#her presence isn’t horrible he digresses

[sukipearl]

sebastian is a sucker for secret doorways

[notasupernaturalblog]

The monster you created

I read @fandomite‘s awesome post about why Jinx and her being a villain, so I’m adding my two cents.

The entire time Jinx is walking to the launch point, and as she's firing the torpedo we hear the soft violin and The Monster You Created. It's not a badass song showing us how badass she is for going to kill all those people, it's sad.

Jinx isn’t an evil character, she’s a tragic one.

I’m constantly amazed by Arcane’s soundtrack and choice of music because it fits perfectly with the story, but this final scene is by far my favourite, and the song gives me the shivers every time I watch it!

Looking at Jinx like a terrorist and a villain is a really one-dimensional view of Arcane in general — yes what she did is horrible (but also consider: this is an imaginary story, it's stupid in itself to assign real life moral judgment on fictional characters but I digress), but i thought the show did a pretty good job of showing us all the little things that lead to this point — if even one thing was different we probably wouldn’t be here. The entire final scene was a result of a bunch of dominos that kept falling on one another way back from before the first episode. But that's the entire point: Arcane (at least the first season) is a tragedy! This was all completely avoidable, except it wasn't. Because the circumstances were like they were, and because Piltover's treatment of Zaun was as it was.

Jinx isn’t just a character in Arcane — this final scene isn't just a culmination of all her issues that she's letting out in a destructive blaze after losing everyone she cares about, but also a culmination of the Piltover-Zaun issues that have been brewing for a long time now. Most of the things that led Jinx on this path are directly or indirectly related to Topsiders’ treatment of Zaun: her childhood, Silco's fight with Vander and his death and by extension Vi's anger at her, the entire way she grew up with Silco — Piltover and their easy life while leaving Zaun people to rot are a constant presence in her life.

This was a war waiting to happen. Vander and Grayson have managed to keep some semblance of peace for a while, but after they’re gone you can see it starts crumbling — Silco’s approach is different and isn’t only focused on keeping the peace, and Marcus in Grayson’s place is obviously starting to crack as time goes on.

In all of that you have one inconsequential little girl, who grew up in the Lanes, who had serious inferiority and abandonment issues among everything else...which in itself doesn't mean much in the grand scheme of things. But couple that with everything that happened to her, and the way she grew up, living with the world where she lived and living by its rules of only looking out for yourself — there was no way she could’ve grown up “normal”. In this world where everyone only looks out for their own well-being, where could she even get the help she needed?). Silco, as much as he did care about her and helped her, still pushed some of her problems further, albeit not on purpose.

And this inconsequential little girl happens to be very good with explosives and destruction, and she's really intelligent, so she manages to crack hextech on her own. I don’t know if she would do anything on her own with this, i don't know what part of killing the council was her idea and what was Silco's. We don’t know if Jinx at this point in time would do what she did at the end. Maybe. But also maybe not.

But then comes Vi, and then comes Caitlyn, and Jinx feels like Vi doesn’t accept who she is now, like Vi's betrayed her for Topside, and the bridge fight with Ekko happens.

When she wakes up, her eyes are pink and shimmer's changed her. I saw a lot of people saying that the tea party scene was Jinx finally accepting who she is and Vi not understanding but i feel like people forget that this is shortly after whatever Singed did? Jinx with pink eyes doesn’t seem stable. If anything it looks like shimmer only made her more unhinged and also gave her the power, which is never a good combination.

And you see while Vi's convincing her that they could go together that she's wavering. This isn’t planned, everything she does during that tea party is completely unplanned and reactionary to everything around her. Jinx isn’t in control of herself for the majority of this scene. And then Silco dies and that pushes her over the edge.

Who does she blame for her entire life going to hell? For everyone around her dying? Who was indirectly responsible for near everything that went wrong in her life? And Who's out there enjoying their lives and their richness without ever sparing a second thought to Zaun?

Well now they'll know. We'll show them.

Jinx isn't the monster Vi created.

She's the monster Piltover created.

[hysterialevi]

Eitr | Chapter 10

Fanfic summary: In an alternate universe where the Raven Clan is wiped out, Sigurd ends up being rescued by the son of a Saxon ealdorman, and is tasked with being the boy’s new bodyguard. Upon meeting the boy’s father however, Sigurd soon realizes that the ealdorman is responsible for his clan’s destruction, and secretly plans for revenge while hiding behind the guise of a Norse pagan turned Christian.

Point of view: third-person

Pairing: Sigurd Styrbjornson x Male OC

Author’s note: Thanks for being patient with me guys. I know I’ve been sucking ass in terms of getting these chapters out at a frequent rate, but I really appreciate you all being so understanding with me. Hope you enjoy this part, and thanks again for the support.

This story is also on AO3 | Previous chapter | Next chapter

ONE WEEK LATER

ELMENHAM, THE LONGHOUSE

Oswald threw an incredulous stare at Eivor upon hearing the news, unable to deny the doubt that was settling into his mind.

“The ealdorman of Wedenscire did this?” He asked. “Are you certain?”

Eivor shrugged, fidgeting with his axe as he relaxed in a chair.

“That’s what Gjuki tells me. There is still much information to be uncovered when it comes to the nature of this ambush, but based on what he has brought to me so far, I think it’s safe to assume that Aegenwulf was involved with the attack at the very least.”

The king placed his hands on his hips and began to pace around the room. “I just... I find it difficult to believe that he would act so brazenly -- especially in the middle of a war, no less. Aegenwulf has never been fond of the Danes, that is true, but he is a man of honor; a man of God. If he truly is behind the attack on Ravensthorpe, why would he do such a thing? What reason could he have to treat your people in such a way?”

Eivor sighed, tracing the edge of his blade. “I do not yet know, but his crimes go beyond what happened at Ravensthorpe. He also has my brother.”

That caught Oswald’s attention. “Aegenwulf has Sigurd? Is he holding him prisoner?”

“Not officially, but he may as well be. I have only heard fragments of the entire situation in Forangal, but Gjuki tells me Sigurd is slowly being brainwashed. He bears their sigil, and raises a blade in the ealdorman’s name. He obeys Aegenwulf’s every word, and apparently, has expressed some hesitation in terms of going along with my plans to assault the fortress. There are even whispers that he might convert to Christianity soon. They are turning him into a thrall.”

The Saxon king shook his head in sympathy, gazing blankly at the floor. “I’m... so sorry, Eivor. You’ve made it quite clear how much Sigurd means to you. I can’t imagine what it’s like watching a loved one lose sense of who they are. I wish I could make all this go away with a snap of my fingers, but we’ll need more men if we are to breach the walls of Forangal Castle.”

Eivor rose from his seat, sliding his axe back into its sheathe. “Have no fear, Oswald. We will have the forces we need soon enough. I have just finished securing an alliance in Eurvicscire. A couple more, and we should be ready to get Sigurd back.”

“Good. In the meantime, I will do all I can to prepare. A fragile peace hangs over East Anglia, but if there’s any chance we can save your brother, I’ll be there when you call for me. So will Valdis.”

“Thank you, Oswald.” Eivor said sincerely. “I know I’m asking a lot, but if we don’t rescue Sigurd from Forangal, he could end up dead. Or worse.”

“I understand. This is not something we can simply let go. If Aegenwulf really is at the heart of all this, we must bring him to justice. He has the blood of many innocents on his hands, and that cannot go unpunished.”

Oswald strolled back to his throne, finally having a seat after a long day of work.

“Carry on with your plans, Eivor. I will inform Valdis of what is to come. In the meantime, do your best to keep your head high. I know these are trying times, but Sigurd is going to need your strength if his situation is truly as bad as Gjuki reports.”

