#that’s more of an ‘design aspect that lives exclusively inside my mind’ so it’s not aesthetically challenging

[blzzrdstryr]

Chrysalis

Yandere!Albedo x gn!reader

Wordcount:2115

CW:Yandere themes

Working for Albedo isn’t that bad - the payment is good, the knowledge he provides is even better - a chance to delve into exclusive alchemical research with a widely acknowledged genius is a far more valuable award than any amount of mora or jewels could ever be. Said prodigy isn’t an awful person to work with either - he’s polite and well mannered, careful not to offend anyone even if his words can be cold and cutting sometimes. Most of the time Albedo is a pleasant company to be around, if one would turn a blind eye to his quirks.

For instance, he has a weird and frankly unnerving habit of staring at you - his teal eyes track your littlest movements as you set up an alchemical apparatus and prepare needed solutions. At first you thought he was overseeing you, checking if you had made any mistake as a fledgling alchemist, yet this hypothesis was quickly disproved when you caught him gazing off working hours. You never voiced your complaints - you wanted to keep your job and study, and maybe he is too socially blind to see how his behavior could be received by others.

Today would also be a great example of an alchemist's lack of tact - he requested you accompany him everywhere for the last few weeks, taking you from the cold heights of Dragonspine to sunny and bustling streets of Mondstadt. You two are sitting in the corner of his laboratory designed for rest and food and share a meal: two portions of his favorite fish, despite being nothing more than the employer and employee or teacher and student.

Albedo doesn’t seem to get or mind what kind of rumours he causes with this seemingly blatant favouritism before you, no he looks as calm as usual as he plunges into the dish with fork and knife.

“[First]”, he says, after the first bite: “Have the aches stopped bothering you?”, a hint of concern and something else. Two or three weeks ago you developed a strange soreness in the different parts of your body - wrists, neck, heart, legs - it would appear suddenly, burning and throbbing and making you gasp, leaving you tired and nauseous afterwards. No one could find the source of the problem, not even Albedo, yet after some time these far from pleasant sensations got subdued, easier to bear and endure.

His hand reaches for your left wrist, thumb caressing the skin, and he pulls it closer to his face, eyes examining the sore spot. You don’t protest, stunned by his sudden action.

“Hm, that’s”, he mumbles, more to himself than you: “that’s good”, he concludes, letting go of your limb.

“What’s good? Did something change?” you inquire, instantly forgetting to take offense at his grabbing.

“You could say that”, Albedo ambiguously says and returns to his fish. You ask the alchemist what he meant, but all you get are even vaguer answers and long silence in the end, as he finishes his meal and nudges you to start your own sunshine sprat.

In the end your questions remain unacknowledged, as Albedo leaves displaying you to accompany him. Surprisingly he heads for the gardens instead of the library, his step light and fast. “Master Albedo” you start, seeing that alchemist is in his creative mood again: “shouldn’t you bring an easel or sketchbook with you?”

“No, [First], I don’t intend to draw, not now. This walk is for me to get some inspiration”, Albedo quickly replies, still walking ahead: “In this time of year the environment changes so rapidly, it provides a mind with a lot of good ideas. You should come with me too, alchemy is a science of change, creation and destruction and nature is better at these three aspects than any of us”. He adds, seemingly sensing the next question you would ask.

He walks near the bushes, teal eyes focused on the blooming fragrant flowers, before he squats, pushing some of the wigs back.

“[First]”, he turns his head in your direction: “you should come and see”. You comply, curious what has caught Albedo’s attention, squatting near him and looking at one of the inner branches usually hidden by others.

It’s an ordinary dark cocoon. You almost turn your head again, before the slightest of movements catches your attention - it’s an insect trying to break out. Chrysalis cracks and deforms as a fledgling butterfly makes way past it’s confines. One second and it stretches its wings, revealing a vibrant blue coloration, the next it leaves it’s former cell entirely, elegantly soaring into the air, it’s azure wings lazily flapping, as it makes its way to the other bush.

“Fascinating”, Albedo breathes out, eyes still on the disappearing figure of the insect: “It transformed to such a great extent”.

You hear a hint of excitement in his voice - he wants to share his thoughts or knowledge then - and nod, prompting him to continue.

“Did you know that a larva needs to literally dissolve itself to reach the next stage of its life? After caterpillar finishes its cocoon, it produces enzymes that turn most of its tissue into a liquid matter and only after that does it rebuilds into an entirely new form”, he turns his gaze back to you, usually cold and thoughtful eyes now warm and dreamy: “Sometimes, I think humans are meant to metamorphose too”.

“How so?” you ask, tilting the head.

“Humans, despite all complexity and intelligence, are still fragile creatures. They’re prone to sickness and ailments and in the end old age ends those who managed to evade death before. Wouldn't it be better if one could go through metamorphosis, be reborn free from pain and hunger and constant threat of passing away? Those humans could live on forever and dedicate themselves to the higher cause without having to worry about dying and suffering".

You raise eyebrows, surprised by the sudden “outburst” - Albedo, despite his partially philosophical nature, has never shared his inner thoughts so freely, not to you at least. He, either out of embarrassment or deep contemplation, shifts his eyes somewhere behind you, and you turn back, following his eyes. He looks at the statue of Barbatos.

Tall and proud, it looks magnificent in the day’s sunlight, golden rays making it glow and shine with the fairness of the marble. Looking at this epitome of unchanging vision, you suddenly get an answer to Albedo’s thoughts and you voice it out the same second:

“Wouldn’t it negate the meaning of life then? Nature breeds diversity - the reason why we have so many flowers is because some kinds aren't adapted to particular conditions and so they change, producing entirely new types of plants. Eternal and undying beings, unconcerned with the earthly matters would have no need to reproduce and pass on its features to the next generation, depriving the world of thousand possible combinations. No new life would be created if the old one could be perfectly sustained".

"That's how you see it", Albedo replies, placing a now empty husk of the cocoon inside your palm - the testament of the nature’s miracle, the testament of one's ability to change: “I’ve witnessed many wonderful sights for today”, he adds, still looking at you, surrounded by flowers and flying butterflies, light breeze playing with your hair and sun illuminating your whole figure with a gentle golden glow.

You part with Albedo shortly after - he closes himself in the lab, before checking up on your sore spots again, quietly mumbling something to himself the whole time. You head for your house and open the alchemical textbook, studying it until late night. That place on the wrist slightly throbs at every movement.

Only when your eyelids fill up with lead and thoughts slow down from the general fatigue you allow yourself to head for the bed, falling asleep the second your head touches the pillow. You see phantasmagorical dreams - of you being a bulging and large larva, spending days simply eating green leaves, until a strange urge overcomes your entire being and you start to build something - a cocoon. Now, surrounded by pitch black darkness you feel a burning sensation - enzymes, enzymes that will dissolve your tissue. Pain quickly escalates and you want to scream and cry, but you can’t - you’re an insect you don’t have vocal glands or tear ducts to do so. Who could have known that butterflies suffer so much?

You writhe and squirm, caged by your liquifying body and hard chrysalis around you and you are in so much agony you want to die.

And then you wake up. All sweaty and distressed you grab at your wrist - it hurts so much, your entire body is on fire, it seems that you have another episode of that strange soreness. You quickly rise to your feet, snatching the painkillers from the nightstand and downing them with a gulp of water. As medicine begins it’s work you lay in the bed again, ready to fall asleep and forget the midnight pains, as you see something that makes your breath hitch and heartbeat fasten from fear.

A strange greyish white discoloration on your wrist in the same place that used to throb this evening. You touch it and it leaves a dry white imprint on your fingers, it also doesn’t have any strange smell.

You rise and quickly dress up, barely suppressed panic and anxiety dispelling the last remains of sleep. The walk towards the Favonius HQ’s is short, especially when you break into a sprint on the way. He is here, he is working into the night today. Quickly passing sleepy knights you climb on the second floor and almost run to one particular door, loudly knocking at it.

Just as you expected, there’s a sound of footsteps and soon a familiar voice asks: “Who is here?”.

“It’s me, master Albedo”, you say, feeling how the pain returns despite the painkillers taken: “you said to report if something changes, with my aches. It changed”.

The words you say and desperation accompanying them prompts alchemist to open the door, as he gestures you to come in, and shut the door as you do so:

“Strip”, he says, mind back to the analytical mode, you comply, feeling ashamed with every second Albedo continues to observe you: “Wait, there’s something on your neck”.

A cool touch to your skin, a short yelp, another burst of pain. You fall on your knees, blinded and deafened by sheer agony. Alchemist produces a distressed noise, walking up to your collapsed figure and carrying you to the nearby table.

He pushes alchemical apparatus away, turning the table into a makeshift bed, and gently lowers you down. “[First]”, his hand card through your hair, while the other nudges a mug with some brew to your lips: “There’s nothing to worry about, your metamorphosis progresses as it should be”.

“Metamorphosis.. What are you talking about?”, you ask, panic creeping into the question. Alchemist looks you straight into the eyes, an eerie smile blooming on his face as he hears it: "Isn’t it obvious? You're going to change and I will help you with that".

“Change?! Change into what?”

“Into a better version of human of course. Do you think I would let you get old or sick and die? You’re too dear to me to do that, you should live and experience a life free from human limitations”, for the first time in your life you’re terrified of him. Albedo always seemed so knowledgeable and calm to you, like a wise wizard from the childhood fairytales, yet now he looks mad and devoid of any humanity:“You shouldn’t worry about these stains, they will disappear once your transformation is complete. Those are just chalk you see, a side effect of your tissues changing over the weeks”.

“When did.. When did you start it?”, you croak out, sensing the agony returning and growing again. It hurts so much I can barely think.

“Dragonspine. You were eating with me”.

You want to insult and accuse him, yet another wave of pain renders you speechless, short huffs and whimpers escaping you as tears start to stream down your face.

“I understand it can be very stressful to you, given how change of this scale is always carrying a great risk”, his voice adopts the same philosophical tone: “The purpose of cocoon is protection of the soon-to-be butterfly from the external harm and influence that could lead to other complications and we don’t want any of that”.

He cards his hand through your hair again, a mockery of a concern dyeing his next words: “You shouldn’t worry, I will be a good chrysalis to your metamorphosis”.

You black out from pain.

[ddarker-dreams]

I Got The Blues. Yan Bruno x Reader [COMM]

warnings: implied manipulation, isolation, some paranoia. word count: 5k.

This isn’t how you were expecting your evening to go. 

Flashing by you in a dreamlike world of blurred colors, the city of Naples at night is a picturesque sight to behold. Gone is the sun that kindly lavished the bustling streets in shades of amber and marigold, moonlight and twinkling stars taking its place. How a city can have a clear enough sky to spot stars is a miracle beyond your own knowledge, though the lights of streetlamps and buildings do dull it some; it’s not enough to diminish the greater beauty. 

Butterflies dance around in your stomach, threatening to send you careening in your leather seat. Your exposed skin gratefully takes in the cool of the air conditioning that you’ve found yourself fiddling with, in hopes of quelling your inner anxiety. Every now and again, you work up the courage to look over at your date for the night. When knowing, cobalt eyes flicker to meet your gaze, all of the valiance it took to look his way melts like ice. Your muscles go taut, fingers curling into a fist atop your bare thighs, rose colored lips set into an unsteady smile to dissipate the uneasy air of your own making. 

You haven’t even made it to the restaurant, and you’re already on the verge of boiling over with excitement. 

Bruno Bucciarati is nothing if not a stunningly handsome man, eyes smoldering and raven hair perfectly framing his sharp face. There are plenty of mysteries in this world, now you’re able to add one of your own design. Why is it that Bruno had asked you of all people, on a fanciful date? What he had seen in you up until this point to have extended this invitation to you is up for debate. It’s not that you think poorly of yourself -- far from it -- but that Bruno’s beauty is so ethereal, that it’s hard to fathom his interest in you. Today isn’t the first time he’s expressed it, and far from the last, but you mistook it for friendliness. 

“I promise I won’t bite, amore,” Bruno’s rich, velvety voice invades your ears, senses incapable of processing anything other than his presence beside you. “There’s no need to be so on edge.” 

Your heartbeat increases tenfold at his good-natured teasing, a nervous laugh leaving your lips. Having conversation fill the air provides you with some much needed reprieve, a playful response of your own bubbling to the surface. “You say you won’t, but I get the feeling you may go back on your word.”

He returns your laughter with equal fervor, the skin underneath his eyes crinkling in delight. “I have to admit, it’s a tempting proposition. But I’ll save that for another time, should you let me.” 

There’s no getting ahead of his game, he’s too suave and adept. You look out the window to hide how your cheeks flush, but from the pleased hum he lets out, you’re certain he knows anyways. The banter is an enjoyable aspect of your time with Bruno, though there’s an underlying factor of honesty to his words. All the compliments bestowed upon you come from a genuine place. Your mind wanders to the first time you had encountered him, a fated meeting that you won’t be forgetting anytime soon. 

You had been jet lagged, searching frantically for a place to meet up that your native friend suggested. Directions went into your head without making proper sense, and before you knew it, you were lost. Your concerns of meeting up with your friend were soon replaced by wondering if you’d ever pinpoint where you were, the foreign area making it increasingly difficult to do so. It’s in this pitiful stupor that a well spoken man in a fine pressed suit appeared before you, asking if something was the matter. 

He hadn’t looked down upon you for the admittedly embarrassing plight, instead, he said he knew the area and wouldn’t mind taking you there as it was on his way. From that point onwards, you couldn’t thank him enough, praises stumbling from your tongue. He introduced himself as Bruno Bucciarati, and the time you spent with him was enough to forget your earlier problems. The long walk to where your friend awaited was filled with pleasant conversation and humor, with some light flirting that you enjoyed a little too much. From afar he looked serious, but had a coquettish nature that drew you in like a moth to a flame.

While it would’ve normally sounded terrifying to follow a stranger to a destination in a land you weren’t familiar with, Bruno put your heart at ease. He kept an appropriate distance and observed the theoretical line in the sand, never crossing it and using adequate charm to steady your frayed nerves. Upon hearing that you were a fresh arrival to Naples, he gave a brief overview of some culture tidbits that you might find useful during your stay. What was going to be an awful afternoon turned into a memorable outing, full of adventure and discovery. To say that you were grateful would be an understatement. 

Upon reaching your destination, all your anxiety from before was a thing of the past. Bruno was glad to see you off, refusing any monetary payments you tried to offer as thanks for his altruism. Instead, he asked if he could see you again at some point, to which you readily agreed. Thus began your pleasant friendship, and led to where you are now. On an excursion to a restaurant that, when you looked it up, seemed to frequent politicians and celebrities. How he managed to score a reservation at such a fine place is beyond you, but you’ll make the best of it. 

Fidgeting with your purse, you consider reapplying a touch of blush to your cheeks. Your outfit choice for tonight, a simple yet form fitting black dress that ends above your knees, was the best your closet could produce for such an event. Bruno looked the part of someone who would fit into high society, and you hope the same can be said for you. From how he complimented you earlier, it induced enough confidence to make it this far. 

The chauffeur pulls in front of the grandiose restaurant, and you watch as men and women dressed in designer clothing worth more than months of your paycheck climb out of sports cars. This is a large jump from the picnics and gelato outings Bruno had taken you out on before. Up until today, where romantic intentions could clearly be sighted, you only thought your relationship with him was friendly. The bouquet of deep, crimson roses he presented to you when you answered the door earlier made sure there were no confusing his intentions. 

He gets out before you, coming over to your side and opening the door. Accepting the hand that he extends out, the two of you stay close together while walking towards the front of the restaurant. Up until now, it felt like another world entirely, until you heard the familiar sound of waves crashing against the shore. The inside is as luxurious as you could imagine, fine glass chandeliers hanging overhead and classical music being played live. Candlelight dots the tables, the glow setting a romantic atmosphere. 

Bruno speaks a few words to the hostess while you gape at the surroundings. It’s hard to believe that just this morning, you had been eating a ham sandwich to save money for bills. Now you stand in one of the grandest spots in Italy, surrounded by socialites. No one pays you any heed, much to your internal relief, instead showing the utmost respect to Bruno. He turns back to you, smiling, and the two of you are led to a private room overlooking the ocean. 

“If I’m being honest, I feel a bit out of my element here.” A nervous laugh leaves your lips as you take your seat, smoothing out the bottom half of your dress. The fresh water on the table is a welcome excuse to have something in your hands, and you take the opportunity to steady yourself. Gingerly picking up the glass by the rim, feeling the coolness against your fingertips as you do so.

“You look the part,” Bruno responds in kind, steepling his fingers together and setting his head atop them. “I apologize if the atmosphere feels stifling, signorina. It isn’t my intention to make you uncomfortable.” 

Shaking your head, you place the cup down after a few sips. “Not at all. It’s beautiful, the view especially. I know I said it earlier, but… thank you for inviting me.” 

“It’s my pleasure. I’ve been wanting to take you out for an evening for some time now, but I’ve been preoccupied up until this point.” 

