#like. who was allison church?

[peachybutch]

done a lotta thinking about tex tonight but i think tex in a very real way represents the question of who allison church is

[p0kern1ght]

alpha fragments (other than gamma and sigma but theyre bald guys you know what they look like)

[tvckerwash]

an idea I've been tossing around: what if the counselor was carolina's godfather?

[fischiee]

hhrrrnnnn,, thinking about the way that both tex and carolina reply “thanks, i won’t need it” at the same time in response to f.i.l.s.s. saying “good luck ladies” before they fight

like the way that they are actually so similar bc the director (and alpha) must have seen so much of allison in lina which warped his perception of who she really was and now they are mirrors of each other.

the way we never actually know allison so we don’t know how much of tex is the director and how much is carolina and how much is the memory of her

[karvviie]

would actually do anything to hear more about ur arcane rvb thoughts, who are the pilties who are the zaunites i need to knoww

wait okay i haven’t thought this AU out super thoroughly yet but here are my thoughts on what each character would be so far:

church - piltie who moved to zaun because of amnesia reasons. if we’re going along with rvb lore then he is possibly some kinda fucked up clone as a result of dr leonard church experimenting with the arcane.

caboose - zaunite, probably a relatively well known person in the community. known for fixing stuff for people but also breaking stuff.

tucker - zaunite, close to caboose. hangs out at kai’s club/bar a lot. they meet church in zaun and they all sorta just stick together.

tex - zaunite (allison was also a zaunite while leonard was a piltovan) maybe also a fucked up arcane clone of sorts?

wash - low-class piltovan who was an enforcer that got fucked over by the system and had to move to zaun. he becomes disillusioned with piltover. carolina was his CO at one point.

carolina - piltovan. former enforcer mainly because her dad wanted her to be one. similar to rvb lore she goes into hiding in zaun after a bunch of fucked up stuff happens and then she tries to go back and kill leonard with the help of the reds and blues which she meets through wash in zaun.

sarge - former enforcer who was discharged for various mental health reasons. possibly not native to either piltover or zaun so he dgaf about being loyal to either he’s just an enforcer bc being in the military is all he knows. but he ends up staying in zaun after he was forced to quit being an enforcer.

simmons - piltie who got disowned by his father (or possibly exiled) so he moved down to zaun. maybe a former student at piltover academy who got expelled for doing some stupid science shit.

grif - zaunite, lives with his sister in the club/bar that she owns in the lanes. simmons probably moves in with them after getting kicked out bc grif saves his ass from getting mugged and then simmons returns the favour by fixing a bunch of broken stuff at the bar or whatever. also yes grif and simmons still do the organ sharing/cyborg stuff in this AU.

donut - ok i’m actually not sure about him. i feel like he could work as either zaunite or piltovan but i think maybe he could be a firefly

doc - piltovan medic who wants to help less privileged areas in zaun so he often goes between cities trying to provide medical aid

[justjustbeth]

I think one of the most deeply hilarious things about Red vs Blue is that Beta/Tex was based on Church/Alpha's memories of Allison. This foul tempered, foul mouthed, incredibly violent woman is who Leonard Church was obsessed with???

Like, this isn't who she was, this is how Leonard remembers her. And by all accounts, these aren't his bad memories of her, either! This is what he loved about her! Fucking hilarious. By sheer virtue of the fact that nerds in 2003 thought a mean, crude girl was hilarious they invented one of the most hilarious guys: "Obsessed With My Dead Mean Wife"

[dnickels]

John Irving Poem Playlist

I love the hype around Davechella and wanted to do something a little different- a mixtape of poems, with commentary (desperate self-justification) and bonus poems below the cut

I.

The Lamb, William Blake

The Pilgrim, Sophie Jewett

Self-Dependence, Matthew Arnold

The Light of Stars, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The Wanderer, Unknown, trans. Roy M. Liuzza

Up-Hill, Christina Rosetti

Sir Galahad, Alfred Tennyson

II.

They Could Not Tell Me Who Should Be My Lord, Edwin Muir

God gave a Loaf to every Bird, Emily Dickinson

Ancient Text, Louise Glück

I Find no Peace, Thomas Wyatt

A Secret Told, Emily Dickinson

Mary Magdalen, James Elroy Flecker

Because I Liked You Better, AE Housman

III.

A Better Resurrection, Christina Rossetti

The Temptation of Saint Anthony, Rainer Maria Rilke, trans. Leonard Cottrell OR trans. Len Krisak

Batter my heart, three-personed God, John Donne

At Least to Pray, Is Left, Is Left, Emily Dickinson

'Thou art indeed just, Lord, if I contend", Gerard Manley Hopkins

The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, (LXXXIV- LXXXVI) trans. Edward FitzGerald

I Shall Know why- when Time is over, Emily Dickinson

IV.

Sudden Hymn in Winter, Joseph Fasano

Fable and Decade, Louise Glück

Love (III), George Herbert

Of Molluscs, Mary Sarton

Dark Night of Soul, Juan de la Cruz, trans. E Allison Peers

He Touched Me, So I Live to Know, Emily Dickinson

The Finder Found, Edwin Muir

V.

The Plate, Anthony Hecht

Prospice, Robert Browning

Pietà, Rainer Maria Rilke, trans. Jessie Lemont

DEATH THE COPPERPLATE PRINTER, Anthony Hecht

The Gold Lily, Louise Glück

Futility, Wilfred Owen

Flock, Billy Collins

"What, no Wild Geese?" spiritually Wild Geese is here, tucked in section IV, which might a well be subtitled "The soft animal gets a treat", same with Song of Songs and so many psalms I couldn't pick one. I wanted to try to play with poems that were either new to me or a little further off the beaten track (although there are still some obvious picks but come on was I not going to get some Donne in there?). Frankly, this entire list could have been Emily Dickinson start to finish, it's not yet accepted historical fact that she was an inexplicable psychic witness to the sufferings of the Franklin Expedition but I am submitting my findings to journals as we speak

(sorry Jirv for all the Catholics and extremely suspect Anglicans!!)

I. SEEKING

Whenever I invoke "The Lamb" please know I am reading it with the same menace and sense of foreboding as Patti Smith. Given the vibe I'm trying to cultivate you'd think there would be more Blake, but I think Jirv has such a profoundly different experience with Church Authority and his own conversion experience that he and Blake hardly seem like they share the same faith. Even in a scenario where he managed to unclench, I can't see him espousing a sentiment like The Garden of Love. Maybe if he survived to reflect on his encounter with Koveyook he might groove more with "[Christ] is the only God ... and so am I and so are you."

The only section that has at least a few poets I think Jirv would actually read, namely Matthew Arnold-- the only poem on here that I think isn't very good, I'm sorry to Mr. Arnold but there we are, they were right to light your ass up in Punch. He's here however because I think his work captures a very clear and immediately accessible sense of the early Victorian man striving to be himself, in the sense that he can flower fully into the model of upstanding sober bourgeois middle-class manhood which isn't always attainable for later birth-order sons in a navy overcrowded with officers. The real life Irving's letters touched me very much in that he is both looking for a deeper connection with God, a better version for himself, and in the material world, a way to make enough money to establish himself as capital-R Respectable in a way that swashbuckling at sea or derring-do in the colonies doesn't really allow him. I actually don't know if the years line up for him to have read Longfellow but this stanza:

O fear not in a world like this, And thou shalt know erelong, Know how sublime a thing it is  To suffer and be strong.

Is such a classic mid 19th century "making yourself miserable for ideological reasons" motto. Shades of "Invictus" (which for some reason I don't know if Jirv would vibe with, maybe more of a Crozier poem).

I think you could also call the first section "Voyages", I was struck by how often the real Irving was compelled to relocated to try and make a place for himself in the world in the literal, material sense, and the few letters we have are largely his thoughts on his spiritual seeking-- I was very surprised not to find a settled and secured ticket-to-Heaven holder but someone who still considers himself a student, is still wrestling and grasping and looking for something.

Prithee, Pilgrim, go not hence; Clear thy brow, and white thy hand, What shouldst thou with penitence? Wherefore seek to Holy Land? Stern the whisper on his lip: Sin and shame are in my scrip.

It feels a little much to say 'Jirv is the Galahad of their doomed Grail quest' but frankly, given that no one succeeds, I kind of like the idea of a failed Galahad. It's slightly ahistorical to invoke but once we get into the 1860s and the mid-Victorian chivalric revival Galahad becomes a potent symbol for a kind of chaste imperial knighthood in service to God/Queen/Country. At least one young office who died in WWI was named Galahad, not just a PG Wodehouse joke christening.

