#mirror lapis

[badendfriendstournament]

SIDE-A

Group 17

[infrasound-su]

pilot episode

I didn't say it was going to just be Steven's perspective, did I?

Connie tiptoed lightly along the edge of the lapping, foamy ocean waves. Seasalt itched her nose. The sand was warm, but it really did manage to wiggle itself everywhere. Her hair, the spines of her books, the rim of her glasses, in her shoes and socks. Everywhere. She hadn't been sure how to feel when they moved all the way out here. 

She was even less sure now.

Her boots sunk comfortably into the grainy stuff, leaving footprints trailing out behind her as she walked. Seashells and strands of seaweed seemed rather sparse here despite the docks down the road. Clean. Untrodden. Kind of peaceful, if you ignored the frequent flocks of seagulls overhead yammering about.

A bright blue crab caught her attention as it skittered past her on some determined crab-mission destiny. One claw was much bigger than the other and caused it to wobble a bit in its gait. Something invisible seemed to be drawing the crab in like a moth to flame in a soggy dune further up the beach. The little animal stopped, approached, stopped, approached; eyeing the source of it warily. The bigger claw clipped together in some sort of crab code.

“What are you looking for?” Connie asked, mouth curling into a smile. “A seashell?”

The crab didn't react to the human girl’s presence. It merely trudged forward with Connie following behind like a gosling. Connie squinted against the glaring sunset glow, spots forming in the corners of her vision. She didn’t see anything particularly interesting about the sand glob it was climbing toward. Perhaps crabs could see better than she could, though that wasn’t saying much. A finger lightly tapped the frame of her glasses. They would surely have to be cleaned off later.

Teeny-tiny crab footsteps became braided with her own. Whatever the little creature was doing, it seemed interesting enough, and more so than just identifying the same five boats over and over again.

When she got closer to the sand dune, she could see a small, glittery something beneath the hues of yellows, tans, and browns. The crab halted just at the base, as did its large claw. Something metallic was buried in the freshly dampened sand dunes, glittering meekly under what was surely ages worth of barnacles, seaweed, and salt rust.

The brief, excited thought of pirate treasure flashed in her mind. Don't be ridiculous.

Connie tentatively reached out, grabbed the edge, and pulled. Hard.

Sand spilled, yielding whatever treasure it was holding into her hands like an offering. The crab bolted some distance away from the sudden onslaught of activity, animalistic instincts reacting to shifting sands. The dune unhanded the object with little hesitation and a cold handle settled directly into her palm.

It was a mirror.

What on earth is this doing here? Connie wondered, mystified.

The glass looked positively ancient. It was miraculously unharmed underneath the crust of long-dead barnacles encrusted to the surface; hollow and sharp. The seams of the glass had a hazy, yellowish hue from untold time being underwater, but there were no missing pieces or visible cracks along it. Seaweed was wrapped around like a fishing net caught on coral.

Connie brushed the tangled seaweed off of it, recoiling at the unpleasant, slimy texture of the stuff. Most of it fell away in a massive knot into the sand below. The crab had taken to other crabby duties elsewhere, lest he become the victim of being buried alive. She didn’t notice.

She weighed it in her hands tentatively. Whatever metal it was made of, it was surprisingly light for its size. The circumference of the mirror was bigger than her hand, akin to a dinner plate. Her reflection blinked at her before she flipped it over to inspect the back of it.

Blue. Right in the center of coiling, unfamiliar, ornate markings was a teardrop stone.

“Oh,” she muttered, observing the large fracture that ran down the centerpiece stone. What was surely once jagged edges in the crack had worn to smooth ridges. Unlike the front, there seemed to be a severe lack of sea creature debris in this area. Whatever invisible seams that held the centerpiece on looked almost brand-new. Tiny gold flecks reflected from the cracks in the sunset as she rotated it side to side.

Maybe it really was a pirate treasure. 

“Connie!”

Connie whipped her head around to see the semi-distant shape of her father. She clutched the mirror to her chest, out of sight. It was really warm to the touch for something that’s been washed up in the cold ocean.

“Yes?” She called back.

“Time to head home kiddo! Parade cleanup is a wrap!” Her father called, waving a hand above his head in a beckoning motion.

Connie quickly tucked the mirror inside her jacket, snug in the pocket seam. It was far too nice looking to just be left as beach garbage, even by crab standards. She could probably even restore it back to what it looked like originally if she tried. And if it was really the sole survivor of forgotten pirate treasure, surely she would have to get to the bottom of its origins.

“Coming!” She said, trotting back the way she came. The foamy waves took little time to wipe away the trail of human and crab footsteps– as though they had never been there in the first place. 

~

The first time that the mirror’s reflection was wrong was several weeks later.

Six months was plenty of time to settle into her new routine. Six months was plenty of time to set up a new room. Her books were organized, her alarms were set. Both of her parents were out on late night shifts in their positions; her mother caring for the sick and her father patrolling the local amusement park. They trusted that their daughter could take care of herself during the dark hours, and were thus unaware of the startled shriek followed by a thump of the mirror hitting the carpeted floor.

Connie’s eyes narrowed at the offending thing, watching the glass for any evil doubles crawling out.

“Okay,” she said warily, forcing ease back into her muscles. “Maybe I do need to get more sleep.”

Maybe the weird ripples had been a trick of the light. She wasn’t sure how that worked, but it was the only reasonable answer.

The mirror had landed without incident. She picked it up, inspecting for any damage. Upon seeing none, she sighed in relief. 

Nothing had happened. Nothing was wrong with her reflection. 