This catches your attention, an eyebrow raising in interest. Bruno has rarely spoken of his occupation, claiming the details would be a bore, but that must be what he’s referring to here. It was one of the few aspects of him that he didn’t delve into, and not wanting to seem invasive, you left it as is. Now seems like a prime opportunity to learn more about it, curiosity getting the better of you. You choose your words with care before proceeding.

“Is it a… busy season in your line of work?” You inquire with interest, hoping it doesn’t seem like you’re prying. The question is innocent enough, Bruno’s sought to learn more about your job, to which you readily answered him. His tone of voice and mannerisms, whether it be on purpose or not, always seems to command respect. It’s an aspect of him you and many others in his presence picked up on, always straightening their back in his presence and properly addressing him. Is he a politician or something…? 

“You could say that.” 

The opportunity is fleeting, a waiter coming over and paying great reverence to your dinner partner for the night. It’s a shame you won’t be able to push the topic further, having been interrupted and the conversation steering elsewhere. Bruno had asked beforehand if he could order in your stead. Seeing as he’s more familiar with the menu and charms of Nepotalian cuisine, you accepted, taking the opportunity to learn more about the food here. Some of the words he uses when placing an order for your antipasti you recognize, whereas others must be a dialect exclusive to this city. After the waiter hurriedly scribbles down and scurries off, Bruno’s attention is returned to you.

“So tell me, how are things with you? It’s been, what, a week or so since we last met in person?” 

You nod your head to confirm, nose scrunching while thinking back on your past experiences. Truth be told, it hasn’t been the best past couple of days. The other tenants in the apartments beside you have been obnoxiously loud at unholy hours into the morning, and no matter how politely you asked them to tone it down, it made no difference. Your landlord, to make matters worse, had been on about some special fee that you need to meet by the end of the month. When looking back on your agreement, you saw nothing of the sort. You wonder if he’s trying to take advantage of the fact you’re not a native Italian speaker, but finding a new place to live on such short notice would be a nightmare. This, and you’ve been having a difficult time aligning your schedules with your friends.

“It hasn’t been the easiest,” you confess with a sheepish smile, folding the napkin from the table onto your lap. That’s what you’ve seen in movies, so it seems like the right thing to do in this proper setting. “I actually wanted to talk to you about it, but it might not be the most proper dinner topic.” 

Bruno raises an eyebrow at this, before prompting you to continue. “Oh? I’d love to be of assistance to you.” 

The order comes out as you explain your sticky predicament. What appears to be octopus cooked alongside tomatoes and chili peppers, mixed into a leafy green salad with a zesty lemon dressing. The flavor bursts onto your tongue, spices complementing one another perfectly as you wrap up your woeful tale of adulthood. Bruno’s attention remains solely on you throughout, looking increasingly perplexed as you recount the problems, jaw tightening with agitation on your behalf.

“It might be in your best interest to end the lease then,” Bruno considers aloud with a sorrowful expression, shaking his head in dismay for your misfortunes. “The fee for doing so would still be less than having to pay that ridiculous sum every month.” 

It’s an option you considered with great displeasure. Shelling out all that money to end your lease early is a nightmare to think about, hundreds gone in the span of a second over an arbitrary bill, tacked on at the last second. The legality of it is up in the air, but your knowledge of the law surrounding tenants in Italy is… lacking, to say the least. Bruno’s affirmation of your idea serves to sour your mood, and you almost regret bringing up this grim subject on what’s meant to be a date night. Even though you planned to seek his guidance on it eventually, now may not have been the best time to do so.

Placing a forkful of steamed octopus into your mouth, you lament over the issue further. “I guess I should start looking for a new place. Everything else within range of my job is ridiculously expensive, though, so it looks like I’ll be walking a lot in the future.” 

The lighthearted joke does little to lift your downtrodden spirits, your gaze now facing downwards. How pathetic Bruno must think you are, incapable of properly navigating your finances despite being an adult. It’s embarrassing to think about, your cheeks burning in indignation. He never once chastises you, instead extending his hand over the table, resting it gingerly atop your own. A gentle action like this is enough to soothe your troubled mind, the coarse pad of his thumb rubbing reassuring circles into your skin.

“To think you’ve been through so much in this short amount of time… I’m sorry to hear about all of this,” Bruno’s words are soothing to your weary soul, maturity present in his visage. You feel better about talking to him already, sensing he has a great deal of life experience. “I’ve made up my mind. [First], why not live with me?” 

The sudden proposition sends your mind in a whirlwind, blinking rapidly while trying to gather your bearings. You’ve known Bruno for the time period of about three months, and while he’s been nothing but courteous towards you, there’s still a lot of secrecy surrounding him. You’d be pressed to say he isn’t charming, and that you don’t hold some form of affection toward him, but it feels so sudden. 

Sensing your apprehension, Bruno continues to explain in an attempt to smoothen other any concerns. “By all means, take time to think about the idea.” 

“I-It means a lot that you’d even extend the offer to me,” you stumble over your words truthfully, gulping to get a hold of yourself. “I’d feel awful to impose on you, especially on such short notice. You’ve been so considerate of me already…” 

“You could never impose. I hoped I’d made my feelings for you clear, [First]. Anything you need, I want to provide it. Please, allow me to do so.” 

He’s earnest, willing to overcome your apprehensions with thoughtfully crafted words and sentiments. Vacillating between two halves of yourself, you consider the options set before you. The romantic atmosphere from the restaurant is long forgotten, as you enter a reverie of contemplation. There isn’t a better option that you can think of, none of your friends living close enough or even open to the idea of a roommate. The time of splitting rent would be productive as well, letting you bolster your already deplenishing savings. Bruno has never given you reason to be alarmed, you trust the man before you. 

“In that case, I’ll continue thinking about it.” You answer after a moment’s deliberation, Bruno offering a nod of the head in acceptance. He retracts his hand from your own, and you can’t help but miss the warmth and reassurance it brought. Throughout your stay in Italy, you’ve felt like a stumbling mess at times. Sure, you’re capable enough, but wading through multiple decisions while balancing your job has been a lot to deal with. Bruno, on the other hand, feels so well put together. There’s never a moment in your interactions where he falters in his decisions, always full or resolve to see things through. He feels like a pillar of support in your life, a foundation that you cling to without even noticing it. This level of reliability is what you desperately need right now.

The air is silent for a moment, aside from the clattering of silverware against plates and muted chitchat from the other patrons. You look down to your lap, feeling the full weight of his stare set upon you. It feels like the evening has been getting away, running off in a direction you didn’t mean for it to go. After all the work he’s put into treating you to a nice night out, it feels impolite to ruin the mood any further. Putting on your best, brightest smile, you swiftly change the subject.

“I never realized seafood could taste so good,” you praise the meal before you, that’s been reduced to a shadow of its former self. Only a few crumbs remain in the bowl, a nice appetizer before the food to come. “A lot of the seafood I’ve had is either chewy, or just tastes strange. Whatever you picked out is amazing.” 

“A lot of it depends on the quality of the product itself. I grew up in a coastal town, so I know how to spot the difference. For octopus, the best method is the aroma. The same can be said for most seafood…” 

The remainder of the evening is spent in the throes of conversation ranging from lighthearted topics, to discussions about your plans for the future. Bruno revealed a bit more information about himself, but still not enough to sate your deeply rooted curiosity. His offer from before stays present in the back of your mind, but you do everything within your power to not think dwell on it. After having dessert from his behest, the two of you make your way to the entrance once more. You can’t fathom the bill after a dinner like that, but Bruno refutes any attempts to split it, following up his earlier offer of paying for it in full.

“Thank you for everything,” you express your gratitude while getting up from the chair, glancing out the window a final time. When you look back to Bruno, his attention is set solely on your presence, eyes softening considerably. It makes your heart flutter, how he looks at you. “I enjoyed my time with you.”

“And as for your offer…” 

There hasn’t been a great deal of time to think about it, but your chest feels light, like an invisible weight had been lifted. The man before you is an anchor that you never knew you needed, fastening you down in the wake of travesties. He’s well put together, offering you every courtesy known and making for delightful company. Whether what you feel is the beginning of love, or a platonic attachment, you’re uncertain. To discover things for yourself, and get a better bearing on your life, you’re ready to make a leap of your own. It reminds you of the time before moving here, this decision is minuscule in comparison to that… right? You’re not making a deal with the devil or anything. 

“I think… I think I’m going to accept.”

- - -

Anytime moving is involved, it’s a stressful endeavor. You know this firsthand, having come to Italy with a few things of luggage and starting off a new life with it. Much to your surprise, everything went far smoother than you imagined. Unlike your arrival, you had help in moving your boxes of belongings to Bruno’s villa, leaving you with little to do aside offering plenty of thanks. It felt like the start of an exciting new adventure, turning over a new leaf after a string of misfortunes. Leaving behind your old apartment building felt strange, but oddly right. Working through the manner of cutting your lease short was as awful as it sounds, but Bruno was by your side for all of it. 

What you can’t get off your mind, is how different your landlord acted in Bruno’s presence. When it had just been the two of you, you were treated with a complete lack of care, like your existence itself as a nuisance. There was a complete shift in demeanor upon walking into his office with Bruno by your side, like you were speaking to a different man. It reminded you of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, how he retained the same physical characteristics but adopted polite mannerisms. The whole exchange had been so jarring that you couldn’t help but ask Bruno about it, to which he offered a lackluster explanation. This haunting occurrence made you have more questions about his cryptic line of work, that you’re only fed spoonfuls of information at a time.

The two of them knew one another, but you don’t get the full spectrum of their relationship. It’s a gut feeling that it has to do with Bruno’s occupation, that he carefully skates around whenever brought up. 

Mostly settled in for the evening, you’ve been lounging on the balcony of Bruno’s home. It’s a quaint house, in the suburbs of Naples, further confirming that he’s well off to some extent. The ocean is within view, the house sitting in a gated community near the water. In the distance, you hear seagulls mixed with traffic over people coming home from their jobs. You hug your knees to your chest, staring down at your phone with a frown. It’s a mild summer day, the breeze from the ocean tickling your face, but not lifting your spirit. You had texted a few friends before your move in hopes of getting their assistance, only for none of them to return your calls or messages. 

It feels lonely. You feel lonely. 

If it hadn’t been for Bruno’s quick thinking and connections, it would’ve been the two of you moving boxes on your lonesome. This cold shoulder behavior hurts, and you can’t help but wonder if you did something wrong without knowing it. Had there been some sort of cultural aspect you were unaware of, that offended them? Is that why they’ve been ghosting you? It’s one thing if they were busy, but you see your friend group posting regularly on social media. A sigh leaves your lips, weariness from the week’s events getting to you. It won’t do any good to dwell on these things, but insecurities haunt you like a persistent cloud. 

“Is there something on your mind?” 

Your head whips around at the voice behind you, settling down when you recognize Bruno. He’s in lounge wear, and you flush at the domestic sight. He’s a sight to behold, lithe frame pressed against the door and awaiting your response. It almost feels like you two are a married couple, being this casual with one another. The thought serves to fluster you further, so you push it away. 

After all he’s done to assist you, it’d feel wrong to add friend troubles to the ever growing list. “N-not really, no.” 

Bruno frowns at this, coming out to join you on the balcony. He takes the seat closest to you, leaning forward and gazing deep into your eyes. A hand is pressed to your bare thigh, though it stops before it can travel up in a lascivious way. Feeling his cold hand against your skin sends shivers down your spine, his knowing eyes making you shrink back into your seat. Guilt seeps into you for the lie. He seems in tune with people’s feelings, you’re no different. Instead of calling you out point blank on the falsehood, he offers reassurance.

“Remember what I said,” his tone is almost chastising, face scrunched up in displeasure. “I care about you greatly, [First]. You don’t have to carry your burdens alone.” 

It comes before you can register. Tears sting the corner of your glassy eyes, silent sniffles leaving your person. As you think back to the images of your friends from last night, hanging out in one of your favorite spots with you, your lower lip trembles. Why is it that all this is happening? That you finally found a group of people that share your interests and passions, only to be left behind without an explanation? You despise how your throat clenches, each breath you take becoming more labored than the last. Bruno takes the opportunity to sit beside you, wrapping a reassuring arm around your shoulder and cooing into your ear.

All of it comes out like the floodgates of a dam, your head resting on his chest at his prompting. He holds you close, grounding you in reality, alternating between offering words of encouragement and peppering kisses onto your head. Your hands bunch up the fabric of his shirt, tears streaming down your face. No longer does shame occur to you, a forgotten thing of the past. You smell his rich cologne, that mixes in with the scent of the ocean. He’s been so good to you, too good. When the world has fallen apart, Bruno picks up the shards, placing them back together with tender care. Where would you be without his support? The thought is enough to bring a fresh set of sobs, self deprecating thoughts a mantra within your tattered mind. 

His warm breath fans across your face, soft lips making contact with the shell of your ear. “Amore mio, what is it that brought this on? Tell me, so that I can take care of it all.” 

“I have no one…! I don’t understand, none of it makes any sense,” you sniffle into his chest, voice muffled and waning. “My friends, even my coworkers! They act like I don’t… like I don’t even exist.” 

Large, reassuring hands cup either side of your damp cheeks, pulling you to look him in the eyes. His thumbs wipe away your tears, unblinking sapphire eyes steadying you. The world stops around you, nothing else registering other than his existence. How his skin feels against your own, the way his hair brushes against your face, how wonderfully close he is. He hasn’t left you, he’s still by your side. Your lips tremble, and you curse your wretched existence. A moment of clarity comes, and with it, your sobbing subsides. The two of you stay still, your face in his hands, until your hiccups are reduced to occasional sniffles. Even that fades with time, much to your relief.

You take a shaky, deep breath, hoping to gain better control of your fluctuating emotions. In the blink of an eye, Bruno leans forward, pressing his lips against yours in a chaste kiss. A noise of surprise leaves you, but before you can think to return it or move away, he pulls back. Looking up at you through heavily lidded eyes, dark eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks. The predetermined movement seems to have a physical effect on you, your face erupting into a blush. It’s been a rollercoaster of emotions that Bruno brings with him.

“You’re wrong on a single account,” he murmurs, his voice sweeter than honey, ensnaring you in a web of his own making. “You have me, and I’m not going anywhere.” 

It’s strange, you think. How like two sides of the same coin, so much can go wrong, but an equal amount can go right. For every loss, Bruno has almost made up for it in some other way, an equilibrium being maintained. Will one side tip over, ruining the delicate balance, and sending you into chaos? There’s no way of knowing, yet you can’t help but wonder. Your life is interconnected to his now, for better or for worse. No longer do you care for the innate selfishness of seeking out his warmth, canting your head into his hand and closing your eyes.

“Thank you, Bruno. You’re right… I do have you.” 

He seems content with your realization, a gradual smile spreading across his face. The sun has begun to set, warm colors dancing across his tanned skin. After a moment’s deliberation, he leaves your side, standing and looking towards the glass doors that lead inside.

“Let’s head inside for a cup of tea. It’s been a long day, so you shouldn’t stay up much later.” 

You nod your head lazily at his suggestion, using the back of your hand to wipe away at the wetness that remains on your face. A nice warm drink sounds wonderful just about now, even in the middle of the summer. Having a task to distract yourself with is an added benefit, so you get up, following after him to the kitchen. The brisk air conditioning feels like a welcome wake up call, and you look around at the tastefully decorated surroundings. Your new home, for the time being. Life is unpredictable, if anything.

It has been an exhausting day. Or more like an exhausting past few weeks, you think. For now, your attention remains solely on the person who walks in front of you. A bashful idea pops into your head, and you catch up to Bruno and walk by his side. He looks over at you with potent curiosity, and the opportunity is present to offer a confession. “I, um… I wanted to say that you have me too. I mean it.” 

Little did you know, there was never a time he believed otherwise.

[bloededhoine]

hi! I loved the last headcanons I requested so I'm sending more, hope u don't mind and sorry if this is late and if it is not Friday for u anymore. ☾, ��� and ♡ for Morvran (coz the one u wrote is the most amazing thing) and ✿ for Ves. Thank you so much and btw I abolutely love your witcher memes

you sent this 6 november. it is currently 12 december (by time i finished it its 11 january on my god) i am so fucking sorry but here you go! also the ves one.. yes.

