#like. if the story is parroting all my theories back at me does that make them wrong or not

[pochapal]

we're really reinforcing the "beatrice as a way out of suspecting anybody" thing aren't we

[all-pacas]

i was watching three stories and it made me think about how much house enjoys teaching and how chase isn’t as naturally inclined to be a teacher

now i’m just think about chase md’s little fellows showing up to watch him guest lecture a diagnostics class, what do you think his stories would be? what trauma would he process by yelling at 20 somethings? would foreman show up intermittently to have charged conversations? in my heart cameron triggered the trauma dumping on the kids like stacy

I've thought about this, and talked about it a little, and in short: I think you're right. To be fair to Chase, I think he's got the potential to be a pretty good boss. He's not a bullying asshole like House is, while we do see he gets impatient and dismissive he also has little moments where he mentors Park and Masters and even that woman he hired for one episode: I think he's perfectly capable of being nice to his employees and doing some one-on-one hands on mentoring.

Chase's problem is that he's actually a bit withdrawn. House's teaching process is very sorcratic method: he figures stuff out by thinking aloud, by hearing ideas and asking questions and shooting things down. It's all a bit frenetic and messy, but House's thought process is fairly easy to follow; when he arrives at a conclusion you know how he got there. So does his team. But Chase? He goes quiet. In Post Mortem, he locks himself alone in the basement with a white board and crosses things out. He realizes it's a reaction with soap, on his own. In Cursed, he locks himself in the lab and processes a list of his dad's theories one by one. I think the best example is in The C Word:

CHASE: What mimics a clot but isn't a clot? TAUB: Fungal infection. ADAMS: Her CSF was clean. No bacterial or fungal markers. Anyone tried calling House? TAUB: Not picking up. PARK: Or returning messages or texts. CHASE: We're on our own here, so just give me some theories we can use. PARK: Hematologic malignancies. AT patients are more prone to that form of cancer. TAUB: You think cancer would present and kill her in three days CHASE: [it dawns on him] Not cancer. But a tumor could act like a clot. An atrial myxoma.

He asks a question. He asks the others to keep talking, to give him ideas. He doesn't actually make any suggestions; Chase is pretty quiet in the scene; he's thinking! He solves it! But that's not good teaching. Chase figures things out by buckling down and going over things in his head. He doesn't explain, he doesn't talk it out. And that's a consistent trait of his — he holds things in.

Chase certainly gets impatient or tetchy or rolls his eyes, but whenever he's put in a really tough spot (The Mistake, the Dibala arc, The Itch, Cursed, Chase, a lot of his and Cameron's drama tbh), he responds by kind of shutting down. Not well, he's not at all stoic, everyone basically knows he's in a bad place, but he pushes it all down. He denies. He tries to sort it out on his own, by himself, or simply ignores it. He doesn't accept help. Just knowing you're there for me is enough, he parrots to everyone after he's stabbed, despite very much not being okay. It takes him eight years of dealing with House before he finally, one time, lashes out at him. When his father is around, he avoids him as hard as possible the entire episode before breaking only briefly to call him out for leaving. Chase! Is really bad at conflict! So, as a boss and teacher? It's pretty unlikely he'll ever yell at 20-somethings. It's also, I think, pretty likely he'll get frustrated and shut down and refuse to delegate and go things by himself.

In a way, he's pretty lucky: we see at the end of the series he inherits Park and Adams as his first fellows, neither of whom (Park especially) have any issues with calling him out and talking back to him. Which I think Chase needs, frankly: he needs to learn to collaborate, to teach, not just expect his fellows to throw ideas at him for him to process on his own. Like I mentioned earlier, he is pretty good at mentoring Park in Chase, and Masters a time or two; that's a different sort of thing (and one House never, ever did), but it gives me hope he could learn!

I don't know that Foreman showing up would be helpful: Foreman would definitely be more of a Cuddy than a Wilson, you know? Chase has never liked Foreman trying to asset control and authority, and has proved more than capable of seeing through Foreman and hitting him where it hurts when he feels like it; the two are friends because they've known one another for so long, but they're really not very close. If Foreman tried to micromanage, I can see Chase getting tetchy quick, but on the other hand, they both seem to know how to stay out of one another's way. And Chase isn't at all House in one crucial aspect: he doesn't try to avoid work. He has no problems with patients. We see him giving up his weekends; when he's on medical leave in Chase Foreman actually offers him extra clinic hours, correctly pointing out Chase would rather work than be stuck at home. On the other hand, they really don't have any sort of… emotional connection, you know? They never really confide in one another. During the Dibala arc, whenever they talked about it, it was always practical, not hey Chase how's your mental breakdown coming along? Foreman was pretty clumsy with Chase after the divorce, as well, and Chase made it clear he wanted none of it from him: I think they could have a nice, respectful employer-employee relationship, but… I don't think either are very comfortable with the idea of heart to hearts.

Actually, another difference between Chase and House is that Chase really doesn't have a friend like House does. Don't get me wrong, House is lousy at emotional vulnerability and honesty, but he does have Wilson, and he can occasionally manage it; he knows Wilson is there and supportive. And House has Cuddy as well, and his team, he has people who care about him, but Chase? He kind of is lacking that (even minimal) support system. Of the cast, of the people Chase knows, Thirteen really is the closest to that, not because they're so close (despite how they are in my heart) but because she is the one person he ended up being able to talk to honestly about the divorce, about Dibala. He seems in S8 to be inching towards that with Park as well — he admits he's lonely, they share a grandmother — but he really does lack people — when Stacy came back in S2, House could talk about it with Wilson, even if House wasn't entirely open and honest with his feelings. If Cameron comes back in S9, Chase really doesn't have anyone to process that with. You could say Foreman, but they really don't have that sort of relationship in canon. I could say Thirteen, but she's living in Greece. Ironically, Cameron herself would have been a great candidate for the "new Wilson" spot, but… lmao.

SO IN CONCLUSION: I think Chase definitely would have some growing pains as a teacher and mentor figure, although he would probably avoid yelling and bullying — more like icing people out and rolling his eyes a lot. His main issue would probably be icing people out, actually; he's so used to figuring out everything on his own (badly) that he's kind of not a great team player, and the first huge dramatic character arc he gets has a lot of potential to blow up in his face, because he doesn't know how to process and is prone to just entirely shutting down. But at least he gets to start off on easy mode, with underlings who genuinely are his friends and a boss who Gets Him!

[pharrell-the-formation]

The long-awaited (by me) “Underground Blossom” was released today. I played, enjoyed it and want to write down some of my thoughts regarding everything shown there.

🔴 If it’s not already obvious, achtung: there are spoilers everywhere, so continue to read at our own risk! 🔴

🦜It seems that Harvey actually remained enlightened for much longer than people in fandom previously assumed. UB doesn’t shy away from metaphors, but the fact that Harvey actually replaced Laura’s parent and somehow successfully handled responsibilities of caring for a human child, as well as the fact that other, non-important children also saw the parrot precisely as an anthropomorphic bird in a suit, quite directly illustrates that this guy all this time, throughout the girl’s growing up, really was like that, and not just a normal pet parrot. I believe in this version of a story: Harvey the Hotel worker, Harvey the confidant of Mr. Owl, Harvey the Eilander family killer did not die and was not reborn, descending along the wheel of Samsara to the level of an animal. Enlightened ones simply know how to temporarily change their form to an animal-like one, and this is precisely what he did, perhaps in order to hide from the same embittered escaped corrupt souls or for some other reason. Mr Crow did something similar in “Cube Escape: Paradox,” if my memory serves me right, turning into the more familiar for us form of a crow. This would explain why Vanderboom depicted our anthropomorphic protagonist in one of her drawings as a pet parrot in a cage. And also the fact that he retains his completely human mind in animal form (demonstrated when solving puzzles in “Harvey’s box”) can be explained this way.

💧I still adhere to the idea, that Rose in this game was not really eager to resurrect Albert. This idea is rather based on my personal preferences, because Rose, who renounced her father, appeals to me as a character much more, so here I ask you not to treat this exact point as a full-fledged theory regarding canon events. Let's discard my old partially-hypothesis-partially-AU about “The past within” and “Underground blossom” being different timelines (like something similar that has already been shown before - in the Bob’s fate, where in some games he dies or commits suicide, and in “The White Door” forgets Laura and begins to live a normal life). It is clearly not the case; now it is more than clear that one game is directly connected to the other. However, here's what could happen: Miss Vanderboom receives a letter from recently deceased Albert, along with a mission to bring him back to life. Initially, she is interested in this and actively works on the task, but at some point something clicks in her and the understanding comes that it is better to leave a possibly dangerous person where he cannot harm anyone. Perhaps getting closer to her cousins ​​had an impact. So, Rose no longer wants to carry out this ritual, and this automatically calls everything into question, because even though she in the Past may have completed her part of the work, now, without her desire in the Present, she from the Future may not complete hers. A paradox. Albert's soul, of course, did not appreciate the joke and wants to make sure that his daughter does what she should, whether she wants it or not. When Harvey begins to visit to her, she already understands perfectly well that her father will not give up so easily. She understands that he will most likely try to harm her or her daughter. She understands that she may have to make very serious sacrifices so that Laura, the most precious thing she has left, does not suffer at the hands of her grandfather - and disappears from her life. Afterall, She will be better off with Harvey.

🌳 I'm still sticking to my Naraka theory. Rose somehow managed to preserve her humanity even in this form, and she thanks her old friend for all the help, and by giving her beloved daughter a piece of her soul - the petals - she helps her start living from scratch, now not suffering from psychological problems so much. I don’t know how literally the final level should be taken and how much the girl’s return to life depended on the mother (after all, in “Seasons” everything was presented kind of differently), but I think you can perceive it as you like.

To sum it up, I just want to say that “Undergroung Blossom” left me feeling incredibly warm and.. cozy? An impression that I honestly never expected from a game in this series, full of darkness, suffering and all sorts of devilry. Despite the fact that there are such things too, the theme of family and sincere care for someone dear to you runs like a red thread throughout the entire story. And all this is consolidated with such a bright ending, after which even Rose’s terrible posthumous fate is ultimately not viewed as critically as before, which... I can’t. It’s wholesome. As wholesome as Rusty lake game can be.

[titoist]

childhood memories

the librarian reads us a story about how you shouldn't feed a bear because it will come back & expect more food. i find it fairly upsetting. i want to be kind to animals. i feel sort of intensely personally upset with the librarian

i discover cracked.com & open dozens upon dozens of tabs, reading the junk food voraciously. once i see a scary picture on one & have to huddle in the corner of the couch for hours staring at the hallway so i know it's not coming out of the hallway until someone gets home. hours crying

when i'm home alone, i am always so deeply powerfully intensely petrified by the idea of going past my room. there's too many doorways. i'm afraid of mirrors. i'm petrified by the mental image of a ghoulish woman sprinting out of a doorway, towards me, screaming

i go on omegle when i'm about nine & use manycam to show people a picture of a mutilated penis. i'm sorry

i go on omegle when i'm about ten & meet someone who claims to be a girl named jade. to make a long story short, it turns into this weird... knifeplay, rape, forced sex change, roleplay, thing. where if you read the chatlog i am very obviously using the mannerisms & emoticons of a ten year old & "jade" seems unconcerned by this. i saw, said, & did a lot of gross things on the internet but this seems to come back to my memory the most often, like it's emblematic of the rest i save the chatlog. some time later, days? weeks? months? years? i don't know. i walk into the living room & glance at the laptop on the counter connecting it with the kitchen. my father has somehow discovered the chatlog & is reading through it. i don't react or say anything. i don't know how much he reads. he never says or does anything

my father is friends with a happy married couple who live in a big house. one day while visiting them i ask the husband if he wants to see something frickin' messed up!!! he watches me play happy wheels for awhile out of obligation. he just keeps going "… hhhhuh."

in second or third grade, a girl - i don't remember her name, retainers & glasses, blonde - has a crush on me. i never hear this from her personally, but she was bad at concealing her mannerisms. & after awhile, i was openly solicited by the other kids in my grade to help them torture & mock her about it. the way i understand it, she was deserving of ostracization for having a crush on an overweight child, while i had skirted by on account of never being seen as part of the ingroup in the first place. the mocking would have no stakes.

my mother works for a theatre company. this means she has to go up the stairs in that concrete behemoth & beyond the byzantine hallways to practice her roles in productions for hours at a time. she takes me along, & doesn't restrict me to the lobby or supervise me. this means i have the fantastic opportunity to run around various storage room with miscellaneous props, CDs, &, by god, puppets, for hours on end, unrestrained. i spend a lot of time there, alone, & i think it is the contributing factor in me developing a low-intensity interest in puppetry later on in life. once i start talking with one of her colleagues & spend a while parroting nationalist conspiracy theories from my father. my mother comes over eventually & he tells her i'm one of the most articulate & perceptive children he's ever met. it's absurd. i know this is absurd

once, in fifth grade english class, our teacher has us write all sorts of verbs on the whiteboard, trying to guess what a character in a story is about to do. someone intends to write "wrapped," but writes "raped." i watch the teacher notice this & quietly fix it. i saw, i knew

in my bedroom one night i realize a bunch of existential dread stuff for the first time & cry hysterically

early in fifth grade, i miss my bus stop. i tell the driver i missed my stop. an older girl comes up from the back of the bus & starts heavily involving herself in the situation really unnecessarily. then she takes a brief look at me & concludes that i'm autistic. she says her brother is autistic, so she can recognize it. she talks to me like a dumb puppy dog. i get home & tell my mother about this, then go "i'm not autistic!" while going into my room & crying

when i was around seven (?) years old, i went & looked at my birthday on wikipedia. later, i believe my father & i were talking about stuff that had happened on our birthdays in various years, & i clearly remember going up to him & saying, "Gerard died on my birthday" Gerard was a medieval Count of Auvergne who married one of the daughters of Louis the Pious, who was himself son of Charlemagne & Co-Emperor of the HRE. i expected my father to know who i was talking about because at that age i had no grasp of what bodies of knowledge i could expect to be commonplace among people. i figured that maybe everyone knew whatever was on wikipedia, generally.

[delimeful]

the shapes in the silence (11)

new chapter at the behest of one of my patrons! hope you enjoy! >:)

warnings: terrible coping mechanisms, antagonistic but not "evil" deceit, semi-vivid panic attack, suicidal implications/thoughts, arguing, an antagonistic and also genuinely evil cliffhanger, take care for realsies

-

After a few days of solitude, Logan emerged from his room with a triumphant gleam in his eyes.

He dropped a comically large stack of paper onto the lounge table, interrupting their bi-monthly binge of Parks and Rec. Patton obligingly paused the television, smiling at the sight of the other Side.

Roman probably would have complained, except Virgil-- as Puff-- had been dozing on top of his head for the past twenty minutes, and one of his wings was draped over Roman’s face like a makeshift blindfold. So, he hadn’t really been watching anyways.  

“I’ve figured it out,” Logan said, gesturing to the meticulous lines of not-so-meticulous handwriting. “The shrinking.”

Everyone seemed to perk up in interest, and Virgil dropped onto Roman’s shoulder, kneading his claws lightly into the sash.

“You know why?” Patton prompted after another moment of Logan preening.

“Yeah, Specs, don’t leave us in suspense!” Roman demanded, valiantly restraining his gesturing for the sake of not accidentally unbalancing Virgil. The two of them had only had to learn that lesson once.

Logan nodded, adjusting his glasses briefly. “My current hypothesis is that our reduced states are the result of a sort of… mental lock. We shrink when the locking mechanism is triggered, and it takes a figurative key to restore our previous, normal stature.”

“A key?” Patton asked. “You figured out how to undo it?”

“Not for everyone. Think of it as customized locks. There’s a different key for each of us, and I’ve only discovered my own.”

Virgil tilted his head curiously at Logan’s words. The first bit was about what he’d figured, but a ‘key’ to change back? He used to think he only changed back in his room, but there had been a couple of occasions where he’d shifted forms unexpectedly. None of the others had had to be in their rooms to change back, either.

Roman was frowning in thought. “Wait, how in the name of Disney did you figure out your key?”

Logan looked delighted at the question. He moved to sit in his usual armchair, and then closed his eyes for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly and his mouth dropping into a frown.

In the next moment, he was doll-sized. “Extensive and rigorous experimentation,” he said, carefully getting to his feet on the plush chair fabric.

Roman and Patton immediately burst into excited chattering, each theorizing or commenting on Logan’s tiny stature, and Virgil quickly abandoned ship before Roman really did gesture him right into the air. He trotted along the back of the couch and kicked off of it, landing on the arm of Logan’s chair.

Logan looked up at him for a moment, before referring to a pile of tinier-than-normal flashcards pulled from his pocket. “Puff. I hope there’s no ‘hard feelings’ about my former hypothesis. It was nothing personal, I can assure you.”

It wasn’t like the theory had been too far fetched. Virgil hopped down to the seat of the chair and brushed against Logan’s side like a large, scaly cat. It seemed to do the job of convincing Logan that they were cool.

Logan looked back over at the other two. “Time to continue the lecture, I believe.”

With that, he clapped his hands together in a familiar pattern, one that had been used in countless classrooms in Thomas’s life. Two normal claps, and then three rapid ones.

Almost immediately, Patton and Roman clapped the returning pattern, paused as though registering what they’d done, and then turned to face Logan.

“Was… Did you just teacher-clap at us?” Roman asked, astounded.

Logan looked incredibly smug at his gambit working so perfectly, and Virgil barely had time to claw his way back up onto the armrest before the logical Side was back to normal.

“My key,” he said, “is being listened to.”

Then, as though he couldn’t resist, he added, “Who’s falling behind now, Roman?”  

Roman spluttered with exaggerated indignance, and Virgil was absolutely certain that Princey was going to spend the next several days rising to the challenge. He shook his wings out, the dragon equivalent of rolling his eyes.

