#like did they really need to devote a whole scene to burying a dead body

[chirpsythismorning]

I just remembered they devoted a whole scene to Mike and Will burying a dead body for no reason other than to poke fun at—

[leonardhoee]

Ikevamp Guys as Villains

Warnings: Mass Murder, Gore...

Tagging: @aurora-morning @delicateikemenmemes @writer-akihiko @nafeary

Napoleon

Napoleon would be a royal dictator. He is the leader of a corrupt, authoritarian regime, hellbent on conquering the world. Think Hela (Thor: Ragnarok or The Darkling (Shadow and Bone). He controls people with his massive armies, and believes he is the only rightful ruler in this world. He believes that the world should be remade in his image so it can be restored to its former glory. He craves power and he will stop at nothing to get it. His armies are tools that swore their lives and souls to his cause. He feels no remorse in sacrificing them for his greater good. The only thing that would satisfy him now, is seeing the world crushed under the heel of his boot.

Leonardo

Leo as a villain would be like Iron Man gone bad. He does what he does simply out of curiosity he wants to see if it would even work. Cyberterrorism is just a tool for him. He would make modifications to his own body so that his eyes can see x-Ray, night vision, and other people’s biological information, and his brain is directly connected to the internet. He would create an entire army of robots like Ultron (Marvel) or Terminators. He hacks into government servers and international television broadcasts. He takes over entire governments simply by sitting in his lab controlling his army from a tablet. He can destroy anything connected to the internet with a flick of his finger. He wouldn’t even have to get up out of his chair. His plans would be so well thought out that no one would realize what happened until they’ve already lost.

Dazai

Dazai would be unhinged and reckless. He’d completely detach himself from human emotions and commit as many insane heinous crimes as possible till he does something bad enough that he would get killed for it. He creates an alternate persona for himself like the Joker or Hisoka (HxH), and at that point he has buried his emotions so well that he fails to differentiate between his persona and his true self. He may not actively acknowledge it but his true goal is to just go out in a blaze. It doesn’t matter how many lives it costs to do so.

Jean

Jean would be walking a fine line between villain and antihero. His main motivation is wiping out the people he considers evil, to make the world a “better place”. However, he would take it to a point of mass murder. There would be major battles breaking out between the people that support him and the people that believe what he is doing is evil. He believes he is bringing divine justice upon those who deserve it and thinks this is the way to atone for his past sins. Sound familiar? Jean would be Kira (Death Note). He is also similar to The Hood (Arrow). He has no mercy and he will not hesitate to kill.

Comte

Comte is rich enough to buy world leaders. He is the puppet master behind every single nation of the world. No one suspects him, however he slowly takes over countries one by one. He would also run some kind of underground mafia operation that’s involved in pretty much every kind of trade there is. He gets his money from so many sources that even if one is cut off, he is still rich enough to maintain his control over politicians and famous businessmen. Comte is the leader of the secret societies that the world’s richest people are involved in. The world answers to him and you would never even know. (Similar to Kingpin (Marvel) and the Court of Owls (DC)

Sebastian

Sebastian was adopted by Comte after ran away from his family. When he was young, hs saw firsthand how cruel the world can really be. He wholeheartedly believes the world is better off being run by Comte, and has pledged complete loyalty to him. He is Comte’s right hand man and he runs most of their underground mafia operations. He is incredibly versatile and does whatever Comte needs from him. Acting as a proxy? Assasinating a world leader? Leading a heist? Sebastian can do it all. His ideals have been so skewed growing up with Comte, that he sees himself as an extension of Comte’s power. Nothing more. He is a loyal weapon to be used by his boss.

Vincent

Vincent would release his emotions and would be unable to handle it mentally. He would be a serial killer who escaped from an asylum after losing his mind. He would kidnap his victims and slowly bleed them out as he paints with their blood. His specialty is carving designs into his victims after they have bled out and died. He leaves a sunflower at every crime scene and each new murder is just his latest artistic masterpiece left for the world to see. One way or another his art will be remembered, and it will cause the whole world to feel as much as he does.

Theo

Theo is driven by rage. Rage towards the world, towards the way he and Vincent were treated. His strength and anger would translate into him having an incredibly powerful monstrous form. His only goal is destruction. He wants to tear apart the society that allows people to get hurt like he did. He would be similar to Venom (Marvel), Abomination (Marvel), or Eren (Attack on Titan). Blinded by rage, he looses sight of his original goal and devoted himself to destroying everything he sees. It doesn’t matter who gets killed, they’re just collateral damage.

Isaac

Isaac can be two different types of villains all in one. On one hand, he’s a mad scientist who happened to discover a chemical combination that can be weaponized. However his insatiable bloodlust drives him to weaponize his discovery for himself. He wants people to know fear like he does (think Scarecrow (Batman). I can see him laying with Leonardo and helping upgrade his robot army with that chemical. On the other hand, when he lets himself give in to that bloodlust, he won’t stop unless he is stopped by someone else (like ripper Stefan from Vampire Diaries). He rips apart his victims like a wild animal. His crime scenes are covered in blood with dismembered body parts.

Mozart

Mozart would be an assassin for hire. He’s like a ghost. There have been stories about him but no one truly knows who he is. He works in the shadows and kills efficiently and without hesitation. One of his specialties is creating various sound waves that can kill his target. For those type of kills he doesn’t even need to leave his base, he can simply hack their device and cause it to play that frequency. Comte has hired him before to carry out certain kills he couldn’t do himself because of his position. Mozart is extremely devoted to his job will kill anyone who gets in the way of him and his target.

Arthur

Arthur would be a mix between Moriarty and Kilgrave (Jessica Jones). He would have some kind of mind controlling ability that allows him to create loyal puppets for his elaborate schemes. He loves playing games with the people suspecting him and he leads them in circles with their investigations. Sometimes he will even offer to personally help investigate cases he is responsible for, just to lead them into dead ends and plant fake clues. Every crime of his is a masterpiece with countless layers going into it. He does not see the people involved as humans. They’re just his pawns in his game of chess. Arthur just wants to see how far he can go before he finds a worthy opponent that can solve his cases.

Shakespeare

Shakespeare would be a theatrical serial killer who later escalates to mass murder. He would start out by abducting people he believes to “fit the role” he has planned for them. He would then kill them, replicating famous death scenes from plays and movies he admired (or his own plays). Each crime scene would be perfectly set up with lighting, makeup, and costuming. This would escalate later on to him and his troupe taking massive groups of people hostage, forcing them to read lines and act out various gruesome plays. When someone dies in the play, the actors have to murder each other. If they refuse, Shakespeare murders them both out of rage and brings in new people to replace them. He will not stop until he creates his perfect play.

[elizabeth-mitchells]

Andromaquynh’s Story - songs

(an incomplete list of my personal favorite songs/lyrics that make me think of the immortal wives. they come with sort of very specific context for each one.)

One night, one death. Hundreds of nights, thousands of dreams. Neither of them knows, at the beginning, what the dreams mean. Soon enough though, the dreams turn into hope, into a firm belief in each other’s existence. The dreams turn into love before they even look at each other’s eyes. The dreams are everything, and the best part is that they offer the possibility of something more. aka a hundred years of yearning:

When you sleep - mary lambert

I could make you happy / I could make you love me / I could disappear completely / I could be your love song / I could be long gone / I could be a ghost in your eardrum / When you sleep, will it be with me?

I swore I saw you in a dream / All dressed in white and wide smile

How did I miss you, when I didn't know you? / How did I miss you, when I didn't know you? / How did I miss you, when I didn't know you?

Quynh had giving up. She had given up entirely and she was determined not to walk out of that desert alive. Then... Andromache. The dreams were real, the dreams were standing right in front of her in the shape of the most strikingly beautiful warrior. Suddenly nothing else mattered but their future together. Their future was sweet, like Andy’s favorite pastries that Quynh adoringly watched her enjoy. The future was endless. Because as long as they had each other to come back to, death wasn’t strong enough to take them:

Work song - hozier

And I was burning up a fever / I didn't care much how long I lived / But I swear, I thought I dreamed her / She never asked me once about the wrong I did

There's nothin' sweeter than my baby / I'd never want once from the cherry tree / 'Cause my baby's sweet as can be / She give me toothaches just from kissin' me

When, my, time comes around / Lay me gently in the cold dark earth / No grave can hold my body down / I'll crawl home to her

Then there’s Andy. Thousands of years of solitude turn to nothing the second that Quynh’s eyes meet hers. For the first time Andy allows herself to feel hope, to love and be loved without the fear of loss. In Quynh’s smile she finds purpose, joy, and everything she could ever need for eternity:

The last of the real ones - fall out boy

I was just an only child of the universe / And then I found you, and then I found you / You are the sun and I am just the planets / Spinning around you

I will shield you from the waves if they find you / I will protect you, I will protect you

I'm here, at the beginning of the end / Oh, the end of infinity with you

I'm done with having dreams, the thing that I believe / You drain the fear from me

Fear the future - st. vincent

When the Earth split in two / I was I, you were you / I run for you, run for me, too / When the wall rose and fell / And the oceans all swell / I run for you, run for me, too

Cosmonauts - fiona apple

When I met you, I was fine with my nothing / I grew with you and now I've changed / What I've become is something I can't be without your loving / Be good to me, it isn't a game

Now let me see, it's you and me, forgive, good God / How do you suppose that we'll survive?

When you resist me, hon', I cease to exist / Because I only like the way I look when looking through your eyes

There was a time when she was worshipped as a God. And, afterward, there was no way Andy believed in the gods that humans make up every now and then. That is, until the first day she gets to hold Quynh in her arms. The eyes that can render her helpless and down to her knees. The smile that makes her feel alive yet the only thing that could kill her. The skin that’s soft, that’s on fire, that’s the only truly holy place where Andy has found herself lost in. aka homoerotic religious imagery for the immortal wives:

Take me to church - hozier

She tells me "Worship in the bedroom" / The only Heaven I'll be sent to / Is when I'm alone with you

If I'm a pagan of the good times / My lover's the sunlight / To keep the goddess on my side / She demands a sacrifice / Drain the whole sea

Holy - zolita

Worship your body as you walk my way / You're the only one who can make me pray / I fall at your feet, your breath's divine / And underneath my skin's an intrinsic shrine

I'll give my soul, sacrifice me / Cause your love is holy

I'd rather drown in your ocean / Than wither on the shore / Undying devotion, feel you in my core / Veneration, this faith's got me high / Nothing without you, live for you till I die

Church - fall out boy

Time capsule for the future / Trust me, that's what I will be / Oh, the things that you do in the / Name of what you love / You are doomed but just enough

If you were church, I'd get on my knees / Confess my love, I'd know where to be / My sanctuary, you're holy to me

The witches trials. Is there anything more to say? They go in feeling invincible. Partially for their immortality, mostly because they are together. They face death while holding hands and with smiles on their faces as they’ve always had. How could they have predicted what came next?:

Which witch - florence and the machine

And it's my own heart / While tried and tested, it's mine / And it's my own heart / Trying to reach it out / And it's my own heart / Burned but not buried this time / I'm on trial, waiting 'til the beat comes out / I'm on trial, waiting 'til the beat comes out

The bottom of the ocean is cold, it is dark, the pressure is unbearable and the pain unending. If Quynh has any time to think, before dying again, it might spent blaming Andy, missing Andy, hating Andy, loving Andy, with just enough time to curse the ocean around her. aka Quynh making the most of the water/drowning theme:

What the water gave me - florence and the machine

Time it took us / To where the water was / That’s what the water gave me / And time goes quicker / Between the two of us / But oh, my love, don’t forsake me / Take what the water gave me

Hold my breath until I die - tegan and sara

Late at night, when your words are eating me alive / Does it make you sad to leave me here like that? / In my dreams, the blood runs from my eyes / If I fall, will you catch me in your arms?

If I hold my breath until I die, I’ll be alright

Pool - paramore

I’m underwater / No air in my lungs / My eyes are open / I’m done giving up / You are the wave / I could never tame / If I survive / I’ll dive back in

Dying over and over again, Quynh comes out of the ocean with a certain... clarity. Hubris, she says is their sin. They’ve never claimed to be angels, but they’ve refused to be devils, which she says they are. She may or may not believe that their real purpose is to make humans suffer. If Andromache won’t listen, she’ll have to show her what it all means. aka Quynh coming out of the ocean to shame mankind, or just Andy:

Just one yesterday - fall out boy ft. foxes

I know I’m bad news / I saved it all for you

If I spilled my guts / The world would never look at you the same way / And now I’m here to give you all of my love / So I can watch your face as I take it all away.

Five hundred years ago, Andy lost the love of her life. But she meant it when she said she lost a soldier. She was a leader, she should have been the one to face Quynh’s fate. The least she could have done was find her soon, and she failed there too. Now, if Quynh has come back full of rage, furious and thirsty for revenge, Andy is willing to accept it with open arms. She believes she deserves it:

I don’t smoke - mitski

Being with you / makes the flame burn good

So if you need to be mean / be mean to me. / I can take it and put it inside of me. / If you’re hands need to break / more than trinkets in your room / you can lean on my arm / as you break my heart.

Quynh, having escaped her underwater prison, is completely overcome with conflicting emotions. She finds Andy broken, guilty, still wearing her necklace and crying for her. But wasn’t she the one that broke their promise, stopped looking for her, gave up? Quynh, dealing with an unmeasurable and overwhelming mixture of hurt, heartbreak, love, rage, love... love and all the pain that comes with it, and how it all might lead them to a final fight with each other from which both of them can’t come out alive:

My tears ricochet - taylor swift

Even on my worst day, did I deserve, babe / All the hell you gave me? / 'Cause I loved you, I swear I loved you / 'Til my dying day

I didn't have it in myself to go with grace / And you're the hero flying around, saving face / And if I'm dead to you, why are you at the wake / Cursing my name, wishing I stayed / Look at how my tears ricochet

You know I didn't want to have to haunt you / But what a ghostly scene / You wear the same jewels that I gave you / As you bury me

And you can aim for my heart, go for blood / But you would still miss me in your bones

You had to kill me, but it killed you just the same

You turned into your worst fears / And you're tossing out blame, drunk on this pain / Crossing out the good years

Then, of course, there’s Andy’s side of the story. Andy, did she ever really give up? Didn’t she pray to all the gods she’s outlived? Didn’t she protect that necklace more than her own life, even now that she’s mortal? She’d be ready to offer Quynh anything, everything she wanted for a little forgiveness, for a small moment just to love each other. In the end, will it all depend on the strength of their eternal love for each other?:

Old wounds - pvris

They say don't open old wounds / But you're still brand new

I've got nothing left to lose besides you / I've already lost you once, what more could you do?

I think I could love you 'til the day that you die / If you let me love you when the timing is right / And if they said I had to, I swear I'd wait my whole life / I think I could love you 'til the day that you die

[stonecoldjerseyfox]

Jersey on my mind (part 16)

“You’re safe.”

Mila looks up from the half empty, half full bottle of Stolichnaya and is met by Rick, standing in the door of the bedroom. He’s all sweaty and stained with blood, but seemingly unharmed. Maybe a bit bruised but-

“Erhm... yeah.” Mila says, looking at him in disbelief. “You're back.” 

“I am.” Rick replies and sighs.

“Alone?”

“Michonne’s back too.”

Rick walks up to the bed, where Mila has barricaded herself since she left the battle scene outside. 

Her ‘maybe planned’ torture of the Wolf (it was because of him Mila had barely been able to dress herself for several days) was interrupted by Morgan, who dragged him away to the makeshift prison cell. He then forbade Mila to go near him, to which Mila gave Morgan a haywire smile, saying it wasn’t something she could promise. Then she returned to the house... well, after she had stopped to vomit into a beautiful rose bush around the corner. On shaking legs she ran up the stairs to the bedroom, where she found Juri, hiding underneath the covers in the bed with his walkman. At the sight of her, he burst into a sunny smile and wrapped his arms around Milas neck; squeezed all the anger, all the crazy, out of her. Mila held him close, pressed his little body against her chest and inhaled the scent of his soft hair, whispering to him what a good boy he was, how brave he was when he threw the bottle out the window.

“You are my brave, brave Solnishko.” 

Mila caressed him across his small face with the fingertips. Juri imitated, pulled his soft little fingers over her face, then buried them in her hair, pulled her close and gave her a kiss on the nose. She fell down next to Juri on the bed, just laid there, looking at him. Half an hour later, Juri was asleep and Mila had opened a bottle of vodka. 

Rick sits down on the bedside. He looks tired.  

“What happened?” she asks monotonously. “What went wrong?”

“They got out of the quarry.” Rick meets her gaze. “All of ‘em.” he sighs. “How’s the-” he nods towards her stomach.

Mila lifts the half empty bottle, to answer his question. Her goal is to drink herself to apathy, to the point where she won’t feel anything at all, neither her aching abdomen or emotions. It’s been too long since her last booze-bonanza. Half a bottle doesn’t affect her that much, a whole bottle is manageable but does the trick. Two bottles are quite a lot, definitely causes her to sway and spontaneously dance.  

She reaches Rick the bottle. It looks like he needs it. He takes it, removes the lid and takes a mouthful of the clear liquid and coughs, before giving it back to her.