☾ - sleep headcanon

■ -  bedroom/house/living quarters headcanon

♡ - romantic headcanon

✿ - sex headcanon

list

sleep headcanon

morvran is generally a pretty light sleeper, to the point where someone walking loudly outside will wake him up

so, he takes it upon himself to be properly tired before he goes to bed so he'll sleep through the night

this is usually accomplished by riding (a horse or a diplomat? who's to say)

good god it's the third bullet point how did i already make this sexual

alright...

he totally gives me monogrammed matching pyjama set vibes

like they're a mahogany coloured silk with a little MV embroidered in cursive

ciri loves making fun of them

but he's comfy DAMNIT

he sleepwalks... and didn't think it worth mentioning until emhyr hired a witcher to deal with the palaces supposed wraith problem...and of course he didn't want the city of golden towers to have a reputation as a hotbed for monsters.... but he eventually decided he liked his status as the local ghost

he keeps a dream diary.

like most of these hcs are based on tiny details in some obscure translation, but trust me bro morvran voorhis keeps a dream diary

he plays the dapper dude game, but with enough sambuca he will absolutely tell you why journaling your dreams is the most important thing you can do

he wears slippers. i know this for a fact. they match his pyjamas and he leaves them right next to his bed every night

of course, this started with morvran's father making sure he was always prepared for a quick getaway

even after the assassination he just couldn't shake the habit. he also always stays on the ground or first floor and won't fall asleep in a room unless the windows open from the inside. precautions, you know?

great now i'm sad

bedroom/house/living quarters headcanon

okay here's the thing you need to understand about morvran voorhis: he did not have any autonomy for the first 20 odd years of his life

growing up in the imperial palace doesn't leave a lot of room for individuality. sure, he had expensive toys, soft fabrics, and the nicest governesses and most intelligent tutors in the empire, but none of it was his

even after his father died, he couldn't leave because he was getting married off to some girl he'd never even met!

so, by time he had command of the alba division and, by extension, his own life, he got creative

i'm talking a tapestry of his favoured stallion that takes up an entire wall

and a custom plaque of the merchant's guild insignia on the mantle

and a hook right next to his bed to put his medallion

and his own gwent card, framed

and a map of nilfgaard he annotates himself, with markings such as "bastard who stole fire scorpion, cheats with scoia'tael deck", "pretty girl witcher", "annoying witcher", "guild army contact", "actual 25 centimetres, take portal or carriage"

and a desk he never actually uses because it's too orderly and looks too nice to mess up

should all those mismatched patriotic and egotistical things look good together? no, no they should not. but do they?? fuck to the yes! our mans knows the importance of a colour scheme!

when you first walk in his quarters, it looks kind of like most of the others in alba, except with a few extra empty coffee mugs

but he HAS THOSE MOTHERFUCKING DETAILS

i don't know why i'm so invested in this i just fucking KNOW it's true

he's a neat freak. i feel like we all knew this.

there's a designated spot for everything, and don't you dare mess up the system

also if you drip water on his rug he will 100% throw your ass out onto the street

romantic headcanon

now, i'm almost exclusively romantically attracted to women, but i would marry voorhis and not just for the money

he definitely has a huge romantic streak that he really loves indulging. buying flowers, writing love letters, all of that, he genuinely enjoys it

yes, he's a busy man, but he makes the little moments count! he definitely bugs assire for a new xenovox like every week because he breaks them so often

morvran voorhis is a massive flirt. i will not be taking questions

i told myself i wouldn't work in my voorhis used to be a sex worker hc in this, but you know what he did and that's important to him!

the flirting is definitely an issue in relationships, especially with people who didn't know him before he was a commander.

i'm not saying he's two faced, he just has very distinct business and pleasure personas that he doesn't want to mix

he also sees relationships as fairly contractual. he gave those diplomats a little of ~this~ because it helped him succeed. somewhere along the way he began to enjoy the feelings of courting someone, but it was largely because he knows you're always better at work you enjoy.

ciri has called him out on it a few times... he was not happy

how dare you ask this man to be vulnerable he is a BOTTOM

but i honestly think that if there is someone he wants, he will make himself worthy of them. voorhis is nothing if not confident and determined, and i think those are more powerful than the massive daddy issues and praise kink

he really just puts in effort and concern to all aspects of a relationship

like dates? unreal

he always starts by going to the vegelbud estate, partly because he is desperate for his peers' approval and partly because he wants to see if this lucky person is a good match

he also knows all the places around the estate where wildflowers grow. i told you he's a romantic.

sex headcanon

i'm about to be incredibly gay on main oh good god jimmy don't read this please

ves is a dom and a top. acceptable titles include Sir, Master, or Lieutenant and you better fucking use them

ves definitely gets around. i mean, just look at her. the energy is immaculate and she knows what she's doing

overstim. just... one is not enough. shaking is not enough. begging is not enough. being completely fucked out and not even able to manage any words while sobbing? that might do. (with consent!)

not that ves doesn't love to hear some begging, she definitely does. it's just not going to motivate or demotivate her to do anything, she already has it all planned out

that plan includes hearing someone beg for her strap even as she's deep enough inside them they can feel it in their belly

good god i'm really exposing all my kinks

anyways let's keep it going!

she's an amazing rigger

not just in technique, she knows exactly when to be gentle versus firm and create art out of a body and some ropes

ves bites

just grabbing a handful of hair and tilting their head back so she can leave marks on their throat... mmhm yeah

i think she fucked geralt

like yeah you can have her fuck geralt in assassins of kings but i think she just did it anyway cause she was bored and smelled a bottom

he had a very good time

ves was eh

geralt's just far more submissive than ves's usual partners. i mean, she's used to handling 5 temerian guerillas. a singular witcher isn't even a challenge

surprisingly, she's quiet. spending 80% of her day within earshot of her father figure made this more of a necessity, but she can fashion an excellent gag for any parties who aren't worried about all of temeria hear them

[londonspirit]

After the pandemic delayed its highly-anticipated release, the In the Heights movie is finally coming to very thirsty fans this Friday - and, to make the premiere even better, a special behind-the-scenes look at the movie is hitting bookshelves. In the Heights: Finding Home is a joint venture with Lin-Manuel Miranda, screenwriter Quiara Alegría Hudes, and Jeremy McCarter - it combines never-before-seen photos and oral history style-storytelling to take readers onto the Washington Heights set, spilling all sorts of filming secrets. Here, in an exclusive excerpt, read along as the cast battles record heat to complete the "Carnaval del Barrio" number.

Washington Heights is dense enough, and lively enough, to offer a distilled version of the New York paradox: Life is a nerve-fraying ordeal that you miss terribly as soon as it's gone. (According to local custom, people don't just double-park here, they triple-park.) Everybody knew that shooting a movie there would be difficult and expensive. But Jon [M. Chu, the director,] couldn't imagine doing it any other way.

For all of its fantastical touches-what Jon calls its "sing-to-the-stars-y" energy-Heights has always drawn power from its realism, a depiction of life as it's actually lived. The sweet spot for the movie, Jon felt, would be offering "a very truthful take on living in Washington Heights, then upping it."

In other words: No matter how fraught the process might be, the cast, the crew, and all of their gear-up to and including their fake sun in the sky-were going to spend the summer of 2019 in Washington Heights.

"The essence of a movie dictates where you shoot it," explains Kevin McCormick, a Warner Bros. executive who was integral to Heights. "And there's no way you could not have made this in Washington Heights. To have a movie about this community and not film there would be such a lost opportunity."

The first thing they did there was listen. Members of the production team, particularly Samson Jacobson, the location manager (born and raised in the area-a definite plus), and Karla Sayles, the director of public affairs at Warner Bros., met with community leaders to field questions and respond to concerns. Once again, Luis Miranda was a vital resource, drawing on relationships he had built over decades to make introductions.

The producers vowed to do all they could to limit the physical footprint of the shoot. Cast members shared trailers that they might otherwise have kept to themselves. The production hired people from the neighborhood for roles onscreen and off. Instead of catering every meal, they encouraged actors and crew to buy lunch in area restaurants. They even funded a student production of the show at George Washington high school.

What you see onscreen is a two-hour-and-fourteen-minute record of movie professionals falling in love with a place and its people. They arrived uptown to discover that Washington Heights really was different from most places in New York. Locals opened the hydrants on hot afternoons and played dominoes on the sidewalks. The piragüeros really did park their carts on the sidewalk to hawk their flavors of the day. The fascination seemed to be mutual: Actors got used to seeing whole families-little kids and their abuelitas-watching from their stoops at any time of the day or night.

Which is not to say that it came easily.

To Alice Brooks, the director of photography, the weather problems were "insane." If a storm popped up on the radar anywhere nearby, they had to suspend production. This happened with schedule-wrecking regularity. They expected to be free of such interruptions when they went underground to shoot "Paciencia y Fe" on the subway. Instead, they experienced a torment familiar to every New Yorker but with a twist: They weren't waiting for the train to appear so they could ride it to work, they just needed the garbage train to pass by so they could go back to shooting their movie.

The need to solve the endless riddles of New York filmmaking had led the producers to add Anthony Bregman to the team. At this point, he reckons, he's filmed in just about every corner of his hometown, always looking for ways to capture the authentic look and feel of a place-even when the movie is surreal. (He produced Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, a valuable point of reference for the reality-bending frame of Quiara's screenplay.) So he wasn't especially rattled when, on the night they filmed "Alabanza," a nearby building caught fire, or when, on another night, gunshots rang out nearby.

"You want the life of the city?" Anthony asks. "The life of the city is complicated."

The production lost valuable shooting time on both of those nights. They found ways to make it up later. But other days offered no second chances. Anthony remembers looking at the calendar before summer began, getting a feel for what lay ahead. Some days seemed manageable; some days seemed tough. Then there was "Carnaval del Barrio."

"That day," he says, "was impossible."

What turned out to be a defining episode in the whole long history of In the Heights almost didn't happen at all. Many a movie executive had suggested over the years that there wasn't enough plot in "Carnaval del Barrio" to justify a song that was very long and very crowded, which made it very expensive. But the song's power doesn't come from the plot, it comes from the theme. The characters rally one another's spirits amid a citywide blackout. They raise their flags and celebrate their heritage-and their humanity-in defiance of every force telling them not to.

That community-fortifying aspect of the song is "essentially the DNA of In the Heights for me," Quiara says. Beneath the joy, there's a legacy of struggle and resilience. " 'Carnaval' unearths that history. All we have is our fight to be here together, the testimony to our spirit."

To help ensure that the number would remain in the movie, she hooked it into the plot more securely, situating it as a farewell number for the salon ladies, who have been priced out of the neighborhood. But the budget wasn't the only limiting factor. "Carnaval" is unique in requiring virtually every member of the cast to be present at the same time.

The actors' complicated schedules meant that Jon wouldn't get all the filming days he wanted. He would get only one.

Which meant it was time for the hard, slow, unglamorous legwork of moviemaking: planning, organizing, rehearsing, designing, equipping, and rehearsing some more-months of it, all to give themselves the best possible chance to "make the day," to film the whole gigantic number in the time available.

In the world of making movies, "day" is a flexible unit of time, especially for a scene that would be filmed outdoors- in this case, a courtyard between two apartment buildings around the corner from where Lin went to preschool. They scheduled the shoot for a Monday, when union rules would let them start the earliest. And they picked June 24, one of the longest days of the year.

They didn't realize it would also be one of the hottest.

The song would be filmed more or less in order. Which meant that for the production, as for the characters, the salon ladies would lead the way.

Some of the movie's actors were new to musicals. Not Daphne Rubin-Vega, who plays Daniela. When Rent blew the mind of seventeen-year-old Lin-Manuel Miranda, she was onstage, playing Mimi. But when she arrived for hair and makeup on "Carnaval" day-at 4:30 in the morning-even she was feeling nerves. The uneven concrete floor of the courtyard wasn't like where they had rehearsed. The prospect of filming a seven-page song before nightfall seemed crazy.

She began to hear a voice of doubt in her brain, one that's encoded in a specific ugly memory. After wrapping her first film, she had gone to the airport to fly home to New York and mentioned to the woman at the ticket counter that she had just acted in a movie.

"That's funny," said the woman, who Daphne believes to have been Latina like herself. "You don't look like an actress."

Worries about how they looked, questions about what they were wearing, a general feeling of negativity-Dascha Polanco was feeling them, too. She always loved arriving on set to play Cuca, one of Daniela's fellow salon ladies, because it felt so much like coming home. She was born in the Dominican Republic and while growing up in Brooklyn used to make frequent trips to the Heights with her friends. ("Washington Heights is a small Dominican Republic," she explains.) Now she, too, wondered if she belonged. Am I capable of remembering the steps? she asked herself.

She decided to stop those doubts-for herself and the other salon ladies. She grabbed the hands of Daphne and Stephanie Beatriz, who played Carla, and formed the women into a profane prayer circle.

"Shake that s--- off," she told them. "I'm not going to let anyone or anything interfere with my performance today."

Daphne laughs as she tells the story. "She was so hilarious and said we were going to protect each other from that insecurity. That was such a beautiful thing-going in there with that determination to represent."

By 5:30 A.M., when the sun rose over Queens, sixty dancers had arrived. Christopher Scott, the film's choreographer, tried to prepare them for what was coming, backed by his full team of associate choreographers: Emilio Dosal, Ebony Williams, and Dana Wilson, as well as associate Latin choreographer Eddie Torres, Jr., and assistant Latin choreographer Princess Serrano. By six A.M., dozens of crew members had joined them, making the thousand careful adjustments needed to help a movie look spontaneous.

It was almost nine A.M. by the time Jon called "Action." The cameras started rolling, Daphne started singing, and the clock kept ticking.

Arrange the actors, position the cameras, do a take, reset everybody, do it again. As the sun climbed higher that morning, the temperature rose to what one crew member estimated to be nine hundred degrees. Look closely-see the sweat on people's bodies? Most of it didn't come from the makeup department. But there wasn't time for extra breaks to cool off.

"Please be quiet," a voice on the loudspeaker boomed at one point. "We gotta go."

At one point that morning, Jimmy Smits got his turn to shine. Playing Kevin Rosario wasn't his first Height experience. He had seen the show Off-Broadway and been "blown away" by it, he says. He had offered to help in any way he could, eventually recording a radio ad for the show.

His devotion to Heights carried into rehearsals for the film. As they got underway, he told Chris Scott and the choreography team, "I know I'm playing the dad, but the last thing I want to see is myself in the background, just waving my hands. I want to go all in." They obliged him. He sometimes hobbled home from the dance studio to ice himself for hours.

His payoff came on "Carnaval" day. He had a featured moment in the song: an intricate, whirling combination. The cast and crew watched him do it again and again, cheering him on. He could feel "a lightning bolt of energy" around the set, something he'd experienced only rarely in his long career.

Over the applause after one take, a voice rang out, ricocheting off the walls: "That s--- was crazy! For our ancestors!" It was Anthony Ramos. He, too, had a long history with Heights, but it wasn't as happy as Jimmy's.

Very early in his career, he had tried to get cast as Sonny on the show's national tour. It meant taking a bus into Manhattan from a gig he was doing in New Jersey, going through round after round of auditions. At last he made it to the big moment: a callback in front of Tommy Kail, Alex Lacamoire, and Lin himself.

He gave the song everything he had. He didn't get the part.

He thought he'd missed the one chance he would get to work with Lin, the writer who'd evoked Anthony's own world, Latino New York, so beautifully on a Broadway stage. He needn't have worried. A few years later, the same guys would hire him to originate the roles of John Laurens and Philip Hamilton, Alexander's son, in Hamilton.

When Anthony got to know Tommy and Lac well enough, he asked if they remembered not casting him as Sonny. They said they did.

"You weren't ready yet," Lac said.

Anthony knew he was right. "Only a homie would tell you that," he says.

But he needed one more break to make his way back to Heights and find himself sweating in the courtyard that morning.

In 2018, Stephanie Klemons, an original cast member of both In the Heights and Hamilton, directed a production of Heights at the Kennedy Center in Washington. The night before rehearsals were set to begin, she lost an actor to an injury. She reached out to Anthony: Could he step in with zero notice?

He didn't feel physically or mentally ready, and was about to pass, but decided to do it. That's how he got a second chance to show Lin what he could do in Heights-not as Sonny this time, as Usnavi. In a series of tweets, reproduced on this page, Lin commemorated how overwhelmed he was watching Anthony step into the role he once played. He, Quiara, and Jon all agreed that when the cameras started rolling, Anthony should be their Usnavi.

The bond between Anthony and Lin added to the drama of filming "Carnaval." Lin played Piragua Guy, so he was in the courtyard, too-or, rather, directly above it, on a fire escape. It meant that the whole cast and crew had a clear view of the brief duet that he and Anthony sing in the middle of the number. To people who knew their history, the sight made time go all swirly. Anthony had originated the role of Lin's son in Hamilton, and now he was playing the role that Lin had originated, and somehow the two of them were singing a duet in Washington Heights.

A quirk of the production process made the moment even stranger and more potent. All day, the actors had been singing along to prerecorded versions of "Carnaval" piped over the loudspeakers. But somehow they hadn't gotten around to recording Anthony's side of his duet, so they had to fall back on the only other version on hand: the Broadway cast album. Which meant that Lin wasn't just singing with Anthony that day, he was harmonizing with himself at age twenty-eight, when every bit of what was happening around him would have seemed like a ludicrous dream. "It was like time travel," Lin says.