II. CRISIS

Obviously there are ten thousand things that could torment the evangelical protestant mind and bedevil one's self-worth and it doesn't have to be "hopelessly in love with your best friend" but I wasn't going to miss a chance for some Housman, was i? Wyatt gives us the money couplet:

I desire to perish, and yet I ask health. I love another, and thus I hate myself.

I had included Flecker's We That Were Friends but felt it was just slightly too self-aware, ditto Rosetti's Winter: My Secret.

III. STRIFE

I think these are all pretty self-explanatory. I could have added ten more Emily Dickinson poems because she is the only one on this earth who gets it (me, the deal, the whole of existence). Hopkins I think is more concerned with the sins of the world than the real life Irving (who, based on the very limited material shared, must be the most laid-back and chill evangelical in human history? Or maybe I spent too long among the Baptists) but I can see Jirv wondering, in the God-proof bunker of his diary, why the wicked are flourishing while he is losing his everloving mind and threatening to lock up ABs for being afraid of ghosts.

Here is the excerpted Khayyam so you don't have to go looking (although you should because its wall to wall bangers) (context: the narrator is standing in a potter's shed, and listening to the vessels talk amongst themselves)

LXXXIV. Said one among them— "Surely not in vain My substance of the common Earth was ta'en And to this Figure molded, to be broke, Or trampled back to shapeless Earth again." LXXXV. Then said a Second—"Ne'er a peevish Boy Would break the Bowl from which he drank in joy; And He that with his hand the Vessel made Will surely not in after Wrath destroy." LXXXVI. After a momentary silence spake Some Vessel of a more ungainly Make; "They sneer at me for leaning all awry: What! did the Hand then of the Potter shake?"

"Did you make me just to smash me, God?"

Runners-up for this section included Rossetti's The Three Enemies, which only didn't make the cut because I think its slightly uneven compared to the rest of this work and this list has become pretty Rossetti-heavy. Ditto De Profundis.

IV. ACCEPTANCE

Also pretty self-explanatory. Mystical union with Christ or a very special sergeant of the marines, or both! Is it canon? No! But I like to think that even just one time...

If you read any poem on this list please read 'Love (III)' and 'The Finder Found', the latter of which is my 'Wild Geese'. It seems self-serving to say I cried when I read it but I did. Meanwhile Herbert is goated and his entire work could be listed here but hearing Love (III) read aloud made me understand what poems could do.

I cheated putting two Glück poems for one but given that they were published together in that magazine I think its ok. Here's even more cheating: The Undertaking would be in there if I could squeeze it on the same line. "The darkness lifts, imagine, in your lifetime" PLEASE

Runners-up here were Larkin's First Sight, which just doesn't quite fit but I love for the sense of spring coming to someone who doesn't know there's anything other than winter deprivation, and A Shropshire Lad XI (On your midnight pallet lying) which I LOVE but again doesn't quite jive with the theme, but I do imagine it as a bridge poem between this section and the last...

V. DOOM

A little bit of Browning, who might squeak in under the line of plausibility (though perhaps not this poem) as Jirv sets out on the death march with waning faith that is not, in fact, a death march but then his journey ends in Stabtown, population: YOU. "The Plate" in this case would be that faith and knowledge of being loved that remains even after hardship and the final lost battle, maybe even literally in the meat from his stomach. But misery and death put all the men on the rack and instead of salvation they are essentially tortured to death, often long enough to crush/squeeze out any semblance of humanity and leaving the animal capacity for violence.

"Futility" could encompass the whole sorry venture but in specific the shot of Jirv's body after all the effort to make contact with someone would could help. Was it for this? "Exposure" also a strong contender for "the long slow process of freezing to death for unclear reasons".

"Flock" of course-- God needs martyrs.

[chex-appreciation-week]

Chex week will be happening from October 13th through the 19th!

And with that, we also get the official announcement of the prompts!

There are no limits or rules to how these can be interpreted. You can go as literal or as artsy or silly as you want with them, the skies the limit!

Day 1: Memory

As they always say: memory is the key. Maybe it’s a simple reflection on the past, maybe it’s the fact that they’re the literal manifestations of someone else’s memories, a reflection of a once great love… or perhaps Church just forgot to close the damn cabinet again.

Day 2: Fluff

Our favorite doomed duo is no stranger to angst and tragedy… so let’s give them a break! Let them enjoy some domestic bliss for once, and spend time in each other’s company without the overbearing burden of being doomed by the narrative. Just this once.

Day 3: Family

These two found their own little family inside of a box canyon, consisting of idiots and morons but they are their idiots and morons… or perhaps you want to go further back in time to when there was just Leonard and Allison and a beautiful baby girl and the future seemed so much brighter… or maybe Church and Tex just adopted a cat

Day 4: AU

Now they’re medieval knights fighting to save the kingdom! Or maybe Church is the super grumpy coffee shop barista with a crush on the cool tattoo artist across the street! Or maybe it’s the same story we all know… but that one moment played out differently… the universes are infinite!

Day 5: Cycle

History repeats itself, time is a flat circle, however, you want to put it there’s no denying the cycle of Leonard Church and Agent Texas. A story destined to be repeated again and again until it finally breaks… or perhaps they’re just teaching Caboose how to ride a bicycle, who knows!

Day 6: Goodbye

Don’t say goodbye… I hate goodbyes… but at the end of the day, you have to let go and say those dreaded words. You have to accept that some people are truly gone. Or sometimes you just don’t get to say those words at all… or maybe… well actually I don’t know how to make this one silly

Day 7: Free Day

Make whatever you like! It can be anything and everything, maybe expand on a previous idea, create a whole new world, or make something sad or silly or soft! This is your day to shine!

As said before any and all content is welcome in this event! Art, fanfic, meta, analysis, playlists, memes etc! If it’s Chex I’ll take it! My only rule is NO AI GENERATED CONTENT!

The tags for this event will be #chex appreciation week and #chex appreciation week 2024

[spencewalterreid]

American Teenager

part 1. part 2.

Summary: Ethel deals with the death of her father and her sexuality while Spencer grapples with how to address her crumbling mental health.

Pairing: Spencer Reid / Ethel Cain (p)

Category: Angst, hurt/comfort (come on y'all know the routine by now)

Warning: discussion of war, house parties, witnessed makeout session by a third party, teenagers being drunk, dry humping, dubious consent (not sex, but like. heavy petting), suicide attempt!! you have been warned. forced gagging/throwing up unrelated to an ed. Please see master list for overall warnings for the whole series.

Word Count: 6.4k

Author's Note: I absolutely flew through this one. Enjoy the long chapter, because next week will likely be much shorter. It'll be setting up for Spencer's FBI career, the beginnings of joining the BAU. Ignore the timeline please:) I'm not gonna fuck with trying to make him one of the founders. just preteeeeend that they had all the technology they have now back in the 80s<3 it's fanFICTION for a reason xoxoxo. It'll be less of Ethel's pov except maybe some meandering daydreaming. Mostly Spencer-centric before we pull away from him for a while for Western Nights. I think that's all<3 enjoy!

PLEASE NOTE: reblogging is the only way to promote fics on tumblr!! if you enjoyed this PLEASE reblog and let me know!

September 3, 1976

It’s uncharacteristically cold for September; a crisp 36 degrees. Fitting, given the setting.

Last night, Daddy died. That’s it. There’s no other way to put it. There’s no way to say it in which wouldn’t sound like a lie; too soft to be honest. Mama won’t tell Ethel how it happened, and her older sisters have remained eerily silent. They haven’t spoken at all.

Allison found Mama, or so she assumed from the scream last night. She knows it was in the bathroom, because when she scrambled out of her threadbare twin-sized bed and down the hall to investigate, Hope, Allison, Joanna, and Mom were gathered around the doorway. When Ethel asked what was going on with tears in her voice, Mom turned around and grabbed her by the wrist, dragged her down the hall.

“You’re hurting me!” she’d shouted, but it hit deaf ears. She’d cried harder at the purple she knew was colouring her arm.

Mama tossed her back into her bedroom and locked the door from the outside. Joanna came in the next morning to let her out; they were going to the schoolhouse so Ethel could get enrolled. She’d never been to school before.

The building was concrete and empty. It was bigger than it needed to be, bigger than what was warranted with the amount of students it had to hold. It was laced with something desolate, as though anyone who passed through its hallways would be stung with a desperate loneliness. She felt it when she pressed the front doors open, and she saw it on Joanna’s face, but she wasn’t sure if the expression was there before they left the house, so she couldn’t be sure it was caused by the school.