Patton, on the other hand, clapped enthusiastically as though Logan had performed a magic trick. “Wow, way to grow!”

Logan sighed deeply. Patton grinned, and then paused.

“See, the only thing I’m wondering now is, why is this happening to us all of the sudden? It’s certainly not something we’ve had to deal with before.”

There was a terse silence.  

“I’m still working on theories in that regard,” Logan finally responded, mouth pinched slightly. “There have been many periods in the past where certain upheavals in Thomas’s life have led to our surroundings or our very selves changing. It’s entirely possible that this… ‘shrinking’ effect is a similar case. That brings me to my next point: we need to speak with Thomas.”

Virgil noticed Roman grimace for a moment. “Does he really need to know about all… this?”

“We certainly can’t keep it from him!” Patton replied as he walked closer to the rest of them and held out his arm. Virgil scaled it with ease, clambering up to perch on Pat’s shoulder like a parrot. For once, he agreed with Roman. He wasn’t sure this would end well, but... it wasn’t his job to bring up doubts right now. “He’s going to have to learn about it eventually, whether now or whenever he calls us up to talk about whatever is bothering him.”

“Precisely,” Logan agreed. “The more information we gather on this matter, the better.”

“I guess…,” Roman crossed his arms, but conceded. Patton gave him an encouraging hug.

“Plus,” he added as he pulled away, “if we go now, we can have Thomathy meet Puff!”

A beat late, Virgil realized just what that meant, and a flood of panic washed out the peaceful haze in his mind. They couldn’t take him to see Thomas! What if his host recognized him?

… What if he didn’t?

“It’s fine with me,” Logan added. “He does seem to be a rather permanent fixture in the Mindscape, though I’m not sure what that says about Thomas.”

“It says that he’s simply the coolest,” Roman shot back, his spirits seemingly lifted by the idea. He reached over and lifted Virgil off Patton’s shoulders, holding him in the air and spinning in a dizzying circle. “You’ll love Thomas, Puff, just you wait.”  

“Why wait?” Patton chimed in with an excited smile. “I’ll go let the kiddo know we’re coming!”

He sank out, and Logan spent a short moment making sure his tie was properly aligned before following. Roman tilted his head slightly as though listening to an invisible sound before smiling widely. “There’s our cue!”

Before Virgil could do more than feel a sense of impending doom, the world was blurring and shifting around them, and he was dragged up along with Roman.

The dizziness as he entered the real world was so heady that he nearly blacked out, his head spinning. When his vision cleared, he realized he was being held up like an infant Simba.

Right in front of his host’s face. He froze like a deer in the headlights, mind screaming wordlessly.

“Ta-da!” Roman announced. “The newest, cutest denizen of your mind! Aside from me, of course.”  

Thomas leaned in slightly, no trace of disgust or fear on his face. It made him look younger. “Woah. Hey there, little guy. Puff, right?”

He held his hand out carefully, and almost magnetically, Virgil placed a tiny, clawed hand on it. An encouraging smile was all it took, and then he was abandoning all caution and climbing right into the arms of the one who was supposed to fear him the most.

Thomas just shifted obligingly to create a better platform, and ran a thumb over his spine scales. Virgil craned his head up to look, and saw only quiet astonishment and awe on his host’s face.

There was no question. He didn’t recognize him.

Virgil had no idea what the emotion in the pit of his stomach was-- an amalgam of relief, disappointment, terror, sadness, so dense it was physically painful-- but after a moment, he let himself go lax. He could deal with it later. He could deal with everything later.

For now, his host was holding him close like he was something treasured, something precious. It was more than he’d ever hoped for and all he could ever need.

Whenever Thomas spoke, he could feel the words vibrating in his host’s chest. It was almost like a hug. He stayed there, content to listen only vaguely as the others explained what was going on and tried to work out the reason why.

After a while of circular discussion, Thomas went a little tense, catching Virgil’s attention. He hesitated for a moment before speaking.

“We’re trying to figure out what’s going wrong to cause this… inner turmoil, right? Why don’t we get Anxiety in on this? If there’s one thing he’s good at, it’s coming up with worst-case scenarios.”

Virgil went still and frozen, and Roman’s gaze darted down to him for a moment before his expression firmed into a frown. “Absolutely not. That villain won’t have anything helpful to contribute.”

“On the contrary, I believe Thomas has a point. Anxiety could have a side to this story that we haven’t heard yet, but if we were just to ask him,” Logan countered, “he may share.”

“Kind of strange that he hasn’t popped up already,” Patton added with a concerned frown. “The kiddo doesn’t generally like it when people talk about him without him there.”

“Let’s at least give it a shot,” Thomas decided, lifting a hand. “Anxiety!”

No, no no no. This wasn’t how he wanted it to go. Virgil braced for the irresistible tug on his core, the breaking apart of his fragile peace--

It didn’t come.

There was no pull. Why wasn’t he feeling the pull? He couldn’t detect even the slightest call, which was impossible, unless--

Perfectly on cue, a dark figure appeared from thin air on the staircase, jumpscaring Thomas and offering a mocking smirk.

“You called?”

It… was him. It was Anxiety, dark hoodie and darker eyeliner, sneer and all. Virgil felt the strangest disconnect from his own identity for a moment before things snapped back into place. No summons, his own desire for secrecy, a perfect doppelganger.

Deceit.

A low, rumbling growl started up in his chest, and his hackles rose instantly at the sight of that liar daring to wear his face.

Thomas’s hands jerked away in surprise, and Patton reached over to soothe him. “Easy, Puff. He won’t do anything to you, promise.”

“That’s right,” Roman agreed in a completely different tone, stepping forwards to put himself between the fake Anxiety and the others, as though Virgil was pathetic enough to be worried about himself and not whatever bullshit Deceit-As-Anxiety was about to feed the others. His growl lowered in volume, but refused to taper off.

“Like I care about your newest pet project,” Fake-Anxiety said, rolling his eyes in disdain. “I’m just here to do what I do best: tell you how you messed up.”

Logan frowned at him. “You believe our current situation is the result of Thomas erring in some way?”

“Not just some way. All the ways. It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Fake-Anxiety said, gesturing widely to Thomas with one hand. “Something’s wrong with you. You’re broken.”

“That’s not true,” Patton said firmly, frowning in disapproval. “Anxiety, I expected better from you.”

Virgil felt his throat close up, even though he wasn’t really the one Patton was speaking to. It wasn’t like Patton knew that. How was he ever going to look anyone in the eye after this?

“Wait, what? How am I broken?” Thomas asked, not as indignantly as Virgil would have preferred. He gently butted his head against Thomas’s arm for morale-boosting purposes.

“I mean, think about it,” Fake-Anxiety said, spreading his palms open in a faux innocent gesture. “How many times have you screwed up in the past couple of weeks? Speaking with family, hanging out with friends, even just basic customer service interactions. Those were all your fault, and you know it.”

Thomas’s hands shook slightly. “I…”

“Falsehood,” Logan cut in sharply, his expression severe. “A person cannot be ‘broken’, particularly not for simple mistakes. In any case, there is no meaningful connection to be drawn between your baseless accusation and our current conundrum.”

Before Fake-Anxiety could respond, Patton’s hands flew to his mouth. “Wait. Kiddo, you don’t really think that about yourself, do you?”

All eyes turned to Thomas, who hesitated just a beat too long. “No… I mean, not entirely. Not all the time.”

“Thomas…” Roman looked stricken. “There’s no reason to feel bad about yourself!”

“Emotions… are often without reason,” Logan said, sharing a look with Patton. “This is important information, though. It’s entirely possible that a negative sense of self could affect us, as aspects of yourself. This could be the cause.”

“Then… How do I fix it?” Thomas asked, voice strained.

“You can’t,” Fake-Anxiety said, inspecting his nail polish as though bored. “You’re going to be stuck like this forever.”

“The first step,” Logan said, with a complicated glance towards the figure on the stairs, “is not letting negative thoughts control you. I was hoping Anxiety would be able to shed a light on our discussion, but it’s become clear that he’s… not in a helping mood.”

Fake-Anxiety clicked his tongue. “I’m helping. Helping you not make an even bigger embarrassment out of yourself.”

“Don’t listen to that villain,” Roman told Thomas, glancing down at ‘Puff’. “You have the power to send him away, Thomas.”

“Don’t bother. I’ve said my piece, and you know I’m right.” Fake-Anxiety gave a mocking salute before sinking out, making brief eye contact with Virgil as he did.

“He’s not right… right?” Thomas asked, his face a little pale. “I mean, it’s Anxiety.”

In his arms, Virgil tucked his limbs in tighter against himself.

“You are not broken,” Logan reiterated calmly. “Take a few deep breaths.”

“You do feel bad, though,” Patton said, a hand pressed over his heart in sympathy. “Kiddo... why don’t you take today for yourself?”

“That’s right!” Roman gripped Thomas’s shoulder comfortingly. “Do something that you’ll enjoy, and you can worry about everything else tomorrow, okay? We’ll sort things out on our end.”  

They spoke for a little longer, making new plans and cancelling old ones, and Virgil felt as though his mind was full of static. Eventually, finally, he was back on Roman’s shoulder, ready to sink out.

“Nice meeting you, Puff,” Thomas waved, and something in Virgil’s chest twisted painfully at it all. He chirp-crooned back, and it felt like a goodbye.

-

Luckily for him, the others were all preoccupied with their own thoughts and plans. It took almost no effort to slip away, and before he knew it he was back in his own room, in the form that everyone hated.

His summon was nonverbal and insistent, and before long, Deceit appeared before him, this time in his own skin. Virgil wanted to yell, to rage and vent the emotions inside of him.

“How could you?” Instead, his voice came out quiet. Cold. Betrayed.

Deceit shifted, a flash of discomfort crossing his face before he composed himself. “They needed a villain. Last I checked, it was you who cast yourself in that role.”

A villain. He felt himself shaking, distantly. “You used me. Like an object.”

“To help Thomas--”

“To frighten him into doing what you wanted!” Virgil said, voice finally rising. “To guide the others like puppets on strings and to make me take the fall for your plan!”

“This is for you, too!” Deceit finally snapped back, before taking a deep breath. “This isn’t a framing, Virgil. It’s an opportunity. They won’t look for you, and that gives me enough time to fix things. Come home.”

Virgil laughed, once, harsh like broken glass. “No.”

Deceit held up a hand, sweeping it downwards and shifting himself into Fake-Anxiety again. It was like looking in a mirror, but the reflection was… different, this time. It wasn’t the one that had sat on the stairs before.

“Look at yourself, Virgil. Look at what you’ve been doing to yourself.”

The bags under his eyes were dark and sallow. He was shaking and sweating, his breath coming in stuttering gasps. His body looked like it’d been having consecutive panic attacks for days on end, and there were plenty more coming.

“You don’t have to do this anymore. We both know that you’d have an easier time if Thomas wasn’t always fighting against you.”

He tore his eyes away from the reflection. If he thought about it for too long, he’d spiral, and then all of it-- every comment, every look, everything he’d been tucking away for the past weeks-- would come rushing up to meet him. Like hitting water from a hundred feet up and finding it felt like concrete. Like drowning.

“Virgil?”

He was tired of this. “Get out.”

Deceit said something else, but it was his room, and it followed his will. The other Side was evicted, shoved out, gone. He took a breath, but it felt too shallow and caught in his lungs.

He wasn’t going to get anything done in this form. He wasn’t of any damn use in this form. Nobody wanted him like this. Why not ease his grip, let go?

He wouldn’t have to be Anxiety and everything that came with it. It would be selfish, but-- but Puff was better for everyone, not just him. It made sense.

He sighed in relief as the transformation washed away the vice grip around his lungs and the dizzying pounding of his head. The feelings were muffled, as though he’d put on thick, good quality headphones. It was nice.

It was also harder to focus in this form, unfortunately, but the idea-- the solution remained helpfully stuck in his head. He easily found his way into Roman’s room to collect what he needed, but Roman himself was absent.

He padded down to the commons, and found all three of them were there. Their discussion came to a halt as he carefully jumped up on the couch, dropping his prize into Roman’s lap.

“Oh, Puff…” Roman seemed sad, so he kneaded the creative Side’s leg with the dull edge of his claws.

“What is that?” Patton asked curiously.

Roman shifted, as though anticipating a scolding. “It’s a charmed bracelet. I designed it to keep Anxiety away from Puff. And you know what? I was right to make it! You saw how he acted today!”

Patton bit his lip but remained quiet. Something about the silence hurt, but that was okay. It wouldn’t hurt for long. He nudged the bracelet slightly, impatient.

“Why hasn’t he been wearing it, then?” Logan asked, a curious bend to his eyebrows.

“He… Well, he didn’t want it at first. Put it on yours truly instead,” Roman replied, carefully brushing a hand over Virgil’s head. “I suppose he changed his mind.”

“Did Anxiety really scare him that badly?” Patton asked, voice heartbroken.

Roman frowned determinedly and finally started undoing the clasp. “Whatever that scoundrel did, he won’t be able to bother Puff anymore. This will make sure of it.”

He carefully wound the bracelet around Virgil’s neck, gently adjusted it until it fit right, and reconnected the ends. The last thing Virgil saw before the world went hazy was the three of them, the best parts of Thomas, looking back at him without any fear or hatred.

Then, there was only Puff.

[mobiused]

I want to do a deep dive into loona lore. as someone who hasn't gotten super into it before how should i go about this?

oh hell. a lot of my friends ask me this and it always pains me to give an answer. i really would NOT recommend watching other theorists on YouTube (to start with), as what happens then is you'll inprint on their theories, and then become closeminded to other alternatives, or fixated on one theme or narrative. to me, it's really important that everyone comes up with their own conclusions as opposed to copying someone else. you won't get a cohesive understanding if you just parrot someone else's interpretation.

what i personally would recommend is marathonning all the loona music videos (& teasers if you want). when marathonning, try and keep 3 questions in your thoughts, for every scene. this will probably take a while.

1. what is this scene showing me? what am i looking at? (in a say what you see way; digipedi is very good with visual metaphors - an example off the top of my head is chuu literally orbiting yves in heart attack)

2. combining the lyrics and imagery, what message are they trying to convey? what happens? what's the plot? try summing it up in 1 sentence

3. where and how does this link to other parts of the holistic story? when i was first learning, i watched all the mvs on shuffle, so i could make links between mvs easier

i think actually articulating these answers, as in writing them down would be really helpful. hopefully this should increase your understanding. of course, once you've developed the foundations of your understanding, then feel free to check out other theories. but when doing so, i'd advise instead of blindly accepting them as truth, to check it against your own interpretation.

does this align with how i've personally understood the loonaverse? or does it contradict core themes already established (hi high & why not are about unity and community, the girls are clearly happy to see each other, yet there are theories about the girls being determined to kill one another..?), or feel like a stretch (theories with next to no evidence to back the claims up), or is based off misinformation? (olivia killed vivi theory is based off people thinking they saw a wolf kill a deer in egoist, when in actuality, it's a shot of a metal staircase)

a lot of theories are fantastic, but a lot are also very misguided, and come from a place of "this is what i WANT the lore to be" and retrofitting information to suit their own narrative. if you feel that a theory gels with your interpretation then great, add it to your web of understanding. otherwise, don't feel bad about disregarding it. feel confident about your own interpretation and try not to worry about general opinion or whether you're "right" or not. as loona said, there's no answer - just watch it.

sidenote; i think... i kind of want to start a lore starterpack now, where i can collate all the extra information like cinema theory, instagram captions, mv descriptions and press releases just so people don't have to go hunting for it and its in one easily accessible place. because when you start the lore late it's easy to have missed obscure stuff from 2016/17 like when jaden jeong got mad that nobody got a reference to an anime and just posted it on his IG 😭 stuff like that, id want to collate.