Eivor gave him a nod, making his way out of the longhouse. “I know, Oswald. And I will. I’m not giving up on him yet.”

~~~~~~~~~~

THAT NIGHT

FORANGAL CASTLE, SIGURD’S CHAMBERS

Dragging a small stone along the edge of his sword, Sigurd sharpened the blade underneath the pale moonlight as he sat by the window, continuously checking to see if Gjuki had lit the brazier yet.

It had been about a week or so ever since he began searching for Algar’s hidden crypt, and with no further updates to inform Sigurd of what was going on, the man couldn’t deny that he was starting to grow anxious.

What if something had happened to Gjuki? What if he had been caught? What if all this was for nothing? What would he do?

The last thing Sigurd wanted was to think about the possible outcomes that could arise if their plan was foiled, but the thoughts continued to creep into his mind regardless. There were so many risks at hand and so many lives to consider, that he was beginning to wonder if all their effort was doomed to end in futility.

After all, they were heavily outnumbered in this part of England. Aside from Gjuki and his men, Sigurd really had no one else to rely on in Wedenscire. Of course, he had the support of Aegenwulf’s children to back him up, but in the face of true monarchy, he doubted that their approval of him would mean much to the ealdorman in the end.

Still, he supposed there was no use in worrying until he had a solid reason to believe something was amiss. Gjuki had already proven himself to be a skilled warrior in the past, and with Eivor waiting just beyond the horizon to bring Aegenwulf to justice, Sigurd remained confident in the fact that they would reunite someday.

Though, of course, that didn’t mean he wasn’t frightened.

“...Sigurd?” A man suddenly said from behind the door, their gruff voice muffled by its material. “Are you in there?”

The viking placed his sword down and walked over to the entrance, straightening his tunic along the way.

“One moment.”

Swinging the door open with a firm pull, Sigurd paused in surprise when he saw an unexpected face greeting him from the other side, admittedly confused about their presence here.

“Thegn Raedan?” He said. “Is there something you need?”

The nobleman took a moment to observe the Norse in front of him, flicking his eyes up and down.

“So...” Raedan replied quietly, not wanting to wake Forangal’s people, “you’re Sigurd the Lone-Wolf. I apologize for the abrupt visit -- especially at such a late hour -- but I wanted to speak with you face-to-face. After all, I don’t think you and I have had the chance to sit down and have a proper conversation yet, have we?”

“No, we haven’t.”

The Saxon quirked a brow at him. “...May I come in?”

Sigurd stepped to the side, allowing him entry. “Of course, my lord.”

Walking into the dimly-lit chamber, Raedan strolled towards the window and leaned against the wall beside it, resting a hand on the hilt of his sword as Sigurd closed the door behind him.

“So,” the viking said, “what did you wish to speak about?”

Raedan was quiet for a second. “...Well, a few things. But mainly, my wife. Moira. You’ve met her a handful of times by now, haven’t you? I know she’s been giving you some trouble since we first arrived, and I’m sorry about that. She is a good woman, but she’s also very protective. And I fear that the history between our people and yours has been anything but peaceful.”

The viking crossed his arms. “I assume her distrust towards me isn’t without reason.”

The Saxon nodded. “And you’d be correct. I’ll spare you the details, but... just know that she lost her own mother to the vikings. Many years ago. It’s the main reason her father arranged a marriage between the two of us. He wanted to secure an alliance with my family in order to drive the Danes out of their lands. It worked in the end... but at a great cost.”

Sigurd’s tone softened with empathy. “...I’m sorry to hear that. I know how it feels.”

“I imagine we all do, nowadays. Unfortunately. It’s rare to find someone who has evaded the tragedy of this war, and even rarer to find someone who hasn’t been changed by it. But I digress...”

Raedan approached Sigurd, lowering his voice so that it was barely above a whisper.

“May I ask you something, Lone Wolf?”

The Norseman nodded. “Certainly.”

“...From what I understand, you’re quite close to Aegenwulf, aren’t you?”

Sigurd shook his head. “Not particularly, no. In fact, I hardly know anything about him.”

“Is that so? Well, I must admit, that’s somewhat of a surprise. I simply assumed you were friends since he’s allowed you to stay here. Most Danes that cross paths with Aegenwulf end up with a severed head.”

“It was mostly his children who influenced his decision to spare me,” Sigurd explained. “Initially, Aegenwulf was going to have me executed.”

Raedan chuckled softly. “Ah, yes. That’s more what I expected. Still, it doesn’t sound like the Aegenwulf I knew all those years ago. He’s always been a stern bastard, mind you, but... I feel as if he’s changed lately. And not for the better.”

Sigurd recalled what Edric told him. “Well, he did lose one of his sons.”

“Aye. Gareth. I heard about that. Such a horrible death, and one that I fear has left Aegenwulf in a perpetual state of despair. He always puts on a smile when he’s around me, but I can’t help but feel as if it’s no more than a facade.”

The viking picked up on his tone. “You’re worried about him?”

“I am. That’s why I came to you. I hate to talk about a man behind his back, but I thought you might know something that could help. Seems he’s keeping secrets from everyone these days, though.”

Sigurd couldn’t hide the sharpness in his voice. “Not everyone.”

“Oh? You have someone in mind?”

The Norseman sighed out of hesitance, somewhat reluctant to answer the question. Part of him trusted Raedan to handle information like this with an objective mind -- he seemed quite rational, after all -- but the other part regretted saying anything in the first place.

Still, he wondered if it’d be best if someone from outside of Forangal knew the reality of the situation. Sigurd wasn’t willing to open up to Raedan about everything just yet, but... maybe it could’ve helped if one of Aegenwulf’s oldest allies had the gist of what was going on.

He only prayed he wasn’t wrong.

“...It’s Algar.” Sigurd finally confessed.

Raedan furrowed his brow. “Algar? You mean Aegenwulf’s housecarl? What about him? Have you noticed anything strange?”

“Nothing specific,” he lied, “but it doesn’t take much to see that he’s influencing Aegenwulf’s way of thinking -- and not in a good way.”

Strangely enough, the other man didn’t seem too shocked. “Yes... I’ve heard the folks in this castle whispering about him. Edric’s mentioned him a few times as well. I get the impression that no one here is really fond of him, and now I’m starting to suspect there’s more to it than mere speculation.”

“Indeed. Everyone I’ve met so far has called him a snake. Perhaps it’d be worth keeping an eye on him--” 

Sigurd came to an abrupt pause, suddenly noticing a lone flame glowing in the distance. It appeared to be coming from the pier just as Gjuki said it would, and he could’ve sworn he saw someone moving around in the shadows.

It must’ve been him.

“Sigurd?” Raedan said, pulling the viking from his thoughts. “Is... everything alright?”

The bodyguard brought his gaze back to the nobleman, quickly conjuring up an excuse.

“Erm, f-forgive me, my lord. I hate to cut our conversation short, but I just remembered I have an important matter to take care of. I’m afraid it can’t wait. If you’ll excuse me...”

Raedan nodded, giving him a casual wave. “Of course, Sigurd. Do what you must, and thank you for lending your ear to this old dog. I’ll keep in mind what you said about Algar, and I think we’d both do best to observe his every move. In the meantime, keep Aegenwulf’s children safe, understand? I don’t know what’s going on with his housecarl, but those little rascals don’t deserve any harm.”

“Understood. You have my word.”

The Saxon began heading for the exit, satisfied with the information he gathered. “Very good. I’ll see myself off, then. Take care of yourself, Lone Wolf. This place is far from safe, and I fear it’ll stay that way for quite some time.” He gave him one last glance. 

“Until we meet again.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A FEW MINUTES LATER

THE PIER

Tugging his hood further down his face, Sigurd stuck to the path as he navigated his way through the darkness, doing his best to stay concealed in the overwhelming blackness of the night.

So far, he had yet to notice anyone tailing him through the wilderness, and the foliage around him remained calm with inactivity, but he couldn’t seem to fight off the sense of dread that was crawling underneath his skin.

It just felt... ominous out here. There was too much silence; too much stillness. The world was devoid of any life during this time of day, and it didn’t reflect the same atmosphere Sigurd experienced when he went hunting with Edric at all. 

Perhaps it was just nerves, he thought. The night always seemed to draw out a certain type of fear from people’s hearts, and the fact that he wasn’t supposed to be out here in the first place certainly didn’t help.

His mind may have been racing with about a thousand different thoughts at the moment, what with all the anxiety that was building up in his chest, but he had to remind himself to stay calm.

Panicking would only make him stand out more after all, and he couldn’t afford to be caught.

“...Gjuki?” Sigurd whispered cautiously, quietly approaching the pier as he stepped into the brazier’s circle of light. “Gjuki, are you there?”

There was no response.

“Gjuki,” He repeated a bit louder, starting to grow concerned. “It’s me, Sigurd. You can come out.”

Still, he received no answer.

Where was that damned bard? He wondered. Had Gjuki been forced to flee prematurely due to some sort of threat? Or had Sigurd simply mistaken this flame as his signal?

He assumed the fire had been lit by Gjuki, considering that this pier was abandoned. No one else had any reason to make use of this place, and the timing of its appearance had to be more than just a coincidence. 

Though, in spite of all that, the bard remained nowhere to be seen. There was no trace of Gjuki lying around the vicinity, and if Sigurd looked closely enough at the wooden floor of the pier, he could’ve sworn he saw some type of red liquid staining its surface.

Wait a minute. 

Was that...?

“Hello, Lone Wolf.”

Whirling around at the sudden voice, Sigurd barely had any time to react before he felt the sharp sting of an armored fist bashing him in the face, causing him to fall to the ground.

He heard a group of footsteps swarming him as soon as he hit the floor, and within the blink of an eye, a pair of men had grabbed him by the arms, restraining him in their grasp.

“Hold him down!” A familiar voice bellowed over the commotion.

Sigurd struggled violently in their grip and desperately attempted to break free, only to receive a firm kick to the stomach. His head was still spinning from the initial punch, and now, his organs felt as if they were about to climb up his throat too.

“Stay still!” One of the men barked, shoving Sigurd’s face into the ground as he bent the man’s arms behind his back. But the viking wasn’t done fighting yet.

Despite being somewhat dazed from the attack, Sigurd wrestled even harder with the guards and let out an aggressive grunt, trying to weaken their grasp.

Before he could resist their seizure any further however, a metallic scrape suddenly reached his ears, forcing him to bring his attention to the dagger that was now kissing the flesh on his throat.

“Move one more muscle,” his captor hissed, “and I’ll plant this little beauty straight through your eye.”

Sigurd glared at the man on the other side of the blade, instantly recognizing their face.

“...Algar.”

The housecarl grinned widely, leaning in closer to him as he pulled his hood back. “Well, well. If it isn’t the blue-eyed demon. I had a feeling you would turn up sooner or later, Sigurd. I’m so glad to see you again.”

Sigurd ignored the man’s taunts, focused entirely on the absence of his friend. “Where’s Gjuki? What have you done with him?”

Algar raised a brow. “Oh, you mean the bard? There’s no need to worry about him, mate. I assure you, he’s receiving the exact treatment he deserves.” 

The viking glowered at the malevolence in his tone, horrified to imagine what Gjuki could’ve been going through at the moment.

“I’ll kill you for this, you dog...!” Sigurd growled through clenched teeth.

The Saxon offered nothing but a chuckle in response. “You’ve certainly got a fire in you, Lone Wolf. There’s no denying that. I almost... respect it in a way. But unfortunately, I doubt you’ll be doing anything in your position.”

Algar grabbed Sigurd by the hair, yanking his head upwards from the ground with a hard tug. 

“Did you honestly think I wouldn’t figure out what you and your friend were doing? How blind do you think I am? I warned you what would happen if you defied me, Sigurd, but it seems my threats fell on deaf ears. A shame, really, seeing as how you would’ve made a great warrior. All you had to do was follow our fucking orders. Now though, I’m afraid your fate rests in Aegenwulf’s hands.”

Algar let go of the viking’s hair and stood up from the ground, giving his men a series of commands.

“Tie him up, and bring him back to the castle. I’ll inform the ealdorman of what has transpired here. In the meantime, make sure this one stays put in the dungeons. I don’t want him to see even a sliver of sunlight until Aegenwulf permits it.”

“Right away, sir.” They answered in unison.

“Good. Then our business here is concluded. Oh, and Sigurd?” Algar shot a smirk at him. “Have no fear. I’ll personally see to it that your friend Edric hears of this. Can’t wait to see what he thinks.”

Sheathing his weapon, Algar swiftly walked over to his horse and prepared to return to the castle, dousing the brazier’s fire with a splash of water from the river.

Meanwhile, his men wrapped a cloth around Sigurd’s mouth and secured him with an abundance of ropes, ensuring that the man couldn’t move. Afterwards, they hauled him up from the ground and threw him over the back of one of their mounts, rendering him completely defenseless.

Sigurd was terrified right now. He had no idea what Algar intended to do with him, nor if Aegenwulf would spare him a second time -- and considering the fact that Gjuki could’ve been dead, he assumed he had lost his only chance to discover what the housecarl was doing behind closed doors.

Everything was going to hell. 

Not only would he be a prisoner of Algar’s now, his identity would also be exposed to everyone in Forangal. They would learn his real name, and finally hear the truth of his cryptic background. Edric would believe that his clan was responsible for the death of his brother, and the trust that they had built thus far would crumble into ash.

Blood of Tyr, Sigurd thought to himself. What on earth had done? Would he even survive this next week?

How was he going to contact Eivor now? Were Gjuki’s people aware of what was happening? Surely, Eivor would realize something was amiss with the bard’s disappearance. 

Or perhaps... he would just assume they were dead. Hope was in short supply nowadays due to everything going on in the war, and it wasn’t much of a stretch to believe that Sigurd had been killed whilst in the hands of Saxon enemies. Eivor probably had many other things to worry about at the moment, and the viking could only pray that his brother would be vigilant enough to notice that something had gone wrong.

Otherwise... Sigurd didn’t know what else he would do. There weren’t many chances to escape in a situation like this, and the odds were heavily stacked against him. 

Right now, his only option seemed to be compliance. He imagined his stay with Algar would simply worsen if he fought back, and any defiance would’ve surely swayed Aegenwulf towards a less forgiving approach.

Edric was the one person who had any hope of changing the ealdorman’s mind, and just like before, Sigurd had no choice but to rely on the young man’s help.

He was the only one who could’ve saved him now, and unless his view of the viking changed after hearing Algar’s report, Sigurd hoped he would be able to see reason. 

There was something deeper connecting the two of them, and now, after all this time, he would finally see for himself if it ever actually meant anything.

[justjameka]

This post is full of GoT 8x04 spoilers and GIFs!

*I’ve been working on this for two days

Initially, I thought I would write a long, drawn out post about the episode as a whole. There is a lot to discuss and I have lots of feelings about it all. I decided against it because though I am fond of most of the characters on this show, there is one, in particular, that has my heart, and I do believe I will love them for the rest of my life.

Ser Brienne of Tarth. In this potentially long, rambling post, I will discuss what she endured in this episode, and how it relates to things she’s endured in the past and how said things will affect her future. There will be heavy mentions of Ser Jaime Lannister and Braime. (Yes, I ship it, no I don’t hate him).  Any GIFs used in this post are not mine, and neither are the characters because if they were, I would treat them so much better.

This episode for me, a Brienne stan, was both beautiful and heartbreaking. There were so many layers to it. Gwendoline did an immaculate job really taking us on this emotional roller coaster, and making us feel Brienne in a way we haven’t in the past.  I want to talk about my experience watching the episode as a fan, and then my second watch as a writer, and as someone who has studied film and tv collegiately for six years.

Let’s start with the fact that Brienne of Tarth, First of Her Name, Keeper of Oaths, Defeater of The Hound, Protector of the Stark Daughters, Wielder of Oathkeeper, and Knight of the Seven Kingdoms survived the Great War! Not going to lie, I was very concerned for my Amazonian Warrior, but she prevailed.

We have never seen Brienne as carefree and relaxed as we saw her this episode. Her guard was down, she was enjoying herself, drinking and bonding, celebrating life because she faced death and survived. Not only did she live, but her crew survived alongside her. I must say, I enjoy tipsy Brienne. I truly do.

It was beautiful to watch, truly. Her enthusiasm was so open and free.  I was hype AF because: look at Brienne, living her best life just being chill! Ugh! I was teary-eyed. The bonding that occurred was beautiful. Podrick looked amused the entire time. Tyrion watched Jaime stare at Brienne with this knowing look on his face. The entire feast scene was just...*le sigh*

I would be remiss to ignore that it was Ser Jaime, the idiot, who helped pull her out of her shell, and that says a lot. The comfort level here, the heart eyes, the whole thing. He basically tells her it’s all right to just let loose.

Let’s discuss the drinking game, shall we?

Jaime: Um.... You are an only child.

Brienne: *pause with a smirk* I told you I was.

Jaime: You didn’t.

Brienne: I did!

Jaime: I surmised it.

Tyrion: Drink! .....Go again.

Brienne: Why does he get to go again?

Tyrion: Because it’s my game.

Jaime: You have danced with Renly Baratheon

Brienne: *looks at Podrick*

Podrick: *smiles drunkenly*

Tyrion: Drink!

Gah! How dare they flirt so openly, just blatant about it! He said these things confidently. He knew he was right and he was so happy that she was playing along. My poor shipper heart was soaring. Then Tyrion had to go and be...well Tyrion. Stating Brienne was a virgin was a shock to my system. Like...yes asshole we know this but we don’t bring attention to it. She completely closed up and I was like “dammit, Tyrion!” Though I understand that he was trying to push along the inevitable but look here sir, subtly is nice dammit!! Ser Brienne of Tarth was NOT here for this bullshit.

“I have to piss” will forever be what I say from this day forward when I don’t want to answer some shit. The look in her eyes, even though she was uncomfortable, says a lot. So many things and Jaime knew exactly what needed to be done. He’s watched her leave multiple times. She’s left him riding a horse, she’s walked out of his tent, she was in a rowboat, on foot in the snow....  He finally decided he wasn’t going to do it anymore....with a little help from Tyrion. Let’s be honest, Tyrion knew what was going on back in 8x02 when Jaime was staring lovingly at Brienne, and then before the knighting scene when Jaime very nearly jumped from his chair to greet her.  But I digress....

Let me just say this moment had me cackling. Tormund just knew he was going to follow the big woman and they were going to celebrate life together. And here comes Ser Jaime, throwing a golden hand in his plans. Jaime tapping Tormund twice before going off to follow Brienne with his little ‘nice try’ squint. It was so, just, I have no words. We see a little of jealous Jaime here. There has been the back and forth but we all know Tormund doesn’t stand a chance, it’s in this moment when Tormund realizes that he has lost.

Tyrion pouring his wine into Tormund’s horn while holding eye contact the entire time was another nail in the coffin. Poor guy. He just wanted to make giant babies with Brienne. Pod’s drunken smile was just amusing as hell. He was like my parents ‘Ser Jaime and Ser Brienne are finally going to consummate their 5-year relationship’. This entire sequence was absolutely hysterical. Also, the fact that Brienne had no idea of what happens between Tormund and Jaime. When she turns all she sees is Jaime in pursuit and she lengthens her stride because it’s just a bit much for her. I think she knew here, what was bound to happen and I think it scared her a little.

When I saw Oathkeeper I knew it was about to go down. I thought I was prepared but I was not. So let’s hop into this:

Brienne is tending to her fire. No longer is she in leathers. Just her undershirt and pants. Sometimes I forget how gloriously tall she is. There is a knock at the door and though she hesitates for a moment she opens it, without asking who it is. Is that a thing you do in Winterfell? Open your door late at night in your undershirt without inquiring who is on the other side?

Can we talk about Jaime’s exhale? He’s like,” welp we’re here now. I knocked. She answered. No turning back.” It’s all there on his face. How long did it take him to gather up the courage to knock? She’s no longer in her leathers. She had time to remove them. Set them aside and tend to the fire. How long was Jaime giving himself a pep talk? Trying to figure out how he was going to do approach her, approach them and the next step in their very complicated relationship.  

She isn’t surprised to see him. She doesn’t ask why he’s there she just opens the door and holds his eye, waiting. Had she been waiting? She saw him when he was coming after her. She knew he was following her. Could that be why his presence didn’t surprise her? I’m going to say yes.

J: You didn’t drink.

B: *confused* I didn’t drink?

J: In the game.

B: *More confused* I drank.

J: *adamantly* In the game! ....this is Dornish

B:This is not the game. This is only drinking.

J:Suit Yourself.

B: *drinks*

J: You keep it warm enough in here.

B: *shy and a bit reserved* It’s the first thing I learnt when I came to the North. Keep your fire going. Every time you leave the room, put more wood on.

J: *assholely* That’s very diligent. Very responisble.

B: *sick of his shit* Piss off.

J: You know the first thing I learn in the North? I hate the fucking North.

B: *amused* It grows on you.

J: I don’t want things growing on me

I couldn’t find GIFs of this moment, I know they are out there, I was just impatient and didn’t want to scroll through the different tags to find them. So we start this scene with Jaime seeming a little drunk and insistent on Brienne drinking to prove something he already knows and she knows that he already knows. To Brienne’s credit, she deals with his weird approach to the elephant in the room quite well. It’s very honest to who they’ve been since they met each other. The banter is genuine, Jaime being an asshole, Brienne being sick of his shit, it’s perfect.

B: *amused* It grows on you.

J: I don’t want things growing on me

I thought it was very obvious that when Brienne says this, with a little twinkle in her eye and a smirk that she means him. Or maybe I’m overthinking it..... As for Ser Jaime....IT’S TOO FUCKING LATE, SHE’S ALREADY GROWN ON YOU! He’s such an asshole. I swear.

Brienne’s ‘bitch please’ look in the second GIF has me weak. Jaime knew damn well that Brienne did not want Tormund. SN: I don’t dislike Tormund, I think he’s great. Not only is she mildly annoyed that he asked her that, but she also calls him on his shit! That was a pretty ballsy thing for her to do. There was no guarantee that Jaime was going to respond favorably. It could have been a moment of embarrassing rejection, but she did it anyway. She’s experienced men being horrible to her in the past, but she trusts him. She also knew that she was right. It doesn’t matter that she’s inexperienced. And it wasn’t an accusation just a statement of very obvious fact. She doesn’t raise her voice, it’s barely above a whisper. She almost loses her nerve at the end. Although she trusts him, there is some trepidation there. He’s known to insult her, though they’ve become less acidic as time has gone on.

Jaime agreeing with her is interesting because he almost seems surprised by his jealousy. As if he honestly didn’t know it was there, but he sees no point in denying it once it’s out in the open. He almost makes light of it.  He’s cared for her for years. He armed her. Armoured her. Saved her. (multiple times). He loves her, and maybe at that moment, it hits him that he can’t hide it or run from it.  

It’s bloody hot in here.

Jaime is by far the worst flirt in Westeros. ‘It’s bloody hot in here.” Really? It’s almost like things were getting too real. He had to lighten the mood and make it, easy, simple. Brienne’s confusion as he fiddles with the knot on his shirt is so precious and endearing. You can see the wheels in her head just turning. She’s running through scenarios, she’s planning, she’s trying to decide where this will go. What should happen when she makes the decision, she takes a page out of Jaime’s book. It’s not tender or sweet, but it’s very them. It’s reminiscent of her stabbing his ham so that he could cut it back in season 3. This moment is very powerful. It’s the first step towards her deciding this is what she wants, though she’s very matter-of-fact about it. Jaime’s intentions were relatively clear upon his arrival, but this is the beginning of Brienne deciding that she wants to do this. That she wants to give herself to this man.

Can we just take a damn minute and admire this tenderness!! This is in direct contrast with her shoving his hand away. She’s very stoic, almost business-like as she goes about untying his shirt, but when Jaime reaches for the knot on her shirt, real smooth Jaime, everything stops. It’s sweet the way she holds his fingers as they stare into each other’s eyes. As she makes the final discussion.

I’m so in love with the fact that they are topless before anything happens. And kudos to Jaime for keeping his eyes on Brienne’s face for the most part. Unlike the bath scene in season 3. SN: WHERE IS BRIENNE’S SCAR?!?!?!? 

Jaime ‘I’m a Dork’ Lannister, you’ve never been with anyone that isn’t Cersi before. What are you talking about?!?! I can’t lie, I thought it was cute. Fuck it, I thought it was adorable. And Brienne’s honesty here was so refreshing. I really appreciated the honesty from both of them in that moment. There are nerves swarming all around them, but they trust each other. It’s a big deal that they are doing this for both of them. Jaime has never experienced a non-toxic sexual experience. All of the times we see twincest, it’s aggressive and awkward, it’s fast and hard. There are no gentle caresses or loving looks and it’s usually forced consent.

For Brienne, she has never allowed herself to be in any scenario remotely close to that moment. This is a woman who slept in armour to protect herself. This is a woman who was ridiculed by multiple men, who was constantly called ugly, who was deemed undesirable. She was pretty much stripped of her femininity, and she fell hard into her role as a fighter, a warrior. But then Jaime came along. And he is handsome and highborn, and he loves her. He wants her.

I think this was the perfect first kiss for Ser Brienne and Ser Jaime. Please @ me! It’s honest. It’s awkward. It’s sweet. His eyes are open initially, he wants to see her. HE HAS TO GO UP ON HIS TIPPY TOES TO KISS HER! It’s so fucking cute. She’s supposed to be overexcited. This has never happened to her before, and she doesn’t know what she’s doing, but she wants it. And she came to terms with that fact. It’s perfect for them as a pairing. They’re like teenagers, fumbling around trying to figure what feels good. It’s sweet and innocent and wonderful. 

I love Jaime’s hand on her neck then her hair. It’s simple but it’s grounding them in the moment. There is a push and pull happening that mirrors their relationship. Jaime initiates the kiss and it takes Brienne by surprise. She stumbles a little but she’s not one to be outdone so she pushes back. And it’s not perfect but it’s honest and pure. Dammit I love them. 

I love the quiet moment of Jaime watching Brienne sleep. He looks pensive. His mind is working overtime. This is a big deal to him. This honorable woman gifted him with her womanhood. She trusted him. HIM. Of all people. He who is far from perfect. Brienne is too pure for this world, but she loves him and wants him. He can’t believe it.

I don’t have a ton to say about this, but Sansa knows, and I think that’s interesting. I want to know how much time has passed. How long has it been since OathSex? Brienne is so bashful and it’s so fucking cute. It’s ok Brienne, there’s nothing wrong with what you did!

