#sort of. book is published but yea

[izuku]

the actual winners of the dance ranked by win-ness:

rhaena. number one here. absolute g. lost a lotta family yeah, buuuut she basically spent the war on a nice vacay in the vale. has the last dragon, a cute pink one named morning! marries a hightower and has six girls with him. welcome back garth the green

house hightower overall. targs and velaryons never recover. this is their peak and it's all downhill from here. meanwhile house hightower is fine. seems to have lost no wealth or power. one of them is even named hand of the king again after this entire fiasco. possible house extinction event? good thing the hightowers are so smooth

daemon targaryen. now he did literally die in the war so there is that. but in the end his sons are both kings. all four of his kids survive which is great for him. he's lowest because he died and because he's probably seething the 7 hells as we speak over rhaena's marriage

[tracle0]

hello I am wandering into your askbox with request for A Ramble :D I have been thinkin about He (Cain) because I am a longtime member of the Cain fanclub n wanted to know if you could talk about his schizophrenia a little? I remember bits and bobs from way back when but ye I just wanna hear more about it, n whether it's changed since you first created him :3 also what's his favourite colour?

Ahh Cain yeah! He’s a guy I can! For sure chatter about him. For sure. You have indeed been a long term member, and I? Think? You were? What inspired me to give him? Schizophrenia? Man that’s wild. Mm. Okay! 

Cain himself has changed a lot since I first made him (which was! Maybe? Five years ago now?), and his schizophrenia has changed alongside that. Originally, when I talked about him more, he was a computer hacker and a bundle of paranoia and fresh prison escapee. These days, he’s? Mostly? Just a guy? Aspiring penetration tester, current psychology student, darling and wonderful twin brother.

In terms of his schizophrenia, it’s… mmm. Less? There? In the main main storyline? It’s mentioned and relevant at times for sure. A snippet from when he gets possessed that brings it up, here:

(I'm writing on my phone and have been for the past few months, it's the only thing that works these days, shhh).

So like. It’s bought up. He’s aware of it and sceptical of things, including things that get in his head and starts to try to tell him to do something, buuuuuut the infection is also in his head and, as a result, also aware of it and works around it and/or with it to get what it wants. As you can see, distinguished itself as separate from other hallucinated voices very quickly, cements itself as something to be trusted and listened to and, in time, obeyed, using anything it has at its disposal. Which is primarily, control and influence over his mind. 

So like. Example. Cain is sometimes paranoid about food - where it comes from, what’s in it, and how it could harm him. It’s something he’s worked on for a while, but when possessed, he starts to go “um hey actually I should stop this very long mission across the country and eat or sleep maybe?” It’s like. Hahahahaha!!! No???? What??? No!!! Keep going!!!! And just. Flickers that old paranoia until he’s like oh yeah you’re totally right I’ll keep going nvm 

At other times, though, the infection finds his schizophrenia to be a problem! A deterrent from what it needs doing - he’s spending energy and resources and thought on these delusions or worries, he’s struggling to speak correctly, and he’s not entirely trusting it as much as he should. So it. Just. Removes the symptoms. It’s a. Balance between what is useful to it, and what is a problem to it. 

The? Infections' main goal is to get to various statues of gods across the country. Anything that detracts from that is a problem. Cain needing to eat is a problem, so it removes the need for that. Cain needing to rest is a problem, so it removes the need for that. Cain struggling to get the right words across to tell someone they need to let him pass is a problem, so it removes that. 

This acts as a red flag for Theo nd Raya, our lovely main characters, in realising something is deeply wrong with Cain after being possessed - he’s usually apathetic, very blank face a lot of the time. With this infection (it’s, uh, name is the Blight I’m just gonna say that haha), he starts to express more, which very much concerns them, because he doesn’t. He doesn’t do that???? If he’s comfortable with you he’ll just :| or >:| and be happy with that? Why is he smiling? Why is he snarling? That’s? Not? Right?????? 

I will also say that his schizophrenia is quite important to the. Backstory? Context? … Lore???? The background of Theo nd Cains's relationship. Theo, obviously, is a prophet, the last voice of the gods, seer of the past and future. All these fun things that he hates. He reports these as voices and visions he sees in his dreams and trudges through life, irked that he has to manage them. At first, Cain is. Indifferent about them. Just a thing Theo does, who cares. When he starts to hear voices, he starts to care a little more, though. Asks questions about it. Gets the details. And slowly, a delusion starts to form that - hey, your brother is a prophet. So are you. Listen to these voices, hear what the universe tells you, it’s important. 

It is made about a million times worse by the fact that, upon hearing this thought, Theo encourages it. 

He’s got this Thing that he’s been alone with for so long, to have someone - his brother, even! - Share in it? A dream come true! (Not that kind of dream). So Cain spirals a fair bit, struggles a fair bit, is finally caught for what the problem is and, to a degree, shuns his brother. Doesn’t… actively blame him, because he can recognise that he didn’t do it maliciously, but the damage was still done and he was absolutely a catalyst in it. Theo is asked to leave home. Theo leaves home. Comes back for a visit, is a day late, and - ah, Cain is mistaken for his brother, kidnapped, and possessed by the Blight in his place. And then we kick off our plot.

So like? The story is very much about the final echoes of a dead religion, the prophet sent to try and preserve it, and the inhumanity he faces as a result of what he was born as. It's very much a story of this divine infection, created for a specific purpose and then hated for fulfilling it, discarded and left to rot, and its next attempt to be noticed, to be loved. And it's very much a story about the incredible damage someone close to you can do with all good intentions, and a process of forgiveness for? Both? Brothers? Sorry I sent you away. Sorry I hurt you like that. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

That got. Long. My bad. Uh! Colour! Cain is actually fully colour-blind, so? He? Doesn't have one. During his possession, the Blight sloooooowly gives him the ability to see golds and yellows, because that's the colour it claims, so? Gold? I suppose? Is his default favourite :)?

[eri-pl]

Ooooh. :) What an interesting topic to think of. (disclaimer: that is all purely for intellectual fun and not expected to fit with any real-world theology or anything also may contain peanuts.)

I am slightly surprised with your take on the Ainur (the accents, not the content) but yes, the fact that they existed before time makes it somewhat weird when you look at it too closely, but,... idk. Let's handweave it.

Maeglin is blamed on the Doom of the Noldor? I forgot that, that's interesting.

Yes, the non-Noldor, and early Noldor were not perfect, also, Miriel died and Finwë get this really strange for Elves thing when he fell in love again, and this was before the whole thing. "In some ways" is the key here, I agree. Like... they are not all-fallen-as-a-race but many of them seem kinda fallen. I think it's another case of Tolkien trying to do many things at various times and those things not working well together.

Also, you could say that the Dark Elves fell when they refused to go to Valinor, maybe? That would fix a lot. The Vanyar do seem non-fallen, unless you hc them to be jerks. And you could also blame the Teleri for waiting. This still leaves the pre-exile Noldor as an open question. But they do work with Melkor after his release….

Elves are tied to Arda, they are maybe more like the natural world, maybe their fall is very gradual, fuzzy... Men are more all-or-nothing than elves, I would assume. The Elves are connected to Arda, they are sort of grounded, maybe their corruption and the corruption of Arda is not fully separable. Yes, we're probably getting to stuff that normally would be a heresy, but idk it's a fantasy book and maybe we can see it as a metaphor for something.

Yes, Men are… Men. And hobbits are Men, but smol. And yes, the Shire is Tolkien's nostalgia wish-fulfillment land in a way.

The Dwarves are, I would say, not fully integrated in the narrative as a metaphysically-on-human-level race. They started off as monsters, like Orcs, and evolved among Tolkien's drafts and ended up a little unfinished. Other seemingly-posessing-souls creatures (Ents, Eagles if you don't see them as Maiar,..) are even more unintegrated.

I don't think I have a good explanation of the Dwarves, but also, with them we are working so far outside any framework we know…

I don't have much new thoughts to add, I'm sorry. It's just… What we are doing, what Tolkien tried to do is just jumping so much above out heads. (But also so interesting.)

OK, let me propose something: the Dwarves have both the "problem" of Men (die) and the "problem" of Elves (while alive, they're attuned to Arda). They just get un-attuned when they die. Somehow. Because Aulë made them in a way that was… well, he tried. I like Aulë.

So the Men are, in a way the only unfallen (except that they fell) race: they are the only ones that are not corrupted by the marring of Arda, because they are not connected to it so strongly, like they have a kind of filter? So… OK, we're getting to a place where I need to put my hc on a shelf to even be able to discuss that close enough to what Tolkien wrote or suggested. So I will not go into the details. Anyway the outcome is that they are fallen too, but they are fallen in a different way. From the inside.

And it seems the exiled Noldor may have this too? I'm not fully buying it tbh. But maybe that was Tolkien's intent about them. So they would be breaking both from the outside and from the inside. But they do not die. So, you are probably right, it's not the same thing.

Anyway, the marring is one thing and the fact that the Valar aren't working perfectlly either… it may be the result of the marring, it may be just the result of them being ...whatever to call it. But they do make mistakes, to mention the biggest: the whole Dwarves situation. I think this also has an impact on the state of the world.

The world is falling apart (just slowly) and the Men (and only them) would not be falling apart with it, except they do, just for a different reason. This makes no sense on many levels, probably, but makes some sense to me as a way to read the Silm. It fits with the theme of diminishing and fading and all that.

In which I puzzle over metaphysical implications as regards the peoples inhabiting Arda

fyi, a certain familiarity with the (predominantly Christian, I think) concept of fallenness/unfallenness is assumed, although it turns out that it doesn't necessarily work here. Feel free to ask for clarifications

So. I'm once again wracking my head as I try to make sense of what I shall call: 'metaphysical states' of elves, men and others, because the subject is emphasised and lampshaded a lot in the books, and I can't force it all to make sense when taken together.