[theseerasures]

You mentioned previously that "Winter doesn’t do as she says" and I just wanted to ask if you could expound on that more, and just how obvious that is to others on a scale of May, the other Happy Huntresses and *Theodore* all complaining to Weiss about it when she comes back, to Weiss being the one going "Please tell me you didn't believe her" to Penny telling Winter "They still believe you"? Or everyone knows, a few close people figure it out, or practically no one knows?

that is a VERY good question, but i’m afraid my answer is going to frustrate you, because...well.

so i’m May Marigold, right (narrator: she is not May Marigold), and i have...knowledge of Winter Schnee due to rubbing shoulders (among other things) with her when we were both horrific and wee, but i haven’t really thought about her for awhile because i had other things on my mind and still kinda do! i’ve retained a vague and jaded perception of how she works, though, mainly that for all the airs she puts on she’s kind of a loose cannon, usually For Good (haha geddit), but frustratingly won’t commit to her good deeds in a comprehensive manner that contributes meaningfully to the world. the first time i see her up close in years she’s flying through a portal on a gust of wind and BLUE SPARKLES, and the first two things i see her do after that is 1) burst into tears, and 2) charge screaming into a seething mass of Grimm. i might remember at this point that Winter had a sister of some kind, but maybe not anymore because i don’t see her, so it’s not too hard to come to the conclusion that, oh, Winter seems quite distraught, she really did care about her sister, she really does care, even though most of the things that come out of her mouth scream edgelord social Darwinist bullshit, i wonder if there’s some kind of discrepancy over what she’s been conditioned to regurgitate and what she actually believes--

and then i think: wait a sec. why the fuck do i care about this, actually?

apologies for the roundabout melodrama, but i hope it at least demonstrates my point, which is that: it would be fairly easy for anyone to figure out Winter’s whole “do as i say while i do the opposite of as i say!!” deal, if anyone cared to, but...everyone’s a little busy right now, including Winter herself.

i feel like i’m always going back to this, but: there is an important discrepancy between being a member of the audience who can perceive these characters from a distance and being a character in the thick of it. we know that Winter as a character is being narratively framed as a kind of Emotional Ground Zero among the folks in Vacuo, but everyone in the story itself is preoccupied with their own problems. so what the Happy Huntresses, the evacuees, the folks of Vacuo will know, because it’s what AFFECTS them, is that Winter is inconsistent. that she will spout the company line one second and then toss that into the wind the next, and sometimes that’s good and sometimes it’s definitely not.

they could probably work out the whens and hows of Winter breaking her own rules, because she is nothing if not exactly one crisis response copied and pasted over and over, but...when would they have time to? why would they consider it worth their time? Winter is actively affecting their lives for good and for ill, and there’s no way for them to be objective outside observers (assuming such a thing exists) of her behavior. this is actually true even of Weiss and Penny: i say that Weiss “knows” Winter doesn’t do as she says, but that knowledge is mixed up in the other things she has internalized equally from Winter--things like i’m not always going to be around to save you. Weiss and Penny made a concerted effort to reconcile Winter’s contradictions and conclude that the sum of Winter is good, but it was an effort, and they did it because they loved her.

most people in Vacuo aren’t capable of giving Winter that latitude right now, and even more importantly--Winter is not capable of giving HERSELF that latitude. she never has been. Winter is not contradictory out of conscious will. we are neither dealing with someone who goes “no cookies before bed!!! ;)” nor *insert whatever serious hairy mercenary who has bonded with a non-serious-hairy-mercenary entity fandom is gushing over this week.* i’ve touched on this a few times already, but my read of Winter has always been that she is pure praxis without theory. she can parrot the (now confusingly contradictory) ideologies that have been forced into her, but Winter does not believe what she says, and Winter does not know what she believes until she is In the Moment, and she refuses to extrapolate those moments into a concrete worldview. she is naturally inclined toward collaboration and teamwork and categorical good (i.e., you do the right thing because it’s the right thing), but until recently those inclinations have never been tolerated much less praised. Winter is affecting everyone else with her words and deeds, but Winter is also affecting herself, and there’s no way to hit the pause button on that either. the ways Winter has been policed and been made to police herself for her whole life will take time and effort to untangle, and given that she lost literally all of the mainstays in her life in the span of an hour, she’s...not going to be able to make headway in that for a while, and not without help.

to be clear: she WILL receive that help. RWBY is if nothing else a show that believes in going above and beyond (within reason) to reach suffering people, and Winter won’t be an exception to that. eventually we will reach a point where people just roll their eyes whenever she says something fash, or does something pointlessly sacrificial. but that's going to take time and effort from everyone--even Weiss and Penny. even Winter.

hell, especially Winter.

[itsclydebitches]

Do you think Ruby will kill Grimm!Summer and if so, how do you think that will clash with her objection to killing Penny?

I think it's all going to hinge on a) how the story portrays Ruby reacting to Jaune in Volume 9 and b) what sort of shape grimm!Summer is in.

First, they may not have Ruby kill Summer at all. And I don't just mean that the plot will twist to ensure someone else has to (somehow, without silver eyes) do the deed because she's unavailable, thereby freeing her of that hard choice — precisely like how Ruby was conveniently in the void by the time Penny needed to die. Rather, Summer might still be able to be saved. Many (myself included) have theorized that if Ruby's eyes destroy grimm and grimm only, she might be able to destroy the portion of a grimm that possess a person (for lack of a better word), leaving the rest of them intact. That's mostly come up in Salem discussions — could Ruby remove the influence of the grimm pool, leaving human!Salem behind? — but now that same question applies to Summer too. When she used her eyes on the Hound we saw the grimm part of him get stripped away, revealing the faunus underneath, before the goo of the grimm started Venom-creeping back over the rest of him. If Ruby could give off a more powerful blast, perhaps she could erase the grimm portion entirely, all in one go, sort of akin to how they won the geist fight in Volume 4. Hit it harder, all at once, until after a single blow only the core of the beast remains. In each case the grimm would leave the thing it possessed.

So that's Option B: is Summer in a state where it's possible for her to recover in some way? How deep do these grimm experiments go, are silver eyes capable of destroying the grimm without killing the person? How much of the original Summer would be left without the grimm parts? etc. etc. Lots of questions we don't have any answers to. Option A, however, comes up if we're given a scenario where Summer is beyond hope. She's a grimm now, no way to fix it, killing her is seen as a mercy. And that, I think, is the crucial difference. Ruby unequivocally said no to killing Penny... but Penny also wasn't presented as having to die. It's one of the rare moments in the volume where I 100% agree with what Ruby is saying. Penny has been hacked, her order is to open the vault, and then she's set to self-destruct. So how does killing her benefit anyone in anyway? They obviously want to save Penny, so all killing her at the manor would do is hurry the self-destruct along, the thing they want to stop. They want to keep the Maiden powers safe, but killing her might risk sending them off into the world, lost, or even wind up with Cinder if her attempts to steal them formed any connection. Obviously we know now that the powers didn't go to Cinder, that Penny was able to think of Winter and send them to her, but my point is that just killing her then is a HUGE risk. Finally, there's no real danger in opening the vault. I mean yeah, they don't want Ironwood to get the staff... but like, he just wants to leave. If Ironwood were planning to use the staff to, idk, decimate all of Atlas I can understand the group considering killing Penny to be worth avoiding the potential death of an entire kingdom, but there's no threat to anyone if Ironwood does somehow snag the relic. The only threat here is that opening the vault will allow Salem to get the relic instead, but the group decides to open the vault anyway. Penny is basically going, "If you don't kill me now then I'll open the vault, which will lead to Ironwood escaping Salem with a large portion of the kingdom and standing down from his bomb threat, and then I'll die!" So you want them to kill you to avoid... other people not dying? And you want to die so you don't... die?

It's absolute nonsense.

This is basically a long-winded way of saying that killing Penny in that moment wouldn't benefit the good guys in any way, shape, or form. The fact that Penny suggests it at all is monumentally stupid. It's a Deep, Dramatic Moment that makes absolutely no sense. "You have to kill me!" she cries... even though killing her does nothing good, likely does a whole lot of bad, and absolutely does a Big Bad by hurrying along one of the major things everyone is trying to prevent: Penny's death.

Of course Ruby said no. That's the smartest Ruby is in the whole volume.

But when Jaune is faced with the question? Well, it's meant to be a very different context. I've gone on the record multiple times as saying that the show did a HORRIBLE job of justifying the need to kill Penny, but I also recognize that we're supposed to believe that was the best option on the table. Unlike at the manor, Penny's death does achieves something here: giving her the ability keep the powers safe. It's also presented as inevitable: Penny will (supposedly) die regardless, so better that she die when she chooses, preventing Cinder from getting more power, then dying in a few minutes with more risks attached. The manor death had nothing going for it. The finale death — no matter how badly executed — is meant to be justified to some extent, whether we personally agree it or not. We're still meant to realize, "Yeah, Penny is dying, no way to avoid it, so killing her will at least help keep the power out of Cinder's hands and will give her some agency over the time she has left." It's still stupid, but it's a "You wrote this scene really badly" stupid rather than a "This entire concept is nonsensical" stupid.

So Ruby has never actually been in Jaune's position. For all her insistence that she won't let anyone die, Ruby has never actually been in a scenario where killing someone would do the most good for the world, or would put someone out of their misery, or would give them some agency over their own existence — all the things that Penny's death is (again) supposed to represent. We don't know what she'd choose if death was inevitable and she was faced with providing a "kinder" death, or what she'd choose if a death was, from a practical perspective, presented as the best way forward. That's because right now the story is horribly written and Ruby isn't forced to choose anything, but if they actually brought her back to her Volume 1-5 self, I can easily see her killing her mother as an act of kindness. Summer was turned into a monster by Salem. The very thing she's spent her whole life trying to eradicate. There is no possible, other way to help her. She is a danger to Ruby and all of her friends. Perhaps, if a part of her is still lucid, she expresses that she doesn't want to continue living like this, being the thing she despises, being Salem's tool, being a danger to her daughter. So Ruby kills her as an act of mercy and love. It's presented as a release from a nightmare existence.

But that potential, future characterization depends on whether Ruby understands the choice Jaune made. Again (again, again, again) I think the story did a terrible job writing that scene and that it didn't succeed in justifying the kill, but for the purposes of what I think the story was trying to do, Ruby may well parrot all that back in Volume 9: "Yes, Jaune. Penny was dying and there was no way to save her even though your semblance is healing. There was nothing else you could have done even though you might have gotten her through the portal and saved here there. Killing her then kept the powers safe messy lore aside. You did the right thing, horrible as it was." And that acts as setup for Ruby doing the same thing for Summer later on. Either that, or she's initially furious at Jaune and comes to realize — after some messy and contradictory character arc — that he did the right thing all along and she was just too grief-stricken to realize it. Which I will hate if we get that given how badly it'll all end up lol.

So those are the two theories I'm leaning towards. Either the story, in the fashion of Volume 8, will ensure that Ruby never has to make the hard choice of whether to kill her mom or not (oh god I'm imagining a scene where Yang offers to do it instead as some act of sisterly devotion/a sacrifice so the "pure" sister remains pure no no no no), or Summer's situation is (no doubt just as badly) presented like Penny's second request for death, as a necessary act that Summer wants, will assist the heroes in some way, and is definitely the Best and Only Thing To Do.

Of course, Option C is that this is... just never resolved. It definitely speaks to my lack of faith in RWBY atm, but given how many important things we've dropped I would not be surprised if Summer is never actively introduced into the series again. RWBY may well treat this as the answer to a mystery that never existed until said "answer" arrived, the writers viewing this merely as the explanation of what happened to Summer and nothing more. Don't get me wrong, viewers are 100% right to expect more in the future. This change raises even more questions than were already attached to Summer's disappearance and the existence of the Hound absolutely implies that, in a well written story, grimm!Summer will appear somewhere down the line. But, to be blunt, RWBY is not a well written story. So if some number of years from now we look back and go, "Wow, the answer to how they'll handle this is that they... didn't. This was never brought up in a meaningful way again" I really wouldn't be surprised.

[delphinidin4]

Somebody asked a question about valid readings of literature (I have a doctorate in literature and have taught it on the college level), and i had a migraine this morning, so i’m sorry if this comes out a little coherent, but i’mma post it anyway. here’s the thing i think people don’t always get about the study of literature:

1. there isn’t just one correct reading of anything in literature

2.the bar for something being a valid reading is significantly lower than you might think.

What constitutes a “valid reading” is ultimately a personal decision by the person reading the literary criticism: do you think the person do the criticism/analysis made their case? If so, their reading could be considered “valid”, even if you don’t personally agree with it. If not, their reading might not be considered “valid”, even if you think they have interesting points. The point in writing literary analysis/criticism is to make your case well enough that people have to concede that your argument is valid even if they don’t really believe it themselves.

For instance, there are elaborate analyses of books done in Freudian analysis: taking one of Freud’s psychological theories and applying it to the work of literature. You might think Freud’s psychological theories are bullshit, in which case you might hate/disbelieve those literary readings, but if they hold together well enough, they might be considered valid.

this is also where “death of the author” comes in. because you can never truly prove exactly what the author meant to do/say with their literature, even if they tell you so! Poe wrote an essay on his writing technique, in which he claimed that when writing The Raven he started out with the bird being a parrot and then decided a raven would be more metal and better in keeping with the tone of the poem. And a huge number of literary scholars (including myself) think Poe was probably talking out of his ass there, and just knew/learned that ravens could be taught to speak, and was like, “Hey, that gives me an idea for a HELLA gothic poem,” and went and wrote it. And then later folks were like, “prove to us that you’re a REAL writer? What’s your method?” and poe was like, “Oh yes, I think everything through very clearly and rationally” rather than tellign the truth and being like, “this sounded rad so i wrote it that way because of feels.”

Also, sometimes people will write something that, for instance, reveals their subconscious beliefs about race. They might not realize when they’re writing it that their writing does that, but other people can point it out later, and that can be a valid reading. Sometimes the author doesn’t recognize the ways in which their unconscious beliefs and prejudices manifest themselves in their work. And in those readings, it really doesn’t matter what the author meant: it just matters what the work SAYS. Or might be read to say.

There’s also the fact that we can never truly get inside the heads of the original audience of a work once enough time has passed. it’s great to learn something about, say, Elizabethan English culture and use that to make a reading of something Shakespeare said, and those can be totally valid (and very interesting!) readings. but at the same time, one of shakespeare’s plays is going to feel completely different to a modern audience than it did to an audience at the time. For instance, changing attitudes toward race and rape and sexual equality can really change the way we read a work that’s only a couple of decades old. A reading can explain the way the original audience might have read it, or the way we read it now, or both. All of those can be valid readings, as long as it takes things like changing audience into account (for instance, if there’s a concept that’s brand new in world thought, and you’re trying to apply it to a four-hundred-year-old piece of literature, you should probably mention somewhere in your analysis that people didn’t think this way at the time the work was written. Soemtimes you can get away with not saying these disclaimers directly; other times you need ot make them. No hard and fast rules.)

In order to make a valid reading, you should make sure that you have lots of evidence from a text to back up your reading. If possible, you can support your reading with outside sources (explanations of historical cultural beliefs, for instance). You can base your reading on a theoretical framework (eg Freudian literary theory, Marxist literary theory, feminist literary theory). If your argument holds together, doesn’t have huge holes in it, and satisfies your readers, they may declare it a valid reading.

an example:

on the surface, Romeo and Juliet can be read as a dramatic tragic piece, made to move the audience, who hopefully may be identifying with romeo and/or juliet. the story is sad, we’re sad for them, we enjoy having a good cry and the catharsis that comes with it. that’s a pretty basic interpretation.

i’ve seen another interpretation, from John Greene on Youtube, that argues that Shakespeare set the play in Italy because the English at the time considered Italians to be hot-headed and vengeful and they’d never believe a revenge plot of this kind if it were set in England. And also that Romeo and Juliet were made to be teenagers in the story because only teengers would do something this insane for love, because teenage emotions are extremely heightened, and that part of the reason this is a tragedy is because NONE of this had to happen if somebody who wasn’t a teenager (or apparently wasn’t Italian lol) had stepped in and managed to impart some reason to everybody.

Both of these reading are totally valid. Both of them can also co-exist: they can both be correct at once. I can be feeling bad for romeo and juliet and be sad for them, and at the same time, part of my brain can be like, “Holy Fuck, Friar Lawrence, what the fucking fuck made you think that was good advice??!! also, kids, stop what you’re doing for five seconds and remember that you’re fifteen and thirteen and the world isn’t ending i promise.” Not only are these both valid readings, they can both be valid at once. they are not mutually exclusive.

My post-migraine brain doesn’t know whether any of this made sense or not, and honestly, part of the problem is that there are no hard-and-fast rules about literary analysis. but i hope that helped? 

[blarrghe]

Wip Wednesday

thanks @morganlefaye79 for taggin me! This is something I’ve had ready to shove into Twelve Nights for a while now, and it’s a little heavy-handed but I also think it’s maybe the most important point this (ultimately very fluffy) story makes, and preachy DA character therapizing is pretty on brand for me at this point. So CW for discussions of trauma and addiction, because I aint about to romanticize that shit lol if I introduce a character with a somewhat tropey substance problem we go there. Anyway this is an incredibly long snippet but if you read nothing else from this particular fic, I think you should read this.

Under a cut -- alcoholism/addiction, the ways conversion therapy fucks a person up.

tagging the btv folks: @kita-lavellan | @silvanils | @noire-pandora | @ellie-effie | @musetta3 | @jarakrisafis | @moonlightheretic | @kittynomsdeplume | @inquisitoracorn | @dismalzelenka | @drag-on-age

as well as some mutuals if y’all wanna: @midnightprelude @aymayzing @fandomn00blr @protect-him @barbex I love seeing your wips :)

"Hey," Taren spoke slowly, concern crossing his brows like it did sometimes, when he looked at him, "I don't know how to ask this, but," a very loud voice in the back of Dorian's head told him to shout “so don't!”. He managed to restrain it. Taren shifted his weight and played with his lackluster hair while he figured out how to ask the thing that Dorian already knew he was worried about. "Is this okay?" 

"You mean, am I okay." Dorian corrected, as he took a sip of the whiskey. It was delicious. Everything was delicious; stupidly wonderful and probably a dream, and they needn’t talk about things that weren’t. 

Taren nodded, the concern still swimming in his gaze. "You don't have a…" 

"A problem," Dorian supplied, finishing the thought for him while Taren swallowed, "with alcohol." 

"Sera said you were in rehab." Taren was apologetic again, looking away with his hand back in his hair. Dorian laughed, because he couldn't help himself, but it just made the concern in Taren's brows deepen. He attempted to reign it in. He supposed he would just have to do this conversation Taren's way: honest. 

"I was. Several times actually, but my problem's never been with alcohol." He picked a few more things off the cart while he spoke — apricot brandy, gin, and vermouth — pouring them in careful measure into a tall, stainless steel cocktail shaker. "It's with attention." He winked. Just because the conversation had to be honest didn't mean he had to give up all his charms. "You see, I've made some very unhealthy, very loud, very irresponsible cries for it. In response to which my parents usually tried to throw me into someplace expensive with nice clean white walls and scenic views, to fix me." 

He picked out a wonderfully green lime from the selection of citrus fruits in a little glass bowl on the cart and began rolling it against the cutting board. 

"They've spent an outrageous amount of money, trying to get other people to help me be normal." Taren was frowning at him, so he went on looking at the lime.

There was a small, silicone knife that matched the cutting board tucked into a special spot on the cart. He picked it up and sliced the lime in half, lengthwise, and gave its middle a little slit.