Connie exhaled loudly. I guess I did imagine it after all. 

“Thank goodness I didn’t break it.” She whispered aloud, filling the too-quiet space in her room. Cleaning up broken glass out of shag carpet seemed like the least enticing task to do before bed. She tapped the glass with a pointer finger. It was cool, smooth.

Her blood followed suit a moment later, freezing her in place. Ripples in the glass emerged under her finger as though touching water.

“Ok-ay… O-kay-y.” 

The mirror briefly caught air as Connie nearly dropped it again, scrambling to keep it from hitting the ground and losing its lucky streak of being unharmed. Her own voice had crackled from the mirror like a broken record player, despite the horrified expression on the reflection’s face perfectly matching Connie’s own. I didn’t say that. That’s not possible.

She yanked her free hand away from the glass. Did I actually find a magical pirate treasure chest mirror? With her luck, it was a cursed mirror, and she would be dead in a month. Maybe it would drain her life force, or wipe out the entire town with the sea. My voice came from it. Mirrors can’t– 

Connie's head was spinning. She sunk down to the floor, holding the mirror out in front of her like it was going to bite her. Mirrors can't record things. Mirrors certainly weren't capable of playing things back to you. Especially not your own voice.

There was no explanation. She had looked at the mirror almost every day since finding it on the beach, memorizing the craftsmanship and scraping off old barnacles from the metal alloy for hours. Not once before had the glass curled in on itself like that. Not once had it ever made a sound. Not once had she ever stumbled across even the most rudimentary recording technology anywhere near the thing; it was just a pretty mirror. And simple mirrors did not repeat your own voice back to you.

Connie's eyes narrowed at her reflection. 

“Are you haunted?” She asked.

The mirror did nothing but reflect. As they do. As they were supposed to. 

Groaning, she tossed the mirror onto the bed she rested against. It made a quiet thump against her quilted bedcovers. Connie dropped her head into her knees, curling her arms around them tight to her chest. She had to be losing it. Maybe the stress of moving was still having an affect on her. Besides, it was late, she was tired. There was no way that that had actually happened. 

Maybe she should go to bed. Sleep was a great way to settle nerves.

Her eyes drifted to her bookshelf. Or she could do that.

Less than a minute later, Connie was contently curled under her quilt with the first novel in The Unfamiliar Familiar series snug in her grasp, a small flashlight held in the other. It had been a while since restarting the series.

She eyed the mirror next to her on the nightstand.

“If you're haunted,” she said suspiciously, “you might as well hear this too. It’s really good.”

She flipped to the first page and started to read aloud to the empty room.

~

The second time the mirror repeated her was two weeks later. 

Connie had gotten home late, yawning from the day's activity and desiring nothing more than to flop onto her floor. Carpet fibers were tickling her as she laid face down, groaning. 

The mirror– now living propped on her bookshelf– crackled to life after a beat of Connie's floor time.

“Okay? Okay?”

Connie’s head shot up from the floor, propping herself half-up on her elbows. She hadn't spoken a word since entering the room. It talked.

Her mind flashed with memories of the strange night beforehand. That's the same thing I heard last time. But there was an uptick in the repetition this time, a new warble in the birdsong that made it different from the last. It wasn’t a repeated statement.

It sounded more like a question.

Wide eyes locked squarely onto the nefarious object, Connie approached the shelf. 

“You are haunted.” She hissed, nose scrunching at her own reflection. “Haunted mirror.”

“Okay?” It repeated; a hazy image of Connie, perched on her bed, reading aloud appearing in the glass.

“Are you… trying to talk to me?” She whispered, heart jumping into her throat. Magical echoes were one thing, but talking to her was an entirely new ballpark of weird.

“Okay?”

Realization shot Connie in the chest. “Oh! Yes. I'm okay… thanks for asking?”

The mirror's glass wobbled; colors swirling together in a sickly spinning before another shot of Connie reading appeared, this time with her lamp on, room dark, favorite yellow socks on. 

“We should tell them a story.” “She” said in the glass. 

Connie knew that dialogue. It was from a cave campsite part of the first chapter, where the leaflings were discussing what to do with the protagonist stumbling into their territory. She had read it that first weird night under her blankets. 

It really had been listening.

 She didn't respond, transfixed by the image of herself freezing at the end of the sentence. The mirror was talking. To her. With her own voice.

“Story?” Repeated the mirror-Connie.

“Um…. you want me to read more of the book?” Connie questioned. Talking back to the magical mirror felt almost as weird as watching it replay her life. The glass whirled again. Was that a yes?

Her legs suddenly felt like lead. She stumbled, mirror in hand, to the edge of her mattress. This was unreal. 

A massive, toothy grin spread over her face like an infection. 

Magical destiny. 

“I can do that.” Her voice felt like a whisper as she set the mirror down on the bedside table, glass facing down. Thanks to the fancy backside, the thing really struggled balancing with the glass facing up. She reached for the novel left waiting just beside it. “We had just gotten to chapter five I think, which is a really good one.”

The glass had settled back down into normal, non-swirling glass. Nothing happened again as she read. 

~

Connie's new life was very, very strange.

Firstly, she had a talking mirror that really liked The Unfamiliar Familiar. It never made a magical peep if anyone else was home, though, so she could never manage to get a second opinion on the matter. When she had shown her dad the cleaning project for it he had admired the thing with no more interest than a parent does at a child’s art project. Secondly, on top of the magic mirror, magical boys that could chase down giant sea creatures were also a thing that existed here.

