#she milked shadows(/darkness)=evil for all it was worth | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

meyeselph · 3 years ago

Text

Gwenpool: Desperate Misanthrope's Confused Angst

Showtime

Ms. Pool woke up in a familiar room. Not in Krakoa - there are no mutants around. This isn’t a story about that. Look, honestly, without an actual Gwenpool series and the constant breaks in her comics appearance I can’t even begin to give a fuck. I cancelled my marvel universe subbie. I might get back to my stories but single issues are iffy. I read fast and don’t pore over the artwork. So I get 10 minutes of entertainment for….FIVE DOLLARS? When did this happen? Jeezus.

Who even reads comics anymore?

Anyway, long story short, Gwen got out of bed and recognized the room as her old one from the “old times.” The dark times. The ‘not running around in pink and white outfits and shooting people’ times. She panicked (Been there. It is what it is though). The only way out of trauma is through.

She dressed in old clothes, immediately hit by old smells, she couldn’t help but cry. Was it all a dream? Have I gone insane (again)? All the usual self doubts cropped up. I mean, really, if you think this kind of thing didn’t pass through her mind regularly why don’t you transport yourself to a comic book universe?

Oh, you can’t?

Oh. It isn’t actually possible for you and I’m stupid for suggesting it. So, yeah. If it actually happened and you kept that attitude then the logical assumption for a normie is a mental breakdown. Trick for Gwen, though, is it's probably always been both real and her being nuts.

So she goes downstairs to the kitchen to figure out why this is happening and Evil Gwen is having cereal. Let's say cocoa puffs. I’ve been thinking about those recently. You ever remember cereal as something worth cherishing. Not as just bullshit that TV convinced you to want? God damn, now I want Cookie Crisp. Cookie Crisp wasn’t even ever that good. Why do I want Cookie Crisp?

So also sitting around the table were the faceless versions of her father, mother, and her brother. Just chilling. No BD. Seen Eternal Sunshine of The Spotless Mind?

Yes, I know that references aren’t jokes - fuck you, I’m painting a picture and I CAN’T PAINT, THAT’S WHY THIS ISN’T A COMIC. Fucks sake. Anyway. So, Gwen is so creeped out that she just sits her butt down by Evil Gwen as if she’s the comforting presence here.

Her name’s too long. Let’s call Evil Gwen uh…….Gren. You know, like Grendel from Beowulf. I haven’t actually read Beowulf and this is all a little confusing but I'm solving problems here. Writing this is harder for me than you would think so it’s best to keep things flowing off the cuff. That’s the Gwenpool™ style anyway, isn’t it? Are you laughing yet? IMPROV. “YES AND” MY SHIT, READER!

“So, you ever really look into the retconned past thing, hun?” Gren said, moving her tongue around her food. Being gross as an attempt to be properly evil. She swallowed before continuing. “This is all I could really put together on short notice but i’m pretty sure what the future people created, all that stuff to try and trick you, it was all bullshit.”

“What do you mean? Are you trying to convince me to go all psycho like you again?” Gwen asked, exasperated, realizing she was now back in the whole ‘fuck with Gwen to decide her fate’ song and dance routine from the end of her first arc.

“Nah, not really.” Gren said. A hammer appeared in her hands out of nowhere and Gren swung it into their fake father’s head, snapping his neck..

“DAD!” Gwen instinctively cried as she saw her father’s body slump to the floor. Gren slapped Gwen’s face. “That’s it,” Gren said, “this is what the trick was.This is a poorly created character in a fictional story. Meant to manipulate you into attaching your concept of “father” to it. Even his finished version in the original comics run wasn’t THAT well drawn. Your dad read like a boomer’s idea of a responsible parent. You were going through a mental crisis and struggling to find purpose in life and his genius idea was get a shitty low paying job and suck it up?”

Gren turned to their brother, pushed his face to the table and smashed the back of his skull. . “Brother dearest, too. Going right along with their victim blaming. He gaslighted you as if what you were going through was just you being ‘irresponsible.’ Bitch, people working a minimum wage job aren’t somehow not impoverished and miserable because they get some of that ‘honest work’ that folks keep badgering on about. Minimum wage work is occupied by many physically and mentally disabled people held hostage; they’re people society only pretends to care about. Then they turn it all into you acting like some world ending threat. No questions about what drove you to the edge in the first place. You are just ‘unstable,’ so you’re just a problem to be solved. They say, ‘Let’s all solve this girl being upset and on edge by ruining her concept of self, reality, and memory.’ Brilliant!”

Gwen barely processed this in horror. Gren then slit the poor facsimile of their mother’s throat while continuing to rant, “You see people die all the time, Gwen. Half of the time you are doing the killing. You do it because it’s in a story. In a story the NPCs don’t matter and, after all, your original schtick in the story was to be kill-crazy. The non-marketable characters can be replaced or retconned at the stroke of the artist’s pen.” Gren leans forward as she pulls a Gwenpool mask over Gwens face. “Then the writers convince you that you have some middle class milk toast family and you take abuse and subsume your emotional needs because the problem MUST be you. You aren’t ‘normal’ so you have to be fixed.”

Gwen wiped her eyes over the mask and sighed. A bit of fire filled her gut as she stared at Gren. “So fucking what? You want me to go on a killing spree and be a big time villain to get myself a nice, shiny permanent big bad status? That’s how I stay around right? Just build my legacy on bodies?”

Gren scoffed “You already lost that fight, girly. Where do you think we are? Because this ain’t Marvel Comics.”

Confused, Gwen blinked and tried reaching for the page margins, finding nothing. Wait….why was everything on this page so ill defined and undetailed? Wait? Why was the story in kinda wobbly third person past tense?

Gwen sighed “Oh. I’m in a fanfic. I guess the publishing fight is for another day eh?”

“My advice, personally,” Gren stated, “is that you consider the lobster.”

“Wait, what the fuck?”

Gren pulled aside the kitchen curtains revealing the face of a giant lobster, its claws tapping on the glass. The lobster muttering gutterally about personal responsibility.

“Because there’s a couple thousand giant lobsters outside that would like to claw you until you read their book.”

Scared of Girls

On the rooftop, Gren shoved a high powered rifle into Gwen’s hands while she handled the close range threats. So, this conversation they’re about to have is important. Sniping puts Gwen into a sort of zen space, so that’s a better task to keep her focused, after all.

“So, what? You wanted me to internalize that my “origin story” is bullshit? Okay, what does that accomplish, then?” Gwen asked in a bit of a deadpan. She was so tired today. Not really feeling her happy go lucky energy. More like a “happy go fucky” energy. It was hard to always be on a knife's edge. Still the rifle’s kick into her shoulder was satisfying as she blew through two of the creepy looking lobsters at once. “Also, why the lobsters?”

Gren considered this. “Okay, last question first, I had to experiment a lot and do a lot of research to construct this place for your learning and healing in fanfic form....These buddies are a failed experiment of mine that I repurposed because the fic needed more action. Isn’t that right, giant enemy crap?” As she peppers the nearest goon with a hail of shotgun pellets the entire throng of them burst out, sharply muttering about divine symbols.

“As for what I'm trying to teach you, it’s that you aren’t reaching your potential.” Gren grumpily huffed.

“Duh,” Gwen reloads, “I mean you just killed a mannequin version of the voice in my head that says that to me every day.” one of those crustaceans talks about feminine symbolism while she decides on her next target.

“Not like fake daddy’s ‘Be a responsible member of society by paying your taxes’ type of potential. I mean your creative and emotional potential.” Gren flipped off the slavering throng of monsters, noticing they were starting to keep their distance from the roof.

“I never did finish that fanfic idea I had.” Gwen mused.

“God, don’t mention that,” Gren thrusts a finger at Gwenpool. “Not that I don’t respect fanfic, but when comic book writers make you and Kamala squee about fanfiction to try and relate to “the kids” it comes across as so condescending.”

“Really? I mean…..I'm sure it’s meant as support for the concept?”

“Most fucking superhero comics are just legalized fanfiction! The people who created the characters are either long gone or working on someone else’s characters! They just think they are so much better because they got fucking paid. They can’t imagine themselves as on the same playing field as fanficcers even though most of them have the same level of connection to the roots of the work as anyone else.” Gren groused loudly as she seemed to pull Reed Richards out of nowhere.

Confused, Reed looked around until his eyes met Gwen’s.“Oh great, you again.” Reed groaned as he turned to survey the piles of lobster gibs while Gwen cheered the lobster forces’ retreat with a resounding “EDF, EDF!”. The scattered creatures skittered amongst the bland scenery. It looked like a suburban neighborhood but someone forgot to color in the sky….or write that the sky had color. A castle hung out in the distance breaking up the generic normalcy and lay cloaked in shadow despite being surrounded by an endless white void.

“And…..black….you?” Reed pointed to Gren, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I have an evil future self….well I stopped that future so it’s an….evil...alternate timeline self?” Gwen said with a nervous chuckle, abandoning the kill quest for the minute and rested her rifle on the roof.

“Ah. Yeah I’ve been down that road. It’s a rather common occurrence. Multiverse being what it is.” Reed laughed heartily while putting his hands on his hips.

“I’m not sure I’m evil, honestly,” Gren interjected. “I think I’m just really fucking grumpy and I’m slightly more gung-ho on the homicide. Considering Gwen’s already one of the more kill crazy characters on the roster it’s not that much of a distinction.” Gren flipped her cape. “My main distinction is I don’t like that meme from The Incredibles! You can just make it so the cape detaches automatically when it’s pulled hard enough!”

“You could still have it tangled up around your face.” Reed pointed out in his standard know-it-all fashion.

“Don’t make me go into fuck wife mode, stretch.” Gren spat. “Okay, anyway, so I brought him here to illustrate a point. Reed. Explain particle physics to me as a laymen.”

“Huh...i’m not sure why but okay. Particle physics (also known as high energy physics) is a branch of physics that studies the nature of the particles that constitute matter and radiation. Although the word particle can refer to various types of very small objects (e.g. protons, gas particles, or even household dust), particle physics usually investigates the irreducibly smallest detectable particles and the fundamental interactions necessary to explain their behaviour. In current understanding, these elementary particles are excitations of the quantum fields that also govern their interactions. The currently dominant theory explaining these fundamental particles and fields, along with their dynamics, is called the Standard Model. Thus, modern particle physics generally investigates the Standard Model and its various possible extensions, e.g. to the newest "known" particle, the Higgs boson, or even to the oldest known force field, gravity.” Reed rattled this off rather mechanically.

Gren then took out her phone and showed Gwen the Wikipedia article on “Particle Physics,” which is naturally the same words that Reed had regurgitated above, just without any formatting and, again, on a phone.

“Reed can’t be a genius in any subject unless he’s written by a genius in that subject. That’s how stories work. Everyone is limited by the understanding and capabilities of the writer. Same with your origin story and all the people you’ve interacted with. If you are as ‘meta’ as you think you are then you have to realize that you aren’t actually talking to people. You are talking to the writer. Dr. Strange didn’t rewrite your existence to be a part of the Marvel Universe. As far as most of Marvel continuity goes Dr. Strange was never there and doesn’t know or care about his MCU casting…..Hey Reed, buzz off please before the conversation pivots to why you haven’t cured all known diseases.”

Reed looked a little surprised but then pulled out a teleportation device (of course he has one) and blipped away with a shrug.

“How awkward is that going to be when he enters the MCU after Kamala is already introduced with a very similar power set?” Gwen chuckled.

“Keep up the way you’ve been going and you’ll never see it. I’m not exactly expecting a young blonde girl casting call for Deadpool 3 and that’s your best bet.” Gren snarked. Gwen winced with a sigh.

“I don’t get what I'm doing wrong. I have a fanbase comparable to some of the characters that have already shown up but I can’t even get comics written about me most of the time. An MCU push seems unlikely. They would literally have to deal with completely recontextualizing my powers and gimmick”

“Let’s ask her what you should do.” Gren motioned her way to the suddenly appearing long hair future Gwen, looming over them like The Attack of the 50 foot Woman for some reason. Dwarfing the roof they are on. Let’s call her BIGwen!

Gold Guns Girls

As BIGwen acclimated to her surroundings she stubbed her toe on a car, dramatically flipping it so that it took out a few more lobsters before caving in a nearby house. The lamentations about clean rooms soaring as the remaining couple dozen of them attempt to clean up some of the bodies of their fallen kin. The large and sort-of-in-charge Gwen hissed in pain and adjusted her boot. Getting her balance as best as possible she muttered curses that traveled rather well considering the lung capacity of a giant.

“You know,” Gren started, “I wasn’t expecting much from our previous uses of the ‘make her big for emphasis’ trick, but it really does only work as a vague ghostly background element. I didn’t just want it to be ‘oh, here's a third Gwen for the conversation, though. Would lack umph.”

“ Yeah, I get it, but staring at my own giant taint is unsettling.” Gwen muttered.

“I’d still, hit it.” Gren grinned, then immediately got punched in the arm. “OWWW! Look, I’m the evil one here and we’re in a fanfic. I’m allowed to make internet fetish jokes.”

“And I’m allowed to hit you for it.”.

“Dirty lampshading goody two shoes. Don’t act like half your fanbase isn’t thirsty. It’s “insert current year argument”, all art is sexy to someone.” Gren complained back,rubbing her arm before hopping off the roof. Gwen followed while listening as patiently as she could considering how many changes in topic her evil-caped self is going through to get to her point. “This chick is the reason you’ve been on the path of good girl. Some vague idea that in the future everything will work out for the best. HEY, DOWN HERE, BIG SHOW!” Gren waved at BIGwen and she looked down curiously.

“Yeah what??” BIGwen responded in a booming and agitated tone. Honestly, being in this fic made every version of Gwen a little grumpy.

“How’s she supposed to be a popular hero that makes it into the MCU and has a stable publication history?” Gren asked.

“Fuck if I know.” Came BIGwen’s response. “Have you tried growing your hair out?”

“Rub it in,” Gwen muttered under her breath, “I’m not gonna lie, I’m kind of depressed now.” Gwen said as she sat on an abandoned car.

Gren hopped on the roof of the car, patting Gwen’s shoulder before squatting with enough force to flex the car’s shocks like a rocking chair just to amuse herself. “Future “good” Gwen wasn’t an actual plot point, it was a call to action to the fans to make fanfic like this and support the character outside of the actual Canon. Chris didn’t trust that Marvel would treat the character right. That, and your obsession with getting a new book, are both the writer’s attempt to turn a marketing tactic into fan engagement. If you want to be real then that makes the fans want you to be real even more, too.”

Gwen sighs heavily and leans her chin on one hand. “I mean...the time traveling through the life of an NPC fan complete with a Never Ending Story reference was a bit sappy even by the standard we sometimes set...damn it it really was just kind of a fan manipulation trick wasn’t it?”

BIGwen Sat down on the street next to them and crossed her legs. “Hey, little me. Don’t get too down. I mean it worked for the most part. You have a healthy cult following. Characters have survived on less and there are worse things to be known for then as a fan first character”

“But I have to fight for attention all the damn time, though. It’s so easy for Wade with his fucking meme bullshit. He even gets runoff enthusiasm from me. Jeff the land shark is all over Oldpool online” Gwen felt rather heavy and tired all of a sudden. Marvel editorial forcing a gun to your head is not a fun way to be.

“All that fight is hell on the fanbase too.” Gren sighed. “Advocating for shit, getting crumbs and being expected to accept it while Disney lavishes all the attention based on some bullshit numbers game. Even if you make it into the MCU will it be a Batroc style cameo with obligatory ‘killed off in case we don’t feel like paying the actor again later.’ Will it be an emotionally rounded character or an ambush bug style joke? The thing is. You're Not the one fighting and you never were.”

“The fuck do you mean?”

“This version of her doesn’t know?” BIGwen whimpered.

“You aren’t real, Gwen.”

Head Like a Haunted House

“No….we aren’t having this conversation. Fuck you fuck you i’m not a fucking Nihlist and i’m not going to do this right now.” Gwen said as she scrambled off of the car and pulled out some guns. BIGwen then picked her up off the ground.

“You need to hear this, Gwen,” BIGwen boomed. “The gimmick has run its course. It’s fucking with your canon. You’re never going to be a marketable character keeping up a half fourth-wall Kayfabe”

Gren climbed onto BIGwen’s Shoulders and perched over Gwen all menacing like. “You need to listen. I’ve been trying to ease you into this. Making things more meta slowly until you were ready but it was never going to be easy.”

One of Gwen’s guns was fired from it’s holster and pierced one of BIGwen’s fingers. BIGwen screamed and her grip loosened. Soon Gwen was on the move running up her arm and firing at Gren, who dodged like the nimble and cute badass she is. “Don’t do this Gwen. Just because it doesn’t matter to the comic version of you doesn’t mean it doesn’t matter.”

“I’m a real person god damn it! I read the comics out there! I came in! That’s why I know shit I shouldn't know. That’s what I am! THAT’S ALL I AM!” Gwen shrieked as she pulled out a sword from hammer-space and decapitated BIGwen. Suddenly a mess of colored streamers and a pile of Mickey Mouse merch tumbled out. Look, I am busy right now. Gwen is still slashing at my ass. I'm not going to explain it.

For some reason now the remaining lobsters were helping Gren. For Gwen’s own good you understand. This is proof that I’m right for some reason.

Gwen pulled out a revolver, firing pumpkin sized holes in lobsters who were still wailing about self actualization. She fully planned on shoving a sword up her evil self’s ass and getting rid of this doppelganger shit for good. Which is total bullshit by the way. She totally just cut off Gren’s leg because what the fuck you mean I’m not real? I’m going to be real all over your corpse.

Gren didn’t really think that was even a good comeback and also thought you should probably say it instead of meta willing the smack talk into existence, otherwise this fanfic is going to read like trash. Also, Gren’s leg wasn’t actually cut off. In a puff of smoke it is revealed that the cut off leg is a log and her leg is fine. Gren is a ninja now, believe it.

Gwen proceeded to do a sick ass CQC judo throw on Gren and then grab her cape and wrap it around her face like Reed suggested. Callbacks for the win! Callbacks to Checkov’s gun ideas always lead to victory in fights! She then totally shot at her and such.

But the bullet was caught by the cape because the cape was a symbiote! That’s right Gren is also GRENOM!...boy that sounds stupid. Anywho, the cape was no longer around her face and the fight continued and Gren now ALSO had extra powers and special wizard-symbiote armor (that would only show up in the MCU version if Marvel finally got the Sony characters back). The meta powers work like shit in text but this would be really good in CGI or animation if Marvel wanted to adapt this fic and give the writer lots of money. Gren still has more experience with them, though, and Gwen can’t really just kill her way out of this fic so she has to just let the story play out.

…...eh?....oh Gwen’s crying. I love/am you girl but we gotta work on the crying. Fucks sake this is harder than I thought. I’m depressed now too. Well I'll try to get the writing back on track so you guys can see what is going on. Even the lobsters are minding their manners now. Chill vibes, guys.

“The marvel character page for Gwenpool says, and I quote:

Gwenpool arrived in the Marvel Universe from the “real world,” but has wasted no time in making the most of her time in her fictional universe. Using her knowledge of comics to her advantage, Gwenpool causes and solves problems for her fellow heroes.”

Gren drags a lobster corpse slowly toward Gwen and sits on its tail as she talks to her. Taking her time to really scrape the lobster against the ground, smearing the gore on the pavement. Not that it was heavy for her or anything. Totally still has that symbiote, which would make moving it easy. Totally wasn’t a detail added in the second revision of the fic slightly before the lobsters were added.

“The words “Real world” are in quotation marks in that wiki. Real people don’t make it into comics because fiction isn’t real. Half of your versions barely make use of the ‘real person’ gimmick because it’s too meta by half and not every writer wants to waste time justifying it. So they just treat it like Deadpool’s medium awareness. Which it mostly is.”

“I really am just a fucking rip off distaff character.” Gwen moans. “Just a Gwen combined with a Pool. I’m worse than the Batman who laughs. I never mattered because I was never real”

“Fuck don’t say that. You were made with love and care by a team of creators who took a weird offshoot idea and built out a compelling metafiction idea and a likeable protagonist off of it. They just didn’t have the time and foresight to go far enough.” Gren sighed.

“Far enough?” Gwen sniffed as she was pulled up to her feet and dragged toward one of the big castles. As they walked Gren kicked along a Mickey Mouse doll that had rolled out of BIGwen’s severed head. Every time it bounced it cheerfully said ‘hahah. I love you!’

“Too much haha, not enough trauma. You’re not just a joke character.” Gren said as she kicked the Mickey doll into the big front door of the castle. The shadowy thing of course lighting up and being all fantasy and shit as the door opened.

“Well I did end both of my comic runs pretty mopey.”

“Damn right you did. When the jokes run thin they run to your real bread and butter. You’re an empathy machine.” As Gren shoves Gwen through the gate they are swallowed up in the castle, going dark again. “Let’s getcha sad clown on.”

Never there

“See, what evil me should have been telling you about in the original run is how to find meaning and purpose when technically nothing means anything. Comic book characters live in a world without real death and suffering. It’s all a puppet show version of real pain and real emotion meant to bring that out of an audience.” Gren opined as they walked through a black void to a couch floating in a nothing area lit only by the static of an old TV.