"Sometimes there would be a measure of religious fervour to go with: control your demons through strict routine and mind numbing repetition of verses! Doesn’t work, by the way, and anyone who says it does has more illicit secrets to keep than I do. But the quacks parroting fixes with pseudoscientific backing were the worst.” he shook his head, unable to contain a dark grimace from escaping at even this most casual retelling. “The last time though, I did actually learn something rather helpful." Taren came closer, and took a seat on the arm of the long leather couch closest to him, still watching Dorian with a careful frown as he told his story and sliced his lime. "There was this therapist, beautiful man," he looked up from the lime, catching Taren's frown and doing his best to counter it with a sly smile. "Understood right away what I was really in for —" he smiled at Taren again, dragging as much syrupy charm through the words as he possibly could, "that is, being attracted to men, not drugs or alcohol." Taren blushed, and satisfied, Dorian went back to fixing his drink, "we struck up a wonderful little friendship, or as much of one as therapists can have with the mad, I suppose." 

"Did you…" There was a hesitancy to Taren's speech that was different from the last, less concerned, and barbed with something. Was it jealousy? And if so, what did it say about him that he quite enjoyed it? 

"No." He said truthfully, "that would have been most unethical. I don't even think he was interested, if you can believe it. Didn't stop me from daydreaming of course — rehab is terribly boring. But no, nothing happened except talk. Therapeutic talk; he told me about rats." 

"Rats?" 

Dorian finished slicing one half of the lime into perfect little crescents, then squeezed out the other half into the shaker. "Lab rats with addictions to opiates." He clarified, "the Cage Theory of Addiction: give a rat a terrible little cage with a nice little lever that injects a drug straight into his little rat veins, and he'll keep pressing and pressing that lever until he dies." Taren looked upset; Dorian closed the shaker and screwed its cap tightly on, and continued, "the rat has a food lever too, but he ignores it, pressing and pressing for that magical buzz. More and more; more than he can handle. An addict." He picked out a short glass and swiped the rim of it with one of his slices of lime, then overturned it into a perfectly sized little vessel of sugar that was set out on the cart. "But, someone thought: let's do an experiment, and instead of just giving the rat a lever for food and a lever for the drug, they gave him a little rat city. With fun rat playgrounds and soft rat pillows and a few other nice rats to talk to. Guess what happened next." 

Taren just looked at him, not guessing. Dorian tutted and gave the shaker a dramatic spin, shook it, and then popped the lid back off to pour the concoction into the glass. "The little opiate-addicted rat got better. So comes the theory: the rat's problem wasn't the drugs; it was his cage." Taren nodded slowly, and Dorian left the drink cart to join him on the couch. He passed Taren the fresh cocktail with another sly smile, and took a seat. “I looked it up later; read the study myself because I am an insufferable know-it-all,” he went on, “and it turns out that my beautiful therapist had some of his facts wrong.” Now, Taren just looked confused, but if Dorian was going to be honest with him, he was going to be really honest. “No one’s replicated the findings — and it turns out the rats also started having little rat orgies, so that probably helped.” He laughed, though Taren still looked mostly confused. Dorian took a breath. “But, there was a truth there that no one had bothered to tell me before: sometimes the reason why is worse than the thing itself. Sometimes a change in thinking, a change of scenery…” he paused, “someone to talk to,” another pause, longer this time — he’d lost his will to make light of it, somewhere in there. “I’m not a bad person, I know that now.” he said, more quietly than he meant to, "but I live," he placed his glass of whiskey carefully down on the coffee table, and let himself look Taren in the eye, "in a very terrible little cage. And I've done things, things I'm not proud of, just to try to… escape." He shrugged, and picked up his drink again, "but these days, I've more or less settled in. Figured out how to be a productive little rat who doesn't take more than he can handle, usually." He took a sip of his drink, directing a hooded smoulder at Taren as he did, and downing most of it — getting drunk and doing it very much on purpose, "only rattling the bars on weekends, so to speak." 

[eirikrjs]

The Satanael Solution

An anon recently sent me their own take on Satanael in P5, beginning with this simple question: 

This has been on my mind for some time, but who does Satanael’s compendium entry refer to?

An archangel who is said to be the form of Satan before he fell from Heaven. The second son of God, he rebelled against Him for freedom and bestowed free will and chaos upon humanity.

It got me thinking about it as well. About drawing from the same old wells, that is. If you recall, the book Angels: An Endangered Species by Malcolm Godwin, a tome of dubious character and specious content, seems to be why SMT claims Metatron is violent and why Gabriel became female in SMT2. Keep in mind that this is a book cited in official Atlus bibliographies!

To answer the anon’s question, the “who” is still Satanael. Unsurprisingly, the book also contains the sum total of all Atlus descriptions and depictions of Satanael. The quality of that information is a whole different story, though. If you want to take a shortcut, check out the book excerpts above and keep the Satanael profile and his role in P5 in mind while you do.

Read on to find out lots more!

First, here is the anon’s original submission:

_______________________________________________________

This has been on my mind for some time, but who does Satanael’s compendium entry refer to?

An archangel who is said to be the form of Satan before he fell from Heaven. The second son of God, he rebelled against Him for freedom and bestowed free will and chaos upon humanity.

Most of it is vague enough to be applicable to any devil figure. But the ‘second son of God’ bit kind of makes concrete identification problematic. The Bogomil Satanail, from what I can find, is the first son of God, with Michael-Jesus being the second. The 2 Enoch Satanail, if I remember correctly, never has his order of birth/creation discussed.

Then there’s this bit from Megaten wiki:

In some Gnostic traditions, Satanael is said to be an angel that once served the Demiurge. He rebelled when he realized that the Demiurge was not the true God and granted humanity the knowledge to liberate themselves from the Demiurge.

Is there any basis for this? This story is parroted on TV-tropes and in YouTube comments, but I can’t for the life of me find anything that would corroborate this tale.

Honestly, the best candidate I found is a Satan figure named Beliar from “Questions of Bartholomew”. Let's see how he stacks to the compendium entry:

An archangel who is said to be the form of Satan before he fell from Heaven. Check. Straight up, pre-fall - Satanael, post-fall - Beliar.

The second son of God, Kind of. He repeatedly says how he was the first angel. However (if I correctly understood notes on this page), the Vienna Manuscript version of “Questions of Bartholomew” has him mention that before angels were created, God had his Son. That would make Satanael the second son (if angels = sons of God).

he rebelled against Him for freedom Again, kind of. He rebelled because he refused to worship Adam, which can be interpreted as refusing to follow what he saw an arbitrary order from the authority figure, which in turn can be seen as bid for freedom.

and bestowed free will and chaos upon humanity. Yet again, kind of. He poisoned the water in Eden with his sweat (and hair in some versions), Eve drank it and it corrupted her. I guess the episode with serpent and fruit of tree of knowledge of good and evil follows after that, with Satanael implicitly being the serpent there, but don’t quote me on that. So he introduced disobedience to God, which can be synonymized with chaos and free will.

Beliar’s story contains some narrative parallels with the scenes following the first gameplay segment of Persona 5.

Beliar:                                                                                          

Is brought in for Bartholomew’s interrogation by a very large number of angels (the number varies between versions).

Is chained.

Gets his neck stepped on.

Gives his original angelic name. Until then we only heard his demonic one.

Is forced to recount his tale of how he fell.

Said fall started with refusal to worship Adam, even though God commanded it.

The P5 protagonist:

Is captured and brought in by a very large number of cops.

Is handcuffed.

Gets his head stepped on by the bug-eyed cop.

Gives his civilian name (or rather we give it). Until then we only hear his thief codename.

Recounts his own “crimes”.

Said “crimes” started with confronting Shido, who by the will of society or societal order, which is metaphorically the decision-making God here, has a position that implies automatic respect for him (who also believed himself to be God’s chosen, unless that’s just a Japanese turn of phrase translated too literally).

Finally, Satanael-Beliar seems to have some Gnostic leanings himself, if this quote of his is anything to go by:

And when I came from the ends of the earth Michael said: Worship thou the image of God, which he hath made according to his likeness. But I said: I am fire of fire, I was the first angel formed, and shall worship clay and matter?

Disdain for the materialistic is one of the more common tenets of Gnostic traditions. So I could see this Satanael not getting along with a very materialism-oriented Yaldabaoth, if you put them in the same room (I believe there is a bit more going on in this confrontation, but I’ll save that for another time, when I have the quotes to back up my assumptions).

So, what do you think? Is this a plausible take?

________________________________________________________

First, a fantastic exercise in research! Is it plausible? Probably not. That said, mentioning Beliar/Belial brings up an interesting aside. Here is his profile in the SMT1 remakes:

"Origin: Israel. The fallen angel Satanel. He is known as the prince of lies and swindling. He rides a chariot of fire and has the appearance of two soft-spoken angels. However, contrary to his appearance, he is one of the most evil and lowly beings that exists. It is said that he is the one who brought immorality to Sodom and Gammorah." 

Like you said, the Questions of Bartholomew says that Beliar’s/Satan’s pre-fall name is Satanael. That’s the only reason for this blurb in Belial’s profile which is otherwise just the Goetia description. Unfortunately, the Questions of Bartholomew Satanael is still just another devil figure in a Christian worldview, i.e., he’s bad news. And definitely not a demiurge or associated with a demiurge.

As for how Atlus themselves sees Satanael, here’s his profile from Kaneko Pandemonium volume 1:

And machine-transcribed:

サタナエル【キリスト教】 サタナエルは、サタナイルとも呼ばれる悪魔で、元は神の息子でキリストと兄弟であるとされる。 一説ではうサタンの正式名称ともされている 。 神の座を奪おうと、サタナエルは天使の3分の1を巻き込んで谋反を起こそうとしたが、未然に発覚してしまい、神により仲間の天使たちとともに天界から追放された。 このことから様な異教の神と重ね合わされ、七つの大罪 (高慢 ・怠惰・羨望・好色・怨念・大食・貪欲) のすべてを司る存在となった。 追放されたサタナエルは仲間とともに「第二の天」であるこの世界を作ったという。 【登場作品】 デビルサマナーソウルハッカーズ [Lv.70/Dark-Chaos] 

And machine-translated with some corrections:

Satanael [Christianity] Satanael is a devil also called Satanail and is said to be the son of God and a brother to Christ. According to one theory, it is the formal name of Satan. In order to take the throne of God, Satanael tried to provoke a rebellion involving one-third of the angels, but it was discovered and he was banished from heaven with fellow angels. For this, he was conflated with pagan gods and presided over all Seven Deadly Sins (pride, laziness, envy, lust, hatred, gluttony, and greed). The exiled Satanael is said to have created this world, the "second heaven", with his associates. [Appearances] Devil Summoner Soul Hackers [Lv.70/Dark-Chaos]

So, the non-traditional claims about Satanael are thus:

son of God, brother to Christ

equated with “fallen” deities

he who rules over the Seven Deadly Sins

the creator this world

And here’s the P5 profile for convenience, which is just a condensed version of what you just read:

An archangel who is said to be the form of Satan before he fell from Heaven. The second son of God, he rebelled against Him for freedom and bestowed free will and chaos upon humanity.

That brings us to the source, the Angels book. Note that most of the time when the book says “Satan-el,” it’s just usually as a formality, indeed as the “formal name” of vanilla “accuser” Satan, particularly Satan as angel. I think. Confusingly, note that this “Satan-el” is claimed to also contain with him “Satan”; also he is equated with all the identities and deeds of every other demon named. This use of Satan-el by Godwin seems to have caused a key mistranslation into Japanese conflating his universal figure with the Satanael of Jewish apocrypha, hence the bizarre claims about Satanael in Pandemonium.

Anyway, some revealing Angels quotes from the above scans:

As son of God, brother to Christ:

Equated with other deities:

7 sins in one:

Satan-el as the demiurge (but not creator of “second heaven”; unsure where that comes from):

They totally cribbed from Angels for this profile! And on this last excerpt Godwin seems to casually assume that the all-encompassing baddie Satan-el is absolutely the same as the Gnostic demiurge. Also throughout the whole book, anything supernatural that isn’t a god he interprets as an angel, like Sophia here (but also valkyries; see the Lucifer page). Like I said in one of the other Angels posts, this book may have informed a lot of SMT’s preferential attitude towards wild comparative equivalences.

But most distressingly, Angels does NOT have a bibliography of any kind, just a few books mentioned in its acknowledgements (I investigated those but none mention Satanael in any great capacity). So, it’s impossible to verify where Godwin got his information, if he didn’t just make stuff up. I don’t make that accusation lightly, as the book contains many examples of far-out interpretations that have no basis in tradition.

For one, check out the final paragraph of the above two-page spread on Lucifer for some classic conflation of Hell with the Norse Hel(heim) and a seemingly earnest admission from the author that Helheim is a real place (at least a cave where Norse rituals took place--where is he getting this information???). So basically, this is not a book you want to read for facts, much less one you want to rely on for accurate portrayal of angels or demons.

But besides the profile this also explains other things like the Sinful Shell in P5 that is supposed to represent all 7 sins. But that move could have been called anything; most reading this probably know that P5′s Satanael was meant to be Lucifer and Arsene was originally Mephisto, along with Yaldabaoth being called Metatron in the game files. So that original progression was "minor devil figure --> major devil figure; rebels against the angel called ‘lesser YHWH.’“ It makes a lot of sense!

But considering how broadly Godwin attributes all manner of evil things to Satanael yet is still somehow the original Satan of Judaism/Christianity, switching Lucifer to Satanael was probably about as complex as this hypothetical exchange:

A: What’s another name for Lucifer?

B: Satanael?

A: Perfect!

By the information they had at hand, Satanael is essentially just another name for the general capital-D “Devil” they seemed to want for P5 all along but changed for whatever reason, probably a result of making the first tier personas thief-themed.

As for the Gnostic connections and this quote that is on the Megaten wiki and elsewhere:

In some Gnostic traditions, Satanael is said to be an angel that once served the Demiurge. He rebelled when he realized that the Demiurge was not the true God and granted humanity the knowledge to liberate themselves from the Demiurge.

I’ve never found any basis for this. It doesn’t seem like Atlus intended for this, either. And even in Angels, Satanael is the demiurge, not a rebel against it!

My guess it’s just fan speculation from misinterpreting sources and names; also fan expectations because the previous two Persona games had comprehensive mythological theming, so P5 must have it too, right? Atlus’ reply to that seems to be “not necessarily.” Even with Lucifer and Metatron removed, the point of P5′s persona arcs still seems to be angel rebelling against deity, even if the particulars of the conflict have no basis in an actual myth.

Finally, as for Soul Hackers’ Satanael, his role is so slight and appearance so brief he doesn’t seem like an aggrandized demiurgical being. A trio with Samyaza and Azazel, this appearance falls in line as a typical Watcher/fallen angel like from 2 Enoch rather than anything more.

What a confusing mess! This one is on Godwin, I have to say. At the time the research for Soul Hackers was happening, Angels would have still been a relatively new book. Atlus just doing their best with wild interpretations and misinformation.

[is0gild]

Ice Cream and Fire Oven Pizza - Chapter 27

Pairing: Elsa x Lea/Axel || Side Pairing: Riku x OC

Summary: Modern AU. She's an introvert ball of nerves who works at Ice Palace, a mall food court ice cream shop. He's the outgoing, sassy goofball who works at the Pizza Planet across the way. Hilarity, snark, and fluffy romcom hijinks ensue.

Word Count: 10,891

FIRST CHAPTER || PREVIOUS CHAPTER || NEXT CHAPTER

Credit for super friggin’ cute and super friggin’ amazing cover art goes to the super friggin’ talented ky-jane here on tumblr!

You know that counting sheep thing?

Does. Not. Work.

Of course, maybe I'd be having better luck with it if I was able to go more than seven or eight sheep before my stupid brain would get distracted chasing some other wayward thought down the rabbit hole.

And it didn't help that there were so many wayward thoughts to choose from too. There was wondering when all that seething rage Grandfather was barely keeping in check was finally going to explode and murder me. There was confusion over Mother's actions and uncertainty as to which side she was going to end up being on, mine or that of the family's reputation. There was dread over the talk I was going to have with her and Father that had seemed to take so distressingly, painfully long to get here but now that the time was finally almost upon me, it suddenly seemed far too soon.

But probably the one that was eating away at me most of all, the one playing complete havoc with my nerves, the one that had kept me up tossing and turning all night long so far… was Anna.

I hadn't seen her for the rest of the party. To be fair, I hadn't stayed much longer after she'd fled from me. By that point, my capacity for human interaction had been maxed out and I'd needed to get out of there. Thankfully, Lea had managed to free himself from the clutches of my relations and had rejoined me, bearing two slices of cake. One look at me was all it took for him to know, then he was helping me make a quick exit. After escorting me back to my room, Lea had asked if I wanted company but I'd turned him down, saying I just wanted to go to sleep. He'd left me with a smile and one of the pieces of cake, which I'd set aside untouched on my vanity. From there, I'd changed into my nightgown and readied myself for bed, doing a poor job of it as I didn't even braid my hair. Then I'd turned off the light and crawled under the covers.

But I did not sleep.

Instead my mind whirled and raced and at the forefront of it all was Anna. What was it that had her so upset? Why couldn't she just tell me? How could it have caused such a drastic change in her attitude towards me? When had it even all begun? Was it something that she had been dealing with in silence, letting it fester for some time now and I just hadn't noticed until it'd gotten to be too much for her and she could no longer keep it hidden?

These were just a few of the questions that had kept me up. Were still keeping me up, even now as I spotted the first feeble rays of sunrise beginning to light the night sky outside my window. Honestly, this thing with Anna was stressing me out more at this point than even the idea of The Talk™ was.