She twirled the glow stick bracelet on her wrist with her dominant hand. Pink.

“The whole dock crashed down!” She said, “It was genius! I’m not sure what it was, but it turned into a cloud of mist after it got pinned. I guess it liked my bracelet– it looked like it's food source. Anyways. His family showed up after and they're definitely witches of some kind. Nice ones though.”

The mirror said nothing, as mirrors do. Connie paused, cocking her head at it. Surely the tale of fellow magical things would prompt a response? 

“I want to go visit them again soon. I think they’re his moms? One of them had a big pearl on her forehead, kinda like your stone.” Her fingers snapped in realization. “Maybe they can help me figure out what you are!”

“No.” Whirled the mirror. Her brown eyes locked on a sickly clone of themselves in the glass.

“...no?” She echoed, baffled.

“No. Danger.”

“Danger? They don’t seem dangerous.” She insisted. That was a new word. The bookshelf seemed to rattle as the mirror’s reflection turned into an ugly, twirling mess that warped her face and bedroom. 

“Gems. No. Danger.” It said, a broken copy of Connie’s voice straining with some imperceptible effort. “Gems. No. Danger.”

“Gems?” Connie asked, backing away from the offending thing in her house. “What do you–”

“ Gems. No. Danger. Home. Home. Home. Home–”

The glass buckled from the ferocity of the mirror voice, colors twirling madly into a dizzying tripping. It kept getting louder, voice crackling under the pressure. Vowels bounced and ducked in horrible pitching cries– she wanted to cover her ears to block it out.

Instead, Connie leapt forward and grabbed it, securing the sides tightly with her palms as though it would jump out of them of its own volition. “Okay! Okay! It’s okay! I understand!”

The spiral ballet slowed, still potent with ugly, half mixed colors. The howling mirror-voice snapped away as quickly as it came, leaving an unsettling memory of where it hung in the air prior. Her palms felt unnaturally warm touching what should be dull metal.

….Gems? Isn't that what Steven called them?

~

The mirror didn't talk for days after that.

Connie and her new friend Steven chattered on the phone more and more frequently in the fallout of the docks incident, keeping the former out of her room– away from it.

“So they all have a magical room on the cliffside?” Connie asked, phone snug between her skull and shoulder. She perched against the side of the kitchen counter, pencil in hand drawing circles as she listened to her friend’s bizarre tales.

“Kind of!” Steven's voice crackled back. “The Temple is its own magical thing. I don't really know how it works, but we all have a room. Pearl said that–”

“You have one too?” Connie interrupted, pencil in her hand halting. 

“Oh! Yeah! I forgot to tell you. I guess it's technically my mom's? It's got pink clouds and stuff and can make whatever I want out of them.”

“Huh.”

The pencil kicked up steam again in her fresh, college-ruled notebook. At the top of the paper read ‘MAGICAL STUFF NOTES’, followed by the subtitle of ‘STEVEN’ with two underlines. Underneath that, she wrote ‘magical temple dimension rooms’ with no less than four question marks. Normally this would have seemed completely improbable– but Steven was anything but a liar thus far. And she had a weird talking mirror stashed away in her room. She had no room to doubt.

“Anyways– Pearl said that the rooms cater to the personality of their gems. Hers has a bunch of water fountains and swords. Amethyst's room looks like a big cave.”

“And yours has pink clouds!” Connie concluded proudly. Steven giggled on the other end of the line. 

She had taken a few notes about his family too. They were more guardians than anything else from what she could gather, though he did have a dad. A human one.

After being trapped in a pink bubble all afternoon, she hadn’t even really blinked when she was told later that the three of them were aliens. They looked human enough the one time she had seen them up close, but their colors were wild; “They can shapeshift. They don’t like to scare people.” Steven had added when Connie began to ask what they were like.

There were three of them. Pearl was the one Connie had remembered having, well, a pearl on her forehead. Which turned out to just be part of her body. Pearl was tall and thin and polite to Connie. Garnet was really tall, and a lot quieter than the other two. Amethyst was bright purple and seemed friendly. Steven called them the Crystal Gems, that they were super kind, and that they (and he) protected all of humanity as their life sworn duty.

Apparently his mom had been one of them, too. They didn’t like to talk much about it, at least not to her.

Steven continued to recount the events of the past week or so involving magic and the Gems, chipper voice resonating in the phone speaker. There was a huge spire out in the middle of the ocean that he visited, the Gems could meld together into “giant women” (in his words, though Connie didn’t quite understand what that meant), there were shard-things capable of possessing food, and there were shard-things capable of possessing things.

“Wait wait wait,” Connie stammered, snapped to hyper attention. “Gem magic can possess objects, too?”

“Well it was mostly clothes…” he trailed off, “but I guess that funky strawberry field temple had a gemstone powering it.”

Connie leaned against the doorframe. That’s it. Her mirror wasn't some mystical mermaid salon discard. Her mirror had to be something connected to Steven's strange family and their powers. It was so obvious! 

…So why did it react that way when I talked about them?

Before she could ask him to elaborate on the shard-things, Steven offered a rushed goodbye as the barely audible voice of Garnet called him off in the background. Connie mumbled hers back, letting the phone slip off of her shoulder and to the countertop. 

Gem magic. That made so much sense. She had seen with her own eyes the strange things they could do and strange things they dealt with. For thousands of years humans had told stories of great beasts and heroes. Maybe they had all just been Gems. Maybe they had all just been Steven’s family, at that!

Connie placed the phone to the receiver and promptly bolted up the staircase to her bedroom, flinging the door aside. She had to talk to the mirror.

