#she may look happy but she is terrified of the ocean LOL

[lady-lissette]

Lissette is on slide duty this year.

[awkwardgtace]

Kyrie's Changes

day 26 merpeople. I'd had a plan for this and it definitely changed to be more angsty lol. This is definitely far in the future and Kyrie has something wrong with him. (Definitely hints at the danger Kyrie's size can pose in general)

Kyrie's Changes

Melody sighed as she finally sat back on her couch. Today was the first in weeks someone wasn’t around and she was going to just relax after spending the morning cleaning. She sort of wished Kyrie could be with her though. It would be nice to sit together not having anything special planned. It didn’t happen often, either he was trying to make her like the ocean or she was teaching him more English. At least he could hold somewhat of a conversation now. 

She finally opened a book to read when she thought she heard something impossible. She waited a few minutes before she heard it again, positive it was one of Kyrie’s chirps. Byssal and Pelago said none of them would be around for a few weeks. She jumped up and ran outside terrified of why he’d be nearby in that case. She dropped the book she still held when she saw him.

He looked more pale than normal. His face was contorted like he was in pain. He had low quiet chirps sounding almost constantly. She ran down the hill towards the beach. His eyes opened slightly as she stumbled and shouted. He chirped louder and she jumped, he sounded different. She finally made it to his face and put her hands on his nose.

“Kyrie?” she asked. He chirped, but didn’t move. He always pressed his nose against her, something had to be wrong. “Kyrie what’s wrong?”

“Hungry,” he groaned. She laughed a bit, if this was all because he hadn’t eaten it was a relief. She patted his nose as he chirped some more. “Hurt.”

“Kyrie, I know you can speak more clearly, what do you mean?” Hurt scared her. Byssal and Pelago weren’t around.

“Hurt.” He barely moved, she wouldn’t find out anything like this.

“Where are Byssal and Pelago?” Her eyes went wide as one of his hands moved. She watched, expecting him to point somewhere, but he rested it against his stomach. She stiffened, the image of that other merfolk he’d bitten jumped to her mind.

“Gone.”

“What do you mean gone!?” She didn’t want to think he’d act like that, but maybe he would. She didn’t know what to think of merfolk, how they actually acted. She may not know him like she thought.

“Gone.” He pressed his hand firmer against his stomach. She felt sick. Caprice will kill him when he gets back. Pelago and Byssal were better parents to him than their own. She almost screamed as Kyrie’s other arm moved and trapped her.

“Kyrie, what are you doing?”

“Mine.”

She widened her eyes and backed away from him. He wasn’t acting like the man she knew. She wanted to hide inside, to have not decided to come out here to check. She didn’t get to move far before two huge fingers pinched her sides. She tried to squirm but he lifted her off the ground. She stared at his eyes, terrified of what was going to happen.

“Soft… pretty,” he mumbled. She didn’t know what that meant anymore. He always said she was soft, but now it felt terrifying. She screamed as he brought her close. His eyes weren’t the right color anymore, turning a blue like the dark trenches of the ocean. “Mine.”

“K-Kyrie. Put me down!” she shouted. 

She didn’t want to stutter, but her fear was starting to win. She didn’t think singing would do anything. He ignored her and pressed her against his face. She hated this and she wanted to be put down. He chirped more, she sort of knew they were happy sounds. She started pushing against his face, desperate to get away. He let her go for only a second before his fingers were back and holding her arms down.

“Mine. Stay,” he ordered. She kicked at his face and tried to use all her strength to make him let go.

“I said put me down!” she cried. Her voice cracked as tears started down her face. He usually listened to her.

He squeezed her a bit and let out happy chirps again. She bit her lip, settling on what might work. She started to sing, old lullabies she used when babysitting as a kid. Anything that might make him let go. It seemed to do the opposite, he brought her closer to his eyes and kept staring at her. It didn’t look like he even saw her.

Kyrie finally moved his other hand from his stomach. He put a finger to her face, it made her stop singing and struggle to breath through her crying. He made some chirps that sounded almost angry before finally setting her down on the ground. She thought she could get away, but he folded his arms around her and rested his head on them. She was trapped, almost entirely encompassed by him.

“Sing,” he said, here his voice echoed and almost hurt her ears. She glared up at his chin. 

He was demanding she sing now. She stayed quiet, curling up on her side in the sand. She just wanted him to leave. She didn’t think she’d ever want to see him again if this was some honest version of him. She pictured his eyes, they were so empty. He completely ignored what she was saying.

She watched as he breathed, unsure what was going to come next. She didn’t even know how much time was passing. Melody was convinced she fell asleep for a bit. Then something happened. Kyrie was changing, it was horrifying. The space around her seemed to get bigger. She could see as his body seemed to grow.

Melody had forgotten he wasn’t done growing when they met. He was already so much bigger than her. If he was like this now she was terrified to find out how much worse it would get. He did finally move so she could see the sky again, but it made it worse. His arm blocked her from leaving and she could see clearly as he got bigger. The hand closest to her slowly inching to a larger and larger size.

She stared in horror as the claws she’d started to grow used to seemed to get longer and sharper. They changed from a light blue that matched the water to a deep green almost black. She looked back to his face, she couldn’t see his expression. His hair was getting longer as he seemed to just expand. The shade of black she thought would stand out in the water was changed to a blue she’d never seen before. 

Kyrie let out a chirp, it sounded deeper, almost more menacing. She knew the sound shouldn’t be, but she couldn’t hear it any other way. She fell to her knees as she watched him change. She could feel the heat from him, he must have a fever. She knew humans sometimes got sick when they grew, she imagined it’s just as bad for merfolk.

Achingly slowly his face turned to her. He smiled and she screamed. His teeth were sharper and a bit bloody. She didn’t want to know where that blood came from. He moved to get closer to her and she tried to back away. She wound up right in his hand. He just kept a smile as those inhuman eyes stared at her.

“Mine,” he said. His voice was louder, deeper, and terrifying. She didn’t want to be his. 

“No I’m not!” she shouted. He just chirped at her and leaned closer. He shut his eyes again and she was stuck with barely enough room to avoid touching his face or hand. She wanted to be out of this horrible situation.

He made a sound she didn’t know and stopped moving. She hugged herself as she tried to stay away from his skin. His hand was still growing, it was terrifying with his eyes so close to see how his face changed. He looked less kind and she didn’t know if it was her own imagination or this growth spurt. It slowed to a stop after some time that felt far too long. She silently cried begging for this to end.

“Melody?” Byssal’s voice sounded. 

She flinched, sure she only heard him from being near Kyrie’s mouth. She tried to scream when fingers much smaller than the ones around her picked her up. One finger covered her mouth, leaving room for her to see above the digit keeping her silent. She couldn’t describe her relief finding Byssal staring at her with concern. 

He put a flat palm below her and let her go. She couldn’t believe he was alive. She started to cry more, grabbing his finger tightly. He didn’t seem to like her, but she didn’t care. She heard so much from Caprice and Kyrie, she cared about him. She wouldn’t recover if Kyrie had hurt him either. Byssal used a finger to rub her back and she let out a watery laugh.

“I thought you were dead,” she cried. She felt the gentle rubbing stop for a second before it picked up again. Byssal pulled his hand closer and she looked up to him. He had a reassuring smile she never would have expected.

“I’m fine, so is Pel. We’d gone to get supplies and came back to find him gone,” he whispered. She nodded into his finger holding it tighter. At least that meant she hadn’t been totally wrong about Kyrie.

“I-I’d hoped that was what he meant, but then his teeth were bloody and-”

Melody was cut off by a loud growl. She stiffened with her eyes going wide as it seemed to get louder. She knew it wasn’t coming from Byssal. A huge shadow cast over them and she tried to convince herself it wasn’t who she thought. Byssal’s hand started to move closer to his chest and she saw the strange new claws appear as Kyrie grabbed him. She could feel Byssal’s muscles flexing as he tried to pull free.

“Mine,” Kyrie growled. She shook as that voice spoke. It didn’t sound like Kyrie anymore, she couldn’t make herself connect this person to who she knew. She could see his hand tightening around Byssal and started to panic. It seemed like Kyrie was going to break his arm.

“Kyrie, it’s fine ju-” Byssal tried, but Kyrie growled louder, cutting him off. 

Melody didn’t know what to do, she just watched as Kyrie started to move more. Byssal’s hand moved slightly as he tried to pull his arm free. As the other hand that seemed to have doubled in size came up she realized he intended to grab her. She didn’t know what to do, any attempt to get away would just end up worse for her and Byssal. She was completely lost and wound up sitting still as two fingers pinched her again.

She was pulled off the hand quickly. Her stomach dropped and she let out a new scream. Kyrie growled again seemingly in response. She felt his hold on her tighten, thankfully not enough to hurt her. She started to cry as she was brought up and up and up to his face. Her mind blanked when she was brought to a stop in front of an open mouth.

“K-Kyrie?” she whispered. The hand holding her moved closer to his teeth. They were sharper and bloody and she started flailing. He let go of Byssal to grab her in his other hand, pinning her arms to her side again. He opened his mouth wide. “Please don’t! Please let me go! Kyrie please! Please!”

“Kyrie!” Byssal yelled. She winced, it was loud enough to hurt her ears. Kyrie moved her into his mouth. She kept screaming and begging him to let her go. He didn’t seem to care what she wanted anymore. He hadn’t let her go yet, but she could see straight into his throat. She was going to die. “It’s ok. I’m leaving. You don’t have to protect her. It’s alright.”

She was shaking as Byssal’s voice got softer. Of course he’d leave her alone like this, she knew he hated humans and she was more one than anything else. Kyrie growled, the smell of fish was blown in her face as he did. He pressed her into his mouth for a second before letting out a calmer noise she never heard before. 

He slowly pulled her out and returned to where he’d been laying on the sand. He let her go and sand covered her from where she’d gotten wet. She kept crying terrified of what would happen next. Kyrie pulled himself out of the water and curled around her. She could see the way his scales had changed now, a much darker blue she’d never notice was moving normally. He curled up where she had just enough space to sit down before letting out a few chirps.

“Mine,” he trilled. She cried harder, she should never have trusted merfolk.

It was hours before he moved again. When he did she screamed from the space getting even tighter. This time he pulled away, almost like he listened. She wasn’t getting her hopes up like that. She wouldn’t dare look up as he slowly sat up from where he’d been laying. She didn’t want to see those eyes anymore. She wanted to go home, home was only half a minute away.

“Melody?” he said. His voice was quiet this time, almost like how she knew it. It was still deeper, almost darker in a way. She started shaking. “What’s going on? Why are you out here like this?”

“Kyrie!” Byssal yelled. She felt relieved, he’d actually come back. Kyrie’s hands, hands twice as big as she’d grown used to, surrounded her. He was going to try to kill her again. She started screaming and the hands actually pulled away, but still kept her hidden. 

“Byss, what’s going on?” She couldn’t believe he actually had no idea.

“Thank the tides you’re clear headed. You need to leave Melody alone and come with me. She’s been through enough already.” 

“What do you mean she’s been through enough?” 

Kyrie looked down at Melody, she was smaller. When did she get so much smaller. He brought a finger close to her only for her to scream and start shaking. She hadn’t been this scared of him since they first met. He leaned down to try and get a closer look at her. That was when he realized she didn’t get smaller, he grew.

His eyes went wide as a sharp pain felt like it struck through his head. He could faintly see her screaming, crying, begging for freedom. He could slightly taste her still as he remembered trying to defend her. He thought… He thought Byssal was taking her, but he hadn’t seen him as Byssal. She wasn’t a mer she didn’t know what they did. He knew she thought he’d kill her when he would have just swam off to bring her somewhere safe.

“Melody,” he whispered. She flinched when he spoke. He looked at Byssal, only realizing then how much smaller the older mer seemed. He didn’t want her to be alone. “Byss, she shouldn’t be alone. Where’s-”

“Pelago is in her house. We’re leaving to get you somewhere secure before this can happen again. You’re not done growing,” Byssal ordered.

Kyrie nodded looking down at his siren again. She was so scared of him. He knew he should leave, let her make it back on her own. She didn’t look like she could even walk. He carefully brought his fingers close and she started trying to run. It hurt him, but he wasn’t leaving her on the beach. He managed to pinch her between his fingers, she felt much more fragile now. 

“Stop please!” she yelled. It hurt to hear her beg him like that. 

He tried to smile at her, but it seemed to make it worse. He felt stupid, of course it made it worse. He tried to move slowly as he reached up towards her home. It was a lot easier to reach now. He set her down near the door. She didn’t even look back before running inside. He nodded at Byssal before diving back into the water.

“Come on, we don’t know how long we have,” Byssal said.

Kyrie followed the older mer. He knew he could get them there faster, but he didn’t want to push it. He could see the bruise starting to form on Byssal’s arm. It didn’t take them long to reach the cave they’d planned to use. Byssal stopped and waited for him to swim in. He did, curling up on his tail on the ground. There was a spot on the top just big enough for Byssal to swim in and out. 

He watched as Byssal grabbed some stone and started muttering words. Slowly the stone grew large enough that Kyrie was trapped. He wouldn’t be free until his growth was finished. He’d be full size and they’d all seem so small. It didn’t matter, Melody would hate him after this no matter what. He tried not to let out any noise about his pain.

“I’m going to hunt some of the larger fish for you. You’ll be hungry soon enough, if you aren’t already,” Byssal said. Kyrie just offered a chirp before trying to bury himself in the sand. He didn’t want to admit that he was hungry, or that Melody’s taste was still stuck in his mouth. He knew his instincts were trying to protect her, he wouldn’t have let her go when Byssal left if they weren’t. He just was terrified of what could have happened if he stayed left alone with her.

Byssal had to go farther out than usual to get what he needed. It wouldn’t be fun dropping fish close to his own size down for Kyrie to eat. He knew the deep sea coloring meant he’d be huge, but this was already a lot bigger than them. He hoped the spell wouldn’t work and he’d have finished growing, but that wasn’t how things worked.

He found a large grouping of fish that should be enough for at least a meal. He used a spell to kill them quickly and pulled the net Pelago and Caprice made out to carry them back. He hoped Kyrie was still clear headed when he got back. They needed to talk about what he knew happened. He needed to check on Melody too. The siren most likely had no idea what to think.

He reached the hole at the top of the cave and heard silence. Kyrie might have fallen asleep again. He untied the net and started feeding the fish almost his size through the hole. The last one was a bit bigger, giving him a bit of trouble. He’d shoved part of it down, but it sent his arm into the cave. He was going to try something else when a much larger hand grabbed his and the fish pulling him down.

He looked around and saw all the fish gone already. Kyrie must have been hungrier than he thought. As the hand that grabbed him stopped he wondered if he’d been lost to instincts again. The stories of mers Kyrie’s size devouring their own pods during growth spurts came to mind. He felt cruel as another huge hand pulled him away from the fish before shoving the fish into the huge mouth.

He expected to be let go, but he was only brought closer to the much larger mer. He looked up and found seemingly empty eyes. He shivered at the hungry look he was given before he was brought close to Kyrie’s face. He knew what he signed up for when taking in a young deep sea mer back then. He closed his eyes prepared for Kyrie to have lost himself again, but he just felt the big guppy holding him against his nose.

“Byss scared?” he asked. His voice was still trying to settle with the change. He wouldn’t sound normal again for a week or so after he finished growing. Byssal pet his nose eliciting soft chirps from Kyrie. “Melody hate?”

“We’ll talk to her, just give it time,” Byssal sighed. He petted the bit of hair he could reach before Kyrie was moving again. This was more what he expected, as a pup Kyrie was clingy and desperate to be near someone during growth spurts or his scales changing. Kyrie curled up holding Byssal close. Byssal laughed a bit, resigning himself to being held for the next while. The bit of noise from Kyrie’s stomach did leave him a bit more on edge than usual.

Melody slid to the floor leaning against her door. She was panting, terrified of a hand crushing her home to reach her. She didn’t notice when someone walked up until her face was touched. She screamed and jumped to her feet, seeing Pelago about half a foot taller than her and standing there. Melody wanted to back away, but Pelago gently grabbed her hand.

A light tug and Melody was following behind her. She almost laughed at the bath Pel had run for her. The human form merfolk gave her an encouraging smile before slipping out of the room. Melody stared for a few minutes before the sand and damp feeling on her skin reached her brain. She ripped off her clothes and sunk into the water. It felt terrifying despite the safety she knew she had.

“Melody, if it’s ok I’m going to come in to give you some clothes and a towel,” Pelago called. Melody was tempted to say no, but she didn’t want to be alone and relive what happened.

“Ok,” she said. She wasn’t sure Pelago heard her until the door started to open. She couldn’t believe this was real, she wanted to wake up from such an awful nightmare. Pelago dropped the clothes off on the side of the sink and sat on the opposite side of the room. The bubbles in the bath kept Melody almost completely hidden.

“Melody, I’m going to stay with you for now in case that happens again ok?” Pelago felt like she was talking to a cornered animal. She’d known the risks, but they were positive Kyrie had another week before his growth started. The human in the tub didn’t make a sound. She looked down at the clothes on the floor. She could smell Kyrie on them more strongly than ever, and worse she could see how far he’d gone.

“Yes.” Pelago felt her heart break, the little siren always sounded more confident than this. It seemed like she was a shell of herself. Pelago climbed to her feet slowly and moved closer to grab the dirty clothes. She heard the water splash as Melody flinched away.

“It’s ok little siren, I’m going to move your clothes. Just relax, I'll be nearby once you’re ready.”

Pelago just left, she was positive there wouldn’t be an answer. She didn’t know how long the human would be there, but started to wander the house. She hadn’t been to a human home in years. It felt much longer ago when she took her adventure to human lands. She had been so excited when she returned to the water after a year, but there was no one waiting for her. Oceanids live solitary lives and that meant from the end of her training.

She jumped as arms wrapped around her. The little siren was out of the bath and hugging her. She smiled, she thought Melody hated her. She carefully pulled the arms off her and brought the young human to one of the soft seats. She sat down and Melody quickly curled up next to her. She was wrapped in small arms again and she didn’t mind.

“I thought you might leave if I took too long,” Melody whispered. Pelago gently placed a hand on the other's head and started to pet her hair.

“I told you I’d be here. You’ll be safe, little siren. You always were,” she murmured. She felt the arms around her tighten as tears started to fall.

“I thought he killed you, and Byssal. I-I didn’t know what to do if he did. I thought he was going to kill me.” Pelago felt guilty at the happy feeling hearing the human worried about her and Byss. Pelago had quickly grown fond of her, so had Byssal although he’d deny it. Both knew she didn’t seem to like being near either of them.

“Oh guppy,” Pelago wrapped Melody in her arms. “He would never hurt you. Mers his size tend to carry their mates in their mouths when they sense danger. He just thought Byssal might hurt you and planned to take you to safety.”

Melody pulled away from Pelago and glared at her. She tried to offer reassurance, but Melody backed away from her hands. She was glaring and looked ready to kill.

“Do you think claiming he wanted to protect me makes anything he did alright?!” Melody yelled. Pelago opened her mouth to answer, but the fire in the human’s eyes stole her voice. “I couldn’t do anything! All he did was-was hold me and pin me against him! I tried the only power I have to use against things like him and you and he just trapped me more demanding I sing. How the hell does protection make any of that alright?”

“Melody, he just wanted to be near you. During growth mers act on instincts and don’t think about what they-”

“So what if he was hungry!? What if his instincts took over while I was in his mouth? What if he forgot who I was like he clearly forgot Byssal wasn’t an enemy!? You can’t just tell me that it’s fine because it’s normal!”

Pelago pulled Melody close and hugged her. She knew the siren hadn’t even noticed her own tears falling as she spoke. It was clear that her fear was boiling out now that Kyrie was gone. He’d have a lot to work through if she was willing to give him another chance. She started to pet Melody’s head again.

“Oh little guppy, I wasn’t saying it was fine. I’m sorry I made you think that’s what I meant. I was terrified when he grew bigger than Byssal. He’d held me close and wouldn’t let me go. I didn’t want to believe the stories, but I was scared that maybe they were true. He wouldn’t hurt you, but of course he scared you.”

Melody went limp in her arms. She just cried and seemed to finally let out everything she was feeling. Pelago hated seeing her like this, she knew it must have been worse for her. Pelago had a way out if Kyrie decided to hurt her, Melody never did. The biggest downside to being a siren, they had no magic at all. If Kyrie did turn against her she’d never be able to get away.

Eventually Melody fell asleep against her side. She continued petting the sleeping siren’s head until quiet chirps sounded from nearby. She carefully pulled herself away and stepped outside. Byssal had pulled himself up to the cliff and had waited for his chirps to call her out. She smiled up at him as she came close, stopping a bit away when she noticed the water still on his arms.

“Is she hurt?” he asked. Pelago shook her head, tempted to deal with the consequences of touching the water. She could see the bruise he tried to hide.

“How bad was he?” she said.

“Pel… I don’t know if she would have been safe if he took her. It’s not like the last time. When I slipped out… I heard him growling at me, Pel.” She stepped forward, but he pulled his arms away off the ground. “You can’t change back right now.”

“I can handle Kyrie if he decides to grab me Byss.” She set her hands on her hips glaring at the large mer who gave her a sad smile.

“I know you can, but she can’t. Even if the other one comes back before this is over you need to stay.” She smiled at him.

“I knew you liked them. We can always try talking with her more.” Byssal looked away from her and towards the human house. She knew he could see her curled up inside. “She thought we died Byss…”

“I know, she told me…” There was a heavy pause as he stared at Melody. “Do you think she’ll trust him again?” He kept looking at her, Pelago smiled knowing he wanted to see her breathing and know she was safe. He’d acted like that the first time Kyrie had gotten into trouble with some mers who recognized his colors.

“I don’t know. She needs to have a way to get away if he’s like that. I don’t know what that would be.” Pelago sighed and turned to look back at Melody. Even if she forgives this and they grow closer again it’s a dangerous relationship.

“What if she started trying to use the other songs?”

“Byss we don’t even know how the sirens in the stories learned them. We can’t just tell her they’d work on him either. We don’t know anything.”

“After his growth spurt is over I’ll try helping her. She’s not going to have that happen again.” She turned to look up at him and saw the way he changed. She never expected him to look quite so protective over a human.

“You thought he might go too far…” Pelago’s voice was barely a whisper, but Byssal gave an affirmative chirp. 

“It wasn’t like last time Pel, his eyes were different. He knew it was her, but I don’t know if he’d keep seeing her.” 

Pelago stared at Byssal in silence. She knew there was something he was holding back. She stepped forward and looked up at the face so much bigger than her. It didn’t feel that different from normal, but she knew it did to him. She sat down on the ground and sighed preparing herself for what he’d say.

“What aren’t you telling me, Byssal?” she whispered. He let out the smallest chirp she ever heard from him. He lowered himself below the cliff so she could only see his eyes. He looked almost scared to say it.

“He was growling when I left. I slipped out of his arms just before he woke up. I’m pretty sure I heard his teeth snap shut just as I got out…” he said. She barely heard him, a part of her wondered if he was trying to stop Melody from hearing.

Byssal couldn’t read Pelago’s expression. They both knew the risks, the stories, how much was legend and truth. They both knew that it could be their death having a deep sea mer around. He would never know if the goal was just to pull him back or something more. Pelago stood and turned to walk back inside.

“We need to find those songs. He can’t come back here until she knows them, at least not be near her like that again,” she said. Byssal watched as she entered the human house again. She was right. First he’d go hunting more for Kyrie, then he’d start looking into the ruins of siren nests nearby for anything to help.

[scorsoneamelia]

I like the way you write II wanted to ask if you could write a story where there is a shooting and link is shot

thank you so much :’) i like this idea a lot!!

this is gonna be a big one sorry it took me a while to write because it’s heavy lol

yall are gonna hate me for ending this the way i did lol

tw: shooting

         The thing about life is that you never know what to expect, everyday you live life never knowing how the day is going to end. Some like the idea of never knowing, some think it makes life more meaningful while some people sit on the edge full of anxiety because they need to know when their last breath will be. It’s like how some will take a test to tell them if they have the cancer gene, the Alzheimer’s gene, a disease, etc., and some will refuse to know because they’d rather not know than always expect the worst.

         Death is so familiar to Amelia, she’s seen her own father fall to his death right in front of her, even though she might not remember it as well as her brother did, the trauma still impacted her. Rolling over to notice that her boyfriend’s heart was no longer beating and his body was ice cold, her brother getting ripped out of her life too soon; it’s all familiar to her. You’d think this is what she’d be used to, the worst case scenarios but nobody really is ever used to hear the worst news of your life, no matter how familiar it may be.

          They had just been leaving from a dinner with Link’s parents, and although neither have them have spoken or seen much of one another since the afternoon on the beach; since the proposal, it was quiet. The only time they’ve communicated lately is for the sake of their son, who was currently being watched by Meredith. Link told his parents they’d both be there because it was ‘easier’ than explaining the alternative. Dinner was fine, the least amount of awkward it could have been, both of them putting on a smile and an act which was easy for the two of them since they acted like a perfectly happy married couple for her sisters before. This was easy.

          Link parked the car in front of a gas station, a small one along the outskirts of the city because he needed gas and a snack, even though he just ate. Neither of them said much to one another besides, “Be right back.” which came from Link and he was already exiting the vehicle.

            Amelia hadn’t said much to Link directly since he picked her up, she wasn’t sure what the right thing to say was and whatever she wanted to say, he wouldn’t care to listen and she knew that. He was hurt; and he was upset and even though she had her own reasons and feelings, hers weren’t important because Link was hurt.

             Her finger was tapping down onto her contact list to find Meredith’s number, a heads up that they might be a little big longer than expected cause the drive home will be a long one. Her attention was diverted away because there was a loud noise; an explosion sound and there was screams immediately followed after. Civilians were running down the street, people jumping into their cars to speed away, the sound of their rubber tires squealing against the pavement along with screams; terrified screams. A young girl ran out of the gas station, blood soaking her pant leg from the knee down and she was crying, her hands were trembling and she was dialling 911 on her phone.

             The gas station, the realization came and a wave of panic hit her, her heart pounding against her chest and now her hands were shaking. A man was running to the bleeding girls side, putting pressure on her leg while she cried out. Quickly, Amelia pushed open the passenger door and the screams were even louder. “He has a gun!”

             It only took a few moments before Amelia was throwing the gas station door open, knowing damn well that if there really was someone with a gun in there that she’d be risking her life. But there was something that was making her go in there, she wasn’t thinking and her heart was beating so hard in her chest it felt like it was going to pop out, and her hands were shaking and she couldn’t keep them still. Just as she expected, a white man with dark brown hair had the man who worked behind the counter at the gas station at gun point. His finger hovering over the trigger and his knuckles white, the innocent man had his hands raised in the air. The man had a black cotton mask covering his face so you could only see his hazel eyes, a backpack secured to his shoulder.

              There was a chime when Amelia opened the door, attention being drawn to her and immediately her hands were raised into the air, her breath being caught in her throat. “Don’t move, or I shoot.” The guy wasn’t facing her yet, but his eyes were burning into her. This was all too familiar, way too familiar. A man being held at gunpoint that worked at a gas station, her being in the same building and her hands trembling.

               “Amelia,” Link had been hiding behind a corner and he came out to expose himself, the gunman turning his attention to Link and pointing it directly at him, only causing him to raise his hands as well. “Sir, please, don’t do this.”

                Now that the shooter had his back towards the clerk behind the counter and his gun facing Link, he slowly reached for the cellphone to dial all emergency vehicles. Amelia didn’t move, she was frozen in place and her hands were still raised in the air and she was breathing deeply and slowly because she was about to have a panic attack. “One step and I shoot!” The man yelled, his voice was deep and it sent a chill down Amelia’s spine.

                “Link,” Amelia choked out, her voice thick with terror and there were tears trying to escape her eyes. “Link.” She said again, a cry coming out through her throat.

                 “Shut up!” The man yelled even louder, stepping closer to Link, his grip tightening around the gun. “I will shoot every single one of you.” There was no doubt this man would, there was a look in his eyes, a look that would terrify anyone.

                 There was sirens off in the distance, meaning someone had already called because the innocent man behind the counter couldn’t hold the phone still by how much his hands were shaking. The gun man heard the sirens, his eyes looking over at her as if she called them. “This pretty boy your boyfriend?”

                 “Uh,—“ was she supposed to lie in this type of situation? “Yes—, yes he’s my boyfriend.” Her breath was caught in her throat, it felt like she couldn’t breathe, like her throat was closing in on her.

                 “That’s too bad,” the guy laughed. His laugh was evil, the type of evil that made your stomach turn. A group of police cars rolled up at the front of the building, sirens and lights on and police men and women were surrounding the building within seconds. “Fuck!” He was yelling now, a frustrated hand running through his hair and he was bringing the gun down away from Link’s chest. Link thought it was enough time for him to make a run for it, ducking down and trying to make it to the front door.

                There was a ringing in her ears after the gun was drawn and the man’s finger pushed down onto the trigger, the bullet embedding into Link’s rib cage, blood wetting his white coloured shirt. She stopped breathing, it getting stuck at the bottom of her throat and her chest was tight. She could feel her heartbeat throughout her entire body, she could hear it in her ears and her hands wouldn’t stay still. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t breathe and her chest was closing in. Her vision was blurry, black auras surrounding her eyes, and she was lightheaded, so dizzy she might fall over and it felt like her knees were about to buckle.

             The door behind her was thrown open and the chime went off throughout the store, her ears still ringing and she could barely hear anything. “Hands in the air!” The police were inside now, all guns drawn to the suspect. “Drop the gun!”

            She still stood there, losing her balance and grabbing onto one of the counter tops behind her. Link was laying on the ground, blood pouring out of his side and he was coughing, his face scrunched up in pain. His hand was reaching down and covering the injury with his palm, trying to put pressure on his own wound. Amelia couldn’t move, her legs were giving out and her entire body was shaking.

            She stood there for a few more moments, as the gun man tried to escape, running to the back of the store and one police man was talking to the man who worked at the station and another was standing over Link, calling for emergency back-up.

            “Sir,” the police woman was kneeling next to Link, addressing the injury. “Can you hear me? You’re gonna be okay, the ambulance is on their way.” Link was groaning and you could hear his pain.

             “Oh my god,-“ Amelia finally snapped out of it, running over to Link’s side, placing both of her hands on top of his ribcage putting as much pressure on the wound as she could. “Link, oh my god.” She was stumbling over her own words, panic arising.

             “Stay— Stay with me! You’re not dying, stay awake!” She was yelling, completely terrified, you could hear it in her voice and you could hear her crying. “Link, I love you so much, okay? I love you, I’m sorry...” She was in hysterics, you could make an ocean by the amount of tears that were streaming down her face.

            Her hands were covered in blood, and she was continuing to hold pressure. “Stay with me, Link, don’t close your eyes. Don’t-“ she choked on her own years. “Don’t leave me too.”

           Link was coughing even more now, she could see spots of blood in his mouth and his eyes were fluttering shut, so much pain written all over his face. “No, no, no!! No!!” Amelia was yelling even louder now, a police officer having to step in and try and comfort her. “You’re not leaving me too! No! Link! I love you, I love you!”

          “Ma’am,” the police officer said, placing a hand on Amelia’s shoulder. “No! Don’t touch me!” Amelia snapped, one of her hands reaching up to his throat and she could feel a pulse, it was faint and weak but it was there.

         “His pulse is weak, we’re not losing him! I am not letting you guys lose him.” Her hands were moving to the centre of his chest now, and she was doing CPR, because she needed him alive. 

         “I can’t do it without him, I won’t- I won’t survive this.” She wasn’t lying. She will not survive this. She can’t lose another person that she loves, especially to a gunshot.

          The police officer had the audacity to try and pull Amelia off while her bloody hands where pushing down on the middle of his chest, trying her best to keep him alive. “No!” Amelia screamed, using one of her hands quickly to shove the police officer away.

           “No! He’s dying, what are you doing?!” Ignoring the police, she continued giving Link CPR, also ripping her jacket off to put it against his wound. “I’m a doctor, I know what I’m doing.”

           She was sobbing, her entire body taken over with cries and shakes. There was still ringing in her ears and she was trying to slow her breathing so that she wouldn’t have a panic attack. There was so much blood, it was pooling on the floor and his white shirt was almost completely dark red and Amelia’s hands and wrists were coloured. She’s a doctor, a damn surgeon, she should be used to the sight of blood but there was so much. She could hear the sirens off in the distance meaning an ambulance was coming, he might be okay. She hopes he’ll be okay, she’s praying. Link’s eyelashes were slowly opening and then slowly closing, his hand weakly reaching for Amelia’s that was moving up and down on his chest. A weak cough escaped his lungs. “Please-“ She cried out, there was blood on her own shirt now.

            A team of paramedics and a gurney was next to Amelia, and they were taking over and instead of leaving them to do their job, she leaned over and grabbed Link’s face in her hands. “I can’t do this without you, Link, I love you.”

           The paramedics where then lifting him onto a gurney, a mask put over his face while one of the paramedics pumped it, giving him some oxygen. She grabbed his hand, hers shaking in his and his was weak, but his fingers were loosely intertwined with hers. They were rushing him into the back of the ambulance, and she followed, sitting down beside him in the van while paramedics worked to keep him alive.

             “I’m in love with you,” she whispered, tightening her grip on his hand. “Oh my god, I’m in love with you. Please god, I need him to live.” She was praying, begging, she needed him.

             The ambulance was already making their way to the hospital, Grey Sloan being the closest. She pulled his hand up to her cheek and there was still tears spilling out of her face, and her other hand was running through his hair softly. “You’re going to be okay.”

————————

             The doors of the ambulance flew open and the paramedic jumped out, pulling the gurney out with her. “GSW to the chest, pulse is there but it’s weak.” Owen Hunt, head of trauma was the one who was there to treat him, followed by her sister, head of cardio, Maggie Pierce.