But thankfully, all that sleeplessness hadn't been for naught! I had a theory now. I'd been over it again and again in my head. Mentally retracing and RE-retracing every step, every action I'd taken in the weeks between my wedding day and this very weekend, trying to figure out what it was I'd done, how I'd wronged my sister. And there was only one thing I could think of.

I should have called her sooner.

After running away, I shouldn't have waited so long to let her know that I was okay. God, she must have been going out of her mind with worry waiting to hear from me. I know I would've been, had our roles been reversed. And sure, she'd seemed fine that first day she'd tracked me down at the food court, not to mention every day that'd followed after that up to this point. But she'd probably just been keeping the fact that it had really hurt her to herself. And to make matters worse, I hadn't even ever apologized for how long it'd taken me to reach out to her. That's probably all I'd needed to do to make things okay - an acknowledgment of my thoughtlessness and a simple sorry. That was it. And it'd never even occurred to me to do that, not once, not until right now in the wee hours of early dawn.

True, it was all just a guess. But it's all that I had! Now then... how to make her feel safe and comfortable enough to open up and just tell me that? It's not like when we were kids and could just talk to each other about anything and everything. It's not like I could just magically make it all better like we'd always used to over whipping up a batch of-

I suddenly sat up with a gasp.

Because that's when I had it.

I knew what to do.

"Scotcheroos!"

"There you are!"

I didn't even glance up at the sound of Lea's voice, just paused long enough to sample a quick taste of the contents of my mixing bowl before scrunching up my face. "No, no, it's still wrong… maybe I just need to…" my muttering trailed off as I resumed pacing and stirring the concoction more furiously.

"Ya know, I take it back," he said, crossing his arms and leaning one shoulder against the kitchen door frame. "This place isn't a Clue board, it's a goddamn labyrinth. I've been wandering 'round lost in circles for who knows how long now. Luckily, I eventually came across a minotaur who I could ask directions. Good guy. Not at all as bullheaded as the stories would have you believe."

I was only half paying attention to what he was saying. Apparently, it wasn't the half that knew a lame pun when it heard it. Instead it was the half that marched up to him, shoved a small, chocolate-butterscotch coated spatula in front of his face and asked, "Does this taste right to you?"

He blinked, eyes flicking to the silicone scraper then back to me. Then he poked a finger to the goop and stuck it in his mouth. "...it tastes good?"

I huffed and pressed, "But does it taste right?"

"Yes?" he ventured a guess. I frowned and squinted up at him hard. "...and by yes, I of course mean no. Obviously!"

"I knew it!" I whirled around to slam the bowl down onto the counter. My hand came up to rub a curled finger over my chin as I groaned, "Ugh, what am I missing here?"

He was looking at me. At the nightgown I was still wearing. At my bare feet. At my hair thrown up into a loose, sloppy bun with several obstinate tendrils escaping to trail all around my face and neck. "...so is this where you've been hiding all morning?"

"All morning?" I laughed, shaking my head as I moved over to a second bowl on the stove top. Maybe I'd been on the right track with this earlier attempt. "Don't exaggerate, it's only-"

"Noon?" he offered with a half-shrug.

"Noon?!" I parroted back in disbelief. He nodded and I looked to the clock on the oven, which only further confirmed it. "But that's impossible, there's quite simply no way I've-" the words caught in my throat however, for all it took was one glance about the kitchen to verify that, yes in fact, there quite simply was way. My parent's home had a massive, king-sized kitchen to be sure but even so, I'd managed to cover almost every surface in it with many, many other bowls filled with all my previous discarded attempts. Oh gosh, you'd think I'd been at this all night, not just merely since the crack of dawn.

"Ya missed breakfast by the way," Lea said conversationally. "Man, was it awkward with only me sitting there with your folks, Gramps and a handful of your aunts and uncles. Lemme tell you, they're not as big of fans as you are of the Let Me Guess Your Fave Ice Cream game."

I winced, scratching my cheek with a tiny, "Sorry." Now that I thought about it, I did remember the cook bustling about in here as well at some point, probably making the breakfast Lea was referring to. She'd left me to my own devices, the kitchen being more than big enough to accommodate us both without getting in each others' ways. I'd only thought she'd been in here for a minute or two though.

He waved it off, "Nah, don't worry about it. I like to think your fam and I really bonded over all those crepes and long, uncomfortable silences."

I just gave a vague hmm in my throat, already distracted by the task at hand once more as I moved from one bowl to the next. This one? No… Maybe this one? No…

"I didn't know ya knew how to cook," I heard him say.

"I don't," I muttered, pulling a face at the peanut butter rice crispy batter in this pot, which was a whole other mess of problems. One minor catastrophe at a time, however. First I needed to figure out the topping, then I could work out the rest. I sidestepped to the next bowl.

Lea tipped his head to one side. "So then you just know the recipe for this one thing?"

"Not really, no."

His lips pursed to the right. "...struck in the middle of the night by the sudden, inexplicable but undeniable urge to teach yourself how to cook before the day's out?"

I paused, looking up to meet his gaze. "Yes."

He cocked an eyebrow, "Really?"

"Nope." And my search continued! Maybe in that pan over there…

"Okay seriously, whatcha doing?"

Ah-ha! Not the pan, but the gigantic bowl right next to it! I think this batch had been the closest so far. I picked it up and started walking towards Lea, declaring, "Scotcheroos!"

His brow furrowed, "Scotcha-wha?"

"Scotcheroos," I repeated, coming to a stop in front of him and shifting my hold on the container to one arm before stabbing a finger into the mixture. "Taste," I calmly demanded - his only warning before I suddenly stuck my fingertip drenched in sugary, chocolatey goodness into his mouth, forcing a small, strangled noise to choke out of his throat. Hand retracting, my eyes big and round and imploring, I asked, "What's the missing ingredient?"

"I, uh…" he cleared his throat, averting his gaze under my scrutiny as he rubbed at the nape of his neck. Then he snerked and grin, "Love?"

My eyelids drooped. "...not funny."

"It was a lil funny," he mumbled, making me scoff as I spun around and started pacing again, free hand coming up to clasp over my mouth as my index finger tapped the tip of my nose in thought. "C'mon, El, what're ya worried about? It tastes fine."

"But it doesn't taste right," I insisted, snatching up a clean spatula from a nearby utensil holder and feverishly stirring at the mixture. Was that helping? No clue. As previously stated, I didn't know the first thing about cooking. "And it has to. It must be absolutely perfect. You see, when Anna and I were children, Halima used to come over all the time and make these with us. Particularly whenever there was a squabble between us girls that she wanted to help settle. And these always, I don't know… helped… make things better. Somehow. So I thought that maybe… If I could just… Then possibly Anna would..." I stopped, puffed out a slow breath and regathered myself. "But it's been so long since she last made them with us and it just keeps coming out… wrong. I can't remember the exact recipe."

"Why not ask Halima?" he suggested, moving to stand opposite the kitchen island from me.

My eyes rolled as my feet continued to patrol back and forth. "What, at 6 a.m. when this whole madness began? Besides, I don't think she and Mattias even stayed here last night and I don't have her phone number."

"Well then, they have this fabulous invention called the internet."

"Don't you think I tried that already?" I swung up the spatula in frustration, sending some butterscotch-chocolate flying straight towards Lea. He ducked and it blurred over his head to splatter against a wall behind him. "But all the recipes out there are a little different, and none of them know Halima's secret ingredient."

He snapped his fingers, "Applesauce."

I froze midstep. Then I slowly turned to look at him, the hint of a smile tugging at one corner of my lips. "So you were listening last night."

"Course!" he beamed, hunching forward and propping his elbows on the island countertop, arms folded together. "Always do when ya got something to say."

I snorted, brushing the empty sweet talk off as I went back to pacing and stirring. "Anyway, nice try, but it's not like she uses the same secret ingredient in all her recipes. Hmm, maybe it was… honey? Or coconut oil? ...marshmallow cream...?" When I happened to glance Lea's way again, my feet came to a grinding halt once more as I gasped, "Sea salt!"

Both his eyebrows shot up his forehead. "As in the ice cream?"

"No, as in sea salt." Slapping the spatula down onto a counter, I started throwing open all the overhead cupboards in a frantic search. The upside of such a well-stocked kitchen was it had everything. The downside was it could be impossible to find the one thing you actually needed. But behold! Sea salt! There at last, in the ninth cupboard I'd check. But ugh, of course it just had to be on the top shelf, didn't it?

Swiping a finger over my cheek to brush a few strands of hair out of my face (which then promptly fell back into place), I secured the mixing bowl by hugging it tightly to my stomach with one arm while stretching the other up high over my head, reaching for the blue bottle. "It's probably not the ingredient, but it's at least one ingredient I forgot." Almost there…

A hand that wasn't mine suddenly appeared over my head to beat me to it, snatching up the little bottle of sea salt. I whipped around only to be greeted by the sight of a black band tee stretched snugly over a broad chest that I was becoming almost disturbingly all too familiar with at this point.

Pssst, Lea's eyes were up there, dummy.

Can you blame me, though? Really? I can't help it if the damn thing was always in my direct line of sight! Curse my genetics for making me so damn short!

I hastily looked up to meet his gaze as he offered me the sea salt. Gosh, he was so close. Really, the only thing separating us was my bowl. Beating my blush back with a proverbial stick, I gingerly took the small bottle with a soft, "Thank you." I then flicked the top open with my thumb and gave it a squint, wondering how much was too much. Welp, only one way to find out! I tipped it upside down over the mixture and let the pouring commence.

"So ya really think these Scotcha-thingies will get Anna to talk to you?" he shook his head slightly.

"I don't see why not." I kept dumping more and more out of the bottle. Better too much than too little, right? "It's always worked in the past. It'll work now. It has to."

"Yeah, but-"

"It has to!" I snapped desperately, slamming the bottle down on the countertop now with a loud bang that made me wince. Grimacing, I added more quietly, "Otherwise I don't know what else to do."

Lea frowned down at me. "...okay, real talk? How much sleep did you get last night?"

My nose wrinkled. "Zero, give or take an hour. Except not give, only take. Is it possible to get negative sleep?"

"If it is, you most certainly have," he snorted. "Alright, Missy, I think it's naptime for you."

A contemptuous huff escaped my nose. "Don't patronize me, I'm not a child. I'm fine."

"You have chocolate all over your face."

"I-?!" Embarrassed, my hand rushed up to scrub at my face. Lea's eyes crinkled and I could see him biting back a grin. When I lowered my hand to look at it, I figured out why. They were smeared all over in chocolate too, so I was probably only making the face situation worse.

He started lifting a hand towards me, then seemed to think better of it, using it to smother his smile instead. Then he asked, "Allow me?"

I narrowed my eyes at him. But then I sighed and tossed one hand up in an impatient gesture for him to get on with it. Snerking, he took the mixing bowl from my grasp and set it aside so he could step closer to me. His hand rose once more, gently brushing the curled knuckles of his fingers along my chin and across the tip of my nose, wiping away the smudges there. Was it just tired, sleep-deprived brain talking, or did he have that soft boyfriend look in his eyes again? Maybe he didn't even realize he was doing it. Maybe he'd forgotten how to turn it off at this point. Either way, that proverbial stick I'd mentioned earlier had snapped in two by now, making it impossible to keep the blush at bay anymore.

His hand cupped my cheek then, his thumb lightly stroking along my skin and leaving warm tingles in its wake. He let it linger there and I had to wonder at how stubborn that particular smear of chocolate must be. And still with that damn look. That thing could be considered a lethal weapon. Honestly, I was surprised I was still standing.

His lips parted, taking in a breath, about to say something and-

"Elsa dear." At the sudden sound of my mother's voice, Lea jumped and jerked back a step from me, swearing under his breath as he turned his back to us both, fingers viciously ruffling his crimson spikes. Mother arched one delicate eyebrow at me from where she had just appeared in the doorway. "Here you are. We've missed you all morning."

"Ah… yes, so I've heard. Sorry, I uh…" My hands self-consciously smoothed up and down my nightgown before clasping together as I took a quick glance about the kitchen. At the small mess I'd made here. Should I even try to explain? The more I thought about it, the more insane it sounded. "...just lost track of time, it seems," I finally settled on, hoping Mother wouldn't pry further.

Thankfully, she did not. Instead, she simply said, "Your father and I are ready for our discussion." She paused, giving my appearance a once over. "...perhaps you would like some time to freshen up first. You can join us in the Indigo Room in an hour." She tacked on a quick, "Lea," by way of greeting to him, bowing her head slightly.

"Ma'am," he returned with a weak chuckle and tiny wave. Then Mother turned and walked off, disappearing down the hallway. "Dun dun dun!" Lea mock chanted ominously, earning his shoulder a light smack from my hand and he sniggered.

Shaking my head, I muttered, "Well, guess I should go get changed."

"I'll meet ya outside your door when you're ready and we can take our lil stroll to the gallows together," he said brightly.

I gave a rueful smile, "You almost make it sound pleasant. Until then." On my way out, I ran across Gerda in the hall, who I asked to make sure no one tidied up the mess I'd left in the kitchen. Seeing as how it was a disaster zone of my own making, I preferred to clean it up myself later rather than make someone else do it. Then I headed up to my bedroom.

One would think I would be in a state of extreme panic now that the time of The Talk™ was finally upon me. However, as I switched out of my nightgown and got myself otherwise ready, I was oddly more just… numb. Huh. Perhaps I'd already used up all my crazy this morning and had nothing left in me to fret with. At least not right now, in the relative sanctuary of my old room. I'm sure I'd have no problem rustling up a fresh wave of cardiac arrest-inducing anxiety once I was standing in front of my parents.

But for now, I'd take comfort in this numbness. Who knew, maybe there really was nothing to worry about anyway. I'd been assuming the worst this whole time, but I honestly had no idea what this little chat was going to have in store for me. My parents had been doing too good of a job staying tight lipped and keeping their opinion on this matter to themselves. No big shock there, really. Who do you think invented the Conceal, Don't Feel mantra? My parents were the masters of that technique and had always been experts at keeping their cards close to the vest. But perhaps I was in for a pleasant surprise. Perhaps all they wanted to say was how proud of me they were for standing up for myself and how they would support whatever path in life I chose, as long as it made me happy!

...yeah right. All of Arendelle would freeze over in the middle of June before that happened.

Regardless, just under an hour later found me almost ready to go. I was somewhat more presentable now, dressed in a nice sundress I'd brought packed in my luggage for this weekend and with my hands and face washed clean of any remaining chocolate. I was just sitting down on the edge of my bed to tie my ankle boots when I heard my phone buzz. Retrieving it from my nightstand, one peek at the notifications informed me that Lea had sent a text:

Knock knock

I looked to my bedroom door. Then back to my phone, thumbs typing a message back.

Who's there?

There was a pause in his reply, so I tossed it onto the mattress next to me before reaching down to tug the laces of my boot tight. It wasn't until after I'd knotted the bow and moved onto the second shoe that my phone was vibrating again. I picked it up.

A dumbass

I quirked an eyebrow at that. Then tapped back:

A dumbass who?

I'd finished the other boot by the time his response came.

A dumbass who Bgan a knock knock joke w/o realizing it n so hz no punchline 4 u

One side of my mouth twitched up.

Wow, how embarrassing for you. They could revoke your snark license for that utterly epic failure.

I watched those three little dots bounce.

Shush n get ur butt out here alrdy

Snorting, I rose to my feet and pocketed my phone. A quick look around the room unfortunately revealed no further ways for me to procrastinate. Alright… guess it was time to get this over with. Heaving a heavy sigh through my nose, I exited the bedroom, shutting the door quietly behind me.

Lea was waiting just outside, one shoulder propped against the wall to my left as he scrolled through his phone. Slipping it into his back pocket, he glanced up at me with a tiny smirk but then his spine snapped straight and his eyes widened. "That dress…"

"Hm? What about it?" I looked down at myself. There didn't seem anything particularly striking about it. Just a simple white sundress with a small purple diamond pattern decorating the hem at the bottom and- "Oh! Now I remember. This is the one you said I was wearing in your little fiction you cooked up about how we met, right?"

"Yeah," he smiled softly, scratching at a spot behind his ear. "It's as pretty on you as I, uh… imagined... it would be."

"Thanks," I ducked my head shyly. Luckily I'd had time in the past hour to tape and glue my proverbial stick back together, so I was able to thwack that blush down before it ever really had a chance to even get started. Peering back up at him once more, I couldn't stop a small huff of a laugh in my throat. "Is that what you're wearing? Really?"

"Gotta problem with it?" he shrugged cheekily. He hadn't changed since the kitchen. He was still in his faded band tee, ripped and ragged skinny jeans and steel-toed boots. And yeah, I get it, there was this whole badboy aspect he was going for to keep my parents from thinking they could scare him off. But at the same time, there had to be some sort of compromise, some sort of middle ground where he wasn't also provoking them and possibly making this upcoming conversation worse than it had to be.

Suddenly, he was snapping his fingers. "But wait, you're right! Be right back!" Then he was running off down the corridor back towards the guest room he was staying in. Since it was in the same direction we needed to go anyway for the Indigo Room, I just shook my head as I followed behind more slowly.

He was popping back out of his door just as I caught up. I took one look and wanted to facepalm. "Better?" he asked, smugly flipping up the collar of his leather jacket. "But wait, there's more!" Lifting the jacket up slightly revealed the return of that silly wallet chain hanging from his hip.

Ugh, I should have just kept my mouth shut.

"And the icing on the cake!" he reached inside his jacket and started pulling out the pink, heart-shaped sungla-

"No!" I darted forward, shoving them back into his inside pocket. Crud, these dumb things were becoming the bane of my existence. I pat my palm against where I could feel them on the outside of his jacket, saying sweetly, "Why don't we just keep those tucked away for now, okay?"

"You sure? Just trynta dress to impress!"

"But you're already so very impressive. Too impressive, in fact. My parents might faint from the sheer amount of impressiveness you already are."