“I talked to Morgan. And Carol. They said you did a hell of a job.”

“What did Morgan say?” Mila scoffs. 

“That you’re crazy.”

“Could’ve been worse.” Mila raises her eyebrows and takes a mouthful of vodka. “On the other hand, Gandhi’s right though. I am crazy.” 

“Seems like crazy saved a lot of lives.”

“Crazy’s not allowed to come out that often.” Once again Mila meets Rick's gaze. “You didn’t answer my question. Where are the others?”

“Michonne’s back too, and Heath and Scott.” 

“That’s not all of you.”

“We lost some.” Rick says, knows what she is referring to, or whom. “He’s with Abraham and Sasha.” he continues. “He’ll be alright.” Rick takes her hand, squeezes it. “Thanks.”

Mila looks at her hand.

“For what?”

“You held the stands here. Made sure people were safe. Protected them.” Rick lets go of her hand and takes the vodka bottle, takes a new sip. “I’m scared too. But I need you now. There’s about a hundred walkers on the other side of that wall.” he points towards the window. “Daryl’s not here. Glenn’s gone. People died. Morale’s low and the walls are weak. I need you to help me fix this. To keep this place safe.”

“I just-” Mila says. ”I just need to-” she pauses. “I don’t know what I need. Besides getting batshit drunk.” 

She takes back the bottle from Rick and drinks. When in doubt, she needs more vodka. That should be a Russian proverb, if anything, she thinks. What she really needs, or wants, besides alcohol, she can’t have in this life.  

That's when she sees the ring on Rick's ring finger. A wedding band. Huh, she hasn’t noticed it before.

“You’re married?”  

Rick looks down on his bloodstained, bruised hand.

“Was. Or-” Rick pauses, strokes the wedding band. “She died.”

Mila pulls out her necklace from inside her shirt and holds out for him to see. Next to the small, dainty gold heart she got from her mother at her twelfth birthday, a narrow gold ring with three small stones, dangles on the gold chain. 

“He died- turned, a few months ago.” Mila looks at the three diamonds, next to each other. On the inside, it says ‘Can’t start a fire without a spark’. It must’ve been hard for Jim, the devoted country music fan, to pick a Bruce Springsteen engraving instead of some cheesy country love song. “I killed him.”

”Juri’s father?”

”I don’t even know who that is. That’s another, fucked up story.” Mila looks down and takes a bountiful sip of vodka. Yeah, that really is a story for another time, advantageously if every person attending at that moment is heavily drunk. ”We had it all figured out. Jim was going to adopt Juri, we were going to get married. We were attacked in Louisville, Kentucky, on our way to his parents in Oklahoma. He didn’t tell me he was bitten. Two days later he turned. At a motel in Missouri.” she takes another sip. ”I hid Juri in a closet. I thought I was going to die. Jim was big, tall, all muscles. But I killed him. Buried him. Left him in a shallow grave behind the motel.” Mila looks at Rick. “You asked me if I’d killed anyone, do you remember? Alive or dead. I killed Jim. Whatever he was, dead or alive or something in between, I killed him. I did that. And now I have to live with that for the rest of my life. Morgan’s wrong. All life isn’t precious. That bastard down in that cell, he ain’t precious. But Jim’s was. And he’s dead.” 

“That’s called surviving.” 

“No, that’s called unfair.” Mila looks at Juri, lying next to her on his back with the headphones on. She pats him gently on the foot. “He’s the reason why I went out there today, partially. Or, more like, the reason I went out there, and came back. I came back to him.”

Rick takes her hand again. 

“You’re brave. And you care about people. You showed it today if anything.” Rick declares. “You saved people, protected them. Carl and Judith included. You’re part of this group. Both of you. People need other people to stay sane, to stay alive.” 

Something runs down her cheek. A tear. Oh for christ sake. Half a bottle of vodka doesn’t stop tears, she needs at least a whole bottle for that. To become completely numb, emotionally. Rick puts his arm around her shoulder and pulls her closer. It’s a friendly hug, it reminds Mila of her foster brothers, Adam and Peter Galka. A brotherly, kind embrace. They sit like that for a while, next to each other, sharing the vodka.

“He asked about you.” Rick says after a moment's silence. “Daryl. In his own way. Wanted me to make sure you were safe.” 

“I’m feeling brilliant.” Mila exclaims confidently. That might also be because of the vodka, but she doesn’t tell. Truthfully, she’s exhausted. “Brilliant...”

“Yeah.” Rick nods. “Can’t say the same about the guy in the cell. What did you do to him?”

[memaha19]

Okay, I have a lot of (mostly positive) thoughts about Frozen II and I need to get them out...

Spoilers abound, obviously. This post is giant so it’s all below the cut.

I hope this makes any sort of sense, it took me like four hours to write and I’m afraid it’s just all my rambling thoughts.

Hi. Okay. I’ve seen Frozen II twice now (with plans to go see it again) but I have a lot of thoughts about it and the story and the characters and everything that have been warring inside my brain for the last three days and I just need to express them.

Tiny backstory, for those who weren’t following me six years ago: the first Frozen was/is everything to me. It was a phenomenon to the world, but also a personal phenomenon for me. And even when everyone got sick to death of hearing Let It Go, I’ve never given up on my love for it. I have pretty bad anxiety. Some days are hard. So to see a character like me in a Disney movie was amazing. To see Elsa struggle with herself and her fear and her anxiety was eye-opening and I immediately fell in love with her character and what she represented. I’m not Disney’s “target audience”. I was 21 when the first movie came out (the same age as Elsa, so I felt like I could relate even more) and I’m 27 now. But I was in love with Frozen all the same.

So. Frozen II.

There are a lot of things I love about it. I debated before writing this about whether I should start with  with my favorites, things I didn’t like, or just a general review? I guess I’ll start by saying: all of the things I disliked about it weren’t really even things I disliked, just things that I think could’ve been served better by a movie that had more time to devote to these things.

The Big Problem

This movie could’ve done with being about 20-25 minutes longer. That is my biggest complaint that ties into all my other complaints. I wanted more from some of the plots and the themes. Frozen II wanted to do way more than the time it really had to do all of these things. It wanted to deal with their parents past, Arendelle’s past, the sisters relationship post-Frozen, the romantic subplot between Anna and Kristoff, Elsa’s quest to follow the voice and find herself, the Northuldra, the mythology behind the Enchanted Forest, and a bunch of other tiny little things. It did not have the runtime for all of this and so while some of it was done incredibly well (i.e. Elsa and the whole “Show Yourself” sequence), some things felt introduced and then almost immediately abandoned. Other things felt like they were introduced and explored a teeny tiny bit and then given to us later as the reason why a character makes a choice to do something.

My biggest issue relates to our beloved, beautiful snow queen, Elsa, and her story. The catalyst for the film is Elsa’s desire and need to be something more, to do something else with her life. It’s this desire of hers that leads her to “Into the Unknown”, which ends with her waking up the spirits of the Enchanted Forest, endangering Arendelle and kicking off the journey that makes up the body of the film.

My issue with this isn’t that I don’t believe that Elsa could be having these “I don’t belong here, need to go somewhere else” thoughts. It’s been three years since the first movie took place, three years of her being queen and maybe deciding that, although she has the love of her sister and a family supporting her, there’s still somewhere that needs her more, that she needs more. My issue, again related to needing the movie to be a little longer, is that Frozen II forgets “show, not tell” a couple times. We’re told every day’s a little harder as I feel my power grow in “Into the Unknown”, without ever being shown this. A scene of Elsa wrestling with a new, undiscovered part of her powers would go a long way in fleshing out this plot point, giving her some reason to be concerned and some real impetus for her to want to follow the siren call and find out more about herself and her powers. Later, she sings or are you someone out there who’s a little bit like me, who knows deep down I’m not where I’m meant to be? A beautiful, beautiful theme in these movies is allowing yourself to follow what makes you different, don’t bury it or push it away, because it’ll show you who you really are and what you’re meant to be, but the beginning of the movie fails to show us any scenes of Elsa really struggling with being in Arendelle before it has her sing about how she’s struggling with being in Arendelle.

As it is, we’re given this (beautiful) song about Elsa wanting to go into the unknown when, only a few minutes prior, she’s seen perfectly content in Arendelle, even expressing in “Some Things Never Change”: I’m not sure I want things to change at all. These days are precious, can’t let them slip away. She flip flops back and forth from perfectly content with her family to suddenly needing to be somewhere else while the beginning of “Into the Unknown” seems to suggest that the last thing she wants to do is try anything out of the norm, telling the voice I’m afraid of what I’m risking if I follow you.

The risk is there, given that we’re all familiar with the first movie and we’re familiar with Elsa’s character, familiar with the fact that she and Anna mean the world to each other and that family is the most important thing. The impetus for why she would take the risk of leaving her family is missing, and it could’ve really been fixed and/or smoothed over with a scene or two in the beginning (maybe instead of just jumping right into “Some Things Never Change”) that shows how Elsa is experiencing new powers and/or doubts about being queen. It makes 100% sense to me that Elsa would want to know about her powers, given that they’re such a big part of her life (for better or worse) and that no one else around her has them, but there could’ve been a better way to make this theme of “I want to know who I am” the main jumping off point for the plot.

This post here, which really inspired me to do my post, brings up a good point about some of the songs that were cut from the film. “I Seek the Truth”, a song for Elsa and Anna, in particular makes me think that the road map was there for them to be a little clearer about the plot and that, like many things, it was chopped up and cut for time. In the song, Elsa sings to their mother about how she feels lost, scared, and uneasy, but that she also feels like she needs to find the truth and learn more about her powers.

How do I be me and Arendelle? How do I govern this land with a power inside that I can’t command? It’s growing and speaking a language that I don’t understand.

Here is the set up for the conflict that pushes the rest of the story forward. Here is a song that they probably should’ve kept in. (Don’t get me wrong, I love “Into the Unknown”, but it’s always felt like “Let It Go”/awards season bait.)

If you’re going to make something the catalyst for the whole film, make sure you have enough evidence to back it up.

(Again, I do not doubt that Elsa could be feeling confined and out of place in Arendelle after being queen for three years, that’s not what I have issues with. I just wish we could’ve seen evidence to back these feelings up, rather than just letting us rely on our previous knowledge of Elsa and her character to be like “oh, okay”.)

What I Wanted More Of

There’s a lot I loved about this movie (maybe this post so far doesn’t seem that way, but I do) but also it left me with this incredible feeling of “want”. I wanted more out of a lot of the moments and the story lines. Like I discussed above, my biggest, overarching issue is that they wanted to do too much in the limited time that they had and that left some things desperately in need of being fleshed out more.

I wanted more of Iduna’s backstory. There seemed like there was way more of her and Agnarr in the early trailers, so this is something I’m just     assuming was cut for time, because the art book devotes a whole page to little Iduna, who we barely even see. I actually just want a whole little     side story about how she snuck back to Arendelle with Agnarr and how their relationship began and grew. A little exploration of how little Iduna felt with, presumably, her whole family either dead or stuck in the forest     would’ve been great too.

Wanted more of why Elsa was feeling like she needed to leave Arendelle (already discussed above)

Related, wanted more of the Northuldra, who are introduced and then almost immediately left behind, only to reappear at the end and tell Elsa that she belongs there. And then she agrees to this?! Even though she’s spent next to no time with them?! I’m 100% okay with Elsa being the fifth spirit and finding herself (more on “Show Yourself” later) but more about the Northuldra and Iduna’s connection to them would make me less skeptical about the decisions made in the ending (more on THAT later too). I definitely though that Yelena was going to end up being their grandmother, or something similar that would’ve given the girls an even more special connection to them.

I wanted a moment where Elsa and Anna actually discuss Elsa abdicating the throne and Anna becoming queen. Instead it’s just like a thing that     happens in between two other scenes. I want to see tears and “I     promise I’ll visit all the time” and Anna accepting that Elsa has found a     place where she’s at peace and Elsa telling Anna that she’ll be a great     queen. More on this later.

I wanted Anna and Elsa’s reunion to be a little more dynamic, like Elsa     jumping off Nokk and running to Anna and Anna splashing through the water to get to her and then them just sinking down in the water and crying. Something like that. I know, probably even now, that Elsa isn’t the most touchy person (just watch her body language in the charades scene) and that holding her arms out for Anna is her “thing”, but Anna thought     Elsa was dead, so I think the reunion could’ve been a little MORE.

I actually kind of want the alternate ending that’s been floating around, the one where the water destroys Arendelle and then everyone works together to rebuild it. I know this is a Disney movie, but it just seemed a little too neat that Elsa was able to get there in time. I don’t really want the rumored ending where Elsa dies, because that seems unnecessary, but...

Things That Don’t Bother Me

AKA, things that I’ve seen others have issues with that that just don’t bother me.

I’ve seen a weird amount of complaints about how many songs there are, which makes me go ???, because there are actually less than the first film and I, personally, would’ve liked a couple more songs.

Some people think “Lost in the Woods” is out of place but I’m just happy Jonathan Groff got a whole song.

Elsa not being at Anna’s coronation: That’s not Anna’s coronation at the end of the film. She already been crowned (another scene I wish we could’ve had). So Elsa was most definitely at her coronation, I’m sure.

Elsa being too ethereal and unrelatable at the end: it’s true, I love Elsa and look up to her because I see my mental health struggles in her, but seeing her happy and free and smiling at the end of the film doesn’t make me love her any less. She’s not some all-powerful being. “Show Yourself” isn’t about her becoming an otherworldly spirit goddess, it’s about her seeing herself for who she really is. Sure, she has a new pretty dress and a new pretty horse. But she’s still Elsa. She’s just an Elsa that knows where she belongs and who she is and she’s happy. And I feel like that’s definitely something everyone with mental illness hopes for someday. I do admit struggling with myself about this point, though, because I still would like to see her try to balance her newfound confidence with her mental illness.

Anna being too clingy and annoying: Anna working through her co-dependence is a big part of her journey in the film. Keep in mind, this girl had a childhood shaped by abandonment: her sister shutting her out of her life and then her parents dying unexpectedly while her sister still shut her out when they should’ve been grieving together. She then turns to the first guy who proposes to her (Hans) only to have him try to kill her and  Elsa and just turn out to be a terrible human being, So it makes absolute  sense that Anna, despite having a relatively stable, happy life with     Kristoff and Elsa, still has some of these residual fears. She spent 13     years begging her sister to speak to her. It makes sense now that her     greatest fear is losing her again. So I don’t find her worry and the way     she clings to Elsa to be annoying or out of character. She’s still working     through some trauma, just like Elsa, and that’s part of why “The Next     Right Thing” is so powerful. It’s her picking herself back up and growing     and telling herself she can do this.

There isn’t an actual villain: a movie without a villain and without conflict would be a bad idea. There would be no stakes. Luckily, the “villain” in Frozen II comes from the internal conflict both girls have. The “bad guy” they have to defeat is their own internal obstacles. I much prefer watching them grow and change in this very real way instead of watching them defeat some cardboard cutout villain standing in the corner and laughing maniacally.

I’m  actually okay with Anna and Elsa not being together at the end of the film (that’s not my issue with the ending) but only because we all know she can gallop on her magical horse from Ahtohallan to Arendelle in less time than it took the water to break from the dam and rush towards Arendelle, so she can come home whenever. And that is really the only thing that gives me piece about them not being together. That and the very peaceful, free look on Elsa’s face right at the very end.

The Ending

I know there’s been a lot of discussion about the ending. And I have my own feelings about it too.

Like I said above, it’s not the separation, really, that frustrates me, because I can appease myself by telling myself that they still see each other all the time. Of course I would’ve preferred them not to separate at all.

I understand the whole justification of “sisters don’t live together their entire life, they’re growing up and growing apart” thing that’s been going around, but it just doesn’t feel like it fits for these two particular characters. That, and the fact that Disney seems like they’ve fallen into this “separation” trope. This film, Toy Story 4, and Ralph Breaks the Internet have all ended in very similar ways.

I am a little frustrated that they decide that the best place for socially awkward, insecure Elsa is the forest, alone, with a bunch of people (the Northuldra) who weren’t fleshed out enough to give her any sort of reason to want to live with them. Meanwhile, free-spirit Anna becomes the queen. Anna goes through a lot of growth in this movie so it’s not actually her new role that I’m skeptical of. It’s putting Elsa, given her background, where she ends up. And maybe if the movie had taken time (again, it all comes back to more time) to give us more of the Northuldra and give Elsa more of a relationship with them, I could be like “okay, she belongs there”. But does she? The forest is saved and the spirits are at rest and tamed. What does she do all day then? I honestly want to know.

Just because she is magic doesn’t really provide enough justification, for me, for her to have to live there with them. It’s not like she faces fear and prejudice in Arendelle for her magical abilities. The beginning of the film and the shorts seem to suggest that the people love her magic. So, I would’ve preferred an ending in which she could still tame the spirits and get her magical makeover and then go home with Anna, returning to the forest whenever she pleased and whenever she needed, but continuing to, if not be the queen, at least be there to advise Anna.

The good part is this gives me a lot of good ideas for future fanfics.

