corner to Homura’s actions in Rebellion; do they also apply to the action Madoka took that led to that?

I am not sure.  Both cases are consistent, and I’d put about even odds either way.  But it’s the affirmative case I want to lay out here, to show that it does in fact exist:

- Let’s start with the one point someone else might bring up that I don’t really weight: Madoka’s final conversation with Homura in the flower bed.  This one, I think, can mostly be discarded.  We have word from both Kyubey and Sayaka that Madoka does not have her memories here; I can’t see both of them lying here.  (Also remember that Kyubey seems to have restriction that is sometimes said to apply to demons, at least under certain circumstances: he cannot directly tell a lie.  This is of course a very different thing from having to tell the truth, as episode 9 alone is enough to attest, but in this specific case it’s a boost to his credibility.)  If there’s an actual argument here, it’s a second-order one; it is possible, especially given her divine abilities, that Madokami was running a Xanatos Gambit and counting on her amnesiac projection to unwittingly relay her true feelings.  (In which case I would have to grab a certain infamous line from another well-known anime: “Just as planned”.)

- That one shot of Madokami’s gloved, scarred arm reaching down through the window to touch Homura.  Operative word scarred.  (And honestly, looking at one of the subs for that scene again Madoka’s comments there look potentially consistent with her actually supporting of or at least accepting Homura becoming a demon...)

- Mata Ashita, specifically the lyrics thereof.  With the perspective of the full series, Madoka’s character song is fairly clearly from the perspective of Madokami, and it’s suggestive that she is not entirely happy with the results of her wish and ascension.

- The fact that Rebellion happened at all.  There’s a complaint that I’ve seen regarding the mechanics of the Incubators’ plot in Rebellion: logically, by the wording of Madoka’s final wish the Incubators’ plan to use the Isolation Field to block the Law of Cycles should not work, since part of Madoka’s wish was to rewrite any rule or law that would prevent her from destroying Witches with her own hands, including the one the Incubators set up with their Isolation Field - doubly so if you take Madokami’s statement can see every world that ever existed or could ever exist and apply it to the Sealed Reality the experiment generates.  Except... there is one way that argument fails, regardless of anything else: namely, if Madoka saw what the Incubators were doing and intentionally allowed their experiment to proceed.  And at this point there is precedent for her doing something very similar; AIUI in her Magical Girl Story in MagiReco Madokami does something very similar wrt the MagiReco timeline, deliberately declining to destroy it despite its continued existence conflicting with the Law of Cycles.

(- Magia.  This point of argument I’m not convinced of either, but let’s lay it out.  (Honestly, even if I’m right I’m not sure how much of this was consciously intended, but creations can have a life of their own - especially creations where fucking natural disasters delay them so that they’re released on the most appropriate day possible!)  There’s two pieces to this, one I’m more sure of than the other:

1) The visuals.  Here’s the spot where I feel most solid about interpreting Magia: the ED visuals are clearly a reference to Madokami’s ascension.  (The show loves hiding that sort of foreshadowing in plain sight, why would you be surprised?)  Note the second half particularly, both Madoka’s hair lengthening and the starfield she’s running past.  (I think the order of the four other girls in the first half is probably how long they held out without Witching out.)  That leaves two issues, one more obvious to Western audiences and one less so.  First, that enigmatic and ominous shot of Madoka in fetal position (appropriate - her request in 10 and then her wish in 12 can be rephrased as “don’t let me grow up”) in the eye of Mephisto.  Second, there’s a point I’ve seen raised in analyses of Connect: in Japanese cinematography, motion from right to left indicates a correct course (unlike its Western equivalent, where the opposite applies)... and for the entirety of Magia Madoka is moving left-to-right.

2) The lyrics.  This is the part I’m less sold on, but once again let’s lay out the affirmative.  My line here derives from a hunch: Connect is famously from Homura’s perspective despite appearing to be from Madoka’s, perhaps the inverse is also true?  I’m still not sure there, but especially if you’re considering the TV version it can work... provided the lyrics are specifically from Madokami’s perspective again.  Grabbing the wiki version of the translation: “The light of love lit within your eyes will transcend time” sure fits better if we’re talking about Homura rather than about Madoka, likewise “with this power that can break even darkness” sure sounds like a better fit for Madokami to me.  And in that case the most interesting stanza is the second: “Swallow down your hesitation.  What is it that you wish for?  With the direction of this greedy admiration, will there be a short-lived tomorrow?”  The former two lines  are quite consistent with Homura’s decision in Rebellion (and I note the visual of Homura biting down on her Soul Gem to break it!), and “tomorrow” is consistently a reference to the possibility of Homura and Madoka meeting again in other PMMM songs (Mata Ashita again, Colorful, Connect full version) - which is realized courtesy of a greedy admiration, no less.  So.  Magia’s full version might count, too - there’s lines there that are harder to square from a Madokami perspective (”if I can move forward without hesitation then it’s fine if my heart gets broken” especially), but “Someday, for the sake of someone else, you too will wish for great power; on the night love captures your heart, unknown words will be born” fits Homura’s fall better than Madoka’s wish, I think.)

- If Madoka’s mistake in 12 is intentional then it more closely mirrors her (unintentional) mistake in 10: she’s implicitly asking Homura to once again do something she can’t and stop her from/alleviate the effects of her making a mistake.

- At a Doylist level, if they go for a proper happy end (either in Walpurgis no Kaiten or in a hypothetical sequel to the same) I’m not sure there’s any way they can get there without using this interpretation.  (In general, the two outcomes that make the most sense to me are “Akuhomu becomes the core of Walpurgisnacht, cue ending scene with Moemura making her wish” (the Logic Error ending, consistent with the Eternal Return of the Self; cue MagiReco as the way out) or an ending based on the answer to this question being yes - the easy version being a movie of everyone except Homura fighting to let Madoka rejoin the Law of Cycles only for her to surprise everyone with some sort of ending based on “actually, I was counting on her to do this from the start”.)

[dwellordream]

Maybe this is too much of a risky question, so feel free to not answer if you don’t want to, but how do you think Sansa actually viewed or felt about Arya, and how do you think she will react when they meet again?

Well, our introduction to how Sansa views Arya is through her very first POV chapter: Sansa comes down for breakfast at the inn, Septa Mordane asks where Arya is, Sansa knows Arya has snuck off somewhere but claims Arya wasn’t hungry. At this point I would not say Sansa is covering for Arya out of the kindness of her heart, I would say that, in typical sibling fashion, she really just does not want to be in the middle of a Mordane versus Arya conflict. She is not so hostile towards Arya that she is willing to throw Arya under the bus at a moment’s notice, but she isn’t going to concern herself much with what Arya is off doing. This, of course, is immediately foiled with Mordane tells Sansa that Cersei has invited her and Arya into the wheelhouse for the day, and that Sansa needs to go find Arya and tell her to make sure she looks presentable for their time with the queen. From the way Mordane says, “Do remind her to dress nicely today. The grey velvet, perhaps.” I get the impression that Mordane giving instructions or warnings to Arya via Sansa is not at all uncommon, and that this probably does not at all help the relationship between sisters, if Sansa is often being asked to act as Mordane’s mouthpiece when she’s fed up and doesn’t want to deal with Arya. We then get this: The only thing that scared her about today was Arya. Arya had a way of ruining everything. You never knew what she would do. "I'll tell her," Sansa said uncertainly, "but she'll dress the way she always does." She hoped it wouldn't be too embarrassing. "May I be excused?" Sansa views Arya as unpredictable, her first POV suggests. She’s never sure what Arya is going to do, but she knows it’s probably not going to be met with approval from the people around them. “Arya had a way of ruining everything.” is point blank not a nice thing to think about your sister, obviously. Why does Sansa feel Arya ruins everything, that Arya is embarrassing to her? Well, we’re about to find out: "You better put on something pretty," Sansa told her. "Septa Mordane said so. We're traveling in the queen's wheelhouse with Princess Myrcella today." "I'm not," Arya said, trying to brush a tangle out of Nymeria's matted grey fur. "Mycah and I are going to ride upstream and look for rubies at the ford." "Rubies," Sansa said, lost. "What rubies?" Arya gave her a look like she was so stupid. "Rhaegar's rubies. This is where King Robert killed him and won the crown." Sansa regarded her scrawny little sister in disbelief. "You can't look for rubies, the princess is expecting us. The queen invited us both." "I don't care," Arya said. "The wheelhouse doesn't even have windows, you can't see a thing." "What could you want to see?" Sansa said, annoyed. She had been thrilled by the invitation, and her stupid sister was going to ruin everything, just as she'd feared. "It's all just fields and farms and holdfasts." "It is not," Arya said stubbornly. "If you came with us sometimes, you'd see." The scene is both fairly comedic, in that they are such different pages they might as not even be in the same book, and pretty much sets up what we know to expect from their dynamic. Sansa doesn’t hate Arya, but she feels that if there is one thing in her personal life (as narrow a personal life as any 11 year old has) that does not fit, that does not work the way it should, it is Arya. Arya doesn’t think like Sansa. Arya doesn’t share the same interests as Sansa. Arya doesn’t seem to care (in Sansa’s perspective) what Sansa thinks or what anyone thinks. We know Arya, does, in fact, care quite a lot about what Sansa and other people think of her, but this is not apparent to Sansa.  Sansa is thrilled at the thought of spending the day with Cersei and Myrcella, viewing this invitation as the very tip of the iceberg- she’s been betrothed to the crown prince, this is going to be her life now, idyllic rides through the countryside, court gossip, spending time in the presence of the queen herself, renowned for her beauty. Traveling in a wheelhouse is a big deal for someone raised at the isolated Winterfell. Sansa doesn’t care about the outside world, she can’t stand the thought of missing out on all the excitement going on inside. In her mind, she is verging on the precipice of grownup life. Grownup ladies sit in the wheelhouse and chat and do needlework and read to one another. They do not go tearing off into the countryside looking for rubies. But it’s not just that Arya acts ‘childish’ that annoys Sansa. It’s that Arya’s behavior does not fit the standard Sansa has been raised to uphold and to see as right and proper. Arya does not nod and go, “Sure, Sansa, let me put on my grey velvet and I’ll be right there!” Arya argues with her. The big sister! The gall. Arya refuses to put on her nice grey dress. Arya plays with the butcher’s boy, someone Sansa has been taught is not a suitable companion for a highborn girl. Arya wanders off, talking to all sorts of people, regardless of class. Sansa sees herself as well on her way to becoming a woman, but not only, in her view, does her sister act like a child in comparison, it’s that she does not even act ‘like a proper little girl’. Arya disregards the gender norms Sansa has been told must be upheld. Arya is defiant, Arya is stubborn, Arya says what’s on her mind. To Sansa, this means any social situation with Arya is a ticking timebomb. She is constantly annoyed and aggravated, afraid Arya will offend Cersei, Joffrey, Myrcella, etc. Little does Sansa know, Arya is also often on edge in these situations, feeling like she can’t do anything right, that Sansa doesn’t like her and is ashamed of her.  However, what I do not read into this initial scene, though it ends with both sisters annoyed and frustrated with one another, is genuine hatred. Arya refuses to come along, Sansa pulls the classic older sibling ‘fine, I’ll go by myself, and it’ll be lots of fun!’ hoping to use some reverse psychology, and Arya gets one last jab in as Sansa stalks off. Sansa is tearful, not because she’s going to miss Arya oh so much, but because now she’s going to have to explain where Arya ran off to, and she’s afraid it will make her look bad or that Cersei and company will think less of her for having an ‘unruly sister’. All of this is pretty realistic to the behavior of some bickering 11 and 9 year olds. Both girls are sensitive, but in different ways, which again, makes sense. Even in the midst of their fierce argument, Sansa is still giggling at Arya trying to brush Nymeria’s fur, and Arya still offers to let Sansa come along with her and Mycah. We know from Arya’s POV, moving forward, that she feels genuinely hurt by Sansa’s disapproval, that she feels the absence of a close sisterly bond, that Sansa and Jeyne’s comments of ‘horse face’ whether teasingly meant or deliberately provocative, make her feel insecure and small, unworthy and unwanted. But neither Arya nor Sansa have the skills to communicate their true feelings or exactly why they aggravate one another so much. More so, why Arya aggravates Sansa so much, as Arya is not nearly as upset by Sansa’s more ‘ladylike’ behavior as Sansa is by Arya’s ‘rebellious’ behavior. Again, I think this is fairly reasonable. They’re 11 and 9 and Septa Mordane is not at all one to be promoting conflict resolution. Ned doesn’t spend much time parenting either of them on a day to day basis as they travel south. They’ve been separated from their mother, which is a pretty big deal for two little girls who’ve never traveled before, nevermind traveled without the rest of the family. They don’t have their brothers as buffers; Sansa can’t confide in Robb, Arya can’t confide in Jon. They don’t have a ton of privacy; they’re sharing a tent or an inn bed together at night, they can’t just run off to opposite ends of the keep to get away from each other, because they’re on the road. The mundane stressors are exacerbating an already rocky relationship.  But none of this is all that out of the ordinary or odd. Neither of them has flung any major insults at the other in either’s POV so far, they haven’t had any big conflicts. What really goes on to totally change the dynamic is the Trident incident, and all the emotions tied up in that. That is not a ‘normal’ situation. That is a situation none of the kids present (including Joffrey and Mycah) should ever have been in. That is four kids wandering off into the woods, miles away from any adult supervision, two of them at least tipsy, one of them carrying a weapon. Neither Sansa nor Arya woke up that day expecting things to go that way. It is so beyond the pale that what follows is the equivalent of a nuclear bomb in the relationship dynamic. There is no way either comes out of that with anything close to positive feelings, in the direct aftermath, about the other sister. It is written that way by design. It’s not a nasty spat where some cruel things or said. It’s not a shoving match over who gets to watch TV or shower first. It taints the entire relationship for the rest of the book, and it guarantees that things ‘end’ on a bad note for the sisters, because neither has any forewarning to realize that there will be no chance for a reconciliation a few months down the line. Before that, what we see is, in my current reading, a more or less ‘normal’ sibling relationship. It doesn’t excuse the bullying Arya’s experienced growing up at Winterfell (which Sansa certainly does not recognize as bullying at the time of the first book) but it is not traumatizing and earth-shattering to the level that the Trident incident becomes. This really didn’t answer how I feel Sansa will react when she and Arya meet again, but to cut things short before I go on all night: Sansa currently believes Arya is dead. She’s not thinking of reconciling with Arya or thinking of her last months with Arya because it’s painful and what is the point? Arya is dead and she’s never coming back, in Sansa’s mind. She will never have a sister again. This seems doubly true to her, no doubt, after the Tyrell scheme falls through and she is married to Tyrion.  However, we do see her, as of Winds, befriending Mya Stone and Myranda Royce, neither of whom are people the Sansa we see in AGoT would have ever thought of spending time with. And before that, we see her doing the sort of things with Margaery (such as going hawking and racing horses) that Arya might have, had the opportunity arose, offered to do with Sansa. Sansa thinks of Arya as she’s warning Margaery about Joffrey. Sansa dreams about children with Willas, sometimes a daughter who looks Arya. That does not suggest contempt or disdain or lingering loathing, in my opinion. So I would say that Sansa’s initial reaction to meeting Arya again will be shock and disbelief, then overwhelming joy that not all her family is dead (assuming Arya is the first sibling she reunites with). I do not think it will be a cold stand-off between sisters. Arya has been thinking of Sansa too, frequently in A Storm of Swords, even. I truly hope that past the initial thrill of being reunited and the awkwardness of both of them being a few years older, they are able to speak openly and honestly about their childhood, that Sansa is able to apologize, that Arya is able to express herself, that both are able to agree to move forward together as sisters who love each other and who want to support one another.