Joanna signed papers that Ethel was sure were meant for Mama, and nary a word was spoken aside from an introduction delivered by the older sister. They were there for maybe half an hour as Joanna scribbled in silence, only broken by the turn of a page. When she was finished, she laid the stack down on the front desk and mumbled thanks before leaving without checking if Ethel was following. She was.

Anyway, that was yesterday and this is now, as much as Ethel wishes it weren’t. Mama dressed her in thick, black tights and a long, black dress with shiny, black shoes. She wonders why funerals are supposed to be black. Black is the devil’s colour, she thinks absently, rear end going numb from the outdated bench under her in this stuffy old church. The same one Daddy did his sermons in. Not anymore, she reminds herself.  If Daddy’s supposed to go to Heaven, shouldn’t everything be white? She wonders if Daddy would go to Heaven after all. He must, she’s sure. After all, he spoke His word at every chance he got. Especially when he came to her bedroom when Hope was sleeping on the twin-sized mattress on the other side of the bedroom. The Bible says you are mine to do with as I please, he’d whisper near her ear, so be quiet. Later, when she’d ask him why her and why not Hope or Allison or Joanna, he’d tell her, it’s because you’re my favourite. You’re the littlest one, God’s gift to me. And she was the favourite. Daddy would hold her hand when they were in public, he’d keep his hand on her thigh in private, or sometimes her chest, or sometimes her butt. He was always touching her somewhere, making sure she knew she was safe. He was protecting her. He never did that for her older sisters, even though they were so much prettier. They were lucky to look so much like Mama. Ethel looked more like her father and she always has.

The only person that speaks to Ethel all day is Hope, the sister closest to her in age. Only 9 months older. When they were lowering the casket, Hope had squeezed Ethel’s hand and said, “He’s finally gone.” At that, Ethel had ripped her hand away and shuffled closer to Mama. Why would she say that? Daddy was never anything but good to them. Even when he was hurting them, it was for their own good. He only ever once broke skin on each of them, and it was when he gave them their Mark of the Lord when they turned 10. He’d given them cross tattoos with his pocket knife, right at their hairline. It was always covered by bangs, of course, because otherwise the Heathens would want to hurt them for their faith, but Ethel was grateful for the gift. Daddy said it would keep evil away, keep the demons from possessing them. She’d let him do it without fighting, and she only cried a little bit.

Mama hadn’t let Spencer come to the funeral, so once everyone has gone to sleep, Ethel tries to climb out her window. She slides the wooden frame up without a sound, glancing over at Hope every few seconds to make sure she doesn’t wake up. She puts one foot out the window then the next, but as she wasn’t looking where she was stepping, her foot slipped and she fell, scraping her leg before she found purchase on the windowsill.

She supposes the sound woke Mama up, because she hears stomps down the hallway. Desperate, Ethel tries to pull herself back up, but she isn’t strong enough. A delicate hand wraps around her wrist, yanking her up back through the window. She hits her head on the way.

“What the devil are you thinking?” Mom yells. Once Ethel is safely back in her room, Mama rears back and smacks her across the face. “Stupid girl,” she continues. “Just because Joseph is gone, you think you can sneak out?” Mama’s fingers tangle in Ethel’s hair, yanking hard. “I asked you a question! Answer me!”

“I’m sorry!” Ethel sobs. “I don’t-” a hiccup. “I don’t know!” She turns her head as much as she can to try to see Hope out of her peripheral vision. She can’t see Hope’s expression, but she notices that her sister is sitting bolt-upright in her bed.

“Oh, you don’t know, huh?” Mama keeps hold of Ethel’s hair, dragging her toward the bedroom door. Ethel topples over at the change, but Mama doesn’t let go to let her get back up. They continue like that down the hallway, and when they approach the door to the basement. Mama finally lets go of her hair but stands behind her with her arms crossed. “Open the door.”

With shaking hands, Ethel does as told, and Mama pushes her down the stairs. Ethel cries out as she feels a crunch, her shoulder hitting the corner of one of the steps.

“Maybe you’ll figure out what you were trying to accomplish after a couple of days down here. Stupid whore.” Mama shakes her head, slamming the door behind her daughter and locking the door with a dull click.

Are you listening? Ethel prays, shaking with tears. I need guidance. I’m sorry to bother you, I know it’s late and you probably have better things to do, but my shoulder really hurts. Can you help me?

She sighs, turning on her good side. Daddy died today. I’m sure you know that, you’re probably with him now. Can you tell him I miss him? I’ve been bad, Father. I’m sorry. I tried to go see Spencer. I know you probably don’t like him, but he’s really nice. If you knew him better, you might get along. He tries to pray. I don’t know if it works because he doesn’t go to church very much anymore, but he does try every night. He told me he prays mostly about his mom. Is she really possessed? She’s been nice every time I’ve talked to her, but maybe that’s because of the Snake’s deception.

Ethel sobs when another sharp pain hits her shoulder. 

I’m sorry, I’ll stop talking about him. Please help my shoulder, and make my mom feel better about Daddy. I know she misses him too. Amen.

***

September 6, 1976

“Ethel?”

Soft footsteps on the concrete rouse Ethel before her name does. She looks up, trying to support herself with her elbow before she remembers her injury with a sharp, tearless sob. She sits up using her abdomen, then pushes herself with her feet toward the wall, careful not to let her bloody back touch it. “Please! Please, don’t-”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” comes a soft, sweet voice. “It’s okay. It’s just me.” Once she steps out of the stairwell and into the fluorescent light, Ethel finds Allison’s face, pinched with worry. “Are you okay?”

Ethel replies with a whimper, her good hand finding her sling. “It hurts.”

“I know, honey, I’m sorry.” Allison sets down a plate of food Ethel hadn’t noticed until now. It looks like cut up chicken with mashed potatoes and corn. “I made you dinner. Mama’s at church.”

At the new information, Ethel tucks into the meal with her hand on her good arm and murmurs a thank you through the food.

“I need to tell you something,” she says gently. Ethel nods to spur her on but doesn’t look up. Allison shifts uncomfortably. She chews on her words for a moment, then: “Joanna left.”

Ethel chokes and tears fill her eyes. She sits up, resting her potato-covered hand in the air, forearm on her bent knee. “What?”

“I’m sorry. She, uh… She left a note.” Allison digs in her jean pocket, pulling a crumpled, folded-up paper out and smoothing it. “Here.” She offers it, but changes her mind when she remembers her sister’s condition. “I’ve gone to the west coast. I’m okay, I’m safe. I just can’t stay in Alabama. I can’t stay in this house. I love you all. May blessings follow you wherever you go. Love, Joanna.” 

Ethel stares at her sister in shock, cheeks dripping with tears. “I’d like to be alone, please,” she croaks, quiet and wet. “Please go. Thank you for the food.”

Allison nods, placing a shaky hand on Ethel’s cheek, wiping it with her thumb. “I love you, you know that?”

She’s gone as quickly as she came.

***

June 10, 1978

Spencer’s nimble fingers trail through Ethel’s long, dark hair, his third attempt at learning how to french braid. “I know, I agree, but… I don’t know, I just think there’s more to people than that.”

“Not really. People make their own decisions, yeah, but at the end of the day, they’re either good or bad.” Ethel studies one of the paintings on Spencer’s bedroom wall; a Rembrandt. She can never remember the name of it.

“I can see where you’re coming from,” he replies, trying to tame a particularly difficult knot, “but I wanna know what makes people make the decisions they make. I want to know what makes them tick.”

Ethel tugs at one of her fingers, attempting to pop her knuckle. “Spence, that’s a dark road. Studying serial killers… it’s evil. True evil. Not like your Mom-”

“My mom isn’t evil.” Spencer’s hands still.

“No, I know, but I mean… You know, Daddy used to say-”

“Your father is dead,” he interrupts, voice tight. He ties off her hair and scoots back on the bed, folding his arms and glaring down at her, cross-legged on the hardwood floor. She turns around to look at him.

“I know,” she says, calm and slow. “My point is, serial killers aren’t just…” She chooses her words carefully, mindful of Spencer’s hard stare. “Troubled. They’re purposefully evil and do evil things. That’ll sink into you, eventually. I don’t want that for you.” She reaches up and offers her hand, but when he doesn’t take it, she sighs and puts it back in her lap.

“Everyone deserves empathy. Even the people you so flippantly label as evil. You know, there are some people that would call Joseph evil.”

Ethel swallows the lump in her throat that forms at her father’s first name. “You’re close to blasphemy,” she whispers, eyes on her hands, clasped together atop her ankles. “My father was a messenger of God.”