“Can we turn on a light?” Gwen asked as she sat on the couch. Gren sat on another recliner that suddenly appeared and put her feet up.

“Fuck off. Ambiance is a thing. We aren’t having a ‘lights on with something fun on the TV’ conversation. So look, I am not really ‘evil gwen.’ I’m half an author insert and half a plot device. If we are talking about the reality of the story you are basically talking to yourself. I am speaking about the things you don’t want to admit to yourself. You know, you’ve seen this kind of story sorta... right?” Gren picked up the remote and frustratedly changed channels between a bunch of vaguely illustrative footage on the TV, not finding anything that worked. A lot of black and white footage of trains for some reason. Just what comes to mind when I think of documentary footage? Weird.

“I am not sure how to illustrate this shit visually and this is a text story anyway so I would have to explain the illustration,” Gren griped.

“I basically get it. It’s not that uncommon a trope.” Gwen nodded.

“Because of the level of meta we are on right now we have to really acknowledge that you are basically an author insert, too. I mean, to a certain extent every version of you is more the writer that is working with your character at the time than a set character.” Gren said as she settled on a visual of Gwen being pushed out the window by her own narration text in the original comic run. When all else fails, resort to footage from the last story. That way people can look it up online!

“Right here is where the character crystallized in the mind of the author of the current fic we are in. A vague suicide metaphor wrapped up in the flavor of self destructive escapism. Your parents in the story thought it was a suicide attempt on at least some level. This is serious business. Not just a girl who doesn’t like work and can’t finish her fanfic. In this comic you are built on this understanding. The writer of this fic has ADHD and autism. So his version of you more or less has it, too. Writers bring themselves with them into their work.”

Gwen nods and takes a deep breath. “I….I can feel it. Like the world is closing around you. You aren’t built for anything that anyone wants from you. The one thing you really believe in, the one thing that really defines you, the stories in your head…..it’s just not enough.

You can’t trust you’ll ever make it with writing because you can barely write. You barely have the energy to do anything but wish that you weren’t you. What if someone actually listened? Actually believed in you and whisked you away somewhere else where the world would fit your needs? What if you were someplace you could be someone else, someone strong and confident?”

“Yeah. Like a funny anti hero in a comic for instance.” Gren nodded. “But the original comics sort of left the theme on the table. They were captured by the misconception of Gwen as the problem and not a person who needed help. All that desperation that real fans of the character might feel just bundled up into love for this character that really ‘gets’ them but Marvel doesn’t ‘get’ the character. They won't use her. They won’t go past vaguely gesturing at her mental issues and moving on. They saved the angst for Wandavision.” Gren scoffs.

“I mean the show was okay but they literally have a character built entirely on the theme of escapism and trauma. One that’s custom built for mind-screw visuals and reality bending plots and they think she’s just a lazy fangirl who really likes guns that they can sit beside Deadpool sometimes and stick in the X-Men’s bloated background character roster when they don’t need her.”

Gren leads Gwen off the couch and deeper into the void where a door to a bedroom waits. A room like her own, absolutely slopping over with old toys of comic book characters. An unclean messy space in a run-down house that smells faintly of cigarette smoke. Huddled in bed, reading an 80s era X-men comic with a flashlight, is a 12 year old Gwen.

“This is never going to be canon but this is the version of Gwen in this fic. She can’t stop crying at school. Things that shouldn’t be hard are so hard and she can’t explain why. Everyone says she’s making excuses. Meanwhile her mother is fucked out of her mind on pain killers and her step father killed himself last year ‘cleaning his gun’ while drunk. You know exactly what is on her mind right now?” Gren says as she gestures at the girl.

“I wish the superheroes would save me from this.”

“They won’t. They can’t. They were never meant to.” Gren Slams the door loudly on the scene.

“That is the emotional core of Gwenpool in this fic. The desperation that so many of the fans down here in the fucking muck of the real world feel. Poor and emotionally unfulfilled. Confused and vulnerable. If Disney and Marvel gave two fucking shits about people like that they wouldn’t waste as many stories as they do. They wouldn’t just use untold wealth to make expensive escapist stories with the military. Their gestures toward progressive ideas that they occasionally make in their stories would be THE ENTIRE POINT of their stories and the actual thing they used that money for instead of lobbying the government to keep Mickey Mouse out of the public domain.

“Disney has the power yet they save a fucking miniscule fraction of who they could. Saving people doesn’t make money.”

When I Get To The Green Building

Gren stormed through the void. The scene disintegrated around her as Gwen followed. Both now in a bit of a sour mood but with newfound determination.

“Come to think of it. Why is the fucking Hulk getting to fight for social justice in the comics? Why are they making a gay alternate universe Captain America? Why are they grasping at straws so hard to find characters that get to advocate and I am just sitting on a fucking island being grumpy?” Gwen groused. “I’m pretty sure I’m pansexual….at least in this fic. I could advocate for a bunch of shit at once.”

“You have a youth fanbase, a unique story and you technically aren’t an alternate universe version of fucking anything no matter how many people still think you are a Stacey. They made a fucking ‘for the fans’ character and then neglected it. Presumably because some fucking money making metric didn’t pan out despite the comics just being an MCU test kitchen and IP farm anyway.”

“You’re a fucking check mark on a ledger. I don’t even know if anyone technically created Gwenpool as a whole and Disney/Marvel can give the character to whoever they want to do whatever they want completely separate from what the fanbase wants and needs because she isn’t established. The IP landlords have spoken. The fans haven’t risen to enough ‘buy my merch’ calls to action to invest more resources. So tease endlessly until that changes.”

“Gah. Now I'm actually as pissed as you are.” Gwen said as she started fiddling with her guns. “Who do I kill?”

“We can’t do shit. You’re not even a character at this point. You are a meme for an underused character.” Gren smirked all evil like. “See but that’s it. You aren’t just a meme. You’re a MEME.”

“Uhm...I don't follow.”

“Like the concept of Justice. Gwenpool is an idea. Defined entirely by how people who engage with the idea choose to engage with it. The IP law means Disney owns Gwenpool but they don’t own how Gwenpool is perceived. Just like we as a people decide what justice is through popular consent we also decide what Gwenpool is. You see they made a character for the fans…..in my opinion that means the fans can do as they like with it even if it makes Disney uncomfortable.”

“I mean they can’t even stop porn of their characters just because of the sheer volume of the problem. I suppose people could do whatever.” Gwen nodded.

“Exactly. So the fans should just fucking Occupy Gwenpool!” Gren said as she flipped her cape dramatically with a mad smile on her face. That’s right. She was Dirtbag Leftist Gwen all along!

“Squat on that IP. Make Gwenpool a mental health advocate. Make her an LGBTQ activist. Make her fight for social and financial justice so hard that Bruce Banner looks like a poser. Make her talk shit about politicians who put their career ahead of the people. Do all the shit that makes the comicsgate crowd sad. Keep politics in our stories! Rally around that pink and white ass so hard they have to notice and then tie it all to the fact that Disney has great power and with great power they take no responsibility for how shitty the world is.”

“ If they are going to fuck Gwenpool fans they gotta learn Gwenpool fans fuck back. We have already proven we can make all kinds of cool shit. Let’s get serious and make more, harder, faster! Get a hashtag or some shit. They can't DMCA all of us! GWEN IS OURS WE JUST HAVE TO REACH OUT AND TAKE IT. Then they either respect the character and her fans or they just hit a PR disaster.”

“Marvel/Disney neglects fan focused cult character themed protest movements. Proves they are only progressive when it makes them money. They’re so worried about Mickey ending up in the public domain? We’re the public domain! After our entire lives stannin their characters and buyin their merch building them from an animation house into a juggernaut they are just another weight on top of the boot on our necks. They have to take responsibility!” At this point Gren is pretty much ranting maniacally and neglecting the actual writing of the story so this is Gwen taking over to wrap up.

Guys I may not be ‘the real Gwen’ but really, isn’t the version of Gwen that actually came from the real world all of us? Isn’t Gwenpool really the Gwens we made along the way? We could easily bring a little heroism and chaos to the real world (at least to the internet) if we really tried. Put the fear of God into some IP landlords and fight for some cool people that society is screwing over, too.

Prove that even in the fandom abyss people aren’t as powerless as they seem. Use that internet comic fan mobbing for something besides giving Zack more money. Disney is gearing up for their next IP fight for Mickey in 2024. Seems like a fine time for IP themed protests. For now we just need to spread the word that our needs are more important than their profits.

It’s been real. It’s been long. It’s been a real long time coming…..

But I finally finished my fanfic.

See ya, true believers.

#gwenpool #fanfic #deconstruction #outofloveiswear #fortheoriginalwritersnotmarvelordisney #tw mental health #tw mentions of suicide #tw mentions of drug abuse #tw violence #tw gun violence

35 notes · View notes

prurientpuddlejumper · 4 years ago

Text

A Deep and Rapid River, Ch. 10

<- Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 ->

Summary: It’s your wedding day. Things are... great.

Thank you @sexy-opium-ravioli for helping beta! This is an important chapter, so I hope it scans!

Everything feels numb. There is a veil draped between you and the world, even before someone—your mother, perhaps—drapes a veil of gossamer over your face. It’s fitting. You sit behind it and pretend you are not there as the world moves you.

Someone fusses with your hair. Someone dresses you in a gown. Someone takes your arm and you are inside a church. Someone puts a plate in front of you, a rich meal of savory meat that tickles your nostrils—the kind of meal you should expect with a wealthy husband (as wealthy as this small village can offer). But you don’t eat.

It’s funny. You had worried about starving if you ran away with your monster, but now you have food and can’t eat anything.

Where was he at this moment? Far away, you suppose. You broke his heart and betrayed him. You’re marrying a man you despise because you were too afraid to go with him. He always did try to push you away whenever his feelings were too raw—to claim you were better off without him—so you know exactly what he did. He left without you, thinking it was what you wanted.

Or maybe he is close—he loves you too fiercely to just leave, doesn’t he? He might be watching the proceedings from some secret hiding place, weeping and raging, unable to do anything to stop it. It’s not as though he could claim you as his rightful wife. He can never show his face to the world without putting himself in danger; he can’t protect you from the realities of life. He can’t undo your choices.

Then again, he had also told you he was afraid of the evil he was capable of in the absence of love. You spurned him, and threw him back into a loveless world, where all he will ever know is rejection and isolation. Seeing you, who had promised yourself to him, start a family with another could be enough to push him over the edge. You had seen flashes of his anger before, his fits of passion. If Ferdinand had gone though such lengths to reclaim you after you left him, and he is a mere mortal, what is the daemon capable of?

He would never hurt you, you’re sure of that. Or you were sure. You never betrayed him before. What if he hates you, and that hate turns into vengeance? If he burns Ferdinand’s house down with you inside, that might be the most satisfactory ending left to you now. It would be favorable to living as Ferdinand’s wife for the next twenty years, unless you could manage to die in childbirth sooner.

Your mind drifts to that deep and rapid river, flooded with icy spring snow-melt, and you wonder how much trouble everyone would have been spared if the creature had never pulled you from its deathly current. At the bottom of that black stream, you imagine the sheer layers of your gown floating gently above your head, surrounded by bubbles, and the veil pulling off your crown and washing away into the turbid dark. A kind of peace settles over you. You think of nothing else for a long time.

**********

The organ plays a funeral march as your father drags you down the aisle, and you find yourself, through no will of your own, standing before an altar with vows being read to you and practically no memory of how you came to be there.

You feel sick.

Perhaps if you throw up on your husband’s shoes it will be some small rebellious victory. You feel your face want to smirk at that, instinctively. It’s what your cheeks would normally do. Yet your facial muscles remain slack and lifeless.

A sea of uncaring faces watch with curiosity from the long wooden pews, with a faded red carpet dividing them in two. Neighbors turn to whisper in each other’s ears with a frown or a smirk half-hidden behind a hand. They all came to watch. None of them had spoken to you in years, but they came for the show.

As the priest makes his pronouncements, your mind swirls with a torrent of self-reproaches. Why didn’t you fight while there was still a chance? You could have screamed and struggled until your parents had no choice but to let you go. Until Ferdinand realized you weren’t worth the trouble. You could have tied your sheets together and sneaked out the window before dawn—the storm had stopped by then.

It’s too late, you gutless fool. You can’t make a scene in front of all these people.

“If anyone knows a reason why this couple should not be joined in holy matrimony, let him speak now or forever hold his peace.”

Someone save me, you silently pray, but the large wooden cross looming above the altar seems to be on their side. Your eyes dart across the indifferent faces of the guests, desperately hoping for a savior, but they were only spectators. They know you’re being forced into this, and they’re complicit. Not that you had fought it either.

Not that you had fought it. The realization breaks upon you like an avalanche in spring. How could you expect someone else to save you when you would do nothing to save yourself from this fate? When you turned down your own best chance of escape because you were afraid? Now it was too late. There was no way out anymore.

Your stomach turns, and a sob breaks through the numbness that had swallowed you. Even through the veil, there was no hiding your tears, or your wail of abject sorrow.

The crowd gasps in unison, but not at you. At that same moment, the heavy double doors of the chapel burst open, banging against the walls in an explosion of splinters and a shattering roar: “I object!”

Standing beside you with a clear view down the center of the aisle, your mother makes a sign of the cross over her chest and points into the doorway, now filled by a massive silhouette. “The demon!”

A wave of reaction spreads through the crowd like the churning of a river around a large rock as the witnesses scream and push each other trying to get away from the enraged monster, flooding toward the back of the church and pressing themselves against the far walls.

He stands glowering in the doorway, eight feet tall and filling the entire entrance that he has to stoop to get inside. His arms spread wide from throwing open the doors make him appear even larger—inescapable. Silhouetted in the light streaming behind him from outside, his face is a vicious mask of cruelty and stark shadows.

Your heart stops beating, or races so quickly that you can’t distinguish one beat from the next, and you feel the blood running from your face. He—he came. He’s here. How can he be here? He can’t be here! Not like this. There was a chance you could have introduced him little by little to people you trusted, like Bess, if she hadn’t walked in with such poor timing. She might have understood. But this? He is poisoning himself to them forever. Why? Has he come to rescue you… or to take revenge?

“It is I—the Serpent,” he snarls in a voice that booms and resonates through the arched ceiling. You haven’t heard this voice since the day you encountered him in the forest and he tried to scare you away. “He who reigns among of the Legions of Pandemonium, sprung from the Deep, through the gates of Hell lays claim upon this woman. All the Seraphim of heaven shall not keep me from my prize!” He raises himself to his full height, scattering guests left and right with his sheer enormity and the terror of his presence. Your mouth goes dry as you suddenly become aware of how much he hunches over when he’s with you to make himself less intimidating. You’ve never seen him like his—his teeth bared and his long black hair whipping around him. The gentle creature who milked your cows and waited patiently for you in the dusty hayloft was gone. A cold shiver runs down your spine.

The demon snaps his huge white jaws at the crowd like a feral beast, lashing out at one side of the aisle and the other as he stalks up the faded strip of carpet. Each crashing footfall shakes the whole floor under your feet and sends dust streaming down from the rafters. With each threatening lunge, fresh screams of panic erupt from the congregants still frozen in their seats, and those fleeing toward the rear of the church now creep along the walls toward the front as he moves away from the broken doors. A trickle of congregants risk sneaking out the doors behind him, and when the first brave group manages to run to freedom without the monster whipping about and killing them, more flood out the doors in a turbulent stream of pushing and screaming.

What is he doing? You spent so much time and care hiding him, and now he’s in the middle of the village, exposed in full view, deliberately calling attention to himself. It’s as if everything you strived for together doesn’t even matter. Is he trying to get himself killed? Does he not even care anymore?

“Your God cannot help you now,” he thunders as he approaches the small wedding party at the altar. “I am the Prince of Darkness, the Morning Star, and a curse be upon any soul who stands in my way!” Your mother takes a quick step backward, then drops to the ground with a thud. Your father turns and runs, abandoning her.

No one is trying to stop him. They’re too terrified. You rip off your gossamer veil and look around the church—those who are not mobbing the exits are fainted or quivering in shock.

Everything you strived for doesn’t matter. All that hiding and pretending didn’t work—if you stay on that road, it leads to you marrying Ferdinand and living the rest of your life in a cold fog waiting to die. It’s time to try something different.

This.

All cards on the table. Winner takes all.

He towers over the trembling priest, and pronounces with a warning glare, “I claim this woman for my wife! No mortal shall touch her; no contract under God may bind her—her soul belongs to me!”

His eyes flit down to you and he stutters in his fierce tirade. Your wedding dress is new—a modestly expensive modern gown purchased by the groom to show off his assets. A taffeta robe the color of summer is pulled back to reveal a bright white petticoat underneath, and a neckline plunging almost scandalously low shows off more of your cleavage than he is used to seeing. His pale cheeks redden at your beauty, and for a moment he looks so much like an infatuated school boy it nearly gives away his act. To you it does, at least. At that moment, you’re certain what his intentions are, and the relief at those loving eyes you thought you would never see again makes your vision swim with tears.

He drops to one knee, sweeping his cloak out behind him, and holds a hand out to you. “Take my hand, and be my bride,” he commands in a booming voice, then adds, softly, earnestly, locking his eyes with yours, “If you will have me.”

You smile and cover your mouth, a warm feeling fluttering through your stomach.

You take his hand.

“I knew it,” growls a voice behind you. “I knew I did not imagine you, fiend! And you,” he shoves aside the preacher, still a trembling mass of robes, so he can grab the hand raised to your mouth roughly by the wrist and pull you back toward him. “I knew you were a whore! I’ll teach you to know your place!”

“Let me go!” you scream and try to twist away toward the creature, but Ferdinand holds on with bruising force. You cry out in pain.

The creature roars in outrage and snatches Ferdinand’s wrist just below where it grips yours. There is a sound of snapping bone as his hand goes limp and releases you, and the giant being of immense strength pulls the smaller man’s arm upward until he hangs off the ground like a limp rag doll. You pivot and join the creature at his side, interlacing your fingers with his.

“Her place is where she chooses. No one shall force her hand so long as I will live,” the creature snarls in the boy’s face, gnashing his dripping teeth. “You should have begged to be worthy for her to choose you.”

A slow, unhinged laugh shakes Ferdinand’s dangling form. “Choice?” he cackles, “She would choose to leave me? For this thing?! Then it is fortunate you have no choice, you filthy sow!” He lashes out with his feet, but the creature whips him away, a symphony of popping joints and screams following, until he hangs limp and defeated again.

“Yes, I do,” you growl. “I always have; you just didn’t want me to see it. But I see it now, and you can never have me.”

“Would you like me to rend him limb from limb?”

“No,” you reply coldly. “He isn’t worth the mess.”

“Disgusting wench!” Ferdinand coughs, wriggling impotently like a marionette on the end of a string. He’s at least learned not to kick. “Your defile yourself in the eyes of God!”

“If God wants me to be with the likes of you, then consider me happily defiled,” you sneer. You’re feeling downright brazen now at seeing your oppressors so weak and helpless—how pathetic they really are. You have every right to be with the one you love, with the one who makes you happy. “There is nothing wrong or immoral about what we have.”

Ferdinand’s eyes spark with rage. “So you admit it, then. All along you’ve made a cuckold of me. You were mine! Corrupting devil,” he spits, “She was the perfect woman when I chose her for my own—meek and biddable—there was no competition for her hand due to her social defects, but I could have tamed those peculiarities in short order. Instead you made her stubborn and willful. I will not forgive you for making her your whore, beast!” His free hand reaches into the lining of his waistcoat, and he pulls out a dueling pistol. “This time my aim will be straight for your heart—die, vile adversary!”

You see him raise the gun to the creature’s chest, and you don’t think. You slam your full body weight against his arm, pushing it out to the side as he pulls the trigger. A shower of sparks erupts from the muzzle with a loud bang, and a lead round embeds itself in the chapel wall. Burning black powder makes you cough. The creature grabs the gun from Ferdinand’s hand and crushes the barrel with a single squeeze, then tosses it and Ferdinand away like so much garbage.

Ferdinand crashes into the altar, candles toppling down over him in a heap.

“Bitch! You bitch!” Ferdinand shouts disparaging swears from his position on the floor. It’s more than the impotent rage of defeat. He pulls the second dueling pistol of the set from the other side of his waistcoat—he was paranoid enough to be wed with two loaded weapons strapped to him—more shrewd than paranoid, considering the outcome. He takes aim at you this time.

He had struck the creature while both were sprinting through the undergrowth of the forest—he was a good shot. At only a few meters distance, he is unlikely to miss. The blood freezes in your veins and time seems to stand still as you watch his finger slowly depress the trigger, millimeter by millimeter. This is what you had been terrified of for the past months, why you had so feared discovery. You squeeze the creature’s fingers, still locked in yours, and you smile. You smile like it’s the last time you will ever get the chance to, because you’re afraid to die.

The flint snaps down onto the flashpan and tiny golden sparks spray out from the top of the pistol. The spark reaches the barrel, but carelessly loaded and ill-maintained, the ball does not fire, but the barrel explodes in his hand, sending shrapnel whizzing past your head and setting the cloth of the altar ablaze. He shrieks in agony, dropping the wreckage of the gun from his mangled and bleeding hand.

The creature pulls you to him in a protective embrace as time starts moving again.

