#i love the fandom now cos of how its built up of us who grew up with the show rather than the original 4chan based fandom

[radramblog]

What happened to Dirk in Homestuck^2?

Why am I doing this to myself.

I memed a little yesterday when I was posting that article around social medias about Homestuck jokes, because once again we are in lockdown and I am therefore Stuck at Home. Canned laughter goes here. But there’s a topic related to the comic- or more specifically, its aborted sequel, Homestuck^2, that I’m interested in delving into a little bit. I’m going to avoid talking about spoilers as much as possible, but considering said comic takes place not only after the events of the massive sprawl that is Homestuck but also the more linear but still messy Epilogues, some amount of sus shit is inevitable.

Anyway. Much maligned is what the Epilogues and 2 did to everyone’s favourite decapitation target, Dirk Strider, and I have a theory as to why it happened this way.

To begin with, let’s summarise what and who Dirk is through the course of the comics. Fair warning from me, though, it’s been a while since I read through this.

Dirk Strider is a teenager who grew up in a post-apocalyptic future Earth, completely devoid of physical contact with other people and only really ever gets to talk to 3 other people, only one of whom is in anything remotely resembling a relatable situation. He struggles with self-identity, having created numerous robots including an artificial intelligence based on his own brain, aka Lil’ Hal. He’s somewhat of a control freak, and a bit of a cold aloof asshole, but means well, and is pretty gay. NBD. The kinda guy to set up a plan meticulously and thoroughly, not informing any of the moving parts even if said parts are his friends, and often involving some form of self-sacrifice.

Throughout the comic he further reckons with self-identity problems and his own self-loathing including entering a relationship with Jake which doesn’t go well and he eventually breaks off since he knows his overbearing and manipulative behaviour is Not Cool and Pretty Toxic but doesn’t know how to shut it off. Eventually he reaches the God Tier as a Prince of Heart, gaining the power to literally annihilate souls, which he never actually uses since he gets yeeted into deep (Paradox) space and then everything goes to shit. Except none of that happens because of the Retcon (aside from the God Tier bit) and we don’t actually see how that shit progressed in the canon timeline. I think. Dirk’s arc, as it were, doesn’t really come full circle- while he does assist in Dave’s character…growth? he really isn’t the focus of that conversation. This immediately precedes the action climax and there isn’t literally any dialogue after that so that’s what we’re left with.

I like Dirk in Homestuck a lot. It’s hard not to, considering the flashes heavily featuring him (Unite/Synchronise and Prince of Heart: Rise Up) are genuinely excellent, along with many of his music themes being absolute bangers. He gets to interact with Caliborn a lot, with a pretty great banter, there, and the whole splintered personality thing is a really interesting hook for a character. I think he’s my favourite of the Alpha kids, a controversial pick considering I know everyone loves Roxy so much. I think, I’m not as in tune with the fandom as that statement implies I am.

And then the Epilogues/Homestuck 2 came.

Now I read the Meat half of the epilogues first, but that’s more interesting, so we’ll tackle Candy first (this is going to get real confusing for those who haven’t read this comic, huh).

In Candy, Dirk almost immediately kills himself, citing the irrelevance of the timeline as cause, an act considered by whatever mechanism governs God Tier deaths to be Just because he hates himself (and also bc of things we’ll get into), so it actually sticks. This isn’t super relevant for the discussion, but that’s just kinda so unbelievably fucked up? Entirely? I’d imagine if you read Candy first you might get entirely turned off by this, which I’m sure a lot of people did.

Meat is where the, well, meat of post-canon Dirk is. You see, a concept very quickly introduced in the tail end of the original comic is the Ultimate Self, an idea where you somehow encompass every different timeline iteration or alternate version of yourself. This was pretty clearly tacked on to make it so characters whose arcs all happened in the retcon timeline could have their not getting an actual arc explained away, but it didn’t land then and it sure doesn’t land for me now. Anyway, in Meat, Dirk becomes his ultimate self, making him near-omniscient and able to control the fabric of the story himself- for much of this story, he is the narrator. And he uses this power to fuck with all his friends really distressingly without their knowledge (or consent), including breaking up a marriage, in order to further his own goals which largely appear to be just keep the story going so to not fade out of relevance. It’s a plot that makes no sense with his previous characterisation, but I guess now that he’s the Ultimate Self he’s a different person? But I liked old Dirk, and I don’t like New Dirk. He’s a villain now, but he made a much better anti-hero.

But this would be fine if he (or the epilogues, or Homestuck^2) were written well. But they aren’t. Dirk’s dialogue is long, painfully drawn out, with tangents that tend to amount to pure wank, misused literary references and pointless metaphors that go on and on, filling the screen with a bright orange screed that hurts to look at as much as it does to comprehend. It’s not fun. And we’ve seen Dirk communicate before, obviously, the story of Homestuck is built around chatlogs, but it wasn’t like this. He was sarcastic, dryly witty, blunt at times. Even when he was literally talking to a different version of himself it didn’t get that masturbatory.

I was so confused about what the hell happened to Dirk, because I had no idea what the hell someone writing this character was thinking when they turned him into this. And then, the 21st page of Homestuck^2 dropped.

And it all came together.

What Ultimate Dirk and Terezi are referring to is Pony Pals: Detective Pony, a children’s book about some girls who hang out with ponies and solve a mystery. It’s a real book, buy it for your 5-year-old.

Except they’re not referring to that, they’re referring to the Homestuck Canon version of Detective Pony- a birthday gift from Dirk to Jane, heavily edited and to be much more obscene and eventually developing into it’s own story, stated to be “tough, emotionally draining, but cathartic in all the worst ways possible”.

Except the quote “Remember Longcat, Jane?” and references to philosophy, dead languages, and ancient earth culture aren’t referring to the three pages of the Dirk-edited Detective Pony we see in the actual comic itself. That quote doesn’t appear there.

That image is from Detective Pony, by Sonnetstuck- the 40,000 word fanfiction from 2014 that serves as a completed version of Jane’s copy of the book. An expansion of what we see in canon. And it’s a tough, emotionally draining read, but cathartic in all the worst ways possible.

It’s a very good fanfiction.

In the later bits of Detective Pony, we can start to see the origins of what would become Ultimate Dirk’s signature style of writing. Long blocks of rambling text, orange dripping down the page, references to philosophy and history and language that go on and on. And it probably does look familiar to those who read the Epilogues and ^2. 

But there are a couple of key differences here. First of all, it’s just better written? The way these rambles circle back on themselves is so excellent, the absolute absurdity of this being written on top of a pony book for little girls, the humour (beyond some of the more immature stuff), it’s just a really well-written piece of fiction. Hell, you don’t even need to be familiar with the character of Dirk to enjoy it. It’s a harrowing piece, but it’s also self-aware- because it’s not supposed to be tough, draining, cathartic etc. just for Jane- it’s clearly that for Dirk himself.

The second part is, of course, that this is a fanfiction. It’s not canon, it’s not official, this is by someone who really likes Dirk for people who really like Dirk. It doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, so if you bounce off it (and I’m sure a lot did), then you don’t have to keep reading it, it’s fine, thanks for playing. As much as Homestuck^2 tried to doll itself up as “dubiously canon” it’s still the official continuation of the story, and that means if it’s as difficult to get into as Detective Pony, that’s going to be a problem for a lot of people.

The other part of it is that Detective Pony’s exploration of Dirk’s character is, well, in character. When the man himself steps in as a character in his own book, the explorations of what he is as an author, who he is as a person, make perfect sense for what we see of him at the start of the comic. He is that manipulative, blunt person, and he is aware of his faults. He’s the kind of person to hide a lamentation on his own failings inside an impenetrable maze of a story layered on top of a book about fucking ponies. Ultimate Dirk does not act like Dirk, outside of the “manipulator” angle, something that Dirk was aware of and trying to improve in the comic. But I guess people don’t have arcs, right?

It’s so interesting to see the seeds of Homestuck^2 laden within Detective Pony- because the meta angle that and the epilogues take is also represented in said fanfiction. While the nature of canon is a facet of the work, the idea of authors and narrators fighting for control of a story, different ideas in mind for the characters, one being more personally connected to them than the other, it’s all there. When I wrote about Fallout 4 in the past, I mentioned being worried that Bethesda took the wrong lessons from Skyrim- seeing something successful and trying to recapture that lightning in a bottle. I think Homestuck^2 is an extreme example of this- the writers of the comic saw Sonnetstuck’s masterwork and thought, yeah that’s great, we can do that. But they just can’t. And with the comic crashed and burning, the probably won’t ever get a chance to. Dirk is forever stuck as this amalgamation of himself that looks nothing like any individual version of him ever did.

At least we will still have Detective Pony, and many other excellent fanworks, for actually good Dirk content. I admittedly haven’t looked into much fanfic written during/post-epilogues, and I’m kind of afraid of what I’ll see- I can only hope the fanbase didn’t take the same wrong lessons as the official team did.

[deltas-writing-corner]

Warmth: Prologue (2/3)

Fandom: Ikemen Sengoku

Disclaimers: Besides the prologues, I will be posting the first 1000 or so words of every new/next chapter.  There will be a link to my AO3 at the end of the post, where the full chapters are at!

Warnings: mentions of blood

Masterlist: (coming soon)

"Here, let me help with-"

"It's alright!" Fuku shouts as she lifted several rolls of fabric with ease.

To say Fuku was doing a little better is an understatement. She was fantastically better. When Yuki and you came into work the morning after her accident, she didn't greet you both in her usual polite and quiet manner. Fuku had loudly welcomed you both in as if the shop were suddenly a bustling restaurant.

You were mending a ripped seam in the back room when Yuki suddenly enters and whispers, "Please tell me I haven't gone crazy, or is Fuku much more lively than yesterday?"

You resist the urge to smile. She got her spunk back indeed.

"I quite like this sudden shift in her character," you say.

"I do too, really! I haven't seen her like this since I was a kid. But the sudden switch from sweet to sassy is…" her mind trails off with uncertainty. She looks over her shoulder to make sure you two were alone still. "Do you think her accident yesterday had anything to do with her personality change?"

"They say your life flashes before your eyes in an instant when you come close to death. Maybe she decided to drop the quiet act and be true to herself."

"Yeah, that's it isn't it?" Yuki asks more to herself than to you. "But should she really be carrying all those fabric rolls? Those things are heavier than they look."

"Perhaps her back is doing better?"

"In a day?!"

She was getting more confused, more frustrated as she tried to wrap her head around everything. You put your needle and thread down and turn towards her. "Do you remember what I said yesterday?" you ask. Her tense shoulders relax a bit and she nods. "Then trust me on this. She's going to be fine. Would I ever lie to you if I didn't think she would?"

She shakes her head. "I don't know why, but you saying she's going to be okay somehow reassures me that it will be."

You give her a pat on the head, but she pulls you into a tight hug. You would hug her back if she wasn't squeezing your arms against your body. It was strange. Her hugging you like this almost makes you feel as if you two had truly become…

You don't finish that statement, for fear that your rival would hear it and use it against you. You nearly forgot that you could never truly make friends, not when you're still in the midst of a never-ending battle with a damn snake that targets the people around you. One of these days, you're going to get rid of it for good by any means necessary. Even if that means you would have to die with it, so be it. Anything to make sure it doesn't come out victorious.

You won't take away the people I love again.

 _______________________________________________________________

The last time you took a vacation was...never. You've never been on vacation. Your 50-year lone journey could technically count, considering you don't work and essentially goof around most of those years. It wasn't to relax from the stresses of work though. It was merely to pass the time before you could integrate back into society without causing a fuss. It would also help you forget about the people you had gotten to know.

You look over to your co-worker and boss. "Can't I just relax at home? Do I really need to go all the way out to…"

"Kyoto," Yuki finishes your thought.

"Right. Do I really need to go out to Kyoto to relax?"

Fuku shakes her head in disbelief. "Honestly, all you ever do is work! You'll go stir crazy if you don't switch up your surroundings every now and then."

"Besides," Yuki chimes in. "If anyone deserves a vacation, it's you. I don't think you understand how much you work. It's admirable, but also very concerning."

Seeing their worried expression, you feel a bit bashful. They were only looking out for you, thinking you to be tied down to the same limitations they have. You badly want to just bite the bullet and tell them the true nature of who you are. Surely they would understand, right? They would accept you for who you truly are, right? The coiling of the snake around your arm keeps your confession at bay.

Apparently, a vacation for you meant a vacation for it as well. Tormenting you must be such a demanding job after all.

You made sure to sharpen your axe real well the other night.

The chugging of the train grew louder and louder. You and a few other people, mostly fellow travelers from outside your town, walk up to the yellow line on the ground and stand to wait. The train begins to slow down into a complete stop. Once halted, a hiss of steam is let out and the doors creak open.

You turn to give your farewells to your friends and surprisingly find yourself in the middle of a group hug. You give Fuku and Yuki their own pat on the back and they squeeze you a bit harder.

"Have fun! Don't forget to call me and take a bunch of pictures!" Yuki demands.

"And bring a man home," Fuku adds.

You laugh at her comment. She really was a feisty one.

Adjusting the bag hanging from your shoulder, you step onto the train cart and take a seat. After a few minutes, the doors close and you begin to depart from the station. As you look back out the window behind you, you see Fuku and Yuki still standing there, waving you off even as you gradually disappear over the horizon. You swear, they both looked ready to burst into tears.

A tightness against your arm grabs your attention. After wriggling about from under your sleeve, the snake finally pokes its head out and turns its head towards you.

"So," you whisper, as to not attract any attention from your fellow passengers. "It took you awhile to come back. Did I cut you up that badly?"

It hisses at you for mocking it. Uncaring of it feelings, you uncoil it from your arm and drop it in the seat next to you. Should any of the passengers have watched you, they would see you moving nothing. You were actually grateful they couldn't see it. If they did, they would all certainly panic. You did not want to be known as the traveler who carries a deadly snake with them.

You cross one leg over the other and sink in your seat. "Y'know, I should give you a name. It's starting to become annoying just referring to you as 'the snake'."

It seemed surprised that you were speaking to it on neutral terms. Usually, your interactions were hostile and more or less ended with you chopping it into fine bits. It slithers back onto you, this time coiling around your neck. You nearly flinch at the familiar sensation you felt as it tightened its grip to gain stability.

I felt this in my first memory. Go figure.

You pull out your phone and quickly search up an image of a color wheel. You take care to lift the screen up to the snake's eye level while not appearing odd from any lingering gazes. You tell it to tap on a color, and from the one it selects, you would refer to it as that henceforth. It was unimpressed by your naming process but you tell it that it was either this or you give it the most insulting name you can think of.

It looks at the screen for a minute. It then presses the tip of its mouth against the glass and selects the color black.

"How original," you sarcastically say. It responds by tightening around your neck. "Alright. I'll call you Kuro from now on. It'll make cutting you up all the more personal."

Your one-sided chat ends with Kuro, who turns his head away and settles around your neck. You pull up your phone's built-in navigation app and look at the expected arrival time, 3 hours. You lean forward and prop both elbows on your knees. For the next few hours, you just sat there and waited, not bothering to look out the window and marvel in the passing scenery. Your focus was entirely on Kuro, making sure that he wouldn't try to sneak off of you and attack any of the other passengers. He usually only goes for people you had grown attached to or spend most of your time with, but you weren't going to take any chances.

You give yourself a bit of comfort by sticking your hand in your duffel bag and squeezing the familiar handle of your axe.

________________________________________________________________

The city still amazes you. It was hard to believe that in just a couple hundred years, humanity would evolve so rapidly. As amazing as the advancement of humanity was, the air quality has gone to complete shit. Along with sleeping and eating, you didn't need to breathe either. You're thankful you didn't have to subject yourself to the polluted air and spare yourself from burning your lungs. Kuro seems to hate the air as well, as he makes a sort of gagging noise once you step out of the station.

Finally, we agree on something

You robotically push past the crowds, flag down a taxi, and check into your hotel room. You send a quick text to Yuki to let her know you arrived safely and thank her again for booking the room for you. Once you set your belongings down and relax against the plush bed, you get a text back.

'What r u going to do?'

That's right. This was supposed to be a vacation. You were supposed to be going out and doing literally anything other than work.

What the hell are you even supposed to do?

You text back, 'idk.'

'Seriously??? There's a ton of stuff you could do in Kyoto!'

'Like what?'

'I heard shrines are lovely this time of the year'

________________________________________________________________

The fact that you, a god, are visiting a shrine to be very, very hilarious. Kuro hates it apparently, which made it even funnier.

"Aww, don't be like that," you jokingly cooed at him.

You used the ladle from the shrine pavilion to scoop up the so-called purified water and bring it close to him. He hisses so violently that the shrine maiden that acted as a guide for you and your fellow visitors flinched and looks around to find the source of her scare. Deciding to spare him any more stress and reason to go on a frenzy, you put the ladle back in the basin and catch up to the departing group.

The tour was simple, a mere walk around the temple and it's public areas while the guide explained the history behind each building, important figures, and various rituals the worshipers practice. It wasn't the most exciting way to spend your first day on vacation, but you found still found it interesting and very educational.

Near the end of the tour, the guide leads you all up to a statue of a woman. Her skin is as white as milk, half of her black hair twisted up in a bun while the rest flowed down her back. It was a hairstyle your mother would style on you and even taught you how to do it yourself. Her kimono was a faded gold color from years of natural degradation. The pattern on her stone clothing reminded you of flames.

