#she is continuity to his loss and change to his stagnation

[subjectnamemissing]

The first set of duels all involve seeking a return to a comfortable stagnation or projection. The character has left a state that they wish to return to. The second set all involve seeking to reject the current surrounding world for one that matches their desires. The third set of duels is finally closest to the truth of what 'Revolutionizing the world' is - seeking to prove a change exists in the perception of the duelists - that a level of maturity has been reached and the duelist has grown up - but this change only occurs upon the duelist losing the duel. Without the loss all the third duel accomplishes is the completion of a Rotation on the Revolution. The duelists seek ‘adulthood’ in the belief that doing so will grant them the power to continue to exist unchanged even in new circumstances. Revolution has two meanings within the narrative - a break from stagnant conditions or states, and the completion of a cycle that returns to the start - like a carousel’s spin.

I think that the power to Revolutionize the World that all the characters fight for in Revolutionary Girl Utena is primarily a power to change oneself and break free of the eternal revolution offered by Ohtari and embodied by Akio. Part 1/2 - Mikage & the Black Rose Duelists, Saoinji, Miki, and Juri.

Nanami post link

Black Rose

Mikage in the Black Rose arc keeps trying to kill the Rose Bride and win the power of Dios, but he fails every time since every duelist he chooses is attempting to Reject the world and revolutionize it based upon changing other people. A miracle achieved though sacrificing other people - they pull their swords from others and bear the rose crests of others.

Mikage and the duelists are working on an entirely flawed premise - so each duel ends with another corpse in the crematorium and another chick that failed to break their shell and a return to status quo. Each person dueling is attempting to seek a revolution entirely defined by the perceptions or actions of others - Kaene wants Anthy’s judgement of her (perceived or not) gone. Wakaba wants others to look at her as special (especially Saionji). Kozue wants to protect Miki's innocence, but she also keeps wanting to taint it - her sweet love towards her sibling has turned curdled and she also wants to return to the 'Sunlit Garden'- so everyone who can taint it needs to go. Shiori wants to 'Win' over Juri because she can't believe in Juri's feelings in their clash with her abysmal self-worth and she can't accept her own feelings towards Juri. Tsuwabuki wants to be perceived as an adult and grow up already - though he isn't sure what it entails. Keiko wants to know Touga, and perhaps it is a plain desire common to most of Ohtori, but it’s not one that can be fulfilled while she is the lowest girl on the totem pole and Nanomi is in the way. Mikage himself seeks connection but the person he wants to connect to is terminally ill - so in the ultimate conclusion of this theme of rejecting the world he is seeking Eternity in these memories and reliving the past literally - he is a trapped ghost in a burned down building. The one person rejected is the Onion Prince boy whose basal confession is that he believes the problem is in him - not others.

Saionji

Saionji wants his status symbol back and to have something special that his 'friend' Touga doesn't have and Utena confronts him in revenge for her friend Wakaba first and revenge for Anthy's treatment once she is already committed - later episodes make it clear Wakaba still loves Saionji so it is doubtful that she would have wanted the duel in her honor. As Saoinji scoffingly points out - Utena is the archetypical prince protecting the honor of princesses here. Saionji's 'revolution' is related primarily to his status in the system - without Anthy as his rose bride he is no longer special - just an average upperclassman. His second duel is much the same because despite his belief that he has changed - he utterly fails to articulate 'how' and no other character can even notice how or if he is different. He still seeks to possess the Rose Bride as a status symbol of being 'an Adult' and gaining something that designates him as special - most specifically in regard to Touga. He is the only 2nd time duelist that comes without their own Rose Bride. He's not fighting with his own power/strength of will at all. He's repeating lines said by Touga in the first set of duels, Saioinji is an imitation of an imitation, and it's not very surprising he missed the memo on the change in duel format.

But he seems to have found the route start for the process of growing anyways after being beaten again. Refuting Touga in his desire to be like Akio and accurately pointing out the central premise of Ohtari. He repeats with Touga there is no such thing as True Friendship- but it is still evident that his relationship with Touga only improves again after they fail to complete their revolutions on Akio’s stage.

Miki

Miki wants to recapture his “sunlight garden” through Anthy. He is seeking a return to a state which was simple and joyful for him and believes if he can possess Anthy then he can return to that state. Of course, this simple state in his memory doesn't exist. He loses the duels both times because his illusion of how things were was shattered - first by realizing Anthy was cheering for Utena - she was not an empty vessel for his fantasy, second by realizing that both his sister and Anthy had elements of 'adulthood' - he thinks that he is ready to 'get dirty to get what he wants' in regards to maturing his relationship with Anthy and finally the stability and strength to make his place in the world secure. Both he and Kozue wants to have the strength to return to the Sunlight Garden, but only Kozue seems prepared to grab the power to hold the illusion together - in which case she chose an excellent model. Akio is a professional in the art of maintaining an illusion.

Miki ultimately seeks to return to simpler times because he feels estranged in the present - a chick without a home.

The problem is that his Sunlight Garden is a fragile thing since it is only a facade. Kozue seeks to grant her brother the power of 'Revolution' and take him to the 'world of adulthood' but his sword is still a 'child's sword'. Realizing that he can't return to the past he sought the ability to create a comfortable present - but he can't follow-through with the 'adulthood' embodied by Akio and complete his revolution on the carousel. Perhaps his Revolution requires him to stop trying to fit himself to the dichotomy of either a powerful prince ‘who takes what he want’ or an innocent and pure child ‘who has what’s his taken’ since no such thing as a 'pure prince' who exists without subjecting others or getting subjugated. Perhaps hope exists, he does know a friend or two who also don't fit comfortably into the defined archetypes of princess or prince.

Juri

I understand Juri's issue in regard to her personal coffin - but I'm not actually sure the motivations behind her duels with Utena or what she is hoping to achieve. Juri's issue is that she doesn't believe in miracles (Shiori returning her feelings) but she really wants to believe in miracles (She can't give up her feelings for Shiori anyways). Her issue with miracles is "Believe in miracles and they will know your feelings" In this context, her duel with Utena is triggered by Utena telling how her Rose Crest links her to her 'Prince'. The parallel between miracles is the power to bring about connections - Juri challenges Utena to show her proof that her miracle - she will be led to her prince through her ring - is real while the camera focuses straight on Juri's locket - linking the two symbols. Juri believes there is no hope of her feelings or her being accepted if she communicates them to Shiori.

If she wins, she can continue to deny miracles exist while secretly hoping they exist - being engaged to the Rose Bride who is said to grant miracles - quietly locked into believing her feelings can’t be expressed. Losing - she still refuses to say out loud she believes in miracles - but it is still clear she is less hostile to the idea they can happen.

Juri's second duel starts with coercion - her anguish on seeing Shiori's humiliation and obsession with Ruka/Juri is outweighing her anguish on the uncrossable distance between Juri's feelings and Shiori despite their reciprocity. Ruka seems to love Juri and knows Juri loves Shiori and that Shiori can't and won't reciprocate with her issues, Juri loves Shiori but will neither reach out nor give up, Shiori loves Juri but refuses to believe that she is worthy so she must make Juri hate her. Juri and Ruka seem to share the idea - it's fine if they hate me as long as they are free from this toxic debasement that they are trapped in. Juri's growth hinges on accepting she shouldn't sacrifice herself for the sake of Shiori's miracle - love doesn't justify abuse. It is only by losing Shiori’s locket and letting her feelings (and fears) lay bare that Juri can break away in a new direction from the interruption into her cycle instead of a repeat of her past misfortune with Shiori.

It seems that Ruka succeeds in his goal of letting Juri move on from her obsession with Shiori - though to what degree he intended anything is ambiguous since he goes and dies afterwards. Juri can accept letting Shiori leave her locket and accept it doesn’t need to require her suffering to love Shiori. Unrequited (or believed to be) love can be left to grow wistful - instead of a constant thorn in the heart. Juri has been given a direction to go for when she is ready to Revolutionize her world. She can still love Shiori, but she can't keep letting the rose parasite use its venom.

[darkstarbureau]

茶番カプリシオ (chaban kapurishio, Capriccio Farce (Clockwork Lullaby VI)) singable translyrics (the saga continues)

i may or may not have accidentally put some words multiple times a little too close to eachother but it shouldnt be noticable i think

also used actual names for characters instead of titles because im odd like that

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ARTE & POLLO: The judge waiting to bring 'pon her seize Riddled with such junk that'll all but gleam Come, now, their ashes fall like snow This irregularity is justice, no?

IRINA: With this gavel I will carry the search still going through The divine ordered us to keep collecting their remains If somehow you have an idea where they're to be found Come to the stand and continue to testify, "Sorceress of Time"!

MA: Epochs still continue to pass as an heirloom of their time Coming and going their masters, but one's to walk the line Even if the future still herds its feigning uncertainty I have an intuition that she is the one to blame

ARTE & POLLO: Take a look, take a look, go and look high and low Left, right, left right, ebb their disguises She has the key to all you could ever know Look for "The Master of the Hellish Yard"!

ADAM: In duration of this farce dragging through, it'll soon get to you All will be pointless when the gear stagnates

BANICA: Her brother who fell down into the earth, to which dreams won't concern She's too far gone and you know that your mother was the one to blame

POLLO: Justice keeps ringing scenarios of dissarray Vessels that've known no peace for all of their lives

ARTE: Each doting upon their very own ostinato Discordant, they sing a capriccio

MA: They've already written stories of depravity in the stars They walk alone on their path of all too destined parts

BANICA: If they were to ever see avarices' cold design They would certainly make a statement deep in blame:

ADAM: What really scared my pity into shame—

IRINA: Were the vices of humanity

Let's take a look at what we have and address all the facts This man who stands here is the child of lust itself I give you my special permission; come up to the stand Inform us of when you first arrived to this cursed forest

GAMMON: There's a feeling deep inside that I just cannot shake This urge that I need to seek the katana of violet Seeming its necessary to solve my mystery I trekked on into this wood solemn all by myself

ARTE & POLLO: Kill and devour, if it's grim, prowl anyway Such a lack of dignity really cannot be helped

IRINA: Conviction, conviction, at the rate of our mission Perjury! Conviction! Execution!

GAMMON: When I put on that sharp facade of no mercy to the gods The girl in front of me who changed her wits and lent me her hand

LILITH: I wanted the victim to be charged right since I am of employ

GAMMON: As of my release they've called me "Cursed Gardener"

MA: "Sorceress of Time" and also the "Cursed Gardener" are Harbingers for the awakening of them Each embracing their objectives, held up high and to the chest Ephemerally keeping invaders at bay

ARTE & POLLO:

"Master of the Court" and the "Master of the Graveyard" too Ticking gears, mopping tears "Master of the Hellish Yard" When the atonement of this theater will go to waste Who will be amused at the end of all things?

ADAM (2): Lulila lulila luli luli la… The first beating heart of the irregular

BANICA: Friends along the way farcically paining us

ADAM: Hopes and loves coinciding with losses deep in debt

IRINA: All continues to fuse with the turning of the clocktower

LILITH: The clockwork lullaby continually rings out a cry

ADAM (2): Right before the "Collector" took a bullet to the head

GAMMON: He constructed a theater that would contain the dead

MA: Will the paradise that he wished for his oh so dear Michelle

GUMILLIA: Ever come to its decided fruition?

ARTE & POLLO: Come, now, let us coincide With our own eyes this farce we call life

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man.

anyway you know the drill i WILL be back

[luminescentlyricist]

✒️ A Prologue - Identity V 💉

CONTENT WARNINGS: IMPLIED DEATH/LOSS

This is modelled around Season 19 Essence 3, with Homesick and Awaiting! The third figure called to is Aging, though she's not mentioned by name.

Once again, I would like to credit @immortalpheus as a major source of inspiration, even though this isn't about Immortal!

~

Orpheus De Ross was painfully lonely, and had been for a longer time than he cared to admit. He had dragged himself out of bed and to his desk, monocle affixed to his face as always, but the fountain pen he claimed to treasure sat unused in its ink pot. This had long since dried up, as had his motivation to do anything more than dream. Sleep was his only release from the deepening depression that gnawed at him as if eating a hole in his chest. Though the manor’s staff had upheld their duties and attempted to make the place cleaner and brighter for the lone resident, he hardly noticed the changes. The man had been stagnating for an unknown amount of time, and not even the freedoms of his writing felt like they could save him from the haze that enveloped his emotions.

What use was it all if nobody was around to read it?

This phrase whirled around in his mind as he stared listlessly forwards, eyes tracing the heavy velveted curtains that blanketed the space in near-darkness. He’d made a request earlier that week for his bed to be moved into his writing room, for he felt so little motivation that getting from one location to another was a chore. It had only been a mistake. Instead of relief, what little he felt was taken over by a dull regret, being unwilling to accept that he’d weakened so drastically. Laying his head down on the desk, Orpheus longed to close his eyes and float away. If anyone found him in such a state, he knew his already poorer sales would dwindle, and the only source of joy he could find in the greying skies of his life would fade.

Instead he forced himself to be awake. There was no wound clock in the vicinity, but the deepening bags beneath his eyes were no longer a source of concern. All that mattered was continuing to produce works, whatever internal protests his body had in store for him. Taking up the pen, he unfolded a notebook, reasoning that it was useless to attempt extending an actual book. The ideas necessary to make anything coherent and publishable just weren’t going to come to him in such a slump, after all. His eyelids drooped for a moment before he pushed himself back upright in the chair, arms trembling from the strain. There came a knock at the door of the study, but the young man had no voice to answer it. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d spoken to anyone that wasn’t his own face in the mirror.

That accompanied a sense of loss deeper than even he, a writer by trade, lacked the words to articulate. He often wondered if it was all wrong for him, and others had told him he was free to retire because of his inherited estate, but making others happy with his writing had hardly seemed like a job before. Now, his resolution was wavering, as was his sense of identity - “Orpheus” was simply a pen name assigned to him by his publisher. True to the profession, he moulded himself to suit whoever saw him for the best effect, and spent little time wondering about personal preferences. Nobody had cared about him enough to tell him that was wrong before it was all too late, and he’d forgotten who he was behind the mask of the Baron de Ross. He no longer knew, but at least they did. The soft clicking of the door handle roused him from his morose thoughts in a matter of seconds, and he plastered on a gentle smile for no benefit of his own.

Emily Dyer, unexpectedly, had come to his aid. Though she worked silently, she knew the reclusive novelist would only let a precious few people into the Manor, let alone the study. He needed someone to take care of him, however small the gestures. Pulling the curtains open and tying them aside, the doctor placed a small object on Orpheus’ desk as she passed to leave: a white paper boat, folded carefully and hand-painted with flowers. She looked backwards upon placing her hand on the door, poised as if wishing to speak to him, but swallowed this notion just as soon. What little response she could’ve gleaned from his words wouldn’t be worth the effort for either participant. She left him be after that, as much as she regretted it. He was one of the two most important figures in her life, and guilt would prevent her mind from settling for some time after that. It didn’t much matter that the (perceived) uselessness was unavoidable. It stung anyway.

The light from the window did nothing to improve Orpheus’ mood, but one thing did catch his attention: a small black feather drifted downwards from a tree in the garden. That garden… it was like a mockery of times long gone. Yet every staff member he could muster the will to contact insisted that it would make him feel better some day, and they continued to maintain it to the best of their abilities despite his frequent protest. It’d been quite a while since he’d been out of the manor, and even longer since he’d seen any animal that wasn’t a fish drifting aimlessly in the aquarium of the common area. However restricted they were, the novelist often felt they had more freedom than he did. Not that he had the motivation to fix that, of course.

That feather, though… he couldn’t stop thinking about it. The birds had long since fallen silent, and yet they continued to visit him. The manor was feeling less and less familiar the longer he wandered within its walls, like some sick, reversed alienation tactic. Standing up, Orpheus cleared his throat, pulling a suit jacket on and fixing the angle of his slipping monocle. The flowers embroidered across the lapels reminded him of home, even though he couldn’t quite remember where that was to him. Two special people - Miss Dyer being one of them - had sewn the design onto it long ago, and the feeling of the raised threads against his fingers gave him a small burst of comfort. 

To be homesick for somewhere he couldn’t remember was torture, but fate had never been kind to him in the first place. Rubbing a hand across his eyes, he didn’t bother to find a proper brush, instead running his fingers carelessly through his hair. Grease came off onto them, but he simply assumed it was because of hair gel, though the container sat empty on his desk as it had for many days. Taking care of himself was just one more expenditure of strength. Removing the familiar presence of a ball-point pen from his shirt pocket, the novelist scrawled down a simple phrase on the paper, as if beginning to make an outline of the day’s plans for himself: ‘The Novelist visits the gardens.’ Doing so was by no means a regular practice for him, but he had a feeling it’d give him a needed sense of direction in such a slump. Tucking away the pen and the notebook both into his pocket, he came to a stand, eyes distantly scanning the window for any sign of another feather or accompanying bird.

Gently, he unfolded the paper boat, refolding it into the smallest square possible. He wasn’t going to distract himself from the bliss of the moment by reading it. There were people who cared about him, and that was all he really needed to know. Details were irrelevant at that point. Unfastening the three topmost buttons on his dark jacket, with trembling fingers the man folded back the top of his suit’s fabric. Resting against the space nearest to his heart, there was a shakily sewn pocket. Tugging at the stitches, he soon managed to loosen those up the top. Despite how badly he was trembling, Orpheus managed to place the paper inside, searching afterwards for a needle. The pocket was usually kept open or simply buttoned closed on other suits he’d added it to, but he felt there’d be no need to replace it any time soon. Sewing the top up, he buttoned his coat before allowing himself to relax.

Opening the door of his study, Orpheus took a deep breath. The air no longer smelled stale. Hearing his own shoes clicking against the floorboards as he walked down the hallway almost made his head begin to spin, but he bore it anyway. He felt distant, as if he were floating within his body, heedless to the environment around him. As much as he longed to be free of sensation, if only for a moment, that wasn’t going to happen. As soon as he turned the corner to go out to the gardens, an ear-splitting cry rang out. The call was familiar, and bought to mind a sleek black feather. This didn’t make him stop - instead, it only furthered the resolve he thought was lost. For the first time in too long, the novelist heaved open the manor’s doors and stepped into the dimming light.

The garden was there, freshly maintained, but the flowers and foliage were the only traces of life. Not even the insects that Melly had once trailed behind her remained, which was a continual worry for the maids in regards to growing produce. Pollination helped in terms of diversity as well, and it made their jobs a lot easier. Orpheus was oblivious to all of this work, of course. He left the manor with returning reluctance, for the burst of motivation he felt was draining away. The sleek black feather remained in his thoughts, but the appeal of it was lessening because of his sobering mental state. Such quick change was exhausting. The novelist continued on his journey at a more relaxed pace, eyes flickering about to take in the sights.