[misssophiachase]

Thanks to the talented @klarolineagainnaturally for the gorgeous cover, I am in love with it! So, in honour of Valentine’s Day, here is an UPDATE, thank you for the love you’ve all given me so far. Let me know what you think. 

Synopsis: One wedding involving a best man and maid of honour who've grown up together but don't know quite how to reconcile their unresolved feelings.

Mr Mikael and Mrs Esther Mikaelson and Dr Grayson and Mrs Miranda Pierce request the pleasure of your presence at the wedding of their children:

The Hon Elijah Edward Mikaelson and Dr Katherine Elena Pierce

On the twenty-third of June, twenty-twenty one, 1400h at Ely Cathedral followed by a reception at Mikaelson Manor, Ely Cambridgeshire

Dress: White Tie

23rd June 2021, Mikaelson Manor, Ely Cambridgeshire - 9:39am

“Okay, less trying to manhandle the cupcakes and instead more hustle, Mikaelson,” Caroline ordered, barely slowing down in the process.

Klaus, meanwhile, was trying to be annoyed but couldn’t stop thinking how adorable she was when taking charge. He’d met her in the kitchen as directed and was already in full ‘save the cake’ planning mode. She was in her element clearly.

He was a little disappointed she’d decided to change out of the shorts and robe combination into jeans and a t-shirt but Klaus decided that it was okay if he could spend even a little more time with her. Once the wedding started he doubted they’d have much time to talk, let alone anything else.

Which was unfortunate for Klaus because he had a lot he wanted to say. Over a decade’s worth of things, in fact.

The realisation that he’d liked her since high school but was too stupid to see it.

Then falling in love with her two years ago when they pseudo speed dated and watched romantic comedies on Valentine’s Day. He’d woken up with her cradled in his embrace and Klaus knew it probably wasn’t a coincidence they’d ended up that way.

The night had been unlike anything he’d ever experienced with anyone. When she pretended like nothing happened Klaus had no choice but to deny it too. He’d been in denial ever since until now.

The previous night’s events had been playing on repeat in his mind as he tried to sleep. She stole his sandwich and then they talked, like really talked.

Then there was that whole other thing that happened before Tully ate the wedding cake. Nobody knew about that yet and given it was his brother’s wedding day it was probably best.

Too much to say and too little time clearly.

“So, what exactly are these bonbons for anyway?” He asked, removing one from it’s white box and transferring it to the cake stand.

“It’s Bomboniere.”

“What now? We can’t all be wedding aficionados,” he joked.

“They are the gifts for the guests,” she explained. “We’ll make them the cake, not overly traditional but problem solved.”

“Well, not to nitpick love,” he murmured, she gave him a look which clearly meant she didn’t believe him. “But what are you going to give the guests instead? I mean I don’t need a gift, even if my presence is a gift in itself to the happy couple.”

“Ignoring that ego, I assumed people wouldn’t notice?”

“If you mean my grandmother as well as Mikael and Esther then good luck,” Klaus shared.

“Well, do you have any better ideas?”

8.5 hours earlier

“Well, do you have any better ideas?”

“I only mean that you could kill a few of the jokes and add some more sentimental content, I realise you do have that stand-up comedian dream but I’m sure it can wait a little longer,” Caroline teased, sandwich in hand. He’d long given up hope she’d return it to him.

“Sentimental? Have you met me, Forbes?”

“Oh come on, I’m sure you have something buried way deep, deep, deep down inside.”

“Cute.”

“He’s your brother, you must have something you could share about growing up together and…”

“Well, there was that time he wet his pants when Kol…”

“Not what I meant, Mikaelson, and you know that. He’s getting married, this is your only opportunity to do this and you have to get it right.”

“So, what have you written for your Maid-of-Honour speech?”

“Oh, so now you’re going to copy me? Trust me, I don’t think you could pull off half my speech.”

“Let me guess, you are going to say something like...'the best love is the kind that awakens the soul and makes us reach for more, that plants a fire in our hearts and brings peace to our minds.'

“Did you memorise The Notebook?”

“You made me watch it remember?”

“Yeah, like two years ago."

“What can I say, cheesy lines have this annoying ability to lodge themselves in my brain, unfortunately.”

“Let me guess you’d say: a wedding is a sacrament... a joyous celebration of love and commitment. In utopia. In the real world... it's an excuse to drink excessively and say things you shouldn't say.”

“Says the girl who’s judging me but using her own rom com lines.”

Klaus realised he was trying to play it cool and quoting the Notebook and recognising dialogue from The Wedding Date wasn’t a great look. Klaus didn’t want to admit it, especially to Caroline, but he might have watched those movies a few times since.

It was ridiculous, especially given he didn’t like them..much...but they reminded him of her. He figured if he couldn’t have the real thing he’d torture himself with romantic comedies instead. Messed up, right?

“ So it isn’t true?”

“That guy had the right idea.” Of course he knew the guy was called Nick but Klaus figured he’d already embarrassed himself enough.

“So, you don’t believe in marriage.”

It was faint but he could sense the change in her tone and strain in her voice. For a split second Klaus felt buoyed, like maybe he still had a chance with her. But at the same time he wasn’t sure if he was imagining things.

“I believe in marriage if it’s for the right reasons and with the right person,” he replied, noticing her face soften slightly. “I just think the concept that the wedding day is supposed to be the biggest and happiest day of your life is wrong. It’s about the commitment, not just one day.”

“I think that’s fair, everyone gets caught up in all of the wedding festivities and forgets about the real meaning behind it all.”

“As we hunt for wedding rings in the garden and madly try to perfect our speech the night before,” he teased. “Although that part about drinking excessively and saying things you shouldn’t has my Great Aunt Maude written all over it.”

“Noted,” she chuckled. “So, maybe that’s what you need to say in your speech then.”

“I’m not sure my mother would appreciate me insulting Great Aunt Maude during the speeches, even if she will probably be too drunk to remember.”

“Not that part,” she shot back, rolling her eyes exaggeratedly. “The part about marriage being not just one day but a commitment shared for life.”

“Let’s hope everyone is too drunk to remember me saying that,” he joked. “I do have a reputation to protect, Forbes.”

“Well, maybe it’s time you stopped caring about what people think and be yourself. If there is anytime to do that it’s for your brother’s wedding.”

“You have this annoying habit of eating my food, making me watch romantic comedies and also making me feel guilty.”

“It was one sandwich, Mikaelson. If you don’t want me to eat it next time don’t add mayonnaise. As for the guilt, maybe that is just your conscience screaming to be heard in the form of a best man speech.”

“I never said I wasn’t taking notes.”

He held her gaze, a genuine smile that had been suppressed. Instead of looking away, Caroline’s blue eyes remained trained on his. It was as if there was no wedding or kitchen or mayo sandwiches. Just them. At this moment.

Klaus could pinpoint the exact moment he knowingly fell in love with Caroline Forbes, it was when she teased him about crying during the Notebook. The moment he unknowingly fell in love with her was when she rolled her eyes at him when he gave a smart ass comment during english class. Here and now, Klaus knew no one would ever compare to Caroline Forbes and that he needed to get out of his comfort zone and tell her just how he felt.

“Caroline…”

“Wow, is that the time?” She interrupted, her creamy cheeks tinged slight pink as she consulted her watch. “We should get to bed if we want to be functional tomorrow.”

Then she was gone as quickly as she’d arrived. Klaus wasn’t sure how to feel. Disappointed she’d interrupted him or relieved that he didn’t make a fool of himself.

Either way, sleep didn't come easily that night.

“Hello?”

“What did you say?” Klaus broke out of his trance wondering how long she’d been trying to reach him.

“I said, how are we going to fix the Bomboniere issue,” she pressed. “It’s T minus four hours until the ceremony starts. If only your grandmother and parents didn’t have such a keen eye for detail.”

“It’s not detail, it’s how things will look,” he drawled, knowing his parents’ motives all too well. “I’m surprised they thought a cupcake would suffice to be honest.”

“Well, Kat wanted to do a donation gift to the hospital for the Bomboniere and there was so much back and forth during the planning stages that a cupcake was a quick fix.”

“A donation gift?”

“In lieu of a gift, the happy couple donate to a chosen charity on the guest’s behalf.”

“That’s a brilliant idea.”

“Well, not to brag but it was my suggestion.”

“Of course it was,” he said warmly, thinking it was just another reason to love her for being so kind and generous. “What was their issue with a donation to a good cause? Oh hang on why am I even asking, it’s my parents, I know exactly why.”

“Well, apparently your father argued it would be showing favouritism to donate to one particular cause and given Elijah is supposed to represent all people and groups it wouldn’t be a good look.”

“Oh please,” Klaus scoffed. “That is a lie and we all know it. I love how my parents can still manipulate every situation to their benefit even years later.”

“To be fair to Kat and Elijah I think it was just easier to give in to avoid further disruption of the event plans which were already fairly delayed.”

“It’s their wedding and they should be able to choose what they want,” he growled. “Okay, I have an idea.”

“I’m listening.”

“We nominate a half a dozen different charities and it is up to the guests to choose where their donations go. Then father can’t say the bride and groom are being partial to one charity over others…”

“But that the decision is ultimately up to the guests.”

“Exactly.”

“But there’s not much time to make it happen.”

“I hate to stereotype but I’m going to,” he shared. “Men don’t take that long to get ready, with the exception of Kol, so we can get this done in time, I promise.”

“I’d like to help...”

“On the other hand, and not to stereotype, but some women take longer to get ready.”

“You’re talking about Rebekah aren’t you?”

“Apparently I am incredibly transparent too. How about I work on this and you find a cake or cupcake topper?”

“Wow, you know its name? Have you ever considered wedding planning as a new career direction, Mikaelson?”

“You tell anyone about my part in this and I will detail the almost wedding ring loss in my best man speech and that is a promise, Forbes.”

“You drive a hard bargain,” she mused, her smile widening and tugging at his heart more than he was expecting. “But I’ll take it.”

She held out her hand and Klaus was almost afraid to touch it given the feelings it would no doubt conjure up and now was neither the time or the place. He acted against his better judgment and enveloped his hand in hers.

Her skin was soft and enticing and as soon as she touched him, the feelings he was trying to ignore had made their way from bubbling below the surface to front and centre. But there was a wedding and Klaus wasn’t even sure if she felt what he did so it really wasn’t the time.

“Klaus...” the way she said it was so vulnerable and inviting and all he wanted to do was let her finish the sentence but he was also afraid at the same time. He couldn’t do rejection right now, that was for sure.

“I, uh, better get going if we are going to pull this off,” he smiled, albeit awkwardly given his heart was racing due to their unexpected contact. “We’ll compare notes in a few hours.”

He was the one to leave this time.

Klaus felt bad but at the same time he knew it was the right thing to do given the enormous job at hand.

Entering his bedroom, Klaus close the door quietly behind him. He leaned his head up against the door, willing his heart to stop racing and to return to normal so he could try and be productive. Klaus knew he needed to focus.