“Your father molested you,” Spencer replies, softening. “Your father abused you, your mother, and I think it’s safe to assume he abused Vera. He hurt me, too. And it isn’t your fault,” he adds, an afterthought. An unnecessary one. She didn’t assume it was, or at least she doesn’t think she did. “He was, as you put it, troubled.”

“Daddy was a good man, Spencer. He loved me, and he loved his family. You didn’t know him. He did what he did because God told him to.”

Ethel doesn’t address why God would tell him to do the things he did. She doesn’t address how scared she is that one day God would tell her to do that, too. She doesn’t even attempt to consider how ashamed she would be if she one day hurt someone else, whether it was directions from the Lord or not. Above all, she very importantly did not mention that she was, in a distant part of her mind she kept far away from her prayers, angry at God for telling her father to do those things.

Instead, she repeats, “He loved me.”

Spencer moves off the bed to sit next to his friend, back against the side of his bed. He pulls her into him, tucking her under his arm. “I know,” he mutters. “I know he did.”

God loves her, too, she’s sure. God loved her, but not enough to save her.

They fall asleep like that, and are awoken by a sob from downstairs. “Stay here,” Spencer demands, shifting Ethel off of him to investigate.

He’s greeted by his mother crumpled by the open entry door, hands over her mouth. There’s a stranger in uniform at the door with a sleek black box in his hands. He looks conflicted, like he isn’t sure if he should comfort her or not. She hears Spencer at the stairs and looks up, holding her arms out to her sides. She calls for him, and with bated breath, he approaches.

Diana pulls her son into her; tight, bony arms suffocating. “What happened? Who is that?” His questions are muffled by her bosom, his face held tight against her chest.

“Your uncle Reggie,” she sobbed, hot breath dampening his hair. “He- oh, my God.”

Oh. His uncle Reggie, who was fighting in the war.

Unbeknownst to the Reids and the man still standing awkwardly at the door, Ethel was watching the entire thing go down at the top of the stairs.

Spencer told her about his uncle just a couple weeks ago, and they’d discussed the moral implications of joining a war. Today’s conversation was almost a continuation of that; they’d decided, or at least Ethel had decided, that those who die at war deserved to. To make the choice of killing people at the word of a superior would be asking for God to strike them down. Thou shalt not kill, regardless of whether or not one thinks it is just. She has a hard time feeling bad for the man. He was patriotic, a firm believer that America always had the moral high ground as it was a Godly country. She wonders how God gets twisted and pulled in so many directions; God gives children wholly to their parents, so when a father beds his daughter, it is not adultery, but if a father beds someone else’s daughter, it is. If someone commits murder, they are a murderer plain and simple, unless they’re killing someone who’d done wrong. How is it that Christians are meant to know how to live their lives if there are so many rules, and so many exceptions?

Ethel elects to go back to Spencer’s room and pretend she hadn’t heard. When he comes back with red eyes and a red nose, she doesn’t comment on it, and she lets him hold her, even though she’s too hot and she has to pee and she was supposed to be home for supper twenty minutes ago according to the clock on his wall. She’ll pay for that, she knows, but for now she needs to comfort her friend.

***

August 28, 1981

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” Ethel slurs, clinging onto Spencer’s sweater-clad arm. “He’ll be there,” she sings with a grin.

“If you’re referring to Will, I have far less interest in seeing him than you do, and less so if you’re going to be hanging off of him all night,” Spencer huffs, pulling his arm away from the young woman and crossing it with the other across his chest. Ethel pouts.

“I won’t be hanging off of him, I’ll be hanging on him.” She waggles her eyebrows suggestively.

“Oh, good grief,” he groans. “You’re already drunk, why don’t you just go to his house? What do you need to go to a party for?”

Ethel rolls her eyes. “Game first, then party. Also, it isn’t just a party, it’s the homecoming dance. You haven’t gone to a single one yet. You have to go.”

“Actually, it’s freshman year,” Spencer corrects. “I just finished senior year.”

“Yeah, but that’s college. You’re senior-age.”

With a huff, Spencer rolls his eyes. “Yeah, okay.”

Ethel beams, grabbing onto his shoulders. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

She drags him into a crushing hug, giggling like a kid. “Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She reeks of whiskey.

***

Spencer is curled up with a book under the bleachers, about 30 feet away from Ethel and Willoughby. What a stupid name, he thinks bitterly. He’s about halfway through Jane Eyre, and though he’s reading slowly, he suspects he’ll be done in 20 minutes tops, and he doesn’t know how he’ll be able to tolerate the moans and groans wafting from his left when he’s done. They’ve been making out since he started his book, which he picked up after Ethel cut their conversation short for favour of her shiny new boyfriend. They’ve been spending pretty much every waking moment together since Vera took sick last year. The only time Ethel isn’t drunk is Sunday mornings, and even they’re hit or miss. The church been through preacher after preacher for the last half-decade, each one quitting or dying off. Due to old age or suicide, Spencer isn’t sure. Regardless, the congregation liked Joseph so much that they elected for Ethel to take over sermons. Not a great idea to ask a 17-year-old girl to be a preacher in the first place, let alone a drunk, but no one ever asks Spencer’s opinion on these things. Whatever.

As expected, Spencer is done with his book in about a quarter of an hour, and slams it shut with a huff, turning his attention to the undulating heap that is Ethel atop Will. “I’m bored, E.” She ignores him. “E.” Silence. “Ethel!”

She whines and reluctantly pulls away from her partner, looking at Spencer. Will continues conducting an assault on her jaw and neck. “What?”

“I’m bored,” he repeats, shoulders slumped.

“Baby,” she coos, glancing down at Will again. “Can you get a soda for me, baby?”

Spencer cringes at the gooey nickname.

Willoughby grunts. “You know what, I think I’m just gonna go home.” He shoots a pissed-off glare to Spencer, who tries valiantly to hold back a chuckle. He succeeds, thank fuck.

“What? No, we still have to go to the dance,” Ethel whines, holding his face in her hands and kissing him sweetly. “Please don’t go. Please?”

“Whatever. I’ll see you there.” Will pushes her off his lap carefully, and dusting himself off, stalks away.

She feels like she’s been punched, like she got the air knocked out of her. Tears well up in her eyes as she watches him leave, and she just feels so fucking angry. Who does he think he is?

“See what you did?” Ethel snaps, throwing her arms up to gesture behind her, glaring daggers at Spencer. “All because you were bored. Why didn’t you just read your book like you said you were going to?”

“I did!” He waves his book in the air. “I finished it. I told you it wouldn’t last me that long. You’re being a dick.”

“You made my boyfriend leave just because you were jealous!”

Spencer closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and opens them again. “I’m not jealous. I just don’t think it’s fair that you begged me to come to this and I did, and you’re not even talking to me.”

“Yeah, okay, Spence. Just… come on.” She offers him her hand, pulling him up off the concrete. 

“Where are we going?”

“To get drunk.”

Spencer gawks. “I thought you said we were going to go to the homecoming dance, though?”

“I changed my mind. We’re going to go to an honest-to-God high school party.” Ethel shouts, moving expertly through the dispersing crowd, abandoning a finished football game.

He considers arguing but thinks better of it.

***

“You look pretty,” Ethel drawls, pressed tight against Spencer’s side.

“And you’re drunk,” he says gently, trying to remove her. Admittedly, his heart isn’t in it, and he gives up. Maybe it’s nice to feel her against him. Sue me. “Where’s Will? I thought he was going to meet us here.”

“Went home, I guess,” she shrugs, shoving her face in Spencer’s neck.

He shivers at her breath on the sensitive skin. He crosses his legs at the ankle. They’d found a bathroom to set up camp in when Ethel got nauseous. She puked for a while, hair pulled neatly into Spencer’s hands, and now they’re sitting with their backs against the bathtub, vibrations from the music bouncing through their spines.

“Why are you asking about him? Why do you care?”

“E, you’re drunk,” he repeats, not having a good answer. Because if you don’t get out of my space soon, I’m going to lose my mind. Because the urge to kiss you is getting strong enough it’s getting hard to fight, and I will not kiss you while you’re drunk. Because you being all over another man is less unbearable than you being all over me.

“I’m sober as a judge,” she giggles, then presses one hand to his jaw, turning his face toward her. “You’re tense.”

The light of the bathroom is harsh against her sharp features, but Spencer is a firm believer that she’s as beautiful as she’s always been, and gets moreso every day. He pushes a stray hair out of her face and behind her ear. His eyes linger on her cross-shaped scar on her forehead, to the point where it's raised and white. He doesn't comment on it no matter how much he'd like to. He really fucking hates Joseph Cain. 