The maze was still standing. After everything that’d happened within the confines of the hedges, it loomed there as a reminder of Orpheus’ failures. He took a rattling breath inwards, trying not to let the heat creeping on the back of his neck unnerve him too much. It was just a bunch of leaves. Nothing else. There would never be blood spilled there again. There never... there never had been. Whatever was he thinking? Shaking his head to clear his thoughts in a physical manner, he continued to walk, though his footsteps were getting increasingly louder in his head. This strange warping was chalked up to tiredness, as the young man had no idea how long it’d been since he’d had a full night of sleep. The demand for his writing was lowering as he’d become more of a recluse and inherited his father’s estate, but old habits were hard to break. To Emily’s dismay, he’d often find himself asleep at his desk despite having no ideas to write.

Sitting on a small bench with his back to the maze in question, he spied the feather lying on the ground a few metres away. It was being ruffled by a slight breeze, but that didn’t deter him. If the bird it’d dropped from were to return, then that could provide him with the burst of motivation needed to complete his next chapter. Why he was so captivated by a small thing was beyond him, but went unquestioned. As he stood to collect it after a momentary rest to collect his thoughts, the feather was swept up in a gust of wind, and lodged itself firmly beneath a tile on the mosaic covering one of the building’s walls. This mosaic was something he often came to when inspiration was lacking, for the manor’s residents and guests were free to decorate one of the numerous panels as a way of leaving their impressions if they were to leave. Many were those he had painted himself, alongside Emily and his other regular visitor.

With another flick of the pen and notebook cover, a yawn was stifled when Orpheus found his resolution in the script: ’The Novelist continues his search, and will not stop until he has uncovered the truth of the gardens that he seeks - whether this be a feather or something more.’ Truthfully, he expected nothing more than the owner of the feather, but as a story writer was prone to slipping into fantasies and dreams. It was detrimental to others in terms of keeping his attention, but on many occasions Orpheus considered this trait to be the only thing that kept him sane. Awareness to the world outside the manor terrified him more than he cared to admit.

Tugging gently at the feather, Orpheus’ eyes roved across the designs on the tiles. Caught up in remembrance, he hardly realised that he’d almost freed the object until something sharp and familiar jolted him away from the wall, tearing part of the feather’s fluff off in the process - the call of a crow, indignant as ever. Well, that was one way to find out who it belonged to… His gaze flickered up to the crow in question, a small smile dancing across his lips. They weren’t a common sight in the manor grounds, so seeing their sleek forms was always a surprise. This one was adolescent, and fluffed up delightfully against the crisp breeze rustling through the garden. Though it would be a bad idea, he almost longed to climb the tree so that he could feel how soft it was, and perhaps get it to a better place. Heedless of the fact he hadn’t asked anyone about their natural habitats, the gardens certainly weren’t safe enough.

Nodding to the bird as acknowledgement before setting back to work, the novelist bowed his head toward the wall once more. Running his fingers along the grout between the tiles, his bitten nails snagged on something unfamiliar. Pulling his hand back, he heard a soft click. That wasn’t a sign of anything good. Before he could move to alert one of the maids of the maintenance issue, a glint of silver caught his eye. The crow had returned, bringing with it a coat pin that it dropped at his feet before letting out an alerting call and retreating to its branch. Orpheus bent down and picked it up carefully. It was a small snake pin, curled in an infinity symbol and biting its own tail. This was similar to one of the mosaic tiles’ designs, but he had no recollection of what it meant to him at the time of painting. That sort of forgetfulness tended to happen a lot, but the mosaic was there to remind him, not take his understanding away…

This was a hassle he wasn’t quite prepared for, so he turned his attention momentarily to adding another point to the day’s itinerary. Uncharacteristically, he nearly dropped the pen from his hand as it shook as if by nerves. Though the wind was becoming colder when the days wore on, it wasn’t enough to send a significant chill through the thick and dry fabrics he wore. Unable to afford himself another brief moment of respite, he scrawled onto the page, ignoring how harsh his strokes turned out. Unless the paper tore properly or the ink stained, it wouldn’t be a problem to record small things such as these: ’The Novelist confidently approaches his destinations, for his fate can always be rewritten.’ This wasn’t true, but he chose to believe what he wrote anyway. Self-confidence was something he needed.

Stowing the pin safely in his other jacket pocket, Orpheus resolved not to waste any more time ruminating on things that didn’t make sense. The crow had disappeared from the treetops, which filled him with an unexplainable sense of regret and sadness. Perhaps it was simply that morning’s mental fog catching up to him, but they had felt like a companion in the isolated garden. Digging the rest of the feather’s misshapen plume away from the tiles, his fingers lingered around the snake design for a few moments longer. If his eyes weren’t deceiving him, the tile had been pushed in slightly, and he could have moved it aside. The ink on his notepad didn’t lie to him: he’d continue looking around the garden itself, and not stray off the beaten path too much this time. With a huff, he reached up and swept a stray hair away from his monocle. The lens was cracking in some places, but he’d never bothered to get it fixed.

The sky was beginning to darken considerably by that time, so Orpheus’ pace quickened. Before he knew what he was doing, he had circled back into the maze, and was weaving through the foliage with an unnatural steadiness. He’d not visited the maze in a long time, much less soon enough to remember all of the twists and turns with such certainty. The leaves blurred together in front of his face, and he continued to walk even though he could no longer tell where he was going. The branches that hadn’t been trimmed back in some time stung as they cut his face, small gashes that luckily weren’t deep enough to bleed. As the sun truly set, the lights flickered on, but the novelist ignored everything around him. He felt a compulsion from his own instructions was stronger than ever, and he wasn’t going to ignore it just for someone else’s sake.

As soon as he reached the centre of the maze, Orpheus sat down and retrieved the mysterious pin from where it was safely stowed away. His suit was going to get dirty, but the significance and comfort of that particular jacket was, at that moment, the least important thing to him. Running his fingertip over the snake’s emerald eye, he wiped the dust onto his pants. His breathing became so quiet that it was a wonder he was awake, for the rhythm of his chest’s rise and fall was more appropriate for someone lost to dreaming. After a few minutes of this, his eyelids truly drooped. Staying still with his eyes closed, Orpheus was unable to stifle a yawn. Pressing the cold metal of the pin into his palm to renew his alertness, he reached up to fasten the pin to his jacket, but dropped it for the second time. Cursing quietly, he bent down to retrieve it. He decided that he’d prefer not to be interrupted, lest he lose his train of thought again.

The doctor, on the other hand, was becoming increasingly worried for his absence. Though it was true they were both adults and had no need for curfews, she hadn’t been able to tell him important news of the day, and he had hardly ignored her before. Adjusting her capelet’s position and rubbing her arms as a ward from the cold, she exchanged a few quiet words with a maid for preparations to begin a search before slipping out the manor doors. She hoped it wouldn’t come to that, but if dawn broke and he hadn’t returned, then there would have to be more serious efforts made. The Baron wasn’t simply the most important person to her: jobs needed to be allocated, calls taken, and he was still the novelist she dearly loved the stories of. He had his own occupation and a life to continue.

Turning the pin around in his hands a few times, he observed how the emeralds gleamed dully in the lights. He heard nothing except the pounding of his heart in his ears, the sound seeming to dwarf everything beyond, but paid no mind to it. How had he been so careless? The pin was beautiful… yes! That was it. He had to show her… Staggering to his feet as if swept into a trance, the novelist swayed in place. There was something in the back of his mind, and he was unable to shake it. He’d write it down just in case… disregarding his shaking hands, he drew the pen across the page of his notebook, but was unable to finish the bullet point as his pen began to leak, staining the paper and his hands both with ink.

Without these directions, he was aimless. A dull thud was heard as the pen and notebook, the latter rapidly drying in the wind and heavy with ink, hit the grass. A single tear trailed down the man’s cheek as he looked down towards it, but he had no voice left to cry. He didn’t want to show weakness to the ones who loved him, but that strange pin felt like it was amplifying his emotions tenfold. He’d simply stay out in the gardens, then, and bother nobody with his feelings as usual. Though he felt strange, light-headed and almost feverish, there was nothing he could do to ease the sickness building in his stomach. Sinking to his knees in the maze, he gripped the grass as if it were the only thing keeping him from floating away, letting out an uneasy chuckle. 

It’d be fine, right? The young man hoped so. All that was left was to wait, but he wasn’t so sure that he wanted to be found. Sleeplessness was catching up to him, and his thought patterns caved to falsities and illogical conclusions. The pin… He had everything he needed right there, even though the wind bit into his clothing. How little everything else mattered! Ignorance… why, his father had been right to shove everything into his arms. Maybe now he could let everything fade away, and the emeralds could capture the gaze of his adversaries. That crow knew better than people what was best for him! What fools they were, not to listen to the shrill calls of the birds. Blocking his ears had done him no good before, but now he felt enlightened. He was finally finding the truth!

To Emily’s concern, the Baron was making no effort to reveal himself, and she stumbled through the gardens even as the moonlight began to fade. She wished above all else to find him, of course, but there was only so much she would be able to do. Her fingertips were beginning to go numb from the cold, but she didn’t want to lose track of him. Pulling on the gloves that hung at her waist, she wriggled her fingers to check if some of their sensation had returned. They weren’t lined with the same warm black fur as she’d requested for her capelet, but they’d do well enough insulating her for now. And so she continued to search, but everything was fruitless. Returning to the main building in the early hours, Miss Dyer was left to crawl into Orpheus’ own bed, soaking in the warmth from his lingering presence to attempt easing her thoughts.

If he found her, yes, there might have been some questions, but all of the love in the world to go along with it. Though Orpheus had never been a verbally affectionate man, he’d often leave her a paper crane or something of the sort on her bedside to welcome her with a poem in the morning, and she kept all of these. She used them to teach origami, as his folds were always so perfect it showed how much he cared for her. In return, she would nurse his paper cuts, scolding him with a laugh held back in her voice all the while. “Now, Orpheus, you must be more careful! Your hands are important, you know… No, not as much as your heart. Don’t be silly. I’ll take care of that too.”

He’d never make it back to the Manor, after all.

Orpheus had put the pin through his chest pocket whilst trying to fasten it onto his own jacket, tearing the paper so that he’d never be able to read what was written within. To some superstitious individuals, this was tantamount to making the text a lie, but none of the manor’s residence allowed such negativity to reach them. Emily hadn’t been the only one to write it: a child’s small, shaking script echoed the message in their own writing, but the sentiment was a clear truth in both instances. The state of the paper didn’t matter.

“You’ll always have a place here. I love you.”

[storm-cells]

WIP Introduction: In Memory of US

↳˗ˏˋ YA

↳˗ˏˋ LGBT, POC, disabled, mentally ill characters

↳˗ˏˋ Psychological Thriller

↳˗ˏˋ First draft

↳˗ˏˋ Third person, past tense

↳˗ˏˋ Missing persons, unreality, false memories, disappearances

↳˗ˏˋSummaryˊˎ˗ ↴

The ultimate social paralysis of off-the-map towns creates an atmosphere of familiarity and safety for the ages-old residents, those whose families witnessed the first dirt roads that carved through the once much denser forest. The streets, lamp-less and haunted in the night, have been memorized and seldom see confused tourists. These homes are riddled with old wood and cryptic small-town stories. The roads themselves are paved with the hard work of their native people. Places like this, they resist change. All here must adhere to the same pattern of life that has played out in these homes for generations before them.

But what happens when you defy the path laid out before you? Anboro doesn’t take kindly to change, and Carmen, Connor, and Russel soon find out what happens when you become strange to a town of stagnation.

(Rest of summary and characters below the cut)

Weeks after their high school graduation, they notice a missing neighbor, a kid around their age. They approach the family of this missing boy, but when our three protagonists sneak his name, a look of confusion spreads over the family’s faces. No such boy had ever existed.

Suspecting foul play, these three friends do their own research into the disappearance. But soon they find out that no one can remember the missing boy. The town swallowed him.

Not long after, another goes missing, a girl who worked alongside Russel in the town’s local grocery store. When he checks the girl’s schedule to see if today was her day off, he finds that her name is missing from the rosters. She, too, had been swallowed into obscurity. 

And after her, the cycle continued. Every week or so, someone else would disappear, but the only ones who remembered them were Carmen, Connor, and Russel. Even the pictures that once displayed the faces of their friends and peers were missing the faces of those lost to memory. One family dwindled one by one, losing kids, losing a husband, and finally, losing the mother, and once she had stepped into the past, the house was replaced with trees and flowers, with no record that it ever existed.

Scared, confused, and wondering if they would be next, three young adults must try to figure out where their townsfolk had disappeared to, and if they can stop the spread of these losses. Can they find the missing people? Can they stop the disappearances? Or will they be eaten away by the town like everyone else?

↳˗ˏˋCharactersˊˎ˗ ↴

↳˗ˏˋ RUSSEL POOLE ˊˎ˗

↳˗ˏˋ 17, He/They, Cis, Gay

↳˗ˏˋ Uses a walking cane

↳˗ˏˋ Aspires to live by the ocean and be a marine biologist

↳˗ˏˋ Has two younger sisters, 8 and 13

↳˗ˏˋ CONNOR PARRISH ˊˎ˗

↳˗ˏˋ 19, He/Him, Trans, Straight

↳˗ˏˋ Autistic, BPD

↳˗ˏˋ Unsure of his aspirations, so he’s searching for his purpose while spending time with his friends

↳˗ˏˋ Has a younger brother, 3

↳˗ˏˋ CARMEN WARD ˊˎ˗

↳˗ˏˋ 18, She/It, Trans, Bisexual

↳˗ˏˋ Needs hearing aids, uses ASL

↳˗ˏˋ Aspires to be a tattoo artist

↳˗ˏˋ Only child

[sasorikigai]

❛  can you just hold me tonight? i always sleep better with you here ...  ❜

🐝  *  ―  𝑫𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑴𝑺 𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑵𝑰𝑮𝑯𝑻𝑴𝑨𝑹𝑬𝑺 𝑺𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑪𝑬 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑺. || @hexsreality || accepting

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 || Hanzo Hasashi's mind, emotions, and body are unbalanced instruments and he always has struggled to align and tune them, even in his absolute tenacity and determination. Susceptible of being caught in the clutches of stagnation, in this life's tumultuous chaos, manifesting a suffocating sensation in the trifecta of his body, mind, and soul. A feeling of powerlessness could consume him whole, it had already given him no escape to the carefree days that used to be; before his emotions swirled and swayed, performing a relentless dance, leaving the fathomless depth of his eyes in a constant trance. The splendor and brightness of hope slowly fading away, as the darkness descends, its shadows at play, tugging Hanzo's heartstrings along with it.

In this ever-shifting sands of time, Grandmaster Hasashi's spark would weaken, albeit unknowingly as no present symptoms would give this away. Yet, how his veins would throb with a silent pain amidst the solitude of the lonely nights, as specters of love's whispers linger like a fading dream, reminding him that its sole presence is a constant singer in his subconscious. Perhaps life itself for him had been a confession of his undying affection, as he spills his heart out like a sharpened kunai through sun-softened skin, severing arteries, thin cords of muscle, and any hope that things will ever be the same again. Regardless, it is worth the visceral thrill and in his heart, Hanzo wishes for permanent summer, but the climate change that occurs within him is like rapids, a chaos of raging waters, jagged rocks, and bloody tumult.

He's painfully familiar of such feeling, feeling the core of one's soul aching. Something crushing this aching heart, skull throbbing with one's pulse, voices echoing in one's ears. The feverous sensation settling in one's chest as it heaves, eyes blurry and skin itching. Hard to think, the ability to formulate words lost as soon as they form. Hanzo Hasashi knows; the reality is that they both will grieve forever. No one gets over the loss of a loved one, but simply learning to live with it. They may heal and they will rebuild themselves around the loss they have suffered. While they may not be the perfect piece created for each other and being far from being flawless, they will become whole again through each other's presence as life pulled them towards one another like a magnet.

Untouched lips tentatively stay upon respectable distance, as Grandmaster Hasashi's gaze manifests as the sunshine of summer's passed upon the height of winter. The location may have been changed and so does the time, but the construct of maturity and acceptance has given him such appreciation for this particular moment of intimacy, which never left his psyche. "Sometimes it's better to let the unpent congregation of desperation and wickedness pulsate within you, so you can harbor enough strength to let all this free," so that she won't scream it in the world and cause malice and wreckage, but at herself.

At least that's what Hanzo wished he did as Scorpion, instead of acting violently and viciously due to his wrath and vengeance. Beneath the quiet calm of the winter breeze as the scatter of leaves rustle, Hanzo lets the tides of his own emotions pass through his heart and soul. His hands may be roughened and scarred with numerous battles, but they remain so tender, delicate, and welcomingly warm to the touch as they cup around Wanda's face. "The hardest battle you are ever going to have to fight is the battle to be just you. As I too, will continue to struggle through my own trials and tribulations. So of course, I will be your formidable ally in hand, as always." ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 ||

[bestworstcase]

My midnight shower thought: for Ozma and all his incarnations Salem has remained the same visually. She looks more or less the same since he met her for the second time, in the first new life where they became gods among men and had a family. But for Salem the Ozma that she loved and lost too soon has never returned to her. It’s his soul moved up in there, an undercurrent of his voice below all the others. But she hasn’t truly seen Her Ozma since many man lifetimes ago. Stagnant water isn’t safe to drink. The Salem he loved he saw for the last time as he died in a bed. They have not seen each other in so long god. God!!!

ok ok ok

the thing

this is a wild tangent from what you said i apologize

but the THING IS

the first thing we learn about the grimm beyond the vague mythical description of inevitable darkness, creatures of destruction, so forth—the first proper information we get about them is that they are “manifestations of anonymity,” that their darkness is the darkness of ignorance, of not knowing, contrasted against the light of knowledge and understanding. the soul is identity and grimm lack souls because they are anonymous

which is all very interesting as it pertains to salem’s monstrosity being so inextricable from her anonymity, from the isolation enforced by ozma’s absolute commitment to erasing her from history and keeping her existence a secret. obviously. BUT,

salem throws herself into the pool of grimm because she reasons that the force of pure destruction it holds might cancel out the pure creation she has been forced to carry, right. it changes her profoundly, restoring the equal balance between creation and destruction that people are supposed to have and in the same stroke making her grimm. there’s an obvious metaphor being constructed here about scapegoating and dehumanization that like 95% of the fandom is missing in truly hilarious fashion but also more saliently to the point i’m getting to, salem stood on that precipice and gazed down into the abyss and thought about what might happen to her if she jumped before making the choice to actually jump, and i think maybe the most critical piece of information we have about what she thought the pool of grimm would do to her is “if the fountain of life granted her immortality, then surely the pool of grimm would take it away.” jinn implies a suicide attempt but her description of salem’s own reasoning is not about death, it’s about trying to become mortal again. trying to remove her infinite life by throwing herself into a darkness equal to the light inflicted upon her; i don’t think it mattered to her much either way whether the pool would kill her outright or spit out one more monster as long as whatever was left of her afterwards had the possibility of death. she didn’t know exactly what would happen, but she very much chose to do it to herself with full awareness of what that choice entailed.

and then when ozma comes out of his impulsive agreement to do what the god of light asked, screaming in disorientation and terror, when a stranger asks him “who are you?” and he recoils in horror as the realization of what happened to him sinks in, it’s with oscar standing by to mutter pityingly that he didn’t know. he didn’t know what he said yes to, what it would mean, and then god of light hurled him back onto a battlefield and he didn’t even know who he was.

salem has always been herself and her face has always been her own, the face of her birth and the face that she chose for herself, and it is so so achingly clear that the physical transformation did not fundamentally change her. she’s still just the person she’s always been, if buried under the weight of a thousand facile narratives piled on her shoulders by people who cannot or will not see her for who she is.

but ozma said yes to a duty he didn’t want just so he could see her again and he’s spent every goddamned minute of his existence since then having his identity shredded by an endless parade of other people whose lives and souls he’s forced to consume and then become, over and over and over again until it becomes fucking meaningless, until he’s spent thousands of different lives doing the exact same fucking thing in different flavors, variations on a theme. and the only comfort he can get is don’t worry, eventually you won’t even know whos who anymore. he still doesn’t know who he is, he’s spent thousands of years not knowing who he is, because the god of light tricked him into saying yes to being torn apart and molded into an instrument of divine authority.

and there’s, like

i go a little nuts every time i think about the fact that salem still calls him ozma, that she intuitively knows whether it’s him speaking or oscar, that even the very first time she saw him with an unfamiliar face she recognized him instantly. bc ozma can’t tell the difference, ozma doesn’t even self-identify as a person anymore and treats the distinction between himself and oscar as a temporary technicality, but salem still knows who he is as clearly as she knows herself, just as he has lost his sense of who she is as thoroughly as he’s lost his own identity. and by the same token ozma has for lifetimes defined himself solely in opposition to her, solely by his fixation on destroying her.

and all of this in the narrative that made it explicitly, plainly clear upfront that the soul is a person’s knowledge of themself. that what makes a monster a monster is having no sense of identity.

the god of light tried to take his champion’s soul and salem is the reason he can’t.