Then he let his eyes wander around the room. He could be messy at times but this was another level. His clothes were strewn across the whole space. Given he hadn’t packed that much, Klaus was wondering how his clothing seemed to have tripled in that time. 

Then he realised it, there wasn’t more of it, it was just cut into many pieces. He bent down and grabbed a few handfuls of material confirming the jagged edges weren’t a fashion statement but sabotage pure and simple.

Klaus knew exactly who had done it and why. Klaus knew he was to blame for her outburst, although he was certain she wasn’t that upset at the time given she couldn’t wait to get out of this ‘god forsaken place’ he’d dragged her to in the ‘middle of nowhere’ with ‘nobodies’ to ‘the detriment of her social media.’

Yes, he’d woken from a restless night after his time in the kitchen with Caroline and decided it was best to be honest and tell the truth. Klaus couldn’t in good conscience keep dating Hayley when he was madly in love with Caroline. Even if she didn’t reciprocate his feelings Klaus knew Hayley didn’t deserve that. She’d basically packed her bags on the spot while he tended to the Tully cake eating emergency. When he’d returned briefly she’d shut herself in the adjoining bathroom and wasn’t ready to talk.

Looks like she still wasn’t given the bathroom door was wide open and her luggage was missing. On the plus side she’d left but on the down side she’d shredded his entire wardrobe. Immediately Klaus felt sick, rushing to the wardrobe to check on his suit for the wedding. Needless to say it had been unceremoniously massacred and left in a pathetic heap at the bottom of the cupboard.

A woman scorned and all that.

Now, he didn’t just have Bomboniere to fix, as promised, but now he had a suit emergency too.

“Bloody weddings,” he muttered, wondering how he was going to fix this problem.

[mollymauk-teafleak]

whose brow is laid in thorn (chapter four)

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4

Please reblog this post and comment over on Ao3!

Huge thanks as always to my lovely betas @minky-for-short and @spiky-lesbian who put up with my hurting them in this way. 

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With war declared across the kingdom and one of the biggest threats his people have ever faced looming closer by the day, Mollymauk needs to grow up fast. A difficult task, when mistakes of the past keep coming back to haunt him and Caleb.

Warning: this chapter includes a description of physical scars caused by whipping, mentions of physical and mental abuse

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There was a summons waiting for him in his chambers but Mollymauk never saw it. He knew where to find his father.

“Caleb, with me,” he heard himself say as they stopped outside of the king’s council chamber, though his voice felt like an echo in an empty room, “Yasha, stay with Jester for me and my mother, if you can find her. Fjord to the docks, I need information, go and talk to whoever you can to find out what my father won’t tell me. Caduceus, same from the temples please. Beau, I need you to look into the city’s defences and armouries, find me any gaps and tell me how we can plug them fast.”

They all moved quickly, each of them seized with the same fear driven energy he felt in his own nerves. All but his sister, who stayed rooted to the spot, her eyes fixed on him and swimming in the candlelight.

“I should go with you…” she began without much hope in her voice.

Molly put his hands on her shoulders, “He...he won’t be in the best of moods, Jessie. Let me speak to him, I’ll come and tell you everything as soon as I know what’s happening.”

Still she didn’t move, trembling slightly like she couldn’t bear to break his hold. When had she gotten tall enough to nearly look him in the eye?

“You’re going to have to go away, aren’t you?” she whispered sorrowfully.

Molly opened his mouth, then quickly closed it, realising for the first time that she was right. He was the crown prince. He would have a battle command. He who deliberately breezed through the palace in see through silks, flirting and joking and glittering his way through everything and actively avoided being taken seriously so no one would think to look too close and see the cracks underneath. He was going to have to lead an army.

He made himself take a breath in, working his lungs like a set of bellows. Judging by the look on Jester’s face, she wasn’t much fooled by the smile he pinned in place.

“We’ll sort it out,” he said firmly, squeezing her shoulders, “Go find mother and look after her for me, you’re the only one who can make her smile.”

He caught Yasha’s eye as she put an arm around Jester and led her gently back down the hallway. The smile slipped off like an ill fitting dress. Things were very, very bad and there was so little that any of them could do about it now.

Molly turned to the heavy oak doors and sighed. The rest of the night up until this moment felt like some dream, something he’d read about in a fairytale once. He couldn’t decide if he was grateful for the last taste of freedom and joy or if it only made it hurt worse.

As his shoulder, Caleb edged a little closer, reminding Molly that as still and dead and silent as everything felt, he wasn’t alone. His heart ached to know what he’d been about to say as they’d danced together but he knew now it was the silly, selfish want of someone who didn’t have to keep a broken kingdom together with his fingertips.

But Mollymauk was glad to have him by his side right now.

The news didn’t seem to have roused the king from any slumber. He was at the head of the council table, blue eyes sharp and aware, his jaw tight enough to crack teeth. His council members were the ones who looked like they’d been dragged from their beds, clucking and squawking over each other in robes and hastily thrown on cloaks, faces slack with sleep and fear.

“Father,” Molly cut through the clamour with a strength in his voice that he didn’t feel, “You and I need to talk.”

“It would seem that way,” his father answered, effortlessly casual, “Clear the room. My son would like to be brought up to speed.”

It happened quickly, it would seem that no one was eager to linger here. Once they were alone, Molly made himself look the king in the eye and squared his shoulders.

“The Jagenoths, father? You couldn’t have picked a less bloodthirsty kingdom to antagonise?”

The king’s eyes were piercing as they fixed on him and he gave a dismissive grunt, rising to go refill his goblet from the flagon of red that was always kept close at hand.

“Precisely what this kingdom needs right now. More jokes and witticisms from it’s heir…”

Molly flared, “Apologies, father. It's so hard to keep track of what you want me to actually take seriously and what you’d rather keep me blind to.”

His father’s shoulders tensed, his voice deadly quiet and movements precise as he looked out through the window over the restless city, “Is this a conversation you want to have now, son? Right now?”

“No,” Molly admitted, catching the brief warning glance from Caleb at his side and forcing himself to calm, “The conversation I want to have is how the fuck we’re at war all of a sudden with absolutey no warning. I mean, for crying out loud, father, the Jagenoths were at the fucking harvest ball this year.”

“Do you now, Mollymauk? You wouldn’t rather slope off to your apartments with your colourful gaggle of friends and pretend this all isn’t happening? I could leave this all to my seasoned generals...”

Molly swallowed hard, feeling an old tremble run through his fingers. Gods, it shouldn't have been as tempting as it was. Beside him, taking advantage of the king’s turned back, Caleb gave him a steady nod.

“No,” Molly’s voice was firm, “You either take me as your heir- all of me, even the parts you don’t like- or you let me go. And being your heir means having your trust. Do I have your trust, father?”

The pause could have been a lifetime for how heavily it weighed on Mollymauk’s shoulders. But eventually, the king turned, his face unreadable.

“I have had several...investments in Shady Creek Run over the years. Ones that have turned sour of late and apparently the Jagenoths aren’t willing to settle it like businessmen. They would rather settle it with blood and steel.”

Molly gaped at him, “What kind of investments are worth invading a kingdom?”

His father simply looked at him with that same inscrutable expression, waiting. Eventually the realisation bled into Molly’s mind and his shoulders slumped. There was only one kind of business that was done in Shady Creek Run.

“You’ve been smuggling. You.”

“Now, son-”

“No!” Molly’s dismay could pass enough as reckless bravery that he bulled over his father, unwilling to listen to another word. He shook his head, stunned, “You, who’ve been going on and on at me for so long about upholding the godsdamned family honour, have been working with fucking pirates and smugglers? Have mercy, father, are you a king or a crime lord?”

“Hold your damn tongue!” Babenon snapped, face hardening, “Remember who you speak to son, with that tone of self righteousness. You know nothing of what I face every single day to keep you in your finery,  the things I’ve had to do to keep the walls of this city standing! You know nothing of being king!”

Molly flinched, he couldn’t help it, bending under the weight of that voice and those eyes. Beside him, he felt Caleb tense and shift his feet. And suddenly, Sorah was there, looming from the shadows that had cloaked her, fingers flexing in warning.

Molly swallowed and bowed his head, the bravery collapsing in on itself, hollow after all, “Forgive me, father. I...I just fear for what’s going to happen now. For my city and my friends. I’ve heard stories of the Jagenoth, of Lorenzo. They say he’s ruthless.”

“He’s all you’ve heard and more, son,” there was a softer, more satisfied tone to his voice now he’d won, “But so is your father. Do exactly as I say and we will make certain he never sets eyes on Asarius.”

Molly nodded, crossing his hands behind his back and feeling the ghost of a stinging slap against one cheek. I’ve never doubted how ruthless you are, father. I just never imagined you were so foolish.

“Perhaps I have been unfair to you, son,” Babanon mused after a long pull from his goblet, “Your leash has been kept short of late while I waited for some sign you had truly grown out of your immature ways. But your interest in the city’s charitable needs and the love you’ve won from our citizens could be of use to me, especially now our kingdom must close ranks against these invaders. This is the energy I needed to see from you...if I direct it in the correct manner.”

Molly’s eyes flickered up to his father’s.

“It is time for those swords to become more than pretty ornaments at your hip, I think. Our master at arms speaks highly of your skill and you have a close knit group of allies who trust you. And with a fine Volstruker at your side, one our good friend Ikithon values so highly, you could cut quite the intimidating figure, a pretty show of our house’s strength..”

Molly frowned, doubtful, “We’re going to barter with the Iron Shephard?”

“Babenon Dosal does not barter, Mollymauk,” the king’s smile became something hungry, “We are going to crush him.”

There was so little time to think.

Molly felt like he was barely holding on, thrown from one emergency council session to another, bounced between strategy meetings and drill training, from an argument about supplies to one about conscription. Things went by in scattershot fragments he could hardly hold on to. It was all just worried eyes, tight mouths, questions no one dared ask. He found himself making rousing speeches in front of formed up soldiers that just two days ago had been dyer’s apprentices, washerwomen, pot boys and stablehands. And in a week’s time, if he couldn’t find a way through this, they would be corpses.

The days until they rode out turned to smoke on the wind. In simultaneously no time at all and more years than he thought he’d ever seen, it was the eve of their departure. Tomorrow morning, the city would watch them ride out of the gates, throw flowers and wave the royal heraldry, call them heroes, all while either ignorant of or willfully blind to the fact that every tragedy this war would fall on them was because of the people they cheered. It was that, rather than any nerves, that made his stomach clench in nausea.

The prospect of the goodbyes he now had to make didn’t help.

Molly took his time down the steps to the courtyard. A cold wind was blowing, as it had seemed to ever since the news came, and he shivered in the training clothes and the sheen of sweat he wore. His mother, at least, was wrapped in fur as she stood by the carriage, the hood pulled low over her face. Few people were supposed to know of her leaving, lest it be too obvious that the king was planning for the worst, for all the bravado and easy confidence in his speeches.

“You should be in the carriage, mother,” Molly said gently as he approached her, close enough that he could see the glint of her eyes under the fur, “No need to be out in the wind.”

“I have more to worry about than the weather, little amethyst,” Queen Marion turned her head slightly to look at him as he stopped at her shoulder, “You have been in the practise yard again?”

Molly shrugged, “I’m packed and ready to ride at dawn. Not much else to fill the hours and Beau always tells me a minute’s worth of practice can make the difference in a fight.”

He’d hoped to give her some courage, some confidence in his ability to protect himself, but in the shadow of the hood her handsome face turned tight and anxious, “Are you sure you can’t be left as castellan? Surely your presence is needed here…”

Molly smiled grimly, “Jester is every bit as capable as I am. She’s so much smarter than everyone gives her credit for.”

“I don’t doubt her,” Marion shook her head, “But allow a mother her selfish wishes to keep her children out of harm's way.”

Molly reached across the distance between them and squeezed her hand inside the folds of her cloak. No matter the circumstances of his birth, no matter how frayed and difficult things grew between him and the king, Marion had never once treated him as anything but a beloved son.

“I’m of age, mother. Now it’s my turn to selfishly protect you. You’ll be safe back in Nicodranas...it must at least be some comfort to see the city again?”

“I have wanted to return for a long time,” Marion sighed, her tone careful with the weight of all her marriage had become behind it, the arguments and the distance and the coldness, “But not like this.”

“I’ll see it one day,” Molly promised, “Soon. After the war, even, I’ll come and get you and you can show me and Jessie all of it.”

Her thumb ran over his scarred knuckles and she smiled the kind of smile a mother gave her child when they were telling her some fancy, “I would like that...where is Caleb? I so rarely see you without him these days.”

“He went to go and collect our maps from the library. We’ll be going into the forests and even with Caduceus on hand, it’s best to have the routes laid out,” Molly explained, trying to smile comfortingly and sound jovial, “We’re only looking to loop around the border and turn back any other raiding parties. Father’s the one riding to face Lorenzo head on. Likely the war will be won and done by the time we catch up with him. We’ll find the old man throwing victory feasts in the ashes, no doubt.”

Marion’s expression didn’t change. She never had been taken in by his affectations the way everyone else seemed to be.

“Just promise me you’ll come through safely,” she murmured, “And...keep Caleb by you. The two of you are stronger together.”

A pinkess rose on Molly’s cheeks that had nothing to do with the cold, “Mother…”

“Just promise me,” Marion sighed, “I worry about you less when I know he’s with you.”

“Of course,” he said quickly, “I mean, he’s my...he’s my guard. He was trained for things like this. Where else would he be?”