Tyrion is such a dirty old man. I love how the relationship between Tyrion and Jaime has grown. They love each other so much, and it’s so obvious. It made me so happy to see their bond survive Tyrion killing their father. I love Tyrion for not bring up Cersei when he finds out. He does what is expected, he cracks a joke. It’s very telling that Jaime did not want to discuss Brienne with his brother. Yes, he loves Tyrion but Brienne is off limits.

So, going into the final three Braime scenes, I’m going to switch gears and really delve into what is happening without fangirling. 

Jaime finding out that Cersei ambushed Daenarys burst the bubble he’d been in with Brienne. It started with Bronn showing up with a crossbow, telling the Lannister brothers that Cersi wants them dead. He knew that Cersei was displeased with him leaving but I think he was genuinely surprised that she sent someone to kill him. That weighs heavy on him because if there is a price on his head, then that puts Brienne in danger. And he would never be able to forgive himself if something happened to her because of him. When he learns about the ambush, I truly believe that is when the decision was made.

He doesn’t want to leave. He’s hoping that she doesn’t wake up, and I’m of the belief that they made love before that night. He doesn’t want to have to say goodbye to her. It’s selfish and infuriating, but he doesn’t know if he’s strong enough to say goodbye, and that becomes blatantly obvious when Brienne comes outside.

He doesn’t look at her. Not because he doesn’t love her. Not because he doesn’t respect her. Because he can’t. He can’t look at her. Looking at her means looking at the woman he loves and seeing what his departure is doing to her.

B: They’re going to destroy that city. You know they will.

J: Have you ever run away from a fight. 

I think it’s worth it to mention that he doesn’t mention Cersei. He asks “have you ever run away from a fight?” It’s easy for this to get lost in this horrendously heartbreaking moment, but it starts with him acknowledging that there is a fight that he needs to be a part of. He’s also showing how highly he thinks of her. She doesn’t run away from fights. He feels like a coward, hiding out in King’s Landing. But deeper than that, he feels compelled by honor.

There is so much happening in this moment. Jaime was not prepared for the intimacy of it. Brienne grabs his face, and makes him look at her, and he is putty for a moment. There are so many emotions on his face as she tells him that he’s not like his sister, and that he’s a good man, and that he should stay with her. He aspires to be as honorable as she is. She has validated him on multiple occasions, and every time he is in awe and this moment is no different. His eyes shine with tears, he does not want to do it. It pains him to hear her like this. He’s never had to hurt her and you can see that her outpour of emotions really affect him.  Her insecurities surface and she believes he’s leaving her to go back to Cersei. He uses it.

This is not a man that wants to leave a woman. His subtle nod as she tells him he’s a good man and asks him to stay. Jaime has always been nonverbally expressive. He strokes her hand gentle, savoring the feel of her before he has to break her heart. 

You think I’m a good man? I pushed a boy out a tower window, crippled him for life for Cersei. I strangled my cousin with my own hands, just to get back to Cersei. I would have murdered every man, woman and child in Riverrun for Cersei. 

*painful eye contact*

She’s hateful and so am I

It’s so telling that he mentions Riverrun.  He says he would have killed every man, woman and child for Cersei, but he leaves out when he didn’t. He neglects to mention that Brienne showing up in the middle of his camp during a siege changed everything. He was surprised to see her, but he is also pleased to see her. If we’re being honest he’s always pleased to see her. But her arrival really made him change his intentions.

Riverrun was the first time that he went against Cersei for Brienne. It’s when he, in his own way, tells her he loves her.

 It’s where he lets her go when he had every right to apprehend her. It’s where he puts Brienne above politics.  It’s where Cersei starts to lose him.  It’s subtle, but in letting Brienne attempt to gain forces/troops for Sansa, who would in turn attempt to take Winterfell back from the Boltons, which was given to them by Walder Frey who was a bannerman for the Lannisters. It’s when he, unbeknownst to himself maybe, chooses Brienne over his family. It’s there that it’s clear what he feels for her and what she feels for him.

It’s because of all of this, that Brienne’s emotions erupt at the mention of Riverrun. She knows what happened there and what could’ve happened there. She knows she stopped hundreds of men from being slaughtered needlessly. She knows.

There is so much self-loathing rolling off of Jaime in waves. He’s struggling with feeling like he’s not enough. He doesn’t think he deserves her, but he wants her. But he has to finish it. It must be him. 

She can’t stop him. He’s going to King’s Landing and he’s going to try and stop Cersei. He’s going to do it because he didn’t do it years ago. He’s going because he did push a boy from a tower window. Because he did strangle his own cousin. He’s going because the one time he stood up to her was because of the woman standing in front of him. And he knows Ser Brienne of Tarth will not be safe as long as Cersei has power. He can’t stay. He can’t stay because the moments of happiness that they have are fleeting. Daeny has lost half her army and another dragon. The scales are not balanced and he can’t sit back and wait.

Have you ever run from a fight?

He’s going to fight for what important to him now and he doesn’t know if he’ll be successful but he knows he has to try. 

Brienne showed such strength. She has allowed herself to be open and vulnerable. She’s allowed Jaime into her life, she gave herself to him, she loves him and he’s going off on a suicide mission. She doesn’t want him to leave. She’s scared for him. If Cersei’s army can kill a dragon what will happen to Jaime? It was so incredibly brave for her to even go and pursue him. She’s fought a bear, she fought the Hound, she fought the army of the undead, but this is a fight she isn’t equipped to fight. She’s watched one man that she loves die and it nearly broke her. She would never forgive herself if something happens to Jaime.

This scene was comprised of two people who love each other showing each other how deep that love runs. Sacrificing theif life (Jaime) and Pride (Brienne) in order to protect the other.  I honestly think the message was received on both ends.

This is a man that loves a woman and he’s going to fight for that love and for that woman. 

I have no insight into what D&D are doing but I can only hope that they didn’t take Jaime on such a beautiful character arc to throw it away. I hope that they will not perpetuate the “hot guys sleeps with not hot girl” trope. I hope that we as viewers aren’t going to fall victim to character assassination and lazy writing. More than anything, I hope Brienne and Jaime meet again so she can punch him in the face and then help off the ground once he falls. (much like Yara did Theon)

[julianacapulets]

✧ ᴀꜱᴋɪɴɢ ꜰᴏʀ ʀᴏꜱᴇꜱ ✧

“The end of the melody is not its goal: but nonetheless, had the melody not reached its end, it would not have reached its goal either. A parable.” — Friedrich Nietzche

PART I. 

Juliets were made for balconies, and February eighteenth found Juliana Capulet stood at the alabaster lip of her own, dark eyes unveiled to skirt over the sea of paramours walking the streets of fair Verona, and none of them her own. None who know her, and none to whom she could belong to. The Capulet heiress stood at the helm, like a captain of a ship, or only a tender girl plagued by loneliness – utterly, entirely alone. Her inhale was sharp—as it was, always. When she focused, she forgot to breathe, at least until her lungs burned in protest, in searing reminder. Her lashes lowered, her lids squeezed, tightly: it’s like slamming a window shut, end meeting pane scornfully. Yet it wasn’t scorn that coursed, potently, through Juliana’s bloodstream that day, that moment. 

The perfume in the air was pungent, the floral decadence in ode to Saint Valentine, supposedly. An ode to Damiano Montague’s ego might be more accurate, but she digressed. Nevertheless, an inhale was all it took. Roses, the woman-girl knew. She knew without looking.

Quiet, calm—as if she is the bystander, not the host—Juliana diagnosed the heaviness of her lids, of her soul & her heart, as a melancholy teetering on nostalgia, engulfing her with a pressure that wasn’t quite crushing, wasn’t quite warm. Her fingers were curled around the railing, the wrought-iron blooms pressing indentations into fragile palms. She didn’t realise, not until her eyes were once more open, until her gaze dropped to blanched fists: she was shaking.

Roses, roses, roses; there were only ever so many at a wedding – or at a funeral.

PART II.

Shell-casing & shrapnel rained. The same shaking hands throttled the weapon so desperately clutched between her fingers. A machine that propagates death held onto for dear life; there was a terrible irony here, was there not? There were two choices. There were only two choices. She could either shoot, or she could not. But that wasn’t true, either, was it? Didn’t she ask a third option of the towering blonde on the other side of the column? Shoot to disarm or distract, not wound, not fatally. Didn’t she ask it of Katarina Du Pont as Juliet, not Juliana? Had the plea not been as good as an order?

For a moment in time, Juliana could no longer hear the shots firing all around the room, bullets ricocheting, left, right, and centre. She couldn’t hear anything anymore, nothing besides the hard, deafening beat of her own heart, pounding in her ears, loud as a war song. It sounded like heavy footsteps, and then, just as quick, it sounded like a scream. It sounded like a scream, but it tasted like blood—and the blood was never hers. Shell-casing & shrapnel: she heard them, knew that on the other side of the column, there was blood.

She knew that the blood was always theirs, her Capulets. It was always them, spilling their blood and risking their lives, whilst she stood, always on the sidelines, useless. 

                                    “Defend them,” came a murmur. Or was it a prayer?

Juliet stepped out from behind the makeshift barricade. Hands still, finger trigger-ready. Her eyes as dark as a prophecy of the night’s impending unraveling. They caught on a flash of bolstering blonde in their periphery, and her gun joined the bloody orchestra, playing like the rest of them.

•••

        —a scream. It was a sound that chilled her to the bone and would later haunt her, the scream of Juliana Capulet. Between both physical and verbal rows, it would seem a certain charge of hers had snuck past, and Katarina’s head turned sharply at the sound– past marble columns, past ballroom doors, to Juliana. Juliana. Whether it was desperation or anger, love or duty that fueled her next, a hard knee to her opponent’s gut had her moving faster than before, reclaiming her Beretta from the ground. “This isn’t over–”

She barreled her way towards the brunette she’d been ordered to keep safe, careened through the air as proiettile di Volumina – but, she was a weapon triggered too late, blindly following the sound that chilled her heart from the volatile inferno that accompanied a battle of fists. La principessa was within sight, not a dozen yards away and she’d seen it: that movement forward into the doorway of the ballroom, those few steps in the shocked atmosphere of battle to hear such a horrible heartbreaking wail escape from a woman’s mouth. Then: A shot loosed from a weapon that was not her own met her ears.

Too late, Katarina’s heartbeat roared in her ears. Too late, too late, too late-- Her heart declared each venomous cry in beat as she sprinted towards the younger woman fearing the worst. The way that Juliana’s body had violently jerked in response to the gunshot said everything the blonde had needed to know. Months ago, it had been Don Capulet. Now, his daughter-- their future-- Katherine’s charge, Katarina’s friend had a bullet torn into her body-- Too late, her mind howled. But, once the Capulet bullet had been loosed from its chamber, there was no stopping her; and, as the blonde came from the side of the entryway her arm was outstretched to wrap protectively around Juliana’s midsection to pull her away, to shield her, she finally spared a glance into the ballroom.

Rafaella–

Was not who she had been ordered to protect. The woman was their consigliera, and Matthias Warren would receive what was due to him. However, she had to get Juliana out of danger. Katherine needed to defend her life, had to do her duty. With her free hand, her gun came up to fire at the Montague who had shot at Juliana. Three shots, both shoulders and the hand that held the gun. There was no clean shot at Warren, not in the four heartbeats since she’d reached la principessa, not in the three and a half seconds she’d assessed the situation with the cutting authority of Carabinieri Lieutenant Du Pont and not Katarina. “We need to go–” A command, not a request tumbled from her lips, urgent as she attempted to pull her behind the entryway and out of another bullet’s line of sight, hand stained red from the blood that seeped from the younger woman’s wound.

“– Volumina, she’s been hit!” Help me save her, her words seemed to yowl. Their conversation days ago, just before she’d spent an afternoon with Juliana seemed to find its influence here now. Katarina Du Pont had lost Delphine Cloutier; but, Katherine would not lose Juliana Capulet. Not when they both wanted the same thing: a better Verona for the people they loved. She would not fail, and her yell called for the older woman to help her move the youngest of them to safety. “Her shoulder–” They needed to put pressure on it, get her to the hospital or she’d run the risk of bleeding out. “Juliana, please, we need to move--”

•••

Power was to be in the middle of a battlefield, defended by her allies, untouched by her adversaries.

Power was in extolling vengeance, in depriving Alexander Rallis of air in the same way he had done her, when a near-fatal wound had her choking on her own lifeblood backstage of the theatre in December.

Power was feeling each frantic beat of the Montague’s carotids, right beneath her fingers. And squeezing harder, and harder still...

Power was not losing one of their greatest chess pieces in the maelstrom.

Yet one minute Rafaella was there, fighting alongside herself and Lucrezia – the next, she was in Matthias’ grip, as surely as Alexander is within her own. Fear filled Vivianne’s eyes as she she stared at the glinting knife the Montague barred against the Capulet’s throat. Rafaella’s curls bounced back as she strained to avoid the serrated edge, and briefly, Vivianne recalled the press of those same tendrils against her cheek, when the young woman threw herself into her arms at the hospital, only two months prior. Not just a Capulet, not just their adviser, but her fiamma feroce. Her fierce flame. It was enough for love to briefly eclipse hatred, for Volumnia to reluctantly release her most reviled rival in order to reach for her gun, raising it quickly to target Matthias through its barrel. “Liberala.” Release her. She didn’t recognise the animal fury in her former friend’s eyes, didn’t know what vendetta he had against Rafaella that caused him to ignore even her own sovereign words.

“Malcolm –”

It was then she heard Juliana’s scream, her attention instantly diverted to the heiress who had come upon them, and fallen down the rabbit-hole to Hell. By the time she turned back to Matthias, he was already retreating with Rafaella in tow, putting Montague soldiers between them as her bullets rained down; catching, not on the Captain, but the collateral damage he’d tossed in her path instead. Her mind was as divided as her targets, keenly aware—with pulsing, nauseating whorl—of Juliana’s vulnerable presence only a few meagre feet away. She’d be damned before the girl was used against her once more, before another Montague was foolish enough to mistake la principessa for a mere bargaining chip, to be bled and discarded at will.

And then it happened.

She heard another cry erupt from the heiress, the multitones of surprise indicating that she’d been hurt. There were too many bodies between then; the Underboss couldn’t see her, but she spotted the Carabinieri bolting towards Juliana with single-minded purpose. And she was relieved for Katarina, relieved that she needn’t remind the bodyguard of her priorities. Instead, she continued fighting, until the path temporarily cleared, bloodthirsty resolve doubling with each body that hit the ground – until, finally, Vivianne reached them.

She knelt down to assess the extent of Juliana’s injury, but did not plead with the girl as the soldier did. Instead, her voice rang out a command, the doting concern with which she normally addressed the heiress with temporarily replaced with steel-spined authority. “Mantieni la pressione sulla tua ferita, Juliana.” Keep pressure on your wound, “non fermarti se non lo senti dalle mie labbra!” Don’t stop unless you hear it from my lips.

There was no time to argue, and no time to count their losses either. She hoisted Juliana up in her arms, as best as she could, taking care to avoid hurting her further.

“Andiamo, Katherine. Cover me,” she added to the lieutenant, rising to her feet. “Let’s get her out of here.”

PART III.

She always expected a scream. After the gun went off like a judge’s gavel—BANG!—after the bullet pierced flesh... before the blood, before the end. In films, as the body hit the ground with a harsh breath, the quivering gasp, all they ever were was winded. She’d gone off on so many indignant rants, hadn’t she? About poor direction and lazy acting, about a lack of realism, and on and on? And in the life she’d inherited a mere three years ago... Juliana hadn’t paid it any mind, each time one of them had been wounded – hadn’t been able to. Perhaps she blocked it out? People did that with trauma, she knew, when it was too much and too hard, when it was unbearable. The theory had merit. Though, the nights lost to the sour wet of Vivianne’s blood on her hands, too much blood out where Rallis had wounded her negated it. Was the repression conditional on the basis of weaponry? Guns versus blades? Juliana supposed it didn’t matter anymore. No, it did not matter at all.

As it turned out, it wasn’t bad film-making. It wasn’t trauma overshadowing the event. She wanted to scream. She wanted to scream, she wanted to never stop screaming: Please, please, please, please, please –

But she couldn’t make a sound. She couldn’t breathe. She could feel the blood, warm and slick. She could feel strong arms around her, the racing pulse, the ragged breaths. The curtains came down on another blood-stained in Verona, with crimson velvet traded in for glistening, fluttering ribbons in black sweeping across Juliana Capulet’s vision. Her hands reached as her heart pled: RAFAELLA. WE CAN’T LEAVE HER. WE CAN’T LEAVE HER, I WON’T, I CAN’T – PLEASE! Please –

Her mind numbed, cooled. Her body could feel it; they moved farther away, they left her. They left her. Juliana left her.

Her lungs strained, oxygen sneaking into her system in whisper-thin tendrils, desperately, burning. The smell was unbearable: roses & blood. 

Roses.

                                            – It would be a funeral, then.

[monikea]

Norma Jeane Baker of Troy

[Disclaimer: this is not a review. I’m not a reviewer and have no idea how to write these; this is just a note to myself that I will be able to read when I’m 60 years old and which I share here, as paper might burn but the Internet never forgets :D]

Norma Jeane Baker of Troy, The Shed, NYC, 12-19 May 2019

New scene

Enter Ben Whishaw as Norma Jeane Baker

I’m not sure what to focus on here – the play or the fact that I FINALLY WENT TO NEW YORK. This past week was so full of, well, everything to me. I always dreamt of leaving Europe for a trip, but only recently managed to save money for that. I have been tremendously sad not to be able to see Ben in ‘The Crucible’, to the point that during the last show I sat on a beach in Spain and couldn’t focus on how lucky I was to be on a beach in Spain – all I wanted was to be in the Walter Kerr Theatre.

The funny thing is, if I were now to choose between ‘The Crucible’ (I saw a recording of it in NY Public Library last week) and NJBoT, I’d choose Norma Jeane without thinking twice. I saw this play 7 times in a row which, I think, speaks for itself.

In the end, I was so lucky as to go to NYC for 10 days with my Ben family, as I like to think of them, people who I know from Ben’s Facebook fan group. I will never take it for granted and it wouldn’t have been the same without them. To go to New York, for over a week, with my best friends, to see Ben Whishaw 7 times in a mind-blowing play – I still don’t know what I did to deserve it. I won’t name them here, as I’m not sure they wish to be mentioned, but one of them kindly offered to host some of us, and I was even more lucky to stay in a real Manhattan flat. In all fairness, this is what made the entire trip possible – or at least what made seeing Ben 7 times in a row from up close possible!

The pace was rather insane. Last time I slept so little was 10 years ago when I went on a summer camp to Portugal, where I was going to sleep at 6am and waking up at 8am to go to work. Just being in New York didn’t allow me to rest. Finally, after so many years of hoping, I was in the city of my dreams, a city where I could name all the buildings and streets without ever being there, just because everyone does know them right? After all, we are being bombarded with images of New York through different movies, series, songs, books. And this place actually does exist and is not just a Hollywood creation. We started every day bright and early (thanks to the time difference it felt like waking up at 12pm) and went off to see the city. Then, every night, we took subway 7 to Hudson Yards to go to The Shed. The only night we didn’t do it was Monday, when there were simply no performances – but trust me I’d have gone if they took place.

That’s enough about Fritz Lang and the city.

The first time we saw the play (12 May) I sat very far, I believe it was the 4th row from the back. Since I then saw it 6 more times, it wasn’t a massive loss, but overall I’d say two things: 1/this play had to be seen from close up, as the lightning was so dim, otherwise you wouldn’t see what happened on the stage and 2/ this play had to be seen multiple times. I truly believe seeing it just once wasn’t enough. It wasn’t like Shakespeare that everyone kind of knows and knows what to expect. I like to compare this play to Hamilton, which is my obsession number 2 (after Ben), where the text is so rich and full of references and innuendos, that it is actually best to come see the show already knowing the lyrics and backstory from listening to the soundtrack. Same happened here, the language or the text worked alongside the actors and I think if you just saw the play once, it wouldn’t make much sense and you’d miss a lot of its beauty. I was already familiar with the story of Marilyn before seeing it (although I did some extra research, read Euripides’ ‘Helen’ etc.), but I heard some people didn’t even know that Marilyn’s real name was Norma Jeane – good luck with that! Anyway, I digress. As we sat very far, I remember I had to lean forward and really strain my eyes to see what was happening. I could barely notice Ben painting his fingernails (it was more that I already heard he was doing it, which made me notice – otherwise it was too dark to see!) or couldn’t get the details of his lingerie or dance. The sound wasn’t bad, but I’d say in this play the visuals are equally important and I completely missed that part. So I spent the first performance pretty much hoping that the next one – where I was supposed to sit closer – would already come.

About 30 minutes after the show has finished, we spotted Ben coming down the escalator. We actually chose deliberately to go on that day (12 May) as that’s when we expected (and weren’t wrong 😉) that he’d win a BAFTA for his performance as Norman Scott (Norma, Norman… his best roles, trust me) in A Very English Scandal. He was alone and about to leave the theatre, but had a while for us – we congratulated him on the BAFTA, to which he just said ‘thank you’ (I’m quite sure he himself got to know about it only minutes beforehand) and then I talked to him about NJBoT, which was the first time that I managed to talk to him about the show at hand. All the previous times I met Ben, I was talking to him about his previous shows or just telling him general thanks. I don’t remember exactly what I said that Sunday, but it surprised me that I managed to say something about Norma. Most importantly, I asked if I can hug him and he just said ‘sure’ and my biggest dream came true and I hugged Ben for a while . He is the sweetest, kindest human being and has so much patience for his fans.

For the second performance, in the end with my friend we decided to exchange seats for even closer ones, as we didn’t want to go through the pain of seeing so little again. Oh Greek gods, what a difference did it make. I finally saw what was happening on stage! On Tuesday it still wasn’t the 1st or 2nd row, so couldn’t see Ben’s face very well, but oh my. I suppose here I will start my general thoughts about the play, irrespective of the day I saw it, as from Wednesday onwards I was sitting pretty much always in the 2nd or 1st row (just once – will get back to that). If I were to describe all remaining 6 performances in detail, this would become a book, not a Tumblr note and not sure anyone would even read it!

This play was everything my poor heart could hope for. Ben finally plays the main role (which is even more prominent since there are only 2 actors on the stage) and there is nothing to take your attention away from him. Renée only emphasizes his powerful presence on stage and in fact one of my impressions after seeing the play and having read it was that they both play the same person. After all, Norma says ‘I am my own chorus’ – and Renée was her chorus. Reflecting her/his thoughts (I will continue using the pronoun ‘his’ as in the text the character is designated as Norma Jeane, but on stage I think Ben played a male playwright, who only gradually becomes Norma), never negating anything, but giving him new ideas, as if they were formed in his brain and took a tangible form as Renée. I think there can be many interpretations here, but I particularly like this one, also because in the text of the play only one character is mentioned – Norma Jeane. Renée’s character isn’t mentioned anywhere in the text and was obviously added just to make it more stage friendly. It was really hard for me to take my eyes away from Ben throughout the play, but when I finally managed to do it, it was amazing to see how they exchanged looks and this interplay of emotions was what made it even more amazing.

The play tells a story of a playwright who creates a replica of Marilyn Monroe out of himself – both visually and mentally. He is mourning her and hires a scribe to write down his stream of consciousness about Norma Jeane. He gradually drops his own male clothes to put on the entire Marilyn attire, which is a beautiful… replica of what was worn back in the 50s (the longline peach corselette and matching panty girdle – not for the faint hearted!) together with Marilyn’s white fluffy mule heels, later on changed to her Seven Year Itch strappy sandals and the iconic white dress (there is an additional layer of white underwear that Ben puts on the girdle); ultimately he wears also the platinum white Marilyn wig. On the mental side, he gradually descends into the depths of Hades and ultimately kills himself, like Marilyn did. In the meantime, he plays ukulele (just like Marilyn), has numerous mental breakdowns, perfectly imitates her delicate dreamy voice (and that of Truman Capote), mocks Arthur Miller’s dimpled white buttocks and dances the entire sequence from ‘The Prince and the Showgirl’ (see here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZOkv4jV1-Bo) – more about that dance later on. One remark here – this play spoke so much to me because since I remember I always took style inspiration from my favourite bands and later on actors – even now I proudly wear my black Kanken, inspired by Ben. So yes, I completely understand Ben’s character here. He also adds the breasts, hips and bum padding underneath his lingerie (and moves like a ballerina) and here I must brag, but a kind message to all people who LAUGHED mockingly at it – please go back to primary school and… just stay there. There are two actors, who, in case you don’t realise are real people and laughing off at what they do onstage is just horrible. In case you laughed out of embarrassment, fine, I get that not everyone has to be comfortable with Ben Whishaw applying fake butt under his undies, but for god’s sake, please express it differently than by laughing and commenting. Or laugh internally. Or I don’t know. Good lord. And no, that wasn’t a moment which was supposed to make you laugh, like for example Ben imitating Capote’s voice.