Ainur are a specific case and I should really leave them aside for now. They certainly can fall — and, unlike angels, change their mind, apparently (which goes both ways) — although they do seem to be more all-or-nothing than everyone else. Still, I think as long as one doesn't go into the implications of time and what its existence or nonexistence changes, they're almost straightforward. But then you have:

Elves. The 'Fall of the Noldor' is very strongly emphasised as a metaphysical fall from grace and further evils, even ones unconnected with the matter of the Silmarils themselves, are blamed on it later (Maeglin!) So far so good. Except. Non-Noldor are also liable to behave in ways that are not exemplary in the slightest, and it doesn't seem to signify a cesura in the same way — and the Noldor in Valinor were able to commit acts that perhaps weren't as heinous as what we call crimes, but weren't good either. Getting into rancid fights with your brother isn't much in comparison, but these are not the actions of unfallen people.

And on the other hand, authorial quote (paraphrased): "Elves in some ways represent Man in an unfallen state". And I'm inclined to agree: they aren't subject to death (except they may be killed, so doesn't this already break down?), and there is something very poignant in the image of their artistry, "extempt from earthly limitations". But they do not lose it, not in any easily tangible way. We can argue that evil diminishes creativity and it's probably true, but there is no hard line anyone passes. And this is again lampshaded in-world with the Númenoreans ("If we die because of some darkness that lay on us before, than why don't the Noldor?").

Which brings us to Men. The existence of a direct cause-effect relationship between fallenness and mortality in Arda cannot be ascertained (Even taking into account a Catholic framework, I feel that logically it need not be the same relationship as the Biblical one since, in contrast with the Garden of Eden, the world was already marred when humans appeared). While I consider the Tale of Adanel to be Gondorian in origin, I can also see the possibility that whatever Men did back then, beyond memory (or in other words "we purposefully forgot") was just that much worse than Alqualondë and the Oath. In any case, Man is very straightforwardly Fallen.

Hobbits. The rules for Halflings are presumably the same as for Men, which is certainly notable, given that they seem to be the least inclined to evil of all incarnates. Not perfect, not by a long shot, but unknowing of wars and violence. A pastoral image, only in-world it's true.

And at the same time, my musings bring me to the unexpected conclusion that dwarves are the only notable "generally unfallen" kindred. Which is, in context of everything that regards them, weird — because by their actions, they are very similar to Men. And yet — either the circumstances of their creation make them disadvantaged from the start (which doesn't really make that much sense), or something happened off-screen, or it's the same case as Saeros, or Thingol sending Beren to his death.

Ents? I honestly don't know if we've seen enough of ents to judge, although they seem generally good-inclined? Huorns are a different kettle of fish.

Before I try to explain orcs, it would do well to know what they are exactly.

In other words, I cannot make sense of it all, enough that I've resorted to calling the default state of incarnates in Arda "semi-fallen" (or, as is, "semi-unfallen"). Which is not a thing that makes sense, philosophically speaking — but I can find no better way.

(Although, to be quite honest, the default state of being in Arda (because of the discord?) seems to be significantly different from the unfallen state of Man as described by religious thinkers in some ways, and not all of them regard merely such things as physical marring, so perhaps "semi" isn't the worst way to describe it.)

In any case, if someone has thoughts on the subject, I'm very open to hearing them.

[fatehbaz]

hi! SUPER interesting excerpt on ants and empire; adding it to my reading list. have you ever read "mosquito empires," by john mcneill?

Yea, I've read it. (Mosquito Empires: Ecology and War in the Greater Caribbean, 1620-1914, basically about influence of environment and specifically insect-borne disease on colonial/imperial projects. Kinda brings to mind Centering Animals in Latin American History [Few and Tortorici, 2013] and the exploration of the centrality of ecology/plants to colonialism in Plants and Empire: Colonial Bioprospecting in the Atlantic World [Schiebinger, 2007].)

If you're interested: So, in the article we're discussing, Rohan Deb Roy shows how Victorian/Edwardian British scientists, naturalists, academics, administrators, etc., used language/rhetoric to reinforce colonialism while characterizing insects, especially termites in India and elsewhere in the tropics, as "Goths"; "arch scourge of humanity"; "blight of learning"; "destroying hordes"; and "the foe of civilization". [Rohan Deb Roy. “White ants, empire, and entomo-politics in South Asia.” The Historical Journal. October 2019.] He explores how academic and pop-sci literature in the US and Britain participated in racist dehumanization of non-European people by characterizing them as "uncivilized", as insects/animals. (This sort of stuff is summarized by Neel Ahuja, describing interplay of race, gender, class, imperialism, disease/health, anthropomorphism. See Ahuja's “Postcolonial Critique in a Multispecies World.”)

In a different 2018 article on "decolonizing science," Deb Roy also moves closer to the issue of mosquitoes, disease, hygiene, etc. explored in Mosquito Empires. Deb Roy writes: 'Sir Ronald Ross had just returned from an expedition to Sierra Leone. The British doctor had been leading efforts to tackle the malaria that so often killed English colonists in the country, and in December 1899 he gave a lecture to the Liverpool Chamber of Commerce [...]. [H]e argued that "in the coming century, the success of imperialism will depend largely upon success with the microscope."''

Deb Roy also writes elsewhere about "nonhuman empire" and how Empire/colonialism brutalizes, conscripts, employs, narrates other-than-human creatures. See his book Malarial Subjects: Empire, Medicine and Nonhumans in British India, 1820-1909 (published 2017).

---

Like Rohan Deb Roy, Jonathan Saha is another scholar with a similar focus (relationship of other-than-human creatures with British Empire's projects in Asia). Among his articles: "Accumulations and Cascades: Burmese Elephants and the Ecological Impact of British Imperialism." Transactions of the Royal Historical Society. 2022. /// “Colonizing elephants: animal agency, undead capital and imperial science in British Burma.” BJHS Themes. British Society for the History of Science. 2017. /// "Among the Beasts of Burma: Animals and the Politics of Colonial Sensibilities, c. 1840-1940." Journal of Social History. 2015. /// And his book Colonizing Animals: Interspecies Empire in Myanmar (published 2021).

---

Related spirit/focus. If you liked the termite/India excerpt, you might enjoy checking out this similar exploration of political/imperial imagery of bugs a bit later in the twentieth century: Fahim Amir. “Cloudy Swords” e-flux Journal Issue #115. February 2021.

Amir explores not only insect imagery, specifically caricatures of termites in discourse about civilization (like the Deb Roy article about termites in India), but Amir also explores the mosquito/disease aspect invoked by your message (Mosquito Empires) by discussing racially segregated city planning and anti-mosquito architecture in British West Africa and Belgian Congo, as well as anti-mosquito campaigns of fascist Italy and the ascendant US empire. German cities began experiencing a non-native termite infestation problem shortly after German forces participated in violent suppression of resistance in colonial Africa. Meanwhile, during anti-mosquito campaigns in the Panama Canal zone, US authorities imposed forced medical testing of women suspected of carrying disease. Article features interesting statements like: 'The history of the struggle against the [...] mosquito reads like the history of capitalism in the twentieth century: after imperial, colonial, and nationalistic periods of combatting mosquitoes, we are now in the NGO phase, characterized by shrinking [...] health care budgets, privatization [...].' I've shared/posted excerpts before, which I introduce with my added summary of some of the insect-related imagery: “Thousands of tiny Bakunins”. Insects "colonize the colonizers". The German Empire fights bugs. Fascist ants, communist termites, and the “collectivism of shit-eating”. Insects speak, scream, and “go on rampage”.

---

In that Deb Roy article, there is a section where we see that some Victorian writers pontificated on how "ants have colonies and they're quite hard workers, just like us!" or "bugs have their own imperium/domain, like us!" So that bugs can be both reviled and also admired. On a similar note, in the popular imagination, about anthropomorphism of Victorian bugs, and the "celebrated" "industriousness" and "cleverness" of spiders, there is: Claire Charlotte McKechnie. “Spiders, Horror, and Animal Others in Late Victorian Empire Fiction.” Journal of Victorian Culture. December 2012. She also addresses how Victorian literature uses natural science and science fiction to process anxiety about imperialism. This British/Victorian excitement at encountering "exotic" creatures of Empire, and popular discourse which engaged in anthropormorphism, is explored by Eileen Crist's Images of Animals: Anthropomorphism and Animal Mind and O'Connor's The Earth on Show: Fossils and the Poetics of Popular Science, 1802-1856.

Related anthologies include a look at other-than-humans in literature and popular discourse: Gothic Animals: Uncanny Otherness and the Animal With-Out (Heholt and Edmunson, 2020). There are a few studies/scholars which look specifically at "monstrous plants" in the Victorian imagination. Anxiety about gender and imperialism produced caricatures of woman as exotic anthropomorphic plants, as in: “Murderous plants: Victorian Gothic, Darwin and modern insights into vegetable carnivory" (Chase et al., Botanical Journal of the Linnean Society, 2009). Special mention for the work of Anna Boswell, which explores the British anxiety about imperialism reflected in their relationships with and perceptions of "strange" creatures and "alien" ecosystems, especially in Aotearoa. (Check out her “Anamorphic Ecology, or the Return of the Possum.” Transformations. 2018.)

And then bridging the Victorian anthropomorphism of bugs with twentieth-century hygiene campaigns, exploring "domestic sanitation" there is: David Hollingshead. “Women, insects, modernity: American domestic ecologies in the late nineteenth century.” Feminist Modernist Studies. August 2020. (About the cultural/social pressure to protect "the home" from bugs, disease, and "invasion".)