Marion made a soft noise that was neither agreement or dissent, “Yes. His training. Of course.”

“Get on the carriage, Mother,” Mollymauk groaned.

At least she had a smile on her face as she leaned up to kiss his cheek, even if it couldn’t last as he helped her onto the carriage and stood to wave as it disappeared through the castle gates towards the docks. As soon as she was gone, a mournful kind of quiet seemed to settle around the place.

One down.

Jester’s bedroom was right next to his own, it always had been even though the royal apartments allowed for much more of their own space. They’d just never wanted to be any further from each other.

When he knocked and pushed back the door, he saw her at her desk under the window. Whenever something was upsetting her, his sister could usually be found painting. But this time, as he came closer, he saw it wasn’t paper and well worn watercolours spread around her. It was account books, ledgers, dusty old things she’d clearly dredged up from some corner of the seneschal’s office.

“Trying to put yourself to sleep?” he hummed, standing behind her chair.

Jester sighed, the edge of her cheek that he could see past her hair flushing pink, “I’m just...I’m going to be in charge after you and father leave tomorrow. I want to make sure I do a good job.”

Molly sighed gently and passed his hand over her hair, “You will, Jessie. Father wouldn’t be doing it if he didn’t trust you.”

She made a rude, rather un-princess like noise, “He has no choice. Mama’s gone and tomorrow so will you…”

“He could ask me to stay,” Molly said firmly, deftly pulling her hair back into a braid, “Mother could be staying here in the castle. But he isn’t. He’s putting our capital into your hands because he knows how smart you are and how much you care. He knows you’re the kind of princess the people need right now.”

Under his fingers, Jester shifted and sighed, eventually unable to bear it any more and whirling around, launching herself upwards and clasping her arms around him hard enough to hurt.

“It just won’t be the same without you,” she whispered thickly.

Molly swallowed hard to keep his own tears out of his voice, “I’ll miss you, Jester. But it won’t be long until we see each other again, I promise.”

He let her tremble and sniffle for as long as she needed to, before pulling back to kiss her head, right between her horns.

“Come now. I’ll miss the whole bloody battle, the route father’s got me taking all around the borders. Nothing to worry about.”

“Nothing to worry about,” Jester repeated. Molly hoped he’d sounded more convincing than she did.

“And no putting TravelerCon down as an official holiday while no one’s looking,” he teased, jostling her lightly, “Or if you do, make sure it’s when I’m back.”

Jester giggled, wiping her eyes on her sleeve before flushing lightly pink and dropping her gaze from his, “Okay...um...make sure Beau and Yasha come back safe for me?”

Molly smirked, “Oh? What makes you say that, little sister?”

“Shut up!” she punched his arm, fighting a smile, “Just do it.”

“Okay, okay,” he chuckled, “Though it’ll more likely be the two of them dragging my skinny ass out of trouble.”

“Good...and stick with Caleb.”

Now it was Molly’s turn to feel his cheeks warm, “Have you and mother been talking about me by any chance?”

“I’m not saying anything! I’m not making a single connection between you and him riding off to war together and the fifty million smut books that start in pretty much exactly the same way…”

Molly wrinkled his nose, “Please do not tell me how you know that.”

“Worried I stole yours from under your pillow?”

“You little…” he flicked her nose lightly before the real emotions began to well up through the cracks and he didn’t have the energy to maintain his smile any more, “Caleb’s...he’s just been hurt so bad, Jessie. And so much of it is because of me. If I put him through anything like that again, I couldn’t forgive myself.”

“That implies you forgave yourself last time,” Jester raised her eyebrows before her expression softened, “And what happened wasn’t your fault. Caleb loved you back, it went bad because of that asshole Ikithon and...and yeah, because of father.”

Molly grimaced a little, feeling the weight of those bad memories on his already frayed patience, “I just don’t want to cause him any more pain. What they did to him...he’s not the same Caleb from ten years ago. Trying to force him to be won’t do anything but hurt him more.”

“True,” Jester allowed, “But he also isn’t the Caleb who arrived at the gate six months ago, is he?”

Molly bit his lip, “No…”

“And you’re not Molly from ten years ago. So why can’t the Molly you are now and the Caleb he is now fall in love with each other?”

Molly opened his mouth and closed it again, shaking his head, “I...I just don’t see how it can be that simple. With father and Ikithon and now all of this.”

Jester frowned, “And when you’re king? And they’re gone?”

Molly felt a tightness in his ribs, the ache of want trying to force its way up through old hurts. But the idea that there could ever be a world where the kind of hate and the kind of evil that had pulled him and Caleb apart didn’t exist wasn’t one he dared hope for. How could he, when he was too much of a coward to stand up to it? When he was being raised to put on a crown and keep it all going?

“There might not even be a kingdom for me to inherit if I don’t focus on what’s in front of me,” he shook his head firmly, “I can’t think about it right now.”

Jester seemed to deflate a little but the knowing look didn’t fade from her eyes, “Fine. Focus on coming back safe.”

He ruffled her hair, “You know I will. I’ve gotten this far flying by the seat of my pants, haven’t I?”

“Yeah,” Jester smiled up at him, leaning up to kiss his cheek, “Just don’t do anything too stupid.”

“A novel concept for me. But for you, Jester, I’ll try.”

He wasn’t planning on sleeping that night but Beau had explicitly barred him from her training ground, saying that if she saw him there rather than in his bed then Lorenzo wouldn’t even get the chance to run him through. Telling her that they’d be riding the wrong bloody way for that to happen didn’t seem to change her mind about the threat.

So he’d bid Caleb goodnight, again feeling everything unsaid between them pressing in at the edge of his words and telling himself another time. Now he lay on his back in the middle of his expansive, empty bed, waiting for a restfulness that he knew deep down would never come, staring at the ceiling until his eyes blurred and unfocused. His fingers itched for the smooth leather of his sword hilts but now, every time he imagined picking them up, he would see them lunging forward of their own free will, slicing through flesh and jarring against bone, blood running down their curved steel. He tried to imagine actually taking the life of another person, facing a foe not made of magic or sand and trying to summon the will to snuff out their existence as easily as blowing out a candle.

All Mollymauk could feel was a sickness in his stomach.

He rolled over, sighing as he pulled the blankets tighter around him to fight off the shivers. He couldn’t decide if the soft, dry sobs he heard were his imaginary victim’s or his own inside his mind, echoing back from a future he didn’t want.

Until he realised it was neither. They were coming from behind the hidden door and the veil of magic, they were coming from Caleb’s chamber.

Molly sat up, tail twitching, blankets slipping down to pool around his hips. His instinct was of course to run to him without hesitation, to slide in next to him and hold him and listen while he said all of the things he could never say outside of the circle of his arms. But that was what he would have done before.

Jester’s words came back to him. They weren’t the same Molly and Caleb and maybe, as they were now, they’d never be able to build something like what had come before. But he still cared for him, deeply, and he wasn’t about to lie there uselessly while his friend sobbed in the room next door, not after he’d comforted him before.

He pulled a robe on and padded quickly over to the door behind the tapestry, the stone floor cold under his bare soles between the thick carpets. Only he could enter without Caleb’s permission, the magic was designed to let him through as the one who’s life Caleb was bound to. But still, he knocked, hardly about to barge into the only space in the entire world that was Caleb’s alone.

His first knock didn’t stop the sobs, he had to try again and louder before they choked off and a voice came, raw and quiet.

“Mollymauk?”

“Caleb,” he answered, mouth pulling down at the fear in his friend’s voice, “Please let me in?”

“You...my prince, you should be sleeping…”

Molly sighed, resting his forehead against the stone door, “Caleb, I want to. Please?”

After a long pause, the door slipped from its seamless place in the wall, pushing inwards so Molly had to quickly right himself to avoid ending up in a heap on Caleb’s floor. The cell was pitch black, only the ragged, panicked breathing to guide him towards the pallet his friend slept on.

“Shh, Caleb, it was only a dream,” he moved slowly, giving him every chance to draw away and cling to his space but he didn’t.

One moment there was musty air under his hand and then there was soft hair, clammy, sweat soaked skin. Caleb didn’t pull back, he didn’t flinch. Giving thanks for that much, Molly awkwardly fumbled in the dark until he was sat on Caleb’s narrow bed, scratchy wool under his other hand, shaped to the trembling pair of legs underneath it.

“Just focus on breathing, okay?” Molly whispered, stroking the hair he knew was that deep, coppery red even if he couldn’t see it, “It’ll fade, I promise.”

He felt Caleb nod, one of his hands coming up to lie over Molly’s, clinging to it the way a drowning man would cling to driftwood. It happened quickly and easily after that, like falling asleep. Who moved against who, it was hard to say, like the transition moment between there being space between them and not hadn’t happened. Like Molly had always been embracing Caleb, had always had him weeping softly into his shoulder while one hand’s fingers interlaced with his own.

It felt like finally exhaling.

It would have lasted as long as Molly could make it, if his other hand hadn't eventually slipped down from Caleb’s shoulder to his back, intending to stroke slow, easy circles there just as he’d always done when they’d held each other in the night, as they’d done the first time they’d kissed, as they’d done the first and last time he’d felt Caleb’s body gently press into his own and everything had made sense.

It would have lasted forever if Molly hadn’t done that. If he hadn’t felt the raised, puckered scars under his palm.

He froze, breath catching in his throat. Caleb knew immediately what had happened and tried to pull back, tried to pull the blankets up over his torso but Molly moved faster, hand slipping further to feel just how many there were, how raised and poorly healed and angry they were, before their embrace was broken.

“Caleb,” Molly’s voice was low and level, “Turn on the lights, please.”

He saw the dark shape that was his friend shake it’s head, heard his miserable whimper.

He swallowed hard, forcing his voice to stay calm, measured, “Caleb, you’re safe with me, I promise. I just need to see. It isn’t an order, I’m only asking you to please trust me.”

If he had asked him to leave at that moment, to forget everything and shut the door behind him, Molly would have gone and he prayed Caleb knew that. Without so much as a word, the bare, unscented candle by the bed ignited and, trembling, Caleb turned his back on Mollymauk.

It took everything he had not to make a sound at the ruin of Caleb’s back.

Scars crossed over other scars, the messiest, most tangled delta of rivers Molly had ever seen and he understood now why he’d never seen Caleb without a shirt on since his return, they would have been impossible to hide otherwise. They were raised, almost blistered around the edges, horrible jagged things that had clearly been salted before they were given any treatment.

Molly didn’t need to ask what had made them. Or who had done it.

“Please don’t be angry, your highness,” Caleb’s voice was thin and reedy, again slipping into the cadence of an actor, albeit one who feared execution if his performance didn’t satisfy, “It was my fault, they only whipped me when I was bad.”

“Caleb,” his voice broke, eyes stinging, “Gods, what could have been worth doing this to you? No matter what they might have said, this was not your fault, this was their sick idea of punishment…”

“No, it was, it was my fault!” Caleb trembled, “They told me and they didn’t listen, they told me and I still opened the letters-”

Something inside Molly froze and splintered, “The...the letters? The letters I wrote you? They got you whipped?”

They’d been a desparate act from the beginning, he’d known that. But he’d just been so heartbroken, so wracked with grief and tortured by his own thoughts of what they must have been doing to Caleb at the Academy, what blood price he was paying for their one night together. The letters and the gold he’d pressed into merchant’s palms to have them smuggled into Rexxantrum and past the impenetrable walls of the Academy, he’d been realistic about how likely it was that they’d ever get into Caleb’s hands. But he’d just been unable to sit and do nothing, to imagine Caleb thinking he’d been forgotten. After a year or so, he’d stopped, fearing the worst and unable to keep the hope alive.

And all the while he’d been writing those awful scars across his back.

“I shouldn’t have opened them, they told me after the first one, it was my choice,” Caleb wept, “I had to learn, they said…”

“Gods, Caleb,” Molly tasted bile on his throat, “Why...why did you open them? Why didn’t you write back and tell me to stop, I would have stopped, I never, ever wanted to hurt you more, oh gods…”

Caleb pushed a hand through his hair, unable to answer for a while before his shoulders slumped in defeat. The scripted tone of his voice fell away, like a thin mask crumbling to dust, “I...I missed you so much and reading your words, it helped me keep a hold on myself. It stopped me losing who I was entirely. I didn’t want them to stop.”

It was strangely easy to sound calm now, the fury brought an odd kind of clarity, a separation he welcomed in that moment, “Thank you for showing me your scas, Caleb, hat was very brave of you. You stay here and get some rest.”

“Where are you going?” Caleb turned, still shaking with tremors that ran through his body endlessly.

“I’m going to cut Trent Ikithon’s throat while he sleeps,” Molly replied simply, like he was telling him he planned to take a spring hunt tomorrow, “A pity to give him such an easy death but can’t risk it.”

Caleb groaned, staggering up and grabbing his arm, “Molly, please, no…”

It was so hard to hear him over the crackling fire in his stomach, “It won’t take a moment, Caleb, I promise.”

“You can’t! You have no idea what kind of magic he has, he’ll hurt you!”

“He can fucking try,” Molly’s calm was cracking, the fire spreading, “I won’t suffer that bastard to take another breath under my roof, not after everything he’s done to you. First the crystals when you were just a kid and now this? I’m done, he crossed the line a long bloody time ago.”