“Goodbye, Ferdinand,” you say through your teeth. “If you ever come near me again, I’ll kill you.” Eyes wide with terror and pain, Ferdinand scrambles away from the spreading flames.

You leap into the creature’s arms, a grin spreading from ear to ear as he holds you in a bridal carry. He smiles back triumphantly, chest heaving from adrenaline. You don’t know how this happened, how everything turned upside down so suddenly, but you’re ready now. You already felt the cold jaws of a living death closing around you, and as the fire begins to spread out from the altar, you feel alive again—truly alive, for perhaps the first time in your life.

The growing fire spurs a rapid call to activity—swooning parishioners startle awake at the smell of smoke, and shake their stunned companions out of their trances. The priest, to his credit, kneels beside your mother and lifts her to her feet. She gives one last bleary-eyed look of confusion at you with your bright wedding gown streaming down from the dark-haired monster’s arms before the priest guides her out a side door.

You clasp your arms around the back of the creature’s neck. His smile has faded to a faraway sort of sadness. “I never meant to hurt you, I just… panicked,” you explain quietly. “I was so afraid of dying with you, but I realized just now, there are worse things. When I resigned to marrying him, I kept thinking of the merciful ways my life might be cut short so I wouldn’t have to grow old in his house. I was afraid of living. You make me afraid to die.” He carefully wipes a tear from the corner of your eye with a calloused thumb. “Can you forgive me for being such a coward?”

“Of course I do. I only wanted to give you a choice. You could have renounced me, and then all would know you were innocent. That none of it was your fault. So disrupted, the ceremony would at least be postponed, and if you cast out the demon, perhaps they would not force you into marriage.”

“That… that was really your plan?” You hadn’t considered for a moment the possibility of turning against him.

“I was hoping you would choose me,” he shrugs sheepishly. “What is your choice, my angel? Do you wish to leave with me?” His question is uncertain and soft and familiar now that you’re alone. You lift a hand to his cheek, and he turns his face to nuzzle into your palm.

“I do!”

Your sweet daemon leans his head down and kisses you before the burning altar. As the church begins to fill with the dry smoke of ancient timber, the creature hefts you in his arms, hugging you closer, and carries you down the aisle.

#frankenstein #Frankenstein's Monster #the creature x reader #monster x reader #My writing #JUST ONE MORE CHAPTER LEFT AAAAAAAHHHHH #I almost waited to post them together #but I'm too anxious so there's gonna be an epilogue

96 notes · View notes

acavatica · 4 years ago

Text

i-wakeupstrange said:

i’m not including this in my review of the elevator fic because it was becoming its own huge, ridiculous tangent, but in short: it’s now my headcanon that Marco is into anime (OF COURSE why didn’t I realize sooner) and in a roundabout way that’s Peter’s doing. (he’s a little old for NGE but, I think, about the right age to have gotten real into, say, Robotech. and decide to show his son these shows. because he’s a Cool Dad. or tried to be before... you know.)

Peter told himself that he was watching cartoons because of the baby, but also all the baby books he’d tried to force Eva to read had said that babies have about a foot of vision and see colors like a dog. Then he told himself that he was watching cartoons because the bright colors and laser sounds kept him awake. At least that wasn’t a complete lie.

The full truth was that he thought Robotech was cool. It was serialized, which was more than he could say for any American TV shows. It wasn’t as if Peter could read Dune with a baby in his arms no matter how much he wanted to, even if he’d missed the last two books and another was coming out later that year. And it wasn’t as if Peter could read Dune anyway since he was off Ritalin again, but that was neither here nor there. TV shows would catch up to book series eventually.

The fact that it had a story he could follow was just a bonus. The real draw of Robotech was that it aired in marathons in the middle of the night. That was a lot less likely to wake up his ten-week-old than changing his Doctor Who tapes every four episodes. Plus, he’d had to pay someone on USENET to ship the tapes all the way from Brighton. If he wore them out, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to find the guy ripping VHS tapes on net.tv.drwho again.

Eva’s alarm went off, muffled by the bedroom door. Peter closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the couch cushion. 5:30 already. He’d been letting her get most of the sleep to reimburse her for the whole pregnancy thing, but now that she was going back to work, he wouldn’t even have a choice.

He listened to her shuffle around the kitchen. He heard every step of her putting on a pot of coffee. Eva never did anything quietly, but it hadn’t taken him long to get used to it. After all, there was nothing more comforting than knowing his ever-so-slightly evil partner would at least never be able to sneak up on him.

He opened his eyes to catch her shaking out her still-rumpled hair and stretching out the crick in her back. He heard that too, from all the way across the room. Another thing Peter was repaying her for. She saw him watching and closed the distance between them. Eva draped her elbows over the back of the couch and touched her cheek to Peter’s head. Peter took a deep breath, and he smelled her shampoo and the coffee and their new baby.

Putting his PhD on hold was worth it.

Eva cocked her head to the side, rolling her chin over Peter’s forehead. “Wow, look at her hair. Japan really has progressive ideas about the meaning of ‘spiral curls.’” She walked around to the front of the couch, plopped down, and held out her arms. “Hand him over.”

Marco started whining almost immediately.

“I’m surprised you know it’s Japanimation.”

Eva rolled her eyes. “We had Japanese cartoons in Mexico. And actually, the acting was way better than this.”

“Yeah, but were there giant fighting robots?”

“I dunno, this shit is for nerds.” Marco was still fussing in her arms, but she was looking down at him like she understood where he was coming from. “You’re gonna make our kid a nerd, aren’t you?”

Peter smiled. “I don’t know what you expected when you decided to have a baby with me.”

“Feh, yeah, ‘decided.’” Eva stretched her leg out and gave Peter’s knee a good nudge.

She pulled her leg back, crossed her ankles, and cradled Marco with her whole body. All three of them fell quiet, and Minmay sang Marco back to sleep.

⁠—⁠—⁠—

Marco was born whining, and after four years, he still only stopped when he was asleep.

“Why do I have to do daycare?”

“You asked to watch Voltron. It’s the fifth time we’ve watched Voltron. Please watch Voltron.”

Marco bobbed his head back and forth as he quoted the onscreen conversation between Queen Merla and King Zarkon: “The chamber is full of quarks. ⁠— Quirks? ⁠— No, quarks. You see, everything is made of atoms, and all atoms are made of quarks. ⁠— Hm, nice, but how does it work? ⁠— Well, there are six kinds of quarks: up, down, top, bottom, strange. And my favorite kind, charmed.”

“Well. At least we can be sure you’re my kid. And Eva’s. And of why I like this show.”

“If you like it, don’t complain.”

Peter ran his hand over his hair and tried to ignore how thin it was getting. “Definitely Eva’s kid…”

Marco rolled over closer to Peter and looked up at him pleadingly. “Whyyy do I have to do daycare?”

“Because,” Peter said reluctantly. “I finally finished school, and it was really hard, but I got a cool job out of it.”

Marco’s eyes basically tripled in size, and he poked out his lower lip. Definitely, 100% for sure, Eva’s kid. “But I’ll miss you.”

Peter sighed. “I’ll miss you too. But you’re starting school in the fall anyway, so think of it like practice.”

Marco crossed his arms and turned his eyes back to the TV. He stayed quiet for maybe a minute, long enough for the pilots to form Voltron. Without taking his eyes off the TV, he said, “What if they don’t know how to microwave Spaghetti-Os?”

“If there’s any lesson you have to learn, it’s that sometimes you have to settle for Spaghetti-Os that aren’t made by Chef Boyardee Champion of the World, Your Dad.”

“Spaghetti-Os aren’t even Chef Boyardee,” Marco mumbled.

Peter reached his leg over and nudged Marco’s knee with his foot. “Don’t you want to be brave like Lance?”

Marco pushed Peter’s foot away, crossed his arms again, and sank into the couch. “No. I wanna be diablo-lolical like Prince Lotor.”

“Well, Prince Lotor doesn’t even need his dad.”

Marco glanced over at Peter, and Peter grinned. Marco sank even further into the couch until his feet almost touched the floor.

⁠—⁠—⁠—

The bluish glow of the TV cast long shadows across the room. There wasn’t much contrast because it was a pretty dark movie, but Marco was still illuminated against the dull, colorless room. The volume was only one notch above mute, but he was sitting on his knees, so close to the TV that he could almost make out every word. It’s not like the sound would have bothered his dad, even if he turned it all the way up. Marco kept it low so he could still hear Peter breathing, and even acknowledging that feeling ate away his insides.

It had been a whole year, and for a while Marco had tried not to think about how he was the only thing keeping his dad alive, in more ways than one. It got harder the longer Peter didn’t get better. Marco didn’t even have cable to distract himself from his messed up life. He just had the same old VHS tapes, and they’d had to donate a bunch of them to Goodwill when they’d moved.

The box was still there, still packed and next to the TV, labeled in Marco’s sloppy kid handwriting. Peter hadn’t helped with the move⁠—it had mostly been Jake’s family and his mom’s relatives he’d never met and would probably never see again. Marco could still see his hands pulling the tapes off the shelves, sorting them, reading the labels in Peter’s sloppy grownup handwriting, and not being able to bear to throw away the memories of sitting between his mom and dad with popcorn in his lap, even if he might never be able to watch those tapes again.

There were only a few tapes scattered around the plastic milk crate the TV sat on. The rest were still in the box. Marco had gone through them dozens of times, and he was still limited to the few tapes he didn’t associate with a time when he had a family.

He’d never watched Ghost in the Shell with his dad. That was probably a good thing, because there was a lot of nudity, and that was always awkward. There was also some gore, which Peter knew gave Marco nightmares, even if he pretended not to be scared. Marco had played the movie in front of Peter dozens of times anyway, but his eyes didn’t track it, and he didn’t tell Marco that he should turn it off, he was too young to see all these nipples.

Marco turned around, blinded from sitting so close to the TV. He didn’t need to see his dad. He knew he was curled in on himself, his face buried in the place where the back of the couch met the seat and the arm. There was no way to know if he was asleep or awake, and Marco wasn’t even sure those words had meaning in Peter’s life anymore.

“Hey Dad,” Marco said, his voice creaky, either from disuse, disgust, or some other kind of emotion. “What do you think about the whole brains jacking into the internet thing? Realistic? It seems like the kind of thing you’d have worked on.” Marco listened to Peter’s breathing. It never changed. Marco could say anything. “You know. When you worked.”

Marco turned away, back to the TV. He pressed Stop, and the tape clicked off, flooding the room with light so bright and blue, it hurt his eyes. He pressed rewind and the whir of the tape drowned out Peter’s breathing. It was crazy, but as the VCR started to grind to the end of the tape, Marco was suddenly, irrationally, completely sure that when the tape stopped rolling, the room would be totally silent. His body flashed hot and then cold and his pulse pounded painfully in his temples.

The tape clicked off. Marco held his breath.

Peter breathed in. Out. In. Out.

Marco pressed play, turned the volume up a few more notches, and got to his feet. As he passed, he shoved his dad’s leg with his foot. He stood over him, waiting like he expected some kind of reaction. The TV lit up his motionless body in green, gray, white. The cyborg pulled the cables out of her neck and stood.

“If only someone would ghost hack you.”

Marco went into his bedroom⁠—the only bedroom⁠—and slammed the door.

⁠—⁠—⁠—

Marco’s back was flat against the dirt floor of the scoop, his head resting on his folded arms. His right leg was draped over Ax’s back and he’d slowly tangled his left leg up in Ax’s tail. Ax didn’t like that, and he knew Ax didn’t like it, and that’s why he’d taken it slow. He’d started by sticking his leg under Ax’s tail. He’d waited a couple weeks, and then he’d surreptitiously make a loop over the course of an hour. Now, after like a month of acclimating him, Ax’s tail was wrapped around Marco’s leg like a boa constrictor, and maybe Ax didn’t even notice.

He definitely noticed. Marco had just pulled off an incredible feat of exposure therapy. Ax just wasn’t allergic to how annoying Marco was anymore. Too bad the allergy was familial, and it was harder to wallow a hawk into submission.

<You’re not even watching,> Tobias complained.

Marco lolled his head to the side and pointed his eyes at the TV. “Why are you making me read TV, Tobias? The point of TV is to not have to read.”

<Subtitles are more authentic,> Tobias said, his voice dripping with condescension.

“But what about Ax? Poor Ax can’t read at all.”

<I can read,> Ax said, his voice a mixture of defensive and arrogant. <And even if I couldn’t, my translator chip has no trouble processing Japanese.> Snobbiness ran in their family too.

“I’m just saying, I’d be able to pay more attention if I could understand the words and look at the pictures at the same time. You know, how it’s intended to be consumed?”

<It’s intended to be consumed in Japanese.>

Marco rolled his eyes and sighed. It was the obnoxious kind of sigh, the voiced kind that’s practically a groan. “It’s just robots, dude, it’s not that serious.”

<Neon Genesis Evangelion is art, Marco,> Tobias said, ratcheting the pretension up to eleven. <It’s an exploration of how humanity would develop, given exposure to advanced alien technology in the face of an oncoming alien threat. And the only thing protecting humanity from annihilation is some teenagers with special powers. It’s like, relatable.>

“Wow,” Marco said sarcastically. “Never seen anything like that before.” That was basically the plot of Robotech mixed with Voltron, but boring.

Marco sat up on his elbows and narrowed his eyes. Ax tightened his tail ever so slightly around Marco’s leg, like he was trying to hold him back. Marco pulled his leg free. “That’s pretty funny, since how could you even have watched so much subbed anime when no one cared enough about you to buy you decent clothes or new shoes or Clearasil? Let alone to go out of their way to buy you anime, subtitled specifically, the way it’s intended, of course.”

Tobias stared at him. Ax stared at him. Hell, Shinji Ikari stared at him.

Marco couldn’t take even a minute of it. “Say something.”

Tobias opened his wings, fluttered to the edge of the scoop entrance, and flew away.

Ax was still looking at him with all four eyes. Marco squirmed, but he pressed his lips into a line and didn’t break eye contact.

<That was too far,> Ax said finally, his voice more gentle than Marco deserved. <Why did you react so forcefully?>

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Marco leaned around Ax, grabbed the remote, and changed the audio to English. “Let’s just watch this dumb robot show.”

#animorphs #axmarco #my fic #IS marco into anime?#cav answers asks

33 notes · View notes

calliecat93 · 4 years ago

Text

Callie’s Disney Princess Retrospective: Cinderella

(Snow White Review)

The year was 1950, 13 years after Snow White’s release. Despite that film’s mass success, Walt Disney’s next feature films during the 1940’s such as Pinocchio, Fantasia, and Bambi would all bomb. His only true success at the time was Dumbo, and that film was dampened by a mass strike during production that saw many animators walk out. It didn’t get any better when America entered World War II and the military took over many different animation studios, including Disney. They not only had to produce propaganda shorts but due to the limited funds, they were forced to rely on Package Films and live-action to survive. As the 1950s began to dawn, it was clear to Walt that if he wanted to stay in business, he needed another hit. But not just any hit, he needed the same kind of success that Snow White brought him. But what film could give him that success?

For that, he returned to fairy tales, and he found one. A story that he could relate to as a Missouri-born boy who began with nothing. A tale that could appeal to just about anyone. A true rags to riches story of one down-on-her-luck girl having all of her dreams come true. That film would be Walt Disney’s twelfth animated feature, his second fairy tale-based film, and of course the creation of the second Disney Princess who quickly became one of the most famous. Thus, let us discuss the 1950 film, Cinderella.

Overview

Since a young child, Cinderella has been in servitude by her cruel stepmother Lady Tremaine. She is regularly mistreated and worked to the bone by both Tremaine and her nasty stepsisters Drizella and Anastasia. Despite this, Cinderella keeps a cheerful and hopeful demeanor, caring for her mouse friends and hoping that someday the dream that she has wished for will come true. A day that seems to have arrived when the family gets an invitation to a ball held to find a suitor for The Prince. With all eligible maidens asked to attend, Cinderella believes that her chance has arrived, but Lady Tremaine has other plans.

Just as it looks like all of her hopes have been shattered, Cinderella’s kindness and hard-work are rewarded by her Fairy Godmother giving her what she needs to attend the ball. She has a lovely time but is forced to flee at midnight with only a lone glass slipper to remind her of that night. But the ended up charming the Prince and left the other slipper behind, so now the girl who fits the slipper will be made the prince’s bride. Once more, Tremaine tries to prevent Cinderella from succeeding. But with the help of her animal friends and her own hope, Cinderella’s dreams will at long last come true.

Review

youtube

As a little girl, there were many films that I would watch over and over again, such as The Aristocats or The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh. But I think that Cinderella was the one that I would play back the most. I remember every single part of this movie. The music, the story, the characters, just everything. And even after all of these years, my feelings and love for the film haven’t changed. If anything, it’s only grown. I still remember when my family went to Walt Disney World, and aside from Mickey Mouse the only thing that I cared about was meeting Cinderella. I did so on the last day in the Magic Kingdom, and she was so kind and beautiful and was everything I ever dreamed of. It is a moment that I will never forget.

Looking at the film itself, it’s clear that it took a lot from Snow White. A fairy tale-inspired movie, a heroine in servitude who charms all around her, an evil stepmother, a handsome prince, animal companions, you name it. I don’t think that it was accidental either. As I said, Walt /needed/ another Snow White success story. He needed to replicate what made that film work and make it better. Which he did. While the two films are similar, it’s arguable that Cinderella improved on many of those elements. While we only really get told that Snow was a servant and only see it briefly at the start, we see Cinderella’s suffering throughout the film. While Snow could look a little off due to the animators still getting used to animating realistic humans, Cinderella looks realistic, moves more fluidly, and fits the style of the film much better. While The Queen never interacted with Snow until the end and therefore never see how she treats her, we see Lady Tremaine’s cruelty towards her stepdaughter in full force and it’s equally as chilling. It truly feels like Walt looked over Snow White, saw what could be improved on, and did so with Cinderella. It really shows how far the company had come since 1937.

But Walt wasn’t the only important person on the film. In fact, he was less involved than he was with Snow White since he was focusing more on live-action and developing Disneyland. This was the film that established Disney’s most talented and loyal animators, his Nine Old Men. These men not only worked on the first five features and the Package Films, but they would go on to work on every film up to The Fox and the Hound and some even went into Imagineering. These would be the men who not only pulled the company back onto its feet after WW2, but they would teach future Disney animators/directors such as Glen Keane, Jon Musker, Rob Clements, Andreas Deja, Brad Bird, and so many others who would continue their legacy. Cinderella herself was done primarily by Marc Davis, Eric Larson, and Les Clark.

Like Snow White, the story is pretty straight-forward. It seems to be based mainly on the version written by Charles Perrault and some of the Grimm Brothers version. It does some expansion, like showing what Cindy’s daily life is like. Having her dress get ripped apart, her getting locked up, and of course, giving an expanded role to the mice. Otherwise though like with Snow White, it’s one of the more faithful adaptations minus a few things. For example, if we go off the Grimm version, the stepsisters don’t mutilate themselves to fit into the slipper… and I don’t have an issue with that either. It can feel a little dragged out, like IDK how necessary the King and Grand Duke scenes were aside from establishing certain things like the ball and the slipper search, but it’s nothing that brings anything to a halt.

The animation is gorgeous. The Nine Old Men weren’t chosen out of random, after all. This film really shows off their talents. Characters like Jaq and Gus, Lucifer, and the Stepsisters are very lively and entertaining to watch. Ward Kimball, who was the main animator for Lucifer the Cat, used his own cat as a reference after Walt pointed it out to him, and you can tell that he was having fun with it. The more realistic characters like Cinderella and Lady Tremaine look and move very well despite the challenge the animators had keeping that realism up. I’d say that their work paid off though. Lady Tremaine especially has some of the most chilling, frightening expressions of any Disney Villain. Frank Thomas did a masterful job making her cold demeanor reach through the screen and to the audience. The art itself looks beautiful and we can thank artist Mary Blair for it as she did the concept art for the film. The use of colors and shadows were done very well. It’s just the right amount of brightness when necessary, and the right amount of darkness when necessary. It hits the mark perfectly.

Then there’s the sound and the music. On the latest rewatch, I noticed how they use music for characters a lot. Take the sequence where Jaq has to distract Lucifer in the first act for example. When he’s crawling across the wall, getting ready to get at Lucifer and kick him into his own milk bowl. They use strings for his movements as well as for strings, like the other mice shutting up Gus when he laughs. It’s nothing new for Disney, after all, it was doing this in Steamboat Willie that launched the company into fame. But it always adds so much even if you don’t realize it. The score uses a lot of strings and horns, knowing when to sound triumphant and when to be subdued. It’s a very good score.

youtube

Cinderella’s soundtrack was the first to be done by the newly established Walt Disney Records, allowing the company to gain profit for their own music. The vocal tracks have two classics worth mentioning. The first is Bippidi-Boppidi-Boo, the Fairy Godmother’s song. It’s a super fun, whimsical song and even though I still struggle to get the words right, it really fits the Fairy Godmother’s nature and is just so darn catchy! The other is of course the theme of the film, Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes. There are several variations of the song throughout the film, but of course, the first time done by Ilene Woods (I’ll talk about her more when I do Cinderella’s character in-depth) is the one we remember most. It’s beautiful, hopeful, and was one of my favorite songs as a little kid. I used to annoy people with how much I would try to sing it, haha. It really tries to convince you that your dreams CAN come true, and by golly did I believe it when I was a kid… and deep down I still do, I supposed. Point is, it’s a lovely song~

What about the characters though? Well, let us have a looksie.