---

In fields like geography, history of science, etc., much has been said/written about how botany was the key imperial science/field, and there is the classic quintessential tale of the British pursuit of cinchona from Latin America, to treat mosquito-borne disease among its colonial administrators in Africa, India, and Southeast Asia. In other words: Colonialism, insects, plants in the West Indies shaped and influenced Empire and ecosystems in the East Indies, and vice versa. One overview of this issue from Early Modern era through the Edwardian era, focused on Britain and cinchona: Zaheer Baber. "The Plants of Empire: Botanic Gardens, Colonial Power and Botanical Knowledge." May 2016. Elizabeth DeLoughrey and other scholars of the Caribbean, "the postcolonial," revolutionary Black Atlantic, etc. have written about how plantation slavery in the Caribbean provided a sort of bounded laboratory space. (See Britt Rusert's "Plantation Ecologies: The Experiential Plantation [...].") The argument is that plantations were already of course a sort of botanical laboratory for naturalizing and cultivating valuable commodity plants, but they were also laboratories to observe disease spread and to practice containment/surveillance of slaves and laborers. See also Chakrabarti's Bacteriology in British India: laboratory medicine and the tropics (2012). Sharae Deckard looks at natural history in imperial/colonial imagination and discourse (especially involving the Caribbean, plantations, the sea, and the tropics) looking at "the ecogothic/eco-Gothic", Edenic "nature", monstrous creatures, exoticism, etc. Kinda like Grove's discussion of "tropical Edens" in the colonial imagination of Green Imperialism.

Dante Furioso's article "Sanitary Imperialism" (from e-flux's Sick Architecture series) provides a summary of US entomology and anti-mosquito campaigns in the Caribbean, and how "US imperial concepts about the tropics" and racist pathologization helped influence anti-mosquito campaigns that imposed racial segregation in the midst of hard labor, gendered violence, and surveillance in the Panama Canal zone. A similar look at manipulation of mosquito-borne disease in building empire: Gregg Mitman. “Forgotten Paths of Empire: Ecology, Disease, and Commerce in the Making of Liberia’s Plantation Economy.” Environmental History. 2017. (Basically, some prominent medical schools/departments evolved directly out of US military occupation and industrial plantations of fruit/rubber/sugar corporations; faculty were employed sometimes simultaneously by fruit companies, the military, and academic institutions.) This issue is also addressed by Pratik Chakrabarti in Medicine and Empire, 1600-1960 (2014).

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Meanwhile, there are some other studies that use non-human creatures (like a mosquito) to frame imperialism. Some other stuff that comes to mind about multispecies relationships to empire:

Lawrence H. Kessler. “Entomology and Empire: Settler Colonial Science and the Campaign for Hawaiian Annexation.” Arcadia (Spring 2017)

No Wood, No Kingdom: Political Ecology in the English Atlantic (Keith Pluymers)

Archie Davies. "The racial division of nature: Making land in Recife". Transactions of the Institute of British Geographers Volume 46, Issue 2, pp. 270-283. November 2020.

Yellow Fever, Race, and Ecology in Nineteenth-Century New Orleans (Urmi Engineer Willoughby, 2017)

Pasteur’s Empire: Bacteriology and Politics in France, Its Colonies, and the World (Aro Velmet, 2022)

Tom Brooking and Eric Pawson. “Silences of Grass: Retrieving the Role of Pasture Plants in the Development of New Zealand and the British Empire.” The Journal of Imperial and Commonwealth History. August 2007.

Under Osman's Tree: The Ottoman Empire, Egypt, and Environmental History (Alan Mikhail)

The Herds Shot Round the World: Native Breeds and the British Empire, 1800-1900 (Rebecca J.H. Woods, 2017)

Imperial Bodies in London: Empire, Mobility, and the Making of British Medicine, 1880-1914 (Kristen Hussey, 2021)

Red Coats and Wild Birds: How Military Ornithologists and Migrant Birds Shaped Empire (Kirsten Greer, 2020)

Animality and Colonial Subjecthood in Africa: The Human and Nonhuman Creatures of Nigeria (Saheed Aderinto, 2022)

Imperial Creatures: Humans and Other Animals in Colonial Singapore, 1819-1942 (Timothy P. Barnard, 2019)

Biotic Borders: Transpacific Plant and Insect Migration and the Rise of Anti-Asian Racism in America, 1890-1950 (Jeannie N. Shinozuka)

[fdelopera]

Welcome to the 39th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper 115 yeas ago.

In today’s installment, we have Part VII of Chapter 14, “La Lyre d’Apollon” (“Apollo’s Lyre”), and Part I of Chapter 15, “Un Coup de maître de l’amateur de trappes” (“A Masterstroke of the Trapdoor Lover”).

This section was first printed on Tuesday, 23 November, 1909.

For anyone following along in David Coward's translation of the First Edition of Phantom of the Opera (either in paperback, or Kindle, or from another vendor -- the ISBN-13 is: 978-0199694570), the text starts in Chapter 13 with, “'Christine,' said Raoul as he got to his feet, 'you say you love me but it was only a matter of hours after you were free again that you went back to him',” and goes to Chapter 14, “Then she rushed out in a state of near-panic, still pulling and smoothing her fingers as if she thought the ring would somehow mysteriously reappear of its own accord.”

There are some differences between the Gaulois text and the First Edition. In this section, these include (highlighted in red above):

1) Chapter XV was printed as Chapter XVI. This numbering error was made in Chapter VII, and was not corrected, so it was propagated throughout the Gaulois publication.

2) Chapter 15 in the Gaulois text is Chapter 14 in the First Edition, etc.

3) Compare the Gaulois text:

… vous dites que vous m'aimez et quelques heures à peine s'étaient écoulées depuis que vous aviez recouvé votre liberté, que déjà vous retourniez auprès d'Erik !…

Translation:

“… you say that you love me and yet scarcely a few hours had passed since you had regained your liberty, and you were already going back to Erik!…”)

To the First Edition:

… vous dites que vous m'aimez, mais quelques heures à peine s'étaient écoulées, depuis que vous aviez recouvé votre liberté, que déjà vous retourniez auprès d'Erik !…

Translation:

“… you say that you love me, but scarcely a few hours had passed since you had regained your liberty, and you were already going back to Erik!…”

4) This passage was added to the First Edition (indicated by the red arrow above), and does not appear in the Gaulois:

Soudain une silhouette bizarre se dressa devant les jeunes gens, leur barrant le chemin :

« Non ! pas par ici ! »

Et la silhouette leur indiqua un autre couloir par lequel ils devaient gagner les coulisses.

Raoul voulait s’arrêter, demander des explications.

« Allez ! allez vite !… commanda cette forme vague, dissimulée dans une sorte de houppelande et coiffée d’un bonnet pointu.*

Christine entraînait déjà Raoul, le forçait à courir encore :

« Mais qui est-ce ? Mais qui est-ce, celui-là ? » demandait le jeune homme.

Et Christine répondait :

« C’est Le Persan !…

– Qu’est-ce qu’il fait là…

– On n’en sait rien !… Il est toujours dans l’Opéra !

Translation:

Suddenly, a strange silhouette loomed before the two youths, blocking their path:

“No! Not this way!”

And the silhouette pointed to another corridor by which they must reach the wings.

Raoul wanted to stop, to ask for an explanation.

“Go! Go quickly!…” ordered this shadowy figure, enshrouded in a sort of houppelande and capped with a pointed hat.*

Christine was already dragging Raoul away, forcing him to run again:

“But who is that? Who is that man?” asked the young man.

And Christine replied:

“That is The Persian!…”

“What is he doing here?…”

“No one knows!… He is always at the Opera!”

* NOTE: Leroux's character of "The Persian" was based on an actual French historical figure, the Persian gentleman and expat, Mohammed Ismaël Khan. This image below depicts the houppelande coat and Astrakhan cap that Leroux was likely imagining when he was writing his novel.

This image is from Les Célébrités de la rue, by Charles Yriarte, published in 1864, a book that listed notable figures in Paris in the early to mid 1800s. It was published during Mohammed Ismaël Khan's lifetime, as M. Khan passed away in 1868.

It is worth noting that the Opera House that M. Khan frequented was the Salle Le Peletier, which was destroyed in a fire in 1873 (five years after M. Khan's death). Two years later in 1875, the Paris Opera was moved to the newly opened Palais Garnier (aka Erik's Opera House). So, contrary to Leroux's narrative, M. Khan never actually frequented the Palais Garnier. This is an example of faction (fact+fiction), one of Leroux's favorite literary devices, which Leroux used throughout Le Fantôme de l'Opéra to build a feeling of verisimilitude into his fictionalized narrative.

5) Compare the Gaulois text:

C'était Erik. Il avait les yeux de braise dont vous m'avez parlé. J'aurais dû le clouer sur la lyre d'Apollon…

Translation:

“That was Erik. He had the fiery eyes that you told me about. I should have nailed him to Apollo’s Lyre…”

To the First Edition:

Si vraiment nous avons aperçu Erik j'aurais dû le clouer sur la lyre d'Apollon…

Translation:

“If that truly was Erik that we saw, I should have nailed him to Apollo’s Lyre…”

6) Compare the Gaulois text (this was likely an error on Leroux’s part, since earlier, Raoul agreed to be in Christine’s dressing room at midnight sharp):

… à minuit et demi ! fit le jeune homme …

Translation:

“… at half past midnight!” said the young man …

To the First Edition:

… à minuit je serai dans votre loge, fit le jeune homme …

Translation:

“… at midnight I shall be in your dressing room,” said the young man

7) Compare the Gaulois text:

Jamais ! répondit-elle avec énergie. Je la renverrai à Erik en la déposant dans la loge du fantôme. Il faut qu'Erik puisse rentrer tranquillement chez lui le soir…

Translation:

“Never!” she replied forcefully. “I shall return it [the key] to Erik by leaving it in the Phantom’s box. Erik must be able to return calmly to his house in the evening…”

To the First Edition:

Jamais ! répondit-elle avec énergie. Ce serait une trahison !

Translation:

“Never!” she replied forcefully. “That would be a betrayal!”

8) Minor differences in punctuation.

