#trying to write evil/wicked/disturbed characters

[statustemporary]

a work of art

SUMMARY: The swipes are precise. Hundreds litter her canvas with red streaks standing out against their pale background. Some are superficial while others gouge unsalvageable marks. Drips are unavoidable, Emma concedes, but the origin of these are the source of irritation.

Her job is not done. She has to work with these flaws to craft something he will be proud of. He is the experienced one, after all.

//

Emma and Killian are low-key serial killers but if you ask them, they're artists in love.

RATING: Mature

WORD COUNT: 1,686 words

TAGS: Modern AU, Serial Killers AU, Graphic Descriptions, Blood & Gore, Implied/Referenced Torture, Anti-Neal Cassidy, no magic, Dark Emma, Dark Killian, Toxic Relationship

AO3

AUTHOR’S NOTE: got this idea from a whumptober prompt that was like "did i do good?" with a mentor/trainee and i misread the rest of the prompt and ended up turning it into a torture trainee wanting to please their mentor. and here we are. lol started out with dark ones but turned them into just serial killers.

this was a way for me to get into the head of someone twisted/evil. promise i'm mentally sane and emotionally okay, this was a writing exercise of sorts. pls dont worry hahaha

Please heed the warnings.

***

“I always have to clean up your messes,” she mutters to herself angrily, eyes glaring down at the red liquid on the floor. The deep color shines vibrantly in the candlelight as it pools together and grows larger as the seconds tick by. She snarls at the sound of labored breathing from the center of the room and slowly trails her eyes up to examine her work.

The swipes are precise. Hundreds litter her canvas with red streaks standing out against their pale background. Some are superficial while others gouge unsalvageable marks. Drips are unavoidable, Emma concedes, but the origin of these are the source of irritation.

Her job is not done. She has to work with these flaws to craft something he will be proud of. He is the experienced one, after all.

Anger fuels her as she moves, her arm sweeping this direction and that. The movements are practiced and learned though she’s used different tools in the past. For the first time, he lets her take the lead and she cannot disappoint him. Especially after all the work he went through to procure such a magnificent canvas. A gift for her.

Weak protests fight to reach her ears but her focus drowns them out, thriving on each new mark she adds, each swipe and each gut-wrenching twist expressing the hurt and the anger she’s held onto for so many years.

When she steps back, it is with a grin.

Neal’s body rests sprawled across a stone table in the center of the room. His lays bare but it goes unnoticed as he shows more blood than skin. His labored breathing is replaced by silence, brown eyes turning an empty black.

Blood drips down to the small puddle at her feet. It grows larger with each tick of the hall clock and she frowns as it pools around her new heeled boot.

Of fucking course. Neal can never let her have anything.

The room smells rancid, blood and sweat permeating the air. Darkness blankets the room like it does her soul, only scarcely lit by a few candles hanging on the walls. Moonlight struggles to shine through the cracks in the concrete to no avail. Emma prefers the darkness now. She thrives in it.

Wailing echoes fill the quiet.

The metal of her dagger is warm in her grip and she shakes her head at the blood that covers the blade. At least that’ll be easier to clean than her leather boot.

She sets to work washing her tools, leaving the rest of the room as it is. She wants him to see how long she kept Neal alive to suffer. How he was aware of every single way she tarnished his body until the very end. The way his nails scratched at the stone so hard until they fell off revealing bloody nailbeds. That even in death, his eyes remained open from his terror.

He still got off easy, in her opinion.

There’s a noise, the muffled sound of a door closing and Emma’s head pops up in delight.

Killian grins wide when he sees her emerge from the basement, sleeves rolled to her elbows and hair pulled back in tight bun. They come together in a messy kiss that’s more tongues and teeth than lips.

She loves the way he loves her with abandon. Every time their mouths meet, he practically devours her and she gives as good as she gets. Fingers wrap around the hair at the base of his neck and she pulls while his hook traces lightly on her skin enough to draw blood but not do any serious harm. It sends chills down her spine every time.

His hands are greedy and he makes an attempt to lift her shirt but she steps out of his arms instead.

“Swan?” he asks, voice gruff and hair mused. He glares at her even if there’s no heat to it and Emma smiles back, nearly giggles.

“I want you to show you something.”

Her hand reaches towards him and he leaves her hanging for a moment. They both love the push and pull of their relationship. To tetter on the edge of a decision builds anticipation. Rejection is just a split-second away but so is acceptance. Not knowing which one will be chosen sends their hearts racing. It’s an effect of their upbringing, she knows. She did take a psychology class in community college after all.