"Woah, I'm even more impressive than I thought and that's saying something!" he chuckled. Then with a grin, he bent at the waist into a half-bow and flourished one hand out ahead of us. "Well then, shall we?"

I nodded and we set off down the hall.

We walked along in a companionable silence. Lea seemed to realize I was using this time to mentally prepare myself and bolster my emotional defenses. My mind kept going over it again and again. The exact words I wanted to say to my parents. It'd been something I'd constantly been turning over in the back of my brain ever since Friday evening's dinner. I had a whole little speech prepared. Must have ran through it a million times in the past two days. I had to, otherwise I would just be left stuttering and floundering and drawing a complete blank before my parents. It went a little something like…

Good afternoon, Father and Mother. How are you?

(Good opening. Solid. Cordial. A classic.)

As I'm sure we're all well aware, we're here to discuss the events of my wedding day.

(Straight to the point. Very concise and clear.)

First, please allow me to apologize. I deeply regret any pain and indignity my actions may have caused you or the rest of the family.

(And thus in one fell swoop, I've demonstrated sympathy and understanding, letting them know I acknowledge their feelings, their side of things. Was I killing it with this little speech or what?)

However, please understand that I quite simply could not go through with it. I didn't love him. I wouldn't have been able to make him happy, and he certainly wouldn't have been able to make me happy. It wasn't until I ran away from my old life altogether that I realized I just wasn't happy period. That I hadn't been for some time.

(A simple and straightforward statement of the problem. Plain and direct. Uncomplicated. How could they argue with that?)

I felt smothered. Like I couldn't breathe. I needed my freedom and getting away from everything I'd previously known helped me realize that. Living somewhere new, getting a job, forging out my own path in life… I've been much happier than I have been in a long while. This is what's best for me right now and I hope that with time, you'll come to realize that too.

(And just like that, a ready-to-go solution was presented to the aforementioned problem. The hard work was already done! All my parents had to do was just hear and accept that. Easy, right?)

Thank you for your time and consideration, I now open the floor up for further discussion and questions.

(...okay, maybe that last bit was a tad overly formal and unnecessary, but you get the picture.)

I think that covered all my bases. Sure, it didn't mention Lea at all. But it didn't totally negate the alleged role he'd played either, at least as far as my parents knew. I was hoping to maintain that little fib by just avoiding discussing it with them entirely. And sure, Lea would be present, but he was just going to be there as moral support for me and a deterrent for debate from my parents. Really, the focus of the talk shouldn't be on him anyway. It was supposed to be on me, on my feelings and why I did what I did.

I was able to rehearse my speech in my head a couple more times before we at last turned a corner and I spotted it.

The doorway leading into the Indigo Room.

Ah, there it was. The spike of adrenaline. That constricting of my chest. Right on cue, panic slithered in to encircle my heart, squeezing it, causing cracks in its protective little numb bubble, seeking entry. I gulped but kept walking, my step never faltering. My hand unconsciously found Lea's, causing him to shoot me a glance out of the corner of his eye. Then he smiled as he gave it a warm, tiny squeeze.

This was it.

There was no turning back now.

Just twenty more steps and I'd be through that door and facing whatever awaited me beyond. I screwed my eyes shut, going over my speech for the umpteenth time. These words were really the only things keeping me sane at this point.

Good afternoon, Father and Mother. How are you?

Ten more steps. My heartbeat thundered in my ears.

As I'm sure we're all well aware, we're here to discuss the events of my wedding day. First, please allow me to apologize.

Five more. I sucked in a breath and held it.

I deeply regret any pain and indignity my actions may have caused…

Three… two… O-

"Ah! There you are, my boy!"

The sudden, booming, and dare I say even cheerful voice had me stumbling and snapping my eyes open wide. Was that… I could have sworn it sounded like…

...Grandfather?!

He'd just come bursting through the very door we'd been heading for, with Father and the Duke walking out behind him as well. He was holding his arms wide open and had this huge smile on his face and- my god, was that an actual skip in his step?

Who was this man and what had he done with my grandfather?

...on top of that, I was just now discovering that Loud, Smiley Grandfather was way scarier than Quiet, Scowley Grandfather.

The maneuver was swift, calculated and efficient. He clapped his hands down on Lea's shoulders, catching him off guard as he spun him one-eighty, tearing his hand from mine. Then Grandfather was slinging an arm around Lea's shoulders all chummy-like. "Come! Walk with us, lad," he rumbled with laughter, forcing Lea into a staggering march beside him as he led him away. "Have you ever had a 1939 Macallan Scotch? Or a Gurkha Black Dragon cigar? No? Would you like to? How about right now?"

"Er…" still being all but dragged away, Lea glanced back over his shoulder at me uncertainly.

Bewildered myself, I just shrugged before gesturing for him to go along with it.

I feared Lea trying to resist whatever this was might risk poking the bear.

The Duke brushed past me to follow the two of them, posture rigid and face as crotchety as ever. Father was the last to go, gracing me with a brief smile. "Go on in. They're waiting for you," he nodded back towards the Indigo Room. Then off he went with the rest of the menfolk. Watching them go left me absolutely baffled.

What on earth had that been all about?!

I had nothing. Zilch. No plausible explanation whatsoever. Well, none except for-

Oh no.

They were literally about to murder him.

Think about it. It was the only thing that made sense! Why else would-

Wait… "they?"

That's what my father had just said, right? "They're waiting for you inside." His exact words. Who was this they? Shouldn't it just be Mother in there? Either Mother had had a change of pronouns and I was about to have a completely different conversation than I'd been expecting this whole time, or…

...someone else was in there with her.

Anna, perhaps? Yeah, that had to be it. After all, despite whatever her issue with me was currently, she was supposed to be there to have my back through this. And with Lea having just been straight up kidnapped, I'd need Anna's help more than ever. Yeah, that's probably all it was. Just Mother and Anna in there.

Hoping I was just being paranoid a second ago and Lea wasn't actually off somewhere getting assassinated this very moment, I shoved such thoughts to the back of my mind and prepared to go inside. I squared my shoulders, smoothed the nonexistent creases out of my dress, swept my braid-

Fudge, I'd forgotten to braid my hair! It was still up in that crude bun. Oh well, no time to fix it now. Hopefully it wouldn't come across so much as "messy" as just "stylishly disheveled." Regathering what little courage I could muster, I took a deep breath, clenched my hands at my sides and finally, at long last, stepped through that door into the Indigo Room.

It was a sitting room that lived up to its name. Everything was a rich shade of blue-violet from the walls to the carpet to the window curtains to the two couches taking up the middle of the room, facing each other from across the long coffee table between them. Sitting together in one of those sofas were three people. Mother - of course I'd expected her. Aunt Yelena - admittedly a bit more unexpected, but actually wasn't all that shocking. And... Maren? Okay, seeing her here actually did kind of surprise me.

But even more concerning than the people I saw before me now was the one person I wasn't seeing.

Anna.

Where was she?

Mother rose to her feet, a subdued smile on her face as she folded her hands in front of her just below her waist. "Elsa. Thank you for joining us. Please," she bowed her head slightly towards the couch across from her, "have a seat."

Perhaps a better question would be, what the heck was this?

...some kind of intervention? An ambush?

Oh gosh, was that why they'd taken Lea away? Had they just been trying to separate us so they could get me alone? Divide and conquer?

I stood rooted to the spot, not budging an inch. Aunt Yelena, usual stoic expression set firmly in place, said, "Maren dear, perhaps you could assist your cousin."

Maren grimaced, making a soft noise in her throat that was half huff, half growl. Then she stood, making her way over to me to take hold of my elbow, gently guiding me over towards the empty sofa. My feet dazedly followed. "Sorry," she whispered to me. "I didn't want to be here. Grams made me." She shot Yelena a sour look as she nudged me into taking a seat before rejoining the other two on the opposite couch.

Then everything fell silent.

Well... everything, that is, except for the hammering inside of my ribcage and the shallow, raspy breaths through my nose.

Alright, fine. So what if this wasn't exactly how I'd pictured it? So what if instead of my parents, I was facing off with some sort of, I don't know… matriarchy tribunal or whatever? So what if Anna wasn't here?

...why wasn't she here? She was supposed to be here! She was supposed to-

No! Stop it! Be strong! Be brave! You can do this on your own, Elsa. Remember the speech! Just recite those words you know so well by now and everything will turn out alright, you'll see. You got this!

Inhaling slowly through my nose, I began, "Good afternoon, Father and-" Shoot, I'd already screwed it up! Wincing, I stammered, "N-Not Father! Mother! A-And Aunt Yelena and Maren too, of course! Er… h-how are you? As I'm well aware, we're here to discuss my day." I blanched, looking down at my hands as they balled into trembling fists in my lap. "Wedding day! My… my wedding day. First, please apologize. Allow! Allow me to…" Ugh, so much for the speech. Why didn't I think to bring friggin' note cards? "...that is to say, I r-regret any actions my pain and indignity may have- wait! No, I-"

Yelena suddenly cut in with a blunt, "Does that boy have you on drugs?"

"What?!" my head shot up and I gaped at her. "I am most certainly not on-"

"It's okay, child," she held up a placating hand. "You're in a safe place. You can share the truth with us, we won't judge. Please, tell us how that boy has led you astray. Debauchery, intoxication, hedonism-

"Auntie," Mother interrupted her, placing a hand over hers as she shot her a small warning look. Then her full attention was on me again, her tone calm, as if she were speaking with a small child. "Elsa, you have nothing to be ashamed of. I understand. Believe it or not, I was young and impulsive too once. I've known men like Lea. Men who are handsome, who appear mysterious and dangerous and how exciting and… alluring all that can seem. It's just a phase, that's all. He's just a phase. But it's all over and done with now."

...a phase? "No, that's not what-"

"It's done now, Elsa," she repeated more sternly, expression hardening. "You just had to get it out of your system. And now that that little indiscretion is behind us and in the past where it belongs, we can forget all about it and you can get back on the correct course and fulfill your obligations."

"...get back on the…?" I echoed quietly, my brow furrowing. Then my head rocked back, gaze widening. "You don't mean-"

"Yes," Mother's eyes closed with a solemn nod. "Be grateful that your father and I were able to speak with his parents and smooth everything over. The wedding had to be rescheduled of course, but will otherwise proceed as planned."

"You still expect me to marry him?" I asked incredulously. This was absurd! Unreal! I'd even go so far as to say I must be dreaming, that this was literally a nightmare, except I would never be so lucky. I knew without a doubt that I was fully awake, that this was real life, and that this was exactly how my family worked. I shot up to my feet, "No! I'm a full grown adult, you can't just-"

"We can and we will! Sit down, you foolish girl," Yelena snapped dryly. "We are all in agreement here that-"

"We?" Maren grumbled, slouching down further into her seat, propping her temple against her fist as she glared down at the coffee table.

Aunt Yelena narrowed her eyes on her granddaughter. "Yes, we." Her cold gaze then shifted to lock on me once again. "We are all in agreement here that your actions have shown you to be too immature to be making your own decisions and so we must make them for you. You have let that delinquent cloud your judgment and good sense. Tell us, are you even so naive as to think yourself in love? Please, lowlifes like him merely take perverse pleasure in seducing and praying on young, innocent girls and using them until they grow bored and move on."

I'd lowered myself to the couch once more. I wasn't even sure when that'd happened. I didn't remember doing it. "...no, that isn't…" I began, but then stopped with a frown. This was all wrong. This wasn't how this conversation was supposed to be going. It wasn't supposed to be about Lea. He wasn't supposed to be the main topic, just an obstacle. Well, my family had seen him as an obstacle alright - one they simply had to eradicate before everything went back to normal and I did as I was told. Shaking my head, I began again, "He isn't like that, but that's besides the-"

"Oh no?" my aunt quirked a disdainful eyebrow. Then to Mother, she said cooly, "Iduna, if you would please."

A look of unease flitted across Mother's face and she hesitated for a heartbeat. Then her hand was reaching down to her hip for something that'd been tucked away out of sight between her and Yelena. "I found this in your room," she said, eyes downcast as she laid the thing out on the low, hardwood table between us.

It was Lea's spiked choker that he'd left with me.

My fingers squeezed the edge of the couch cushions to either side of my knees. "You were going through my things?" I asked quietly, looking up at Mother. She avoided my gaze and said nothing. I felt a sharp, unpleasant twinge inside my chest.

...was this the real reason she'd come to visit me a couple nights ago? Not because she'd missed me or wanted some time alone with me, but to… snoop? What, to look for something, anything that could be used against me, no matter how small or ridiculous?

"I shudder to think what other horrors we might uncover in a more thorough search of whatever squalor you're using as a poor excuse for living arrangements at the moment," Yelena tsked. "Tell us, what other depraved acts did that boy use to beguile you? Substance abuse, carnality-"

"Oh god, Aunt Yelena, no!" I buried my face in my hands. I take it back… this was, in fact, a nightmare. This was ludicrous. All this fuss over a stupid, cheap piece of goth jewelry. Puffing out a breath, I gestured towards the collar, "That, right there? It's nothing. It was just a joke, okay? It's-"

"The crumbling state of your future is no joking matter, young lady!" she huffed back, for the first time showing a crack in her stone cold mask. "Look at you! I don't even recognize you anymore. Gone is the sophisticated and well-mannered woman we all nurtured and helped you grow into. We're left with nothing but this pathetic, disgraceful shadow of what you once were. Your actions are mindless. Your behavior is deplorable. Your appearance is appalling." My appearance? What on earth was wrong with- oh for the love of… curse you, you cruddy bun! I just knew you'd be my downfall! "There is little doubt in our minds that this is all that degenerate's doing. He's got you all turned around, making questionable decisions and not taking care of yourself. And you let him. Why? Just what do you have to say for yourself?"

It's funny… now that I was at last being given a real chance to speak, I found I could no longer string even two words together. My lips parted, but nothing came out. My throat had closed up, my voice had abandoned me. I glanced to Mother, but she still wouldn't look me in the eye. As for Maren, she just gave me the barest of shrugs and mouthed another silent 'sorry' to me.

My mouth was dry. Blood rushed in my ears. This was all wrong. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. Leading my family to believe that Lea was my boyfriend had been a mistake. It hadn't helped, it'd only made things worse. Now I'd been backed into a corner where I'd either have to defend the lie or come clean with the truth, and I didn't see either option turning out particularly well for me. My hands were wringing at the skirt of my dress, mangling and abusing the fabric. The corner of my eyes stung. This should have all been going so differently. Lea should have been here. Anna should have been here. Where-

Suddenly the door to the room crashed open, making all four of us jolt. I twisted around in my seat to see Lea storming in, a dark scowl marring his features. I blinked.

He was angry.

I'd never seen him angry before.

I hadn't even thought a single angry bone existed in his body.

"Come back here, you vulgar, deadbeat hooligan!" the Duke snarled as he too came in, hot on Lea's heels, his mustache swishing in an agitated frenzy. Lea ignored him and kept going.

Grandfather was next to arrive. Gone was the smile from earlier, replaced by pure unadulterated rage as he roared, "We told you to stop! Did you not hear us?! Or are you as deaf as you are brainless?"

"Lea?" I asked as he at last came to a halt next to me, my wide eyes darting back and forth between him and them. "What's going on?"

"Get your things," he ground out through grit teeth, grabbing my hand and pulling me up to my feet. "We're leaving."

"Wha-?" That was all I got out before he was on the move again, tugging me into a stumble after him.

Grandfather and the Duke were still bellowing their outrage, hurling insults that were getting lost in a jumbled torrent of words as the two of them tried to talk over each other. By now, Father had entered the room as well but unlike the other two, he only narrowed his eyes and remained grimly silent.

"Lea," I tried again, my free hand going to his arm as I struggled to keep up with his long, hurried strides, "tell me what happened."

"Oh, I'll tell you what happened alright. What happened is Gramps here," Lea came to an immediate stop in front of the man in question, glaring daggers at him, "tried to pay me off to ditch you and disappear for good."

Both eyebrows shot up my forehead. "...Grandfather, is that true?"

"Of course it is!" Grandfather snapped, jabbing a finger into Lea's chest. "That's all you're looking for, isn't it?!" Another jab. "A nice, plump handout to make you hit the road and stop sullying my granddaughter's honor!" And yet again. "Well, what's the matter, dolt?!" Jab, jab, jab. "What, were you hoping for more munny?! Not enough zeroes for you on that check, hm?!"

Lea's right eye twitched. "Swear to god, Gramps, if you poke me with that fucking finger one more damn time-"

"You mean to tell me you didn't take the munny?" a new voice, slow and dubious, interjected into the conversation. We all turned to see that Aunt Yelena had left the couch to join us, squinting at Lea with a skeptical frown.

"Shit no! What's wrong, you buncha geezers, hearing aids on the fritz? How many times do I have to fucking say it?! I don't want a damn cent of your stupid, stinking munny. Next person to ask will hear me telling 'em just exactly where they can take their munny and shove it! C'mon El, let's go already!" And he was off again, charging out the door and taking me with him.

I had to hand it to Lea. The tension in his shoulders, the flaring of his nostrils, the flash to his green eyes… he certainly had the whole offended boyfriend act down pat. He'd almost even had me fooled for a second there, but clearly it was all just for show. I mean... pretty sure it was, anyway. It's not like he'd actually-

Thud!

That was the sound of me faceplanting into Lea's back as he came to an abrupt and unexpected stop just as we exited into the hallway. Ow. With a tiny wince, I looked past him to see what the roadblock was only to discover we'd almost had a head-on collision with-

"Anna?" I gasped softly. "Where have you-" The words died on my tongue.

She was shifting her weight from one foot to the other as a small, nervous smile flashed across her face. But that's not what I was looking at. No, what I was looking at was her shoulders. More specifically, at the arm wrapped around her shoulders. More, more specifically, at the person attached to the arm wrapped around her shoulders.