There is this beautiful moment, about 30 mins after the show begins when Ben plays the ukulele and sings ‘I am that Persephone, Who played with her darlings in Sicily, Against a background of social security. Oh what a glorious time we had. Or had we not? They said it was sad. I was born good, grown bad.And isn’t that how it always starts, this myth that ends with the girl ‘grown bad’?, and Renée continues: ‘She’s in a meadow gathering flowers twirling her own small sunny hours’. (I might be a barbarian, but I truly don’t understand people who were like – wow, he dared sing on the same stage as Renée Fleming! – I am a newborn Renée Fleming fan, but come on people. He’s Ben Goddamn Whishaw :D). Suddenly the mood changes dramatically, when everything becomes dark and Ben says in a sinister voice ‘When up rides a man on black horses. Up rides a man in a black hat. Up rides a man with a black letter to deliver’… I don’t know how he does it but in this moment I see Hades in a black robe (yet Ben is still in his peach corset) who came to do something unforgivable. The entire story changes then, when Renée exclaims ‘rape’. ‘Rape is the story of Helen, Persephone, Norma Jeane, Troy’ they continue. Renée then sings ‘War is the context and God is a boy. Oh my darlings, they tell you you’re born with a precious pearl. Truth is, it’s a disaster to be a girl. Up came the black horses and the dark King. And the harsh sunshine was as if it had never been. In the halls of Hades they said I was queen’. That’s what they always say, isn’t it?

She sings it again just at the end of the play when Ben’s Norma Jeane dies and at that point I wasn’t crying, I was ejecting bodily fluids. Apologies to those sitting around me.

Back to Ben’s dance. This play is full of what in Polish I’d call ‘smaczki’ – little flavours that make this play the most tasty dish ever served. Ben’s voice changes, whenever he imitates someone; Renée’s gorgeous singing; the music which was composed uniquely of Renée’s mixed voice; the funny moments, which can so suddenly and unexpectedly turn into the most frightening scene, when in the middle of mocking Arthur of New York and Sparta, a phone rings and everyone is terrified. There’s an enormous amount of language play (language is a third actor on the stage, with gorgeous explanations of the etymology of Greek words – in fact, Ben has an English-Greek dictionary on the desk), there’s Ben playing ukulele and singing, there’s putting on makeup, there’s changing clothes, there’s shouting and throwing things around and then there’s the dance.

My god what Ben can do. WHAT THIS MAN CAN DO. He is so ethereal, lithe, yet with well-toned muscles and he suddenly starts to give this beautiful coy dance, where throughout he hides his face in charming embarrassment and smiles sweetly to Renée. This is one of the moments when I am almost angry that I have to translate my soul, as it would be so much easier to find perfect words for this in Polish, but at least my head is full of them. Writing about this dance (or this play) is anyway as futile as dancing about architecture. Ben looks perfect then, he is just perfection personified. With his little smile, his peach corselette (some other note here on Tumblr said that ‘Ben Whishaw should just exist in this corset’ and yes, he should), his bottle green male pants and the fluffy heels (the connection of the female corselette and the male suit pants is just… send firemen). On top of that, Renée sings like an angel and my brain is so overstimulated from listening to all those language games and being in New York to actually experience it that… (where are the firemen?!)…

But the thing is – and that’s why this play is so amazing – that when you actually find the superhuman power in yourself not to focus on Ben’s dance only, but to also listen to the song they play to it, your brain suddenly registers that something doesn’t fully stick – the music is super cheerful (note: it is not the same music as the one in Marilyn’s video from ‘The Prince and the Showgirl’) – it’s a typical 50s song with blurred voices, but the text is rather morose and it goes like ‘Dirt is matter out of place, matter out of place. A poached egg on your plate at breakfast is not dirt. The poached egg on page 202 of the Greek lexicon in the library of the British Museum is dirt. Dirt is something that has crossed a boundary it ought not to have crossed. Dirt confuses categories and mixes up form’ (I researched a bit and there’s an entire book on this topic, ‘Purity and Danger’ by Mary Douglas, where the main point being analysed is that what is regarded as dirt in a given spot is any matter out of place. What was considered clean in Sparta, wasn’t clean in Troy and vice versa. That’s the gist. Anne Carson I love you.)

Noone cries like Ben Whishaw. It really hurts all parts of my body to watch this. And it is so beautiful to watch Renée being concerned about him and the state he found himself in. One of the most beautiful scenes in the play is when Ben sits down at his desk and Renée very delicately takes his head in her hand and applies the fake eyelashes to his eyes, singing in a way that makes my heart break. There is so much love in this scene and acceptance and will of help and saying: I’m here for you and I will go with you on this journey.

And then suddenly you see he starts to take the pills and swallowing them with the fake theatre champagne and that’s when I start ejecting bodily fluids again. Renée comes back with her ‘Up came the black horses and the dark King. And the harsh sunshine was as if it had never been. In the halls of Hades they said I was queen’.

I suppose this text I wrote now will never be finished as memories and new realisations will keep on coming back to me and that’s where the beauty of this play lies – it’s an endless fishing ground for references and innuendos, interpretations and new things to be understood. But, enough for now.

I talked to Ben 3 more times after the play, on 14, 17 and 19 May. I now barely remember what I said precisely, but on Tuesday I told him how utterly enchanted I am by this play and that it talks about so many important things to me and doesn’t seem strange at all. Sunday was mad, as one can expect after the end of a run, with a long queue of fans (I gave Ben bright red roses, thanked him for the umpteenth time and complimented his new shirt, which he bought on Friday – don’t ask how I know it, I’m just a very careful observer LOL. He is my style guru, so I had to haha). With my friend we even managed to chat to the CEO of The Shed, Alex Poots, who was so amazed that we saw Norma Jeane 7 times, that he took out his iPhone and asked us to record a video where we recommend the show (bit late for that on the last night, but he can rest assured that I will be back!).

But Friday was just something else. Perhaps it was the power of red wine or the fact that Ben was going home alone and not with Mark or friends, but we approached him together with quite a few other fans and I swear to god, we had the funniest ever chat with him. To put it briefly, Ben was surrounded by around 10-15 fans and chatting to us in a very lovely, cheeky way (I love his sense of humour. I love everything about him, but that night it was just too much). Like imagine it. Someone asked him ‘Ben, what is the perfume that you wear?’ and he goes ‘Oh, it’s this, wait, I’ll show you’ and he took the perfume out of his tote bag and demonstrated it to everyone, gaining a round of ‘Awwwwwwww’. I still can’t believe it happened haha. One of my friends asked if he saw and liked Bjork and they chatted a bit about it and then Ben asked us if we did see her too, to which I replied ‘no, because we saw ANOTHER SHOW’. I could see that he was thinking and then suddenly it clicked, but I guess by that time he was perfectly aware that some of us saw it 7 times haha. He also told us ‘Don’t sit again in the first row, I can see you all’ (that’s what I meant when I said I will get back to the issue of sitting in the 1st row :D). Sweet lord. Best week of my life.

Exeunt omnes singing.

[crqstalite]

drabble, rain. [theron && tri’ama]

a little drabble i wrote over the course of two days because i finally finished shadow of revan and rise of the emperor, and i’m in loving theron shan hours. mostly, tri’ama remembering that she’ll never see him again.

written: 11.4.19. word count: 2,628

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

"20. as we huddle together, the storm raging outside"

song file: chains, nick jonas.

character file: tri'ama amarillis & theron shan.

-

tri'ama doesn't like admitting weakness. whether that be in a duel, or out in the jungles of yavin iv, the emperor's wrath is never quick to give up a fight. you can believe she'd much rather die than say someone else or something else conquered her first.

but some armor doesn't always do the trick for the cool and damp nights of yavin as the coalition leaders break off from their meeting, and she can finally rub her temples without seeming annoyed with one faction or the other. she has no problem with the jedi at this very moment, nor is she particularly angry with the sith. a surprising balance, really. but, she is rather upset that the temperature dropped so quickly on the planet.

she tries to avert her eyes from where the republic allies reconvene off to the side, the red of theron's jacket taunting her, as if saying 'come over here'. shaking her head, she tries to ignore the bickering that most likely will erupt eventually between marr and lana. shivering, she figures there isn't much better to do than to go to sleep on the fury and get ready for whatever tomorrow brings.

but quinn was supposed to return from leave today, she remembers as she grits her teeth. the absence of her wedding ring and replacement with her grandmother's still weighs heavy on her mind as she frowns. so maybe not the fury tonight, not with how much it still smells like him and his cologne. there isn't much else to get up to on the outpost, and it's not like she can go forward without official orders from marr or satele. sleeping on the station seems like the best option today.

satele is so terrifyingly calm, it shivers her down to her very core as she picks up a datapad, scrolling through the current mission reports. most of which she herself had submitted, high concentration of massassi near a temple, lots of potent wildlife to keep at least one eye on at all times, and spirits wandering the caverns. nothing new or too concerning, so she's content to wander deeper into the jungle near the meeting alcove, still shivering as water soaks her hair through and plasters it into a near unrecognizable version of her previous style as it hangs down in front of her eyes.

wonderful. it was due for a wash anyways.

hiding under a low-hanging tree and pushing a particularly mischeveous blonde curl out of her face, she continues to scroll past paragraphs and paragraphs of hastily written aurebesh and she tries not to be remembered how cold she is. she's originally gone ahead and believed yavin was a jungle and would be as humid as warm as one, but clearly, she was mistaken because of the emperor's presence everything seemed to change. adding notes where required, she tries not to get too annoyed with the hurried mispellings of field agents and whatnot.

she wondered if the hand would come after her again if she badmouthed the emperor out loud instead of shouting at him every time something bad happened to her because of him. she chuckles, teeth audibly chattering. let them, she'd cut them down and then the man himself.

the light of the moon shines off the pond nearby, and she's happy to gaze into it from her perch nearby. should it not have been so cold, she would've been happy to take a dip, maybe not in the presence of the coalition forces, but swimming had always been a passion of hers. something that the incident on manaan had nearly taken from her, but she digressed. something about being eveloped by water and letting the waves take you or simply being content to sit at the bottom of a pool or pond was relaxing. nearly along the same lines of gathering fury for a fight.

oh ew, she sounded like a jedi now. maybe satele and the barsen'thor had more of an effect on her than she'd thought they had, with all their talks of rationality and actually thinking your problems through before acting. horrible ideas, really.

slicking her hair back into a messy bun, she unclips her respirator from around her jaw and breathes in the rainy air. now unfiltered, the air doesn't smell like the ocean, or really anything she's smelled before. dromound kaas is technically a jungle, but she's spent so much time in the concrete area that the smell is rather new to her. not yet comforting, but still oddly calming. the leaves of the weeping tree above her tickle her head and back as she shifts to a more comfortable position.

she's quick to hear the footsteps that are supposed to be quiet, and the even more recognizable force signature of none other than theron shan. she's sure she's not supposed to know he's coming, but she's also very sure that the man knows just how far her force powers extend, especially as the literal emperor's wrath. he is an sis agent, and her file must be a few hundred meters long and just as thick. out of the corner of her eyes, she can see he has his arms wrapped about him, his product filled hair starting to droop (she knows there's product in there, it's a lot of the same that mal-quinn used, same smell). "darth amarillis."

"what is it, shan? couldn't get on without me?" she asks, finally lifting her head as his surname crosses his lips in that deepy and husky voice of his. he rolls his eyes and she uncrosses her own arms and stands up straight.

"no, i thought i'd just seen you disappear up this way, that's all. wondered why, you usually head back to the station after missions." he answers indifferently.

"stalking me, shan?" she smirks, raising an eyebrow before he realizes what he's said. admitting to knowing her schedule is rather interesting, but he is a spy. he's trained to know these things about people. she smiles on the inside, he cared that much to learn her routine.

"you just...never come up here that's all. wanted to make sure you were alright." he's embarassed now, not meeting her eyes as he shrugs, looking everywhere but at her muscular, if not also short, frame. so confident, yet turns into a mouse when the two of them end up alone together. she'd find it funny, if she and quinn hadn't just ended the only relationship she'd ever been in.

"you don't have to apologize for being concerned, theron." her tone takes on a softer melody, trying to get him to look at her again. "it's more relaxing out here than it is on a hectic station. i didn't wish to fly all the way back to vaiken either."

"yeah, course." he says, in near agreement. she wonders whether this a point where she should press for the real reason he came over here, because if that was the case, lana probably would've wandered up here first or with him. the woman was a wonderful friend to tri'ama, and many had already mistaken them for siblings or distant family. but the nervous energy he has isn't fear, but some other anxiety of some sort. maybe the upcoming fight against revan is getting to him, she knows that's one of the few things racing through her mind.

he's a sight for sore eyes. on manaan, she was still trying to figure out all her issues with quinn, trying to figure whether grass was greener on the other side of the fence, and on rishi? after he'd been captured and interrogated, she was quick to find that she cared for the man, a lot. even if his faction had tried to kill her multiple times, and she'd killed millions of his in return. the heat of her cheeks just thinking about the kiss on rishi is nearly enough to keep from shivering.

he must've noticed because in less than a second he's shucked off his red overcoat and has tried to discreetly put it around her shoulders. the sleeveless armor is quickly forgotten as her neurons nearly stop firing and she sticks her arms through the sleeves. "cold out here, isn't it?"

"definitely." he responds. his shirt is a long sleeve, though is quickly getting soaked through by the rain. frowning, she's already got the jacket on and she is rather warm. giving it back doesn't seem like an option she wants to take right now either, but she also doesn't want to take advantage of his kind heart too much (bleh, light side talking again), so as he moves to leave, she pulls him back and instead puts her arms around his waist, leaning her head against his toned chest. he tenses, obviously, as she puts just enough fury to get her body warm again, and without the cold the blow out the flames, it's successful.

"tri'ama..." he nearly has a warning tone to his voice before visibly relaxing a bit, his heart rate slowing down back to normal as his body warms alongside her own. "you didn't need the jacket after all, did you?"

"i can't exactly generate enough myself when i'm below freezing, theron. so yes, it was necessary." she says smoothly, pulling away just enough to look up at him with a playful if not also dangerous look crossing her eyes. he's quite a bit taller than her, which is annoying enough, but not too much taller that she can't easily peck a kiss to his lips without too much trouble.

which she does, because her middle name is trouble.

he doesn't even move, shock evident before his cheeks turn a dusky pink, looking away as she grows closer again. with his face turned away, she plants another kiss onto the exposed cheek as he turns away again, another kiss on the other cheek. she finds it funny, he doesn't apparently. "would you quit that?" he says, trying to bat her away without success.

"i suppose, if that's what you want." she says, letting go of him immeditaly, he stumbles as she flips the collar of his jacket back up so she can hide her face in it. mostly, to hide her own crimson cheeks. it wasn't unusual that she'd do the same with quinn, if only to pull him away from work for just a moment or two. theron, however, is different from the imperial fanatic. flustering quinn was hard work, getting him away from his datapad was a struggle and a half, but theron? not so much.

her, even less.

the rain is pouring now as the two eventually come to their senses, tri'ama standing rigid under the leafs of the tree, only the occasional drop of rain managing to find it's way to the duo. assignment long forgotten, she tries not to show her interest too well, "after all this, where will you be, theron?"

"wherever the sis needs me." he sighs, as if really thinking about the extent of his job. she wondered what it was like, to not be force sensitive and rely on a secretive job to pay your bills and even possibly kill you in the process. the way his face is marred with bruises and scars, she withholds her hand to caress his face. she wonders where each one has come from, what the story behind each one is. "hard to predict where they send a secret agent."

"yes, of course." thunder claps in the distance as she really processes that after all this she may never see theron again. at least, not on the same side of the battlefield. "of course." she whispers at the end.

"what about you?" he finally asks, rubbing the back of his neck, his eyes just barely flashing a verdant green before staring back out at the landscape. "i mean...just where are you going to be posted?"

"i'm posted wherever i choose to be posted. but with the brewing war, i suppose i'll be seeing more rain on dromound kaas than the sunny skies of anywhere else." she says pointedly as she grimaces. what if she does have to fight against theron one day? his squadron, his troops. even him, if worst comes to worst. they'd dueled before, but not to the death. never to injury.

what if one day she has to?

"you uh, really like the sun, huh?" he asks, as he furrows his brow in concern, turning towards while she'd been mentally monolouging. she must've become all jaded again without realizing it. "thought sith could just go anywhere they went, anytime they wanted to."

"i have my responsibilities to the council. once i get back it's going to be 'jedi this', 'sith that', intelligence this or that, the sis...." she trails off, realizing if she kept talking she'd give away more than a few secrets that the council had to an sis agent of the opposite faction, "getting away and working for the coalition was really vacation enough."

"hmph." he says, grunting in response. he shuffles on his feet before standing sturdily in front of her, a serious expression falling over his features, "whatever's...uh..going on between us, you know it's all over when the coalition ends, right? i just, don't want to get your hopes up..."

"i'm rather aware." she deadpans, trying to put too much more thought into it. static buzzes in her head as she considers the matter, frowning. going home to quinn with the stench of another man on her, without another person sleeping with her at night. without the little things, tri'ama wasn't sure she could survive going home to the fury without theron, even with vette, pierce and jaesa seperating the two as much as they could. she'd have to face the fact that the mistakes she and quinn had made wouldn't easily been forgotten, or fixed, "nothing lasts forever shan. as much as we wish they did." she trails off.

"yeah." there's a sense of finality behind that. period, not a comma or a semicolon, the end. "can't holocall, can't send each other anything. won't see each other ever again."

"i'm not a child theron. i was aware of the consequences when i kissed you on rishi."

"i know, i know." he responds, before she grows ever-closer to him. he isn't quick to take her in his arms, but eventually allows her to hug him back. "just, i know what happens to people who accidentally take a sith to bed."

she stifles an eyeroll and a chuckle at the comment. while she's never been one to indulge people's stereotypes about sith, she would admit to knowing quite a few part of the order who'd later killed unsatisfactory lovers, "you've never taken me to bed shan, is that a request i hear?"

"just...you're a real minx you know that?" he asks, as she smirks. pressing a kiss on his lips, he presses back surprisingly before tightening his grasp on her. he's rougher than she expected, but she can be just as rough back. when he eventually pulls away, her still in his arms, she's still smiling, something's that's unusual as the compromising position she's in now.

"if i never see you again, theron, then i'll make what i have now last as long as possible." she says, making to wander away with his jacket still around her shoulders before shucking it off. handing it back to him and picking up her datapad, she kisses him one last time before whispering something so quiet she's sure over the rain he can't hear.

however, she may have underestimated his perception because the poor man's having an aneursym over three little words that have just shaken him to his core.

“i love you.”

[lostinsantacarla]

In light of my addiction to AHS and Michael Langdon, I decided to bring him into the Lost Boys universe in our role play story, and he is going to be David’s son. His name isn’t Michael. I think that would be a horrible hell for David.  Granted, I don’t take lightly to giving the boys kids, because vampires can’t have kids, per say and, let’s face it, David doesn’t fit the father like bill. However, I felt that Cody was the perfect example of someone who might be his child. David was with a hell hound for quite some time. This little snippet I wrote shows his intro. Lylith is the resident witch and oddly enough all of the story aspects put in place have been in play with us long before AHS: apocalypse started. It’s long, but I hope you like it. Mae’s part is written by @unchainmesister

When David received an urgent message from Lylith, asking for his presence alone in her little shop on the boardwalk, it raised some suspicion. The old witch never asked anything of him and rarely did he step foot in her place of business. Unlike old times when he roused Max by hounding his employees, he preferred to stay out of this one's hair.

 His only thought was that it had to do with the angels, both inside the city and out, because after all, Lylith had been the one to summon Jax back into town. Perhaps the old woman was finally going to offer up some real help to Sant Carla's supernatural citizens.

 Regardless, David practically tip toed in his boots through the door, fretting at the heavy smell of incense, essential oils and tonics. Few magics had ever set well with him, but more and more it seemed his ever-growing family was bound to it in one way or another.

"Are you around?" he asked, bowing his head as he stepped up to the counter.

"I am." Like a ghost from the shadows, Lylith appeared, stepping out slowly from behind the curtain in the back. She had her hands folded over one another, poised in the air as if she were about to create a spell. "I'm surprised you made haste coming here. I thought for sure you would take your sweet time and put me on hold. But, now that you're here, I'm going to get right down to it. You have a situation."

"We all have a situation. Even you, Lylith. You live in this town. Don't you think it's about time you stepped up and helped out?" One gloved hand rested lightly on the counter, but he refused to lean against it. The witch made him uneasy, as most did, which meant being ready for anything was important to him.

Lylith, who rarely laughed, threw her head back as she did. The vampire had no idea what was in store. Not even the tiniest inkling. "Dear boy, open your eyes. I didn't ask you here because of that angel nonsense. I asked you here because I have something for you. Sit down!"

She snapped her fingers and a chair quickly scooted across the floor, stopping short behind David.

Yet despite her demand, David refused, looking back over his shoulder at the chair before looking ahead with a slight smirk at the witch. "Is it something big?" he mocked. "I thought you chose to get right to the point?"

"Oh, you'll want to sit down for this, David," she beamed, her smile on the verge of sadistic, as if she couldn't wait to see his discomfort. "But by all means, stand."

She waved behind her and a more cushioned chair appeared, to which she seated. "Be a dear and pour me a cup of tea, would you? This is going to take a while."

The tea kettle was on the shelf behind the counter. Steam rose from the spout, telling that it was newly made, and Lylith waited.

David didn’t want to serve the witch, knowing she was poking at his buttons on purpose, but with respect, despite his glare, he did as she asked. While he poured her tea, another bottle appeared out of thin air next to the kettle. Bourbon. It surprised him, and he glanced back at her. The look on her face was unnerving. Whatever it was she was about to divulge was bigger than anything she'd ever given before, because the luxury she now offered him was more than just a drink, it was new hospitality on her part. Regardless, he kept his poise, always cool and calm, and helped himself to the alcohol before handing her the tea.

"Thank you." She took a sip and waited for him to do the same before she started to explain and tell the story.

"A few weeks ago, I got visited by someone I never thought I would see face to face.  This someone asked a huge favor of me, and David, when I say huge, you know I mean huge. I wondered at first why they'd picked me of all things to carry this wish out, because after all, there are plenty of others out there suited for the task. Then I realized that with my experience and the circles I follow...I'm the only one left in town with the knowledge and power. Don't get me wrong. I know you have one of my own in your family. She's a lovely girl and will rise, but I digress." Another sip of tea was taken. "I decided to accept."

"What's this got to do with me? You're not telling me you sided with those assholes..."

Lylith huffed. “David. Will you stop acting so damn naïve for once!! Open your mind, won’t you? Stop thinking about the outside and think about what’s in here. That person was your beloved hell hound, and she asked me to keep it a secret from you, knowing you were busy and didn’t want to burden you with it. She loved you enough to know this but knew that the only way you might have a chance at getting to know it, would be to place it right here in the open, in the middle of Santa Carla.”

She rocked forward and pointed. “I kept my promise, and I still would, but there’s been a drastic change.” She threw something at him. It wasn’t solid, more like a cross between dust and smoke and it covered his head, placing a vision there.

 David batted at the magic, but never looked away from Lylith, until the vision hit him. Then his eyes couldn't help but wander up and down a bit as he looked it over. He saw the witch and a young boy sitting in her chair. The boy had blonde hair and a playful, loving smile. He also had blood on his hands and cheeks. 

Suddenly and unsettling feeling came over David and he shifted in his seat. His smirk faded, and a dreaded seriousness took him. "What is this?" he said under his breath, even though the doubt was lifting and pulling him into the evident truth.

"Your son," she stated, matter of fact. Not much more explanation was needed. She could see it all coming together on David's face, especially the shock, and to her surprise, his unease wasn't appealing to her anymore.

"I care for the boy. He's quite remarkable and deserves more family than what I can offer, which is why I asked you to come meet him. You see, I didn't fully understand what he is until the night I put him to bed, and when I woke the next morning, he'd aged, nearly fifteen years." She paused once more, slightly tilting her head. "Cody, come out here, won't you please?"

From behind the curtain the boy emerged, dressed in black, his hair slightly long, past his ears, blonde, and the bluest eyes his father had probably seen since his own.

He was nervous, and uncertain of how he would be perceived by the king of Santa Carla, but stood beside Lylith, placing a hand on her shoulder for support.

"Hello, father," he said directly, not a hint of falter in his voice despite his nerves.

The reality was unjust, and just enough to send David into the shock of his undead life, but it was also plausible, and he couldn't deny that he saw his own eyes when he looked at the kid. At the same time, it rendered him speechless. He'd never planned on having kids, even deemed it as impossible until the rest of his boys started having them with their mates. He was glad for that, but this was abrupt and unexpected. He was a leader, not a father. Still, was there much difference aside from letting his guard down to fluff and emotion? On the plus side, Cody wasn't a toddler and could more than likely comprehend rules and lessons. "How is this possible?" he asked of Lylith, unable to look Cody straight in the eyes at that moment.