Things I Loved

This whole post up until now is probably making you wonder if I really loved any of the movie. The truth is, I loved a whole lot of it, but since Frozen is so important to me, I feel especially critical of it. I have to get nitpick-y, especially when I think they could’ve done even more.  

However, I loved:

the animation. That really goes without saying. The film, the colors, every moment was just beautiful. I’m always in awe of the advancement of     animation.

the humor. It could’ve gone one of two ways with so much Olaf humor. It went the “this movie is funny as hell” route and I am so glad. I’m still randomly saying “Samantha?!” to myself.

the more mature songs. I’ve seen people say they didn’t like the music as well and that none of the songs are catchy. I love that they’re a little more mature and a little less “Disney bops”. I cry every time I     hear “Show Yourself”, “All is Found” is hauntingly beautiful, and “Lost in the Woods” is a really poignant song, if you look past the reindeer chorus.

I love that they didn’t go out of their way to make this movie appeal to everyone. Yes, it has flaws. Oh yes. But it’s dark and it’s mature and     it’s a little weird. Not every little kid is going to like it, but they didn’t try and dumb it down to appeal to every little kid out there.

The growth for the girls. I already touched on Anna’s growth re: her     co-dependence, but Elsa has a lot of growth too, obviously. Seeing GIF     sets of her in the first movie and her in the second, I just want to cry,     honestly. Seeing her be confident and sure of herself and happy with who she is and even just the way she and Anna are able to casually cuddle and hold hands when she was terrified to touch her AT ALL in the first movie. I’m overwhelmed. Strong characters can sometimes help out a chaotic plot (or a plot with too much going on) and if there’s anything Frozen specializes in, it’s the strong, beautiful characters we know and love.

“SHOW YOURSELF”. This fucking scene. I can’t listen to the song or watch the scene without SOBBING. Many things about it kill me. I’ve never felt so certain, all my life I’ve been torn. But I’m here for a reason,     could it be the reason I was born? and the way she steps into the middle of the elements and it shows her snowflake and the way she says “Mother?” with tears in her eyes and the little “hand over the mouth” movement she does because she’s so happy and the DRESS CHANGE and when she starts crying and You are the one you’ve been looking for-all of my life! and I am found! Geez. Just thinking about it makes me cry.

One of the main things I wanted from Frozen II was a story in which Elsa wasn’t made to feel bad about herself (in Frozen, she hurt Anna and blamed everything on her and her powers; in FF, she blamed herself for getting sick and messing up Anna’s birthday; in Olaf’s Frozen Adventure, she blamed herself for ruining their Christmas tradition, etc.) and it     delivered. I love seeing her smiling and embracing her powers. I’m okay     that Anna didn’t give her a dressing down at the end like “how dare you put us in an ice canoe and push us away.” It’s nice to see Elsa gets     some wins.

Elsa talking to the memory of her grandfather, saying “That’s not what     magic does, that’s just your fear.” Coming from someone who used to be so afraid of her magic that she locked herself away for 13 years, this is     just an awesome, confident moment for Elsa.

“The Next Right Thing” and the absolute pain in Anna’s voice as she says when it's clear that everything will never be the same again. An awesome performance from Kristen Bell.

“I don’t want to stop you from being whoever you need to be, I just don’t     want you to die trying to be everything to everyone all the time.” Yikes,     this line has hit me both times like a gut punch. Perfectionism and     anxiety go hand in hand and, oftentimes, people with anxiety feel like     they need to go out of their way and run themselves into the ground trying to please everyone to appease their own anxious feelings. I speak from     experience.

The parallel between the scene in the first movie where Elsa tells Anna she belongs in Arendelle, Anna says “so do you” and Elsa replies “No, I belong here where I can be who I am without hurting anybody” vs. her decision to live somewhere other than Arendelle in the second movie that doesn’t come as a result of her trying not to hurt people but as a result of her being free and knowing, finally, who she is and allowing herself to be this person. It’s beautiful. It’s beautiful growth for our anxious little queen.

The themes are mature and gorgeous. Growing older (it hit hard when Olaf said “and you all look a little bit older”); acknowledging that things in your life will change and that you have to embrace the change sometimes, because change leads to growth; knowing that it’s okay to be angry at     people, even people you love, and that your feelings are valid; embracing what makes you different, because those differences are beautiful and will let you be who you are; the power of finding where you’re meant to   be/knowing what you’re meant to do; taking things one step at a time even when taking any steps at all seem impossible; acknowledging the past without allowing yourself to dwell on it and be consumed by it. Gorgeous. I’ve said many times that Frozen II tried to do a little too much, but all these themes are just beautiful.

Anyway. This is so long and I’m so sorry. I’ll probably be back with more thoughts after I see it a third and fourth time!

I really do love this movie. If I seem super critical, it’s all from a place of love. I love this franchise. I love these beautiful films. I love the amazing characters they’ve brought into my life. I’ve wrestled the last couple days with how much I truly love Frozen II vs. how much I wish they had had the time to explore all the ideas they obviously wanted to explore (I hope we get some shorts or an extended edition) because it’s obvious that all these ideas were there and ready to be fully explored.

Anyway, if you read this giant essay, thank you. It became like 3x longer that I was planning on, but I could talk about Frozen for HOURS.

[ophelias-dive]

this is my first fic so take it easy on me ok? It’s 5 am and I started writing at about midnight so it’s a quickie, I just needed to get the bellarke hype out of my system so I could focus on work and real world responsibilities. 

Here goes nothing, hope you enjoy

The last 4 min of Matryoshka from Clarke’s perspective, plus the passionate moment I need but will probably never get from J. Roth.

Canon Divergence: Everything is exactly the same except Bellamy broke up with Echo after that fight scene in 6x04

______________________________________________________

CLARKE

Josephine was staring at her, almost grinning. It was infuriating.

“I’m sorry”  the echoing voice said from above, 

“but her brain can no longer support two minds”

Clarke felt a shiver run down her spine from that statement. This time she’s really dying - throat split open inside her own mind - after all that fighting, after she almost made it.

“What are you talking about? Do something! They’re both still in there!”

  Octavia’s voice echoed a little softer, like it was closer. Clarke felt relieved that she could at least hear a familiar voice before the end. Octavia was still trying, she clearly cared, and it gave Clarke comfort, like a soft embrace to lull her into the unknown.

 “Latent neural activity continues for a short time after death, but once the head stops telling the heart to beat, it’s over, ok?”  Gabriel’s voice once again confirmed that there was no hope anymore, that Clarke should let go…

“The heart and the head… The heart and the head!” 

It was only a whisper, but instantly she recognized Bellamy’s voice, quoting her own words from years ago back to her. Even dead and buried deep down in her own mindspace, his voice still made her shiver a little bit, and the memory of the day they had that conversation still stung…

Clarke suddenly felt this thumping course through her. A pulse, she realized, her own heartbeat - it was back - because of him. Bellamy was doing that somehow. It dawned on her: It’s CPR. He’s trying to keep her heart beating to give her time, so she can regain control of her mind. She couldn’t believe it, that he was still fighting for her, even now.

“Bell…”  All the hope Octavia’s voice had before was gone, and now she just sounded sad.

“No. I’m not losing her again! Come on Clarke! Come on!”

 His voice was shaky but full of resolve, and it almost sounded like he was crying… And then Clarke felt the unmistakable feeling of having a deep breath being forced into her lungs, Bellamy’s lips distant, but warm. She could almost feel it, could almost feel her whole body again, like it was getting closer, like she might be able to reach it.

“Clarke! Clarke, I need you! Maddi needs you! Now WAKE UP!” 

Did he really say that? Or is she just hearing what she wants to hear, imagining all this devotion? She wants to fight back. She wishes with her whole heart she could find her way back to him, back to Maddi. 

“Bellamy, she’s gone”  Octavia’s quiet tone, almost whispering, couldn’t hide the grief behind her words She had given up. What if O was right? What if Bellamy can’t do it? What if, after all this effort, and both of them fighting so hard together, what if she couldn’t make it?

“NO. SHE’S. NOT! WAKE UP CLARKE, COME ON!”  

He really was crying. That alone almost brought tears to her own eyes, but she didn’t have the strength. But then an even stronger pulse happened, one that shook all of her, and brought her almost all the way back to the surface - She could feel her body lightly, the room was warm and Bellamy’s compressions were much more intense..

“I’m not letting you go. You’re a fighter, NOW GET UP AND FIGHT!” 

Another major pulse, and now she felt her body like she was fully there. The spot where Bellamy was striking felt sore - any other time the pain would have bothered her, but right now it was the best feeling in the world - he struck down again. It gave her the last bit of strength to fight her way back to him, and in one swift move, she grabbed the axe, brought it up behind her head and then down again, right into Josephine’s skull. Instead of feeling the impact against meat, bone and brain, like she expected, the axe slid right through Josephine as she shattered into pieces that fell to the ground, and suddenly everything went dark. 

.

.

.

For a split second, Clarke didn’t know where to go, what to do, until she felt Bellamy once again force a deep breath into her lungs. Instinctively, she reached forward, not wanting to lose contact with his warmth, his lips, and then her eyes were open, and she was back. 

It felt like the first intake of air someone takes after almost drowning, and she pulled it all in with a loud sharp inhale, but it came in all wrong, causing her to gag and cough. 

Bellamy’s hand cupped the back of her head as the other one cupped her face, softly grazing her cheek. He felt really close.

“Just breathe… Just breathe.” 

She concentrated on it, and once her breathing got a bit more steady, she finally looked up. There he was, only a few inches from her face, Bellamy Blake. He looked her in the eyes intensely, expectant.

“Clarke?” 

She was speechless, looking back at the man who just risked everything and everyone, who fought heaven and hell to get her back… All she could do was reach for him as she let out a half-cry half-sigh, and as he hugged her back, she just held on, not wanting to let go, breathing him in. He showed no intention of letting go either, which somehow calmed her down and hyped her up simultaneously. Finally able to speak, her words coming out like a prayer, she repeated back to him

“The head and the heart”

She felt him nod in agreement against her, and couldn’t hold back from burying her face into his neck and tightening the embrace even more. They were both shaking and breathing heavily, and she wanted to stay like that forever, but after a few seconds, a wave of dizziness washes over her, interrupting their bliss. She whines quietly in complaint, and he calls out her name in a breathy whisper, but before she can explain, everything goes dark again. 

______________________________________________________

BELLAMY

He almost lost her. It terrified him, to his core. But somehow, like always, he finds himself with Clarke and Octavia, feeling truly happy, and wishing he could freeze the moment and live in it forever. 

She lets out a quiet whine against his shoulder and he thinks maybe he held her so tight it managed to hurt her. Softening his grip and distancing their bodies, he looks at her and tries to ignore how cold the air between them feels

“Clarke…?” He asks softly, and she looks as if she’s about to say something, but instead, her eyelids fall shut and she goes limp against him. 

“Clarke!” He lays her back into the operating table as he tries not to panic, Octavia silently moves up closer and stares intently at Gabriel, who is too entranced in his own grief for Josephine and takes a second to notice what is happening. The rebel Prime finally realises Clarke passed out and wipes away his tears before checking the monitors and Clarke’s pulse. She starts moving and opens her eyes only a little, drowsily managing to sit up and mumble something incomprehensible.

“mmh…Maddi… safe?” is all Bellamy can understand. 

“We’ll get Maddi, and everyone else too, but first we need to make sure you’re ok” He says firmly, knowing she won’t like it. She stares into his eyes, worried, but doesn’t quite have the strength to argue yet. 

Gabriel clears his throat to get Bellamy’s attention.

“She’s fine, but her nervous system is readjusting. Give her a few minutes, then make sure she drinks all this water and eats something.”  

He says this while opening a cabinet and handing Bellamy a few bars of dried fruits, then sets a couple of water bottles on a table a nudges it closer to Clarke.

Bellamy, still standing next to her, sees that she’s now fully alert again, and as they exchange silent looks, he takes a deep breath that comes out as a sigh of relief. 

Octavia offers a soft smile in Clarke’s direction 

“I’m glad you’re ok. You scared me there for a second.”

Clarke pulls her in for a hug, and while they hold each other, O looks at Bellamy intensely.

“You did it Bell. She’s ok. She’s safe.”

He nods, and slowly scans the room for a stool, then pulls it up next to Clarke and sits there, because there’s no way in hell he’ll leave her side ever again. 

Octavia starts to prepare for the rescue mission, grabbing provisions and shoving them in a backpack while Gabriel opens a hard case full of guns. Octavia makes a small noise of indifference, not impressed, so he opens another hard case next to it, this one filled with swords and knives, motioning to them casually

“What about these?”

Octavia smirks

“Now that’s more like it” 

She grabs two swords and a knife and starts to make her way to the bikes outside, but hesitates before stepping out of the tent with Gabriel, looking back at Bellamy for instructions. Clarke speaks first

“We leave in 15 minutes.” As she says it, she reaches for the water bottle in Bellamy’s hand and he extends it towards her, letting his hand linger on hers, still intoxicated by how good it feels to have her back. She takes big gulps and he watches her intently. 

Gabriel and Octavia walk away from the tent and when their voices fade out, Clarke and Bellamy look at each other again, but this time, it feels more electric than it ever did before, like they’re truly seeing each other for the first time just now. 

Bellamy knows he’s been in love with Clarke for ages, and he always thinks the feeling can’t possibly get any stronger, but it always does. 

Without saying anything, he stands up from the stool and slowly closes the space between them, standing in front of her as she slides down from the table and leans her back against it. Bellamy looks at her face and takes it all in, how beautiful she is, how flushed her skin looks, the strand of hair sticking to the sweat on her forehead. He reaches for it and delicately moves it away, then grazes his fingers on her cheek, and finally says, so quiet and breathy it almost doesn’t emit sound

“Clarke, I-” 

But he doesn’t get to finish that sentence.

_____________________________________________________

CLARKE 

Bellamy is walking towards her, being very intense, and he looks so good it’s almost a sin to just witness it, and then he’s touching her hair and her face and she just can’t hold it in anymore. She almost died, again, and she’s been in love with him for so long it’s embarrassing, and next time she’s sure she’s about to die she wants to go through that knowing she at least got to do this first, so she cuts him off halfway through saying her name with that raspy irresistible voice and just goes for it.

She leans on her tiptoes and puts her hand behind his neck to pull him down, and when their lips touch, he instantly wraps his arms around her waist pulling her close, and her stomach is filled with hundreds of butterflies doing flips and loops as she wraps her own arms around his neck. The kiss is painfully slow at first. They hesitate a few times, lips grazing and teasing, and then finally they melt into it. For a while it’s innocent and soft, but then Clarke gets a little braver and runs her tongue across his bottom lip, and he parts his lips open causing the kiss to ignite, tongues swaying and twisting, bodies pressed against each other tightly, Bellamy’s hands going up under Clarke’s shirt and grabbing at her waist. It feels too good to be true, and when they part lips for a split second, both can’t help but laugh a little, and then, still smiling, press their foreheads against each other. 

Bellamy breaks the silence first.

“I meant what I said. Did you hear? I need you, Clarke. Don’t ever scare me like that again” 

His words made her breath shaky and her heart skip a beat. Her whole skin was on fire. The effect Bellamy had on her had always been intense, and she always doubted it could get better, and yet it always did. 

 “Bell. I need you too. So much. Thank you for fighting so hard to get me back.” 

Bellamy looked at her with a stupid smile on his face and leaned in for another kiss, this time he was glib, playful, as they both indulged in how happy they felt in each others’ arms. He nibbled at her lower lip, then her cheek, then down the side of her neck, and landed small pecks from the nape of her neck into the curve of her collarbone, then blew softly on her skin to give her shivers as he came back up to her ear and whispered

 “Clarke. I love you.” 

He pulled away a little bit to look into her eyes and as she grinned at him, Clarke whispered back, barely audible,

“I love you too, Bell.”

Both of them let out a deep breath they didn’t know they were holding as they exchanged looks, taking each other in. Bellamy reluctantly unlatches from Clarke and steps beside her,  sliding the fruit bars from his pocket into her hand.

“Eat something, you’ll need your strength”

Clarke opened the first bar and took a bite. “So what’s the plan?”

Bellamy squirmed

 “I was hoping you would have one, princess” 

Clarke dwelled on it for a few seconds. 

“I might have an idea…”

[blazardragon]

Korotan D: Chapter 3 - English Translation 

This chapter, like chapter 1, is fairly short, so it was pretty easy to translate ^^

In this chapter, along with our usual trio, we get a lot of Chiba, Hayami, Sugaya, and Okajima, along with some Yada, Mimura, and Itona! 

The only picture for this chapter is the one above. No memories framed as photographs this time : ( 

Chapter 3: Filming Time 

Just as Kayano and the rest of Class E were returning to the film site after lunch-break was over, a member of the staff got into a heated argument with the director. The assistant director and Jerome tried to arbitrate between them, but the two only heated up their argument.

“I can’t postpone the shooting date any more than I already have! Doing things your way will take too much time!”

“It’s your job to keep your work on schedule! We’re running late because you take so much time communicating with the local staff, not to mention they take too much time to procure the goods I ask for!”

“Don’t put the blame on others! We’re experiencing this delay because you keep changing the scenes around!”