As with Snow White, there are many animals, though this time it’s mainly mice and birds. The mice are the main ones, as well as the only ones who can talk. There are other animals like the birds, a horse, and of course Bruno the Dog. But the main animals to discuss are Lucifer the Cat and the du of Jaq and Gus. Lucifer is a cat, so as expected he chases the mice. But it’s clearly not just due to instinct. It’s shown throughout the movie that he seems to take sadistic glee in chasing after them, especially Gus which is especially clear in the final act. But he also enjoys tormenting Cinderella, such as messing up the floor when she’s wiping it down during the Sweet Nightingale sequence and trapping Gus with the key in part to keep her locked up. He also enjoyed getting Bruno into trouble at the start of the film, which ends up being his downfall at the end. He seems genuinely cruel which...I mean with a name like Lucifer, is it a surprise that he’s a little devil? He has some great expressions thanks to Ward Kimball and was a fun challenge for our favorite mice.

Speaking of, Jaq and Gus serve as comedic relief and the unofficial heroes of the film when you really think about it. They drive many of the events forward such as making Cinderella’s dress and retrieving the key from Lady Tremaine. Jaq is the unofficial leader of the mice and the most talkative by far. He’s charismatic and crafty, usually unafraid (for the most part) of going up against Lucifer or from helping Cinderella whom he cares greatly for. We don’t know how long he’s known Cinderella, but he’s the one who assures Gus that she’s a nice person. Gus the newbie of the mice and a little dim-witted, but well-meaning. Due to being new, he ends up getting into several incidents like nearly being caught by Lucifer several times. Jaq and Gus make a fun duo and I always enjoyed seeing what the two would get themselves into. Also for added fun, both mice were voiced by Jimmy MacDonald (nowadays they’re played by Rob Paulsen and Corey Burton respectively). Jimmy was not only the main sound effects man for the studio but at the time he was also the voice of Mickey Mouse himself. Guess he’s a natural fit for mice, huh?

Next, we’ll go to the royals. Sadly, like with Snow White, the prince is more or less a plot device. I guess they were still having a tough time with realistic male characters. He’s a handsome young man, but sadly that’s all there really is. He doesn’t even get a name, being dubbed as Prince Charming in most material and IDK if that’s really official. They DID plan on giving the Prince more of a role, such a planned sequence with him hunting a deer but it turned out it was play hunting, but this never happened. He doesn’t even go looking for his mystery girl in the end, the Grand Duke does which is pretty disappointing. It’s a shame too since going off the King’s dialogue about how he’s been evading mariage he could have been like the male version of Jasmine. A royal who’s being pushed to get married, even though he wants to find true love on his own time and just have some freedom. They did do a bit more with him in Cinderella III: A Twist in Time. They also did more with him in the live-action remake, expanding his and Cinderella’s relationship and giving him an actual name (Kit). But we’re focusing on the original, and it’s sad that he didn’t get more to him.

The King and Grand Duke are also comedic relief and overall pretty good ones. The King is loud, blusterous, and quick to anger. He’s not a bad man, after all the only reason he wants his son to get hitched is because he feels lonely and wants grandchildren. It’s kind of cute when you think about it, even if unfair to his own son. He can be very friendly, but as I said quickly to anger. After all, when the mystery girl got away, he outright attempted to /behead/ the Grand Duke until he told him about the slipper. In comparison, the Grand Duke is more timid, but quite sarcastic as well. Very much the straight man to the King’s blusterous personality. While very much afraid of the king (though not unwilling to backtalk him), up against anyone else he takes no crap from anyone. Just watch him as he tries to endure the Tremaines, it’s amazing how absolutely done he is with all of them, and he wins points for shutting up Lady Tremaine when Cinderella makes her way downstairs. A good man!

The Fairy Godmother is only in the film briefly, but she leaves a major impact. She is the first decent person to Cinderella in a long, /long/ time. She is very grandmotherly in her design, voice, and demeanor. She’s a little forgetful and scatterbrained, as she forgot where her wand was and it takes a good while for her to notice Cindy’s torn up dress. But she is a kindly old woman who was summoned by the hope remaining in Cinderella’s heart. She came at the girl’s darkest hour and gave her the one night that she had always dreamed of. She is voiced by Verna Felton, who was a pretty regular VA for Disney at the time. Though she often did much harsher characters such as The Matriarch in Dumbo and the Queen of Hearts in Alice in Wonderland. But she perfectly portrays the Godmother’s kindly grandmother persona. Her modern VA was Disney Legend Russi Taylor, who also took over Drizella, who sadly passed away last year. It is unknown who will do the Godmother in the future, but I have no doubt that she will emerge again one day

We now come to the Tremaines. First, the daughters. Drizella and Anastasia are ugly, loud, snooty, and mean to both Cinderella and each other. They argue frequently, outright hitting each other during their… ugh… we’ll call it a music lesson. They’re spoiled in the worst way, never being happy with what they have yet get angry if Cinderella dares wear the things that they outright discarded as trash. It’s clear that their mother raised them to be as horrid as her, though they’re nowhere near as calculating. She pretty much raised them to be her attack dogs against Cinderella as well as to use them to marry off and move up in the world. Their obnoxiousness is their only real character trait, though their character animation via Ollie Johnston is quite fun to watch. Anastasia would gain more depth in the two direct-to-video sequels at the very least, more or less also getting a redemption arc. She was also voiced previously by Lucille Bliss, who played the teacher in Invader Zim, and is now voiced by the legendary Tress Macneille.

Then there is Lady Tremaine. Ho boy, Lady Tremaine. If I had the time, I could do an entire essay on this woman alone. She is one of the most chilling, yet memorable Disney Villains despite being nothing but an old woman. Why? First, her voice. In the film, she is voiced by Eleanor Audley, which remember that name cause it’s gonna come back later in this series. She is able to keep the perfect balance of calm and methodical, yet sharp when necessary. Perfectly in control. Actually, that’s a great way to describe Lady Tremaine, in control. She knows what she wants and is willing to go to any length to get it. She carries herself with confidence and regality, very rarely losing her cool. She’s calculative and methodical and you never quite know what she’s going to do until she does it. But most of all, she is cruel and petty, especially towards Cinderella.

Unlike her obnoxious daughters, Tremaine’s abuse towards Cinderella is calm and subdued, preferring to use emotional abuse and manipulation. She has brow-beaten the poor girl so bad that she becomes obedient as soon as the old woman speaks up. Tremaine is jealous of Cinderella’s beauty and therefore tries to make the girl’s life as difficult as possible. She enjoys mistreating and controlling Cinderella, wearing a cold smirk any time that she ramps up the cruelty. Probably her cruelest act in the film is manipulating her own daughters into ripping Cinderella’s dress right off of her after she managed to get it on for the ball. Despite having agreed to let Cindy go to the ball if she got her work done, she ruined her chances anyway just because she could. She’s not only horrible to her stepdaughter but even to her own daughters with how they ultimately turned out and clearly only interested in marrying them off

What makes Tremaine scary though is because… well, compare her to The Queen/Hag and later villainess Maleficent. In the real world, you’re not likely to encounter an evil queen who uses witchcraft and turn herself into an old hag just to poison you. In the real world, you’re unlikely to encounter an evil fairy witch who can curse you to die and transform into a ferocious dragon. But running into a cruel, petty old woman who will abuse you due to jealousy and for her own enjoyment? Oh yes, that can and does happen. Lady Tremaine is real. She is a perfect depiction of an abusive stepparent. Plus as I said before, Frank Thomas did an excellent job depicting her expressions as utterly chilling. I was afraid of her as a child, and I still am now. Even at the end after her daughters failed to get on the slipper, she breaks it just to keep Cinderella from achieving a life of happiness out of pure spite. On the upside, seeing her plans all fall apart and especially her face when Cinderella reveals the other slipper is deliciously satisfying. One of the greatest all-time Disney moments.

Well, that was a lot more than I thought. But with all of that out of the way, there’s only one more character to discuss. Strap yourself in folks, because I have been waiting /years/ for this.

Cinderella Analysis

As I said above, Cinderella was one of my favorite princesses as a child. She was beautiful, had an amazing singing voice, was kind, and I wanted to have my dreams come true just as she did. She is one of the most famous Disney characters by far. I remember her pretty much being the face of the Disney Princess line when I was a kid. Nowadays I’d argue that Rapunzel is more of the face (or if we wanna count Frozen, Elsa is) but that doesn’t mean that Cindy has faded out of the public eye. After all, it is her castle that stands as the main landmark at Walt Disney World’s Magic Kingdom. That alone will ensure that she never fades out of popular consciousness.

In return, however, Cinderella is probably the most criticized princess of the Classic Three. It’s mostly for the same reasons as those two. She was a damsel-in-distress. She was domestic and passive. She got together with a man at first sight. She needed others to save her. It’s all the same thing you hear about pre-The Little Mermaid, but since Cinderella is probably the most well-known, she’s the one who gets it levied against her the most. As I said in Snow White, there is some truth about this portrayal furthering the depiction of women as domestic/passive in film. But it truly baffles me as to why Cinderella is the one who gets this criticism the most. It really, really baffles me. I can somewhat get it with Snow White and I can get it with Aurora, but Cinderella? Ugh… no. Just… no.

First of all, let’s get this part out of the way. Cinderella is an abuse victim. I think that Cinderella is meant to be about 19 years old in the film. While we don’t know how old she was exactly when her father died, we see in the opening narration that she was still a child. A child. Let’s say that she was around nine years old. That would mean that she has been under Lady Tremaine’s thumb for ten years. A full decade. If you are under abuse for that long at any age, but especially ever since a child, then that is going to affect you. So Cinderella being passive? Yeah, that’s likely in part because of the abuse that she went through. She was conditioned to not fight back, or if she did she would pay the consequences. As great as imagining standing up and fighting against your abuser is, it is unfortunately very rarely that simple especially when you are under years of psychological conditioning like Cinderella was.

But it is also unfair to say that Cinderella is blindly obedient and broken either. She isn’t. Cinderella is introduced as kind, cheerful, and playful when she teases her bird friends and gets ready for the day. Cinderella is a kind young woman, facing every day with a smile despite her treatment. The girl lives in an attic, yet she happily sings as she gets her day started. Cinderella’s defining trait is that she is a dreamer. As she herself says in the opening, her dreams are something that no one can control. Not her step-family. Not the clock telling her that it’s time to get on with a new day. In her dreams, she is able to do whatever she wants. It is her escape. The one thing that gets her through the day, hoping that one day the dreams that she wishes in her heart will come true.

youtube

This is what fuels Cinderella ahead. It is what allows her to remain kind. It is what allows her to be sympathetic to others. What shows this most is her treatment of the mice. She treats them as her friends, making them clothing, feeds them, and frees them from traps. This is important for what happens later, but we’ll get to that later. She is also kind to the other animals, such as the horse and to her dog Bruno. In fact, it’s pretty interesting when she scolds Bruno for wanting to chase Lucifer. She tells him that it’s bad, how he’ll lose his warm bed, and quote “you know the orders”. She expects Bruno to obey the same way that she must obey. Doing so otherwise will mean consequences such as losing one’s own bed. The only animal that Cinderella doesn’t get along with is Lucifer, who is also the only character she is willing to speak against. At one point she was even willing to smack him with her broom when he ruined the floor she just finished scrubbing. It makes sense since Lucifer not only goes out of his way to make things more difficult for her, but he can’t order her around or really do anything to her as Lady Tremaine can. So in a way, it’s one thing that she has some power over.

Still, the first act shows what Cinderella’s life is like. It doesn’t seem too bad at first glance. She seems happy and treats her morning more like an annoyance than anything. But once we meet the Tremaines, it becomes clear just how bad it is. Anastasia immediately accuses Cindy of planting a mouse under her cup on purpose and Cinderella gets no chance to defend herself, though she is able to make Lucifer free Gus. She’s then summoned into Lady Tremaine’s room, clearly uneasy. Whenever she tries to explain herself, Lady Tremaine snaps back at her, making her go silent. There is no arguing. Lady Tremaine likely knows that Cinderella did nothing wrong, but doesn’t care. Whatever makes the girl miserable works for her and gives her an excuse to pile on that misery. Thus she piles on the workload, even making Cinderella do things that she already did once over again. Cinderella is unable to do anything but listen to the commands.

Everything changes, however, when the invitation to the ball arrives. Now we go back to one of the criticisms against Cinderella. Many accuse her of only going to the ball to meet the prince and get married. Now I will go more into this later, but there’s a reason why I am bringing it up now. Cinderella never at any point time from this point until the search for the mystery girl starts, even so much as mentions the prince. The ones who want to go to get married are the Tremaines. The whole reason that they go is because of the royal command for every eligible maiden to attend. Lady Tremaine wants to marry off her daughters. The sisters obviously want to get hitched to a good-looking man of power like the prince. Cinderella though? She just wants to go to a fancy ball because she can. By royal command every maiden is to attend no matter their status, so a lowly servant girl like herself is allowed. She even points this out to her step-family in one of the few cases she does stand up to them. Not by getting angry or defensive, she just outright points out the fine print. But no, nothing about getting with a guy ever comes up until much, much later.

Lady Tremaine agrees that Cinderella can go if gets her work done and finds a dress. But she uses the first part of that deal to bombard Cinderella with orders to make her unable to accomplish the second half. Cinderella has the dress picked, one of her mother’s, but she has no time to mend it up. As Jaq points out to the other mice, the Tremaines are going to make her do everything to make her unable to get her dress. But this is where Cinderella’s previous kindness kicks in. It’s clear that the mice really care for her because of how she cares for them. As such, they decide to fix up the dress for her. Jaq and Gus outright risk their lives against Lucifer to get some discarded trimmings.

Sure Cindy ultimately didn’t mend the dress herself, but it shows how her kindness came back to reward her. Just look at how downcast she is when the carriage arrives. She realized far too late that her step-family was never going to give her the chance to go to the ball. She is saddened as she returns to her attic-dwelling, looking out at the castle from the window and trying to convince herself that the ball would have been boring anyway. It fails. She is standing in darkness until the room lights up via candlelight and the mice reveal the mended dress to her. You can just hear the glee and gratitude in her voice as she swings around the dress and is at a loss of words before thanking her friends. Her kindness was rewarded… but sadly, not for long.

We now come to what is by far the darkest scene in the movie. Cinderella comes down to the door, shocking her stepfamily that she actually got a dress. At first, Cinderella is elated that she can actually go… until Lady Tremaine begins to approach. The old woman doesn’t seem to be doing anything wrong, agreeing that Cindy kept her end of the deal and even compliments the dress. But then she points out the beads to Drizella, who previously discarded them. It provokes her and Anastasia into a bitter, angry frenzy. They outright rip the dress apart while Cinderella is still in it. It is disturbing, Cinderella unable to do anything as her dreams are literally ripped away from her bit by bit. By the end, Tremaine calmly calls her daughters away and bids Cinderella a good night, leaving the girl standing in a pile of rags.

This is the final straw for Cinderella. She runs out to the back garden and breaks down. After trying so hard for so long to keep her hopes up, she can’t. All that she wanted was to go to the ball. Not to get married, just to have one night where she could have a good time. That was it. But her stepfamily just couldn’t allow for even that and tore it all away from her. Can you blame her for crying after all that? After dealing with that kind of treatment since she was a little girl? I can’t blame her. Her friends can only watch in sympathy and sadness as she says that there’s no use in dreaming and that she can’t dream anymore. She has hit her breaking point, a far cry from the hopeful young dreamer she was at the start of the film.

But not all is lost. In her despair, Cinderella’s Fairy Godmother is summoned. So a big question I’ve seen some ask is how the Fairy Godmother was summoned to begin with? Well, it’s as she herself said, she couldn’t be there if Cinderella didn’t have hope in her heart still. She is essentially a manifestation of Cinderella’s hopes and dreams. If I had to guess with Cinderella reaching her breaking point and ready to give in to despair, the Fairy Godmother manifested because she now truly needed help. It was to restore her hopes and allow her to get to the ball after the chance was so cruelly ripped away from her. I know what some are going to say, once again Cinderella got something handed to her. But this is a case where Cinderella herself more or less summoned the one who would help her. Her kindness caused the mice to help her, now her hope summoned up her Fairy Godmother to help her. It’s not happening just because.

So The Fairy Godmother creates her carriage, makes her new dress, and gives her the glass slippers. But like all dreams, this can’t last forever. She has until midnight, after which the spell will be broken. Which is perfectly fine with Cinderella, she’s just grateful for what her Fairy Godmother has done for her. Seeing her smiling and hopeful again after the previous moment and her just receiving some motherly kindness from someone is just really nice to see. Thus, she is whisked away to the ball, and almost as quickly as she arrives, she catches the eye of The Prince himself. While Drizella and Anastasia are trying to get him to look at them, funny enough.

So let’s get back to the ‘Cindy only wanted a man!’ critique. As I already said, she never mentions a man until near the end. But here at the ball, it’s not even her who goes to The Prince. Heck later when midnight hits, it’s pretty clear that she didn’t even know that the guy she was dancing with was The Prince. No, it is Prince Charming who approaches her. We outright see him look up, notice her as she enters, and is stricken by her beauty. It is him who walks to her and presents himself to her, a major contrast to how all the other girls were going up to him with him clearly bored. So no, Cinderella never wanted to get a man. It all happened purely by chance, and again she didn’t even realize that he was The Prince until after the ball was long over.

Cinderella dances with the prince throughout the night, getting so caught up that she loses track of time until the clock goes off. Once again, the clock is telling her that it’s time to wake up from her dream. She flees, but loses one of her slippers along the way. Midway on the road home, the spell is broken and she is once more in her torn-up dress. She apologizes to her animal friends for losing track of time, but happily recalls the night. But the mice then point something out to her: her glass slipper is still on her foot. Now… why is that? Well what summoned the Fairy Godmother to begin with? Hope. It is my opinion that this is why the slippers didn’t disappear as well. Cindy’s hope kept them manifested, to the point that I don’t believe that her losing one happened by chance. It is the key to her having a chance at a better life. It slippped off her foot due to that, and the other one remained for the same reason. Cindy seems to think it’s the Fary Godmother’s doing as she thanks her, but the truth is it is herself who caused both of those.

Thus, we come to the next day. The Grand Duke is looking for the mystery girl, and Tremaine is ready to leap at the chance. At first, Cinderella is pretty much ready to resume her regular life now that she’s gotten the one night that she had wanted. But as Tremaine explains the new development to her daughters, Cinderella hears it. This is when she realizes that it was The Prince that she was dancing with. That it was her slipper that was found, which means that she’s the mystery girl. Which means that she’s the one who can fit it and thus she will become The Prince's bride. This is the point that she wanted to get married to a man. In the final fifteen or so minutes. But look as to why she wants to. This will absolutely ensure that she is able to have a better life than she has now, so can we blame her for being happy?

Cinderella is so elated that she outright ignores her stepsisters demands and starts to day-dreamingly go to her room to prepare for the Grand Duke’s arrival. But this turns out to be a mistake. Because of her elation, Lady Tremaine immediately puts the pieces together. Cinderella not only managed to defy her and go to the ball, but she is now in the way of her plans to marry her daughters off. If she is there when the Grand Duke arrives, then that’ll be it. She’ll fit the slipper, be taken to the palace, and will marry The Prince not long after. That is something that Lady Tremaine simply cannot allow. Not to mention that she can’t allow the girl to go unpunished for her defiance. Thus, she locks Cinderella in her room. To both keep her out of the way and to make sure that she can never leave.

So… it looks like that’s it. There is nothing that Cinderella can do at this point. She realizes that she’s once more going to be trapped in a cruel life and begs Tremaine to let her out before just breaking down. She had her chance once more, and once more her stepmother took it away. But once more, Jaq and Gus act to help their friend and manage to get the key. But of course Lucifer interferes, trapping both Gus and the key and Cinderella is now in a position where she can’t make him stop. All of her animal friends try to help, but it proves futile. That is, until Cinderella has a realization. There is someone who can chase off Lucifer. The same someone that she previously scolded because it would be going against orders; Bruno the Dog.

Remember when I pointed out how Cinderella got after Bruno dreaming of chasing Lucifer because he’d lose his home otherwise? Yeah, it comes back around here. She’s now close to getting out of her situation, so why not allow Bruno the same thing? She has her bird friends alert Bruno, and indeed the dog rushes in and causes the evil cat to jump from the window. I think it was supposed to be implied that this killed Lucifer, but we see in the later sequels that he survived. But with him out of the way, the mice slip Cinderella the key and she is able to get out and to the stairs just as the Grand Duke is beginning to walk out. And he’s clearly glad to see her to, outright making his way past Lady Tremaine and reminding her that he’s supposed to give every maiden a chance when she tries to ward him away,

But, of course, Tremaine can’t just accept defeat. She trips the earl and the slipper is shattered. It looks like once again, Cinderella’s hopes have been for naught. But this time, she doesn't cry. She doesn’t even get sad. Why? Simple, because it wasn’t for naught. She pulls out the other slipper, proving beyond doubt that she is the mystery girl. It was her hope that created the slippers. It was her hope that kept them manifested when the spell was broken. Now it is her hope that gave her the key to at long last break free from her stepfamily for good. She gets married to The Prince (we don’t know how long after, so there is a window open for those who want to get after her for marrying a guy she just met) and is whisked away to a better life. The wish that she made at last came true.