“But your father…”

“My father can go fuck himself!” Molly roared then, the rage snapping up and wresting away the last of his composure, bouncing his voice off the walls, “He’s as much to blame! He feeds that monster like some kind of pet, he funds him and gives him that tower room to do gods know what! He’s lied to be, he’s hurt people, he’s made so many people miserable for his own gain and he wants me to be just like him! Well he’s getting exactly what he wanted.”

He moved fast enough that Caleb couldn’t keep him in place. Once again everything was rushing past him like some great hurricane, the only thing he could be certain of was the swords he took from the wall, their reassuring weight. Now he actively imagined blood running down their edge, beading on their wicked tips like rubies. He told himself how right it felt and the anger roared it’s approval.

But then Caleb was in front of him, hands on his chest, eyes wide and terrified, “Mollymauk, I’m begging you not to do this.”

“This is how my father would settle this,” Molly snapped, eyes blazing.

“But you’re not your father.”

That alone reached through the fire inside him and brought him out into the cold. Startled back into his own mind, Molly took a deep, shuddering breath and let the swords fall from his grip, now slack and useless. They hit the floor with a muffled thud.

“You’re not, Mollymauk,” Caleb continued, relief flooding into his eyes, “You’re none of them, you’re different. And that’s why you’re the only hope any of us have. You were my hope, back then, back when they were doing everything they could to break me. And now...now you’re the kingdom’s hope. And they can’t lose that.”

Molly’s face crumbled, shoulders starting to shake, “I just hate what they did to you…”

“Me too,” Caleb murmured, “But day by day I’m pulling myself back from it and it’s all thanks to you. I just need time, Molly, that’s all.”

“Okay,” he whispered, even as his voice broke, “I can wait. As long as you need me to.”

This time it wasn’t Caleb holding him or him holding Caleb. They held each other, as tightly as they could, clinging on as the dark tide rose around them and everything changed outside the door.

If they were granted a tomorrow, Molly promised himself, they would make it a good one.

[belphegor1982]

C and N for the brothers-in-law. Bonus points if it's Rick who's hurt and Jonathan who's doing the rescuing. :-)

[C: concussion] + [N: getting injured person out of situation]

All right! I went for the bonus points ;o)

And Not a Drop to Drink

The first thing Rick does when consciousness returns is gasp.

The second thing is deeply regret it as muddy water floods his mouth and throat.

The third thing is acknowledge the searing pain in his head that almost makes him pass right out.

It’s the faint but persistent nausea growing in the pit of his stomach on top of everything else that clues him in. Okay, so he got hit on the head and now concussion is setting in. Unless he drowns first, because that’s definitely an option too, apparently.

Somewhere at the back of his mind, his self-preservation instincts are screaming that he should be making fewer idle comments about dying and more attempts to, well, not die. That’s generally what you do when your vision is growing white at the edges from the lack of air. But the thing is, he’s had concussions before, and he’s jumped, fallen, or been pushed into deep waters before, but never both at the same time.

This is not good.

Just as one last spark of life runs from his brain to his toes and makes him try to kick his way up – no way he’s going to die in such a stupid way – he feels a hand grasp his hair. Then his jacket. Then – thankfully – his shoulder, under the armpit.

When Rick breaks the surface he spouts up what feels like half his volume in water, and he has no idea whether he’s expelling it from his lungs or emptying the contents of his stomach.

“That’s right, keep doing that, better out than in”, says a shaky voice right beside his ear. It takes him an embarrassingly long time to recognise his brother-in-law.

What the hell happened?

Rick’s brain doesn’t provide him with an answer right away and he decides it’s a question for another time. Preferably when his head isn’t swimming better than he is and he feels like he would sink like a stone if not for Jonathan’s grip on him.

He noticed early on that both Carnahan siblings do well in water, that time they had to bail out of the burning barge. Evy later told him her childhood included the occasional dip in the Nile and swimming lesson. As for Jonathan, the next time they found themselves having to swim for their lives again – it says something about their lives, Rick supposes, that he can open this sentence with ‘the next time’ – and Rick asked where he learned to swim, he said, “The benefits of a classical education, old boy. Rowed a bit when I was in Oxford. Did you know the Cherwell is beastly cold at seven in the morning?”

Turns out so is the Thames at eight in the evening. Especially in November. Rick’s teeth would probably be chattering if he wasn’t so damn beat.

Ah, well. Jonathan is doing enough chattering for them both anyway.

“– did a splendid job laying out the bounder – anyone ever told you that you could give Jack Petersen a run for his money? Too bad his rotten little friend had the nerve to bring a bat to a fistfight, I mean to say, that bat may have been cricket but the move was absolutely not. Then again, what can you expect from this lot – running about in those ridiculous black polo shirts and idolising foreign dictators, spewing garbage about people who’ve done nothing to—I say, Rick, are you still there?”

“Yeah,” Rick gargles somehow. He still hasn’t opened his eyes. But hey, at least he knows he’s not drowning, so that’s not all bad, right?

“Jolly good.”

Jonathan doesn’t say much after that. Either he talked himself breathless or it takes concentration to lug them both along and not be swept up by the current Rick can feel pulling at his legs. Damn. And people really swim in there!? Only mad dogs and Englishmen, like the song says.

Thankfully it doesn’t take them long before they wash up on the wharf. Good thing they drifted downstream a bit. Rick wouldn’t have liked his chances if the first thing they’d reached had been a seven-feet-tall quay, slippery as an eel.

When Rick finally feels solid ground he rolls onto his back and blinks his eyes open despite the headache. For a second it’s like nothing changes whether his eyelids are up or down. He experiences a short sharp stab of fear before realising that he’s just staring up at a cloudy London night sky. The Thames, when he raises his head a fraction, looks even darker, except for the winks of light where the crests of ripples catch the meagre light dripping from a lamppost somewhere behind them.

The bank underneath him feels cold and slimy and he doesn’t even need to look to know his clothes are coated with sludge. But it’s way better than the alternative.

Beside him, Jonathan is also sprawled on the ground, staring straight up. His chest is rising and falling quickly and deeply as he pants open-mouthed. He actually must be dead tired; nothing but sheer exhaustion can make him shut up, Rick thinks with something like the fond exasperation Evy gets in her voice when she talks about her brother, which was so foreign to him when he met the siblings.

“You all right?” he asks, and almost throws up. His tongue, his mouth, his throat taste like murky, brackish river water.

Jonathan’s head pivots a little. His stare shifts from the sky to Rick.

“Peachy, clearly,” he rasps. “But I should be the one to ask you, really, not the other way around. I’m not the one who got conked on the head and fell into the river. How’s the head?”

“I’ll be fine if we both use small words. What happened to cricket bat guy?”

“Damned if I know. I kicked him in the fork and jumped in after you while he was, er, otherwise occupied. He probably collected his colleague and their nasty little posters and buggered off after a while.”

Rick suppresses a laugh, which would be a really bad idea with a splitting headache and a stomach whose contents are sloshing back and forth like whisky in a tumbler. At a glance Jonathan looks like your garden-variety upper-class twit with more manners than sense, but that impression only goes skin-deep. He has no qualm whatsoever about playing dirty, especially if it means getting out of a scrape.

Or getting someone he actually cares about out of a scrape. This kind of little detail makes all the difference between him and guys like Beni Gabor, as Rick found out over the years.

“You know,” he says, still waiting for the headache to subside and the world to stop spinning – or at least slow down, “when you said you wanted to ‘go out for a drink’ I didn’t think you meant it like that.”

Jonathan snorts. “Well, I don’t. I prefer my drinks with a little more flavour and a little less sewage, thank you very much.” He lifts himself up on his elbows and sits up with a groan. “I might help myself to a whisky or two after this, though. For medicinal purposes. Lots of germs to kill.”

“Go ahead,” says Rick, who still hasn’t moved and doesn’t feel like moving – even though he probably should by now. “I’ll join you.”

“Oh, I don’t think so. You, my good son, are going straight to the hospital. I wasn’t exactly looking at my watch but I know you blacked out for longer than is wise.”

“I’ve had worse.”

“I know that. But that doesn’t mean you get to go home to lick your wounds like a cantankerous bear.”

Both the inflections and the words themselves are so familiar it doesn’t take long for Rick to dredge the memory from the chaos that is his mind. That’s what Evy said last time he got banged up. Which – fair point, even if it kinda feels like cheating.

Most of the time Evy and Jonathan are so different that it’s easy to forget they’re siblings. But every now and then they’ll have the same piercing squint, the same crooked grin, the same quirky turn of phrase, and the similarities hit you like a ton of bricks.

That he doesn’t feel up to arguing more than this tells Rick that a detour to a hospital is probably a good idea. He’s had his fair share of knocks on the head in his life, but there are delicate things in brains that don’t like being disturbed. Judging by the queasy rocking of his stomach, like he’s on a rolling ship instead of slumped on the ground, some things have been disturbed that shouldn’t have been.

He slowly – very slowly – half-rolls on his side and sits up. Then has to stop for a bit. Yeah, his brain definitely shouldn’t feel like it’s leaking out his ears. Even the poor light from the gas lampposts in the distance is loud.

Man, I hate concussions.

“Smaller words, please,” Rick mutters, fighting the urge to rub his eyes. When he opens them – again – he meets Jonathan’s and nods. Slowly.

“All right. But I phone Evy first.”

“St Bart’s has a phone, I can do that from there. Besides, opening with ‘Rick punched a fascist and fell into the Thames’ has a lot more entertainment value for me than ‘Good news, I’m still alive! Bad news, my car is now wrapped around a lamppost because the bloke I play poker with on Thursdays doesn’t like to lose’—”

“Jonathan?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

Jonathan throws him a startled look. For a second the fear that made his voice shake while they were treading water – plus delayed reaction, Rick thinks – shows in his eyes, plain as day. He looks drained, his face white underneath the mud dripping from his hair and into his eyes, and he’s shivering about as badly as Rick is. But then his shoulders slump a little and he gives a small smile.

“You’re welcome. You pulled me out of the soup so many times, I couldn’t not try to pull you out of the drink. Next time you’re picking a fight with those blighters in the black shirts I might bring a bat myself, though.”

“I didn’t pick a fight with them,” Rick points out. Jonathan’s deadpan look as he slowly pulls him to his feet makes him say, “I didn’t! I just laughed at their stupid poster. Didn’t even throw a punch until that guy started ranting about the Jews.”

“I know. I might have taken the opportunity to stuff the rest of the wretched posters into their bucket of glue while they were distracted.”

Rick snorts and immediately regrets it. Some of what he’s feeling must be showing on his face, because Jonathan throws one of his arms over his own shoulder and doesn’t start walking until Rick is certain he’s not going to hurl and looks it. When Rick’s eyelids start to droop he slows down again.

“Don’t fall asleep on me now, old boy.”

“I’m not,” Rick mutters. “Just resting my eyes.” It’s not even a lie. They just passed a lamppost, and while the light looked dim from the edge of the river, the pool of gaslight they walked in stabbed his brain through his eyes.

Sleep is tempting, though, which is why he muses out loud, “Wait, what was that about your car and poker? At that time you said that was an accident!”

Jonathan winces. “So I did. Not one of my finer moments, I’m afraid. It’s rather a long story.”

“Well, we got time. Unless you’re planning to dump me in a taxi and go for that drink.”

“Exactly who do you take me for? All right, so that was around the time I used to patronise a nice little club in Covent Garden…”

Rick ends up paying for the taxi to the hospital, but the story is entertaining enough to stay awake for, even though, he suspects, the storyteller is glossing over certain details to make himself look good… ish. Jonathan’s grip on him is warm, and if it’s shaking a little he shows no sign of letting go. Which is a good thing, because while Rick used to be pretty good at winning bar brawls ten years ago in Cairo and be in good enough shape to limp home afterwards, he’d be in trouble right now if it was just him. Oh, he’d survive. But he wouldn’t necessarily enjoy it.

“Rick? Still awake?”

“Yeah,” Rick mumbles, and does his best to look like it. “Keep going.”

As lousy as he feels, he’s actually looking forward to the end of the story, and – much, much later, probably – a drink to celebrate punching fascists and not ending up a part of the Thames riverbed.

All in all, he really has had worse evenings.

___________

The title is in reference to Samuel Coleridge’s The Rime of the Ancient Mariner:

Water, water, everywhere, And all the boards did shrink; Water, water, everywhere, Nor any drop to drink.

It’s not really important, but this story is set in November 1934. British Fascists/Nazis were a thing: look up Oswald Mosley (who created the British Union of Fascists) and the Battle of Cable Street.

Jack Petersen was a British heavyweight champion in the early 1930s.

Re. Rick saying “taxi” rather than “cab” – I know, I know, Americans use “cab” where the British generally use “taxi”. But Rick hasn’t lived in the US for almost two decades at this point, so I stand by the word :D

I’ll be reblogging this shortly with the link to the story on AO3!

[milarvela]

How Do You Solve a Problem Like Barrowman? + A Response to Nerdrotic

I like this video. A few thoughts:

What stopped two grown women from telling Clarke that it’s quite enough of that demonstration, end it now? They weren’t new to show business, young, inexperienced etc. Seems to me they were getting uncomfortable with Noel’s inability to stop before it got embarrassing, rather than being affected by bad memories or whatever.