It only makes sense, really. His abusive childhood with a drunk father and a brother dead too young and her untethered young life moving from foster home to foster home without any roots or support. Pain has been something out of their control for so long. Something always inflicted onto them unwillingly. But meeting each other in the back of their Psych 101 class all those years ago gave them a mutual understanding.

Pain can be something they command.

Killian had fallen first. They both tried, for the first year or two, to be better than what they came from. They wanted to have the picturesque life so many promised was to come but they struggled. Depression and temptation waited around every corner and they felt themselves falling into a pit they couldn’t climb out of.

And then Graham kissed her.

Killian and she had been on a break at the time. He was spiraling and Emma was trying to stay on track. Their tempers rose and, for the first time in her life, she walked out on someone else. Graham had been kind, sweet, and unassuming. He worked as a campus security guard and was helping her find her shitty car when he kissed her. Killian had been leaving his class and had a full view of the moment it happened. Emma pushing Graham away only did so much to soothe the anger in his soul.

Then Graham showed up dead a week later in the woods by campus, bruises on his head, marks around his throat, and his chest clawed open with no heart taking up its specified space.

She’d been mad when she realized what Killian did. She threatened to go to the police, even. And then she saw the crazed look in Killian’s eyes, the way he pleaded for her to understand.

“Emma,” he begged. “He crossed a line. You don’t understand. You’re mine. He thought he could have what’s mine.”

Through his tears, she saw the love, the possession. It warmed her to her toes. The unwanted foster kid – wanted by him. She swore she fell in love even more that day.

Emma would lay in bed with him at night and asked how he did it. She requested details, wanted to know every step he took. He would hold her close, his fingers leaving permanent marks on her hips, and she floated as he shared exactly what he did to ensure she stayed his.

It was another two years before he struck again, her by his side this time. Arthur was full of himself, an asshole to anyone who didn’t make more money than him, and dead set on evicting the entirety of their apartment building so he could sell the property to a developer. No one shed any tears at the announcement of his death.

Nearly ten years had gone by and yet this is the most exciting one for Emma. Neal was her white whale, so they say. He’d taken advantage of her sixteen years of life when he’d been nearing thirty and split the moment she found out she was pregnant. Took all her cash and the food she bought the day beforehand for their motel stay. She was left alone as she let go of the child she so desperately wanted to have. Even after he left her, she was still cleaning up his messes.

But now she stands in the kitchen she shares with Killian and raises her eyebrows as she bites her lip in wait. Will he take it or ignore it? Her heart races. Her breath hitches just a moment before he takes her offered hand and she contemplates bypassing her art project to ride him in the kitchen instead.

Bringing him to the basement, she waits in the doorway as Killian steps over the threshold. His eyes scan the room in a slow, calculating fashion. Leaning over Neal’s body, he hums as he takes in her work. Fingers trace her cuts, one dipping into the gaping hole in his side. There’s little left of his genitalia, the ferocious way it was obliterated earning a cocked eyebrow from Killian before he looks over to her with a grin. She blushes at the pride in his eyes.

The squelch from stepping in blood draws his attention to the floor. He dips his hand in the liquid and lifts his fingers to his face. The puddle grew from when she was in there a few minutes ago and Killian takes a good moment to examine it.

“Did I do good?” she asks, hands in her back pockets. Eagerness is undeniable in her voice.

Killian stands suddenly and marches towards her. He grips her hips – the cold metal of his hook sending a chill down her spine as Neal’s blood from his fingers smear across her skin – and pulls her in for a filthy kiss. Their bodies are flush but it’s not enough and the way his tongue strokes against her own has her frantically clawing at his pants.

Wailing echoes in the silence again and they pull apart only slightly dismayed.

The crying brings a spark to Killian’s eyes and Emma is torn between where each of their thoughts are going, both outcomes bound to bring her pleasure.

Killian presses another firm kiss to her lips before he tilts his head towards the other end of the basement where their special project waits for their return. His own white whale he somehow conquered and takes pride in making submit to him.

She knows the question before he asks so she merely grins wide at him as he speaks.

“Shall we go skin a crocodile?”

[adarkrainbow]

I said it in my previous reblog, but I stumbled upon this review like... years and years ago, and I wasn't able to find it back ever since. And this review actually made me discover a recent (well, recent then) musical called "The Next Fairy Tale" about a gay prince within an hetero-pushing fairytale world, trying to find his perfect love despite the fairy godmother's meddling for him to find a princess...