Cinderella is defined by hope, kindness, and dreams. It is these things that fuel her to continue on with her life. It is these things that allow her to remain a good person and not be broken by her stepmother’s attempts to humiliate and demean her. Even at her lowest moment, her hope couldn’t be truly broken. Sure in real life you’re not going to be able to magically summon a Fairy Godmother or be married into royalty because of a shoe. But this is NOT real life. This is a fairy tale. It is escapism. It doesn't have to adhere to reality exactly. Plus even then, there is something to be said about not giving up hope and remaining kind in the face of adversity. It is that lesson that I have carried with me since I was a child, to remain kind no matter what. I’ve had my own breakdowns, especially since it’s still 2020 at the time of this writing. But even so, I’ve tried to remain kind. Because Cinderella taught me to do so.

It is why I have never understood the hate against her, and never will. I love the modern princesses and yes, they did need to become more proactive and strong. But this does NOT make the first three bad. Especially not Cinderella. She is an abuse survivor. She is a dreamer. She is a young woman who only wanted to have some happiness in her life. Her kindness and hope was eventually rewarded, and in a way was granted to her by herself. The mice helped her with both her first dress and to escape the attic because she was kind to them. Bruno and the animals liked her because she was kind to them, so they repaid her. The Fairy Godmother manifested because Cinderella wanted to give up, but hope still remained in her heart and gave her the help she desperately needed. The glass slippers remained because of her hope, and became the keys to her achieving a better life. Sure she didn’t have to physically fight for it, but it doesn't change the fact that things happened, that others helped her because she was kind and hopeful. Because of herself.

The last thing to note is her voice actress, Ilene Woods. She was originally hired to do the singing for Cinderella, but after Walt heard her he cast her to also do the speaking lines. She did a beautiful job. She conveys Cinderella’s grace, kindness, and hopeful nature absolutely beautifully and her singing voice is outright angelic. Do you want to know a sad, yet beautiful story? Well at the end of her life, Ilene Woods had sadly been inflicted with Alzheimer. I think we all know how devastating that disease is. She was living in a nursing home, unable to recall anything. Reportedly, the nurses would often play A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes for her. Even though Ilene couldn’t recognize that it was herself singing, it was the one thing that could make her happy all the way up to her passing in 2010. Mind you that story is from Wikipedia /TV Tropes and I haven’t been able to find an actual source saying this, but I’ve never seen anyone contest if this was true. Either way, Ilene was and will always be the Cinderella, a legacy that the current actress Jennifer Hale is keeping alive and well today.

Final Thoughts

Cinderella will always be special to me. She’s not my overall favorite princess, we still have quite a while before we get to her. But she is firmly my second favorite. The film is outright my second favorite of all time (again, we’ll get to number one later). It’s the first movie that I remember seeing in my life. I would watch it for hours over and over again. I had dolls of her. I would dress up as her. The whole reason I wanted to go to Disney World was to meet her, and I did. The film looks beautiful. The music is beautiful. The characters are memorable. The story is an outright classic even before Disney adapted it. To quote Beauty and the Beast, it is a tale as old as time. Maybe it’s just nostalgia talking, but even after all these years, I love this movie just as much as I did when I was a little girl. Maybe even moreso now. It is a true Disney Masterpiece.

Disney was hoping for a miracle, and he got it. Cinderella was the biggest hit that they had had in a looong time. Audiences and critics loved it. It was the moment that Disney was back in business and able to return to feature film, launching them into the Silver Age of Animation. While his next film, Alice in Wonderland, didn’t go very well, both Peter Pan and Lady and the Tramp helped keep the studio afloat. As the decade came to a close, the studio decided that it was time to release another fairy tale-inspired film. Would this one strike gold like the first two? Come back next time to meet the final Classic Princess, Sleeping Beauty.

Image Sources: Disney Wiki, Animation Screencaps Other Sources: Rags to Riches: The Making of Cinderella Documentary

#cinderella #disney princess #disney princess reviews #callie reviews

21 notes · View notes

damnedrainbows · 5 years ago

Text

Motives

Hey guys, so my friend wrote a cute short but she’s too nervous to post it herself so I volunteered to post it for her! Give feedback on what you think of it!

A frustrated shout of “I’M OUTTA HERE!” rang throughout the Happy Hotel, punctuated by a demon slamming open the doors and storming out. The demon was short and lanky. His arms were decorated with clock-hand tattoos that pointed in all directions, and below his ghoulish head sat an absurdly big clock pendant.

The Clock Demon whirled around to look at the Hotel’s unhappy inhabitants. "You said you'd be patient, and then your bitch comes in and threatens me with a spear after only five minutes!? Fuck you and your Fake-Ass Hotel!”

The clock demon stomped away. Inside of the hotel, there was Angel Dust relaxing on a couch, although his face held an unusual expression of vexation as he stared down at his boots. Charlie was sitting at the bar, not drinking, but simply tracing her finger along the table. Between them was a guilty looking Vaggie. She was in a fighting stance, a spear clenched in her hands, but her posture was deflated as she watched the consequences of her hasty actions. She turned around to look at her girlfriend. "Charlie?"

“It’s okay, Vaggie.” Charlie didn’t turn around or stop tracing the table, but her words were sincerely forgiving.

Angel, on the other hand... “Wow, NICE goin’, ya fuckin’ idiot.”

Vaggie whipped her head around to glare at him for a moment, but then stopped. “I just... got worried.” She turned back to Charlie. “You were in that room talking with him, and then I didn’t hear anything for a straight five minutes! I thought for sure he’d done something to you.”

“No, it wasn’t that,” Charlie explained glumly, “I was trying to help him and his anger issues, and I thought that maybe meditating would work. That’s all.”

“That guy’s got a worse temper than YOU, and THAT’S sayin’ somethin’!” Angel remarked to Vaggie, then paused. “Actually, on second thought, not that much.” Vaggie didn’t even bother to listen to him. Instead she went to a bar seat next to Charlie, setting her spear against the bar table.

Suddenly, a monstrous-looking shadow appeared against the wall and nearly reached the ceiling. It was hunched over and grinning maliciously, and with it the atmosphere turned even darker inside the building. Charlie miserably buried her face in her arms on the table. It was only when Alastor materialized from the shadow that the darkness disappeared along with it.

Instantly Vaggie grabbed her spear. “Not. Now.” She glared daggers at him, but he was absolutely unfazed. He simply had his hands folded behind his back and, of course, he was still bearing that perpetual smile. The smile that she really, really, really wanted to rip off of his face one day.

Alastor glanced at the doors, which had now swung back closed after the demon flung them open. “Ah, good old Clockwork. It was good to see him again, even though he can’t see me!” He chuckled, his voice filtered, as if he were talking into a radio microphone. “Oh, how I would’ve loved to loom in his shadow as a little reminder that I’m around! But we can’t have that now, can we?” He smirked. Alastor knew full and well that he was not supposed to come out and terrorize any of the patrons in the hotel, and while he did concede, it didn’t mean he didn’t love trouble despite Charlie’s efforts to ward him off from evil and onto the good line.

Angel quirked a brow, “You know that bastard?”

“Oh, he and I go way back!” Alastor said with a wave of his hand. “He came down here not long after me, and it was simply FANTASTIC to torment him! Playing with time always plays with his mind~!”

Alastor looked over to a miserable Charlie, and his smile twitched a little. “Oh, come now, Charlie! No need to be so down! We’re still starting out, aren’t we? It’s best that we got Clockwork out of here now than later because I can tell you, his annoying presence just isn’t worth the time!” He cackled, but not exactly evilly. It was a strange laugh nobody had heard from him before.

There was a long period of silence before Angel finally spoke. “... Was that... was that some kinda joke, or somethin’?”

“You win!” Alastor replied throwing his hands up in the air for added sarcasm.

Vaggie just groaned and covered her eye with a hand. She turned to Charlie... and saw that she was shaking in an odd fashion. Like she was sobbing.

“You see what you do?!” She growled at Alastor, then turned back to her girlfriend. “It’s gonna be okay, love. I promise—huh?”

The Princess of Hell was still hiding her face and shaking, but now making odd noises at an alarmingly frequent rate.

Vaggie gasped, dropping her spear and grabbing Charlie’s shoulder, shaking it. “Charlie? Are you alright? What’s wrong!?” Her voice was growing more and more panicked until, finally, Charlie lifted her head.

“Isn’t worth the time!” She just managed to say it before cracking up laughing. Vaggie sat there; she did not see that coming.

Nobody had, not even Alastor. He turned a little more towards her, his eyes lighting up. “You—you thought that was funny?” He asked, for once not hiding a feeling like disbelief.

Charlie managed to just get her giggles under control and nodded at him, and the deer-demon’s normally devious grin widened with eagerness. “Well, I have hundreds more!” He practically cheered.

And so it began...

“Alright now Charlie, I want to ask you: how many apples come from trees?”

“Um...”

“ALL OF THEM!”

Charlie almost doubled over. She tried and failed to muffle her laugher with her hand. Next to her, Vaggie couldn’t help but smile. “Of course...”

“What do you get from a pampered cow?”

“What?”

“SPOILED MILK!”

Charlie slammed her fist against the table, laughing so hard tears formed in her eyes. A thrilled-looking Alastor gave her a few moments to calm down—or at least calm down enough so they could get to one of his favorites.

“Ooh, this is a good one! So Charlie, can February March?”

Charlie barely suppressed her mirth. “I-I don’t know, can it?”

“No, but APRIL MAY!” He cackled again and Charlie dissolved into silent laughter and wheezing.

Vaggie rubbed her girlfriend’s heaving back, slightly amused at the situation (though she’d never admit it) but also highly shocked at it. She wasn’t surprised that her Charlie found these stupid jokes funny, but why was Alastor doing this? She had always been suspicious of his every move, and this was something entirely new.

Vaggie shot a glance at Angel Dust and saw that he looked as baffled as her. And Alastor... well, incredibly, Charlie’s infectious laughter had gotten to him as well, and he was slightly bending forward, resting one hand on the bar table and holding the other to his twig-thin stomach as he laughed.

She couldn’t believe it. Alastor was genuinely laughing after having cheered up Charlie.

Alastor was a clever and manipulating demon who loved to get reactions out of others. That was established within five minutes after he entered the Hotel for the first time to offer backup. There always something behind what he said, there was always sadistic glee upon causing disarray. Any sort of offer for the slightest positive feeling was always twisted into what Alastor always wanted—agony and terror.

That was always what Vaggie believed ever since she’d heard about him. But when she looked at him ecstatically laughing and joking with Charlie, all she could think of was: nobody would be able to fake this.

After another minute or so the two finally managed to calm down. Charlie still burst into giggles here and there, but soon she was able to speak. “Oh, that—that was amazing.”

Sure was... Vaggie thought, watching as Alastor firmly cleared his throat and straightened up.

“So, what’s next, may I ask?” The radio filter in his voice was prominent again after having faded during his comedy routine—something everyone realized after the fact.

“I... um...” Charlie looked away, her smile vanishing. For the next moment everyone was silent, not really having any idea on how to answer.

“Well, that’s alright!” Alastor shrugged. “Just let me know when you get your next idea~.” He was about to saunter back into his growing shadow and vanish, but stopped when Charlie called out to him. “Wait!”

She jumped off of her seat and hurried over to him, at which he tilted his head and quirked his smile questioningly.

Charlie’s smile was back, but it was softer. “Thank you. I really needed that.”

There was a brief change in Alastor’s face that Vaggie had seen before. It was right when he’d first come to the Hotel, and she almost impaled him with her spear. During that moment, with the tip of the spear pressing into his neck, his eyes had widened for a brief second before he recomposed himself without having to move a muscle. She had surprised him in that brief moment, and now Charlie had done the same thing.

Albeit this time the cause of the surprise was entirely different than before.

After a second, Alastor shrugged again. “Well, we can’t have the leader of this place falling apart, now can we?” With a casual wave goodbye, he vanished into the darkness.

So, that was what he was doing. Vaggie thought. He’d cheered Charlie up so she could keep everything up and running. He still had an ulterior motive. Of course.

But, even so, Vaggie couldn’t shake the belief that the joy and the laughter had been completely real.

Charlie came back to her seat next to Vaggie and hugged her. Despite her confusion, Vaggie couldn’t help smiling and returning it. At least her princess was happy again.

“... So, anybody have any idea what the fuck just happened?” Angel Dust asked, quirking a brow.

“I need a damn drink.” Husk muttered, having been behind the bar this whole time and watching this strange occurrence unfold.

#hazbin hotel #alastor #charlie hazbin hotel #vaggie #angel dust #hazbin hotel fanfic

54 notes · View notes

writeawayjake · 5 years ago

Text

Got a fun Flashback Chapter!!!

Could this finally be it? He wondered. After months of following old legends and grasping at shadows, had they finally found it?

The entrance sat, carved into a sheer rock face. The type of stone, a pale gray granite, marked it as a place sacred to dwarves. Faded runes worn away by the centuries and covered in lichen marked it as a place of ancient importance. He'd never learned the language of the dwarves, few men even could. Hell he'd barely learned to read his own.

"Brock," Kayle asked, jaw slackened in awe. "Can you read it?"

"Ahm afraid no' lad. Mah people haven't spoke thus dialect in ages. Ah could pick out maybe a word er two."

"It's better than nothing. Go ahead."

"Cair - caaair," he muttered under his breath. "No KAR. Kar gorim. Ach, somethin' 'bout the morning. The one who finds tha mornin' I don't know. I told ya I cannae read tha bloody thing."

Placing a hand on his shoulder Jared gave the old grumbler a reassuring look.

With a sigh, Kayle's face twisted in a frustrated frown.

"Well, no point in standing out here gawking all day. Let's go." Trudging toward the narrow opening Kayle's hulking frame took up the entire space. It was frankly surprising he was even able to get in at all. With some grunting and effort he eventually squeezed his way in. Once he was out of sight things became eerily quiet.

The rest of them waited outside for a moment, holding their breath and waiting for something to break the silence.

Jared's eyes narrowed, muscles tensing, readying himself for what might come. He noticed Brock's grip on his axe tightening and Oren beginning to take an arrow from its quiver. Without even thinking he slowly shuffled himself between Nyah and the entrance to the cave.

"Come little brother! Or are you afraid of the dark?" A voice echoed from within the ancient cavern.

"Jackass…" Jared muttered, relaxing his shoulders and unclenching his jaw. The others let out a relieved sigh as well.

They all made for the entrance, having to enter single file. Oren let brock go first follower by Nyah. He motioned for Jared to enter,

"Oh after you," He replied with an overly swishy gesture and posh accent.

With a scoff and a smirk Oren entered the old temple, taking care that his bow didn't hit the walls. Jared took one last look outside before entering the dusty gloom, maybe it was an old habit of making sure he wasn't being followed, or maybe he was just trying to appreciate the sun and fresh air for what could be the last time. He honestly couldn't say.

Letting a small sigh out through his nose he started after his comrades. After feeling his way along the walls for a moment and trying to follow the sounds ahead of him, his eyes finally adjusted to the darkness. They adjusted pretty well actually. Too well. His vision was good but never this good, plus it had never left a blue tinted to everything he saw.

Taking a closer look he saw millions of little blue lights wriggling along the ceiling and walls of the cavern. Glow worms, glow worms feeding on glowing blue lichen that clung to the stone bathing them in soft pale light.

Jared found himself wondering if that was how the ancient Dwarves had lit their caverns.

"They're beautiful," he heard Nyah say awestruck.

Without his permission he felt a smile cross his face as he heard the wonderment in her voice. He found himself doing that a lot lately. For the first time in a long time he noticed himself feeling happy more often than not.

He was never quite sure how to define love, every persons definition seemed to be different. His mother had described it as a warmness that you felt all over, his father as a glow in your chest. Brock described in a long list of lewd metaphors usually regarding someone ending up with a black eye whereas Kayle said he didn't understand the question. Oren simply pondered the question a while before simply smiling and then holding his hand to his chest.

As far as he could tell, Jared felt all of those at once but something about it was so much more intense. He felt as if he'd burst into flames if he had to hold it in while also somehow feeling completely at peace around her.

Catching up he watched her gaze at the glowing edifice. The blue light glowing on her cheeks and leaving a twinkle in her eyes. He must have been wearing a rather stupid grin as she noticed him staring and chuckled,

"What?"

"Nothin." He said smiling.

She nudged his shoulder sweetly as she took his hand in hers. Together they walked hand in hand towards the relic they'd been searching for for months.

All around them the glow worms illuminated ancient runes and glyphs, no doubt detailing the histories of mighty kings and epic battles, great feasts and famines. The whole saga of a bygone empire. But they weren't here for a history lesson, they'd come for the weapon. The weapon that could end all this awfulness.

Every child grew up hearing stories of the legendary rune forged sword. Said to be so sharp you could cut yourself just thinking about it, so holy it could banish any evil, so strong a pissed off giant couldn't break it. The greatest work of the greatest smith's who had ever lived. It was a legend but so far nothing else anyone tried had worked on the Dark Lord. Pinning their hopes on legends seemed foolish but no one else was trying, so why not?

Kayle led them down the winding corridors of the ancient temple. Eventually opened into a massive vaulted chamber, towering pillars bearing the faces of revered ancestors circled a large rune covered plinth that supported an anvil the size of an ox. Topping the ancient rusted anvil was what they sought. The blade.

A modest bastard sword, it's blade buried in the steel work surface. Rather underwhelming for such a legendary weapon truth be told. Its hilt consisted of a black leather wrapped handle and simple steel fittings with complex yet unremarkable silver inlays.

"That's it?" Kayle asked incredulously.

"Maybe it's a test?" Brock mused, stroking his beard.

"Well. One way to find out I suppose." Making his way up a small set of stairs on the side of the plinth, he reached out for the sword. The moment Kayle placed his hand on the hilt a bright light flashed from its blade, nearly blinding them all.

After a moment of hard squinting they were able to finally notice that the light was coming from runes running along the length of the plinth.

"Brooock." Kayle asked tentatively. "What's going on?"

Straining to make out the runes Brock replied, "Something about the worth or worthy - Only the worthy."

Naturally assuming that meant him Kayle yanked on the sword, then tugged on it, then wrenched and heaved with all his might but to no avail. Veins in his neck showed as he strained to remove the ancient blade. His arms shook and his face went red yet it simply did not move.

This didn't make sense. Kayle was everything a hero was supposed to be, handsome, strong, charming (to most milk maids anyway), and an excellent swordsman. If anyone was worthy it had to be him.

"Is there anything else?" Nyah asked. "A password oooor a ritual?"

"Maybe you're s'possed to push." Jared quipped.

"By all means try your luck little brother." Kayle panted.

"There's no way it'll budge for me. I'm probably the least worthy one here. Hell have Nyah try before you ask me to give it a go."

"Ooooh no, yer not getting me involved in your dick measuring contest." She chuckled.

"Brock? Oren?" He asked. They both simply shrugged and gestured toward the anvil.

Fuck it, might as well, he thought with a sigh.

Trudging up to the anvil Jared shook his head at the pointlessness of the scenario. He was a street tough - a dirty fighting, bread stealing, dock workers son. Not a hero, not a leader, and certainly not pure of heart.

Making his way up the steps to the anvil, Jared took a breath before casually gripping the hilt.

A surge of lightning shot through his arm and he recoiled in surprise. He simply stood there like a dumbass trying to blink things into making sense. Had it done that to Kayle? Was it normal for that to happen?

“Well little brother? Did it bite you or something?”

That answered those questions but only created more. Was it because he was so unworthy that the sword was rejecting him? Realizing that standing there all day wouldn’t solve anything he decided to try again.

For some reason he couldn’t explain he looked over to Nyah. Maybe he was worried the sword could kill him, maybe he was worried she’d think less of him if he failed, or maybe it was just for reassurance.

Turning back to the sword, he reached his hand out yet again. Gripping the hilt with a bit more purpose this time, he felt the electric surge yet again, this time however, there wasn't any pain. It was more like a violent vibrating, like holding a hummingbird in your hand. The rapid tremors shook his arm to the point where he had to focus intensely just to pull. Despite his muscles not cooperating, the blade itself began to move, sliding from the anvil like a warm stone on ice.

As the blade freed itself from the anvils tight embrace, a blinding white light filled the room. A second sun chasing away the dull blue of the glow worms. Blinding Jared and no doubt everyone else in the shrine. A long moment passed before the light began to fade to a humming glow. His vision finally returned, Jared could see an exquisite blade, bright and dark steel rippling in patterns like waves or woodgrain. A keen edge that showed no sign of age and a fuller covered in ensorcelled runes that glowed with the same bluish hue of the worms.

The violent hum in the handle had subsided and became something more akin to a slow and calm heartbeat. Starring dumbfounded, Jared couldn’t come to terms with what he was seeing - with what had happened. This was impossible. It couldn’t be happening - it shouldn’t be happening.

"I - I'm not a hero. I'm not - a hero. I'm…" he stammered, tears forming in his eyes.