Brave, Ethel lifts herself up and settles on his lap. His hands instinctively go to her hips, and as much as he knows he should move them, he doesn’t. This is wrong, he tells himself, but he’s frozen in place. He just hopes she doesn’t notice his burgeoning erection.

“I might know a way to relax you,” she mumbles, hands going to tangle in Spencer’s curly hair.

“Stop,” he whispers, eyes shut tight when she tugs experimentally.

“Oh, you liked that,” she grins. “You want me to do it again?”

Yes. Please, for the love of- Yes, please.

“Ethel, cut it out. This isn’t funny.”

“I know,” she replies, voice suddenly stern. He opens his eyes and sees her eyebrows furrowed, head tilted down and lips pursed. “God, you’re so serious,” she smiles, the facade breaking. “I won’t bite.” She tugs again. “Unless you ask me to.”

Spencer swallows thickly and tries to convince himself to ask her to stop again. She rolls her hips against his, and though the movement is astoundingly uncoordinated, it feels heavenly.

Ha, he thinks. Heaven is not, and has never been, in this room.

She’s drunk. She’s inebriated, and she’s taken. Stop. You need to push her off of you. Tell her you don’t like it. Go on, tell her. Tell her. Tell-

Some very considerate partygoer bangs on the bathroom door. “Are you about done in there? I need to shit!” 

Ethel scrambles off of Spencer’s lap and he huffs out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Saved by the bell.

***

November 23, 1981

“Be honest!” Ethel shouts, shoving at Spencer’s chest. 

“E, you’re being impossible! I don’t know what you want me to say!”

She’s hitting him. She has never done that before. What the hell? She’s been yelling at him for probably an hour now, spouting nonsense about why he doesn’t love her. Of course he loves her. He’s told her he loved her their whole lives. Why is she freaking out about this now?

“Stop– Stop lying to me,” she demands, crying now. “Please just be honest for once.”

“Lying about what?” asks for the thousandth time, exasperated. “I do love you. I’ve never not loved you.”

Ethel sobs. “You are the only man I have ever met who didn’t want to fuck me.”

What? Since when does she swear?

“I- Where is this coming from?”

He does not tell her how badly he has wanted to do just that since he learned what sex was. The first time he ever heard of it, he remembers very clearly thinking, the only person I would want to make love to is Ethel. He isn’t sure why Ethel never calls it sex anymore; every time the topic would come up, she’d use the more vulgar term. He has a sneaking suspicion it has something to do with her ever-increasingly active sex life since she was, like, 13.

“It doesn’t matter where it’s coming from! Just answer me! What is it, do you not think I’m pretty? Are you not into girls? What is your problem? I mean, whatever the reason is, I can take it. I don’t care what you say, but say something! Just– I’m so tired of you being so damn calm all the time. Hurt me, or yell at me, but just don’t be so-”

“Why are you asking me about this? You have a boyfr-”

“Will killed himself,” Ethel cries, and she’s a goner. She’s all gasps and wails, and damn near falls to her knees. Spencer is right in front of her in a couple strides, arms around her waist in case she gets too unsteady.

“Okay,” he says, not sure what the protocol is. He guesses that was acceptable, because she doesn’t reply except for with more of the same. Her hands ball themselves into fists, entangled with his white button-up dress shirt. They stay like that until he guides her to her bed, laying down next to her. He shushes her gently, kisses the top of her head, and cards his hand through her pin-straight hair.

There are a million thoughts in his head. How did he do it? What preceded this? Did they get in a fight she didn’t tell me about? When did she find out? Why was I her first thought? None of them are pressing enough to address, at least not right now. He isn’t sure if he’ll ever be able to ask them, if she’ll ever be comfortable enough with the topic to truly discuss it. Soft whimpers and sniffles keep him awake for hours, long after Ethel falls asleep. He’s sweaty, and his arm is asleep, pins and needles all up and down his right side, and he is horribly thirsty, but he stays there until morning light. He wonders absently whether her mother even noticed she was gone. His mother thinks he’s gone even when he’s just in the next room.

She’s gotten worse while he’s been in college. He just got a PhD for mathematics, and in his absence, she’s falling apart. He sent someone to take care of her while he’s at school and visits as often as he can, but he’s getting emails every other day about some new ailment she has. The idea of putting her in a home is the last thing he wants to pursue, but it’s getting more and more pressing. It’s looking like his only option.

Hours pass by before he’s pulled out of his thoughts by Ethel stirring. Here we go again.

“Good morning, Sunshine,” he smiles, dragging his hand away from her hair. “Did you sleep well?”

She groans, rolling onto her back and stretching her arms out above her head. “What time is it?”

“7:06,” he replies, the smile stubborn on his lips. He does not look at the skin that her stretch reveals at her lower stomach, thank you very much.

“I feel better,” she tells him, bunching her arms up under her head, turning on her side to look at him. “I’m not sure what all I said last night, but… whatever it was, I know it wasn’t good, and I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay.” How much did she remember?

“I think I’m gonna go home. Mom is probably pissed,” Ethel chuckles, grin radiant.

It’s good to see her happy, it doesn’t happen often anymore.

“I’ll check on you later,” Spencer says, not being able to convince himself to move. Ethel doesn’t, either. They just look at each other for a little while, memorizing. Eventually, she sits up with a vigor.

“Okay, I really have to leave. I’ll see you later, Spence.” With a squeeze of the knee, Ethel is off the bed and leaving.

***

Spencer promised to check on her, and he did. Just a few hours later, he drags a coat over his shoulders and traipses down the stairs.

“Where are you going?” Diana calls from the couch in the living room.

He stops, turns around, and approaches her. “Just going to see Ethel, Mom.” He presses a kiss to her cheek, leaning over the back of the sofa.

“Didn’t you just get back?” she frowns, placing a hand over his affectionately.

“No, Mom. She left a while ago.”

Diana looks sad, but she nods. “Okay. Be safe, come back soon, okay? I want you back before dark.” She presses pursed lips to his hand, and with a pathetic smile, waves him off.

Despite the early hour, most of the windows at the Cain house are dark. On the second floor, two are on that he can see; he recognizes them to be Allison and Hope’s rooms. Ethel got to have the attic bedroom when her father died, luckily for her. That light isn’t on.

Spencer opens the front door as quietly as he can and comes across Allison in the dining room, sitting at the table and scribbling in a notebook. “Hey, Allison,” he smiles.

Allison looks up from her paper with a grin and closes it at the sight of him. “Oh, hi! I haven’t seen you in a while.”

Spencer rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “Yeah, she’s been coming over more lately. I’ve needed some extra help with Mom,” he lies. The truth is, Ethel just didn’t want to be at home with her mother, even if she’s been pretty much bedridden. I can feel her, she’d told him. It’s like a ghost, a chill on my spine.

“Yeah, I get that. Sorry she’s not feeling well.”

Spencer nods a thanks, eager to be done with the awkward conversation, and trudges up the creaky old stairs. More than anywhere else in the house, the hallways always smell like mildew and dust. It made him sneeze when he was younger, but he’s pretty-well used to it now. He knocks on the door to the attic and gets no response. Perhaps she’s in the bathroom? He knocks on that door, too, but to no avail. Turning back around, he returns to the attic and opens the door this time. Turning to his right, he finds Ethel asleep in bed.

“Hey, are you-” He touches her shoulder and pulls his hand away as if burned. He hadn’t noticed the blood at first. Upon closer investigation, he realizes she’s trembling, and a glance at her face reveals foam at her mouth. He looks around frantically and finds exactly what he expected to find; an empty pill bottle. He turns her onto her back, then on her side facing him. 

“Ethel!” He hardly ever calls her by her full name, but he figures this circumstance warrants it. “Fuck! Wake up!”

Gritting his teeth, he rears back and hits her across the face. That one worked. She stirs minimally, groaning, but not replying. “Fuck, what did you take?” He pulls her hands out from where they were curled under her chin and finds gashes down both forearms, two each, crossed in the visage of a crucifix. “Shit, shit, shit. E, you need to- you need to get up. Come on, wake up, please?”

He takes off his coat and tears off each sleeve, surprised at his own strength, then ties them firmly around her wounds. Just as he does that, his hands are covered in vomit. He cringes, but he’s relieved at her movement. He fights to urge to run to the sink and scrub himself clean.

“Are you with me? You need to get up. Come on, let’s go.”

“Leave me alone,” she whimpers, trembling like a leaf. “I don’t need you, I don’t need anybody’s help. Just go.”