He is a child of vampire and hell hound. To say he could rule the underworld with the power he has is an understatement..." Lylith began but was quickly interrupted by Cody.

"Forgive me, Lylith, but my mother gave me all I needed to know when I was born in the form of energy like a crystal ball. I know I have much to learn about the world, but don't underestimate me. I've seen things. Had visions. You shouldn't be surprised to see me. My mother loved you, and you left her." His unease turned to anger, and he frowned. "Now I'm here and you're all I've got."

David could feel his power already. His presence matched his own and then some and for a second, he knew he was being talked down to by his own kid. "Surprise is an understatement. And for the record, kid, I didn't just up and leave her. We went our separate ways. Your mother had a lot on her hands and my place has always been here. We both appreciated that about each other. It was a mutual understanding, so don't ever assume that I'm the one who let things go to shit. There was never an inkling given as to her being pregnant. I wouldn't have known. I need a minute to process this. No one is throwing anyone out. Not yet. So, tell me, what do you know? Cody? Besides the fact that you seem highly educated for a youngster who aged into a teen overnight."

Cody shook his head and looked down, placing his hands behind his back. "That's all I know. Like everything is coded in me and my head is spinning."  His eyes, still reddened by anger, welled with tears. It was too much all at once. He could hear everything in the small town, and everyone with their whispers about him through David's blood, but most of all, he could hear the angels plotting against them.

"Who's Mae?" he asked, throwing a cruel glance up at his father.

Lylith could see David was taken aback and she stood fast, placing a loving grip on Cody's forearm to pull him back a bit.

"He's another chosen one, David. Quite possibly another reason those higher ups want to turn back time, to keep the possibility of him being born away. I would suggest he stay here with me for a little while longer in order to adjust."

David could hear Mae out on the boardwalk wandering around, concerned about what was going on. How would he even go about explaining this one to her? 

In his defense, he'd warned her about all the crazy shit happening in Santa Carla. This was one more thing, but instead of throwing up the usual rock-solid wall, he felt compassion for his son. He was, yet another being thrown into the mix head first, right into the middle of chaos. "Care to meet her?" he asked, Cody. "She is...human," he said as delicately as possible. There was something about his kid that seemed unstable at that moment and he knew why, but he didn't want to put Mae in harm’s way. "I know you don't know much about me yet, but I trust her with everything I have. As for Lylith being your mentor for the time being, I'd consider it a good idea. Just don't take that as me pawning you off on someone else. We'll figure this out, just like everything else."

David stepped forward and put a hand on his son's shoulder, finally able to look him square in the eyes. "I keep my word. Can you feel that?"

Cody did feel relief and his hyper awareness died down. He gave David a simple nod, relaxing under his touch.

"Good. Give me a few minutes, I'll have her here in no time." He turned around to face the windows as if he were going to make a phone call. It was similar, but completely mental as he told Mae to meet him at the magic shop. The tiny details included the fact that it was hidden in plain sight, inside the carousel and that she would have to believe it was there in order to see it. The part about Cody he left out. He figured it would be better to tell her in person, once she arrived.

Mae didn't know why, but something had told her to be at the boardwalk tonight. She'd driven her new (well, newly bought) truck to the pier and spent a while wandering around, worried about what had drawn her here. Soon enough, she'd felt David nearby, his aura going from coldly annoyed to intensely shocked. His call had come just as she'd decided to call out to him and find him. 

She made her way to the carousel, following David's instructions, slowly becoming used to the strangeness of Santa Carla and its residents. Mae stood before the carousel and willed her mind to believe that the magic shop was there. Stepping inside, she quickly found her boyfriend, always drawn to him first, no matter where he was. Then she saw the others, an old woman and a young man. Mae hesitantly made her way to her David’s side, smiling politely at the strangers, even though her hand was in her pocket, curled around her switchblade. "Hello."

"Ease up, Mae," David said calmly, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. He didn't want to speak to her mentally for fear that Cody might hear it and be on edge again. "This is Lylith, our oldest resident witch. She owns the place. And this..." he paused, gesturing towards his son. There was no other way to say it really. "This is Cody. I've just learned that he is my blood. In the literal sense, he's my son."

"Welcome, my dear. Would you like some tea?" Lylith asked, as if the information David just gave was no problem at all.

"You two are connected," Cody stated, leaning in to study the human in front of him. He smiled at her. "I can see it. Right there." He pointed to the spot on her neck where his father had marked her. "Does that mean something? Were you connected to my mother like that?"

"Tea would be lovely, thank you..." Mae practically whispered, her eyes wide, her body trembling. 

There was very little that David could have told her that would have surprised her more. She was still unused to shielding her thoughts, and anyone could read them. Did David cheat? No, Cody was too old. He only just found out about him. Who was Cody's mother? Where was she? Was Cody like her, abandoned by his mother with a father who never knew about him? He's so young. What the hell does all this mean? "Yes, we are." She said aloud, replying to Cody as she let go of her switchblade. She held her hand out for him to shake. "My name is Mae. Mae Clayton. It's a bit of a shock to meet you, but any family of David's is my family too."

Cody took Mae's hand. It was very warm to the touch and she smelled very sweet, but she also smelled like his father. In fact, the smell almost overwhelmed her own. "Your mind is very loud," he noted. "You have a lot of questions. So do I. My mother left me here, I don't know why. I guess she felt the need, but I was before your time. Mainly. She's gone now." His head drooped.

“He's a very young soul still in an older body. Very intelligent and very powerful. Which is exactly why we must tread lightly." Lylith poured Mae's tea and added a bit of honey. "The cream is there if you need it, dear. Anyway, as I was saying, he needs all the guidance we can give him, and forgive me, Cody, for talking as if you're not in the room with us. There is a war hot on your family's heels. You need to be ready. David, he could be the one to stop all of them. You see how powerful he is already."

"I do." David didn't want to say out loud that it worried him a little. The kid was unstable. How could they turn that around? "But I'm not going to use my own son just to get the upper hand. If he's ready, he's ready, if not, we'll find another way. Seems he has a purpose here, or he wouldn't be here at all."

David bent down and kissed the top of Mae's head, thankful for her understanding before he went back over to Cody. "Your mother might be gone, but I'm still here and I'm not going anywhere. You do have a family here. How would you like to meet them?"

Mae thanked Lylith for the tea, then she rested her free hand on Cody's cheek, feeling an immediate empathy for him. This kid had been left behind by his mother with no explanation in a world full of danger. At least Mae's mom hadn't been a supernatural being. 

"No matter what happens, Cody, we'll look after you." She smiled sadly. "Kids shouldn't have to grow up alone. My mother left me behind too. David won't, and neither will I." She said with confidence. "It's okay to be angry and scared. I was too. I still am. But here you have family. It'll be okay."

Cody raised his head and his eyes lit up. They were electric blue, almost more so than his father's. He knew they were speaking the truth. He knew he could trust them. "I'm going to make you all proud," he declared. "I want to meet them. I don't care how."

[wearetakingthehobbitstogallifrey]

The Last Jedi, Loneliness, and Love

This is dedicated to @itspileofgoodthings aka @reylohasmyheart, queen of meta, and also to @thelonelybrilliance, queen of fanfic

Please forgive me, I was driving home from work yesterday, listening to Paloma Faith’s “Only Love Can Hurt Like This,” and somehow I started thinking about Reylo and why it makes my soul ache—why I think it is beautiful and why I think its development in The Last Jedi is, contrary to what you might think, realistic and even healthy

Oh heck I was going to make this a very eloquent, orderly post but screw that I have thoughts and they are going to run the race as they see fit

I think one of the great sorrows of humanity is loneliness.  We were made for companionship, for family, for loyalty, for smiling and speaking and hugging, for dream-sharing and sorrow-comforting. For the gifting of the self to others, and most especially the gifting of the self to the man or woman we marry. To lead healthy lives, we need some form of community, even if it is only one or two people we talk to and entrust ourselves to.  Usually it is more.

Anyway, this is where I want to begin with Rey and Kylo Ren—or as I am going to call him, Ben Solo

(Because Kylo Ren is just a mask, a veil between Ben’s tattered soul and the world around him, a pretense that he wasn’t broken and longing for something more, even as Darth Vader was a construction to block off Anakin Skywalker from the truth of his pain—that his terrible deeds were destroying him, not strengthening him.  I’m not saying that Kylo Ren and Darth Vader are entirely separate from Ben and Anakin.  What I am saying is that those personas are not building blocks but rather insidious vines wrapping around stone towers, strangling and cutting and smothering.  You know why? Evil lies.  It lies even when it screams it is telling the truth, even when it whispers that it alone sheds light on reality.  And thus, evil can only tear down and destroy things.  Each person has in them a potential of excellence, the best person they can be—thoughtful, brave, compassionate, humble, self-sacrificing, merciful, faithful, hopeful, loving.  Since this excellent version of the self is the one I think we all should strive for, I would call it the deepest, truest self, and thus winds up my long digression into why I am calling Kylo Ren Ben Solo from now on...so sorry)

Back to Rey and Ben in The Last Jedi.  Well, no, we have to go back to The Force Awakens for a moment.  Many many people have already commented on the interrogation scene and the scene at the end where Ben asks Rey to let him teach her the ways of the Force, so let me just sum up the important ideas there.  First, Ben is fascinated by Rey the moment he sets eyes on her (before that actually—why?  Force visions?  dreams? rumors?  a gut feeling?) and he clearly does not like the idea of her seeing him as a monster.  Interesting that he takes his helmet off immediately after she calls him one, even though he is the one who made the choice to wear the helmet, whether as a way to identify himself more with Vader or as a way to make his own choice for once, regardless of Snoke’s thoughts (the manipulative, abusive cretin).

Either way, Ben taking off his helmet in the interrogation scene signals his desire for Rey to see him as a human creature like herself.  He does not want to be seen as Other.  As someone to be overlooked, feared, discarded.  (It kind of works, Rey is clearly taken aback, but she still has no time for his dark ways and thus she is awesome, because yeah Ben my son is currently working for the First Order) sorry this summary is just as long as anything anyway just take note that Ben does not want to be separated from humanity.  And note the way he speaks her thoughts and feelings out loud, the tone of his voice when he says she is so lonely, desperate to sleep at night.  He feels all of these things too, and in my opinion he is shook as heck that Rey is like a mirror image of him.  

Ah Ben.  One of my favorite scenes is the end fight, in which Ben and Rey beat each other up, in which Rey is a righteous ball of fury and Ben the fool has her literally on the edge of a cliff bent over backwards and all the awestruck idiot can do is—throw out a desperate plea for her to join him so he can teach her?? ?  

If the guy was thinking clearly he might be able to divine that she isn’t the mood to become best buddies with him.  But he is so ecstatic with the vision of what might be that he doesn’t see what is right in front of him.  A very angry woman.  Anyway, Rey connects with the Force and lays my man out flat on his back, face sliced in half, and still Ben looks at her like she is a sun or maybe a supernova and Rey looks back at him but that isn’t exactly part of the loneliness discussion I mean maybe it is but I would literally need another essay to discuss that and this essay is already like six essays so I need to move on

So much for the Force Awakens.  Let’s look at The Last Jedi and loneliness.  What fascinates me about the growth of reylo in this film is literally everything how Rey and Ben are both wallowing in different wells of loneliness, and each well is very different in their depths and their makings, yet still being in those wells allows them to understand each other’s pain.  Both Rey and Ben suffer separation from their family, both suffer the feelings of abandonment.  Of course, one could argue that Ben’s separation was his own choice, and it was, to a degree. He did choose to go with Snoke, to leave Luke, to destroy the Jedi academy.  To kill his father.  But to look at that and say that only Ben’s bare choices matter and that he deserves death and hellfire does a disservice to all those who have suffered mental, physical, and/or spiritual abuse as either a child or an adult.  

(SIDENOTE: I am absolutely not saying Ben was justified in his actions, or that I approve of them, or that he is an innocent cinnamon roll.  What I am saying is that he is a damaged soul, who has suffered so much from his own mistakes, from whatever mistakes his family made, and from the horrible cruelty of Snoke.  He was literally manipulated and abused by shrivel-face from when he was in Leia’s womb, maybe, just MAYBE we can feel some compassion for him?  And remember that his mom and dad still love him and forgive him and want him to come home)

Back to wherever I was, Ben is lonely as heck.  He is cut off from his family, has felt unloved and unworthy for so many years, and has a soul completely wrecked by the murder of his father.  In comes Rey.  Rey, who was much more clearly abandoned by her family, who doesn’t seem to have had a friend in her life till Finn came along, who lived for years on a junkyard of a desert planet in the hopeless hope that her family might come back for her. Ben’s loneliness and Rey’s loneliness are not the same, but the feelings in both are deep and for better or worse are integral to the patterns of their hearts.  

What happens then, in The Last Jedi?  The Force bond between the two manifests, Rey sees Ben and shoots him immediately.  She still remembers their last meeting, still remembers her hurt friend brother5ever Finn, still remembers Han Solo falling. She sees Ben’s crimes and is righteously disgusted by them.  But then. Then she calls Ben a monster, for he has done monstrous acts, and this time, does Ben pull off a helmet, or try to pull aside some other veil, does he protest and say no, no, you and I are alike, I am not Other from you?  He does not. Instead, he says, “Yes, I am.”  YES I AM.  Do you even realize what this means?  Ben is no longer trying to lie to Rey or himself, to deny that he is in the right, that his actions are not dark.  He killed his father, and he knows he is a monster for it, and he is not going to say he is a human like Rey because she has never done anything as terrible as that, and though he is lonely he will not compare the two anymore.

BUT REY IS TAKEN ABACK AGAIN!  In TFA, when Ben removed his helmet, Rey was surprised to see he looked very hot just like any other man, that his soul did not reflect in his looks.  It gave her pause.  And now, when Ben says, yes he is a monster, that gives Rey pause again. I think this is because, when we are talking about humans and monsters, real monsters, a monster always denies he is one, and probably even believes that (or is at least perfectly content as such), but humans still have the capability to understand they have committed terrible wrongs, and to feel such a guilt that they do believe themselves to be monsters after all.  Basically, the second Ben declares himself a monster is the moment that Rey realizes he is not one.  

Oh my gosh now I get to write about the hand-touching scene!!!  

Okay here is the thing. Rey is lonely, Ben is lonely.  Both are going through some stuff right now. (Ben is all like, yup I killed my dad, how do I repress my guilt so I don’t drown in it; Rey is like yeah now I remember my family abandoned me, and they are never coming back).  Force bond visions ensue, and Rey and Ben are sitting over a cozy fire in Rey’s hut and Rey, who not long ago was ready to slice Ben into shreds with her lightsaber, is now confiding in him, spilling her deepest insecurities.  She feels so alone, so lost, the one thing she has held on to for all her life is now gone forever, mist blown away a hot sun, and what is her future to be like when Luke is not the teacher she wanted?  And Ben, for all his issues, with a soul desperate and broken, sees Rey’s pain and blurts out this most compassionate line:  “You’re not alone.”  He cannot bear to see her in pain, because he knows what it feels like.  He knows what it would mean to him to have someone standing at his side, and he offers his presence and loyalty and support to Rey. AND SHE SAYS IT RIGHT BACK.  “Neither are you.”  AND THEN REY HOLDS OUT HER HAND!  AND BEN TAKES OFF HIS GLOVE AND IS LITERALLY SHAKING AS HE EXTENDS IT TOWARD HER!!!  AND THEY TOUCH THEIR HANDS TOGETHER WHAT POETRY

AAH MY HEART

These two lonely souls, sitting in darkness and light, in fire and shadow, sharing their hurts and fears, offering each other comfort, because both have known suffering, because both care about the well-being of each other’s heart and soul—it’s so beautiful.

Where am I going with this? Ah yes.  The healthy growth of relationships.  Love.  Reylo starts out in uncertainty or even fear, in misunderstanding who the other person is, in holding the other person up as either a monster to be defeated or as some perfect light to heal all wounds.  Neither of these are true.  But there is an attraction (and a repulsion) there nonetheless, and in The Last Jedi that attraction and repulsion balance out just enough so that Ben and Rey can converse with each other without the danger of Rey suddenly killing Ben.  (Thank the Force!)  

As time goes on and Ben and Rey learn more about each other, they discover how lonely they are, and shared feelings and compassionate hearts mean that they both long for the other to stand by their side.  Their love is ridiculously powerful and beautiful and it makes me want to cry.  Even still, this love has not grown into what it needs to be.  Because true love means wanting the best for the other person, and doing what is best for the person no matter the cost.  And guess what?  That can be a hard thing.  Look, Rey and Ben are both absolutely convinced that the other person loves them sooooo very much that they will leave behind whatever they have—the First Order, Snoke, the Resistance, friends.  Part of that is because they also know how lonely they both are, and how wonderful it would be not to feel like that ever again.  Thus, Rey ships herself right off to Ben, confident he will turn, and he is happy to see her, confident she will turn.

But it has to be so much more than that.  Love is about compassion and sacrifice, and Ben does kill Snoke for Rey’s sake, and this is the start of his redemption I believe, but even though he gives up the part of himself that is the most important to who he is at the moment, changing himself irrevocably, taking the first steps to freedom, but he still does not give up Everything.  I think he thought that would be enough for Rey, killing the fearsome monster who ruled him and threatened her, but it isn’t and it shouldn’t be.  It is not enough to give up sin, one must then act virtuously.  Ben is mistaken, therefore, to assume that Rey will join him now.

However, Rey is mistaken as well.  The thing with Rey (which I absolutely love) is that she throws herself headlong into things with such passion.  As much as she despised Ben before, she loves him now—no she loves him a thousand times more, because love is so much more powerful than hate.  But she gets ahead of herself, or rather, Ben.  Because as soon as she sees Ben turn back to the light, sees him destroy Snoke, the image of darkness, she asks him to run headlong into the sunlight.  

Here is the thing though, redemption is not the flip of a switch but the climbing of a staircase up a mountain.  Ben has made the right initial choice, has taken his first steps, but he is carrying a lot of baggage, guilt for the past, fear of the future, uncertainty of the present. He has been manipulated into believing in the strength of darkness for so long that it is going to take some time for him to pick apart the tangled threads of his soul, to understand what he must do and how he should think and act and love.  It is unrealistic (though hopeful and endearing) for Rey to believe that Ben can suddenly be a perfectly good man, the most excellent form of himself. It is hard for even a very good person to make hard decisions like Ben has to make, and Ben’s soul is damaged in countless ways, his mind a tattered blanket that Snoke liked to tear and cut up into jagged pieces.  It is going to take time for Ben to progress, to walk beside Rey everywhere she goes.

In the end, I am so thrilled with how Reylo unwound in The Last Jedi.  Ben is traveling on the road to redemption, inspired by Rey but ultimately not saved by her.  He must save himself, though he may lean on her for support.  For now, Rey is disappointed in him, frustrated with him (and no doubt with herself for failing), but it would be foolish to say she no longer loves him or feels compassion for him.  Yes, she shut the door on him, left with the Resistance, but she was obviously in pain then and later as well, when she is on the getaway ship.  She is still lonely, and now more so than ever because the man who understood the pain in her heart is not yet able to understand what he must do to lessen the pain in his own heart.  And Ben...well Ben is probably still kneeling in that cave frozen in lonely despair because he just f— I mean he......he.... OH FOR THE SAKE OF THE CHILDREN WE’RE JUST GONNA SAY IT LIKE THIS: HE DONE MESSED UP!!!

Or maybe he has set his jaw, drawn back his shoulders, and taken that next step.  They say that the first step toward the light is the hardest, but maybe it is the second—the thrill of taking a new path has vanished, and now remains the strain of holding his course, of working through whatever pain he must suffer on the road to redemption...

[littlemisssquiggles]

RWBY Musings #14: In rewatching Chapter 5 of Volume 5, did anyone else come to the same realization that Oscar’s whole outburst at Ruby was intentional?

There is something that I’ve noticed about the notorious dojo scene with Ruby and Oscar from Chapter 5 of RWBY Volume 5.

As I’ve remarked time and time again in past musings, Chapter 5 is and still continues to reign as my top favourite episode of this current season to date. Shameless to say, I’ve downloaded the episode and have been revisiting it continuously, purely for the conversation between our two young heroes.

However in doing so, there has always been something about that particular scene that’s boggled me or rather someone. It’s Oscar. Specifically the face he makes after he calms down from just shouting at Ruby.  

At first I figured, okay, the kid’s scared and probably more than a little frustrated so it’s natural that he would chastise Ruby the way he did. However then there’s the next shot where Oscar is looking at Ruby after regaining his composure and he makes this face.

Carefully observe Oscar’s facial expression.

Somehow that face has always bugged me about that shot. I found it a rather odd one for Oscar to make, given the scenario. Why, you might ask?

Because this is a kid who immediately looked remorseful after accidentally punching Ruby in the face during a sparring match and apologized one time on the spot after freaking out over the thought of possibly hurting her.

 Yet here, he just finished screaming at her in sheer frustration and he doesn’t look the least bit apologetic about it.  

On the contrary, he looked almost patient. As if he was waiting to see Ruby’s reaction to what he just said. 

It is here when I realized from the beginning, every action that was made, every word that was said out of Oscar’s mouth from that moment on was deliberate. Oscar wasn’t lashing out at Ruby out of fear. He did it in order to jolt the truth out of her. To get her to admit all the pain she’d been suppressing.

He didn’t have the right words of encouragement to cheer her up, so he did the only thing he could do in the moment. He asked her about how she had managed to keep moving forward and keep such a positive sense of resolve despite all the horrible things she has bared witness to and been through in the past; which was the right question to ask and a very important one to boot cause I don’t think we’ve had anyone truly ask Ruby how she’s been since the Fall of Beacon. Not really.

So having Oscar, essentially still a person who wants to know or understand Ruby more ask her this very significant question is quite excellent.

Oscar acknowledged Ruby’s grief over the loss of her friends that she’s been bottling for so long and rather than give her the sugar, spice and everything is nice schlock of telling her not to worry and whatnot, instead he attempts to comfort her by getting her to finally open up about how she’s been truly feeling.

At first, I guess he figured that admitting how scared he was would encourage Ruby to consequently admit how afraid she was. Giving her a bit of the ole you-show-me-yours-if-I-show-you-mine- kind of psychology there.   However Ruby doesn’t snag the first bait and Oscar’s first efforts fail. When Ruby still continued to hold onto her brave facade, that’s when Oscar decided to change tactics. 

Yes he yelled at her but what I found interesting is what he yelled at her.

Notice how he didn’t yell accusations. He didn’t berate Ruby for being naive about everything and glossing over his fear with her own indifference to the sheer severity of what is to come. Instead, he yelled questions and facts. Important questions and facts.

Instead of Oscar going: ‘How can you be so stupid and naive for thinking you could ever be strong enough to stop Salem!’ He says this:

‘How can you be so confident? People have tried to kill you, the world is about to go to war all over again, how are you OK with any of this?!’

This is why I love Oscar as a character and desperately need to see more of him in the series. This scene made me understand fully why Ozpin chose him as his successor and what he meant by being reincarnated in the body of a ‘like-minded soul’

Oscar helping Ruby the way he did in this scene is the most Ozpin-like thing he’s done so far while not channelling Ozpin. Rather than coddle her, Oscar gets Ruby to admit her true feelings about everything at long last so that in doing so, not only does she gain comfort but also reaffirmation in her own resolution to stop Salem and her forces. Forget drinking cocoa or fighting with a cane, this is the side of Oscar that’s most akin to Ozpin that I’ve seen so far in RWBY.

I don’t want it to be a thing where just because Ozpin is in his head, that means that Ozpin probably put Oscar up to comforting Ruby. I don’t think that’s the case at all. I think Oscar wanted to help Ruby of his own accord. You can tell that by the way he tried to say something earlier on in the scene but couldn’t cause he didn’t know how or didn’t know what was the best thing to say to make her feel better.

Oscar’s failure to say something earlier on is actually quite understandable, given the type of relationship he and Ruby currently have. They’re still in the mere acquaintance stage. Still in the process of getting to know each other.

When you get to know a person really well, you also get to learn of the best method of comforting them during those dire moments. For some people, all they might need is a hug or a pat on the back along with a simple ‘You can do it!’ to get them to feel positive again. Whereas others might need more deeper words accompanied by probably reminders of their own self worth with examples of past achievements and emotional victories to jolt them out of that pitiful rut. This is a type of understanding that can only come from truly knowing a person which takes time.

Oscar isn’t there yet with Ruby (and my foot is starting to get a little weary of tapping to see when the series is going to get us there at some point. But to be fair to the writers, Ruby and Oscar only met this season so they might not have that kind of friendship and knowledge of each other till at least another season of close contact. But I digress).