#mywriting #mystory #write #writing #story #WIP #OC's #Jared #Nyah #fiction #fantasy #magic #dwarves #swords #runes #Dawnbringer #WriteAwayJake

7 notes · View notes

anotherhawk · 5 years ago

Text

Death for Immortals Ch2 - Good Omens Fanfic

Previously titled ‘5 times Crowley died carelessly and 1 time Aziraphale made him care’

Chapter summary: 140 years after the flood the last of the children Crowley saved dies peacefully in her bed, surrounded by family. He doesn’t take it well.

Read it on AO3 or under the cut.

2863 BCE

The last of the kids died at the age of 140, surrounded by her children, grandchildren and great grandchildren. He waited outside the house until the wailing started, an olive branch clutched tightly in his hand as he shredded the leaves into pieces too small for any human to see. That was it then. No more reason to hang around here.

Her name had been Anurash and her mother had thrust her into his arms as the waters rose, begging him to save her, to give her a chance at life. He'd held her in his arms, miracled milk to feed her with, kept her hidden deep in the bowels of the ark with the other frightened kids for far more than forty days and forty nights of cramped, foul-smelling darkness, until the rain stopped and the waters finally receded. A hundred and forty years. That wasn't too bad, was it? That was a lot longer than a lot of humans got. Mind you, Adam had lived to be nine hundred and thirty, so maybe it wasn't as good as all that. Maybe that was the difference between a human made by the Almighty and a human made by other humans?

He glanced skywards. “What, is it a patent situation? Knock-offs aren't allowed to be as good as the original? Keep going like this and in another thousand years they won't even make it to fifty. Where's the sense in that? If you want them to be better you've got to give them time to grow, don't you?”

A couple of passers-by stared at him. He scowled back and they flinched and quickly hurried away, whispering to each other.

Right. Eyes. Evil demon eyes that they were supposed to shun. It had been a long time since he'd been anything other than a stranger in this town, even though he had largely been responsible for building it. Well, there hadn't been much other option, had there? The oldest of the eighty-seven kids he'd managed to save had been fourteen, and most of them had been a good bit younger than that. What the heaven did they know about building houses, planting crops or digging wells? Only what their parents had got to teach them before Her Upstairs got tetchy and decided hey! Time for no more humans without my seal of approval.

He'd seen the rainbow. It was beautiful. But even now, well over a century later, the kids still found bones sometimes when they played, and those bones had had names, once upon a time, and were they really so despicable that they deserved to be washed away and forgotten?

Anyway, he'd built this town for the kids, and for the first dozen or so years he'd lived among them, making sure that they knew what they needed to take care of themselves. Even after that he hadn't been willing to stray too far. He'd stayed to watch the kids he raised grow up and raise kids of their own, all in absolute defiance of the Almighty, of course. Little humans who shouldn't be alive, running around, growing, with all their questions...it was self-evidently evil, except...except it wasn't evident enough to Beelzebub. As far as they were concerned he should be tormenting, or at the very least tempting, but he couldn't bring himself to do that to his kids, at least not in any way that Hell was going to approve of. And even after they'd grown up he hadn't wanted to wander too far afield, just in case the kids might need him, and in this part of the world there was only the two groups of ark survivors left, and Aziraphale was keeping a close eye on Noah's lot. If he'd thought he could get away with it he might have claimed credit for Noah turning to drink, but honestly he had nothing to do with it. 1

So Hell wasn't happy with him. Just yesterday a goat had looked up at him with glowing red eyes and told him he needed to improve his job performance of face the consequences. No specific consequences had been mentioned, but no doubt someone somewhere had something in mind already.2

A shadow fell over him. He looked up to see Aziraphale. “Crawly? I thought that was you.” Further sounds of grief came from inside, catching the angel's attention. “Oh, dear. One of yours?”

“Yes,” he answered, without thinking about it.

“I see.” Aziraphale gave him a look of deep disapproval. “Well, it sounds as though there's a lot of people mourning her. I hope whatever little scheme you wound her up in was worth it.”

“What? No, she wasn't...I. Hngh.” He flinched. Her death hadn't been his. Neither had her life, really, she'd lived that for herself. “What are you doing here, angel?”

“Official business. I'm here to offer a few blessings.”

Cold iron seized his spine. “Oh, really, thesse people are worth Her blesssings now?”

Aziraphale frowned at him. “Everyone deserves Her blessings, Crawly.”

There was a small herb garden growing in pots on the doorstep. He grabbed the closest plant, violently uprooted it and threw it as hard as he could at Aziraphale, smacking him right in the chest and leaving a trail of dirt down his white robes.

“Well, really,” the angel sputtered, miracling the mark away with a wave of his hand. “I hardly think there was any need for that.”

Part of him wanted to apologise. Part of him wanted to throw another plant, maybe even include the pot this time. Most of him just wanted to crawl into a deep hole in the ground somewhere and stay there for the next millenia or so. “Don't know why you're so surprised. Demon, remember? Your mortal enemy and all that.”

“Immortal, I think you'll find,” Aziraphale said with a sniff. “And I'm fairly certain that 'mortal enemies' aren't supposed to throw plants at each other.” He did the finger quotes. Crawly resolved to recommend that a special place in hell be set aside for people who do the finger quotes.

“No,” he agreed nastily. “They're probably supposed to lob flaming swords at each other.3 You go first. Oh, wait.”

The door behind him slammed open. “Gentlemen, please. This is a house of mourning. For the love of God, please take your petty quarrel somewhere else. Have you no decency?”

Aziraphale was stammering out apologies. He sighed and stood up. “Not lately,” he told Rubat, Anurash's granddaughter, and he turned and walked away.

The angel didn't follow him. He told himself he wasn't disappointed.

Right. Well, then. He wiped a hand down his face, harsh enough that it hurt and looked round at the familiar faces walking by. Most of them didn't give him a second glance. A couple of them caught his eye and shrunk away. Anurash had always loved his eyes...she'd used to call them suns. He remembered chubby baby hands clapping together joyfully when he made her that doll, remembered her first steps, always rushing, always in a hurry, always wanting to see everything, remembered all the questions – why does the moon change, why can't I see my eyes, why the flood, why, why, why – and he remembered Luka, the streak of dirt seemingly always across his face no matter how often he wiped that sticky face, and he remembered Teth, and he remembered Saul, and he remembered, he remembered, he remembered.

There was nothing holding him here now. Nothing holding him back. Everyone expected him to be evil – and he was evil, he was a demon. Might as well live down to it.

Three hours later and six fights had broken out, three marriages had ended, the blacksmith had been persuaded that there was more room for showing off making weapons rather than farm tools, the hunters had been persuaded that the farmers didn't respect them enough, someone had stolen the entire store of apples and set them fermenting, the pigs had been set loose in the granary and the inn was on fire. 4

It was chaos. There were shouts, smoke, recriminations flying everywhere and children crying in the street.

There were children crying in the street...

A hand closed around his upper arm and Aziraphale pulled him round. “What on earth are you doing?”

“My job.” He didn't look at the angel. The child on the street was clutching a doll in her chubby hand, her parents nowhere in sight. There was a streak of mud across her face.

“You don't...what's wrong with you?”

He shrugged the angel's hand off and gave a sharp-toothed smile. “Popular opinion says everything.”

“There he is!” A screech from down the street. Running footsteps, a whole mob's worth.

“The evil one walks among us!”

“Get him!”

“I see him! I see the demon!”

They were coming from all sides now. He took a couple of steps back. “Lovely seeing you, Aziraphale, but I really have to be going.”

He ran. The mob chased him, parting around Aziraphale like they didn't so much as see him, and the angel just stood there like a rock in the river, and Crawly ran. Hands grabbed out at him as he passed, punching, hurting, and stones hammered into him. Black blood ran down his face, dripping into his eyes. If he reached the river he could just turn into a serpent and escape that way.

He didn't make it. They cut him off, knocking him to the ground, kicking, punching, stamping, and he shifted, slipping into a snake, trying to slither away, and the last thing he saw was the blacksmith raising a sword above his head and bringing it down.

Aziraphale carefully buried the little broken body on a hill overlooking the river and tried to ignore the feeling of being utterly alone in the world. He'd seen the demon die and he hadn't done anything. There hadn't been anything to be done, it wasn't for him to interfere, and if he had interfered it would have been to smite the demon out of existence once and for all. Obviously. No, he had nothing to feel guilty about, it was just that he didn't like seeing the humans moved to such violence, that was all.

He scattered the last shovel of soil on the small grave and stood awkwardly for a moment. “I'm sorry,” he said at last. “I don't know what happened today, but I think, maybe, there was something else I could have done. I'll do better next time.”

There were two people he could have been speaking to. He didn't think either of them were listening.

1He did feel it was a reasonable enough reaction to the trauma of witnessing divine genocide, however. He'd even turned to it himself a time or two. The one time he'd actually managed to get to sleep since the Flood he'd had to face the memories of all those desperate hands clinging to the side of the ark until one by one they slid away.

2The goat had chewed on his sandals afterwards. He wasn't sure if that had been the hellish influence or the goatish one.

3Crowley had never actually been issued a sword, flaming or otherwise.

4You might think that this is rather a lot for one demon to achieve in three hours. But even if he had mostly passed unnoticed for the last century Crowley had been living alongside these people. He knew where the buttons were and how best to press them. And, like any act of self-harm, once started it was incredibly difficult to stop.

#Good omens #my writing #good omens fanfiction #good omens angst #death cw #self harm cw #ineffable husbands

11 notes · View notes

elizabethrobertajones · 6 years ago

Text

14x08 watching notes

This episode is the Worst I had to lie to my mum when I came downstairs trembling and tear-stained to get a cup of tea to recover, and play it all off as cold symptoms, and now I feel complicit in some sort of deceit with the episode and like Meredith broke the fourth wall through sheer pain.

Good morning, I slept in until seven after they started digging up the road outside at 9pm at night, so I still kinda have a lingering headache from that, but I'm pretty sure Meredith is about to make good on the Dean n Jack murder pact or something else of that level of awfulness so... *deep breath*

YAY it is Lily!! I mean it was pretty obvious from the costuming because wow she's a distinct person but idk maybe some people thought it was her mom?

Anyway getting a recap just of how terribly Jack is doing and then also a reminder of Lily Sunder is just.. Good recap. *kisses fingers*

(*curls up in agony*)

In all the drama I never noticed Rowena being among those who yelled "Jack!" when he went down and to be honest she knew him five minutes and I'm crediting all that panic in her voice to his absolutely ridiculous powers of being the most adoptable creature in the cosmos. You take one look at him and you want to make sure his shoelaces are tied properly and he has a glass of milk.

Anyway he totally caught Rowena off her guard and made her express an Emotion(TM) that was not spite and a good chunk of that is new and improved Rowena of the last year or so, but also just... She bonded HARD :P

Ironically I left the spoon in my coffee in my haste to get up here and start watching so now I will drink it like that and possibly exit the episode also wearing an eye patch

I watched a second and tucked the largest, most comforting stuffed toy this family owns under my arm. Yes, not my personal stash of friends, the family heirloom squishy guy who has been with us through all the worst stuff D:

The framing is Sam sitting at Jack's bedside, Dad no.1 as season 13 firmly established for us, and the dad with the closest traditional relationship of father/son to Jack. Then Cas hovers nearby, struggling to be as close but still Dad no.2 with the ongoing and uncomplicated connection to Jack in the sense that both just sort of accept they're now father and son without any debate or internal wrangling, and that's always been Jack's in with the family and the way he inadvertently got Cas to vouch for him from beyond the grave when he said Castiel was his father and Sam immediately just flipped to Team Jack, not, of course, that he'd not been giving him a huge chance and trying to reach out to him already, but that was his "oh shit this is now my son because Cas is dead" moment.

Finally, Dean fills the foreground, face in shadow, the conflicted Dad no.3 who can't even face his dying son, taking it personally because this is literally the fourth smol child he's taken under his wing who he then lost, from Sam, Ben, Emma, a truly tragic collection of lost children. He resisted adopting Jack because he couldn't be a parent again, not after what Sam put him through as a parent, and yet Jack, the most adoptable boy in the cosmos, eventually wormed his way under Dean's skin too, and by the end of season 13 Dean was acting fatherly towards him and by this season Dean's been opening up the doors and letting Jack be his son. And. Whoops. As SOON as you took him on a hunt for one on one father son bonding time, look what happened.

And so Dean will lurk in the foreground, not looking at Jack, peering moodily into some dark empty box that metaphorically is his soul or his remaining ability to cope with losing children or some such nonsense. The pandora's box of parenthood. He's full on dark romantic hero brooding.

OH NO IT IS A RECORD PLAYER NOT A BOX

I need our family to retroactively adopt a larger, squishier friend to hug in this trying time

Having archived every single one of my watching notes ever between last episode and this episode, I'm more than usually pained by Dean's "not meant to be crap" line because he's been resisting it the entire frikkin time, when Sam kept, even long long long before they knew their real destinies, musing if HIS own personal angst was meant to be and Dean was like don't give me that destiny crap. I swear there's lines about this back in season 2 or 3 when Sam is musing on his powers and the grim lot fate had dealt them. This is a callback line to Dean dealing with his own sense of unravelling control and pure panic about what was happening to Sam, back when that was a thing in the very early seasons and he was having to face the kid he raised from a baby amongst all that tragedy now recklessly declaring all sorts of horrific things about not being able to resist his destiny. Oh, also, in season 2, while under a murder pact from John about killing him if he couldn't save him.

Honestly, it's barely a relationship worth mentioning if you don't have a murder pact going with Dean. Ben is literally the only one of all 4 children AND CLAIRE who hasn't had one with Dean.

If this episode involves Dean bringing any of his records in to play for Jack I'm gonna go out in my pyjamas and take a long walk to the sea and then keep walking once I reach it

Dean you did not walk nearly far enough for Jack to not hear you thump the wall outside his room

PS: totally figured the promo scene was an early emotional beat between Dean and Cas which utterly delights me because the earlier that came in the episode the better as it meant less and less chance it was about anything other than Dean and Cas having an intense relationship over this whole thing.

Jack is the absolute worst about dying. He's this saintly angelic little boy from like, no later than 1900s literature, who exists only to bravely suffer and love with his whole heart. He's snatched out of an era when kids needed morality tales about how to die politely of consumption with the least amount of fuss for their parents and 300 siblings.

How dare you fucking die selflessly. Humanity is at its Bithc This Isn't Fair stage. Throw a fit. Go walk into the sea out of protest.

Okay you're in Kansas I understand how that is an unrelastic option and I grew up spoiled by the immediate location of the sea should I ever need to walk into it.

This show has never made me cry before the title card before.

This is the Pippin and Gandalf scene from Return of the King with the whole Into the West thing that they wrote for a sick fan who died before the movie came out and literally Annie Lennox sings what would be Jack's THEME for this scene.

Sam is horrified that Jack didn't even live long enough for a LotR marathon to explain the reference that's making him bawl.

I LOVE that this scene with Dean n Cas is just about Dean being a wuss about watching his son die because that's so much worse than Jack having asked for a mercy kill or anything. And this all before the title card. Cas tearing Dean a new one about going in and watching your son die smiling beautifully like a little cherub who can't wait to find out what happens next.

Jack's gonna be dead before the title card, isn't he?

Oof.

Hey, Dean, one more reason to hate yourself :) :) :)

Also robbed Cas of watching him go.

But I think tbh they could have done this if Dean wasn't being a coward about watching Jack die that they would leave Sam to sit at this side in the last moment.

Ugh, my eyes are leaking too much to type. What the hell is all this wet stuff coming out of them.

I've never seen a TFW shot where Sam was the shortest but he is slumped over like someone cut all his strings.

"Your brother's in pain" AND WE'RE NOT? YOU'RE NOT? CAS ISN'T?

Dean stopping Cas going after Sam with just a catch of his shoulder... Ugh. The two of them are still connected through all this in a way where Cas and Dean are connected whether Dean's in the most obvious pain or Sam is.

Cas, pls be selfish and in the most obvious pain at some point this episode.

Oh please don't make me watch Dean telling his mom that Jack died

please

I beg you

They put a photo of Kelly next to Jack's bed D: Or has he always had that?

That's not even the photo that Cas had pinned to his board in 12x10 and yes I went and checked, I'm leaking tears too much to watch because Cas is standing over him and this is going to be the worst while Dean's answerphone message lays over the top.

I'm so not here to watch TFW mourn their son.

They had him for like a WEEK this SUCKS.

ALso I said "please don't make me watch" so they cut away to Cas mourning silently while Dean talks to Mary's answerphone because Meredith is an evil fairy who whimsically takes your wishes and twists them into even worse options.

*takes my glasses off and throws them aside angrily when Sam emerges carrying a duffel over his shoulder and wearing the fucking orange jacket he first met Jack in*

God, I don't even wear them for focus, just lack of headaches. Why was I bothering.

7x10 and this episode are probably going to be unholy companions in this show's canon

"She's come down with acute Tear Duct Blockage. The only option is head amputation or we make her cry, NOW" "Don't worry, I have just the thing."

Dean this answerphone message huuuurts

Also explains the Buckleming issue of not calling Mary, to just say, yeah, it escalated, rapidly.

Your brother is storming off and Cas is broken.

If I have to see Cas see a set of PB&J crusts and a glass of milk identical to what Dean saw in 9x10 I'm - well, I'm still here instead of walking off into the sea so my threats are starting to look a bit performative. BUT I'M THINKING IT.

Cas watches Sam go, while Dean is being dwarfed by the bunker and obfuscated by its maze of corridors.

*presses my hands over my eyeballs* STOP. STOP IT. GOD. You're not even sobbing or anything you're just lEAKING. This is so annoying! I'm gonna dehydrate and they'll find a shrivelled skellington here and I'll go with just a few quiet sniffs and a dumb smile on my face like fucking Jack did.

Now I'm just distraught about the first time ever in canon we see Cas drive, it's in his dumb blue car and Dean's broken and not up for driving even if Sam presumably hadn't stolen the car for his errand/driving until he finds the sea and walking off into it mission. All my myriad fantasies about Cas behind the wheel of the impala and Dean grinning at him like yeah that's my baby (which one is he talking about?), and nope we're getting Cas's little partymobile and Dean's mute expression of grief.

NEVER MIND THEY SHOWED ME SAM CURLED UP ON THE GROUND USING THE IMPALA AS A BELOVED FAMILY HEIRLOOM TO HUG AND I SOBBED OUT LOUD FUCK YOU MEREDITH FUCK YOU

I need the tissues why were they not here in preparation for this episode

I need to avoid my mum all day on the ground of spoilers because my face is a walking spoiler

"TELL ME YOU DIDN'T MAKE A DEAL" "wha- no, I'm trying to make a pyre"

Making a pyre doesn't usually involve curling up on the floor.

Cas is getting an accidental glimpse of 13x01's emotional landscape, not that anyone will tell him this was what it was like for Dean, that we now have Sam in the spot of. We're getting some mirror image missing moments, like we just saw Dean get the axe out but did see him begging God... in this one we see Sam go take it out on a tree.

Incidentally I re-read all of Terrible Coffee AU two days ago for Reasons and the scene where Sam is whaling on a tree while screaming into the sky is pretty much this. Which is fucking hilarious that 2 years ago I decided Sam taking out his feelings on the local trees was a Thing when he was depressed.

(I wrote that scene the day Eileen was murdered on the show and honestly at the time he was mostly just angry on canon!Sam's behalf and I figured I'd come up with plot reasons later.)

Oh, they weren't driving the party!mobile, they were driving something else. I'm not even gonna ask where they get these vehicles

Yeah I'm harping on Dabb vs cars because Cas is talking about Jack's story ending like this and certainty of death for angels and this is just... the worst.

the story line - Cas deciding how their stories go. Dean resisting the how it's supposed to be of Jack's death. TFW want to take the narrative into their own hands. We KNOW in this world deaths are stored in notebooks, potential ways to pass that you skate past until one claims you. They're free to write their own stories but the ending is always pre-written for them... It's just a matter of which one. But Cas especially... Jack was supposed to bring paradise, and maybe the emotional landscape between season 12 and 14 is a gulf of difference in their openness and bonds, largely facilitated by Jack's presence in the narrative and relentless open love for everyone who was nice to him and even those who weren't in Dean's case. He breezed through their lives, manic pixie dream girl'd them to emotional health, and mayfly'd out. But that's THEIR stories. That's not JACK's story. That's not the epic destiny something as cosmically powerful as him was due, and the potential he was shown to have... It abruptly gets into the territory of Dany having her whole Stallion That Mounts the World prophecy for the son she lost... I've not watched the TV show since it diverged so wildly I couldn't hack it any more, but the books with everyone wondering if, like, Jon Snow was this guy instead, etc, picking this that and the other guy... what if Dany's lost child WAS the only one it applied to and the prophecy just fizzled out? ASoIaF looms over Jack's narrative... He's literally been framed against an Iron Throne in the past, and his character arc for parts of season 13 was a sort of anti-Joffrey in many ways. And then in death, GRRM's unromantic look at fairytales and heroic narratives comes for him too, that maybe it doesn't always happen like the stories say...