Like an expectant guard dog on a porch, the mirror reflected the light from the hallway as she entered and shut the door behind her. For all intents and purposes it looked just like a non magical, normal, human mirror. When the door clicked into place behind her, the girl hesitantly approached the bookshelf, her gaze locked on her reflection in the ancient– and definitely alien– glass.

“You’re not haunted.” 

She had intended this to be a confident announcement, like a parent busting their child for sneaking into the candy jar after hours. However, her voice trickled out hoarsely as the proximity dwindled. The mirror did nothing. Connie hoped it was listening. It had to be listening. It had always been listening, hadn't it?

“You’re a Gem thing aren't you?” She whispered.

The silver metal felt light in her nervous hands as Connie picked it up from its place on the shelf. There was an eerie lack of dust where it was. She flipped it; the bright blue stone on the backside did nothing in protest. Nor did the glass do anything in reply to her pleas.

Of course it was a Gem magic thing. How had she never thought of it sooner? Source of magic? Lived on the beach? The fact that her mystery mirror book buddy had a giant stone stuck on it? 

Connie shook her head in disbelief and spun the glass to face her again. Her brows were dug into determination above dark brown eyes. It was her real reflection this time.

She was going to figure this out.

The mirror did nothing.

[lucidskulls]

She was trapped in a mirror, and it couldn't be clearer.

[giulianatheordianycatgirl]

Mirror Collin

[insomnia-acquirer]

love tragic characters!

[fizpup]

easily one of my favorite character designs ever

[minijenn]

What secrets lie beyond the surface of this mysterious mirror?

I'm so glad to FINALLY share the Mirror Gem cover with all of you! It's probably one of my favorite UF promos so far, it was so fun to work on. Fun fact, this is actually a redraw of this old thing from way back in the old UF days. Just goes to show how years of practice can improve your art if you really work hard at it ^_^ It's actually pretty exiciting to be at this point so early on, but that's the way new UF goes! I have some fun new surprisies in mind for this chapter, so keep an eye out for it soon!

[picturejasper20]

Mirror Gem/ Ocean Gem was such a huge episode in Steven Universe because until that point the series had been more monster of the week mixed with some episodes exploring the characters.

Then Mirror Gem/ Ocean Gem comes out, puts in context what we have seen of the corrupted gems so far, reveals that the gems are from space and that the Crystal Gems are hiding some dark messed up things from Steven.

It was a ¨before and after¨ episode that left clear what was the direction the series was going to take and what was really going to be about.

[skipppppy]

Wanted to do some personal stuff between work so I went back to my baby artist roots and redrew a Steven Universe screencap…one of my first gay crushes on god

(psst. my commissions are open!)

[mote-historie]

Cartier Paris, Vanity Case, ca. 1927; Produced by Cartier (Paris, France); Manufactured by Henri Lavabre (French); Lapis lazuli, carved jade, carved ruyi, coral, diamonds, lacquer, mirrored plate glass, gold, platinum; 9.9 × 5.2 × 1.7 cm (3 7/8 × 2 1/16 × 11/16 in.);

Photo: Doug Rosa

Jeweled Splendors of the Art Deco Era: The Prince and Princess Sadruddin Aga Khan Collection features exquisite work from premier jewelry houses of Europe and America – among them Cartier, Van Cleef & Arpels, Lacloche Frères, Boucheron and Bulgari – dating from 1910 to 1938.

[fettiowi]

I truly feel like Lapis's backstory wasnt fully explored in the series

Specially with how mysterious and how much of a big deal she seemed at her introduction

Her backstory basically just being that she was on the wrong place at the wrong time... makes me wonder what was she even doing there and why.

Her distrust of the crystal gems?

The fact pearl never noticed the mirror "didnt work"?

Honestly just pearl in general! Her keeping the mirror, knowing a gem was in there. Did she keep it that way cause its a homeworld gem? She says it isnt supposed to talk its supposed to only follow orders.

AND THE MIRROR IN GENERAL LIKE pearl talks about it like she's seen it before? What is that story

[badendfriendstournament]

ROUND 2

SIDE-A GROUP 9

[jayxel1102]

Wanted to share my little doodle thingy mabob with you guys

This is about if Ford found Lapis lazuli(in the mirror)

Ford's inspecting and deep in thought about the mirror when all of a sudden Stanley comes up from behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder, having a nosey at what his brother is doing with that mirror he found. Ford moves the mirror away after being startled by Stanley, a frown on his face. Stanley speaks up saying "Still figuring out that magic mirror or just checking yourself out?". Ford's soon to interrupt and say "Actually, I was trying to communicate with it, Stanley.. For some od reason it was communicating before but now it won't. It's fascinating, honestly." Stanley just checking himself out in the mirror's reflection.

[beevean]

I feel in a very generous mood, and after I talked about how much Lenore fails as a character, I wanted to for once praise the few times when she was pretty well written for who she was meant to be, a professional abuser, liar and manipulator with excellent strategies to make Hector lower his guard. All of these scenes happen in S3E6, for some reason: before and after, she's actually rather sloppy and in your face, and only succeeds because Hector was lobotomized by the writer lol. But this episde is what I mean when I say she had potential.

First, the part where Lenore "offers" the leash:

Lenore: Now then, would you like to go for a walk? Bit of fresh air in the starlight? Hector: I think I would, yes. Lenore: Good. Sadly, there's a condition. *shows leash* Hector: Oh. Lenore: Not my idea. Striga insisted. It should be quite comfortable. She just wanted a little extra security. Hector: You're ten times stronger than I am, Lenore. Lenore: Striga pointed out that you're a magician. And you do want to go for a walk, so… would you mind?