Click here to see the entire edition of Le Gaulois from 23 November, 1909. This link brings you to page 3 of the newspaper — Le Fantôme is at the bottom of the page in the feuilleton section. Click on the arrow buttons at the bottom of the screen to turn the pages of the newspaper, and click on the Zoom button at the bottom left to magnify the text.

[transmutationisms]

like yea all genre labels are explicitly postdiscursive, historically situated, and subject to change and commingling &c but i do think YA is a particularly goofy and useless one in that it doesn’t even make any pretense of telling you what sorts of story elements you might expect.... and is also a label that can variably mean books about teenagers, books that publishers explicitly market to teenagers, or books that teenagers happen to like. i mean what is that label conveying then, besides a thinly veiled sense of disdain from self-appointed literati or a peek into the publishing industry’s market logics lol

[ae-neon]

can we even really call rhysta a crackship if they’re two characters who have interacted a lot? in my mind a crackship is characters that barely/never interact. in another fandom they wouldn’t be a crackship. like zutara, alinaxdarkling idk the ship name, dramione aren’t considered crackships.

Yep, they're kinda strict, but rhysta is really just a rare pair. They're gonna see the ships you mentioned in your ask and strongly disagree but I know what you meant anon <3

Ppl in this fandom act like shipping characters who are not explicitly romantically involved or who don't like each other is straight up sacrilegious

Maybe it's because of the mating bond being so important to many people in the fandom?

Or that acomaf was largely considered sjms best book for years and years?

Or that there's already this sort of divide among the fandom when it comes to Nesta vs F.eysand/ the IC?

So both sides have slightly warped perceptions of each other to the point where they can't imagine a world where the two characters could end up together. That's fine. No one is forcing them to read or write it.

The problem is they don't want it to exist because they don't like it or can't see it happening. That's not up to them.

Some argue that it couldn't happen without leading to a relationship that's worse than canon so there's no point, or that if it ends up a dark story it's hypocritical of the author to complain about canon then write a toxic relationship for a fic

Which I think is funny because fanfics can be much darker than canon, fanfics are not being marketed and sold as YA romance while romanticising abusive behaviour, fanfics can whatever the author wants it to.

For example: theres a very easy way to write the UtM dubcon to CoN con storyline without changing much that I wouldn't bat an eye at if the genre I wanted to write was adult dark romance

But acomaf is not an adult dark romance. And it doesn't matter if her publishers forced the genre change, sjm knew it was gonna be YA in the end, so it's ultimately her responsibility to then fix it

That's why it's actually very easy to go from criticising canon or suggesting that an alternative ship would have worked better for a YA romance to then writing a toxic or dark version of that same ship

Fanfics can literally reset the world or characters without retcons and inconsistencies. It can be whatever we want it to be

Anyways, tangent aside, yea rhysta is not a crackship except in the way that most people think it's shippers are on crack

[vintagerpg]

They can’t all be winners. This is The Phantastical Phantasmagorical Montie Haul Dungeon (1982). The front cover claims not Gamelords as the publisher, but No-Shamelords Unlimited. That gives you an excellent sense of the humor that you will encounter inside.

Like Compleat Tavern, this is a zine-sized book. It presents [deep breath] the Pyramid of Pallapot the Peripatetic, a senile old mage, and is, basically, one big goof in the style of, I dunno, say, those April Fool’s issues of Dragon Magazine I roll my eyes at so hard. I don’t really understand the compulsion RPG folks have for producing stuff like this occasionally, but honestly, I also don’t understand why they almost always leave me cold. RPGs can certainly be funny — Paranoia, Honey Heist and more do it intentionally, and I don’t know a single game I’ve ever run that hasn’t had at least one moment of sidesplitting laughter. But it seems like typing up these sorts of one-of joke modules drains any humor that might have been there out of the proceedings. They remind me of paperback books you’d use to see that would collect one-liner jokes. They try too hard to nail the punchline when really they should just be concentrating on setting up the gags for the players to riff on. Dismaying.

You might doubt me. Here, let me give you an example. One room riffs on Monty Python and the Holy Grail, because of course it does. There’s a black knight you can defeat by hacking to pieces. The twist is that he’s the film’s knight’s younger brother, who is cursed to do everything backwards, like Bizarro, sort of. His actual name is “Knight Black The.” God, that hurt to type out.

Yea, no, I can’t go on.

[favouritefi]

Sorry if this has been asked before— we know cat/dog boys can’t go to university / get a higher education. Are there any consequences to humans informally educating them? Like does Peglar have to hide some of his books that Bridgens gives him? Or Des Voeux trying to lowkey learn from the doctors when he’s around them and having to hide his interest? Or is it more about the principle of it and not the actual education?

All good! don't think anyone has asked this before, full answer under cut cause it got long:

cat/dogboys might not be able to attend formal educational institutions, but many upper class cat/dogboys are actually fairly well-educated since their households can afford private tutors. for example, both hickey and hodgson are well-read and fluent in latin (to hodgsons dismay hickey mostly uses this knowledge to recite obscene poetry) the former because he sat in on sophia's lessons and the later because it was part of his general education to make him seem more interesting and adoptable (he learnt the clavier for the same reason). since they would never be allowed to publish any papers or join any royal societies, the goal of general education is to make the cat/dogboy more appealing and entertaining to humans, and not for like their own intellectual benefit.

des voeux also had a general education due to his pedigree, but his interest in the doctors' work is because he wants to be praised for showing off and proving that he's as smart as any human and not because he actually wants to become a doctor. i think if he was allowed to attend university he would get a degree in physics or maths or smth.

peglar is a nonpedigree catboy and the navy only trains them just enough to be semi-literate. bridgens lending him these books and discussing literature with him is a show of immense kindness since any sort of additional education helps increase peglars chances of becoming a lieutenant (the highest rank a cat/dogboy can be in the navy).

the closest irl parallel i can think of is how educated victorian women were treated, like yea if you're upper class having an educated daughter might her a more appealing marriage candidate and shows off your wealth bc you can afford to educate her, but dont let her get too educated in case she gets any ideas, thats kinda what its like with cat/dogboys.

[intriq]

Midnight

warnings: mentions blood, death, little bit of fighting, depression, mentions of guns/getting shot, etc etc NO USE OF Y/N

Part 2 of Little Moon

Part 1, part 2, part 3

Word Count: 5.7k words

Authors discussion n shizzle:

Hi y’all sorry this took so long to do. But it’s here and I’m happy and it’s long as FUCK.

Like it’s twice as long as part 1, and it’s so bad everyone voted I break this up into a 3rd part so like, yea

I’m publishing this while the 2 yr old I’m babysitting is down fr his nap so like woooo

I’d like to thank my beta readers n co owners of Little Moon for reading this shit (I’m sorry if u cried): my bestie aka @deaths-favorite-star , terra, Apollo (Taylor swift and bat brat versions), bri, and lilac

mostly cus without them this wouldn’t even be possible/done lol

let’s get on w this shall we? Hope you all enjoy <3

❉ ╤╤╤╤ ✿ ╤╤╤╤ ❉

Months have passed since your death.

In those months the children of Bruce Wayne, whether adopted or biological, grieve. All of them mourned you.

There are seldom times your grave is without fresh flowers or some sort of visitor, who either sits in silence or just talks to the headstone in a conversation that they know they’ll never get your input on again.

Your bedroom is in the same state of familiarity, too.

On some days, Alfred has to force Bruce to get out of bed or to even come home.

No one looks at Alfred quite the same anymore, but no one looks at Alfred with the same disgust as Alfred’s own reflection.

✧✿✧

Since the funeral, family dinners went from being twice a week, to just once.

And then they went to once a month, with Alfred having to just watch as the number of people who attended them dwindled, before eventually they came to a total stop.

✧✿✧

Today is another day of distant and silent mourning, as Alfred stands in his room, looking through pictures of you and Bruce as children.

Down the hallway as Alfred looks at a picture of you on your seventh (7th) birthday, he hears Cassandra softly crying down the hall in your bedroom.

During your birthday that year, when you’d turned seven (7) years old, Alfred remembers how the only thing you’d asked for was a cake. Specifically, you requested that he let you help him bake your birthday cake.

Alfred can’t help but smile, even just slightly, as he remembers how big of a mess you’d made when you had attempted to dump the entire bag of flour into the mixing bowl.

He also can’t help but remember that after a long day of celebrating your birthday, it was the first night since you’d come to live with him and Bruce that you hadn’t woken up once because of a nightmare.

✧✿✧

Alfred had been in Bruce’s study when the news came.

A tray of food in hand, he’d been begging Bruce to eat something. Anything, even if it was just a piece of toast that he hadn’t prepared himself.

“Master Bruce, you haven’t eaten in the past few days. Please, take at least one bite.”

Bruce only raises his head, dark circles under his eyes as he just blankly stares at him. An almost soulless look, one that gives a hollow feeling of emptiness.

Across the desk in Bruce’s study are papers, books, various gadgets in states of disrepair or in the middle of being made, as well as schematics for them that have the occasional ring-shaped coffee stain on them.

“Not now, Alfred. I have things to do,” Is Bruce’s only reply, a hoarse and exhausted sounding tone held within his words.

Alfred’s coming words of protest are silenced by the sounds of an alarm going off. Not too loud but neither too quiet, but just enough to make Alfred go silent.

NEW HUNTER DETECTED

That’s what the screen on Bruce’s computer read.

Various screens pop up on Bruce’s computer, each showing feed from different CCTV cameras of a person moving through Gotham and killing vampires in their wake.

The videos in question had been saved from numerous different days in the past few weeks, all adding up together once there was enough saved to trigger the algorithm that Tim had made. Specifically, it was designed to use the cameras around Gotham to track and keep note of Vampire Hunters and vampire attacks. Made solely to help prevent someone else from suffering the same fate you did.

All to prevent them from having to lose someone else.

Bruce and Alfred watch as the videos play, watching as the new hunter the algorithm had detected took out various vampires across the city of Gotham. But what made Bruce rub the drowsiness from his eyes as he leans forward, peering closer at the numerous video feeds was not because of how they looked.