My eyebrows knit together. "...Hans?"

Hans Westergaard. That's right, those Westergaards. As in the owners of the multi-billion dollar corporation Southern Isles Exports. As in long time business partners and allies of the Fryse family stretching back generations upon generations. As in this was their son before me, right here, right now. As in a boy I'd known since I was a child and had grown up with into teenagers. As in the teenager I'd began dating in highschool and started calling boyfriend. As in the boyfriend who'd proposed and became my fiancé. As in the fiancé who I'd left at the altar.

...as in my now ex-fiancé who currently had his arm wrapped around my little sister's shoulders.

I don't know how long I just stood there, staring and not blinking. It felt like an eternity, like time was standing still. But in reality, it was probably only a second, maybe two before I heard myself asking, "...what is this?"

Hans visibly stiffened, awkwardly removing his hand from Anna. His fingers scratched against one auburn sideburn at his temple as he muttered to her, "You... haven't told her yet?"

"Told me what?"

I knew. Deep down inside, I knew. It was so painfully obvious now, how could I not? But still, I needed to hear Anna say it.

"Told you that…" she stretched the last word out before trailing off, gnawing on her bottom lip as she poked the tips of her index fingers together and her eyes darted frantically about. Finally, in a voice so tiny I almost couldn't hear it, she blurted out, "Hans is my new boyfriend?"

Annnnd there it was.

...wait, was this what she'd been freaking out about all weekend? It was, wasn't it? Oh gosh, it all made so much sense now! Why she always seemed to change the subject whenever I'd asked her about the new guy she was seeing, why she kept clamming up whenever I'd approached her, why she ran away practically every time I'd so much as uttered a single word to her. It wasn't anything I'd done, she was the one who felt like she'd-

...hang on, back up a second. Rewind to the conversation I'd just been having in the Indigo Room. Hadn't Mother said… I could have sworn… Had I misunderstood? No… no, I don't think so…

Pretty sure it had been stated in no uncertain terms that I was still expected to marry Hans.

But that didn't make any sense! Not unless-

I looked at her sharply. "His parents don't know. Father and Mother don't either."

"We don't what?"

I nearly jumped out of my skin at the sound of Mother's voice. I'd forgotten about her. Really, I'd forgotten about everyone else. Mother, Father, the rest of my family, even Lea who's hand I was still holding… every last one of them, completely wiped from my brain. For a moment there, all I'd been aware of was my sister, my ex-fiancé, and me. Now the rest of them were crowding out the door behind Lea and me, many still with scowls twisting their faces. Mother's expression, on the other hand, was that of surprise as she spotted who was standing next to Anna. "Hans? We didn't know you were coming by today. To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?"

As Hans gave a weak smile and struggled for some sort of polite response, Anna piped up with, "Could everyone excuse Elsa and me real quick? We'll just be a sec, promise!" She grabbed me by the arm and dragged me several steps away, leaving Hans looking rather distraught at being left to fend for himself before our family.

Well… our family and Lea, but I doubt Hans was going to be getting much assistance from that corner.

Once Anna and I were far enough away where a hushed conversation would not be overheard, she snatched my shoulders and whispered hastily, "Sis! I was gonna tell you, I swear! Mom and Dad too. But it just… it never seemed like the right time, ya know? I-"

"How long?" I cut her off, my voice flat.

Her forehead wrinkled. "...how long…?"

"How long have you and Hans been…" I looked away, my nose scrunching up slightly.

"Oh! After you two broke up, definitely, definitely after!" she insisted with several firm nods. Then her face blanched, "You weren't thinking that...that he and I would've... before you and he... No! No, we'd never do that to you! Not ever! Not in one billion, trillion years! Never, ever, ever, ever-"

"How long after we broke up?" I pressed, meeting her eyes now with a frown.

Here she grimaced, sucking in a breath through her teeth and turning her head away as she rubbed her elbow. "...the day after?"

...okay, I didn't mind the fact that Hans had moved on. It was actually almost kind of shocking how little I cared. I guess it was just further confirmation that I'd made the right decision by not going through with the wedding. Besides, how hypocritical of me would it be if I did care? Here I was, crushing on Lea for crying out loud! But that's all it was - a crush. And at least in my case, it'd taken several weeks to develop.

Hans had waited a day to move on. And he hadn't moved on with just anyone, he'd moved on with my sister. And since then, the two of them had probably been… doing things, ugh! To think, the guy I'd been engaged to for a year, doing god only knows what with my baby sister less than twenty-four hours after I'd-

...well, to be fair… he probably knew the "Lea and me" story by now, so he'd probably thought I'd been cheating on him for months now...

...then again, Hans didn't know about "Lea and me" the day after I broke it off. Heck, I didn't know about "Lea and me" the day after I broke it off! I didn't even actually know Lea then! So it's not even like Hans had had the moral high ground when he'd… when he and Anna had…

"-not like we meant for it to happen, it just sorta, ya know… happened!" Apparently, Anna was mid-babble as I tuned back into whatever she was saying. "I mean, I always thought his eyes were kinda dreamy, but he was your fiancé so I was all, woah there girl, hands off, no touchy, big friggin' no-no there! But then, all of a sudden, he wasn't your fiancé, and well… I was there, and he was there, and we just… happened!"

...there was something…

"And I wanted to tell you, oh my gawd, you have no idea how badly I wanted to tell you! I didn't want either of our parents to find out before you did, I wanted you to be the first to know and for you to hear it from me! But we just kept putting it off and off and off-"

...something… something my subconscious was trying to tell me right now…

"-and off until finally! This weekend! I said it's now or never, damn it! It was going to be Friday night, I was going to have him over for dinner with Mom and Dad at the same time you brought over Lea! But then I just… dunno, I chickened out and told him to stay away!"

...scratching, picking at the back of my mind…

"So then I said Saturday! Definitely Saturday! At Grandfather's birthday party! Think of it, it would have been perfect, like… like our grand debut! But then I friggin' wimped out again! I was just really scared how you might react… I didn't want to see you hurt or…"

...god, what was it? I almost had it, it was literally on the tip of my-

"But finally, I said you know what? I just gotta rip off that stupid bandaid! Today! It had to be today! That's why I brought Hans here, now, so we could finally just-"

"Why today?" I asked abruptly.

She blinked once, then twice. "...what?"

I fixed her with a hard stare. "Why did it have to be today? Why this weekend? Why… when Lea was here?"

She froze, eyes growing round. Then she was tugging at one of her pigtail braids, looking anywhere but at me. "I don't know what you-"

"This is why you convinced me to trick Father and Mother into believing I was dating Lea." My frown deepened. She flinched and said nothing. I was breathing heavily through my nose now as my chest burned. "It is, isn't it? You knew our parents wouldn't have approved of you two. That they still wanted me, as the eldest, to marry Hans. So you thought that... that if I showed up on their doorstep with a boyfriend who was their worst nightmare, that it would somehow… what, make you and Hans not look as bad? Lessen the blow? That Mother and Father would use up all their freaking out on me and have none left over for you?"

She gave a small "...no?" with a half-hearted shrug. My eyelids drooped. Then she sighed, "Okay, maybe a little bit… but that was just a small part of it! The smallest part! A teensy-weensy, itty-bitty smidge of it, I swear! The main, big reason I suggested the Lea plan was because I really thought it would help you! That it would be just the boost you needed to stand up to Mom and Dad and get you through this big talk with them and-" Anna's words drowned in sharp gasp. "Frick, the talk!" Her eyes drifted back over to where the rest of our family was still gathered. You could see her putting two and two together, could all but hear the gears beginning to turn in her mind. "...was that happening right now? I didn't miss it, did I?"

That was it.

Right there.

The last straw, apparently.

I was done. So done. Done with the lies, the expectations, the not getting any sleep, the panic, the stress, the fear, all of it… I just let it all go. I don't know how. I'd never been able to before. It had always seemed impossible, but now it was so simple, so easy. All of it, just gone with a tiny snap inside my brain. In its place, an almost eerie peace had settled over my heart. I knew what to do now. It was so clear, so obvious. I turned away from Anna and started to walk calmly back towards the others.

"Sis?" I heard Anna whisper after me, but I just kept going. "...Elsa? What are you-"

"Father. Mother," I came to a stop in front of them, pulling their attention away from whatever discussion they were in with the rest of the group. All eyes turned to me now. I could sense it in all of their looks - the curiosity from my parents, the thinly-worn patience of my aunt, the simmering fury coming off both Grandfather and the Duke in waves. Normally all of it would be enough to break me, but not this time. Instead, I just let it all wash harmlessly over me. I could feel Lea at my side and I took what little comfort I could from that. Then I drew in a long, deep breath and began.

"Lea and I aren't dating. We never were." I stated it simply, as if I were merely discussing the weather. Mother's and Father's gazes widened in shock while low grumbles and murmurs passed amongst my other relatives. I went on, "I didn't even meet him until after I ran away from my wedding. He's just a friend, one who was willing to go along with a ridiculous and what I can see now was quite honestly pointless plan.

"I didn't run away because of him, he had nothing to do with it. I ran away because of me. I did it for me. I wasn't happy. I didn't want it… not the wedding, not the life you'd laid out for me, not the future you'd so carefully planned, none of it. I needed to be on my own, I needed the freedom and space to make my own decisions and to be me, to decide what I wanted and what was best for me. It's my life. I get to decide how I want to live it and none of you get a say in it. Period." I stood a little taller now, hitching my chin and narrowing my eyes, "And if you don't like it, well then that's too bad."

A hush fell all around us. My parents' brows were furrowed as they exchanged glances. Father was the first to speak, "Elsa, perhaps we should take a seat somewhere and talk about th-"

"How dare you, you ungrateful girl?!" Grandfather suddenly erupted in a snarl, face a dark, blotchy red as he stomped forward. "I will not stand for such insolence in my presence! No granddaughter of mine is allowed to speak to us in such a manner ever, you hear me?"

My eyelashes twitched. An almost imperceptible wince. The only reaction I gave to his outburst. My gaze then shifted from him back over to my parents. Whether or not they were in agreement with Grandfather's statement, they kept it to themselves, remaining mute on the subject with small grimaces. Locking my eyes on Grandfather once more, I said evenly, "Very well then. I guess that makes me no granddaughter of yours."

I started to turn to leave, but then paused. Looking back to my parents one final time, I tacked on, "Oh, and the next time you try to marry me off to someone, you might want to make sure he's not in another relationship already."

Both their postures snapped straight at that. "Hans?" Mother asked, turning her focus on him now. "What does she mean by that?"

"I, uh…" he laughed feebly, sidestepping in a poor attempt to hide behind Anna. As for her, she just gaped at me as I turned my back on them all and walked away. I could see Maren out of my peripheral, her jaw slack as well, but with a smile tugging up at the corners of her lips as she brought her hands together in a slow, silent clap.

"You stop right there, young lady!" Grandfather was shouting after me, but I did not stop. "You will do as you're told or so help me, that's it for you! Step one foot outside this house and you're cut off! Disowned! We'll have nothing more to do you with, you hear me?! Nothing!"

Still, I kept walking. I could hear a single pair of footsteps behind me. Once they caught up to walk along beside me, I glanced over, knowing I'd be greeted by Lea's grinning face. I told him, "You can put them on now."

He cocked his head at my words. But then it clicked, and his grin stretched wider. "You sure?"

"Positive," I said flatly, staring straight ahead once more. I could still hear Grandfather yelling his tantrum after me back there. "Go nuts."

"Oh hell yeah!" He reached inside his leather jacket, whipping out the heart-shades and slipping them onto his nose. Then he spun into an about-face, striding along backwards next to me now. "Suck it, bitches!" he crowed back at them all, throwing his hands up to flip the double bird as we turned to disappear around a corner.

That's right.

Suck it, bitches.

Author's Note: So THAT's why Anna's been acting all squirrelly! How 'bout it ya'll, didja see it coming from a mile away? xD Hopefully I surprised at least one or two of you with that lil twist xP And oh gosh, when it rains, it friggin' POURS! So much being thrown at Elsa all at once xD Hope the drama turned out okay! As you've read through 27 chapters of my writing by now (at least! I'm sure there's those of you who've read my other stuff too tho xP), you've probably gathered by now that I'm more about the sass, humor, and mindless fluff and less about… *gestures towards last half of above chapter* THIS. But I did the best I could and that's all anyone can ask for! Also… those damn heart-shaped sunglasses, I swear xD They were just supposed to be a one time throw away gag for the yacht chapter, but apparently my Lea muse liked them so much that he kept finding an excuse to bring them back every damn chance he got! It wasn't supposed to be a running gag, it really wasn't! But hot damn, if the Fire Boi wouldn't look good in those puppies xD

So, it's official… Elsa is finally done with all of it. Done with the lies, done with the family BS, all of it. Next time, what's she gonna do now that she's finally at long last well and truly free? So many possibilities! Where will she go? What will she do? Will she and Anna ever be able to patch things up between them? What's next for her and Lea now that their lil fake dating scheme is kaput? DOES that sheep counting thing ACTUALLY work for anyone? I mean, seriously?! Stay tuned!

Thanks for reading, I super duper appreciate it! And an extra BIG thank you to those of you who’ve liked, reblogged, and followed so far, seeing those lil notifications always brings the biggest, goofiest smile to my face!

FIRST CHAPTER || PREVIOUS CHAPTER || NEXT CHAPTER

[itswritingtimebaby]

You Remember That Saying? Something About Curiosity and a Cat?

Hey, all! This is my first time posting my writing on here, so I apologize for any formatting/structural issues!

———————————————————————————————————–

Fandom: RWBY

Pairing: Qrow/Reader

Rating: Teen and Up (some mild sexual themes)

———————————————————————————————————–

Sitting on the couch with Qrow nestled into your lap is, quite honestly, the most comfortable you’ve been in a long time. You and Qrow have been out on back-to-back missions for the past couple of months, so finally getting to decompress at your shared apartment together has been a blessing. Your schedules rarely ever converge like this, but you’re not complaining about the uncharacteristic luck you’re receiving.

As though the luck with scheduling wasn’t enough, you had managed to convince Qrow to shift into his bird form, something he rarely did around you if there wasn’t any immediate danger. It did, admittedly, take a lot of pleading and puppy-dog eyes to get him to comply. His exhaustion was also working in your favor. But it worked, and that’s how you wound up in the position you were currently in: lounging on the couch, Qrow in your lap, your fingers gently smoothing down the feathers on his head, occasionally adding in a beak rub. He seemed to be genuinely enjoying himself. His eyes were half closed and he was making a series of soft coos and clicks, so you at least figured as much. This moment was perfect, and there’s absolutely nothing you would do to ruin it.

Well…

You do remember reading something on your Scroll the other day about feather sensitivity. All the information was on parrots, but you figured that testing your theory out on Qrow wouldn’t hurt.

So, on the whim of a half-baked, curiosity-fueled plan, you altered your hand motions. You still ran your fingers down his head, but you angled your wrist so that they would continue down his body to run over his primaries and secondaries. There was no noticeable change in his demeanor, but this was to be expected - there aren’t as many nerve endings that far out on the feathers. You continue like this for a few minutes: over the head, down the primaries and secondaries, occasional beak rub, before you ramp it up a bit.

Just like last time, you repeated the pattern you had built up, but added the primary and secondary coverts into the mix. You even brushed against the marginals, and this got more of a reaction out of the man bird? settled in your lap. It wasn’t incredibly noticeable, but when you touched the small feathers resting close to his wig bone, you could have sworn that you saw his eyes snap open. Plus, there was now a certain… air of discomfort surrounding him. At least now you can reason that the information you found also corresponds with crows. That simple reasoning isn’t enough, though; you had to know for sure. Purely to sate your curiosity, of course. What other reason could you possibly be doing this for? It’s not like you have any future plans for this knowledge. (/s)

You repeat the new petting system for a few minutes, feeling his discomfort grow every time you graze your hand against his marginals. He does a good job of covering for it, but you’ve known him long enough to tell when his mood changes. If he knows that, he doesn’t act on it. Good. Your experiment is almost complete, and you wouldn’t want him to end it before it’s finished. Now, onto the final step. You’ve been successful so far, and are only hoping that this last part won’t backfire.

The next few rubs, you regress your progress. Qrow seems to relax a bit once you stop brushing up on his coverts and marginals, but you can tell that he’s still uncomfortable. His eyes fully close, just for a few seconds, and you allow an almost cruel smile slip onto your face. Running your thumb down the back of his head, you continue in a straight line, and press down hard between his wings.

Qrow’s eyes fly open, an alarmed squawk escapes from his beak, and, with a flurry of feathers, he’s suddenly pushing all of his weight into your lap and pinning you to the couch in a straddle. Well, plan successfully completed, you guess. You look up into his face, noting how red it is. His chest heaves as he looks down at you, and you crack an innocent smile up at him. You register something pressing into your leg and teasingly remark, “Is that your Scroll in your pocket, or are you just really excited to see me?”

“I- you- did-?” he splutters, unable to formulate a trademark comeback. You decide  right then that you’re going to absolutely use this tactic on him again. It’s fun to see Qrow this flustered. He finally manages to collect a few thoughts and asks you, “Did you- did you know that was gonna happen? Did you plan that?” Your grin stretches even wider across your face.

“Perhaps,” was the answer you gave him, barely-contained laughter lacing your tone. His face somehow flushes a deeper red, and he opens his mouth to ask what you assume will be a why. Having decided what you're after, you cut right to the chase. “What’re you gonna do about it?”

Through his daze he manages to put two and two together, and crashes into you with a hunger you never knew he possessed.

———————————————————————————————————–

Hope ya’ll enjoyed! This is my first time writing for Qrow, so I hope that he’s not too ooc. Anyways, if you feel like it, go give my story some love over on Ao3!