[urcharactersclasspect]

I’ve also tried classpecting the archons but I’m not great at classpecting lol

Barbatos: heir of breath because he is literally reskinned John Egbert lol but also he is freedom and controls the wind

Morax: not certain yet, I like your ideas of him being a light player! I also considered time or blood I think

Beelzebul: mage of time? She understands the flow of time and has suffered from things coming to an end. Or maybe a witch because she refuses to accept that time continues onward and is trying to control it

Nahida: I haven’t finished this quest yet so I might get spoiled by sending this ask, but she seems like a total mind player of some kind to me so far

LMFAO VENTI IS JUST RESKINNED JOHN

I dont exactly agree with that but thats too funny

Theres lots of “Raiden is time player” stuff so far

The reason I think Baal is a Rage or Hope player is because her beliefs on what Enternity are very specifically skewed not JUST to mean "time passing"

This is something I've found very interesting about almost every Electro user IVe seen the quests of, or know what they act like. Almost every Electro user, as a very skewed, contrarian view of things around them. They often times have familiars, or rather, "imaginary friends" created by their own beliefs and that stem from a prolonged sense of loneliness and almost denial of things, as they desire to take control of reality around them to cope with the rather harsh realities around them.

This is seen with Razor, through his wolf spirit and his denial to properly intergrate back into a society he would normally belong to and his wanting to see only the wolves as his means to life. This is seen through Fischl too, with her Crow/Raven companion and her almost sincerely delusional way of speech and addressing herself, reffering to herself as Royalty, a creator of worlds and speaking boistoriously to a point the crow needs to translate her often. Qaqing isnt quite like this from what I've seen, but she believes the only true path is to a;llow the beliefs and hopes of people towards gods should die out in the modern age. Even Ningguang implicating this would normally make her look like someone kinda crazy and not exactly as trust worthy to people typically.

This gives me the exact energies of characters like Eridan and Jake English, Eridan with his extreme veiws skewed towards joining the enemy being the only way out of the game; and with Jake English's denial and deep seeted need to act like a Cool Movie Guy and be very peppy macho on the surface to ignore the reality around him.

Baal does the same exact thing to absolute extreme. She believes hiding herself away, creating a new version of herself to take over and leaving the rest to Yae Miko and the other politicians in Inuzuma will just take care of the rest will allow nothing to ever change. But she winds up doing this to a tyrannical level. She even tries to create another person out of the hope it will be a replacement for the loss of her sister with what she remembers and believes her sister to have been more like to see if she could create hope for a future to continue as it always had been with her twin on the helm of things, and as a fear of controlling him but having no use for him, tosses him.

Rage however is all about delusional levels of anger and wrath, which given Scaramouche and other facts about Raiden, i dont think I need to go deeper into there but u get the picture. Shes deeply troubled, depressed and resentful of her sisters passing, so much so she would have rather create another plaine of existence where experiencing the real world just doesn’t even need to happen anymore; Shes in denial that “enternity” staying in her world and just stagnate in a never ending place where nothing bad or good ever happens isnt realistic, isnt healthy  and time passing needs to take its course, but more in the sense she just doesn’t want to face it at all, she doesnt want to accept people and things need to change, need to face hardships, and that she needs to accept responsibility for what she herself has done too by being gone for so long. She also has Yae Miko, who while down to earth in comparison to most Electros I’ve seen, is literally Baal’s own familiar that translates her in a sense and knows whats best for Raiden, which she understands Baal’s mentality / way of thinking a little too well. Is still of the belief she can be redeemed even during her tyranny.

I dont know much about Beidou - But shes a Pirate, and I dont really need to explain why this seems like a rebellion out of resentment for how things are and how she drinks and is always a lot less uptight than characters like Ningguang seems like her own sense of Escapism.

[vickyvicarious]

Leverage Redemption Pros/Cons List

Okay! Now that I've finally finished watching the first half of Leverage: Redemption, I thought I'd kind of sum up my overall impression. Sort of a pro/con list, except a little more just loosely structured rambles on each bullet point rather than a simple list.

This got way out of hand from what I expected so I'm going to put it all under a cut. If you want the actual bulletpoint list, here it is:

PROS

References

Continuity

Nate

Representation

Themes

New Characters

General Vibe

CONS

'Maker and Fixer'

Episode Twins

Sophie's Stagefright

Thiefsome

You might notice the pros list is longer, and that's because I do love the show! I really like most of what it does, and my gripes are fewer in number and mostly smaller in size. But they do exist and I felt like talking about them as well as the stuff I loved.

PROS

References

There is clearly so much love and respect for the original show here. Quite aside from the general situation, there's a lot of references to individual episodes or character traits from the first show. For example, Parker's comments on disliking clowns, liking puppets, disliking horses, stabbing vs. tasing people. The tasing was an ongoing thing in the original, the stabbing happened once (S1) but was referenced later in the original show, the clown thing only had a few mentions scattered across the entire original show. The puppet thing was mentioned once in S5, and the horses thing in particular was only brought up in S1 once. But they didn't miss the chance to put the nod to it in there; in fact with those alone we see a good mix of common/ongoing jokes and smaller details.

We got "dammit Hardison" and "it's a very distinctive..." but also Eliot and Parker arguing about him catering a mob wedding, and Eliot being delighted by lemon as a secret ingredient in a dish in that same episode (another reference to the mob episode). Hardison and Eliot banter about "plan M", an ongoing joke starting from the very first episode of the original show. We see Sophie bring up Hardison's accent in the Ice Job, Parker also makes reference to an early episode when describing "backlash effect" to Breanna, in an episode that also references her brother slightly if you look for it.

Heck, the last episode of these first eight makes a big deal out of nearly reproducing the iconic opening lines of the original show with Fake Nate's "we provide... an advantage." And I mean, all the "let's go steal a ___" with Harry being confused about how to use them.

Some of the lines are more obviously references to the original show, but they strike a decent balance with smaller or unspoken stuff as well, and also mix in some references between the team to events we the audience have never seen. If someone was coming into this show for the first time, they wouldn't get all the easter egg joy but most of the references would stand on their own as dialogue anyway. In general, I think they struck a good balance of restating needed context for new viewers while still having enough standalone good lines and more-fun-if-you-get-it callbacks.

Continuity

Similar to the last point, but slightly different. The characters' development from the original to now is shown so well. I'm not going to go on about this too long, but the writers clearly didn't want to let the original characters stagnate during the offscreen years. There was a lot of real thought put into how they would change or not.

It's really written well. We can see just how cohesive a team Parker, Hardison, and Eliot became. We get a sense of how they've spent their time, and there's plenty of evidence that they remained incredibly close with Sophie and Nate until this past year. The way everyone defers to Parker is different from the original show and clearly demonstrates how she's been well established as the leader for years now - they show this well even as Parker is stepping back to let Sophie take point in these episodes. Eventually that is actually called out by Sophie in the eighth episode, so we might see more mastermind Parker in the back half of the show, maybe. But even with her leading, it's clear how collaborative the team has become, with everyone bouncing ideas off one another and adding their input freely. Sometimes they even get so caught up they leave the newbies completely in the dust. But for the most part we get a good sense of how the Parker/Hardison/Eliot team worked with her having final say on plans but the others discussing everything together. A little bit more collaborative than it was with Nate at the helm.

Meanwhile Sophie has built a home and is deeply attached to it. She and Nate really did retire, at least for the most part, and she was living her happy ending until he died. She's out of practice but still as skilled as ever, and we're shown how much her grief has changed her and how concerned the others are for her.

There's a lot of emphasis on how they all look after one another and the found family is clearer than ever. Sophie even calls Hardison "his father's son" - clearly referring to Nate.

Nate

Speaking of Nate! They handled his loss so, so well. His story was the most complete at the end of the last show, and just from a narrative point, losing him makes the most sense of all the characters. But the way he dies and his impact on the show and the characters continues. It's very respectful to who he was - who he truly was.

Nate was someone they all loved, but he was a deeply flawed individual. Sophie talks about how he burned too hot, but at least he burned - possibly implying to me that his drinking was related to his death. In any case, there's no mystery to it. We don't know how he died but that's not what's most important about his death. This isn't a quest for revenge or anything... it's just a study of grief and trying to heal.

Back to who he really was real quick - the show doesn't eulogize him as better than he was. They're honest about him. From the first episode's toast they raise in his memory, to the final episode where Sophie and Eliot are deeply confused by Fake Nate singing his praises, the team knows who he was. They don't erase his flaws... but at the same time he was so clearly theirs. He was family, he was the man they trusted and loved and followed into incredibly dangerous situations, and whose loss they all still feel deeply.

That said, the show doesn't harp on this point. They reference him, but they don't overwhelm new viewers with a constant barrage of Nate talk. It always serves a purpose, primarily for Sophie's storyline of moving through her grief. Anyway, @robinasnyder said all of this way better than me here, so go read that as well.

Representation

Or should I say, Jewish Hardison, Autistic Parker, Queer Breanna!

Granted, Hardison's religion isn't quite explicitly stated to be Jewish so much as he mentions that his "Nana runs a multi-denominational household", but nonetheless. He gets the shows big thesis statement moment, he gets a beautiful speech about redemption that is the emotional cornerstone of that episode and probably Harry's entire arc throughout the show. And while I'm not Jewish myself, most of what I've seen from Jewish fans is saying that Hardison's words here were excellent representation of their beliefs. (@featherquillpen does a great job in that meta of contextualizing this with his depiction in the original show as well.)

Autistic Parker, however, is shown pretty dang blatantly. She already was very much coded as autistic in the original show, but the reboot has if anything gone further. She sees a child psychologist because she likes using puppets to represent emotions, she stims, she uses cue cards and pre-written scripts for social interactions, there's mention of possible texture sensitivity and her clothes are generally more loose and comfortable. She's gotten better at performing empathy and understanding how people typically work, but it's specifically described as something she learned how to do and she views her brain as being different from ones that work that way (same link). Again, not autistic myself but from what I've seen autistic fans find a lot to relate to in her portrayal. And best of all, this well-rounded and respectful depiction does not show any of these qualities as a lack on her part. There's no more of those kinda ableist comments or "what's wrong with you" jokes that were in the original show. Parker is the way she is, and that allows her to do things differently. She's loved for who she is, and any effort made to fit in is more just to know how so that she can use it to her advantage when she wants to on the job - for her convenience, not others' comfort.

Speaking of loved for who you are.... okay, again, queer Breanna isn't confirmed onscreen yet, and I don't count Word of God as true canon. But I can definitely believe we're building there. Breanna dresses in a very GNC way, and just her dialogue and, I dunno, vibes seem very queer to me. She has a beautiful speech in the Card Game Job about not belonging or being accepted and specifically mentions "the way they love" as one of those things that made her feel like she didn't belong. And that scene is given so much weight and respect. (Not to mention other hints throughout the episode about how much finding her own space meant to her.) Also, the whole theme of feeling rejected and the key for her to begin really flourishing is acceptance for who she is, not any desire for her to be anyone else, is made into another big moment. Yeah, textually that moment is about her feeling like she has to fill Hardison's shoes and worrying about her past, but the themes are there, man.

Themes

I talked a bit about this yesterday, so I'm mostly just going to link to that post, but... this series so far is doing a really good job in my opinion of giving people arcs and having some good themes. Namely the redemption one, from Hardison's speech (which I'm gonna talk a little more about in the next point), and this overall theme of growing up and looking to the future (from above the linked post).

New Characters

Harry and Breanna are fantastic characters. I was kind of worried about Harry being a replacement Nate, but... he really isn't. Sure, he's the older white guy who has an angsty past but it's in a very different way and his personality and relationships with the rest of the crew are correspondingly different. I think the dynamic of a very friendly, cheerful, kind, but still bad guy (as @soundsfaebutokay points out) is a great one to show, and he's got a really cool arc I think of learning to be a better person, and truly understanding Hardison's point about redemption being a process not a goal. His role on the team also has some interesting applications and drawbacks, as @allegorymetaphor talked about. I've kind of grown to think that the show is gradually building up to an eventual Sophie/Harry romance a ways down the line, and I'm actually here for it. Regardless, his relationships with everyone are really interesting.

As for Breanna, first of all and most importantly I love her. Secondly, I think she's got a really interesting story. She's a link to Hardison's past, and provides a really interesting perspective for us as someone younger who has grown up a) looking up to Leverage and b) in a bleaker and more hopeless world. Breanna's not an optimist, and she's not someone who was self-sufficient and unconcerned with the rest of the world at the start, like everyone else. She believes that the world sucks and she wants it to be better, but she doesn't know how to make that happen. She outright says she's desperate and that's why she's working with Leverage. At the same time, Breanna is pretty down on herself and wants to prove herself but gets easily shaken by mistakes or being scolded, which is a stark contrast to Hardison's general self-confidence. There are several times when she starts to have an idea then hesitates to share it, or expects her emotions to be dismissed, or gets really disheartened when she's corrected or rejected, or dwells on her mistakes, or when she is accepted or praised she usually takes a surprised beat and is shy about it (she almost always looks down and away from the person, and her smile is often small or startled). Breanna looks up to the team so much (Parker especially, then probably Eliot) and she wants to prove herself. It's going to be so good to see her grow.

General Vibe

A brief note, but it seems a fitting one to end on. The show keeps it's overall tone and feeling from the original show. The fun, the competency porn, the bad guys and clever plans and happy endings. It's got differences for sure, but the characters are recognizably themselves and the show as a whole is recognizably still Leverage. For the most part they just got the feeling right, and it's really nice.

CONS (no, not that kind)

'Maker and Fixer'

So when I started writing this meta earlier today, I was actually a lot more annoyed by the lack of unique 'maker' skills being shown by Breanna. Basically the only time she tries to use a drone, the very thing she introduced herself as being good at, it breaks instantly. I was concerned about her being relegated into just doing what Hardison did, instead of bringing her own stuff to the table. But the seventh episode eased some of those fears, and the meta I just wrote for someone else asking about Breanna's 'maker' skills as shown this season made me realize there's more nuance than that. I'd still like to have seen more of that from her, but for now the fact that we don't see a lot of 'maker' from her so far seems more like a character decision based in Breanna's insecurities.

Harry definitely gets more 'inside man' usage. His knowledge as a 'fixer' comes in handy several times. Nonetheless, I'm really curious if there are any bigger ways to use it, aside from him just adding in some exposition/insight from time to time. I'm not even entirely sure how much more they can pull from this premise in terms of relevant skills, but I hope there's more and I'd like to see it. Maybe a con built more around him playing a longer role playing his old self, like they tried in the Tower Job? Maybe it's more a matter of him needed distance from that part of his past, being unable to face it without lashing out - in that case it could be a good character growth moment possibly for him to succeed in being Scummy Lawyer again down the line? I dunno.

Episode Twins

This was something small that kind of bothered me a little earlier in the season. It's kind of the negative side to the references, I guess? And I'm not even sure how much it annoys me really, but I just kinda noticed and felt sort of weird about it.

Rollin' on the River has a lot of references/callbacks to the The Wedding Job.

The Tower Job has a lot of references/callbacks to The White Rabbit Job.

The Paranormal Hacktivity Job has a lot of references/callbacks to the Future Job.

I guess I was getting a little concerned that there would be a 'match this episode' situation where almost every new Redemption episode is very reminiscent of an old one. I love the callbacks, but I don't want to see a lack of creativity in this new show, and this worried me for a minute. Especially when it was combined with all three of those episodes dealing with housing issues of some kind. Now, that's a huge concern for a lot of people, and each episode has its own take on a different problem within that huge umbrella, but it still got me worried about a lack of variety in topics/cases.

The rest of the episodes failing to line up so neatly in my head with older episodes helped a lot to ease this one, though. Still, this is my complaining section so I figured I'd express my concerns as they were at the time. Even if I no longer really worry about it much.

Sophie's Stagefright

Yeah, I know this is just a small moment in a single episode, but it annoyed me! Eliot made a bit of a face at Sophie going onstage, but I thought it was just him being annoyed at the general situation. However, they started out with her being awful up there until she realized the poem was relevant to the con - at which point her reading got so much better.

This felt like a complete betrayal of Sophie's beautiful moment at the end of the original show where she got over her trouble with regular acting and played Lady Macbeth beautifully in front of a full theater of audience members. This was part of the con, but only in the sense that it gave her an alibi/place to hide, and I always interpreted it as her genuinely getting over her stagefright problems. It felt like such a beautiful place to end her arc for that show, especially after all her time spent directing.

Now, her difficulty onstage in the Card Game Job was brief and at the very beginning of being up on stage. @rinahale suggested to me that maybe it was a deliberate tactic to draw the guy's attention, and the later skill was simply her shifting focus to make the sonnet easier for Breanna to listen to and interpret, but he seemed more enraptured when she was doing well than otherwise in my opinion and it just doesn't quite sit well with me. My other theory was that maybe she just hasn't been up on stage in a long time, and much like she complaining about being rusty at grifting before the team pushed her into trying, she got nervous for a moment at the very beginning. The problem there is that I think she'd definitely still get involved in theater even when she and Nate were retired. I guess she could've quit after he died, and a year might be long enough to make her doubt herself again, but... still.