No, it was because of how they moved.

The way they moved was eerily familiar. The way they moved with such precision that only got better and better with each new video feed that grew to be more recent was what had Bruce holding his breath.

While they had kept you from knowing the world of Vampire Hunting most of your life, they hadn’t let you be completely defenseless.

Which was why it was so eerie to see that the way this person was moving, was by using moves he’d only ever taught you. It was unmistakable, really. Bruce had grown up with you, knew most of the little habits you had. He knew you better than he knew himself sometimes.

Bruce is unsure if he wants to let himself grow delusional about whether or not it was who he thought it was. Should he? Could he? Was it even worth the pain it’d bring by opening up old wounds, to bring back the choking hold of grief?

Bruce can feel Alfred staring at him, because he gets that same feeling of familiarity. But it should be impossible. It couldn’t be possible.

But was it? Could it be?

Alfred sets the tray of food down on Bruce’s desk, taking the opportunity to clean up some of its disorganized mess. But it’s only because he doesn’t want to let his mind wander like Bruce’s is. He already lets it wander far enough when he looks through photo albums and when he sees his face reflected off the tea he drinks in the morning, in the mirror, off the windows, and on the screen of Bruce’s computer.

Bruce doesn’t even acknowledge the tray of food Alfred leaves on his desk, only getting up after receiving a notification on the screen that the new hunter was spotted again. Bruce already felt the idea of who it could be creeping into his mind and clinging there, leaving him wondering. Wanting to know. Needing to know, to get his question answered.

“I’ll be out for a while.”

“Will I expect you back for dinner today, Master Bruce?”

Alfred is only met with silence as Bruce grabs what he needs and heads out the door. Which gives him his answer.

“At least come back unscathed, Master Bruce. I don’t think they want you to join them just yet.”

“Don’t act like you know what they would’ve wanted, Alfred.”

Alfred goes quiet again. He understands, after all. He knows Bruce is still hurting, just like the others are. Alfred was the last person to see you alive, and was the only one there when you drew your last breath. They resent him for that.

But they also can’t look at him the same after knowing that it was because of him that you drew in that last gasp of air, held in his arms in that cold, dirty alley whilst the sun rose in the distance.

What makes it worse was just how often you used to like watching the sun rise. It was often when the others finally returned from their patrols, having spent all night hunting down vampires to make Gotham even just a little safer.

And every time, you’d be there, waiting for them. You’d welcome them home, tend to their injuries, and if they had a particularly rough night you’d even make them something, though it was usually some sort of baked dessert, like cake or cookies. And even though Bruce had a disdain for anything overly sweet, he’d still eat whatever cake you’d baked for him, even if it was so sweet it made him feel nauseous.

But no matter how much of a disdain Bruce had for sweet foods in general, he never could quite turn them down when you made them. You always had a smile with comforting words to follow, all to mask just how truly worried about him you were. Bruce knew that you always wanted, deep down, for him to stop being a vampire hunter. But you knew he couldn’t nor wouldn’t stop, so you always kept quiet about it.

If you weren’t so worried, if Bruce did anything to ease your worries, would you have let him know that you wanted to be walked home that night? He’d seen the unsent text message. Tim showed it to him. It’d been easy for Tim to find, with how unprotected your phone was from hackers and the like. You had deleted the message, and Bruce knew why.

It was because you felt guilty about even thinking of asking for his help. You knew how busy he was saving Gotham from vampires, which meant you could never work up the courage to ask him. He’d already helped you so many times before, and you barely could do anything to help him. Would things be different, Bruce thinks, if he’d texted you to make sure you got home safe instead of focusing on his patrol? Would you still be here, alive and well? Would you be here, saying goodbye to him as he heads out, telling him to stay safe?

Bruce forces the thoughts to shake free from his head as he swiftly departs, not allowing himself to turn around, knowing only that his heart would ache when he doesn’t see you there waiting for him. It’s always hurt, because the first few days he’d always mistakenly hear you calling out for him, sometimes even thinks he’d see you in the corner of his eye.

But whenever he’d turn and look, you weren’t there, and Bruce remembers.

✧✿✧

It takes a few minutes for Bruce to track down the new vampire hunter who’d somehow been able to avoid making Tim’s detection system go off, as it should have alerted Bruce to their presence months ago. The night is cold since autumn is right around the corner, and it reminds Bruce of just how cold that night was when you’d been brought to Wayne manor.

Bruce reminds himself to focus as he follows the new vampire hunter, who moves through Gotham as if they know the place by heart. Which almost seems odd to know every part of Gotham, when they’d only been detected less than six months ago. It’s odd, because the system has only had a record of their existence from that time frame. The program couldn’t even pick up data from normal Gotham citizens from before that to link it back to them.

It was odd.

So, so incredibly odd. Almost an off-putting, eerie kind. The type you get when you walk down the street at night and suddenly don’t feel alone, like you shouldn’t be there.

Bruce has this odd, eerie feeling for almost fifteen minutes before he realizes. The world’s greatest detective, they say, and it took him fifteen minutes of following this new vampire hunter to realize they were leading him in a circle. That they knew they were being followed.

When Bruce realizes he’s been following the new vampire hunter blindly for fifteen minutes in that same circle, the vampire hunter seems to know, too.

“Took you long enough to notice, Batman. You're getting awfully slow.”

Why does that voice sound so familiar?

Why does Bruce feel like he’s heard it somewhere before? And why is the familiarity hurting him?

Bruce leaps down from the rooftop he rests upon, landing on the street beside them. That feeling that screams in Bruce’s head that he knows who this vampire hunter is, who they are underneath the mask, is hideously strong. Almost sickeningly so.

But who is it?

Bruce narrowly avoids the punch the vampire hunter has swinging his way when he snaps out of his thoughts. Getting distracted and in a daze when confronting someone isn’t smart, he knows that. He taught Dick and Jason never to lose focus in a fight.

But yet here he is, losing focus.

Jason would probably find it ironic if he were here right now.

“Focus, Batman. Isn’t that what you taught those boys of yours?”

Behind Bruce’s mask, his face is scrunched up in confusion. Contorted as he continues to try and avoid getting hit, because he hates just how easy it is for him to lose focus because of just one thought.

But yet, even despite how familiar these moves are- which are the only reasons he’s able to avoid them even at the last possible moment- there’s something that bothers him, something that he realizes. The vampire hunter who is fighting him, attacking him, isn’t doing it with the purpose most others would.

It’s almost like it’s some sort of warning, as they change the trajectory of their moves to only hit the most non-vital points. Areas where it won’t do anything but leave a nasty bruise.

Which is odd, considering Bruce now realizes after a particular glint in the fluorescent lighting of the street lights that line the roads of Gotham, when the mask of the vampire hunter before him slips just enough when Bruce finally strikes back is that there are fangs.

Fangs.

The vampire hunter right in front of Bruce, the one that has managed to evade program that Tim spent weeks coding, the same vampire hunter that is refusing to strike Bruce anywhere vital as if some sign of guilt, is a vampire.

A vampire, hunting down and killing other vampires. Killing them. In a most brutal fashion, too, based on what Bruce and Alfred saw in the collected video files.

Why is a vampire, a creature that exists to attack and feed off of humans, trying to avoid hurting him?

Why?

Bruce can’t make sense of it. He can’t. There is virtually no reason for any vampire in Gotham, in the entirety of this world, that they would be trying to not hurt him.

Most vampires attempt to kill him on sight. So why isn’t this one? Why is it acting so… odd?

Bruce twists around the outstretched, reaching arm of the vampire hunter as they move in a pattern that Bruce is quickly learning. They never differ or change the pattern, no matter how often Bruce is able to evade their attacks. And with that open window of opportunity, he takes the chance to collect a sample of their DNA.

Some blood, to be specific.

The vampire… hunter lets out some sort of noise of pain. Not quite a shriek, nor a yelp, but just a noise. And just as soon as they started attacking Bruce, they are trying to flee.

And before Bruce can attempt to stop them, they are gone.

But that’s fine, because Bruce has what he came for. A blood sample.

Enough for Bruce to test, to compare to others in the database to see who they are.

Because that is the question lingering on his mind. Who is it? Just who is this new vampire hunter that has been able to leave a growing pile of bodies in their wake in just mere months?

✧✿✧

Bruce doesn’t waste a moment, ignoring Alfred’s pleas to let him look over and treat his injuries, as minor as they are. Just a few bruises that will heal.

He doesn’t waste a moment in immediately getting to work on finding out who that vampire is. Who the vampire hunting down and killing other vampires is, who they are underneath that mask.

After loading the sample into the batcomputer, he waits. Sitting there with so much impatience, so eager to find out who it is. It’s almost suffocating just how badly he wants it to just finish already, to just show him the results.

Alfred takes the opportunity, though, to place another tray full of food in front of Bruce. Because it’s now been a few days since Bruce last ate, and the only thing he’s done is keep himself hydrated.

Bruce attempts to protest, but he relents at the painful gnawing in his stomach. No longer able to keep himself sufficiently distracted to not notice just how hungry he is. But all he does is take small, slow bites, watching the progress the batcomputer is making on the sample.

He eats so slowly that by the time the sample is eighty [80] percent analyzed, the food has grown cold. So cold that it makes Bruce not want to eat anymore, even if he’s barely even touched any of the food. But Alfred is happy anyway, because he’s happy that Bruce has something in his stomach.

Even if it’s not a whole lot.

✧✿✧

When Bruce saw the results, his mouth went dry. His chest felt like an unrelenting void, filled with a crashing tidal wave. The creeping feeling that fills him is just as terrifying.

Alfred had to practically pry Bruce away from the batcomputer, as he mumbles nothing but words about how the results had to be wrong.

How there was no possible way that the blood sample belonged to and came from just who the batcomputer said it did.