“Because it’s my job to make the movie better!”

Even the local staff who were transporting their equipment stopped in their tracks to watch the exchange between the director and the line producer. Members of the staff who couldn’t speak English very well were bewildered by the two as they spoke more and more rapidly, but Karma and Nakamura conveyed the contents of the argument in simpler English as they eagerly listened.

“Whenever I make a change, it’s your job to make it happen, right!?”

Upon receiving these words, the line producer reached the limit of his patience and suddenly snapped.

“Aah, I understand. If my work is of such little concern to you, then you can gather up your own staff by yourself. I quit.”

He said what he wanted to say, and then turned his heel.

“Hey, wait! Are you abandoning your workplace!?”

The producer turned around one more time at the sound of his voice, gave him the finger, and then left. Nathonni continued to briskly speak Italian in his rage.

“Director, you should apologize and have him come back,” the cameraman said, although he himself didn’t catch the whole argument.

“Woah……I don’t really get what just happened, but it looks really bad,” Terasaka whispered.

Kayano stared at the state of affairs in astonishment. With the line producer gone, the local staff whom he had gathered began to leave one after another, until all who were in charge of transporting the film equipment left altogether. Faced with such circumstances, the cameraman gave into grief.

“Director, what do we do!? We won’t be able to make the movie like this! Losing our assistant is just the same as losing all our limbs!”

Calming down from his anger, Nathonni began to regret what he had done.

“……We’ll need some new staff.”

“And where the hell will we find new staff!? We’re already on a tight schedule!”

The cameraman rebuked the director. Watching the director cradle his head in his hands, Karma called out to Kayano,

“Kayano-chan, we can help them, right?”

Terasaka immediately retorted from the side,

“Are you stupid!? We’re total amateurs!”

“And so we can help. You’re a stupid amateur with physical strength.”

“Huh!?”

“Which means you can help out with heavy work and chores, right? Let’s support Kayano’s performance.”

Nagisa gave a strong nod to Karma’s words.

“Korosensei, Karasuma-sensei, and Bitch-sensei…… under their guidance, we polished all sorts of blades in the assassination classroom. Right now, there should definitely be something useful we can do.”

“Yeah!”

“Let’s do this!”

Class E raised their voices all at once. Kayano was moved by their spirit.

“Everyone…… thank you!”

While everyone in Class E was discussing amongst themselves, Kayano took them to Nathonni.

“Director, my friends say they want to become part of your staff and help out!”

“I’m grateful for the offer, but what are they capable of?”

Karma stepped forward to the incredulous Nathonni and spoke in fluent English,

“As you can see, everyone has various skills on top of being able to speak English, so I think we’ll be of use. We can also serve as interpreters for your Japanese staff, and this guy is especially sturdy, so it doesn’t matter if you bury him in the Earth and use him as a pillar.”

Karma pointed to Terasaka, causing Nathonni to laugh at his joke.

“Ha ha, your English is perfect. If your friends can speak it this well then we’re saved.”

“Hey, Karma. What the hell did you tell him?”

“I asked him to please handle Terasaka-kun with care.”

“Tch, I bet you told him to abuse me!”

Everyone was extremely busy thanks to the circumstances on site, so Class E was immediately sorted into different teams among the film’s staff.

Mimura, as an aspiring TV man, immediately entered the workplace as an assistant for the assistant director. Okajima joined the filming department, and Sugaya came forward to help the art department.

Hara entered the costume department, and Muramatsu entered the catering department. Whenever Class E heard there was a personnel shortage in any of the departments, they took advantage of their English skills to rapidly join in. Yada took on the challenge to do the maintenance for the equipment vehicle used to transport their sets.

“It’s sooo hoooot.”

“Here, make sure you stay properly hydrated.”

Nagisa handed Yada a plastic bottle of water.

“Ooh, thank you! Which team are you in, Nagisa?”

Nagisa’s shoulders drooped down as he answered.

“I’m just doing miscellaneous chores that don’t require a lot of strength……. I thought about helping them transport their lighting equipment, but I don’t have enough strength to even carry any of it, so some of the female staff members got mad at me.”

I’m going to be in college soon, and yet I’m just as unmanly as ever….

Yada felt bad for Nagisa, who was so down in the dumps.

 A few months ago, the film group had built a giant set near the actual temples. The stone ruins in which the heroes Jerome and Rin wander were freshly built at that time.

Chiba and Hayami came there to take a peak.

“Yo, Chiba, you’re going to study architecture, right?”

Sugaya called out to Chiba as he was repainting the set.

“Yeah. This kind of structure is different than proper architecture, but I was interested in what kinds of techniques they used to assemble this, so I came to take a look.”

“I’m in a similar boat. For us to get tangled into this kind of interesting work, it’s like a godsend.”

“But this is awesome. So they can build such large structures for a set, huh?”

Chiba was astounded by the size.

“It looks just like the real deal.”

Hayami carefully examined the portion Sugaya was repainting. These stone ruins on set were, in fact, not made of stone at all. Internally, steel and wood were combined to build a sturdy structure, while externally, imitation rocks made of colored Styrene* were affixed to the frame.

One of the art assistants, a craftsman, approached Chiba and the others, who were staring at the structure with wonder, and spoke,

“Ha ha, it’s astonishing, isn’t it? I’ll let you guys take a proper look at the inside.”

The art assistant invited the three into the set. The insides held the atmosphere of a forgotten temple, naturally giving off a feeling of roughness that comes with having no people within for several thousands of years. It even felt as if the cracks along the interior were allowing water to leak through.  The stone passageway continued endlessly.

“It’s well-built, am I right? Go inside and take a look for yourself.”

They entered the stone passageway as the art assistant talked. Chiba and the others followed the art assistant as they advanced further into the dim passage. Suddenly, the art assistant stopped in his tracks.

“Look, this point onward is just wall.”

He hit what was supposed to be a passage continuing further into the temple with his fist. It was not actually a continuation of the passageway, but a wall. It was a dead-end.

“It’s fine for us to simply paint the wall to make it look like there are passages leading inside.  That way, we don’t have to build the whole thing as if it were the real thing. We’ve got to save money when we can.”

Sugaya was in pure admiration of their workmanship.

“I made all sorts of disguises in Class E, but professionals really are amazing, huh?”

Sugaya wanted to convey this to the art assistant, but he couldn’t find the words to say it.

“I want to tell him that, but how do you say it in English? I’m not very good at English……”

Hayami gave the hesitant Sugaya some advice.

“Use brief phrases mixed with gestures. If you don’t tell him now, you’ll regret it.”

“Okay.”

Receiving a boost from Hayami, Sugaya was able to work up his courage.

“This work, great. I do art, too, but can’t quite do this.”              

“Is that so? Thanks for the compliment!”

Seeing the two communicate successfully, a faint smile floated onto Hayami’s lips.

 Thanks to Class E helping out the art group, adjustments to the set were made at a rapid pace while Nathonni devoted his time to filming the next scene.

The action team mounted Jerome’s body on a harness. This was a scene where Jerome would have to move around by freely running through the trees of the jungle, flying off the vines hanging down.

Jerome, confident in his physical abilities, was itching to start moving.

“Girls from all over the world are going to fall in love with me and my action scenes all over again!”

Two people pulled against the wire connected to Jerome’s harness, making his body float in midair, and he began to dynamically move about through the atmosphere. Under the guidance of the action director, he ran through the air.

“Ooh, this is cool! It’s totally different from free running!”

Okajima, who was delegated into the role of pulling the wire, gazed at Jerome’s movements.

“Whew!!”

Jerome let out a strange voice as he bounced through the trees like a sewing needle. His reflexes were as good as one would expect.

“Good, good! Just like that!”

Nathonni was pleased.

To show off Jerome’s movements more flashily, they tested using cameras moved with a combination of cranes and rails. However, Nathonni looked dissatisfied when he checked the film.

“You’re making such great pains to move so magnificently, and yet the cameras are so ordinary. I want this to have more impact, as if it were something no one has ever seen before.”

Upon saying this, Nathonii clasped his hands together.

“I know! Let’s have the cameraman suspend himself on a wire, too! The cameraman will chase behind Jerome and film him!”

They needed more workers to hold the extra wire, so Itona and Mimura joined them.

“Woah! It’s this hard to balance on a wire!?”

The cameraman struggled with being suspended on a wire for the first time. Moving while being hung on a wire was not as easy as it appeared. He struggled to maintain his balance as he looked through the viewfinder.

When Nathonni looked at the test video, it was seen that the cameraman was able to follow Jerome and create a dynamic video, but the screen was shaking so violently that the film was unusable.

“Please, let me take a break. My vision is spinning.”

At the cameraman’s request, the wire was removed from his body.

“It looks like it could be such an interesting video. What a waste.”

Seeing Nathonni so disappointed, Okajima raised his hand and stepped forward.

“Um, I’m always taking pictures of sports players, so I’m used to capturing fierce movements with a camera. Will you let me try?”

“A sports cameraman, huh? If that’s the case, let’s give you a shot.”

Okajima attached the harness to himself, and was lifted up with the wire.  

“Mimura, you can move it faster!”

“OK!!”

Mimura promptly pulled the wire and ran. Okajima’s body danced through the air.

“Yahoo!!”

Okajima followed closely behind Jerome as he held his camera, freely storing his acrobatic movements within. Nathonii watched the recording video through his monitor.

“Great! Great! Move like that!”

Okajima would sometimes kick against a tree, instantaneously changing the angle of the camera. With movements even bolder than Jerome’s, every angle of Okajima’s subject was accurately tracked.

“Cut!! Fantastic! This scene is brimming with dynamism!”

Nathonni acclaimed. Receiving such praise, Okajima triumphantly said,

“I’m always chasing after beautiful athletes with even more speed than that! This was a piece of cake!”

Holding the other end of the wire, Itona murmured,

“All roads lead to eroticism, I see.”

Beginning with Okajima’s success, the former assassins of Class E had earned the trust of the film staff in all sorts of different fields.

 Notes:

*Styrene is basically Styrofoam, but unbranded.

Pretty relaxing chapter as whole! Just Class E being helpful and learning new things ^.^

I’m impressed with Okajima’s abilities, albeit a bit leery of how he obtained them. You better have permission to be filming those girls!

The next chapter is literally titled Temptation Time, so it probably will not be so relaxing… Nagikae and Karumana fans will certainly enjoy it  

[aion-rsa]

The Devil All the Time Ending Explained

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This article contains The Devil All the Time spoilers. You can read the review here.

After so much bloodshed and tragedy, few could expect to find peace at the end of things. That includes Tom Holland’s taciturn Arvin Russell. Yet sitting in a Volkswagen next to a long-haired gentleman, one who appeared to be part of the vanguard for the next generation, the often hyper-observant Arvin is letting his guard down, and a sense of ease washes over him for the first time in probably his whole life. On the radio, President Lyndon B. Johnson is droning on about some type of troop build-up in Vietnam, but Arvin’s mind is on his past, and the bodies it left buried. Or perhaps it’s on his future too, as he mildly considers the prospect of joining the U.S. Army.

The truth is he doesn’t know. As author Donald Ray Pollock’s own voice narrates, “Grandma would tell him to pray on it, and he’d laugh at her, but maybe she knew something he didn’t? Right now he needed sleep and just felt lucky someone was giving him a ride.” This is a far cry from the Arvin who seemed to all but swear off religion after the horrors inflicted on him by his God-fearing father, as well as the young man who only days ago was able to deduce that smiling Carl Henderson (Jason Clarke) was hiding a gun in his pocket. But here he is now, open to the first time since boyhood to the concept of God and the kindness of strangers.

Should his innocence be reborn, and is this a happy or dark ending? By design it’s left ambiguous. As director Antonio Campos told Esquire, “I always struggle with happy endings. I like endings that leave you with the hope for something better but the chance for something else and you have to kind of pick your own version of it.”

But if that is the case, allow us to dig a little deeper by picking our own destiny for Arvin after he falls asleep, dreaming both of a better life and the violence wrecked on him by his parents’ own traumas.

If there is a point to The Devil All The Time, it would be how the culture of a place, and the people who occupy it, predetermine for us the outcome we do not want. While the presence of God is a nebulous thing in this backyard fried noir, ‘the Devil’ of the title is present to just about every character inhabiting Pollock and Campos’ fictional town of Knockemstiff, Ohio and its surrounding areas: It is the hell they make for themselves and their heirs by pretending to be better than they are while ignoring the pain underneath. Consider almost every narrative thread of The Devil All the Time ends in calamity for its protagonists, often after they delude themselves into thinking they’re making a noble gesture.

Take Holland’s Arvin. A quiet and skeptical boy after he saw his father’s piousness drive him to suicide, Arvin very much is the product of his father’s upbringing. His Dad Willard (Bill Skarsgård) came to this part of the world by accident. He was passing through after seeing the horrors of the South Pacific when he met the woman who would be Arvin’s mother, Charlotte (Haley Bennett). While the chance romance might have been coincidence, his fate was already sealed by what Arvin said was “the Devil all the time” in him. Arvin did not mean that his father was possessed by a supernatural spirit—Arvin is as close to an agnostic as we have in the plot. Rather there was something horrible eating at Willard’s mind from the war. And while Arvin never saw the flashback of the American G.I. Willard discovered crucified, we know this violence haunts Willard every time he stares at a cross.

For violence very much is the religion on which The Devil All the Time’s fatalism is built. Violence is the only thing Willard bequeaths his son. While Arvin as a boy is wary of praying before his father’s outdoor cross, he remembers well Willard’s lesson about beating the lecherous poachers they’d let escape after an earlier insult. Finding them scenes later and pummeling them to a pulp, Willard returns to his son and says, “You’ve just got to pick the right time.” This lesson of optimizing your anger and need to destroy was the happy part of Arvin’s childhood. The narration even confirms it was “the best day he ever spent with his father.”

That is all the more revealing when one realizes Arvin thinks this of the day he and Dada discover Mama has cancer. The slow-killing disease ruins what little innocence there is left in the lad. Before his mother is in the ground, Willard inflicts permanent psychic damage on Arvin by attempting to appease what he thinks must be an angry God via the ritualistic sacrifice of Arvin’s dog to their Maker. It doesn’t work, and after the mother is dead and buried, Willard soon follows her by his own hand.

Willard’s primitive reliance on violence as a form of salvation is of course backwoods craziness, but then everyone in this story believes violence will save them, and likely live to regret it in their dying breath. For if Arvin’s bitterness and irreligiosity was borne out of his father’s slaughtering of the family dog in the vain hope it would give him the power to save his mother, the piousness of his “sister” Lenora (Eliza Scanlen) is the fruit of similar delusions.

Read more

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The Devil All the Time Director on Channelling Donald Ray Pollock’s Book and Casting Robert Pattinson

By Rosie Fletcher

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The Devil All The Time: How Dudley Dursley Actor Harry Melling shed his Harry Potter Roots in That Spider Scene

By Rosie Fletcher

The reason Arvin and Lenora became orphans in the same house is because her Born Again preacher pappy, Roy Laferty (Harry Melling), was also blinded by his lunatic ideas. Roy killed Lenora’s mother Helen (Mia Wasikowska) in the woods, under the fallacy that God would grant him the powers to resurrect her. Instead he just murdered his wife and ran for the state line, escaping far enough to never be seen again, and allowing Lenora to grow up with her own eventually self-destructive delusions about her father and his faith not being so warped. Thus Lenora attempting to replace the hole left by the violent act of her father by believing the silver-tongued lies of another fire and brimstone orator (Robert Pattinson), who for all his zealotry really only liked his flock when they were young, childlike, and suggestible.

Pattinson’s Preston may be the evilest character in the story besides Clarke’s serial killer Carl. For these are the only two men who lack any self-doubts about their hypocrisies or cruelties. Willard took his own life after he discovered devotion conjured neither gods nor devils; Roy Laferty was wondering if he’d really fly to Heaven before his last breath. Both left broken legacies to their children. A man like Preston, however, only takes what he wants and cares about nothing else, including the girlhood of Roy’s underage daughter Lenora.

The resulting pregnancy leads to Lenora’s semi-suicide (again with the second-guessing at the last minute that no one will know about), and to Arvin committing his only premeditated murder in the movie. While he would kill again, as with how he handled the bullies who attacked Lenora earlier, Arvin has already taken his father’s lessons of violence to heart when he claims his other birthright, a German Luger his father bought off another G.I. from the war, and annihilates Preston in cold blood.

Later in the movie, we learn that copper Lee Bodecker (Sebastian Stan) told Arvin as a child, “Some people were born just to be buried.” Whether this is the actual point-of-view of the movie is murky, but it’s an actual religious tenet Arvin can get behind, and the world of Knockemstiff quietly prays to.

Most of the characters of The Devil All the Time lead empty, fractured lives that they inherited from their folks. Lee Bodecker himself was saying this as a comfort to Arvin after the boy’s father committed suicide. Hence Lee recalling that he and his sister Sandy (Riley Keough) also grew up without a father since the old bastard abandoned them. The sentiment was meant to speak just of their fathers. Yet those traits seem inherited, with Lee becoming a corrupt lawman who commits and covers up murders as the years pass, and his blonde free-spirited sister falling in with her serial killer boyfriend, Carl.