              “Oh my god.” Maggie said softly, stopping in her tracks for a brief moment to focus on what she was looking at. Link in a gurney, covered in blood, and Amelia was also covered, stepping down from the ambulance. She was concerned, very worried, and confused why her sister was covered in blood. “What happened?”

             “Crazy gunman,” Amelia’s voice was so soft that Maggie could barely here her. Her eyes were puffy and it was obvious that she hadn’t stopped crying. “There was a robbery at the gas station and he shot him.” She broke down in tears again, falling to the ground. “He shot him, Maggie. I saw it happen, I saw-“

             Maggie kneeled down in front of her while Owen rushed Link inside the hospital to bring him into a trauma room. “Hey,” Maggie whispered. “I’m going to do everything I can to save him.”

            “Please-“ she choked out. “Please make sure he’s okay.”

             While she stood outside the window of the ER room, it felt like the world was moving in slow motion. The doctors working on Link were moving slowly, in her mind, and they were assessing the situation, their stress levels through the roof. Amelia’s hands were still shaking and she was covered in blood, if nobody knew what happened they’d think she was the one who was hurt.

            “He’s crashing!” Maggie yelled, immediately moving to his chest to start compressions. “I need a crash kart!”

             The nurses were running in with a kart with a defibrillator, soon after Maggie reached down for them. “Charge to 300!” She yelled and placed them on both sides of his chest before telling everyone to clear, and then they shocked him.

          “No rhythm, charge to 400.” She places the paddles on each side again before the shocked him once more. “C’mon.”

           “We have a rhythm!” Maggie yelled, placing the paddles back onto the kart. Amelia let out a sigh of relief before Bailey was running over, peering into the trauma room window herself.

            “Oh my god, what happened?” Bailey asked, slightly reaching over and touching Amelia’s shoulder for support, but she was numb. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t speak, the world was moving in slow motion around her. Her mind was all over the place, and she kept feeling dizzy.

           “I have to bring him to surgery.” Maggie said, coming around the corner while pulling the gurney with her. “I’m going to do everything I can do.”

            “I’m coming with you,” Amelia finally spoke, stepping forward and grabbing onto the gurney. Her pulse was still high, and her mind was still fuzzy.

            “You’ll wait in the waiting room like every other family member.” Bailey ordered, which made Amelia’s eyes roll and a huff came out of mouth.

           “Please, Bailey.”

           “It’s the rules, you know that.” And Amelia gave up, because it was the rules. She would have to wait like everybody else, and try to be patient but she felt like she won’t be able to sit still.

            “I’ll give you updates as much as I can.” Maggie brushed her shoulder before they were going through the Authorized Personnel Only sign and she was sliding down the wall. She couldn’t cry anymore, it was like she was out of tears. She sat on the floor, her back pressed against the wall while the blood dried onto her sink. She didn’t want to move, she couldn’t move. The waiting room was too far, she thinks waiting here on the floor is a better idea.

            How can something like this happen again? How can she relive something as traumatic as this? Will she even survive this?

[stormgardenscurse]

this is inspired by a friend lol. But a shy bubbly female mc for twisted wonderland who is terrified of the ocean and it's creatures, with Azul and the eel twins? Maybe some wholesome head canons I can send so she can see the eel babeys aren't so bad?

At first Jade or Floyd might make jokes about how you’re right to fear the ocean; it’s dark and scary and you never know what might ambush you if you’re not careful-

Until Azul deals them a silencing glare, because, well, you were starting to look paler than just a second ago from imagining it. 

What they’re telling you may be true to some extent, but there are also wonderful things under the sea! Meadows and flower fields? Please, you haven’t lived until you’ve witnessed their brilliant coral reefs or swam along with schools of fish.

They tell you as much, describing how lively and exciting things can be in the Coral Sea (with the right company, that is - and in their humble opinions, they’d make great guides)

Floyd excitedly tells you about the test of courage of journeying to a famous sunken ship, while Jade suggests that you take the chance to try out their local cuisine, especially since Azul’s family runs a famous restaurant (Azul normally doesn’t endorse this, but Jade knows because it’s you he’ll probably give in)

They’ll try and nab your interest by introducing the ocean’s animals and plants, reminiscing about their own experiences with them to make things seem less intimidating to you. Azul is especially good at this (his silver tongue helps) and assures that they wouldn’t let anything harm you (the twins can probably chase off whatever it is without a problem, and really, they’d be more than happy to.)

If you’re the curious type, Jade and Floyd might try to tempt you by saying it’s your only chance of seeing Azul in his merman form, much to his dismay

As a starting point, they suggest you visit the beach. It’s an awfully chaotic trip with Floyd leaping into the water while dragging some poor unfortunate soul for the ride, but you can’t help but let out an amused chuckle at the sight.

They won’t try and force you to swim or go into deeper water if you’re uncomfortable, but are more than happy to help guide you there if you’re willing. Azul focuses on making sure you’re fine while Floyd makes sure you have a fun time (Jade teeters between the two)

You guys have a barbecue (this part was spearheaded by Jade, who handled the prep work) and build elaborate sand forts/castles (which… then got destroyed - but Azul magicked them back to normal so everything’s fine!)

Azul gets buried with only his head out, and you guys create sand-tentacles to mimic his real ones. Someone saw fit to give him a mermaid-shell bra

At one point they suggested you’d make a fine mermaid with your personality. If you let them they’ll decorate your hair with some seashells and style it, before taking a picture to show you as a surprise! (Though before this they’ll have you check your reflection in the water for a magical effect. It’s a little cheesy, but some cheese never hurt anyone, right? It certainly wasn’t too bad on the baked oysters you had for lunch.)

Their main goal from this is to give you fond memories relating to the ocean, even if you may not have ventured underwater yet. It’s a small step, but any progress is a victory in their book.

[nanashiii]

Heron x queen!reader

So this is my first fandom contribution ever and even if it sucks I'm happy with it lol, it's kinda of a wip and since english is not my first language...well, it may just worsen the whole thing :,)

@zen-gordon I'm sorry it took so much time to write it 😖😖

↠ Wc: 1.7k

↠ Chapter 1

↠ Warnings: none yet

There was something to be revealed to you, the new queen of the polis, your mother wanted to warn you about who you really are.

She seemed to be delirious that night, it was a celebration, everyone was partying, the Palace in an uproar for some successful hunt or something of the same relevance for the nobles.

"Y/n, my ... daughter, listen to me, please ..." she was disheveled, so different from her usual self, eyes trembling. You thought it was the drink's fault, the wine must have been too strong.

It was a foolish judgment, the queen had been poisoned that same night, during the feast.

You guided her to the royal quarters, your mother's speech becoming more and more vague. And waiting for her to fall asleep, you stared at the night sky.

An eagle watched both of you from the top of a tree, which years before, had been struck by lightning. The bird was abnormally big, aside from the fact that it was nothing nocturnal.

The observation lasted a few minutes - a clash of swords and shields made you jump from the bed, which you have sited next to the queen - the woman lulled into an apparently peaceful sleep.

A maid - Lamia, the queen's most old and loyal lady, entered the room like a gust of wind, her eyes wide and blood on her robes matching her panicked face.

She was crying, her hands trembling as she grabbed yours in an attempt to get you out of the room.

You were on your feet instantly.

"My sweet child." The maid sobbed. "I can't let them kill you too."

"What?!" You felt the air escaping your lungs way too fast.

"The king is dead ... the queen ..." the woman staggered, trying to contain her crying. "Poisoned. There was poison in her food and drinks and ..."

The world seemed to shatter around you, at least, you world, the servant's words becoming distant murmurs. You turned, almost falling on the queen's bed, grabbing a hand that was already cold and purple with some grotesque poison.

Before a scream broke from your throat, someone covered your mouth, dragging you out of the room. You couldn't tell if it was the maid or a guard. Everything looked like a blur between tears, howls and a metallic smell that was beginning to approach.

The guards who remained in the stable placed you at the maid's side upon two black steeds, assuring that they would follow the new queen, you, soon. But first they would need to find the murderer.

The night had never seemed so terrifying to you, but Lamia tightened her knuckles, her eyes red with tears lit by the moon.

"We will take refuge in the Palace of your Aunt, in the neighboring polis." She will give you all the support you need." Lamia said, looking back one last time, you followed her movement.

Something in your heart seemed to sunk, as if someone had staked it there, tears flowed hot, sobs broke out and somehow now your horse was on the trail of the other steed.

It was a nightmare, Phobetor was playing with you.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<<<<<<

He wasn't.

The next morning was so real that you almost felt ill. Taken by the shock, you arrived at your Aunt's palace in the polis that had heavy rain clouds but, strangely, didn't let not even one drop touch the soil. Even so, nothing seemed to matter at that moment, you were guided to a new room, an aunt dismayed and angry at what they did to her brother, shouted orders to your own remaings guards and when things calmed down days later, she decided that you coronation should be done there and soon.

The aid of a noble should always be questioned, she would probably ask for favors during the next years, but you couldn't even bear the thoughts of dealing with it, so the best option was to ignore your aunt's apparently innocent help.

"My queen, may I suggest something?" Lamia mumbled, she have spent more time by your side since that cursed night.

She couldn't ignore your current state, the sleepless nights and nocturnal fears were claiming it's own price. There were always creeping nightmares waiting for you, so the wandering nights inside your aunt's palace seemed much more appealing than a nightmare filled sleep. Soon both of you would need to go back to your truly palace, it seemed that your aunt's mercy was coming to an end more quickly than what you have expected.

"What is it?" You didn't even blinked an eye as you replied to the maid, one commotion down the plebe stands catching your attention as the sound of shouting voices started to reach your ears.

It seemed like a group of men harassing a lonely woman - well she looked a bit like an outcaster there, with everyone turning their eyes to the explicit violence against her.

"A guard's switch, my queen." Lamia approached your side.

What was making her so absorbed after all? The servant questioned herself, seeing nothing but a normal day at the polis.

"I think that, with a personal guard selected by yourself will bring you some peace, most nobles do this when they ascend to the throne" Lamia explained.

When the woman was brutally pushed by one of the five men, an young man appeared, he came running and as fast as he reached the group, he punched and even used a knife at some point. Almost slicing someone's throat.

He helped the woman to rise again, with some caution.

The two left, disappearing from your view.

I may need warriors like this one.

No...

I need this one.

He was ...

"I accept your suggestion, Lamia, can you organize everything so I can meet and choose them during the next week?"

"Of course my dear queen, I'll start it immediately." Lamia bowed, now questioning what could possibly have happened for the queen's complexion to light up. Nonetheless what has caused it she was glad for.

"And Lamia, make sure that they know about how generous the new queen is when it comes to payments."

"Yes, I'll be sure they hear about it" the servant bowed a second time and then left you, it didn't take too much time to another servant to come and replace her.

Your thoughts seemed to run more wildly as the day passed by.

The sudden attraction to the man made you question yourself, was it because he was the one who made you wake up from an aphatic state?

You weren't sure.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

Zeus, in this case and in this form, Elias, was once again wandering drunkenly through the streets of the polis, enjoying the few pleasures that an old mortal could give himself and also maintaining his disguise.

He had overheard the conversation of one of the servants of the new queen, queen who was Demeter's and a mortal's daughter mortal which the goddess decided to deny the existence, handing her daughter over to a sterile human queen.

A demigod, just like his own son.

The two shared a strangely similar past, even when it came to traumatizing nights.

The disguised god walked back to his lover and son's home, the new queen's offer was too tempting for Heron to refuse, no matter how stubborn he could be. He had declined Alexia's offer, and perhaps the regret would make him choose right this time.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<<<<<

Lamia had organized everything just as the queen asked, her aunt did not hide the relief that you were leaving soon and wandered happily around the room in which the three of you were.

"The men in my polis make great guards, excellent warriors." the mourning for her brother had dissipated quickly, and it also increased your desire to leave that place, now the cloudy clouds seemed to worsen your mood.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<<<<<<

You were waiting for them inside a kind of canopy like bed, Lamia had murmured something about only the selected ones seeing your face. It was a strange security issue and the day was particularly hot making you hate the stupid idea even more. But there was something, making your afternoon a little more tolerable.

The chance of seeing him again.

A few remaining men from your old guard positioned themselves near the door and soon it was opened, the first candidate entering the room, an undoubtedly strong man, but it wasn't the one you're seeking to see.

Your frustration almost materialized right there, and a doubt arose, what made you believe that he would appear?

As you were selecting the most competent ones, or at least apparently competent, your hope of seeing him again was being drained as the hours passed by, soon you would have to leave the polis and perhaps you should have to accept the fact that you would not see him again.

Besides, as a new queen there would be more important things to deal with, and soon this sudden...

The door opened again, the last one to be chosen and you had to control yourself not to tear the canopy.

It was him.

You were silent for a while, observing every possible detail through the fine fabric, his frame but what has made you literally frozen were his eyes - a vibrant blue, as if the sky and the ocean were inside those irises.

"My queen?" A servant called, waking you from your almost trance.

You composed yourself. Continuing with the same questions I had repeated so many times earlier.

"Your name?"

"It's Heron."

"Well Heron, you must already know I'm not from this polis, even so, are you willing to work as one of my guards?"

Tension filled your brain, after all he could simply deny it, you remembered the woman he helped, could she possibly be a relative?

He stayed silent for some seconds, his face was doubt itself but soon with was replaced by calm and determination.

"Yes, I'm willing too." Heron replied.

"Great." your response didn't matched the sheer happiness that you were feeling. You proceeded with the other questions about what weapon could he wield, combat experience...

You weren't really listening to Heron's answers, still mesmerized simply by seeing him close enough, even so, you managed to inform him that you all would be departing soon and he should prepare for doing so.

"You can go now."

He left the room and so did you, watching from a safe distance as he kept walking down the aisle, there was definitely something different about him.

Something that seemed weirdly familiar to you.

What was it?

[soft-thrills]

XF Fic: Too Much, Just Right

I fear that if I don’t post this now, I may never post it.

Summary: Mulder/Scully smut. Dom Mulder. NC-17. Classic PWP. Mulder and Scully get kinky on a vacation to Big Sur. That’s it, that’s the plot. It’s embarrassingly long, what else is new.

It satisfies two prompts from the Dec ‘18/Jan’19 @xfpornbattle​, which, LOL, could I be any slower?

Those prompts are:

Dom Mulder draped over Scully's back, pounding into her and whispering the dirtiest things in her ear while playing with her clit. Bonus if there are people nearby.

and:

Dom Mulder blowjob, slapping Scully's cheeks with his dick while she touches herself

I reserve the right to revisit this setting, by the way, because Big Sur is the most surreal landscape I’ve ever visited, and it’s a BIG Mulder/Scully mood.

If I’ve not scared you off, keep reading, friends. Unbeta’ed. Sorry for the typos or tense slips. I tried to catch ‘em all. If you like it, hate it, it makes you feel something, anything, please let me know.

He books them a cabin in a redwood grove on the California coast. Their cell phones lose reception as they begin the winding drive through Big Sur, dramatic scenery seemingly all around them — jagged cliffs and primal, roaring ocean waves on one side; mountains and thick forest on the other. It feels like the edge of the universe. 

They are in a rented Jeep, with the top taken off, and Mulder had popped The Beach Boy’s Pet Sounds — somehow at once upbeat and melancholy, not unlike him — into the CD player.

They are relaxed, happy. Blessedly alone.

“No shared apartment walls out here, Scully,” he says, his voice dark and low, the way it always sounds in the evenings when he takes charge.

His hand lands on her thigh and she jumps. He smirks. She feels off balance — the rush of the wind around the Jeep, Brian Wilson’s voice, the sheer edges and the blue sky — and it feels good. 

“No neighbors. I’m going to have so much fun making you scream,” he promises. “Just you and me in the middle of nowhere.”

...So he hadn’t realized there would be another cabin about 20 feet away from theirs, occupied by a friendly couple in their twenties who wave when they pull up, just as the sun is setting. She shoots him a trademark raised eyebrow. 

“All alone in the middle of nowhere, huh?” 

In the end, it works out. Ed and Mary are lovely, and they spend the evening sitting around a fire pit between the two cabins, sharing a cache of West Coast IPAs, pinot noir and marshmallows. Sadly, Mulder and Scully have to politely turn down the couple’s generous offer to enjoy some fine California Gold marijuana, what with the federal employment and all. 

A couple hours later, it is well and truly dark. Scully knows from past trips out to Big Sur when she was young that the sky is full of stars, though they can’t see it from their vantage point beneath the thick canopy of redwoods. She feels warm from the fire and the drinks and the easy camaraderie. She feels happy, relaxed, far from her responsibilities. 

“Ready to hit the hay, Scully?” Mulder asks, a voice so sweet she’d almost forgotten the mood he’d been in earlier. 

Almost.

She felt warm all over again.

“Yeah, if we want to get up early tomorrow and hike, I suppose we’d better.” 

And so they say goodnight to Ed and Mary, who say they’d be outside a little while longer, making sure the fire safely dies down. Very responsible. 

The cabin is small but well appointed — for once it really is a nice trip to the forest. It has sliding glass doors, and once they were inside, Mulder drew the curtains almost all the way. Almost. It would be unlikely Ed or Mary could see anything from their vantage point, but not entirely impossible if they ventured out of the clearing. The walls are thin enough that she can hear Mary laughing at something Ed said outside.  

“Guess it would be a little rude to make you scream, Scully,” he says, and she jumps, because Mulder’s low voice is right against her ear, and she hadn’t even realized he was behind her.

“I guess so,” she says, not happy about how shaky her voice is already.

“Maybe I’ll just have to settle for making you whimper. Making you beg. Making you moan.”

She could settle for that. Doesn’t really feel like settling at all, actually.

“And maybe, Scully, if you’re very good, and you promise not to make too much noise, maybe I will let you come.”

She watches her own chest rise and fall, listens to the sound of her own breath. He is so annoyingly, wonderfully good at this. It was hard, at first, for her to accept that she liked it — that bossy Dana Scully liked being bossed around in bed. She supposes it’s not particularly shocking. It might even be predictable. It took Mulder next to no time to figure out, brilliant profiler and whatnot.  But it’s still hard to be vulnerable with someone when you want them to treat you as an equal in a relationship. Harder still when you also work with that someone in an environment where it is imperative that they treat you as an equal.

Needless to say, she got over it.

“Would you like that, Scully? Would you like me to make you beg?” he asks, running his hands up her sides, and she can’t help but shiver.

“Yes.”

“Take your clothes off,” he says, not a whisper anymore, and his voice is enough to make her jump.

He stalks out from behind her as she sheds the fleece jacket she’d worn to keep warm by the fire, then her t-shirt, then her jeans.

“Stop,” he says, when she was down to her underwear and bra, simple but matching black cotton.

He kisses her, hands in her hair, like he’d been waiting to do it since he’d made his now-amended promise back in the Jeep all those hours ago. A needy sound escapes from the back of her throat, and she can’t tell if she’s squirming because of embarrassment or desire but she’s pretty sure it’s both.

She is out of breath when he pulls away. 

“You’re so beautiful, Scully. You’re perfect,” he says, and while she doesn’t think of herself that way, in that moment, she believes him.

“I want to make you deliriously happy,” he tells her.

She leans into his chest as he strokes her hair.

“But first,” his voice drops again, his hand goes from stroking to gripping the hair at the nape of her neck, pulling back so she looks up at him. “You’re going to suck my cock.”

He is good at that — setting her at ease with sweet little touches and then jolting her back into their kinky little game — and she is a real sucker for it. 

She glances in the direction of the bed, but he shakes his head. She feels herself get hotter. He pulls a pillow off the bed and places it in front of him. She knows what he wants, but she wants to hear him tell her.

“On your knees, Scully.”

She’s always been good at following directions. When she is settled, he unbuttons his fly. He takes his cock in hand, but instead of pressing it against her lips, he rubs it against her cheek. She feels herself blush and then he gently taps it against her cheek, and then a little harder, and that’s something new and Christ, it’s almost too much, which means it makes her wet.

“Does sucking my cock turn you on?” 

She silently curses him for expecting her to speak in this condition. “Yes. Please,” she says, although she’s not entirely sure what she’s asking him for.

He slaps his dick against her cheek again and she squeezes her legs together. Too much. But God, she likes it. 

“You can play with yourself,” he says. Of course she can, she is a grown woman, and she can do whatever she likes to her own body… and yet on this evening, in this mood, she wouldn’t dream of it without Mulder’s permission.

He puts his cock in her mouth, and she takes him up on his offer, slipping her hands inside her panties and finding herself predictably wet.

She takes him as deep as she can, concentrating until she gets into a rhythm, then looking up at him and making eye contact. He groans, and she’d smirk if she could.

“I’ve been waiting all day for this, Scully,” he mutters. “Been thinking about sliding into your mouth since I started teasing you in the Jeep. I could barely concentrate out by the fire, I wanted you so bad.”

She moves the busy fingers under her underwear a little faster, and he notices. 

“It makes you wet to have my dick in your mouth, huh?” 

She moans around his cock. Too much. Just right. 

Kinky sex with Mulder never fails to remind her what a good interrogator he is. He is constantly talking to her, asking her to react, asking her to admit her secrets — yes, I want you to make me beg, yes, I want to suck your cock, yes, I like having your dick in my mouth. It is a temporarily lopsided power dynamic — there is no doubt that Mulder is in charge right now — but there’s rarely any sense of force. She wants every filthy thing he does to her, and he makes her tell him that. 

It is overwhelming to be the object of his intense focus, his questioning, his curiosity. At first it was terrifying how little she could hide from him. It is still a little scary — in an exciting, pulse-quickening way that reminds her why she turned in her stethoscope for a gun. It’s also oddly comforting: She doesn’t have to hide, or pretend, with Mulder. She just has to be herself, strange quirks and kinks and all. He could see through any pretending she could try.

She takes him a little deeper, deep enough that it makes her eyes water. A gentle thumb wipes away a tear that had formed at the edge of her eye. She looks up into his eyes and when he smiles at her, she nearly melts. 

“Hands where I can see them, now, Scully,” he says, and she reluctantly stops touching herself. 

Mulder withdraws from her mouth a moment later, and helps her to her feet. He steps out of his jeans, then pulls his t-shirt over his head. 

“Did you enjoy that, Scully?”

That he calls her by her last name, even now, as she wipes the corner of her lips, it’s somehow a thousand times more intimate than if he’d used her first name. It’s like he sees right through whatever walls she might want to build, flimsier than the walls of this cabin, outside of which the fire is still burning as Ed and Mary keep talking.

“Yes,” she says simply, finally, answering his question. Then she flicks her eyes at his erection. “I could feel that you enjoyed it as well.”

Despite how much she likes it when he’s in charge, she can’t help but try to claw back a little pride.

“Of course I liked it,” he says, pulling her close against his erection. “What’s not to like about my buttoned-up partner getting on her knees to take my cock down her throat while she plays with herself?”

She moans -- an embarrassing, unintended, not very quiet moan. 

“What did I tell you about being quiet, Scully?” he teases, followed by a sharp swat on her ass. 

Too much. Just right.

“I can’t help it,” she whines, a whisper.

“Well you’d better try, if you want me to let you come.”

On any other evening she’d laugh. She’d scoff at the idea that anyone could *let* her do anything. But it isn’t any other evening and she’s ready to dissolve into a puddle at his feet and so she bites her lip and she nods like a --

“Good girl,” he says.

When she is back in her right mind she is going to murder him. Or buy him breakfast. She can’t really be sure. 

He shoves her -- shoves her! -- onto the cabin’s king size bed, which takes up most of the small space. Her pulse is racing. 

Scully knows, rationally, that there are lots of reasons people like any manner of kinky sex -- the trust, the intimacy, the letting go of responsibility, all of those things are appealing to her. But she thinks the biggest draw is the sheer thrill. She doesn’t know what Mulder will do next. She is a little afraid but terribly excited, the way she is as a roller coaster cranks its way up a hill, or when her heels click on the pavement as she chases a suspect. She slinks backward on the mattress, away from him, back up against the headboard, even as all she wants is his touch. 

He slips out of his boxers. 

“Where ya going, Scully?” he asks, all boyish charm and wolflike grin. He yanks one leg, hard, pulling her down the bed until she’s flat on her back again. 

“Mulder, please, I --” and she stops, because she doesn’t even know what to say.

“You looked very pretty with my cock in your mouth, Scully. Would you like me to touch you? I haven’t yet, have I? Touched your pussy, I mean,” he says, marking that last bit with a firm squeeze of her left breast.

“No,” she replies.

“No, you don’t want me to touch you?”

“Oh, god, please touch me. You haven’t, but please,” she begs, and it’s embarrassing to beg, but it’s also hot, and it’s also all she can do, because if Mulder doesn’t touch her soon she’s going to lose her mind. 

He slides her underwear, embarrassingly wet, down her legs, his fingernails scraping their way. 

“Turn over,” he says.

She does, arching her ass up almost unconsciously. He gives it a playful smack and she moans.

“What do you want?” he asks her, drawing his penis up and down her labia, teasing.

“I want you to touch my clit,” she says.

He waits. She waits. 

“No,” he says, the only real warning she gets before he slides his cock inside her, to the hilt. 

She cries out -- and his hand covers her mouth.

“What did I tell you about being quiet?” he growls.

The feeling of him inside her -- hot and hard and so big -- is overwhelming. But she knows she won’t come without his fingers on her clit, and so does he. He’s going to keep teasing her. 

He moves his hand away from her mouth. She’s prone on her stomach and he’s draped over her, all over her. His lips are against her ear.

“Are you going to be quiet for me, Scully?” he asks her.

“Yes,” she whispers.

“Good,” he says. “We wouldn’t want our friends outside to hear what a little slut you are, now would we?”

Too much. Just right. She whimpers, muffling the sound into the mattress beneath her. 

“I bet you’d like to rub your clit right now, wouldn’t you?” he asks her.

“Yes, please,” she says.

“But you’re not -- why aren’t you touching yourself?” he asks.

She squirms, just another subject of his interrogations, just as helpless against his probing questions as any of them have ever been. 

“Because you haven’t let me,” she admits. “You haven’t given me permission.”

“That’s right, and I’m in charge, aren’t I?”

She has heard Mulder’s voice crack like a whip. She has heard him bellow, heard him snarl, heard him command a room of men with just his words.

But this — this rough, ragged whisper, so close to her ear she feels it more than she hears it — it’s so unbearably intimate, so unnerving. It reverberates to her very core.

“Yes,” she admits. “You’re in charge. Please.”

“Please what, Scully?” he asks, as he slams into her. “Do you want to touch yourself?”

“Yes,” she breathes. And then: “No. I want you to touch me. Please.”

“That’s my girl,” he says. 

Before she knows it, two fingers are working her clit in tight little circles as he pounds into her. In another moment she might envy his athleticism, be impressed by his coordination. But all she can do right now is moan into the pillow beneath her, overwhelmed, overloaded. 

Too much, just right. 

“I told you to be quiet, but you just can’t help yourself, can you?” he asks.

She assumes all he can hear is a moan, but what she’s muttering into the pillow is: “Pleasepleasepleaseplease.”

“I like it when you can’t control yourself, Scully,” he mutters. “Because even if you can’t -- I can. You know that, right?”

“Yes,” she whispers. “Yes yes, please, please.”

“Come for me,” he says, his voice practically a growl. “Come for me, Scully.” 

She’s so worked up that a few flicks of his wrist is really all it takes for her to tumble over the edge, as sharp and severe as the cliffs they drove past a few hours ago. 

“That’s right” he says, so fucking smug she wants to suffocate him, except she’s busy gasping for air herself. 

She’s coming down as he starts moving faster. She realizes, appreciatively, the amount of self-restrain that was probably necessary for him to focus so singularly on her orgasm. She arches a little higher, moans a little breathier. He deserves it, doesn’t he?

“Give it to me,” she moans, knowing what buttons to press, wanting it to be as good for him as it was for her. “Please, Mulder.”

A moment later he spills into her, collapsing on her back, overwhelming her, surrounding her in the best possible way.

For a moment they both just lie there, flattened, useless, happy, sated people. Scully feels empty in a good way, a way she rarely feels. Divorced from her worries, from her expectations. Elated. 

He slips out of her, slides to her side and spoons against her. 

“God, I love you, Scully,” he murmurs into her shoulder. 

“I love you too, Mulder,” she says, pressing back against him.

“I hope I wasn’t --”

“Stop. It was perfect,” she sighs. 

A beat.

“But I hope we don’t run into Ed or Mary tomorrow.”

[kpopisthereasonihavenolife]

TEASER

Kim Namjoon/Reader [F]

Genre: fae au, fantasy/magic, oberon!namjoon, human!reader,  rebellion, angst, romance,

Warning(s)!!: violence/injuries, pollution?, corrupt gov., cursing, vomiting blood, nudity

Words: tbd

Series | One-shot | Two-shot | Drabble [Rated: T]

a/n: i’ve been working on this story almost nonstop the past two days and it’s growing A LOT in length.  If it get too long then I may divide it into two parts (unless you guys want a monster lol). along with i’m debating on adding a couple scenes I didn’t originally attend to that may raise the rating >>’’ bUT that is still up in the air.  this story isn’t on a lot of people’s radar and ik that, but I’m so so so invest in this story rn it’s taken place as my main wip atm LOL.  I also am putting a lot of effort into proper world building and even if it’s tedious, i’m happy  so far uwu

summary: A world were oceans never existed, but in its place were large and vast forests.  Covering 75% of the world’s surface, the seven deep forests were a mystery that no one could solve.  Treading too far in was forbidden by law, the forest too dangerous with unknown entities inside. Y/n knew better than to do something like go inside, but after a heist to stop the government from polluting the forests, things turn grim. She finds herself waking up in a place she doesn’t know with things far less human and far more magical than the world she’s used to. She finds herself being cared for by someone who claimed he can help her back to her home. Along the way, however, she may just learn something magical about herself that not even a King could have predicted.

[TEASER W.COUNT: 1.4K]

You twitched as you sucked in a sharp breath.  Your body shivered lightly as you peeled open your eyes.  Your skin felt dry and patchy from the water that had dried onto your skin and the mud that dried into dirt and covered your exposed flesh.  Looking up, you only saw the dark sky with patches.  It looked cloudy as rays of faint light peeked through them. 

Wincing, you curled your body inwards and lifted your arms to try and cross over your stomach.  You moved just a moment before you were already exhausted and dropped your limbs back down.  You squinted upwards as your body ached.  The last thing you remembered was you had fallen into the river and slammed into a rock.  It explained your aching head and sore back.  Taking a breath, you moved to roll onto your side before you forced yourself to lever yourself onto your forearm.  

Your legs twisted as you then took sharp bursts of breath before pulling your legs up towards your chest.  Holding your body up with weak, shaking arms, you moved to your forearms and knees.  Hunched over, you breathed heavy and winced in pain.  Your head throbbed as you crawled forward and hooked your fingers onto a piece of a jutted out tree trunk.  

You tried to hoist yourself up to your feet by purely your upper arm strength, but quickly gave up with a shake of your head and a pain laced whine. 

Your bare toes scraped in the grass as dirt gathered under your toenails and your torn clothes threatened to snag in the tree trunk. Your hair matted on the back of your head as the water had weaved it into tangles that were begging to be brushed through. 

You kept your head held down as you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to gather every small piece of mental encouragement you could to get yourself up on your feet.  Mind over matter seemed to be harder than it had been in the past.  Biceps bulging and stomach tensing, you tried time after time to get your weak, shaking knees to hold up the rest of your body.  

Falling back to the dirt and into the trunk for the fifth time, you sat full down, feet trapped under your rear as your hands reached above your head, cursing yourself for being weak.  The wind picked up and the sounds it created made your skin prick with gooseflesh.  The trees moaned as the wind whispered and cried.  

For some reason, it was only when the wind spoke did you realize exactly where you were undoubtedly located.  Your weak grip on the trunk weakened further as your fingers trembled and your lip was sucked between your teeth.  Your body shook, but you couldn’t tell if it was due to the chilled air or the fear of being in a place you knew hardly anything of.  

You were lost somewhere in one of the deep forests and you couldn’t be more afraid.  

Hearing the crunching of leaves, you sucked in a breath and whipped your head up to look for danger around you and froze, seeing indeed something.  Directly in front of you was pure white with a stripe of red staring dead at you. Gasping you pushing yourself off the tree trunk and back onto your ass as your body acted purely on fleeing, dragging yourself through dirt and grass trying to back away from whatever was in front of you. 

A walking stick of wood at their side and a mask covering their face.  No shirt and only fur coating his waist and legs as he walked barefoot.  The grass beneath his feet seemed healthier and brighter than the rest around and you kept staring at the antlers branching out from the sides of his head.  

“No!” You breathed in fear as your body collapsed backward and you could only wave your arms around in a pathetic display of defense. “No, go away! Go away!” Your eyes stung as your panic clenched painfully in your chest as you grew more and more breathless.  Falling to your side, you curled up in terrified, painful trembles.  Your eyes were frozen open as you covered your face with your arms as you heard whatever it was come close to you.  You felt them at your back as they knelt.  You whimpered when it was silent and jumped when they touched your back. 

You gasped as you whipped your head to look back at them and you stilled.  Their hand on your back was warm and somehow, your trembling stopped.  They had set their walking stick aside on the ground as they traced their hand around the exposed skin of yours that your clothes showed. 

You weren’t sure why their touch seemed to calm you. You felt like an animal being tamed as your body seemed to relax.  They leaned over your body as they pulled you back on your back from your side and held your stomach down to keep you from acting up again.  

“Be calm,” they spoke.  A voice deep of a man that was smooth that made your cheeks redden. It was terribly seductive like nothing you've heard before.  Raising one hand to their mask, they pushed it up their forehead to rest it on their head and reveal their faces.  Your breath halted at this man’s beauty.  Skin smooth and decorated in golden freckles.  Eyes sparkling in a hue of the clearest blue and teeth white as snow with pointed canines. “I will not harm you unless you harm me.”  

This man was nothing like you. 