So.

Lenore kickstarts the episode with some fresh humiliation, because she has no time to waste. She jokes that Hector is now walking "on his hind legs" and looks "almost human", jokes again that she dressed up Hector so that his dick won't be stolen by birds, and asks him to smile in the face of his embarrassment like a creepy old man harassing a waitress.

This is the prelude to her downright falling into sexual abuse, which is this entire part.

The request is obviously unfair. Hector has been cooped up in his stagnant cell for what could be weeks, so it's only natural that he would enjoy some fresh air. But in order to get that basic comfort, Hector has to accept being treated like a literal dog for no good reason. And his braincell does activate for a moment, as he points out that yes, there is no good reason to force a leash on him, because Lenore sure showed him how strong and fast she is:

There is no way Hector would even attempt to run away, not when he has no tools at his disposal, he's starved and weakened, the castle is full of other vampires, and Lenore could snap his ankles in a second Annie Wilkes style.

But Lenore is undeterred. First, she says that it was Striga's idea. It's still ambiguous if she was sincere or not: Striga couldn't give less of a fuck about Hector and shows no reaction when, later in the episode, she sees the two on the balcony. That being said, the fact that she is the one complaining, in E8, that Lenore is taking Hector "on fucking walkies" implies that yes, Lenore lied and mentioned the queen who was less likely to bother Hector. As a bonus, she doesn't blame Carmilla, despite her being the first one who put Hector on a leash as he himself points out later on, therefore creating a precedent, because Hector already has beef with Carmilla, and Lenore is aiming to make him get over his resentment. Hence, the name of a vampire he does not care about. (although, logically, Morana would have been better because Striga will have to work closer to Hector once he starts to supply an army, but eh, I guess even Lenore forgot about her lol)

But whoever had the idea doesn't matter, actually. What matters is that Lenore is shifting the blame on someone else. "Oh, I'm so sorry, I wouldn't do this to you, but I'm a poor little girl and I had no choice 🥺 blame her, not me, I'm just the cute princess obeying superior orders 🥺". And since Hector doesn't know Striga at all, and she has no intention of talking to him, he can believe that. She also subtly blames Hector, because well, he wanted to go on a walk, and she's just giving him what he wanted! He should be grateful, really!

Naturally, this excuse falls flat on its face because even if Striga was the one who suggested the leash for "extra security", it's Lenore who decided to make a sexual game out of it. She is the one who has expressed multiple times her attraction to Hector, first by kissing him after beating him to a pulp, and then by playing some more "genuine" compliments during the interrogation - as genuine as they can be after she spent the entire interrogation making him realize how much of a dumbass he was. She didn't need to do any of this. She's having fun for her own amusement, lording her power over Hector.

(mhh, Lenore using sexual abuse for no reason? It's almost like it's a pattern :) it's almost like being a rapist is in her character :) )

On top of this, notice how hypocritical she's being. Lenore is often treated as inferior to the other three, like she's just a silly girl sitting among adults and not one of the important queens. She clearly resents this, to the point of, as linked above, beating Hector to a pulp when he too underestimated her. But here? She'll gladly pretend Striga is her superior and he has no other choice but to comply with her request. Now that it's convenient to her, she'll happily play the part of the powerless little princess in a den of evil queens :)

But she's not done! Because at Hector's "You're ten times stronger than I am", Lenore retorts (again blaming Striga, because she has to look blameless) that he's a magician. This is a profoundly stupid excuse because Hector is not a magician, he's a Forgemaster who can't do shit without a forging tool: if he were a "magician" like, say, Sypha or the one who brainwashed an entire village, Lenore would already be a pile of ashes. But again, logic doesn't matter: what matters is that Hector is painted like the real threat to Lenore, the one who has the power to hurt her and not the other way around. See, she's just trying to protect herself from the mean Forgemaster, poor thing! This comes into play later.

Now, were Hector a stubborn person who valued his own dignity, this would be the moment where he'd show Lenore the middle finger and resign himself to staying in the stagnant cell. But Hector is not stubborn. Hector doesn't care about his own dignity and honor: he wants to feel safe and cared for. Plus, Lenore has already beaten him at the first sign of defiance: how does he know that she wouldn't punish him again if he refused her proposal? Even just by taking away the few "gifts" she had given him. So, powerless and too weakened to put up a mental fight, he caves in, because he's willing to give away his humanity for a few minutes of comfort and pretending Lenore is taking care of him.

Before I move on, I need to point out the half-clever, half-frustrating ironic echo the "magician" line gets in S4E6 that almost redeems it:

This is what in a vacuum I would call a big dick move lol. How delightfully sassy it is for Hector, after getting his heart broken and biding his time by coddling his abuser's feelings, to throw Lenore's excuses back in her face to put her in a position of helplessness! Oh, he can't be trusted because of his powers, and that was the reason he was treated like a dog and had a slave ring brute forced onto his hand when he would have willingly agreed to becoming Lenore's pet? Well, then Lenore was a giant idiot for trusting him after raping him into slavery and believing he would be harmless and happy with her, right? :)

(it would have been better if they used the exact word again, but whatever, nitpick)

Sadly I can't be fully happy with this scene because, despite his satisfied smirk shown here, Hector isn't really getting back at Lenore for the disgusting way she treated him, but he's instead trying his best to protect her with no malice in his heart, as shown when Isaac arrives and as shown by how he apologizes before trapping her. The parallel between Lenore "protecting" Hector by ruining his life because of her selfishness and Hector returning the favor is obvious, but it's as unsatisfying as possible, because by now the story wants us to feel sorry for Lenore, and Hector's gesture is meant to be tragic, not the rightful comeuppance. Also, due to how wishy-washy the worldbuilding is, I really can't tell if Hector deliberately used the wrong word as a reference to make Lenore really feel bad for her past actions (unlikely, given how he forgave her of everything, but a girl can dream), or if he's seriously calling himself a wizard, which even in the context of the show is very wrong and would be yet another way the animated franchise has watered down the concept of Devil Forging.