If you talk about alleged harassment from 2004 in 2021, shouldn’t you at least have an excuse for why it took so long to come forward? Were you in coma all that time? Aren’t you ashamed of letting this man continue to harass others because you waited so long before speaking about it? What sort of person unashamedly talks about something like that as if nobody else matters? Shouldn’t you instead be quiet and grateful that nobody found out that you were harassed but didn’t say anything? I don’t understand how these people think.

Who was the assistant director complained to? What’s their name? Why is it okay to name Noel Clarke but not the higher-ups who failed at doing their duty properly?

Same goes for that supervisor type.  

That David and his impeccable behaviour helped rein things in to a certain extent makes it sound like it was Christopher Eccleston who caused most of the trouble during s1. Or were there other changes too except his leaving? Weird, because I had the impression that Christopher wasn’t happy with the goings-on on the set, while David laughed along and even sang about John’s willy-waving later.

That neither of them has as far as I know said a word in defense of Noel/John is quite something. Nor have they spoken against them. Silence from the companions too. Basically the only conclusion from this is that they’re all fearing for their own careers. And nobody’s apparently even asking them to comment on this? How nice and considerate of the media to leave them be. The Guardian tried to get comments from Coduri and Badland, as if that fan event was the main thing in this saga and those two the biggest enablers or something.

Eve Myles? I don’t remember even hearing her name before last week but apparently she is famous for not realising that John Barrowman was assaulting her that one time with his penis. Lol, I guess she’s remarkably stupid or there’s some major patronising happening. Could be both.

Nobody’s hopefully saying that touching random co-workers with a penis is an okay thing to do. But if she didn’t complain, why is it now a big deal? I don’t know if she’s made a statement about it but I imagine it’d be pretty difficult. Either she’s going to sound like she thinks what John did was cool and that’ll get her hate or she’s going to say it wasn’t cool and she’s that coward who failed to report the incident.

BTW, whatever happened to Russell T Davies? He said he never saw John’s penis and that’s all there is to it? Why, everybody’s so accommodating and kind and understanding of his pain due to this terrible neglect. Apparently it would’ve been quite a sight. So very inconsiderate of Barrowman to leave the showrunner out of the fun.

Seriously though, I think it gets hopelessly hilarious, this detailed, belated  outrage for what Barrowman did. Yes, it’s terribly pathetic and attention-seeking and juvenile (which he wasn’t), and the joke or whatever must have gotten old fast. But they all knew about it at the time. Now it’s all pretense and hypocrisy or silence from those who were there. Except this Julie Gardner who, if not lying, acted exactly how one should after receiving a complaint.

That it didn’t end there wasn’t her fault unless she got more complaints and did nothing about those. She’s not responsible for John’s behaviour elsewhere later. Honestly, there must be some fancy name for this willy-waving compulsion. Can’t Barrowman get some shrink tell everybody about it or possibly just claim mental health issues? That should get him sympathy these days and it might not even be that far fetched. Lol, he could even come out as nonbinary to confirm that.

Can’t help thinking though that he must have gotten more than the pleasure of making people laugh out of it. If not sexual then some other kind of satisfaction. Like maybe seeing the alarm in the eyes of some young woman. Mean streak.

Eh, that celebrity show (I always thought those were for has-beens and wannabes) article could just be promotion.

David Tennant isn’t saying anything even as they refuse to release a thing with him in it. Why? All he has to do is to make a “it was all in good fun but maybe a bit foolish and thoughtless” statement and add something about how fans needn’t be punished because of whatever else is happening. But no. What a coward. Well, I guess he got paid and the rest doesn’t matter. Which is fine. Maybe he should donate the money to a fitting cause now that his colleague has been exposed. Nevermind that he had nothing against working with said colleague until what must have been quite recently. All the time knowing what he did/does.

Generally speaking, I think it’s a remarkably bad idea to remove or not show finished stuff regardless what the people involved may have done. Way too complicated to ever be fair or consistent about these things. Utter idiocy. And some fans get carried away with their defending of and excuses for their favourites.

Couldn’t it be okay to admit that if somebody fucked up, it really was a fuckup but still be a fan?

I suspect the BBC may just be looking for reasons to cancel Doctor Who. I mean reasons other than waning popularity. And these kind of scandals don’t really make the franchise stronger. I guess Mr Tardis is a dedicated fan and needs to be positive about it. So fair enough. That teaser trailer certainly would be welcome, I agree. Although not everybody interested in the Clarke/Barrowman situation cares about the show.

I’d love to know the number of people who’ve been driven out of showbusiness because of unsafety. That all these allegations come, like in some big cases before, years after harassment/whatever started suggests very few are concerned about their safety as long as they are promised rewards for tolerating all sorts.

Safeguarding seems to be a fashionable word. Just give everybody bodycams. Brains could be useful too. At least teach everybody what to do/say when someone is harassing them. And stop with the victim-playing years after something allegedly happened. Or have a good excuse for the delay. Not getting what you expected and feeling disappointed afterwards isn’t enough.

People will want to defend their favourites. It’s kind of fun seeing how far they will go with it. There are nuances sometimes but it’s best to be an honest fan or move on.

As for Nerdrotic and his fellow whiners, eh, if they and their audience shouldn’t be allowed in a workplace (okay, I’m not sure if Tardis really meant it what with that voice he did) for not condemning the likes of Noel/John, surely the same goes for the people who worked with those two and allowed them to do what they did?  

Don’t know why he’s still demanding apologies from Barrowman. He’s done that and even acknowledged this current outrage caused by his “tomfoolery”. Poor fucker has had nobody accusing him of anything, so I guess he needs to apologise to those who were never there and had no opportunity to witness his willy-waving. So funny. Maybe he should make a video where he demonstrates how it happened. Might prove more profitable than some audio thingy with David the coward.

[booasaur]

Of course Alice Wu isn't supposed to fix years of misrepresentation, but she's someone who has been to hundreds of festivals and met fans and she knows how the community is waiting for a romcom and she gets a chance with Netflix and makes a movie about a friendship between a girl and a guy? that's disappointing tbh even in the comments everyone missed the point of the trailer and are shipping the lesbian and the guy.

Nooo, they’re not! Are they?? Nooooooo. Surely it’s just a teeny tiny group of people.

But leaving those people aside, it sounds like you do still kind of think Alice Wu should have made a different movie? Even if all that is true, it’s still not her responsibility. She wrote what she felt inspired by and this is the story she wanted to tell. I think all the choices she made were important to her, not just that it’s f/f, but that it’s in small town Americana, that it’s a white guy she befriends and who begins to understand her, that we can find commonality with anyone. She was inspired to write this after the 2016 elections, there was something more here than just “let me throw something down”. The choices here weren’t a platonic m/f friendship vs a f/f romance, it would have just been this movie or none at all. If anyone’s on the hook here, it’d be Netflix and Hollywood as a whole, who’ve made so few lighter-toned f/f movies that this one has to stand for them all. 

I totally get being disappointed by it but two things can be true: 1) I wish this were different2) Alice Wu can make what she wants

Neither negates the other. It just means you and Alice Wu are different people and like different things, which is totally normal and healthy and fine? It’s only when it goes from “I like something else” to “I wish this was something else” to “this creator should have made something else” that you get near dangerous territory. And honestly, even that last comment is pretty mild, it’s just, when you consider your audience, which is Anyone On the Internet, we want to be a little more careful because often that’s not where it stops, it goes to “this creator is stupid/selfish/bigoted in some way for not doing this instead”. Not saying that’s what you’re saying! Not at all. But I think we all know how things can spiral, or even be open to misinterpretation.

I went to my friend and said actually much more extreme things, because I know she understands where I come from, what exactly irritated me, what I meant and didn’t mean, and most importantly, I knew she was on the same page. Aside from not wanting this to spiral out, I know people are excited about this, I don’t want to ruin it for them. My priority in answering these asks is trying to make sure everyone feels heard but I especially don’t want to take this good thing and bring anyone down.

Which kind of hilariously takes me to literally the very next ask:

And another anon:

alrighty so originally the only things i knew about The Half of It was GAY and alice wu but now having seen the trailer is see that its a little less gay and more about friendship (which is fine). Heres to hoping they go nancy drew-esque in that the guy is like Ace and is more than ok with being friends instead of getting the girl. Either way i will watch and keep any and all negative opinions to myself cause Alice doesnt need or deserve that shit

I do think the guy will be fine, I think it is very much a story of Paul and Ellie’s friendship winning out over everything, not just small-town racism or homophobia but the more focused “relatable”–at least in fiction–issue of liking the same girl. But you know, exactly the same as above except in reverse, you can have your preferences and not like something and not have it be an attack, heh

And another anon:

the ironic thing is alice wu HAS made a romcom with a full on happy ending with saving face years ago but that movie gets so overlooked and underappreciated

She has, she absolutely has, but even if she hadn’t, it wouldn’t have been on her to provide one now. 

Although on the other hand, I also don’t think the existence of that or IMAY can be used to stop people from wishing there were more happy f/f romcoms in general. It’s not even like there’s been a jump in the number in the last few years, even though sometimes people act like the lack of rep has been addressed. And that’s aside from the generational differences. Someone who wasn’t born when Saving Face came out could be old enough to be the target audience for this teen movie.

And another anon:

I’m not sure but the trailer looked good. And I like the platonic side

That’s good, anon! I think it’ll be uplifting and even many people, like myself, who wish for something more romance-centric, will like it.

[purplesurveys]

1045

surveys by lets-make-surveys 1 - What did you do to celebrate your last birthday? Did you get any decent gifts? Guh I honestly barely want to recognize my birthday this year because 2020 has been a huge waste of my time...but fine, I guess I’m 22. It had been during the peak of the quarantine/pandemic, so we had no choice but to stay home. I just played the Switch all morning, then I think I watched my dad play video games, and then Angela and Hans sent over a box of sushi to our place. Real chill day.

2 - What was the last “random act of kindness” you experienced? It was my first day at the office today and I had to go up and down the stairs several times to bring packages to delivery riders, since I had to send those out to certain people. A member of the maintenance staff in the area was super nice and offered to carry some of the boxes for me, since he saw how much I was struggling with the boxes.

3 - Have you ever “paid it forward” by putting money behind the counter somewhere so the next person can get a free coffee or similar? Not yet. I’d love to be able to do that soon.

4 - What caused the last injury that made you bleed? Was it a serious injury? I was trying to open a bottle of soju last night but the cap just would not budge. Next thing I knew my finger was already bleeding. Never got to drink my soju :(

5 - Who was the last person you spoke to on the phone? Are you close to that person at all? One of the delivery riders who took my package earlier. Bless his soul, he was very new to the delivering thing and I think I was his first-ever customer, and he kept asking for my help. I did my best for a while but eventually I had to tell him I genuinely did not know how to answer some of his questions as I wasn’t a driver myself.

6 - What was the last item you received in the mail? Something I had ordered online. It was the gift I’m planning to give my grandma for Christmas.

7 - When was the last time you received flowers? What kind were they? A year ago, I think. It was a single stem of a rose. We were saving up last year hahaha so I had gotten her a single stem as well.

8 - Are you a fan of salted caramel? What about other “odd” combinations like sea salt and chocolate or chilli and chocolate? Ooh, I didn’t know salted caramel was considered odd; it’s a pretty common flavor here and has even gotten more popular in the last few years. I like it as a flavor in desserts, like cupcakes with salted caramel frosting. When it comes to food, I’m generally open-minded and will try any combination that exists at least once; that said, chili and chocolate sound especially intriguing haha. I’ve only ever tried chili ice cream, which was delicious.

9 - Do you enjoy watching bloopers or outtakes from TV shows? If so, which series do you think has the funniest ones? Yes. Bloopers in general are great but it’s best when they come from shows that have a reputation for being more drama-heavy and serious - that said, Breaking Bad bloopers are the fucking best. ‘Bloopers’ from animated movies are hilarious too; they were always made so well too that as a kid, I legit thought the characters were actual actors as it never crossed my mind that animators would take the extra effort and time to make bloopers out of fictional characters and that they had to be real actors in some way lol.

10 - What’s your favourite dessert food? OMG macarons for the win. I’ve been craving them so much. Cheesecake is great too, and also cupcakes.

11 - Do you have any really dangerous wild animals where you live? Have you ever encountered any of them? Nope only stray dogs and cats, and probably some chickens somewhere.

12 - Have you ever dreamed of owning your own shop? What kind of thing would you like to sell? I’ve never dreamed of this; it’s never been a goal of mine and running a business doesn’t sound like my kind of thing.

13 - Are you a twin? If not, would you ever want to be a twin? If you are a twin, do you ever wish you weren’t? No. I’ve never really found myself wishing for it, either.

14 - Do you prefer wearing your hair straight or curly? Maybe just a little wavy. Definitely not in the extreme of either side of the spectrum.

15 - Would you ever want to go and visit the moon? If I had the chance and everything was paid for and stuff, hell yeah. It’d be cool to get to cross out one of my childhood bucket list items.

16 - What was the last hot drink you had? What about cold drink? Or alcoholic drink? My last hot drink was...probably the coffee I asked my mom to make last Friday, but I did wait it out until it was considerably cooler as I didn’t want to drink it hot. My last cold drink is the iced caramel macchiato I ordered tonight and still have with me at the moment. Then for alcoholic drink, I had soju mixed with Yakult about two weeks ago.

17 - Does anything on your body hurt or ache right now? My lower back, unsurprisingly. I also cut my right middle finger trying to open a soju bottle last week, andddd I gained a blister on my right foot today because of the shoes I picked to wear for work.