I just resent that they even left it ambiguous at all. Sophie's skills should be solid on stage at this point in my opinion.

Thiefsome

...And now we come to my main complaint. This is, by far, the biggest issue I have with the show.

I feel like I should put a disclaimer here that I had my doubts from the beginning about the thiefsome becoming canon onscreen. I thought the famous "the OT3 is safe" tweet could easily just mean that they are all still alive and well, or all still working together, without giving us confirmation of a romantic relationship. Despite this, the general fandom expectations/hopes really got to me, especially with the whole "lock/pick/key" thing. I tried to temper my expectations again when the character descriptions came out and only mentioned Hardison loving Parker, not Eliot, but I still got my hopes up.

The thing is, I was disappointed pretty quickly.

The very first episode told me that in all likelihood we would never see Hardison and Parker and Eliot together in a romantic sense. Oh, there was so much coding. So much hinting. So much in the way of conversations that were about Parker/Hardison's relationship but then Eliot kept getting brought into them. They were portrayed as a unit of three.

But then there was this.

I love all of those scenes of Parker and Hardison being intimate and loving and comfortable with one another and their relationship. I really do. But it didn't escape my notice that there's nothing of the sort with Eliot. If they wanted a canon onscreen thiefsome, it would by far make the most sense to just have it established from the start. But there aren't any scenes where Eliot shares the same kind of physical closeness with either of them like they do each other. Parker and Hardison kiss; he doesn't kiss anyone. They have several clearly romantic conversations when alone; he gets important conversations with both but the sense of it being romantic isn't there.

Establishing Eliot as part of the relationship after Hardison is gone just... doesn't make any sense. It would be more likely to confuse new viewers, to make them wonder if Parker is cheating on Hardison with Eliot, or if they have a Y shaped relationship rather that a triangle. It would be so much clumsier.

Still, up until the Double-Edged-Sword Job I believed the writers might keep it at this level of 'plausible hinting but not quite saying'. There's a lot of great stuff with all of them, and I never expecting making out or whatever anyway; a cheek-kiss was about the height of my hopes to be honest. I mostly just hoped for outright confirmation and, failing that, I was happy enough to have the many hints and implications.

But then Marshal Maria Shipp came along. And I don't really have anything against her as a character - in fact, I think she has interesting story potential and will definitely come back. But the episode framed her fight with Eliot as a sexyfight TM, much like his fight with Mikel back in the day. And then his flirting with her rode the line a little of "he's playing her for the con" and "he's genuinely flirting." The scene where he tells her his real name is particularly iffy, but actually was the one that convinced me he was playing her. Because he seems to be watching her really closely, and to be very concerned about her figuring out who he really is. I am very aware though that I'm doing a lot of work to interpret it the way I want. On surface appearance, Eliot's just flirting with an attractive woman, like he did on the last show. And that's probably the intention, too.

But the real nail in the coffin for me was when Sophie compared herself and Nate to Eliot and Maria. That was a genuine scene, not the continuation of the teasing from before. And Sophie is the one whose insight into people is always, always trustworthy. She is family to the thiefsome. For this to make any sense, either Eliot/Parker/Hardison isn't a thing, or they are and Sophie doesn't know - and I can't imagine why in the hell she wouldn't know.

Any argument to make them still canon leaves me unsatisfied. If she knows and they haven't admitted it to her - why wouldn't they, after all this time? Why would she not have picked up on it even without an outright announcement? Some people suggested they wouldn't admit it because they thought Nate would be weird about it, but that doesn't seem any more in character to me than the other possibilities. In fact, the only option that doesn't go against my understanding of these people and their observational abilities/the close relationship they share.... is that the thiefsome is not a thing.

And furthermore, the implication of this conversation - especially the way it ended, with Eliot stomping off looking embarrassed while Sophie smiled knowingly - is that Eliot will get into another relationship onscreen. Maybe not a full-blown romantic relationship. But the Maria Shipp tension is going to be resolved somehow, and at this point I'm half-expecting a hook-up simply because of Sophie's reaction and how much I trust her judgement of such things. Even if she's letting her grief cloud her usual perceptiveness... it feels iffy.

It just kinda feels like I wasn't even allowed to keep my "interpret these hints/maybe they are" thiefsome that I expected after the first couple episodes convinced me we wouldn't get outright confirmation. (I mean, I will anyway, and I love the hints and allusions regardless.) And while I'm definitely not the kind of fan who is dependent on canon for my ships, and still enjoy all their interactions/will keep right on headcanoning them all in a relationship, it's just.... a bummer.

Feels like a real cop-out. Like the hints of Breanna being queer are enough to meet their quota and they won't try anything 'risky' like a poly relationship. I dunno. It's annoying.

.

That's the end of the list! Again, overall I love the new show a lot and have few complaints.

[boltwrites]

Misfits - Chapter 2

Fandom: Star Wars - Clone Wars / The Bad Batch Pairing: The Bad Batch / Reader (Polyamorous) Rating: M (Rating May Change) Tags: Polyamorous Relationship, Force-Sensitive Reader, Slow Burn

Work Summary: After a year working with the 501st, you've been assigned a new post - Clone Force 99, aka the Bad Batch. You're concerned about the transition - you found it hard enough to fit in with the 501st, and now you had to acclimate to an entirely new squad. As it turns out, the Bad Batch is very accommodating.

Chapter Summary:  You're started to settle in with the Bad Batch. Introductions are in order, but one in particular leads down a path you never expected.

read it on ao3 | or read more below

You had said goodbye to Rex only a few minutes prior. He had wrapped you in a tight hug and told you not to get into too much trouble, and you had to try really, really hard not to start crying in front of your new squad. He’d waved as you entered their transport, and instead of dwelling on those emotions – loss, sadness, anxiety – you’d pushed them to the back of your mind. You learned long ago that acting as if they didn’t exist wouldn’t help anything, but right now, you needed to compartmentalize. You hardly knew these men, and you didn’t want to freak them out by sobbing about leaving your best friend behind.

The men in question had since been introduced to you by Hunter. The tall, slender clone who liked to lean against the side of the ship like some half-baked deathstick dealer was Crosshair, a sharpshooter and sniper. You probably should have figured that, judging by the tattoo that encircled his eye. When Hunter introduced you, he had made a noncommittal noise, looked you up and down, and then decided you weren’t very interesting, instead walking his way back to the cockpit. You hoped he was just antisocial, and didn’t hate nat borns, or women, or something.

The big burly one was Wrecker, who had wasted no time in offering you a big smile and a firm clap on the back. Honestly, you thought he was going to hug you – and maybe he was, and then he thought better of it.

“You’re our new Jedi, huh?” he had asked with a broad smile? You offered him a somewhat hesitant one back – he was intimidating, after all. He was broad and muscular like you had never seen on a clone before, and the large scar that encompassed half of his forehead and a good portion of his scalp was distracting. It made him look hardened and dangerous, but with his jovial tone, you soon found out he was anything but menacing.

“Yeah, guess I am?” you answered with a nervous laugh.

“She’s a force-sensitive, Wreck, not a Jedi. She doesn’t answer to the Council.” Hunter had clarified. You were somewhat shocked that he cared about the difference – but, then again, he had seemed pleased that you weren’t a part of the Order, likely because it meant you had less rules to follow.

“Oh, yeah!” Wrecker had grinned, clapping you on both shoulders now, as he leaned down to grin at you. You had laughed a little harder, because you were starting to see now, by both his force signature and in his voice, that he was really just a big goofball. “I never liked the Jedi anyway!”

“Weren’t you just expressing how excited you were for ‘our new Jedi?’”

That had come from the one with the glasses – er, goggles? You weren’t exactly sure what they were, or if he needed them for his bad eyesight or just tactical reasons. Either way, he adjusted him on his face as Hunter introduced him as Tech. It wasn’t difficult to figure out what his specialty was – much like it was easy to deduce that Wrecker liked to punch things in addition to blowing things up. Tech, of course, handled a lot of technical issues and data – but you were actually shocked at the fact that he wasn’t, well… tiny.

Tech was taller than Hunter, and even Rex, as he peered down at you through his glasses. He took your hand and shook it – you could tell just by his grip that he was used to intricate work – robotics, droid work, rewiring datapads – fiddly things that required a steady hand. You had nodded politely to him as he greeted you.

The last member of the team, and perhaps the most elusive, was Echo. He was paler than the others, and studded with prosthetics – most prominently, the jack that his hand had been substituted with. He had an aura about him in the force that spoke of pain – not the pain of war that the rest of the squad exuded, no. This was a deeper pain, something profound and lasting, and you had a feeling it had to do with that arm, and the bolts in his skull, and the way his cheekbones still looked sharper than that of even Crosshair.

“You’re from the 501st?” he had asked, after Hunter had led you to the cockpit and left to look at something in Tech’s travel plans for the route to their next mission. You were alone, but Echo still gazed out the front of the transport into hyperspace, his flesh hand fiddling with the textured armrest of the captain’s chair.

“Yeah – I’ve worked with them for the past year, most of the time. I get contracted out from the unit to do a lot of stealth work that the Jedi obviously can’t be pulled for. Stuff like this, I guess,” you shrugged. Echo had hummed in acknowledgement, glancing at you, almost curious.

“Were you with the 501st when Captain Rex last worked with… Clone Force 99?”

The wording was strange. Rex had mentioned to your that this squad usually referred to themselves as “the Bad Batch” due to their mutations. But Echo was more cautious – he almost hesitated on the name. His force signature didn’t give away much more – it only told you that he was being careful with his words, that he didn’t trust you quite yet. Which, honestly, was to be expected.

“No. Anaxes, right?” Echo nodded, and you shook your head. “No – I was on a stealth mission. Well, I guess it couldn’t really be called a stealth mission… I was working with a pirate named Hondo Onaka. Think I might have rather been on Anaxes.”

You chuckled, trying to make light of it. You knew Anaxes has been a mess, and honestly you had felt horrible leaving behind the 501st in order to take on what you considered a useless political mission. You knew the campaign had been long, grueling, and complicated, and you always felt guilty when you weren’t by Rex and Anakin’s side to help with something so important.

“Ah,” Echo made a soft noise, picking at some scoring marks on his socket arm. You bit your lip at the awkwardness that permeated the room, the conversation stagnating at Echo dwelled on… something.

“I used to be a part of the 501st,” he finally admitted, glancing up at you. His eyes said more than his lips – there was sadness, there. It was hidden behind his soldier’s veneer of indifference, but you could tell by the way he looked at you that his transfer to Bad Batch hadn’t been as straightforward as your own.

“Yeah?” you asked, sitting down in the co-pilot’s chair next to him. He nodded, sighing, relaxing into the chair before shooting you a glance.

“Yeah. Made ARC trooper at one point. Me and Fives – me and Fives.”

His eyes had gleamed the first time he said it – but as he repeated Fives, his face fell, and your own did as well, your first clenching.

“Oh,” you breathed, and he glanced at you, ducking down to try to make out your expression.

“You knew him?”

“He talked about you – I had – I’m stupid,” you laughed, trying not to think about Fives. You hadn’t known him or Tup long before the incident, but Fives had showed you the ropes, along with Rex. You got along with him easily – he had been funny, and kind, and if he tried to flirt with you a few times you just put it up to you being the only woman available.

You remembered him talking briefly about Echo – he had only mentioned Echo once, with gritted teeth and a set jaw, mumbling something about a previous mission, and how he and a fellow ARC trooper had handled the situation. You could tell that it pained him to mention his comrade – that this Echo had likely died – and you didn’t press the subject. You knew, even then, that Fives didn’t deal well with loss. Ironic, then, how he was the one to cause so die, to cause the grief himself.

“I worked with him, before…” you gestured vaguely, and Echo nodded, not wanting you to mention Fives’s death himself.

“He thought I died at the Citadel. Everyone did,” Echo sighed, staring out at the hyperspace lane. “Maybe I did.”

You stared at him. In the force, his emotions were a tangled mess – grief, both for Fives and himself. Pain – not only physical, but emotional, spiritual. You couldn’t fathom what happened to him – you could look at this physical evidence of his cybernetic appendages, more similar to those of a droid than any prosthetics you had seen before. You could see the pallor in his face, the way his cheekbones jut from his face, how he had squinted far too severely in the light of the Coruscanti sun. He had been through something that you couldn’t fathom, something you would never truly understand, even if he did wish to explain it to you.

But despite that, you could still feel him in the force. When he spoke of Fives – the way his signature sparked let you know that he didn’t just know Fives. You could tell they had worked together for years, that they had likely grown up together. The rest of the Batch – their signatures sang in harmony because they had grown up together, because they had known each other for many years. And you initially hadn’t caught onto Echo’s dissonance – the way that he was trying to fit in with them, but how he didn’t fit in quite as easily as the other men. And now you knew why. It was because, while he had changed, he still held onto those bonds. Rex, Fives, the rest of the 501st – even though whatever Echo had endured, those were still his brothers.

“Not completely,” you mumbled, looking down. You could feel Echo’s eyes on you, so you sighed and continued. “You – you still care about them. Those men. They may not be your men anymore – and I guess they aren’t mine, either – but you care for them. That has to count for something.”

When you looked up, Echo caught your eye. His expression was unreadable, and his signature betrayed nothing. He was hard to read already – the cybernetics clouded your judgement – but you could tell that he didn’t exactly know what he thought of your statement.

“Yeah. Maybe it does,” Echo mumbled to himself, staring out across hyperspace, as stars flew by, exploding behind his eyes as he contemplated his place among them.

After that, the silence wasn’t quite so awkward. It was comforting, almost. You knew that it wasn’t the same – that although you and Echo were both former members of the 501st, that the circumstances were wildly different. But you still felt a kinship with him. Because he still knew Anakin, and Rex, and Fives, and Jesse, and Kix, and all the others. Because he probably played the same drinking games you had with the men, he had fought beside them as you did, and he had watched them die, as you had. You knew he wasn’t ready to talk, and perhaps he never would be. But if he ever was, you would be ready to listen.

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taglist (get added!)

@killtherandomness @pastelpanda19

[solomonish]

breathe deep, breathe clear, and know that i'm here (solomon x reader)

When the tendrils of doubt start to wrap around you, how do you battle them when your new state of existence is entirely unknown?

ao3 link here!

CW: F!MC

When Solomon finally found her stumbling through the enchanted woods in a daze, he considered scooping her up in his arms and carrying her out of the forest, never to return. Every second spent away from her sent a sharp fear through his chest. Immortal as she was, she was not indestructible, and the creatures inhabiting the woods could be unexpectedly dangerous. Even with the experiences she's had with magic, there was so much she didn't know - there was so much ignorance that could still kill her.

Instead, he settled for running to her and holding her close, tucking her into himself tightly as if trying to force their bodies to meld. He could feel her tense, then relax, tremors taking over that he knew better than to comment on. As her shoulders heaved, Solomon couldn't tell if they were sobs or gasps for breath, but he rubbed her back soothingly anyway. Eventually, her hands weakly found purchase in the back of his shirt, and he placed a gentle kiss to the crown of her head.

Solomon didn't pull back until he was absolutely sure she had calmed down, and even then he took her hands in his and rubbed his thumb over Lucifer's ring. She was here, and as long as it was still on, everything was fine. Everything was fine.

Except everything was not fine. She insisted on staying in the woods until Solomon found the roots he was looking for, even after his protests and offers to leave. They walked hand-in-hand until nightfall, slowly traversing the uneven ground and looking for the small, purple flowers that marked their targets. They prepared to leave the forest with a sizable bundle of the plants, and as they crossed the final bridge, Solomon noticed MC stop and stare out over the ravine. The long shadows cast seemed to swirl with the unnatural fog settled within the cliffsides, so dark even the full moon couldn't permeate it. As silent tears streamed down her cheeks, he noticed those that fell, could.

"When will you get tired of me?" She asked, her voice small and shaking. The way she watched the fig beneath her, Solomon wondered if she thought it would swallow her whole, or maybe even hoped it would.

"What do you mean?" Tentatively, he inched closer to her. The simple suspension bridge swayed with his movement, but she didn't seem to mind.

"How many things have you gotten bored of before? How many pacts do you no longer call upon? Even some magic can't capture your attention sometimes." The sadness in her tone was palpable the more she spoke, eventually straining her voice so she could hardly push the words out. Solomon had heard pain in the voices of many, but it never hurt as much as it did to hear from her. 

Telling her how many of his pacts were one-time necessities or formed more as an impulse for more power seemed in poor taste. How many of his pacts did he make, knowing he wouldn't need them? How many demons were tethered to him, knowing they would never be called on by him again yet having to be ready just in case? Swallowing past the lump growing in his throat, he kept the questions to himself lest she think he'd ever string her along in the same way.

Of course she'd imagine magic to be boring for him when he's spent so long studying it. Even the more complicated, dazzling spells were familiar to him. But magic was ever-changing, and he was always finding something new about it to explore. Besides, he could never grow bored of magic when she was around to excite him.

Solomon didn't know how to articulate his thoughts. He just knew that he loved her, and he loved her so deeply it hurt. With still nothing coming to mind, he stayed silent. Oh, how he wished he had said something, anything to get her mind off of her own thoughts, just to share himself the heartache of hearing what she had to say. When she opened her mouth, she spoke with more conviction, looking up at him with wide, wet eyes and yet not a quiver in her voice.

"I can't think of anything I have that'll get you to want to stay."

The breath in Solomon's throat hitched for a moment. With her eyes searching his, he felt something like a criminal, knowing he had done something wrong and forced to wait for a punishment he knew would be inevitable. His silence seemed the trial, and after a moment, her face fell and she looked away. Caught between wanting to bring her gaze back to him so he could repent and not wanting to see her desolate face, Solomon only stood in place dumbly.

Giving a bitter laugh, she shrugged as if she could shake off her burdens. "I mean, you shouldn't have to pick up everyone else's discarded pieces. And against angels and demons, and even other sorcerers, I really don't compare."

Hadn't he thought something similar? During the exchange program, when he realized he was one of what seemed like a thousand people competing for her affections, he thought he knew how it would play out. He wasn't a demon, who's hulking form, unnatural charm and eerie good looks could haunt her for her entire life. He wasn't an angel that could offer her paradise and unquestionable love. All he was was barely human, the only pieces of himself she could ever like hidden behind centuries of masks and non-answers. 

When she chose him, took his hand proudly in front of all the brothers and defended her choice, he thought for sure his starstruck face and the brothers' envious stares were enough to drive home how intensely her attention was sought after. But to hear her worry over the same things - to wonder if she was replaceable when he was the one with ten people lining up behind him, ten people he knew would never let her go - was enough to force his heart to crack right down the middle.

"I'm not built for immortality, Solomon." Looking down, she fiddled with the ring on her finger as two teardrops fell on the back of her hand. He could hear despair gripping her, and he felt powerless to battle it away. "I don't want to do this alone."