“I-I,” you couldn’t form words as you could only gaze at him.  His brows arched as he saw something in your human eyes.  He had been looking after your sleeping body for 2 days and he had plenty of time to inspect you.  Humans were far different than him.  Your eyes were astonishingly different from anything he’s ever seen, yet they were the most gorgeous.  Something in them zapped with an energy he’d seen only once before in one other being. 

“Can you stand?” He asked as you gasped again at your staring.  You looked at your legs as they twitched and you steeled yourself into pulling them up towards your chest again.  With the man’s help, you sat up and rubbed at your legs like they would help them hold your own weight.  “Do you know how to walk, human?” 

“Of course I do!” You screeched in an outburst that led to a coughing fit.  “O-of course I do,” you repeated.  “It’s just… difficult right now.” 

“What about your arms?” He asked. 

“Excuse me?” 

“Your arms.” He repeated. “Are they strong enough to hold your body?” 

“Well, I don’t know.” The man just remained silent as he moved in front of you.  He grabbed your wrists and lifted your arms up. Pulling you closer to him, you squawked when he turned himself around and pulled your arms over his shoulders.  Your chest pushed against his back before he put your palms together, encouraging you to clasp your hands.  He moved to grab the walking stick at his side before he started standing up. “Woah, hey, hey!” You panicked, unsure if you would be able to hold onto him and not slide back down off this back in a pathetic heep.  

You clutched your own hands at his chest, your arms looped around to his front tensing before he was standing tall.  His stick was placed under your rear, supporting you as he held it up under you like a seat.  Your weak legs dangling in front of him on either side of his naked waist. 

He hiked you up further on his back so your chin rested on his shoulder by his neck.  You could see the bone white antlers of his and see small engravings in them you didn’t notice before. His ears were slightly pointed and darkened at their point now that you saw them under his shaggy pitch-black hair.  He turned to look at you, his freckled face closer to yours and electric blue eyes freezing your breath. 

“I will take you someplace to recover.  The Leaflets will tend to your injuries.” He knocked his head forward, his mask falling back over his eyes and covering the top half of his face. He then began to walk forward.  You watched as he walked flawlessly over the grassy terrain and how grass would bloom under his steps only to wither the moment he lifts his foot up to step somewhere new. 

-x-x-x-

a/n: was that good enough as a teaser? I had so many places and scenes I could tease but I went with this one towards the beginning alksdfjad lmk if you’re excited to read this fic! (pls it’ll boost my morale LOL) 

[aromoji]

So I’m finally getting around to do that aspec Q & A that @ace-and-aro-wlw-positivity posted, and I have quite a few aspec ocs so this could get rather lengthy but here we go

1. What was your inspiration for your character(s)? Are they modeled on yourself, a person that you know, or a character that’s already been established?

My first aspec oc, Abby Scott, was based on myself when I thought I was a biromantic ace girl. So she takes a lot after me. 

Theo Yamada, on the other hand, was a completely new character. I don’t exactly remember why I made him alloarospec, and I’ve been flipping from one arospec identity to the other, but no matter what he always remained alloaro. 

Mina Nicholson was my first character that I had predetermined to be alloaro from the start. She’s based on an old tumblr post about some super hero series idea called “Aces and Arrows.” I obviously didn’t make Mina into some superhero, but her guitar skills make her come pretty close :D. 

Brittany Olajobi is also based on an old tumblr post. Remember the “All or Nothing” idea thing that was floating around here?(Yes, I’m aware it turned into a scam, but I thought the premise was cute). Since no one actually made anything out of that I decided to make the characters my own. The asexual and pansexual girls were roomates....but also girlfriends. That idea kinda evolved into one of my newer series called “Play the Rainbow”, but that’s gonna take a while to explain.

Queenie Brooks...is based on a crude caricature someone made of an ace person (the “artist” has probably never talked to an ace person outside of tumblr but whatever), so I took that character and fleshed her out. She’s an aroace trans girl who’s evry big in activist circles, especialy the sex worker industry

2. How much, if any, has your character(s) changed since they were first created? What caused this change?

Abby and Brittany haven’t changed much besides in their appearance, Queenie and Mina underwent drastic appearance changes since they were created, and Theo’s kinda been going back and forth on the aromantic spectrum,  from strictly aro to demiromantic to aroflux. I’ve finally settled one greyromantic, which coinicdentially is what I identify as.

4. Do you intend on publishing your story one day? Why, or why not?

Probably not. I’m closeted in real life and likely to stay that way as long as I’m financially dependent on my parents.

7. Time to get serious for a bit. There’s been heavy debate on having non-human characters identify as ace, aro, non-binary, etc., but never actual humans. As someone who’s aspec, how would you explain to someone who’s allo why this can be and is seen as hurtful?

Ace and Aro people have been seen as inhuman and robotic for not feeling attraction, especially not in the same way that people who aren’t aro or ace do. Please reconsider making that animal/robot/alien oc aspec unless all or most of your characters aren’t human as well.

8. It’s a sad reality that many stories in mainstream media don’t have characters that are aspec, not to mention without resorting to harmful stereotypes. Besides there being nothing wrong with IDing as aspec, why did you choose to have your character ID as such? What would you tell other authors who’re interested in writing characters that are aspec, but are afraid of offending the community?

I make my characters aspec because. I’m aspec. Also there aren’t a lot of aspec representation (the little we get lol) that isn’t white or cis or yes, heteromantic./heterosexual. Considering the fact that I’m none of those things, all of my aspec ocs are poc like me, some even trans as well. To authours who want to write aspec characters but don’t want to offend the community, PLEASE ask around. Ask more than one person of that specific demographic. Their opinion should not be the only one that shapes yours! Also, if you’re writing an alloaro character, don’t ask someone who’s alloace or aroace. Similarly, don’t ask an alloaro person about writing alloace/aroace characters. Aspec people are not a monolith, our experiences are not the same

9. If you’re comfortable with sharing, what is your characters’ identity? Do they use any microlabels? Does theirs reflect your own?

Abby is a biromantic ace, Theo is a greyromantic bisexual, Mina is an alloaro bisexual, Brit is an ace lesbian, and Queenie is an oriented aroace trans woman.

11. Why do you think that not just representation is important, but GOOD representation? Can you offer any examples?

Fiction affects reality. Therefore, how people see us in the media affects how they see us in real life.

14. What’s a brief biography of your character? Is their history, personality, and/or looks similar to your own?

Uh I don’t necessarily have biographies for them but I have an oc carrd with their details

15. What are the themes of your story? Is it a lighthearted adventure, or are we talking deep, ocean-sized levels of angst? Why, or why not, did you choose them?

It’s a mix of light hearted fun and lots of angst. But everyone (who deserves it) gets a happy ending so it’s all good.

16. How long have you been writing? Has your style changed from when you first began to now? What are some tips you’d give to those who’re interested in writing a story of their own, be it professionally or as a hobby?

I’ve been writing since I was 8. I once won an honorable mention in a writing competition in the third grade believe it or not lol. My writing has definetely changed a lot, and that’s partially thanks to my English teachers I had along the way. My advice to people interested in writing a story on their own is to invest in a laptop/notebook and find time to write. Any time at all.

17. What’s your process for writing? Do you plan your story out first, write whatever you want then edit later, or both? How might this help others?

Planning? Ha! I write as I go. Sometimes I go back and edit entire scenes before publishing tho.

18. Your book’s become quite popular, easily reaching the New York Times Bookseller list, and now, you’ve been picked to lead a writing workshop. It goes swimmingly, and afterward, someone comes and tells you that your book not only inspired them to write a story of their own, but also helped them discover and accept their identity. What’s your reaction?

I’m...not good with compliments.

20. Just for fun, write down a paragraph of your most recent writing. It can be an action-packed scene, some witty dialogue, or a colorful description that you really enjoyed. (Be sure to properly tag any possible triggers!)

Here’s what I’ve started working on:

Theo smooths out the wrinkles on his blue uniform, giving himself a once over in the mirror. All his belongings of 5 long years were packed and ready to board on the ship the  higher-ups would issue to him He turns and takes down one last poster and rolls it up, placing it in his duffel bag. Perfect. Now all he had to do was go through the graduation ceremony and he’d get his first assignment. His hard work being at the top of his class was finally going to pay off.

“Heyyyy, my older twin’s looking sharp tonight!” Trent exclaims, leaning in the doorway with his own uniform in red. He whirls into the room, flopping on the now barren bed. “Ahh, this bed has so many memories. Come on, sit with me!”

“Trent, the ceremony’s so soon.”

“Theooooo,” he pouts. “This may be the last time we see this room, because we’ll be in space!”

He wiggles his fingers in Theo’s face for dramatic effect. The older twin chuckles, taking a seat on the bed.

“Let’s see,” Theo muses, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “I remember when we first got here. We were 10 years old, tiny, adorable and innocent little creatures. You were so terrified because they had put us in separate rooms.”

“I was not!” Trent argues. “It was just…a bit of a shock considering I always slept with someone else in my room instead of…all by myself.’

“Whatever. You crept into my room in the middle of the night, poked me awake and gave me the whole puppy-dog-eyes-and-quivering-bottom-lip routine to get me to beg me to let you sleep in my bed that night.”

“And you pretty much told me to go play in traffic,” he laughs. “And I still got in your bed anyway and slept there the whole night!”

“And you kept doing it until you turned 12!” Theo finishes with a playful shove.

[kasdeyathebitterwoman]

For Grace: 5-8, 14 & 15?

5. What’s their favorite color?

- Grace really likes shades of blue, charcoals, black. (basically Walter’s wardrobe of sweaters, LOL) 

6. Describe their eyes.

- She has old eyes. It’s such a cliche, but it’s the truth. In the sunlight, they are the color of honeyed amber. There’s a hint of green thrown in there and when mixed with the dark circles, she has a look of perpetual brooding. Even when she’s happy, there’s a darkness lurking about though. When she’s angry or sad or upset, her eyes become dark, so dark it makes you wonder what she’s seen. What happened to affect her so? It’s hard to get Grace to open up about her past, but you just need to look into her eyes. You may even find the meaning of life in those brown eyes of hers. 

7. What’s their handwriting like?

- Chicken scratch, haha. She can write well when it’s necessary, but it typically looks like someone just scribbled on the paper 😂

8. Any phobias?

- Open water. She’s never been to the ocean or a lake and the idea of not having a way out if she needs it terrifies her. 

14. Favorite fruit?

- Strawberries

15. Favorite vegetable?

- Whatever is included in Kung Pao Chicken 😂

List of questions 

[carnistcervine]

CATLA AU

So CATLA is ATLA but instead of humans, they're all cats. CATLA.

Okay there's a little bit more to it than that. lol

-Here's a lowdown of the Gaang ~Aang- Sphynx kitten ~Katara and Sokka- Norwegian forest cat kittens ~Toph- Persian kitten ~Zuko- Oriental kitten

-Here's what each of the four nations are ~Water Tribes- Norwegian forest cats or some kind of arctic fishing cat ~Earth Kingdom- Varies wildly ~Fire Nation- Oriental and Siamese cats ~Air Nomads- Sphynx and cornish rex

-Yes, they're ordinary, four paws on the ground cats. They aren't bipedal or anthro.

-Though I do like to imagine them wearing clothes.

-It adds to the cuteness in my opinion. :D

-In this AU, the Avatar is an ancient being endowed by the wisdom of having lived thousands of lives. So it's less, individuals that are born and have separate and distinct personas, and a bit more hivemindy?? Not a literal hivemind, but basically the same person who lives and dies over and over again, learning and relearning, and trying different approaches, slowly changing as the ages go on.

-Aang is not the same cat he was when he was Wan(he’s grown and changed as we all do), but it's the same consciousness that has been passed down over the ages.

-As a consequence of this, the Avatar is a bit creepy and awkward. They don't mean to be, but mortals tend to find them very odd.

-Though the Avatar does try to act as normal as possible, as to not alarm of disturb those around them.

-At first it was fairly easy to pick the Avatar out of a group of children, as they were an old soul. But over the ages, they've gotten better at acting like an actual child.

-They still tend to be much more mature than their peers though.

-Yeah, the Avatar can have creepy, slightly voyeuristic, asocial tendencies, but they're a deeply empathetic being.

-They are rare to take a lover, because, well, being basically eternal/immortal they're lover will eventually die and they will continue to be.

-Being reborn is never easy for the Avatar, because their consciousness is an uninterrupted stream. They go from being killed/dying to suddenly being born and that's kind of traumatic.

-I imagine that a human version of this would absolutely abhor the fact that they are doomed to go through puberty again and again until the fucking world ends. :'D

-Anyway, the last thing Roku knows before being born again is the terrible heat and crushing pain of being buried by the pyroclastic flow. He suddenly goes from being in horrible pain and being unable to breath to being able to breath again, squirming and crying. He's realizes that he's been reborn when his mother licks his head, and starts to calm down.

-His new mother names him Aang.

-Still hurting from Sozin's betrayal, Aang tries to befriend as many cats and kittens as possible. He's eager to play with his peers, and does his best to hide his creepy spirit tendencies.

-For a while it works, Aang has many friends from all around the world, and a loving mentor in Gyatso.

-However, while Aang is still too young, the monks reveal to him that he's the Avatar.

-Or I suppose more accurately, they reveal that they know he's the Avatar.

-In this AU, the Avatar is born knowing they're the Avatar.

-But anyway, this catches Aang off guard, because he usually has more time than this to live as a normal kitten. He's deeply concerned, but tries to take it in stride.

-At least until his peers reject him.

-This tears open the wound of Sozin leaving him to die.

-The final straw is when the try to take Gyatso from him.

-Aang can't take it anymore and grievously harms several monks. It takes Gyatso to get him to calm down from his rampage.

-When Aang comes to his senses, he's horrified by what he's done and runs away.

-He and Appa get caught up in a storm and Aang freezes them both, sending them into stasis.

-Katara comes along and frees him, but being in stasis for a century has had a negative effect on his mind. He's lost his connection to his past lives. He no longer remembers he's the Avatar.

-Of course, with the loss of his memory, also comes with the loss of a lot of his social abilities.

-Katara finds poor Aang endearing, but Sokka finds him creepy.

-Aang just freakin sees Katara and starts crushing on her immediately. The first thing he sees are her eyes, and he gazes deeply into them. He sees her spirit, and falls in love with it.

-When Aang meets Zuko for the first time, he creeps Zuko out. He won't stop staring at him with those big, eerie eyes. But Aang can't help it, Zuko reminds Aang of someone, with those firey golden eyes...

-When Aang goes into the avatar state, he doesn't throw Zuko overboard, instead he traps him in ice and starts to walk up to him.

-Iroh, afraid his nephew is in danger, jumps in front of the Avatar, who simply stares at the two before calmly leaving with Sokka and Katara.

-When Aang exits the Avatar state he passes out and has a dream where his past lives whisper to him, trying to reach him.

-Aang is equally surprised by the revelation that he's the Avatar as Katara and Sokka. Though he's relieved to see that neither are showing any signs of abandoning him.

-As the Avatar, Aang has the ability to put restless spirits to rest. He does this at the Air Temples and other mass grave sights. Bring peace to pained souls, so they may have peace.

-Slowly, over the course of his journey to the north pole, Aang reconnects with his past lives and puts his mind back together into a single stream of consciousness again.

-When he visits the spirit Oasis is when he finally puts his spirit back together.

-Aang flips out when Zhao kills the moon spirit and goes on a rampage, chasing after him with the ocean spirit's blessing.

-Zhao manages to evade Aang who ends up getting caught up fighting Fire Nation soldiers.

-Zuko fights Zhao and Aang finds them. He completely ignores Zuko as he encapsulates Zhao in darkness and shatters his spirit.

-It's at about this time that the moon is returned to the sky and both the Avatar and the ocean spirit calm the hell down.

-Zuko is confused, he watched the Avatar attack Zhao, heard Zhao's blood curdling yowl and now Zhao is just lying there. He alive, and breathing, but his eyes are glazed over and he won't say anything.

-Zuko doesn't know what he just saw, but he has a sinking feeling that it was something horrifying.

-When they meet Toph, she initially wonders if Aang is really there or if she's imagining him.

-She low-key checks in with the others to make sure that Aang is actually there and not just an illusion.

-She still has times when she wonders if the other kittens are just fucking with her and Aang doesn't actually exist.

-When the sandbenders steal Appa, Aang is very upset. But he holds it in, he realizes that it's not Toph's fault, she tried her best.

-However when they encounter the sandbenders, Aang looses his shit and goes full Avatar beast mode.

-Katara is the only thing between the sandbenders and an early grave or more accurately, since he's that angry... having their spirits SHATTERED.

-Katara comforts Aang who breaks down crying into her fur.

-It takes Aang some time to get past his grief, but the Gaang help him through it. They all become closer as a result.

-When Azula kills Aang, and by extension the spirit of the world, the barrier between the human and spirit worlds destabilizes, and plagues are sent out upon the earth as it begins to die.

-Irreversible damage is prevented by Katara's quick action in reviving Aang with the spirit water.

-Aang's recovery is slow and difficult, and while he's down, spirits and plagues infest the world.

-Once Aang is recovered enough to go on adventures again, the Gaang end up working undercover to heal the damage done to the world by Aang's death.

-The Gaang see and understand firsthand just how devastating the effects of loosing the Avatar are and gain a new appreciation for Aang and his work.

-During the eclipse, when the Gaang encounter Azula, they're all pissed at her.

-Katara tries to tell Azula off about how she endangered the world, but she just rolls her eyes.

-She wastes their time until the eclipse ends, and Aang makes an executive decision in an attempt to avoid trouble with her in the future.

-He lunges at her, eyes glowing, and easily dodges her lightning.

-Azula feels real fear at this, she remembers the state Zhao was found in after a bad run in with the Avatar. She genuinely fears that Aang can and will do the same to her.

-She manages to generate a much more mild shock while Aang is in the process of breaking her spirit.

-Being subjected to the trauma of being shocked again is enough to drive Aang out of the avatar state, and the Gaang flee. Leaving Azula with a partly shattered spirit.

-She's still coherent, but her mind is fractured and she can feel it.

-The betrayal of her friends causes her to fall apart completely.

-Zuko is terrified about joining the Avatar, because he knows what angry spirits are capable of.

-Much to his surprise however, Aang is happy to see him come to the good side.

-It still takes him a while, however to get comfortable around Aang's presence. The look in Zhao's eyes after Aang attacked him, never leaves Zuko.

-Aang is tempted to kill Ozai, and he almost goes through with it. But instead he shatters Ozai's spirit and swallows his inner flame.

-Ozai is left a broken and confused cat. Thrown in prison to rot.

-After everything is over, and Zuko sees the state his sister is in, and the state his father is in, he has some very serious, very grave questions for the Avatar.

-Aang is patient and willing to answer, but he's not sure Zuko is ready to hear the truth of what he did to them.

(You bet your tucus that Zuko wants to help his sister after Aang tried to shatter her spirit and she subsequently went insane((which was pretty much bound to happen anyway bcuz Ozai is a shit dad)). But that's a story for another day...) 

-Some more notes on this AU, Lu Ten is alive. He’s a Dai Li agent that goes by Lung now. And Jet’s a (repressed) firebender. :’D

-But the most important thing is that the Gaang are a bunch of adorable kittens who snuggle together in a pile when they sleep.

[nikkilancaco]

Something Ineffably Great

Hi guys! So if you’ve been following me you’ll know I’ve wholeheartedly jumped onto the Good Omens train. I was so inspired by the book and show that I just had to write a fanfiction. Now this fanfiction doesn’t involve any mature content, so far at least, and its my take on some of the angel and demon lore. It is focus on two characters who work in the Human Affairs departments in their respective sides and how they have been keeping Aziraphale and Crowley's interactions under the radar. 

I accept constructive criticism lol

Also please tell me if I’m stereotyping things and or people. I would like to know these things

Something Ineffably Great 

Chapter 1:

Roughly thirty minutes before the end of the world, somewhere on the moon :

There was a large, warm, fuzzy, blue blanket laid out on the grey dusty ground. The corners would disobediently float up, but a sharp eyed glare from the being laying on it would immediately rectify the situation. 

This being, one of ethereal qualities, was a whole five foot two, had long, luxurious, dark chocolate hair that was braided neatly with gold ribbons and trailed down her back, dark skin, and startling silver eyes. Her wings, mainly white with a splattering of brown and black, were out, slumped on the ground behind her. They were surprisingly well groomed for an ethereal beings. She was wearing a long silver cloak with a white hijab. The hijab was pulled down as she played with the end of her braid.

She was currently focusing on a certain area of the Earth where… Things… were happening. Specifically End of the World things. The Great Plan seemed to be underway and going just swimmingly. She scoffed and pushed her golden circular glasses back up her nose. She didn’t technically need them but she liked them. She was distracted then by someone else joining her on the blanket. They brushed their hand along the fluff once settling,   

“Hi Melekasia, I like the glasses” The other being greeted and shook the moon dust off her wings. There were two sets of them and were a midnight blue, almost black, and refracted light into them in a manner the ocean does. If you looked closely, there was a shadow that moved within them, shifting from one form to another. A shark to a manta ray to a whale. It did what it wanted. 

This new addition to the landscape brushed a coffee colored hand through her springy black hair to get some more dust off. She had it cut short to her scalp and Melekasia saw that she had a pretty silver ear jackets that resembled flowery vines. She was wearing a flattering and colorful dress that complemented her roundness. Her grey green eyes met the others.

“Lilith! It’s good to see you again,” Melekasia said while adjusting her glasses in appreciation. No one Upstairs had noticed. They don’t notice a lot of things. “How are -er - Things … on your end?” She would have pointedly glanced down but as they were on the moon, they significance of that action would’ve been lost. Gladly Lilith understood.

“Dagon and Beelzebub are gathering the troops and all that. Hastur was screaming about being discorporated by that ‘Damned Snake’. It was surprisingly easy to sneak out to meet you when he came barreling in, then again I’m kinda free to do what I want.” She said dismissively, watching as the shadow moved down her shoulder, shifted from a crab to an eel and proceeded to chase its tail while circling down her arm. Apparently it was bored. Shaking her head, Lilith continued, “The only question I was asked was why I was heading to the moon at such a time. I just told them that I wanted to see what the mayhem looked like from space.” She shrugged, glancing back at Melekasia when she snorted.

“I used the same excuse, believe it or not.” She chuckled. “They said since I work in Surveillance of Human Affairs and have been doing a stellar job of it since the beginning of time, that I deserved a bit of a breather before It begins and I lose my job.” She said sarcastically. 

And she has been very good at her job too. So good in fact that she’s been able to cover up the fact that a Principality and his Adversary have been best friends for the better part of four thousand years. Even if those two idiots weren’t ‘friends’, Melekasia wouldn’t have reported it because the Snakes meddling back in The Garden allowed her to meet one of the most delightful people, or people shaped being, she has ever met. Eve wasn’t the first woman, you know. 

“They said it like that?” Lilith inquired. She wasn’t really surprised. Based off of what she has heard from her angelic friend and other demons, heaven was stuck up and overly righteous. Not to say that Hell was much different, it just wasn’t that passive aggressive bullshit. It was just straight up aggressive. She tried not to spend too much time there and she didn’t really have to. She had special privileges. 

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

As the first woman ever, and the first former human to tell God that creating a being specifically for another, just because he was lonely, without a choice was a little odd, if not a bit sexist. It’s not that Adam was a bore, but Lilith didn’t really like him much, and they didn’t get along. God could have just given the animals the ability to talk. Lillith hadn’t really understood this until a certain scaled creature had pointed it out. God, having realized she may have put a bit too much of herself into creating Lilith, gave her a choice of wings, then promptly set her free on the Earth as her own immortal being. Eve was created with more earth making her a little more open to Adam, and other things. They ended up getting along rather well.

Some of the more snobbish angels weren’t very happy at all with this outcome and slightly appalled that God was questioned in such a manner had followed Lillith despite a stern “Leave her be.” from the Almighty. One thing led to another, Lilith was thrown into an ocean, and properly pissed off, had used one of her newfound abilities to turn into a rather terrifying basilosaurus and promptly discorporated two of the four assholes harassing her with a good chomp. The other two noped their way out of there in a flash of lightning. 

About a day later, Lilith was just floating there on her back in the nude. All four wings splayed out basking in the sun. The occasional shark or stingray would come and bump against her, looking for attention and she’d absentmindedly pat them. The beating of wings distracted her and she looked at the source of the sound. She recognized the newcomer as the serpent that told her to think for herself.

“Oh! hi, it’s you,” she said happily as he slowly sunk into the water. He wasn’t very serpentine with his human suit on. All long dark, auburn hair, clear skin, and nicely manicured hands. His eyes were though, that’s how she recognized him. He had a bit of a gleeful expression on his face that conflicted with his attempt to look dark, suave and cool, but she paid it no mind. 

“That was the most brilliant thing I think I’ve ever seen,” he said while scooping a white feather out of the water as he floated next to her. “Wanted to give you a bit of space to calm down before I showed my face. Didn’t want to risk getting discorporated. I’m sure all those idiots are going to get is a slap on the wrists though, despite going against orders.” he said pensively.

“How’d you know She told everyone Up There to leave me be?” she wondered. She knew he was a demon so it didn’t make sense that he knew.

The Serpent’s mind briefly flashed back to a short, surprisingly civil conversation he had with the Guardian of the Eastern Gate the day before. “It was that kinda prissy chap who would sometimes greet you and Adam from the wall,” He can’t let people know he liked their conversations.

“I see…” She looked at him speculatively. He didn’t really seem like a demon. Yeah he had raven black wings and an absence of a Holy aura that seemed to surround the angel back in Eden, but all he’s done so far is just help people ask questions. He didn’t fit the description of ‘demon’ that God had put into her head along with other general knowledge about the world. He seemed, well, nice. Something was telling her she shouldn’t state this outloud. 

The demon flicked the golden blood splotched feather away and glanced at her with slitted yellow eyes, “Listen, I have a bit of a proposition for you. How about you come to Hell? It doesn’t look like the Other side is willing to open their arms for you. But I’m sure the Morningstar would be happy to meet you, questioning God like you did. You can think it over.” 

He was sent there to mess about, Lilith understood this, but he has also been quite kind to her and even though she knew Hell wasn’t the best place to be it did seem more welcoming than Heaven at the moment. She really didn’t want to be alone on the Earth for the next few centuries. She also knew that the demon next to her was a bit of an outlier compared with other demons, as granted by her god given powers of insight, and that others down there probably weren’t so understanding. So she mulled it over while watching clouds drift by overhead.

To be honest, Lilith didn’t want to put up with any more self righteous idiots from Heaven. Some of the more cruel things jeered by the four who followed her had involved her not being either a pure angel or evil demon. That she was some little test subject of Gods that had already failed and that she was a disgrace. She didn’t really see anyone in Heaven thinking much differently, other than the Angel of the Eastern Gate. Lilith wasn’t really sure what the demons of Hell would think about her. If she was honest, she agreed that they might see her the same way, but she understood she was neither of Heaven or Hell but somewhere in the middle. She ultimately decided that she was now a ridiculously powerful human. And being human allowed her to choose what she wanted. God did tell her to be free and then smacked a bunch of knowledge into her head with a slightly guilty feeling that lingered.

So she chose, “I’ll go with you,”

The demon had been swirling his fingers in the water watching the small fish flit through them for them past five minutes. His eyes flicked back to hers and with a triumphant smile he held out his hand, noticing that a starfish shaped shadow had moved over her left eye and was spinning, “Alright, let’s go. I’m gonna have to drop you off since I’m supposed to be staying up here, making trouble, but I’ll hand you off to what passes for the help desk down there. They should be decent enough to help you and show you the ropes. Oh, make sure you tell them your name right away.” 

Lilith gave his outstretched hand a cursory look, then proceeded to take it into her own and the two disappeared with a blip. 

It turns out demons were generally assholes, but they helped her manifest some clothing, gave her a bit of a tour of the first few circles of Hell, and told her she was free to do as she wished. She just had to pick a department. Apparently, having made God feel guilty enough to give her powers and freedom to do as she pleased made her a bit of a celebrity.

After several centuries, Lilith was a pro in the Human Affairs and On Site Punishment department. She found that beating up very terrible and horrible people on Earth was quite liberating. Bad people went to hell to be punished and she was happy to drag them down there.

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

“Well naturally they were more snobby about it, I’m just filtering some of that out,” Melekasia responded while twirling her hand in front of her. This earned an amused snort from her friend.

 Lillith was about to reply with a little jab at angels when both their heads snapped to stare at the Earth. Or more specifically Tadfield. The clouds were rolling chaotically around the area and a distinct inhuman but powerful scream forced its way through the solar system. Both of them could feel the sadness and frustration that emanated from it. It ended with an air of relief and understanding.

“I think something just changed,” stated Lilith. She had always been quite receptive to the feelings and emotions of the creatures of Earth, probably because of what she is. The Anitchrist wasn’t exempt. She grabbed Melekasia’s hand and pulled her into a hopeful hug. “I felt the chaos in him clear up a bit. It’s still there but he has the steering wheel now. He’s not hurdling into a bottomless pit anymore!”

Melekasia’s silver eyes widened and she vigorously returned the hug while laughing. As an angel she could feel the panic start to fade from the humans across the Earth as fish and blood stopped raining down on them. Well most of the fish did. If she focused on a specific house belonging to a Mr. Tyler in Tadfield, she would see that where it was not raining fish a moment before, there were now salmon and trout now rolling down his roof and crushing many of his favorite flowers. 

Melekasia broke the hug with a bit of reluctance, but then miracled up her heavenly tablet. It was synced up with Heaven’s in time surveillance footage of the Earth and she typed in a command for it to focus in on Tadfeild. She had felt the general panic spike up tremendously again and realized why. 

She had heard rumors about the Four Horsepeople of the Apocalypse and about what they were planning to do with all the human weapons and such. Seeing it happen in real time and feeling the despair and utter fear increase across the world made her a little sick. Lillith wasn’t looking like she was handling the influx of emotions well either. Her face had paled as she watched Pollution, War, and Famine wrap themselves around the Earth. Humanities fear was choking her and she held tightly to Melekasia’s hand to steady herself. 

“I’m the only one Down There who can actually connect and feel their emotions on such a level. Some of the demons thrive on the fear and hatred. It fuels some dark part of them that want this war. If they could only sense this…” Lilith had whispered. Her eyes had started to water and she blinked back the tears furiously. It wasn’t the time to get emotional. She needed to be level headed. She summoned her phone and made a call. It went straight to voicemail. She would have tried again but he always picks up the first time and when she asked Melekasia to search Soho for a very specific bookshop, they found it to be on fire. Now she understood why he had told her not to get involved in this mess after texting her that he was on fire.

“Shit…” Well that was one way to put it. Melekasia cleared her throat nervously and checked her notifications. She had two. One stated that the angel Aziraphale had accidentally discorporated himself, flitted around the Earth body hopping back to London, and was currently cohabiting a human woman's body heading toward the Tadfield airbase. The other was that a rather strong demonic aura was barreling toward the base. “I didn’t know Angels could do that,” she stated. 

“Well we found one, but where is his boyfriend?” Lilith worried. His text earlier didn’t help. She hoped he was okay. Even after all this time, Crowley was her only friend down there. They’d meet up for gourmet food and drinks occasionally and he’d drunkenly complain about the angel and the fourteenth century.

Her answer was given shortly when Melekasia pulled up a map in the corner of the tablet and a large red dot of power appeared, racing to the airbase. A notification on her phone told her the same thing. She read aloud,

“‘The demon Crowley has been using a large amount of his demonic power to keep together and drive a flaming car for the last 20 min.’ Oh not the Bently, he loves that car. He must have driven through the M25.” That must have been what Hastur had been complaining about.

“I really don’t think that’s the most important thing right now,” mentioned Melekasia as she brought up the video feed of said burning car. “Okay, Yeah. He’s pretty cool.” she admitted. 

“Told ya!” Lillith said proudly. Her friend deserved more recognition than he got in Hell. They watched as the car screeched to a halt at the Airbase and as its driver sashayed out. It was an aerial view and they could see a group of four kids pedaling furiously closer to the base. They were followed by a rather adorable dog. 

At the gate, a soldier promptly disappeared after four children zipped by with their dog and a well loved car blew up. When the children faced down the monsters of man, the two onlookers held their nonexistent breath. They watched as War, Famine, and Pollution were defeated with open mouth shock. They could both feel the moment when millions of humans around the world burst with triumph as they made computers stop planning nuclear annihilation. Melekasia zoomed out extremely fast when both Gabriel and Beelzebub appeared for fear that those two might sense their watching eyes.

“I think things might actually work out well, for everyone,” Melekasia looked hopefully at Lillith and gave her hand a squeeze. Lillith smile held the utmost adoration, kissed her and rested her head on her best friends shoulder, which was interesting to do since Lilith was a good foot taller, then resumed watching something amazing unfold on the screen. The shadow had turned into a guppy and was happily running along her knuckles and fingers currently threaded through Melekasia’s.  

“You know I think it might.” she sighed happily as Melekasia’s head rested on hers. 

It was when Satan himself started to rise out of the ground that she finally switched off the tablet. He for sure would have sensed her and possibly Lillith. She didn’t want her girlfriend, basically her wife with how long they’ve been together, to get on his bad side. They could feel his anger from here. It was like a punch in the gut. But then it just randomly disappeared. 

Melekasia quickly turned back on the monitor and zoomed back into the Aribase. They watched as an old, but well kept family car drove through a cloud of smoke, stopped in front of a group of bewildered people, celestial and human alike. A man stepped out as a group of children and a dog  proceeded to quickly peddle away, looking bewildered himself. 

She sent a command for the feed to follow the Anti- no, Adam. His name is Adam she thought to herself. He has a name so she should use it. It trailed the kids back into the town, but once it got to Adams house, the boy himself looked up, smiled at the ‘camera’, made a finger gun, and mouthed BANG. The feed cut off with a pop.

This left two celestial beings on the moon gaping at the blank screen, before quickly falling into boisterous laughter.

“Oh hell! My stomach hurts!” Lilith was struggling to breath.