Your tour guide stops and turns back towards you all. "This here is a statue of the sun goddess, Amaterasu. She is a central deity within the Shinto religion. The Japanese nobility claim their divine right to rule by claiming to be her descendants."

Your tour guide went on about the shrine's methods of worship for Amaterasu, but you completely drowned out her words. You found yourself completely enamored by the statue.

Something about it was...

Hearing that name was…

Your body was...

"Miss?" One of the tour-goers waves her hands in front of your vision in an attempt to gain your attention. "Is everything alright?"

As you slowly regain your focus, you notice a wetness on your face. You had shed a tear. You quickly wiped it away and gave the concerned woman a reassuring smile. "Allergies."

She seemed relieved and without a second thought reached into her bag to pull out a bottle. She pops off the cap, shakes out two antihistamine pills and hands them to you. You take them and hide them under your tongue before taking a gulp of water from your plastic bottle. You thank her, waiting for her to walk off with the group before spitting them out.

Kuro gives a condescending flick of his tongue against the cheek your tear descended on. You slap his head away and growl, "Not a word."

You take a moment to gather yourself before heading back with the group. Before you turn the corner and lose sight of the statue, you spare it one last glance. When you looked at it again, you were certain what you were feeling wasn't just a fluke.

You felt warm.

________________________________________________________________

The tour ended not long after you all saw the statue of the sun goddess. You didn't leave until night, when the Shrine closed to the public. You spent the entire day just staring at the statue, basking in the familiar warmth that filled within your body.

"I know you don't care, but that wasn't some coincidence," you say to Kuro. "That warm feeling. It's similar, no, the exact same warmth I summon when I heal people!"

You yank him off your neck and plop him on the nearest surface, a stone tablet of sorts with writing carved into it. It was monument for some historical figure, but you didn't care about it. He looks at you as if he was actually considering your words for once. At this point, you could care less about this ingrained rivalry between you two. If there was anyone else in the world that could ever relate to you, it would be him.

"Who the hell am I? What the hell are we? Who the hell made us so hellbent on screwing each other over? Actually, let me rephrase. Why are we so hellbent on screwing each other over?"

You kept rattling on question after question. Contemplating the meaning of your existence to a snake that no one but yourself could see. In your confused frenzy, you fail to notice the grey clouds engulfing the sky. The loud roar of lightning and sudden rainfall put a halt to your pacing.

So much for clear skies.

The sound of footsteps approaching your figure brought your attention back down to earth. "Are you alright ma'am? Do you have an umbrella?" a man in a lab coat and glasses looks at you with a blank stare, but his voice indicates that he was worried for you.

You shake your head. "I didn't think it would rain today."

The man opens his mouth to say something when suddenly, your eardrums are assaulted by another clap of lightning. This time, it struck the space right next to the both of you. You frantically search your surroundings to locate exactly where it struck. The monument that your rival was on had been completely shattered into pieces.

Shit, I put Kuro on that!

The bespectacled man kneels down towards you and offers you his hand. You didn't realize that you had fallen over until you finally registered the stinging on each of your knees. You reach out towards his offered hand. Before you could place your hand in his own, darkness suddenly enveloped your vision followed by a wave of dizziness. You instinctively shut your eyes and nurse your head in your hands.

The wet and cold air of the rainstorm was suddenly replaced with a suffocating heat. You manage to open your eyes and find yourself in a completely new setting. You were on the balcony of a building, currently blanketed in flames and billowing smoke. You accidentally inhaled due to your shock and began to cough as your lungs fill with black air.

Your fit alerts a figure in the room of your presence. Seeing you, a defenseless woman all so suddenly, they found themselves frozen in shock. Your vision began to slowly clear up enough for you to notice the familiar sheen of metal. Whoever it was that you were looking at had a sword in hand, tip aimed to the floor where a man lied unconscious at his feet.

Instinctively, you reached into your handbag and grabbed your axe. You put all the force you could muster into your grip and threw it at the man with the sword. He gave out a cry of pain, indicating that you had landed a hit on him. He suddenly backs away from the body and you think you hear him mutter some sort of apology before running out the room. With the threat now gone, you make your way towards the man on the floor. He was still unconscious, so you took a firm hold of his shoulders and began to shake him awake. He wakes up with a sputter before taking notice of you.

"Who are you?" his booming voice asks

"No time for introductions! The building is burning and we need to leave! Now!"

You didn't give him a chance to get in another word. Grabbing his forearm and hoisting him on his feet, you pulled him out of the fiery room. You make sure to grab your axe, wedged deep into the wood of the door frame, on your way out.

Miraculously, you manage to find a way out the building. As soon as you're lungs fill with fresh air, you double over into another coughing fit. As you try to calm your breaths, you turn back to building. It was a temple, but not like the one you visited earlier in the day. This one seemed more rustic. It was hard to fully picture what it might have looked like due to it being quite on fire still.

If you hadn't escaped in time, the man you dragged along with you would have perished. If not by the stab of the sword looming over him, then by the flames. Speaking of him, he looks out towards the burning temple with you. Instead of worry or panic, he seemed to be rather annoyed.

"Someone tried to do away with me as I slept? Audacious, but foolish. Killing my guards and managing to get so close to me is another matter."

Who cares if you were asleep or not?! You almost died!

He then turns towards you, taking notice of your grip still on his arm. "You there," he addresses you. "Let go of me."

You let go of his arm and he rubs it as if your grip was uncomfortable. He took in the person standing before him, his apparent savior.

"You may be mere entertainment the monks brought in, but you saved my life nonetheless. You have my thanks."

Did he just insinuate that you were a prostitute?

"I must have missed all the monks among the fire. I don't have a clue how I ended up in there," you tell him.

It's now that you begin to take in your surroundings. You were no longer within the city, not a single skyscraper obscuring the night sky in sight. The air, despite standing next to a burning building, wasn't as disgusting to breathe in. The man you rescued had striking features. His hair black and eyes a carnelian hue. He wore armor sporting colors of black, white, and red. You remember seeing such attire way back when your parents were alive. He was some sort of soldier.

"What are you staring at? Surely you know who I am?" He asks. You shake your head, being at a total loss for words. This genuinely confuses him. "You saved me not knowing who I am? Not expecting reward or favor?" He gives a deep chuckle that echoes throughout the night. "So be it, I shall tell you my name. I am the man who will rule all under the sun-"

Your silence is broken by your faint laugh. Was this man seriously going to monologue and create some sort of suspenseful build-up over his own name? After he just escaped the clutches of death?

He lifts an eyebrow. "Have I said something amusing?"

You cover your mouth to stifle your giggles and shake your head once more. Surely, he must have thought you rude.

Instead, he lets out another round of laughter, this time louder. "You're a curious one. No one has acted so impudently to me before." He takes a step closer to you and you take half a step back. "You intrigue me, which is almost as worthy of praise for saving my life. I am the Lord of Azuchi Castle and Daimyo of Owari, Nobunaga Oda."

Your head involuntarily tilts to the side. You look up at him and say, "...Who?"

His brows furrow. Now he was getting frustrated. "Do you truly not know who I am?"

You fiddle with your thumbs. "Noooooo?"

"You are indeed a strange one. But I have given you my name. Now, give me yours."

You hesitated, but decided it was safe to give him your name.

"I see. A good name befitting my savior"

Was that a compliment? Hang on, where the hell are you?!

You shake your head as if to clear your mind of its confused state. "Now that we got the introductions out the way. Tell me, where are we?"

"We are at Honno-ji. The building before you is-"

"A temple. I can see that. What year is it?"

He seems taken back by your question and of the fact that you interrupted him. "It is 1582. Why?"

Ah, 1582………WHAT?!

Before you could understandably freak out, the galloping of hooves grabs both your attention. The man at the front of the small group heading in your direction shouts, "Lord Nobunaga, you're safe!"

Once he reaches a safe distance, he hurriedly dismounts and approaches you both on foot. The others that rode alongside him turn their attention towards the building and begin shouting out orders to put out the flames.

"Mitsunari," Nobunaga turns to him. "Why have you come? Where is Hideyoshi?"

"Lord Hideyoshi sent me ahead. He should arrive here shortly," Mitsunari explains. He then takes in the sight of the smoldering temple and frowns. "It would seem the information we received about your assassination attempt was correct."

You feel another coughing fit coming and try to muffle it. It is then that Mitsunari takes notice of you.

"Oh, who might you be?"

Nobunaga calls out to you. He gives a nod to Mitsunari as an indication that you were no threat and then commanded, "Present yourself to my subordinate."

"I'm- Ow!"

Something pierces your ankle and you nearly fall over yet again. Mitsunari pulls you towards him and swiftly draws his sword out. As your eyes search the ground for what could have bitten you, you notice the familiar black scales of your rival hidden between the blades grass.

"Kuro! You bastard, I thought the lightning fried you to a crisp!"

As much as you hate to admit, you were glad to see the serpent is alive and well. However, as Mitsunari took notice of the snake, he pulled you further in until you were between him and Nobunaga.

"A snake?! Please stand back!"

He firmly planted his right foot on the ground and raised his sword. You immediately went on the defense and shoved him into the Nobunaga's chest. They were dumbfounded as they saw you place yourself protectively in front of the snake as if they were the threat, not it.

"Stop! He's with me!"

"My lady, the snake could potentially be venomous. Please walk carefully towards me,' Mitsunari beckons you to him.

Oh, he's much more than venomous… hold on.

You look down towards Kuro, then to Mitsunari, then to Kuro and back to the grey-haired man again. "You...You can see him?"

"Of course I can! Now please, get back!"

You glare down at him. "You bastard! You can make people see you at will can't you?!"

Unsurprisingly, he plays dumb and slithers back on you. Like before, he situates himself around your neck before turning his gaze towards the two armor-clad men. He sends an almost condescending gaze at the grown men panicking before him, a tiny viper.

"Ok, before you panic let me explain. This is Kuro. Say hi." You roll your eyes as he hisses at them. What else did you expect? "Lovely. He's my…we've known each other for a long time."

"You say that as if the snake were a person." Nobunaga notices.

Man don't even get me started!

"He's more aware than most, but he isn't harmful. So long as you don't annoy him he won't try to lunge at you." You shift your weight to the foot he had bitten, reminding you of the fact that he sunk his fangs into you just moments ago. "Except me. He'll only bite me."

"He's not venomous, is he?" Mitsunari asks.

"He has venom," you stupidly say, but quickly backtrack on your statement. "But he never shoots it in me, I swear! like I said, you just have to be cautious around him and not give him a reason to bite you."

"A woman with a venomous snake as her companion. There is no end to your amusement, is there?" Nobunaga speaks up, impressed, and not at all ashamed of feeling so, "Mitsunari, this is my savior. Remember her well."

"I thank you for rescuing our Lord," the man, clad in purple armor and a singular beauty mark under his right eye, bows deeply towards you. "My name is Mitsunari Ishida. I serve Nobunaga's right-hand man."

You wave your hands frantically to stop him. "Ah, no need to be so formal! Despite the circumstances, It's nice to meet you as well."

you properly introduce yourself to Mitsunari, who instantly perks up at your more welcoming demeanor. "Is your foot alright? That bite must have hurt. Though now that I've gotten a better look at you, you don't appear to be a nun. Are you perhaps from abroad?"

You look down towards yourself and realized you were wearing nothing but a t-shirt, capris, and some old worn out sneakers. You must look like a clown to them. Also, what were you even supposed to say in this sort of situation? Hey, I'm from 500 years in the future. Did I forget to mention I'm actually a 300 year old deity? Life sure is crazy!

Not knowing what is safe and not safe to say, you remained quiet. Mitsunari takes notice of your hesitation and looks back at Nobunaga for some guidance. The man, now over your rude behavior, steps past his subordinate and towers over you.

"Were you not taught to speak when spoken to? You may have saved my life, but there is only so much disobedience I will tolerate. Tell us where you hail from, and quickly."

You and Kuro glance at each other. Like most of your standoffs, there seems to be a mutual understanding between you two without the need for words. Remain silent. Do not tell them of your origin or of the nature of your being. Even if he decides you aren't trustworthy and strikes you down where you stand, you will survive the blow.

You kept your mouth shut. He seems more disappointed than angry towards your answer and turns towards Mitsunari. "Restrain her. She is now officially a suspect in the assassination plot on my life"

"My Lord. She's clearly disoriented from the chaos-"

"Restrain her," he ordered with finality.

Mitsunari, hesitant but not one to disobey orders, grabs a length of rope from his horse's saddle and walks back towards you. "Please give me your hands,' he politely demands of you. You do as you're told.

"It's alright," you whisper to him. "If it makes you feel better, my reason for being silent is just for my safety. I mean you all no harm. You have my word."

"I…" he appears caught between his orders and trusting in you. "I will trust you. No person with ill intent would risk their life to save Lord Nobunaga."

You thank him by giving his hand a comforting squeeze. He makes sure to tie your hands in a manner that would make escaping impossible, but not tight enough to hurt your wrists. You're escorted away from the temple, to a camp not too far away. You're led to a nearby bonfire and told to sit and not make any sudden moves. Mitsunari steps away from you and is replaced by two of the soldiers he brought with him.

"Hey," you try to whisper as quietly as you can to Kuro, "I have a suggestion. Care to hear it?"

He slithers around your neck until he's facing you head-on. It seems he's willing to listen. "Let's call a truce," you simply state. "The only conditions are that we look out and help one another until we find a way back to our time. After we return, we can go back to despising each other for the next hundreds of years."

Were you seriously offering an alliance with your sworn enemy? Yes, yes you were. As much as you both detest the idea of having to tolerate each other, the current situation made it clear that the only way you two are going to manage to get home is to put your heads together. Maybe even get along for a change?

Ugh, the thought of befriending this slithering asshole is deplorable.

"If you agree to those terms, bite my neck."

He doesn't hesitate to sink his fangs into your throat. You're sure he's wanted to bite you until your body was littered in duo puncture marks. The guards are alarmed at your cry of pain and go to kneel beside you to see what was wrong. They both took notice of the black snake around your neck and bleeding wounds. They look at each other and then nod. "Don't move ma'am. We'll take care of the snake-"

"He's a pet! No need to draw your sword," you immediately explain to them. "Could I maybe get a rag to press against my wound?"

The guard on your right seems hesitant, but his fellow soldier nods in assurance. He leaves in search of a rag, while the guard on your left seems to get closer to you. He's probably keeping a closer eye on you until his partner returns.

Two new people enter the camp. One is clad in blue and white armor, hair a pure white color. The other in green armor with red accents, hair a natural brown. You try your hardest to listen to their conversation. So far, both new figures seem to be concerned for the well being of Nobunaga. They question him on how he managed to escape unscathed and soon the attention is turned towards you.

"This is my savior. Due to her lack of answering my inquiries about her person, I've placed her under custody until we return to Azuchi."

"That one, sitting by the fire?" the white-haired one gestured towards you. You gave him a wave with your tied hands. "What a slender thing, but appearances aren't everything. Shall I pry answers from her mouth?"

The threat of torture puts you both on edge. You more than Kuro as you would be the one subjected to it.

Nobunaga seems to notice your fear and revels in it. "Once we return home, if she refuses to explain herself again, I will leave her in your hands. For now, we prepare for our departure."

The white-haired one nods in understanding before sending a spine chilling grin towards you.

Note to self, watch out for that one.

The brown-haired one comes towards you. While he isn't as scary as the other one, his height makes up for it. He's nearly twice your height and taller than anyone in the camp. He glares down at you and says, "Whoever you are, if you have any plans to harm Lord Nobunaga, I will make you regret ever having such thoughts."

Threat after threat after threat. You were getting pretty fed up with it. You were about to give the man a piece of your mind when suddenly, Kuro lunges at him. His fangs were bared and spurted liquid out of his mouth. That wasn't a warning bite. It was an honest attempt to bite and kill.

"Kuro!" You scold him. "That's not going to help the situation!"

"A snake?! Why haven't you noticed and gotten rid of it?!" The green armored one questions your guards.

They stutter over themselves before you finally speak up in place of them. "He's my pet."

"Pet or not. Allowing such a dangerous animal around Lord Nobunaga is a risk I won't take."

He reaches down to his waist to unsheathe his sword. In your panic, you shot up on your feet and you kick him right in the diaphragm. His arms wrap around his stomach and he nearly falls to his knees over from the blow.

"The next person that points a sword at us, I'm going to hold you down myself and let him pump you full of venom!" you scream. Gods, were you so on edge that you were now threatening people?

Your suddenly thrown face first down onto the ground and pinned from behind. You turn your head to see who it was that had restrained you. It was the white-haired one. The empty barrel pointed at you keeps you still.

I smell gunpowder. That's a rifle no doubt. Father used to have one in the house in case wolves came by at night.

"Those things have a tendency to accidentally go off," you tell him.

He smiles down at you. "Indeed. You'll forgive me if it does, yes?"

Second note, I hate this guy.

Angered by his cockiness, you try to wiggle out of his hold, but it utterly fails. In fact, you actually help him get a better grip on you and make it harder for you to escape. Great job, you dumbass.

"What shall we do with the snake, my lord?" The one pinning you down asks Nobunaga.