“No. Nope. We’re not doing that. Come on.” Spencer wipes his hands off on the mattress and puts an arm under her shoulders, dragging her upward. “What did you take, E? Talk to me. Tell me what you took. You need to walk, okay? Work with me.”

Her head lolls back against her shoulders when she’s pulled off the bed. “It was…” Her speech is slurred and her eyes fall shut. Spencer manages to get her all the way to the bathroom and set her down on the tile. This is gonna fucking suck. 

He gets her mouth open and, ignoring the lurch of his own stomach, his fingers creep into her mouth. She gags once, twice, and vomits in the direction of the toilet bowl. Most of it managed to land in the commode. He does that a few more times until all that’s coming up is acid.

“Okay,” he mumbles. “Okay.” He leans her against the bathtub and finally goes to the sink, scrubbing his hands clean. He tries to move quickly while still being as thorough as possible. Deciding he’s as clean as he’s going to get, he dries them off on a hand towel and returns to Ethel. “You’re gonna be alright, E. I need to dress your arms, is that okay?”

Barely cognizant, she shakes her head. “No,” she murmurs, tears still falling from her eyes due to the gagging. “Please, Spence. Just leave me alone.”

He bites his lip. “We’re gonna do this. You don’t get to kill yourself, E. Not now. You got me?”

Ethel doesn’t reply, just sniffles and hiccups against the white porcelain. Examining her wrists, he finally realizes just how fucking scary this is. There’s blood everywhere; on her clothes, his clothes, all over his hands and the floor. He never realized just how much the arms bleed before. He didn’t think he’d have to know that, at least not yet.

With a bone-deep sigh, he lets go of her to dig through the cabinet under the sink. He locates a first-aid kit and dumps hydrogen peroxide over her arms. She’s so far gone she doesn’t even react.

“This is really not my year, you know?” she slurs, a bitter smirk on her face. “I mean, shit. Dad died. Will died. Joanna’s probably dead by now. Mom’s as good as dead, and so are my sisters, as much as they talk to me. Fuck, why not me?”

Spencer feels himself get choked up, but he encourages her anyway. At least she’s talking.

“I mean, Daddy was years ago, but… I needed him, you know? He made me feel like I fucking meant something to somebody, for once in my pathetic life,” she scoffs. Spencer doesn’t mention how much he cares about her, or how much it hurt to hear her imply she didn’t mean anything to him. He just applies ointment and wraps arm number one.

“Dude,” she continues, “I’ve been drunk since freshman year, and no one notices. Either that or they just don’t give a damn. And God,” she snorts, “Definitely doesn’t give a damn. He hasn’t even been in this fucking town since I was little. If he’s here…” Ethel lets out a dry sob, and Spencer assumes she’s too dehydrated to cry. “If he’s here, I can’t feel him anymore. I used to. Sometimes. Like… Like that morning on the roof, you remember?”

“I remember, E. Tell me about it. Tell me about that night,” he says, picking up her other arm to apply more ointment. She lets him.

“When Will and I fucked, when I lost my virginity,” she says, opening her eyes to watch Spencer for the first time since he sat her down. “I felt God, then. I heard him in my head, screaming at me. He told me I was a whore. That wasn’t very Godly, was it?”

He can’t fight it anymore and a lone tear falls out of his eye, but he very pointedly is not crying. Go him.

“No, it wasn’t.”

“He’s supposed to be there all the time, but I just feel so damn alone. I always have, even when I knew he was there, like at church.” She shifts her weight, flinching when Spencer presses too hard with the gauze.

“Sorry. Go on?”

“I felt him, though, and it was good. Kinda fun. It was like…” She hold up the middle finger on the hand Spencer already finished with. “Like, screw you, dude! I can fuck whoever I want to. Not just my daddy,” she chuckles. Spencer’s stomach lurches and he feels like he’s gonna throw up, too. “But I’m good, though,” she declares, nodding her head sloppily, eyes shut tight and lips pursed. “I’m all good out here.”

“I know you are,” he says, but he doesn’t. He has never been less sure she was ‘good’, and given the current circumstance, he thinks he gets the right to be worried. He only left her alone for a couple of hours and she tried to kill herself. She almost succeeded. All this over a boy she’s known for about a year. Good Lord, if you’re listening, please keep a better eye on her.

Tag List: @darkmatilda @lizzys-sunflower.

If you'd like to be added, let me know!

[acourtofteasandfoxes]

I just... I love the idea that the Foxes join Renee at church on occasion. All for different reasons, at different times.

Wymack is the first, obviously. He loves all of his Foxes, knows them deeply. Wymack is there with her every Sunday for nearly two months before she settles on a church and finds her place. He still shows on occasion, especially on weeks Renee has been particularly quiet.

Dan goes to squash their high school rivalry. They need to be a team and team members support each other. Dan is also the reason Matt goes for the first time. The girls use it as a test. They wanna see how whipped Matt is for Dan, but also if he'll be respectful. Dan says yes to a date when he asks later that night.

Betsy goes because Renee asks. It was brought up in therapy and Betsy goes without question. Abby joins them. They don't go again, but Betsy doesn't hesitate to discuss religion with Renee and Abby ducks her head anytime Renee prays.

Allison goes after Seth. She had been meaning to go, truly, Renee is her friend and she had been invited. But it doesn't happen until Seth dies. Allison Reynolds is searching for answers, and she wants so badly to find them in church pews and worship songs. Allison would only step foot in that church one more time, and it will be for Renee, not for answers.

Seth never goes before he dies. Renee did invite him, just as she did all the Foxes, but he laughed at the thought.

Nicky was raised religious. Arguably it makes the most sense for him to join Renee when she asks him. Nicholas Hemmick has never said no so fast in his life. The jokes he throws around about bursting into flames when he walks through the doors aren't all jokes. Nicholas Hemmick is scared of the God he once loved. It's not until Drake, and Christmas, and Balitmore, that he cracks. He catches Renee right before she walks in and she holds his hand, in the back pew, as he cries during the sermon. They sit there for an hour after everyone else has left. Renee is the only one who understands the way Nicky feels both healed and broken.

Aaron goes because Katelyn goes. Her and Renee talk about it, she asks Aaron to take her, and really? Dude is so whipped he wouldn't say no. Aaron will never admit it, but he actually really liked the choir. When he gets back to the dorm he looks up a few worship songs to listen to before games.

Andrew doesn't go to an actual Sunday service. He does, however, help Renee volunteer for the church ice cream social. They were short handed and she promised him unlimited ice cream scoops. The adults are scared of him. The children love him and it's absolutely not, could never be, because he is giving all of them double scoops of sprinkles. Much like Wymack, however, he joins on occasion if Renee's vibe feels off. He just never goes inside, choosing instead to smoke in the car as he waits for her.

Kevin is the one to ask Renee if he can join her. They're talking about religion in one of his history classes, it overlaps with Renee's religious studies class, and he's interested. He ends up going every Sunday that summer, gathering information for a project, interviewing people, including Renee. He gets an A on his project and gets invited to all the church's events after that. The little old ladies loved him.

Neil is the last to join. He respects Renee, enjoys her company, but church and large crowds? Sitting still for an hour? Being preached at about something he doesn't believe is real? He has exy, and Andrew, and better things to do with his time. It's his idea, however, when he finally does go.

Because Renee has graduated. She's graduated, is heading into the Peace Corps, and she's leaving the church. Leaving Palmetto. Kevin gets the invite, but it's Neil's idea. Off handed remarks that turn into a Thing. Because the Foxes don't do small.

When Renee is asked to stand, when she is asked to lead the church in prayer one last time, she looks out into the crowd and has to take a moment. Because there, in the back, is an entire pew dressed in Palmetto orange. Every single one of them is wearing her number.

Renee knows, in that moment, that God truly does exist.

[rubykgrant]

While I'm mostly working on new face designs for other characters, I occasionally go back and fix a few things on designs I've already done... mostly because, through practice, I'm a little better at actually getting the lines and shapes to look how I want. With Carolina and Tex, this takes place in my story-line where the Alpha and Beta AI get to come back in synthetic human bodies created with DNA samples of Allison and the Director (they aren't literal clones, but definitely similar; the same way two parents can have children who look different). Tex ironically resembles Carolina more than Allison (she still has the blonde hair). Carolina is tall and strong, more of a lean-build. Tex is a bit taller, and when she gets the chance to work on her muscles, she gets herself buff (Carolina fighting is about quick-strikes, and Tex is a brawler). Tex also has a strong chin/jawline. We've seen Carolina's actual face, so I just translated it to my style, and decided that she later decides to cut her hair short, plus dyes it a darker red (she still has the smokey eyeshadow, out of pure stubborness; every time somebody criticizes in, she doubles-down). My Church design, like a lot of people's, is a little inspired by the Director, but I decided he's shorter, with a chubby/chunky body-type (ideal Church-bod). His hair is longer, styling it more forward and up, with sideburns. He debated having facial hair, in case that made him look TOO much like SOMEBODY, but decided if he spends his whole life avoiding any similarities, that's just a backwards way of letting SOMEBODY still influence him. So, he just does what he wants (and Tex told him the face-fuzz looks good on him~)

[ninyard]

With all the talks of music. It got me thinking. Who of the foxes do you think can sing and who cannot so much as even carry a tune?