That being said, I can ignore the rest of the episode and pretend Hector was being snarky against his abuser 💖 I don't care if it's OOC and it's not like Hector to be this spiteful 💖 go king 💖

After this digression, back to S3E6, before Lenore became a woobie love interest and was still a vile manipulator.

I talked about this scene here, and mostly said that it was wasted potential for Lenore's final act in S4 for multiple reasons. But, for the purpose of this post, it is another nice attempt at manipulation, even if it's a basic "look how nice this place is! You'll enjoy it every night if you'll work for us!". Symbolically, it could be seen as Lenore dragging Hector away from humanity and towards the world of vampires... which would be poignant if Hector didn't start already as someone who turned his back against mankind in favor of vampires and hasn't budged from his beliefs. But eh, I get the idea, and it can be seen as foreshadowing to Lenore allowing Hector free roam of the castle once he becomes her pet. It sure is a nice gilded cage, isn't it?

Then, we have the scene on the balcony:

Lenore: Does it hurt? Hector: No. It just reminds me of the last time someone put a collar on me. Lenore: In Braila? Hector: When Carmilla almost killed me. Lenore: Well, she does have a temper. But she would never have meant to kill you. Hector: No. Because she needs me to be her forgemaster slave. Lenore: No, because if she'd meant to kill you, you would quite simply be dead. Hector: Hmph. Lenore: And if she'd meant to torture you, you would have arrived here carrying your guts in both hands with a spike up your arse. Hector: I suppose that's true. I mean, I can see her doing it. In nightmares and such. Lenore: She does have a temper, but she's logical. She never lets it run away with her to the point of, oh, I don't know, condemning the entire human race to death? Just a recent example of what being genuinely insane with murderous rage looks like. Hector: All right. Lenore: You may not have been treated like a boy king on your way here, but you did show up alive. Hector: Might have been nice, though. Lenore: Have you considered that you're only alive because you listened to Carmilla back in Dracula's castle? Hector: I hadn't. She tricked me. Lenore: I don't think she did. I think she made complete sense to you, and you felt guilty, understandably, about how it all played out. Hector: She made me betray Dracula. Lenore: No, she didn't. She showed you the old man was insane, and she saved you from the consequences. Nobody here wants to harm you. We just don't quite trust you yet. Hector: Trust me? Lenore: You did try to hurt me, Hector.

I still don't know why I can't find a clip of this part. With how crucial it is to their development (and you know, shippers would get a kick out of seeing the peggable boy leashed by the dommy mommy having a cute bonding moment), you'd think there'd be plenty of videos.

Nevertheless, this is the only time Lenore disgusted me in an intentional way, which I appreciate. His character development on stall, Hector has no moral qualms about working for vampires who want to turn humans into livestock, but he is still angry at Carmilla for tricking, beating and imprisoning him, understandably so. She is the only reason Hector still hasn't accepted Lenore's proposal: he doesn't want to work for her out of spite. So what does Lenore do with her amazing diplomacy skills? Launch herself into some pristine abuse apologism, the likes of which are only paralleled by Lenore stans themselves, using every excuse in the book to downplay Carmilla's brutal, sadistic beatdown of Hector, because oh, she just has a temper! Oh, it was just a one time thing! Oh, she saved your life nonetheless, even if you were treated less than royally! Oh, but Dracula was even more insane, so you can't be mad at Carmilla, she was just trying to help!

She's hitting every point possible to make Hector give up his grudge, because who cares about how he was treated, he's alive now, right? He should be grateful that he was "rescued" from Dracula's insanity, shouldn't he? Which is very similar to Lenore's overall attitude, like when she lowkey implied that she was the only one in the castle willing to treat Hector nicely after brutally beating him into submission :)

And as the cherry on top, she is blaming him for that, too! Hector tried to hurt her, the meanie, so really, no wonder he's being treated like a dog! No one wants to hurt him, she swears, it's just that these four super strong vampires are scared of this human prisoner! And if Lenore beat him to a pulp the other day (not that she is directly mentioning it, of course, the accent is on how he tried to hurt her), well, it's all his fault, so he can't complain. Mhh, reminds me of another scene where Lenore downplays her disgusting actions by shaming Hector...

Goodness, but Lenore must have gotten a degree in abuse apologism with flying colors! Look at that flawless DARVO! She would be a brilliant portrayal of a self-centered piece of shit who refuses to take responsibility, if I knew it was all intentional!

I also like that, near the end, when she's rebuking Hector's protests, for once she doesn't sound insufferably smug, but like she is patiently correcting a stubborn child making him reason. This is much better than her usual tone of voice that can only be described as "I get wet at seeing you humiliated", and not just because it's less grating on the ears: she is supposed to sound trustworthy and well-meaning, emotionally comforting Hector and not making fun of him. This is the tone she should have had from day one. It also would have helped distinguishing her and not making her sound like Carmilla 2.0, BDSM patch included.