He stood over your defenseless self and stared at you with indifference. "It is clearly a hazard, but it has yet to leave it's master side and only struck when it perceived her to be under an immediate threat. Leave it, but keep your distance."

"My Lord, that is too much of a risk. Removing the threat now would be the better option," the brown-haired one protested. Slightly bent over in pain from your hit.

"I hate to say it, but I agree with Hideyoshi," the white haired one says. "Even a moment of vulnerability on our part will result in her releasing it on us."

The one you hit is Hideyoshi. Noted.

Nobunaga smirks at him. "If you're so concerned, Mitsuhide, then I suggest you put your sharpshooter skills to good use and keep an eye on the damn thing. Now, if you're both done bickering, let us head out."

Mitsuhide didn't seem to like his new orders but answers with a practiced "yes sir", before helping you up to your feet. Without any more to say, you're escorted to an large crowd of horses and lifted onto a saddle. Mitsunari is your apparent rider and you quietly thank the heavens for your one saving grace.

"Sorry," you whisper, "I sort of made things worse for myself."

You feel him tense, immediately feeling bad for making him worry even more.

"Once we return to Azuchi, you'll be in a secure place and can speak your truth without fear of lingering ears," he tells you. The horse beneath you suddenly kinks into a speedy gallop and you hold onto him for dear life.

You travel for a few minutes before the steeds around you slow down into a complete stop. A man with an eye patch and blue and gold armor appears with another unit of soldiers. Perhaps he was back up? He sure is late though.

"Lord Nobunaga. I see you're unscathed," he says, a more casual hint in his voice.

"Physically, yes. But my pride has taken quite the hit. We're returning to Azuchi. Have your men follow."

"Damn, I guess I was too late to see some action," he answers disappointedly. He turns back towards his reinforcements and shouts, "You heard the man! It's back home for us!"

His soldiers all let out groans of equal disappointment. He laughs at their expense before maneuvering his horse to join with the rest of the retreat. It's when he and his men fully merge that he takes notice of you and your bound hands. "Who's the lass?" He shouts over to Hideyoshi.

"They're under suspicion for the assassination attempt tonight. She has a snake around her neck and it will strike if you get near."

"A woman with a snake, huh? I like you already. The name's Date Masamune. I hope we can get to know each other well."

First I get called a prostitute, then this asshole flirts with me while I'm tied up! So much for a relaxing vacation!

________________________________________________________________

Kennyo watches the retreat of the Oda alliance with rage. His chance to exact revenge was in the palm of his hand but had been slapped away in a mere instance. The rustling of bushes gains his attention and he turns to see Ranmaru knelt before him, sweaty and disheveled. He's now porting a gash across his normally pristine face. "Are you alright? We need to tend to that wound to prevent it from becoming infected. It'll likely scar."

Ranmaru is on the verge of tears. "Master Kennyo, I failed you. All our efforts to eliminate the head of the Oda have gone to waste because of-"

The monk shushes him. "You've done well, Ranmaru. You've demonstrated how well the devil king trusts you. That alone is enough to be the cause of their undoing."

Ranmaru flinches at the mention of the word "trust." Kennyo turns back to look at the retreating forces once more. He turned back just in time to see that the they had a prisoner in their midst. He becomes even more enraged once he realizes that it was a woman.

"They would go so far as to blame a woman for the fire and hold her captive. The Oda couldn't stoop any lower than they have now."

Kennyo begins to walk away into the darkness of the forest. He gestures for the boy to follow, and he does so without hesitation.

________________________________________________________________

Another set of eyes watch the retreat of the Oda alliance from the sidelines.

"How disappointing. Though perhaps this is a blessing in disguise," Kenshin, initially unhappy seeing Nobunaga escape unharmed, immediately perks up at his own thoughts. "I still have an opportunity to drag the devil king out to battle and strike him down myself."

Shingen shakes his head in disbelief. Although he was frustrated as the rest, seeing the Oda pull out victorious and without a single loss, hearing Kenshin retain his bloodlust was reassuring. "He truly earned the title of devil king. Only a demon could have such twisted luck on his side."

"Lord Shingen," Yukimura suddenly notices an unfamiliar figure among the retreating forces, "look at who is riding with Mitsunari Ishida."

Shingen searches out for the familiar tuff of grey hair. He was in a bad mood, but now he's pissed. That was a woman, bound by the wrist the same way a criminal would be. "Unforgivable," is all the Tiger of Kai could growl out.

"Yes," Yoshimoto nods in agreement with his cousin, "Such a small thing. She must be scared to death."

Kenshin doesn't make any comment at the revelation, but he notices the panic that overtakes Sasuke's face upon hearing that a woman had been taken prisoner.

"I've grown bored. Let us return to Echigo and reconvene another day."

Kenshin doesn't wait for an answer. He turns away and the rest of his allies follow without a word. "Sasuke," Kenshin calls out to his ninja who had yet to move from his spot, "Do not keep me waiting."

He snaps out of this train of thought before following along. "Yes, my Lord."

________________________________________________________________

You had remained quiet the entire trip. A few people called your name, but you were so lost in your thoughts that you didn't even acknowledge whoever was speaking to you. You failed to realize that night had turned into morning. Your surroundings had changed from foliage into a massive fortress-like castle.

Kuro paid attention to your surroundings in your stead. Anyone that had gotten even a little close was hissed at and had transparent venom spat at them. Even Mitsunari, your one and only ally as of now, was not spared of the serpents radar.

You finally speak your first words after hours of silence. "If you keep threatening every man that so much as looks in my direction, I might start to believe you actually liked me all this time."

You're once again bitten, this time on the back of your hand. Blood quickly pools in the twin punctures before rolling down and staining your skin.

Mitsuhide had witnessed the snake sink its fangs into you. "Oh my, such a temperamental pet. Are you sure you have it under control?"

You roll your eyes. "Of course I do. Hey, Kuro," you look down to him. "If things turn ugly, pump me full of whatever you got left."

The snake nods, pleased at the privilege you've given it. Mitsuhide narrows his eyes at you, concerned over your order. You make sure to pat Kuro's scaly head while maintaining eye contact with him.

The entourage heads towards the stable. Stable hands awaited their return and began to board and tend to each steed. Mitsunari eventually dismounts and offers his hand for you to take. You gratefully accept his gesture and he helps steady you on the ground.

"How are your hands? If they feel sore I'll redo my bindings," he offers.

You shake your head. "I'm alright. What's going to happen to me now?"

"Lord Nobunaga requested an immediate council upon his return. It will likely be about the events that took place at Honno-ji and will take some time to inform and gather everyone needed. Until then, you...you will be…"

You didn't rush him. He was clearly having a hard time trying to muster up the courage to tell you what will happen to you until the meeting. You already have an idea what it would entail.

"You will be held in a prison cell until your fate is determined."

There it is.

"Will Kuro be allowed to stay with me?"

He nods. "Hideyoshi requested that the snake remain on your person at all times and visible. I hope his request isn't too unreasonable."

"If it puts the people here at ease then I can live with it. I'd feel safe having him close by anyways, so I'm quite thankful he didn't call in some expert snake hunter or something."

Mitsunari smiles at your words. "Even when the odds are against you, you find the positive within. You are truly admirable, my lady."

You return the smile. "Thank you, but I'm sure I told you before not to be so formal!"

"Very well. I agree with the condition that you address me with familiarity too. Is that alright?"

You nod and, for a brief moment, you forget that you were technically still a prisoner.

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[watchtower-feed]

Mortal Sanity

SSA Request ✧ Joker ✧ Mortality Link @lady-of-fandoms​: Aging indicator with the Joker? He found out who his soulmate was, and to gain immortality, had her captured and locked away. Batman and co. find out, and go to save her, but theres a complication, and the Joker sees the reader and starts aging. You can take it from there! Notes: Some graphic gore. I’m so sorry, lady! I changed your request quite a bit. I tried using this request to write a different kind of Y/N. Words: 2,514

          When you live in a world full of superheroes, there are worst things than meta human villains, invading aliens, and psychotic clowns. One of them is having a soulmate.

          Some say it’s better because your other half is easier to find, but they’re not the one who has a hero or a villain for a soulmate. You do.

     You’re old. You’ve been alive since before Gotham. Your family was one of its first British settlers in the late 1600s. You are one of its original founders. You built this city and continue to care for it better than your own family.

     Because they kept dying. One by one mortality catches up with them and each funeral strips away part of you, the side of you that grieves and fears death.

     Whenever your spouses lay on their deathbed, you only feel disappointed that they weren’t the one. There was no way of knowing until you’ve spent time with them and seen the wrinkles on their skin next to your suppleness.

     No one knew much about soulmates at all. Not until one of the three Fate Sisters visited Gotham in the late 19th century. You came across her by chance but to her, it was no accident.

     “Your soulmate has not been born yet, child.”

     You asked how much longer you had to wait but the Fates only give so little of their time. She didn’t answer and other people had crowded her. It took two world wars before another Fate passed through the city.

     ��Why are you so eager to meet them? There is still so much to do before your soulmate will be born.”

     She was gesturing to the streets of Gotham, littered with people slumped over the gutters, children crying and holding their bellies, and mothers with babes sucking on their tits while they begged for money.

     The war never passed through Gotham but its devastation has clawed deep into its foundations and stripped the people of their livelihood. Your eyes and your heart couldn’t take it.

     You were the one who held the first meeting of the Court of Owls. You gathered every wealthy Gothamite, from old money to new business owners. The politicians were only later invited as a courtesy.

     With the Court at your disposal, you built Gotham from the ground up, quickly turning it into the business capital of the country for anyone hoping to live the American dream.

     But as the city’s population grew beyond your control, you had to cut your losses, divide the city into districts, and protect the wealthy. But unbeknownst to you, this was what set off Gotham’s descent into madness and the very creation of your soulmate.

      The first sign of everything going wrong was the man dressed as a Bat. But his actions were in alignment with the Court’s will over Gotham and so you let him be. When villains in similar attire started to sprout all over the city, the Bat kept them in check. And so the Court did nothing.

     And then the Clown entered the picture, causing devastations all over the city like you’ve never seen before. You watched buildings burn with children still screaming inside them, towers fell on people running amok in the streets, and the horrendous gas that left its stench at every street corner in Gotham.

     The Clown is a plague and the Court has decided that he has to go.

     After a meeting, you’re met with the final Fate sister. She has been waiting for you.

     “Child, you’ve done well. You’ve loved and fostered this city like no other and I am truly misfortuned to be the one to tell you of your soulmate. Fate has been unkind to you.”

     Your soulmate is the Joker.

     Your knees suddenly go weak and your chest feels tight. Phantom claws are constricting around your heart. What you’ve waited for centuries is finally here and you don’t want it. Take it back.

     The Fate sister holds your shoulders, “Stay strong, child. The worst is yet to come. I must tell you about your link.

     “For years, you have not only eluded aging but also death. So long as you’re not in your soulmate’s arms, you will never die.”

     Immortality is no stranger to you. Mortality even less. But the sudden prospect of knowing that the Clown himself is as immortal as you-- the image that Gotham would be plagued by his madness for eternity-- it terrifies you.

     “I need your help.”

     You’re standing in one of the meeting rooms of Wayne tower, interrupting a conference between Bruce Wayne and his major shareholders.

     “Miss L/N,” Bruce treats you with respect despite your actions. He knows who you are. Knows what you are. “It’s lovely to see you but we are in the middle of something important here. You can make an appointment--”

     “I need to talk to your friend,” you stare at Bruce and watch the subtle recognition dawn on his face. “It’s urgent, Bruce.”

     You’ve always called him by his last name like you did his Thomas Wayne. It’s how you show your respect for his work and successfully making his father’s company his own. You only ever call him Bruce when you want to remind him that you’re older, much wiser, and more powerful.

     Bruce clenches his teeth and shuffles the papers in his hand. He turns to his shareholders and gives them his signature playboy smile. “I apologize. We’re going to have to reschedule. It seems the Queen of Gotham needs me.”

     Bruce loosens his tie as he walks around the table of perplexed and annoyed millionaires. He places his hand on your lower back, standing shoulder to shoulder, as he escorts you out of the room and into his office.

     With the doors closed and his blazer off, Bruce’s demeanor changes. His eyebrows are no longer arched upwards but slanting down and his smile has been replaced by a deep scowl. His eyes pierce into yours when he turns to you.

     “Start talking.”

     You cross your arms and narrow your eyes at Bruce but quickly unfold them and relax. You didn’t come to fight. “I’m not here on behalf of the Court, Bruce. I’m here as myself.”

     Bruce doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t exactly know who you are. He only knows exactly what you want him to know, and what little you allow is only necessary for him to realize that you have Gotham eating from the palm of your hands.

     But you’re extending your palm now as you finally reveal to him everything that you are, who you have been, and what you’ve been waiting for. Even Bruce Wayne couldn’t hide the reaction on his face. He’s visibly horrified.

     “You’re not immortal, Bruce. But if the Clown kills me, he will be.”

     “What’s your plan?”

     You grimace at the man behind the Bat. “Why do you think I need your help?”

     Being the Queen of Gotham and the leader of the Court of Owls has distanced you from the city. You’ve been watching it from your highrise and no longer know where the streets bend and what the people look like.

     You’re ashamed to be asking for help from someone so inferior. But Batman is the best weapon you’ve got against the Clown. He and his little band of eager boys.

     “Does the Joker know about your link?”

     You turn to Richard Grayson, a child always on the outskirts of the city with no Gotham blood flowing through his veins. “Yes. The Fates has an obligation to humor everyone with links.”

     “I’m surprised the Joker didn’t kill her,” Jason Todd snorts. A real child bred and raised by Gotham herself. Through the good and the ugly.

     “He tried. But the Fates aren’t human.”

     “Really? What are they?” Timothy Drake. Another Gotham child. Middle class with the potential to join the Court. Potential lost to the Bat.

     You raise an eyebrow. “None of you have links?”

     “Only mindless individuals would believe in such nonsense.”

     Damian Wayne.

     You can feel each of your muscles tense as you turn to him. Definitely not a Gothamite.  “Sounds like something an ignorant person would say.”

     “This is enough,” Bruce interrupts.

     You brought them to one of the secret bunkers of the Court. Years ago, you had constructed a facility for the truly dire patients of Arkham. Under Bruce’s instructions, you had reinforcements built into it to hold the Joker for eternity.

     The boys purse their lips at Bruce’s word and follow him out of the cell. But you’re not one of his wards.

     You touch Tim’s shoulder on the way out, “The Fates are ancient beings, as old as the soulmate links. They’re immortal but they’re not gods.”

     Tim is still processing the information when Bruce interjects.

     “Do you remember the plan?”

     You roll your eyes, “Stay in my penthouse with the mini Bat watching over me until you find the Clown. It’s not exactly a science.”

     Bruce holds out his hand to help you climb up the ladder out of the bunker but you reject him and climb on your own. When you arrive at your penthouse you won’t have to deal with him any longer. His son, on the other hand, is a different story.

     “How does it feel to be told your soulmate is a psychotic maniac?” he asks as he looks down at Gotham through your large windows.

     You suddenly feel the urge to hurl his tiny body down the side of the building. You probably don’t have the strength to do it but you won’t die trying.

     “I thought only mindless individuals believed in soulmates.”

     “I don’t believe in it. But I want to know the kind of mental state of someone who believes they're destined to live the rest of their life with the Joker.”

     You roll your eyes at his arrogant smirk reflecting off of the window. You’re holding a glass of wine in your hand and you lift it up to cover Damian’s silhouette with the red liquid, wondering if the rest of Gotham’s children are as bratty. Absolutely no appreciation for things that are ancient and sacred.

     It took another week before they caught the Joker. He proved to be a hard man to find when he’s not ready for showtime. The Bat had found him while setting up his next attack on the city. Bruce himself dragged him to the cell and made sure the reinforcements were still in place.

     You’re surprised Bruce even trusted you at all. You think that maybe he knew exactly what you were planning in the first place. That he felt he had no choice and it was better to play the ignorant fool and let you and the Court do the dirty work.

     The Clown is awake when you enter the cell with a gun in your hand. The moment his eyes land on you, you pull the trigger and shoot him in the head.

     His body slams against the side of the table and his head tips back but slowly he reels it back up again. His eyes go twice as wide as the bullet hole on his forehead. His pale bony fingers tap on his head and one makes its way into the hole. The Clown laughs hysterically as he flicks the bullet out.

     “The Fate sister was being literal,” you grumble, “We have to be in each other’s arms to age and die.”

     The Clown suddenly stops laughing and stares at you curiously. You watch his eyebrows move up and down. “You mean that oooold hag was telling the truth?” He takes a step closer to you with excitement pouring out of every muscle in his body. “If I kill you, I’ll live forever?”

     You glare straight into the madman’s eyes and he looks back. His pupils are dilated and roaming every muscle on your face. Looking for the lies. You’re ready to touch him, hold him and then pull the trigger again, when suddenly, he lowers his face and looks at you with bored eyes.

     “No, thanks, lady.”

     Your grip on the gun loosens but you quickly hold it still. The Clown turns around with his hands behind his back and starts looking at the interior of the cell like an invited guest.

     “Now, why would I want something as booooring as immortality?” He looks back at you with an angry expression. His lips upturned in distaste. “Where’s the punchline? Nobody likes a joke that takes too long.”