So now here everyone was, called here by Alfred. Stated to be an absolute and utter emergency, and that excuses would not be tolerated. It was absolutely mandatory, and emergencies were to be ignored because this was the emergency.

Jason didn’t want to be here. Dick didn’t want to be here.

None of them wanted to be here. Not in the same home they’d ‘grown up’ in, that now held nothing but bitter reminders of a certain death. The death of someone they viewed as a child, a sibling, a parent. A role model.

You. Your death.

But yet here they are. Unable to avoid it, because it was an order. An order that it was an emergency, and no one could turn away when someone raises the alarm about something being an emergency.

When everyone arrives, Bruce is already seated in his office. He almost seems emotionless, like there isn’t even an ounce of life behind his eyes as he simply stares ahead, blankly.

He doesn’t even react when they all close the door behind themselves, his eyes only moving up once Dick stands in front of him.

“Why were we called here, Bruce?”

Dick’s voice sounds tired. But that’s because he is tired. He’s so, so tired of grieving. Of mourning you. Of feeling like that total and utter failure that he knows he is because he got lazy on one stupid patrol.

He’s tired of feeling like this. Feeling like he’s stuck in a deep pit of sadness and guilt, sadness because you died. Guilt because you died when he wasn’t looking hard enough. But yet, there’s also anger.

Anger at himself.

But Bruce doesn’t have the energy to answer Dick’s question, so Alfred does the talking. He shows the videos, also shows Bruce’s encounter with the vampire hunter. Everyone doesn’t quite understand just why there was an emergency meeting being called over a vampire hunter. Sure, it was alarming they were a vampire but that wasn’t cause for an emergency.

That is, until Alfred shows the results from the batcomputer. Results of who the DNA belongs to.

And while some seem surprised, some in a state of utter shock, others just feel.. Numb. Like there was nothing they could feel besides the ever consuming pit of nothingness in their chest.

But everyone is in disbelief, just as Bruce was. Is, more like.

The results showed a one-hundred [100] percent match for the last person they expected. The last person they even wanted to believe it could be.

You.

You, who was supposed to be dead. Buried six [6] feet under the ground in the cemetery on the grounds of the Wayne manor.

Dick wants to feel sick. Jason, too. Damian feels his stomach lurching as well, but he doesn’t let it show. He refuses to.

They all don’t want to believe the results are true, just as Bruce did. Because it should be simply impossible, right? They all made sure you were dead before burying you.

“But that’s impossible. We made sure. Alfred-... He…” The words choke and die in Tim’s throat. But everyone knows what he means. How could they not?

Alfred made sure, because he was the one who dealt the killing blow.

Those are the words that go unspoken. The truth, as disgusting and heavy as it is.

But is it the truth? Did Alfred actually deal the killing blow?

And the truth is, they hadn’t double checked. So lost in their grief over your bloody body that Alfred brought back to the manor they hadn’t even bothered to check and make sure that Alfred had actually shot you in the heart.

They had just assumed he had.

“Alfred… You.. You checked, right?”

Dick’s voice is shaky, as ragged and rushed as his breathing. He feels like he already knows the answer, but god does he want to be wrong.

But the way Alfred clenches his jaw and his eyes focus on that abandoned tray of food from much earlier, food long since grown cold, gives Dick his answer.

“Bruce? You checked, right?”

Tim is the one to ask this time. Because surely, there is no way that Bruce didn’t check and confirm for himself. He’s thorough, he always is. There isn’t any realm of possibility that Bruce didn’t check… Right?

Right?

When Bruce doesn’t answer, there’s a look of disbelief on just about everyone's faces. Bruce Wayne, the ever thorough and the world’s ‘greatest detective’, renowned vampire hunter Batman, didn’t double check that you were dead?

“You checked, right?”

“No. I didn’t.”

And now everyone is left with the horrifying, dawning realization of just one thing. A simple thought that is horrifying to picture, to imagine. To even now be known as a reality.

They’d practically buried you alive.

Everyone quickly dispersed after that. No one could stand to be in the same room as each other, because even though they know they rightfully have no right to blame one another, even though they could blame themselves, it’s all they think about.

You were alive. Alive.

All this time you’d been alive while they mourned you. While Dick blamed himself, while Damian blamed Dick for the reason you were no longer present.

Damian feels sick to his stomach at just how angry he was at Dick in the past. Of the things he’d said to him, blaming him for your death. When you weren’t even dead.

Jason can feel nauseating guilt creeping in his chest, too. Ripping open a swallowing, fathomless pit. He’d screamed at Alfred. Been angry with him, caused him so much pain. Alfred hadn’t even killed you, and he’d been so angry at Alfred.

But the sudden appearance of the vampire hunter is making sense. It coincides with your death, somewhat. With the recovery period a vampire would need to recover from a wound like the one you’d taken.

But it makes so, so much sense.

✧✿✧

Six months ago is when Cass was out tracking a vampire. Well, more-so a large nest of them. One that held connections in various cities, dangerous and leaving an endless, bloody wake of victims.

Perhaps it was because of the grief clouding her mind, that thought of how this group could be the ones responsible. The one responsible for your death.

So she got sloppy. Just a little bit. Enough to make a small error that she normally wouldn’t make.

Cass hadn’t taken the time she usually did to make sure she was sure of just how many vampires actually lived in that nest before she charged into it to take out the vampires that resided there. The information hadn’t been totally accurate, it’d missed a few vampires. So she’d been quickly overrun, out of supplies with not even enough bullets to last her.

But just as Cass thinks she’s going to die for her margin of error, as she decides to resign to her fate because hey, it means she’ll get to see you again, the vampires that are about to kill her are dead.

And there’s a figure standing over their bloody remains that seems oddly familiar to Cass. But she can’t quite place it. At least, she couldn’t then.

“I thought you were taught better than this. This is a stupid mistake, even for you.”

Before Cass can ask the obvious question that’s scratching at the back of her mind, the figure is gone just as quick as they appeared. Leaving nothing evident of their presence, besides the dead vampires.

✧✿✧

They’d all been in some sort of predicament caused by their overwhelming grief that meant they’d needed someone to save their ass. And you had. You’d been there to rescue them from their mistakes every single time.

You’d saved Cass from death, been there to save Jason during the few times he’d been distracted [even if all he’d glimpsed of you was your retreating silhouette], and so much more.

But why had you never shown yourself to them? Why had you let them wallow in their own self pity and grief over your death, when you hadn’t even died?

Perhaps there was an answer to this question they didn’t yet have.

But it was no matter. They had time to get the answer they so desperately wanted. They had a means to find you the next time you appeared, all they had to do was wait.

✧✿✧

And wait they did.

It took almost a week before you appeared again, presumably to lay low for a while after that encounter with Bruce. As if it would stop them from figuring out the truth.

They’d even checked your grave. And god, were they horrified to find that it was empty, just as they’d feared.

But yes, when you’d appeared again after lying low for a week, Jason was the one sent to go talk to you. You’d always had a soft spot for him, after all.

So in his Red Hood gear, he approaches you. He wasn’t even sure if he should be surprised that you seemed to know he was there the moment he’d landed on that same rooftop as you.

But maybe he should, since he knows neither Bruce nor Alfred gave you any training to be a vampire hunter. They wanted you to stay as far away as possible from it, after all.

But perhaps that distance is why you’d never stood a chance the night you’d been attacked. Maybe it was the lack of making sure you were prepared to face the threats that lie in the very shadows they hunted in.

Jason sees your moments from fleeing from the way you visibly tense up and flinch when he steps closer to you, so he stops. He entirely freezes, because the last thing he wants is for you to disappear again.

“We know it’s you,” Is all Jason calls out, paired with your name instead of the nickname he’d always refer to you by. A parental nickname, something similar to the way children call their parents Mom or Dad, but entirely different and unique to you.

Jason watches the way you seem to think, still frozen in a stance that says you're seconds from fleeing, that him making the wrong choice is all it takes for you to disappear. But this time it’d be Jason’s fault that you're gone, not Dick’s.

“We aren’t mad, I promise.”

Bad thing to start off with, Jason. Now you’ll think they all were mad.

“What I meant to say is… We all miss you. When you died- thought you died, we didn’t know what to do.”

Jason is practically grasping at straws. He can see his words aren’t reaching you in the way he is hoping, wanting them to. He’s never been good at the comforting stuff, never been good at talking someone down. Not like Alfred is, not like Dick is. Not like Barbara, too.

What would they even say to you?

Jason feels lost, because just why did they send him to talk to you, instead of anyone else?

Well, not sending Alfred is understandable. He’d been the one to shoot you, and Jason knows that he wouldn’t want to see the Joker again, to be the one to talk to him. But what about Dick and Barbara? What would they do?

Jason doesn’t even know if attempting to continue to comfort you is worth it, especially not when it doesn’t even seem to be working.

“Why?”

Those words slip past Jason before he can even get a chance to stop himself. But it’s a question he really, really wants an answer to. Well, not just want. He needs to know. He needs to know why you’ve let them all sit and rot inside their grief and despair, even as understandable as it may be for Alfred because even he understands that seeing the person who killed you is not easy.

Well, not that Alfred even killed you. Almost killed you, which Jason understands. The Joker had almost killed him then, too. Instead he’d lived because some weird ‘miracle’ left him being some freak of nature, a half human but not entirely vampiric person.

Like some curse.

“I was supposed to be dead.”

“I get that.”

“Plus.. I’m a vampire, Jason. I’m a danger to you guys. What if.. What if I lose control? Like I did that night?”

He knows what you're talking about. The night you’d attacked Bruce before… Alfred shot you. Jason remembers hearing about it from a very heartbroken Bruce, although the heartbreak wasn’t easy to see on the surface. But Jason had known. So had everyone else.

After all, they’d all been pretty much trained and raised by Bruce. They knew what he was feeling- most of the time. Though they couldn’t see it as easy as Alfred did.