To Oscar, he doesn’t honestly know the full details of all that has happened to Ruby before, during and after the Fall of Beacon. Sure Oz must’ve told him some facts about our red-haired main heroine beforehand but beyond that, Oscar doesn’t know Ruby well enough to try and comfort her in a way that would be helpful to her. I guess that would justify why he went with asking her how she felt.

He might not know her all that well despite being in his presence and company for a few weeks but he figured if he asked her how she felt personally, then maybe she’d be able to comfort herself by finally admitting her qualms out loud through his encouragement while at the same time helping him to better understand her in the process.

For what it’s worth, Oscar’s efforts worked. Ruby admitted everything. She finally mentioned Pyrrha and Penny and addressed her feelings on losing them. And one she was done giving her big speech, what did Oscar do?

Did he press her further? No. Did he slate her anymore? No.

Instead the kid just casually walks to her side and gives her a very comforting smile of approval (It definitely looked like a ‘I’ll accept that answer’ kind of face to me), now satisfied with her response.

I’m pretty certain if Ruby had continued to act all unconcerned about her past pains, then Oscar would have continued to talk her down until she did. Not out of disrespect or anything but because he saw how much she needed to get that off her chest. He probably shouldn’t have yelled at her the way he did however; in this case yelling was the more effective method since it brought the right amount of forceful impact to jolt Ruby out of her impassiveness.  

You might as well as had Ozpin go ‘...Well our work here is done! Mission accomplished!’ cause that’s pretty much the vibe I felt from Oscar after Ruby had walked off. He finally got her to admit not just to him but to herself about her feelings regarding everything and now that she’d gotten that emotional load she’s been harbouring for probably months off her chest, he can now smile knowing that she’s a little less stressed and that he had helped to do it.

Guys, this scene was SO IMPORTANT, not just for Ruby but Oscar too.

Do fans even realize how amazing Oscar is? I certainly do. He’s more than just a cute face. He’s a kind soul (well...two kind souls).

Oscar is such an amazing character and honestly has such potential. I really would love to have more moments with him helping other characters like this. If I haven’t stressed this enough whenever I muse about Oscar, there needs to be more key character-building moments with him. We’ve only just (barely) scratched the surface on what he can do as a true-blue voice of reason and mature wisdom for one his age. And this has nothing to do with Ozpin. Oh no.

I think on his own, Oscar is a very mature and outspoken young man. He may not possess the countless decades of vocabulary repertoire such as Ozpin but he does have heart. He’s compassionate and has a much greater power; stronger than any kind of battle skill or magic. He can connect well to others, if given the opportunity and is able to help them through their burdening issues. This is clearly evidenced by his acknowledgement and attempts at helping Ruby in the moment. And I think even Ozpin was able to sense Oscar’s true intent on talking to Ruby, hence I believe that’s why he was surprisingly absent during the whole ordeal and never intervened, even when Oscar yelled at Ruby.

Notice how Ozpin never interrupted or even spoke up once during the whole scene, no matter how tense it became? This was good, especially for me as a fan, since I was literally yelling “...Ozpin don’t you DARE freaking interrupt this very intimate moment between these two kids. Keep it between them please!” at my computer screen during the episode. Thankfully, Ozpin only spoke up after Ruby had walked away.

He allowed Oscar to handle the entire moment on his own. While Ozpin probably would’ve handled it differently (and possibly with a little more tact) if he were in Oscar’s shoes (literally), he respected the young farm boy’s methods enough to take a backseat because he understood fully well what his intentions were and respected him for it.

This reminds me of a scene from way back in Volume 2. It was from the episode with the school dance where, after Yang and Weiss abandoned an awkward introverted Ruby alone at this prestigious social event, it was Professor Ozpin who approached her and gave her some brief company, even if it was to simply provide some whimsical advice.

It was one of my favourite memorable moments from that volume simply for the exchange of dialogue between Ruby and Ozpin. It’s what he said to her that cemented why I like Ozpin so much as a character. And why I’m having a hard time accepting the theory of him being evil.

Oz may be the physical embodiment of magic, cursed by the Gods of Remnant and flawed with more x’s against him than a game of Tic-Tac-Toe but at his core, he’s human. It’s his empathy towards others who he believes might need his help and guidance that makes him human; despite the sheer irony that he’s the least human character in the show, secondary to Salem herself.

I loved the talk Ozpin had with Ruby from the dance episode but what made it better was the aftermath, seeing Ruby’s response to Ozpin’s words. She definitely seemed a bit more at ease following Ozpin’s reassurance. It’s no different than things were with her and Oscar.

In one scene, our boy Oscar got Ruby to open up more. I’ve watched a few reviews of this episode from some of my favourite Youtubers however up until now, I haven’t really seen any other fan really talk about the importance of this scene in terms of what Oscar’s involvement did for Ruby.

No one else has made this point, to my knowledge. It’s mostly been talk about either Oscar being afraid of what’s to come or, more commonly, Ruby’s epic speech. While Ruby’s speech was good, I personally find that this scene was important for Oscar because it highlighted more about his personality.

It revealed more to me about the kind of character he is or is at least shaping up to be and...I truly, truly, TRULY hope we get more moments with him like this one.

I pray that Chapter 5 isn’t going to be the only episode where fans get to see this side of Oscar. I’m fearful that with the reintroduction of Yang and Weiss that any further moments between Ruby and Oscar may become scarcer. Hoping that will not be the case. I’m hoping that what Ruby told Oscar from Chapter 5 will be brought back into hindsight later.

Perhaps there will come a time where, even for a brief moment, Ruby just breaks down and loses all hope. And in a surprising twist, it’s Oscar as the one to remind her of the very words she spoke to him from this episode because he now believed in her.

Yeah, yeah, I know. Haters be like...Ruby doesn’t need Oscar to inspire her cause she’s inspired by the people she cares about. That’s the thing; Ruby has shown to care about Oscar too so it’s safe to say that she likes him enough to consider him another cherished life she needs to fight for.

That being said let Oscar be a sort of shining beacon that inspires Ruby to regain herself in the same manner she has inspired others around her, including him. Or even better:

I just realized something. Oscar’s full name is Oscar Pine. Pine is a type of wood. A spark is essentially like a flame that continues to burn.

Isn’t wood not a kind of material used to keep a fire burning?  

If Ruby possesses a spark, then let Oscar possess the fuel that keeps her burning at her brightest. Whether it’s through motivational words or actions of selfless bravery, let him be her support.  I’m just saying.  

~LittleMissSquiggles (2017)

[pitviperofdoom]

a mountain inn murder

So! I’d like to thank you all for your patience throughout this past month. I have promised fic and worry not, fic is on its way. I hope to get a chapter out either today or tomorrow, but for now, there’s a little something I’d like to share with you.

On Thursday I saw a movie that I’ve been very excited to see, and it inspired a BNHA fic idea that I’ve decided I’m  never going to write. But it’s still a rather delicious one, so I put together a detailed synopsis for your reading pleasure.

Warning: look full disclosure this is pretty goddamn depressing.

So to begin, it takes place in a slightly AU version of the BNHA world, so there are a few digressions from canon, such as Quirkless!GenEd!Midoriya who ends up working with heroes anyway as a strategist and consultant. But honestly that’s more background information than anything else, and the story itself doesn’t really focus much on him.

The story begins a year or two after what we know as Class 1-A would have graduated, so they’d all be around nineteen, maybe twenty. It takes place at a rather remote inn in the mountains during winter. Our main character is a Detective. I haven’t decided who that Detective might be, maybe an OC, I’m really not sure because I can’t think of a canon character that would fit super well in that role. The detective ends up at the inn while taking an impromptu vacation from work, hoping for a relaxing couple of days surrounded by pretty snow and scenery. There are others staying there for the holidays, specifically the new year, so their stay will be fairly brief but the detective doesn’t mind the company. Those at the inn are the following:

Makoto, the proprietress of the inn

Her coworker whose name the detective doesn’t catch, mainly because the man spends most of his time asleep or seemingly drunk.

The Iida brothers Tensei and Tenya, rather famous clientele for such a humble inn.

Yoarashi, a boisterous young man who gets along with very nearly everyone.

Momo, a pretty young woman who looks familiar but the detective can’t put their finger on why.

Chiyo, an elderly grandmotherly type.

Todoroki, a taciturn young man with rather prominent facial scarring—name rings a bell, though.

Inada, a large and forbidding man who treats everyone with the same level of unfriendly arrogance.

Akatani, a young man who works for Inada as a secretary. He’s a bit shy, but friendly and eager to please.

The detective settles in for their stay and gets to know the people around them. Ms. Makoto is friendly and seems to strike up a friendship with Momo and Chiyo, as ladies are wont to do. Her silent, sleepy coworker is surprisingly helpful in his own way, in spite of the drinking, the constant sleeping, and his need for a crutch. Yoarashi and the Iidas are cordial with everyone. For some reason, Todoroki seems determined to keep Inada from finding out he’s there, to the point where he wears a surgical mask, ostensibly to keep from catching cold. It’s difficult when they’re all so enclosed, but Inada’s secretary is very understanding and helps him avoid Inada’s notice.

At one point, on the second day of their stay, Inada pulls the detective aside and offers him a job. He’s a powerful man being hunted and followed, and is currently staying at this inn to take cover until the danger can be identified and properly dealt with. But the inn is more crowded than he thought it would be, so he would appreciate it if the detective could help him identify possible threats. He tries to subtly threaten the detective, but their instincts tell them it’s a bad idea, so they turn him down.

The next morning Inada is found murdered in his bed, and a blizzard in the mountains strands them at the inn until help can arrive.

Needless to say, the air about the inn is far more nervous and fearful the following day. Considering the blizzard, it is very likely that the killer is still among them, so the detective devotes themselves to solving the murder as quickly as possible. Poor Akatani is nearly in hysterics when he finds out about his employer’s death, and is utterly lost and on the verge of a panic attack until the detective helps him make himself useful. In spite of his agitation he still has a very efficient mind, and is quite useful in helping the detective organize their thoughts and run the investigation.

It’s a strange case from the start. Inada wasn’t just stabbed; he was stabbed nine times as if in a frenzy, and yet there is no sign of defensive wounds, on a big and strong-looking man who was fully aware that his life was in danger. (The answer to that comes when they find a cup, still wet with the dregs of drugged tea.) Beyond that, there is a flurry of evidence at the detective’s disposal, most of it confusing and contradictory. Chance encounters, noises they heard in the night, a watch stopped at the time of death. Objects at the scene of the crime that may or may not belong to several of the other guests. Evidence of several different quirk types.

The first person he interviews is Akatani himself, and the young man nervously reveals his employer’s true identity. “Inada” was none other than Todoroki Enji, the former Number One Hero Endeavor, who has been on sabbatical ever since the tragedy he suffered just last year. One of his children was murdered by villains, his ailing wife died of grief soon after, and his only daughter was in a fatal car accident. He’d been laying low lately because old enemies and villains were moving against him, trying to take advantage of his current leave to take revenge on him.

“Then you must have known,” the detective says. “The young Todoroki at this very inn…”

Akatani winces, and his jet-black hair falls further into his face. “Todoroki-kun and his father… don’t get along very well. They never have. Endeavor was… he was a highly successful hero. But that didn’t make him a good person.”

The detective interviews the rest one by one, and finds that they all have alibis for the supposed time of the murder. There is always someone who can vouch for someone else. Very frustrating.

And then they get to the inn’s second proprietor, the drunk with the limp, and they sigh. They ask him if he’s going to give up the farce. They can tell he isn’t really drunk, so why fake it? What is his real name, and what is his game?

The tired man sighs, sits a little straighter. His name is Aizawa Shouta, he says. Perhaps they’ve heard of him.

They have, vaguely. There was a news story about the underground hero Eraserhead. About his injury, and his forced retirement. Some villain got the better of him even without the use of their quirk, and forced him out of the game early. Ms. Makoto was a friend of a friend, kind enough to give him a job here until he got his head together again. It’s far away from people who might recognize him, as unlikely as that is. But apparently not far enough, he adds pointedly.

Akatani helps him take notes and comb through everything they know, and the evidence and witness accounts start pointing to a very frustrating possibility: that the killer is in fact not here at all. That they came in the night, committed the murder, and slipped away again. The blizzard doesn’t necessarily mean anything, because they have no idea what this hypothetical assassin’s quirk would have been. It’s the most convenient solution, to be sure. And yet…

Some of it doesn’t add up. There are too many inconsistencies. Too many coincidences. Too many connections. And those damned tragedies in Endeavor’s life keep coming up in them; Todoroki’s presence is just the start.

The proprietress Makoto, for example. Her full name, they discover, is Tsukauchi Makoto. Her older brother Tsukauchi Naomasa was a respected police officer until his career was ruined. He was said to have been investigating the death of Endeavor’s son. Aizawa Shouta? The battle that ended his career was with the very same villain guilty of the murder, after he tried and failed to prevent it. Yoarashi Inasa? Up and coming hero. His friend Keimi was killed in that same battle.

And most interesting are Iida Tenya and Yaoyorozu Momo, two more young heroes.

They had a friend and former classmate in common: Todoroki Shouto. Endeavor’s youngest son, a promising hero killed in the line of duty just a year ago.

The detective gathers them all together. He looks to Todoroki again, at the scarring on his face: burns over both eyes, lined with stitches. He takes off the surgical mask, and the burns continue down his lower jaw and neck. He’s Endeavor’s second son, a villain ex-convict released on parole, who went by the codename “Dabi”.

The former villain exchanges a look with Tsukauchi Makoto, and together they lay out the truth of Endeavor’s “tragedies”.

Shouto was always a rebel, but was forced into working at his father’s agency against his own wishes. Endeavor was always pushing him, testing him, forcing him to be better by any means necessary. And so, that day, when he was teamed up with the hero Eraserhead and Inasa’s friend Keimi, they ended up surrounded and horribly outnumbered. When all seemed hopeless, Shouto contacted his father to send reinforcements. But Endeavor misjudged the situation, wanted to punish and test his son for his rebelliousness, and did not. Shouto and Keimi were killed, and Aizawa was horribly wounded.

His mother did not die of grief; Dabi knows this. His younger brother had stubbornly taken him in during his parole, though the terms of said parole prevented him from visiting his mother. But he did anyway, and so he knows. When she heard the news that her youngest son was dead, she became frightened that her husband would return to her, to try to force another child out of her, so she got herself sterilized in secret. Endeavor did come for her, and flew into a rage when he found out what she had done.

In his defense, he did not mean to hit her so hard. But she was a fragile woman. Dabi was there to witness it but too slow to prevent it, and who would the courts believe? A renowned hero, or an ex-con breaking parole?

Fuyumi was never the same after this. The guilt was too much for her; Iida Tensei knows this, because he was the one she confided in. She languished, and her accident… well, who could say if it was an accident, or a suicide?

The guests are all quiet now.

There are two possible solutions to this crime. There’s the way the evidence points, to a villain assassin who crept in and escaped during the night. And there’s a second solution, one that follows all the connections between people.

Tsukauchi Makoto, the sister of the police officer who tried to get to the bottom of these deaths, whose career Endeavor purposely sabotaged to cover himself. The former “Dabi”, whose younger brother was killed because of their father’s negligence, who watched his mother die at his hand, who lost his sister before he had the chance to reconcile with her. Iida Tensei who had met Todoroki Fuyumi, who fell in love with her as he watched her suffer. Iida Tenya, who owed his life to his best friend Shouto. Yaoyorozu Momo who cared very deeply about Shouto, and was shocked when she found out about the abuse. Yoarashi Inasa, whose friend died as collateral damage to Endeavor’s cruelty. Shuuzenji Chiyo, who cared for Shouto as a school nurse, who was the very doctor that his mother went to for help. Aizawa Shouta, who watched his student die.

And as the detective finishes laying out these connections, they turn to Akatani. Helpful, eager, painfully earnest Akatani Mikumo, who fetched things, took thorough notes, offered insights, kept tempers cool throughout this ordeal. And now the young man won’t meet his eyes, but combs his black-dyed fringe out of his face and dries the tears from his face, wiping away the makeup that concealed his freckles and changed the shape and contouring of his face.

Midoriya Izuku, the up and coming strategist and consultant who has worked with almost every prominent hero from Eraserhead to Endeavor himself, who loved Todoroki Shouto with all his heart. 

Nine suspects. Nine stab wounds.

Midoriya opens his mouth to take the blame for the plot he created and implemented, by gathering the conspirators and organizing the details and playing the devoted secretary just long enough to set up Enji’s stay at the inn, but Dabi beats him to it. 

The only reason he’s here at all, he says, is because his little brother reached out to offer whatever help he could give. Tried to tell him that it wasn’t too late, that they didn’t have to let their father turn them into something they weren’t proud of. But he’s already made his choices. He’s already a villain, and the rest of these people—they aren’t villains. They aren’t even killers, not really. They’re just broken people who saw something terribly wrong and wanted to set it right.

The detective gives a thoughtful nod, and leaves the room.

When the police arrive, the detective delivers the evidence, and the witness statements, and the neat little first solution but not the second.

Half of them are heroes, after all, and the world needs its heroes, especially when men like Todoroki Enji exist in it. There is Law and there is Crime, but there is also Right and Wrong, and the two don’t always line up so neatly.

Sherlock Holmes is still my favorite detective but I frickin love Murder on the Orient Express and the critics can suck it because that movie was rad.

[starshineskyandthepowerofrock]

Darkness - Boris

Part 15 of Starshine, Sky, and the Power of Rock.

I've been avoiding His Majesty all day, which is an impressive feat considering I'm his right-hand man. You'd think he'd notice an absence by his right hand. Whether or not he has, he hasn't requested my presence, which is fine by me.

There is a creeping feeling in my stomach, though, because the longer we don't discuss what happened yesterday the more I'm certain he's biding his time. For what reason, I'm not sure. Probably just to screw with my head.

Regardless, I won't be able to avoid him much longer.

Here I stand before the doors to the Premonitions Room. No doubt the ritual's already started without me. Now the question is should I endure the embarrassment of arriving late or endure His Majesty's wrath that should follow me skipping it altogether?

I heave a heavy sigh. I suppose my absence would be noticeable. I am pretty important, after all.

Okay.

Okay.

Open the door, fool!

The sound of scurrying feet jolts me from my thoughts. An underling stands in the middle of the hall, frozen by my presence. She's clearly new. No older than 15. She must have just been deployed last month with the other recruits. Maybe she would have known Sky. If she'd...

I silently curse myself for once again considering what will never happen as this girl stares at me, presumably in fear.

She bows her head. "Pardon my tardiness, sir."

I nod back. "Pardoned." I'd normally follow that with a warning but any threat right now would be blunted by the blatant hypocrisy of the situation.

She scuttles past me and makes to grab the door handles. I grab her collar. She tenses under my fingers but doesn't face me.

"Neither of us are to speak of this," I say.

She nods, eyes still on the door. "Yes, sir."

She holds the door for me as I enter then disappears amongst her peers the moment she gets the chance. If anything, she should be thanking me. After all, no one is going to notice her coming in late when they're all focused on me doing the same. I only wish the room weren't so silent, but I understand why it must be.

My footsteps echo horribly as I make my way over to His Majesty's side. I don't particularly care about all the underlings seeing me like this, considering they're obligated to respect me no matter what. It's the man I'm an underling to who's thoughts worry me.

His expression is unchanging, even by the time I stand at his side on the raised platform. As they do every time, his blood-red eyes laser-focus on the ornate glass casket before us. In it lies Princess Persephone, uncharacteristically peaceful with her hands delicately folded over her stomach. Her unbreathing figure would make someone who didn't know better think her dead. Or... I guess... dead in a way that makes her unable to wake up. I've never been clear on how to speak about the undead.

His Majesty is awake yet manages to be every bit as immobile as his sister. Princess Faylen, though, leans forward and openly glares at me from his other side. Knowing her, it could be anything from my tardiness to yesterday's failure to the wet dog smell she says I can never shake.

I'd better pay attention.

The entirety of the Band of Darkness watches us watch Princess Persephone, who outwardly does nothing but who we all know to be carrying out a very important job. Arguably, the most important job out of anyone in this room. Not that I think it justifies having her tag along on missions but I digress.

The slightest eyebrow twitch wrinkles the princess's porcelain face, which tells us the ritual is almost over. Her eyes snap open. The intense red makes her eyes almost look like gashes in her otherwise ghostly paleness. I'd never before understood how one could find vampires frightening. Then I met her.

Her gaze, constantly wide as if always hunting, remains on the ceiling for a couple blinks before falling on His Majesty. She smiles. He smiles back.

Servants have the casket's lid lifted. Princess Persephone sits up, stretching, then takes His Majesty's hand and lets him help her out. She tiptoes barefoot to face her audience. His Majesty joins her.

"What did you see?" he asks in his booming voice. It's the first I've heard of it since I left yesterday to carry out what turned out to be a mortifying failure. As used to his baritone as I am, my heart still skips a beat.

Princess Persephone smooths her hands over her pale pink nightgown as she recalls. "The enemy's palace," she says. "I saw it again. I've seen it a lot lately."

His Majesty's eyes very suddenly make contact with mine, even though I know he does this every time. As usual, I convey the exact same look to the scribe who sits below. He nods nervously and begins recording the princess's latest dream.

"The Crowns were there again, too. Both of them," she continues. "And the storm was even darker this time."

His Majesty nods, the spotlight above us dancing on the side of his glossy black hair that hasn't been shaved off. "Is that all?"

The princess doesn't speak for a moment. "Something new was in the storm today. There was a lighting bolt that struck the enemy's palace. A pink lightening bolt."

"Pink..." His Majesty mutters to himself.

Princess Persephone nods. "Hot pink."

"And that's all?"

"Mm hm."

"Very well. Good job, Persephone."

Princess Persephone beams at her brother. My sensitive ears pick up what Princess Faylen clearly had thought was a well-hidden "Ugh." I consider giving her a smile of my own to show that she's still appreciated but I figure I'm in it deep as it is and it'll likely be more trouble than it's worth.

His Majesty holds his arms out, then dramatically gestures to Princess Persephone. "Bow for your princess, the Heir to Darkness."

All non-royals in the room obey, including me. I'm still on my knee when feet shuffle beneath me and out the doors.

His deep sigh makes my blood run cold.

"We're alone, Boris."

I look up to see he's telling the truth. My shoulders slump, my muscles relax, and most importantly I get off the floor. But just because I'm not groveling his at feet anymore doesn't mean I'm any less nervous about the tongue-lashing I'm due.

His Ma-

Er-

Victor stares at me, arms crossed like a disappointed mother. "Tell me, Boris," he says. "How many worthless lives have you ended?"

I shrug. "You expect me to keep count?"

"Exactly," he says. "So forgive me if I'm a little confused why this girl - a girl, may I add, you had alone last time - is so hard for you to take care of."

"Vic, I can expla-"

"Don't 'Vic' me right now."

I mock-bow. "Pardon me, Your Majesty."

Victor grimaces. "Stop that."

"My point is," I say. "It's just really complicated with her. You remember our deal, right?"

"I remember every deal I make."

"And our deal was..."

"If she agreed to come back she would be pardoned and if she refused she would be disposed of," Victor says. "And she refused. Yet you didn't dispose of her. And she's, what, 14?"

"15," I say. "Her birthday was a couple months ago."

Victor pinches the bridge of his nose. "Do I look like I care?"

I know better than to answer him.

"You know I like you, Boris," he says.

"And you know I like you."

Victor turns from me and starts descending the steps leading to the floor. "Well, I thought you did."

I chase him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He crosses his arms again, still not looking at me. "It was you against a teenage girl half your size, so I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt and assuming your problem isn't physical. My understanding is you care a lot about this girl, even if from my perspective she's been nothing but a major embarrassment."

My face flushes but I'd better keep quiet. Anything I say about her is bound to only dig me deeper.

"So, and correct me if I'm wrong," he continues, "You couldn't stand to harm her, to the point that you couldn't carry out a simple order. Hardly an order, really." He looks at me. "More like a request from a friend."

"Well, requests can be rejected."

His frown deepens. "Then it was an order."

I sigh, more from nerves than frustration though he can get very annoying about the whole king thing when he's upset. "If you know I'm still physically able to kill a teenage girl then why is me not killing this one such a problem? I mean, she's just one girl. There's only so much she could do. And knowing her, she's probably falling apart now that I'm not there for her. She won't last the week without me."

"It's not about the girl," Victor says. "It's about your convictions. Your loyalties. You had her in your grasp and you let her slip through your fingers because of... what... feelings? You have feelings now?"

"I've always had feelings," I argue. "We all do." Except maybe his sisters but now isn't the time for that conversation. "I know you do."

Victor lets himself soften just long enough for me to notice. "You know what I mean. The feelings that make you weak. The kinds that hold you back. Guilt. Fear. Compassion for the undeserving. The ones I had been convinced you were incapable of. But am I wrong that each of those feelings occurred in you yesterday when you had to face that brat?"

"Don't call her that," I can't keep myself from saying.