“Wh-ha-ha-haaaat the Hell just happened!?” Melekasia struggled to get out. “Humanity just won!? Adam literally gave a middle finger to the Great Plan!” Tears were streaming down her face while she hugged Lillith closer.

“That was the best thing ever! You need to send me that feed hahaha! Is there sound? There’s gotta be sound right? I want to know what they were saying.” Lilith cried.

“Ohmygod, yes!” and she pulled up the saved feed by hacking into one of the other surveillance systems Heaven had, this one was Environmental Affairs. She knew no one was watching it. The angel in charge of that department was called into a platoon earlier that day.  

The two watched as Gabriel and Beelzebub tried to force Adam to restart Armageddon, then listened with glee at Adams response and bored dismissal of the two. When Aziraphale had put in his two sense, quickly being joined by Crowley, and backed Adam, they knew those two were going to be in quite a bit of trouble. It was worrying but absolutely delightful to watch Gabriel and Beelzebub get owned. 

Things seemed to be settling down. Neither side got their war. The Earth didn’t perish and Humanity survived. There was an aura of hope that surrounded the two pairs of celestial beings for better things to come.

[living-after-death-blog1]

The Day My Daughter Died.. (An introduction to the end and the beginning)

I received a phone call from my daughter's best friend, Alli, at about 2:30pm on that day. She told me that she had just left work and was on her way to my daughter's house, after receiving a frantic phone call from my daughter's roommate, Kenneth, who said that he had come home and found her unconscious, with a needle in her hand. He had called an ambulance, he had attempted CPR, and was now waiting outside of the house while the emergency personnel did their thing inside.

I think it was already pretty well established that my daughter was gone, and I think that this was probably communicated to me, but my brain literally wouldn't grasp it. I wasn't devastated; I was terrified. I spent the entire conversation (which was probably at least 20 minutes long) thinking that we didn't know anything yet, feeling like I was frozen, like everything around me was happening in slow motion, and that I was just holding my breath until the moment when Alli could finally get to the house and someone could tell us what was going on. I thought we were waiting to hear that she'd been trànsported or something. It honestly hadn't occurred to me until just now that simply knowing that Kenneth had attempted CPR should have been enough information to answer to the only question that was looping through my mind, over and over, until Alli arrived. "Is she breathing?"

I was 4 hours away, in another city.

Once Alli arrived, there were people everywhere; policemen, emergency responders, tons of neighborhood spectators, and Kenneth, the roommate. I was still on the phone, waiting, while he and Alli had a brief conversation, which I couldn't really hear and I finally interrupted to ask what I thought we'd been waiting to find out this whole time.. "But.. is she still breathing?"

At that point, I heard Alli take a deep breath and, very slowly, and with such pain, she said the words that made it real.

"No, Stephanie. She's gone."

I remember taking a deep breath and saying, "Okay."

It almost felt like, "Well.. Here we are. This is actually happening. You know, that thing that happens to other people, but not your child, not you? It's happening. Right now."

Another deep breath, and once again, " Okay.. "

I remember thinking that I needed to hold it together somehow, because I was going to have to handle and figure out a lot of things, and I really, really needed to be able to think. I just had to think. Figure this all out somehow, as if it were a problem that could be solved.

I did what I've always done when I need to call upon an extreme coping skill. I stopped feeling, and I started thinking. Intellectualizing, my therapist, Becca, the one from my daughter's first treatment center, used to call it.

I called upon that skill in that moment. Think. Think about what other people are going through, feeling, experiencing. Think about how everyone else feels, so you don't have to look at what this really is. Don't even get close to it.

That is the moment that I apologized to Alli for having to be the one to make such a horrible phone call, telling someone's mother that they are dead, and thanked her for being that person, at the same time. I thanked her for being a good friend. I told her I loved her. Said I'd be available for the police or whoever needs to speak to next of kin, and told her to give them my number.

I called my boyfriend first, in a panic; I had to get home, I had to get to Houston, and I had to get there NOW. I couldn't drive, and all I could think was how I needed to get there, I had to get there, and I needed to get there NOW. No answer.

I called my ex-husband (not the father of my daughter, but of two sons, ages 15 and 18, at the time) and, not realizing that the boys were in the car with him or that he had answered on speaker, I started screaming that my daughter was dead, she was dead, and I didn't know what to do. Of course, after finding out that the boys had overhead, I called both of them to apologize that they had had to hear me like that, to hear the news that way.

I don't remember very much of the next few weeks. The things I do remember are choppy, like random scenes from a movie, but I remember those things vividly.

I realized that I had to tell people. Who? Who is the first person you call to announce your daughter's death?

I called my mom first, I think, and I listened to her sob and repeat, "Noooo..." over and over.

I called my daughter's other grandmother, on her father's side, and I listened as she cried and kept saying, "Oh my god.."

I called my daughter's ex-boyfriend, Javi, the father of my granddaughter, who was 8 at the time, and he couldn't believe it, couldn't accept it, either; jumped in his car to go over there. I guess he needed to see it with his own eyes.

I spoke to another of my daughter's best friends, Jessica (she happened to text me, so I thought she already knew, and when I realized that she didn't, I told her to call me. She asked me, "How bad is it?" I said, "Bad."), and then she, too, immediately drove over to the house to meet up with Alli, Kenneth, and Javi.

I couldn't listen to any more breaking hearts at the moment, so as fucked up as it seems now, I just started texting people.

I texted my friend, Sarah, who, along with her entire family, have been like family to us. I don't even know how I said it. I think I said, "I'm so sorry to tell you like this, but they found her this morning, unconscious, with a needle, and she didn't make it. " Sarah immediately called me, and started screaming, " What? What? " as if she couldn't hear me. Her mind, too, couldn't seem to allow this to be real.

I spoke to my friends, Theresa and Joie, sisters, and they immediately offered all kinds of practical help that hadn't even occurred to me, such as setting up a GoFundMe account to pay for funeral expenses. I had been laid off from my job of over ten years several months prior, and so all of the life insurance policies and everything I'd been so used to just having were no longer available, and I had nothing.

Joie also posted on Facebook on my behalf. It was the only way I could think of to let everyone know, especially my daughter's friends, and it was because of all of these people, and so many more, that I have managed to get through this last year.

I don't know what I did to deserve such wonderful people in my life, but I am surrounded by them. The GoFundMe account reached over $5000 within a couple of days.

My daughter's best friend from middle school is a hair and makeup artist, and she flew in from Colorado to make sure that she was the one who did the makeup for the viewing. That was always their thing, and even though my daughter's addiction had driven them apart over the years, Vikki had to do this one last thing for her friend, and I was happy to have her do it.

Sarah's ex-boyfriend, who knew my daughter as a child, took care of all of the flowers and arrangements.

Sarah's mom has a friend who was able to make a dress for my daughter to wear during the viewing; an Alice in Wonderland dress, because that was always her thing.

Sarah and her mom had already found the cheapest most decent funeral home that they knew of (her mom had used the place for her own mother's service), so I literally spent the next few days just having to answer yes and no questions.

It turned out that since my daughter never divorced the father of her second child (my grandson, Isaac, who was almost 7 at the time), even though they'd been separated and out of contact for a few years (she was engaged to someone else for at least a year), he was her next of kin, not me, and this brought forth a whole host of issues. He doesn't raise their son, his mother does, because he is either 1) insane, 2) brain damaged from drug use, 3) currently using drugs, or 4) a combination of all of the above. These things made the entire process very difficult for me.

They tried to dictate who could be invited to the funeral, which I wasn't on board with. They threatened me by saying that they would have her body transferred to the funeral home of their choosing and they would let me know when and where to show up. They said I could not have any locks of her hair. They said they would not split up her ashes. They even dictated to me that she be cremated, because they somehow knew (having only known her for a few years, and not knowing her at all, really, for the few years prior to her death) that she wanted to be cremated and that she wanted her ashes spread over the ocean.

I won't ever be able to understand why someone would treat the mother of a dead child the way that they treated me, but I've just added them to the list of people I'll have to figure out how to forgive somehow, eventually.

Everyone showed up for us, and I was so grateful for the presence of every single one of them. People I hadn't seen or spoken to in years, such as my ex-husband's ex-boss's ex-wife, lol.

I placed a son for adoption when I was 19, and though I had met him in person once, he and my other kids had not met. He and my daughter had been talking a lot on social media, and he had planned to come visit and meet everyone in May, after he graduated college, but ended up coming in April for her funeral, instead. He never even got to hear her voice.

There is so much I want to use this blog for. I want to document my own journey through this grief. I want to talk about addiction and help destigmatize the way people view addicts. I want to offer resources and maybe even hope. And I want to remember my daughter.

Her name was Jade. She was 26 years old when she died. She was one of the funniest, coolest, most creative, beautiful people you could have ever known. Yes, the addiction was a part of her journey, her struggle, but she was more than that. And I intend to honor ALL of who she was, by speaking the truth.

The truth is that she died from the toxic effects of an accidental overdose of heroin and methamphetamine. But that's just one part of her story, and mine, and I need to tell them both, even if no one ever reads a single word I type. I need to tell these stories.

Since I started with her death, here is a photo recap of what there is to know so far:

#grief #overdose #addiction #loss #bereavement #grieving

[bodyofvvater]

tug

so like. four months ago i wrote this little thing about one of my da oc’s paloma and @thekeeperlavellan‘s drew (featuring a few mentions of @triforks‘s percy, paloma’s older brother). it was supposed to be longer and it kind of ended on a sour note when it was Supposed to have a happy ending (it still does canonically have one), but i got busy with school and never finished it. nevertheless i’m kinda proud of it so here it is lol

Paloma knows full well that crying gets you nowhere.

She tried it, certainly, when she was younger--barely six, if she recalls. Tired and scared and holding a bow, way too big to be balanced. Her arms shook and her aim was off and Percy tried to help, but there wasn’t much to do without getting caught. And she sat on the ground, screeching her lungs out, believing in all her childish naivete that it would change the mind of whoever was overseeing her training that day.

All she got for her trouble was a kick to the ribs.

And she’ll admit--if only to herself, and maybe Percy--that she was up crying all night after taking her first life. That didn’t change anything either; she still had to get up and do the same thing the next day.

She learned to cope.

Sadness turned into anger, and crying turned into fuming, and her greatest flaw turned into fuel to get more work done--and maybe Percy looked at her with a sorrow too great to describe when she smiled with blood on her clothes, but at least she wasn’t hurting.

One night, a few months ago, Percy asked her if doing this ever made her sad. She couldn’t remember.

Maybe that was the closest she got to being sad--upsetting her brother. They were all each other ever had--he was the one face she counted on seeing at the end of the day, no matter what. Nothing hurt more than when he looked at her like he couldn’t recognize hers.

That, she thinks, might be why she finds herself whaling on a training dummy with tears obscuring her vision as the sun paints the sky above her orange and red. Because her stupid, selfish, good-for-nothing brother isn’t the last face she sees every day now--or the first. He left her in the mountains surrounded by zealots to fight for a cause they were both supposed to care about.

It’s been a month or two. She kept it together for a while. Quietly fuming, of course, as she read the stupid letter he left behind time and time again. But she smiled around strangers, and talked to new people, and wrote a hundred strongly-worded letters back that she had no idea where to send.

She was doing just fine, honestly. Until--well, until Drew decided to fuck her whole shit up.

He helped at first. He was quiet, no-nonsense, didn’t ask questions when she got intense during sparring. He gave ground when she needed to get in an extra hit, and he didn’t hit too hard when her fury left her open. Sometimes, when he was the one taking extra hits, Paloma thought he might’ve forgotten how to feel sad, too.

The unfortunate thing about being a Crow, Paloma thinks, is that she’s too observant for her own good. Because what on the surface looked like a grave, if slightly awkward, man who was willing to let an angry elf take her frustrations out on his absolute mountain of a body quickly proved to contain an ocean of things left unsaid.

The waves of it shone through in the in-between moments. When he lost focus, when they were resetting, when he cracked a rare smile. And maybe she read too much into it, and maybe she shouldn’t be looking for anything more than what he was showing her in the first place, but the little things started to look bigger and bigger to her.

Like how he paused every time he knocked her off her feet, as if he was worried he might have actually hurt her. The awkward but genuine smile when Paloma made bad jokes, the occasional half-laugh when they were particularly corny. His steely focus in every move he made, how quickly he shed it when he thought he might hit a little too hard.

And then, of course, what would inevitably do Paloma in; Drew’s stupidly open, concerned, empathetic expression when she first showed up with her ribs and back on full display, painted in scars from years of harsh training.

“Are--” he’d started, and then he’d promptly shut up--because he didn’t wanna know or because he didn’t think it was his place, Paloma wasn’t sure. No matter; he’d looked at her then like she was something precious, or worthwhile, or maybe just no less important than anyone else.

Paloma knows full well that crying gets you nowhere. She had to dig her fingernails into her palm in that moment to keep her eyes from welling up.

And that’s the big fuck-you that Drew keeps dangling in her face. Because Paloma is too observant for her own good, and even if he put on that same expression every time, even if he appeared as no-nonsense as ever, Drew got… softer with her. After that.

Not in a weird way--not even in a patronizing way, she thinks, even if she would love to name it so and call it a day. He was just softer. Kinder. In the way that only someone who truly means it can be.

And Paloma isn’t one for habits--they’re hard to kick and too recognizable, too easy to trace back to her--but maybe she sheds a few tears one night thinking about the look he gives her sometimes, and maybe she sheds a few more the next night thinking about how desperately she needs to vent to Percy about it.

Maybe it turns into a habit. Just every few nights, guilty tears spilled over frustrations and anger and desperate loneliness, all clinging so tight to her chest they’re bound to leave scars of their own.

It’s always short though, short and sweet, a moment of weakness she allows herself because no one’s here to tell me not to.

And for a while it’s enough to tide her over. Just enough release for her to coil back up, tight and ready to snap. But the hurt doesn’t go, it stays clinging to her chest, digs into skin and bones until she feels like she’s made of it.

And then she’s here. Beating a training dummy within an inch of its non-existent life, wailing like a fucking child.

She wouldn’t have let herself if she knew there was anyone around. With the sun low in the sky, people filtering into taverns and beds, settling in for the evening, Paloma allowed every crack in the facade to tear open at once. And yes, it was stupid--so unbelievably contrary to her in her entirety--but she thought maybe she deserved just this one moment.

Apparently she doesn’t. Someone clears their throat behind her.

For just a moment, she freezes, quiets. Her previously rapid breath catches in her chest, cool evening air coming to what feels like a boiling point where it sits with her temper. But her legs shake, the muscles in her arms suddenly aching and restless, and she’s cold, freezing.

Whatever reason she once possessed left with Percy, she thinks. With a yell that makes her own ears ring, she swings at the training dummy again. And again, and again, and again, and for a moment the adrenaline of it all clouds her head enough to forget someone is there. Then that someone has their hands on her shoulders.

“Paloma,” and Maker, the sound of his voice makes her want to go limp and take a swing at him in equal measure.

Her vision is blurry with tears, but there’s no mistaking the man in front of her when she turns to look at him. Drew stares down at her, that concerned expression painting his features yet again. And as much as Paloma wants to wipe it off, tell him to quit it--anything to make him stop, anything to untie him from her--she can’t. She can’t.

“Are you--” he starts, then stops, mouth still open. Like he doesn’t know how to ask, or what he’s even asking. Maker, she doesn’t know whether she wants him to ask anything at all.

Spite is the only thing letting Paloma hold eye contact as silence stretches between them. He’s still searching, she thinks, looking for something she’s not sure he even knows how to begin to articulate.

His hands are still on her shoulders. It feels like they’re burning.

“What’s going on?” he finally settles on. His tone is quiet enough to almost catch in the wind and be carried off.

And that may be the worst question he could’ve asked, or maybe the best, because Paloma lets out another sob, and then a broken chuckle as she looks to the bleeding sky.

“Everything,” she laughs. It’s a humorless one, and one with a lot of embarrassing tears, and clearly it’s not even really worth it, because Drew looks even more confused than he did previously.

And suddenly Paloma is profoundly angry, because fuck this guy. Fuck him and his looks and his smile, his awkward comfort and care, fuck his stupid hands, beautiful hands, warm hands, hands on her shoulders.

“I don’t think I understand,” he says, and she scoffs at that.

“I’m so--” she says, still matching his quiet tone, then shakes her head, shakes her shoulders. Shakes him off. “Percy is gone, and the world is ending, and everyone looks at me like I’m gonna eat their children while they sleep, and you--”

“Paloma--” Drew tries to cut her off, but she speaks louder.

“You’re everywhere! You’re in the great hall and on the battlements and on the training grounds, you’re in my head, all the time, you’re-- I can’t stop thinking about you! And you just keep smiling like it’s nothing, but it’s not nothing, Drew, it’s everything!”

She realizes she’s not making much sense, but she only stops when she runs out of breath. She’s panting, and the night is suddenly unbearably cold without Drew’s hands on her, and-- Maker, he’s looking at her like she’s the strangest thing he’s ever seen. She feels like it, too.

There’s another pause, filled only with her heavy breathing and the occasional distant sounds of people moving from the tavern to the castle.

She thinks maybe she should be panicking that she said so much. And maybe she is, underneath everything. Maybe somewhere under all the rage and hurt and desperation for something to change, there’s a part of her that’s terrified of everything she let slip. As it stands, she’s just feels a little hollow.

“I’m--” Drew starts, reconsiders. Starts over. “I don’t know what that means.”

And Paloma doesn’t know what to do with that, because she doesn’t know how to make it more clear. She’s not good with words, and she’s certainly not good with feelings, and right now he requires both from her.

She feels like a storm, trying to find the words that will make him get it. Everything in her roaring at once.

“It means--” she seethes, “I--”

Another pause, a million words on her tongue.

“You’re just-- I can’t--”

“Hey,” he says, quiet again, and she realizes a new bout of tears have made their way to her cheeks. He lifts his hands, cautious, like he’ll stop at the slightest sign of hesitation from her, and puts them on her forearms this time. Tugs at her elbows so slightly she barely feels it, a silent invitation, if you need it.

And something changes in her, so suddenly she feels dizzy with it. A sudden quiet, an unclenching of every furious muscle in her body with the realization that this is the softest anyone has ever been with her.

For all of Percy’s brother-ing, for all of the wandering hands of strangers in taverns along the road, for all of her own attempts at comfort, nothing has come close to this. A tug, a silent offering.

Drew was about to say something else, she thinks. Suddenly it takes second place to the words desperately crawling their way up her throat.

“I love you,” she says, maybe the most honest she’s ever been.

It’s quiet for a moment.

“Oh,” Drew says, eyes wide. Still holding her elbows. “Uh-- Thanks?”

And then the quiet is over, and a flash flood of emotion washes over Paloma--the anger, the hurt, the hollowness, the desperation. All topped with the panic that lived beneath it all, suddenly settling in her lungs like a parasite. She wants to cough, or throw up, or stop breathing.

Because what the fuck is Drew even supposed to do with that. Who the fuck is she to tell him that, to take their good and functional and casual friendship and smash on the ground before him. She might as well have asked him to pick up the pieces.

Why the fuck would she think he wanted that from her.

“I have to go,” she breathes, yanks her elbows out of his frozen hands. Her legs feel numb as she moves, but she moves all the same; toward the tavern or the castle or Antiva, she’s not sure.

She doesn’t look back.

[ipraygreywords]

Here it is lol. I highly encourage mutuals to read.

Prcfessor AYesterday at 11:37 PM

Re: [stiff as a board from head to toe, only in to his waist] I am uncomfortable.  [as diplomatically and serenely as he is able to say it, in a voice two octaves higher than normal]

samcatYesterday at 11:40 PM

N: [ she steps in front of him so that her heels will take the brunt of the wave first, then takes his hands. ] I have you.bitch i DIE.N: Normally I am used to lifting babies in and out of the waves, but you are much larger then me, heh! [ a very rare laugh !!! from the very reserved bean !!! ]

Prcfessor AYesterday at 11:42 PM

Re: [deep shuddering breaths. he is afraid of very, very few things, especially this transparently.]  You have me. [he manages to laugh with her, a sort of breathless wheeze, unseeing eyes unusually wide open, and he hangs on to her arms in a vice grip, and tries to pat them in thanks.]

samcatYesterday at 11:43 PM

N: [ she keeps her gaze pinned on the horizon, not watching the waves immediately at their feet but the waves that form way in the distance. even when they are this far out, she can tell what the size of it will be when it comes to their feet. ] N: ...a wave is coming now. It is very small, and it will be a bit cold.

Prcfessor AYesterday at 11:45 PM

Re: It would be nice to backfloat. Just once. [the wave comes and Rezo gasps softly, then chuckles, a little edgily, but not quite with such breathless panic]  Hoh! Goodness.Re: ....When I died. Both times....and thought I would be at peace, free of the creature within me....I was laying on my back in warm water.  And there was light. A great deal of light.  It was wonderful. I haven't told that to anyone.  Most of the people I could tell would have preferred me to stay dead, hah...! Ah. [a slight shudder]  My, how d-do you get used to the c-cold?

samcatYesterday at 11:48 PM

N: We can build up to that! [ she offers encouragingly as another wave curls around their feet. but she quiets as he speaks of his deaths. she knows about them on account of...talk. in the village. she has never asked, however. ] ...that is what it feels like when you lay out in the ocean on a sunny day. The water past the breaks is calm, and all you hear are waves crashing, but from beneath the water.N: ...I'm sorry you were not granted the peace you deserve. But at least we can build it here, however slowly.N: Heh, well the cold doesn't last. It is still spring. During the summer, it feels divine.N: But when one depends on the ocean for much of their living, one cannot afford to think about temperature.

Prcfessor AYesterday at 11:55 PM

Re: I needed to return. I had unfinished business.  [those worried dark eyes grow distant] Balance to restore.  Fear not, I'm at peace with my friends. With you.  [he chuckles again, still more gently, and without realizing it, his grip on her arms has loosened]  That I am glad to hear....oho, little one.  May your days of such hardship be over.  I may not live a lifestyle to show it, but I have comfortable means, and it would not trouble me to help you. You are, after all, working very hard on my behalf.

samcatToday at 12:00 AM

N: [ her grip on his forearms has always been firm and steady, and as waves come, she quietly informs him on the size and frequency. ] Oh I'm alright. I...my family back home are the ones who struggle. Taxes there are very high, but...they always seem to make it. [ there is more to be said about how leaving them for a life of a pilgrim was difficult. a pilgrim makes no money. in fact, they rely on the charity of others to get by. true, the were relieved of one mouth to fee, but they were also deprived of one of their best workers. ]N: Well...some people did care about the temperature, to be honest, but I didn't. Pearls grow year round, after all.

Prcfessor AToday at 12:01 AM

Re: ....do you ever think on visiting them? [a soft gasp] Oh, pearls. They are so smooth.

samcatToday at 12:02 AM

N: Most of them! Some of them have ridges, especially the larger ones.

Prcfessor AToday at 12:02 AM

Re: You know, family....it's easy to take family for granted until they're gone.  [he turns back to 'look' at her] ....I have never felt a pearl with ridges before. [his childlike awe at such a simple thing is somehow heartbreaking]

samcatToday at 12:04 AM

N: ...I know. [ she answers softly. again, she leaves out the fact that she's an adoptive member of a family, thus in her head she thinks that such a statement doesn't really apply to her. ]N: Ah, you haven't? I will try to dive and find some. I don't know if there are oysters here, but I will look.

Prcfessor AToday at 12:07 AM

Re: Little one, I will be your family too, if you...like.  [his grip tightens] Ah, don't...leave.  Or. Well. I suppose I could manage to wait a few moments , if you wish to look.

samcatToday at 12:09 AM

N: [ that very thought brings tears to her eyes, but she does not let them fall, instead squeezing his forearms a little right in sync with when he does so. ] Oh I won't, don't worry. Not right now. We have plenty of time. Today is just a day for getting familiar with the tides.N: One has to respect the ocean, otherwise it...it can be dangerous.(( S: you bet your sweet ass.

Prcfessor AToday at 12:10 AM

Re: By all means, do NOT endanger yourself for a pearl for a silly old man. [he leans forward, and gnaws on the side of his bottom lip, and then exhales. in the sun, his dark eyelashes are even more pronounced by the light and shadow.  he looks like a figure from a stained glass window. ]  I. I wish. To take a step forward. I. Think.

samcatToday at 12:14 AM

N: [ nahia is not attracted to him by any means, but she can still appreciate beauty when she sees it. especially with the sound of ocean water in her ears and the sensation of sand in between her toes, her spiritual sense are the ones guiding her actions more than her physical ones. she knows for certain, deep within her soul, that this is a good man deserving of love and mercy. a rush of affection chases away any melancholy, and he'll be able to hear the smile in her voice. ] N: Alright. On the count of 3. One...two...three!

Prcfessor AToday at 12:16 AM

Re: [the joy and levity of her voice emboldens him and he takes a step forward, simultaneously a man and a trusting child.  it is not with many, if any, other people, that Rezo shows he is incapable of anything.  he has a great deal of pride about his blindness.  he hopes Nahia knows the honor he bestows, without discussing it openly] Ah! Have I done it?

samcatToday at 12:18 AM

N: [ she does know, and it's precisely because she knows that she doesn't draw attention to it. ] Yes! Now the waves will be slightly stronger, and your feet will sink into the sand a little quicker, but only by a very small margin.

Prcfessor AToday at 12:18 AM

Re: Just as long as I'm not being swallowed by a sinkhole. [a nervous chuckle]

samcatToday at 12:19 AM

N: Hm...sometimes there will be little sand crabs you can feel crawling beneath your feet, but it doesn't look like there are any here...heh, no! No sinkholes. Eventually one stops sinking at their ankle.N: Don't worry, I will warn you of any sand crabs or creatures nearby. If I'm honest, even I am leery of stepping where sand crabs burrow. They are harmless, but...still.

Prcfessor AToday at 12:23 AM

Re: Sand crabs! Imagine that.... [he looks like he's trying to decide whether that is terrifying or amusing. his features are unusually open with his consternation.]  They have a great many legs, I imagine. [he's settling for terrifying.]

samcatToday at 12:24 AM

N: Heh, they do. But. They're really more like insects than traditional crabs. They...are not my favorite.

Prcfessor AToday at 12:25 AM

Re: That is what I ...that is what I....was afraid of, ah. Ahah. Ahm. Still, they are better than leeches ......The manifold...mysteries of the, ah, the ocean, yes? Ohhhhhh whatwasthat. Whatwasthat. Something. Brushed my leg.

samcatToday at 12:27 AM

N: That was my foot, I'm sorry. I was adjusting my footing.

Prcfessor AToday at 12:27 AM

Re: Oh praise the gods. [his eyebrows knit together in relief]

samcatToday at 12:28 AM

N: When we get to the point where we are calf-deep, I will have to teach you how to walk in a shuffle.N: In case there are rays here.N: I will check beforehand, but just to be sure.N: Those have...quite a nasty sting.

Prcfessor AToday at 12:28 AM

Re: RAYS? RAYS?!  OH. Yes! [he is trying so damned hard to sound calm and happy]

samcatToday at 12:29 AM

N: Yes. They are more scared of you than you are of them, but they do have a defense mechanism against...well. Being stepped on.

Prcfessor AToday at 12:29 AM

Re: Spectacular!

samcatToday at 12:30 AM

N: [ she laughs freely now, not at him or anything, but just out of amusement. she's never had to teach someone who has never been in the ocean, and it's entertaining in the best of ways. in fact, it makes her feel special in a way, instead of just a teenager from a fishing village. ] N: [ and it is very, very difficult to get nahia to laugh. ]N: Don't worry, we are not there yet, but if you shuffle you feet while you walk, that warns them of incoming traffic.

Prcfessor AToday at 12:33 AM

Re:  I'm barely past my ankles. [a look of rather endearing inward directed frustration] Oh good heavens. Just. Walk me out a bit farther. I am being a thorough chicken. [he smiles a little foolishly at her laughter, feeling oddly triumphant]

[preserving-ferretbrain]

Boobs With Superpowers

by Dan H

Tuesday, 05 May 2009

Dan Finds His Two Most Recent Obsessions Colliding Horribly~

I've recently been taking a renewed interest in (a) Feminism and (b) World of Warcraft.

Imagine my surprise when I found

this

article on WoWinsider linking to

this

article on Feministing.

Long story short, there's an Achievement in WoW called “Shake Your Bunny Maker” that requires you to put bunny ears on a female of every race. This female must be “at least 18” (level eighteen that is! Lol!).

It's a little bit sexist. You'd have to be kind of a moron not to see that it's a little bit sexist.

A lot of people on WoWinsider are kind of morons.

I've already posted a crapload about this on WoWinsider, and at my own WoW blog, but what I'm going to focus on for the Ferretbrain reader is comments like this:

For that matter, do you know what High Fantasy is? It makes women look hot yet powerful.

And this:

FULLY ARMOURED WOMEN WHO SPEND THEIR DAYS BATTLING FOR THE RIGHTS AND FREEDOMS OF THEIR WORLD HAVING RABBIT EARS PUT ON THEM IS A TOTAL STEP BACKWARDS FOR WOMEN AND TOTALLY SEXIST TOTALLY

And this:

Additionally and just as important to note, females are drawn and created to be sexy but also strong, ass kicking characters.

Oh and let us not forget this, which is slightly different but is one of my favourites:

A politically correct, 21st century medieval fantasy land ain't a real medieval fantasy land.

Yet again, I really don't want to be all Minority Warrior about this, but I call bullshit.

Okay. I call semi-bullshit.

I do not think it is unfair to say that Fantasy, as a genre, is actually

more-than-averagely sexist

. I also do not think it is unfair to say that fantasy readers and gamers, as a group, are more-than-averagely sensitive about their genre. The notion that because fantasy often includes female “heroes” (and it does, in fact, going all the way back to Red Sonja – a strong, powerful woman who just wanted a man to beat her down) that it is therefore “empowering” to women is an attractive one, to girls who read fantasy but also (perhaps more importantly) to guys who read fantasy and don't want to have to think about whether their chosen genre might have some issues to address.

Again, this comes with all the Minority Warrior provisos and warnings. I'm a white, cisgendered, able-bodied man in my late twenties, I have absolutely no right to tell women what they should and should not like, or what they should and should not be offended by. On the other hand, as a cisgendered, white etc etc, I feel perfectly placed to point out why it would be egregiously hypocritical for me to pretend that I play female characters in games for anything other than deeply chauvinistic reasons.

I love to tell myself that I play female characters in games because I have a deep sympathy for all womankind, because in a very real sense I identify more strongly with female characters than male ones.

This is horseshit. I play female characters in games because I want to look at hot babes with big tits and I'm too cowardly to just download porn.

But of course it's okay for me to want to look at hod babes with big tits (and tiny waists, don't forget the tiny waists, I don't like fat chicks) because I'm a red blooded man and therefore I am programmed by nature to want to look at hot babes with big tits. And because I am programmed by nature to want to look at hot babes with big tits, I have the right to demand that hot babes with big tits appear in everything I might ever come into contact with. If anybody gets offended by the presence of hot babes with big tits, that's their problem. They can go do things I'm not interested in.

The fact that many fantasy heroines wind up being strong, capable women is, in short, an accident. It comes about as the result of my personal demands. I want to play a character who is powerful. I want to look at hot babes. It happens that the best way this can be achieved in the game is by my avatar being a hot babe who is also powerful. This is, in essence, a necessary evil. The only way I can have my sense of vicarious power and those all important hooters is if some arbitrary superpowers are tacked onto the blow up doll I'm running around Northrend.

Now by happy accident, a lot of women are perfectly okay with this situation. Frankly

hot kung fu chick

is about the best you're going to get in the way of female role models in Fantasy, for the simple reason that the genre is based around my fantasies, not some woman's.

The problem, though, is that because the “hot” part of the female characters and the “strong” part of the female characters come from two separate parts of my personal, male fantasies and desires, there is no real connection between them.

For example, here is a picture of one of my main “toons”. She's a Paladin, in service to the Blood Elves, a fallen people who have been driven to desperate ends to overcome their crippling magical addictions. She's a powerful, driven knight in shining armour who destroys the enemies of her people without mercy.

She's not the most terrifying figure in the world, is she? Leaving aside the fact that her breastplate leaves sections of her midriff uncovered, and that her upper arms are similarly exposed for no reason I can readily understand, there's the fact that she looks like she's never been in a fight in her life. I mean seriously, I could take her.

Of course conversely, male characters all have muscles out the wazoo which looks really weird when half of them are supposed to be priests and wizards. It's plain, simple gender stereotyping, succinctly summed up over at

Girls Read Comics

as “Men are Strong, Women Are Sexy.” Sure, this little lady can slaughter her enemies like there's no tomorrow, but that doesn't change the fact that the actual character model (which Blizzard designed, and I chose) is a woman who looks like she's going to suck your cock, not kick your ass.

To put it another way, when I am playing a female character in a game, I'm engaging in a peculiar form of doublethink. When my character is kicking arse and taking names, that character is me. When my character is taking her clothes off and dancing on a mailbox she's something I am controlling. I don't want to play a female character who looks like a warrior, I want to play a female character who looks like a stripper. When she fights, she's me. When she dances, she's the girl I never got in high school.

The point I'm trying to get across here is that the presence of “strong, female characters” in fantasy (games or fiction) is a direct response to two distinct male fantasies, one about power, the other about sex. If these characters appeal to women it is pure serendipity. Unfortunately, people keep trying to use the male gamer's fondness for mixing “boobs” with “superpowers” as evidence that they're a more enlightened, more sensitive sort of guy.

Robin Torres, author of the WoWinsider article, on her

personal blog

comments that:

To be very, very general here, gamer guys don't tend to be mysogonistic, but they do like the very mild sexist tendencies in their games, TV, movies, etc. They want to see skin, but are perfectly happy to see it on a strong female role model. In fact, they prefer it... in general.

The last line, of course, is a sly reference to the delightfully naughty idea that geek men like the idea of hot chicks with superpowers beating them up.

The thing is, that's not a strong female role model. A role model is somebody you want to be. Not somebody you want to have sex with.