By three p.m., when everybody had returned from their lunch break-blood sugar bolstered by the ice cream truck that Stephanie Beatriz had hired-time was growing shorter, the day hotter. Now when choreographer Chris Scott talked to the dancers, many listened with hands on hips, hands on knees.

From his fire escape, Lin did his bit to keep up morale. He joined in the clapping that broke out between scenes; he made silly faces; he pulled up his shirt and did belly rolls. Guests watched from the edges of the shoot: Lin's dad and wife, Quiara's sister, Chris's mom, Anthony's sister and mom. Anna Wintour stopped by.

Jon is not the type to direct through a bullhorn, barking orders from the shade. When they'd filmed "96,000" earlier that month on a couple of unseasonably frigid days, he had jumped in the Highbridge Park pool with the cast.

On this day, he darted around the courtyard, giving notes to actors, framing shots, conferring with Alice. He is also not the type to speak in mystical terms, but when he thinks back on that day, he remembers "the sun shining down like a laser-it was like the sun was shining out of everybody."

By late afternoon, the boundary between the make-believe world of the movie and the real world of the shoot had all but melted away. They had reached the part of the song where Usnavi and Daniela try to call forth their neighbors' pride in where they come from. Anthony climbed onto a picnic table and faced the whole cast, rapping, "Can we sing so loud and raucous they can hear us across the bridge in East Secaucus?" Daphne stood near him, arms wide apart, raising them up, willing everybody to stand tall, to keep going.

Both of them were throwing all their skill and commitment into their performances, the stars of two of Broadway's epoch-making musicals doing what they had trained to do. But they also weren't acting.

"To raise the flag for your country, to dance and recognize that we're all here together, and belong here, we don't need to be forgiven for it, or ashamed for it," says Daphne of what she was feeling. "There's a pride in being here from Colombia, or Panama, the D.R., Puerto Rico, Cuba, wherever."

At eight o'clock, with the sun sinking toward New Jersey, the dancers were still dancing. Eleven hours had passed since Daphne had belted out "Hey!" to start the song. Now Jon was trying to get the right take of sixty-plus voices shouting "Hey!" to finish it. In the movie version of the scene, the blackout ends when the song does, so a voice on the loudspeaker would announce, "The power's on!" That's how the actors knew the right moment to cheer that it was over.

After one such cheer, it really was over. Not just the take-the song.

They had done it. They had made the day.

Jon jumped into a swarm of dancers. (Ever see a baseball player hit a walk-off home run, then leap onto home plate into the waiting arms of his cheering teammates? That's what this jump looked like.) People were clapping and shouting and hugging and crying. Alice thought the whole thing was a miracle.

"You know when you see people at a concert cry, and you're like, 'I would never do that'?" asks costume designer Mitchell Travers. "That's what I did." He thinks it's the most sheer human energy he has ever been close to.

Anthony Ramos, in the middle of the crowd, launched into a speech. He can't remember his exact words. He hadn't planned what he was going to say-he hadn't planned to speak at all. He just felt that something needed to be said.

"I might have said, today we made history," he recalls. "This was for our ancestors who didn't get the opportunity to do this-who were fighting to have a chance to do what we just did. It was for love of the culture. It was for our kids, who look like us, to be able to see themselves on the big screen, to see us singing about our pride. Some s--- like that."

Somewhere in the crowd stood Dascha Polanco, cheering with the rest. She was sweaty, tired, tear-streaked-and beginning to feel the spirit move.

"I looked down and saw that concrete floor," she says, "and I saw those fire escapes up there, and I was like, 'New York.' "

She began a chant. It was slow and pitched low: "N-e-e-e-e-w York, N-e-e-e-e-w York." In seconds, the whole crowd took it up. "N-e-e-e-e-w York! N-e-e-e-e-w York!"

They were pointing to the sky. They were dancing.

"N-e-e-e-e-w York! N-e-e-e-e-w York!"

"It wasn't like chanting, 'Oh, I love New York,' " Anthony says later-meaning it wasn't a casual thing someone would casually say. "It was"-he drops his voice an octave and leans in-"I motherf---ing love New York. I'm proud to be from New York. I'm proud to be Latino from New York. That was the chant."

Lin, on his fire escape, was overwhelmed. Quiara, in the courtyard, guessed that people could hear them all chanting for blocks around. "It was the sound of joy and survival," she says. "And the sound of people who were really proud to be artists in community together-all our stories braided and interwoven at that one moment."

The long months of preparation had yielded the thing that movie people dream of creating: the burst of real emotion, the flash of genuine spontaneity. Some of it infuses what you see in the finished version of the song, but some of it can't be recovered now. It's an experience only for the people who got to be part of that impromptu celebration, the carnaval that followed "Carnaval."

That long day and its joyous finale capture, in miniature form, a lot of the Heights experience-what's powerful about it, what's rare. Instead of expecting little from the actors it featured, Heights demanded everything-not just what they could do, but who they were and where they came from. By fusing them with dozens of other artists making the same commitment, it gave them the feeling that Lin had wanted so badly for himself when he started writing the show: a sense of belonging, of being part of a group of people working toward a goal they all hold dear. That's why Anthony, looking back on filming "Carnaval," says, "That was one of the greatest days of my life. Period. If I never do another movie again, I did this."

"Something that arises in 'Carnaval' is a feeling of, 'There's a place for us,' " says Quiara. "But the place is not one that says, 'Oh, I definitely fit in' or 'I definitely don't.' It holds those questions. It allows those questions to exist."

Those questions, she has come to see, are universal.

"People are like, 'What is my place in the world?' That question is actually part of your place in the world," she says. "There's something about In the Heights. It takes such a burden off to hear, 'Yeah, there's a place for you. Here it is.'"

[officialotakudome]

New Post has been published on Otaku Dome | The Latest News In Anime, Manga, Gaming, Tech, and Geek Culture

New Post has been published on https://otakudome.com/wandavision-season-1-review/

WandaVision Season 1 Review

The new era of Marvel Television begins with WandaVision. Following the events of Avengers: Endgame, Wanda Maximoff has continued her grief stricken life in wake of the death of her lover Vision. With her powers ever growing Wanda takes the small town of Westview hostage to cope in a mind-binding super hero take on classic and modern sitcoms.

WandaVision is a 2021 superhero sitcom, it is produced by Marvel Studios and distributed by Walt Disney. It aired exclusively on Disney+. Season one is currently available in its entirety. 

Editor’s Note: Near complete to complete spoilers for WandaVision and the Marvel Cinematic Universe as a whole may be present within this review. 

The next stage in the Marvel Cinematic Universe begins in WandaVision.

WandaVision begins a new era for the Marvel Cinematic Universe as the first of insanely big budgeted TV series for the Disney+ platform. After the shut down of Marvel Television and incorporating it into Marvel Studios proper many were worried about the future of Marvel properties coming to the small screen. Thankfully while it’s not necessarily on traditional TV the small form Marvel content will continue in even greater heights due to Disney’s push for it’s streaming platform. And WandaVision is already a big part of that move. Acting as an homage to classic sitcoms old and modern WandaVision is a superhero trip that’s for fans of all Marvel content.

WandaVision’s consistent roller-coaster ride story keeps viewers on their toes.

THE GOOD: The series takes place sometime after Endgame. The world is still recovering from the snap reverse & the fact that time has skipped for a majority of the world. Wanda, still grieving over the loss of her lover Vision has lost control of her powers and even some of her sanity. She unknowingly uses her powers to change the small town of Westview into the image of the TV sitcoms she watched with her family as a child. Fearing her power Wanda is investigated by S.W.O.R.D a government agency meant to be the space focused version of S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent Monica Rambeau has a particular interest in Wanda sympathizing with her after losing her mother to cancer. Believed to be having a waning mental state Wanda changes the world design of Westview based on different eras of TV sitcoms. Wanda is eventually revealed to be mostly sane choosing Westview as her method of coping having lost Vision twice.

As the world design changes so does the storyline Wanda created for the series, including the title, aspect ratio, and cast of characters. Wanda becomes pregnant and soon gives birth to twins. Meanwhile S.W.O.R.D has been sending in agents in an effort to stop Wanda and save the citizens of Westview. But they instantly become apart of Wanda’s Westview upon entering. Even the sympathetic Rambeau becomes a victim of it. The more S.W.O.R.D. intervenes the more erratic Wanda becomes in retaliation. Rambeau eventually regains herself after escaping Westview and returning to real life. 

Vision becomes suspicious of Wanda after strange interactions with his co-workers & neighbors. The twins have also begun aging at an accelerated rate and also gain superpowers. One night Vision finally has enough and questions Wanda only for her “brother” Pedro to appear. This Pedro is in the form of the FOX’s X-Men universe, but Wanda has complete recognition of him. S.W.O.R.D ramps up it’s attack on Westview and Vision finds the exit for the altered Westview. As he attempts to escape the area, Wanda’s powers resists him and he’s nearly erased. When his son feels Vision’s pain Wanda increases the reach of the altered Westview which encases others including Darcy who was helping S.W.O.R.D. 

Vision and Darcy become apart of the rebooted Westview with slight memory loss. Vision recognizes Darcy and they work together to return to Wanda. However, the world is rejecting them causing a multitude of distracts that stop them in their tracks. Eventually regaining their memories Vision flies off to Wanda, leaving Darcy behind. Wanda feels as if she’s losing control of the world and Agatha Harkins who kidnapped the she reveals she was behind all of the chaos. Agatha reveals that she is an actual witch from the Salem trials era and wanted to absorb Wanda’s powers to control the Darkhold an ancient spell book with powerful magic. Agatha also reveals that Wanda holds the title of Scarlet Witch an ancient witch with chaos magic abilities. S.W.O.R.D unveils a man-made version of Vision which was made from the original with intent to be controlled on their command. 

As Agatha threatens the boys in front of Wanda and Vision returns only to be attacked by White Vision. A dual battle ensues between Agatha & Wanda and Vision & White Vision. After a conversation Vision returns White Vision’s memories causing him to abandon S.W.O.R.D. and fly off. Agatha & Wanda’s fight makes it to town where the citizens memories have returned. Begging Wanda to free them she complies only to stop when Vision & the boys begin to disappear. Monica who had returned to the world with her DNA changing her into a superhuman offers to help Wanda. She & the boys along with Vision fight and defeat S.W.O.R.D who were intervening. 

Agatha has released magical runes which has taken over the altered Westview. Just as it appears that Wanda has been defeated she reveals that she tricked Agatha. Taking control of Agatha’s runes Wanda transforms into the Scarlet Witch and defeats Agatha. Instead of killing Agatha she returns her to her fake Westview personality as a hostage planning to use her vast knowledge in the future. 

Head of S.W.O.R.D, Director Hayward is arrested for his actions. Monica and Agent Woo who had been trying to protect Wanda take care of clearing her name as she heads off with her family. As she releases Westview from her control she says goodbye to her family. Monica is visited by a Skrull posing as a human who invites her to the S.H.I.E.L.D station in space. Wanda studies the Darkhold in her Scarlet Witch form and suddenly hears her children crying her name.

WandaVision is a story of overcoming loss and grief.

Initially, WandaVision is rather slow paced, but picks up around episode threeish. As a fan of nearly all of the sitcoms parodied I think the series personally connects with me more than the average viewer. I was able to get all the references and inside jokes, but I can see someone who isn’t particularly a fan of even one of said sitcoms being lost & put off from the direction. Also just wanted to shout that I was shocked a bit seeing the Malcolm in the Middle repping, but happily so as it’s probably my favorite sitcom of all time. This was surprisingly laxed in action compared to previous MCU work. However, given the focus was to establish magic, multiverses, and other key Marvel elements into Phase 4 this is understandable. Though I can see the heavy focus on story & world building being a major turn off for casual MCU fans. In regards to the action, while it was there it’s what you’d expect from a big budgeted Marvel project. However, I must stress that there’s a rather large absence of it.

The twists and turns that start to unfold midway through the series is a fun ride. And WandaVision knows how to have fun with itself. Commercials were used as inside jokes and one even references Hydra. Kathryn Hahn as Agatha also kind of stole the show with her always on energy. She flourishes with the comedic villain character type. The acting as a whole is probably some of the strongest currently in the MCU.

The series features big implications for the future of Marvel Studios.

THE BAD: The series is a slow burn in such a way that you may have to take small breaks. Normally binging would be an advantage here with every episode being available. But even so it can be a turn off until about episode three or four when things really kick into place. There’s also some balancing issues with the storytelling. Like for example there’s a mailman who frequently pops up as if he’s an important character to the show like Agatha, but it goes no where. There’s a handful of times where it felt like the story went there with certain threads. Also viewers should be warned that this is lacking on action compared to previous Marvel efforts. With most of said action being restricted to the final episodes.

WandaVision is a successful first entry into the Disney+ Marvel TV era.

OVERALL THOGHTS: WandaVision isn’t perfect, but it sets up the future of the MCU in a beautiful way. Though there are a few pointless teases and some stories feeling like they were flat out dropped. Despite this, WandaVision (mostly) lives up to it’s hype. Even with some early opening hiccups for the series. Otaku Dome gives WandaVision an 80 out of 100. 

[theholycovenantrpg]

CONGRATULATIONS, JORDAN! YOU’VE BEEN ACCEPTED FOR THE ROLE OF GADRIEL.

Admin Rosey: Eeeeeee! Jordan you have no idea how much I’m bouncing off the walls because you brought us such an unparalleled Gadriel! I was hoping, with all my heart, that someone would dare to write a character that is full of such unfettered love, and you did it. All the more, you didn’t hold back with the adoration that seems to burrow itself into every single facet of the character. Your para sample was an absolute thrill to read and truly, I couldn’t have asked for someone more capable of delivering the Gadriel we all know and love. Thank you so much for this wonderful application - it had me grinning from ear to ear. Please create and send in your account, review the information on our CHECKLIST, and follow everyone on the FOLLOW LIST. Welcome to the Holy Land!

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | Jordan

Age | 23

Personal Pronouns | She/her

Activity Level | I’m not in school or working right now, so I do have quite a bit of free time on my hands. However, I still have real life stuff that crops up occasionally, and I’m currently looking for a job, so  if/when?? (hopefully) that happens I’ll let you guys know! As it stands, I can on average devote a few hours each day to rp’ing, though that might vary depending on the day.  

Timezone | EST

Triggers | REMOVED

How did you find the group?  | I saw Rosey reblog the prerelease advertisement thing and the rest was history. 

Current/Past RP Accounts | https://chandlerrosen.tumblr.com/ 

IN CHARACTER

Character | Gadriel

What drew you to this character? | 

Though there were quite a number of characters I considered applying for at various stages, I kept coming back to Gadriel. Within her character is everything I’m familiar with, and yet nothing that I’ve written before. I study (or studied, technically) early modern literature and art history, with a focus on Catholic theology, so I was initially drawn to Gadriel’s background as a martyred saint. I love her grief, I love the way she grows from it while still carrying it with her. I love her fighting for compassion and pacifism, while still being shrouded by the monstrous aspect of her that has always lingered within. Her love is her driving force, and her vision all encompassing, and for the “greater good,” but she is still so selfish. More on this now!

What future plots do you have in mind for the character? | 

i. beware of false prophets [. . .] ye shall know them by their fruits

The God she loved was not always a benevolent one, but she loved Him nonetheless, the words of the scripture a familiar glaze on her tongue, weaving its way through the air as it settles around her like a warm blanket. These were the words she lived by, and the words she, in another life, died by. But now these words, and the God who fomented them, are obsolete—ash and dust, they swirl around her still, only a faint echo of their former glory. Now, the residents (those who choose to partake in religion) worship the Hundred-Eyed God—instead of fire and brimstone, this new deity promised everlasting serenity. Gadriel, like most residents of Caelum, doesn’t worship the Hundred-Eyed God, but as God’s most devout and loving follower, she is faced with the difficult task of protecting ISOLDE, the All-Seeing Priestess of the faith. Despite her best efforts, Gadriel finds herself liking the mortal, and where once Gadriel would have seen an idolator, she now sees what could turn into a friend. The relationship, however, is tenuous, and Gadriel is very reluctant to let herself become attached to the girl—it didn’t end so well for the last worshipped figure in Gadriel’s life. But more than that, Isolde feels like a punishment, or rather, like she should be a punishment. Sure, it pains Gadriel to watch new rituals when the old ones sit in her bones and on her tongue, aching to be remembered and repeated, but otherwise, her task is, at times, an enjoyable one. So when will the other shoe drop? I’m very interested in seeing how this relationship will develop, and how ESTIENNE will fit into it. The biography mentions that Gadriel would kill to protect ARAEL, presumably she would do the same for Isolde, if only out of obligation (though personal affection may one day be a reason as well). Whether it be Estienne or someone else, how will Gadriel, generally a pacifist, react if Isolde is threatened?