     “You… you want to die?”

     The Clown turns his whole body back to you with his arms spread out wide. The hole in his head is completely gone. “Of course! My greatest gig depends on it!” He starts hunching over the table and his hands act like they’re directing miniature pieces on a stage. “Me and the Bat under the moonlight, all of his so called ‘partners’ dead around him. And then finally he’ll kill me--” he turns to you, glaring, suddenly realizing that your link is an inconvenience. Then he rolls his eyes. “I suppose a third wheel could add some impact to the scene.”

     You stare at him dumbly. Unsure of what to think. You’ve lived all these years building up a city but to what end? To meet this psycho lunatic in front of you who is more infatuated with the Bat than anything else? This is your soulmate?

     No one knows anything about the Clown. Except you know he’s 18. He has been for years and has probably gone crazy because of it. He doesn’t know about the links, never knew that he should’ve been waiting for you. That there’s a future already planned for him.

     The Clown has taken steps toward you, eyeing the way you’ve held down your gun and are now staring mindlessly into his face.

     “So. Soulmate.” He peers down at you, so close that you can feel his breath on your skin. “How about a teeny tiny winsy favor? You know, for love’s sake.”

✧ ✧ ✧

     “You let him go.”

     Bruce, dressed as the Bat blocks your path back to your town car after a meeting. You cross your arms over your chest. “The Court doesn’t want him prisoner.”

     “The Court? Or you?” 

     You narrow your eyes at Bruce. You think he bugged the cell and heard every bit of your conversation with the Clown. You should have expected him to do so. But it’s not like it matters now. You turn away from him and check your cuticles.

     “It’s your game, Bruce. Yours and the Clown’s. I’m merely a spectator.”

     “I thought you cared about Gotham.”

     A vein along your neck twitches as you clench your teeth. After everything you’ve done for the city. After all the hours you’ve dedicated to its development, and all the hope you’ve handed out freely to its people, what has it given you? Madmen.

     “Gotham is my child,” you say sternly. “And just like any parent I need to let it learn to fend for itself.”

     Bruce gives you a long look and narrows his eyes. “You’re sick. You deserve each other,” he says before walking back into the shadows. 

     No, Bruce, you’re the one who’s sick. Sick and dying every day. Always striving to make every minute count, when they’re all just meaningless in the grand scheme of things. Meaningless because everything is already written.

     Unlike the Clown who’s writing his own destiny.

✧ Watchtower Masterlist ✧  

[karasunonolibero]

2019 writing self-evaluation

so i did this over on my main last year, and since i had what i felt was a productive year, i wanted to do it here! i’ve included all works, from every fandom i wrote for, so there’s definitely a variety but also a clear distinction of when i stopped writing 1d and started writing for haikyuu, heh. anyway, i’m proud of all the work i’ve done this year, so here’s to 2020!

ALL FICS MUST HAVE POSTED ON AO3 IN 2019

1. Number of stories (including drabbles) posted to AO3: 50

2. Word count posted for the year: 147,038

3. List of works published this year (in order of posting):

two loves have i (5 january)

it’s only your imagination again (25 january)

the pain’s only temporary (8 february)

blow a kiss, fire a gun (9 may)

waiting to be found (14 may)

a swim with a shark (6 june)

sweet and lowdown (19 june)

one more time as if we planned it (24 june)

always be my thunder (23 july)

will your mouth read this truth (30 july)

tumblr drabbles & prompts (last updated 3 august)

I’m on my way up (’cos you make me bliss out) (completed 4 august) (collab with Rider_Of_Spades on ao3)

even mountains crumble into the sea (7 august)

we’re on each other’s team (14 august)

dangerous, tainted, flawed (20 august)

life can do terrible things (25 august)

the night before life goes on (1 september)

when the letter says a soldier’s coming home (17 september)

when the air ran out (19 september)

something missing tonight (21 september)

built castles from sand (26 september)

underneath the stars we came alive (8 october)

sweet talk and sugar (10 october)

got my name on this treasure (11 october)

just a little taste, babe (14 october)

iwaoi horror week drabbles (completed 1 november)

don’t let the tide come (31 october)

daisuga week drabbles (completed 24 november)

how (not) to put on a condom (26 november)

taste the tension, now i’m begging (2 december)

kiss the boy (7 december)

till tonight do us part (11 december)

i wish i could be there now (13 december)

on our way to twenty-seven (15 december)

for the dream far away (24 december)

a collar full of chemistry (25 december)

fall down and commune with me (28 december)

a little of love’s electricity (31 december)

the city is at war (last updated 31 december)

4. Fandoms I wrote for: (stats pulled from the ao3 filter feature on my works)

haikyuu!! (41)

one direction (9)

the legend of zelda: breath of the wild (3)

all time low (1)

crystalline (1)

5. Pairings: (i didn’t count side or past pairings)

iwaizumi hajime/oikawa tooru (14)

sawamura daichi/sugawara koushi (13)

oikawa tooru/sugawara koushi (4)

azumane asahi/nishinoya yuu (3)

kuroo tetsurou/sawamura daichi (2)

kuroo tetsurou/yaku morisuke (1)

akaashi keiji/oikawa tooru (1)

sawamura daichi/sugawara koushi/terushima yuuji (1)

sawamura daichi/terushima yuuji (1)

sugawara koushi/terushima yuuji (1)

link/revali (1)

mipha/zelda (1)

louis tomlinson/harry styles (5)

louis tomlinson/zayn malik (1)

alex gaskarth/louis tomlinson (1)

liam payne/louis tomlinson (1)

zack spade/pixel fade (1)

6. Story with the most:

Kudos: two loves have i (275)

Bookmarks: two loves have i (34)

Comments: two loves have i (25)

9. Work I’m most proud of (and why):

on our way to twenty-seven! i was digging into some identity and sexuality issues that i myself have dealt with in the past and writing about it was the first time i’d really dove into some of that stuff, so i really enjoyed writing it and i think it’s some of my best.

i’m also really proud of i’m taking back the crown and i wish i could say why. i just really like the way it came out. writing oikawa as this desperate dethroned prince trying to reclaim his kingdom at any cost only to be beaten at his own game in his own home was just...ugh. it was so much fun to write.

10. Work I’m least proud of (and why):

one more time as if we planned it, definitely. i just felt super rushed writing it. it was for the one direction rarepair fest, which was super fun, but i had Just finished a longer fic a few days before this one was due and i initially tried to drop out because i thought i wouldn’t be able to finish it, but i did, but i still feel like it’s rushed and just not as good as it could have been if i’d planned better and given it some more time.

11. A favorite excerpt of your writing:

im gonna do what i did last year and post more than one, because 1. i can’t decide and 2. i quite honestly am pretty proud of a lot of what i wrote this year

from when the letter says a soldier’s coming home —

Tooru’s squealing somewhere behind them, and Hajime’s gruffly trying to get out the door, and he’ll have to call the school and make up something about being sick so he can spend the day catching up with Daichi, but it can wait. It can all wait. Because Koushi’s waited long enough. It’s about time the rest of the world waits for him.

from strawberries on a summer evening —

Suga hums against him, licking strawberry seeds from between Daichi’s teeth, like he’s just as intoxicated by Daichi as Daichi is with him. Daichi could live here, in this feeling, ignoring everything except how Suga sounds (like bliss personified), smells (like sunblock and sweat), tastes (like sugar and salt). He’s the hottest part of the summer, high noon in mid-August, just this side of too much to handle, but addicting in how it leaves you at its mercy.

from on our way to twenty-seven —

“Sorry, what was your name again?”

Tetsurou opens his mouth to say his American name, but he catches Daichi and Suga looking at him, and he swallows it down. “My name is Tetsurou. Tetsurou Kuroo.”

“I thought you wanted people to call you Tyler,” Timothy says.

Tetsurou shoots him a glare and says it again, feeling his confidence start to grow. “My name is Tetsurou Kuroo. Tetsu is fine, too, but I don’t go by Tyler anymore.”

12. Share or describe a favorite review you received:

any time tasteofsummersnow left me a comment, it made my heart go doki doki!! her comments are so in depth and so very sweet and it’s so much fun to see her real-time reactions to my writing. i go back and reread them like once a week they’re so nice ;_;

13. A time when writing was really, really hard:

the spring/early summer in general was tough, like from march to june. i didn’t post anything between february and may, and i feel like i was struggling a lot creatively around like may/june of this year. i think it’s because a lot of stuff in the 1d fandom was really turning me off at the time and that’s when the burnout fully hit.

14. A scene or character you wrote that surprised you:

definitely sugawara in the city is at war. i was writing that first chapter and initially i just wanted to see him step up when daichi wasn’t around but he very quickly turned sadistic and ruthless and scarily sharp, which is just so much fun to write him as. and his relationship with daichi is just—ugh. love that violence-fueled romance. they would kill a hundred men for each other and be turned on once they were finished.

honestly, all of the city is at war has surprised me. the idea came to me in a dream on a long bus ride, of all the clan leaders having a meeting and being attacked, and i woke up and banged it out in 36 hours. i meant it to be a oneshot but as i wrote it, i realized i loved the au so much there was no way i could leave it at that. so now it’s got a whole plot and all that. fun!

15. How did you grow as a writer this year:

last year i said i felt i grew writing angst and exploring different emotional themes, and i think i built on that even more this year. i did a bunch of shorter pieces this year and i feel a lot of them really explored emotions and characters more than plot, and that’s been so much fun. and then as well, like i said before, i’ve branched out into the crime-action genre with the yakuza au. and! iwaoi horror week was my first real attempt at spooky/creepy/horror-type writing, and, it was a fun challenge for sure.

i also said i wanted to just keep writing and be spontaneous and i definitely did that this year. i posted so many fics not caring how long it had been since the last one—sometimes it was less a day. numbers stopped mattering to me. i posted just because i wanted to put my writing out there and share it with the world, knowing there had to be someone out there who’d like it.

16. How do you hope to grow next year:

i feel like 2019 was a year of trying a lot of new things, so in 2020 i’m hoping to explore some different ships and tropes. the sheer number of characters and ships in haikyuu means there’s a ship for just about every trope and au out there, and i want to play around with some dynamics i’ve never written before.

17. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc):

as always, a shoutout to the loggies, who have been a fantastic source of inspiration and support all year even after i retired from 1d fic. and i would also like to thank the people i met via various hq discord servers—you know who you are!! thank you for the sprints, the encouragement, the inspiration, and the friendship. as someone brand new to the fandom, the support and sense of community has been nothing short of amazing, and you guys are part of the reason i felt so comfortable in this fandom so quickly.

18. Anything from your real life show up in your writing this year:

actually, yeah. even mountains crumble into the sea was written the night before i broke up with my ex. i wrote it as an exercise to get all my feelings out, lay them all on the table where i could see them and pick through them, and then imagine the best possible way the scenario could go.

19. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers:

honestly—just write! write what you’re happy with. write even if you don’t post it. write, because everything you do is practice that’ll help you improve.

and don’t be afraid to write out of order or write more than one project at a time. i know that won’t work for everyone, but for me, if i didn’t immediately write what was on my mind, i probably wouldn’t have posted half of what i did this year.

20. Any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year:

hey remember last year when i said i was gonna finish the breath of the wild au?? L M A O i’m really gonna finish it next year i swear!!

i have a fic posting in the spring for the nsfw big bang which i’m ALSO very excited about! i’m lucky to be working with such a talented artist and the end result is gonna be amazing and i’m so so excited.

i also want to keep going with the city is at war, because that plot was a pleasant surprise. and there’s an ever-growing list of fic ideas and aus that i’m so excited to write—some of them were originally for larry aus but i’ve repurposed them for haikyuu pairings and that’s helped breathe new life into some old ideas.

21. Tag some writers whose answers you’d like to read.

anyone who sees this and wants to do it! just tag me, i wanna read your answers!

[takaraphoenix]

Phoe’s Advent Calendar: Day 14

If you haven’t bought all your presents yet, it’s due time by now! ;) This one is a present to @sylviasnow89 and I hope you enjoy it.

Title: Advent Calendar Project – Stalked by an Angel

Fandom: Percy Jackson and the Olympians / Heroes of Olympus

Disclaimer: All rights reserved to Rick Riordan for he created the awesomeness that is Nico di Angelo. And everything else related to Percy Jackson and the Olympians / Heroes of Olympus. Aside from the Gods, they belong to the old Greeks. This fanfiction and its OCs on the other hand are entirely mine. No money is made with this, though reviews are more than welcomed.

Warnings: shounen-ai, angels, fluff, cuddles, Christmas fluff

Main Pairing: Nico/Percy

Percy Jackson Characters: Perseus Jackson, Nico di Angelo

Summary: Nico is a Krampus and he enjoys his job. Or at least he did, until a cheerful, sassy Christmas angel started stalking him...

Links: FFNet | AO3

Stalked by an Angel

Nico frowned in frustration, scratching his long, black horns.

He loved his job. Punishing brats who misbehaved all year and still thought they would deserve gifts on Christmas was amazing. Taking them down a notch. It was very fulfilling. Nico loved being a Krampus. It beat being a Death Angel – job he had done after graduation Demon High two centuries ago, at least he got to hang out on Earth now.

The job was simple. And it was just Nico. No co-workers. Every Krampus had different assignments and they very, very rarely interacted. Which was fine with Nico. He didn't like people.

"Oh. Oh, I've never been to this part of Europe! This is exciting! Where are we going?"

Nico gritted his teeth and turned toward his stalker. All day – and a Christmas day lasted about a year in Christmas time (for Santas, angels and Krampi) – Nico had been stalked by an angel. And Nico was being literal here; not just that the other creature was breathtaking but he was a literal angel. A Christmas angel. A beautiful, green-eyed, black-haired Christmas angel with large white wings and robes that showed far more than necessary. Honestly, weren't Christmas angels supposed to be decent? Those long, tempting legs were so not decent. And then the angel opened his bow-shaped, pink lips and words left them and the illusion of a pretty arm-candy faded. Instead, the angel became Percy – the bane of Nico's existence.

"I don't know where you are going, but I have coal to deliver", growled Nico frustrated.

"It's kinda boring, you know?", hummed Percy and tilted his head. "I mean. Can't you think of something a bit more... cool? Something more fun?"

"...What would an angel suggest that a Krampus should give a kid?", asked Nico dumbly.

"Dunno. Give them like... potatoes. Vegetables", shrugged Percy thoughtfully. "Oh. Socks."

Nico blinked dumbly at Percy. "Not even we would give kids socks for Christmas. We're monsters, but not monsters. You are, hands down, the weirdest angel I've ever met."

"How many angels have you met?", drawled Percy unimpressed, one eyebrow cocked.

"Fair enough", grunted Nico. "But aren't you supposed to be the good guys."

"It's not like you're the bad guys. You give children what they deserve too. If we'd start handing gifts out for bad behavior, what kind of generation would that make", snorted Percy.

"Also a fair point", hummed Nico, regarding the gorgeous angel.

Okay, so maybe Percy wasn't the bane of Nico's existence. Maybe he was the highlight of Nico's year, because Nico hadn't talked to anyone in roughly five decades and Percy was cheeky and cute and made Nico laugh in a way the Krampus had never done before. Not to mention, Percy was a sight to behold. Nico's eyes lingered on the large, beautiful white wings.

"Why are you following me?", asked Nico after another two cities and thus two more days.

Time for Christmas creatures was weird. A second in the human world stretched on for a year for them so they could do their job. Only that it was only that feeling of time; there was no night and day turn, no need for food or sleep in that time. Like he said; it was a bit weird.

"...You really don't remember me, mh?", chuckled Percy softly.

"You literally just showed up this morning, flapped your wings and have been stalking me since then", grunted Nico pointedly. "What exactly am I supposed to remember here?"

"You used to be a Death Angel", hummed Percy with a soft smile on his lips. "I was really scared when I had died. You were... kind to me. You made me want to become an angel. And here I am, a Christmas angel. When I tried tracking you down, you had already quit your job and it took me some time to find out you're a Krampus now. It was silly, I guess. To think you'd-"

"The boy who died saving his mother", whispered Nico in realization, eyes widening. "No. I... I remember you. You're the reason I switched jobs, actually."

"I... what?", asked Percy surprised, blinking slowly.

"You were a child, who had suffered. You were a boy who used to misbehave because he didn't have a happy home. If someone would have helped you earlier, you would not have died. So I decided to become someone who can help. I became a Krampus so I can asset why a child misbehaves. I have... reported multiple cases of children misbehaving because of abuse", explained Nico. "And I helped getting them out of it. Because of you. You made me want to do more. I..."

Percy's smile was blinding as he threw himself at Nico and engulfed Nico in his wings, the warmth being nearly suffocating. "Can I stay with you? For a while. We could work together. Because I am kind of assigned to help the children. So. Our jobs would totally align. If... If you'd..."

"I'd love that", blurted Nico out without having to think about it.

/The Next Christmas\

"Percy. Percy, angel, come on", cooed Nico, nudging Percy.

Percy growled, tightening his wings around Nico. The two of them were curled together on Percy's nest in Nico's home. After Christmas last year had ended – after spending a year together, essentially – Nico had asked Percy out on a date. They dated for a couple regular human-time months before moving in together, because Nico had never in his long life been as happy as he was with Percy. The angel redecorated Nico's home, built a nice and cozy nest out of their robes and blankets and pillows and Percy's feathers. It became Nico's favorite spot to be in. Percy's nest, with Percy in his arms and Percy's warm wings around his body.