The revelation late in the picture that Lee told Arvin some people exist to die creates a self-fulling prophecy to Arvin’s life. He is here to make good on that promise, as most of these broken people would be better off in the ground where they can’t hurt anyone. It begins with the calculated murder of the predatory Preston, but through a series of convoluted circumstances, he also winds up bumming a ride with Carl and Sandy, who’ve lived in their own separate little movie as mass murderers. The only killing we see in depth is how they slaughtered Lenora’s missing father, but they’ve been collecting “models” for 15 years by the time Arvin gets into their car.

Like their victim Roy Laferty, Sandy is having second thoughts about her life as a serial killer before she dies. She did it mostly just to please Carl. Years later though, she wanted out. She even daydreamed about running away with Arvin before the young man puts a bullet in her lover’s head. Soon she follows him across the bar, unaware the path she is on has been set for years—a cynic might say since the day her father walked out—and now all that’s left is the sudden surprise of oblivion.

And this brings us back to the ending where Arvin soon sends the man who told him some folks are just here to be buried to an early grave. He didn’t want to kill him, but Bodecker wanted revenge for his murderous sister. And after that showdown, all the people who an Old Testament God might say had it coming have met their fates. But Arvin doesn’t believe in God, per se, even if he returned to his childhood home to make peace with Him and the father who created a world in fear of spirits. Arvin buries the dog his father killed, plus the Luger, which is an obvious metaphor of him trying to bury the trauma his father imparted to him. With the dog given the rest he hoped his mother and father found, he’s free to leave this dark corner of America.

But is the rest of it any better? Sitting next to a proto-hippie as he falls asleep listening about escalation in Vietnam, Arvin can imagine a world where he breaks the cycle of violence he and everyone he knows lives on. He can find a girl and settle down without the trauma that manifested itself as the Devil in his papa. But he’s already embraced Willard’s inheritance for violence, hasn’t he? Sure, he buries Dad’s Luger in the final moments, but only after using it to kill four people, the first of which was not in self-defense.

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And then there are his own second thoughts about trying to find a peaceful life. It’s troubling he entertains the idea of signing up for the Vietnam War while thinking of a better tomorrow. And then he is also considering that maybe his grandmother (and father) could be right about prayer. Even outside of Knockemstiff, he is still in a vision of America that is violent, circular, uncaring, and doomed to repeat the sins of its fathers. One war has ended but another is begun. The narrator even says Arvin “wasn’t sure if he was going backwards or forwards.” His end is his beginning.

As his father went to a war that defined him, Arvin is already on the path to repeat that horror. Hell, he’s already haunted by visions of ‘Devils’ and dead bodies he left to be buried. The greater devil is the culture Arvin’s in, and as teased by the prospect of the Vietnam War, that culture extends beyond Knockemstiff’s town limits or that of its neighbors. It’s the American legacy and a predilection toward violence The Devil All the Time seems to suggest is inescapable. Arvin can have hesitations and hopes, but like those experienced by Sandy before he shot her, or Roy before her lover shot him, or Roy’s daughter Lenora before the rope around her neck tightened, they’re just illusions of escape. And the end of the line is fast approaching.

The post The Devil All the Time Ending Explained appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[jiveammunition]

Reaper76Week - Day 7 - Someone to Watch Over Me (T)

Title: Someone to Watch Over Me Pairing: Reaper76 Rating: Teen Tags: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Past Character Death, Not Really Character Death, Alternate Universe, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cats, Reaper76Week, Bittersweet Ending Summary:

A well-aimed — or perhaps unfortunately-aimed, depending on who you asked — bullet grazed the very edge of the prototype, and with a stuttering blink and electromagnetic hum, activated itself. The blue glow it let off only served to make itself a clearer target for the security system, and before Reaper could even drop the device, several bullets pierced it in the dead center of its glow. Rather than turning off or even smoking like Reaper expected it to, however, the device sparked menacingly, buzzing and humming in a frequency that made the nanites in his body swarm with unease. The Chronal Accelerator prototype buzzed and flashed once, twice, and then…

FLASH!

Day 7 of Reaper76Week - "Comfort"

A sidestory for I've Got You in My Slice , my Bakery AU. This story takes place right after Chapter 4, 'Come at the Pumpking, Best Not Miss'.

Also on AO3 here: Someone to Watch Over Me

To the rest of the world, Jack Morrison died on August 1, 2070 in the explosion of the Overwatch Headquarters in Zurich, Switzerland.

To the mercenary known as Reaper, Jack Morrison died on June 27th, 2077 during a retrieval mission of an Overwatch agent from a Talon base in Rouen, France.

Both events had been caused by an unexpected explosion. Both deaths Reaper had to witness with his own two eyes, helpless and unable to do anything but watch the love of his life lose the light in his eyes and embrace death in a tired resignation.

Reaper recalls Jack Morrison's last words from his first death just as clearly as he does the second.

Just before the flames of the Zurich explosion had engulfed the both of them, Jack looked to him in anguish, and said, “You were right. I'm so sorry,” voice breaking in a way Reaper had never heard before. Even though he should have felt righteous and vindicated in that moment — after so many years of warning the Strike Commander about the potential of Talon agents infiltrating Overwatch and being dismissed — at having been proven right, Reaper recalled that all he had wanted to do in that moment was hold Jack close and assure him that everything would be all right.

“Thanks for everything, Gabe. I'll see you around,” Jack had laughed, his second set of last words ringing clear as a bell in Reaper’s mind. The broken visor and mask on Jack's face did nothing to hide the sadness and regret that no doubt flashed across his face just as the heavy reinforced steel doors slammed shut between them. Jack was sealed inside what eventually became his tomb not but moments later, while Reaper had to flee from the scene with the safely-retrieved, but unconscious Lena Oxton in his arms.

Jack Morrison died on those two days, and Gabriel Reyes, his trusted confidant and devoted husband, had died along with him.

Yet here he stood as Reaper, in the research lab of the abandoned Overwatch Headquarters in Gibraltar, months later and still unable to put the past behind him. And how could he, when he was literally drowning in a living memory of the past at that very moment? Memories of all the times he had spent with Jack on that base haunted him at every turn, each one elicited in some way or another by the sight of something nostalgic and familiar scattered about the ruins.

“Are you still moping?” a voice chided from behind him.

Reaper didn't need to turn around to know that it was Sombra standing in the doorway, no doubt with a hand on her hip and the other waved in the air dismissively.

“No amount of sulking is going to bring him back, you know,” she added, having the decency to sound a bit less sharp and tiny bit sympathetic.

A growl of irritation rumbled from him briefly before he went  back to ignoring her. Reaper was tired, in every sense of the word, and knew her well enough to not take the bait. He ignored her presence and resumed searching through the rubble to find what they had been tasked to retrieve. Talon intelligence had confirmed that the Chronal Accelerator prototype — the first incarnation and not the one Sombra had stolen to create her teleporter — was located somewhere in the empty husk of this base.

It was a tedious search, to say the least, made even more annoying by Sombra's inability to leave things well enough alone and constantly asking questions about miscellaneous things she had found in her search that always brought back one unwelcome memory or several. Had he known he was going to effectively be searching for the prototype on his own with almost no effective assistance, Reaper would have requested this retrieval be a solo mission. But, alas, he didn't.

And so, Reaper settled for the next best thing.

“You stay here and keep looking,” he growled after Sombra asked yet another inane question about Overwatch, punctuated by the nickname that had been reserved for only those closest to him, ‘ Gabe ’. “I'm going to the engineering lab to search.” Before Sombra even had a chance to voice her protest, Reaper disappeared in a swirl of nanite-infused smoke, Shadow-Stepping his way into the aforementioned laboratory.

Sure enough, he found what he had been looking for, albeit slightly cracked and buried beneath a pile of scrap that had definitely seen better days. Letting out a small noise of satisfaction, Reaper retrieved the prototype from beneath the broken and dented pieces of metal, careful not to disturb too much lest the auxiliary security system be activated.

Unfortunately, he was not nearly careful enough in his game of pick up, as right when the prototype was about to clear the pile of scrap, it collided with a rusted edge of some sort of panel, sending the precariously piled mess of scrap toppling down in an undeniably loud banging crash. As he feared, the security system in the lab activated, and Reaper found himself at the wrong end of several turrets, all with their barrels aimed directly at him. He dissipated into his Wraith Form just in time to avoid the hailstorm of bullets flying from every direction, but made one grave error.

The Chronal Accelerator prototype was still in the line of fire regardless of what form Reaper took.

A well-aimed — or perhaps unfortunately-aimed, depending on who you asked — bullet grazed the very edge of the prototype, and with a stuttering blink and electromagnetic hum, activated itself. The blue glow it let off only served to make itself a clearer target for the security system, and before Reaper could even drop the device, several bullets pierced it in the dead center of its glow. Rather than turning off or even smoking like Reaper expected it to, however, the device sparked menacingly, buzzing and humming in a frequency that made the nanites in his body swarm with unease. The Chronal Accelerator prototype buzzed and flashed once, twice, and then…

FLASH !

Reaper found himself engulfed in a blinding light, his body and nanites twisting and tearing and folding in themselves and each other over and over again for what felt both like eons and milliseconds all at once. He felt both renewed and on his deathbed at the same time, some sort of in-between state where his consciousness was nowhere and everywhere all at once. He saw nothing and saw everything. He felt everything and felt nothing. It was nauseating and exhilarating and utterly terrifying.

But, at the very least, it wasn't anywhere near as disgusting as the feeling of puking out your insides in some unknown back alley in the middle of the night, and then watching the same black puddle of what was forced outside your body start oozing back into it through the soles of your steel-plated combat boots. Reaper spent several moments standing there, hunched and gasping for breath as his nanites scrambled to pull himself back together, doing his best to muffle the hissing and groaning slipping from between his gritted teeth behind the mask. When he finally felt himself whole again, he cautiously left the dingy alley, ignoring the angry hisses and yowls of the stray cats that no doubt called the alley their home as he passed them. He emerged from the darkness into the glow of a nearby street lamp, clueless as to where he was.

He was sure of at least two things, though, 1) the Chronal Accelerator prototype was nowhere to be found, and 2) he was definitely not in Gibraltar anymore. If his brief cursory glance around told him anything, it definitely wasn't the same date as before, what with all the Halloween decorations to be seen hanging nearly everwhere the eye could see.

In fact, he wasn't even sure he was in the same year anymore. Cars — old cars,  vintage  , you could say — on   wheels  — not hover tech — drove up and down the roads illuminated by streetlights fitted with what was undoubtedly some form of sodium light, given the shapes and warm glows. Even the store signs were extremely dated. No holo displays, no advertising omnics, and even the store sign of what appeared to be a bakery — what else could “  For Goodness’ Cakes” be, after all — across the street looked like a picture he'd seen in vintage magazines found in his grandfather's attic so many years ago.

Reaper’s eyes widened in surprise behind his mask when he saw a vaguely familiar street name hanging above a street sign that directed towards highway 101. He turned this way and that, each bit of strange-familiarity hitting him like a bolt from the blue. It looked different than how he remembered, but he was definitely in Los Angeles. To be more precise, he was in his old neighborhood, where he lived and grew up. At least, the physical location was. His heart beat with a nostalgic longing with each different-but-familiar neighborhood landmark he could see, but each time his mind chided him that this was not the neighborhood he knew. This was not his Los Angeles.

Especially not the strangely-named bakery, located right where Reaper remembered stood a cafe run by a family friend, an auntie who would always welcome him warmly and let him hang out after school. He frowned at the store sign; it was unfair of him to think that the bakery didn't belong there, as —  again he reminded himself — that this neighborhood was not  his  neighborhood, but he couldn't help himself from feeling a bit of resentment and hostility at its presence.

He was knocked out of his thoughts by a rather loud gasp from behind him.

“Oh, wow, what an awesome costume!” a voice behind him shook Reaper out of his nostalgic reverie. A nagging pang in his head recognized the voice as someone familiar, but he didn't think too much about it. At least, not until he turned around.

His breath caught in his chest and his heart nearly jumped into his throat at the sight of the stranger who had complimented him.

There, in front of him and not even ten yards away, stood the spitting image of Jack Morrison, a man he knew for certain died half a year ago. But the man before him looked far too young to  have been the man who died in Rouen and left him behind. If anything, the lookalike in front of him was the spitting image of the Jack Morrison he knew oh so many years ago, the one who helped Gabriel Reyes form the Strike Team that ended up saving the world from the omnic crisis, the one whose smile could brighten an entire room, and the same one who jumped into his arms screaming, ‘ Yes yes yes !’ when Gabriel Reyes finally proposed six months after the first Omnic Crisis was declared over.

Reaper couldn't believe his eyes. Surely they were deceiving him! Perhaps wishful thinking was projecting the image of Jack Morrison onto this random stranger, dressed in an outfit eerily similar to the motorcycle jacket and battle fatigues ensemble — albeit completely red and black — that the man in question used to wear.

“Oh, wow, you even did a mask too! Holy cow, look at all the detail on you! You could have given even Gabriel a run for his money in the costume contest!” the Morrison lookalike laughed cheerfully. “You look so badass! What is your costume from, exactly? Is it animé?”

Closing his eyes and shaking his head minutely, Reaper hoped that his vision would clear and he would see what the stranger actually looked like without his mind playing tricks of him. It was a fruitless effort, however, as when Reaper had opened his eyes again, nothing had changed. The spitting image of Jack Morrison, albeit decades younger, was still standing there, grinning and looking at him with an amused glimmer in his eyes.

But not for long, the cheerful expression on the doppleganger’s face quickly changed to that of concern the longer Reaper stood there, quiet and unresponsive.

“Are you all right?” he asked, “Are you lost? Do you need me to call someone for you?”

Reaper shook his head no, and said nothing more, brain still reeling from its confusion to piece together anything coherent to say. For a few moments more, the both of them simply stood there, staring at each other until the other man broke the silence.

“Um, well, do you want to come inside, and sit down then, at least?” he asked, gesturing across the street, to the bakery with the ridiculous name. “I'm Jack, the owner of the store. C’mon, let's get you inside so you can at least get your bearings.”

The sound of that name brought Reaper to a sudden halt, the shocking revelation that this man not only looked like Jack-  his Jack, but also had the same name hit him like a deluge of ice water. He froze, images of Jack during his last moments — both in Zurich and in Rouen — flashing before his eyes and putting a stop to his heart.

Once again, the other man's voice-  Jack's  voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

“Hey, are you okay? Is something wrong?” Jack rushed over, hands hovering close to Reaper’s own as if unsure as to take them and tug him aside, or leave him, as common courtesy said he should in regards to invading personal space.

Reaper nodded in affirmation, and Jack let out a small sigh of relief. “That's good,” he murmured, still hovering awkwardly until Reaper continued walking towards the store.

Jack unlocked the door and held it open to usher Reaper inside. “Come in. Have a seat. Do you want anything to drink?”

Although Reaper took his seat at one of the cafe tables and shook his head, he found himself faced with a cup of coffee in front of him anyway, a small pitcher of what looked to be cream and a sugar dispenser placed nearby. Though it smelled rich, fragrant, and likely tasted as good as it smelled, Reaper left it untouched, doing little more than staring into the dark liquid as his mind tried to wrap itself around his current predicament and come up with some sort of a solution ...assuming there even was one.

The chair across him was pulled back, and Jack sat himself down, worry coloring his expression and his own cup of coffee placed on the table in front of him.

“Hey, are you sure you're all right?” Reaper never could stand to see Jack looked so worried or concerned about him, and this Jack was no different.

“Just peachy,” he rasped.

Jack nearly jolted in shock, no doubt surprised at hearing him speak for the first time.

“Oh! You do speak!” he blurted, before quickly slapping a hand over his mouth. “Ah, sorry. I didn't mean to assume or imply anything, you just… never said a word to me at all before is why. I wasn't sure if you were mute and didn't want to make you feel awkward.”

Jack smiled apologetically, wringing his hands in nervousness — yet another trait he shared with the Jack Reaper used to know. The more he looked at Jack, the more his heart ached in recognition. This was most definitely Jack. Perhaps not his Jack, but still Jack, nevertheless- likely this world's version of Jack. And if there was a Jack here, then perhaps…

Was there a version himself here as well, of Gabriel Reyes? If so, then what would happen if the both of them were to meet? Did Reaper’s presence here mean that something had happened to the Gabriel of this world? What was this world's Gabriel in relation to this world's Jack? Did they know each other? Had they even met? What if, in this world, Jack didn't even know Gabriel even existed? What if-

Realizing Jack was still staring at him in curiosity, he quickly abandoned his runaway train of thought.

“Is there something on my face?” Reaper asked, and once again, Jack jumped in his seat in surprise.

“Oh, no! I was just… admiring your costume is all. I've never seen anything like it, that's all. You never did tell me where it's from, after all.”

Reaper let out a small laugh, and replied, “I would be very surprised if you had seen this look before. It's... an original design, so to speak.”