[pellicano-sanguino]

A while ago I wrote that I was reading through an anthology of lesbian vampire stories to find a good one to read to White Rabbit, and that I was disappointment in the lack of lesbians and the amount of het sex and rape forced into the stories. I was especially disappointed because the authors of the anthology were women and they should know better. 

Well, I have now finished the anthology and the rest of the stories....   kept disappointing in one way or the other.

One story told of a woman who gets lost in the Amazon rainforest and is hunted and seduced by a vampire that lives there. The concept is good, a fascinating and a rather unusual setting for a vampire story. But the writing is very confusing and kinda pretentious and the sort of realism that thinks in order to captivate the true reality one must focus on all the disgusting things and describe them in great detail. Like, I feel every other sentence is TMI fest of going into the condition of the blisters in the main character’s feet or of all the bugs scampering over her when she stumbles and falls. And when we finally do get into the vampire bit, it’s just vaguely described and kinda weird and surreal and...   I don’t know, like from a completely different story. I suppose the change in writing style is supposed to symbolize the main character being under the vampire’s hypnosis or something? 

The odd writing style makes this a very tedious read for someone whose native language isn’t English, because most of the I sure am reading words but fuck if they make any sense. For example, the author talks about a person as if she’s there and it took me a long time to realize this person is NOT there, but is...   a ghost? A memory? A flashback into past or future? The main character’s imaginary friend/named sense of purity or some other symbolic shit? The author clearly intended this to be a story that you need to read several times to understand what happens and piece together the cryptic text. Hahaha nope. I am done with this pretentious fuckery.

Next story is...   sigh...   taking place in a gay club that is also into heavy BDSM. Because of fucking course that is how the hets see lesbians, to them homosexuality is a just a kink. Not only do we get descriptions of very brutal, bloody non-con sadism, we also have to read about men doing it (with women, of course. What, were you expecting gay men in this gay club? Or lesbians in your lesbian vampire anthology?). I know not all lesbians are actively grossed out by dicks but rather just completely disinterested in them, but still...   why would you write a story about a lesbian vampire and force the reader to read three - three! - detailed descriptions of a mens’ erections.

Boy, are the writers of this anthology pissed that they did not write their lesbian masterpieces in our modern times when identity havers are vigorously attempting to redefine lesbianism as “non-men being attracted to non-men.” Today, the authors could write all the dick sucking, male orgasm centered het sex they want and still call it lesbian sex as long as the penis-bearer doesn’t identify as a man. They no longer need to try to sneak in the het sex and then write some half-assed plot about them disgusting gay women.

Though, to be fair, I don’t think it’s just the het sex these writers want to force in their lesbian stories. They specificly want to write about rape, questionable consent and painful sex. And I have a theory on why.

When analyzing why some people are hell bent on putting certain elements in their vampire story, one needs to figure out why they were originally drawn into writing a vampire story in the first place. What is it about the vampire as a creature that fascinates them? What sets the vampire apart from other supernatural creatures is their parasitic nature. You take away the blood drinking and you could replace the vampire character with something else and not have it affect the plot in any way. However, surprisingly many people who write vampire stories aren’t that interested in the blood drinking (much to my disappointment) and more into the power imbalance this diet creates between vampires and humans.

Relationships between a vampire and a human have a massive power imbalance, even when the vampire isn’t the kind that has super human strength and other special powers. If a vampire does not drink blood, they will perish. This simple fact forces them to be at best harmless parasites, at worst dangerous predators. Even with civilized vampires who get their blood from butchers, blood banks or who use synthetic blood substitutes, the special diet of a vampire cannot be ignored when they interact with humans. Imagine a civilized vampire like this stranded on an island with some humans - no one can blame them for stealing blood from the humans for survival in such a scenario. No matter how kind, how sworn to be friendly to humankind, the very nature of vampirism makes it so that humans and vampires can’t coexist together as if there is not a power imbalance in place.

Some writers are very into this power imbalance. The act of drinking someone’s blood, even from a willing donor, is an act of parasitism. The human is harmed, their skin is pierced, their blood is drawn and their body will suffer consequences for it, even if for some donors those are mild. The only one walking away from the act having benefited from it is the vampire. You can romanticize the act, you can give the vampire powers to make their bite painless, you can make the human the one who asks for it, but the act remains the same. A human is wounded and will suffer from minor blood loss, the vampire takes from them and gives nothing in return.

I admit, the blood drinking is what draws me to vampire stories. I am fascinated by the concept of a creature that is by its nature forced to become parasitic. But unlike creatures that eat actual human flesh, the vampire has the option to choose between becoming a predator or becoming a parasite. The ability to be civilized, or pretend to be civilized, with humankind creates interesting emotional bonds between a vampire and their victim/host/donor. 

However, I am not interested in making blood drinking a metaphor for sex. It just does not work. 

A vampire’s very survival is depending on them securing a bloody meal regularly. No one’s survival is depending on them getting laid regularly, no matter what rape culture advocating men crying about sex being a basic need and a human right want you to believe. No one has ever dropped dead because they didn’t have sex. And that’s why the blood drinking as metaphor for sex is flawed. 

So, because the nature of vampirism demands that there must be blood drinking, that there must be harming of another living creature and stealing away a part of their body (blood is a liquid organ, consisting of living cells, drinking blood is an act of consuming living tissue), naturally people who are turned on by the idea of harming others or of being harmed and who are into non-con, would find the vampire as a concept fascinating. To them, a vampire attacking a human is equally arousing as fantasizing about rape, the idea of being bitten so deep that your blood is spilled as exciting as their other sadomasochistic kinks.

Bottom line: I get why people want to put so much sexual violence in their vampire stories. I hate it and wish they didn’t, but at least I see what motivates them to do so. 

Ahem. Back to the anthology.

The only good thing about the gross BDSM story is that there is an actual lesbian sex scene in it and that it makes blood into a plot point. Too many vampire stories just ignore the blood drinking and do it off screen, or have it be completely meaningless to the characters and story. Admittedly, the way blood is used in this story isn’t anything new or super interesting but at least they remembered to put some actual real blood drinking lesbian vampires in their lesbian vampire story. * sarcastically side-eyes the other stories*

After this we get what I consider the strongest story in the anthology. It’s still not particularly good, but the bar is set low, so yeah. This is a rather long short story, a scifi one, about a vampire and a single human sharing a space ship for a long journey, during which they start having casual sex and the human eventually learns about the vampire’s real nature. The characters aren’t that interesting, but the concept of a vampire in space is a fascinating one. I was disappointed that the writer didn’t make the endless darkness of space a place for the vampire to be free from the fear of the sun and instead still makes her react badly to some kind of day to night cycle (it’s space! There is no sun in immediate vicinity! Why would you react badly to “oh well, back in Earth it’s sun time by now”?). Another fascinating part is that this vampire doesn’t steal blood from the human in the traditional method, but instead, um...   performs certain sex act to her when she’s on her period. And this is the reason why she always insists on a female crew member.

Unfortunately not even this story is free from rape. The vampire tells her backstory, about how the man who turned her also raped her. Fortunately she does not describe it in detail but....   why must there be a rape in every single lesbian vampire story? Also, the sex scenes were a bit underwhelming, the vampire being very strictly stone butching the whole thing and not letting the human touch or pleasure her in any manner. Sigh. I know there are lesbians like this, but I can’t help but be reminded of the hets asking “so which one of you is the man?” Also, I wish I could read more lesbian romance, more flirting, more seducing and less of this no-emotional-bonds meaningless-fucking casual sex.

The last story is another pretentious one, this one even worse that the Amazon rainforest story. I...  think it’s about a vampire...   chatting with her parrot that has human-like intellect? I have no fucking idea what is going on. The writing is filled with snooty people talk and fancy words that no one uses in real life and it pisses me off.

“The parrot stuck its head on one side, began its swaying little dance shuffle, and gave a convincing rendition of “Viens poupoule.” It had nothing against lesbians and had been an admirer of Natalie Barney’s ever since a migrating cuckoo told it of the time Natalie, dressed only in a white nightgown, had herself delivered on Renée in a coffin full of enormous lilies. In its decadent period, when it has insisted on dyeing its feathers black and wearing World War Two dog tags round its neck, the parrot had even fancied itself Natalie’s ornithological opposite number, but John’s new slide rule, whom it was courting at the time, refused to attempt a Renée Vivien impersonation. That sour, unimaginative instrument had declared it had nothing whatever in common with the young, blond-haired poet, that anyone who could discern any points of comparison between any mathematical instrument and a blond-haired poet was certainly a surrealist, if not worse. The parrot had got a lot of satisfaction the day John came home from the university and declared, “With the mass production of the pocket calculator, the slide rule is dead.”

I’m gonna make a guess and say that the chances of an audience that enjoys this kind of pretentious fuckness aren’t going to be the target audience to look for their fancy-ass prose in a lesbian vampire story anthology. Just a guess.

I did find this bit funny, though:

“- - - Renée died in 1909, Natalie in 1972, but you have recently received messages from each. How is this possible?”

“Post took a long time,” suggested the parrot, ignored as usual.

You know, I could get behind the idea of a story where a lesbian vampire confides her adventures to a smartass parrot with a human intelligence. You know, if it was an actual story with actual plot and not this fake deep stream of consciousness word diarrhea “ask me what it means, ask me what it all means” garbage.

Well, if nothing else, reading the anthology through reminded me why I had forgotten most of these stories. 

[mordigen]

“Fae” tendencies and tropes that need to be stopped

On this Halloween day, I am drawn once again to a problem I have always taken issue with. 

As I have been indulging in forums, groups, chats and the like since Quarantine has taken over our lives - I have come across a common theme, that, frankly, I never realized was a real thing outside of Fantasy canon and DnD. And now as everyone is preparing their Samhain rites, a common thread seems to have approached, again, on the matter:

The Fae are evil. The Fae are killed/scared of iron. 

And as I discovered how absolutely widespread this theory was, in light of a recent...faux pas? Of a certain collection of people “hexing” the moon, and planning to hex the Fae. And as the obnoxious (or possibly hilarious) revolt of the internet reacted, it culminated into a long-standing issue I have had with theories, folklores, and myths of the “Fae”.

Firstly, and most generally, what is the definition of “Fae”?  For me, in my faith - it is the ancestral demi-gods that have been driven underground, and live betwixt and between this realm and the Otherworld.  

But I have heard “Faes” described as, literally, anything and everything that is a humanoid ethereal and/or fantasy creature. Faeries, fairies, pixies, nymphs, sprites, spirits, brownies, gnomes, elves, elementals.  Just about anything and everything can fall under the umbrella of “Fae” - and this just seems problematic, and inaccurate.  Where did this come from? How did this happen?

My incessant googling as offered up little more than a flabbergasted shrug, unfortunately. There seems to be no collective answer to this - it just sorta happened. Well, great. 

The issue I take with this is that, in my culture and faith - which seems to be the very rarely disputed “origin” of the term, at least, if not the general idea of Otherworldly beings - they are a very specific thing, and are very much their own, defined, beings - Species, I guess you could qualify it as. And in the same vein, each and every one of the other hodge-podge of creatures that can be clumped together under the ‘Fae’ term are ALSO each their own very distinctive, individual and different beings, that have their own tales, histories and mythos that define them. Each unique and significant, if not similar to one another. But similarity does not make them the same being. Similarity does not even make them the same species. So why do they get lumped together?

The best common thread I can come up with seems to be : Christianized Fear. That may sound harsh - but it seems to be the common thread that the Christian community that was moving into these Pagan-dominated regions seemed to clump all these smaller, lesser, various foreign ideas, peoples and beliefs they didn’t quite understand and could accurately differentiate together as varying pieces of the same greater “thing”, thusly muddying up each of their distinct origins and histories and cultures. Anything that wasn’t Christian, was ‘otherly’ - and anything that was ‘otherly’ was Fae. End of story.  And I guess the idea just spread, and stuck over all the generations. 

Secondly - Why are they evil??? I get the Christian concept of presenting these Otherworldly beings as evil. It is nearly self exaplanatory - but why do WE as Pagans, still adhere to the idea that they are Evil ?? If they are beings, just like any other beings in the universe, then they are capable of individualism just like every other living creature out there - some are good, some are bad, the collective WHOLE is never just one or the other. So why is this story so pervasive - especially in groups of various faiths that hold reverence towards these people, if not some that flat-out worship them? 

I, personally, think this is just flat-out wrong. As in inaccurate, not as in immoral, just to clarify. Again - sure, some of them could be evil. Absolutely. Just like some people are evil - but that doesn mean all.  So why do we classify them as “all” ? It doesn’t make sense.  

I have asked this questions in groups, to individuals - both pagan and not- and I’m given a collection of very vague, parroted responses like “They’ll kidnap you!” or they’re “Spiteful and vindictive”.  

But, if you read the tales, look at the collective folklore, the instances of purported kidnappings happen to take place while trespassing. And the acts of violence or retribution happen in response to some trangression of humans against the Fae. And if you actually read the tales of “changelings” - it’s clear that changelings aren’t actually a thing. Again, lets reference the Christianized fear, of blaiming things they had trouble comprehending on other things they didn’t understand, and thusly feared. If a child was born with defects or disabilities, it was a changeline. If there was some mental issue - it was a changeline. If it was the wrong sex that the parents desired - it was a changeline. If it was just ugly - it was a changeling. Not exactly the most compelling cases of legitimate child abductions, if you ask me, that the Fae have consistently been blamed for over the course of centuries.  Well, hell. I’d be a bit bitter and salty towards human kind, too, in that case - but that still doesn’t make them “evil”. In fact....It’d be hard to argue that most of us wouldn’t react in the exact same, or similar (some cases, WORSE) manner if people kept trespassing & disrespecting my property, continued to trick or deceive me, or did not keep up their end of a deal, bargain or trade, and continued to lie and blame me for EVERYTHING that ever went wrong in their lives. In fact, that, to me, is a much better argument that they are very real, sound minded people capable of pain, insult & injury just like anyone else, rather than cases of them being “evil”.

Thirdly. Iron is their kryptonite. Why? How? I can find various passing references of this through many different texts on mythology and folklore back through the 1600s. But absolutely no explanation, or origin, whatsoever. Where did this come from?  I don’t care who you classify the “Fae” to be - all of the many forms and iterations they take ALL...have... S M I T H S in their mythos, culture or canons. They all use weapons, presumably of some form of iron as they have very specific titles and descriptions for those who work in non-ferrous material, such as copperwrights, or silversmiths, etc.  And things such as aluminum and tin just wouldn’t be feasible for weapons or armory, as they are low density, fairly malleable and doesn’t hold an edge well. So why would something they actively use ever be considered a deterrent for them?  This one just baffles me wholly, and I can only assume that it was some sort of snake-oil remedy of some charlatan that they just clung to, and since the vast majority of their “Fae” claims tended to be horrible scape-goating, their superstitious “deterrent” appeared to actually work, and therefore forged itself into immortality, and infamy, for all the generations to come. 

So overall, I just find all of these things just plain - well, weird, to put it bluntly. They just don’t make sense, don’t stand up to scrutiny, and have no real basis of evidence or even reference of how, or why, they came to be. The best we have are some vague theories, reaching at a collection of passing references from an overly superstitious, Christian authority. Hardly the people to have the right to dictate the truth, or facts, of the collective Pagan cultures and faiths. This is why I find all of these things just horribly inaccurate, and personally, I believe it to just be complacent, or pure laziness, to be a Pagan and continue to perpetuate these worn out tropes. 

Do your due diligence. Investigate. Ask questions - and have conviction. Don’t just believe something because it was “told” to you, or because some book says so. Or because it is “just known”. “Collective Intelligence” is a very real psychological phenomenon, and though can be intuitive or benign, is not always a good thing. 

[clover-punk]

i feel like jack has been setting up the possibility of a redemption arc for clem since the beginning, but i also feel like she’s gone through some real villain decay during this arc without any development on the redemption angle. i’m hoping that shes had something up her sleeve this whole time bc otherwise it seems like she’s not super involved in this whole kingdom business but idk. mostly i just want a confrontation with si

(See my post about Clem in PTZ24 here: https://breatheinpastel.tumblr.com/post/622097315004547072/partizan-24-spoilers-here-we-go-i-did-not-put)

Yeah, I very much agree with you on the villain decay (parroting her mother's words was a shock but it definitely got my attention).

Sometimes I wonder though, whether I was imagining any hope for growth in the first place. One of my biggest pieces of evidence that she could get better was when they were all on the desert and Clem got that scar while standing with the toughs. I seem to recall a while back shortly after that A.O. was friendlier and more supportive of Clem, but now he's not again. And like you said, SI refusing to interact with her is definitely saying something.

I also don't want to be that person though who puts her need for growth and self-improvement on other people, because it is not their responsibility to like her or fix her. (I'm also deliberately avoiding using the term redemption arc, because I want to make it clear that she has a lot of growth to do before I think she'll be ready to redeem herself)

I guess what it comes down to is I've seen a lot media and IRL issues recently hovering around the idea of, what is the line that you cross that you cannot come back from? Is there a line, or is it really possible for anyone to get better? Is what is essentially slavery enough for us to give up on Clem? Because we didn't at the beginning, so clearly we excused it at one point, mostly because we thought she would get better. Now she has mostly proven she has no intention of changing everyone else seems to be realizing that too.

All of this I say just to repeat my prediction that if Clem does not have something up her sleeve, I think Jack will be playing a different character after Kingdom. And I think that's awesome, because we all saw Clem and the possibility of growth and Jack basically said, no, wait for people to earn that and had Clem continue to be terrible. That is a so much more complex and compelling story than the redemption arc that I've seen three times already this summer.

This got really long but if people want to talk to me about Clem or F@tt more please do I have more theories.