"Come on", grunted Nico amused. "We have Christmas to do."

Percy grumbled into Nico's chest. It was cute how clingy Percy could be. Nico had learned early on that Percy had had a hard time adjusting to being dead and that, once he opened up to someone, he got attached hard and fast. The same happened between them. His cute little stalker grew truly attached to Nico in the time that they had spent together last Christmas.

"Love", tried Nico for a third time, kissing the top of Percy's head. "Please, love, be reasonable."

"Reasonable isn't my jam. You should know that after dating me for a year", chided Percy.

"I should", agreed Nico thoughtfully. "After being mated to you for half a year, I really should."

"Hey", huffed Percy and slapped Nico on the chest. "How dare you. You're supposed to worship me like the angel I am and not sass me. Sassing is my job in this relationship."

Nico grinned and leaned up to kiss his angel. "Anything you say, my worship-worthy angel."

~*~ The End ~*~

[precise-desolation]

[[Okay, guys.  I am slowly, slowly working my way through drafts.  I’ve been mostly over on my Doctor Who blogs lately.  What with the reveal of the Thirteenth Doctor’s actress (yes, actress; I am excited) and with having finally watched Scream of the Shalka recently, I’ve kind of thrown myself headlong back into that fandom.  I haven’t consistently watched the show since sometime in undergrad.  Mostly because I didn’t get BBCA, but also because I just got so fed up with Eleven and his companions who were puzzles rather than people that I didn’t feel like making the effort to keep up anymore. 

And I am very long-winded and also a huge Whovian, so I will put the rest of my rambling under a read-more.

But my roommate and I are watching New Who (we started with Nine because he’d never seen any Doctor Who) and Twelve has given me hope.  Watching Clara change when she was with Twelve verses when she was with Eleven is like night and day.  Takes a few episodes, but it’s like “Wow, you’re actually a human being with actual flaws and strengths and feelings and not just an enigma with no personality.”  I do rather agree with the theory that Peter Capaldi came in and led a revolt and somewhere along the lines they just tied Moffat up and shoved him in a broom closet, because the writing did basically a complete 180.  It still has its issues, to be sure, but it’s amazing the differences.

I’ve also, as I said, watched Scream of the Shalka finally.  It’s part of the Doctor Who Extended Universe (or EU) and hails from the time after the movie but before New Who when BBC was almost certain they would never get the show back on air.  Their solution?  The internet.  It’s this very short six part flash animated story arc featuring a new Doctor and Master.  Of course, if you’re familiar with the movie, the Master dies at the end.  But more specifically, he falls into the Eye of Harmony, which is basically the heart of the TARDIS.  That bit is important.  And then at the very end of the movie, the Eighth Doctor receives a message about a war between the Time Lords and the Daleks and returns to Gallifrey to lend whatever aid he can.

Of course, that movie was supposed to bring the show back on air.  (I remember my dad losing it over that.  Have I mentioned I was raised by utter nerds?)  But it just kinda... didn’t.  That was the only thing Eight ever appeared in on screen until Night of the Doctor, the short prequel to the 50th anniversary special, Day of the Doctor.  A full seventeen years later.  (Although they did do another flash animated short featuring the Eighth Doctor around the same time as Scream of the Shalka.)  Now, this was back in the day before YouTube.  Yes, there was an internet before YouTube.  We had things like NewGrounds and Albino Black Sheep.  Which featured a shitton of flash animated videos.  I remember this because I am old.  But in keeping up with the tech of the day, they flash animated these arcs.  Which can make them a bit odd to watch if you aren’t used to that.

Scream of the Shalka, though...  It introduced the first Ninth Doctor and a new version of the Master.  This iteration was later replaced in the primary canon by Christopher Eccleston’s Ninth Doctor when New Who started.  There are some striking similarities in the two, but also a world of difference.  Eccleston’s Nine was very much a soldier who had seen too much of war.  That was true, too, of Shalka Nine.  However, the Shalka Doctor was much, much closer in characterization to the Classic Who Doctors.  I think the only New Who Doctor who has come even remotely close is Twelve, but even there the differences between Old and New are steep.  There’s a huge difference, too, in the characterization of the Master between Old and New Who.  Again, I’d say the closest to the Classic Who characterization is Missy.  So it probably doesn’t come as a surprise that the dynamic between Twelve and Missy is also the closest to the dynamic between the Master and Doctor of Classic Who out of all the Masters and Doctors of New Who.  But the Shalka Doctor and Master retain that very definite “best frienemies” sort of relationship.  They act like an old married couple, assuming that married couple consists of a psychopath who enjoys making the other’s day miserable in tiny, petty ways and also occasionally poisoning their food and a put-upon “responsible” partner who runs around the universe cleaning up the other’s messes.

So some of the things I’ve mentioned earlier should make it no surprise that I grew up on Classic Who reruns.  My father actually wanted to name me after one of the Fifth Doctor’s companions, that is the extent to which this has been involved in my life.  I watched primarily Four and Six growing up, but did see bits and pieces of the others.  And one thing I have always loved is the relationship between the Doctor and Master.  It’s dysfunctional as all hell and most definitely not healthy, but it’s also interesting and oddly charming.  Mostly, I think, for their snark and pettiness over ridiculous things at some times but their genuine concern for one another at others.  And they did care for one another, no matter how disturbing the manner in which that care and affection was expressed.  They had been close friends since childhood, a point which is addressed in both Classic and New Who as well as extensively explored in the EU.  Their relationship was dynamic and layered and interesting to watch unfold.

Scream of the Shalka retains that.  As I said earlier, at the end of the movie, the Master dies by way of falling into the Eye of Harmony.  The heart of the TARDIS.  The TARDIS is no ordinary ship, though.  It’s sentient.  It is essentially a living, intelligent being that grows and changes and expresses opinions and makes decisions.  It just also happens to be a bio-mechanical entity.  And it exists across all of space and time simultaneously, which is how it’s able to travel the way it does.  So basically what you have, then, is a living mobile supercomputer.  Another detail about Time Lords is that when they die, their consciousness is uploaded into a huge database, called the Matrix.  (No, I could not make that up if I tried.)  Time Lord technology.  So it stands to reason that if Time Lords can upload their consciousness into what amounts to a really advanced computer data base, then a sentient supercomputer of a species that has co-evolved with and been heavily influenced by Time Lords would be able to do the same thing.  This is why the manner of the Master’s death is significant.  He fell into the heart of the TARDIS.  His physical body would have been destroyed, as the Eye of Harmony is basically a star trapped in an endless sate of decay.  But I see no reason why his consciousness, which basically amounts to electrical impulses, couldn’t have been uploaded by the TARDIS.

So if he was destroyed, how is he present?  Well, that’s not terribly clear.  You see, all we really have, at least in a film format, of the Shalka Doctor and Master is six, fifteen minute episodes.  Not a whole lot of time for backstory.  However, two things are revealed that are extremely significant.  The first is that the Doctor is apparently not able to travel freely.  Someone - ostensibly the Gallifreyan High Counsel, since it’s not addressed whether or not Gallifrey survived the war in this timeline and the Doctor was living as a fugitive prior to the war - seems to be controlling or limiting his and his TARDIS’s ability to move within the Time Vortex, just based on his dialogue.  So he is seemingly a prisoner in his own TARDIS.  That does make the Master’s presence make more sense.  Evidently, at some point the Doctor was either so desperate for company or missed his friend so badly that he built an android fashioned after the Master.  (He appears to be a blend of Delgado and Jacobi.)  One would have to assume, then, that he was also able to download the Master’s consciousness from the TARDIS into the android.  Now, the Doctor is many things, but an idiot is not one of them.  Letting the Master back out to roam the universe, this time in a body made of circuitry rather than soft, vulnerable flesh, would be a terrible mistake.  The Doctor may be fond of the Master, perhaps even love him, but he is also aware that the Master is dangerous.  Because of this, he has fail-safes built in that don’t allow him to leave the TARDIS and that give the Doctor the ability to switch him off if need be.

And if you’re wondering, I do have good reason for thinking all of these things.  As far as the Doctor and Master’s relationship, when the Master is first introduced in Scream of the Shalka, he tells Alisha that “I pride myself that I am the dearest companion of the owner of this craft.”  Fast forward to New Who and we have a scene where Missy gifts the Twelfth Doctor a legion of cybermen so that they can conquer the universe together.  The Tenth Doctor tries to get the Master to abandon his scheming and run away with him to see the universe together.  Their close, if horrendously fucked up, relationship is a well documented fact of the Whoniverse.

And then there’s the situation with the Doctor’s ability to travel and with the Master’s reappearance as an android.  In one of the first scenes of Shalka, the Doctor is seen seemingly shouting at the sky that “I won’t do it!”  It’s worth noting that at this point he doesn’t even know what “it” is.  He basically walked out of his TARDIS, went ‘this is not the time/place I was looking for,’ and then declares he won’t do it.  “It” ends up being saving humanity.  Again.  As to the Master, given what we know of Time Lord tech, the nature of TARDISes, and the manner of his most recent death, it’s really the only logical answer.

And I don’t even remember where I was going with all of this, but it’s a quarter to 3am.  So I am going to go sleep now before I ramble for another two pages or so.]]

[obsidianarchives]

Jessie Blount

Jessie Blount (she/her) is a queer woman of color, an INTP, a Sagittarius, a sci-fi and fantasy nerd, a witch, and an incredible cook. Jessie works for a rad non-profit in Detroit, where she lives with her girlfriend, Nicole, and a beautiful Slytherin cat princess, Winnie. She spends her time learning survival skills for the impending apocalypse and collecting Harry Potter memes. 

Black Girls Create: What do you create? 

HUMOROUS YET RUTHLESS

I create primarily audio-based media themed around the critical analysis of my fandoms. I do this mainly through my podcast The Gayly Prophet, a queer analytical chapter by chapter reread of the original 7 Harry Potter books that I do with my co-host and good friend Lark. Our bi-line is ‘humorous yet ruthless’ because while I’ve been a fan of the series since before book 4 was out, there are a lot of deeply problematic things in the text. One of the biggest inspirations for the pod was Witch Please, a feminist analysis of Harry Potter by two “lady scholars,” which was great, but sadly went book by book rather than chapter by chapter.  While there are a ton of Harry Potter podcasts, there were not any that specifically looked at Harry Potter through a queer lens. 

On The Gayly Prophet's Patreon I create on-the-spot fanfic round-robin style with Lark and post various multi-fandom fanfiction that I’ve written. I also discuss my other fandoms in some of our other Patreon exclusive content, like our “Editors Cut” where we talk about things like time travel, or my biweekly link roundup, “Muggle Studies.”

BGC: Why do you create?

I don’t really consider it an option, more of a necessity. I didn’t grow up with a lot of money, and I struggled a lot with the reality of racism and feeling different than a lot of kids I grew up with. Books and television were my friends, not just as an escape but as a way of dreaming of what could be. This is what drew me to sci-fi and fantasy, but as a child of the ‘90s, I didn’t come across many Black people or women in the stories I consumed. Like a lot of hardcore readers, I dreamed of being a writer, of creating my own story that was as majestic and beautiful as my inner life that had the kind of people I knew, complexity, and strong and weird and queer and POC characters. I cut my creative teeth in fandom, writing a lot of terrible, half created fanfics to go with the poetry that I wrote in my teens. The Gayly Prophet is really an extension of this passion, of my belief in the importance of fun, deep, textual analysis with other people.

BGC: Who is your audience? What do you hope your audience gets out of your podcast?

When I envision our audience, I think of other angry BIPOC queer nerds like me who love a thing so deeply that we want to rip it apart. I think to love a work of art is to examine it from all sides, rediscovering that love but also questioning its limitations and highlighting its flaws. More personally, I hate talking about myself, a holdover of my not-great childhood and deep social anxiety. I’d much rather talk about and listen to people’s thoughts about books and TV and movies. I’ve never gotten tired talking about Harry Potter, as 50 episodes and dozens of hours of The Gayly Prophet can attest to. The gaps in canon are staggering, especially as it relates to marginalized people, and filling those in is something I’m never bored of. I want to have this dialog with our listeners, hear their thoughts and feelings and headcanons. It’s also a bit like group therapy. I talk a lot about childhood trauma and neurodiversity as it related to HP because there is so much built explicitly into the canon and discussing it helps me verbalize and process these things in my own life. At heart, I want our audience to not feel alone. I also want them to laugh because there can never be enough laughter.  

BGC: Who or what inspired you to do what you do? Who or what continues to inspire you?

I’m perpetually inspired by Black nerds, especially folks who are older Millennial/Gen X Black nerds. Being a Black nerd didn’t used to be cool and acceptable. I was a weird kid growing up, consuming sci-fi novels like water and videotaping the X-Files on my grandparents VCR. When I got to college, I was lucky enough to start digging into race and women’s studies, and I was particularly interested in how that relates and informs art and media. One of the biggest influences for me was “The Oppositional Gaze” by Black feminist theorist bell hooks, where she says:

Critical black female spectatorship emerges as a site of resistance only when individual black women actively resist the imposition of dominant ways of knowing and looking. While every black woman I talked to was aware of racism, that awareness did not automatically correspond with politicization, the development of an oppositional gaze. When it did, individual black women consciously named the process. Manthia Diawara's "resisting spectatorship" is a tenant that does not adequately describe the terrain of black female spectatorship. We do more than resist. We create alternative texts that are not solely reactions. As critical spectators, black women participate in a broad range of looking relations, contest, resist, revision, interrogate, and invent on multiple levels. 

I take this to mean that nothing I consume is merely passive escapism, nor do I accept the prevailing white supremacy of much of the media I consume. It’s a complex consumption for me, I love stories and pleasing aesthetics and music and well-written prose. But everything I consume I interrogate, I analyze, I think on the possibilities of what if someone like me was at the center of the narrative. This way of looking has parallels in fandom, in the embracing of Black Hermione, in shipping, in headcanons, in examining canon and discarding and adding at will. 

I also grew up listening to NPR and had this dream of having my own radio show where I just talked about books I loved. Podcasting is honestly a blessing in this regard because I bought a mic and invested in recording software and a website, and now I am living a dream that my sad teen nerd self could have only imagined.

BGC: How do you continue to be inspired especially in these specific times?

Joy and laughter and critical thought are, I think, the best way to survive these trying times. I spend a lot of my time thinking about injustice, racism, and our broken system, and it would be very easy to give in to the feeling of being crushed by a system that actively wants me dead. Thinking of silly Harry Potter puns or playlists for soft bi werewolves gives my endlessly running mind something fun to think on and makes the perpetual tightness in my chest ease a little, because, at the very least, my co-host Lark will laugh and then I will laugh and that’s something that I did, that I created. 

BGC: Why is it important as a Black person to create? 

Honestly, creating is what has gotten Black folks for generations through all the shit that America has wrung us through. There is a reason that anything good in American culture was either created by or made better in Black hands. Music, food, art, clothing, dance, acting, poetry, social change, sci-fi, even the best parts of Al Gore’s internet. And within this, there are countless Black women and Black queer folks who are nearly forgotten. Basically, everyone we know from the Harlem Renaissance was not straight. Disco and house music came from Black and Latino gay club scenes. Even ‘internet speak’ is from Black trans women and folks in the ball scene. It’s part of our culture to thrive in this world by creating something beautiful. 

BGC: Are there other creators that you admire?

My top faves are Black ladies in sci-fi. My number one fave is the late great Octavia Butler, I think everyone should read the Parable of the Sower and Parable of the Talents. Janelle Monáe is out here living a peak queer nonbinary Afro-future nerd life, and I am so happy that young queer nerds get to grow up having someone like them (Janelle has not yet said what pronouns to use). Someone needs to give her all the money to make Afro-future sci-fi films. And, to paraphrase Issa Rae, I’m rooting for everyone Black who’s creating podcasts and writing fanfic and making YouTube vids and TikTok, especially the younger folks. 

BGC: How do you balance creating with the rest of your life? 

I work a full-time job that often has me working extra hours, so I don’t do as much for the podcast as I would like. Lark has a bit more relaxed schedule and TBH the podcast would not be half as good without him. My girlfriend is also very supportive, which helps so, so much. I schedule everything I do in Google calendar to make time for recording and the extra bits of running a podcast and having downtime.

BGC: How do you balance creating when you feel drained or exhausted?

I have depression, anxiety, and ADHD, so I am nearly always drained or exhausted. This is where clear communication and a shared calendar comes in. I know that if I work late at work, I need the next evening to recover and make sure to schedule recording sessions or podcast meetings spaced out from my work schedule. We do a lot of longer recording sessions on the weekends or the times where I have time off. We also record a lot of Patron-exclusive content that doesn’t necessarily require a lot of prep work or mental bandwidth, so for weeks where I am particularly low energy, I can still create something. And, lastly, we deeply stagger the time when we record to when the episode goes up, so if I’m in bad mental space and cannot do anything, I can take that time and episodes will still go out.

BGC: Any advice for new creators?