I think Allison can sing. It’s such a rich person thing to force children to take some kind of music lesson, so I’m sure she has some kind of musical training.

Personally I also think it would be funny if one of the twins was decent enough and the other couldn’t sing for the life of him.

okay right off the bat

who can't sing? neil, dan, aaron

who can kind of sing? nicky, matt, kevin

who has the voice of an angel? allison, renee

who probably has the voice of an angel, but no-one will ever know? andrew

i fully agree that allison probably had some kind of musical training. she can probably play the piano or like. the flute or harp or something. but i just KNOW if she was living in this era where influencers release music she 100% would have a few singles out there. she'd be making camp bubblegum pop BANGERS

i feel like renee just has a beautiful, sweet voice. like church choir, birds singing, heavenly soprano voice.

andrew can sing like really fucking well because it's funny. because he simply doesn't sing. he probably doesn't even know he can sing.

nicky can sing musical theatre stuff, but he doesn't really have a great normal singing voice. matt has a really deep range, he's so bass-y it's the best thing ever when he genuinely sings. kevin can (white-boy) rap, and can hold a tune, but he's nothing special.

neil, dan, aaron? screeching cats. the ONLY reason i would say neil is not absolutely awful is because he has a really good ear for languages so he might be good at identifying music, and knowing notes, but he CANNOT sing. dan sings both ironically and unironically and knows shes awful. people beg her to stop. aaron again just doesn't sing, but thank god for that.

[canonmisogynyvictimstournament]

PROPAGANDA

AGENT TEXAS (RED VS BLUE)

1.) okay so tex is an ai based on the memories this one dickhead dude has of his dead wife, allison. there's also an ai based on the dickhead dude himself, his name's church. all the stuff with the ai's and the different versions of her is kind of confusing to explain but she sort of dies twice- first sacrificing herself for something that has very little narrative weight, and being absorbed into a kind of . monstrous mesh of other ai's (including the original church ai) that then is erased, with basically no mention of tex, it's all about church's death.

then, there's another version of both church and tex born from the original church ai's memories (epsilon-tex and epsilon-church). epsilon-church's arc is basically about learning to move on from his past and let go of tex, because he's kind of obsessed with her and it's preventing him from progressing. so, epsilon-church 'forgets' tex, deleting her for good. tl;dr she dies, again, basically entirely for church's development.

when i was a kid super into rvb i was always really disinterested in tex and looking back it's because er story just.. isn't resolved satisfyingly at all. basically all of her story is hitched so tightly to church's story and development that tex barely gets room to be more than a memory of the director's dead wife- she never gets to move past the circumstances that created her and become her own person entirely divorced from the director or from church- allison died and we never knew anything about her besides that the director god sad about it. beta-tex died unceremoniously and without mention. epsilon-tex died for church's character growth.

quoting church's own words from the show: ""She died in her real life, and that's all the Director ever remembered of her. So now, no matter how tough she is, no matter how hard she fights, she's always going to fail, because that's what she's based on. No matter what she's doing, or what she's trying to accomplish, just when her goal is within her reach, it gets yanked away. Every. Single. Time." and she just never… actually overcomes this. she just dies.

and quoting now-inactive tumblr user epsilontucker from 2015 who put it better than i could: "Tex’s whole life was spent fighting for agency. Freedom from what Omega wanted her to be (O’Malley), what the Director wanted her to be (Allison), what Church wanted her to be (his). Epsilon-Tex wanted to know who she was and why she was and she wanted to dismantle everything Church ever built. Especially because he built it for her.

And this character arc about freedom and agency, about a chance to define herself on her own terms, is resolved by… Church deciding to delete her.

Because everybody always seems to know what’s best for Tex."

this is also to say nothing of the treatment of her character on just, like, an episode-to-episode basis. rvb has a big problem with basically treating "bitch" as a personality trait for female characters, and tex gets some of the worst of it. if you made a drinking game of how often tex gets called a bitch, or a huge bitch, you'd die of alcohol poisoning. also at one point andy the bomb makes a bunch of transmisogynistic jokes at her because she's suppsoedly mannish (she's not masculine or feminine really everybody in this show is a multicolor master chief. she's just good at fighting) and then calls her a dyke. the end

2.) Some background (spoilers): Tex is introduced as a badass mercenary from Project Freelancer, and the ex girlfriend of Church, the main character of the show. It is eventually revealed she and Church are both Aritifical Intelligence programs; Church is an AI copy of the Director of Project Freelancer, and Tex is a copy of the Director's late wife.

Firstly she is straightforwardly the victim of misogynistic "jokes" for the first several seasons. She is called misogynistic slurs, shamed for sleeping with other men besides Church, she cannot work the entertainment stand at the base bc she's female, called lesbophobic and transmysogonistic slurs bc she is a competent soldier, and blackmails another female character out of jealousy bc she is the only other girl in the group.

Even when these jokes go away, and the show transitions from comedy to drama, her writing revolves around the male characters around her. Because she is the personification of the memory of the Director's dead wife, and his perceieved failure to save her, she explicitly, in the text, will always fail at what she sets out to accomplish no matter how strong she is. She wishes to be free of the cycle of being resurrected bc Church can't live without her only to fail and die again, but lacks the agency to end it without Church. Church's arc about learning to let her go ends not with her being free to exist as her own person without him, but with him forgetting her. Since she IS his memory, this ERASES HER FROM EXISTENCE. She literally cannot exist without this guy.

This would all be easier to swallow if she wasn't the ONLY prominent female main character for 8 whole seasons. It's a beautiful story about how grief can fester into anger and a need for control, and how that pushes away the people you love, but it's a story entirely centered around Church's development, in which she is a prop that stops existing when the story is over. I love her but she deserved so much better than she got.

3.) girlboss

KAMALA KHAN (MARVEL COMICS) (CW: Racism)

1.) One of the most prominent brown women in all of comics, beloved by the fan base. Recently killed in a PETER PARKER SPIDERMAN COMIC (despite being much closer with Miles Morales and having basically no relationship with Peter) in what's probably the name of MCU synergy, which nobody wanted (she'll probably be resurrected as a mutant, erasing her unique and interesting history as an Inhuman). She was using her shapeshifting powers again despite having stopped in her solo as she got more confident in her own skin and identity as a Pakistani American girl, died disguised as the very white Mary Jane as a fake out/last minute replacement for killing off MJ. I fucking hate it here. A cheap trick to drive sales. L + Misogyny + racism + are you fucking kidding me

[thewickedbohemian]

Thoughts on a Brilliant Minds doubleheader that I hope isn't the last we see of these characters #RenewBrilliantMinds #BrilliantMindsS2 #BrilliantMindsSeason2

ironic we pick right up with the emergency after the episode with the first responder reruns

with my anxiety I can imagine how Dana feels

and then the lobby turns into overload

that's one way to mother-son bond

and enter Mandy Patinkin

and hello again Katie the paramedic (potential recurring if-and-when this gets a S2 given she's billed alongside Muriel's actress)

first Wolfnichols motorcycle ride

I feel you Wolf but I can barely hear you

this is not good for my claustrophobia

another time we actually see the nurses (as often the cubs end up doing what nurses should do)

dueling hero complexes and Dana has a correct opinion she's just incorrect about facts

boyfriend tag team but also boyfriend fight

is Wolf just antagonizing everyone out here

at least you're trying Dana (but text don't call if you keep getting her voicemail)

and my point

oy gevalt grandparents

way to reinforce the themes of the episode if not show

well Ericka's trying to save the day so maybe Dana's just psychic

I was expecting some improvisation

at least Wolf hears

did he get the aww

ask the faceblind guy to find a guy

at least he's calling his name but why do I feel there's a twist

and cue flashback 20 minutes into the episode

this is younger than we've ever seen young Wolf

okay so who's the unreliable narrator

just like in E10 calm the kid down with his special interest

and Van is exactly where we'd expect to find him

the heart to heart they needed (and cue poly shipping go brr)

so we still have a neuroweird-patient-of-the-week of sorts

see I told you there'd be a twist

dad skills to the test

5-4-3-2-1-0 he wakes up right on cue

for an INFJ (according to PDB) Wolf's quite the improviser

again with too-obvious flashback triggers

meanwhile Carol having a chance to be a normal doctor without the Allison shit hanging over her