There are no (or very few) strong female role models in the World of Warcraft. There are female PCs, but firstly, as I've pointed out, they're designed to give the player (who is assumed to be male) something pretty to look at while questing, not to give the hypothetical female player somebody to identify with, and secondly all the PC does is follow the instructions of other people. As for the rest of Lore...

Well there's Jaina Proudmoore. Whose chief claim to fame is being Arthas' ex girlfriend. There's Sylvanas Windrunner, who's pretty cool but basically defined entirely by what Arthas did to her. There's ... umm ... well there's Lady Vashj, who is kind of cool in that she played a small part in the fall of Kaelthas Sunstrider, but basically she's Illidian Stormrage's minion. I think the leader of the Night Elves is a woman, but frankly the only people who go to Darnassus are first level Nelves and Horde players who want to kill her for the achievement.

And I know it's just a computer game, but there are a whole bunch of totally awesome male characters in the Lore. Thrall is awesome, Arthas is totally awesome, Kaelthas Sunstrider is cool and tragic, and Tirion Fordring is fantastic. Six out of eight faction leaders are men, as are most of the end-game bosses. Positive images of men (and by “positive” here I mean “they are presented as powerful people who make their own decisions and are not defined by their relationships with other people” not “good guys”) are abundant in the game – so abundant that they're scarcely worth mentioning – but women are absent.

Is this a problem? A small one. It would be nice if the next expansion was the Southern Ocean, and they managed to build Queen Azshara into something more than the vain stupid bint she seems to have been in Lore, but I'm not holding my breath. What's more of a problem is that geek culture continues to pat itself on the back because our collective fondness for mixing boobs and superpowers looks, to a causal observer, like a genuine respect for powerful women. It isn't.

A commenter from the original thread said: “For that matter, do you know what High Fantasy is? It makes women look hot yet powerful.”

This is entirely true. High Fantasy makes women look hot yet powerful.

Men, on the other hand, it makes look powerful, intelligent, driven, charismatic, resourceful, ruthless, dangerous, messianic, wonderful and terrible.

Women it makes look hot, yet powerful. And powerful is optional.Themes:

Computer Games

,

Sci-fi / Fantasy

,

Minority Warrior

~

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~Comments (

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Arthur B

at 15:30 on 2009-05-05Oh, come on Dan. What could possibly be sexist about giving someone a reward for preying upon unsuspecting women and inflicting upon them an indignity they did not ask for or desire?

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Arthur B

at 15:40 on 2009-05-05PS: For a moment there the combination of your title and tagline made me think your "two most recent obsessions" were Lefty (with the power to read minds!) and Righty (who can shoot fireballs!).

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Guy

at 17:33 on 2009-05-05I reckon she'd have to pretty damn strong to be able to hold that hammer with one hand at that angle and not even be making a fist... unless it's one of those polystyrene hammers...

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Viorica

at 20:13 on 2009-05-05Huh. Coincidence. I actually wrote an article for my Writer's Craft class on just this subject.

I was then informed by my (female) classmates that a.) These characters are OWNING their sexuality, not being exploited for it, and b.) By complaining about it, I was trying to censor things that most women except feminazi bitches like mereally like, so clearly I was the one being oppressive.

Yeah, I don't get it either.

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Rude Cyrus

at 20:16 on 2009-05-05It would've been better to be able to put bunny ears on anyone, regardless of gender or level. It would've been stupid and silly, but not sexist. And not as stupid as this move by Blizzard.

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Dan H

at 22:50 on 2009-05-05To be fair, you could put the bunny ears on anybody, but you only got the "Shake Your Bunny Maker" achievement if they were female and 18 or over (level 18! lol! - sorry, I've done that joke twice now...)

@ Isabel: Yeah the bulking up in F2 was interesting, although I confess that my inner fourteen year old was rather disappointed.

@ Viorica: As a straight, white etc I'm in a bit of an awkward position with things like that, because I ultimately can't say "you're wrong and should feel exploited!" On the other hand I can say "great! I'll carry on assuming that you don't matter unless I fancy you!

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Shim

at 23:07 on 2009-05-05Okay, a tangential thought. Bear with me.

The linguistics textbook I have here says that a) men usually dominate conversation (including talking time), and b) if you attempt to create, say, a classroom where male and female pupils make equal contributions, everyone perceives this as the females getting 90% of the attention: "The talkativeness of women has been gauged not in comparison with men, but with silence."

Reading this article, I started to think this may be true of fantasy as well. The huge numbers of male characters (not names, actual characters) in most stories seem almost invisible; I don't think I've ever read a story or played a game, and thought "how unrealistic, there were practically

no women

in that", but I'm damn sure, if I read a story with a lot of female characters, I'd fall in the "it's all feminist and sisters-together-y" trap. In other words, it seems to me that the number of female characters mostly gets compared to zero, not to the number of males. I'd love to know what some female commentators think. Any good counter-examples?

Examples: There were maybe two major female characters in LOTR and the Hobbit combined, and they were so vital that I can't remember their names right now. Although Pratchett does better than many, a quick glance at a Wikipedia list shows that the overwhelming majority of the characters are male.

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Sonia Mitchell

at 00:24 on 2009-05-06Shimmin: Apparently the English department at my uni gets regular complaints in their feedback forms that they've got too many female tutors. Female majority = girl germs(and actually, amongst the senior lecturers I think the imbalance is pretty slight).

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http://franzeska.dreamwidth.org/

at 04:19 on 2009-05-06It's been really interesting rewatching Xena recently because most of the women in that are people I'd both want to sleep with and want to be (and the men are few in number and mostly there for comic relief). That's rare. For me, most of the other action boob chicks fall somewhere on the continuum from Xena to Buffy (who I despise precisely because I don't find her hot enough and don't see any use for the character if one doesn't). I realize some straight women find Lara Croft and Sydney from Relic Hunter and Amanda from Highlander and all of the other action boob chicks terribly inspirational, and I do think they're AWESOME but for me it's a very voyeuristic kind of awesome that's mainly about ogling their asses while they kick the shit out of someone. Being queer sometimes makes me more able to enjoy action boob chick entertainment aimed at straight guys, but it doesn't make me the least bit more likely to identify with heavily-armed blow up dolls.

I don't recall anyone complaining about how few men there were in Xena, and I don't think people usually think of it as a touchy-feely girl power thing (though it often is)... This is because everyone thinks of it (correctly) as lesbian porn. Then again, I don't know many men who watched it beyond the first season, so maybe the girl cooties did scare people off.

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Wardog

at 09:24 on 2009-05-06

It's been really interesting rewatching Xena recently...

Xena! Hurrah. I'm so glad you mentioned Xena. Dan and I have a long-term, on-going project to watch it (I think we're currently somewhere around the end of Season 2 / beginning of Season 3) and I really love it. There are a couple of moderately hot dudes in it, I seem to recall (Ares?) but it is a very female-centric show. I'm not sure if the fact it is sort of *blatant* works in its favour. There's no sense of hypocrisy or pretension to it. So you have Xena wandering around in extremely unconvincing 'armour' and Gabrielle with her exposed midriff and episodes that are clearly based around "let's get one of them into an even more sexy costume!" and the consequence of that, paradoxically, is that they can also be admirable people. I also think it helps that Xena at least *looks* like she can kick your ass. Lucy Lawless is damn tall and, zomg, those thighs are mighty... *drifts off*.

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Wardog

at 09:25 on 2009-05-06

Apparently the English department at my uni gets regular complaints in their feedback forms that they've got too many female tutors.

Is that true?! Bloody hell, I always liked the marginal female-tilt of the staff because most places it's pretty obviously tilted the other way in favour of men.

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Sonia Mitchell

at 14:25 on 2009-05-06Is that true?!

Are you doubting the veracity of my gossip?

Heard it from a female tutor, so probably, yes.

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Wardog

at 14:26 on 2009-05-06I would never doubt the veracity of your gossip. It was more a rhetorical question to stand in for me shaking my fist at the sky and going "wtf world."

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Sonia Mitchell

at 14:32 on 2009-05-06Too late. I'm crying in my overly emotional feminine way.

Actually I wasn't aware that most institutions had a male bias in English. I guess I should have gone to a few more open days...

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http://sistermagpie.livejournal.com/

at 17:52 on 2009-05-06

The huge numbers of male characters (not names, actual characters) in most stories seem almost invisible; I don't think I've ever read a story or played a game, and thought "how unrealistic, there were practically no women in that", but I'm damn sure, if I read a story with a lot of female characters, I'd fall in the "it's all feminist and sisters-together-y" trap.

Absolutely. I remember a discussion recently regarding the "Birds of Prey" comic about how it was just unrealistic. First that the team was all women, and next that they found all these other women to work with. Sure there were some men, but it was mostly women! The fact that there were predominantly male teams running around all over the place and working with mostly men wasn't the same.

Or witness any time a character's created that's part of any minority. It's like there has to be a special case made for why the character has to be non-white/gay/female, as if those traits are special add-ons, steps away from just generic character. Making a white straight man is making a character completely free of any gender, sexual orientation or race!

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http://franzeska.dreamwidth.org/

at 06:13 on 2009-05-07The thing about Xena is that everything about it is shameless.

Everything.

There are actually quite a few hot guys (I had such a thing for Ares when I was 14), and most of them prance around with their shirts off 24/7. When they're not comic relief, they usually show up to flex, pose, and die tragically so Xena or Gabrielle can have an unconvincing moment of hetero... err... some character development, I mean. Sure, Xena spends the entire series in a push up bra (when she's not undercover as a harem girl), but considering she lives in a world with tackier fashion sense than the Stargate badguys on spring break, I think she's doing pretty well.

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Rami

at 09:41 on 2009-05-08Making a white straight man is making a character completely free of any gender, sexual orientation or race!

I find this extra-ridiculous when it crops up in allegedly progressive science-fiction, where they don't even have the straw man of "it's a realistic medieval setting" to explain away the homogeneity of their characters. No, it should just be self-evident that the Galactic Alliance will consist entirely of nice blue-eyed human males named John...

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http://arkan2.livejournal.com/

at 20:30 on 2009-05-08I find it fascinating that the comments on that first post were approximately 150 times more offensive than the actual achievement thing-y. Appreciated your comments, too, Dan.

Dunno how much of this essay is sarcasm, but the thing that caught me was that you seemed like you just might be serious about only playing female characters for the sex appeal.

Now, assuming you were serious about that (if you weren't, I'm about to make a complete idiot of myself; hey-ho, wouldn't be the first time, won't be the last) then obviously I can't speak for you, but I have to say that you do not speak for me.

I mean, that quote from Robin Torres pretty much had me nailed. Sure, I get a certain guilty pleasure out of women in fantasy settings running around in various states of undress. But that's not primarily why I want to see women in fantasy settings.

Let me put it this way: I like playing as straight, while male characters in games, or watching them in movies, or reading about them in books, for a couple of reasons, but primarily, it's this: because they're cool. I'd

like

to be given more opportunity to play as female characters or watch them in movies or read about them in books (and not as sexist stereotypes, either) primarily

because women are cool

. Same as I'd like more chance to play as/watch/read about people of color/people from other cultures/differently abled/queer, etc.

I agree with you that fantasy fans have no good cause to pat themselves on the back about how progressive our fandom is in terms of gender roles (or anything else, for that matter). Yet I don't think the blame for that ultimately rests with the fans.

Again, I'll agree with Robin Torres that most straight male fans probably derive some amount of enjoyment from barely dressed female characters in fantasy, even if it is sexist. But I also agree that most male fans aren't particularly misogynistic. That means, to my way of thinking, that most probably wouldn't

mind

the addition of more, even many more genuinely strong and well-fleshed out (no pun intended) female characters to the fandom. (Well, so long as they don't make too much of a majority, as Shimmin and Sonia point: I don't think the average male fan's sensibilities have progressed

that

far yet.)

I even suspect that most really wouldn't mind that much if there were fewer scantily-clad female characters in visual media such as games, movies, comics, etc.

Game and comics industries of course argue that they have to throw in the hypersexed women in stuff targeted at teenage males because that's what appeals to the demographic, and if they don't include that stuff, it'll hurt sales (and we all know that the bottom line is, of course, infinitely more important than morality).

I'm not arguing that it

doesn't

appeal to the young, straight male demographic; just that it isn't necessarily

needed

to make the product appealing.

A couple years ago, PBS Frontline did a great movie called

The Merchants of Cool

, which—among other things—asked the question: “how much of modern, hypersexed teenage culture arises 'naturally' and is merely reflected by industry products, and how much is it

created

by industry products and then reflected by modern teens?” (Hard to find, but it's available on

Youtube

.) You could ask the same question about scantily-clad women in fantasy.

@Viorica: I think you could argue to those women that you were

not

trying to censor anybody, merely expressing your opinion, which you have just as much right to as they do theirs.

@Shimmin: Eowyn and Galadriel. The first of whom has one of the truly awesomest moments in the trilogy (killing the Lord of the Nazghul), and then agrees to give up being proactive as well as being a warrior and turn into a good little stay-at-home wife for Faramir. The latter is basically Bruce Campbell's “Goddess” archetype with a bit of the “Temptress” thrown in. There's also Arwen, the love interest who barely appears in the story proper.

Yes, Pratchett is substantially better than Tolkien and even most modern writers and yes, his books are

still

overwhelmingly male-dominated.

Ahh,

Xena

. I used to love that show. Dunno what I'd think of it now, though, as I can't stand most of the shows I used to watch as a kid. (Still, whether those shows were targeted more at males or at females does not seem to be the deciding factor.)

Rami: I find this extra-ridiculous when it crops up in allegedly progressive science-fiction, where they don't even have the straw man of "it's a realistic medieval setting" to explain away the homogeneity of their characters. No, it should just be self-evident that the Galactic Alliance will consist entirely of nice blue-eyed human males named John …

Well of course, what particular reason can you give me why they shouldn't be?

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Sonia Mitchell

at 23:26 on 2009-05-08I think I disagree with you guys about Pratchett. While totting up all his characters provides a male majority, a significant number of novels are female dominated, and quite a lot of women have a narrative voice. Ankh-Morpork is full of minor male characters which skew the statistics, I think. But there's the witches, Susan and the girls of Monstrous Regiment who between them feature in a fair number of the novels. They're still admittedly a minority, but a pretty big one.

Making a white straight man is making a character completely free of any gender, sexual orientation or race!

Love this point (not the sentiment, but you know what I mean). Really well put.

But I also agree that most male fans aren't particularly misogynistic. That means, to my way of thinking, that most probably wouldn't mind the addition of more, even many more genuinely strong and well-fleshed out (no pun intended) female characters to the fandom. (Well, so long as they don't make too much of a majority, as Shimmin and Sonia point: I don't think the average male fan's sensibilities have progressed that far yet.)

They're not misogynists, but they don't want too many girl characters messing up their fandom? Ummm...

The belief that girls somehow ruin things isn't just going to go away, but while it persists then that is misogyny. It shouldn't be a question of whether boys 'mind' girls being represented in fantasy, because there shouldn't be anything to mind.

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Dafydd at 01:57 on 2009-05-09Kyra - Xena! Hurrah. I'm so glad you mentioned Xena. Dan and I have a long-term, on-going project to watch it (I think we're currently somewhere around the end of Season 2 / beginning of Season 3) and I really love it. There are a couple of moderately hot dudes in it, I seem to recall (Ares?) but it is a very female-centric show. I'm not sure if the fact it is sort of *blatant* works in its favour. There's no sense of hypocrisy or pretension to it. So you have Xena wandering around in extremely unconvincing 'armour' and Gabrielle with her exposed midriff and episodes that are clearly based around "let's get one of them into an even more sexy costume!" and the consequence of that, paradoxically, is that they can also be admirable people. I also think it helps that Xena at least *looks* like she can kick your ass. Lucy Lawless is damn tall and, zomg, those thighs are mighty... *drifts off*.

at 09:24 on 2009-05-06 by Kyra Smith - quote

Xena is the point. Especially early Xena.

The sliding scale of Sci-Fi feminism is Trek, Babalon 5, Xena.

Star Trek, nxt gen preaches Family Valuss = a woman mat be stron or sexy, but never both at the same time.

Babalon 5 ia more democratica. Sexuality is normalised. When Ivanova and Delenn are ON duty. They are strong honorary men. When they are OFF duy, they can relax and be sexy.

Early Xena and early Buffy has women who are sexy and strong

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http://arkan2.livejournal.com/

at 03:00 on 2009-05-09@Sonia: Now that I think about it further, maybe you're right.

They're not misogynists, but they don't want too many girl characters messing up their fandom?

Mm, good point. I meant that in the sense of your and Shimmin's points about thinking anything close to equal female/male participation feels like predominantly female participation to most males, which most males also find discomforting. (tee-hee, *goes to a ~90% female institution, a fact which constantly slips his mind*) Therefore, if there is anything close to equal participation, they're likely to feel that "the girls are getting all the attention" and "the guys are all being excluded," and they'll resent that. It's certainly wrong, and it's definitely sexist, but I don't think it's misogynistic, at least, not on their part. (Of course, we may be operating on different definitions of "misogyny.")

It shouldn't be a question of whether boys 'mind' girls being represented in fantasy, because there shouldn't be anything to mind.

Oh, sorry, of course not. Never meant to imply it. I was responding to the construct I derived of the Male Gamer from Dan's article (though I'm still not sure whether those parts were serious or not) and offering my own counter-analysis. My focus was on trying to distill the attitude of the Typical Straight Male Gamer(tm), not point out what parts of that attitude I think are misguided or flat out fucked-up.

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Dan H

at 12:40 on 2009-05-09On Pratchett: Basically I'm neutral on this one. Yes, he has a lot of female viewpoint characters, but they're usually specifically Female Viewpoint Characters, if you see what I mean. They're usually women *for a reason* rather than because Pratchett doesn't have his default set to male.

Also, I really didn't *like* Monstrous Regiment. But I think that might be because it was a bit boring.

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Guy

at 14:55 on 2009-05-09It's been a while since I read Pratchett, but aren't the witches books decent examples of stories that not only have plenty of women (just in numerical terms), but also manage to have women who have characters that aren't just variations on the theme of "strong and sexy but like, totally owning their sexuality so it's OK to ogle"?

I'm not a huge fan of Pratchett for other reasons (if you write five books a year, dude, you're going to end up repeating a lot of your jokes, but it's really not an excuse) but in feminist terms then I'd say he's doing pretty well. (Especially relative to the standards of the genre).

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Shim

at 16:31 on 2009-05-09

...thinking anything close to equal female/male participation feels like predominantly female participation to most males...

It's slightly hard to tell from the book, but the impression I got was that it feels like that to

everyone

. I'm trying to dig up some more now, I find this stuff pretty interesting, and I'd really like to know whether women had the same impression. I'll try to get hold of the original research.

Re: Pratchett, I agree he does above average, but I think that emphasises the point; even as one of the most popular fantasy authors, he's still well off 50/50 (that being said, he does a wide range of characters and usually manges to avoid stereotypes). As Dan pointed out, the default still seems to be Male. It seems to me there's at least two sides to the issue: firstly, having 'strong', appealing, interesting and non-lazy female main characters; and secondly, NOT defaulting to White Anglo-Saxon Male for the bit parts (or for the interesting bit parts, anyway).

I'll pull it back to the work/school case: if there are a couple of women/girls who consistently contribute and get respect and acknowledgement, that doesn't automatically mean there's no gender bias - maybe the top few of each gender get attention, but in the other 80% of the group, the males dominate.

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Jamie Johnston

at 19:05 on 2009-05-09

Eowyn and Galadriel. The first of whom has one of the truly awesomest moments in the trilogy (killing the Lord of the Nazghul), and then agrees to give up being proactive as well as being a warrior and turn into a good little stay-at-home wife for Faramir.

(quoth Arkan2)

Now that you mention it, it strikes me that Éowyn's an interesting case. She does get to do the funky killing of the Witch-King, but she gets to do that precisely because she cunning circumvents the prophecy that he'll be killed 'not by the hand of man' by the ingenious trick of being a woman. Does she (or Tolkein) score Feminist Points for that, in that it makes a (non-sexy) virtue of her sex rather than having her achieve goals by behaving in a 'male' way? Maybe so, especially since it very sharply points up the chauvinistic failure of the Nazgûl king (and indeed anyone who has ever wanted to kill him) to even realize that there is this group of people known as 'women' who are capable of killing other people and yet are in some mysterious way not men. But on the other hand she only manages to do the cool stuff by dressing up as a man and thus basically accepting the proposition 'cool stuff = man stuff'. And, as you say, in due course she even gives up on that, presumably because Faramir is already quite girly (i.e. he likes music and dislikes suicidally attacking massive evil hordes) and needs The Love Of A Good Woman to straighten him out. Hmm. Don't know.

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Dan H

at 00:14 on 2009-05-10This might be a total misconception, but I have heard that in Tolkein canon it's actually Merry who strikes the killing blow against the Witch King (he stabs it in the leg I think) and not Eowyn.

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Jamie Johnston

at 19:02 on 2009-05-10Saith Dan:

... I have heard that in Tolkein canon it's actually Merry who strikes the killing blow against the Witch King (he stabs it in the leg I think) and not Eowyn.

Mm, that may well be right...

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Jamie Johnston

at 19:02 on 2009-05-10[Dusts off long-unread tome, flicks through to page 142 (Ballantine edition, 1974).]

Not entirely clear. Éowyn chops off the head of the big monstery thing he's riding, then "Merry's sword had stabbed him from behind... and passing up beneath the hauberk had pierced the sinew behind his mighty knee." (His mighty knee? Seriously?) Then Éowyn "drove her sword between crown and mantle... The crown rolled away with a clang... But lo! the mantle and hauberk were empty... a cry went up... a voice bodiless and thin that died, and was swallowed up and was never heard again in that age of this world."

For normal human physiology one would imagine the blow to the head would more probably be fatal than the one to the (albeit mighty) knee, but who knows? By the time Éowyn stabs him in the head he seems already to be an empty suit, but maybe he always was. Come to that, the last bit suggests that he doesn't really die in the normal sense anyway.

But as far as the prophecy goes it makes more sense for the killer to be Éowyn because she is quite straightforwardly not a man, whereas to regard Merry as not a man requires a bit of special pleading. Of course either solution is better than Macduff's thoroughly feeble 'No, honestly, a Caesarian birth doesn't count as being born of woman', so possibly the threshold for prophecies is quite low.

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Sonia Mitchell

at 19:20 on 2009-05-10Well, LOTR is fairly consistent in using 'man' to mean human as differentiated from elves et al, so I can buy it without feeling he's bending the rules.

It's never occurred to me to check, but I wonder if Tolkien ever uses 'men' as shorthand for a mixed gathering of males? I guess it would be tempting in the battle scenes.

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Dafydd at 22:26 on 2009-05-10LotR applies both of the Macbeth prophecies: "No man of woman born" => "No man"; "Macbeth shall never vanquished be unless Birnham wood come to high Dunsinane hill, armed against him." => Ents raid Isengard.

Eowen is Maid of Awesome and Aragorn is a tard for choosing Arwen instead. But LotR is gay romance. Read Chapter 1. "There's queer folks at Bag End", "queer", "queer", "queer". Read Chapter 1. Movie tones down Sam/Frodo and Merry/Pippin to best friends' Love. But there is even some subtext in the Movies. Frodo is a bit of a Puritan, but surly Characters like Lotho, Bill and Grima are presented unsympathetically.

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Dan H

at 14:30 on 2009-05-11

Well, LOTR is fairly consistent in using 'man' to mean human as differentiated from elves et al, so I can buy it without feeling he's bending the rules

Extremely consistent.

So consistent, in fact, that if Eowyn defeating the witch king because she is "not a man" has less egalitarian, more creepy overtones. When you're that consistent about using the words "man" and "men" to mean "humans" defining a woman as *not* being a "man" is a *little bit dodgy*.

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Andy G

at 14:42 on 2009-05-11I remember thinking it was Merry the first 5 times I read it, until I read one of the LotR encyclopedias and it said it was Eowyn who killed the Witch King.

However, in the Houses of Healing isn't it explicitly stated that she HAD struck the Witch King, and that was why the unbroken right arm was far more deadly to her? That would suggest it hadn't just been an empty suit that she struck at. I don't think she'd struck any earlier blows, had she?

I remember in the trading card version, I always found it funny that she was described as a "Man".

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Wardog

at 14:51 on 2009-05-11Late to the party: I'm personally still rather concerned the Witch King has knees but no head...

Also from Sister Magpie:

Making a white straight man is making a character completely free of any gender, sexual orientation or race!

Yes. Nailed.

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Arthur B

at 14:56 on 2009-05-11The first time I read

Lord of the Rings

I kept thinking Merry and Pippin were girls and kept getting confused by the pronouns, realising my mistake, and then forgetting and assuming they were girls again.

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http://arkan2.livejournal.com/

at 15:30 on 2009-05-11You may have a point there about Pratchett, Dan, and not just with viewpoint characters. He does have side characters who are female too, but usually for a specific reason. I wouldn't say that

all

his characters (main or subordinate) default to male unless he has a particular reason not to, but I think most do.

As for Lord of the Rings:

Interestingly enough, I read on TV Tropes that the original Macbeth quote was in fact “

none

of woman born,” so having a woman wouldn't help.

They also point out that Eowyn is a woman from the race of Men

[sic]

, but that Merry is a man (adult male humanoid) of the race of halflings: so Tolkien's covered either way. (Still dodgy, though.)

That said, I've always had the very clear impression that Merry stabbing the Witch-King with a magical blade pierced his metaphysical armor, allowing Eowyn to kill whatever was alive inside the cloak. I believe the book itself addresses this scenario at some point.

At the very least, the situation is ambiguous, and the scenario I have just outlined is and forever will be my personal canon, and nothing you can say can change that, Dan. And further more, that was

a woman holding a pickaxe

!

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Andy G

at 16:00 on 2009-05-11

That said, I've always had the very clear impression that Merry stabbing the Witch-King with a magical blade pierced his metaphysical armor, allowing Eowyn to kill whatever was alive inside the cloak. I believe the book itself addresses this scenario at some point.

I thought it was more that Merry crippled him (doing extra damage because of the Dagger of Westernesse

+10 against Witch Kings) and then Eowyn finished him off. Basically as in the film, except that Eowyn didn't pause to deliver a line first. But I don't think it's completely explicit.

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Andy G

at 16:01 on 2009-05-11That was meant to say plus 10. But the plus symbol appears to make things move to the next line.

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http://marionros.livejournal.com/

at 22:56 on 2009-05-11Okay. Eowyn. Eowyn became a 'shieldmaiden' (thus choosing to be a virgin warriormaiden instead of being married) because Wormtongue was after her. He removed her brother, and would have 'requested' her as bride (thus placing himself as next-in-line for the throne if anything should 'happen' to Eowyn's brother and cousin).

Eowyn's biggest challenge was despair. Tolkien had a thing about despair... Eowyn was influenced by Wormtongue's insinuations and despaired of her people, their value, her value as a human being. She had 'turned to ice' (which is a poetic way of saying that she was deeply, suicidedly depressed. So, when the need was highest, and with an impossible battle in front of her, she chose to Ride To Certain Heroic Death, which is yet another poetic way to say that she wanted to kill herself (seeing as they were all to die anyway).

There's another character that despairs and tries to suicide through a Grand Gesture: Denethor. Denethor is a wonderful character. A good and noble man of deep feelings, self-control and not a little pride. When he is decievd into believing that his City is being attacked on two fronts and is without hope, he despairs and tries to burn both his dying son and himself to death.

As I said, Tolkien rejected this kind of despair. He considered suicide deeply sinful (although the Medieval scholar in him would probably have loved this Grand Gesturing) Both Denethor and Eowyn made this fatal mistake, and both, in his view were wrong in doing so. He did not condemn Eowyn for being 'unfeminine', but for losing hope. He is kind to her though. She has suffered much, so he gives her a 'second chance'. She survives, but she stays 'iced up' (deeply depressed) until the Shadow falls. She regains hope and dares to feel again.

Eowyn does not 'choose to become the happy housewife', she regains her full humanity and, as a human being, is able to love others and choose her own way in life. Besides, to be the Princess of Ithilien does not spell 'happy housewife' to me.

I read her story more than thirty years ago, and I can safely say that her character, together with Faramir and Denethor, were the most 'human' to me. I could identify with her, and indeed she is a rolemodel. I admire her, she's a strong character. Not because she could wield a sword but because she could come through difficult times, make tough choices and still be a good, strong, loving and loveable human being.

Is this what feminism has come to? You can't be happily married and be a female rolemodel?

Xena Warrior Princess leaves me cold at best. Xena is a male (or lesbian) fuck fantasy, and as I'm neither male nor lesbian I shrug at the sight of this barely-clad, leather and barbed-wire sporting, hair always coiffed, bondage babe. I certainly would never identify with Xena.

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Wardog

at 00:05 on 2009-05-12Fascinating defense. Thanks for this, I really enjoyed read it.

Is this what feminism has come to? You can't be happily married and be a female rolemodel?

I rather thought the point of feminism was that it specifically didn't tell people who they could and couldn't set up a role model, and I certainly hope we haven't done that here.

With regards, more specifically, to Eowyn, I see your arguments, and they're persuasive, but I'm afraid she doesn't work as a role model for me. Specifically I don't like the fact that her main virtue seems to be "enduring courage" not because this is not an absolutely admirable and sterling quality to have, but because it seems to me to be one of those archetypal 'feminine' virtues that male writers bestow on female characters when they don't want to actually let them *do* anything, like, for example, rule Edoras themselves, despite being the last of the line and pretty damn capable.

I'm afraid I'm not mad keen on Denethor either - I know we all have our flaws but *setting your son on fire* strikes me as pretty major. Also I think he's meant to be juxtaposed with Theoden, who, of course, tragically loses his son but fights on anyway to the very last, and to the ruination of his entire line in order to save the world, as a true King should. Whereas Denethor gives up - part of the reason Gondor gets into such trouble is because he is *not* a King, and does not behave like one, putting personal values above public ones, personal ambition over the good of the kingdom. I always saw him as a dark mirror of Theoden.

Possibly I've misinterpreted.

ena Warrior Princess leaves me cold at best.

And, finally, it's true Xena is a leather-clad bondage babe but she is living in what's basically classical-themed pulp fantasy. I think what's important is that, as well as the quite frankly fantastic thighs, and the obvious virtues of courage, strength, honour etc., Xena has a lot of positive female-centric traits as well: she's loyal, compassionate, loving, unabashedly sensual. She's not at all macho. She'd kick your ass but she's very clearly a woman, not just a dude with breasts.

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Dafydd at 00:34 on 2009-05-14

With regards, .... to Eowyn, ...she doesn't work as a role model for me. Specifically I don't like the fact that her main virtue seems to be "enduring courage" not because this is not an absolutely admirable and sterling quality to have, but because it seems to me to be one of those archetypal 'feminine' virtues that male writers bestow on female characters when they don't want to actually let them *do* anything, like, for example, rule Edoras themselves, despite being the last of the line and pretty damn capable.

Tolkien is among the Gods: so everyone steals Tolkien's cliches. Tolkien wrote Eowyn as an exciting and compelling Character, so everyone tried to write equally compelling Characters and most of them failed. I guess it's not that you don't like ur!Eowyn; you don't like the avalanche of ersatz!Eowyns that have come ever since.

After all her Glory. Eowyn ended up being a bog standard 1940's housewife ever after, because that was what passed for a happy ending in those unsophisticated times. It was emotionally satisfying: the Story set me up to care about Eowyn, to want her to have a happy ending and ping! she gets one. Hurrah!

LotR, Gone with the Wind, Ivan the Terrible,are all excellent entertainment, but their moral and political messages are somewhat dated and may need Government moral health Warnings. The same may be said for Shakespeare.

Conversely, Harry Potter, Xena and Buffy all started as excellent entertainment with fluffy Liberal morals. But they were so successful, that the money and power went to their Creators' heads. Harry Potter bk7 preached loathesome morals and was NOT entertaining; likewise Buffy season 6 and Xena season 5.

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Viorica

at 04:08 on 2009-05-14I don't think Shakespeare really counts as someone whose is dated. There's certainl plays of his with questionable themes (

Merchant of Venice

and

Taming of the Shrew

are the two that come most easily to mind) but the different interpretations and ideas are what makes them fascinating after all these years. The same really can't be applied tp Harry Potter or Xena.

one of those archetypal 'feminine' virtues that male writers bestow on female characters when they don't want to actually let them *do* anything

I'm afraid it's not just male writers who fall into this trap. Juliet Marillier's novels all feature heroines whose defining characteristic is being able to wait and abide patiently while the men around them get things done. The one character of hers who does act independently (even if it is just running away to meet with a lover) gets punished horribly whilst the ones who don't do anything get a happy ending (which almost always consists of getting married and having babies). The double standard's always irked me.

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Arthur B

at 06:41 on 2009-05-14

I don't think Shakespeare really counts as someone whose is dated. There's certainl plays of his with questionable themes (Merchant of Venice and Taming of the Shrew are the two that come most easily to mind) but the different interpretations and ideas are what makes them fascinating after all these years. The same really can't be applied tp Harry Potter or Xena.

I wonder, in fact, whether it hasn't become easier to come up with new interpretations of Shakespeare now that a hefty amount of time has passed - enough to create a wide gap between our cultural context and his. Maybe in the milieu of the time

The Merchant of Venice

(for example) was pretty blunt and straightforward, but now that 400 years have passed we can view the play with less biases (or at least not the same biases) as the audiences of the time. Artifacts from 40 years ago are dated; artifacts from 400 years ago come from another planet.

Of course, it remains to be seen whether

Potter

or

Xena

open themselves up to new interpretations over the next 400 years (or even 40 years) or whether they'll just end up looking like a semi-unintelligible mess.

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Rami

at 09:02 on 2009-05-14

remains to be seen whether Potter or Xena open themselves up to new interpretations over the next 400 years

If Potter and / or Xena last four centuries in the public consciousness I think we'll have bigger problems than just reinterpreting them.