I think it can be hard to start a project because a lot of what we see is the finished product after years of work. You gotta power through it if you want to learn. And often people love it anyway. Someone might draw some fan art and see all the flaws, I see it and am like ‘Yes, more Black Hermione fan art, I love it.’ It’s ok if you have to take things slowly. Some weeks I only have an hour a week to knit or write or read for the podcast, because of real-life things. A lot of people who create all the time have, like, hired help or the unpaid labor of a spouse, so that ‘we all have the same 24 hours as Beyoncé’ thing is shitty creative advice.   

BGC: Any future projects coming up?

We’ve got some exciting things planned for our ‘Make Harry Potter Even Gayer 2020’ campaign, in which we are amplifying queer HP fanworks and merch by queer creators. We are in the embryonic stages of planning some kind of live event for the campaign, too. Folks should follow us on social media to be kept in the loop on that stuff as it develops! We’re on Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter @thegaylyprophet.

[teamgoatsgoatsgoats]

Inside the World’s Greatest Scavenger Hunt, David Pogue - Yahoo Finance. A great piece on GISHWHES from 2016 - with some past Goats! clips!  

Video and text compiled and reposted here for preservation as some of the links have broken on a few of the pages.  The links to each part are here:

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

David Pogue, Tech Critic, published April-May 2017

“It’s a tampoodle,” she told me.

She made this, uh, artwork as an audition piece—to showcase her creative skills, as a tryout for an elite team in some kind of national scavenger hunt. (She made the team.)

I thought the tampoodle was cute. I thought it was great fun that Tia was joining some kind of scavenger hunt.

I had no idea what kind of ride was ahead.

Meet GISHWHES

When most people think of a scavenger hunt, they probably imagine the list of items includes, you know, “Get the dean’s signature” or “Find a dog with a curly tail.”

GISHWHES is not that.

It stands for the Greatest International Scavenger Hunt the World Has Ever Seen. (Its creator acknowledges GISHWHES may be the Ugliest Acronym the World Has Ever Seen.)

Teams of 15 have one week to complete about 200 extremely difficult or hilarious tasks. They prove they’ve completed each item by submitting a photo or video of it; their $20 entry fees go to a charity, and the winning team gets a trip to some exotic location with Misha Collins, the hunt’s founder.

Sample items from past GISHWHES lists:

• Do a dramatic reading of your grade-school report card.

• Find someone you love and butter them up—literally. Cover them in butter and then give them a big hug.

• Glaciers are melting—so act accordingly. Pose at a major glacier wearing a swimsuit with floaties.

• Have a tea party with a pediatric cancer patient, where you’re dressed as a character from “Alice in Wonderland.”

• Tour a sewage treatment plant dressed in formal attire with an accompanying violinist or flutist.

• Get a child to write a letter to the universe. Launch the letter into orbit.

• Film an erotically charged conversation between a housewife and pizza delivery man. The actors can ONLY talk about grammar and fonts.

What astonished me is what a big deal GISHWHES is. Last year, 55,000 people registered to participate—not including all the friends and family members who lent favors, assistance, and props. (Registration for this year’s hunt opens this week.)

GISHWHES holds seven Guinness World Records, including Biggest Media Scavenger Hunt, Largest Online Photo Album of Hugs, Longest Chain of Safety Pins, Most Pledges for a Charitable Campaign, and Largest Gathering of People in French Maid Outfits. (Why is there a Guinness record for Largest Gathering of People in French Maid Outfits!?)

But in the end, GISHWHES is an event that does good in the world. Over the years, GISHWHES list items have persuaded players to a) raise over $1 million for charity, b) donate hundreds of thousands of pints of blood, c) volunteer at soup kitchens, d) register thousands of citizens to vote, and e) register to become bone-marrow donors. (That last item has already saved two lives, according to GISHWHES producers.)

And the 2016 hunt raised $250,000 to buy homes for five Syrian refugee families.

So yes, GISHWHES is a do-gooder enterprise. But it’s also brilliantly clever, gut-bustingly funny, and positively unforgettable.

So my question is: Why haven’t people heard of GISHWHES? Why isn’t it a cultural thing?

Why isn’t it, at the very least, a reality show? It’d be the most entertaining show on TV.

Well, if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself. With the tolerance of my superiors at Yahoo, I decided to make my own darned reality show. Above on this page is Episode 1 of a five-part series.

GISHWHES was created, and is run to this day, by TV actor Misha Collins, a costar of the CW series “Supernatural.” (His heartthrob status helps explain why GISHWHES participants are predominantly female.)

“I went to the University of Chicago,” he told me. “The University of Chicago has a scavenger hunt that we call Scav, that has been running about 30 years now. It took place over the course of a long weekend. We would completely abandon our academics and our sense of decency for those three days, and go all-out for this scavenger hunt. And I loved it. I actually think that it was one of the most educational aspects of my college experience, and infused with the most joy.”

Years later, after a decade of struggling as an actor in Los Angeles, Collins finally landed a show. “I got on this TV show ‘Supernatural,’ and I developed a little bit of a fandom following, and I started to notice that there was a high level of creative engagement from our fans. That got my wheels turning. What can I do with this? How can I have fun with it?”

Collins’s first side project with his fans was a charity called Random Acts. “We’ve done some pretty big projects. We built an orphanage in Haiti; we’re finishing building a high school in Nicaragua right now. But we also do myriad smaller projects all over the world—as small as bringing roses into a senior citizen home.”

Then, in 2009, as a lark, Collins ran a little scavenger hunt from his Twitter account. About 300 people participated; they were instructed to photograph their submissions and send them to an email address that Collins set up.

“People engaged in it with an enthusiasm and a committedness that I could not’ve anticipated,” he says now. “I remember sitting in my apartment, looking at the submissions that had come in, and thinking, ‘This is amazing!’ The art people were creating, the tasks that I thought were impossible that people were pulling off—! I remember, ‘This is what I wanna do for my life’s work. This is awesome.’”

And so, in 2010, GISHWHES was born.

For the 2016 hunt, I embedded myself with my daughter’s GISHWHES team for the week. I filmed their efforts and followed their frustrations and joys. In the coming episodes, you’ll get to meet them—and you’ll get go to inside world’s biggest scavenger hunt.

Part 2: The hunt begins

At 7:30 am on a bright Saturday morning, five members of Team Raised from Perdition gather near San Francisco. (The team name quotes the first line of dialogue ever spoken by Misha Collins on the cult hit show “Supernatural,” now in its twelfth season. He’s GISHWHES’s creator and organizer.)

The other 12 members of the team join by video conference, via Google Hangouts, from their homes in Florida, Connecticut, Illinois, Hawaii, Tennessee, and Brazil.

Although this is the team’s third year in the hunt, most have never met in person. They’ve never been all in one place. That’s typical for teams in this hunt, which is very much a creation of the Internet.

Jason Sarten, an opera singer, reads off this year’s list, which includes items like:

Get dental work done while a string quartet plays live music in the room.

Enjoy some green eggs and ham (sunny-side up) on a boat with a goat.

Provide evidence of having helped at least 10 eligible United States citizens to register to vote.

Paint a portrait of a live model while both you and the model are scuba diving.

Get an Amazon senior executive to order a small item from you, in a timestamped email. Using a drone, deliver the item to the executive (who must be waiting outside the office building) in less than one hour.

Over 3,000 teams sign up to play GISHWHES each year, and there are nearly as many styles of running the hunt. On some teams, there’s nobody in charge. On others, there’s a captain who organizes but doesn’t actually perform any of the items. Flake-outs—people who say they’ll participate, but are no-shows when the hunt begins—are a common problem.

Team Raised from Perdition is run by a pair of co-captains, Nina Mostepan and Geoff McAnally, who also perform tasks. (In real life, Mostepan teaches at an Early Start program for the deaf and hard of hearing, and McAnally is an American sign language interpreter.)

The corn-husk gown

One reason Raised From Perdition starts off the week with a group pow-wow: To let the team members claim the items they’re good at.

For example, in Vancouver, Rob Fitz-James and Shiane Gailey live together and compete together. (He owns a tree stump-removal company; she’s a children’s entertainer.)

They have radically different skills. “We work well as a team because I’m outgoing and I’ll go and do stuff in person; she’s able to manage social media, uploading, and photo and video editing,” Rob says.

Shiane, fortunately for the team, is also wildly creative. After the hunt-launch meeting, she jumps on item 23: “Make this year’s must-have fashion statement: the Corn Husk Evening Wear!”

Rob persuades a local thrift shop to donate a Justin Bieber bedsheet. (“Thankfully, someone grew out of a horrible phase in their life,” he says.) Shiane duct-tapes corn husks to a hoop skirt—well, the front half, the part that would be visible in the photo. “Then we spray-painted it red and yellow to make flames, and then we went downtown,” she says. “I assembled that thing onto myself in a fancy part of time, and took the picture at the Convention Center. (We got permission, of course.)”

There were funny looks, she says, but she checked off item 23 as completed on the team’s master Google Sheets spreadsheet.

The space balloon

Meanwhile, in Connecticut, Tia is struggling with item 153: “Secure a legitimate contract with Space X, NASA, etc., to send a message into space, addressed to the universe and written by a child. You must submit evidence that your payload was successfully launched into orbit.”

It sounds impossible. Like NASA is going to carry a scavenger-hunt player’s note into space on short notice?

No wonder item 153 is worth more points (314) than anything else on the list.

Frantic, Tia Googles until she comes across a British company called SentIntoSpace.com. They sell near-space helium balloon kits to schools, hobbyists, marketers, and filmmakers, including everything they need to send small payloads into near space. Incredibly, the company responds to her email and agrees to donate a balloon to the cause.

The launch goes well; the landing, not so much. Upon its return from space, the balloon blows off course and becomes ensnared high in the treetops of a dense, mountainous forest.

Tia and her team of friends search until nightfall, following the signals of the satellite tracker in the payload box—but can’t find the thing. And without recovering the two GoPro cameras in its payload box, she won’t have the footage of space she needed.

And without that—no credit for item 153, and little chance of winning GISHWHES. Deeply discouraged, she returns home.

When things go wrong

Item 153 isn’t the only GISHWHES item that’s ever gone wrong. Almost every year, an item or two disappears from the list after the hunt is under way. That’s when GISHWHES mastermind Misha Collins realizes too late that he’s created a dangerous or foolhardy challenge.

“There have been people who have been arrested and court martialed and injured during the course of various GISHWHES over the years,” he says. “The second year, we had an item on the list that was, ‘Wrap yourself up in Christmas-tree lights. Plug them in and stand on the roof of a house.’

“And the very first day of the hunt, some of the submissions came in. And one of them was a photo of somebody standing on the peak of a three-story house, right at the edge, on the eave, completely entangled and ensnared in Christmas tree lights. And I immediately thought, ‘WHAT HAVE WE DONE?! There is no way that we can run this scavenger hunt and have somebody not perish from this item!’

“So I immediately sent out an e-mail saying, ‘Do not do the Christmas-tree lights on the roof item! Terrible idea.’

“And so that was sort of an ‘Aha!’ moment for me when I realized, ‘Oh, there are a lot of people who are doing whatever I say. I can’t just come up with whatever pops into my head and have them carry it out.”

The hunt is on

In 100 countries around the world, teams are sacrificing sleep, health, and me time as they scramble to knock off items on the list.

More or less simultaneously, they’re all discovering what Team Raised from Perdition has learned: that it’s very hard to get an item into orbit on short notice, that goats don’t much enjoy floating in boats, and that Amazon.com has no intention of permitting its executives to participate in item 161.

Join us for Part 3 of this series, which dives into the charitable side of GISHWHES—and documents the biggest water-balloon battle ever staged.

Well, in San Francisco.

In Dolores Park.

That we know of.

Part 3: GISHWHES for Good

Each August, as the world’s largest scavenger hunt is under way, the general public is usually unaware—except when teams perform their tasks in public places. Recent tasks have included:

Hug someone you love, motionless, in a very crowded location, for 20 minutes without moving—and time-lapse it.

Stand in a crowded public place. Ask people to sign a petition to Save The Endangered Unicorns.

Get everyone on a subway, bus, or train car to sing “Over the River and Through the Woods.” There must be at least 8 passengers (random commuters, not your friends).

But each year, the list also includes challenges to perform acts of kindness. For example:

Write and mail a thank-you letter to a teacher or mentor from your past that you never sufficiently thanked.

Have a tea party with a special-needs child or pediatric cancer patient, dressed as a character from “Alice in Wonderland.”

More than 10% of veterans returning from war suffer post-traumatic stress syndrome. Post an image of you next to an armed serviceman, with you holding up a sign with a message of gratitude to them and soldiers worldwide.

But for hunt creator Misha Collins (a star of the WB series “Supernatural”), neither GISHWHES nor acting were part of his life’s original master plan.

“[After college,] my objective was to go to law school and somehow try to make a positive impact on the world,” he says. “I thought probably the best way to do that was to go into politics. This was, you know, my 20-year-old brain.

“I was interning at the White House, but I just didn’t love the machine that I saw. I was very naive. I was exposed to this weird environment of, like, nepotism and yea-saying that I wasn’t inspired by.”

So he switched paths.

“I had this great get-rich-quick/make-an-impact scheme: ‘I’ll just go to Hollywood and I’ll become an actor and I’ll get famous enough that I can then leverage that celebrity into doing things.’”

Off he went to Los Angeles. “I thought, like, I’d be the next Leonardo DiCaprio in a couple of months. It took me 10 years to get on a TV show.

“And once I’d achieved a certain modicum of, you know, C-list celebrity, that desire to try to use my celebrity for some other purpose resurfaced.”

GISHWHES was born: a list littered with acts of kindness that tens of thousands of players attempt to fulfill every August.

Crowdsourcing for refugees

In the most recent hunt, item 175 is a perfect example:

“#175. According to the United Nations, 4.8 million people have fled Syria since the civil war began in 2011. Many of these families are living in tent cities with few resources and difficult lives. Let’s change the lives of one family that’s in particularly dire circumstances. The GISHWHES Item is to create a fundraising page for your team, where family, friends and others can donate.”

“We identified one particular family with a heartbreaking story. The mom had been shot in the spine tending to her garden. She was paralyzed, she’s been in a bed in this tent for two years. And we said, let’s just change this one family’s circumstances,” Collins says. “Let’s get them a house, and let’s get her medical care, and let’s pay for the kids’ school. And I woke up the next morning to see, oh my god!”

By week’s end, GISHWHES teams had raised close to $250,000.

“So we added another family, and another and another—by the end of the hunt, we materially changed the lives of four different families. We’ve been getting photos from these families, like them moving into their apartments that we just paid for. It’s just such a lovely thing to be a part of.”

The space balloon, continued

For Team Raised From Perdition, though, there are 174 other items to complete if they hope to win.

My daughter, Tia, also participated in GISHWHES. Several days have passed since she launched a weather balloon into space, bearing a child’s note to the universe. It came down into a nearly inaccessible Connecticut forest; she’s unable to retrieve it even after hours of searching. Item 175 is worth more points than anything else in the hunt; for her team, it will have to be marked “incomplete.”

But teammate Christine has no intention of giving up on the balloon’s precious footage. She tells Tia that she’ll just drive over to the forest to help look for it.

From Chicago.

Fifteen hours later, she, her husband Vince, and their children arrive, laden with gear. After hours of shaking, throwing things at, and yanking at trees, Christine’s 13-year-old son Josh climbs the tree. After an hour and a half, he dislodges the balloon. Item 175 is in the can!

The Haves and the Have-Nots

Not everything on the GISHWHES list is as exasperating as lost space balloons. Item 15, for example, sounds like fun:

#15. This is the final showdown between the Haves and the Have-nots. Show up at Dolores Park in San Francisco, dressed either as executives or in blue-collar apparel. At exactly 12:10 PM, the ultimate water balloon battle will ensue.

Nearly a thousand Gishers show up. They stand in two long lines, facing off across the park. They’ve taken the day off from work, driven for hours, even flown to San Francisco for this battle.

At the stroke of noon, GISHWHES volunteer Tone Rawlings raises her megaphone, ready to announce the open-fire.

But at that moment, a San Francisco park ranger runs onto the field.

Ranger: “Hold on! Hold on! You can’t do this! Not without a permit! Anytime you have X amount of people in a park, you have to have a permit.”

“This is like a 10-minute situation for charity,” Tone pleads. “It’s a flash-mob type situation.”

“Yeah, you guys can’t do it without a permit.” (A CBS News camera picked up the audio.)

The two armies can’t hear this, but they see that there’s a problem. It’s not the first time that GISHWHES stunts have tested the patience of society’s overseers.

Will they be deprived of their balloon battle because of paperwork?

Suddenly, a second park manager arrives.

Incredibly, he’s persuaded. “Here’s the thing,” he says. “You have enough people to get this cleaned up?”

“I will personally guarantee it,” Tone says.

“You should have a permit. But if you can make an announcement like that, and get everyone to agree, then OK.”

Tone lifts her megaphone.

“I know and you know that you guys are going to be responsible for these pieces of balloon when this fight is over! Is that right?”

The crowd roars in agreement.

“This can’t happen…unless you guys repeat after me: I solemnly pledge to pick up every last piece of balloony plastic thing on the ground! And I will throw it all away in the proper receptacles!”

The crowd roars.

“Haves and Have-Nots… Commence the water-balloon melee!”

The battle is on.

This time, at least, the forces of merry mayhem win the day.