18 - When was the last time you struggled to get to sleep? Was there was a specific reason for that? I can’t remember exactly when, but it happened within the last week or the last two weeks. Sometimes I just drink too much coffee during the day that it affects how sleepy I’d ultimately feel at night.

19 - What three countries would you most like to visit? Morocco, India, and Thailand.

20 - Who’s your closest friend from another country? How did you come to meet this person? I don’t really have one anymore...I’ve grown apart from my internet friends from different countries a long time ago, and I also don’t tend to keep up friendships with my friends who’ve since migrated from the Philippines to another country. I suppose the one I’m on best terms with is Angel who migrated to Toronto around a decade ago; but I use ‘best’ very loosely as the most we do is comment on one another’s posts whenever we reach like a life accomplishment, like when we graduated college.

21 - When was the last time you had a cold? With everything going on in the news, did you worry that it was COVID? It’s been a while. I can’t remember; it was definitely pre-Covid.

22 - As of today (10th December, 2020) the COVID vaccine is being rolled out in the UK. Are you going to have it once it’s available to you (if it ever is)? A part of me is a little concerned because I know vaccines take years and sometimes even decades to be fully developed, but that doesn’t mean I don’t trust doctors and science. I very much do, of course. It’s just that I’d personally prefer to wait it out first to see if it’ll have any negative effects once rolled out on a massive scale.

23 - What are your favourite websites to browse when you’re bored? Wikipedia black holes are the way to go.

24 - Do you think people should have to pass a test in order to own pets? A local animal welfare NGO already does that; Nina had to go through several tests before she was allowed to adopt Arlee. There was a verbal interview, a written form she had to fill out, and a representative from the organization even visited our house to see if it was a suitable environment for Arlee; I’m sure there was a few more steps she was required to undergo. I certainly think it’s a good and responsible process. 

25 - When was the last time you fell asleep/had a nap during the day? Is this something that happens often? It’s been monthssssssssss. I don’t really take naps during the day anymore.

26 - Do you suffer/have you ever suffered with bad acne? What kind of things did you do to try and improve it? I’ve never had issues with acne and was always rather fortunate when it comes to my skin. I’ll have a pimple or two show up once or twice a year, but they go away within a week or so. Since I don’t want to jinx it, I just wash my face with water and I’ve never experimented with any skincare products ever.

27 - When you think about it, do you think it’s odd that we stop drinking human milk at a young age, but we happily drink milk from other species instead? Not really.

28 - How’s the weather where you are? Is this a good or a bad thing for you? These days it’s humid and hot during the day (as always), but now that it’s Christmas season the weather tends to plunge to like 24-26C during nighttime. I’d say the night part is good for me as I prefer being cold than hot, so I’m glad we’ll be having this weather until March at most.

29 - When was the last time you ate a pizza? What toppings did you get? Tuesday. Relatives came over then and my cousin got us pizzas. I don’t remember what toppings he got but both pizzas had stuffed crust in it.

30 - How often do you wear make-up? What kind of make-up do you wear? Wow, almost never. Gab used to put makeup on me but now that she’s gone, I don’t really see myself wearing makeup for the meantime as I definitely wouldn’t apply them onto myself. 

--

1 - If you have caffeine late in the day, does it cause you to struggle with your sleep? Eh, sometimes. Sometimes it’ll do what it’s supposed to and make me stay up for a while, but other times it doesn’t work and I’ll end up getting sleepy the same time I usually start feeling so.

2 - When you struggle to sleep, what do you do instead? Watching videos has eternally worked for me.

3 - Who was the last person you spoke to for the first time? How did you come to speak to this person? Hmm I met my co-workers Ysa and Bea for the first time today, if it counts. I’ve only ever talked to them through Viber since we’re on a WFH set-up, but we had to go to the office today to fix up some boxes that we needed to get delivered. But the last person that I really hadn’t met nor spoken to before was Jhomar, the company messenger who takes care of pickups for the day. 

4 - If you have a pet, have they ever embarrassed you in public or in front of friends or family members? What happened? Kimi is typically unfriendly towards strangers, so as cute and cuddly as he looks he would probably bite your finger off. I’ve had to explain that to guests who’ve felt puzzled about his demeanor. He’s my little baby though and I wouldn’t say he’s embarrassed me because of it. Cooper on the other hand is hyper-friendly to the point that he looks aggressive and it has scared some people away; in reality, he’s always SO pumped to meet anyone and everyone and can never contain his excitement haha. He’s literally the nicest dog.

5 - Do you leave the house every single day? I never leave the house, except if it’s to withdraw cash or go to the Starbucks drive through to pick up a coffee.

6 - Would you rather spend the day at the beach, or a day in the snow in the mountains? I would normally pick beach, but I think the mountains would be best for me at the moment.

7 - Do you prefer tops that are plain, or ones with patterns/logos/slogans? Plain.

8 - Are there any TV shows from your childhood that you still watch today? I’ll watch Spongebob every now and then. When I’m bored and have enough time on my hands I’ll sometimes watch other shows from my childhood just for that nostalgia wave, like Barney or Hannah Montana.

9 - How many texts would you say you send on an average day? Used to be hundreds, but now it’s probably like...5, on average. Sometimes I’ll need to text media for work and that’ll come up to around 15-20 texts but that happens only occasionally, like once every two weeks.

10 - Do you enjoy buying gifts for other people, or do you never know what to buy them? I never know what to buy for people. I like buying gifts for a significant other, though. I tend to spoil one to no end.

11 - Girls - if you get periods, do you suffer from period pain or any other horrible symptoms? I get the hormonal symptoms, but the physical symptoms are almost never there. My stomach will usually contract in a way that tells me it’s coming soon, but it never really aches. Most of the time, I just cry and mope a lot and that’s how I know it’s on its way, ha.

12 - The last time you were in a car, where you were travelling to? Were you the driver or a passenger? I was headed back home. but I came from the office. I was the driver as always.

13 - Who were you with the last time you went out for a meal? I took myself out on a date.

14 - What book do you wish they’d make into a film or TV series? The Septimus fucking Heap series, please. They’ve been trying to get it made into a movie series for years but as far as I know the talks have always fallen through.

15 - The age old question - do you prefer coke or pepsi? That’s a big ‘or’ for me. I don’t drink soda.

16 - What’s the last thing you watched on TV? Is this a programme you watch regularly? Bea took over the office TV earlier and she had it set to a BTS + Taylor Swift music video playlist so that we had background music while working. No, neither are my artists of choice, really.

17 - Do you have a favourite documentary subject (eg. nature, celebrities, history, crime)? Pro wrestling (a seriously underrated documentary subject) and crime. Documentaries on anthropological issues or discoveries are great as well. I do love history, but I prefer to absorb it in text/museum form.

18 - Do you prefer sweet or savoury snacks? What snack would you say is your overall favourite? Savoryyy. I get tired of sweet snacks pretty quickly. My current favorites to munch on are any salted egg flavored chips.

19 - Does having to wear a mask stop you from doing anything, just because you dislike them or find them uncomfortable? It can be harder to breathe and I get exhausted a lot faster with a mask on, but I keep it on because I would want to keep other people safe and because it’s so easy to keep a damn mask on.

20 - Do you prefer zip-up or overheard hoodies? Either is fine.

21 - If you have a yard or garden, how much time do you spend out there? I prefer the rooftop, and if I do go there I usually stay for a few hours during the evening just to have some time to myself. Being in a house with four adults can get pretty overwhelming and taxing sometimes.

22 - When was the last time someone bought you flowers? What was the occasion? I think it was for Valentine’s Day last year. If not, it was for the anniversary which was a week after Valentine’s Day.

23 - How often do you get takeaway? What’s your favourite thing to order? I don’t really do takeout. I usually dine-in or have food delivered to my place.

24 - Do you own a lot of clothing items in your favourite colour? What is your favourite colour, anyway? I don’t have a lot of clothes in pink. It’s not my best color, but I like it in everything else hahaha.

25 - When was the last time you stayed overnight away from home? Was this with friends, family or in a hotel somewhere? What was the occasion? Idk probably a sleepover at Gab’s place early this year.

26 - Would you ever be interested in seeing a live magic show? Sure. Magic shows are already a staple at kids’ birthday parties here, and I’ve always enjoyed them especially since magicians are quite the comedians too.

27 - What’s your favourite period to learn about in history? What got you interested in this particular era? I don’t have a favorite period per se but I’ve always had an affinity for the royalty. I like reading all about them, no matter what period they reigned or what house/country they’re from. Historians have kept impressive and super detailed accounts or records for most of them, so reading about their lives has also allowed me to learn more about the culture they lived through.

28 - Do you still use or carry cash, or do you pay for everything via card? I heavily rely on cash and I actually realized how behind I am just today, when Bea ordered lunch for the office. I paid her with cash and she looked at me all puzzled and was like, “Can you do bank transfer instead?” another big girl stuff I had to learn lol. Everyone in college used cash pls forgive me

29 - Are there any TV shows that remind you of your grandparents for some reason? Not really.

30 - Have you ever had to wear a tie for school or work? If not, do you know how to tie a tie without looking it up? I had a necktie as part of my uniform in my old school. I never knew how to tie it and always asked someone else to do it for me whenever it came loose.

[dolphin-bouillabaisse]

GO-ctober Prompts, 15

Inktober except without the ink, and with drabbles instead.

Prompt #15 - Legend

(previous | next | beginning)

(find it all on Ao3)

“You know, there's a story in my Mami's hometown.” Anathema sounds absent-minded, which is rare, but more understandable once you notice the empty glass of wine in her hand. “Been passed down for generations.” “How utterly fascinating.” Crowley mocks, but Aziraphale's tut stops him. The evening had been so nice, and they'd gotten to such a quiet, comfortable state back in his shop, he really doesn't need the demon to break it all with a few sharp comments.

“Do go on, dear.”

“S'just a story, about... this giant snake living in the woods nearby. Eating young girls. She told me to keep me from running off to far, I think.”

“Again: how fascinating.”

“Made me think of you. You know.”

“Listen, not every giant snake story from somewhere in the jungle has to do something with me-”

“There are a lot of them, though.” Anathema grins as Aziraphale refills her wine, sharing the wicked gleam in her eye. Their regular meet-ups have done nothing but help the inner bastard of the angel come out to play, especially with Crowley. He's not quite sure he likes it.

“I couldn't even have been in all of the places people claim to have seen snakes or demons.”

“Stories like that travel, though.” Newt, up until now the quietest of the dinner quartet, speaks up in an almost rambling voice, staring at his half-empty glass (it doesn't take much for him, Anathema has learned quickly. It took much longer to convince Aziraphale not to constantly be a good host and refill his glass. She's not yet gotten it through to Crowley, who's already topping him off, no matter how much she stares him down.) “Especially in older times, like, pre-media. Word of mouth, and fear of monsters, and such. Maybe you just showed up in a few places and then they told all the neighbours.”

“Maybe dragons is your fault, too.” Anathema throws in, grinning, thinking back to their last discussion.

Crowley opens his mouth once, twice. He wants to protest, but neither of the humans are in a state to give him a proper fight instead of continuing the taunt, he decides (or convinces himself). He shrugs and throws himself back on the couch next to them.

“Yeah, yeah, sure, alright. It was all me. Every bad evil monster in fairytales, every devil legend, all me. Happy?”

Anathema giggles quite happily, but Newt's face turns into one of regret – he might not be sober anymore, but he's definitely clear enough to realise that maybe, making an actual demon angry was not a very wise after-dinner partytrick (one which Anathema had perfected by now).

“Sorry, I didn't mean to accuse- I mean-” he stammers, but Crowley waves him off.

“Whatever. Probably would've gotten me more commendations from Downstairs if it was all true.”

“Oh, I'm not sure about that.” Aziraphale interrupts and earns the surprised stare of all three of them, even as glass-eyed as they are by now. “Do you really think Hell would've been happy with you being constantly discovered? We were supposed to lay low, after all.”

“Oh, really?” Crowley hisses, and Newt, who hasn't spent as much time with them as Anathema has – hasn't seen this dance and play as often as she – shrinks down in his seat. “Oh, really? You gonna tell me how to do my job, angel? Gonna say I fucked that up, too?”

“I didn't say that.” Aziraphale wipes non-existent crumbs off his waistcoat. “Especially not with that wording, thank you very much. All I'm saying is”, and that bastardly gleam is back, as Anathema tries to stiffle her giggle and Newt's eyes worryingly dart back and forth between them, “that there are rather a lot of times where even I heard about your workings from locals before I found you.”

Crowley is silent again for a minute – not, like with the humans, because he knows there won't be a fair fight – rather exactly because he knows he will lose.

Unless he turns.

“Assss if”, he hisses yet again, and Newt sinks a little lower, “as if you weren't just as bad!”

“Well, I wasn't.”

“Oh please!”

“I was always a bit more careful than you, dearest.”

“Oh yeah, absolutely, no legends about miracles or angel sightings or helpful glowing strangers anywhere-”

“But you can't pin them on me.” Aziraphale's face is triumphant, his smile a tad too bright. “I could name several angels who've come down for messages. And miracles aren't exactly connected to a person, are they? Not like a snake-shaped monster or, say, a handsome lurker with slit pupils.”

Crowley sputters, his mouth faster than his brain, which is not able to come up with any comebacks. He blames the wine, inwardly. (He's only had half a bottle. If he blamed it outwardly, Aziraphale would set him straight once again, knowing just how much the demon can handle before becoming unbearable.)