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Arthur B

at 10:11 on 2009-05-14I suspect people will still be talking about Potter in 400 years, quite possibly in the same way that we talk about

tulipmania

...

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Dan H

at 11:39 on 2009-05-14

I'm afraid it's not just male writers who fall into this trap. Juliet Marillier's novels all feature heroines whose defining characteristic is being able to wait and abide patiently while the men around them get things done.

The problem with "feminine virtues" is that there's a difficult line to walk between between denigrating women by insisting that they are only allowed to possess traditionally feminine virtues (like stoicism and endurance) and denigrating women by insisting that "feminine" virtues don't matter.

To put it another way, a lot of women do in fact find themselves in sucky, no-win situations, and I don't think that it's necessarily wrong to say that there can be a kind of nobility in surviving that sort of thing with your dignity intact.

The problem starts to come in on a higher level - in fantasy in particular, female characters are frequently "helpless" in situations where male characters aren't, and not because of the restrictions of their society, but because the author will be naturally more inclined to cast a woman as helpless.

Or something.

To put it another way, it's really really hard to write about gender inequality without reinforcing it.

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http://arkan2.livejournal.com/

at 03:00 on 2009-05-15That

is

a persuasive argument marionros, and honestly, it's been too long since I read

Lord of the Rings

. My memory is vague enough that it could support both interpretations equally. I shall have to re-read in order to see which one rings truer to me now (and because it's obviously been too long since I read it, of course).

Is this what feminism has come to? You can't be happily married and be a female rolemodel?

Sorry, no, that's not what I meant to suggest. Thank you for spotting me on this.

You also made a good point about Eowyn becoming ruler of Ithilien, which is hardly a weak position. I guess the reason I didn't even think of addressing this point is that the book never really explored those ramifications for Eowyn.

And here, I think, is the important point. I know that there is nothing inherently anti-feminist about being a happily married wife and stay-at-home mom: I was raised as a feminist by just such a woman, and I would laugh my ass off at someone who tried to claim she wasn't a feminist.

I certainly consider being a stay-at-home mom more worthy and heroic than being, say, a Pirate King. However, the danger is that the housewife/stay-at-home mom position occupies a special niche in the patriarchal discourse: it is seen as Woman's Place in the Natural Order and what every girl should aspire to. Furthermore, in the patriarchal discourse, it is a position of submission and complete disempowerment.

So, as Dan says, in these situations, it gets a bit tricky. I generally find for a story to convince me that a woman giving up a position of power such as King or freebooter or warrior to become a housewife/stay-at-home mom, it has to show me a couple things, including a) that it's in her personality, rather than her biology, to

want

to do that; and b) that she can still be empowered (if differently empowered) as a housewife/stay-at-home mom.

I'd have to think about whether

Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End

supplied the former, but the question is academic because, for me, it completely failed to supply the latter, which is enough to award the movie an anti-feminist rating. (Quite aside from the fact that there were only two important female characters and upwards of a dozen important male characters.)

As for Tolkien, as I said, I shall have to read him again to make up my mind.

And, thank you for pointing that out, Viorica. Its true, male authors are hardly the only ones guilty of perpetuating such appalling gender stereotypes.

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Arthur B

at 13:58 on 2009-05-15It's a particularly tough call, especially since the Fourth Age of Middle-Earth was meant to be an era of peace and contentment following the demise of the Shadow. There's no

reason

for Eowyn to go back to being a warrior maiden because there are no battles left to fight and all the soldiers are hammering their swords into ploughshares; unless she wants to completely reject the spirit of the times and wander the land persecuting orcs it would be massively pointless.

She's not alone, either:

everyone

ends up settling down and being domestic in the Fourth Age aside from a very few restless souls, most of whom specifically get shipped off West because there's no room for them in Middle Earth any more. Being a King in the Fourth Age seems to involve establishing diplomatic relations with the Shire and repairing the old Numenorean roads, if Aragorn's record is anything to go by, and being a "freebooter or warrior" isn't a laudable and worthy response to the zeitgeist but a violent rejection of it. In short, the Fourth Age is

boring

, at least partially because the last major remnant of Morgoth's discordant work in the world has been wiped away, so given that context it's hard to say whether Eowyn's married life is a boring or disempowered one; maybe she doesn't get up to much because there

genuinely isn't very much for her to do

?

Does anyone with a copy of

Return of the King

handy fancy dipping in to find out precisely what Tolkien said about Eowyn's post-war career? He must have said

something

about her and Faramir, he yaps about just about everyone.

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Andy G

at 16:46 on 2009-05-15Hurrah, a chance to justify lugging the entire Lord of the Rings halfway across Europe ... though actually I can't find anything about her in the appendix. There does though seem to be more than enough fighting to keep Eomer occupied, despite the general peace ("Eomer took again the Oath of Eorl. Often he fulfilled it. For ... the King of the West had many enemies to subdue."), so I think there would have been enough fighting left for Eowyn if she'd wanted.

There's also her line from the Houses of Healing:

"Then the heart of Éowyn changed, or else she understood it... 'I will be a shieldmaiden no longer, nor vie with the great Riders, nor take joy only in the songs of slaying. I will be a healer, and love all things that grow and are not barren.'"

This could be read either as her being reformed ("changed") by Faramir's unwarriorlike attitudes ("I do not love the bright sword for it's sharpness, nor the arrow for it's swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend") or as her recognising she wasn't being true to herself the whole time she was a warrior - Eomer and Elassar can be nurturing figures while still remaining warriors, while for her it was a sign of her brokenness and despair that she deviated from a more passive role.

That's perhaps putting a bit of a strong spin on it, as I think there are definitely positive things in the portrayal of Eowyn, but I really think it is a bit of a stretch to see her as a feminist icon.

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Andy G

at 16:47 on 2009-05-15Apostrophes in the Faramir quotation are the fault of some random website, not me.

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Jamie Johnston

at 19:19 on 2009-05-15Interesting stuff. 'Fraid this is going to be a long comment...

It seems to me that the different interpretations of Éowyn's 'settling down' (I distinguish this question from the narrower question of her involvement in the killing of the Witch-King: I stick by my earlier ambivalence on that point) turn largely, as Andy G. suggests, on this question: did she want to fight because she despaired and wanted to die, or did she want to fight because she saw this as a way to do good in the world?

If the former (which seems to be Marionros' interpretation, more or less), then her desire to fight is a negative thing, a self-destructive emotional pathology; therefore her decision to marry Faramir and look after growing things is a sign of new-found emotional stability and needn't in any way detract from her feminist cred.

If the latter, it's still, I suppose, possible to argue that she's simply changed her mind about the best way for her to do good in the world, and it wouldn't be an irrational change of mind when seen in the context of Arthur's point about the Fourth Age (although that is slightly undermined by the fact that she makes the decision while the Allied victory is still very much in doubt, as Éowyn herself points out just a couple of pages earlier). But it would seem a very abrupt and somewhat implausible

volte-face

, and one would strongly suspect her of in some way selling out to an anti-feminist social order that regards nurturing things as an acceptable way for women to do good and fighting bad guys as an unacceptable way for women to do good.

So which is right? There's no doubt that she does despair, and that because she despairs she wants to die in battle: that much is made very clear both by Gandalf in 'The Houses Of Healing' and by Éowyn herself in 'The Steward And The King'. But does her entire career as a warrior arise out of that despair, which is what I think Marionros is saying? I find it hard to be sure, especially not having read the books for some time; in any case the despair has already set in by the time we encounter Éowyn in the narrative, so the crucial moment is hidden somewhere in the backstory and consequently rather tricky to identify. But just looking at Gandalf's comments in 'The Houses Of Healing' (and assuming that, what with being Gandalf, he's right in what he says there) it looks to me like the despair comes

after

the desire to fight, rather than causing it. Gandalf says:

... you had horses, and deeds of arms, and the free fields; but she, born in the body of a maid, had a spirit and courage at least the match of yours. Yet she was doomed to wait upon an old man, whom she loved as a father, and watch him falling into a mean dishonoured dotage; and her part seemed to her more ignoble than that of the staff that he leaned on.

And he goes on to describe Gríma's machinations. The implication seems to be that she starts out wanting to do the running, jumping, riding horses, doing "deeds of arms" thing; she's prevented from doing so by having to care for Théoden; so, although her desire to die in battle is a symptom of depression, her desire to be a warrior arises from an authentic non-pathological part of her character. In fact, far from her warrior lifestyle being a consequence of her despair (as implied by Marionros' suggestion that she becomes a warrior in order to avoid being married off to Gríma), it appears that her despair is a consequence of her inability to fulfil her healthy, authentic desire to be a warrior.

And why was she having to look after Théoden while her brother was running, jumping, climbing trees, &c.? Presumably (although I admit this isn't in the text) because she's a woman and he's a man. And why is there a danger that she will end up being forced to marry Gríma against her wishes? Again presumably because she lives in a patriarchal society in which her father has the power to give her in marriage without her free consent. If so, then in a sense her depression is a consequence of the chauvinism of her culture.

If this reading is right, then it becomes very hard to believe in her decision in 'The Steward And The King' as a positive thing. And that's not because in order to be a feminist you have to be a woman with a big sword, or because nurturing things is a less worthy thing than fighting bad guys; it's because that decision looks like either a bit of badly inconsistent characterization by Tolkein or a subordination by Éowyn of her own core desires to the expectations of society (and possibly even a new self-abnegating manifestation of her depression).

If that all sounds rather argumentative, it isn't because I'm particularly confident in my interpretation: I'd need to read and think a lot more before I could be. I may well have missed things in the text and / or looked at things the wrong way. But that's how my thinking is going at the moment.

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Arthur B

at 03:18 on 2009-05-16

There does though seem to be more than enough fighting to keep Eomer occupied, despite the general peace ("Eomer took again the Oath of Eorl. Often he fulfilled it. For ... the King of the West had many enemies to subdue."), so I think there would have been enough fighting left for Eowyn if she'd wanted.

This is true, but I do have the strong impression that most of the fighting that occurs involves putting down the rowdier remnants of Sauron's forces and allies, like the Easterlings and so forth; it's tidying up the business of the age just gone by, and as the Fourth Age matures the need for it seems to vanish. In any event, it doesn't seem like the sort of conflict Eowyn would want to take part in; it's a police action, not an epic battle for the very survival of her people, and I got the impression that Eowyn wanted to take part in the fight against Sauron specifically because she felt that Rohan couldn't afford to keep an ounce of its strength back.

I think taken as a couple Eowyn and Faramir could be taken as representing the great hope of the Fourth Age: that it will be a time when people such as them, to whom war does not come naturally, will be able to thrive in the mode that suits them best. This doesn't make Eowyn a feminist icon, but it doesn't make Faramir a champion of the patriarchy either; it makes both of them poster children for the new age dawning.

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Arthur B

at 03:34 on 2009-05-16

...it's still, I suppose, possible to argue that she's simply changed her mind about the best way for her to do good in the world, and it wouldn't be an irrational change of mind when seen in the context of Arthur's point about the Fourth Age (although that is slightly undermined by the fact that she makes the decision while the Allied victory is still very much in doubt, as Éowyn herself points out just a couple of pages earlier).

Actually, I think Eowyn and Faramir making their commitment to each other just before the very final confrontation nicely underlines what's at stake: if the forces of Sauron prevail, then their relationship, like the Fourth Age itself, will be strangled at birth, but if Aragorn and Frodo win the day then Eowyn and Faramir will be able to realise their true destiny, just as the Fourth Age will dawn in Middle Earth.

Basically, once they make their commitment to each other, they're no longer participants in the great war against Sauron - their wounds disqualify them for that. Rather, they and their relationship represent the future which is at stake in the war.

And why is there a danger that she will end up being forced to marry Gríma against her wishes? Again presumably because she lives in a patriarchal society in which her father has the power to give her in marriage without her free consent. If so, then in a sense her depression is a consequence of the chauvinism of her culture.

Well, here's a crucial point: her culture is, yes, a chauvinistic one. But is Faramir a chauvinistic individual? Perhaps part of Eowyn's attraction to Faramir is a feeling on her part that he, a sophisticated scion of Gondor (the last remnant of Numenor, and thus the most cultured and sophisticated civilisation in Middle Earth), will not keep her from the running and jumping and horse-riding that her own culture denies her. I admit that we don't seem much evidence that Gondor is a particularly progressive place, but it has women in crucial roles which require a fair amount of education (the Houses of the Healing itself), so presumably it doesn't regard women as pretty things that give you heirs. At any rate, I can't recall any situation where Tolkien draws our attention to chauvinism in Gondorian culture, whereas (as you point out) there are numerous egregious examples in Rohan.

Basically, I think choosing to marry Faramir can only be seen as surrender to chauvinism if we choose to see Gondor as a society that is chauvinistic to the same extent as Gondor is, and if we choose to see Faramir as a chauvinist who will hold Eowyn back and smother her dreams under a thick blanket and a pile of babies. I never got that impression from the book myself.

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Andy G

at 08:32 on 2009-05-16I'll keep my reply brief (because I don't want to give the impression I'm savagely attacking LotR or anything, as it is despite everything one of my favourite books). But two points stand out:

1) In any event, it doesn't seem like the sort of conflict Eowyn would want to take part in

This does seem to be a bit of a post facto rationalisation. I do still think the same reasoning is not being applied to characters like Eomer, who continue to be respected warriors. Though of course, this is outside the text proper anyway.

2) Gondor may be less chauvinistic than Rohan, but that's not the same as saying it's not chauvinistic. And Faramir doesn't have to be a chauvinistic individual in the sense of being a nasty, obvious domineering sexist for it to be the case that his relationship to Eowyn isn't anti-feminist. It's a bit like Dan's point about racism in his

article about race and the placebo effect

(link added by editor). Gondor, like other "civilised" countries, is still very much patriarchal. The ONLY female character we encounter is Ioreth, a slightly dotty old dear in a traditional caring profession who knows less about medicine than Aragorn does.

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Arthur B

at 13:31 on 2009-05-16On 2: I think

everyone

knows less about healing than the Rangers do, with the possible exception of the elves and wizards. It's part of the lore of the royal house of Numenor that they've handed down from one generation to the next.

Also, I still think you are being unfair to Faramir. I admit that I have the disadvantage of not having my copy of the text with me, but I don't remember their exchange going along the lines of Faramir saying "You know what would make you happy? Me taking care of you!" and Eowyn saying "Yeah, actually that sounds pretty cool to me." My recollection is that at the time they're both vulnerable people opening up to each other at a time when it's very possible that the world will end and they won't even be on the battlefield to do anything about it. As marionros points out, falling in love with someone is not an anti-feminist act. Nor is marrying someone from a chauvinistic culture.

...

OK, I've gone looking around for quotes, and the really concerning thing about the whole exchange for me isn't the fact that Eowyn falls for Faramir, it's the fact that she up and changes her profession from warrior to healer. You could, certainly, interpret that as an anti-feminist act, ditching an inappropriate profession for one which women can pursue in Gondor and which is respected as being an appropriate thing for ladies to do. On the other hand, you can choose to interpret that as Eowyn graduating from the Third Age profession of war to the Fourth Age profession of healing (contrast with Eomer, who never moves beyond war but at least manages to rein it in my fighting in the service of the rightful King), and to hell with what Tolkien intended.

Basically, I like

Lord of the Rings

, and if I can find a way to interpret it so that Tolkien isn't a big old bigot I'll do that and I'll promote that interpretation, if only because good stories deserve to be reclaimed from bad ideologies. :)

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Arthur B

at 14:46 on 2009-05-16(I want to add that I'm not arguing above for forgiving or giving a free pass to authors who spout chauvinistic bullcrap in their stories; I'm just arguing that LotR is nuanced enough that you can legitimately come up with non-chauvinistic interpretations of it, whilst acknowledging that Tolkien himself might have seen things in a different way from you.)

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Dafydd at 20:56 on 2009-05-16I am a shield-maiden of Rohan. I am not a serving woman!

Rohan chavinism is not male v female; it is Noble v Peasant.

Eowyn usually bears arms. No-one complains. Theoden oders Eowyn to defend the Home Front just as equally as he issues orders to his other colonels.

Eowyn is Maid of Awesome, but as a role model? She defied her duty for the sake of selfish Glory. "Great Heart cannot be denied."

This is the difference between Warriors and Soldiers. Warriors are driven by passion; Soldiers are driven by obedience. 300 Spartans knew that they would die, but they held the Pass long enough for their Comrades to organize the Defence.

Despair: Death, death! Ride to ruin and the World's ending!

Movie: Theoden spake this Klingon pep-talk (kpt) at the beginning of the Battle.

Book: Eomer quoth the kpt in the middle of the battle when he (correctly) believed that Theoden was dead and (incorrectly) believed that Eowenn was dead.

13, 300, 600, 6M.

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Rami

at 20:59 on 2009-05-16

LotR is nuanced enough that you can legitimately come up with non-chauvinistic interpretations of it

I think so; definitely there's a lot of stuff in there that you can read as sexist or racist or classist, but I think there's, as you say, ways to rescue the story from the ideology. And I definitely think LotR is worth that!

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http://arkan2.livejournal.com/

at 22:30 on 2009-05-18

In short, the Fourth Age is

boring

There is that stereotype that peace = dull; personally, I don't buy it. Life can be pretty darn interesting, even when matters of life-and-death (which go beyond wars and battles) aren't involved.

I don't think that--as Jamie and marionros suggest--the question of whether Eowyn's decision is or is not feminist-friendly rests solely on our interpretation of her motives for picking up the sword in the first place. I think (because of the strong identification in Western culture of militarism with power and empowerment) it's

possible

to view Eowyn laying down the sword as her giving up agency and being proactive, even if her reasons for picking it up in the first place were extremely unhealthy. In order to qualify for feminist-friendly, the book would have to be written in such a way as to convince me that Eowyn is not surrendering her agency and empowerment along with her warriors' ways.

... And I'll really have to get around to rereading that book soon so that I can assess how well the book succeeds at that for myself.

In any case, Tolkien still fails feminism because Eowyn and Galadriel are practically the only female characters (let alone female character who do anything) in a series rife with male characters.

Like Arthur and Rami, I'm a huge Tolkien fan. I consider

Lord of the Rings

to be one of the greatest works of fiction in existence.

Yet I stop short of latching onto the most positive interpretations of a book just because that's the interpretation I'd

like

to believe.

I'm a big fan of the Star Wars movies (yes, all six) too, but I'm not going to try to find an interpretation that says they're actually feminist because, well, it's patently obvious to me that they're not, and I'd be dishonest if I tried to say they were. Trying to foist good ideology on a work of fiction which clearly doesn't support such an interpretation seems to me to do a disservice to everyone involved.

I think the correct course of action is probably—as with Howard, Lovecraft, and the other early fantasy/horror authors—to accept and deplore those aspects of their works which are bigoted, while acknowledging that this does not invalidate everything the ever did, or the accomplishments they unquestionably made.

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Arthur B

at 22:49 on 2009-05-18

There is that stereotype that peace = dull; personally, I don't buy it. Life can be pretty darn interesting, even when matters of life-and-death (which go beyond wars and battles) aren't involved.

I think this is true in general, but I don't think it's true of the Fourth Age, because pretty much nothing of significance happens beyond "Aragorn is a good King" and "The elves and wizards all go away".

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http://katsullivan.insanejournal.com/

at 09:54 on 2009-05-19

Yet I stop short of latching onto the most positive interpretations of a book just because that's the interpretation I'd like to believe.I'm a big fan of the Star Wars movies (yes, all six) too, but I'm not going to try to find an interpretation that says they're actually feminist because, well, it's patently obvious to me that they're not, and I'd be dishonest if I tried to say they were. Trying to foist good ideology on a work of fiction which clearly doesn't support such an interpretation seems to me to do a disservice to everyone involved.I think the correct course of action is probably—as with Howard, Lovecraft, and the other early fantasy/horror authors—to accept and deplore those aspects of their works which are bigoted, while acknowledging that this does not invalidate everything the ever did, or the accomplishments they unquestionably made.

Well said! ::applause: One of my favourite TV fandom, Avatar, is guilty of this, too. While there is some fantastic portrayals of female characters, there are also some horrible ones. But most of the fandom will rather do what you say, find a false pro-feminist interpretation for these characters, than just accept that the show does most things brilliantly but a few things badly, which is still saying more than a lot of other shows. But most fans don't seem able to deal with a beloved book or movie or TV show being less than perfect in all things. This doesn't make any sense to me. It's a rare book that was written in the 17th century by an upperclass British man that will be void of sexism and racism. But the correct attitude isn't to latch a convoluted interpretation that deletes this racism or sexism, but to accept the praise-worthy aspects of the book, but condemn those aspects that are prejudiced.

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Arthur B

at 10:21 on 2009-05-19

It's a rare book that was written in the 17th century by an upperclass British man that will be void of sexism and racism. But the correct attitude isn't to latch a convoluted interpretation that deletes this racism or sexism, but to accept the praise-worthy aspects of the book, but condemn those aspects that are prejudiced.

This is true enough in cases where the interpretation of what's written is cut and dry. Robert E. Howard's stories contain examples of unavoidable, explicit racism; there's nothing you can do about it except condemn those parts, and perhaps give up on reading the stories that are based

entirely

on "buff white man beats up black dudes".

On the other hand - as the differing interpretations of Eowyn in this discussion attests to -

Lord of the Rings

is genuinely nuanced and capable of numerous different interpretations. In such cases, I don't think there's anything wrong with seeking out legitimate, textually-supported interpretations of the text that aren't flawed with bigotry, so long as you don't deny the fact that the matter is one which is up for interpretation, and that the author themselves could have fully intended the misogynistic/racist/whatever take on things.

In other words, I'm not advocating ignoring the fact that Eowyn's story could well be an antifeminist one, and I'm not advocating letting Tolkien off the hook for it. All I'm saying is that it is possible to say "People interpret Eowyn in this way, and this might be what Tolkien intended, and I condemn the implications of that; but the text also supports

this

interpretation of Eowyn, which doesn't have the same issues, so that's the one I like to follow in my personal reading of the book, and if Tolkien doesn't like it then fuck him, he's dead."

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Helen

at 14:16 on 2009-05-19I am reminded irresistably of our Blonde Swedish Lesbian Twins running around that monastery forest in their underwear. :D

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Rami

at 15:58 on 2009-05-19

Blonde Swedish Lesbian Twins running around that monastery forest

Who?!?!?

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Wardog

at 16:22 on 2009-05-19WoW dude. Smile, blink, move on...

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Jamie Johnston

at 23:16 on 2009-05-19

I think (because of the strong identification in Western culture of militarism with power and empowerment) it's possible to view Eowyn laying down the sword as her giving up agency and being proactive, even if her reasons for picking it up in the first place were extremely unhealthy.

- Arkan

Hmm, interesting. I'm not sure I've quite managed to wrap my head around this suggestion yet. [Thinks hard.]

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Helen

at 09:36 on 2009-05-20

Who?!?!?

Um, the short version is that I hadn't realised until that point that you could actually take all the clothes off your character and make them run around in their underwear, and I was so thrilled by the silliness of this that I made Dan('s character) strip as well and we ran around the human starting area fighting stuff in our knickers. Some seventieth-leveller came over and told us to put some clothes on. It was awesome. :D

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http://arkan2.livejournal.com/

at 15:30 on 2009-05-21

pretty much nothing of significance happens beyond "Aragorn is a good King" and "The elves and wizards all go away".

Not that Tolkien wrote about, anyway.

Well, I'm not sure how much better I can explain it, Jamie, but I'll give it a try. In Western culture, women are assumed to be non-aggressive, not proactive, and generally lacking agency and empowerment.

In general in Western culture, aggression and militarism are associated with agency/empowerment. Both of these attitudes are systemic and not specific to any one book or series.

Now Dan makes a good point that just being a warrior is not sufficient to make a female character genuinely empowered in any specific circumstance, but the overarching theme of warrior = empowered still plays out to some extent because of the larger cultural ideas.

So even while at the specific level of the story Eowyn going from warrior to nurturer can be seen as giving up despair for hope and joy, at the larger meta-level, it

could

still

also

be read as Eowyn giving up empowerment in favor of passivity. Therefore, the book has to show specifically that she's going to remain empowered as a nurturer or else it can still all fall apart.

In other words, I'm not advocating ignoring the fact that Eowyn's story could well be an antifeminist one, and I'm not advocating letting Tolkien off the hook for it. All I'm saying is that it is possible to say "People interpret Eowyn in this way, and this might be what Tolkien intended, and I condemn the implications of that; but the text also supports this interpretation of Eowyn, which doesn't have the same issues, so that's the one I like to follow in my personal reading of the book, and if Tolkien doesn't like it then fuck him, he's dead."

I kinda thought that's what you might mean, Arthur, I just got a little disturbed by the way you and Rami phrased your arguments. I wanted to clarify the difference between a legitimate interpretation of a text, even if it isn't necessarily what the author intended (I'm not particularly hung up on what Rowling or Whedon

thought

they were saying) and fabricating an interpretation based on little or no textual evidence just because that's how you'd like it to read.

(*Playing with the “Most Discussed” feature* at 68 comments, this is the most discussed ferretbrain article ever, with 20 more comments than the next most discussed—Kyra's “

Hot Gay Puritans and Pretty Blacksmiths”)

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Jamie Johnston

at 18:27 on 2009-05-21Arkan -

Sorry, I didn't mean to suggest that you hadn't explained clearly, I was just having to think hard to unpack the implications of what you'd said and to work out whether I agree. But actually your expansion here has helped, so thanks for that.

Let me just put what I think you're saying into different words so that I can check I have properly understood it. First, within the Western cultural tradition warfare tends to be associated with (or, speaking loosely, to equal) empowerment. Secondly, the book is a Western work displaying many features of (and in fact drawing heavily on) that cultural tradition, therefore

prímá facie

it is appropriate to interpret it from that point of view and thus read Éowyn's decision to give up warfare as a decision to give up empowerment. Thirdly, this

prímá facie

interpretation has to be disproved by evidence from within the text before we can comfortably see Éowyn's decision as empowering and feminist-friendly.

In yet other words, the 'nurturing = disempowerment' interpretation isn't just one among various possible interpretations but rather the obvious interpretation that places the burden of proof on those arguing against it, and it gets that primal status not so much from the text itself but from the cultural context.

Yes, having turned that around a few times I'm quite persuaded by that (although I suspect if I'd ever studied literature above A-Level I'd be saying, "Ah yes, this is the old controversy between the SuchAndSuchists and the Thingumybobites", because I've a feeling there must be some kind of fundamental question in there about whether texts should be seen in their cultural context or not).

So in order to dislodge that primal interpretation one would, I suspect, have to argue either that the text rejects (or at least does not adopt) the Western cultural tradition as a whole and therefore shouldn't be read in that way, or that the tradition in general applies in the text but the 'warfare = empowerment' element of it does not, or that it does apply in general but not in Éowyn's specific case. Hmm. Yes, I have to say that at the moment none of those three propositions looks easily arguable, but who knows...

at 68 comments, this is the most discussed ferretbrain article ever

Yes, I was just wondering, in fact, whether it might become necessary to add the article to the 'books' and / or 'fantasy rape-watch' themes even though the article itself belongs in neither!

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Arthur B

at 19:50 on 2009-05-21

So in order to dislodge that primal interpretation one would, I suspect, have to argue either that the text rejects (or at least does not adopt) the Western cultural tradition as a whole and therefore shouldn't be read in that way, or that the tradition in general applies in the text but the 'warfare = empowerment' element of it does not, or that it does apply in general but not in Éowyn's specific case.

I would say that

Lord of the Rings

- and the Middle-Earth mythos as a whole - does two things with regards to warfare that you're missing here:

- It treats warfare differently depending on who is wielding the sword, and why they are waving it about in the first place.

- More importantly, it treats warfare not as a necessary and vital part of existence, but a blemish forced upon the world by the deeds of evil people.

Let me be more specific: the first war in the entire chronology is the conflict between Melkor/Morgoth and his brethren, which leads first to the exile of Morgoth to Middle-Earth, and then to the theft of the Silmarils - which prompts the elven exodus to Middle-Earth in order to get them back. The very last war in the chronology is the War of the Ring, in which the last remnant of Sauron's power (Sauron being successor to Morgoth) is destroyed, after which the elves go home. Yes, Eomer and Aragorn do have some engagements off in the East, but that's very much about tying up the loose ends of the war against Sauron rather than kicking off a whole new conflict. The destruction of the ring prompts the return of the elves to Valinor, along with those touched by the Ring and the Maiar who were dispatched to Middle-Earth in order to combat Sauron.

Now, the constant theme throughout this great saga is discord, and specifically the discord brought about by Melkor when he did not sing along with the song of Iluvatar at the beginning of things. Throughout the whole thing Melkor/Morgoth corrupts and perverts the natural order of things, and Sauron does the same: one of the more obvious symbols of this is their use of orcs and goblins, which are elves corrupted and reshaped to the point where they represent an inversion of the intended place of the elves in the pattern of Iluvatar's song.

And it is not insignificant that the orcs and goblins are the only peoples we are told about who

enjoy

warfare; back as far as the

Hobbit

, we're told that goblins delight in inventing the various engines of war with which we harm ourselves to this day. War, in general, is a corrupt thing, which is more or less invariably forced upon the world by an aggressor who despises the natural order of things, whether that aggressor is Melkor or Sauron: in other words, it's not meant to exist. Pretty much the only time the forces of "good" go to war voluntarily, rather than being forced to fight for their continued existence, is when the elves set sail to attack Morgoth in Middle-Earth and reclaim the Silmarils, and it's stressed in the

Silmarillion

that this is an

extremely bad and unworthy thing for them to do

: it's in complete defiance of the gods, it lands them in a conflict which takes multiple generations to resolve - Elven generations, at that - it causes massive suffering and throughout the entire thing the Elves are without the aid and comfort of the gods.

So, in the Third Age it is not a good and wonderful and empowering thing to be a warrior, but a

necessary

thing. It is not the case that those in power in the good realms are in power by dint of being warriors; they are warriors because they are the leaders of their people, and as such are obliged to defend their people against the aggression of the forces of discord.

When the Ring is destroyed,

discord itself is destroyed

; the border conflicts with the Easterlings that Aragorn takes part in are merely the last echoes of the final battle, and (if I remember right) fade away fairly swiftly. In the Fourth Age, discord finally goes away, and with it war; thus, there is no need for warriors at all.

Oh, and one last point: if you want proof that being a warrior isn't necessary to be empowered in Middle-Earth, look at Galadriel. She's co-ruler of Lothlorien (and is by far the more important person in the partnership; Celeborn is not only barely present in

Lord of the Rings

, but he's also one of the characters Tolkien gave the least attention to), she's a guardian of one of the three Rings given to the elven peoples (making her, in some respects, a peer of Gandalf himself), and she's emphatically not a warrior-queen - in fact, she and her people never really took part in the wars against Morgoth. And more to the point, Lothlorien is a little slice of paradise in Middle-Earth - note how all the characters who visit there are bowled over both by the place and by Galadriel herself.

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Jamie Johnston

at 15:58 on 2009-05-25That's pretty persuasive, Arthur. At this point I seem to be agreeing with whomever is the last person to say anything, which must be because I haven't sufficient grasp of the relevant texts to form an independent view. So I'll be interested to see whether you've persuaded Arkan. :)

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Wardog

at 17:28 on 2009-05-25Welcome to my world =P

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http://arkan2.livejournal.com/

at 18:06 on 2009-05-25First, thanks to Kyra or Rami or whoever fixed the link in my previous comment.

Glad I could help, Jamie.

So in order to dislodge that primal interpretation one would, I suspect, have to argue either that the text rejects (or at least does not adopt) the Western cultural tradition as a whole and therefore shouldn't be read in that way, or that the tradition in general applies in the text but the 'warfare = empowerment' element of it does not, or that it does apply in general but not in Éowyn's specific case.

I don't think it's quite that bad, Jamie. Yes, my argument is that as a warrior, Éowyn has a certain amount of power and agency (getting to your point, Arthur) and this is at least as much cultural (Tolkien's and our own) as it is textual.

However, it is also true in real life that people in nurturing positions also have a significant amount of power and agency—it just goes unacknowledged (denied in fact) by the dominant culture. In order for Éowyn's choice to be pro-feminist, it isn't necessary to show that she did

not

in fact, have power and agency as a warrior, only to point out—contrary to the accepted cultural idea—that she will still have power and agency after making the switchover to a more nurturing role.

Arthur, you make some very good points (although I would argue that discord and warfare are not totally destroyed, just defeated for a time; if that does ever happen, it won't be until at least Dagor Dagoroth).

It's true that Tolkien's narrative can support interpretations which are highly critical towards warfare (it's one of the things I like about him) but I don't think he goes nearly far enough to invalidate my point.

My choice to switch from talking about “empowerment” to “power” and “agency was made with some thought—those second two words come with fewer moral connotations. For the purposes of this discussion, I will consider them to be morally neutral. From a feminist perspective, you can have a liberated, empowered female character who's clearly a villain.

It's true that Galadriel is great and wise and at least somewhat helpful to the Fellowship—but all-in-all, she doesn't really accomplish all that much of relevance to the plot.

The reason being that Galadriel is not a violent character, and most of the biggest achievements in

Lord of the Rings

are made through violence. Violence may be bad in Tolkien's world, but it's also a vital problem-solving tool when confronting true evil.

People who utilize violence in

Lord of the Rings

have a significant amount of power and agency because violence is so crucial to accomplishing the characters' goals.

I think, therefore, that my assertion that Éowyn has a certain amount of power and agency as a warrior (even if she's a warrior for unhealthy reasons, and even if being a warrior is Not Really a Good Thing) is still valid.

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Arthur B

at 18:23 on 2009-05-25

It's true that Galadriel is great and wise and at least somewhat helpful to the Fellowship—but all-in-all, she doesn't really accomplish all that much of relevance to the plot.

Really?

I would say the opposite - Galadriel has an

enormous

influence on the plot, she just isn't onstage for most of it.