Finally, he felt he could move and he took her in his arms again, holding her close to him protectively. Though he knew it to be impossible, he hoped he could block any more doubts from finding their way to her, as if his arms alone could be a shield. As he looked over her shoulder, he saw the many spirits weaving between the trees, curiously watching the intruders on their home from behind the branches. He swore he saw something else behind a trunk, watching with satisfaction as MC shook in his arms - though he had half a mind to charge forward and destroy it for daring to take pleasure in her pain, not a fiber in his being wanted to separate himself from her. Instead, he shut his eyes and buried his face in her hair, rubbing her back in an attempt at soothing her. 

"You won't be alone," he promised as the more important words got caught in his throat. 

Solomon understood her fear and the creeping feeling of being replaceable. It was only natural when you thought you had to live on such a short time limit. Time felt limited, like there was none to spare for falling in love or mourning the loss of anyone. He understood feeling as if he had to scramble from person to person in fear the time may slip away, and he knew how it felt to worry others may do that to you. He had 72 pacts and a collection of scorned lovers to prove it.

People were not replaceable, and they were never boring. Each person Solomon has ever loved has remained trapped in his heart, and humans had a desire to remember every person they've ever loved even beyond their years on earth. He wasn't sure how to tell her that she would never grow boring to him - that she would continue to evolve, because the very nature of her human being didn't change with her immortality. It was a fact he found difficult to accept himself, but people evolved continuously, even after a thousand years. Those who only live out their typical lifespan just don't have enough time to see it.

But his own stagnation compared to the world made him yearn for something, anything that might stay. MC wasn't entirely unfounded in her fears; the world would leave her behind, family and friends would be ripped from her and she'd have eternity to grapple with the pain. But Solomon knew he could never leave her - that even if she did die, he would carry her with him for eternity 

MC was everything he could ever think to hope for. It would just take time for her to figure it out, and they both had all the time in the world. He would stick by her side while she sorted things out, and he would stay there for the rest of time after. But for now, he held her tightly, hoping it was enough of a signal that he was here to stay.

[zorkaya-moved]

❛  let  him  go ,  it’s  not  worth  it .  ❜ > late but :))) Beatrice ❤️

@wonderloste

The succubus’ voice sounds beautiful to those who hear it, but the charm has never been an ability to capture the ever-cold heart of winter ‘till it came from the place of a warm heart. Valentin was the only one who was able to warm her heart, to welcome the spring without the drowning of the Morana’s doll, there was no sharpness and no harshness to his touch. Her beloved was a King in both title and in his heart, she heard from others how he changed over the course of centuries; she doesn’t believe her change will ever come for she did not harbor hatred nor love for this land. What is the opposite emotion of love? It wasn’t hatred; it was indifference. Her heart only cried for the loss of her heart and her sunshine, warmth would no longer exist within her. Her home from her world is gone from reach, her home here will never wake up; there is no way to go, there is only stagnation. She no longer has a place to return and to belong to. It was the nightmare she never wished to encounter, the moment of despair and the moment of loss.

If only Beatrice didn’t say anything, her end might’ve been less cruel. As if.

Does she even need to spare any time for this woman? Less than dirt under her boots, Zarina remains silent as she places one last kiss on Valentin’s forehead. A silent farewell.

The silence doesn’t last long.

The sound flesh being pierced with a sharp object is heard from behind, the blood splatter taints her silver hair. Zarina is silent as she knows exactly what is going on. She doesn’t need to turn around to know that one of the ice spears created behind Beatrice has pierced her shoulder in less than a blink of an eye. Does she wish to start a monologue? How pitiful. Sokolova lets the ice embrace everything, with a sigh out the ground beneath her was covered in frost and ice, she can hear the demon jumping away, dragging the icy spear out, but forgetting that it continues to spread the frost into her very bones and bloodstream. It’s already too late as the natural disaster could care less about what anyone tries to put in front of it. A disaster is called one for a reason.

The maiden of winter and death stands up after making sure the body of Romanov is carefully stored inside an ice coffin. It makes her think of the Snow White tale, but this sleeping beauty will never open his eyes ever again. His sunshine smile will not grace this land and bring spring, and then summer, into wonderland anymore. So why should anyone who allowed this to happen remain here? All of these people only relied on Valentin to save them, but now that he isn’t here? Ah, she can hear the soldiers whisper ‘Alice’ all around her. They have never seen anyone aside from ‘Alice.’ Only Valentin and Darcy have called her by her name, only they have seen her as who she is and they would have remained the only two saved if such were to come when Valentin was alive. 

These Wonderlanders… As if they were worth more than a speck of dust from up the shelves, they are a sore to her eyes and she wants it to be quiet. Deathly quiet. They think she will become their savior who will protect them from Beatrice, it must be nice to have hope that someone will save them from this tyranny. They are weak, meaningless, faceless to her now. They’d look better as statues. Statues made of ice. But they continue to cheer, not understanding that they should’ve run for their lives as well. She can sense every single one of them, the frost covering the ground tells her exact numbers and she will be able to silence them all: with spikes, with needles, with frostbites.

Alice!

Alice!

Alice!

They are so noisy.

With a wave of her hand, Zarina silences them as well. The screams echo and it becomes even more troublesome; the looks of shock and surprise and betrayal are now present on everyone’s face, but it’s too late. Similarly to Vlad the Impaler, she brings his name up in the way how the white snowy ground is now colored in red, red, red. It happens too quickly, such is her mercy on them. The snow starts to fall from the skies, it gives her a wider range to understand how others move. Every snowflake is a weapon in the hands of an Ice Elemental of Natural Disaster, it could turn into anything in a blink of an eye.

They do, turning countless figures upon landing on the ground. She can hear Beatrice’s scream and her clawing at her arm that has turned into ice and continues to her shoulder. She almost looks beautiful like that, looking in shock, but Sokolova doesn’t pay attention to her as much as she places her hand on the head of one of the created ‘nightmares.’ Its eyes shine white, it hits the ground with its heavy tail, the empress of ice and snow will let them loose on those who is still alive. Immortals or not, they will be turned to ice and remain here, evermore.

“ Don’t let anyone escape, ” Zarina says in the midst of the screams as she sends the creatures of nightmares after those who are running away from the battlefield. Monsters, monsters, monsters… Humans. Everything is only limited to the imagination of the one who creates the warriors of ice. From animals to human figures to mythical creatures she got to see in books and in Wonderland. They feel nothing, they feel no pain and they only have one mission: to annihilate. The moment Wonderland lost King of Hearts, they’ve lost all hope. The moment the only chain holding back the beast was broken, all Hell broke loose. The frost will cover the Kingdom of Hearts, coloring it into white and red, drowning its frigid ground in scarlet liquid and tears of those who tried to go against their evident fate to be killed by the hands of the frigid apocalypse.

As the creatures of her ‘mercy’ would go off, Zarina finally brings her attention back to the one who started it all. Instead of letting her escape, she makes sure the ground has her frozen in place. The icy hands that appear from the snow tug at her hair and at her limbs, digging their nails into the flesh. As if magic will work here now. Sokolova can feel the ice climb to her own neck now (ready to suffocate the last remains of humanity), she breathes out steam and her eyes glow dangerously as she looks at Beatrice. 

Who is the monster now?

“ Let your life go, it’s not worth it. ” She says to her, tilting her head to the side. Apathetic, she is wholly and fully apathetic in her delivery. Monotone can rival that one of Jabberwocky, certainly. Zarina knows she must remain vigilant, but as the blood spills behind and in front and around, she is aware of everything that is happening all too well. How is the Queen of Hearts rendered to this in such a short period of time? No, it’s not short― for she is able to get out, but it’s all meaningless. She underestimated the current ‘Alice’ and Zarina isn’t one to let her prey escape, especially when it came to revenge. Their battle may become legendary, but there is no one to witness this legend.

Someone growls. Someone attacks. Someone avoids. Someone repels. Someone falls. Someone gets up. Someone, someone, someone.

There is no soul to tell the tale of how ‘Alice’ and Queen of Hearts fought. There is only blood, blood, and more blood.

… … …

The land of Hearts is silent aside from the gut-wrenching screams coming from one who had once ruled this land unfairly. The Queen of Hearts’s body is mangled, broken, but still alive. The tools made of ice float around her, covered in scarlet as Zarina sit on her self-created chair, putting her elbow on the armrest and watching the work done with surgical precision. Each cut, each sting, each hit. Is Beatrice missing teeth? Is she missing fingers and are those fingers missing nails? Are her limbs still attached? Is her eye present? Is she blind? Countless questions can be asked about the current state of the ‘Queen’ who has taken away the only important person in the elemental’s life.

Zarina can feel the ice taking away her humanity, it lingers at its last strings, but she cannot let herself yet give in to the mutation. There is still some things to be done, she cannot break down. But she notices, she’s been torturing Beatrice for hours on end without stopping, finding each and every way to let her live yet be unable to attack, to do anything but hopelessly cry and scream, but it will not bring back Valentin. It will not. But it continues. Beatrice’s screams continue, but nothing reaches Sokolova Zarina’s ears, she is absent-minded in receiving this: torture has never been something she enjoyed doing. This is nothing but retribution. For taking away what was hers.

Was she doing this for Valentin? She doesn’t know anymore. 

It was her own selfish desire, her own selfish wish to see this woman suffer as much as she could make her. When Beatrice begged, Zarina would give her a glimpse of hope before dropping yet another couple of drops of her own blood on the woman’s skin or into her wounds, bringing even more hellish screams out of her. After all, now Sokolova’s blood was at its strongest and most dangerous. Akin to liquid nitrogen, but so much stronger now. It must’ve been scary to watch this, the ashen haired maiden seemed bored with this showcase yet she continued with the same determination and attention to detail as always. Cruel, merciless, unforgiving, judging, bored. The boredom found its way into her heart, shutting away her emotions before she got up. She should find a way to kill this immortal but for now she’ll be continuously tortured for days and days, there will be days where she’ll catch a break to get some hope only for it be taken away: again, and again, and again. There will be no rest for the wicked.

As she gets up from her throne, it dissipates into snowflakes and then into nothingness. The Kingdom of Hearts cannot be recognized anymore. There are countless statues frozen in time, once soldiers and once allies/friends who Valentin brought to fight the one who was begging to be killed. Sokolova isn’t merciful and kind enough to let her get what she wants as she passes by, but the tools continue their work even without Zarina’s presence. Everything created from ice belongs to her and is controlled by her, never-ending and it will never stop. They are semi-sentient, they’ll remain doing what they were ordered until they are broken or let go. Such is the disastrous power of an Elemental, the ability to end the life of a planet. However, Sokolova has one last thing she wishes to do as she waves her hand again and lets the coffin with the body of her beloved float next to her as she walks down the roads towards the Castle of Hearts.

She doesn’t care for the furniture, for the design, for anything that is already dead.

Zarina passes the gates. The gardens. The halls. She enters the room with the throne that belongs to Valentin Romanov - the King of Heart. And then, the one who was called ‘Alice’ by everyone but two people opens the coffin and picks up the one who made everything before worth it, but no more. Carrying him bridal style, Zarina finally feels her iron will start to crack as each step forward and towards the throne makes her sob louder and her shoulders shake as she cannot feel any warmth within herself or in her hands. Her body up to her neck is ice and frost, almost transparent to eyes. But it doesn’t matter, what matters is that with each step her mind returns to the memories created with her heart, her soul, her king.

His smile. His laugh. His strength. His flaws. His strengths. His everything. 

From the moment they met to the point where they are right now. It all breaks the dam of her cold control, making her sob and weep for the one who had departed without even saying goodbye. Step after step, memory after memory that shatters into nothingness, and then when she is right in front of the throne that remained untouched, does Zarina apologize to Valentin once more before placing him on the throne, settling him down as he was supposed to be here. Instead of simply leaving, she reaches her hand up to his cheek, the skin slowly started to transform into ice itself as it did with all those statues outside. He will remain here, eternally, frozen in time but only his shell.

“ Прости меня, Валентин… Прости меня, ” Zarina’s voice breaks as she falls to her knees, covering her face and crying loudly. In this silent kingdom and in this empty room, only her sobs are heard and will be heard for the next hour.

Only until they become quiet and the woman feels her body become heavier. Only then she glances one last time at the frozen statue of the King of Hearts before walking out of the room, shutting the door behind and leaving her beloved’s face behind. Her steps echo in the empty halls, in the frozen gardens, in the abandoned halls. There is no rot anymore, only ice and snow.

And when she exists through the gates, the White Rabbit is there. As always. Ever present. Zarina meets his gaze and he will see the heartbreak, the pain, the despair. She who has never shown anything but confidence and strength now succumbed to the grief of loss, stumbling forward and almost falling down before him. She no longer looks like a human, not with the exposed skin looking ice, reflecting the light of the cold Sun. With her eyes glowing in golden and white, pupil changing into something else, not with fangs peaking out when she opens her mouth to say something but nothing comes but and she shuts her lips tight before passing by.

Wonderland will remain silent, frozen in time, but she could give less of a fuck about this land and its people. Her reason to live here disappeared, she will never bring it back and she will never find it again.

Only with time later does Zarina finally stop, she knows Darcy White follows every footstep without speaking out until it’s allowed. With a heavy heart does the woman sit down under another frozen tree, leaning against it with her back. Her golden eyes find the White Rabbit and she can feel the ice slowly start to leave her neck, but it’s too late. She knows sooner or later, the metamorphosis will find her, but she hopes it’ll kill her. She hopes this is the end, but for now, she’ll be here, watch the white and the silent.

“ I don’t feel anything. ” Zarina says, closing her eyes. “ Only void. ” No anger, no grief, no happiness; nothing. “ Only cold. ” Her lips tremble as she thinks of Romanov once again, it makes her heart ache despite the void and cold. He’s not here to fill the abyss and to warm the winter. He’s not here. He’s not going to be back. “ I hope they all died, every single last one of them. ”

So there will be no more Wonderland.

[linkspooky]

Eren and Historia

Eren and Historia have a connection to one another. No, I don’t think they are romantically connect, nor do I believe they are co-conspirators plotting to destroy the world together. However, the narrative is pushing the idea that Eren and HIstoria are somehow connected and continually pushing them next to each other.  Eren kissing Historia’s ring is the trigger for his vision that commits him to the path of destroying the world. Eren uses Historia as a reason to accelerate his plan. Eren confides his plan solely in Historia. The reason  this line is drawn between the two characters is that they are CHARACTER FOILS. Eren and Historia are two people who seem like opposites but they’re actually incredibly similiar to one another. Almost too similiar to ever et along. The extreme similarities between Eren and Historia, and their character foiling underneath the cut. 

1. Historia’s Regression

So I’ve gotten countless asks on my opinion of Historia’s behavior in the final arc. My opinion is that we’re being shown the result of her regression to her pre-uprising arc self. Is this the best writing choice for Historia’s character? I do not know. There are two schools of literary analysis that boil down to “Is the writing good?” or “what is the author trying to say?” and I much prefer to stick to the latter. I think the text is attempting to portray Historia regressing on her character arc, and as a person to mirror Eren’s own regression. 

Everybody is regressing in the final arc. Armin lets his poor self-esteem sabotage his decision making ability like he did in Trost. Mikasa is struggling to find a way to live without Eren and see herself as a person seperate from Eren because of her codependent nature, once again like Trost. Annie wants to pretend that this all has nothing to do with her, like in the female titan arc. Hange can’t make a decision without Erwin around and wants to leave it all up to him even though he’s literally dead. The characters in the final arc are written as still struggling with what we think they should have gotten over with in earlier arcs. Heck, Jean still beats up Reiner over what happened to Marco.

It’s not because after all this time the characters haven’t progressed in their character arcs at all. It’s because the story structure of Attack on Titan is chiastic. The beginning and the end are written to mirror each other. 

Chiastic structure, or chiastic pattern, is a literary technique in narrative motifs and other textual passages. An example of chiastic structure would be two ideas, A and B, together with variants A' and B', being presented as A,B,B',A'.

Sometimes instead of character development being a straight journey from point A to point B, it’s instead more like a helicopter hovering around the point, continually circling it. The character has brief moments of revelation where you think they’ve had their big change only to regress later. Lemme use this example from Tokyo Ghoul to illustrate my idea. 

A character seems to be progressing, and we believe they are, only to regress in the end. I think narratively there is a very strong reason for Isayama using this style of character development. Every single major character is either a child soldier right now just barely on the cusp of adulthood, or they like Levi were child soldiers at one point or another. The adults, few that they are, are all either cast as incapable of acting as strong decisive role models (Hange) or are killed off eventually (Erwin). 

It’s like what Magath expresses in his final words, these children were never allowed to have a normal life because of him. If the narrative is about the evils of using child soldiers on both sides, both the Scouting Corps and Marleyans, then it would make sense that every single character is portrayed as either a child unable to grow up or an adult that has continually failed them. 

What we are being shown is every major character with an arc struggling with being unable to truly grow past who they were as children. Even when given the oppurtunity to grow, they falter with it, because they are child soldiers stunted by their trauma and that’s not an easy thing to overcome. Rather than a straight line we’re shown a circular process. Gabi and Falco are the only characters being shown with fully straight line arcs, but they are also far simpler than the other characters because they are children, and not stunted adults acting like children. Armin is passive, day dreaming, indecisive like he was when he was a child. Mikasa is overly attached to Eren like she was when she was a child. Heck, even Connie’s major flawed decision this arc is wanting his mother to return. Whcih is a symbol of wanting to return to the safety of childhood that he was suddenly and abruptly cut off from. 

Okay, that was a long tangent but I hope I have made my point on what I mean by regression. Eren and Historia are paralleled with each other because they more than anyone else, are regressing to their childhood selves. Where we see at least hints of progress with other characters (Armin, MIkasa, Jean) indication that they will eventually rise to the responsibility of adulthood we see only stagnation for these two characters. It’s because once again Eren and Historia are incredibly similiar as people. Heck, even the fact that they’re regressing the most is paralleled. The same chapter in which Eren declares he’s using the child Ymir’s power to destroy the world, we’re shown a flashback of Historia first and foremost. 

Eren empathizes with little girl Ymir, and Historia was told as a child that she should learn to be like Ymir, always kind and always putting others first. They both see themselves in Ymir and it symbolizes why they are connected, because deep down they are both that powerless little child. 

There are two big connections between Eren and Historia immediately. Number one is that the inciting incident of their trauma is the same. Yes, Historia grew up in a household where she was eteranlly bullied and belittled where Eren grew up fairly love and secured but they both suffer from the same traumatic incident. 

A titan suddenly killed the person who was the symbol of unconditional love and security in their lives, for Eren it was his mother, and for Historia her older sister. In a situaiton where they were completely powerless, they watched a titan kill their security and destroy their home and are rendered homeless children after that point. They both join the titan corps as a way of survival. The reason that Eren is shown encouraging his father to pull the trigger and completely eliminate the Reiss family, is because narratively these two events are supposed to be connected. They’re narrative parallels. Eren suffered the loss of his mother which is the root of his trauma, and then has a hand in inflicting that same trauma on Historia. 