“That would explain it,” Jack smiled, taking a sip from his coffee. His eyes drifted down to Reaper’s neglected cup, and he frowned slightly. “Not a fan of coffee? I can get you something else, if you want.” He gestured behind him towards the counter and the steel door behind it that no doubt led to the kitchen.

Reaper shook his head no. He briefly contemplated taking a sip just to appease Jack, but realized that would require removing his mask. A sight that would no doubt send Jack fleeing in terror. He could have used his nanites to fix his appearance, but if there indeed was a version of Gabriel Reyes in this world, and Jack indeed knew him, then that would have caused even more problems that Reaper needed to deal with.

A sudden realization dawned on him. Hadn't Jack mentioned a ‘Gabriel’ before?

“You said your friend Gabriel was in a costume contest?” Reaper asked, quickly changing the subject.

Jack seemed to roll with it with no issue, however, as a smile made its way into his face. Reaper felt his heart clench for a brief moment, but forced himself to ignore it, more interested in what Jack had to say that made him smile so sweetly.

“Yeah! Gabriel is really talented! He apparently makes his costumes by hand every year! This is my first Halloween in LA, so I can't really tell you what costumes he made before, but this year he dressed up as the Pumpkin King!” Jack answered excitedly. He fished his phone from his pocket and fiddled with it for a few moments before holding up the screen for Reaper to see. “Amazing, right?!”

Amazing was one way to describe the picture, yes, but the only word that popped into Reaper’s head was ‘ unbelievable ’. Shown on the tiny screen was a picture of Jack himself standing besides a girl — the spitting image of a young Fareeha Amari, no older than 8 years old, perhaps — and the spitting image of himself, Gabriel Reyes, except at least 20 years younger, decked out in the very same Pumpkin King costume he had worn oh so many years ago.

Reaper could only nod as a lump formed in his throat, and a storm of emotion began to swirl and churn inside his chest. There was indeed a Gabriel in this world, as well as a Fareeha Amari. This world's Gabriel knew Jack. The both of them were friends. Just friends, or something more?

The brief expression of fondness on Jack's face as he took another look at the screen before putting his phone away told him enough. They might not have been something more than friends, but there was definitely some desire on Jack's part that he wanted to be. After all, Reaper recognised the same look on Jack's face as he did back when he and his Jack were still dating, whenever Jack stealthily read the messages Gabriel sent him via communicator even though they were in the same room together.

Jealousy crept its way into Reaper’s heart. With no Overwatch and no Talon to speak of, this world's Gabriel and Jack no doubt stood a better chance at ‘forever’ than his Jack and himself ever did. They didn't have a war to deal with, a crisis to end, an international organization to run, and a United Nations to directly answer to. It wasn't fair.

And yet…

Reaper couldn't find himself harboring such negative emotions for long. Life had dealt his Jack and himself a completely different set of cards than this Jack and this Gabriel. It wasn't their fault that their future looked brighter than Reaper’s ever did with his Jack.

“Not bad,” Reaper replied rather neutrally, and Jack laughed at that.

“I'll be sure to pass that criticism along, then,” Jack smiled, finishing the rest of his coffee.

Just then, a loud clatter was heard coming from outside the store, somewhere beyond the steel door that led into the kitchen.

“Oh!” Jack exclaimed quietly, as if a realization suddenly dawned on him. He got up from his chair and held up a pointer finger. “Sorry, I seem to have forgotten something! Give me just a few moments to go take care of it. I'll be right back!”

Reaper shrugged and nodded, and Jack took that as his cue to go handle whatever it was he needed to do, most likely something related to the metallic crash that just occurred.

A few minutes turned into several, and before long, Reaper had grown as curious as his coffee had grown cold. Quietly, he got up from his chair and peeked into the kitchen. Jack was nowhere to be seen. Even though he knew he probably shouldn’t, he went deeper inside, letting the door swing closed behind him. Neither Jack nor anything unusual was to be seen, and just as Reaper was about to leave, he heard Jack's voice.

“C’mon, guys, you need to learn to share and slow down, or you're going to make yourselves sick!”

Curious, Reaper headed towards the sound of Jack's voice and eventually found another open door, this one leading to the alleyway behind the store and propped open to let the light from outside flood into the dimly lit kitchen. Reaper could swear he heard meowing and hissing the closer he got to the door, and sure enough, when he peered outside, he was greeted with a sight that had his heart clenching once more.

There, in the alleyway, was Jack, crouched in front of several small dishes of what appeared to be wet cat food, and around him, were several, if not at least 10 different cats, all either eating from the dishes or just lingering nearby, doing whatever cats did when they weren't eating or sleeping.

Jack himself was preoccupied with a few other cats, clearly more interested in Jack himself than the food being offered to them if the ways they were climbing and pawing and purring at Jack were any sort of indication.

An orange cat- a rather scrawny orange cat meowed at Jack and swatted at Jack's knee with one of its white paws, and laughing, Jack picked it up, bringing the cat's face level with his own and laughing. His Jack had always loved cats, and it was abundantly clear that this Jack was no different.

The look of sheer joy and contentment on Jack's face had Reaper’s heart aching all over again, simultaneously breaking at the memory of his own Jack being lost to him forever, and being stolen all over again by that smile made warmth and sunlight. He longed to see his own Jack smile like that once more, but given that wasn't an option — hadn't been for a long time — he took what he could get, indulging himself in the sight of this Jack at ease and enjoying himself, the spitting image of the one he longed for.

For a while, time felt as if it stood still, and when Reaper felt like he could take no more of the simultaneous feelings of love and grief warring inside of him, he took his leave. He shifted his mask just long enough to quickly down the now-cold, but still tasty coffee, scribbled a note that read ‘Thank you’ to be weighed down onto the table by the empty cup, and left the bakery, the bell chiming behind him as he vanished.

The bell's ringing suddenly brought Jack to his senses, and quickly but carefully, he set all the cats that had climbed atop him down on the ground and scrambled inside, ready to apologize to his guest. However, when he got inside, the stranger in the mask was nowhere to be found, and the sign on the door had been flipped to show ‘Closed’ when looking in from the outside.

A pang of guilt hit him briefly until he saw the note the stranger left, and Jack wondered if he would ever see him again. The stranger never showed his face or told him his name, but there was something about him that gave Jack a strange feeling of familiarity the entire time the stranger was there. He couldn't explain it, but he felt like he knew him.

Sighing and hoping the stranger didn't write him off as rude and neglectful, Jack dutifully cleaned off the table before heading back into the kitchen to finish his business with the cats as well as review his list of things needed for tomorrow, when the store opened up once again.

The next day was nothing short of routine and boring, the same thing as usual. He couldn't complain, what with the steady flow of customers and regulars, but there was a small part of Jack that craved something different, something special.

He got his wish later that day, when he went to feed the alley cats once more.

As he set down the last dish of food, a cat he had never seen before approached him. With fur as black as night and distinct white markings on its face that almost looked like a skull, the strange cat caught Jack's attention immediately. It meowed at Jack as it approached, clearly more interested in Jack himself than the food. It rubbed up against Jack's legs, meowing and purring all the while.

“Hey, little guy, where'd you come from?” Jack asked, amused and curious. He bent down to get a closer look, and the cat all but leapt into his arms, purring the entire time. A red collar could be seen around the cat's neck, and Jack immediately checked the tag, wondering who this affectionate cat belonged to. To his surprise, there was no address on the back, but on the front, clear as day, read what was undoubtedly the cat's name.

“‘Reaper’, huh? What a fitting name,” he laughed.

Reaper couldn't say that turning himself into a cat was exactly the best idea he ever had, but given the situation, he couldn't exactly think of anything better. He couldn't exactly go about living like he did before as the mercenary Reaper. But neither could he continue his life as a normal human. There was already one Gabriel Reyes in this world, there was no place nor need for another.

It was foolish of him, but at the very least, this way he could find some sort of comfort in spending the rest of his days with Jack, even it wasn't the way he had ever expected when he said his wedding vows. He could watch over this Jack from nearby, and make sure he found the peace and joy that his Jack was never able to. Call him sentimental and selfish, but he was going to make sure that the story of Jack and Gabriel in this world would at least have some sort of a happy ending.

You'll forgive me if I make you wait a little longer to see you again, right, Jack? It's for your sake, after all.

[singingwordwright]

Shadowhunters recap - s2ep12 “You Are Not Your Own”

SHADOWHUNTERS Recaps Intro and Masterlist

These recaps may contain spoilers from the books (that may or may not happen in the show.) Proceed at your own risk.

Recap and meta under the cut.

This moment does a great job of making us feel Magnus’s desperation and also how helpless he is in this situation. Screaming alone in an empty dungeon? That’s going to stick with me for a while.

So, a demon can just waltz into Magnus’s apartment at any given time? He doesn’t have wards and protections against that sort of thing? Really?

This is interesting. In the books, Clary is 16 and she sort of fools around with Simon when they’re dating, but her first time having sex is with Jace and that’s fairly believable because of their ages.

The books, of course, make it a big deal and that’s pretty appropriate too because someone’s first time generally is a fairly noteworthy occasion. And the show made a big deal of Alec’s first time being with Magnus.

This? Isn’t all that noteworthy. They’re not making a big deal out of it. It’s sort of business as usual. “Oh, they’re sleeping together now, moving on…”

Are we to infer from this that Clary isn’t as sexually inexperienced as she is in the books? That’s not what we’re lead to believe in s1ep01 when she tells Jocelyn “we’ve had the talk.” But we know very little about her adolescence, except that she has a fake ID (s1ep01) and has had enough hangovers that she can call one of them the worst (s2ep01.)

Or are we to take this as another sign of the way Clary and Simon’s romantic relationship just flows comfortably along. Which is nice, because I really hate high-drama relationships.

That said, this is the first time I’m glad that—for whatever reason—Simon isn’t living at Luke’s house. It made me sort of uncomfortable in the books that Clary was making out with Simon in her bedroom there.

That is a LOT of sideboob Clary is flashing there. Like, this is a family channel, sheesh!

Nice boxers, Simon. And can I remark on how much I like the fact that guys on this show are allowed to have chest hair? I’m kinda over the whole perfectly waxed pecs thing.

Overreact much, Simon? This whole Simon/Raphael subplot seems to be missing some steps. Like, Raphael tries to ask Simon about being a daylighter and now Simon is convinced Raphael is stalking and threatening him? How did we go from one to the other? I feel like I missed something.

Will Tudor is just so precious I’m sort of dreading the full-on reveal of who Sebastian really is.

I like Alec listening to his instincts here and not letting himself be dissuaded. He’s come a long way on that front. He could have used some of that in the past. And in what’s to come, tbh.

Why won’t this thing work? I love this. I love Valentine smacking his hand as though it’s a defective gizmo that can be made to operate properly with enough percussive maintenance. Harry really made some great acting choices playing Valentine.

“I’ll reward your kindness by delivering you into a body that you deserve.” Valentine, surely you’re not stupid enough to miss the layers of tricksy meaning in that. Once he has that cup, Azazel’s gonna dump your ass into the body of a syphilitic rat.

There’s been a lot of discussion in the fandom on how these casually affectionate touches don’t count because it’s not actually Magnus, and I both agree and disagree.

Alec doesn’t know it’s not Magnus, of course. So we’re to take from this that this is the way he would touch Magnus under other circumstance, and that’s awesome. That tells us a lot about the place their relationship is in.

However, I’ve been quite opinionated on the subject of whether or not Malec is being short-changed in the way their relationship is being portrayed versus the way het pairings on the show are portrayed. Mostly, my position in the past has been to wait and see, that it’s too early to freak out and declare their relationship hopelessly short-changed, that there will be a payoff in terms of how they’re portrayed with each other both physically and emotionally, at a time when it’s going to have the most impact.

This is not that time. But that time is coming. The line of credit I have extended the producers on this front is almost maxed out and it’s just about time to pay up. With interest.

I do like Valentine’s utter confusion about Alec touching him. Valentine, your wife left you for a Downworlder. Your daughter is dating a Downworlder. Your kidnapped adopted son’s parabatai is dating a Downworlder. They’re all over the place.

In your face, bitch.

Dayum, Alec, you and that bow! Whew!

I guess now we know what Matt Daddario meant when he said Alec would get a real hero moment, except that it’s not what it seems to be.

Can we take a moment to note that the heating radiators in Magnus’s apartment are gold? Like how fucking swank is that?

Clary NO/Clary YES episode tally: 1

“For the first time, I felt like there’s a reason I became a Shadowhunter.” Of course. Because being an ordinary, non-rune-drawing superhuman wasn’t good enough. You have to be an uber-special superhuman or it’s pointless, right?

Dot shouldn’t have bought into Magnus’s excuse so easily. I gather that she’s not a very powerful warlock, and that’s fine, but she’s still a fairly intelligent person. This requires a level of deliberate obtuseness and credulity that insults common sense.

Again, unless they cut scenes with Raphael and Simon, I don’t understand Simon’s turning to Izzy to convince Raphael to back off. Raphael clearly had doubts that Simon was telling all he knew, but all he did was leave it at a vaguely menacing “I hope so” when Simon he wasn’t withholding anything.

So what happened that prompted Simon to call Izzy? Is this just Simon’s tendency to overreact (see also, his canonical hypochondria.)

I do like Izzy being able to admit her addiction. The first step, for Alcoholics Anonymous/Narcotics Anonymous, is: We admitted that we were powerless over our addiction, that our lives had become unmanageable. So we actually see Izzy already beginning the process here, even before Simon proposes hooking her up with a group. And I do love Simon falling back on his experience with his mom’s addiction.

It’s telling, though, that Simon is detached enough from his own vampirism that he immediately knows Raphael is a danger to Izzy’s recovery, but doesn’t perceive himself to be likewise dangerous for her.

God, the violence with which the lights come on and Alec comes storming through the door. Wow.

Okay. If you were following my posts last week, you saw I had quite a bit of anxiety going into this episode. Alec is a guy whose “calm anger” rune has absolutely no effect. When he gets pissed off enough, he gets violent. If it’s anger toward people he loves, he goes for a punching bag and trains. Anyone else needs to be very afraid.

So I was really nervous that he’d start talking with his fists here, and even if the show addressed it, I’d always have that in my head and it would just always spoil Malec for me.

Thank God they didn’t go there.

I can’t really blame Alec for being rough when he storms into the room. As far as he knows, this is the evilest, most awful person in existence, and that person is invoking the name of the man he loves, trying to use the man he loves to trick them somehow. Frankly I’d probably be furious and slam him against a wall, too.

What does hurt later on is the way he slaps Magnus’s hands away when Magnus reaches out to him. I’m still not sure I entirely blame him for that, because a healthy incredulity here is certainly called for. It hurts, though, because Magnus is so afraid and in need of the comfort of the man he loves and he’s denied that. Ouch.

Ugh. This scene. I just…I can’t blame Alec. I don’t think anyone could rightfully blame Alec for not believing what he’s being told. It defies credulity. And Jace is right, you can’t let Valentine get into your head, he can talk you into believing anything, that’s what he does.

What I do blame Alec for is not inquiring further. He doesn’t know Valentine, this is his first time ever really interacting with Valentine, so of course he can’t tell if “Valentine” is being truthful or not.

But he does know Magnus.

So why not return to Magnus’s apartment and ask leading questions that will reveal whether “Magnus” knows things he should know. Watch his mannerisms. Ask him where the omamori is. Observe his odd behavior further and see if it adds up. Hell, at this point he’d encounter Dot teaching “Magnus” magic and that would blow the whole thing open.

Why calmly go along with the execution of a man whose identity is in question?

What this shows us is that the Alec who was so devoted to following orders, following the rules, being the good Clave droogie, isn’t as dead and buried as we’d hoped. And frankly it’s rather hypocritical of him to take Maryse to task for falling back on the “I was following orders” party line when he still does the same damn thing and it almost cost Magnus his life because he couldn’t be assed to inquire further.

Fighting as foreplay. Sort of cliché, but still effective. It’s amusing, the books remark on how fighting is like sex for Jace, but it looks like Clary’s got some of that same instinct going on as well.

Gotta love the Inquisitor being cool as a cucumber, strolling along while a guy with a sword is doing backflips over her head.

Imogen refers to Jace as Clary’s friend. So apparently since s2ep11 when she called them both Valentine’s children, they have told her that Jace isn’t Valentine’s son?

I really hate this scene. And this scene really makes me hate Izzy. A lot. And I don’t want to hate Izzy.

In a way, Raphael does deserve this (Simon going after his closest relative) because Raphael threatened Simon’s mom. I get that.

But for Izzy to be the one to propose it? Raphael doesn’t deserve that. He protected her. He helped her. He protected her from herself, even. He cared for her. And this is just a betrayal of that. It’s the second time she’s betrayed him. I’m deeply disgusted by her going there, and I really hope Raphael drags her for it.

I wish Simon would have trusted his instincts and been the bigger person. This was so unnecessary and I just hate it.

ETA: Also, Izzy can’t have even met Rosa before. The writers screwed up the timeline:

The sequence of events goes like this:

The night of the massacre is the night Raphael told her about Rosa

They made tamales together

Did some blood sucking

Alec beat up Raphael

Tthey snuggled and Raphael told her about being ace

Raphael hid Izzy’s phone and left to kill Clary

Izzy laid around a while then checked her phone and went to help

The next morning Izzy tells Raphael she doesn’t want to see him anymore

A few days later she goes to Raphael and he sends her packing

The next day she’s doing so much better and takes Simon to see Rosa

So, like......wat?