The most obvious example here is the various gifts she gives to the Fellowship when they leave Lothlorien: there's a

vast

number instances where the cause (and especially Frodo and Sam's quest, which is of course crucial to the entire effort against Sauron) would have been utterly lost without them. The less obvious, but I would say just as important aspect, is how the attitudes of the characters are changed by their stint in Lothlorien and their visions in Galadriel's Pool. Think of how often Sam thinks of Galadriel before he does something heroic, think of how Gimli's attitude to the elves is completely changed, setting the stage for him and Legolas to become both fast friends and exceptionally good allies in battle.

I agree that Eowyn is empowered as a warrior; I do not agree that (especially in the Fourth Age, which is primarily an age of peace) that she loses all agency once she stops being a warrior, any more than Frodo, Sam, Merry and Pippin lose all agency once they lay down their swords.

Yes, a lot of the time in the Middle-Earth saga warfare is the main way people exert power. But I don't think Tolkien thought this was a

good

thing, and throughout the entire story is an aspiration to a world where warfare is banished - and even in the main story, warfare is not the

only

means of agency, and might even be the least worthy. (Tom Bombadil is another example of this sort of thing.)

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Isabel

at 18:51 on 2009-05-25Genuinely fascinating debate…

I think Arthur’s point about her and Faramir offering a new non warrior model for the Fourth Age is a really good one but, for me anyway, the fact that when we first meet her she wants to fight and is broken and then gets healed and no longer wants to, along with her being the only female character in the books who wants to get involved with any of the action, it always seemed to imply that for a woman to want to fight it would only be because there was something wrong with her and so I never responded that well to her.

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Arthur B

at 19:20 on 2009-05-25I think the point that Tolkien tries to make is that for

anyone

to want to fight - emphasis on

want

- there has to be something wrong with them. Fighting isn't something that healthy people look forward to, it's either something broken people perpetrate (in the case of the aggressors) or an unpleasant task that the defenders are forced to tackle. When we first meet Faramir he's taking part in guerilla warfare on the fringes of Mordor and he's desperate to win glory in battle to prove himself to Denethor, and he equally walks away from fighting once he's healed.

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http://arkan2.livejournal.com/

at 20:02 on 2009-05-25All right, Arthur, I will concede the point about Galadriel: you're entirely right.

And I'm not arguing that characters don't have power and agency in

Lord of the Rings

other than through violence. Since marionros made her comment, I'm not even arguing that Eowyn

necessarily

isn't empowered after putting down the sword.

My argument at this point is:

1: That Eowyn as a warrior has some amount of power and agency

2: That point 1 is affirmed both in the text and by wider cultural assumptions

3: That, because of point 2, point 1 holds even if (as marionros argues) she's only a warrior for unhealthy, self-destructive reasons and even if (as I believe you argued and I would agree) being a warrior isn't morally good either in Tolkien or in real life

4: That nurturing positions, such as the one Eowyn opts for are considered the "natural" vocation of women (while warfare is not), and further that such positions are passive, lacking in power and agency

and 5: Because of points 1-4, in order for Eowyn's choice to be an empowering one, Tolkien has to show

in her specific case

a: That the choice makes sense for her as a character, not just because she's a woman

and b: That (contrary to "popular wisdom") Eowyn will retain her power and agency even after she has given up being a warrior.

I would say that Tolkien definitely fulfills 5a, and as I've said several times now, I will have to reread the book before making a final decision for myself about whether he fulfills 5b. Everyone else is, of course, free to make their own judgments about whether Tolkien addresses 5b satisfactorily, independent of my own decision.

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Arthur B

at 20:29 on 2009-05-25Your argument here is mostly sound, but I'd dispute point 4:

4: That nurturing positions, such as the one Eowyn opts for are considered the "natural" vocation of women (while warfare is not), and further that such positions are passive, lacking in power and agency.

Aragorn is a healer. Not only this, but Aragorn's skill at healing is a proof of his right to be King, just as the fact that he bears the reforged sword of Isildur is. If the healing profession is passive and lacks agency, why is the King a healer?

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Isabel

at 21:00 on 2009-05-25

I think the point that Tolkien tries to make is that for anyone to want to fight - emphasis on want - there has to be something wrong with them. Fighting isn't something that healthy people look forward to, it's either something broken people perpetrate (in the case of the aggressors) or an unpleasant task that the defenders are forced to tackle.

Perhaps I shouldn't have used the word fight as in relishing battle and warfare - i meant more get involved in a physical, in the thick of the action, sense. However I seem to remember (and its been a while since I read it so i might be entirely wrong) that it was her lust for glory (or glorious death or somesuch) on the battlefield that he was condemning rather than her desire to defend Rohan so you're probably right.

Aragorn is a healer. Not only this, but Aragorn's skill at healing is a proof of his right to be King, just as the fact that he bears the reforged sword of Isildur is. If the healing profession is passive and lacks agency, why is the King a healer?

Its more the fact that he seems to be saying that a woman who would want to do anything but would have to be damaged in some way which is not something he says about the male characters. Legolas and Gimli are not criticised for their desire to get involved in the action, and while they take up tree and cave sightseeing after the ring is destroyed, I don’t think we were meant to take their desire not to be left out of the action while the war is happening as a psychological flaw or as unnatural and brought about by horrible personal circumstances.

Theoden is explicitly commended for wanting to ride to Gondor’s aid while Eowyn is condemned because she doesn’t so much want to ride to Gondor’s aid as commit suicide, the fact that she is the only female to express any desire to ride anywhere would imply that there has the be something wrong with the ones who do.

I think I am probably am not allowing for a lot of subtlety with what Tolkien is saying with Eowyn, but as she is one of two female character who have any impact on the course of events whatsoever its hard to!

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http://arkan2.livejournal.com/

at 22:36 on 2009-05-25Have some good points there, Isabel. Once again, not sure whether I go along with that interpretation or not, but you could very well be right.

You make a good point, too, Arthur, but I don't think that in itself is subversive enough to overturn the transition from empowered to nonempowered narrative in Eowyn's case. We really need to take her depiction into consideration (and I really need to get around to re-reading it so I can settle that question in my own mind, at least).

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Dan H

at 00:23 on 2009-05-26

If the healing profession is passive and lacks agency, why is the King a healer?

I think the thing here is that not all healers are created equal. To use a real life analogy, Doctors and Nurses are both part of the medical profession, but Doctors have respect, money and power and are stereotypically male while nurses have none of these things and are stereotypically female.

To put it another way: the ability to heal is one of many, many things Aragorn gets as part of being king. As well as being a kickass warrior, a wise ruler, and a leader of men, he can heal people and he can do it better than a woman who has dedicated her entire life to the practice.

It's not "being a healer" that's the problem. It's the fact that female healers devote their entire lives to it and wind up second rate, while men do it in between ruling kingdoms and killing orcs and wind up first rate.

It's like those movies where a white guy hangs out with the Chinese / Japanese / Native Americans and winds up being a better Shaolin Monk / Samurai / Whatever than the people they learned from.

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Arthur B

at 01:01 on 2009-05-26

As well as being a kickass warrior, a wise ruler, and a leader of men, he can heal people and he can do it better than a woman who has dedicated her entire life to the practice.

Well, there's two reasons why this is the case: Aragorn possesses secret healing knowledge that the rangers keep to themselves (because it's evidence that they are the last Numenoreans, and they don't really want to reveal themselves until the right moment), and because Aragorn upstages

everyone

, especially in Gondor.

Though in this regard I do agree that Tolkien's treatment of Eowyn is unfair. I don't think it's antifeminist for Eowyn to choose to marry Faramir - they

both

end up subordinate to the King, after all - and I don't even think it's antifeminist for her to become a healer. I do agree that it's problematic for Aragorn to be a better healer than any woman is allowed to be; but that said, Aragorn flies in the face of liberal values any way you analyse him.

I don't think Tolkien was writing from a specifically antifeminist perspective, in the sense that his primary agenda was knocking over feminism. (There's nothing in

Lord of the Rings

which even approaches the offensiveness of

That Hideous Strength

, for example.) I'm with

Gene Wolfe

in the sense that I think that JRR was writing from a Monarchist point of view (although I don't share Wolfe's happy embrace of this opinion): Tolkien, a lot like other English Catholic thinkers of the time (I'm thinking here of Lewis and Chesterton) was of the opinion that

both

men and women are happiest when they submit themselves to the will of those divinely appointed to guide and lead them. Jesus Christ is obviously the most relevant of such figures, but in the context of

Lord of the Rings

Tolkien is of the opinion that human kings are also a good bet, so long as they are acting in accordance with divine will. In every case in LotR, human monarchs are awesome and should be listened to: Aragorn is the Messiah, Denethor went bad because he was trying to hold onto the Stewardship in defiance of his rightful King, and Theoden only went wrong when he started listening to Wormtongue rather than following the guidance of his own heart.

This sort of monarchism does, ultimately, have antifeminist side-effects, but it's not because of a conscious antifeminist agenda so much as the fact that monarchism flies in the face of most liberal values developed since the Enlightenment (at least).

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Rami

at 10:18 on 2009-05-26

This sort of monarchism does, ultimately, have antifeminist side-effects, but it's not because of a conscious antifeminist agenda

I know a few people who would actually disagree with that, and in any case I don't think a conscious antifeminist agenda is necessary at all to end up saying antifeminist things.

But I think the main point is, as you say, that Aragorn is not the best example because he's an exception to all the rules.

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Arthur B

at 10:36 on 2009-05-26

I know a few people who would actually disagree with that, and in any case I don't think a conscious antifeminist agenda is necessary at all to end up saying antifeminist things.

No, of course not, although I do think the treatment of Eowyn makes much more sense as a toxic side-effect of a different agenda than a direct result of an antifeminist agenda. If Tolkien were directly arguing against feminism, after all, then Eowyn's intervention in the war - and in particular the death of the Witch-King - wouldn't really make sense: if you

really

want to be antifeminist, it only hurts your argument to show women kicking ass at activities you're trying to reserve for men. On the other hand, if you assume a monarchist agenda the entire arc makes sense: Eowyn is conflicted between her loyalty to Theoden, the King of Rohan, and her ardent desire to serve Aragorn, the rightful King of Gondor, to whom Rohan owes service in honour of their alliance. Eowyn's love for Aragorn proves to be the sort of hero-worship that the True King naturally attracts (and once she recognises this fact she is much more content in her place in life) - and thus even though she's defying Theoden when she rides out to battle, she's doing so out of loyalty to a higher King, so her actions are meritorious.

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Jamie Johnston

at 13:53 on 2009-05-26

although I do think the treatment of Eowyn makes much more sense as a toxic side-effect of a different agenda than a direct result of an antifeminist agenda

- Arthur

Certainly, and I'm not sure that anyone has actually been suggesting that Éowyn's treatment is evidence of deliberate anti-feminism on Tolkein's part.

The discussion really arose out of Shimmin (

comment of 5th May

) using the paucity of female characters in Tolkien as an example of general female under-representation in fantasy, to which Arkan responded (

comment of 8th May

) by observing that Éowyn does have "one of the truly awesomest moments in the trilogy" (feminist plus-points) but then "turn[s] into a good little stay-at-home wife" (feminist minus-points). Then we had a little tangent about Who Really Killed The Witch-King? before Marionros (

comment of 11th May

) staked out a claim for Éowyn as a female role-model. Since then I think the general line of argument among those of us questioning Éowyn's feminist cred has been not so much 'Tolkein is a misogynist' as 'calling Éowyn a female role-model is a bit of a stretch'.

Wow, this comments thread has now become so long as to call not only for discussion of its length (

comments of 21st May

) but also a short bibliographical survey of the debate so far (this comment, see above).

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Arthur B

at 15:35 on 2009-05-26Someone should write an article about it! :D

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Arthur B

at 15:41 on 2009-05-26Incidentally, I think we should also consider the long discussion we've had about modes of empowerment in Middle-Earth, and whether Eowyn loses whatever power/agency she possessed. Which I'd argue is a separate thing from whether she's a decent female role-model: it's completely possible for a female character to be (supposedly) empowered in the text but to still be completely terrible role models. (The classic example here is the

Gor

series, wherein being an abused sex slave is supposedly fulfilling and empowering for most of the female characters...)

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Dafydd at 00:51 on 2009-05-28Eowyn is NOT Mary Sue. Eowyn has flaws.

Eowyn's virtues are bigger than her flaws. Therefore she IS a positive role model for Humans.

Elves are super-dooper perfect. Humans can never aspire to be as cool as Elves.

ave fun!

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http://mary-j-59.livejournal.com/

at 04:30 on 2009-05-29Hi, everyone! I'm coming late to a fascinating discussion - Marionros, I loved what you had to say, and I found Arthur interesting, as well. But I've noticed a pattern in Tolkien, and also read Stratford Caldecott and a couple of others, so I do have something to add.

It's quite true that Tolkien was a man of his time and culture, and, by modern standards, he might well come across as sexist. BUT-

Have you noticed that, though there are few women in the text, every single woman who has a speaking part "speaks truth to power"? Thus, all of them move the action forward. Not just Galadriel and Eowyn - all of them. I think it may have been Randall Helms who pointed out that, if she was despairing (and she certainly was), Eowyn was right to follow her heart in a good cause. She says to Aragorn, when he tells her she has no need to travel with him, "Neither have these others. Yet they go with thee because they love thee." And events prove her right to go.

An even clearer example is Arwen. Before this conversation, Aragorn meets a group of his kinsmen. They bring a message from Arwen to Aragorn: "If you have need of haste, remember the paths of the dead." Aragorn listens, conquers his fears and obeys his love's word. Thus he comes through to the ships in time and is able to raise the siege of Gondor. Arwen advises him, and he obeys her!

In the same way, it is the nurse, Ioreth, who says as she looks at the dying Faramir, "Would that there were kings in Gondor, as there were once upon a time, they say. For it is said in old lore: The hands of the king are the hands of a healer. And so the rightful king could ever be known." Gandalf then goes to get Aragorn, saying, "Men may long remember your words, Ioreth! For there is hope in them." She instigates the actions that lead to the saving of Faramir, Merry and Eowyn.

Galdriel's wisdom, her advice, and her gifts to the travellers have already been mentioned. Her earthly counterpart, Goldberry, fills a similar role. Even among the hobbits themselves, it's Rosie who recalls Sam to his duty when they are trying to fight the ruffians. In every case, obedience to a woman brings about a good result. It's subtle, but the female characters in this text have more power and more honor than we might at first guess.

I had a bit more to say about this, but it's slipped my mind. Fascinating discussion, anyway.

Oh - I remembered it. I do hate to bring up the dreaded "Potter" books, especially in contrast to Tolkien, who's a genius. But -

In Tolkien, every one of the male characters who grows to be a hero is shown to have a fairly strongly expressed feminine side. Thus, Faramir is patient and gentle, Aragorn is a healer, Sam a gardener, Frodo a thoughful pacifist (in the end), and Bilbo loves flowers. What a contrast to Rowling! In those (greatly inferior) books, the only males with strongly expressed feminine sides are Slytherins, and they get treated with contempt and punished for it.

Again, in Tolkien, even the most "traditional" women (Ioreth and Rosie), are sensible, observant, and outspoken - masculine qualities, if you like. Rowling's girls are certainly "masculine", in a way, but the result is an imbalance in the depiction of the sexes. No one in the Potterverse - male or female - is allowed to have a strongly expressed feminine side except for Molly Weasley - who is extremely aggressive and hot-tempered - and Luna, the only non-problematic "feminine" female.

Finally, I'd like to return to Eowyn and Merry. Tolkien does something quite fascinating here, and it was Stratford Caldecott, in "the Power of the Ring", who pointed it out. The two face down the witch king together. Merry, who is well named (a steady and cheerful young fellow) does strike the first blow, but it is Eowyn who kills the witch king of Angmar. And what is the Nazgul's chief weapon? Despair. So, she strikes down despair with the help of the young hobbit, even though she herself is grieving and desperate. This is a necessary first step in her healing.

Later, she gives Merry a horn. Caldecott points out that Merry's special gift is the lifting of despair. When he blows that horn to rouse the shire folk from their torpor, Eowyn is with him in spirit, bringing hope to the downtrodden people. They work together throughout.

Just one more thing about Eowyn. Tolkien was the father of a daughter, and I believe Priscilla ended up working with horses. For a father to write a brave young woman who rides well to please his horse-loving daughter is no bad thing!

Anyway, I love Eowyn, and think Galadriel is a major heroine, too. And I have to admit that I have a soft spot for Ioreth!

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Arthur B

at 06:21 on 2009-05-29Wow, Mary-J, awesome post. I hadn't picked up on a lot of that.

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Andy G

at 11:13 on 2009-05-29"Have you noticed that, though there are few women in the text, every single woman who has a speaking part "speaks truth to power"? Thus, all of them move the action forward."

That's still different from them being particularly active agents in the story, however. Women have been on hand to provide guidance to the male protagonists with their mysterious powers of prophecy or feminine intuition for millenia. But imagine if you had a book where the only black character was a shaman in a wood who imparted enigmatic mystic knowledge and magic gifts to the white heroes - would that be a positive portrayal?

That having been said, I don't disagree with you about the nuances in the text, especially about the more pronounedly feminine qualities in the male heroes. I think like a lot of people here, Lord of the Rings is one of my favourite books and I don't regard it as hateful by any means - I just think, like you say, that it is a product of its times and needs to be judged in those terms. I think this is a slightly different approach from looking for a positive interpretation that shows it to be acceptably feminist by modern standards in order to feel able to appreciate its quality. I wonder if this difference in approach is at the root of lots of the disagreement here?

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Arthur B

at 11:54 on 2009-05-29

I think this is a slightly different approach from looking for a positive interpretation that shows it to be acceptably feminist by modern standards in order to feel able to appreciate its quality. I wonder if this difference in approach is at the root of lots of the disagreement here?

I don't think it's

necessary

to whack modern interpretations on books and try to find textual support for them, but I think this discussion proves that it's a hell of a lot of fun.

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Dan H

at 14:22 on 2009-05-29

But imagine if you had a book where the only black character was a shaman in a wood who imparted enigmatic mystic knowledge and magic gifts to the white heroes - would that be a positive portrayal?

Like the TV adaptation of Earthsea!

But yeah, I'm with Andy on this one. I don't think Tolkein's portrayal of women is that bad for something written in the 1950s by an Oxford academic, but ultimately his portrayal of women is extremely mythological.

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http://mary-j-59.livejournal.com/

at 15:55 on 2009-05-29Well, yes, the women in Tolkien are mythic, but then so are the men, for the most part. Have you ever met, or do you ever hope to meet, someone like Aragorn?! Tolkien quite deliberately set out to write a mythology, not realistic fiction, so maybe it's not fair to judge these books by modern, realistic-fiction standards. OTOH, I do agree he was somewhat sexist; as I said, he was a man of his time and culture, and, by modern standards, those were sexist.

Then again, I can remember Tolkien defending Eowyn's heroism against contemporary critics who thought it unbelievable. He thought his own mother incredibly brave - a heroine and martyr - and pretty much stated that he knew for a fact women could be as courageous as men. Because he'd known women who were.

Which pretty much brings me back to what I said before. Yes, LOTR has its flaws. Yes, Tolkien's worldview has its limits. But there is a real depth and generosity of spirit in these books, nonetheless. I'm a woman, and I do not find them offensive.

Just my two cents!

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Andy G

at 17:32 on 2009-05-29

Well, yes, the women in Tolkien are mythic, but then so are the men, for the most part. Have you ever met, or do you ever hope to meet, someone like Aragorn?! Tolkien quite deliberately set out to write a mythology, not realistic fiction, so maybe it's not fair to judge these books by modern, realistic-fiction standards.

I read a really interesting thing once about how the interaction between modern and mythological characters and styles was really central to The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit. Aragorn straddles the two worlds (as Elessar/Strider) - one of my favourite scenes is where Merry asks Aragorn for his backpack and, tongue firmly in cheek, he delivers the very grand, grim speech about having no time to care about the backpack which he knows full well is right next to Merry.

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http://arkan2.livejournal.com/

at 22:30 on 2009-05-29Thanks for sharing all that, Mary-J. It's an interesting perspective.

O'course, my sister told me yesterday that this discussion was kinda missing the bigger point, but since I can't reconstruct her argument well enough to repeat it, I'll just leave it for her to post herself. ()

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Andy G

at 21:40 on 2009-05-30

O'course, my sister told me yesterday that this discussion was kinda missing the bigger point, but since I can't reconstruct her argument well enough to repeat it, I'll just leave it for her to post herself. ()

Well now that just makes me really curious to find out what she has to say! You should do teaser trailers for films ...

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Jamie Johnston

at 23:10 on 2010-06-19Hey people, remember this comments thread? Neither did I until just now, when I saw that Cuppy van der Cake (no, come back, she writes stuff that's worth reading, even if that stuff perhaps doesn't include her pseudonym) has been thinking about

what happens to Éowyn

and makes the interesting suggestion that her ending doesn't ring true because she doesn't seem to be traumatized by the war in the way that the other characters who don't come from warrior backgrounds are.

She implicitly reads Éowyn's desire to be a warrior as her healthy self-expression,

contrá

Marionros' reading, above, that it's the result of depression and suicidal impulse. But equally I think some of us assumed in the discussion that if Éowyn was authentically and healthily warrior-like before the war she should be expected to carry on being like that afterwards, and hence the fact that she doesn't do that feels like inauthentic behaviour; Cake's argument implies a challenge to that too: why should we imagine that Éowyn, after what she's been through, will go back to being like she was before with the horse-riding and sword-waving? Maybe there's scope to read her settling down and nurturing stuff as neither a return to full humanity nor an implausible departure from her established character but a reaction, conscious or unconscious, to trauma. Not that I can be bothered to check to see whether the text in any way supports that, mind you... :)

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Dan H

at 23:28 on 2010-06-19Isn't Cake's argument that the ending is actually unsatisfying? That it's not psychologically plausible in either context?

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Andy G

at 02:31 on 2010-06-20@ Jamie: Here's some textual stuff ;)

Prior to meeting with Faramir, Eowyn is still pretty determined to ride out to battle:

'I shall sicken anew, if there is naught that I can do [...] It is not always good to be healed in body. Nor is it always evil to die in battle, even in bitter pain. Were I permitted, in this dark hour I would choose the latter.'

Later on, after talking to Faramir:

'Suddenly the heart of Eowyn changed, or else at last she understood it. And suddenly her winter passed, and the sun shone on her. [...] "I will be a shieldmaiden no longer [...] I will be a healer, and love all things that grow and are not barren.'

So I mean, it is a reaction to trauma and harrowing ordeals, but unlike Frodo she isn't shown to be crushed by her experiences. I guess it's a separate question whether that's psychologically realistic(which I think it is within the logic of the book) or feministically satisfactory (for which see above!).

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Jamie Johnston

at 13:29 on 2010-06-20

Dan

, yes, you're right: my second paragraph above was bouncing off Cake's point about trauma to imagine a reading different from hers but also different from the ones we batted around in the original discussion.

Andy

, indeed, those are the questions. And my brain is full of Roman criminal law at the moment so I'm entirely incompetent to try to answer them. :)

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Andy G

at 17:51 on 2010-09-17Oh look somebody from a very unexpected quarter is also weighing into the

Eowyn and feminism

debate.

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Dan H

at 21:54 on 2010-09-17I note she makes the schoolboy error of assumung it was Eowyn who kills the Witch King...

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http://mary-j-59.livejournal.com/

at 03:52 on 2010-09-18Dan, I make that same schoolboy error, having grown up with the books and read them at least twenty times. Eowyn does kill the witch king. This is not in doubt. She does not do it *alone*; Merry stabs him in the back of the knee and then she cuts his head off. But she definitely kills him. What makes you think she doesn't?

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http://mary-j-59.livejournal.com/

at 04:05 on 2010-09-18That said, I wish she'd shut up about my beloved Tolkien! The poor man would be rolling in his grave; he didn't like politics or politicians, did he?

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Frank

at 06:34 on 2010-09-18Merry is Hobbit, not Man and thus has no hand of man (or whatever the prophecy says) just like Eowyn, so it could be read that they both killed the Witch King as they both stabbed/pierced it.

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Dan H

at 15:42 on 2010-09-18

Dan, I make that same schoolboy error, having grown up with the books and read them at least twenty times. Eowyn does kill the witch king. This is not in doubt. She does not do it *alone*; Merry stabs him in the back of the knee and then she cuts his head off. But she definitely kills him. What makes you think she doesn't?

Much as I dislike argument-from-interview, I'm *pretty sure* Tolkein is on record as insisting it was actually Merry's leg-stabbing that sealed the deal.

I'd also point out that Tolkein is so consistent in using "man" to mean "human" that if Eowyn doesn't count as a "man" in this context it's actually kind of skeevy.

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Sister Magpie

at 15:58 on 2010-09-18I think Merry's agreeing that they killed him together--that Merry's stab "sealed the deal." But the whole scene leads up to Eowyn dealing the death blow, doesn't it?

Right after saying "I am no man," so it seems a bit cheap to have her be wrong there. Tolkien does say "man" to refer to the human race (which was pretty common) but it still seems like he's making the point that Eowyn herself is "no man." No man can kill him but a woman and a hobbit with a special blade can.

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Sister Magpie

at 16:01 on 2010-09-18Heh--by "Merry" I meant "Mary." Mary is agreeing they did it together.

And just to clarify about the man/man thing, it seems like the joke is just on the two separate definitions of man. "Man" can be a race and a gender within that race. The prophecy makes it seem like it's referring to the race since nobody would have expected a woman to kill him anyway. Eowyn takes it as the gender.

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http://mary-j-59.livejournal.com/

at 16:42 on 2010-09-18I just lost my comment, after working on it for twenty minutes! Starting again:

Yes, they do it together, but yes, it's Eowyn who deals the killing blow. There is no other way to read the scene AND its aftermath. Look at the chronology:

Theoden leads the charge and cuts down the flag bearer. Then his horse is shot (an arrow) and rolls over on him. The nazgul stoops on him, and his knights flee in panic; Merry and Eowyn are thrown from their horse.

As the Witch King threatens Theoden, Eowyn defies him. Merry at this point is crawling blindly, sick with horror and his eyes shut. He hears Eowyn defy the Witch King. The two famous lines of dialogue follow-

"No living man may hinder me", and

But no living man am I! You look upon a woman." (Page 823 in our library paperback.)

At that point, Merry opens his eyes.

The beast leaps towards Eowyn, who beheads it and springs backwards. The Witch King climbs from the dead beast and looms over Eowyn; he shatters her shield and breaks her shield arm with a blow from his mace. Eowyn falls to her knees and he prepares to strike the killing blow. But then,

"Suddenly he too stumbled forward with a cry of bitter pain, and his stroke went wide . . .Merry's sword had stabbed him from behind, shearing through the black mantle, and passing up beneath the hauberk had pierced the sinew behind his mighty knee."

"'Eowyn! Eowyn!' cried Merry. Then tottering, struggling up, with her last strength she drove her sword between crown and mantle, as the great shoulders bowed before her. The sword broke sparkling into many shards. The crown rolled away with a clang." (page 824 of our library paperback, the new Houghton Mifflin post-movie one with Viggo Mortenson on the cover.)

Some things to note here:

Both Merry and Eowyn have injuries to their arms, which are cold, because both of them struck the Witch King. Also, Eowyn's sword shatters, so it must have hit something solid. Merry strikes first, and hits a tendon. Eowyn aims for the Witch King's neck. He is still alive, though in pain, when she strikes him. He's dead when she falls forward onto his empty cloak. The only logical reading is that she kills him. It's perfectly possible that Merry first renders him mortal by striking him, and it's really obvious that she couldn't have killed him without Merry's help, because Merry saves her life by wounding the Nazgul. As I said above, they work together throughout. (And Merry wouldn't have been there, to save her life and render the Witch King mortal, had she not smuggled him onto her horse!) But it's clearly Eowyn who strikes the killing blow. If not - if the Witch King was already dead when she struck - why did her sword shatter? And why was her sword arm injured? Again, when the Witch King finally dies, his cloak and armor are EMPTY. They are not when she strikes him, and she strikes after Merry.

She kills him. Sorry Dan, but she does. If you can find a quote from Tolkien as to what he intended with Merry's role here, I'd be quite interested to read it. But, if he didn't intend to make it clear that Eowyn kills the Witch King, he wrote this scene extremely badly.

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Jamie Johnston

at 17:31 on 2010-09-19We've been here

before

...

I'm sticking with

my last stated view

(which is that on balance it makes a bit more sense if Éowyn did it but it's impossible to say for sure).

The sword shattering is another piece of evidence on that side, but I don't think it's sound to say that 'it must have hit something solid'. It could have been shattered by magic. We don't know how Nazgûl bodies work. We don't even know for sure that there was ever anything solid inside the armour. Equally, if it shatters because there's something solid in there, that contradicts the argument that it wouldn't have shattered if he'd already been dead when she struck: a dead but solid body is no less likely to break a sword than a live solid body.

Because we know nothing about Nazgûl physiology we can't draw firm conclusions from his disappearance. It may be that the instance of vanishment is identical to the moment of death, or it may not. He may be dead before he vanishes, or he may vanish before he dies and indeed he may not be dead at all. Nor can we draw firm conclusions from the magical injuries to Éowyn's and Merry's arms because we have no idea whether stabbing a dead but still solid Nazgûl would cause a different magical effect from stabbing a live Nazgûl.

In response to Dan's skeeviness point, I still think the whole set-up of the prophecy points to Éowyn. The fact that it would be skeevy for Tolkein to be (probably) unconsciously implying that women aren't full-blown humans doesn't persuade me, personally, that that can't be what he was doing. That is, after all, what sexism tends to make people unconsciously do. In the article Andy linked to we see Christine O'Donnell doing it herself by talking about 'the mysterious creature called the woman'. If a woman in 2003 can say something like that explicitly it's pretty plausible that a man in 1955 could have done it unconsciously. On the other hand, the point that Éowyn defies the prophecy is explicitly made in the text and emphasized as a moment of 'AHA!', whereas the idea that Merry also defies the prophecy is certainly tenable but, as Sister Magpie says, is surely very much notwhere the text is directing our attention.

To be clear, Mary, I agree with you that the evidence over all points more to Éowyn than to Merry. But I think you're in danger of undermining the argument by stating it more categorically than it can bear.

[idealisticrealism]

Blindspot 2x21 recap

(Aka the one where Sandstorm takes the NYO)

So it’s been like five days and I’m still screaming internally over how FREAKIN AMAZEBALLS this episode was. Tbh if I didn’t have to make sure I survive to see the finale, I probably would have died already. Like seriously, this show is 100% back to its old self, and with a VENGEANCE. Thank god for a guaranteed season three...

Anyhow, more screaming below the cut. 

Aaaahhh nooo my babies, please stop, I mean I know siblings are meant to fight but not like this!! And ughhhh he's really actually trying with the whole killing her thing but tbh I'm kinda proud that Jane still wins? Our girl is the Warrior Queen, no one can defeat her. Not even when she’s pulling her punches like she is now. And ugh she knocks him out just as the detail gets in there-- you seriously need to work on your response time, dudes, though I guess it's good you weren't any earlier or you would have probably shot Roman which would have been completely unacceptable. But ugh he's regained all his memories from this fight, and now knows everything she's done... ughhhhh my baby boy please just think things through, because she really truly loooooves youuuuu. I swear. Also wow his biceps look amazing in this shirt? Ugh but then Jane comes to see him in the now-spartan cell (I guess all his stuff went with him to the safehouse) and ugh she’s all cautious and worried and ughhhhh he literally hates her and no matter what she says he just thinks it's more lies-- and tbh I feel like between this and the whole Emma thing with Weller, Jane is going to be 100% honest for the rest of her life bc she's already experienced too much pain due to lies. But ughhh I don't think I'll ever get over how much Luke just nails Roman's anger and pain??? The prowly way he walks, the deadness in his eyes as he tells her that the more he remembers, the more he hates her?? And then just turns his back on her and ughhhhhh my poor babieeeeesss let me hug you bothhhhhhh. Surely Roman must think about things and realise she was genuine, though? Although I guess he feels kinda like Weller did when it was revealed Jane wasn't Taylor; that just because part of it was a lie, everything must have been. And ughhh my baby is so heartbroken and walks out into the corridor and ugh Weller is right there waiting for her. I bet he escorted her down there in the first place and ugh man I wish we'd gotten to see when he first got there and was briefed on what happened? Like how terrifying must it have been for him to get that call, to think that Jane had nearly been killed by the man that HE had sent home with her? And at the same time he would be devastated for her bc I bet she was literally in shock as she robotically explained what happened and he could already see how much this was going to destroy her. And so when she comes out, he's still hovering there, waiting-- like I guarantee he was ready to go in and pull her out if it all sounded like it was getting too much. And now he stares at her with his big sad eyes and tells her how sorry he is, and then she tells him it's his and Nas' fault, and for a moment he looks like he wants to argue, but he also understands that she needs somewhere to place some of her blame (because god knows she's already shouldering enough of it herself) and so he doesn't try to defend himself, bc he knows she's not wrong. If she needs to blame him, he'll let her. He’ll help her in any way he can. But when her voice breaks as she insists that Roman could still be useful, he knows he has to be tough, and tells her that Roman's dose is wearing off and he's reverting to who he was. He needs Jane to accept that now, before her hope slowly kills her. But ugh it must be slowly killing HIM to see her upset like that and yet not reach for her?? I feel like he was seriously about to do just that when his phone buzzed about Pellington. Ugh, they never get a damn moment alone...

Oohh Zapata has rocked up in the lab, and uh-oh, I bet she's about to embark on her little crusade to break Parker by breaking the rules. And then ooh Reade's there, awkwardly ducking in to say hi since they already saw him going past and he couldn't very well ignore them haha. And Patterson's so happy to see him and so supportive and then he tells them that he put in for a transfer??? What???? And oh god Zapata's face just drops and ugh it's clear he didn't mention this at all last night and nooooo all she asks is how long he'll be at the new position and the answer is FOREVER and ughhhhh she just looks like she just got sucker punched and nooooo Reade you can't gooo! We need the dream team together!!! 