The silence hangs over them, a string pulled taught, waiting to snap and either make or break the evening. Anathema loves the suspense. Newt is terrified by the tension.

“There is a story my dad told me.” He breaks the silence, and earns three stares at himself now. Anathema expected a lot, but not for her boyfriend to start off the penultimate argument of the evening. (She feels quite proud.) “About a local Soho cryptid.”

“A Soho cryptid.” Crowley echoes, his eyes darting to Aziraphale, who is very uncomfortably trying not to look at him. A grin grows on the edge of his mouth.

“Yes.” Newt is either too inebriated to notice what he is doing, or too spurned on by the sudden rush of adrenaline of daring to talk. “He's told me when I moved to London, about this shop that's been open for like two hundred years. Which isn't much in London, I guess. But also about how the clerk never seems to change.”

Crowley's grin grows unbearable. Anathema is stifling her giggles again.

“Told me how he visited the place once and there was a picture on the wall of the opening on, like, 18-something, and it was the same dude standing behind the counter.”

Crowley barks out a laugh. He remembers that picture. He can see it before his inner eye, clearly – mostly because it's now hanging in the small flat upstairs, after a customer had made a comment that left Aziraphale stammering and sputtering to find an excuse.

“I thought my dad was just having me on, you know, wanting to scare me when I moved to a bigger city, but then-” Newt takes a sip of the wine, some liquid courage, “I went to some shops around the area, and they all said the same, or something similar. Or they had a story about the same person helping them and their great-grandpa. Or about the strange- ...the going-ons in the bookshop on the corner. There was a lady who called it a liminal space, but back then I didn't know what that was, so I thought she was just a bit crazy.” He throws an apologetic look to Anathema, who's not even noticed the implied insult, far too busy with both being proud of him and excitedly watching Crowley rise (quite shakily) from his spot on the couch and point an accusing finger at Aziraphale, who has sunk down in his armchair almost as much as Newt on the sofa.

“Aha!” Crowley hollers, and the finger keeps pointing. “I might be in medieval legends, angel, but at least I didn't brand my liminal space with my own goddamn name! At least I don't go around in a century old costume to have people gossip about me being some kind of ghost shopkeep!”

“At least my legends are nice stories.” Aziraphale tries to counter. It doesn't do much, as Crowley is already laughing with absolute victory as he falls back on the couch.

Anathema leans over to Newt to place a kiss on his cheek – he is pretty unaware what for, but he enjoys it nonetheless.

The evening's entertainment has been sorted.

(Crowley will not let it rest with the evening, though. The following weeks, not a day goes by during which Aziraphale doesn't hear a new story about himself the demon's found out from local residents. Crowley will recite them with utter glee, about how the bakery on the corner has kept to a certain recipe for generations now only because they fear it will anger whatever-Aziraphale-is-in-their-minds if they change it, how the old lady living in number 86 down the street remembers him being ever so helpful when her mother moved in as a shunned single mother 80 years ago, how he hasn't aged a day since he showed up in that ancient newspaper clipping about peculiar shops of the area.)

(He stops one day, Aziraphale notices, and it takes quite a lot of pushing and prodding to find out why – how the stories soon switched to the equally puzzling car parked outside the shops for decades now. To the string of handsome, well-dressed, stylish gentlemen that the Soho cryptid seemed to entertain – a cryptid with a type, they all agreed, a certain taste for red hair and good cheekbones and far too long limbs.)

(The argument is at an impassé. They decide to lay it to rest. Aziraphale, as a last act of bastard-ness, hangs up an old daguerrotype of the two of them next to the shop's till. Anathema spots it on her next visit and breaks down in a fight of laughter.)

[nyxelestia]

I’ve talked a ton about what fandom spaces look like when Black woman steps into a racebent role, but not about what happens to Black men who play racebent roles in the same franchises.

If you think that things are any easier for Black men in fandom well…

You’ve thought wrong.

This installment of What Fandom Racism Looks Like will look at how the racism behind how the Smallville fandom treated Pete Ross – played by Sam Jones III – and how, over a decade later, the Supergirl fandom pulls from the same playbook in order to excuse heaping a ton of racism on James Olsen and the black actor that plays him, Mehcad Brooks.

It is a fact of fandom that Black characters of any gender are treated poorly in comparison to non-Black characters. When you take gender into consideration, misogynoir leaps out and the anti-black and anti-woman violence leaps out, but that doesn’t mean that Black men have ever been beloved in fandom.

Some Black men/male characters are liked a little bit more than Black women in similar shows or properties, but can you actually name one that is treated on the same level as a white male character or performer?

Can you name one that’s actually beloved?

We’re now in my fifth year of running Stitch’s Media Mix and one constant that I’ve talked about is the way that the Star Wars fandom maligns, dismisses, and makes weird shit up about Finn and his actor John Boyega.

Folks across various fandom spaces don’t limit their ire just to Finn’s existence and creating fanworks (fiction, art, and meta fandom analysis) that turn him into a villain or kill him off so that Kylo Ren could succeed as the “real” hero of the franchise.

No.

I’m talking about folks deciding Boyega has to be homophobic because he’s Nigerian-British and because his father is prominent in their church and things like the time folks flooded his mentions calling him a misogynist and sexist and even @-ing Lucasfilm/Disney over a video of him dancing during carnival.

What Finn and John Boyega go have been going through since in 2015 is what Mehcad Brooks and James Olsen go through in 2019.

It’s an updated version of what Sam Jones III and Pete Ross went through a decade ago.

Looking back now, it’s obvious that the Smallville fandom was predictable in the same ways that many other superhero fandoms are now.

The most popular ship for the fandom was between two white male characters – Lex Luthor and Clark Kent – frenemies for life.

It’s a fandom that often treated white female characters and characters of color as obstacles in the way of the main slash relationship – instead of like Lex Luthor’s everything. It’s a ship with a fanbase that pretty much cut out or ignored the relationships either white male character had with white women or people of color in order to portray their relationship as the most important one across the series.

With that much predictability, it’s not that difficult to look back at fanworks from when the Smallville fandom was at its highest and draw connections between what fandom did over a decade ago and what it continues to do now.

Pete Ross wasn’t the first sidekick or friend in a superhero drama to be racebent.

In Smallville alone, biracial Chinese-American Kristen Kreuk was cast to play a racebent version of Clark Kent’s teenaged sweetheart Lana Lang. (And Dean Cain’s Clark Kent on The Adventures of Clark Kent and Lois Lane in the early Nineties was visibly not white.)

However, the fandom’s response to this newly Black Pete Ross was… different.

When folks in fandom deigned to write him, they wrote him as a shucking and jiving stereotype, an approximation of what they think Black men were like In 2002.

Back then, longtime fan writer teland aired one hell of a grievance about the way that folks in the Smallville fandom insisted on writing Pete Ross when the series first aired, writing that:

If I *never* see another story where Pete fucking ROSS goes around speaking stereotypical JIVE again it will be too soon. What the fuck is *wrong* with you people? Do you *watch* the show? Has Pete *ever* been anything but a normal smartass teenaged boy with a crush on Chloe and a lust for every other woman his eyes have lit upon? Has he *ever* expressed an interest in the poetry of Amiri Baraka? Does he cruise the streets of Smallville in his low-rider and do drive-bys with his do-rag arranged in Criply perfection?

 No?

 Then why the *fuck* do you write him that way, numbnuts?

This fannish insistence on writing Pete Ross as hella hood despite the fact that there are next to no other Black people in Smallville – much less a “hood” of any kind – was one of the ways that the Smallville fandom made it very clear that they didn’t actually see Pete Ross as a character. He was a bad blank slate, one that they could overlay not with the nuanced characterization that white blank slates got –

But with stereotypes about Blackness.

There is no “hood” in Smallville, Kansas.

Outside of a few racebent characters, the small country town is pretty darn white. There are several episodes of Smallville where Pete is the only character of color with dialogue. He’s frequently the ONLY black character on-screen and his dialogue and motivations aren’t exactly hard to parse –

So why was fandom’s “go to” for Pete Ross a hella hood version that dropped slang and exhibited a frankly offensive stereotype of Black existence that didn’t even apply to him?

Simply put?

The Smallville fandom, like many fandoms when faced with having to interact with or write a Black character for the first time in ages, gravitated towards what they knew from their limited interactions with Blackness and Black people. Their biases shone through because it was, for them, the only way they knew how to conceptualize Black people.

(You can see this replicated in more modern fandom with how the MCU fandom tries to turn Sam Wilson into a hard hood stereotype in fanworks or that one horrible headcanon where Miles shoplifted to get art supplies – despite his solidly middle-class existence and strong views of right and wrong.)

If you know nothing about Black people outside of what like… Fox News and your elderly grandparents in the Midwest tell you about Black people and have no interest in seeing us AS PEOPLE or doing the work to unbuild those biases, your fanworks that reference or even center Black characters will hold those beliefs.

Pete Ross was on Smallville for three seasons. In those three seasons, the fandom pretty much decided that he was set up to sit in one of two roles. Either he’d be a supportive sidekick to Clark and company, or he’d be a villain. And either way, when they wrote him, they often gravitated to writing him as a hood stereotype.

Again, there are next to no other Black people in Smallville on the seasons Pete Ross is one of Clark’s closest friends.

Smallville is a picture of white Americana right down to how the show and town takes a Highlander-esque approach to diversity where only a few characters of color are even allowed to inhabit the same space at any given time.

Unlike many of the other Black male characters that set fandoms afire with their ire, Pete Ross wasn’t a threat to established ships or character arcs. He was gone before he really had a chance to shine, written off and moved out of town as other characters took his spot at Clark’s right hand.

What happens when a Black male character is in the way of one ship or poses a threat to another?

Well, for the answer to that, we need to fast forward over a decade to the Supergirl fandom and how it treats Mehcad Brooks and his character on the show, James Olsen.  From the start, racebending Clark Kent’s most famous sidekick didn’t go well. His casting was met with frustration from all corners of fandom from folks that hated that he was a) Black and b) potentially in a relationship with Kara.

Then season two on The CW happened and the fandom kind of… started mutating in the worst way.

Certain parts of the Supergirl fandom will have you believing that James Olsen is the worst character on the show and that Mehcad is the most problematic person to ever work on a CW show.

They cite Mehcad’s (admittedly offensive) Instagram username, his championing Lena/James as a ship on instagram using a hashtag commonly associated with LGBTQ people, and a comment about how his girlfriend at the time told him that he’s “a lesbian trapped in a football player’s body” made to a trans reporter.

None of those things are great, let’s be very real here.

I don’t actually like or support a lot of how Mehcad Brooks carries himself. I don’t need to like him in order to be very aware of how he’s treated by the fandom from even before he was deemed Problematic.

One of the things I’ve been hyperaware of in fandom is how celebrities and fans of color are shunned for problematic thoughts and behavior in a more… permanent way. There are non-Black CW stars who are problematic – some of them are even on Supergirl – and who’ve presented themselves in ways that aren’t great.

But for the most part, they don’t have people calling for them to be fired or for their character to be killed off.

They don’t have folks pretending to care about marginalized people to cloak their anti-Blackness.

Which is one of my biggest issues with the way that Black male characters are treated in fandom spaces: the way that folks use social justice rhetoric and a vague “desire for representation” to excuse unsubtle racism towards these male characters and their performers.

I know we covered that folks performing wokeness is in the minority of Things That Happen In Fandom, but let’s be clear: this is one occasion where it’s frequent and obvious.

One of the ways that Black characters and performers are subject to racism from fandom is in the way that non-Black fans will reframe them as “too problematic to support” (which therefore allows them to be dehumanized by the fandom that dislikes them). If folks in fandom can claim that they really don’t like a Black character because they need to protect marginalized (white) fans from their existence, then they can’t be called racist.

Because they’re doing it for (white) queer people.

Or (white) women.

But it’s terribly transparent.

After all:

Someone celebrating (with champagne and all) that James Olsen has been shot and that Lex Luthor called him a dog does not actually give a shit about representation for people of color.

Someone fretfully worrying that John Boyega, thanks to his father’s role in their church, is a homophobe that doesn’t actually want Finn/Poe to be canon, doesn’t actually care about queer people.

Someone positing that a Black male character is actually harmful for a non-Black character – and that’s why the fandom has to distrust and dislike them – doesn’t actually care about Black people.

And if you’re out here championing a non-canon (fem)slash ship because #RepresentationMatters at the same time that you’re out here actively wishing evil on a Black performer and hoping that their character gets killed off… you can’t possibly care that much about representation for anyone but white queer people.

It continues to boggle my mind how non-Black fans seem incapable of understanding that we can see their tweets and tumblr posts. They seem incapable of understanding that we know the script as well as they do because we’ve seen them use it across the years of fandom and that we see it put into play, we’re not going to fall for it.

Hell, we’re going to call that crap out.

Pete Ross wasn’t the first Black male character to be mistreated by a white fandom. We’ve got years of evidence of Black male characters being rewritten and misrepresented and torn down in order to lift up non-Black ones. Name me a Black male character in a franchise or fandom and I’ll probably be able to tell you at least two ways that fandom mistreats them.

As we can see with James Olsen, the disgusting way folks in fandom treat and talk about Black male characters and performers. is just going to continue until non-Black fans step up and throw away the script they’re adhering to so hard.