Part 4: How to Win GISHWHES

In the early years of the world’s largest scavenger hunt, when you signed up to enter, you’d have to answer only one question: Have you put together your own team of 15 people? Or would you like us to add you to a team?

But sometimes, the team-building system failed—because people came in with different expectations.

Florida State University students Nat Jones and Kira Sullivan, for example, had a rough ride during their first years competing. “In our first years of the hunt, we were on teams that weren’t as competitive as the one we’re on now [Team Raised from Perdition],” Kira says.

“We were in it to win it, but no one else on our team was,” Nat adds. “They saw us as too competitive: ‘Why are you guys so obsessed with GISHWHES?’”

(Lots of people join just for the hilarity of it, without any intention of completing all 175 items. Some, for example, choose to execute only a few, but in spectacular fashion. GISHWHES offers two showcases for such masterpieces: an online Hall of Fame, and a hardbound coffee-table book that’s published after each year’s hunt.)

That’s why, nowadays, when you sign up to enter, the site asks which kind of team you’re interested in. Do you intend to play competitively, or are you joining just for fun?

Tips from the Pros

If you do intend to enter GISHWHES competitively, Team Raised from Perdition—a runner-up last year, and the team we’ve been following in this miniseries—offers some tips.

“Fill the team with a variety of backgrounds and experiences. Spend some time bonding before the hunt.” —Suzanne Simpson

“You can’t win if everyone’s not 100% committed. I’m talking, no work for the whole week, no school for the whole week, no anything but GISHWHES for the whole week.” —Nina Mostepan, Co-Captain

“Another really essential skill to have in GISHWHES is the ability to not sleep for long periods of time. This year, I went for three and a half days on less than four hours of sleep.” —Christine Gervais

“A lot of teams struggle with keeping communications going. We talk to our team all the time [using a system like Slack or Google Hangouts]. Even all year long, we talk to them. We do a lot of practices, too.” —Shiane Gaylie

“Strategize in advance. You can look at past years’ item lists, and items created by top teams, for inspiration.” —Suzanne Simpson

“A good strategy is to have more than one person in a town. You have to have someone modeling, and someone taking the pictures. And someone to bounce ideas off of, or talk in the car on the way to the place you’re going to.” —Nat Jones

“Recruit a friend or family. Gishing is very social, so it’s always more fun if you have someone to do it with.” —Kira Sullivan

“We have a spreadsheet [a Google Docs sheet] full of all our items, and we claim them on the spreadsheet, so that everyone on the team knows who’s doing what.” —Shiane Gaylie

“We make up a laminated list of the items. So when we’re talking to someone about helping us with one of the challenges, we start by handing them the list, show them which item we need help with. It has explanations of everything that’s going on. A lot of the time, they’re like, ‘Hold on, I need five minutes to read this.’ (Laminated versus not laminated makes a miraculous difference. You don’t want to hand someone a piece of paper that’s floppy and has stains on it.)”—Rob Fitz-James

“We’re fortunate that we have a good camera, but some of our team members just use their phones. If you pay attention to composition and lighting, the results can be just as good.” —Kira Sullivan

The week winds down

So far, for Team Raised from Perdition, it looks like those tips are paying off; as GISHWHES week draws to a close, only three of the 175 tasks seem unattainable. Unfortunately, one of them is worth a lot of points:

#127.  Do the “airplane” with an astronaut—you know, like your parents used to? Lie on your back with your feet in the air while an astronaut lies face-down, hips on your feet, hands in yours, pretending to be flying. This must be a real, official astronaut or cosmonaut, wearing appropriate flight garb.

NASA’s official response to team requests for an astronaut for this purpose is, of course, “Um, no thanks.”

(Overall, though, NASA has a good relationship with GISHWHES. “One year, we put an item in the hunt that was to get one of the eight astronauts on the space station Mir to hold up a piece of paper that said ‘GISHWHES’ and your team name written on it,” says hunt creator Misha Collins. “Which resulted in all of the people on the space station having their social-media feeds bombarded. And so NASA posted, ‘Please leave our astronauts alone. They’re doing serious work.’ So the next year, I put an item into the hunt that read, ‘Last year, NASA asked us to leave them alone. We know that they’ve been kicking themselves all year for this. So here’s your second chance. Get ‘GISHWHES’ written in space.” NASA ended up naming a mountain on Mars ‘GISHWHES,’ maybe just to shut everybody up.”)

Things are going more smoothly for item 41:

#41. Treat a Vermont dairy cow to the most pampered milking session in human/bovine history. At least three attendants must milk the cow. One person must be feeding her clover by hand, as another milks her wearing satin gloves, as another massages her gently. The attendants must be dressed in semi-formal attire. The milking must take place in a well-appointed living room.

By a stroke of good luck, Tia’s step-grandmother Janet Watton lives in Vermont—next door to a dairy farm. By a stroke of bad luck, the farmer informs the team that you can’t bring a cow indoors. Cows don’t respond well to new environments, and even Paula Deen, the sweet-natured cow he has in mind, might balk—or, worse, rampage.

Janet devises a plan B: In her small barn, there’s a space that she can dress up to look like a living room. She sheetrocks the walls with posterboard, hangs curtains and a chandelier, brings in furniture, books, flowers, paintings. It’s not an actual living room, but it’s close enough for GISHWHES work.

On the last day of the hunt, the attendants, including a violinist, arrive in formal wear; the farmer sets up to do the milking; and Paula Deen takes her place. Distracted by the bucket of delicious fresh-picked clover, she performs like a champ as the camera rolls. “She didn’t even relieve herself,” the farmer marvels.

The cow is in the can; now all the team needs is an astronaut.

They have six hours left.

Part 5: The Hunt is Over

It’s been an exhausting week for the 15 members of Team Raised from Perdition. In their fourth annual attempt to win the world’s largest scavenger hunt, they’ve taken the week off from work, palmed off children to relatives, and tested the limits of society’s tolerance for disruption.

They’ve also made personal sacrifices. “Sleep deprivation. Junk food all the time,” says co-captain Nina Mostepan. “Working out? I don’t know what that is right now.”

“We eat a lot of pickled eggs and chili in a jar while we’re driving,” adds Shiane Gaylie.

During the heat of the hunt week, “we get short with each other,” admits co-captain Geoff MacAnally. “Nina and I bicker about, like, how things should be running. And then we’re like, ‘I need to breathe.’”

As the deadline approaches—Saturday midnight—it’s clear the team won’t complete all 176 items on the GISHWHES list. (In the six-year history of the hunt, no team ever has.)

In the end, though, the team managed all but three tasks. They’ve pampered a cow in Vermont, played badminton in a food court, persuaded two old men to play chess in a movie theater, sold bottled air on the street, registered 10 people to vote, built a spa for a mouse, panned for gold in a public fountain, sculpted a life-size dictator out of maxipads, built a working rowing scull out of trash, wrote a phone app for dialing a rotary phone, and played a human piano.

The judging process

“Months pass between the end of the hunt and the actual winner’s announcement,” Christine says. “We spend that time obsessively combing over all the other teams’ entries and beating ourselves up for what we could have done better.”

In general, though, Raised from Perdition was feeing confident. “We figured there was pretty much no way we wouldn’t at least be a runner-up,” says Rob Fitz-James.

“Because we were runners-up the year before, and we did even better this year,” Shiane adds.

Rob agrees. “Better video quality, better photo quality. And submitting items before the deadline problem helped.”

According to hunt creator Misha Collins, the judging takes so long because, well, there’s a lot to go through.

“We take it very seriously. We have stages. We have lots of people that help judge in the first round, and then we narrow it down to the top 50 teams, and then down to the top 10 teams, and then down to the top three.”

Every year, some teams try to get by with “interpretive” items. “Sometimes, people will come up with a creative interpretation; they’ll do a cardboard cutout version of the real thing, or something like that. 19 times out of 20, they don’t get points for that, even if they put a fair amount of creative work into it. Our directive is very specific: you have to do the item as it is stipulated, and not some creative re-imagining to make it easier.”

Nowadays, his team actually employs Photoshop experts. “Because people cheat! One year, there was a team that would have won, but they’d Photoshopped a really big-ticket item. It was very convincing, and we were like, ‘Wow, they did it!’ But they didn’t. They had cheated, and we caught them.”

The GISHWHES judging process isn’t just long; it’s also opaque. Each item on the list carries a certain point value, but “there’s a high degree of subjectivity in the judging,” Collins says. “Like, we give bonus points.”

But the teams themselves will never know.

“GISHWHES never tells the competitors what their point total is,” Christine points out. “We don’t even get a cumulative point total, and we’re never told what the individual items are awarded. And it drives us crazy. Because it’s difficult to know how to improve from year to year if you don’t have a metric for what the judges are looking for.”

“That’s by design,” Collins says. “We don’t want people to get involved in petty arguments. So we don’t give them enough information to fight.”

The big moment

The contest wrapped up on August 6, but weeks—months—went by without any word as to when the winners would be announced.

“Sometimes GISHWHES can be a little disorganized, I find,” says Shiane. “They just kind of surprise you a lot. You don’t know when the winner will be announced, for example. You don’t know when anything will be announced, until it’s there.”

But then, one day in October, there it was: a tweet that Misha Collins would be making an announcement on Facebook Live.

Christine: “I’m sitting in my dark hole of a basement. We gathered over Google Hangouts and held our breath.”

Shiane: “He did the runners up first, and he did it alphabetically. As soon as he skipped R, which our team name starts with, we knew that we’d won. We were all freaking out before he even announced it.”

Geoff: “And then the moment: ‘And the winning teammmm is…’ That’s exactly how he does it.”

In fact, that is how Misha Collins said it. “And the GISHWHES 2016 winning teammmm… is… Raised from Perdition!”

Christine: “Everyone erupted.”

Kira Sullivan: “We were all freaking out. It was pure joy. I screamed. My roommates thought something really bad happened to me!”

Shiane: “I hit my head on the ceiling. I pushed Rob over a table. We yelled and screamed for, like, 20 minutes.”

Geoff: “I cried.”

Nina “Ugly crying! You can see it in the video. I’m like, ‘Waauuuugh!’”

Kira: “In that moment, we really felt like a team. We didn’t know each other beforehand, but we came together and we won.”

Suzanne Simpson: “It was the most surreal experience of my life.”

Geoff: “After three years of working hard, it was a euphoric feeling.”

The prize for winning GISHWHES is a trip to some exotic spot. This year, it’s Iceland. (For the 2017 hunt, which begins in August, the trip will be to Hawaii.)

Raised from Perdition arrived in Iceland today, in fact, to begin their five-day adventure, orchestrated by the GISHWHES staff and attended (at least for one day) by Misha Collins.

“Well, Misha’s pretty cool,” says Nat. “But the best part of the trip is meeting our teammates! We don’t know the people in San Fran, or South America, or Chicago, or Tennessee, or Connecticut, so we’ll get to meet them all! It’s all going to be great.”

Why GISHWHES

For many GISHWHES players, the greatest reward isn’t the trip.

“I’ve heard a lot of people say things like, ‘I was suffering from agoraphobia. I hadn’t left my house to do more than go to the grocery store in two years. My friend coerced me into participating in GISHWHES, and it somehow broke things through for me,” recounts Collins. “Or, ‘I did GISHWHES and I changed my major in school to art,’ or, ‘I did GISHWHES and I decided to go back to school because of it.

“I mean, I don’t want to be too grandiose about it,” he adds. “I don’t want to make it sound like it’s all about that touchy-feely stuff. It is just a scavenger hunt. But people do have some remarkable experiences.”

Of course, there’s something in it for Collins, too. He’s proud of his seven Guinness World Records. The million-plus dollars raised for charity. The five Syrian refugee families housed and fed. The lives saved from bone-marrow donations. The mountain on Mars that NASA named after GISHWHES.

And he’s especially proud of the 2011 hunt item that required launching a fully decorated Christmas tree into the air with helium balloons.

“There was something just magical about that image, of watching Christmas trees float away. It was one of those ephemeral, magical moments,” Collins says.

“But we didn’t really think it through all the way. Because what happens if untethered is, the Christmas tree just floats away! And there were some regional airports that were closed due to, ‘Christmas trees in the airspace!’ I love that item, even though people’s flights were delayed because of it.”

Over the years, GISHWHES has grown from an impromptu game that Collins ran on Twitter for 300 fans to a truly international competition with 55,000 participants. And in that time, he’s had to add lawyers, and insurance, and a staff, and a website. Is there a danger that GISHWHES might become so Real and Official and Regulated that it loses its sense of chaotic, spontaneous, hilarious fun?

“We want the tone of GISHWHES to remain irreverent and free spirited and kindhearted and challenging and humiliating,” he says. “But at the same time, we want it to grow to something that more people participate in. In my grandiose scheme, people all over the world dread the first week in August, because that’s when GISHWHES happens. That’s my ambition for our enterprise. And you know, we’ll see. If it keeps growing at this rate, by the year 2300, we might be a well-known outfit.”

Thank you for doing this piece, Mr Pogue!

[double-birds-blog]

Picking Up the Pieces

By Chase Woodruff

Here’s a needlessly elaborate version of a hypothetical first proposed to me by sometimes Double Birds contributor Adam Felder: On Sunday evening, just before the Cardinals open the regular season against the Cubs at Busch Stadium, an Omnipotent Time-Traveling Baseball Genie appears before you in a blinding seraphic vision. He offers you a deal: he will guarantee that the Cardinals win 100 games and the World Series this season, but they will do so at the cost of having traded away or released every single player in the organization over this past offseason. Tell the genie to snap his fingers, and the Cards will open play on Sunday night with an equivalently talented roster full of random major-leaguers—some you like, some you don’t, some you’ve never really thought about or even heard of—and will go on to be World Series champions. If you want, the genie will wipe your memory to maximize your enjoyment of their title run, and there will be no adverse effects on the organization’s long-term outlook.

If there were ever a time that Cardinals fans should want to take this deal, it’s now-ish. The Big Three who formed the competitive heart and cultural soul of the team for almost a decade are nearing the end of the line; one of them is already gone, and the other two will be before long, one way or the other. There’s some above-average young talent on the roster and plenty of promise in the farm system, but nothing that quite yet resembles a new core. The Cubs look to be in a dominant position in the NL Central for years to come, and few things would be sweeter than immediately answering their first world championship in 108 years with the Cardinals’ twelfth.

Still, there’s no way I take the deal. For me, the experience of watching the Cardinals and the thrill of seeing them win—whether it’s a World Series or a division title or a getaway-day game against the Brewers in mid-June—has too much to do with the connective tissue between the present and the past. I’d ultimately rather watch Alex Reyes and Carlos Martínez and Matt Carpenter and, yes, a mobility-scooter-riding Yadier Molina try to battle their way into contention in the next few years than watch a guaranteed world champion full of players I’ve got no history with. My love of the Cardinals depends on the sense—even if it’s really more of an illusion—that there’s a naturalistic order to who they are and how they came to be, that they’re not just an arbitrary collection of interchangeable run-production and -prevention machines.

This is not everyone’s perspective. It’s probably not most people’s perspective, these days. Free agency forever changed the way fans conceived of their relationship to the local nine, and much in the last few decades has reaffirmed that shift. The internet turned fantasy sports into a phenomenon and put everyone in charge of their own dream team. The sabermetrics revolution made heroes out of general managers and stats geeks and punctured many of the game’s old player-driven pieties. Games like The Show and Out of the Park allow us to simulate running our favorite clubs to astounding degrees of depth and realism. The democratization and fragmentation of media have brought fans into the conversation like never before; to follow a baseball team in the age of blogs and Twitter and text lines is to swim in a sea of nonstop amateur analysis and debate about how the team is run.

There’s nothing inherently wrong with any of this, of course. The reserve clause thoroughly deserves its place on the ash heap of history. Advanced stats have helped us better understand the game than ever before, and the digital counterculture that grew symbiotically with them, from Baseball Prospectus to FanGraphs to the SB Nation network and beyond, is home to some of the best baseball writing you’ll find anywhere. No small part of the fun of modern baseball fandom comes from thinking like a GM would: agonizing over lineups, wishcasting trades, debating extensions and call-ups and position changes and defensive shifts and future free agents. There’s a reason why I’ve spent an unhealthy percentage of my spare time in the last ten days on OOTP 18 saves and fantasy drafts.

But if you’re looking for signs that baseball fandom’s new analytics-driven, GM-centered normal is starting to bump up against its own limitations, and maybe twist into something more sinister, you can find them. Outflanked by smarter, nimbler outlets on the analysis front, traditional media have retreated into roles as access brokers, peddling scoops and laundering spin for front offices and skewing the conversation back towards the interests of management and ownership. Sabermetrics evangelists created a movement just popular and sacrosanct enough for Major League Baseball to co-opt, and the communal DIY ethos of its mid-aughts heyday has given way to the era of MLB Advanced Media’s opaque, proprietary Statcast™, doled out on MLB Network or by approved media outlets in doses just frequent enough that you don’t forget they’re Powered by Amazon Web Services™.