I also think it’s interesting to consider what would happen, not if Isolde is physically threatened, but if her status is somehow threatened, or if someone, say ORIAS or CASSIEL (though there are many others), challenges Isolde (an extension of the Hundred-Eyed God) as someone/something to be worshipped? Zealotry is comfortable for Gadriel, a familiar armor to lace over her chest as she draws her sword, but it has rusted and worn down, a passion without a purpose, without an outlet. I think Gadriel is far from becoming a zealot for the Hundred-Eyed God, and to be honest, I’m not sure it would ever actually happen. However, I can see this going two ways (not necessarily mutually exclusive, either): 

Gadriel develops a love for Isolde similar to the love she felt for God; it would be different, no doubt, but I think part of Gadriel’s worship of God in her mortal life came from, faith yes, but also love and a desire to be loved. Her worship of God was not entirely unselfish, but fervently pious nevertheless. Could Gadriel ever get to the point where she would take up her sword for Isolde, not against imminent danger, but against idolatry? Maybe, maybe not, and if it did, it would be, as I said, much further down the line, and certainly not as strong as the zealotry she exhibited for God, but I do think it’s an important aspect of Gadriel that cannot just be shirked because her God is dead.

Regardless of Isolde and how Gadriel may feel about her, there is still a part of Gadriel, no matter how slowly waning it may be, that fought tooth and nail to worship her God, both as a human and angel. And now, with people cropping up, Orias, Cassiel, Michael, etc. who try to fill that void He left, to be worshipped in their own right, I’m interested in how Gadriel will react. Obviously, Gadriel is not omnipotent, and therefore doesn’t necessarily know the extent to which these various figures have designs on power, on reverence. But throughout the course of the roleplay, I think as their actions reflect their intentions, and as those intentions become clearer, the familiar feeling of zealotry will crop up again, burning inside Gadriel’s bosom as it once had. Perhaps something starts it, perhaps she will see the corruption of mortals, of her fellow angels, even, and she wants to stop it. It’s not something she could do alone, at least not successfully, and depending on where Gadriel is in her development, she might not even care at first. But I still think it would be interesting to explore, and which unlikely alliances she may form to quell the rising of a new, different, idol. 

ii. should intermitted vengeance arm again / His red right hand to plague us?

For every cloud, there is a silver lining, and for every slain deity, a world to be made anew. I don’t think Gadriel has ever been motivated by power, and I don’t think she is now, either. I do think, however, that she believes in a very strong vision of the world, a vision she believed she shared with her God. Of course, without God, Gadriel now has the freedom to reshape her vision, and mold the world into, as the biography states,  “her own vision of beauty.” But that which is beautiful, is also terrible, for beauty without power is vulnerability, a quality Gadriel has shedded like a skin too tight and too itchy to ever be comfortable again. There is an anger inside her, a feeling of righteousness against those she believes have acted unjustly. Namely, MICHAEL and CASSIEL. There are many people she blames for this war, for the death of her beloved God, and Michael’s name is at the top of the list. He clipped her wings, he punished her for her pride (for is hubris not the most base of the tragic flaws?), smearing her face in the dirt of her own folly by naming her the Virtue of Temperance, forcing her to protect a being instrumental to the worship of a new, unfamiliar religion. And still, Gadriel turns the other cheek. To wage outright war against Michael would be foolish, and though Gadriel is privy to foolishness (a lingering effect of her not-so-long-forgotten mortality), she isn’t that foolish. I think the dynamic between Gadriel and Michael is very interesting, and something I’d love to explore. As he hungers for more power, as Gadriel’s resentment of him festers, infecting her life’s blood with boiling wrath, when will Gadriel decide that enough is enough. And who will stand with her? 

Now onto Cassiel. Cassiel’s betrayal of the Cherubim, of Gadriel and her own people (though really, with Gadriel’s part in the war against Michael, I think Gadriel would be put on trial regardless), is another interesting avenue to explore. I mentioned Cassiel above as being a sort of “False Prophet,” and in truth, I think she is the antithesis to Gadriel. Speaking of Cherubim, I think Gadriel and ZADKIEL would actually get along fairly well, as Gadriel is (or at least was) well-liked by her fellow angels, and liked them in return, and I think they have a similar philosophy and moral compass. Would Gadriel and Zadkiel, two angels affected by Cassiel’s actions, end up lighting the spark of retribution against Cassiel? Or will it divide them? Cassiel and Gadriel are two people driven by the notion of beauty, though their definitions couldn’t be further apart. While Cassiel’s vision is of herself, Gadriel sees an eternal peace, filial piety and the burning passion of people who join in communion as one (so really, the concept of the Hundred-Eyed God should be alluring to her, once Gadriel realizes that it aligns with her vision and she could wield it considering Isolde is her charge—I digress). Perhaps Gadriel goes against Cassiel, not necessarily for past indiscretions, but present grievances. 

To create, you must destroy, and from the ashes of the old world will Gadriel’s vision of beauty rise, sheathed in gold with a purity so simple, it can only be considered divine.   

iii. when is a monster not a monster?

The answer, of course, “when you love it.” Gadriel’s connections to Asmodeus, Arael, and Mammon are all thematically concerned with when Gadriel shows her monstrous side, if at all. With ARAEL, Gadriel’s monstrous side is not hidden, because with their level of intimacy, with its purity, Gadriel holds no secrets from Arael. It just rarely (if ever) rears its ugly head. The biography mentions that Gadriel would kill for Arael, and I would like to put that to the test. I don’t know how, or when, but I want Gadriel to become a monster, all for the sake of Arael. She knows of Arael’s grief, but I’m wondering just how much Gadriel knows of Arael’s visits to ABBADON’S domain. If she doesn’t know, then perhaps Gadriel will feel betrayed. Of course, she wouldn’t take it out on Arael, there is very little Arael could do to warrant that sort of emotion from Gadriel, but I do think it would shift their relationship. If Gadriel does know, however, I wonder if Gadriel might try to take it upon herself to help Arael (if it’s unwanted, so much the better), because Gadriel is the picture of self-righteousness.  

ASMODEUS is an interesting case with regard to Gadriel’s monstrous side. She hasn’t quite figured him out, she doesn’t know his sad past, but the glances they share, the stares that betray his longing for something else, someone else, intrigue her. And I think it makes Gadriel feel powerful, this unsaid tension between them, the notion that at any moment, it could all crumble and collapse, that he could, if she so chose. I think she wants to poke and prod at him, maybe from afar at first, and then toy with him, his vulnerability between her teeth, with only gravity (the gravity she is so adept at manipulating) to crush it, or release him from her grasp. Of course, Gadriel is not without compassion, and maybe once she knows Asmodeus’ story, she’ll feel differently. It all depends on what part of Asmodeus she chooses to see: the human, or the demon.

Gadriel’s most monstrous side, her most vindictive and self-righteous, self-satisfying, parts, are shown in her relationship with MAMMON. She spared them, not because she felt pity, not because she cared, or didn’t wish to shed blood, but to show them that she could. She held their life at the end of her blade and laughed when she removed it from his throat. Surely they still harbor bitter feelings towards her, feelings of hatred and resentment, even. In Emma’s app for Mammon, she mentions how she envisions them fighting, even to the death. I fully agree, and am looking forward to their confrontation a lot. Gadriel is, generally, soft, but I want to explore those parts of her that are more monster than divine, more human than angel. 

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Yes.

IN DEPTH

Driving Character Motivation | 

In Gadriel’s mortal life, her driving motivation was her love for God, and her desire to be loved by God. The picture of piety, Gadriel shirked near all else to proclaim her love for God, frustrated when others wouldn’t recognize His great power, his all-encompassing love. Even when she became an angel, she was still driven by this love, but now it was realized, it was reciprocated. And rather than have that be diminished upon conquest, it only grew stronger and more fervent. 

Of course, after the war, after her wings were clipped, Gadriel turned into the dutiful angel, obeying Michael’s orders (much to her chagrin). Now she’s driven by her vision of beauty, of peace everlasting and passion overflowing. Love is still very much part of the equation, and the love she feels for Arael, for Isolde (maybe, eventually), also motivates her. But it’s her love for God, and for his vision, that stoke the fire of ambition in her loins. I think Gadriel is tired of constantly being taken for granted, being walked all over, and is using the new world as an opportunity to turn a page in her own life. To become all that she once sought to, to fulfill all righteousness on earth, and to spread her vision to all those who will listen. 

Character Traits | 

(passionate, loyal, empathetic)

(dogmatic, vengeful, obstinate)

In-Character Para Sample | 

“Brothers, sisters, friends, lend me your ears,” she began, standing in front of her fellow angels, on trial for crimes committed against Michael, committed for God. “I stand on trial today, though I believe myself innocent of all crimes, guilty only of being consumed by love. Perhaps my love was misplaced, my loyalty misguided, but is that so unreasonable? Was that not God’s almighty power—to stir inside those who are lost the guidance to follow His will through His love?” She looked around, eyes imploring as she clutched her chest. The room was bright, the sun almost overbearing and artificial, devoid of everything Heaven held, a false divinity imbuing every corner and crevice. She had been here before. But rather than in a spotless room, she was surrounded by dust and the jeers of Romans who believed her guilty of the same crime she was accused of now: treason.

“You accuse me of treason,” she began again, and the lion’s roar in her ear was so loud, she felt as though it was standing across the room from her, not Michael, “but forgive me, I knew nothing else. If my actions offended, let us rectify the situation, together. Let us venture forth, hand in hand, brothers in arms, angels enshrouded in the divinity that is our right, into this new era. But let us not paint this era with more blood than has already been shed; for is that truly what you want your legacy to entail? Fire and brimstone—would you be any better than the God you have deposed?” She raised her eyebrow, scanning the eyes of the crowd as they shifted uncomfortably. An invisible string lifted Gadriel’s spine—perhaps it was her power of gravity, perhaps newfound confidence at the uncomfortability of the angels who wished her dead.

“And how, dear sister, could we trust you?” Michael asked, unmoved, the pinnacle of strength and composure. 

“This is new territory for both of us, brother. This world has never known God’s absence—but together, and only together, could we bring it into a new Golden Age, an era of rebirth and plenty.” Everyone was silent, pondering her words. This silence was deafening, and the lion roared louder. Her heart began to race as she saw the saliva glint off the lion’s teeth, the blood staining its fur from the last human he shred. 

“You seek to do better than God? Well do better. Ff His picture of compassion was imperfect, perfect it. His vision of mercy unfulfilled, fulfill it.” The words stung her tongue as she spoke them against her God, but perhaps she could give Michael and his legions the chance to be better, if that is what they truly sought. “Violence, retribution. This is not the way, and we both know it.” 

Silence still more. Until finally, Michael made his decision. 

“Very well, you have your amnesty. But Gadriel, this can not go unpunished.” He contemplated further, his hands steepled like a church she once worshipped at, before continuing, “your wings will be clipped, and we will watch you. Very closely.” He nodded, but she could tell this wasn’t his desired outcome. 

“Thank you, Michael, for your compassion. You won’t regret it,” she said through gritted teeth, sharp as a lion’s, before she sheathed them. Not now. Not today. Today, she lived, and she will continue to do so, if only to continue God’s work. For so it become us to fulfill all righteousness. 

Extras | 

i. COMPANION: By her side, Gadriel’s companion is a LION. I’m hearkening back to the typological tradition of depicting a martyred saint with the instruments of their demise. St. Lawrence has his grill, St. Catherine of Alexandria her spiked wheel, and so Gadriel will have her lion. 

ii. WINGS: Gadriel’s wings are clipped, but not torn from her back. Right now they don’t extend past her shoulder blades, but at once they were the most radiant, pure, white of the softest down. When they grow back, however, perhaps they will be muddled and murky.

[otp-armada]

I am not looking forward to these flashbacks. 

To date, we’ve had four onscreen kisses shared between Bellamy and Echo with additional, smaller moments of other forms of intimacy. I’d rather the show refrain from adding more tally marks to the count. 

If humans were gifted with the capacity for purging unwanted memories, then all this discomfort would be a moot point. I suppose there’s always alcohol as a fallback option, but not even the prospect of temporary amnesia is worth destroying my liver. Turning to alcohol to drown my B/E-related sorrows would probably qualify more as self-harm than self-help.

I’d much prefer to cut directly to an imminent breakup scene without the pomp and circumstance of an agonized Echo’s trip down memory lane. 

If anything, supplying us with visual evidence on how happy they were together is an even sadder remark on the state of B/E’s fragility, knowing it took 0.001 seconds for the mere mention of Clarke’s name to bring it all to ruin. No collection of past happy moments shared on the Ring erases the fractures in their relationship that occur between them afterward, originating with the revelation of a still-living Clarke. I'd be an absolute fool to believe otherwise. 

But if Jason deems a tour of their greatest hits as necessary to the story, I trust his judgment. Showing us B/E's origins as their romantic relationship begins to fall apart in real-time brings it full circle, and it lends gravitas to the story he's telling with Echo. With this particular arc, the bigger picture is still Echo's evolution. It's not about B/E.  

Once season 7 started, there was a visible shift in how Jason utilized B/E.  Whereas seasons 5 and 6 primarily used B/E as the third leg in a love triangle designed to keep a pining Bellarke apart, season 7 uses their master-spy dynamic to bolster Echo's development almost exclusively. Post-season 6, Bellarke is so primed to get together, one honest admission of mutual feelings without Echo as an obstacle and BOOM. Canon couple. 

Echo has a more extensive role than girl-to-be-dumped, and I'm not upset over it. She gets to stand up as a character after the majority of her life has been marked by slavery for her crown, and I'm not upset over it. As indemnification for the loss of her relationship, this orphan-turned-soldier is finding her place in a supportive, loving family while developing a sense of identity and independence, and I'm not upset over it.

I would’ve preferred Jason found a way to take her on this path without B/E remaining intact this far into the final season and theoretically for the foreseeable episodes. I would always choose to end them sooner rather than later, given a choice. But I understand why Jason didn't. 

Echo can’t very well outgrow a master-spy complex if there is no master to her spy. And as much as I hate it, the romantic aspect of B/E is a believable, convenient tool to keep this complex in place until her story comes to fruition. Would Echo act so extremely in service to a recent ex-boyfriend who left her for another woman? Probably not. As far as I can tell, the pinnacle of her arc is the moment she realizes she has to break free from Bellamy. So narrative structure demands B/E stay together, however technically, long enough for her to break those chains. 

I was initially excited about the flashbacks, if only because I took them as a sign of an impending breakup. But the timing doesn't pan out. Aside from the logistics of Echo and Bellamy presumably on separate worlds, and with her thinking him dead, we've only just reached the point where Echo might start to ask herself those hard questions she's been avoiding. She must have noticed a change in her relationship. Between Psychosis!Emori, B/E's 6x04 fight, and Anomaly!Roan, she's had enough cause for doubt. But I think she's suppressed any urge to reflect upon it for a number of reasons. Love. Continued hope they'll last. War. A mission to save him. It took a lot of meticulous maneuvering to corner Echo to this point. Now that we're here, I don't think Jason would pull a reverse Uno card in a 40-minute episode. It seems more likely that he will let her continue to stew in her emotions. Either she'll keep sinking until she hits rock bottom, or she'll start learning how to swim. 

Jason could always prove me wrong. And if I am, I'd never be happier for him to do so. If I'm not? It's at times like this when I am reminded of the resolution I made at the end of season 6- rest easy in the comfort of knowing B/E will meet its inevitable end but do not try to speculate when that might be. Attempting to discern the specifics of "when" brings one only misery. 

Jason’s signature sometimes-too-fast, other-times-too-slow pacing, is often liable to tempt one into ripping their own hair out. That being said, I’ve seen enough of this show to trust in his ability to tell a damn good story. Faith in his competency for the craft just requires on our part, the patience of a saint. 

If nothing else, it isn’t my story to tell, so I’ll just have to suck it up and find a way to deal with any disappointments I may feel. Or I can try to find the value within the story told. It's a better alternative than to be left bitter. No promises, though.

Maybe Echo’s actions against the Disciples aren’t reprehensible, considering the people she’s killing are those complicit in kidnapping and torturing her people. But Orlando was a good, honorable man whose naïveté convinced him to play for the wrong team, yet helped our heroes when he didn’t have to. Not unlike Shaw, whom Echo sold to Diyoza to fulfill her mission. But I assume “We are not his people” is residual mistrust leftover from Ryker’s betrayal of her. She miscalculated the feelings of one possible defector before, she won’t make the same mistake twice. 

If she was able to save Bellamy in the end, I’m sure she’d be able to justify the spilled blood it took to get there. But Orlando suffered at her hands for nothing, and she may not be overly concerned with morality, but she cares for the people she grows close to. Unless the episode proves otherwise, I’d like to think Orlando’s fate will weigh heavily on her. 

They may not have been close. But five years in close quarters with only a few people akin to friends for comfort, it'd be hard not to feel the slightest bit attached.

Those of us who believe in Bellarke know Echo is the third-party obstacle in a love triangle. But what is far more interesting is the role she played in the seasons-long Blake siblings struggle. 