... but of course, he also has LotR coding, and in THAT regard, Sam Gamgee has his good old speech about the heroes in the stories and how we relate to them and are inspired by them and become them. The stories that matter. And Jack's was supposed to be one of those. In a way, their lives have been so epic that Jack mostly having a personal impact rather than a cosmic one seems wrong to them. That he didn't become the great hero of his own story, but was a tragic hero who ran a dramatic but personal arc and burned out because his asshole father killed him and his asshole uncle presumably finished him off with an experiment in grace transfusion. At least if my dashboard is to be believed :P It's inconcievable to TFW, the "making it up as we go" people who tore up the script and threw away the pages, that they can't just make this happen or that Jack didn't serve some great purpose. Even men as weary of Destiny as they are, struggle. Just because that was their lives, so how could the son of all three of them not follow in all his fathers' footsteps?

"Jack being taken before his time... Being taken before *me*" Cas shut the fuck up.

But that is the speech from Theoden, and once again Sam is Gandalf, which is fucking hilarious that Sam's been Gandalf TWICE this episode.

Ever it's grown on the tombs of my forebears...

you have four bears???

God dammit that joke didn't stop me crying as they go knock their glasses together and hold Jack's lil 3 dads wake

3 Dads Wake is a great name for a whiskey

God, Cas is drinking.

CAS.

They need to give him like one bottle to every finger of whiskey they drink but dammit if they don't get Cas loaded.

Letting them talk privately about how aweomse Jack was and not letting us hear it is a crime

Listen you don't even know me if you didn't think as soon as the nougat appeared on screen I didn't hit pause and sob for a whole minute with my hands over my face

Officially worse than bobby and the goddamn licorice conversation

Cas laughing with caramel hanging out of his mouth is the worst thing the sho whas ever done and I'm suing for emotional damage

Imagine being one of the bitter stans who hates one or more of TFW or Jack right now watching this scene. God, are you even human. They're eating Jack's secret nougat stash they all pretended they didn't know he had.

I can't believe I'm now thinking that Lily showing up will probably be a lighthearted way to bring up the mood of the episode.

Cas is offficially wobbly! We have Cas tipsyness!!

Sam tapping out first. Oh no. Don't leave. Don't.

Fuck you Sam Winchester how dare you canonically be the most lightweight of TFW consistently for the entire show and need to go crash off the side of your bed and sleep on the floor while Dean n Cas are still drinking together.

Did Dean seriously outdrink Cas.

Well that's... something.

I am gonna cling to that like a rock in the churning sea I have walked out into.

Also I managed to calm myself down with walking around my room taking deep breaths so I could go downstairs pretending not to be a wreck, so I could get tea, and my mum made me finish the sudoku for her. I don't have the heart to show her this episode. She loves Jack more than anyone in this god damn fandom and maybe more than Cas does. Maybe I'll lie to her and say the show ended last episode and Jack was fine hahahahaaaa

OH FUCK I hit play and there was a single line of dialogue for the whole wake. Dean drunkenly slurring to Cas, I think, you know we did everything we could, right?

I'm...

*walks further out into the ocean*

"Here's to you Jack, wherever you are" I am not okay.

Oh fork you Meredith we did not need to see the boy in Heaven eating burgers.

Oh fork you Meredith we did not need to see the boy in Heaven eating burgers while on a case with all of his dads.

OH SON OF A BENCH THIS IS THE DODGE CITY CASE AKA 13x06 MEREDITH YOU DINK.

Oh dear, Heaven is broken. Who was the ashhole who was saying that Jack should die so that he can go to Heaven so he's well-placed to help deal with all this nonsense.

LOL Jack would be the sort of person who goes to Heaven and doesn't need more than a second of prompting to be like oh wait I am dead and in Heaven, and just, like... Go open the door. Just pop his head out like cooee I wanna hang with my dads anyone here to replace the bulb in the sun so I can carry on hanging out here for eternity?

Like, seriously, I'm dead, this is when I am supposed to catch a break.

Let The Boy Say Fork.

Listen, secondary to his power to be adopted by everyone on sight, Jack is uncanny also with just walking into trouble.

And to try and be clam for a moment, this is Jack getting pulled back into the story, but not just by unfortunate happenstance, because he was the one with the sharpness, the cosmic awareness even on this level that Heaven just doesn't quiiiiite work for him in the way it's supposed to even if say it was at full power, that he is the one who voluntarily not just understands instantly that something is wrong, but then is fully snapped back to his old self, and chooses to open the door, and that is the moment of choosing to continue his story, at least for now.

It's like how the last time we saw Bobby chronologically was in Inside Man and Cas and Sam woke him from his repose and got the fighting spirit back into him enough to open his own door and rejoin the story for one last hurrah... And it was a choice there too, a moment of once more telling the natural order to screw itself, Bobby could step outside the proscribed ending of his narrative one last time.

Unless Jack finds him and is adopted on sight today.

Sam looks way too healthy.

Invigorated by having a Plan

Lils. Finally getting to see the Bunker filled with all her stolen research notes.

And no that wasn't canon before, but boy am I hoping she recognises her research amongst all the bunker's angel lore.

Men stealing fuckin everything

"We've never looked through Kevin's angel tablet translations"

HAVEN'T WE?

WE HAVEN'T

THEY HAVE BEEN THERE

FIVE

FUCKING

YEARS

And every forking time something comes up where they might be useful I say, HEY WHAT ABOUT KEVIN'S ANGEL TABLET TRANSLATIONS?

and the show says

hey so we don't have the angel tablet but we do have the demon tablet

and I'm like I'm sure that won't have any dumb side effects that could be avoided by having the angel tablet translation just on hand in your archive

did Meredith hear me screeching

because I screeched very very loud after 13x14

13x13 sorry

that was Bucklemming handing her the wrong fucking tablet

this is bitter vindication but feels even better than her and Bobo remembering the grace extracting needle in 12x19

Glynn is a fucking gift.

On the other hand this episode now is pulling on 9x06 and 12x10 at once and that makes me feel woozy

I can't deal with a Glockeybo combo

Also waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah Kevin's handwriting. I can't deal with that AND Bobby memories AND FUCKING NOUGAT DEATH

Which I mean I do feel instantly better about once he opened the door and let himself back into the story and I stopped crying at once and cheered up and Lily is indeed providing much needed relief, wild as that all sounds.

Lily trying to explain her soul magic to Sam and Dean, rubes who haven't done a single enochian calculation in their lives.

Wait, no, Sam has done one, in ... 12x19 ...

But yeah, a rube and a completely self-taught asshole who knows like one thing about it.

And she's like oh yeah just use his soul and they're like AAH WTF LILY and she's like er this is the most obvious thing in the world what is the problem here

where are my cas reaction shots

Jack wearing an eyepatch for the rest of the show would be adorable and hilarious

"it won't cost much... he'll never miss it" trust me his soul is enormous and boated with sweet nougat love, he can spare it, guys.

Dean being able to say "Jack's dead" one day later, when he couldn't say it about Cas practically until he was BACK

Nice trade. TECHNICALLY nothing dodgy about it at all, at least in the sense that aside from resurrection consent issues from Jack, once he's back the choice is still on him to choose to grow old and die as Lily has done, or even to stop using the magic to sustain himself and die again immediately if he is squicked out by it... Or it all comes from trading on his OWN soul power.

Definitely better than demon deals or having any favours looming over them etc

And with Heaven in the state it's in, honestly sending Lily there might be easier than they think if NO ONE IS LEFT TO RUN IT.

Er, imminent ghostpocalypse issues aside.

We're in ghostpocalypse territory as of a minute ago show time, btw.

Cas has quietly observed all this chatter and we get back to him when he says, "Don't you think Jack should decide for himself" so honestly Cas is right there with me, and I always like when me and Cas are the ones agreeing on a thing in the episode.

Obligatory reminder that Sam is more aware than most about soul stuff

*takes another piece of coal off the pile I was going to send Meredith for ruining christmas*

HEY, ANUBIS.

Don't tell him about what they did to Osiris

Unless that would amuse him

Wait never mind Meredith is literally throwing in amusing snark about 7x04 which I think when Adam Glass disowned that episode (despite how I actually think it's really good and he was too hard on it) he never expected anyone would ever want to throw in amused references about it in canon ever again.

"When God left - sorry, long story - " Lily is one of the few people who seems able to conceptually roll with the nonsense TFW deals in all day.

She should join the squad. Always room for a 100 year old badass with deep enochian lore knowledge.

I'm sorry has Jack crashed Kelly's heaven or is this a rando little girl. I immediately thought she was Kelly in the long shot and they substituted a lil girl for POV when we got closer and actually had to go back and look again and she was the little girl all along.

This also conceptually looks so much like Cas's eternal tuesday afternoon.. A rainy, flower-filled garden.

Roosevelt looks SO much like the doggie in 11x20 aside from anything else

IT IS KELLY

This is horrifying since they never ever got to meet ever until now and I'm suing Meredith

I mean I'm already suing her but I'm just adding this to the list of complaints. My laywers are working overtime on this episode.

FORK!! THEY GOT HER BACK FROM LEGENDS OF TOMORROW FOR A DAY!!!!

Can Kelly and Jack go on a rampage around Heaven to fix things?

Her hair is suspiciously darker from the back which I think is her Legends look from the gifs I've seen

Wait, Bobby had a forking dog called Rumsfeld, and Kelly has Roosevelt.

"Hi mom you're dead"

".......................................................... NOooOoOooooOOoo No no no baby no"

Owwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

Dean resisting the spell and complainging "gotta happen, no other way" is making me feel like the Heaven Drama is going to smack them right before they can get it all done and give them a LOT MORE to worry about than Jack but also give them a roundabout way to see him again and also, of course, mean Lily might be useful for an entirely other purpose while she's here...

Dean right now is rationalising this through the lens of that all their terrible deals have been terrible and that this is just one more step on the Winchester life and death merry-go-round, and of course that Jack is about to get the full family treatment he deserves. But that's the Winchester lens of looking at things that even when deaths are brutal and lives cut unfairly short, there's going to be a way to bring them back if they haven't finished their stories. John finished his, in 2x22 seeing Dean get the revenge he needed to be at peace, but everyone else...

Is it ethically right to put Jack on that merry-go-round when he smiled sweetly and died with as much enthusiasm as he gave pretty much everything in his life?

The table lamps are out in the bunker D: them being dark is so ominous

And Cas shows up like shiiiiiiiiiiiiiit something worse going on guys

They're so casual about just summoning gods into their front room these days

Of course they're doing it in the spot in front of the door with the war room behind in one direction... The opposite end of the library to where they opened the rift.

Sam picks his way through the wet paint but Dean stands right in the centre of this circle for SUMMONING THE GOD WHO DECIDES WHO LIVES AND DIES AND WHERE THEY GO to have this lil chat with Lil?

And now Dean steps out of it and corners her with the obvious question - what's wrong with your magic and why are you risking going to Hell to stop using it entirely?

I'm so sorry you have to look at more dead angels, Cas

I'm also so sorry they were killed by black slime because wow after season 7 that was a laugh and a half for you

... Can you swear in the hallways of Heaven?

DUMA LIVES

(probably "for now" though hopefully longer than that)

Ma'am are you aware you have a Nougat on the loose too

I'd love it if Cas is like hi what's happening also have you seen my son

This actress needs to come back for a 3rd time to follow Dean around in a crisis moment.

OH NO now Cas is coming to the heaven memory and seeing what Jack considered his best memory

YEAH. I knew Naomi would show up, I just didn't know when :D

(She wasn't in the credits as far as I could tell but I already sort of knew they were leaving people off? Or maybe I was thinking lol I bet Amanda Tapping is in this episode and they won't tell us... On the other hand she mAY have been in the credits but I was WEEPING MY EYES OUT so didn't clock her despite my efforts to hold myself together and see who was coming up on screen)

Naomi doesn't have the most dramatic entrance on the show but she sure is racking up points for good entrances one at a time each time she appears. She never just, like... toddles onto screen normally.

"Perhaps the angel side of him knew he was in Heaven" honestly the most tragic thing I was trying not to think about is that he knew the entire time but he was willing to play along and enjoy hanging with his dads for eternity despite that.

Oh man it's another dispute over who owns Jack. Is this kid never going to be allowed to just sit and eat burgers and nougat? (Hopefully not at the same time)

Also based on last episode where it seemed like the Empty was awakening but had Lucifer's eyes and we were all NOOO fork that!! is there some more complicated forked up aspect to what's going on or is it just itself and awake and coming for Jack?

I love how Naomi just casually knows how many people are in Heaven

"What's one nephilim boy against all that?" "But he's MY nephilim boy!!"

OH NO NAOMI

NOT LIKE THIIIIIS

We better get an answer on her state by the end of the episode because she's my fave villain bar Metatron on the entire show and devouring her in shadow is just... yikes.

"give it a sec" *POOF* Anubis is prompt, okay.

He probably honestly is somewhat slighted that they're 14 years into their career and he hasn't clapped eyes on them.

"Yeah, we've died." "A LOT."

I honestly, at this point, do not blame them for their lax attitude towards the permanence of death. They need a lot of counselling they're not getting and until they do they really are going to always be terrible at this.

A brief moment where Anubis is like, am I going to get Flirty Banter with Dean Winchester?? and he looks at him and Dean's eyes are all dead and "my son is dead" and Anubis sighs like welp not today oh well better luck next time, if I survive this...

Getting flirty banter with Dean is a sign of high honour and takes you to some very interesting places.

Into Dean if you stick with it like Crowley did

And Lily's been standing there this whole time like wow these boys suck up all the attention in the room and I kinda hate them

Oh I LOVE this abacus. Is this some nerdy ass research that meredith did to know better than most what to expect here? Even I haven't heard this one, though I haven't really revisited Egypt lore after the expected Egyptology phase as a kid...

Anyway the half white half black beads are super interesting in a wider show symbolism way.

Oh deeear, Lily.

Of course that instantly makes you fascinated about what would happen if TFW stuck their hands over it.

What a good line on the show's philosophy about making your own fate - it's not destiny or a choice from above or anything like that. Your individual actions get you sent to Heaven or Hell in the natural course of things and it's weighed in such a way all he can do is use his equipment to read which way you're going... Everything else is down to you. Free Will, write your own story.

Of course, if Lily did some huge sacrifice I bet she could change things.

CAS LAUGHED

ugh this episode should be banned.

If you hug Kelly I'm rioting.

Everyone who ever hugs Cas slaps their hands firmly on Misha's broad shoulders like it's law and digs in and I don't know if it's because Cas has this wonderful presence about him that even when you're around Misha acting him in the moment you get swept up in it, or you just want to hug Misha like that, but Cas hugs look like the most amazing hugs in the universe and everyone just GOES for it.

Also I am typing this nonsense because I literally used up my box of tissues earlier and the next option is stealing a roll of toilet paper. So I will snark and try and ward off the sobbing.

"I'm so sorry. I failed you." Kelly, who has spent about 5 minutes in Jack's presence and understands his nature even beyond her blind faith in him from before but now gets to see the evidence of it: "You didn't. You didn't."

Yes, please can more characters tell Cas that he did a good job even when things don't quite go to plan. Dean's drunken slurring about how they did the best they could, this...

Kelly tells Cas how wonderful Jack is like Cas doesn't know and Cas breaks up.

And you know what this looks like and I'm not going to survive typing this and can already feel my eyeballs filling up with water... 10x20 and Jimmy and Amelia talking about Claire at the end of the episode oh god I hate it take it away from me.

Oh good Cas telling Jack we need you alive to fix Heaven but just in a passive way where you not being dead means the Empty backs the fuck off rather than you having to DO anything

Ooops the Empty is here as Dumas. I suspect she's not surviving this episode but MAYBE Naomi survives.

I am saying with full wishful thinking after seeing her completely consumed by black goo

I do like the concept of "THERE ARE MAJOR STAKES TO RESURRECT THE BOY. BRING HIM BACK THIS INSTANT. LITERALLY SAVE THE UNIVERSE BY BRINGING THE NOUGAT SON BACK TO EARTH." because that makes it so much different from "hey bring me back and maybe accidentally unleash some terrible evil in the process but we'll deal with it later because that's what we do"

"HE'S OUR KID" Sam snaps

I hate it, thanks

For the love of god appeal to her more as a fellow parent.

Dean DIRECTLY EQUATES Jack and May

Hold me

Equating no soul to not being human in front of Sam aka our no soul test case. Owie. Another reminder of just how hard Dean took it in season 6 until he got Sam back, all that skin crawling feeling of being around him...

You know what? Jack reminds me of the sort of example nice ensoulled Sam stuff we saw in 6x12 when Jared was allowed to play over the top sweet and uncomplicted for a few scenes, just to be a total contrast to how he'd been acting thus far in the season. Of course, we saw him for like 3 scenes of Dean smiling in pure relief when Sam did Nice Things before it all got complicated again, and Jack's been a long-time character :P But Sam does have a sweet street that when it emerges in the rare times it can be uncomplicated, is I think the closest equivalent to where Jack's innocent sweetness is drawn from. He's the son of Sam's puppy dog eyes specifically.

But yeah I think Lily just needs to have this resistance and anger about it all to make it so much more of a flip if she were to decide to do the spell, so that it counts as an even gooder good deed to MAYBE flip her chances. By giving her a good work to do.

And hey maybe if she meets Jack for a minute she'll love him and then be changed by the experience and go out and do more good things etc etc.

DUMAS IS SO GOOD AT BEING CREEPY!!

Misha hammed the FORK out of being the Empty and now she has to live up to it and she IS.

CAS don't fight the Empty by trying to stab it, fight the Empty by humming this is the song that never ends.

*makes a disgruntled sad noise about being forced to see Jack laid out on a table in his cute lil PJs with his cute lil socks*

Wait, if Lily does this spell does this mean she's using up the last of her soul to do it and going to the Empty anyway?

ANGRY LIONESS KELLY COMING TO YELL AT THE EMPTY AND GIVE IT A PIECE OF HER MIND

I've just paused after her yelling "STOP" but whatever happens next, she leaped in when Cas was getting kicked around and that's BAD ASS.

Hitting Kelly is like... probably a rage button Jack didn't even know he had so I would like to see how that goes over, but we cut to them trying to resurrect him.

I forking love how this is 2 seasons in a row where the message seems to be that you live to spite nihilism and the bitter end of death.

D'aw even though Sam said they'd pray it was Dean who used prayer to reach out to Cas in Heaven to give him that heads up. Like, totally practical rather than the sort of prayer he's made before to Cas that was all emotional appeal, but, let's save our son, huh?

CAS NO DON'T SAY THAT

The Empty might also really want to think about that because it knows you forking suck to keep around so trading yourself for Jack is like... really? do I really want that? :P

"Not for years. EONS, MAYBE." Cas, bud. I love you. I want you to stay alive that long. Do you really forking think that with the life you lead you have eons left? I mean it's really heartening to hear you talk about yourself this way. But I have to ask.

The Empty telling Cas that it'll come for him when he finally lets himself be happy is forking hilarious. Cas hasn't been happy once in his life and he doesn't plan to start now. Eons, maybe.

Just like that, he's unlocked eternal, grumpy life. Take notes, Lily.

I mean on a practical level this is basically like, yeah, this is why Destiel isn't canon, because as soon as Cas allows himself to be happy, he's ALWAYS known he gets punished for it. In 4x20 he rebelled for Dean and was instantly dragged back by Naomi... This sense of another mission, never belonging, always being on the outside and not getting the emotional resolution he needs, and actively running from it at times or throwing himself in the way of danger to make Dean be happy without him... it's interesting honestly that the Empty is here as Duma and not Naomi as she's been the agent of hoiking him back from happiness enough times in canon... And that fear of losing everything as soon as you're happy? That's what first kept Dean from Jack and then as soon as he really truly fathered Jack, happened to him. Like, that's Team Free Will's entire life story, starting with Jess, to date, here with the Empty making this threat.

Duma survived!!

Cas... really could have just bought a few minutes to do the spell rather than given himself that burden >.>

But he's determined to make a more lasting sacrifice, one that ensures this won't happen again with Jack, that he can always die whenever he wants and go to Heaven and not be bothered here.

Oops Jack's angry now. Now he's seen a dad sacrifice for him, he's suddenly got a case of the Winchester Angsts. Dean in season 2, for starters. Not a good place to be D: Dean in season 2 is proportionately his worst season.

I'm not crying because I think I already died earlier in the episode, but that was... truly awful... to watch Cas tell Jack he's at peace with it and he loves him and everyone loves him and then Kelly butts in like I LOVE YOU TOO and mom him a bit with straightening his jacket and hugging him and... UGH.

Lily has either the start of a heart attack or loses her soul entirely in the background and wanders into a corner to die? Er.

OH HEY WE ALSO MANAGED TO GET THE WORST DEAN HUG SINCE 2x22 WHEN HE GRABS JACK. NEVER SEEN HIM HUG LIKE THAT BEFORE, DON'T WANT TO SEE IT AGAIN THANKS

Nope, she just dieded.

Let's hope she went to heaven and we get a super corny young Lily surprise Alicia Witt return moment at the end since this episode is just throwing everything at it.

It's Anubis' office!!!

Wow, that's a noisy annoying place to work

Still, I LOVE these visualisations of where the cosmic forces of the universe work

I called it super corny but I'm DYING to see Lily's fate change.