Victor huffs. "You just keep proving my point today, don't you! If you can't set your baggage aside and take care of a single traitor for me, then what else can't I trust you with?"

I try to think of a counterargument, but none come to mind. When I see past all those messy feelings, there's really no logical reason I shouldn't be able to do what he asks of me. It's not very unreasonable. Every traitor is an enemy gained, after all. And even if all Victor sees is a little girl, I see years and years of training. No, not just training. Sky poured her heart and soul into music. Embarrassing as it is that I was bested by a couple of teenagers, I hear so much of myself in every note of hers I can't be all that shocked that she was able to do it. Someone with that power shouldn't be left in the Band of Light's hands to corrupt. If she doesn't leave them willingly she'll have to be ripped from their hands, even if that means driving a stake through her heart.

"I guess that makes sense," I finally say. "You should be able to trust your right-hand man, right?"

Victor does the little closed-mouth smile he does where one of his fangs peeks through. "Yes, I should," he says. "I'll tell you what. Because I like you so much I'll let this one slide. One kid isn't very high on my list of priorities anyway. As long as you promise to take care of her if you ever see her again I'll forget about the whole ordeal. And when I forget something, the whole band does."

His words lift a huge weight off my chest. "Thank you, Vic," I say.

He nods. "Of course. Now, shouldn't you we preparing to move soon?"

"Move? Already? But we haven't discussed the dream at all."

"Vision," Victor corrects. "The Heir to Darkness doesn't just 'dream.'" He picks up the notes from the scribe's desk and looks them over. "There's little here we haven't heard before."

"Except that lightening bolt," I say.

"That's very true," he responds, then contemplates something. "There's been a lot of pink lately."

I nod in agreement. "In a lot of shades, too."

"But never hot pink before."

"Maybe she's just using a different word for a shade we're used to."

"Or maybe it's a new shade that means something," he counters.

"Have you considered having her learn the names of different shades of pink if it's so important?" I ask.

Victor strokes his chin. "I'll look into that."

I bite my tongue on the point that maybe she could just learn to better describe things. Or be more observant. Or anything that would be useful.

"Whatever the pink means, it doesn't change that we still have to follow the enemy's palace," Victor says.

I nod. "That makes sense."

"Well then," Victor says, making a shooing motion. "Sunday's almost over. You know what to do."

I bow, not for him but more to put myself back in the mindset that I'm nothing more than another underling of his. "Yes, sir."

I leave the room to begin the process of leading the others outside the building we call our base before it is shrunken down to a size that can be picked up and placed in a portable box. Then we're all on our horses and continuing the endless cycle of chasing that flying palace full of pompous royals, spoiled brats that dare to call themselves rock stars, and a traitor that's trying to convince herself she belongs amongst them.

I haven't a doubt His Majesty notices my silence as my mind runs in circles of guilt, rage, and fear for my next encounter with Sky, if it ever happens. But he responds with silence of his own. Even if he supposedly let the events of yesterday go, I can't forgive myself. It would have been so clean, so easy. The stake was mere inches from her chest. Yet I couldn't let it get any nearer, as if some barrier was in the way. I shudder in fury when I remind myself that I was that barrier. I held myself back. I was disloyal.

There's so few people in this world His Majesty can trust and all this time I've been honored to consider myself one of them. But he's right, if one kid can get me to crack how can he know I'm for real? How can I know I'm for real?

I run my thumb over my fingertips, barely feeling it thanks to the thick calluses. What happened to the Boris that can loot and burn homes without remorse? The Boris that's deaf to the cries of newly orphaned children? The Boris that can hear a traitor beg for mercy and not once consider giving it?

My grip on the reins tightens. He's still there. I mean here, he's still here. He's me. But he's in danger if I don't squash whatever made me stop myself from doing what I had to do yesterday.

Guilt. Fear. Compassion for the undeserving. His Majesty is right, those were the things I was feeling when I held that stake to her heart. I remember them really cementing when she grabbed my wrist. Her hands, small and cold with fingers as rough as mine. I'd guided them through so many lessons, poured years of blood, sweat, and tears into them. They were the hands she'd used to play out the darkest parts of her soul that only I was allowed to see. That's when I knew I couldn't be the one that made it so they'd never play again...

No.

The weakness I exhibited in that moment makes me sick. Every thought of her only brings that weakness back. Which means she's the source of my weakness. And a leader of the Band of Darkness has no place in his heart for weakness, because weakness breeds disloyalty.

I catch a glance at His Majesty. I'll stay loyal, my king. Don't you worry. I'll dislodge her from my heart. Crossing paths with her isn't a matter of if for me. It's a matter of when.

When we meet again, I'll do what I should have done the night I first saw her in that Academy uniform. I'll treat her like the traitor she is.

[monstredemiroirs]

Dear ------

This will be the very last time I ever write about you. I want you to understand that I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing this for me. I need to close the final chapter in the horror story that was us, and this, to me, is the way to complete the story.

In order for me to progress with my life I had to get rid of you entirely. You’re a blight, and you would never be happy seeing me succeed or be happy. It’s funny. For so long I tried to climb out of the mud we cultivated. And any time you saw me start to finally climb out, you would reach your hand out, knowing that I would always grab it the moment I saw. For the longest time I thought I could pull you out. I was wrong. I finally understand, now, that you never wanted to be pulled out, you wanted to pull me deeper. Back into the pit with you. I finally understand this, and I refuse to ever grab your hand again.

Cutting you out of my life was actually surprisingly easy. I thought I could never do it, that you’ll always, somehow, be a part of my life. But no. I got out. I finally feel the sun shine on my face, and I have absolutely no intention to ever feel as cold, dirty, and dark as you made me feel.

You’re a black hole. A void. You’ve convinced so many people that you’re this good man, but you really aren’t. I know you. I know the deepest recesses of your soul, and truth be told it’s ugly. The fact that you can sit back and live with yourself after all the hurt you’ve caused someone you supposedly “love”(though I doubt you’re capable of such an emotion), and take no action to better yourself or seek help for your addictions, leads me to believe that you feel justified in your actions. You did nothing wrong. It’s not you. It never is. It’s the alcohol. It’s the cocaine. It’s your upbringing. Stop it. You are your own problems. You can’t keep committing horrible acts and then just feel sorry about yourself like that makes things better. It doesn’t and it’s not working. You’re still garbage.

Can I tell you a secret? A long time ago you asked me if you should move up north. Far away from down here. I convinced you to go. I told you that you needed to get out of the poison in this town to start fresh. This is the most selfish act I may have ever committed. I convinced you to leave because I would never be lifted from your spell had you stayed. The cycle would’ve continued, and I wasn’t strong enough at the time to break through. This town isn’t the poison. You are. You’re toxic sludge, and everything you touch succumbs to your toxins.

I know I’m not without my own faults in this. It does take two to tango. The difference is that I own up to my actions, and I sought help in time to become better than the person I was with you. And even with all I did, it doesn’t come close to all the abuse you put me through.

Speaking of abuse, let’s talk about some of it. I heard through the grapevine that you were asking about me. About how I “couldn’t handle you being in a relationship with someone else.” Ha! Really now? Truth be told, I feel sorry for him. He’s going to have to go through all the same pain and hate I endured. And if he knows all the acts you put me through, and continues to stay, then he deserves every last ounce of the pain. But I digress. Since I can’t handle not being with you, let’s talk about some of the things I went through when we were together.

Let’s talk about your disappearing acts. About how you wouldn’t answer my calls or texts for sometimes weeks at a time. You knew me well by then. You know I was a ball of anxiety and you knew every moment you couldn’t just give me confirmation that you’re still alive made things worse. I spent so many nights unable to sleep because I straight up didn’t know if you were alive, if you were hurt, or even if you cared. By the amount of attention you would give me, at least one of those questions was consistently answered, I was just far too in denial to believe it.

Let’s talk about how you were obviously in love with your roommate while we were “together.” You lamented to me, your then partner, your feelings for this man. Oh how you went on for hours about how you two can never be. He was straight, and had no feelings towards you, and it crushed you. You know who it crushed more? Me. I couldn’t leave then. I kept thinking to myself “what can I do to make him feel for me like he feels for him? Is there anything I can do differently? Maybe if I did X, Y, Z, then maybe, just maybe, he’ll see what I can be for him and he’ll love me back.” I was sick. You were worse. Instead of letting me go then and letting me mourn, you continued to string me along like a sick dog on a leash. Oh, and then you drunkenly cheated on me with him. Remember? Remember how you would call my phone for weeks, drunkenly sobbing? Unable to say any words. I knew you were broken, but I never knew how absolutely shattered you were. It was so nice of you to finally tell me about it on a day where I was riding high. So excited about a Halloween Party and a costume contest I won 2nd place. I was so used to being 2nd place with you around. You took such a great day and made it so ugly. You were astounding in your ability to suck any happiness right out of me.

Let’s talk about how you treated me as if I was some shameful disgusting secret to be hidden away from your world. Any time anyone from your life became suspicious, or even was about to see you and I was there, you immediately dismissed me. The Freak. The Monster. He cannot be seen. He’s not worthy of being a part of my life or in my circle. No. I can’t have that. And yet I stayed. I thought that if I showed my loyalty and dedication, maybe someday you would see me as worthy if being part of your court. Wrong. I never stood a chance. Even when you finally, FINALLY, accepted me into your world, I still couldn’t be anything significant to you. I was introduced as your friend, or worse, an ex. An ex that you were currently still seeing, sleeping with, and telling you love behind closed doors. The damage that caused me. I felt so worthless all the time. I believed I was nothing because I couldn’t be anything to you.

Let’s talk about your addictions. You’re an alcoholic. We all know it. No, it is not normal for an average person to down two cases of that disgusting piss-water Bud Lite in one evening. So often you would convince me to take you across county lines at 2 AM just so that you could continue drinking. And no matter how much I begged you to stop, slow down, or maybe take the night off, you absolutely refused. Night after night I saw you pound down drinks and become more belligerent. And the chain smoking. Oh the chain smoking. How I wanted so much for you to just sit with me when I was over and just spend time with me. Hold me. Tell me that I mattered. And you couldn’t bring yourself to do that. Instead, you would just smoke and drink. Did I disgust you that much? So much so that you couldn’t be around me without being so intoxicated you couldn’t function? Smoking so many cigarettes in succession you’d lose your voice? Were you that horrified by my presence? Why continue to keep me around? Questions I probably will never have answered. Not that I honestly care to know any longer, anyhow. 

Let’s talk about the worst night. That night. The one you probably had hoped, if I really had ever sent this letter to you, that I wouldn’t bring up. Let’s talk about the time you had your best friend over, who in return invited me over. I remember driving to your house on my highest of highs. Finally. I was being accepted as part of your life. Someone knows my existence. Only to have you open the door and see a face of shock and horror at the sight of me. Let’s talk about how you humored me for a moment, then immediately kicked me out because you couldn’t handle the fact that someone would find out more about me. Do you remember that night? Probably not. That was the night that, in a panic, my car broke down on the highway. I walked home. Distraught, all I wanted was to call my boyfriend so he can talk me down. I called. I learned something that day. I learned that you were good friends with little white lines. A shock to me. I had no idea. You couldn’t form sentences. You went off on wild nonsensical tangents over nothing, and become enraged the moment that I tried to end the call. I was shocked, uncomfortable, and frankly disgusted. It was the first time I was ever disgusted by one of your actions. And the more I tried to distance myself, the more you berated me and called me horrible names. The following morning I begged you to never do that again. I had never asked for anything of you before that. Just this request. You wouldn’t even give me that.

Let’s go deeper. Let’s talk about the night you finally cut me loose. I’m glad you did, but did you have to do it on Christmas Day? After me ending a call because I was horrified at the sound of you snorting a line? After you spoke to my mother the very same day, excited to meet her and be part of my life? Did it really have to be on that day? Needless to say you ruined Christmas for me. And now, five years later, Christmas still brings me back to that night and how worthless and disgusting I felt because of you.

I wish I can say it ended there. I wish I can say that was it over. It wasn’t. Just two days later you convinced me to stay the best of friends. I needed to still feel like you cared. To this day, I wish I knew why. But I agreed. I agreed to remain a close friend, because clearly you still hadn’t taken all that you could away from me. But, truth be told, this is where the hurt took a weird turn.

Suddenly when I wasn’t a romantic partner in your life, now is when you wanted me around the most. You now had a sudden fascination with me. You kept me around. Strung me along. Slept with me whenever you could. And then we get to the end of a big chapter. The night before you moved away.

The weekend before you moved away, you stayed at my house. I let you in. You slept in my bed, ate my food, lived with me. Truth be told, this was the best time I ever felt with you. I felt like you loved me. Truly, truly loved me. I never wanted those days to end. Then came the final night. I left for a few hours. Couldn’t be more than 3-4. I had planned a big good bye for you. I even brought you food. I got home and you were gone. All your bags packed. No trace you were ever there. I felt abandoned. A feeling I felt often, but not and intensely as I felt that night. You told me that you weren’t a fan of goodbyes, and that you stayed at someone else’s house. You robbed me of my goodbye to you. I told you I forgave you. I told you that I forgave a lot. I didn’t. I harbored it all. I had developed a cesspool of anger and self-hatred. And that night made that pool bubble.

Was it over? No. At one point, it felt like it will never end. This was my life. I existed to build you up, and when you inevitably knocked yourself down, I was there to pick up the pieces and rebuild you with what I had left. It felt like I had less and less to work with each time.

You still needed me. I became your security blanket. Oh if I can just remember all the drunken calls at 3 AM because you were all alone. And you knew I’d always answer. And no matter how many times I would beg for you to seek help for your alcoholism, to please visit AA or see a therapist. It fell to deaf ears. You always told me that all the advice I gave you, you took to heart. You were always a fantastic liar.

It suddenly became a consistent cycle. I would distance myself to begin my climb out of the mud, you’d eventually notice and reach your hand out, I pulled, you pulled harder, and I fell in. It always ended with you getting drunk and doing actions that upset and hurt me, even with all the distance. You never seemed bothered by my pain. A simple “sorry” got you far with me. Eventually, you apologies felt like ghosts. Hollow. You made me feel like a ghost too.

Then came the night. The night that I decided that enough was enough. But before the night came the day. Let’s talk about that day.

You called me after a month hiatus. I pretended that I didn’t know why I hadn’t contacted you, but I did. You got drunk the month before and almost had a 3-way with your cousin, you classy beast you. But I digress, you called. Eventually you got to the topic of having a new boyfriend. I had mixed feelings about this. On one hand, I was truly happy for you for finding a new romantic partner. But on the other hand, I felt bad for this boy, knowing what he was getting himself into. That was exacerbated by you telling me that you were already performing your now infamous disappearing acts on him.

What dug under my skin, and what started the series of events that led to me stepping out, was when you told me that you were cutting down on your drinking. You were cutting down because you didn’t like being drunk around this boy all of the time. I’m sorry, what? You mean to tell me you couldn’t cut down 1 beer when I literally begged you to, but for this boy you were practically quitting drinking? What made him so special over me? And how insignificant was I that you wouldn’t even try? For someone you claimed you love so much, you really put no effort into meeting me halfway on really anything. It was always me giving it my all, and you taking everything you can get. Loving you was like loving a drunk brick wall.

Shortly after our conversation, when I still had a Facebook, I remember you changed your status to in a relationship. And posted a picture with him. You won accolades from all your friends for living your truth. And a part of me wanted to celebrate with them. However, I couldn’t. All I could think about was how I wanted to be him so badly back in the day, and how you treated me so shamefully. Why was he so special? Why was he the one to displayed to the world and I was considered too disgusting to be seen? Was it because I wasn’t as much of a closet case as you? That’s more than likely the case. Far be it from you to be seen with such a diabolical faggot on your arm. But I digress.

Let’s finally talk about that night. That night, the very same day you told me you cut out drinking, I get one of your infamous drunken 3 AM phone calls. Except this time was different. I’m not answering. You were no longer my responsibility. You had a new boyfriend you paraded around like he was best in show, and it was his turn to learn who you really were behind the smile and charm. I let it go. You couldn’t take no for an answer. You never could. You called, and called until finally I answered. I don’t know who was on the other end of the phone, but it wasn’t you. It was a belligerently drunk monster. One that couldn’t form sentences between howling and sobbing like a coyote at the moon. Something about being found naked on a beach, being yelled at by patrons over your nudity, being in an Uber(despite not having an account), and bleeding from your foot. Truth be told, I thought you had been raped and assaulted. I stayed on the phone with you until what I think was you getting home. I don’t know. I can’t tell. To this day I don’t know more than half of the words that came out of your mouth. All I can think of was the rage I was feeling. You told me you were better. At this point, I genuinely didn’t want you to be my partner. I just wanted my friend to get better with his addictions. I thought you were finally getting there, and that call solidified that you will never get better, because you probably still think that you don’t have a problem.

I took a half day out of my job because of you. I took a half day because I didn’t sleep that night. I was convinced you weren’t going to make it through. Do you remember what I sent you that following day? It was the information for an AA center in your town. It wasn’t funny any more. It was never funny or cute. It was dangerous and scary and you couldn’t do it alone. And all I got as a response was “sorry.” Not accepting a problem. Not even a false promise that you’ll try it. Just another one of your constant ghost apologies. As hollow and false as you are.

This was my breaking point. I starred at that excuse for an apology and I thought to myself “Is this what I want for the rest of my life? To never launch because you can’t let me do it? You need me to be as low as you. You need it to feel alive. You need to have that control over something weaker than you. Not any more. I am not your fucking clown any longer. I decided that this was it. I don’t need the fleeting moments of feeling your love followed by the hours, days, months, and years of agony you make me feel.

I wanted to be free of the poison you had coursing through my veins. I wanted to climb out of the mud, stare at the sun, and grow tall. That is why I blocked you out of my life. That is why I cut all ties and made sure that there was no way you can ever dig your claws into me again. It was never about how I “couldn’t handle you seeing someone else.” If that’s what you need to tell yourself to keep denying the blight that you are, then keep thinking that way. It’ll keep you going that much further. I honestly can keep going on with more, but I feel this letter really is long enough.

So you asked around how I am doing, allow me to divulge you one last time. I am amazing. I actually sought help for my demons. I went to therapy. I worked hard on myself. For the first time in my life I have self respect, and self love. A feeling I would never be able to develop with your influence. I am fantastic in my finances, got a new car, and have an amazing support network of friends and family that I would never give up for anything in the world. And how are you? You don’t need to answer. I can take a wild guess. Still drunk. Still sad. Still self-hating. Still pathetic. And it is no longer my problem.

So like I said, this is the last time I’ll ever write about you. This is also the last time I’ll ever speak of you, and think of you. I relinquish you from my mind, body, and soul. I free you of me. Good bye, ------.

May you never cross my mind again,

Me.

[kyuu-rereads-umineko]

Ep6, Chapter 5 & 6 (Part 1)

So, yeah, the Steam version of Chiru’s out, but for the time being, I’m gonna stick to making my posts off of the original Witch Hunt/UmiTweak release, the main reason being that I’m already partway through Ep6. There’s also the voice acting, which I think adds a great deal to the story.

Once I get to Ep7, I’ll probably switch to the Steam release. Hopefully that doesn’t take too long, especially since I want to keep up with Rokkenjima’s Chiru Tea Parties alongside this, but... We’ll see, I guess!

Anyways. If I recall correctly, these chapters feature Erika wasting her time arguing with a 9-year-old and being even more dense than Battler used to be? Fun times inbound!

The chapter opens with Shannon talking about how she used to be “a bit of a klutz” “back then” - forgetting where she left something, or forgetting to lock a door/cabinet/whatever. It’s funny - despite how relatively insignificant this information is (especially since we’ve seen Shannon being a bit clumsy in earlier Eps), it’s good at strengthening the connection between Yasu in her story in Ep7 and what Shannon was like when she was younger.

that sentence was kind of a mess but i hope you understand what i mean

Battler asks her how she got over her forgetfulness, and Shannon explains that she got in the habit of taking notes about where she put things and such. Again, pretty minor, but it brings to mind Yasu tying a string around her keyring...

Erika interrupts, asking flat-out if she’s seen Beatrice or not. Shannon says, “I didn’t see her directly, but... umm... some very strange things did happen...”

The narrative mentions that she’s thinking of “a certain summer night,” and then jumps to the two Beatos wandering the mansion at night. “From Shannon’s perspective, it was a ghost story. From the witch’s perspective... it was just the story of a little summer’s night prank...”

Elder explains the concept of “anti-magic toxin” to Chick. She says something interesting here, and I’m not entirely sure how to parse it - “One thing we do have in our favour is the fact that our existence is still extremely weak. Because of that, the toxin does not affect us greatly.”

In magic terms, I think what she means is that it can’t cause the two of them as much pain as it’s shown to cause for, say, characters like the Stakes or Sakutarou in Ep4. In mundane terms... hmm. Maybe that, since the ghost stories about the witch haven’t really taken hold yet, people are less desperate to argue against them? I’m really not sure.

“[Chick] had thought that she wasn’t a witch because she couldn’t use magic, but apparently, she was still a witch nonetheless.”

Elder mentions that not only being seen, but “being heard or sensed can also result in contact with the toxin.” Basically, any cause for suspicion that “the witch’s actions” have a “human culprit” is damaging.

Chick wonders internally why she wasn’t burnt by Battler’s toxin. Meta gonna meta? The anti-magic toxin’s never really seemed to be “a thing” in the Meta-World - it’s more of a gameboard construct.

“Simply put, as we are now, we can only exist when humans aren’t around...”

Elder is awestruck at the idea of being able to appear openly in front of humans. “Is that what we will eventually become?”

Pretty reflective of how Yasu would’ve felt, I imagine. When she started with her little witch pranks, I doubt she could’ve imagined them growing to encompass the entire island the way they did.

“Hmmm, how inspiring. If that is our future, it means that all of our hard work will have been worth the effort.” okay that one hurts

And then Chick asks how those efforts relate to what they’re currently doing - unlocking windows behind the mansion’s servants, lol. Elder explains that the fact the window was unlocked even though “there’s no one in the hallway” is proof of their existence, and of their magic.

“Of course, it wasn’t just small pranks like opening a window. She could also smash windows and vases, or leave behind strange fires and mysterious scribbles.” YASU WHAT ARE YOU DOING

“One day, I will... no, we will become a single witch and control all of Rokkenjima... When that time comes, we will gain complete freedom and will be capable of stretching our wings as we please.”

And Chick realizes the reason she could appear in front of Battler so openly is because at this point, he fully believes in the witch’s existence and doesn’t have any anti-magic toxin to speak of. HOW THE TABLES HAVE TURNED

In Featherine’s study, meanwhile, Ange and Featherine discuss the Beatos’ logic. It basically comes down to the fact that they’ve - Yasu’s - created an atmosphere where anything strange happening on the island is blamed on the witch.

“The servants might have forgotten to lock [the window], or one of the family might have opened it after the servants had locked up and forgotten to shut it again, or maybe someone had played a prank. In the same way that none of those possibilities could be denied... it was also impossible to deny the possibility that a witch really had opened a window to enjoy the night breeze...”

“That’s one of the foundations of magic. Decorating... the process.”

Ange acknowledges that “good magic” really does exist. Featherine says, “The power to repel evil magic may be necessary for a child of man. However, it is the nature of love in the human world that it does not burn away and defile love-filled magic.”

Ange concludes that “Beatrice” isn’t a person’s name, but the name of a phenomenon - that anything strange that happens at night is blamed on the witch. “That all piles up until we reach 1986... This is the veil that the true culprit is hiding behind. And the person hiding behind it is, without a doubt, a human.”

Featherine contends that she can’t stick to that argument “to fight all the way through 1986,” and Ange doesn’t have a response. The narrative jumps back to the gameboard, where presumably Shannon’s just detailed the window being unlocked on that night.

...And Erika, being Erika, says that it was just because someone forgot to lock the window.

Shannon mentions that it happened many times over (which she’d know, of course), and Erika calls her an idiot. I really can’t stand her in this episode, I’m sorry...

Everyone else chimes in to support Shannon, but Erika turns to pointing the finger at the servants as a group. THE IRONY......

She concludes with, “Of course there’s no way Beatrice exists,” and “This delusion of a Golden Witch Beatrice [...] is completely impossible,” which angers Maria. here we fuckin go