They are two people connected by the nature of their worst trauma and what it did to them. Every time they try to progress as people, they instead regress because what happened then was so fundamanetally damaging it robbed them of the ability to be able to grow up. They will never feel like they have the security that children need in order to grow into adults. 

Historia and Eren are mirror images even in their lives. Eren is an ordinary child given an ordinary childhood. Historia was marked as different from birth and raised as a special person. However, they ended up in relatively the same position. They both regress. The nature of Eren’s regression should be obvious because he’s trying to destroy the world. In essence Eren has remained the same character all throughout, his primary goal was to kill all the titans beyond the walls, it’s just his target that has changed. 

So, let’s focus instead of how Historia has regressed. I will say before I begin though that Eren and Historia regress as opposites. Eren will always choose to be active, even if it means stealing agency from others. Historia will always choose to be passive, even if she has power over others. When they are pushed into a corner by circumstances they fall back on their worst habits and that’s why we see them regress. Externally, they have different mechanisms to handle it. Eren steals agency, Historia gives up agency. Internally, it’s practically for the same reason, because whatever security they have is continually ripped away from them leaving them unable to grow as people. 

So what is Historia’s regression? Basically Historia, like Eren is lacking of a sense of self. Historia has no consistency deep down to show who she is. Even with most of the other characters as childish as they can be have this, Mikasa is overprotective and likes family, Armin is a dreamer who wants to explore the world, Annie is self centered and wants a peaceful life. Eren even comments about this in regards to himself when comparing himself to Eren. Eren centers himself around violence, war, and his hatred. Armin has something else besides fighting, in order to build himself around. Therefore, Eren considers himself lacking as a person in comparison to Armin. Who would Eren be if he wasn’t trying to destroy all the titans? That’s a difficult question to answer. 

Historia is much the same way. Historia builds herself and her self of identity around the roles that other people ask her to play. The little girl Ymir is kind because she always did what others ask of her. Historia is always performing some role for the sake of everybody around her. 

I wouldn’t say that Historia’s arc in Uprising ends on a triumphant note, but rather an ambiguous one. The arcs aren’t lines, they’re circular. Historia even questions herself if she’s moving for the sake of herself or others. 

Here is how I see uprising. Your interpretation might differ. Historia steps out of the role of Krista. Historia, tries to be herself for a moment. At the end of the arc, rather than true liberation Historia chooses to step back into the role of queen. The only slight progress made is that she doesn’t entirely listen to Erwin’s orders. However, even her act of slaying a titan within the wall was a pre-planend action, a performance. It’s just one Historia altered slightly to give herself a more centered role.

If Historia is not someone moving to help others than who is she? We know she’s spunky, angry, etc. etc. but as a character she hasn’t really developed goals or wants and needs outside of that. We continually see her on the brink of that point, but never quite crossing the line. 

Eren and Historia are at the center of their existence very performative people. The reason nobody quite understands Eren is that he’s always putting on an act around other people. 

Eren and HIstoria even doubt the same things in chapter 68. That is to say, they doubt themselves. They doubt if they are really truly people who are capable of moving for themselves. Eren sees himself as someone who has nothing special about him, and therefore doesn’t matter. Deep down he’s always viewed himself as a weak and pathetic person. Historia doesn’t think she’s capable of making decisions for herself. It’s because they’ve been continually made to feel helpless all of their lives, that they doubt themselves to this degree. 

Their response to this is to perform for everyody else around them. Eren si continually performing as this super strong, determined child ready to fight the whole world. Whereas, Historia is performing in the roles that other people give her. She is Krista Lenz. She is the queen Historia Reiss. She is, always, always, always, what other people need her to be. Whereas, Eren performs what he wants to be, which is powerful. 

When Historia and Eren break down it is shown just how deeply similiar they are inside. They become what they continually are made to feel like, helpless children. Eren is constantly boasting about how he is going to kill all the titans, and yet deep down he’s always believed that he was all talk and that for him there was nothing behind those words. 

It’s the same for Historia just in an opposite direction. Historia is constantly talking about helping people, but deep down she doesn’t see herself as a genuinely altruistic person. Not only does she see herself as helpless (therefore incapable of helping people because she can’t help herself) but she sees her motivations for helping people as selfish. 

In the Uprising arc we even see this parallel. I mean I know many people interpret this as Historia’s big moment of independence, which is also a valid interpretation. I’m just giving you my interpretation. I also see this as Historia having a massive mental breakdown in the middle of a crisis moment. When they are pushed to their absolute limits and they can no longer pretend, Historia and Eren both break down and we see what they view themselves as. Eren sees himself as a crying and begging child insignificant, unpowerful, and helpless. Historia sees herself as a selfish child and a bad person. This is also something that reflects their upbringing. Historia was continually made to feel selfish due to being an abused bastard, for wanting even the most basic necessities a child needs like love and security. Eren had his security ripped away suddenly when his mother died and he was at the time, a helpless, crying child only able to watch. 

When Eren breaks down he says the same thing always. Nothing has changed from back then. Nothing has changed from when I saw my mother died. When Historia breaks down she says she can’t live up to the expectations of other people around her. 

Eren and Historia both see themselves as fundamentally unable to change from who they were as children, and that’s why we see them regressing to their most childlike selves here in this final arc. 

2. What is the point of Uprising Arc, then?

I know I read uprising differently from most of the people on this site. However, I’m not saying that Historia didn’t grow in Uprising at all, or even that she doesn’t have a chance to grow. Honestly, I think Uprising does a good job at portraying the complexity of Historia’s character and why it’s really, really hard for her to grow in a straightforward manner. She’s not really the heroine of the story where she defeats the bad guy, and then overcomes her flaw in a dramatic fashion at the end of the arc. 

Okay, so I’m going to try to address how Historia’s arc is still... you know, an arc, even though it doesn’t continue on in a straightforward fashion from Uprising. Uprising isn’t pointless because it shows us the great depth and complexity of HIstoria’s character, and also establishes why it is so hard for her to change. It’s not a straightforward arc, more of a dig into her psyche. Historia steps out of the role, Historia tries to be true self for a moment, Historia steps into another role at the end of the arc. It may seem pointless to read it this way, but I’m going to try to dig in from this point forward to show the complexity that this demonstrates. 

So, like I said Historia is a character who lacks a sense of self. The reason that Eren perceives this of her so strongly that it’s what forges their friendship in this arc is because Eren is the same way. 

Eren picks up on the fact that Historia was always striving to meet the expectations of everyone around her, because Eren is very much the same person. The kill all the titans thing is an act. Everyone around him believes it to such an extent that not a single person, even his closest childhood friends understood him enough until it was too late. 

Eren also tells Historia he sees her as a normal girl, because it’s who Eren wants to be accepted as, but feels like he never can be. Before I go into uprising itself there’s the big inciting events for both of them that lead into where their characters are in the lead up to Uprising. 

Eren and Historia both have a moment with their respective love interests in the prelude to this arc. Historia begs Ymir to come back with her so they can both live on as themselves. Mikasa tells Eren that he doesn’t need to be able to defeat titans, that what he did for her was showing her the small kindness of wrapping her scarf around him that day was enough for her. 

It’s Mikasa and Historia who reach out, but Ymir and Eren both refuse that closeness. Eren chooses to fight, and Ymir chooses to sacrifice herself to Reiner and Bertolt. 

I know a lot of people take issue with this writing choice, but sorry this post isn’t about the quality of the writing, just how it all comes together in the big picture. The point is, Historia and Eren are both offered what they have always wanted which is to live as themselves with a person who loves them for who they are only for it to get them taken away. 

There’s also an interesting irony written in Ymir’s death. Historia has always idealized the path of a martyr. She always thought living a good, selfless, altruistic life is what would earn her the love of her sister. 

Part of the problem is, the only source of love both Eren and Historia has was taken away so suddenly. Historia got the idea in her head, that all love was conditional and she had to act good in order to earn that love because love was never freely given to her. So Historia’s martyr act is a way to earn love. However, Ymir’s choice inflicts upon Historia the pain other people feel when she decides to martyr herself. 

The path of the martyr isn’t a good one, it’s thorny, and wracked with pain. What Ymir does is a genuine act of altruism. She makes a choice out of sympathy for both Reiner and Bertolt who have suffered all their lives just like her, and also  a belief her sacrifice will buy something for HIstoria in the bigger picture. It’s at least partially an altruistic decision, and Historia’s not happy about it at all, she’s downright bitter. Because, Historia isn’t the altruist deep down inside she pretends to be. Historia idealizes self sacrifice and selflessness, but when faced with the harsh reality and consequences of such behavior she realizes this is not what she wants. 

Ymir’s death throws the narrative Historia has always held onto into question, because she’s now the victim of somebody else’s self sacrifice. By killing herself, Ymir has also deprived Historia of her place in the world. Which sends her into self doubt. This moment of reflection is once again where we see the real Historia. 

Eren calls out the fact that Historia is actually very selfish. When she’s not performing goodness, most of her worries and actions are centered around herself. Everyone is out risking her lives, and Historia is kind of busy like “Who am I? Why won’t people love me for the real me?” These questions are selfish because they are focused and centered around the self. Historia is, egocentric in the way a child is, and the way that Eren is, because she doesn’t have a fully developed self. 

Uprising is where we’re shown very clearly that rather than having a centralized sense of self, a goal to focus herself around, all of these things normal characters have Historia is someone who wildly swings between two.

Historia is indecisive on whether or not Krista or Historia constitutes the real her. There is the act that Historia portrays on the surface as someone who always worries about others, and then her history (Gosh, golly gee I wonder why her real name is Historia... obvious symbolism is obvious). The question for HIstoria is which one she should let efine her, is she defined by the trauma she accumulated by being born into this world, or the person she wants to be. Historia’s failure to reconcile herself between the two extremes is what results in her behavior, as swinging back and forth between both.

I don’t believe that the point of uprising is to show Historia finally reconciling these two, but rather to show her wildly swinging between the two. HIstoria is someone who wildly swings between great feats of selfishness and selflessness.

We are given several hints of Historia’s progress in this arc, but also several unhealthy signs of her back sliding. For exmaple there’s the scene where Levi infamously bullies Historia into calling herself the queen.  One this scene fundamentally demosntrates what Historia’s problem is, she can’t make decisions or act for herself because she doesn’t really know what she wants. 

And when Levi beats her up and pushes her, she decides to perform again. Now the question is if you see the final climactic scene of Uprising as her triumphantly overcoming this cycle or falling back into it. My interpretation is that it portrays the swinging between. 

HIstoria, confronted with the feelings of insecurity she’s had since childhood unable to feel consistently loved or that she was even worthy of love is about to fall back on her mechanism of total and complete selflessness. Believing that her self sacrifice will at least mean she was a good person that meant something to the world, that her self sacrifice will earn her something. The reason that Eren yells I’M NOT NECESSARY is it’s because what their trauma made them feel like, and deep down what they’re afraid of hearing. 

Historia first appears entirely passive and selfless, then she takes an active role and screams she’s the worst girl on earth and she’d rather let the whole world die than sacrifice one person. Her response isn’t to reconcile these two entirely divergent selves, but rather we’re being shown her flipping between them. 

Historia declares one moment she doesn’t care about the rest of the world they can all die, and the next moment she says that if there’s a crying child she will always help. What we see is not a reconciliation so much but rather a flipping between, because it’s Historia’s tendency to swing back and forth between the two. 

Here’s my defense of my point. Uprising ends on an ambiguous note. As I’ve said above uprising doesn’t end on Historia becoming her full realized self, but rather wondering if she’s become her full realized self. 

Not only that but everything that seems like it was forward progress initially in uprising becomes undone later. Erwin is freed in Uprising, Erwin dies the next arc. Eren says he doesn’t need to become a special person to change the world, Eren is back on his bullshit by the time skip. The uprising puts the good guys in charge of the government and so now the government is no longer an obstacle to the path of saving humanity. The Jaegerists come take over in a second uprising, and the government becomes an obstacle once more. Even the decision they made to never feed Historia to a titan in order to sacrifice the world, is something the main characters go back on as they debate on whether or not to have her eat Zeke. Everything that seems like it’s forward progress becomes undone.

So why would Historia’s arc not become undone, too? This isn’t a question of quality of the writing. If you think this is a bad writing decisoin you’re completely valid I just am trying to remind you this isn’t the place to have that discussion. The deicsion to regress however, portrays the conflicts the characters are dealing with as cyclical ones. My argument is that as a whole Attack on Titan is being written as a cyclical story where characters circle. 

Eren and Historia are just the two biggest contenders of this regression. Which is why we see them conspiring together in this the final arc. (Yes there is a problem with Historia being mainly offscreened) however narratively the decisions we are shown Historia making in this arc are all passive ones. Also ones meant to pacify the people around her. 

Eren will always choose to be the activest character he possibly can, and to take agency even if it means stealing it from others. Historia will always choose to be passive, and will give up agency even if it means people steal things away from her.  

We are kept mostly out of Historia’s head. We are also kept mostly out of Eren’s head. What we are being shown recently though is a continuation of what we witnessed in uprising. Uprising ended with the question of if Historia is Krista Lenz, or Historia Reiss unresolved. 

This scene is Eren browbeating Historia into submission so she’ll go along with this plan. However, for HIstoria it’s also a confrontation with both sides of herself that she has shown to other people. Eren is basically telling HIstoria there are two wildly different hers, there is the Historia who would sacrifice herself, and the Historia who would say fuck the entire world she’s not sacrificing herself even if it makes herself the enemy of humanity. 

My argument is that the story has gone to great length to portray that to some extent, both of these HIstorias are real. Historia is someone who swings between wild feats of selfness and selfishness. Historia can say both of these things and mean them, that she wants to sacrifice herself for the sake of the world, fuck the world she wants to be herself. 

The same way Eren can imprison his friends, tell Mikasa she’s a slave, tell Armin he’s useless and that he’s despised both of them always, and also believes that he’s doing all of this for the love of his friends. Eren can say both and mean both, because he also does this inconsistent swinging back and forth. 

The foiling between the two of them shows how utterly broken Eren and Historia are as people due to the neglect they faced as children. It’s not actually a question of whether they are good or bad people. (Though Eren, is a jerk). It’s to show how unhealthy these mechanisms are. They mechanisms they rely on to survive, do not allow them to grow or develop all the way as people so they remain stunted. Historia is still in an incredibly unhealthy and precarious position in regards to her identity. Eren’s mechanism is to take agency, Historia’s is to give it up, the result however is the same between the both of them.

We see Historia make a choice. In all fairness we don’t know what that choice is. However, we also know what she didn’t choose. She knew what Eren was going to run off and do, and what he was planning, and she didn’t stop him. 

Another important part of the final arc is showing how everybody else’s decisions also led to Eren doing what he did. Armin’s choice to never confront Eren’s real self turned him into Eren’s enabler. Mikasa’s inability to try to live without Eren, made her completely unable to see this coming. The scout corps in general was unable to stop Eren, because they didn’t understand him. Historia also made a choice to enable the situation to happen in some way, because she didn’t choose to just... tell somebody else what Eren was planning, or stop it. 

While yes, she may be trying to stop it all on her own. It’s still a choice she made that’s frighteningly similiar to the choices Eren has been making all along. That is the choice not to trust people, the choice not to openly communicate what she inteded, the choice to instead go off on her own and try to solve everything by herself. 

That’s also the choice she always makes when backed up against a wall, and therefore it’s a sign of regression. I don’t think Historia is conspiring with Eren or even agrees with him. However, I do think she has made a similiar choice as Eren which is to try and attempt to solve everything on her own without trusting the others which is why we’re seeing her get so much foiling with Eren in this the final arc. 

Historia will overcome this regression when rather than swinging between Historia Reiss, and Krista Lenz, that she is both, and always has been both. You are who you are deep down inside. You are also who you pretend to be. The choice to show Historia’s wavering between makes her arc longer, difficult, more frustrating, but it also shows how hard it is for Historia. 

It shows the struggle of someone like Historia with lifelong trauma. How hard it is for her, not to be a queen, or a good girl. How fundamentally, it’s difficult for her to even juts be a normal person. And how in the end that’s what she is fighting for, to rediscover herself as a normal girl once more after being denied that by the environment around her her entire life. Historia too, can be a normal girl in the face of all that trauma. 

[having-a-hyperfixate]

Secret Reports

Gonna just edit this thing and put line breaks as I get more of them.

I’m also working on the rest of the completion, and will probably wander off in the middle of this to do Another Day, which will probably have its own post. I fully expect that to be sheer madness. 

#1 So is it just me or is Mr H writing these reports to channel how extremely stressed he is. Cuz like. Mood. *gestures vaguely at blog* *gestures at this post specifically*

I. Hold up. Skeezy McFuckwad and Joshua did what resulting in which now. Excuse me. EXPLAIN!??! Joshua had a sneaky Game running with Skeezy that directly lead to Hazuki ordering Skeezy to destroy Shinjuku??? Is that what I am reading. Or possibly the order was already in the works, and then there was the Game, which ultimately just pushed that forward?? You can’t just say shit like that and not give details ffffffff.

 #2 Mr H having about as much contempt for Shinjuku rules as I do I feel seen haha. Bogus indeed. I can’t remember if I said it in one of my other posts, of if it was in a group chat, but I made a comment somewhere how this ruleset doesn’t seem to work with the stated purpose of the whole Reaper’s Game system. Sweet validation.

 #3 Not much to say except that if I had read this entire report when I actually got it, I would have been much more alarmed by all of the Replays Rindo has to do after that. I got it partway through week 3 but decided not to read it until I beat the game and then BAM it has this lovely tidbit about potentially being able to destroy the UG and RG.

 #4 So, the business that the fandom refers to as the Long Game is known in universe by the higher-ups and Shibuya’s impurification, because it didn’t get ‘purified’ like Shinjuku (I object to that term but ok).

“The hierarchical freeze presumably stems from opposition to the impurification”

Skeezy wasn’t reprimanded when he arrived in Shibuya “possibly because most Higher Plane denizens still oppose Shibuya’s impurification”

ExcUSE ME. I. WHAT. In one of the secret reports for the first game, Mr H says something about the way things turned out be an ‘ideal parallel world’ according to the Angels. I guess he only meant the ones who didn’t want the city destroyed holy shit. That most of them didn’t want Joshua to change his mind and STILL DON’T is so massively fucked up I can’t. Dear Higher Plane, what the actual, ever loving fuck.

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#5 One hundred and four Games under Shiba. That’s… so. many. teams. Holy shit. And the teams we knew had seen at LEAST 30 teams go. And the three teams we saw weren’t small. So many people…

Also, “Minamimoto seems to be plotting something” is the funnies thing I’ve read in ages OF COURSE HE IS that’s what he DOES. XD That was some mood whiplash.

#6 I was so hung up on the lack of entry fee for so long you don’t even know. Like. Those were so important in the first one it was baffling to me that Shinjuku rules didn’t have anything similar. And then eventually I just decided that the whole Game wasn’t being run correctly and Shiba was clearly after something other than driving the improvement that’s supposed to be the point.