Echo was persona non grata to both siblings following her and Octavia's mountaintop fight. Six years later, she highlights the difference in the siblings' maturities. Whereas Bellamy has learned to embrace empathy and forgiveness with open arms, Octavia is cold and unyielding. On a more personal note, B/E represents Octavia's persistent unwillingness to respect Bellamy as his own person, with needs and wants independent of her. 

After her soul searching on Skyring, I thought she had buried the hatchet, as per her lack of vitriol in her 6x12 conversation with Bellamy, and enthusiastically joining forces with Echo in 6x13. Maybe she did. But Octavia has also proven herself an unreliable narrator, and Hope feels indignation on her aunt's behalf. Whatever the case, there's a reason why the dialogue keeps referencing Echo and Octavia's hostile history. And I think it's building to a head in 7x07. 

I think mutual love for Bellamy is healing the divide between them when Echo is at her most fractured. She's isolated from Bellamy and the rest of Spacekru. Left in pain and seeking retribution as Octavia did, which, as we know, is where it all went wrong for the latter. Octavia, more than most, is in the best position to empathize with what Echo is currently feeling and how pain can destroy her if she lets it consume her. 

If Octavia can remind Echo she's not alone, if a former enemy can convince her she belongs and welcome her with open arms- as her brother did before her- it might do well in healing some broken piece inside of her. And it would be a roundabout display of Octavia's newfound maturity. This is good for both of them. This spiral she is in will require her to look inward. Since her fixation with Bellamy is partly what landed her in this mess, absolution cannot come from him. She can only find it in herself if she wants it. But I'd be glad if Octavia can help see her through it. This is what I mean about seeking value in the story told. We're so concerned about Octavia calling Echo family, about the possibility of it legitimizing B/E, it doesn't occur to us that it's about the characters themselves. And B/E is only a vehicle used to bring us there. It's easier to see when not consumed by automatic seething rage, as typical of our fellow Bellarke compatriots, for anything remotely associated with Echo.

If my heart and mind weren’t chanting “BELLARKEBELLARKEBELLARKE,” there’s a good chance I’d be able to better appreciate the complexities B/E gives to the development of the four characters it directly impacts. 

Our side of fandom has made lots of accusations about B/E since 5x01. It’s a forgettable, physical relationship worth little to Bellamy. B/E is unhealthy for reasons x, y, and z. We generate a different example in every episode. Click slideshow for more details. But the fact of the matter is, much of this isn't true. Until Echo went postal, B/E wasn’t unhealthy. Bellamy just had a greater love for Clarke. Up until their ending scene in 6x04, there was nothing they couldn’t come back from together, if both committed themselves fully, no more walls. It's not a particularly popular train of thought among us, but Jason absolutely could've written B/E as an endgame pairing. And all it would take to deliver a final killing blow is the inclusion of a single damning scene.

We can gripe over the length of time they've stayed together. But, in spite of what most people think about every new B/E development and Bellarke separation, Jason has never actually dropped an ax on Bellarke. Hope persists.

Jason is responsible for the development of dozens of characters, major plots, and dozens of smaller subplots. But our fandom reduced the story chiefly to Bellarke's romance. Our villains are those who stand in their way. Namely Echo, the only outside love interest to be an official obstacle. We fashioned Echo as our enemy. In lieu of removing her from the narrative (which is not in our power to do), we've done everything within our purview to diminish her. If Jason won't treat B/E and Echo as the jokes we know they are, we'll do it ourselves. Minimizing her role in the story makes it a hell of a lot easier to erase a character we'd rather didn't exist for our preferred ship to advance.

Lord knows how many times we've claimed she has no story. That absent relevance or substantial bearing, she's there simply because Jason is partial to her for some elusive reason. But the reality is, we never looked for her story because we wanted to be able to claim its inexistence. We wanted to be able to say she's frivolous to the story, and by extension, to Bellamy. We want to be able to dismantle B/E when it appears Jason doesn't. Except he is and has been doing so since day one. 

Months ago, on a whim, when I was feeling benevolent towards Echo, I wrote a long post HERE giving her the benefit of the doubt, and I said:

In the grand scheme of the story, I think this is the purpose Echo serves, to represent the part that says, “We’re all human. No matter what tribe we belong to, we fight for the same reasons. We love the same way. When you leave allegiances aside, when you see someone for who they are at their core, an enemy today can become a friend tomorrow.”

True peace, a series-long running theme for our heroes, begins with embracing former outsiders like Echo and Emori. Easy to lose sight of this when focused on ship wars. 

It is perfectly acceptable not to love all the components of a story. It is understandable to focus your attention on those select segments you find appealing. But a tunnel-visioned mindset lands you in trouble when you become resentful at the reminders that a story is a composite of more moving pieces than just the parts you like. And when you forget that screentime allotted to developing those pieces ahead of what you favor is permissible. Everything on a show has its time, all in due course. 

On the other hand, B/E shippers overinflate their ship's significance. They take canon and twist it to say, "Look at how strong B/E is, Bellarke could never. B/E is endgame, and Blorkes are delusional." Their conclusion of an epic love is another bias-based fandom interpretation that doesn’t hold water, either. 

I think the reality of B/E lies somewhere in a muddled middle of these two extremes. 

One last point, and I'll get off my soapbox. Despite what the melodramatic diatribe in my opening paragraph suggests, B/E is never as atrocious as fandom makes them out to be. Greater fandom treats anything remotely associated with B/E as the next great catastrophe. And as it turns out, it never really is.  

 Tagging @sometimesrosy, because I think, after years of combating opinions you don’t agree with, it might be a refreshing change of pace to know some of us do have more balanced views regarding B/E. If I do say so myself.

[ebaeschnbliah]

DISTRACTIONS  &  CONSEQUENCES

Exploring the deeper meaning of ASIB has always been a joy and an exiting experience. No matter if it’s about the Strange Similarities this episode shares with HLV, or the intriguing question why Sherlock plays Irene’s theme in TFP when prompted by Eurus to ‘play himself’ (Explosive, it’s more me   Oh, have you had sex?). Also the recuring Christmas theme in every series and Mycroft’s Bond Air plan, that doesn’t appear very ‘Neat’ at all after taking just a slightly closer look. When I wrote The Importance of Little Things  Boomerang and the other posts mentioned above, I didn’t dwell on a detailed metaphorical reading of the somewhat strange boomerang case, which initiates the appearance of ‘the woman’. @sarahthecoat added a short and very good summary of the already existing theory on this post. It was this comment which reminded me that I still hadn’t written down my own version of he boomerang case in ASIB.

Playing around with the idea of a much further extended mind palace scenario than that from the shooting in CAM Tower onwards (EMP Master Post 2016), those ideas inevitably led to slightly different interpretations of events than some of the already existing ones. (EEMP=Extraordinary Extendend Mind Palace, I called it back then, jokingly. Links are included in this post),

Characters created by Sherlock’s imagination, to play a role on his mind stage, aren’t autonomous individuals who can act of their own free will. Instead, they would represent different aspects of Sherlock’s personality, his views, fears, desires, expectations and experiences, his memory, etc. The way they look, speak and act would be designed by Sherlock, precisely to play their role in the experiments/scenarios appointed to them. Approaching Sherlock BBC from this angle, the story appears in a different light …. like a holographic postcard, where the motive displayed on it, changes with the slightest movement. Most importantly, it changes the central question from HOW to WHY something happens. And it also raises the question of ... WHAT could be the actual meaning behind choices regarding character behaviour, names, places, dialogues and so on, inside those scenarios. What’s the real meaning of all those little stories told in the coded language of Shelrock’s mind? 

Based on this idea, the boomerang case, the story of Phil with his backfiring car and the Hiker with the bashed-in head, in context with the main storyline of the associated episode, changes as well. 

For anyone who is interested in a different reading, this theory is …. alternatively below the cut …. :)

The boomerang case of A Scandal in Belgravia is presented in four sequences:

The first part is placed near the beginning of the episode. Phil’s POV of the event is shown almost exclusively by visuals without dialogue. This sequence merges seamlessly into ...

... the second part, which is about John, his investigation on the crime scene and his report to Sherlock via WiFi before he and Sherlock, separately, get whisked away to Buckingham Palace, ordered by Mycroft Holmes.

In the third part Sherlock explains the event to Irene at her place. Before Sherlock can finish his explanation he gets interuppted, first by the fire alarm, initiated by John, then by the American agents who want to confiscate Irene’s camera phone.

Directly afterwards Sherlock gets injected with drugs from Irene’s syringe. He imagines how Irene gives the final explanation and reveals the solution of the boomerang case.

This fourth sequence contains, what Sherlock would call ‘a special feature of interest’. The Hiker, distracted by the sound of an ‘explosion’, is hit by his  returning boomerang. While the man is shown falling backwards and out of the picture, the scene, just for a second, jumps also backwards in time to the very moment where Sherlock falls to the floor in Irene’s bedroom, due to the influence of her 'chemistry’. Then the scene continues with the Hiker still falling backwards out of the picture.

In the third sequence, while Sherlock describes the event, the camera circles round himself and the Hiker in a very explicit way. One man vanishes behind the other alternately.

Additionally there are also a certain similarities when it comes to 

men lying on the ground with bashed-in heads (red and blue)

characters wearing red jackets (x) 

characters wearing specific headgears

All of this strongly suggests that the Hiker, like Mary, is a mirror for Sherlock. Phil, the driver of the unmoving car, on the other hand, appears to be more connected to John, at least on a first glance. He wears similar clothing. ‘Ghost’ John can be seen sitting behind him on the sofa, while the man tells his story, placed in the clients chair in the middle of the living room. This leaves the question why John isn’t shown sitting in his own chair if he is present at the time and not in Dublin. Later, during the Wi-Fi conversation from the crime scene, Phil sits in John’s chair while Sherlock seems to have just woken up.

“Morbidly obese, the undisguised halitosis of a single man living on his own, the right sleeve of an internet porn addict and the breathing pattern of an untreated heart condition. Low self-esteem, tiny IQ and a limited life expectancy “  … this is how Sherlock describes Phil. As I mentioned in ‘Importance of Little Things’ those characteristics can also be attributed either directly to Sherlock himself or indirectly to some of his ‘mirrors’.

morbidly obese - Mycroft, who represents Sherlock’s brain department for logic and reason, appears exactly like that in TAB

halitosis - foul things coming out of ones mouth, could easily be a metaphor for ‘you alway say such horrible things’. Furthermore, halitosis is also mentioned associated with Mr. Howard Shilcott, the train guy from TEH, the one with the silly (ear) hat who is sentimental, maybe isolated but doesn’t mind being different. 

internet porn addict - computer language metaphors aren’t uncommon in this story. Sherlock compares his brain to a hard drive. Jim calls himself ‘virus in the data’ and Mycroft shares that opinion. Brains consist of billions of neurons, interconnected with each other, communicating with each other, carrying trains of signal pulses and informations … very much like the internet. Metaphorically, an internet porn adict could be someone who deals with sexual desires ‘virtually’ inside his head and not with the body. 

untreated heart condition - this description mustn’t necessariy be aimed at a real pathological condition of said organ. Heart metaphors are very often used to paint vivid pictures of the emotional state of a person. Hearts can suffer, can be neglected, they can break, turn to stone, freeze, burn, melt, do a somersault, sing with joy … and so on

low self-esteem -  in TSOT Sherlock describs himself … ‘I am the most unpleasant, rude, ignorant and all-round obnoxious arsehole that anyone could possibly have the misfortune to meet’ … ‘I never expected to be anybody’s best friend’  No further words needed, I guess.

tiny IQ - only some statements which compare Sherlock to an idiot (there exist a lot more) … ‘I used to think I was an idiot’ (Sherlock, TEH),  ‘I’ve been an idiot – a blind idiot!’ (Sherlock, TEH), ‘I’m an idiot. I know nothing’ (Sherlock, TST), ‘You always were the slow one …. the idiot’ (Mycroft, TFP) and finally Sherlock about Phil, the man this description is aimed at:  ‘He’s an idiot. Why else would he think himself a suspect?’

limited life expectancy - Mycroft again, the brain department for logic and reason. In TAB Sherlock and Mycroft are betting on big brother’s life expectancy, which both brothers assume to be not very long: ‘Three years flat if you eat that plum pudding’ … ‘Done’ 

If Phil with his unmoving car is indeed a mirror for Sherlock, like the Hiker, why is he visually connected so closely to John? Maybe because Phil represents the object of Sherlock’s investigations and deductions. 

Phil, the driver of the transport that lies dormant

A little later in this episode Sherlock observes how John meets Irene at Battersea, the disused Power Station. An unmoving car and a disused power station ... are this two different metaphors for the same thing?

A disused power station, a car that doesn’t move = a body whose sexual urges lie dormant. Repressed desires, emotions behind elephant glass ...  ‘ignored, patronised, disregarded, not allowed so much as a vote’. And the brain demands ‘you will stay out of this’ and warns ‘don’t get involved’. But the same brain also forces Sherlock to investigate ‘the woman’ and later releases ‘the criminal mastermind’. And in TAB this brain proclaims very clearly ‘We must lose this war because they are right and we are wrong’. Janus-faced indeed. Or maybe just a massively conflicted mind, torn in two, like the family pictures at the walls of the grey chamber in TFP.

Who’s John Watson on Sherlock’s mind stage?

John Watson - acting as a character on Sherlock’s mind stage - is hard to pin down. He seems to represent several aspects at the same time and he is definitely the main focus of Sherlock’s investigations.

In ASIP Sherlock confirms John’s question that he’s filling in for his skull - the one Sherlock calls ‘friend’. The skull is an imortant part of the body. Made of strong bone, it encloses the brain and protects it. Interestingly, broken up skulls - bashed-in or penetrated by bullets - are a rather important theme of this story. Maybe something imprisoned by inflexible bone wants to break free … an idea, a dream, a desire ….

John, ‘good old doctor Watson, the one fixed (inflerxible) point in a changing age’ is strongly connected to mirrors for love and emotions. As his counterpart, he is also connected to Jim Moriarty, Mr. Sex …. ‘John or James, James or John … the more is less’. John seems to be Jim’s main target in the game the criminal mastermind plays with Sherlock. And the painting of the Reichenbach Falls is declared as ‘William Turner’s masterpiece’ (Reichenbach=Rich Brook, William=William Sherlock Scott Holmes, turn(er)=turn round/change direction)

John - the eternal friend -  is the incarnation of PHILIA (love between friends). But in this adaptation of the great detective, PHILIA is mingled with EROS (intimate love, sexual passion) right from the start. In PILOT & ASIP, when Anteros, the god of requited love, rises behind the episode title and a dog starts barking in the middle of the night. (More detailed explanations and musings on this topic - the evolution from friend to lover - can be found in ‘The Big Question’, ‘Solutions or Choices’, ‘Shoes for the Hound’ and ‘Sekhmet’ 

Skull, body, heart, protector, emotions, desire, friendship, love ... but also the fear to lose friendship and love, in case the ‘fixed point’ changes …. all those terms can be assigned to the John-character on Sherlock’s mind stage and his mirrors.

Out in the middle of nowhere ...

When the curtain rises for the boomerang case, the stage is set somewhere in the countryside. There’s a shallow valley and soft hills, thickly covered by woodland. A lush green meadow leads gently sloping down to a river or maybe a lake. There’s also a small brook which meanders through the wetland and flows forth into the greater water. Not far away a street runs along the margin ot the forest.

The main characters of the play are: 

the Hiker in a bright red jacket, who busies himself with his boomerang beside the small brook

Phil, who tries to restart his unmoving car on the street nearby

It’s not explained how long Phil is working on his problem at the time the scene starts, but when the audience first sees him leaving the car to take a look at the engine, the bonnet is already open. So, most propably this is not his first attempt to restart the car.

The surrounding area is still and quiet. No significant background noises can be heard. Though both men stand in shouting distance to each other, there is no contact between them. The Hiker has turned his back to the street. He either really hasn’t noticed Phil and his unmoving car or he has, but simply doesn’t care. Phil on the other hand is aware of the Hiker on the meadow. For a moment it looks like he considers calling the man for assistence but then Phil apparently dismisses that idea again. 

Instead Phil makes another attemt to restart his car.This time it backfires and the sound of the explosion splits the silence. The Hiker, distracted by the sudden noise, turns round and looks back to the street. At this moment the boomerang comes flying back, hits his head and kills him instantly. When Phil gets out of the car and looks down the meadow, he sees the Hiker in the red jacket lying motionless on the ground next to the small brook.

The Hiker and Phil ... Sherlock’s MIND and BODY

The Hiker - the MIND who plays with an idea

Viewing the Hiker as a mirror for Sherlock, his bright red jacket connects the character also to Mary, the facade. This makes him the man with his facade still intact but already curious about ... something. The Hiker wears a checkered shirt, which otherwise is closely attributed to John, while he palys with the boomerang. 