You could see the results in something like last month’s World Baseball Classic, which managed to achieve a degree of success despite the steady stream of cold water being poured on it by team executives fretting about injury risk and spring-training disruption and the pundits and columnists dutifully echoing their concerns. For many in and around the game, the obvious excitement and emotional stakes for players and fans of every country not named the United States—not to mention some great baseball—weren’t enough to make the tournament anything more than a novelty, if not a nuisance. One thing it was, of course, was an opportunity to roll out the newest Statcast™ metric, Catch Probability™, which will grade outfield catches on a scale from One Star Plays™ to Five Star Plays™. If you don’t think we’re headed for a world where Randal Grichuk can make a Papa John’s™ Four Topping Catch™ Measured by MasterCard™ Presents Statcast™ Powered by Amazon Web Services™, I’ve got a Papa Slam to sell you.

If modern baseball has become a cult of the front office, then Cardinals fandom is one of its most radical sects. That was evident even before this spring, when a substantial minority of Cards fans began talking themselves into being okay with needlessly showing Yadier Molina the door, but it’s certainly unmistakable now. Few fanbases in sports are more reliably willing than we are to trust the process, to accept that Mo Knows, to prove that we are the savvy dispassionate experts to every other team’s fickle emotional mob. There are different strains of this frame of mind out there—dull Cardinal Way moralism for some, I Fucking Love Sabermetrics triumphalism for others—but they’re united by an abiding faith in the system, in upper management, in the virtues of technocracy.

It wasn’t always this way, not even in the Moneyball-chic days of the mid-aughts. Walt Jocketty built some of the best Cardinals teams of any of our lifetimes by trading aggressively for the elite veteran talent other teams couldn’t afford; whether in spite of or because of the star power he assembled, he never had much of a profile of his own. Even after he’d become a casualty of the new era represented by Jeff Luhnow and the MV3 had shrunken to an MV1, the formidable twin presences of Albert Pujols and Tony La Russa remained most central to the Cardinals’ identity.

That all changed over the course of a single offseason, though, and both the Cardinals and their fans leaned hard into their new self-image as the team that actually definitely didn’t want Pujols back, anyway, thanks. It helped immensely, of course, that the club was finally starting to reap what had been sown by Luhnow—who, ironically enough, had left at the end of 2011 with the other two—and results were very good. They hired a room-temperature bowl of oatmeal as field manager and it didn’t seem to matter much. The legend of the 2009 Draft Class grew. Michael Wacha, compensatory draft pick for the loss of Pujols, embodiment of the Cardinals’ drafting and development wizardry, pitched us to the World Series and we all said, See?

As recently as a year ago, many of us still wanted to believe that that particular golden age hadn’t ended yet, that the Cardinals were still the team of the Wacha who’d outdueled Clayton Kershaw twice and not the Wacha who’d been trotted out by the bowl of oatmeal to give the season away a year later. The Cubs looked to have surged ahead over the course of an offseason or two in part by doing what the Cardinals wouldn’t, hiring a competent (if profoundly obnoxious) manager and spending aggressively on top-tier free agents to augment their cost-controlled young talent. But plenty in St. Louis still managed to convince themselves to trust the system. “TIME TO SHINE,” proclaimed the Post-Dispatch on Opening Day 2016, after one of the most disappointing offseasons in living memory. “Grichuk and Piscotty are the centerpiece of the Cards’ plan to ramp up offense and stay on top with homegrown talent.”

It’s one of the great fallacies of our time, in baseball and elsewhere, that a well-intentioned managerial class can serve a set of interests distinct from those of ownership and capital. The Cardinals have been enormously successful in persuading fans that their emphasis on “homegrown talent” and “internal options” and aversion to spending big on the free-agent market had everything to do with sound front-office strategy and nothing to do with the club’s league-high profit margins. It’s not at all dissimilar to corporate elites’ success in convincing an entire generation of young people that temp jobs without benefits and plummeting homeownership rates are just part of The Flexibility That Millennials Want. So maybe it’s not a surprise, then, not entirely coincidence, that in the space of a week, 2016 taught us two indelible lessons about the terrible shit that can happen when we place too much faith in technocratic managerialism. The system won’t save you, because that’s not what the system was designed to do.

And now we move forward; it’s Todd Ricketts’ world, we’re just living in it. Dexter Fowler arrived to remind us of all the ways in which a player can be valuable that don’t show up on FanGraphs or a front-office spreadsheet—and to spell it out quite explicitly in case anyone missed it—but the truth is that not much could have changed in the Cardinals’ offseason, and not much did. We may or may not have to wait until 2018 for a test of whether Bill DeWitt is willing to adapt to the new reality, but Fowler wasn’t it, and Edwin Encarnación probably wasn’t, either.

If the Cardinals somehow manage to put together a run in 2017, it will be an especially gratifying season, because it will mean that some combination of the many things we want to be true actually are: that Aledmys Díaz is for real; that Carlos Martínez is a true ace; that Fowler can produce like he did last year; that Lance Lynn is Lance Lynn again; that Stephen Piscotty can be not just good but great; that Waino is not finished; that Yadi is going to live forever. If it all breaks right, though, for once the credit shouldn’t go to the system, or the process, or the Way. The fun won’t be because this was all part of the plan, but precisely because it wasn’t.

[nettvnow-blog]

RJ Lackie & Stéphane Lachance | Dorian Gray

RJ Lackie and Stéphane Lachance, two of the forces behind Dorian Gray spoke with netTVnow on their current Phase One journey of IPF. Lachance and Lackie are no strangers to web series. The duo teamed up for Cycle 66's first series, The Soliloquies of Santiago and are currently in the works on Dorian. In addition to Cycle 66's works, Lackie can add writer/creator to KindaTV's Canadian Screen Award-nominated web series, Inhuman Condition, Streamy-nominated series All For One (co-created with Sarah Shelson), with other works seen in Couple-ish, V Morgan is Dead, IRL: The Series and upcoming sci-fi feature film Darken. Check out what else Lacki and Lachance have been up to below the jump and be sure to give their trailer a watch!

netTVnow: Let’s talk Dorian Gray, where did the concept for this series come from?    

RJ Lackie: Dorian Gray is actually a kind of modernized sequel to Oscar Wilde’s famous The Picture of Dorian Gray, one of the most prominent pieces of ‘queer but not explicitly queer’ literature out there. This was actually one of the things that drew me to it. Queer characters in literature - and projects that explicitly or subtextually queer classic characters - fascinate me. It’s a reminder that LGBTQIA folk have always existed, even if our stories weren’t always safe to tell.

In 2014, it was in vogue to develop vlog-style Literary-Inspired Web series (LIW) concepts to see if another could be a similar flashpoint for the genre. Like many of my favourite projects, Dorian Gray started out of a pragmatic question: If I were to pursue an LIW, which public domain works spoke to me? I was particularly interested in finding queer male protagonists to explore, as one of my longstanding pet peeves in web series has been the dearth of queer men in shows not focused around identity or romance, an issue that was even more pronounced a few years ago. I was also interested in seeing whether an LIW could succeed with a queer male lead, particularly a queer man of colour, given the genre’s up-to-then preference for focusing on white, straight protagonists. This is how I first developed the concepts for The Soliloquies of Santiago, Cycle 66’s queer LIW modernisation of Othello, and the seed that would turn into Dorian Gray.

Stéphane Lachance: In 2015, I approached RJ about producing a web series, as I was interested in making one as part of the final project for my Master’s degree. We brought this idea to Adam Tepperman and Gavin Phillips, with whom we’d founded Cycle 66 to pursue a graphic novel project, and with their blessing Santiago became Cycle 66’s first web series project.

RJ: Around the time we were producing The Soliloquies of Santiago, my friend Steph Ouaknine helped launch Carmilla, and we got to see that show turn into a veritable hit. It demonstrated that there was the potential for a web series audience hungry for queer protagonists engaged in supernatural shenanigans. The audience who grew up on Buffy the Vampire Slayer, just like me, who wanted to see creators take what that show started and make it more diverse, more progressive, and more, well, gay. Around the same time we saw fandom build on canon by exploring the untapped potential of subtextual queer m/m pairings in shows like Supernatural and Teen Wolf. We realised that Dorian Gray, which we had already begun early development on, might be able to do for queer male audiences (like myself) what that show offered queer women: an exciting, badass show with a canon gay couple at its centre.

SL: So after we completed Santiago, realizing the limitations of self-funding, we decided to pitch Dorian to the Cogeco Fund’s all-new Development Program for Digital Drama Series. They offer funding to develop scripts, a series bible, a proof-of-concept video and other materials. They accepted us and thus, we were able to make our trailer.

NTN: And in short, how would you describe the series to those who haven’t seen your trailer?

RJ: Dorian Gray is a visually- and tonally-ambitious queer supernatural drama, full of action and sexuality. At its core, it is the story of two broken souls who find themselves entangled with one another: Heath, an artist who saw a hint of another world and was shattered by that glimpse of the unnatural sublime; and Dorian, an immortal hedonist who, in seeing how empty his search for greater and greater pleasure became, has turned into a bitter recluse hunting for the secret that will allow him to die. The two become bound together when Heath’s search to reconnect with the supernatural stirs up the attentions of Johanna Vane, Dorian’s most dangerous enemy… and as they work to fight a common foe, they realise their new bond runs deeper than either ever expected. 

It is, in short, Buffy with a touch of the Gothic influences of Penny Dreadful, made for a generation who’s ready for the very queerness Wilde was forced to keep subtextual in the original novel.

NTN: What are your roles for the series?

SL: I’ll be producing the series alongside Adam and Gavin.

RJ: I’ll be acting as showrunner, helping my Cycle 66 partners oversee a talented group of cast, crew, and writers. Our key creative team also includes All For One director Shannon Litt, who directed our trailer and will return for the series, and Carmilla’s Ellen Simpson as story editor and writer. 

NTN: I know you guys went through the IPF cycle last year and I’m so glad to see that Cycle 66 is doing it again, have you done anything differently this time around, if so what?

SL: The big change, production-wise, is that we’ve partnered with REVRY, an LGBTQ-focused streaming service, to produce the series. Over the last year, and during the last IPF cycle, we were looking for a distribution partner for Dorian Gray. REVRY approached us in August after having seen the trailer and we started working with them, first by making The Soliloquies of Santiago available on their service. They’re such a great match for the project and we feel that their involvement will definitely help us make Dorian Gray a reality. 

RJ: We’ve also taken the opportunity to revamp our creative in subtle but hugely important ways. By embracing the rich heart of darkness from Wilde’s original novel, and the themes of morality, sexuality, and aestheticism from the world Wilde built, we found that the show’s creative really started to shine. Part of this was in how we thought about format: originally, we saw the show as a vlog/traditional hybrid optimised for a long-tail 20+-episode YouTube run. By dropping the vlog elements and focusing on shorter seasons where we could spend the money making the show as visually and thematically rich as possible, it shifted the tone away from an earnest hero’s journey and allowed us to find the poetry and dark humour we’d always wanted to explore. This led to some adjustments in how we approached the character of Heath, who - rather than the innocent-yet-heroic protagonist you find in many conventional tales - is now a more lost, complex POV character who connects with Dorian on a much deeper level. And we’ve found that REVRY is an amazing partner in allowing the show to own its mature elements, rather than shying away from them.

NTN: Since we're on the subject of Cycle 66 and REVRY, what is REVRY and what can folks expect with that partnership?

SL: REVRY is a paid streaming service based out of LA that offers LGBTQ content, which has recently launched their first original series Gayborhood. The series would be a REVRY Original, which means that digitally, it would be available exclusively through their service. In terms of partnership, they will guide Cycle 66 through the development of the series and offer us significant support with the crowdfunding campaign we will be launching if the IPF selects us for funding. They’ll also be promoting the series and the campaign. They’ve been invaluable in guiding us up until now and I don’t expect that to change.

NTN: Can you talk about the importance of having an organization like IPF?

SL: They are unquestionably important to webseries creators and, by extension, Canada’s media industry. During my Master’s, I did some research into web series monetization and funding and got the chance to ask questions to web series producers and creators. While many of them have been finding great ways to monetize their series, the notion of being full-on profitable is still elusive. And that’s a shame because the webseries space offers the chance for new voices to crop up and for new creatives to hone their skills. 

RJ: The fact that the Fund is willing to take chances like it does means that Canada is developing a passionate core of experienced web series talent, from writers to cast to crew, who know the field and are discovering what works and what doesn’t. I hear from people all the time, how strong the web series coming out of Canada are, and I think the IPF - and its sister fund the Cogeco Fund - are a big part of that. If not for the Cogeco Fund, we would not have had the resources to produce our trailer for Dorian Gray, which has been a game-changer for us as a company in terms of visibility and industry respect.

NTN: Can you talk about the IPF submission process and what that’s been like?

RJ: The IPF process has been a trial by fire for our young company. It’s really tested our skills, especially going to Phase Two last year and demonstrating our abilities as producers: budgeting, audience engagement strategies, building producible creative. It’s a massive - and massively valuable - undertaking, which is why I appreciate that the IPF has asked first-time applicants to include a mentor in submissions as of this year. It really is a reminder that you can’t just love your project: you need to be able to make others believe in it, and that requires a whole lot of numbers and figures. It’s really cool to be returning to the IPF process with more experience and, in the form of REVRY, more support from a platform that is as excited about the project as we are.

NTN: Back to the series, what creative differences will you be taking with this series that differ from the original literary adaptation?

RJ: The main two changes from our approach last year both come down to prioritizing quality over quantity: reducing our episode count to maximise our budget-per-minute, and dropping the vlog-style elements from the show. While we adore the LIW genre and think it works fantastically for some stories, for us, stepping away from vlogging as a stylistic choice unexpectedly opened up a ton of creative opportunities that kind of took us by surprise. Tonally, it allowed us to commit to a darker, stranger vision for the show - and a more complex, less earnest vision of Heath at its centre. Once we reworked Heath as a lost, damaged soul with real stakes involved in his search for Dorian and the ‘other world’, the rest of the show - including the show’s supporting cast, tone, and sense of humour - snapped into place like it was meant to be from day one.

NTN: What are you most excited for audiences to see from the series?

RJ: There are so many things, honestly. This is the series I’ve craved for years: supernatural, fun, dark, with characters standing on the very edge of another world they don’t completely understand. Huge, powerful emotions. An examination of what it means to connect with that part of the world that is so beautiful that it can destroy you, which ties so interestingly into a lot of Wilde’s thoughts on aestheticism and the value of beauty. And a queer romance at the centre of it! Between two strong-willed, interesting men whose bond is genuinely powerful. I know why fans read Destiel and Sterek fanfiction because I do too - we crave a gay romance that has that much chemistry and potency at the centre of a show like this, not just subtext. Just generally, I want to show that you can make a show with queer men at its heart that is fun, badass, and moving without forcing queer audiences to only see themselves at the sidelines. It’s something I’ve always wanted to see on TV, I’m so excited to be able to bring this to life.

SL: Just as a producer, I can’t wait for folks to see what we can do with more resources. We’ve already worked with great casts and crews on Santiago and the Dorian Gray trailer. We’ll be upping our game for this series, and that is exciting in and of itself.

RJ: Also: fight sequences! Our villain Vane, who is terrifying and fascinating and strangely sympathetic - and so, so fun to write. Our ensemble cast of supporting players, who I think will be a ton of fun to see build a rapport. While we loved producing Santiago - like Stéphane says - it is such a great opportunity to try new, bigger things. Things not shot entirely in my apartment.

NTN: Where do you hope the web series community will be in the next 5 years?

SL: In terms of making web series, I hope there are more opportunities and avenues for them to become profitable. More distributors, more buyers and more sponsors. If more creators can make money making these series, and even better, make a living doing it, there’s going to be more great shows for everyone to enjoy.

RJ: This might be a pipe dream - particularly for only five years down the line - but I’d love to reach the point where making a web series is primarily a creative choice rather than a choice coming down to resources. While I think that, as long as the form exists it offers a chance for emerging teams to show what they can do on a microbudget, I’m also really looking forward to the day when a creator or producer will be able to look at TV and web series as equally valid forms and select the one that’s creatively best for the project. Once upon a time, TV was seen as an inherently lesser art form, and I think that’s where web series are right now. If we can crack the profitability question, with all the inventive and interesting creators developing in the space, maybe reaching that point in five years is more possible than any of us realize.

NTN: Any upcoming projects that you guys can share? Or anything else to add?

RJ: Obviously, as a super-indie company, we don’t have a massive development budget for new projects, and our primary focus right now is getting Dorian Gray made. But we’re also constantly developing new concepts - for digital and beyond. We’re really excited about the opportunities for low-budget creative innovation in the podcasting space, which is one area we’re actively developing projects in. In terms of digital series, we’re exploring funding options for two really cool projects: an action-oriented queer supernatural drama with a focus on immersive worldbuilding called Dead City Blues, and an interactive sci-fi series focused on questions of AI and personhood called Beautiful Max. 

SL: As for Dorian Gray specifically, we’re hard at work preparing for Phase Two, ahead of the IPF’s shortlist. We want to get ahead of everything so that we’re able to receive funding from the IPF. They typically contribute most but not all of a series’ funding, so we’re going to need fans of supernatural and queer series to get the word out to the world, so we can make sure this series gets made - and gets made right. If selected, we’ll be launching a crowdfunding campaign to secure the last portion of our budget.

RJ: And, if you guys get really excited and help us go above and beyond our ask, well, we’re still writing the scripts, but let’s just say we’ll make every single dollar count. We want to make a show so awesome it redefines what people think webseries can be: sexy, fun, dark, and honestly, better than TV. If we get the chance.

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