“We could’ve found ways around it that didn’t mean you totally avoided us,” Jason says those last words with more bitterness than he should’ve. He knows he has no right to be angry, doesn’t even deserve to be. But he can’t help it, not with how he can only rethink on just how he’d treated Alfred because of it.

“Because of that we treated Alfred-” He cuts himself off, not wanting to spew those words out. Doesn’t even want them to fall past his lips. But it’s far too late, judging by the way your eyes narrow and your head practically snaps toward him.

“What did you all do?”

The venom in your voice when you hear those words is unmistakable. Sure, you wouldn’t be able to look at Alfred the same because he’d been the one to shoot you, but you still understood why he had.

You were a vampire. Something dangerous, and he was doing what needed to be done.

Before Jason can even try to backpedal he’s already spewing to you how everyone’s treated Alfred since you’d ‘died’. Everything. Including how he’d screamed at Alfred after hearing what your last words were from him, down to him destroying his room, Bruce’s new attitude, everything.

“Why would you all do that?” You’d hissed almost immediately after he’d finished telling that tale. Disbelief is just about the only thing you feel, along with those other bitter emotions you were currently feeling.

“He killed- we thought he’d killed you, and we just.. We were angry! Because he took you away from us!”

When had you even marched over to him? Was it while he was speaking those venomous words about how Alfred had killed you, taken you from them? Or was it sooner?

Was he blinded by his own emotions to even notice?

Nevertheless, you're pretty much right in his face, and while Jason is expecting you to scream at him, maybe even yell, raise your voice somewhat, you don’t. Perhaps it’s worse that you sound calm.

“Alfred did what he needed to, what he had to.”

“But you were our family!”

“I do not deserve special treatment because I helped raise you all. Not because I was the person Bruce viewed as a little sibling, and the person Alfred viewed as his own child.”

“But-”

You silence him by raising a hand up, your eyes squeezed shut in the way it does when you’d had headaches in the past, pinching the bridge of your nose between your index finger and thumb.

“Tell me, Jason, would any of you have been able to do it then, hmm? Do you know how hard it was for Alfred to even point the gun at me without his hands shaking? Without crying? Would either of you have been able to pull the trigger instead of Alfred?”

Jason stays silent, and when you open your eyes to glare at him, demanding an answer like those times you’d interrogated him after he’d been stupid and nearly gotten himself killed on those patrols back when he was younger, back when he was just Robin and training under Bruce’s watch. 

And he only shakes his head.

“But I promise I’ll be back.. Someday, I don’t know when. Don’t know if it’ll be soon, or if it’s not for years ahead. But I can promise that, okay?”

You really didn’t know just what else to say, honestly. You already had plans for what your coming moves were, for your motives. You knew Jason was wondering that just by glancing at him, even if you couldn’t see his face behind his helmet.

“And if you want, you can try to help me, if it’ll make you.. I don’t freaking know, feel better, I guess?”

“How?”

“You’ll see. It’ll be an answer to my motives and why I’ve been so secretive I guess. I’ll tell you how you can help me later.”

Jason wants to say something, but he doesn’t know if he should even be surprised you already know what it is he wants to say. “Oh, and don’t tell anyone I’m letting you help me. That part stays a secret, got it?”

Jason only nods in reply, and with that, you’ve disappeared from Jason’s sight, leaving him alone on that rooftop to think through his thoughts. And of your words, of course. To muddle them over, to debate whether or not he even accepts the notion of helping you.

With keeping it secret being the price he pays.

❉ ╧╧╧╧ ✿ ╧╧╧╧ ❉

[stalkiwi]

EVERYONE NEED TO READ RADIANT NOW!!!

doing Radiant propaganda but seriously. seriously read it. it's my favorite series and I have been following it since it came out, it got a huge succes in Japan, but then the hype died after the anime got out and it makes me so sad, because it's seriously amazing and I believe the Tumblr population would love it oh and, yea, I did say, READ! I would... heavily not recommand to check the anime. I haven't finished the first season because of just how bad it was. it's like, they tried to turn it into regular One Piece inspired shonen, the animation is quite terrible and in the span of 10 episodes, there is like half that are useless and complete fillers?? on the FIRST season??? bad. really bad.

I will now proceed to explain YOU, WHY you should read Radiant NOW

I'll start with explaining what is it about; Radiant is a manfra (french manga) created and illustrated by Tony Valente, and (apparently) the first french manga to get published in Japan, where it got a huge success the story takes place in a fantasy world that casually gets attacked by eggs falling from the sky, and that hatch into monsters called Nemesis. these monsters are able to use Fantasia, a magical source, and are devastating; as a matter of fact, any human entering in contact with them will instantly die, EXCEPT for a very small proportion. those who survived the contact will become "infected", which mean they will receive an unusal feature (this one can be visible, like a tail, or not visible, like mood swings), and will be able to manipulate Fantasia themselves, making them the only humans able to fight against the Nemesis. these people are called witches however, even if they are life saviors, witches are often badly seen, because they are as dangerous as the Nemesis themselves, and many rumors and beliefs are around them (that they made a pact with the Nemesis, that they are Nemesis themselves, etc...). as a result was founded the Inquisition, a mercenary group specialized in hunting down the witches, and fighting against Nemesis without the help of witches the main character of the story is Seth, a young witch who, after hearing about the Radiant, a theory about the existence of a "birthplace" for all Nemesis, wishes to destroy it

NOW it looks pretty common, and that's quite fair. the story takes a lot of inspiration from popular shonens, as well as the Arturian myth, with a lot of references to real life witch hunts. but there is many things that make it very special, and to start with its messages and the symbolism behind it. if you look at it, Radiant is a lot about the freedom of speech, and the expression of art. Fantasia is a magic system that relies a lot on the user's imagination and self expression, and the Inquisition is trying to limiting its use, pretty much like censoring. there is also a huge message against racism and discrimation as a whole, with the fight for freedom and acceptance of difference, but also with grey sides on both parts; whereas the Inquisition is discriminating witches and showing them as monsters, some witch groups will react violently to it, and start riots, attacking innocent civilians, and tun into the monsters the Inquisition was showing them as. the most important message of the entire series is humanity, and to learn how to "be" a human, with a lot of other messages

and it does it VERY WELL! dont get fooled by how slow the plot may be at the very first book, it quickly becomes something amazing on the first arc. every character is deeply attaching and human, they all have strengths and flaws, and their own story. it's also probably good to say that for a series with a message on differences, there is a lot of representations of all sorts, we have a lot of feminine characters with important roles, characters with skin of color, disabled characters, lgbtq characters... and it's hardly forced as if to fill an agenda. like for exemple, there is a blind character at some point, but characters dont point it out like "oh hey, are you blind?", and the character is not shown as being a weak, poor little thing. you understand it simply by seeing the character and how they act, and it's just clear, its smooth, and its normalized, and I find it amazing how it's represented

as well, the ART STYLE. Tony Valente started working alone, and now gradually got assistants to help him, but he's still doing a huge, HUGE part of the job, and makes it worth it to wait ~5 months between each book. the characters have really nice designs, there's a lot of variety in the shapes and body types, and some pages just made me sit down for a bit and go "wow". the series has been going on since 2013 (there is currently 18 books so far), and you can see Tony's improvement through it. I mean, look at THESE

I seriously cant stress it enough how much I lobe this series and how much I enjoy rereading it every so often, so really really, I recommand it vividly, and i want it to EXPLODE, i want maximum support and love for this series and the author!! i was reading it when i was 12, i still am reading it, and its very dear to my heart, even if i dont get to show it often because there's hardly any community around it,, so really, CHECK IT NOW

[dearweirdme]

I find it really strange that Tkk's close friendship was not brought up in the Beyond The Story book. Especially because they made a point to address some significant Vmin and Jikook moments. I mean Tkk were certainly very close and had a significant influence on eachother atleast during the earlier years , and this was acknowledged by other members. Do you think this was intentional or that I may be reading too much into it?

Hi anon!

Mmm, well.. the book is very much the company narrative right. Is a polished up version if events i’d say. No way will BH allow a book to be published with the actual truth, about anything. The narrative is that Tae and Jk drifted apart at one point. Most they get in any case is that Tae helped Jk get out of his shell when they were young. When it’s so obviously more than that. Even if you do consider them to have drifted apart… what about later years? The ITS talk was to show them as friends again, Jk even ending his interview with a sort of intro to what’s to come (sorted things out, back to how it used to be, but not completely 🙄). Tae and Jk after that were super close! And yet.. the pair that’s referred to as soulmates.. is Vmin. Even that is weird to me, since I would consider Tae and Jk closer, but arguably also Jimin and Jk, and Jimin and Hobi. Not that Jimin and Tae aren’t close, but.. are they closest (someone also commented about this in another ask’s comments, and yea I agree)?

So the book, while a great chronological narrative, to me does not portray the whole story and leaves out certain things while portraying others in a better light (Bh can’t make Bh look bad).

[literary-illuminati]

so wrt book recs

I think you've already put the 2nd book of the series on your tbr but City of Stairs, Robert Jackson Bennett - had some Choices that I'm not sure what to think of but it had some really interesting worldbuilding + is also just a fun read

She Has Her Mother's Laugh, Carl Zimmer - not sure if this is the type of nonfiction you'd like but I remember reading it a while back and thinking it's an interesting read so maybe check it out?

Jade City, Fonda Lee - slow… underhanded politicking ig one could call it, Pale Lights type characters who strongly hold different paradigms of morality from ours, twisted family relationships etc. is fairly long + can be quite slow though

and wrt 'Stuff that's - not even originally written in something besides English, but just written outside the shadow and cultural weight of the Greater American Publishing Industry' specifically, Salt Fish Girl by Larissa Lai immediately comes to mind but I don't. remember enough of it to tell whether it's really Out There in a good way or not.

also in the category of "nothing to rush to read but if you're in the mood for something shorter/lighter*, I think you might like these more than the marketing/blurb/etc would make you think", I've mentioned The Darkness Outside Us already, but I'll tentatively recommend Feverwake + the prequel novella if you end up liking the first book (I find it reframes some of the books' more awkward parts in an interesting way + helps smooths over the awkward parts)

*as in easier to read not. necessarily in subject material

....oh jeez this ended up being super long lol and I was thinking 'I don't have many books to rec this'll be short'. but yea 👍

Jade City is, going by page count/being a coherent trilogy you'd presumably want to read all of a bit long me for at the moment, but the rest are all absolutely on the list.