Grrr.

No, Alec, you don’t want to fall for Valentine’s lies. But maybe, just maybe, with the safety and well-being of the man you love, you could at least inquire fucking further?

Seriously? You’re just going to leave it at this, knowing there’s a chance, however minute, that the man you love is being tortured in the basement? You’re just gonna let it go at that? Pah.

God, this shot. THIS SHOT. The cinematography here is just phenomenal, with Magnus’s real face superimposed over Magnus as Valentine. Wow! Whoever came up with that shot needs, like, ALL THE AWARDS.

Great acting choices by Alan Van Sprang here. Watching him portray Magnus is mostly in the hands. Look at the way he’s rubbing his fingers together for comfort. (Watching Harry portray Valentine is largely in the posture.) Alan does go for an arms-akimbo stance when he’s calling Valentine a fool, which I don’t buy. That’s a Valentine posture there.

Not going to talk about the torture scene because I just…I can’t. Can’t go there. La la la la la.

But really, Imogen? A prisoner’s identity is in question and you’re going to execute him rather than investigate?

I like the addition of the greenhouse set. I don’t like Sebastian worming his way into Clary’s psyche.

I feel like there’s some significance to his necklace here. It’s displayed so prominently (though we never get a close-up) and he just doesn’t strike me as the necklace-wearing type? At least not a long, dangly one like that. A chain under the shirt, maybe.

Why are there ketchup and mustard bottles on the table at a Chinese restaurant? I’ve never seen that before in my life. Is it a New York thing?

Interesting that Raphael was pissed off enough to hire a warlock to create a portal. Or does his vampire clan have a warlock they are associated with? How does that work?

Izzy’s plot-convenient incompetence rears its ugly head. The vamps just get the drop on her and she doesn’t even have a chance to fight back. And that’s before she’s tempted by the prospect of a bite. Ugh.

I like Luke smacking some sense into Simon. Can we have more of Luke smacking sense into everyone?

Really, Alec, you’re just gonna go along with this with nothing more than a troubled frown? An extrajudicial execution of someone whose identity is even the littlest bit in question? You can’t even say you’re following orders. This is specifically contrary to Clave orders. This isn’t your duty so seriously, what the fuck?

Jace, that should have been your first clue right there. Since when does Magnus touch people liberally like that?

I hate this scene. I hate it almost more than I would have hated Alec getting violent with Magnus earlier. I don’t want Magnus to see Alec like this, stone-faced, suppressing his own instinct for mercy and decency to follow orders. I hate this Alec and I don’t see how Magnus will ever again be able to trust that if it comes down a choice between orders and doing what’s right, Alec will choose what’s right.

I keep searching Alec’s face for some hint that he would have stopped this, and I see none. He walks away. And I hate that.

The Herondale reveal is so very anticlimactic. The focus in this scene is entirely on Imogen and Valentine. What are Alec and Magnus doing? I need to see Alec taking care of Magnus here and they don’t show it, except for Alec taking the gag off.

There are so many unnecessary scenes they could have cut in this episode and given us a scene between Alec and Magnus on the way to meet Valentine at Magnus’s loft. A scene between them while Magnus was still in Valentine’s body and Alec is trying to figure out how to interact with him like that would have been perfect.

This whole thing with Clary and her runes? I couldn’t care less. I just want to stupid glitter special effects to stop.

Finally we really see the contrast in their postures and gestures. Alan’s flourish with his hands before he starts the spell to switch them back is pretty incredible.

That bar code on the prison uniform is an odd choice. Seriously, the Clave has so much technology AND mystical power at their disposal and they use a barcode to track a prisoner? Weird.

So Clary can just undo the wards of one of the most powerful warlocks in existence, because she feels really bad and Sebastian gave her the opposite of a pep talk. Nifty.

Not.

Magnus grappling with Valentine is awesome. I think Valentine was arrogant enough to assume Magnus would let him go without a fight. I would have liked to have seen a more elaborate fight scene here, but I’ll take what we got.

I do love Clary’s trick of tackling Valentine and directing where the portal should go. That was some quick thinking. Why she didn’t exercise that same quick thought in s2ep10 when Valentine was knocked out on the floor of the Institute and she could have stopped him permanently but instead left him lying there to pick up the Soul Sword, I still don’t know. Plot-convenient competence vs. plot-convenient incompentence strikes again.

Magnus seems so broken down here and I hate it. Hate. It. I need it to be next week already so I can see him starting to recover.

I wish I felt more chemistry from Izzy and Simon, but I don’t. I hope they manage to change that, since we all know Sizzy is an endgame ship. Right now it feels forced and I just don’t care.

Ugh really? They’re going with the Sebastian-is-incestuously-obsessed-with-Clary thing after all? I’m so disappointed. I was hoping my theory about them switching that fixation to Izzy would pan out. Hopefully it still will. There’s time, but this reduces my confidence on that front.

Dammit, Will Tudor, stop being so freaking adorable in this role. You’re supposed to be creepy and weird.

“Now I know where that hold defiance of yours comes from.” I really love what the actress here did with her voice, the way it gets rough and almost cracks with emotion. She reminds me a lot of the late, great Colleen Dewhurst in this scene with her ability to be gruff and emotional.

That said, how did she get the ring? “I retrieved this from Magnus’s apartment.” Dammit, if she went to Magnus and asked for it, she fucking well better have made some apologies for, y’know, torturing and almost executing him. And I would have liked to have seen that scene, mostly because Magnus would have raked her over the coals and she would have deserved it, and he probably would have dragged the Clave while he was at it and I NEED to see that.

As I said in my liveblog commentary, Imogen can’t really invoke the words “good and just” when she was on the verge of committing a murder for revenge a few hours ago.

That said, I do like something positive happening to Jace for once. He’s had enough gratuitous character torture for a bit.

Can it be next week already?

Clary NO/Clary YES Series Total (so far): 17

[jackblankhsh]

Why I Quit:  Public Relations

“Wow, that is a lot of blood.”

“Thanks.  It’s not mine.  I hit a pig on the way over.”

“Cop pig, or pig pig?”

“Cop riding a pig actually.  It’s a whole thing, I don’t really have time to get into.  Could I get a waffle cone full of mint chocolate chip?”

“No problem.”

I handed the woman her ice cream cone.  She took a lick that inspired a deep lusty bite.  The look of elation on her face – comforting cold wrapping around a burning soul – I envied that degree of satisfaction, wanted to be her.  Then a bullet whipped through the front door.  Her head exploded.  Though her body fell she did not drop the cone.  I distinctly remember a bit of brain erupting from her skull, flying over the counter, and landing in the slot full of cherries.  It sank into the maraschino pool, and I doubt anyone but me saw it vanish.  There to lurk until one day spooned onto a sundae.  

On the news that evening, a perky anchor addressed the city, “Good evening, Chicago.  This is the news.  25 people shot yesterday, all of them dead.  Cubs won their home opener, and the weather may get up into the 80s this weekend.  Isn’t that great?”

Co-anchor cocked an eyebrow, “Cubs win, and 80 degrees on the way?  Can’t get much better.”

All smiles then, leaving the grim behind.  No details.  The less known the less thought about, except I couldn’t stop wondering if office work might now be a safer profession.  In a skyscraper high above the streets full of swarms of stray bullets unintentionally murdering randomly – I decided to jump ship, but not until sight of land.  In other words, I’d stick it out at the ice cream parlor until another job came along.  I would not have to wait long.

The next day I arrived to find my manager listening to an androgynous figure in a three piece suit.  Introductions quickly ensued.

“Indigo Jackson,” turned out to be a representative of a family, whom for legal purposes will have to remain anonymous, though suffice it to say they felt yesterday’s event warranted some kind of response on their part.  To that end, without suggesting any culpability, they saw fit to replace the entire front of the store with bulletproof glass, in order to allay any concerns from patrons or employees as to the safety of our establishment; and offered to compensate me to the tune of ten thousand dollars for having witnessed the “unpleasantness;” though of course all such matters required, first, the signing of several documents Indigo summarized adroitly, escorting us through a murky swamp of legalese without ever really explaining what signing those papers meant, despite implications abounding:  here big sack ‘o’ cash, sign for it, and shut up forever.  

When at last Indigo inquired, “Do you understand?”

I said, “It must be interesting to have a job where you need to be so definitely opaque, yet somehow understood enough people do what you ask.”

Indigo nodded, “It is.”  

“I kind of want to give that a try.”

“Are you saying you want a job instead of the money?”

“Can’t I have both?  It was a very disturbing sight.”

Indigo said, “Something can be arranged.”

Clapping my hands together, “Great.  Then before I quit, how about I make you a cherry sundae?”

“Sounds good.”

#

The next day I ascended to the top of the Monadnock Building.  Once upon a time the largest skyscraper in America – circa 1893 – it still towered in its own way, evolving over the century into a marvelous amalgamation of early aesthetics and modern technological convenience.  Brick full of invisible wifi threads connecting the past, present, and future; tap a foot on red tile mosaic patterns, while listening to the lasted streaming playlist, killing time till the rush hour clog gives way.  Then up steps adorned first in ornate aluminum cast decorations then on upper floors, bronze-plated cast iron staircases, shunning the elevator for a chance to walk through history… and maybe feeling no hurry to be at work on time.  

Into the office to start a brand new –

“You the new guy?  Follow me.”  A balding man in a sweat stained shirt grabbed me by the elbow.  He pulled me into the office muttering as he poured over emails.  His phone rang.  He threw it on the floor.  I felt it crunch under foot, and before I could apologize an intern materialized from behind a file cabinet, handed him a fresh phone, and the muttering commenced once again.  Though this time I deciphered a bit, “Goddamn turkey fuckering pirates.”

The office buzzed with activity.  Hordes of hollow eyed business people in various states of decay, internal and external, paced the space examining documents, paper and electronic.  A middle aged man in a thread bare double breasted suit sniffed ketamine off a tablespoon, while his colleague, a young woman in a pencil skirt, slugged vodka the way the thirsty chug water.  I only caught a snippet of their exchange:

“We can’t apologize for lactose intolerance.”

“But we can apologize for a cheeseburger having cheese.” In another space a grey skinned wax figure waited for a nurse to change an IV bag dripping morphine.  Surrounded by an assortment of young professionals, the room seemed like a cult of silence devoted to holding a secret.  A woman in tortoise shell glasses spun the cylinder of a revolver, put it to her temple, and when she heard the click, sighed, took a shot of whiskey, and started reading a letter.  I heard the distinct clatter of keyboards being hammered, and riding crops striking bare flesh.

“Thank you Miss!  May I have another?”

Yet in all the seeming chaos the workers managed to flow between one another efficiently, an almost elegant ballet of the damned.

The person towing me through the scene remarked, “I’m Bernie.  For now.  Tomorrow, I don’t know.  It depends.  Don’t ask on what.  Point being, your job is to write back to the beggars.  Got it?”

“Okay.”

“Good.  Here’s your space.”  And with that Bernie detached his hand, leaving me adrift by a state of the art computer atop a turn of the century desk.  Stepping over a chalk outline, I took a seat at my desk.

“Don’t worry about that.”

I looked up to find a young lady in red.  

She nodded at the chalk outline, “Horace Fletcher.  Good guy.  Killed himself.”

“Does everybody here talk in staccato sentences.”

She smiled, “Force of habit, I’m afraid.  There’s a lot to do, and no time to do it in,” extending a hand, “I’m Patty.”

Thanks to Patty, I discovered the true parameters of my job.  Public relations is almost a tautology.  It’s name defines what it is:  relating to the public.  However, that covers a broad spectrum of ways to relate.  The top floor of the Monadnock Building devoted itself to public relations for the {redacted} family.  This involved everything from composing explanations, summaries, and denials regarding the family’s various scandals, philanthropies, business, and political concerns.  Each concern being the focus of different groups, or perhaps divisions is more appropriate:  mercenary artisans trying to paint realities.

As Patty put it, “We wrap the shit in gold, and draw all eyes to a drop in the bucket.”

When I said, “Bernie put me in charge of the 'beggars?’”

Patty got a bit misty, “Entry level stuff.  Enjoy your innocence.”

I wanted to inform Patty about my time as a sounding assistant, sterilizing metal rods used by a dominatrix to widen the hole in a penis so that objects such as fingers could be inserted into said dick-hole; however, I could tell she enjoyed the idea of my innocence so much that it would be wrong to rob her of it.  So I kept my penis stories to myself.  

The “beggars” turned out to be anyone writing to the {redacted} family asking for money.  This also constituted a broad spectrum.  On any given day I went through about fifty missives soliciting money in myriad ways.  Long lost cousins sought financial reconnection with relatives; for the low, low price of 20 grand, black sheep offered to keep silent about buried bodies; and any number of other unrecognized spawn demanding financial acknowledgement.  Meanwhile, inventors who swore to be on the verge of paradigm shifting breakthroughs – teleportation, antigravity, freeze rays, and orgasm pills – just needed another few thousand to revolutionize the world.  Folks from places like Telluride, Colorado, Marfa, Texas, and Stockbridge, Massachusetts sought coin to start hospitals for broken hearts, agencies devoted to finding lost pets, and the Fuck You Ashley Tillerman Institute.  Cash to stop the Martian invasion.  Funds to get the invasion going.  

Every day I dipped into a cornucopia full of the well intentioned, insane, and grifters.  After about two weeks, it got hard to tell the difference between them.  This mainly having to do with the fact my response to each, as instructed, remained forever always NO.  

Patty said, “You have to read the letters.  That way you can put in a personal touch.  Then they feel like someone actually considered giving them money, and we get less hate mail.  Believe me, you don’t want to piss off that department.  They have the best drugs.”

So I did my best to be accommodating:

“Dear madam,

We appreciate your desire to build a National Hardware Store Historical Society.  Hardware stores provide Americans with the means to build the future, and maintain the present.  However, we don’t feel that our company is the best one to get behind this endeavor.  Perhaps a major home improvement retailer might be a better fit.  

Best of luck in your pursuit.

Sincerely, {redacted}”

An intern near the coffee room enjoyed the task of rubber stamping signatures onto all correspondence.  The kid sat in a weed slack fog of delight, stamp, stamp, stamping the day away.  On more than one occasion I found myself along with others enviously eying that intern.   According to office folklore, the top floor of the Monadnock Building was purchased because a bygone patriarch of the {redacted} family said, “The city is in charge of cleaning the sidewalk.  So if they’re going to kill themselves, let them jump to their death.  Then we won’t have to pay for the mess.”  So it’s no surprise how many of us came to envy that intern’s pacific demeanor while happily assisting in the distribution of our gilded shit.  It didn’t seem to wear on the soul quite the way it did on ours.  

Having to tell a racist no we won’t be funding a School of Higher Aryan Education (and whatever hideously malignant stupidity that would lead to) does make one feel good.  However, having to deny someone asking for help with medical bills, cancer killing their bank account before it goes after them, obliterates any of that joy.  Overhearing the press release about {redacted} Junior’s latest monstrosity – “Maybe that hooker wanted to die, she didn’t say, 'Stop choking me.’” – knowing the expense of his legal defense, and ad campaign to polish the family image – we could ease a few burdens with those millions.  But no.  Cancer fighters, refugees, the infirmed, those honestly sick, dying, and in need:  fuck 'em.  

Granted, it seems like an equal fuck you, aimed at anyone asking for a penny, yet, the disparity is taxing.  

The postmark puts the letter in some part of Texas.  It’s from an elderly woman writing on behalf of her grandson.  He can’t write himself because 45% of his body is covered in burns after an oilrig catastrophe, and seeing as how [redacted} owns those oilfields, well sir, it seems right proper maybe we could help with the medical bills is all; and sure, there’s a real possibility she’s a grifter pulling some bullshit con – start thinking of everyone as full of shit – old bitch probably writes to a dozen companies a day asking for any kind of cash.  Yeah!  Suck down a fifth of bourbon writing the politest fuck you the world’s ever heard.  Don’t even wonder if it’s at all true.  Or if so, consider it sarcastically:  sorry about your extra crispy grandson, but we can’t help because there’s nothing that says we have to.

On a Wednesday, Bernie stopped into my office.  He said, “You’re doing great.  Promotion assured.  Pretty soon you’ll have my job.”

I opened my mouth to reply.  His phone rang.  He held up a finger.  In the momentary silence he answered, listened, nodded then walked to a window, and jumped out.

Few people are ever so blessed to witness their future made plain.  

Patty stuck her head in, “Did Bernie just go out a window?”

I said, “Yep, and I quit.”

[zerot0m-blog]

Groovy Wuxia: The Final Chapter

(Part 1)

(Part 2)

And so we come to the epic followup to Shaolin vs Evil Dead. So how does the sequel top the insanity of the first film? 

Well, it does this by being a prequel. Yes, Shaolin vs Evil Dead 2: Ultimate Power is, in fact, a prequel to the first film. I say this because the film is two thirds flashback and the final third is the final act of the first film. And, I’ll admit, I was insanely pissed off when I found this out. 