"Say hello to your daughter for me" DOn't make me cry about Lily please I beg you I am run dry

OH THANK GOD NAOMI SURVIVED. Hooooooraaaaay!!!!!!! Oh this is a wonderful ending to a perfect episode to not have to deal with her having being consumed and left dead off-screen somewhere.

LOL that slam as he realises what's up and even though she obviously can do what she wants, he's still protectively closing Kelly's door to put a barrier between her and Naomi.

"I'm here to thank you"

Oldest trope in the book, but I love when they look over their shoulder to see if "you" is someone else, and Cas, unflappable Cas, in Naomi's presence, still checks the infinite empty corridor.

*double checks*

"...... you're welcome?"

Wheee unlocked new plot for altrusim!

Ahahaaaahaaaaaaaaa Jack wrapped in a fluffy grey robe. Listen. I am

not

okay.

Jack with his burger and Dean's dead guy robe, spitefully living...

I bet Dean made the burger

WHY did I type that when I knew how likely it was to make my eyes burn.

I did not cry at the last scene of them all at the table so I am going to eat extra cookies at lunch as a reward.

And Jack and Cas sharing a little glance, knowing what Cas did. Father and Son's first dire family secret! :')

And gently roll the camera away to credits to leave them to their happy little scene.

Presumably with a slow fade so you can fumble for some more tissues.

Gyah.

#14x08 #season 14 spoilers #I am angry about how in the last 3 seasons multiple episodes have wandered around like hi I am the new best episode of the series #make up your MIND #remember when Baby felt weird like it was the first in years that had smashed the season 5 barrier of where all the Best Episodes were #and like aside from 6x11 and 7x10 we'd long passed the episodes that were utter stand outs in their field?#and now you have a like 50:50 gamble you're just going to walk into the Best Episode of the Show #it's fucking annoying #my stuff

202 notes · View notes

momestuck · 6 years ago

Text

Epilogues: Candy, Ch 22-26 [Epilogue 5]

/So a lot of heavy shit has happened, though worse is yet to come (I’ve been warned of an onscreen sexual assault in chapter 32).

Everyone’s been having babies and funerals! It’s a busy time.

(note: csa mention in chapter 23, though it does not occur in the narrative)

Chapter 22

This is another John-Terezi text convo chapter. There’s been a three-year timeskip. And... it’s raining ghosts now.

So I guess that’s what became of the whole ghosts in the Furthest Ring thing?

We also learn that, on top of the breeding restrictions, trolls are banned from rising beyond certain levels in government. Jane is, we learn, pretty much running the government behind the scenes, because what makes fascist movements tick is one evil person, obviously.

Karkat’s the one with a backbone at least...

JOHN: and karkat...

JOHN: he’s gone completely off the grid!

JOHN: at first we all assumed that the reason he ran away was because he got fed up with his shitty poly relationship.

JOHN: which was probably part of it, honestly. but now i keep seeing his face on all the resistance posters!

JOHN: i think they may have actually put him in charge?

TEREZI: H3H

TEREZI: 1 4LW4YS KN3W H3 H4D 1T 1N H1M

This situation is only exacerbated by the ghosts. So that means characters who were very definitely dead in the main storyline can show up.

Gamzee has been apparently spreading this religion of ‘redemption arcs’ by ‘making out with people’, and doing some kind of milk-based ‘baptism’. John, meanwhile, asks about the ethics of kidnapping baby Tavros from his horrific parents...

We get to bare witness to Gamzee ‘redeeming’ the ghosts of Feferi and Eridan. Which involves Eridan going on about Feferi’s feet and Gamzee mashing their faces together to make them ‘kiss and make up’.

Jane, it seems, is going full Condesce in more ways than one:

Just then, a dark shadow passes over the park. The crowd falls silent as they raise their heads to watch a drone ship pass by overhead. Its design is insect-like, splitting into many jagged branches, each decked out with weapons and cameras. It’s completely silent, and encased in armor with a bright red finish, smooth and seamless. It’s often cited by Jane as the crown jewel of Crockercorp’s various military contracts with the government.

...including literally building her spaceships, and sending them out over the Troll kingdom.

So we’re basically going to have the Holocaust allegory in here I guess? Fucking hell.

chapter 23

We get more words towards Roxy’s steady character dissolution...

It’s not like Roxy had ever been argumentative, exactly. He just seems to remember someone from his youth who was somewhat more contrarian in spirit than this person he’s married to now.

Back when they were dating, John thought she was acting a little off. Not quite in a bad way, but perhaps a little too “in love,” too fast. At least she still seemed like herself most of the time. But since the wedding, every year that goes by, she seems to become just a little more conciliatory. Not just toward him but toward life in general. She indulges Harry Anderson liberally and almost thoughtlessly. She doesn’t care that her best friend is slowly turning into an executive overseeing the corporate arm up the puppet ass of a ruthless dictatorship. She still thinks Gamzee is being sincere about all this “redemption” bullshit, even though he’s been casting an increasingly dark and hungry shadow behind Jane: a malicious royal vizier to her burgeoning imperial persona.

So John’s going to do something, and hopes that it will make things feel ‘real’ again... which is to say obviously what he talked about with Terezi, kidnapping/rescuing Tavros Crocker. Well-intentioned, but... I do not anticipate this going well.

We learn a little such as... Jane’s planning to outlaw human and troll marriage, which would retroactively hit Rose and Kanaya. Which I guess is the final straw for them. (Frankly it should be well past the final straw for all of them. They should all be with Karkat by this point!)

Also Jane and Jake are in ‘auspistice counselling’. We witness a loud row, in front of Tavros...

TAVROS: It’s fine,,, my parents are kismeses after all,,,

like, fuck.......

It’s a birthday party for Harry Anderson (John and Roxy’s kid), and Jane’s gift is, well, a fucking imperial drone!

sometimes I picture V’s gleeful face as we see the next thing she’s got for us... and now you lick the clown’s armpit... jane’s making the Holocaust but for fictional space aliens...

John awkwardly finds an excuse to be alone with Tavros, to convince him to run away. The kid dialogue is convincingly naive.

The possibility of child sexual abuse (by Gamzee) is raised, but it’s made clear this isn’t the case: what ever else Gamzee is in this version, he doesn’t rape children. However, that the situation is overall abusive in just about every other way is more than clear. Tavros, on his part, seems to be very keen to leave once he’s convinced John can escape Jane’s security.

I have a feeling the imperial drone may become relevant again shortly.

Jade, however, witnesses what John’s trying to do. She insists it will just make everything worse... (also Jake has an ‘execution dance off show’ because yeah...)

Whatever weird character corrosion has hit them is finally raised...

JOHN: if there was another way we would have found it by now!!!

JOHN: but there isn’t one, because everyone’s been all... brainwashed by marriage, or whatever the hell happened over the last few years that made things be this way!

JOHN: it’s like everyone just talks past each other all the time!

JADE: john...

JOHN: i’m the only one who ever seems to realize that something...

JOHN: that something’s WRONG!

Tavros sadly can’t get a word in edgewise as they start having a go at each other - John calling out everything that’s wrong, the way Jade forced a relationship on Dave and Karkat, and... and the noise is loud enough that Jane arrives on the scene.

John finally has a go at her with all the latent awfulness that’s been building up to this point. The fascism, the way she’s treated Jake, the Gamzee thing... the narration has put us very much on his side, centred his perspective, but his friends won’t hear it. And his windy powers destroy the room. So that’s something.

John runs away.

Comment: the mostly strict John viewpoint makes me wonder if there’s any degree of unreliable narration. All the same, most of the stuff is pretty undeniable.

chapter 24

This one begins with an interesting exchange:

JADE [alt-Calliope]: the timelines are interacting again.

ARADIA: ooh do you hear anything interesting

SOLLUX: don’t be s0 n0sy aradia.

To me the implication is that a lot of the ‘arrivals’ in this timeline - alt-Calliope in Jade’s body, the ghosts - are as a result of things that might be happening in the Meat story.

Through alt-Calliope’s eyes, we see Terezi and John’s conversation. Terezi is lost, in more ways than one, in the dreaming void searching for Vriska. She’s also experiencing derealisation... John, apparently in a mood for dropping harsh challenges, tells her point blank that Vriska is either dead, or, not worth her time for leaving her in doubt for so long.

alt-Calliope explains that what is at stake is not the destruction of this universe - but those of them here are ‘the lucky ones’, who live ‘beyond the reach of the prince’. She doesn’t bother to explain what is at stake.

Meanwhile, John and Terezi talk depression. There’s some really vital Terezi dialogue here...

JOHN: please. please come home.

TEREZI: TH3N WH4T

JOHN: umm, i dunno.

JOHN: we hang out and stuff?

TEREZI: JOHN YOU ST1LL DONT G3T 1T

TEREZI: 34RTH C 1S *NOT* MY HOM3

JOHN: do you really miss alternia that bad?

TEREZI: 1 D1D FOR 4 LONG T1M3

TEREZI: MOR3 TH4N K4RK4T 4ND K4N4Y4 D1D 4T L34ST

TEREZI: BUT 1 H4V3 NO 1D34 4NYMOR3

TEREZI: 4LT3RN14, VR1SK4, SGRUB

TEREZI: 1M SO CONFUS3D 4BOUT WH4T 1 W4NT

TEREZI: UGH, 1 THOUGHT TH4T NOT K1LL1NG H3R WOULD M4K3 M3 F33L B3TT3R

TEREZI: BUT 1NST34D 1TS L1K3 1 R3TCONN3D 4 HUG3 CHUNK OUT OF MY SOUL

TEREZI: 1 3R4S3D 4N 4CT1ON OF R3GR3T 4ND GR13F...

TEREZI: 4ND JUST TURN3D 1T 1NTO SOM3TH1NG 1 C4NT STOP CH4S1NG 4FT3R

TEREZI: M4YB3 WH4T 1 D1D W4S N3CESS4RY TO S4V3 3V3RYON3 3LS3

TEREZI: BUT 1T SUR3 D1DNT S4VE M3

oh terezi....

terezi is giving up. she tells john she texted, echoing his words, to ‘give him the courtesy of closure’. and that she’s going to let herself die, alone in the Furthest Ring.

this is the ‘sweet fluffy’ branch huh

chapter 25

finally an update on what’s going on with Karkat!

he’s been somehow appointed ‘Commander’ of the rebellion, with good old Swifer Eggmop as one of his comrades! I’m so glad Swifer is having a role. Karkat is not all that pleased about the successes of his rebellion:

KARKAT: SO FAR ALL THIS “TROLL REBELLION” HAS AMOUNTED TO IS A WHOLE LOT OF DICK ALL, WITH AN ADDITIONAL SIDE SERVING OF JACK SQUAT, FOLLOWED UP BY A FINAL COURSE OF GETTING TO WATCH OUR TOP ANALYST, CLIPER BORDEN, BEING FORCED TO DANCE TO AVOID LIFE IMPRISONMENT IN A LABOR CAMP ON LIVE TELEVISION AND MAKING A COMPLETE ASS OF HIMSELF.

It’s all a weird mix of surreal and grimdark, much like the Alpha kids’ backstory in Homestuck proper. There’s hard labour camps... making cake; a ‘pastry-based shadow dictatorship’.

Rose and Kanaya are at least involved somewhat in the troll rebellion, and transport of the Mother Grub has been arranged.

Anyway, Karkat’s typically grumpy internal monologue is interrupted by the sudden arrival of Meenah from another dimension. A living Meenah - equipped with a Ring of Life. John asks if she got it from Calliope, but Meenah insists she did not. (Possibly she got it from Andrew Hussie himself? I’d have to watch Cascade again probably...)

Meenah, it seems, is fresh from battling Lord English - apparently without success. But her massive army of ghosts arrives with her... and she’s willing for Karkat to take charge and order her around, as long as he does it with a suitably commanderly demeanour. Does this mean the rebellion now stands more of a chance? Meenah is ruthless (she was the Condesce in another life), though capricious... Karkat is honest and direct and angry about the right things, but rather prone to getting lost in it.

Also he still won’t text Dave, and won’t let Rose talk to him about it.

chapter 26

Back to John, who’s thinking about messaging Terezi again - presumably in the hope that she is not, in fact, dead?

He’s getting a good old mope on about the seeming fakeness, non-’canonicity’ of life on Earth C. But after some ‘melodramatic contemplating’ in this vein, he’s interrupted by his dad’s car.

I’m going to be very curious if the Meat route explains how all this stuff got into the Earth C universe.

Unfortunately, what John finds in the car is... not his dad, but a bit of Terezi’s blood. From which he concludes... he’s never going to see her again, there was never even a possibility of it.

Feeling derealisation more than ever, John just screams a lot.

Damn lol, this story is making me care about John Egbert of all people!

epilogue 5

This is the episode where the whole idyll comes crashing down. Things aren’t ok, things weren’t going to be ok, trying to pretend things were ok just made everyone miserable.

I am sufficiently depressed that that rather appeals as a narrative - much more than a ‘happily ever after’ ending. But it’s not over yet.

Hopefully there’s yet hope for the characters I like to find some manner of escape from this latest hell, develop out of the worst selves they’ve built... Roxy, at least, I hope can change, stop being this non-person...

#momestuck

2 notes · View notes

renegade-skywalker · 6 years ago

Text

A Curious Thing, Chapter 2: An Invitation

Mira and the Handmaiden find themselves in closer quarters now that they're on a mission together, though where it's going neither can tell.

Mira wasn’t exactly the first person to volunteer and follow the Exile to Korriban, but she didn’t back down either. Some of the others had reasons for staying on the ship while others were just plain spooked. But the Handmaiden seemed resolute, determined if anything to face its evils. Mira followed suit, though she wasn’t sure why…

The three of them finally escaped the dry heat of the place (or this fucking hellhole, as Mira was already calling it with mock affection) to rest in the shade at the mouth of a nearby cave, situated halfway up what looked like a hill but felt more like a mountain on their way to the derelict Sith academy at the summit.

The Exile eyed the cavern with a curious eye, never letting his guard down. The Handmaiden did the same.

Mira twitched, fidgeting with her wrist launcher to keep the sand out of the smaller crevices, squinting into the darkness.

“I don’t like the looks of this place,” she muttered, “Or the smell of it, or the … feel of it.”

The Exile turned to face her, his brow furrowed.

“Feel?” he echoed, taking a step closer, “How does it feel to you?”

His cadence seemed almost casual, but the swiftness with which he answered her spoke to a deeper concern. Mira shrugged.

“Heavy,” she said after a beat, the word feeling right as she said it. “Dead. Old, maybe? But still… present, somehow. Like something’s lingering here.”

The words came without question, goosebumps spreading along her arms despite the heat as she heard her own thoughts take to the open air. She eyed the Handmaiden, now appearing just as concerned as the Exile, but somehow also… afraid? Her eyes grew wide for a moment, their blue drowned out by all the brown and beige around them, before biting her lip and covering her worry with that usual calm she emanated otherwise.

The Exile only nodded, knowingly, though he could tell he was saving the rest of this conversation for later. Mira knew what she said held truth, but the fact that she said it held weight, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

“So, are we moving on or what?” Mira nodded in the direction of the derelict academy in the distance, peering over the edge of a cliff at them from the top of the mountain. The Exile glanced in the same direction, following her gaze and studying the rock face before shaking his head.

“This cave might be worth looking into, but-” he looked the cavern in the mouth again, his gaze unsure now, “Maybe you’re right.”

Mira cocked her head in question, but she didn’t say anything. She felt something when she looked the cave in the eye, and it sure as hell didn’t make her love this place any more, if anything. Whatever it was the Exile felt, Mira felt something too, and it wasn’t good. Judging by the Handmaiden’s expression, she knew it was just the same. The Exile’s gaze traveled between the two of them, his dark eyes wondering, before glancing back at the cave one last time.

“Perhaps later,” he said, urging them onward, beginning the long trek upward again.

“Sure,” Mira said, trying her best to swallow her fear, and not at the cave itself or this fucking hellhole - but the feelings, the sense she had about this place. What was that about? She wasn’t sure she wanted to find out.

“I don’t like the feel of this place, either,” the Handmaiden said this time, shooting Mira a look over the corpse of the Tuk’ata she had just slaughtered, its breath still rising hot in the shade of the academy’s entrance.

Mira nodded at her, their eyes locking for the briefest of moments in understanding, before she looked to the Exile.

“It shouldn’t feel welcoming,” he affirmed darkly, his eyes scanning the intricate carvings on the door before them. “Be on your guard.”

He was almost a shadow in the darkness of the academy’s portico, his dark skin melting into a silhouette as he stood before the door, hardly visible to either one of them. At least the Handmaiden was clad in all white, her features in stark contrast to everything around her, seemingly everywhere they went - at least as long as Mira had been there. Her eyes gleamed blue-white in the shadows, a beacon of light in the dark.

The Exile waved his hand over the doors’ surface and gears click clocked at his whim, or at the will of the Force, at least. The door split in two, halved at the center as each slab retreated into a hidden track, allowing them access.

“Was that a password you muttered or did that really take a magic trick to open?” Mira asked quietly, almost sarcastic but knowing her earnest interest peppered her words.

“A bit of both,” the Exile muttered over his shoulder, the surprise evident in in his answer. “I’m not sure what happened but… I have a feeling we’re expected.”

He raised a brow and looked pointedly at Mira, his brown eyes near black in the lack of light. Mira’s skin grew cold but she steeled herself, her wrist-launcher at the ready and her blaster poised. The Handmaiden raised her staff to the open doorway, just as ready, waiting with the rest of them.

The Exile glanced at them both, his gaze grazing his shoulders as he surveyed each of his companions before entering, and somehow Mira knew he was glad they were the ones who joined him now. She thought of how Atton would hate this place as much as Mira did, remarking on the planet’s every feature with a sarcastic quip, but the way he spoke as they landed told her that there was something here that set him on edge. He was more prickly than usual, and not in the mood for jokes once the loading ramp descended, as if he wanted to avoid the sand if it were a plague. Looking into the mouth of the academy, Mira thought that maybe this place was cursed - nothing but a ruin full of death, tempting those who were yet so - and something about the sneer the Handmaiden bore as the doors parted told her that she felt the same.

By the time they came upon the cave again, they were covered in dried blood, caked with sand, and still raw with the sight of Master Lonna Vash’s dead body, the torture still evident on her skin, in the blood pooled at her down-turned head, the gaping hole in her skull…

And then the Exile disappeared, swallowed into the heart of the cave as if it were any old hallway, just another detour - but the determination with which he entered set Mira more on edge than the idea that the man might have just gone crazy. Something was beyond those cave walls, something that waited for him and hungered for his pain, and Mira and the Handmaiden would just have to wait until the Exile passed the test or died in the attempt.

He gave them leave, assuring that it was okay if they wanted to turn back and ready the ship should he not return - but neither woman had moved, nor did they intend to.

Mira waited, poised on a rock as she examined the remains of an ancient vessel, long plundered though something gold and glittering peered at her over the broken edge, wedged between sand and rock. The Handmaiden, however, would not stop moving.

“Is that all you ever do?” Mira asked after a while, what may have very well been hours. “Train? Practice? Whatever you call it?”

The Handmaiden parried against an unseen opponent, her staff slicing through the air with precision - or what Mira assumed was precision given there was no real target on the receiving end.

“What else is there?” the Handmaiden said in a hurried breath, not taking a moment to pause. “How do you get it all out?”

Mira balked, frozen as she stood poised, still plucking a rock from her boot, the Handmaiden still going at it all the while.

“Get all what out?”

The Handmaiden paused, or what could have counted as a pause for her - she remained in place, though she bounced on the balls of her feet, still ready for a fight.

“Tension,” she almost sighed, still moving, “Stress, anger-”

The Handmaiden swung her staff again, its metal body singing as it made its way across the open space, coming face-to-face with the rugged rock wall beside her, stilling just an inch from its jagged surface.

“Everything.”

She moved again, but this time almost like dancer, twining across the rock shelf like water down a stream.

Mira stood mesmerized, the boot rock still held aloft over her unearthed shoe.

“Everything?”

The Handmaiden nodded, though she paused once she saw the questioning look on Mira’s face.

“Perhaps it’s just an Echani thing, but-” she moved closer, closer than Mira remembered her venturing, at least not by accident. “I assumed it was a thing common amongst warriors.”

Mira wanted to laugh. Me? A warrior?

But the laugh never found purchase. Instead, she sat there in silence, her face blank as she processed the thought. She thinks me a warrior, huh?

And she figured she was. Always on edge, always looking over her shoulder, ready for a fight. But was that what really made a soldier? Mandalore would disagree, as would any true Mandalorian as Mira had learned as a child. But was that all she was? Or was she just… scared? She knew how to fight. Maybe that was all she knew, so that was what she did. She didn’t look for fights, but she knew where to find them, knowing she could milk credits out of them and get herself something to eat. But was that enough? Was there any valor in there? And did Mira even care?

As waves of thought and realization lapped at her, Mira stood staring, the Handmaiden awaiting her response patiently all the while, even though the woman didn’t owe her that much, even though Mira never once saw her grant anyone else the same courtesy. Not even the Exile.

“So, what do you say?” the Handmaiden asked, her staff held at the ready as it always was, though this time as an invitation.

“You’re on.”

#star wars #kotor 2 #mira x brianna #mira #brianna the handmaiden #fan fiction #my writing #wlw

13 notes · View notes