The rest of the sequence speaks for itself. Lenore gives Hector a bigger cell (with added symbolism of her tugging his leash to lead him to it, showing that she is forcing all these comforts on him), complete with a book about vampires that he might find interesting, and engages in yet some more sexual play by removing the collar in the most erotic way possible for the joy of the shippers and the thirsty fans. But I want to focus on two things.

One, the book.

When it came to convincing Hector that nighttime is better than daytime, thus the vampire world is better than the human world, I said it was redundant because Hector already feels closer to the former than the latter. This, however, is a much better way to lure him in: Lenore is welcoming Hector even further in their world - or rather, her world. She is sharing their knowledge, the secret knowledge lost by humans and preserved by vampires, much like when during their walk she flaunted the castle's hypocaust that keeps the cells warm ignore that it's normally kept lit by slaves, giving us some unintentionally clever foreshadowing. In E8, Hector is genuinely fascinated by it:

Lenore's strategy of "humanizing" her race, and thus herself and the council so that Hector won't be scared, is pretty obvious but efficient. It's a shame that it's redundant because Hector has no prejudices, nor has he shown any, against vampires (because that would have created conflict between him and Lenore's plan): but hey, better be safe than sorry, right? In a way, it's a continuation of Lenore's abuse apologism, when she tried her best to paint Carmilla as a logical person "with a temper", and not as a violent beast to be scared of. "I keep telling you, we're not monsters." Because if we act like monsters, it doesn't come natural to us, the civilized species that we are, so you must have done something to provoke it :)

Most importantly, this really hits one of Hector's weakest spots: feeling appreciated for his talents. It's all but said that the reason he feels more comfortable around vampires is because they mostly value him for his Devil Forging and necromancy, unlike humans who chased him away for that. For a human being who feels no connection to mankind, being offered a peek into vampire culture must have felt a honor.

Lenore giving him that book "given his profession" shows that she's meeting him on his level, and she doesn't simply see him as a tool like Carmilla, but someone whose blasphemous knowledge is respectable and worth nurturing. She didn't need to do that: Hector is already a genius in Devil Forging, so it's not for him to study to become more efficient. But it's basically a kind gift based on his interests.

But the really brilliant line is this one:

The levels of mindfuckery here!

Lenore coerced Hector into wearing a dog collar and leash for the simple purpose of walking around, making him feel like it was his fault he had to be treated that way, and all for the purpose of gaslighting him into forgiving Carmilla for hurting him. And after that gratuituous display of power over him, she is acting like they just went on a date and she is sheepishly asking permission for another one. (There is no clip, but the tone sounds soft and honestly grateful, too, like he's really doing her a favor.)

This is the exact same strategy of blaming Striga for the leash. She's passing the responsibility onto someone else: Hector, in this case. Lenore is pretending Hector has any power over their encounters. She's just a poor girl who wants to spend quality time with him, but she would never intrude upon his space without permission 🥺 even thought she just literally did by nearly kissing him while taking away the collar before he could ever express any interest in her 🥺 no, really, she leaves the choice up to him 🥺 (so that everything that follows will be his fault, obviously)

But Lenore doesn't just delude Hector into feeling like he has control right after stripping it from him: the point is, naturally, making him feel wanted. Not just as a thing to play with, because otherwise Lenore can just visit him whenever she pleases, but as a person worthy of respect. She likes spending time with him, and she demurely asks if he too wants to see her - and after popping a boner after her little stunt being lovebombed like that, of course Hector can't say no. Not after feeling genuinely cared for as a person, his biggest weak point.

How nice, after their rough start, they're finally developing a relationship of equality and respect despite their circumstances!

This is what Lenore should have been since the beginning. Wearing the mask of the demure little girl whom others make fun of, who is completely harmless (unless the other person deserves it), really, her hands are tied but she always tries her best, look at her gifts made from her pure kindness of heart! And subtly but constantly snipering at Hector's heart, sensing the chinks in his armor and pouncing on them like only a consummate liar and inherent predator can do. Not smugness, not humiliation, not sexual molestation: the believable lie of love and affection, targeted to someone who would sell his soul to taste those crumbs.

Or worse, the other interpretation is that this isn't even malicious lying at all. Now sure, Lenore can't spend one second in S3 without that obnoxious smirk on her face because she's just enjoying so much taking advantage of the power she has over her prisoner, and sure, I have proof that the ring was a pointless act of cruelty that nullifies all her hard work... but who says every word out of her mouth is a lie meant to harm and psychologically break Hector? Maybe it's just 90% of them! Maybe she's genuine when she shows attraction to Hector, and compliments him, and is happy when gets "permission" to see her again because it also makes her feel wanted (after all, Lenore's priority is feeling good about herself). Maybe she does care about him and she was earnest when she tried to "comfort" Hector after raping him into slavery - oh, my bad, into a position of pet... problem is that she is still a vampire, who cannot conceptualize love as humans do, and sees relationships as inherently unbalanced where she is the one where she has to have all the power. And she's willing to do whatever it takes to gain it, say every lie that comes to her fangs, twist every word, shift every ounce of blame, as long as it's for her pet's own good. Because that's what vampires do.

It's a shame those are the only instances Lenore is well written as a villain, because man, the depths of the realistic, relatable horror displayed in one episode are staggering and well conveyed. And most of this behavior is still carried into S4! ... completely by accident, which ignites my fury like few things.

She could have been a great, viscerally repulsive villain and an accurate depiction of an abuser who truly thinks she's in the right, and not just mere masturbation fodder. Now, if only Hector was written with more spine than a beached jellyfish...