Aaaahhhh Pellington is shutting down Jane's case (again), both the tattoos and Sandstorm-- and Weller looks like he's barely keeping himself in check, which explains why he looks to Jane to steady him, and okay firstly I love that she's actually in here too?? Like I thought this was going to be a meeting just between the Big Boys, but lbr Weller and Jane are kind of a package deal again nowadays haha. And then Pellington says they're going to put a public face to Sandstorm-- Shepherd, AND Roman. Which means that literally every law enforcement officer in the country will be hunting them both. Shit. And he seems undecided about what he's going to do with Jane-- hold on, so, what? You're going to ignore all she's done for the team and turn your back on her? Maybe throw her in jail? And ugh she doesn't even seem to care about her own precarious fate, she just tries to convince him not to turn on Roman, and then she literally starts shouting at him, making Weller panic a little bit bc honey please don't piss off the man who could have you thrown behind bars with the wave of his hand-- but it's kinda lucky (and also unlucky) that she does, bc when she tells Pellington that Roman's regaining his memories, that actually changes his mind. Which is great in that Roman won't be one of the targets of Sandstorm... but terrible bc Pellington now wants him to go to the CIA for 'acceleration of his recall'. Yeah, we all know what that means. And then Pellington is outta there and ughhhh Jane literally begs Weller to help Roman and ughhhh he knows there's nothing they can do and he is hurting for his wifey and wow these guys are having a really bad start to the day aren’t they

And then Zapata gives them one bright spot--- they have leverage on Parker. Devon's pregnant. Wait actually pregnant tho, or did Zapata make it up and then trick the others so that Parker would believe them? I love that all three of them go into the interrogation room and tag team him (I'm very much ignoring Weller's contribution bc it only reminds me of the whole Allie situation ugh), and ughhh Parker tries to brush it off but Jane convinces him and he tells them about the Sandstorm warehouse, but will only give them the exact location once Devon is safely on a plane to London. I can't tell if he's playing them or not?? And they all know it could be a trap but they've gotta try anyway, so when he gives them the address, Weller and Jane take a bunch of FBI dudes, leaving Zapata to keep interrogating Parker. And ugh as much as I enjoyed the 'let’s split up bc you're the only one I trust' thing last week, I really love seeing them enter side by side, guns up and ready. And ooooh here's the structure that Sandstorm has been building-- is it a replica of the NYO, a la Ocean's 11, like I suggested in a past recap?? Ughhhh it is! God this must be so weird for them and aaaahhh they realise it's a training ground (close, guys, but that’s not all it is) and that they're about to take down the real NYO and aaaahhhhh their signal is being jammed so they can't warn anyone. And then just as they're about to pull out to get back to the NYO, a sniper starts taking out their guys. Weller takes him down though bc remember he's Mr Crack-Shot, and Jane notices a weird red X on the floor in the fake-gym. What does it meaaaaan? 

Meanwhile back at the NYO, a couple of Sandstorm guys have already snuck in disguised as technicians and are doing something nefarious with the power grid. Reminds me of Weller in the prison... Not so fun when the tables are turned, eh? Anyway Reade's with Dr Sun, asking her to clear him psychologically so he can take the transfer. And you know what, she actually seems pretty on the ball right now? "Needing help doesn't preclude you from helping others" like daaaamn that's some wisdom right there. And it's definitely true in my own experience-- you know how many doctors I've met who have mental, emotional, or social issues of their own yet still give their all to help others?? And then ugh when she says that he can go, but he'll still be Edgar Reade when he gets there. And wow I am actually impressed rn? This is a rollercoaster in of itself lol

Ugh Jeller are racing back to the NYO and frantically trying to call anyone inside to warn them but it's all still jammed. Which means the attack has already begun. Weller calls the NYPD to mobilise them for help but argh it may already be too late.  And ugh Pellington walks into the lab to demand all the info they have on Shepherd/Sandstorm and hahaha I love that Patterson's first response is to question whether Weller knows about it, despite Pellington being HIS boss and being able to do whatever he wants regardless of how Weller feels about it. Lbr tho man, literally everyone in the NYO would follow Weller over you if it came down to it. And Patterson is belatedly like 'oh yeah you're actually the boss-boss' and so she’s gonna put it all on a hard drive for him-- but tells him it would actually be quicker if she did the data migration she'd already been planning, and all it would mean is that her servers would be stuck in boot mode for 30mins while it was happening. But then their conversation gets derailed by an official emergency alert, and Patterson brings up footage of the bullpen to see active shooters attacking people. Pellington gives the order for evacuation, and then says he'll join the armed response team and take out the shooters. Wow, I think this is the first time I've actually felt genuine respect for you, sir. Nice. Instead of evacuating, Zapata goes straight for the lab, because of course she does. She knows that that's where Patterson will still be, and she won't leave her girl. And then she sees a glitch in the videofeed, realising that it might have been tampered with-- just as Pellington and the strike force get out into the bullpen, which is completely normal and shooter-free. Awkwaaaard. But because the evacuation protocol was initialised, all the external doors were unlocked, now allowing Sandstorm to come in. And ughhh now it really is a showdown-- Pellington and the FBI vs Shepherd and Sandstorm, and for a moment there's just a bunch of shouting about 'you surrender/no you surrender' then some dumb guy knocks over a coffee cup and all hell breaks loose and everyone is shooting and ughhhh Paterson and Zapata are stuck there watching and Zapata is about to run out to help but Patterson won't let her bc it's literal suicide, and so she does the only thing she can and seals in the Sandstorm peeps. Ughhh. Pellington is crawling for his gun, and the rest of his team are dead or wounded. Shepherd calls him by his first name and tells him that that didn't need to happen-- and okay did these two know each other or something?? Like there was the way he called her 'Major-General' and now her using his first name?? And ugh she demands his access code and I'm actually super impressed that he still won't give in, just tells her she's under arrest, and wow this dude actually has way bigger balls than I gave him credit for? Don't tell me I'm about to start liking him just before he dies?? And ughhhh Patterson and Zapata are still there, stuck watching, as Shepherd kills their agents one by one and ugh the tears running down their faces and ughhhhh on one hand I know that Pellington's refusal means the death of his agents, but still... he's protecting thousands (if not millions) of lives by preventing anyone getting access. I feel like Weller would have done the same, though it would have destroyed him. Though if Shepherd had threatened Jane... then I don't know. Maybe he would have given in. Glad we don't have to find out. And ugh Pellington tells them all that this is how they-- the good guys-- win. By staying strong. By sacrificing themselves for the greater good. And then ughhh Briana stands, and tells her she knows Weller's code, and honestly I can't blame her. She's saving her own life, but also everyone else in the room-- friends, workmates. And I don't think she has quite the understanding of just what Shepherd could do with access to Patterson's lab. Who can really know what they themselves would do when faced with that choice? But ughh I actually feel really sad for Pellington, he knows that they have just failed so many civilians and he tried his best and now he's about to die. Dammit, man, how dare you make me respect you right before you die??? I guess I should also apologise now for always assuming you could be a Sandstorm mole... my bad. And ughhhh Patterson and Zapata are feeling so helpless bc Weller's code overrides Patterson's and now Sandstorm has free access to everywhere-- and is heading right for them. And ughhh I love that they know, they already know that they can't win, that they are just heading for death, but they fight anyway-- Zapata's immediate response is to get guns and go down in a hail of bullets, because of course it is. Patterson fights back in another way-- starting the database migration to slow Shepherd down, utilising one of the only tools they have. And then together, they go to the armoury, even knowing  that one of Shepherd's teams is on their way there right now. Sidenote: screw you, Borden, for giving these guys a full blueprint of this place. You traitorous asshole.

Ughhh Jane's biting her nails and Weller confirms that Sandstorm has the NYO-- maybe even for Phase 2. But the NYO is Weller's kingdom, and he knows it better than anyone. He knows that there's a sub-basement access tunnel from previous construction. He and Jane are gonna save their people or die trying. 

Well, Patterson's delaying tactic has worked, pissing Shepherd off. Also dude, it's 5% complete when she arrives, and Patterson said earlier that it would take about 30mins total to complete. To get to 5% would have taken about a minute and a half, which means that's how close behind Patterson and Zapata Shepherd was. Aaaargh. And now Parker's there, saying that 'Remi' and Weller took Devon to a blacksite. Mmmhmmm, way to cover your butt, Mr Slimy. And ugh Shepherd expected Weller and Jane to be there-- what if they had been?? What was her plan for them?? Nothing good, I’m sure. But haha he says that at least now they won't be a problem. Think again, bucko! Meanwhile Patterson's being problematic enough on her own. I'm so proud. But wait they have targets in four timezones?? What and where??? And so they're about to hunt her down (ugh stay away from my baby) when Parker finds Roman on the screen instead. Ugh, stay away from my other baby!  

Ugh my girls in the armoury with their vests and guns makes me simultaneously so proud and also want to sob. My babies are making their stand. And then the door opens and they nearly shoot the intruder-- but it's just Reade, here to stand with them and defend their home. Patterson explains that Shepherd's after the lab, realising that her computers have access to the Homeland Security servers. Which is very, very bad, for reasons I don't entirely understand but I'll take her word for it. And so she proposes going to the server room so she can try to divert auxiliary power and fry her computers before the migration completes, thus locking Shepherd out. Ugh, the sacrifices my baby is willing to make... those computers are HER babies. And ugh her talking about the chances of it succeeding: "80%... 75%... closer to 60 if I'm being honest." and ughh why must even the humour in this show be heartbreaking? But she doesn't wait for permission; she just goes and the others follow. Tbh without Weller (or Jane, the unofficial next in line) there, Patterson is now the team leader, regardless of actual hierarchy. Lbr, the other two would follow her anywhere.

Idk where Weller found this fire-stick thing but I'm happy he has it. They're breaking into the sub-basement now, and ughhh Jane is so worried about the team and what might have happened to them, and she's beating herself up about lying to Roman and causing him to be in that cell right now, completely vulnerable if Shepherd decides to punish him for his betrayal of her. And Weller tells her that she had to lie, because she knew what he was and was scared of what he'd do if he learned the truth. And he looks up at her as he says it, and hmmm this is interesting, bc Jane only ever lied to Roman bc Weller and Nas made her. She was going to tell him the truth. Now who else has she lied to recently that she only did it bc she was afraid? Ah yes. I remember. Well, good to know that Weller understands her choices and is making it clear to her that he forgives her for them. He needs her to hear it, because he knows that one or both of them could be dead within minutes. Ughhhh. And she worries that if Roman's turning back into Old Roman, then will the same happen to her? Will she turn back into Remi (her greatest fear?) and ugh he promises her that it won't happen and that they'll do everything they can to save Roman along with the others and ughhhh. They've broken into the sub-basement-- ew, it reminds me of Oscar's grimy dungeon-- and then suddenly they spot four Sandstorm guys, and ugh they communicate with hand signals and basically pincer-manoeuvre the dudes and take them out in about two seconds because they're badasses. And that would be great, except the dudes were there guarding a shit-ton of explosives (that's the technical term). Well I guess we know where some of that HMX went? And aaahhh Sandstorm is gonna take down the whole building. Well, shit.

Aaaahhh my lil warrior babies are defending their home by destroying their own servers from within, and ugh the lives of SO MANY people literally rest on their shoulders (specifically Patterson's) rn?? Like holy shit if she doesn't get a message through to the DHS, the other sites will have zero warning of the attacks about to take place. Also ugh I've mentioned before how Patterson is literally one of the most powerful people in the FBI, but this proves it-- with her computers, she possesses access to several other major agencies. Literally if she wanted to, she could cripple the entire country at any time. She could have done exactly what Shepherd is trying to do with just a couple of taps of her screen. And she's what, barely past thirty? Like okay I have a job where I have some small measure of power over life and death, but this kind of scale is HUGE. Patterson literally has the keys to the kingdom handed to her, and could be the world's biggest supervillain-- but instead she protects everyone to the best of her ability, even now, when it may very well lead to her death. No one will ever convince me that Agent Patterson of the New York Office of the FBI is not some kind of cult figure in the world of government agencies. I bet her name has even become a common term for absolutely owning something through skill and ingenuity: "I'm gonna pull a Patterson"/"I'm Patterson-ing this biatch". For real, Shepherd, you have no idea who you're up against...

Weller delicately disassembling the cover of the bomb detonator while Jane stands guard over him with a huge-ass gun is entirely my aesthetic. And then he explains how to disarm it-- I love that he knows this, our boy sure paid attention in class-- and when he tells her he'll need her to do it (because of his giant meat-paws, as Rich lovingly named them), she doesn't hesitate. And then ugh he talks her through it and I love that they're BOTH needed for this. Jane wouldn't have known what to do without him, and he couldn't have physically done it without her. They're two halves of a whole, the perfect partnership. And ugh I love that she trusts him to guide her and he trusts her to be able to do it. And ughhhh he compares it to playing Operation and she's all "Weller this is a terrible analogy I've never played that game" and he's all "c’mon honey you can do anything ilsym babe"* (*paraphrasing). No but actually he's so cute with how he reassures her, using humour to settle her, and ugh the little look she gives him like 'you're such a giant dork and god I love you for it'. But don't worry anyway Jane, I've never played Operation either, and I've assisted in actual operations without any issue. You got this.         

Aaand Shepherd's down with Roman. He's heard all the alarms-- I wonder what he thought was going on? I wonder if he was worried for Jane? But anyway he remembers everything, including Shepherd, and ugh she says that everything she's done she's done for love, and tbh that's true. Love of herself, and her own conviction that she is in the right and everyone else is wrong. Newsflash, lady. Pretty much every terrorist who ever lived thought they were the ones in the right. But ughhhh then she says one of the few things I will give her credit for being right about-- that Roman chose Jane over her. JANE, not Remi, because as she says, Remi is GONE. THANK YOU, psychopath lady. Remi ceased to exist the moment the zip coursed through her system, and lbr, that was likely what she intended all along. I don't know the particulars of how or why, but I firmly believe that by the time Phase 1 & 2 were being developed, Remi lost her faith in Sandstorm, and in herself. I'd like to think it had something to do with her surveillance of Weller, and I hope that someday we'll find out. But the fact remains that in the end, Remi was ready to give her life to the cause. Not to Shepherd's cause; to her own, which was to stop Shepherd and save not only her brother, but Kurt Weller, and the country itself. I strongly believe that if Asshole Oscar hadn't killed Markos, he would have been able to fulfill his side of her plan and tell her everything. Maybe if that had happened, though, Jane would have run off with him to stop Shepherd, and Weller and the team would have continued their lives without her ever being more than a blip in their existence. And regardless of all the bad that came along with her, I'm glad things happened the way they did. (Except the CIA part. Screw you, Keaton.) But anyway ughhhh Roman says he chose Jane bc she wasn't forcing him to choose. She gave him free will and agency, whereas Shepherd always tried to enforce her own agenda. You can see though from the fact that she offers for him to rejoin her, that she's desperate for that connection back, for someone she has a relationship with other than that of Commander and soldier. Family. Well guess what, lady, you could have had a loving family and lived a normal happy life, but instead you chose to be a mass murderer. Forgive me if I don't feel at all sorry for you, you human stain. 

Ughhh someone save me from Weller's whispered 'good, Jane' as she slowly pulls out the detonator pin. He can feel how tense she is (after all, she has both of their lives plus the lives of everyone in the building depending on the steadiness of her hands) and he reassures her, staying right there in front of her-- not crowding her, but reminding her that he's there with her-- and then ugh when she gets it out safely he gives her this approving grin and she lets out this huge breath and rests her head against the block of explosives and ugh these two are literally the cutest. Supportive hubby Weller is one of my fave Wellers tbh. But there's no time to rest-- he's certain there's more bombs, and Jane remembers the red X from the Sandstorm training replica. And ugh they don't even hesitate before throwing themselves straight back into danger to protect everyone and ugh I love them so much

I love how much it upsets Shepherd when she discovers that the sub-basement bomb is now offline. Take that, you evil cow! And then she sees Jane and Weller on the monitors, and it's like that's right biatch, you are being thwarted by your two former favourites. Not only will they never follow you, but they will beat you. And ugh she sends a team to kill them and Roman doesn't look at all comfortable with it. I wonder whether that's because he still loves his sister, or-- as has been suggested by others, including in @gypsyscarfwoman’s amazing fic-- that he feels like he owes a debt to Weller for what he did to Emma. Hopefully a bit of both?? 

Ughhhh back in the server room, Patterson knows that all her computers are now back online, and Zapata tells her to go ahead and surge the lab. And ughh she hesitates, and at first it seems like she's just having trouble facing the thought of killing her computers (her babies), and Reade impatiently tells her they'll get her new ones-- but that's not it. Surging the lab would effectively paint a target on their backs, bringing Sandstorm right to them. If she does it, she basically signs their death warrants. And if the bad guys come quickly, she may not get to complete the surge before they're all killed. And then ughhhhh just let me die bc Zapata looks at Reade and Reade looks at Zapata and then Reade tells Patterson that they'll buy her as much time as they can and Zapata looks at Patterson and gives her a little nod and tells her to start it and ughhhhhhh they know they're about to die and that was their goodbye to Patterson-- a 'we can't save ourselves but maybe we can help you save others' and ughhhhhh my baby manages not to break down and instead gets right down to it, further ruining Shepherd's day when she instantly recognises that Patterson is about to out-manoeuvre her. And ugh Parker's already leading a team their way as Reade and Zapata set up a barricade (Do you hear the people sing??) and ugh this might be their final minutes together and Zapata chooses to give him shit about ditching them for Quantico and basically telling him she does not at all approve haha. And ughhh even as she's giving him a hard time about it she's also reminding him what a good agent he is and ugh I love the love these two have for each otherrrrr

So Jane was right (as she so often is) and the other bomb is in the gym. I love their perfectly coordinated sweep of the room, and then Weller crouching to remove the outer cover of the bomb detonator for her while she checks behind the bomb for any sneaky baddies. Nice. And then he hands over the reins and moves to stand guard over her-- the stakes are higher on this one, since they're no longer in a secluded basement with the enemy team already dead. Right now, they're sitting ducks. Jane gets right to it, now a veteran at this, and Weller only glances over briefly to make sure she's going okay, confident that she can do it but ready to support her if she needs it. All is well-- until they hear the kill-team approaching and know that they're busted. Jane makes the split second decision, with Weller instantly following her orders as she tells him to go, to meet the bad dudes somewhere that is more even territory, tactically speaking, rather than as the proverbial fish in a barrel that they are now. And ugh right now she has her hand in the jaws of death and he's about to walk out into the same when he pauses and says her name, and for a moment they lock eyes and ughhhhh "Don't die."/"You too". And ugh that was so THEM? Like they each refuse to believe that this will be the last time they see each other, and they know that they'll both fight like hell to make sure it isn't, because they've barely even had a chance to start the life they're gonna have together and it sure ain't ending here. And then ugh Weller goes into Super Agent mode, taking out one of the Sandstorm dudes before they even know what hit them, then sprinting across the room and body-slamming two of them at once while shooting the other, only to grab one and use him as a shield before beating the crap out of another, then tackling another and wrestling his gun off of him just in time to kill the one who was about to kill Jane. And ugh poor Jane, she had to focus on steadily removing the detonator even as she could see everything that was happening, knowing that any one of the many gunshots could have found Weller, meaning not only that she would lose the man she loves, but that she'd be left alone and completely exposed. But she manages it, disarming the bomb and looking up at a panting Weller, who is da bomb, tbh. Take that, Shepherd! You sent five men to kill one, and he took them all down. Bam! Ugh and Jane's little 'thanks' is so cute, like omg could you two just freakin' dive into each other's arms already, you know you want to!! I mean, let's not pretend that that little 'don't die' wasn't just a shortened version of 'don't die because I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and I plan that life to be more like 50 years than just the next 5 minutes'?

~~Will you join in our crusade, who will be strong and stand with me? Beyond the barricade, is there a world you long to see? Then join in the fight that will give you the right to be freeeeee....~~ Okay yes, I did have to pause my recapping to go listen to some Les Mis because of this. I'm just getting a lot of feels (and literal goosebumps) about these two and their sacrifice, okay?? And ugh Parker's team is on them and bullets are flying and they might be dead any second now and Zapata is still snarking about Quantico (while also crouching in tight jeans and heels wow #iconic), and he snarks back about writing her a recommendation letter and ugh I love these two and the fact they both know that the only way they can cope with this is with sass and ugh save me. And then Patterson fries the system and everything blacks out for a moment, and then the lights come back on they reveal all of the Sandstorm dudes are down. Wait, guys, wait! Havent you heard of a term called 'playing possum'?? I don't care if it seems dishonourable, please shoot the crap out of those bodies before you leave the safety of your barricade! And ughhhhhh they juuuust start to grin at each other, almost believing they really made it, when FREAKIN' SLIMY-ASS PARKER SHOOTS MY BEAUTIFUL BABY. HOW DARE YOU SIR, I ALWAYS SAID DEVON WAS FAR TOO GOOD FOR YOU. And ughhhhh the shock and rage on Reade's face as he fills him with bullets is so intense ughhh. And ugh my baby is only concerned about Reade even while she's bleeding and okay okay at best guess the shot looks like it got her in the shoulder? Which in reality could very easily be deadly but in TV land generally means you'll be just fine (let's not forget that both Jane and Patterson have been shot in the abdomen in the last few months and were in fighting form like 2 days later), so I'm not too worried. But ugh speaking of my other baby Patterson, she's all alone in the dark, frantically dialling DHS to warn them because she needs to save as many people as she can, all while having no idea whether Sandstorm has already killed Reade and Zapata or how much time she herself has left to live. Ughhhhh seriously can I hug her rn bc we both need it

Given that we know how pissed Shepherd gets when things don't go her way, I'm very suspicious of her 'meh' attitude towards her plans being ruined rn. What else does she have in store?? And ugh then she uncuffs Roman (keeping the cuffs tho which feels weird? Maybe she's just into recycling? Or souvenirs?) and then even offers him a gun?? And tells him that staying means being locked up alone in a cell for the rest of his life and noooooooo Roman she's wrong! Jane will fight for you! And ugh the first thing he does is aim the gun at her, and ugh SHOOT HER ROMAN. She doesn't love you, she doesn’t even deny it when you accused her of controlling you your whole life. And ugh she says that losing Remi was an inherent risk of the plan that they all accepted. Yeah, idk about that. I mean I totally believe Shepherd was willing, but I doubt Roman accepted it easily. As for Remi herself, well, I already said that I believe she went into it with the hope of coming out as someone new, hoping for the chance to finally become the person she should have been, instead of the one Shepherd warped her into. I think Jane's dream was wrong. I don't think, if her two selves could meet in a dream, that Remi would see Jane and try to kill her, to take back over. Instead, she would just look at her with tears in her eyes and whisper 'thank you'. And then she would look behind Jane, where dream-Weller and Dream-Roman are standing, and she would tell her to take care of them. And then she'd close her eyes and fade away, at peace at last. Because she'd spent her whole life as a prisoner of who she was, and it was only in letting herself be erased and replaced that she could finally be free at last. 

But anyhow that's speculation for another time. With her warning given, Patterson has raced out of the server room to find her friends, initially relieved and then panicked as she sees Reade crouching over Zapata. And ugh she races back to radio for help. And ugh she must just want to collapse in a sobbing heap when she hears Weller's voice and discovers that he and Jane are in the building. Mom and Dad are here. They'll fix everything. The kids have done their best, and now they get to hand over the responsibility to the grownups. And ugh speaking of family bonds, Roman steps out into the hall right in front of Jane and Weller, and she immediately drops her gun, looking as stunned to see him as he is to see her. And then he raises his gun and shoots right at them-- or does he?? Like yes, Weller immediately shoves Jane through a doorway and to safety, but how did Roman, trained sharpshooter, not hit them with either of the shots he got off before that?? Because he WASN'T AIMING FOR THEM. He aimed wide, just enough to look like he was trying to kill them, while actually sending them into cover before Shepherd could fire at them. He knew his side outnumbered theirs, and so did the only thing he could to protect them without having to turn on Shepherd and try to kill both her and her men. He and Shepherd flee into Borden's office while Weller and Jane take out the last of the Sandstorm guys, joined moments later by their own backup team (better late than never, guys, tho lbr these two badasses don’t really need you). And ugh she tells Weller that they won’t surrender, and the understanding passes between them that this will be shooting to kill. He locks his eyes with hers, and tells her to take Shepherd.Her unsteady breath and tiny 'thanks' kills me. He would never make her kill her own brother, and we all know that he's going to do whatever he can not to kill Roman either. And she's right there with him as they go in-- instead of sending the backup guys, they're both through the door first. But seriously dude that smoke is super dangerous for them, obscuring their vision in a way it wouldn't for Roman and Shepherd, meaning that they would be totally vulnerable to being shot before they even see their targets. But actually there’s none there to be seen; I assumed they escaped out the same air vents that Jane and Patterson crawled though in the lockdown ep, since Borden clearly knew about those from that time, but instead, the sneaky bastard had actually cut a hole through the wall behind a panel, pre-engineering their escape. Dammit, Borden, why you gotta keep hurting us even from beyond the grave? I definitely get how Patterson feels rn...

Ugh, the calm after the storm. Jane is standing near Weller-- I have a feeling they haven't been more than a couple of yards from each other since this whole thing happened, a subconscious connection of both protection and reassurance--  as he looks down at Pellington's body, and ugh they may have both had their issues with him, but they never wanted this. And then Patterson joins them like a timid puppy, telling them that Shepherd tried to attack six other buildings all over the country. Their efforts prevented four of them, but couldn't stop the other two-- but all civilians were evacuated in time and the law enforcement casualties were minimal. They're still shaken over it, naturally, but it's a better outcome than they could have hoped for. Jane looks almost near tears as she realises that they saved thousands of lives. And they did. But Weller's right; that's not what people will remember. People always look for someone to blame, and don’t necessarily always care if it's the right person. This poor team has been through hell today, and though they did save thousands, there were plenty of their own that they couldn't save. Lbr the bullpen is going to have a very 'Empty chairs at empty tables' vibe for a long time. 

Omgggggg. They're in the cell and Weller is fluffing the pillow and all I can think is BLUE SHIRT BLUE SHIRT BLUESHIRT BLUESHIRTBLUESHIRTBLUESHIRTTTTTTT. AAAAHHHHHHHHHHH. IT'S HAPPENING. And ugh Weller apologises that she can't go home-- everyone else can, because they're not in danger of being murdered by their mother or brother (well, as far as we know; maybe they have a complex family situation too). Tbh I feel like Weller is totally fine with her staying; this building is now a fortress, and there's probably nowhere safer for her to be. Plus, he's now kinda the big boss, and will no doubt be staying in his office (not forgetting he'd be a main target too), putting him only moments away if she needs him. And ugh now that they're out of the firefight and reality has settled in, she can't think of anything but how her family is responsible for all of this death and destruction, and how she herself played a role in bringing it about. Not to mention that Roman, one of the people she loves most in the world, turned on her, shot at her, and fled with Shepherd, choosing to be a terrorist rather than stay with her and fight for good. And that's where her real fear comes in-- what if the same will happen to her? What if she's just a time-bomb, ticking down to the moment when the zip wears off and Remi reawakens? What if one day she could suddenly lose all that she has become, could snap and turn on the team, on Kurt, and have no control over it? It's her Remi nightmare all over again, except this time she's faced with the possibility of it becoming reality. Ugh how awful must that be, to live with that potential death-sentence over your head? But ugh Weller won't let her think like that; he immediately reaches out, and ugh her voice hitches almost imperceptibly as his hand covers her knee and she fixes her eyes on his, needing to hear that it will all be okay, and he tells her that they aren't their families and she shudders and looks away and you can practically see the 'but what if I am?' that runs through her head, and he turns to her, voice more insistent as he tells her that he knows her heart (asdfghjkl of course he does, bc it's the match of his own; he knows her as well as he knows himself) and ughhhhh then let me die because he PUTS his HAND over her HEART. Just like she did with his all those months ago; it was her starting point, the symbol of her journey of becoming Jane, becoming the person she truly was. This is her. The tattooed FBI consultant who saves people on a daily basis and whose heart of gold belongs to Kurt Weller. That is who she is, not a cold and calculating terrorist who only wants to watch the world burn. "[Remi] is not who you are,' he tells her, and he's right. She's his Jane, and always will be. And ugh she holds his hand against her chest, head down and eyes closed, keeping him from pulling away, needing that reassurance. Needing that contact. And then she looks up at him almost pleadingly, like she's so desperate for him to be right, and so needing the reassurance of his touch, of his love. And he sees it, understands it, because he needs her too. And he never looks away as he shifts his hand to cup her jaw, and ugh the way her hand covers his and her tear-filled eyes find his and her chin trembles and okay it's super faint but I am so sure he shakes his head just a fraction and whispers 'it's not', and ugh I'm also convinced that he pressed his fingers just lightly against the back of her neck in like a tiny 'come here' gesture and she's barely fighting off the tears as she does, finally letting herself give in and believe that she can truly have him this time, that she can at last give him her heart completely. And ugh her hand lifts from his but falters, wanting to reach for him but unsure for a moment if this is just a comforting peck or if this is an everything-laid-bare, I'm-never-letting-go kind of kiss, and she soon realises it's the latter and curls her hand around the back of his neck as he buries his in her hair, the other gently gripping her arm, anchoring her to him, and ugh this is a kiss they could both happily live in forever; a real everything-out-in-the-open, no-more-hiding-or-pretending kiss, no more secrets, no more ghost-Taylor, just the two of them choosing each other. Just Kurt and Jane, finally kissing the person they're stupidly in love with. And god, part of me so hopes Patterson is still in her lab rn and happens to look at the video feeds just at the right time and is standing there with happy-tears in her eyes and her hands over her mouth to hold in her squeal, because the day had been full of fear and suffering and devastation and darkness and then there was this one tiny bright spark, this one beautiful and happy thing, and ugh I bet she mutters abuse at the secret service guys when they interrupt and is already anticipating the moment she visits Zapata later and gets to tell her about this because if anything makes her friend feel better, it'll be winning the bet that they've had going on since the other night in the bar and ughhhhh this is the first moment of sunshine through the clouds and the first time that she realises that maybe things might just be okay. And ugh back in the cell, Weller is super displeased about the Secret service interruption-- when they first arrive, he doesn't even seem to hear them straight away, bc for a split second when Jane pulls away he seems confused, grip tightening on her like he wants to pull her back in, and then he registers what was said and realises why she pulled back haha, and you can literally see him make a gesture like 'kind of in the middle of something here guys' lol. And then ugh when they say he needs to come with them, his body shifts, and as usual idc that their hands are out of shot, bc I am 100% certain that when he says 'I'm not leaving my people'-- meeting Jane's eyes as he says so-- he closes his hand over hers on her thigh, linking them like he's daring the agents to try to separate them. And then she tells him that he has to go and it's okay, and gives him this adorable little encouraging smile, and he gives a tiny huff like 'alright, wifey, but only because you said so' and ughhh he gets up and moves past her and their hands are still holding onto each other and he gives her fingers one last tiny squeeze before forcing himself to let go and ughhhh he walks out without looking back because he knows he has to go do his ~duty~ and if he looks back and sees her sitting alone on that bed he won't have the strength to leave. But his dedication to serving and protecting others is one of the things she loves about him and she would never want to stand in the way of that. Doesn't mean she won’t miss him like hell until he gets back, though.

Oh boy. Shepherd is all dressed up, medals and everything. I have to say she does look good in a beret. But hold on, this isn’t one of those situations where the person gets in their full military dress before killing themselves, right? Nope nevermind, she's making a video announcement. I'm intrigued by the two empty chairs beside her-- were they originally intended for Roman and Remi? Was this vid meant to be a family affair? And she claims responsibility for the attacks, blah-blahing about how the country is failing and needs to be rectified (look, I'm not necessarily arguing with that, but I sure disagree with her methods), and ugh as she talks we get little glimpses of Weller being taken somewhere unknown, while Patterson stands in the bullpen with tears running down her face, and Reade sits by Zapata's bedside, and Jane sees the R carved on the bed and grieves afresh for Roman. Ugh. Oh right, the empty chairs are for 'those we have lost and those who will take up the fight'-- so, they kinda are for Remi and Roman then. And apparently now is the dawn of a new America, and clearly Roman is as discomfited by this as the rest of us, because that definitely sounded like a victory speech. Given that she wants him to send it to the Times tomorrow, yet said 'Today's attacks', then clearly she has a lot more planned.... #shit

Aaand now Weller is being escorted into a mysterious bunker in a mountainside, having to surrender his gun and phone (noooo, how will you tell wifey you're okay??) as part of the Deputies' Committee protocols. And then we see the flashback to Briana getting him to sign those documents and well, nice work show. Way to plant that little seed early on haha. And now Weller's in the hands of the army, walking into... a giant, fancy conference room filled with official looking people. I love that Weller's focus isn’t on the guy addressing the group; it’s on the bunker doors sealing behind him, cutting him off from his team, and from Jane, for who knows how long. And he already knows that something about this is very, very wrong. And then he hears the words Continuity of Government Subcommittee-- COGS-- and sees the copy of the Truman protocol in his binder. Not to mention the fact that Keaton, Julia Chang of the CDC, and Agent Valentine of the DEA are all there, people who are all in place due to tattoo cases removing their superiors from power. And then he knows. Knows that THIS, the Truman protocol, is Phase 2. They are the new dawn of America, the new founding fathers (and mothers). Shepherd chose them all based on their leadership skills and morality, which is kind of a weird thing to think about when she is the exact type of thing that they will be protecting the country against. It's very ‘be the villain in order to become a hero’ kind of thing? But either way, literally everyone outside this bunker, including everyone Weller loves, is now in terrible mortal danger. And he has absolutely no way to stop it. #Checkmate