If someone returns from foreign travel with a boomerang, one can assume that this person is meant to have been in Australia. Compared to Great Britain, Australia lies very far in the East. The East is strongly connected to Eurus, the East Wind, who represents Sherlock’s emotional side and is also strongly linked to buried/deleted memories and the Holmes family history.

The Hiker who traveled far to the East and brought back a small, fascinating but dangerous item, would then represent Sherlock, who went deep down into his mind palace. He retrieved something from the past, something he had ‘deleted’ a long time ago. Maybe something related to emotions and love. Sherlock/the Hiker takes that memory back into the present and starts playing with it …. he lets a seemingly harmless idea fly ….

Phil - the desire of a BODY whose sexuell transport lies dormant

Viewing Phil also as a mirror for Sherlock, that man and his unmoving car would represent an aspect of Sherlock, which is consciously or unconsciously dealing with investigations and deductions about the ‘John-Problem’. Phil too, wears a checkered shirt which links him even further to John. Obeseness stems from too much eating. Some time ago I read and reblogged a very intersting meta about eating as a metaphor for desire. Sadly I can’t find it again and credit the autor. If someone has a link, please add it, that would be great. In my opinion the food=desire methaphor is brilliant and fits perfectly. Phil, the carnal desire of Sherlock’s BODY, eats too much/stuffs himself with desire and is therefore obese ... he is filled with desire to bursting … just like the BRAIN in TAB.

The Hiker has turned his back on Phil. He doesn’t even see the desperate man beside his car. Sherlock’s MIND, dismisses the desires of the BODY as unimportant and at best sencondary. Who needs that annoying ‘transport’, when one can ‘hike’ with the MIND wherever one wants and let the ideas fly? The brain is what counts, logic and reason … cases and mysteries are solved by the MIND … the desires of the BODY, who repeatedly tries to restart the transport, are just distractions which can/should be ignored and neglected. Especially when one has just unearthed a fascinting little memory from a long time ago …

Different aspects of Sherlock are dealing with related cases at the same time. One case lies in the past, the other one in the present. They overlap ... and this leads to consequences:

a car backfires and the sound of an explosion splits the silence =  a BODY reacts and explodes/has an orgasm

a head gets bashed-in = ‘la petite mort’ of the BRAIN

The best thing about this interpretation is, that an almost similar scene, in a different setting, is played out a second time simultaneously during the Irene Adler case. 

The repetition of a hit

Fascinated and very pleased with himself, Sherlock plays with a little item he has just retrieved from a secured and guarded place. He lets the thing fly through the air and catches it again, a bit like someone would do with a boomerang. This time though, it’s a camera phone packed full with ‘scandalous’ informations. Sherlock underestimates the danger he is in and most of all, he underestimates the opponent he is faced with. 

Carelessly and maybe even provokingly he turns his back at Irene. The next second Sherlock is hit by a syringe full of chemistry … the chemistry of sex. Sherlock falls to the floor of Irene’s bedroom ... beaten by Mrs. Sex.

As mentioned above, in the final explanation of the boomerang case, the fall of the Hiker beside the small brook on the meadow, closely frames the fall of Sherlock in Irene’s bedroom … they actually become one fall. What lies closer at hand than to assume that both cases are actually about the same topic? 

Sherlock’s experience of a sudden, unexpected orgasm … triggered by awakening emotions, while playing with a memory from the past. 

A full list of the ‘cast’ involved in the boomerang case

The Hiker and his boomerang - Sherlock’s mind plays with an idea, with a once deleted but now revived memory

Phil and his unmoving car - Sherlock’s carnal desire, affected by the ‘John-Problem’, awakens and tries to start his sex drive

the colour green - it’s the colour of HOPE, rebirth and harmony (X) it’s also the colour assigned to John in the PILOT and ASIP. (X)

the river/lake - a lot of water means a lot of emotions, ‘deep waters, all your life’. Eurus represents emotions, the past and deleted memories

the small brook next to which the Hiker dies - Rich Brook, the storyteller who is also Jim Moriarty, Mr. Sex. RichBrook translates into Reichenbach, an event that is linked to the music of J.S. Bach

the ‘object’ on the meadow - (more on this in The Cabin on the Meadow)

Viewing Series One as prelude for the whole story, where the three episodes serve as introduction (ASIP), user manual (TBB) and chapter list (TGG), the actual story told in Sherlock BBC would then start with A Scandal in Belgravia. 

“Don’t be alarmed ….. it’s to do with sex“

Mycroft’s statement, when he introduces Sherlock to the Irene Adler case, describes the whole episode in a nutshell. Sherlock’s RATIO tells himself (and the audience) what this case, this episode actually is about:

The emotional and sexual awakening of the character Sherlock Holmes. 

Sherlock’s appearance, when he starts his investigation of the boomerang case, is the most fitting outfit to present a metaphorical scenario for an awakening of this kind. Clothed in a pristine, white sheet (virginity), completely naked (newborn) beneath it and heartily yawning. Sherlock enters the ‘stage’ of 221b Baker Street, as if he had just woken up from a very long sleep. Just like Snow White slept in her coffin of glass before she woke to a new and exciting life (Sherlock in ASIP). 

“Noises are important ... noises can tell you everything"

A car backfires, innitiated by Phil. There’s the loud noise of an explosion.  Distracted, the Hiker turns and as a consequence, his head is hit and bashed-in. 

A fire alarm goes off, innitiated by John. Mr. Archer (the ‘bowman’, Cupid) gets the order to shoot John in the head.

The most significant noises of this episode are the orgasmic sighs Sherlock’s phone makes every time the text alert gets activated by Mrs. Sex … 59 in total. 

The noises are the most important factor on all three occasions … the explosion, the alarm, the orgasmic sigh ….

At the end of the episode Sherlock lets Irene’s phone fly again. He catches it, takes a thoughtfull look at the little thing and tucks it away in the drawer. Then Sherlock looks out of the window, while rain pours down the glass pane in front of his face. 

Fiftynine orgasmic sighs have been ignored (59 calls will be ignored in TST before little Rosy is born). The phone and with it the sexual desires get tucked away in a drawer. Sherlock, detached and secure behind a wall of glass, contemplates the pouring rain/emotions. His RATIO always carries an umbrella to avoid getting wet/affected by emotions. But his RATIO also seems to be in need of a cigarette after that case. A substitute drug/chemistry instead of the ‘real thing’, the ‘natural high’ which he denies himself stubbornly? Meanwhile the ‘eternal friend’ is already soaked wet with rain. The matter of the ‘fixed point in a changing age’ has already become a highly emotional one for Sherlock, it seems. Looks very much like the first stage of drowning.

In the next episode the HOUND will be unleashed, immediately followed by Mr. Sex ….. ‘Honey, you should see me in a crown’ …. who smashes the impenetrable glass case and reaches for the Crown Jewels.  (When the man with the key becomes king)

May, 2019

I leave you to your own deductions. Thanks @callie-ariane for the scripts. 

[bryonysimcox]

Life in Lockdown: Week 8, Spain

It’s been seven of the weirdest days of our life: where the freedom of vanlife turned into quarantine in a 4m2 space. I look back on our documentary progress and life in València under lockdown.

The week started with the announcement that the biggest event in the Valèncian calendar, Las Fallas, was cancelled. This came as a real shock to us (just as I was wrapping up last week’s blog post) and at the time, almost felt like a bit of an over-reaction. Of course, those closely following the development of Coronavirus around the world, and particularly in nearby Italy, would understand the motivation behind such a big decision.

On Tuesday morning I attended a free event about Innovation and Design in cities, hosted by a group called ‘Designscapes’ who are conducting research on the topic in the hope of developing public policy. I’d been invited by Ramon Marrades who we’ve been working with at La Marina, and I quite enjoyed attending an academic event after being outside of the urban design industry for a while. I wrote an overview of some of the key takeaways from the event here, which included speakers from the International Centre for Design and Research, Aalborg University and The Tavistock Institute. Unfortunately, the event was considerably impacted by Coronavirus, and not only was attendance greatly reduced but many of the speakers were also unavailable to be present.

Attending the Designscapes Policy Forum was certainly a wake-up call about how seriously Covid-19 might begin to affect public gatherings, but I would still not believe the situation we’d be in just one week later!

While the cancellation of Las Fallas had affected some of our commercial work, the next few days felt as though most other things were unaffected. Plans for the documentary that our channel Broaden are making about La Marina charged ahead.

On Tuesday afternoon, we met up with Ramon to discuss people we’d like to interview about La Marina, València’s seriously impressive waterfront precinct. He took us inside ‘La Base’, the old headquarters for the Swiss Alinghi sailing team, a relic from when València hosted the America’s Cup back in 2007. La Marina now uses the building for events and offices, and while it’s not yet used as often as it could, it has so much potential and is one of many cool assets in the marina.

(images, left to right) Attending the Designscapes forum on innovation in cities, enjoying the sunset on the marina blissfully unaware of the lockdown that would soon be in place, and moody scenes from inside ‘La Base’, a building full of potential.

Filming for the documentary began on Wednesday morning, when we interviewed Manoel, a charming guy who has worked at La Marina for over a decade. Starting out as a deck hand, Manoel is now a senior staff member managing the nautical side of the marina, with its hundreds of moorings and associated facilities. It was fascinating to learn more about the operational side of running a place like this, and we were even treated to a guided boat ride around the marina which offered such a different perspective on this place we’ve both been documenting and staying in for over a week.

The following afternoon, we filmed our second interview, this time with with Julia Pineda, a socially-oriented architect from the co-operative practice ‘Crearqcio’ who has worked closely with La Marina. I was especially interested in the community engagement she had done, and the participatory processes with local residents and other stakeholders to explore names for new streets and decide on future uses for buildings there.

As George and I continue to work together as a videography duo, we’re refining the process of interviewing people, arranging shoots, preparing equipment and getting the perfect footage.

(images, left to right) Taking a boat ride around La Marina, speaking to Julia in Crearqcio’s office, and interviewing Manoel on a gloriously sunny day for the documentary.

Friday the 13th did indeed turn out to be pretty unlucky, as that’s when the situation in Spain relating to Coronavirus really escalated. We managed to squeeze in another interview with a member of La Marina’s team, the third of five interviews we had planned. Barbara was really accommodating and positive on camera, but even just the general vibe in the office while we were filming communicated that things were about to dramatically change.

By early evening, we were informed that some of our other commercial work would have to be completely cancelled, as all operations in Spain were starting to completely shut down. 

It was Friday evening when warning came of the state of alarm which Spain was about to enter.

The declaration was made on Saturday: to ameliorate the spread of coronavirus, everyone in Spain is to stay at home, leaving the house only to buy groceries or medicine. All bars, restaurants, museums, cafes, and any other establishments that carry out public activity are to be closed and no one is to use public spaces. As the week continued, further measures have been put in place, such as the closure of the country’s land borders.

And that is pretty much when the predictability of my and George’s lives ended. Just like that: an extreme measure is brought into place which affects every aspect of your life - your income, your freedom to move, your travel plans, your activities and your family. Of course, that extreme measure has been brought into place because of an extreme situation, but if only I could warn Bryony from a week ago, perhaps I would have told her to prepare in some way. What might I have said? To stock up on food essentials, to buy a couple more books, to have more money saved up and most critically, to brace herself for the physical and emotional challenge of being confined to living exclusively inside Suzi the Van.

(images, left to right) Powering through confinement in a van by writing letters and eating icecream, George going a teeny tiny bit crazy in our mini house, and sitting just outside the van on my virtual ‘balcony’.

We have left the van once since Friday, to go out and buy some food. I’m someone who likes to get out and about, so this level of confinement is pretty intense.

Aside from the supermarket run (to Lidl, which was surprisingly well-stocked), George and I have ‘stayed at home’, here in Suzi at La Marina. I’ve been really keen to go and find a camping spot out in the countryside, where there might be more possibility of getting some fresh air and a walk, but we’re conscious that where we are right now has all the amenities we could need: flushing toilets, hot showers, a laundry, rubbish bins, water, drain, and even electricity (which we’ve resorted to using today amid stormy overcast weather). Plus, if the last week has taught us anything, it’s that you can’t be sure of how the next week may play out. The safest option is likely to stay put.

As people have reiterated online, a period of isolation is a pretty unique opportunity for many of us to indulge in activities we don’t get around to. Whilst I’m privileged to have already incorporated diary and blog writing as well as a lot of book-reading into my routine in the van, these last few days have seen me do that more than ever. I also made another collage, and even got around to editing together a collection of images I took back when I was working in Sydney. This short stop-motion animation (below) had me thinking about seeing something inspirational in the same repetitive scene.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Bryony Simcox (@bryonysimcox) on Mar 16, 2020 at 9:42am PDT

Might isolation do wonders for society’s increasingly short attention span and need for variety?

The current situation is a bizarre mix of feeling very isolated and very connected all at the same time. George and I use our phones a lot, and get constant updates both from formal news outlets and from friends and family. Anecdotes from Sydney and the UK, where measures aren’t quite as extreme yet, contrast with the sobering sentiments of scientists on podcasts or videos of Italians and Chinese who have been dealing with a total lockdown far longer than we have.

At times, I’ve even turned my phone off to try and tune out of the noise. Now that George and I are in lockdown, we aren’t able to contract Covid-19 nor spread it. So to a certain extent I feel as though keeping up-to-date as the crisis unfolds only makes me feel increasingly miserable and helpless.

(images, left to right) The deserted walkway next to our van, empty offices at La Marina, and the beach as viewed from the closed gate which confines the part of the marina that we’re parked in.

If you let your mind project the implications of this virus in the future, it’s not too hard to find yourself in a dark place. Already, I see the failings of an economic system addicted to growth, the selfish panic-buying and disregard of facts by large swathes of people and the unfair advantage of exploitative multinational corporations. Take for example the fact that the aviation industry (led by millionaires, might I add) have banded together to ask for government payouts while young people, creatives, self-employed and zero-hour contract employees face a future of complete financial uncertainty.

I’m left asking questions like “how will people pay their rent?”, “where will this leave already vulnerable members of our society?” and “how will we even begin to rebuild life if and when this virus is tackled?”.

Of course, there are so many positive sides to be seen during this time too, and some of which offer answers to that last question. Already, we are seeing signs of generosity and kindness from health workers, neighbours, friends and strangers. We are seeing the emergence of an informal economy built on reciprocity and trust, where not just economic capital has value. We are seeing innovation on a massive scale, as people seek new ways of keeping their businesses alive, of cooking food with what’s left in their cupboards, of keeping the virus at bay and managing its spread, of boosting morale and of pooling resources.

(images) I’m trying to see beauty in things and keep positive-minded, even if that means snapping these colourful scenes from the desolate streets on our walk to the supermarket.

In some ways, perhaps we needed an event of this magnitude to shake up the entire way in which we exist, and to rethink our systems of living.

The irony is that we already have another event which threatens humanity in this way, but which we have been largely ignoring. This is, of course, climate change and the terrifying rate at which the earth is warming up. Mother Nature has been shouting about the catastrophe we are charging towards for some time now, and yet it has taken direct deaths on home soil and a tangible ‘thing’ like Covid-19 for us to react in a collective and decisive way. It also goes without saying, that my heart breaks for all of the victims of this terrible virus to date, and I would never wish that it would take fatalities to call us to action.

This blog is usually a very personal reflection on a very personal journey: where my partner George and I attempt to cross the world in an old Japanese campervan, making videos along the way. But the arrival of this virus and its direct impact on our journey has triggered a different type of reflection. Perhaps in the coming weeks, during which I presume we will remain in lockdown, I will continue to write and reflect on what I think it is to be human in a difficult time, and to assess the situation which we are now all in, together as humanity.

I hope that my writing brings us together in some way, across oceans, balconies and phone screens. Whilst I’m pretty sure that George and I will still be parked up in a marina on the Spanish coast this time next week, who knows where we’ll be, collectively? 

[letsansouza]

What is the meaning of decoration for the Arts & Crafs movement?

From the thoughts of the processes taken upon the creation of a furniture piece by what Morris’ started as the Arts & Crafts Movement, we see that the importance of knowing every step was the main resource of pleasure the craftsman had while doing their job. With that, the decorative job arose by just simply being a piece of complement on the environment towards a more personified, almost exclusively made product. “And I would rather do the work twice over with my own hands than have such job,” said Morris about the industrial methodology of production compared to his understandment of how a craftsman work should behave. Furthermore, the decorative was also shaped to sharpen our dull senses, as the objects produced and put on inside the civilian’s homes should make one relax, taking out the rapid, quickly pace of the outside. “Look as natural, nay as lovely, as the green field, the river bank, or the mountain flint.” Including, moreover, the decoration that is applied into the sense of the making of the product, the patterns designed to the pieces all related to the nature is some aspect, being faithful as a product of nature, expanding from the smaller scale into bigger palpable artefacts – even if this scale is somehow exaggerated the relationship between the person and the object is never lost. This saying from a lecture from Dr Paul O'Keeffe, where he says:

I bethink me that amongst other things this lady said to me: 'You know, I wouldn't mind a lad being a cabinetmaker if he only made "Art" furniture.' Well, there you see! she naturally, as a matter of course, admitted what I have told you this evening is a fact, that even in a craft so intimately connected with fine art as cabinet making there could be two classes of goods, one the common one, quite without art;1 

What the common agreement was saying it is that we people see furniture and arts on two separate things – decorative and art – and those two could not be put in place together. During this time Morris then had the intention to bound these two in a sense of producing art from all its form and creating a piece that is functional, beautiful and an art from its pure sense.