[thunder-opossum]

Screen shot redraw! Her color palette is so cool when she's first introduced in the Mirror Gem episode.

[the-witchs-cafe]

Nemesis

The Witch of Dead Zones, with a trapped nature. Hear the echoes' calls- hear the tides' songs. Floating amidst these acidic, corroding waters, her fragmented memories have all but fully slipped away from her grasps; forever rewinding between every moment's abrupt end and beginning- a clash between her preservation of the sweeter past and her current afflictions.

The frigid chains binding her to the ocean's crushing depths have even pierced the very foundations of her mind; robbing the witch of whatever hope there was for liberation as her veins and limpid tears coalesced into rivers of reflective ice. As the Earth turns and rotates without care, the witch shall remain- feeling every tremble and tremor of the world outside of her freezing prison as its residents dance their hearts away without a shred of awareness or care towards her punishment.

--

Barrier appearance:

If I may be honest, I feel like this could very well be a case similar to that of Homulilly's; in which Nemesis' countless mistakes, hailing from her former life, have come back to bite her. Trapped within this underwater, claustrophobic prison, the chains tying her down hail from the heavens above, far beyond the skyline, and appear to fade away into the distance as she writhes on the deep, dark ocean floors.

As you dive deeper, away from the wooden debris, torn VHS reels, and rotting foundations of what was once a save haven, the waters' darkness shall deepen, until all that is left are these shining shards surrounding you, replaying old memories like broken records, and these cruel chains that still appear to go on forever. The memories, your memories- they appear to be out of order; a pathetic, corrupted mimicry of all these cherished times you and your loved ones have endured together, as though the witch was either heckling at or even punishing you for even risking it all to reach her.

There is no "final warning"; this is your one and only chance to take the hint, a hike, and move on with your life as if you've never discovered this area in the first place.

The crushing depths, as painful as they were to traverse through, have ultimately assisted you in the end; using the heightened gravity of the ocean's deepest corners, the shards around you began to chip away until you realize that all that are around you now are these specks of broken glass- pathetic, the size of a strand of hair, and having lost their luminescence. It's so dark in here- aside from the glow of your soul gem, there's nothing but pitch black surrounding you...

This can't be it, can it? Usually a witch's labyrinth is sprawling with their little familiars- you can't exactly put it into words, but there's a sense of activity in them - never a dull moment for when it comes to fighting witches -, but...not in this one. In every sense of the word, this barrier is nothing more than an abandoned, lifeless wasteland. If not for the faint traces of magic that have lead you here, you wouldn't be blamed for believing that this might be some unique case where a labyrinth like this one has been abandoned somehow. If a witch couldn't even conjure up the familiars required to keep her own abode safe, then either she was a whole new level of weakling, or so full of herself that she saw no need for them.

So, you continue on. Still swimming, still scouting, still on your guards- yet there's nothing there. You're almost certain that you've reached the bottom; how long has it been since you've last entered this underwater realm, anyway? It couldn't have been over a few hours...

This witch sure loves her game of hide and seek, huh? As lengthy as it was, now's the time for the fun to reach its end. You checked on your soul gem one last time just to be extra sure, and, of course, the witch's magic is still present. All you gotta do now is drag that sorry bitch and make her see justice for all the curses she has inflicted upon mankind...

... That, and because you really have to recharge your soul gem after you've used it to track that bitch down repeatedly. Oh, she's going to pay dearly for all this trouble she's-

...caused?

A surge of warm water have pushed you forwards without warning; causing you to lose balance and briefly forget how to swim for a good 5 seconds. Gathering yourself together, you turn around and attempt to cast a bright glow from your soul gem so that you could come face-to-face with this monstrosity-

Riiiight before you just got beaten to the punch. The light emitting from the angler jutting out of her head got brighter with each second; revealing the witch's grotesque form at its fullest. A behemoth that definitely looked like she deserved these freezing chains digging into her scales and bones, if her bloodied, glass teeth and deep, dark, and sunken eyes were any indication. She's been in this state for quite the stretch of time, too; the witch's limbs, as strong as they appeared to be, were slim and lacking in muscle tissue; even the webbing on her hands were torn apart in various areas and sections, and she had to take some time so she could turn her head towards your direction.

You weren't exactly terrified of the witch herself in particular, though.

What had caused your heart to sink down to your stomach was another beast; one possessing little to no humanity or even compassion when compared to the witch herself. A silhouette of a disaster to come, it looked like that monster was looking down at you with sadistic glee...and was smiling giddily at the event that's about to unfold.

Oh, boy.

Her witch's kiss could be best described as an image of a sprout of some sorts; a cold, frigid seed cracking open in order to grant the fleshy tendrils that have been biding their time within their long-awaited chance of escape- an omen of impending disaster that is just around the corner.

--

Familiars:

Adrasteia. Minion of the Witch of Dead Zones. Her duty is to share her burdens. A fellow inmate, the beast residing just beneath the surface the witch lays upon, the reflection of all her fallacies and her failings- nothing more than a mindless shadow of what her master wishes to hide away from the world. A haunting memory for years to come, this pathetic mimicry of a behemoth embodies nothing but every meaning of the word "power" that still echoes within the halls of the witch's mind.

Neither master nor minion tolerates the other's company, yet, to this familiar, the witch is her other half- she "completes" her. As much as she despises her current role in all of this, these brief moments of freedom and bloodshed still manage to make all these years of agony and atrophy all the more worth it.