Maria states that she’s met Beato (which she has), and that Beato shows her magic all the time. Erika asks her to explain in detail. Seriously, this girl...

The other cousins try calming the situation down, but Erika throws out all pretenses of being polite (again) to challenge Maria. Meta breaks in, and Maria appears in her witch outfit.

Erika invites her to reproduce the magic, and Dlanor appears to tell her, “This battle is not worth FIGHTING.” AT LEAST ONE OF YOU HAS A GOOD HEAD ON YOUR SHOULDERS

At any rate, ridiculous red/blue truth battle ensues. I really don’t have a lot to say about this and formatting the text colours is a pain, so...

During it, though, Erika says, “All truths are nothing more than claims! So, I’ll make a claim separate from yours and smash right through yours!! That is the detective’s duty, and the time we shine the mooooost!!” I think this is a good line to use to reflect on why I don’t like Erika in this episode.

In Episode 5, she has very apparent narrative functions - she’s a detective like Battler is, but ultimately, she’s very much an antithesis of him. She’s a ruthless deconstruction of the mystery/detective fiction genre in general, and she’s a guide on “what not to do” to solve the mystery. She’s also, ultimately, the metaphorical kick in the pants Battler needs to really try solving Beato’s riddle properly, and a parody of the Mary Sue character, by way of literally being Bern’s self-insert. She fulfills all of these purposes quite well, while being an entertaining character at the same time.

In Ep6, though? True, she still functions as a deconstruction of the genre, and as an example of how ignoring the heart of the story leaves you unable to solve it, but... I feel like the former’s kinda old hat at this point, and the latter isn’t done particularly well? Ryukishi (and Battler, I suppose) kinda smack us over the head with that point in this episode, with Erika just shrugging off the love duel getting so much attention and Battler flat-out asking her what her problem is.

On top of that, we’ve got the contrast between her being an absolutely horrible person like she was in Ep5 with an attempt at humanizing her by giving her some sort of tragic backstory involving a cheating boyfriend (that doesn’t really make much sense for a 14-year-old girl, but I digress). I realize the two sides of her match with Umineko’s theme of contradictory options both being true (the culprit being a witch or a human, for instance), but in this case, they don’t mesh well for me at all. Her cruelty is too dramatically overblown for me to take her seriously as anything but either Bern’s self-insert or a parody of the genre, but Ep6 tries using her as a character to convey an important point - her spiel about love making people “see things that aren’t there.”

On top of that, she’s painted as being a “rival” to Battler, when... I never really felt like that was the case? Sure, in Ep5, they do kinda feel that way, but ultimately, Beato is still his rival, and strictly speaking, Erika’s not his “main enemy,” either - Bernkastel and Lambdadelta are. Even though Erika’s given a focus, I don’t feel like that changes in Ep6, either - Bern is the one throwing a fit about losing, while Erika is just kinda going “Yes, master!” the whole time. She feels... more like a device than a character to me, sometimes, y’know?

That’s not to say that her presence is meritless, though. She provides some top quality humour and memeing, and the ending of the episode is phenomenal. Just, overall, I don’t really care for her here.

Anyways. Erika and Maria continue yelling at each other, yada yada yada.

“Let it be known that this fight has no point...” gertrude is on point

Erika does the magic, screeches about how Maria’s a moron, etc. etc.

“...Sheesh!! Just one more step and I’d have been able to take a heart as innocent as the smooth sand just after a wave has pulled back and tear it to bits. ...What a shame. This isn’t fun anymore.” She also gives the most insincere apology ever for “tearing a kid’s dreams apart.” 

Back on the board, she gives another “apology” of “I’m still just a kid.” Maybe I’m guilty of not looking at her with love, but fucking hell this girl.

Maria stops crying and starts cackling instead, proclaiming herself as Beatrice’s apprentice. Erika says, “Let’s fight in a more satisfying game next time.” Maria says sure.

The cousins and Shannon leave, heading upstairs to play cards, and then Kumasawa enters. Erika asks her about the stories of Akujikishima and the witch of the forest, offering to get her a drink as well. With that, the chapter ends.

The next chapter opens on George and Shannon in the rose garden arbour, where George comments that he “can’t seem to get along well with kids these days,” about Erika. don’t worry jooji you are not the only one

“I think kids around Erika-san’s age have a really hard time accepting themselves,” says Shannon. This is... oddly painful, considering that Shannon’s given age is 16, meaning she “would’ve been 14” when Yasu solved the epitaph...

George comments that when he was around that age, “I was a weak, deplorable man who didn’t deserve any respect.” ouch

Y’know, I think it’s fair to say that my opinion of George has changed a lot in the 2 years or so since I started this blog. I think he genuinely tries to be a good person, even if he’s passive-aggressive and self-centred - I honestly don’t think he realizes it a lot of the time. To be clear, I don’t mean his twisting of the knife when young Yasu was in tears over Battler leaving - that was intentional and pretty fucking gross on his part. I mean his behaviour in/around 1986 - his focus on what his relationship with Shannon does for him, him shrugging off her concerns and talk about magic... I don’t think there’s any “intent” there (though whether or not that makes it better or worse is debatable) - I think the effects of it just slip right under his radar.

It still makes me kind of ill to see how he responds to Shannon’s furniture complex, but, again - I don’t think it’s because he “doesn’t care” or anything like that; I think his thinking is that if it were something really, truly serious, Shannon would be up-front about it.

That’s absolutely not to put the onus on Yasu for not explaining her situation to him - considering the weight of everything she had on her shoulders, from her identity issues to her body to her blood, I don’t feel comfortable at all with blaming her for not speaking up. It’s been a while since I read the Ep8 manga scans, but I seem to recall that George and Jessica express that sentiment at one point in the Golden Land, too.

I think, ultimately, George’s chief sin is the same as Battler’s - he just doesn’t really think about how what he says or does is impacting the woman closest to him. The key differences are that 1) since we follow Meta-Battler throughout the series, we’re able to see his character develop, from angrily refusing to see things from Beato’s perspective to eventually throwing his life away for her, whereas with George, we... don’t, and 2) even on first read-through, Beato is a lot more... inscrutable, if you will, than Shannon is. Even if we don’t know the depth of what Shannon’s trouble about, it’s easy to tell that something about George’s family talk bothers her, whereas with Beato (in part because the story’s usually told from Battler’s perspective), a lot of her reactions only really make sense in hindsight, even when she’s clearly upset (e.g. Battler rejecting her presentation of Beatrice II’s story in Ep3, and her reaction to Battler’s failed confession in Ep4).

Maybe I’m just stating the obvious here, who knows! Point is, while George definitely grates on my nerves at times, I don’t really hate the guy. He’s just as human as the rest of the cast, and as one of Yasu’s main male love interests, his flaws are often quite visible.

Anyways! At Shannon’s questioning, George admits that the reason he resolved to grow up and become a “splendid adult” wasn’t just because of love for Shannon. He starts going into some of his insecurities, about how he used to be “afraid” of “interacting with women,” and how he didn’t even recognize them at the time.

Huh, Shannon’s oddly confident during this exchange again. She makes a comment about understanding how George felt when it comes to trying to get noticed by the opposite sex, and when he prods her for details, instead of clamming up and blushing like we’d expect, she smiles and says “Of course.” I’m not quite sure how to word it beyond this, but I can really feel Tohya’s love for Yasu coming through here... quite strongly, at that.

And George admits that the turning point for him was how envious he was of Battler and how close he was to Shannon. George prepares to confess...

...And Ange breaks in to throw a jab at Featherine for watching the two of them. lol

“Stories of love are truly timeless. I never tire of them... However, I do find that expression of virgin disgust on your face even more charming...” LOL

At any rate, George admits to looking down on Battler and Jessica when they were younger, and thinking that they’d never be able to find a partner because of how brash they are, as well as using that thinking to distract himself from his own inability to find a girlfriend. Featherine cuts in, commenting that Battler and Jessica “have the power to interact without worrying about their sexes.”

Ange says, “People like Onii-chan and Jessica onee-chan can get along with anyone whether that person’s a boy or a girl... I hate to say it, but I find guys who act too polite... a bit creepy. It’s like they’re virgins trying too hard or something...” ange has 0 chill

George says that at one of the family conferences, he realized that the servant girls - particularly Shannon - were getting along with Battler and Jessica a lot better than with him. “Sickening, isn’t it? ...I just assumed that you liked me, and even had some childish fantasy that we might end up dating. I felt as though my girlfriend had been stolen from me and let myself feel hurt.”

He admits to trying to emulate Battler and Jessica by "joking around and speaking rudely.” That’s... an interesting mental image, and Shannon says as much!

“The reason I had no charm was because of my cowardice. Under the pretense of respecting people and acting to fit in with the general atmosphere... I was always running away. [...] ...I made an oath. This time, I would really make you take notice of me, and I would be reflected in your eyes... Actually, that’s the first thing I felt when I fell in love with you.”

I have to give George credit here - confessing to something like that takes a lot of guts. I don’t think it’s something many people could do very easily, even in private like this. Having said that, and I hate to be critical of him now of all times, I think that this is really the core of most of his problems.

He was so dedicated to “being reborn,” and takes such pride in “succeeding,” that I don’t think he’s capable of taking a look at himself and realizing he’s still got a lot of growing to do on his own. I don’t think that’s something specific to him, either - I think just about everyone has a period like that at some point. The unfortunate thing about George, though, is that he’s surrounded by people who don’t encourage him to take a critical look at himself - Eva and Hideyoshi, I think, are too close to him and too proud of him to realize it, while Shannon, if anything, usually ends up enabling him to keep acting the way he does. The result is that he never really gets a chance to move past that.

“...Sounds pretty... complicated.” lol shannon

“On that day, my desire for revenge against the two of you who ignored me and played together... no, against you alone... suddenly transformed into true love.” Even already knowing how he really felt about Battler leaving the family six years ago, George admitting to resenting Shannon like that sends a shiver down my spine - not because of how gross of an emotion that is (I think, while it’s certainly not pretty, it’s a very human response, in a way), but because he’s able to confess to it. Again, even if he’s pretty rough around the edges at times... George really is strong, in his own way.

“However, I swear this to God. Even though that was the reason I first started to take you seriously... there are no lies in the way I feel about you now. I swear to love you for all my life. I will not lie about that for anyone or anything. And I am prepared to take you as my wife, even if it means having the entire world as my enemy.”

I can only imagine how precious hearing that must be for Yasu...

George starts to say something about how he lied about Shannon being his “first love,” and she forcefully interrupts him. “Is there some rule saying that people can’t get together just because they weren’t each other’s first love? Is it betrayal to forget the first person you fell in love with...?”

“Love... isn’t that simple. Well... it might be simple... After all, love is easy. ...Always, whatever you feel now... only the honest feelings you feel now can tell you the right answer. So, things of the past or how our relationship started aren’t important at all.”

George thanks her, saying, “I was only able to become who I am because of you.” Shannon replies likewise, and asks him to describe the “kind of future we will build together.”

He starts out talking about how he wants to succeed as a businessman, then says it right-out: “Let’s have some kids.”

Shannon’s reaction here is markedly different from any other episode - she laughs, and says, “Yes, my husband.” He paints a vivid picture of a big family, “surrounded by many children and grandchildren.”

I hate to say it, but... I really can’t parse this scene from the perspective of something that actually happened on the board. Even if Battler gave her a new lease on life like I speculated, the weight of everything Yasu was dealing with... I can’t see her responding so readily to George’s family talk like this. I mean, I guess Shannon as a character might, but any other time it’s brought up, Yasu’s terrified of what might happen when George finds out the truth.

At any rate, George gives her the ring... and says, “I swear to resolutely stand against any fate which may attempt to get in the way of our future.”

He talks about how he’s ready to leave the family if worst comes to worst, and Shannon repeats his sentiments about standing against fate. Hmmm...

And then meta breaks in again, and Erika asks Battler when the murders are going to start. He just tells her to shut up and watch. lmao

Really though, right now she’s even worse than Battler used to be in the first four Episodes. While he might’ve shrugged off a lot of Beato’s fantasy scenes in a similar manner, he was rarely this rudely dismissive of them, and he at least recognized that he’d upset Beato somehow when he was (Beatrice II’s backstory in Ep3). erika is a 0/10 detective

Erika realizes that Battler’s pitying her for whatever reason, and asks him to shut the fuck up when he calls her “sad”.

“I can’t understand you at all right now. What on Earth did you figure out? Weren’t you and Beato always insulting and trying to kill each other? ...What kind of truth could you have reached to make you change your emotions regarding her? ...Please don’t tell me that feelings of true love have sprouted from your murderous rivalry or anything like that, okay?”

As much as I still can’t stand Erika in this episode, I can’t help but read her as a standin for some readers here. Battler’s sudden shift in attitude at the end of Ep5 was incredibly baffling on first read-through, and I found myself wondering the same thing as she is here (though not as coldly as this).

Back on the board, Shannon returns to the servant room in the guesthouse. Kanon immediately notices the ring on her finger.

“...So, it’s my turn next.” ooooo

[tessatechaitea]

Metamorpho #4

I cannot read "Bad Chemistry" without singing it and adding "Til the day I die!"

That feeling when you run into an ex after a lengthy period of time and think, "Oh yeah. We're gonna fuck!"

Sapphire and Rex pursue Simon and Jillian who have gone off to the pyramid to get the Orb of Ra back. Remember Mason's claim that archaeologist's can't trust their partners? I bet Simon betrays Jillian! He's really gone daughter-fucking crazy. When Rex arrives to stop them, Simon Stagg uses the Orb to hurt him while taunting, "Never come between a father and his special daughter!" So is that why Mark Waid pitched this story? Did he grow up reading Metamorpho comic books thinking, "Man, that old guy really wants to fuck his daughter!" Did he actually pitch that story to DC editors?! Mark: "Pictures this: a four part Metamorpho story where we learn Simon Stagg's entire motivation is getting into his daughter's lady cave!" DC Editor #1: "Remind me. What's a lady cave?" Mark: "Virgin!" DC Editors #2-4: "Ha ha! Good one, Mark. Augustyn is totally a virgin! It sounds like a great idea! Are you coming to our party later? Brian isn't invited!" Mark: "But don't you want to hear about how the Orb of Ra is a metaphor for Simon Stagg's penis?!"

"Touch it, Rex! Just touch it! Feel my cock's power!"

Sapphire falls into her dad's trap and tackles him to stop him from killing Rex. Simon Stagg gets a huge boner. Although he drops the Orb of Ra which is the symbol of his penis so maybe he actually loses his erection when he realizes his daughter has stood up to him. If Sapphire tackled me, my Orb of Ra would only get stronger! And it would probably go off instantly! While everybody else is distracted, Jillian grabs Stagg's penis and thinks, "The orb's still potent!" See? It's totally a penis metaphor. She runs off to the chamber at the top of the pyramid where the Orb is supposed to be able to cure somebody who has been metamorphosized. Rex manages to climb back to his feet and he notices some dust on the hieroglyphics that Conway missed. He blows it off and reads the final line of the cure and yells, "It's a cookbook! A COOKBOOK!" He then rushes off to save Jillian for some reason. Metamorpho gets to Jillian as she's bathed in the Orb's excretions. Apparently the cure wasn't meant to reverse the transformation but to complete it! So that's why Rex and Jillian look so gross. Because they're only half baked. Jillian turns into a pillar of salt and Rex shrugs his shoulders and goes off to find his son. Joey has made his way to the meteor room because archaeology is in his disgusting, modified blood.

Don't encourage him!

Rex and Sapphire hear Joey laugh in the chambers below and Rex realizes he's with the meteorite. So he and Sapphire run into the chamber to fetch him. Luckily Joey has turned the meteor to lead so Sapphire doesn't have to become Metamorphess. Also, Joey is cured! His skin is normal! He doesn't look like a freak anymore! And his grandfather is going to be pissed that the little brat didn't turn the meteor into gold before losing his powers. So the Mason's are once again a family and Sapphire plans to turn Stagg in for the murder of Java. But I guess that never happens. Or maybe it does happen but Superboy's punch and/or Mr. Mind's devouring of the DC Universe brought Java back to life and made us all forget that Simon Stagg loves incest. What am I? A scholar in DC Continuity?! Does that even exist?! Nerd! Metamorpho #4 Rating: B-. It's a decent story if not a little boring. The best part was how Mark Waid had the gall to make Simon Stagg into an incestuous murderer. It's almost as if he realized before the rest of us that evil narcissists expose themselves in their desire to fuck their daughters! It's practically prescient!

[optiprimus]

lost light #7, or: i’m suing for whiplash because that’s the fastest i’ve ever gone from loving an issue to...NOT

All of the spoilers under the cut.

Breakin’ in the sideblog with a reaction to lost light 7! It’s a shame I fucking hated it. 

I liked the first...fifteen pages--I liked everything Rodimus did, I liked Magnus’s actually really tragic not-breakup with Megatron-who-is-no-longer-around. I liked Tailgate’s teen drama reaction to Whirl’s news! It’s exactly the kind of silly, over-the-top solution I’d expect from him (and, let’s be honest, most of the rest of the crew.)

The ending? Did not like that. For anyone who’s interested, here’s why. TL;DR at the end.

COMPARABLE DEATHS OVER THE COURSE OF THE TRANSFORMERS: MORE THAN MEETS THE EYE (i.e., deaths of one half of a romantic relationship where the other half is left alive to mourn)

REWIND AND CHROMEDOME. This is the O.G. Dead Gay Robot Tragedy; I wasn’t around when it happened, but I hear the outcry was so great that we, uh, got Rewind back. Because killing off one of your two canon gay men at the time is not a particularly progressive storytelling choice. And I’m glad James has no problem fixing his mistakes--hell, in this issue we get another reference to the whole “estriol positive” gendered sparktypes situation, specifically to hammer it into the ground that just kidding, that was a poor decision on my part and I apologize for it. But I digress.

Rewind’s death was INCREDIBLY fucking sad. I cried. My high school friend who knows absolutely nothing about trans formers cried. But narratively, it was satisfying. Rewind dies as a heroic sacrifice; he dies saving all his friends and the person he loves, and while that is tragic, it makes you feel proud of him. His last act is selfless, which is, in my opinion, the best note to end on.

The romantic nature of his sacrifice (romantic in the “idealized view of reality” sense as well as “expression of love”) is somewhat undercut by the apparent brutal nature of his death--if we’re to believe Overlord, he got, uh, ripped to pieces and cried for help the whole time. Which, to be fair, is what I would be doing too.

From a metafictional point of view, Rewind’s suffering is a consequence of his choice to be a hero. While this isn’t fair, it’s an established convention, and it’s what makes “making the right choice” difficult. That’s why it carries the weight it does.

Also, he, uh, comes back to life. Although the “alternate universe version of my lover returns to replace the one that died” plotline is its own can of worms, the fact remains that at the end of the day, both living members of the couple are happy again. As happy as you can be in this sort of comic.

Carrying on.

SKIDS AND NAUTICA. Hoo, boy, this one makes me cry. I will be honest: I did not realize this was meant to be a romance until issue...fifty-two? Maybe? And then I went back and looked at the panels where they’re there in the background but don’t speak, and I was so impressed by the visual storytelling that I forgot to be sad for a few minutes.

But then I was sad again. I liked Skids. I really like Nautica. I want them both to be happy. I think they made a cute couple--but Skids’s death served as a necessary part of the story in so many ways. He gets a heroic sacrifice that allows his friends to stand firm in the face of seemingly insurmountable odds (although you could argue that their powerups were pointless; they are set to lose anyway until Megatron shows up, because it’s always about Megatron. Just kidding; I like that guy.) 

It’s a natural conclusion to his character arc, and although it’s a tragic one, it’s one I really liked, in the same way I liked Sunstreaker’s death in All Hail Megatron. It’s sad, but it’s narratively satisfying (there’s that word again), because at least when they’re dead, they’re at peace.

It serves Nautica’s development, in a way that’s incredibly reminiscent of the countless dead-girlfriend-in-fridge narratives we’ve seen since time immemorial. Skids’s death pushes her towards violence in an actually really sad nod to her ongoing desire to learn more “practical” skills. When they’re up against the personality ticks, she laments her lack of combat ability, and then outsmarts the enemy instead of punching it. With Skids, there’s nothing she can fight or outsmart--but at least she can get some revenge, and put his sacrifice to good use.

Skids gets the death of a romantic hero, and for what it’s worth, I doubt he’s gone forever. I doubt any of these guys are gone forever, given what little we know of the Big Plot of the comic so far. But we can’t assume, so for now, he’s dead; he just died well.

LUG AND ANODE. Who are confirmed girlfriends, to the surprise of hopefully no one. This one feels almost like it shouldn’t count, because we see Lug in almost every issue (even if she’s a brain ghost for a lot of those) but it fits the pattern.

Lug’s death and reincarnation are one hundred percent fodder for Anode’s character arc. Let’s get that out of the way now. She dies because of Anode’s reckless adventuring ways, Anode hallucinates her presence, Anode overcomes her fear of blacksmithing to resurrect her, and Anode’s grief is resolved. In this arc, she is a storytelling tool that serves to introduce Anode and what she’s like as a person.

I don’t think this is necessarily bad. Lug has a character of her own, even if she has no agency in this arc, and from now on she gets a chance to have her own angsty plotlines. I’d be on edge of Anode were, you know, a dude, but she’s not, so this is something I’m willing to give the benefit of the doubt...on. about. I don’t think that works

Lug doesn’t die a hero’s death. Her death is an accident, resulting from someone else’s carelessness; it’s not a conscious choice on her part, which means it’s also not her fault. The story doesn’t blame her for her own death. It’s not the inspiring sacrifice we get from Rewind or Skids, but that’s okay; not every death is like that, even in fiction.

And again, she comes back. Which we sort of knew would happen, given what Anode used to do for a living. In the end, everyone who’s, you know, alive doesn’t have to be alone. It’s perhaps a bittersweet ending, but it’s a happy one.

And now the main event.

TAILGATE AND CYCLONUS.

Here’s a fun fact: I don’t think Tailgate is actually dead. I think he’s going to make it out, one way or another. I don’t know how long he’s going to be gone. We lost Rewind for upwards of a year; I don’t want to do that again. Either way, this is written with the assumption that he’s perma-dead, because as of right now that’s what we’re being led to believe.

Here’s a fun fact: if one of these two had to die, I would have preferred Cyclonus. In a heroic sacrifice. Yes, I know he wasn’t the one scripted to die way before this. No, I don’t want either of them dead. But if any character would be one hundred percent satisfied and at peace dying to save someone he loved, it’s that guy.

But instead we got this.

Tailgate dies a horrible death as a result of being a dick (apparently due to powers that...make him lash out at people and be a dick. If I’m reading that right.) You can argue that Fangry (who had such a good name, man, why did he have to be a throwaway villain. Assuming he is one) was justified in what he did; personally, I don’t think he did his due investigative diligence. Also if he was helping Kaput with this project wouldn’t he have heard him mention that Tailgate’s aggression is due to his magical girl powerup? Digression.

Here’s what the order of story events is. Tailgate breaks up with Cyclonus in a teen drama esque scene complete with a very sad visual callback to issue whatever is the one where he does bomb disposal. Cyclonus leaves and is sad. Whirl comforts him. Tailgate says “please Doc remove my dangerous superpowers so I can not die and also finally get together with the boy I like.” Doc says okay I’m going to irradiate the fuck out of you. We bury Tailgate in what is transparently a coffin a BIG BOX and then Fangry shows up and says “enjoy death fucker.” Some flowers grow. The end.

Tailgate gets revenge-killed...because he wanted to be alive and happy with the person he loved. Within the story, that’s of course not how it went down, but narratively, his death is a consequence of wanting a happy ending.

If he hadn’t had the audacity to want that, he wouldn’t have been in a position to be murdered. From a meta point of view, he is responsible for the situation and for the motivation of his killer, because he had weird superpowers and liked a boy. And he had weird superpowers because...oh. Because he liked a boy.

Maybe he’s not really dead. Maybe he escaped the death box! Maybe he’ll come back like so many others have. But even if that’s the case, I don’t understand the point of this fakeout. I don’t get it! What emotion is this supposed to engender in me besides disappointment? I’m not concerned for Tailgate because I have no way of knowing if he’s survived and I doubt I’ll find out either way for a while. I’m sad for Cyclonus, because uhh yeah I’m sad for Cyclonus, but I’ve been sad for Cyclonus since like the first issue! This isn’t new!! Anyway.

TL;DR: Every other couple split up by death has had the death be a heroic sacrifice, or not a direct result of the dead person’s mistakes, and most of them came back. Tailgate died because he beat up a dude (bad) maybe because of his magic powers (not his fault)--and because he asked Kaput to fix him so he wouldn’t die or kill anyone else and he could stay with his not-boyfriend. He died because he asked for a happy ending. Even if he’s not dead, I don’t see the point of the cliffhanger; if he’s dead, he’s dead, and we’ll be wondering indefinitely if he’s going to come back. If he’s alive, we spent [x] issues being needlessly anxious about him. That’s not a fun cliffhanger.

Drama thrives on conflict. Them’s facts. But some conflict feels good to read, and some just makes you feel sick, because it’s scary or unfair or hits a little too close to home, and I don’t know about you, but I read this comic about space robots that turn into cars for fun. Not because I want another story about “life isn’t fair” where good people die in horrible ways and bad guys get away with being bad. And if you dare to ask for a happy ending, with the person you’ve been fighting to be with for sixty issues, you suffer for it.

It’s pain for the sake of pain. It’s pointless. God knows we have enough of that already, thanks.

P.S. holy shit sorry to all the people who were invested in megs/mags that SUCKS and I feel for you