I would like more explanation on this ‘Rindo’s stagnation makes him perfect for time travel thing’. I kind of understand how his reactions being consistent would be helpful in being able to control where the timeline goes (also I just realized this further confirms that Angels remember the other timelines glad I wasn’t imagining that the Prime days are a blur), but what does he mean about being able to maintain abnormally high levels of imagination? (It might tell me later so don’t say anything lol)

“I can only hope I’m not overthinking things.” Oh, you aren’t. If I’m understanding everything correctly, Skeezy actually had two proxies. And poor Rindo managed to end up being proxy for both sides at the same time which is. A mess.

 #7 Well, finally we know how Coco managed to get her hands on a taboo sigil. Plagiarism. Lmao. That at least makes sense and I can worry less about her being Something Else. I would like a word with whoever didn’t clean that up from Udagawa long enough for her to copy it though. That’s hilarious. Interesting that Mr H thinks it wasn’t a perfect recreation though, that something in him got changed. Once again, please elaborate. Please. *headdesk* What prompted Coco to just. Copy a taboo sigil though. Cuz that seems. Unusual.

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#8 Ok there’s a lot to unpack in this one. Namely, more Shinjuku rules. I would love to know if these are long standing rules or relatively recent. Cuz like. Did Shinjuku’s Game ever run in a way that would drive the kind of improvement that’s supposed to be the overall goal? Or has it always, or at least for a while now, been basically a meat grinder? The players that don’t clear that minimum bar probably just get erased outright, I would think. Actually, I’m confused. If normally, one team would get to leave and one team would be erased, wouldn’t that normally keep the average pretty level, so the Game would basically go on forever? Otherwise what do you do with all the other teams that are between first and last? I’m confused. It can’t be normal for teams to keep asking for more rounds. And what if the winning team says ‘everyone gets to go home’?

“The Conductor has yet to contact the Composer” and “it is possible he is unaware of the Higher Plane’s purification protocol.” I don’t know why, but I get the feeling these are important.

 #9 These secret reports are really driving at the whole ‘Rindo just goes with it’ thing, aren’t they. Like, that was his thing, right? He has trouble making definitive decisions? So his arc culminates in that moment in Udagawa where he tells Hazuki that he’s going to take the risk and go back one more time, where he’s making that decision purely for his own sake. And here Mr H seems to be saying that prodding Rindo down the road to character growth is going to be a lot harder than it was with Neku back in the day. Which makes sense, I think. Confronting someone with the concept that other people have value is a lot less complicated than trying to get them to not only make a firm decision, but to choose something that is purely because it’s what they want and need, not because someone else thinks they should.

It’s a little alarming that this report implies that if the pin wasn’t absorbing the Dissonance caused by the Replays, the UG and RG would already be having a bad time. Yikes. This is the report for day 2 of the second week. We haven’t even gotten into the crazy time travel yet.

Aaaaand #10 is for completing the social network, so I have to actually go do Another Day. I want to read these in order; it is much less confusing that way.

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#10 I really shouldn’t read these late at night with a possible migraine coming on, they’re already confusing enough. The bits that made sense: Uzuki was acting Conductor damn girl. (Did she have to deal with Joshua and was he in Dignified Mode or Being a Shit Mode because that’s possibly an oof.) I had assumed Shiba was Shinjuku’s Conductor and then just kinda took over after they moved in but apparently not? And RIP the actual Conductor, apparently. Weird that so many Reapers made it but the Conductor, who by all rights should have, didn’t.

I am slightly concerned by the fact that there’s standard procedure for obliterating a district. That’s. Alarming.

I don’t think page 4 is continuing the thought on page 3. Fucking. Stop that. Don’t just say a thing and then start talking about something else I would like EXPLANATIONS. UGH. “Almost” he says. I’m going to go out on a limb and assume that almost is a big deal, so why don’t you tell me about it.

Four cases where a district got into trouble before a final decision on whether to reset or not was made. And one was the last game. I wonder if that means whatever was wrong that made Joshua want to destroy it, or if the ‘imbalance’ was all the madness that happened after he agreed to one final Game with Kitaniji and the left the UG. Cuz in one of the first set of secret reports, it says that with the Composer absent, the UG is starting to fall apart as the rules are no longer valid, or something like that. I would definitely call that an imbalance.

 #11 All I care about in this report is that Mr H wants to have a digital art bonding party with Kaie and that is so random why are you writing this down you absolute goober. The first page of this report is like ‘everyone is getting depressed’ and then just a wild left turn into dork-town. Lmao what.

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#12 I don’t think Mr H knows at this point (you get this report for W2D5’s Boss Noise) that the Ruinbringers are all Reapers. He’s gonna be mad. He does know what Shoka is up to though. He’s worried. Aw.

 #13 It didn’t occur to me until this report hit me in the face with it, but they’ve set up a fantastic contrast between the two people Rindo knows from online. One is. not great, let’s say, because I did not take the reveal of Motoi’s true self well. The other is Shoka, and she’s a real friend. I now see what you did there. One relationship that’s a farce and one that really, really isn’t.

 #14 Me, out loud, at 1:30 in the damn a.m.: WAIT. HOLD THE FUCK UP.

If getting Tsugumi out of Mr Mew required an Angel, how in the hell did Shiki manage to…? What. I’m very confused.

Also damn, saving Tsugumi was so important that Shinjuku’s Conductor died for it. Did he know what she could do, the whole visions thing? Or maybe that something was wrong with Shiba and it would take someone like her to potentially stop him in the future?

I still would like to now how the hell Tsugumi got her hands on Mr Mew. Especially since its apparently the ORIGINAL Mr Mew and she seems to have had him during the inversion? What.

 #15 So… Inversions don’t always happen when a region is purified. I’m trying to wrap my brain around what a ‘complete loss of character’ in and area that’s had an Inversion could mean. Like… I think I get it, but my brain won’t make words, let alone sentences. Like when you go into a hotel room, and it doesn’t feel like a home, as opposed to when you go to a friend or family’s house, and it does? Kinda like that but it’s the whole district that’s just… blank? That’s kinda creepy.

If there are so many who think a ‘regular purification’ isn’t enough, the a) what does that even look like, b) is that what Joshua was going to do to Shibuya and c) is there an intermediate step between ‘normal’ and Inversion? I have been staring at this report for literally 15 minutes now.

 #16 “I wonder how [Shiba] will feel about all this after he is allowed to return to his former self.” Yuuuuuup. I still Do Not Like him, but dude was borderline mind controlled so like. Yeah. And I did get to kill him once, so. As long as he minds his business and isn’t a total dick from here on, whatever. It all just sucks.

*facepalm* Well at least we got to being suspicious of Replay eventually. Why did it take you this long Mr H. Though I do wonder what Rindo would have been able to do without the interference. He had to have some kind of latent skill for the pin to react to him, right? I’m now going in circles mentally trying to puzzle out if Replay is like, a leveled up version of whatever Rindo would have naturally had, and regardless, where exactly it came from. Because the only time I can think of when anyone had a chance to mess with the pin was when he didn’t catch it in the prologue. And I’m pretty sure it was Joshua who picked it up. Aaagh I’m giving myself a headache.

I find it hard to believe skeezy would just yeet a random time travel pin out into the world. That seems both dumb as fuck and inefficient.

 #17 “Some of them who know what I am occasionally try to contact me.” Lol so Kariya DOES know who Mr H is, I take it. Alright.

I’m having some kind of emotion that Wildkat still exists in a way for the Reapers, and that some of them still go there.

I just imagined Uzuki texting him like ‘plz make the Composer fucking do something kthx’ and I’ve got the giggles now oh dear

 #18 HA! I was right! Minamimoto WASN’T in control when he attacked us! ‘Distortions within himself’ though, that’s concerning. Does that have to do with how he’s come back from the dead twice now? And how Coco’s copy of the sigil was apparently imperfect?

 #19 I was about to say ‘who would target him for his abilities?’ and then my brain turned back on because duh. Shiba and them were looking hard for Neku, to the point that they flooded the RG with Player Pins in the hopes that he would pick one up and get sucked into the Game. A thing that occurred to me last night at 3:30 in the morning because I am a disaster: Mr H says that Minamimoto ‘seems different’. Neku says much the same thing after he comes back. So… Neku’s ability to Scan all the way down to someone’s Soul is potentially close to as sensitive as Mr H’s long distance ability. Which is a little insane. On top of the fact that he can use basically every psych imaginable no problem, survived a pact with a Composer for a full week, while said Composer was using crazy light beams which probably should have melted Neku from the feedback, and then almost singlehandedly defeated the Conductor while somehow inventing four-way fusion attacks. Kid is mad powerful. And he’s just a human. Like, the OG secret reports say that people always become dramatically stronger when they become Reapers. Reaper!Neku would be unstoppable.

“This would be much simpler if I could sit down and talk with him.” Okay, I laughed out loud. Like, loudly.

So… Shinjuku’s Composer… basically had his Conductor assassinated by skeezy. And because skeezy was messing with Shiba’s head, he could prompt Shiba to take the Reapers to Shibuya afterwards, to start doing it there too? Hazuki ordered Shinjuku’s purification so… Oh dear. I might have a few bones to pick with him.

 OH NO. OOOOOH. OH NOOOO. SHINJUKU’S CONDUCTOR. HE WAS TSUGUMI’S BROTHER OH MY GOD. That is fucking tragic what the fuck. What the FUCK. Okay several things make sense now but OH MY GOD FUCKING HELL I WAS NOT READY FOR THAT. Shiki fixing Mr Mew allowed Tsugumi to free herself because her brother had already done part of the work, I take it? Along with us getting the Noise out of there? No wonder the Conductor stayed, he had to go get his sister… Shit, man.

 …�� Did Coco steal Mr Mew and take him to Shinjuku?????

----------------------------

#21 isn’t very interesting, just a rehash of stuff we already knew.

#22 Okay Haz IS Shinjuku’s Composer. What. Why? I’m. So confused. Why would he intercede on our behalf, and why NOW? He was happy to throw his own city away, but stepped in to stop skeezy in Shibuya? And then tried to put it back together, and when Rindo was miserable he came to try to understand why. And then cajoled Rindo into having a breakthrough in his Character Development to boot.

Mr H says he has an idea why Haz did all this. And then doesn’t fucking say it because OF COURSE. *headdesk* That gets really old really fast, game.

I’m now running through The Last Day’’ to get the final two reports and this entire section with Haz is somehow even more confusing with context. God damn it Nomura.

 #23 Even after he said we were on our on this time, he forced the Soul Pulvis to reform as Pheonix Cantus to make it easier for us to fight? Bro. What. Are all Composers just… walking contradictions? Aiya.

Shoutout to emotional support Joshua at the end there lol. I remember half-hysterically thinking ‘what are you just here for moral support?’ but ok. And I mean, it did work, Neku did manage to do the thing, so. *sigh* Speaking of, it is ABSOLUTELY INSANE that Neku manage to sync with the entire city without his brain melting. Remember at the beginning of the first game when he scans for the first time and has a massive sensory overload? Look at my boy, all grown up.

 #24 Holy shit world building on how exactly people come back to life without everyone freaking out. I never thought I would see the day.

I still have so many questions but that was always going to be the case. The first game had so many things it left open as well. Agh. Time to start wearing new holes in my brain overthinking things.

[bcbdrums]

We Forget the World

A/N: Not a headcanon fic, just something I day-dreamed up one sleepy Saturday.

Happy birthday, @gofordrakgo!

Read on: FFn       AO3

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We Forget the World

Shego stepped through the large beach door of the Caribbean lair and barely heard it close behind her as she stepped over the lava rock, looking both ways in the misty twilight for her boss. Or former boss... Whatever they were now; she wasn't sure anymore.

Ever since Drakken had saved the world, they had been in limbo about what to do with themselves. As days turned to weeks, and weeks to months, Shego found herself no longer dressing in uniform, as each day was just...an extended vacation at home. It reminded her of her former days as a schoolteacher, when summer vacation consisted of endless afternoons on the sofa, watching "The Cost is Correct" re-runs and eating watermelon out of the rind.

The difference now was, occasionally a henchman in plain clothes would wander past, make awkward conversation, and then wander back to the nothing they were doing as well, as they hadn't been given any direction. And another change: Shego was seeing less and less of Drakken.

She had thought about it and finally realized that the biggest change had come when the instant celebrity he had attained through saving the world had faded almost immediately. There had initially been some buzz about potential research opportunities, grants, and other things exhorting his work not just in creating the plant formula that had saved them all, but his other work as well. But all of that had gone away within a few weeks' time, and the world seemed to have forgotten him again.

Shego looked down at the surf rolling rhythmically against the sand, the waters dark for the cloud cover that promised rain that evening. And then glancing further to her left down the beach, she noticed the distinct sign of footprints in the sand. She stepped out of her sandals and made to follow the trail, stepping into the damp sand herself and letting the sea foam wash over her feet. The breeze blew the dark teal skirts of her sundress behind her, and she closed her eyes for a moment and tilted her face into the cool of the wind, feeling it gently move her long, black tresses away from her her cheeks and shoulders.

Shego had supposed that with the promise of potential fame and fortune through legitimate means, Drakken would give up villainy. But he hadn't said anything one way or the other, and the seeming opportunities had all vanished like a vapor. Thus, the entire lair was in a state of stagnation. Paychecks were still signed and delivered to her and the henchmen, but the boss...the mad scientist they all served...was hardly ever to be seen, and never spoke of plans for even a meager bank heist, let alone world-domination.

Following his clear footprints in the sand, Shego eventually came to a discarded pair of shoes and socks, and his iconic lab coat, folded and lain upon a rock. She continued on, realizing suddenly she had no plan regarding what she would say to him. She attempted to run over some options in her mind, but everything came back to the same simple question: are they heroes or villains? And whichever they were...what was next?

Shego had discovered the truth within herself during the Lorwardian invasion, which had startled her at the time, but which she had also accepted with a surprising calm and swiftness—she would follow Drakken to the end. She hadn't explored the depths of that yet, only knowing the simple truth that she would never leave him. But with time passing she found herself curious to find clearer answers about that as well.

Rounding a large rocky outcropping, Shego finally spotted the man. He had his shirt sleeves rolled up past his elbows and his pant cuffs just above his ankles. His hands were on his hips, making his shoulder blades stand out even more than they already were for the Y-back suspenders accenting his masculine figure. As Shego got closer, she noticed the faintest sweat stains beneath the suspenders at his shoulders, suggesting he'd been out there since before the clouds had hidden the setting sun. He had also loosed his ponytail, and his shorter hair blew more freely in the wind than did her long tresses.

Shego took a breath as she continued toward him, not changing her pace as he was barely moving, staring ahead at nothing as he traversed the island's perimeter. What was she going to say when she reached him? Her mind was still completely blank.

The sky was dark for the rain-saturated clouds and would have blended in with the waters at the horizon but for the churning of the waves as the storm continued to roll in. Shego suddenly felt a shiver over her bare arms and legs despite the heat that always burned within her. She took a deep breath when she found herself within a few feet of Drakken and spoke the first words that came to her mind.

"Stay out here too long, you'll get struck by lightning."

"GAH!"

Long-used to his outbursts when she unintentionally (or intentionally) startled him, she only grinned when his leap into the air was even more dramatic than his scream. When he finished flailing and stumbled around to face her, his expression was furious with annoyance, but she could also see the distraction in his eyes that indicated he had been deep in thought.

"You can brood inside where it's safe," she continued, the mirth still in her voice, but softened a bit—why, she wasn't sure.

Drakken straightened and adjusted his collar where a couple of buttons had been opened to mediate the day's earlier heat.

"Why must you always do that?"

"Entertainment. There isn't anything else going on around here lately..." she said almost automatically, but regretted the words a moment later for the way Drakken's face fell and then became guarded.

"You, ah...have any ideas for our...next move?" Drakken asked cautiously, watching her with wary, wide eyes.

Shego set her hands on her hips. "This is your ship to steer. I'm just along for the ride."

Drakken's guarded expression didn't change, but Shego was sure she saw a tinge of disappointment in his eyes. She took a breath and continued.

"Why... You lose your compass?" she half-quipped, gesturing broadly to the roiling ocean and the dark skies.

Drakken's brow twisted in worry rather than annoyance, much to her surprise, and he turned to face the vastness of the sea, staring as his lips alternately pursed and thinned as he seemed to search for words.

None came. Shego took a step nearer.

"Drakken...?"

He took a long breath and released it slowly through his teeth, and Shego had the sudden impression he was trying to withhold some great emotion. He took a smaller breath, and then...

"No one wants me," he said quietly.

A half-dozen sarcastic quips came instantly to her mind, but something told her that to say any of them would be a worse disaster in that moment than an alien abduction beam.

"What do you mean?" she finally asked.

Drakken blinked in surprise and glanced at her uncertainly before continuing.

"The research positions...the television spots... No one is calling anymore. And when I call them, sometimes they say they'll call back...sometimes they say they're 'going in another direction.' It's all the same... The world changed its mind about me."

Shego felt something familiar in his words, even though she'd never heard them before.

"But everyone I know... All of the other villains don't want anything to do with me, now that I'm...a traitor," Drakken continued.

Shego wondered then if the other villains thought the same of her; that she was a traitor to evil for helping save the world. But that could be sorted out later, for the present problem was Drakken. And she was suddenly realizing at least some of what the problem was.

"We can't choose good or evil, anymore..." she said with quiet understanding. "Either way, we lose."

Drakken looked back at her, blinking in surprise as she had put it so succinctly.

"All I wanted...all I ever wanted was some recognition. My fair share. But..."

He trailed off again and took a few steps into the surf. After a moment Shego followed.

"Watch out for jellyfish... You know they show up more at this time of year."

Drakken was staring at the dark skies again, seemingly ignoring her words.

"Maybe they've all forgotten me because it...wasn't so big a feat, after all. Maybe I've...overrated myself."

Shego bit her tongue hard to keep from responding in jest, knowing it wasn't the moment for it. It took some effort, but she buried the instinctive caustic remarks and let him continue.

"It wasn't much, really... I guess I'm... I'm not that smart."

Shego glanced down at the shallow waves washing to their ankles, realizing only then that she'd stayed at his side as he'd walked into the surf. She took a breath and grimaced as she looked up at him again.

"Of course you are. And you know it. It doesn't matter who else knows it."

Drakken looked at her then, finally seeming to notice her.

"I know it," she added, looking straight at him. "Forget the world. They're ungrateful. They don't deserve you."

Shego moved to face him, her back to the waves. She pushed her hair over her shoulder as the breeze tried to move it into her face, holding his eye contact.

"And since when have we cared what other villains think? Not as if they've taken over the world, or done anything half as impressive as you over the years."

Drakken's expression suddenly became guarded.

"You...keep saying 'we,'" he said.

Shego realized she had been, but gave it no further thought and shrugged in response.

"Yeah."

For the first time in the almost four years that she'd known him, Drakken seemed to be at a loss for words. He took a step away from her, confusion falling over his features. He began pacing in a three foot square in front of her, looking at her and seeming to want to ask a dozen or more questions, but nothing ever leaving his lips.