"loneliness is as lethal as smoking fifteen cigarettes a day" that's both on the nose for the show and hits home for yours truly

cool transition (I really like how this show's filmed)

ask the awkward question girl

status-quo-is-god but rescue still feels nice

why do I feel like this moment (albeit in a tragic way) feels very Doctor Who

and the band's back together

at least this is not some twist condition that means she'd be not-okay or worse as a cliffhanger

Wolf really feeling like doctor!AU Flynn

cue Ericka's survivor's guilt

and cue another flashback and cool transition

ok what's he saying

mom's being nice (and I'm again getting Librarians vibes)

and heeeerrrree's Van's family and it doesn't appear his parenting skills extends to his own kid the way it does kids not related

cute Kana (Katie/Dana) moment (and nice Cowboy Carter reference) and I hope a S2 actually gives them that chance for karaoke (Dana's actress has done musical theater before)

of course Carol notices Wolf has a pattern

not saying I ship those two as Dana's got Katie but one pair of girls on a network procedural stop being roommates (Kayabeth on Elsbeth) and another start, cute

we get a Wolf monologue outro finally

talk about a weird hug

ok ok surprise Mandy Patinkin and the true nature of his character finally revealed

religious connections amping up my theory about some sort of spiritual subtext to this show (but him being the kind of chosen one his dad talked about wouldn't necessarily mean Second Coming per se)

serious banger in the background almost drowning out Wolf and we get to see everyone coping

so now Ericka's got some sort of PTSD

what's with network procedurals and galas and gay

like we didn't already know you were in love with him

conveniently leaving out the neurosurgeon's gay hmmm

digging all their fashion senses

Dana's gay, a Tumblrite and likes church choirs, I wouldn't be surprised if she likes Bare: A Pop Opera

of course he's there

Dana with the save

okay the pastor's like really pretty

what does Wolf seeee

of course they wait until the season finale to do the thing that inspired an Oliver Sacks book title (but Brilliant Minds being Brilliant Minds they genderswapped it)

even more subtext

okay what the frick's going on

everybody's got answers

I saw that Jacob with the love thing

why is Ericka turning into a bit of a potential fandom bicycle

never seen a character be genre-savvy about a realistic fiction genre before

a Muriel flashback and interrupting dad busts up the book club

why is Carol dragged into everyone's bullshit

did prosopagnosia just save the day

he tells the truth but why did the lie happen

this show should win some kind of award (or at least be nominated) for its cinematography

you sure you're not just working off hindsight bias

this feels like a meltdown (more evidence of Wolf being autistic)

okay hints of the meta-cliffhanger-related-to-series-fate

how is this gonna get resolved by episode's end

hello meta-parallels

boys' night out

Wolf caught on

what's that song playing in the background, it sounds cool but I can't hear it over their dialogue

why do I feel like her words are relevant to how Wolf heals

everything's paralleling everything

God's gonna give him a sign to stay

Dana has a type and makes her point

did you hear the neurosurgeon

and Wolf sees a wolf

now I've got "Promise Me This" from indie musical The Theory Of Relativity stuck in my head

and she gets in the elevator when it matters

here's the whole truth getting dumped

maybe the parents are more like each other than they care to admit

he promised to never come back so why did he

I like how she's apologizing to all of him

really, now you tell them

and why does the wolf pack keep reminding me of the Librarians

Dana confesses too (furthering the parallel)

of course Conveniently Relevant Sermon

okay but why is she seeing only those people as hats

that song was perfect and another "fandom song" for the show like Heartbeats (and not out of place in a house of worship, my rabbi performed it during Yom Kippur service)

everybody's spilling every secret

that quick with the bullet-taking

and we have a Kana kiss (and another one in the worst place)

uh oh

intern cubs havin a party and of course they're left alone

ok so what's Wolf doing

now I don't know what's the right thing for him to have done

I hear that Elton John cover in the background

so that's why he needs Wolf

[nelliebachesneg]

Guys.

Guys I'm going insane.

In the memory unit, right before he lets Tex go, Epsilon says this to Caboose, Tucker, and Tex who he thinks is about to leave:

"And if you see Agent Washington, tell him I said memory is the key. He'll know what that means. Oh and also, tell him I said thanks."

The world is ending as far as Epsilon knows, so why would Epsilon make a point of getting the message "memory is the key" to a memory construct of Wash? It can't be to let Wash know that Epsilon was still alive ("Delta was telling me Epsilon was still alive" S6, the iconic reveal speech). If the world really is ending, like Epsilon thinks it is, Wash would have no hope of bringing Epsilon back for another iteration.

So again, why would Epsilon tell him "memory is the key" and add that Wash will "know what it means"?

Answer:

Because Epsilon says to Tex in his big S9 goodbye speech:

"Don't you get it? You were the memory. You were the key."

If Wash - even just Epsilon's memory construct of Wash - heard Tex deliver the message "memory is the key", and presumably then figured out that the message was from Church aka Alpha (or so he thinks because timelines are weird in the memory unit), what would he think that meant?

Wash would know that Church figured it out. Wash would know that Church was letting the memory of Tex go.

Not convinced?

Epsilon makes a point to thank Wash, implying that Wash is part of the reason he figured it out at all. No, actually, that's an understatement; Wash is a huge part of the reason Epsilon figured this out, because Wash is the one who gets it. Epsilon was inside his fucking head imploding from the memory of loosing Allison, but Wash could see through the grief and understand the pain it was causing all the agents of the program. That's why he wanted revenge against PFL, why he went after Epsilon in the first place, why Delta told him memory was the key. Wash understood that one man's grief could and did make life hell for everyone else:

Alpha: "What do we do with it [Epsilon]?"

Wash: "We take it. And we get it into the hands of someone who can use all its information. Then they can bring down the person responsible for what was done to Alpha, and to me, and to my friends. They can take down the Director."

And even if you ignore all of that, if nothing else, Wash was the one who made sure Epsilon lived long enough to figure things out. Wash led the Reds and Blues to get him out of the PFL archives in season 6, saving him from the emp blast. Wash helped save Epsilon from the Meta at the end of season 8, even if it was for selfish reasons.

Wash saved Epsilon, in every sense of the word, both despite and because of what Epsilon did to him.

Fuck, man.

[slyvester101]

Atla au where Church is the Avatar but his connection to the spirit world is fucky because the Director (who is his dad in this au, think Lord Ozai in terms of evil, abusive dad) experimented on him when he found out he was the avatar to discovery why he was able to reincarnate and see if he could do the same for his dead wife.

In order to protect young Church from the abuse he's facing and to keep his spiritual connections intact in case the director cuts it off, the previous avatars decide to all inhabit Church's body. This obviously causes a lot of chaos within Church's mind as all the avatars mix and mash together in order to fit in Church's head and confuses all the spirits since they now have Church's memories mixed with their own and now they all believe that they are Church/are alive.

The director is obviously fascinated by this occurrence since it's not like when the avatar state where Church is imbued with all the knowledge of his previous lives to kick ass and instead is more like there's hundreds of separate "avatar states" Church can be in, all with their own specific strengths and weaknesses. (All the previous incarnations of the avatar are the fragments from RVB, Delta was an air monk turned avatar, Theta was an avatar that died at a young age, etc, etc).

Eventually, Church leaves but is being chased by his sister Carolina, who was being raised in a very Azula manner of being the best of the best with no room for failure (yes she is a firebender). He meets Tucker, a waterbender, and Caboose, a non-bender who believes with his whole heart that he is some kind of bender, and they join him on his adventure to become the avatar and take down the director and whatever corrupt shit he has going on (could be an empire, could be an illegal bender experimentation and trafficking ring) while avoiding getting roasted by his sister and her friends (the freelancers).

The reds also show up at some point (Sarge, Simmons, and Donut are all firebenders and Grif is an Earthbender) and start off as a group of bounty hunters chasing after the blues, but end up joining their gang on their shenanigans.

No, Tex is not a clone of Allison in this au, but she is a “vessel” that the director wants to use when and if he can resurrect his dead wife. No, the spirits of the avatars never leave Church, they have embedded themselves in his soul to protect him. They are just as much a part of Church as the AI fragments were in RVB and have been with him his basically his whole life.

Yes, Caboose does come to the conclusion that he is the avatar. No, you cannot convince him otherwise.