Why does this movement want to intervene in the furniture, home design?

After a long day of working, the man walks back into his home and lays down his feet up upon his table while sitting down on the chair located in the center of the room. On a bright sunny Saturday afternoon, the family welcomes their guests on the living room – the guests compliment the space: ‘What a lovely home you have.” Furniture design talks bout the expression matter of a personality, the intention of how you want to show yourself to the others. In the 19th Century the way Arts & Crafts focused on the furniture design is more than just a craft handling activity, but a direct path of achieving the public’s mind. The movement’s reformers were concerned with the daily realities of the industrial age, and used design to envision and promote a new and improved way of living1 and the most achievable way of getting to the point of ways of living was through their homes – interior design. “Often we are told, as we are in Life Style, that design can give “style” to our “character” (…) Design is all about desire, (…) a new kind of narcissism.” Explicitly saying, Arts & Crafts had the intention of sharpening our dull senses that were being corrupted by the industrial purpose, which was got by the quickly easy way of making things in mass producing scale. And where are the people when they are not working? At home.2

References:

https://www.liverpoolmuseums.org.uk/podcasts/transcripts/arts_crafts_lecture.aspx 

https://www.hrc.utexas.edu/exhibitions/2019/rise-of-everyday-design/

[wolvesdevour]

How Not to Write Gay Stories

I’m very torn between writing two different posts and there’s a chance these may combine, so we’ll see how this goes. There are two topics that are in my mind a fair amount: gay fetishism by women authors (both in fanfic & professional writing), and how to translate fanfic writing skills to professional writing (and how it can fail). Miraculously, perhaps, the book I just read, How (Not) To Ask a Boy to Prom by SJ Goslee is a fairly good example of both of these. 

The problem with addressing gay fetishism among women authors is that when is it fetishistic versus well-meaning? It’s hard for me to say why the originators of gay slash fic wrote the way they did, but its hard to miss that when fanfic especially grew prominent, over 80% of writers were women. In Star Trek fandom, the first gay slash fic was published by a woman in 1974: A Fragment Out of Time. By 1973, 90% of ST fan writers were women. 

To clear the air a little: women writers can write good gay stories. One of series I am currently read, The Realm of the Elderlings by Robin Hobb, includes many gay men, some of which are centered POVs. I will not say she is a perfect author, but I deeply enjoy how she writes men. For a good portion of the series, she shows a man growing up: he starts as a young boy, and we see how the men around him teach him to be a man. A very good portion of the lessons stray away from toxic masculinity. He is still taught to be a man, and there are certain “this is a manly trait” aspects (although when she features women as forefront POV, she often includes very similar lessons: ultimately nothing is exclusive to one’s sex, but society is what it is and they may learn lessons differently or overcome different hurdles).

She addresses writing gay men in this interview: Here’s the thing - when I meet a person, their gender identity is most often not the most important thing about them. If we become friends, it’s not because my first impulse is, “I will be friends with you because you’re female.” I mean, there’s a lot of women I can’t stand. There’s a lot of men that I absolutely can spend hours talking to. There are a lot of people on the whole gender spectrum and whether I become friends with them or not has nothing to do with that, so when I am writing these characters, although in some ways gender can influence a plot - for instance, if you want the prince and the princess to get married and live happily ever after in a medieval setting, gender is going to influence that - but for the most part, gender is not much more important than who has blue eyes. What’s more important is who is a skilled navigator, who is tough enough to survive a bad situation, who can think on their feet and find the creative solution to a problem they haven’t encountered before, and that’s got nothing to do with gender. So it was not that I said, “Gee, I will write a book with gay characters.” It was, I’m writing a book, this character has stepped out onto the stage, he’s told me about him- or herself, and this is who they are. As I said: I’m not here to say that women cannot write gay stories. But there is also gay fetishism. I am both a gay man and a trans man; I get a lot of “OMG, you’ll love this!” and cis or straight people presenting me with things that appear inclusive or caring. I personally don’t find memes like “Steve Rogers is a transwoman!”** or whatever amusing. Am I, say, happy to see that Loki is canonically not straight nor cisgender? Yes. I love that. (Does that potentially make Victor von Doom not straight, uh, I like to think so.) I like reading LGBT+ stories, but a good portion of them may not interest me, especially if the writer isn’t part of that demographic and has a tendency to post a lot of art, writing, or discuss a lot of how hot, cute, or general appealing it is that a character or couple are LGBT. That creeps me out. I’m not alone. Very not alone. Absolutely not alone. Here’s another post, this time by a woman that I appreciate:

The worst thing,” one gay friend said, “is that [women in the slash community] aren’t listening to me. You’re not listening when I tell you that you’re being hurtful.”

What I find especially difficult to convey is the nuances to when women write gay men versus when men do. I’ve been trying to collect “gay stories written by gay men” although due to publishing bias, this can be very difficult: As a queer, trans reader, I looked forward to seeing myself in their pages. But I was surprised to find that some LGBTQ-focused stories were reflecting not me, but a straight person’s imagination of me. [Link 1]

The current transman story I like is seen in Early Riser by Jasper Fforde. The character utterly blindsided me in a great way: he never appeared “omg trans” until it was forced to come to light. I appreciate him as well, as a character, because in a harsh survival world, he is a man who survives well. I especially see a lot of “transmen are soft uwu such boi” and I despise this. I did not survive everything in my life to be diminished to pastels and cute/sweet and childish-boyish characteristics.  Similarly, as a gay man, I am not there to be pretty, to serve as a fashion guru for straight people, to be soft and pretty and welcoming. And that’s not how gay men write themselves. This isn’t how transmen write themselves. As a writer, I struggled a lot on how to depict trans characters, and my largest lesson (and I certainly hope to published one day, but who knows) is that I never saw good examples of myself because most typically they are written by straight, cis women.  So what is so wrong with Goslee’s How (Not) To Ask A Boy to Prom? (There will absolutely be spoilers.) The main character is a teen boy who has long hair, loves succulents aggressively, loves narwhals, and has no male friends. His school is supportive of gay men: a very popular football player is gay and has supportive friends, another gay teen (who becomes his boyfriend) has very supportive friends. For some reason, this gay teen is incapable to do anything for himself. He loves art, doesn’t do sports, doesn’t really connect with his foster parents, and seems overly attached to his sister. He is effectively a very flat and “soft” person. Some guys are, of course. Some gay guys are more art, less sports. But the other men? Si & Bern? They’re equally soft. Si is described as soft, beautiful, kind, sweet. He has zero personality. He is described the same way, every time, and is overly described as soft, all men are soft, it’s like they bathe in fabric softener. Bern, the “bad boy” is barely... That. He is supposed to be gruff to the main character, but for the good portion, he is like the main character (Nolan), and Si. They are all the same person, ultimately. 

Bloom might be a good comparison to How (Not) To Ask a Boy to Prom. This is written by a man (Kevin Pancetta) and illustrated by a woman (Savanna Ganucheau). I don’t like the character design. Most of the gay men I showed it to asked if at one of the guys (or both) are women. But it is a story about a frustrated kid who wants to move out of his small town to Baltimore (okay: as a Marylander who grew up in a very small town and eventually moved to Baltimore, I kinda.... Get this), but meets another man who is older, but not creepily too old for him, and its a romance & vague coming of age story. If you grew up in a small city as LGBT+, it’s hard to find your sense of self. You miss out a lot on life; I think Ari reflects that: he wants to be himself.  A lot of this enters into my point 2: The problem of being a fanfic writer, or the pitfalls of translating fanfic writing skills to professional writing. Nolan is not a person; he has no strong characteristics. We’re told he likes narwhals and succulents, he is a foster child, he’s gay, and I have trouble quantifying him the way I do Ari because he’s so devoid of personality. Si is probably the least developed character at all, as the “perfect, Apollo-esque gay football player.” Bern is maybe the most developed, going from gruff-mean guy to gay softy--a motorcycling math nerd.  The problems with fanfic writing is that it is based on knowing characters. As fanfic writers, we don’t have to nail down reality, because there’s a whole piece devoted to who they are. We’re just filling in those blanks. The author seems to primarily be a Teen Wolf fanfic writer (her bio lists “werewolves,” but her tumblr blog is very devoted to Teen Wolf, so well). This brings up another creepy pitfall, which is beyond slash fic writing, there is the aspect of word usage. If you’ve been following my vague live-reading, I’ve been posting about the massive references to “puppy” and other trends. It is creepy to read out of context. 

It seems, according to reviews, that Goslee has trouble with this in her other book, Whatever: or how junior high became totally f$@ked. She has a stream of consciousness that doesn’t explain the main character’s thoughts or the world very well. In fanfic writing, this would end up being a slow burn. “Oh, but are they really going to date?” etc. In How Not, Nolan fake-dates Bern, and googles this concept, finding fanfic works. This gets weird for me, because it’s supposed to be an inside joke, I guess? “Hey teeny nerds: fanfics” but most gay men I know have a difficult relationship with fanfic and with fan community due to fetishism. We get pressed out of spaces a fair amount because of it. (One link above, the Mary Sue one, discusses how women do this.) Of course, this is meant to be a cute, happy book, right? Alright, it’s a cute, upbeat story. Except we don’t get a very good baseline for the world. Bern & Si’s friends are supportive. We get a form of negativity from Bern’s mother, who wishes he’d date his ex-gf, I think? (Bern is bisexual.) Or maybe just date women. So is there homophobia in this world or not? We aren’t given a good sense how Nolan’s parents feel that he is gay? It seems to wholly not discuss his foster parents barring “they are aggressively competitive, Tom makes crazy food concoctions and Marla talks to him about dating Bern.” As a whole, the parents are extremely unimportant other than they provide a home and food. Are they unusual for the area? (And knowing PA, that state can have some major issues.) Or is it common in this world? Is there a reason to not hand-hold? Do they every worry about homophobia when outside school? Do the teachers say shit? There is a lot to consider. The world-building is deeply lacking. Beyond the lack of world, we get a lot of fanfic trope writing. A lot of this I’ve seen from people on my dash who are Teen Wolf fans. I used to like the show & follow TW blogs; I’m not a massive fanfic reader (*ahem* a lot of gay fetishism), but I have read it. For series like TW, you may see what I consider “animalistic tropes;” such as tackling, growling, etc. There is a lot of this. A lot of people are tackling each other to the ground, growling, and there’s this weird moment when Bern grabs the nape of Nolan’s neck that while some men do this, it felt very strange in the moment, particularly aggressively? Because the author openly admits to writing werewolf fanfic, it feels like that is what it is. For authors who write both fanfic and seek to write professionally, this is a consideration. For a gay reader, it’s really weird for a guy to grab another guy’s “nape of the neck” affectionately. (As someone who has worked around large predators, albeit primarily felids, grabbing the neck is a sexual behavior, but that just makes this weirder.) Anyways, it really struck out as weird; just very very weird. Bern is mentioned to not be into PDA (which later in the book, they do it a fair amount it seems, that is also very weird? this happens a fair amount). 

Another part is that there is a lot of use of the word puppy. It is frequents so often that I’d have to stop reading because it was grossing me out. It sounds like that author is into puppy play. This isn’t to kink shame, but this is a YA novel and she writes werewolf fanfic. It starts seemingly, albeit weirdly innocuous with moments like “Bern was smooth and graceful while I was still growing out of my puppy paws” and “She tilted her head like a puppy” and “I followed him up the stairs like a puppy.” But it keeps happening. Then people start growling at each other and it just... Gets a very specific note. Mixed in with how smooth and hairless and Adonis-like the teens are written, especially by an adult woman fan, it feels... Well... It makes my skin crawl. I’m not saying that the author means to. I’m really not trying to be like ‘Hey, guys, sexual predator?” I really, really want to address that that is not my intention. My intention is that this compounds on itself. In the links about how the slash side of fandom can make gay men uncomfortable: this is the perfect example.  I’ve been to events with fans and found myself, barring maybe my fiance, to be the only gay man there. If I’m shipping two characters, such as when I went to a TAZ photoshoot, and my fiance and I are the only gay cosplayers, and almost the only men period, whereas a lot of women are screaming about how cute Taako is, that gets uncomfortable. It’s not about this one fandom. It’s all fandoms. Every single one has had this fetishization problem. It’s why I never entered the Lord of the Rings fandom. I was in middle school and found “my first” fandom, only to see all of the fanfic about Sam/Frodo ships and it grossed me out. As a teen boy, it creeped me out, that all these men had to be sexual to each other, and as I only came across women shipping men, it made it more and more ostracizing.  Maybe I should have addressed this earlier, but: Not all fetishization is sexual. It can be romantic, too. How (Not) to Ask a Boy to Prom’s relationships are about a teen boy who doesn’t want to date or go to prom. His sister makes him ask out Si, the big popular gay guy. Nolan/the author mocks the GSA (gay-straight alliance) club. While there are problems with some GSAs*, the author, a seemingly straight woman, is mocking an LGBT+ space. There is a chance she is bisexual; I haven’t managed to find otherwise, and that’s how this will appear to many people, as she has a husband. I will also note: a bisexual woman’s experience will differ from a gay man’s experience, and sometimes LGBT+ folks need to not speak for/over each other.  Nolan ends up fake-dating Bern due to a mistake, and there’s a bit of problem I have, with how for a good portion of the book, these gay teens “need to FAKE date”. Worse to me, is that Nolan, upon realizing he likes Bern, breaks up with him and ends up sleeping (non-sexually) in a bed with his sister, deciding to go to prom together. For a straight/cis-presenting women to write this, it’s... Got a lot of different baggage to it. Especially with how idealistic (but not for gay men) she writes the characters, it gets worse and worse. It makes the gay character seem just a little less gay. His relationship with his sister is odd. It’s not “cool” to really hang out with your sister at school; I know, I had a step sister & brother. We were all roughly the same age. If these two went to prom together in the real world? They would be mocked. Also, it really makes Nolan appear not actually gay. As a gay writer, I would have him, if not go at all, go stag. The message here is: it’s better to be straight than gay and without a boyfriend. Hence how it becomes fetishistic: Nolan’s sister, both of which are older teens (around 17-18 or so) sleep together in a bed. It may not be “coded as sexual” but it is ignorant of the history that “maybe gay men can be fixed.” They even dance at prom. This is one step below asking your mother to prom. She is still his sister. It creates a narrative that he, out of the blue, dumps his boyfriend to then sleep/cuddle with his sister and they go to prom. Again, this is seen more in fanfic: we often, especially with adopted siblings, see closeness that can become romantic or sexual. I have a fair amount of friends who are adopted and this trope style is infinitely horrifying to them. It makes them feel like that society doesn’t view them as actually family. It is also a real problem: adopted family members (especially kids) have been abused by their adopted family, as if “it’s okay, they’re not actually biologically family.”

While he does eventually get back together with Bern, it’s after prom that he does this. I don’t even know why Bern accepts him. Nolan has been truly awful to this guy. Goslee doesn’t seem to understand how tenuous gay men’s statuses are. This can be held against Nolan, if not for the simple creepy fact that he sleeps and goes to prom with his sister, that he goes to prom with a woman, he may get a lot of “But are you really gay?” comments. Especially because Nolan dates only one man before going to prom with his sister (and is the one to dump his boyfriend, who he was fake-dating).

Is there more on this I could write? Yes. I probably could, but I also have to get ready to go to a movie with my fiance. So uh... Maybe there will be a part 2? We’ll see. _______ *I personally was forced out of my college’s GSA because the group was actually gay/bisexual people having orgies. So, yea, there’s some problems with certain LGBT+ spaces and being actually open to LGBT+ folks. It was also extremely transphobic and ace-phobic.  **My point with this for clarification is that: I don’t want to be bribed with “lol this person is LGBT+ cuuuute!?” headcanon or otherwise. I am fine with that form of headcanoning, or AUs, but the idea of playing with gender identity and pulling it off as cute, especially by cis or straight people is skeevy and at best, ignorant, at worst, fetishistic.  Link List: LGBT Exploitation in Fandom: we are not here for your entertainment

Fetishizing Homosexuality

gbpt boys’ ask about women readers of mlm stories

The Mary Sue’s On The Fetishization of Gay Men by Women in the Slash Community

Why Are So Many Gay Romances Written By Straight Women?

The Lack of Published Gay YA by Gay Authors? Let’s Talk About It