As Shego watched him and waited, the 'we' she had kept saying and the resolve she already had that she would never leave Drakken suddenly began to blossom into to a new, deeper understanding. A smile slowly began to curl her lips upward.

"Dr. D.," she finally said, as quiet, incoherent mutterings had started to join his pacing.

He stopped and looked at her, the question strong in his eyes. She could no longer hold back the knowing smirk, but said nothing as she waited for him to come to the same understanding on his own. It wasn't long before a frightened determination took over his features, and then with a set frown he boldly approached her. His hands found her waist and pulled her flush to him, and despite herself a small gasp left her lips as her hands automatically moved to rest on his shoulders.

The fear in his eyes grew as she knew her smirk had faltered for the anxious fluttering that had taken over her chest. But she held his gaze and watched as his fear faded to wonder, though he was still uncertain. She was curious if her own uncertainty showed too.

After too long a moment, she swallowed nervously and moved her forearms to rest on his shoulders, bringing them closer.

"Well... You gonna continue this experiment, or what?" she asked.

Drakken's shoulders were rising with the quickening of his breaths, but after a moment he licked his lips once and then leaned in. Shego didn't hesitate to wrap her arms fully around his neck the instant his lips met hers, and she felt a warmth spread through her as his arms surrounded her possessively.

Shego hadn't...really considered this. But as the warmth flooded her entire being she knew it was right. How she hadn't seen it before was perplexing, but apparently he hadn't either. When their lips finally parted and they both panted for breath, noses still brushing, she felt the uncertainty that was still in his eyes. But despite herself, she grinned as a bubble of airy laughter escaped her lips.

"I think we're going to need more evidence for this experiment, Dr. D.," she breathed, moving the fingers of one hand into his hair, her nails gently scraping his scalp.

"Shego..." was his disbelieving response. But the uncertainty fled from his eyes to be replaced with the same joy she was feeling and that must have been evident on her face.

"I don't know about you but...I'm tired of sitting around doing nothing," she said, her smile unshakeable. "Think it's time we...started something new."

Drakken's jaw worked for a moment before settling into a smile, the silence uncharacteristic for the mad scientist. Shego blushed suddenly under his intense, adoring stare, but she held his gaze.

"I...think you're right," he finally said.

"I'm always right," she answered, rising on her toes to wrap her arms further around him and bring them even closer.

Drakken suddenly glanced away, his eyes looking past her at the vastness of the sea. Shego's brow rose in question, but in an instant his eyes were back on hers and a calm had settled within them.

"I'm done wasting time. Forget the world."

Shego's smile was so broad it hurt her cheeks, and it continued through the sweet kiss that followed, and every kiss after.

[vpyre]

No Matter How Tremulous the Flame, the Ice Will Always Melt

William hadn’t seen Grelle today, which wouldn’t have been out of the ordinary had she been like any other employee; but with Grelle being Grelle, usually not a day went by without some sort of dramatic entrance or other loud indication of her presence. The last time it had been this quiet was when she’d landed herself in the infirmary in critical condition for reasons he would rather not dwell on at the moment. He tended to avoid thinking about things that involved demons, after all (or was it that there was something else about the memory that he didn’t want to acknowledge…?).

Giving himself a mental slap to refocus, he skirted around that train of thought and back to the here and now. In the here and now, he had paperwork to collect. With a beleaguered sigh, he got up out of his comfortable desk chair, strode towards the dark wooden door of his office, and stepped out into the corridor. He checked that his door was locked before making his way down the hall. While the management division employees were granted private offices in deference to their primary role of checking paperwork and doing other administrative-type things; retrieval division workers had a much more temporary, rudimentary setup, as they were rarely in one place for long.

He walked past rows and rows of cramped and messy cubicles, heading for the filing area in the back where finished work was left to be collected. He was so focused on his task he nearly missed the waving hand from the cubicle he was passing, but he caught it out of the corner of his eye at the last moment. The reaper he was facing was not one he knew well, though he was sure he'd seen him around before. When William was within a conversational distance of him, the reaper (Will thought his name might be Miles) spoke up.

"Any idea what's wrong with Sutcliff? He's been very quiet today, and-"

"She," William cut in automatically, almost distractedly, like he hadn't quite realized he'd spoken; but he didn’t waver or elaborate.

”Fine. She has been very quiet today, and I was wondering if you knew anything about it, seeing as you’re his- er, her favorite reaper and therefore the most likely to hear something. Now, normally I wouldn’t be asking, but the silence’s just throwing me off a bit, to tell you the truth.”

Will frowned. Maybe something really was wrong. He told Miles he’d check up on her, then bade him farewell; he did still have a job to do. He’d pick up his papers, then stop by her cubicle on the way out.

He strode down the wide, cluttered aisle towards the back, pondering what he had heard. Someone walked by, but it took him a good few seconds to drag himself from his thoughts enough to process who it was. To his utter surprise, he found he had actually passed Grelle without noticing her right away. That was unheard of! Her very presence demanded the undivided attention of everyone in the room, without exception. However, it seemed that somehow an exception had been made. He watched her as she continued trudging on in the opposite direction without a word of greeting or even acknowledgement. This was also abnormal. She never ignored him; in fact, it was a constant struggle getting her to leave him be. And he had never seen her hunched into herself like that before, like she hoped she would disappear.

He felt his concern for her well up from where he tried to keep it stuffed away; that deep, dark place on the very fringes of his consciousness. That treacherous pit filled with things and thoughts and feelings he didn't want to face, not that he even knew how to face them to begin with. He hated demons, and that included his own. But that day had changed something in him, and he had let himself feel for the first time in more than a century. Now, he tentatively embraced his worry, though he absolutely refused to show it outwardly in front of all these other reapers. That was where he drew the line.

Despite his reservations, he had to make certain she was alright. Abandoning his bid for the paperwork in the back of the room, he turned and made a beeline for Grelle’s cubicle instead, anxiety pricking at him all the way. What if he said something to make it worse somehow? What if he had spent so long as a cold, emotionless statue of ice that he no longer knew how to comfort someone else? He took a steadying breath. He would try. She’d understand that he was doing his best; she was a thoughtful woman, after all. At the rate he had been going, he likely never would have opened up to emotion at all had it not been for her, and that thought soothed his worry slightly. He just wished he'd been kinder to her before, wished it hadn't taken her nearly dying to defend him to make him realize how much she genuinely cared. He was still in awe of her bravery and selflessness in that moment, in the face of such a terrible foe; an enemy that he despised.

He stopped in what qualified as the doorway of her makeshift office, and when she didn't seem to notice him standing there, he spoke up.

"Sutcliff."

She tensed almost imperceptibly, then looked up at him from her seat at her well-kept desk. "Oh. Hi, Will," she said, a little hoarsely and much quieter than he had ever heard her speak. She cleared her throat, then gave him a smile that might have been convincing had her eyes not given her away. Aside from the redness and ever-so-slight puffiness that her makeup couldn't quite hide, the nature of the thoughts and feelings behind them was impossible to disguise. He could see the pain and exhaustion in them. He could feel it stagnating in the confines of her tiny, constricting cubicle; hanging in the air and darkening her countenance like fog blocking out the sun. No amount of makeup could ever hope to obscure anything when Grelle's emotions, whether positive or negative, were always so powerful. She was like the sun: her warmth radiated out from her, touching everyone in sight; but when that warmth was covered by clouds, leaving only cold and rain, everyone in sight felt the loss.

William was shaken from his musings by her voice. "Is there something you need?"

He sighed. "To be perfectly honest, Grelle, I'm concerned for you. You've been unordinarily quiet today, and I can tell from just being near you that you are not feeling well. If you need a sick day, that can be arranged."

For a moment, she looked surprised- she wasn't used to him caring- then slumped down and let out a sigh of her own. "I'm not sick."

When she didn't elaborate, he asked, "Then what's wrong?"

She looked away and fell silent, but he could feel the tension crackling in the air as her emotions swelled to the surface, despite her efforts to keep them down. Finally, she breathed out, "I'm tired," and it felt like empty space itself had frozen.

Her wavering voice shot lines of striking grey exhaustion through the silence and the stillness, slicing through it like razor wire; like fragile threads of lightning before a sky-cracking boom of thunder. Will felt that if it had been raining, the drops would have hung suspended in space, a manifestation of stopped time. She turned to face him again, and he felt a jolt go through his body when he saw wetness in her eyes. It wasn't from surprise. No, the jolt came from the sheer pervasive power of her pain. It pierced through him in a way he had only ever experienced once before, and he was struck dumb.

This is just like that day, this depth of feeling. I never suspected that her pain was so overwhelming, just as I never thought her affection for me ran so deeply that she would be willing to sacrifice her life to defend me from that demon. What a nightmare that was. I thought she was dead; there was so much blood. She was in the infirmary on the verge of a second death for two days, and in recovery for a week. I never have and never will forget how quiet and empty dispatch felt without her. The whole ordeal shook some humanity back into me, and for that, I will forever be grateful; I just don't ever want to see her suffer again.

But here she was, suffering. She was in pain, and he didn't know what to do; just like that day. The tears in her eyes silently welled up and spilled over, leaving thin tracks as they rolled down her cheeks. He stood uselessly in the doorway, mind frantically racing to think of some way to help her, to make her hurt go away. His thoughts were blurring together, clashing and roiling, whiting out his senses. They were building and building; soon he would burst. When it all got to be too much, he threw logic out the window and gave in to instinct instead. He strode forward, wrapped his arms around her, and just held her. Her body stiffened and her eyes widened, but then she relaxed and sank into his embrace. She broke down and the tension broke with her; the taut cords of repressed emotion snapped, the suspended drops began to fall, the thunder cracked the charged stillness in twain. She buried her face in his shoulder and hugged him closer, squeezing her eyes shut and clenching his suit coat in her fists with the force only granted to someone in the throes of sorrow. He sat still and let her cry; God knows she needed to let it all out somehow. Through her tears, she told him how she was tired of her drawn-out existence, how every time someone mistook her for a man she felt like it chipped a piece off of her soul, how her past haunted her and dogged her every step. She let it all spill out, and William couldn't help but admire the ease with which she expressed her feelings. He admired it, and he hoped that one day he would be able to do the same. If she were anyone else, he doubted he would have even begun to get back in touch with himself, and for that, he would be forever grateful to her.

Gradually, she quieted, sobs turning to quiet tears, tears turning to the occasional sniff. She pulled away and gave him a small smile through red eyes. "I'm surprised that you stayed through all that. I honestly didn't think you would." She looked away, then quietly added, "But I'm glad you cared enough to. Thank you."

He hesitantly laid a hand on her shoulder, and she looked back up at him. He held her gaze and said, "I should be thanking you. You brought me out of my stagnation because you cared enough to; and for that, you have my gratitude- and my friendship if you should so desire. I cannot excuse my prior callous treatment of you, but I can try to make up for it by being here for you now. You are the flame of the dispatch, Grelle. You keep us moving, even if no one else realises that. We wouldn't be functional without you, and neither would I. So thank you."

She sat still for a moment, making nary a sound, and he worried that it was all too much. Then, slowly, her face lit up with a grin and she threw her arms around him again. He felt her returning warmth in her embrace, and he genuinely smiled for the first time in more than a century.

[wardens-stew]

The Bone Season - unpacking Paige’s card reading!

To pass the time as I obsess about the imminent release of The Mask Falling, I’ve been thinking about when Liss did a card reading for Paige in TBS - and Elspeth elaborated on it in TSR - and felt like going back to it to see what’s been revealed and what we might glean about what’s yet to come. 

1 - Five of Cups (past)

CONFIRMED - Paige’s father mourning her mother

“You lost something when you were very small. There’s a man with auburn hair. It’s his cups that are spilled.” “My father,” I said. “Yes. You’re standing behind him, speaking to him. He doesn’t answer. He stares at a picture.” 

2 - King of Wands (present)

CONFIRMED - Jaxon’s hold on Paige 

“He controls you. Even now, you can’t escape his hold.” “Warden?” “I don’t think so. Still, he has power. His expectations of you are too high. You’re afraid of him.” Jaxon.

3 - The Devil (future); 4 - The Lovers (what to do)

LOW-KEY CONFIRMED - The Devil as the darkness within Paige; The Lovers as Paige and Warden

“This card represents a force of hopelessness, restriction, fear—but you’ve given into it yourself. There’s a shadow that the Devil represents, but I can’t see its face. Whatever power this person will have over you, you will be able to escape it. They’ll make you think you’re tied to them forever, but you won’t be. You’ll just think you are... The next card will tell you what to do when the time comes.”

I looked down at the fourth card. “The Lovers?” “Yes.” Her voice had dropped to a monotone. “I can’t see much. There’s tension between spirit and flesh. Too much.” 

Elspeth and Paige unpack this in TSR:

Two naked figures were on either side of the pedestal, bound to it, and by extension, to each other, by a silver chain. 

“The two figures in the Devil card closely resemble the couple in the Lovers card, which comes next. They could almost be Lovers... The Devil controls them. Manipulates them.” 

The words left a fine sweat on my brow. Controls them. Manipulates them. The Devil could be Terebell. Both Warden and I were chained to her: Warden by his loyalty, me by my need for her money. And we were also bound to each other by a chain, albeit a chain of gold.

“Someone stands over the pair in the Lovers card, too, though there’s no chain.” Elspeth pointed to a winged figure above the man and woman. “I’m not certain what the figure represents in this instance, but... someone is always watching this couple.”

There’s a good deal of evidence that the Lovers refers to Warden, as Paige points out, but she still isn’t sure:

“As a Rephaite, Warden was the pivot between spirit and flesh. We had always felt watched, knowing the consequences of discovery. If he represented the path I should be taking, then by trying to distance myself from him, by telling him we had to part, I had gone astray; I had turned my back on the counsel of the cards.

And yet, he could so easily be the Devil himself... or a puppet-master in its service, keeping me chained to it, to Terebell. Was he meant to be my lover or my downfall?”

She remains ambivalent, but there’s that important moment towards the end, with Jaxon:

“You will understand that all of us are devils in the skins of men. You will become the monster that lives inside us all.”

I started away from him. This wasn't the first time that his words had sounded like a prediction. The Devil. Had it been me all along? Was it the devil in myself - the devil deep beneath my skin - that I was meant to resist?”

She doesn't really arrive at a conclusion, but I think this theory is pretty convincing! I’m not quite sure if it lines up with the idea of the Devil manipulating and controlling the Lovers, though - does it make sense that the dark instincts in Paige are manipulating her and Warden?? It would fit more easily if the Devil were a person rather than something abstract.

I also think there’s more to be said about Elspeth’s observation that “someone is always watching this couple.” Paige attributes this to her general feeling of being watched in her clandestine relationship with Warden, but Elspeth’s remark suggests that something more deliberate and concrete is going on. That’s quite unnerving - the possibility that someone is literally watching Paige and Warden. I think it may be part of the larger role that their intimacy is playing on the world stage, although they’re not yet aware of it.

5 - Death, Inverted (external influences)

NOT YET DETERMINED

“Death is a normal card for voyants. Usually it appears in the past or present positions. But here, inverted—I’m not sure.” Her eyes flickered beneath their lids. “This far ahead, my sight gets hazy. Things are vague. I know the world will change around you, and you’ll do everything in your power to resist it. Death itself will work in different ways. By delaying the change, you’ll prolong your own suffering.”

Ok, I think this is definitely alluding to the possible events of TMF and Book 5 and the furthering of the Prometheus and Pandora parallel. I did some digging about the divinatory associations of the card:

DEATH.—End, mortality, destruction, corruption; also, for a man, the loss of a benefactor; for a woman, many contrarieties; for a maid, failure of marriage projects. Reversed: Inertia, sleep, lethargy, petrifaction, somnambulism; hope destroyed.

The card, drawn in reverse, can be interpreted as stagnation and the inability to move or change.

In the Mythic Tarot deck, Death is depicted by Hades.

Shit is going to get real!! “Death itself will work in different ways” -  This supports @growingstronglikeahighgardenrose‘s theory that Paige might end up going to the underworld in a Persephone/Eurydice parallel and someone will be forced to stay in the underworld for a period of time - likely Warden. The association with Hades also suggests that Warden will be involved, possibly put in some sort of slumber. I could definitely see Paige resisting this change and the ensuing separation from Warden. 

6 - Eight of Swords (hopes and fears)

NOT YET DETERMINED

“The card showed a woman, bound in a circle of upturned swords. She wore a blindfold. Liss’s skin glowed with sweat. “I can see you. You’re afraid.” Her voice trembled. “I can see your face. You can’t move in any direction. You can stay in one place, trapped, or feel the pain of the swords.”

A little info on the eight of swords, thanks to Wikipedia:

The Querent is in a situation where they're afraid to move. If they move, they'll get cut. However, the ropes that bind them and the blindfold over their eyes are their own fears, keeping them immobile. Therefore, the longer they stay, the more they constrain and entrap themselves. Ever been in a situation where you're afraid to say anything, so afraid that you second guess yourself, end up saying nothing, tying yourself in knots? But speaking up is going to get you cut to ribbons? That's this card. The Querent must have the strength to endure the cuts or they will stay trapped. They must move, for the longer they let the situation continue, the worse it will get.

Ok this is pretty far off so it’s hard to make sense of it. But it seems that Paige is going to be trapped and needs to free herself, though she will suffer for it. I have the feeling that this situation will be fairly literal, especially if the Persephone & Pandora myth holds - Paige could be stuck in some weird state maybe in the netherworld or in a dreamwalking state from which she needs to escape. Not sure if the suffering refers to collateral damage - like Warden will be hurt if she tries to escape - or if she herself will be hurt or changed by freeing herself. It’s all pretty abstract and theoretical at this point.

7 - ?????

The big mystery! I have absolutely no clue how this series will end, and it’s pretty difficult to speculate. But it’s worth thinking about what kind of ending would make sense in terms of the mythology and the larger arc of this story. I’m really anxious about whether Warden and Paige and their relationship will make  it through intact - this doesn’t really seem like the kind of series to end super duper happily like somehow everyone’s problems are solved and the world is utopian - but I also can’t see how an ending in which they were separated/dead/irreversibly damaged would be a satisfying one (pls Samantha Shannon just let them be happy!!!). This is mostly just me trying to convince myself that it’s not going to be some Allegiant-type shit - Samantha Shannon is obviously comfortable inflicting pain on her characters, but I doubt she’d do that kind of fuck-you ending where everyone is screwed. I have faith that it’ll be a satisfying and meaningful conclusion. 

Random sidenote, super bizarre and probably meaningless, but Samantha Shannon once mentioned in an answer to a Tumblr ask that there was a pregnancy storyline in TBS when she initially planned it, but she figured Twilight already did the “immortal hybrid baby thing” and eventually decided she didn’t want Paige to have kids. Then she says, “I won’t rule out writing a fun ‘what if’ chapter once the series is over, though. I just wouldn’t make it canon.” SOOOOooo.... what I’m hearing is that Paige and Warden both make it through to the end of the series alive and in a position to have kids?????