(City of Stairs is on the list basically entirely on the strength of American Elsewhere, which I read a couple years back and absolutely adored. Now I'm actually curious about what sort of Choices you mean)

[psalm22-6]

Source: the Desert Sun, 8 January 1987

WASHINGTON  — The red flag of revolution flies defiantly atop a barricade that bristles with revolutionaries' muskets, not far from the White House. The masses have risen against Reaganomics? No, Reaganites and others are cheering the red flag and shedding scalding tears when the flag falls to the forces of law and order. The world is turned upside down. ‘‘Les Miserables” has come to town. This stunning 3-hr. 20-minute production, distilled from a 1,200-page novel, is bound for Broadway and beyond At age 21, Victor Hugo called for a new sort of fiction, on an epic scale to encompass the moral and social tumults of the 19th century, an era of urbanization industrialization and revolution. He produced such fiction in “Les Miserables” and now, 125 years after its publication, the novel has nurtured a new sort of theater. “Les Miz” is not a mere “musical.” All dialogue is sung, although scenes are carefully choreographed, there are none of the usual sort of musical “dance numbers." It represents a genre between theater and opera. 

It is the story of Jean Valjean. Compared to his experiences, those of Job were a week at the beach. Having served 19 years at hard labor for stealing a loaf of bread to feed a starving child, Valjean is released into a world of travail. He is pursued through the decades, and through stagecraft as ingenious as that of “Cats,’' by police inspector Javert, the representative of the regime’s oppression that produces les miserables. The computerized sets and lights make the stage become a living canvas, now by Hogarth, next by Goya. The production has all the elements of melodrama  — a fallen woman whose winsome daughter becomes an exploited orphan, an adorable revolutionary boy who is shot at the barricades. No heart string goes untugged.

The production is a political Rorschach test, and only the stoutest conservatives see any reason for sympathizing with Javert, a defender of order and poverty and hence of trickle-down to the impatient ingrates at the barricades. 

One half of your brain — the sober, rational, conservative half — says of the production: This is mawkish, sub-Dickensian sentimentality and pernicious political twaddle, and we are being shamelessly manipulated. The squishy liberal side of your brain says: Yea, and isn’t it fun! 

The music is almost maddeningly hummable, and be warned: As was the case with the main theme from “Jesus Christ Superstar," themes from “Les Miz" will be brayed by marching bands in the purgatory of pageantry known as football halftime shows. Still, there is useful synergism in popular culture. In 1983, the eight-hour production of "Nicholas Nickleby” (directed by one of the co-directors of “Les Miserables") created readers for one of Dickens' less known novels. The movie “Out of Africa” brought back into popularity writings of Isak Dinesen (Karen Blixen). Today, Washington bookstores are doing a brisk business with “Les Miserables.” 

When the first volume was published, Hugo sent his publisher the tersest of telegrams: “?”. The reply was: “!” It sold out in 24 hours. [No.]

The novel is proportional to its themes, which no stage version could cope with as well as print can. The themes include the transforming power of revolutions, the tension between the individual and society, the injustice of the criminal justice’s system of punishments, the regeneration of persons debased by circumstances, the nobility of suffering, the impact of saintliness. It is good reading for a city of government

Dostoevsky considered “Les Miserables” superior to “Crime and Punishment.” Soldiers in the American Civil War carried copies of it; some Confederates called themselves “Lee’s Miserables." In the 19th century, when electricity knew its place (lightning, the telegraph, a bit of lighting), there was, mercifully, no broadcasting. Books were popular entertainment, in part because the masses were learning to read, a dangerous development that fostered the spread of journalism and other problems. 

But besides being mass entertainments, some novels were considered gigantic public acts. When the revolutionary Paris commune was declared in 1871, a mob of anti-revolutionary Belgians besieged Hugo in Brussels shouting “Down with Victor Hugo! Down with Jean Valjean!” 

As an intellectual in politics, Hugo exemplified the modern ideal of “engagement,” and the unity of theory and practice In 1885, his coffin lay under the Arc de Triomphe, which was draped in black crepe. Two million Parisians turned out for the movement of the coffin to the Pantheon. Never before or since has a nation given to a person of literature such honors normally accorded only to political or military leaders. It was a fitting tribute to a man who proved that the pen, as much as the sword, can be an instrument of epic action. 

George Will, The Washington Post

[goddessofthedawn]

been a while since i talked about my books on here but it was my birthday last week so you could buy them as a late birthday present like, if you want. or if you have ku you could read them as a late birthday present if you want. anyway. i got something for everyone. i publish like six books a yea rin various series.

first up you got the pentalogy of hell, with five books in it (iscariot, forty days, lake of fire, the false prophet, son of perdition). if you like huge casts of characters from various time periods because like, they're all in hell, one of the main characters is from the 12th century but he's been dead forever and his best friend is a juvenile delinquent from 1994 so he's got a weird understanding of the world (he eats a kiwi like an apple at one point). anyway. lots of characters. diversity also. in terms of like. everything? i guess? also way less religious than it sounds. really this was created by an atheistic 14-year-old in 2011 who was terrified of the thought of nothingness after death because she's pretty sure that's what's going to happen. but it's chill.

next up abnormal murders. i call this 'stupid-ass murders' in my heart and my hard drive. first book is serial killers with cookies, second is morph suit murderer. i am currently writing the third book, flip flop felony. they sound ridiculous but like, they're pretty dark. the main character is slowly going insane. she loves vigilante justice and everyone around her is Tired.

third up is the tinon trilogy. this is my attempt at fantasy. three books, obviously, it's a trilogy: circus wings, royal blood, bandit born. my fun way to describe this one is "environmental activist lesbian princess fucks things up for everyone." moving on.

the AUGHTS BOYS. oh holy shit you guys, this one is my baby. there will be, by the time it's done, if it's ever done, at least twenty books in this fucker. these books do not need to be read chronologically, and you don't actually even need to read them all, if you don't want to. they're more companion novels than anything. the first one is one more sad song, which follows the stupidest kid in the world as he tries to like, skateboard and be jealous of his best friend kevin getting a girlfriend because he's in love with kevin and has been for like his entire life. the second book, the horror at camp new woods, is a slasher where everyone dies. the third book, right or wrong, follows this kid being friends with Matt the Douche, who is the only common thread between all the books as of right now, and then matt bullies some kid to suicide. uh-oh. that's not good. and the fourth book, hit or miss, is sort-of a direct sequel to one more sad song, so MAYBE read omss first, but it's about this high school hockey player dealing with his ex-boyf becoming a pro skateboarder (lol, guess who that is) and also winning state hockey and also dealing with matt the douche, again. these books either take place in ohio, minnesota, or north dakota, and if it's north dakota, it's gonna be a horror novel. guys i love these fucking books so much.

then vendettic! vendettic is the only series that i have written that i will never ever add anything to ever. it's a trilogy: spahn, sacrifice, sunset. it's about heavy metal in the early eighties and demon shit and they're fun. a little experimental with the writing. main character is the stupidest bisexual to ever live.

and of course i have standalones.

columbiner is about a kid who moves to a new school and gets involved with this kid who is a columbiner. it is my school shooting book.

the crucifixion of craig knox is like, loosely based on the case of the west memphis three. if you don't know aobut the west memphis three, look them up and read about them. i wrote the first draft of this book, 50k, in four days. then i wrote a second draft, 50k, in twelve days. then i printed both drafts out and made a frankendraft which i tehn rewrote it was a whole process.

beyr is like, a side story for pentalogy of hell. you don't need to read poh to read this but it is essentially jus tlike. backstory for one of the characters. that 1994 juvenile delinquent.

carl & jimmy is like... sort of... based on the american serial killer carl panzram. basically what i did was i learnd that carl panzram did, when he was a teenager, run across north dakota burning down churches with a friend and so i made it the 70s and less serial killer-y. i think this is probably the worst book i've ever written.

like hell is one of my favorites. it's about these three dudes who live in poverty and one of them is in a very abusive situation and as i put it, it's about "revenge, friendship, and killing your mom's boyfriend."

and i have three short story/essay collections: life in anachronism, rewind, and graduation day.

so yeah. check 'em out. let me know if you have any questions.

[qwimchii]

I love this last chapter sooooo much! Adding additional mildly complex side characters and focusing on the MCs feelings and shit- IM A NASTY LITTLE RAT FOR TS!!!!! It's world building; it gives so much more depth and reasoning and helps you put yourself in the MCs position. Obviously, I love Ghost, and that's why I started this series, but I can only continue reading a series if the writing is good. Having an important moment of development that focuses on the MC without the romantic interest just- UGH it feeds my spirit. I could rant on how much I love the way you wrote this last chapter, but just know I think you could publish a book and have a successful career. Submit to a contest and see how it goes because I just think your writing is great. I'm a sucker for detail, and you're just a great writer.

AAHSHDFLSJFEL IJ PLEASE THIS WONDERFUL SWEET ESSAY YOU HAVE COMPOSED—

crying. 😭😭i love you 😭

i would so submit my ff to a writing contest except for the fact that smut is sort of an integral part of the storyline smh

BUT IM SO GLAD YOU LIKE THE MAIN CHARACTERSSS sometimes i get nervous adding them bc its like hello?? who is this?? but im a sucker for character development and sometimes reader just needs little nudge and funky side characters are funnn to writteeee....

but anyways yea im so glad you liked it and thank you so much for reading <333 💞💞