The opening scene actually isn’t that bad, as it jumps right into an action setpiece as an evil warlord lady pillages a village. This introduces two warriors, Phoenix and Dragon, who also happen to be lovers. They sustain injuries during the battle which, it turns out, introduced a sort of poison into their bodies. 

This is particularly bad for Phoenix as she’s with child. They go to another Buddhist Master who, sadly, can’t help them. However, he sends for another master to provide them with an antidote while doing his best to ensure the baby is born safely. Sadly, Phoenix dies as a result. All this while, Dragon is vomiting blood on his newborn son because he’s a fucking idiot.

After a while a young boy (a young Master White) arrives with the antidote, which they use to save Dragon, this, despite the fact he’s been more or less fine apart from puking blood on occasion for what seems like several weeks. However, it seems this poison is also a curse, and it has forever tainted the baby. And it turns out, this baby will grow up to be Master Black from the first film!

(I’m getting Lost flashbacks)

What follows is a boring and pointless prequel film that showcases how Black and White grew up and trained together, but when it came time for the head master of their school to announce a successor, he picks White instead of Black and Black runs off because he couldn’t become a jedi master. 

To be perfectly honest, I lost interest in this movie within ten minutes. So I skipped to the end. And from what I can tell, I didn’t miss much.

So back to when the first film ended, Fire’s demon poop baby sacrificed itself to save the useless Master White and the bumbling Joe. The group, plus Grace, reach a temple and prepare for the possessed Black to attack.

However, Black raises the numerous deadites White has buried in his backyard to do his bidding. So White’s whole process for dealing with undead proves to be fucking stupid, solidifying his uselessness. As this is going on, White sets up a bunch of magic stones that look more like novelty soaps from Bed, Bath, And Beyond, with the plan of trapping and exorcising the demon spirit out of Black. And so the stage is set for the final battle. 

(Powerful mystical relics)

The deadites begin hopping into the temple square, yeah, they hop. Because I guess the Chinese needed to have their own unique mark to differentiate their zombies from that of Western zombies. Our zombies may shamble and chant for brains, or run like olympic athletes on speed, which are all rather terrifying traits. However, Chinese zombies hop, producing a truly terrifying menace. 

Also they’re all dressed in silly robes, maybe to evoke the horror of clowns. I dunno. 

So White and Joe face off with the zombies, which includes a zombified Grace. Wait, how did she die? When did she leave the temple? This is never explained, and I even went back to the bits I skipped to make sure I didn’t miss anything. There is no explanation, it’s as if this movie has an extra thirty minutes just missing, and it gets worse as time goes on.

White and Joe manage to return Grace to normal however with some magic, yet don’t bother to do the same thing with any of the other zombies... because. And the three fight more zombies for a while until Black shows up and he and White begin a duel. At this point, the magic rocks from before activate and send Black and White into The Matrix. 

This part is somewhat entertaining as Black and White fight in numerous stages like a multi-tier boss fight in a video game, going from a stone level where White summons rock golems to fight Black, then a fire level where Black conjures a dragon made of blades, and a water/ice level where Black and White fight in a cube of water until White freezes it and traps Black. 

Then, he removes Black’s human spirit from the demon, except the demon escapes and ends up killing Black. Because this was a plan devised by White, and by default it was destined for fail miserably. 

Because Master White fucking sucks. 

The demon then manages to escape the matrix and proceeds to wipe the floor with White. Realizing they’re gonna lose because of White’s incompetence, our heroes can only hope for a miracle. 

Which comes in the form of a deus ex meteor, which slams into the temple and kills everyone. 

No, I am not kidding. This really happens. 

Joe and Grace do manage to escape before the meteor hits via a convenient mini-hot air baloon that White pulls out of his ass. And the movie ends.

And my assumption is that Fire died in the meteor impact as well given that there is no scene suggesting he left the temple. So yeah on top of all the creepy shit that happened to him he ended up being brutally killed in a fiery explosion. Then again he did survive that outhouse explosion when that demon baby erupted from his butt. So maybe he’s fine. I prefer to think he died cause I hated his guts. But that’s just me. 

And that was Shaolin vs Evil Dead 2, and it sucked my taint. It devotes eighty percent of its run time to establishing a backstory that was succinctly told in five seconds in the first film. It holds no relevance to the first film until the final act which feels like someone cut off of the first movie and tacked onto this one.

Worse yet, it is nowhere near as entertaining as the first film which, while certainly not good, was weird enough to keep you guessing what would happen next. And worst yet it had a confusing and utterly disappointing ending. Like I mentioned before there seems to be a few scenes missing to help explain the setup, as Grace is suddenly dead in the middle of a graveyard and Fire disappears from the film completely. 

It certainly isn’t as good as the original Evil Dead films that it tries to capitalize on, yet has some crazy shit going on to keep you entertained until you get to the second film. 

So with that being said, I’d give Shaolin vs Evil Dead three random demon turd babies out of five, and the sequel one giant cube of water out of five. 

[thelowercasegimmick]

Opinion Piece, 9/2/16: Opening Lines in YA (Part 2)

Here’s Part 1, if you haven’t read it already.

Context/Backstory

Tommy was a talker and didn’t much like the other ghosts, so he was forever talking to Kelpie.  That’s how she divided them up: talkers and silent ones.  Most ghosts were silent.  Most ignored the living.  Kelpie thought that was just as well.

- Razorhurst, Justine Larbalestier

This one is pretty self-explanatory - open your novel with information that’s necessary to understand the story that follows.  I feel like this is the most obvious way to open your novel, and if you’re not careful, it can end up being nothing more than a bland infodump.

Addie and I were born into the same body, our souls’ ghostly fingers entwined before we gasped our very first breath.  Our earliest years together were also our happiest.  Then came the worries - the tightness around our parents’ mouths, the frowns lining our kindergarten teacher’s forehead, the question everyone whispered when they thought we couldn’t hear.

- What’s Left of Me, Kat Zhang

This tries to be interesting, but I’m afraid it turns out kind of bland.  This book actually has a really interesting premise, but the turns of phrase here are so cliched that it’s difficult to see its potential.  It doesn’t do much to establish any sort of tone, and it’s not nearly as interesting as it could be.

When these opening lines work, it’s usually for one of three reasons: it either highlights an interesting detail of the story, it sets a mood, or it establishes a character’s voice.  This one is a good example of an interesting detail:

There is one mirror in my house.  It is behind a sliding panel in the hallway upstairs.  Our faction allows me to stand in front of it on the second day of every third month, the day my mother cuts my hair.

- Divergent, Veronica Roth

This is kind of a misleading opening line, because the setting that it’s describing doesn’t really have much impact on the novel as a whole.  But taken on its own, it works really well.  This is an odd detail, and it suggests some very interesting worldbuilding.  Contrast it to this:

When Egypt was young, and the first pyramids were being built with the sweat and blood of slavery, there lived a small civilization on the outskirts of society, led by a coven of thirteen men and women called the Dasi.

- Snakecharm, Amelia Atwater-Rhodes

This also describes an aspect of the worldbuilding, but it’s a lot more cliched and less interesting than the one in Divergent.  Which is a shame, because the worldbuilding in this novel is actually very inventive, and there were surely a lot of interesting details that Atwater-Rhodes could’ve opened with.  But she clearly saw the opening lines only as an opportunity to get across information, whereas Roth cared about making that information interesting.

Of course, your focus doesn’t have to be on the information itself.  Here’s an opening line that sets the mood:

Aisling’s mother died at midsummer.  She had fallen sick so suddenly that some of the villagers wondered if the fairies had come and taken her, for she was still young and beautiful.  She was buried three days later beneath the hawthorn tree behind the house, just as twilight was darkening the sky.

- Ash, Malinda Lo

The information itself isn’t particularly interesting, but Lo’s prose is.  Ash is a retelling of Cinderella, and it has a very fairy tale-esque mood.  Lo does a good job of establishing that right off the bat, with her characteristically strong prose.  There are lots of great sensory details that help with this.  I couldn’t find a ton of examples that focus mostly on mood like this one does, which is a shame - it strikes me as a big missed opportunity.

The other type of opening line that doesn’t focus on the information itself is the type of opening line that establishes a character’s voice.  The best example I can think of for this type of opening line is The Catcher in the Rye (1953), but that book opens with a three-page long paragraph that I don’t feel like reprinting here, so here’s a shorter example:

April Fool’s Day.  Totally appropriate for the idiot who turned down a chance to go home to Earth because she thinks she should play hero.  Fortunately, all my contribution to the hero-ing business involves is standing where I’m put, ready to be hauled about by the people whose job it is to save the planet, or the galaxy, or however much of the universe is supposedly at risk.  And what I’ve really signed up for is more labrattery, to figure out what ‘touchstone’ means.

- Lab Rat One, Andrea K. Host

The information that this paragraph conveys doesn’t really matter - it’s essentially just a recap of the previous book in the series.  What matters is the voice.  Cassie - the main character - has a super-distinct voice, and if it’s not established right away, it’s going to throw the reader off.  So Host goes out of her way to establish as many of the quirks of this novel’s prose as she can, right off the bat.  I talked about this a little in Part 1, but backstory tends to be a very good way of establishing character voice, because there’s a lot of potential for a conversational tone.  That conversational tone is perfect for establishing voice quirks, and it can make information interesting that otherwise might’ve been tedious.

Last but not least, I wanted to share my favorite opening line that provides context and backstory.  And yes, I’m aware that this is a huge cliche among YA fans, but I can’t pretend I don’t love it.

Late in the winter of my seventeenth year, my mother decided I was depressed, presumably because I rarely left the house, spent quite a lot of time in bed, read the same book over and over, ate infrequently, and devoted quite a bit of my abundant free time to thinking about death.

- The Fault In Our Stars, John Green

This is another one that establishes character voice, and in a subtle way, it sets up the mood as well.  (Green doesn’t beat around the bush - he lets you know right away that this novel is gonna be pretty depressing.)  Other than that, I’m not even sure if I can describe why I love this opening line so much, except that there’s something very resonant about the word choice, particularly in the way the sentence resolves itself at the end.  It just works, in a way that’s hard to articulate.

Flashback

The night Sarah and Ben showed up out of the blue.  You should’ve known or suspected something was wrong.  The vibe was weird, but then it had been for a while, and Sarah was… Sarah.  Up in your room eve, when she kissed you and you lost yourself in her.  The moment it all came crashing down.

- She Loves You, She Loves You Not, Julie Anne Peters

I’m not gonna spend a lot of time on this category, because I only found about a dozen opening lines that fit the bill.  This is essentially a more interesting way of providing context or backstory than simply stating what the audience needs to know.  It uses what works about In Media Res (the immediacy of the scene), to accomplish what the context/backstory opening lines want to do.  At least, in theory.  In practice, the flashbacks often turn out to have more narrative summary than real action.  Which can still be interesting - here’s one I liked a lot:

On the day of my mother’s funeral, we all wore white.  My father said that dressing ourselves in the stiff, pale cloth would be a mitzvah.  I ran the word over my tongue as I straightened a starched new shirt against my shoulders.  I was twelve when she died, and Rebbe Davison had told us about mitzvot only a few days before - how every good deed we did for the other citizens of the ship would benefit us, too.  He said that doing well in school was a mitzvah, but also other things.  Like watching babies get born in the hatchery or paying tribute at funerals.  When he said that, he looked across the classroom at me with a watery gleam in his eyes.

- Starglass, Phoebe North

This has just enough detail to feel immediate, but it also keeps the distance that you’d expect from a flashback in a first-person novel.  The scene it describes is also pretty interesting, both because of the emotional aspects of what’s being described, and because of the details of Judaism, which is pretty unusual for a YA novel.  But on the whole, there’s not a lot to say about novels that open with flashbacks, and this post is long enough as it is.

Reflection

My name is Elizabeth but no one’s ever called me that.  My father took one look at me when I was born and must have thought I had the face of someone dignified and sad like an old-fashioned queen or a dead person, but what I turned out like is plain, not much there to notice.  Even my life so far has been plain.  More Daisy than Elizabeth from the go.

- How I Live Now, Meg Rosoff

I’ll admit: this was kind of my ‘miscellaneous’ category.  All I mean by ‘refelction’ is that it opens with either the narrator - be it a character or the omnipotent voice of third person - reflecting on the story in some way, shape, or form.  That’s a very broad category, and I ended up including a variety of styles too wide to generalize about easily.

I like to run at night.  No one watches me.  No one hears my sneakers slipping in the loose gravel at the side of the road.  Gravity doesn’t exist.  My muscles don’t hurt.  I float, drift past churches, stores, and schools, past the locked houses and their flicker-blue windows.  My mind is quiet and clear.

- Catalyst, Laurie Halse Anderson

This line, for example, almost counts as In Media Res, but the narrator isn’t describing a specific night of running, she’s reflecting on the experience of running in general.  That’s a subtle distinction, but I think it reflects a big difference between reflective opening lines and In Media Res.  The point of this line isn’t to put you into a specific scene, but into a specific mindset.  You kind of feel how the narrator feels while she’s running, without many specific sensory details.  That’s not necessarily better or worse than a specific scene - each of them have their uses.  Here, I think it works really well, because the distance from the scene emphasizes the surreal, almost spiritual nature of running to this narrator.

But anyway, when I said that there was too wide a variety to generalize easily, what I meant was that there are a lot of lines like that one, and also a lot like this:

Gigi said my guardian angel must have been watching over me real good when I was born.  Maybe so, but I wish the angel had watched over me less and seen to Mama more.  I never liked hearing about how I came into this world anyway.  It didn’t seem natural, a live baby coming out of a dead woman.  Gigi said it was the greatest miracle ever to come down the pike.

- Dancing on the Edge, Han Nolan

This doesn’t resemble In Media Res at all - it’s clearly the narrator reflecting on an aspect of her life that will be significant later on in the story.  There’s not much I could say that applies to both this and Catalyst.  But I also like this opening line a lot.  It mostly works because of how well it sets the tone for the book, in really subtle ways that you probably wouldn’t even notice.  This is a somewhat weird and unsettling novel, and that’s established with a somewhat weird and unsettling detail.  But it’s not at all ham-fisted; you’d never guess that Nolan actively set out to do that, unless you’ve already read the novel.

The universal factor among when these opening lines don’t work, though, is a lot easier to identify: whatever the character is reflecting on just isn’t that interesting.

The night is full of mystery.  Even when the moon is brightest, secrets hide everywhere.  Then the sun rises and its rays cast so many shadows that the day creates more illusion than all the veiled truth of the night.

- Demon in my View, Amelia Atwater-Rhodes

The best way to describe this is cliched.  I know I keep using Atwater-Rhodes for examples of bad opening lines, which is weird, because I’d actually call myself a fan of her writing.  But she doesn’t really seem to have a knack for opening stories, and this is the worst example of all.  This could be the opening line of any horror novel from the last 40 years - there’s nothing new here at all.  The information is so cliched that it’s essentially meaningless.

The one other consistency I found among these lines is that single-sentence opening lines don’t tend to work very well here.  For example:

I only go out at night.

- In the After, Demitri Lunetta

I think the point of that line was to fill me with questions.  “How creepy,” I’m supposed to say.  “Why does she only go out at night?”  In reality, my eyes start to glaze over.  That’s just not enough information to capture the attention of anyone who’s read more than a few books in their life.  If a single-sentence opener is going to work, the information has to be genuinely weird.

The first thing you find out when yer dog learns to talk is that dogs don’t got nothing much to say.  About anything.

- Patrick Ness, The Knife of Never Letting Go

Now this is an opening line that intruiged me when I first read it.  The whole ‘amazing magic thing gets annoying once you’re used to it’ is cliched by this point, but the slang, combined with the circumstance, draws me in.  The spelling of ‘yer’ is something I’ve never seen anywhere else, and the fact that this country-ish slang is combined with a talking dog (in a non-cheesy way) suggests - correctly, I might add - that the novel to follow will be unique.

And, finally, my favorite of these opening lines:

Ironically, since the attacks, the sunsets have been glorious.  Outside our condo window, the sky flames like a bruised mango in vivid orange, red, and purple.  The clouds ignite with sunset colors, and I’m almost scared those of us caught below will catch on fire too.

- Angelfall, Susan Ee

This is kind of a weird way of establishing tension, but it works surprisingly well.  Ee uses a really unlikely symbol - the setting sun - as well as bright imagery, to illustrate what is implied to be a coming apocalypse.  The ‘since the attacks’ is vague, but it’s just enough to suggest the context for these sunsets without getting bogged down in unnecessary details.  And the mention of a condo suggests something about the setting that’s about to light on fire - again, it’s vague, but it’s remarkable that such a small detail is enough to give me the image of an entire town.  It’s the perfect opening for an action novel.

There’s no formula to writing the perfect opening lines.  Ultimately, different things work in different circumstances, and how your novel opens depends on what your novel is about.  But I wanted to make these articles to give an idea of the tools that writers have at their disposal to create opening lines.  Thinking about opening lines leads to discussions about how to grab a reader’s attention, and even how storytelling functions.  Even if the opening lines of a novel won’t make or break a book, these discussions are worth having.