In case the review ever disappears I will copy-paste it down there. It comes from the website "StageSceneLA" and was written by Steven Stanley. The original can be found here.

If there were a book titled Everything I’ve Learned In Life, I’ve Learned From Fairy Tales, then what lessons could a pintsized LGBT-in-training gain from it? That Cinderella found her Prince? That a Prince awoke Sleeping Beauty with a kiss? That a kiss turned a Princess’s frog into a handsome Prince? Where’s a little boy or girl to look for fairytale inspiration when what they’re secretly dreaming of is a Prince for him, and a Princess for her?

The answer is at long last found in Brian Pugach’s charming new musical The Next Fairy Tale, now getting its World Premiere Production at Celebration Theatre under the deft direction of Celebration Artistic Director Michael A. Shepperd.

Pugach, who began writing music, book, and lyrics for The Next Fairy Tale while a UCLA theater major a few years back, has created a magical, mythical world where “Every Hundred Years” a group of Fairy Godmothers and their Fairy Godmistress leader Minerva meet to bring to life a new fairy tale. Ten decades ago, it was the tale of Red Riding Hood, an unlucky lass who ended up (along with her ill-fated Granny) eaten up by a hungry wolf—all this misfortune due to the late arrival of that Centennial’s Godmother, the ever hapless Hazelnut, aka Hazel.

To learn just who the hero or heroine of The Next Fairy Tale will be, Minerva consults (who else?) her Magic Mirror, who sends her off to the land of Lumeria, where handsome Prince Copernicus fights evil, not with a sword, but with “kindness, smiles, and hugs,” a creed he reminds others of by handing out Kindness Cards, “a reminder to be kinder.”

If Minerva is a bit unsettled to learn this decidedly unvaliant method of combat, she is even more disturbed when Prince Copernicus informs her that the distressed soul he has vowed to rescue from a dragon-guarded tower and a wicked, disapproving stepmother is none other than the handsomest prince in all the land, Prince Helio of Stortelia. Though Copernicus professes his true love for Helio in “Charming” (“He’s not a muscular manly he. His tiny sword is not much to see. He’s charming and that’s enough for me.”), Minerva is not at all convinced, responding, “‘He’s charming!’ or so he said; I’ve been nauseous ever since. Alarming! A hero rescues a princess, not a prince!”

And so, in a tradition upheld from the time of the fairies to contemporary evil bitc…, sorry evil witches like Maggie Gallagher, Minerva sets out to destroy any possibility of a happy ending for Princes Copernicus and Helio, certain that the assignment of bungling Hazel as this Centennial’s Fairy Godmother will make her task child’s play.

On their way to Stortelia, Copernicus and Hazel stop off in the village of Avaricia, whose residents (Rumpelstilstkin, Little Red, Baker, and Geppetto) conspire to prevent the Prince from stealing the sword in the stone he’ll need to slay the dragon and rescue Prince Helio.

Believing with all her twisted heart that “saying two princes can have true love is a lie,” Minerva concludes that a mere attempt to thwart Copernicus’s quest will never be enough to prevent the destruction of traditional family values and, in Act One’s finale, persuades the Prince to “Take The Apple” … and die!

Fortunately for the star-crossed princes, The Next Fairy Tale has a second act up its sleeve.

Pugach knows his fairytale lore backwards and forwards, creating a world in which characters have names like Thistle, Moonflower, and Hazelnuts and speak in Fairytalese, whether uttering exclamations (“Oh toadstools!” “Jumping gingerbread!” “Candy covered cottages, I can’t move!”) or inventing similes (“You are slower than toad slime.” “You are as selfish as a stepsister.” “I’m as serious as a wolf attack.”) As Stephen Sondheim and James Lapine did in Into The Woods, he also knows how to mix-and-match fairytale characters to nifty effect. As for his songs, several in particular you may find yourself humming as you leave the theater—Copernicus’s delightfully self-centered “Charming,” Minerva’s ominously dramatic “Take The Apple,” and Copernicus’s and Hazel’s oh-so-romantic “Cinderella Story,” which (like “Charming”) merits—and gets—a reprise.

Still, as with any World Premiere Musical, there is room for tweaking. The addition of a greater number of adult-aimed jokes, the kind which Disney perfected in the 1990s, lines which whoosh over the heads of tots but give the piece the sophisticated all-age appeal of Disney’s Beauty And The Beast, would make the show more grownups-friendly. The Next Fairy Tale has some terrific ones (“You must be a friend of Dorothy!” “I’d hate for you to end up a flamer.” “Key change.”) but could use even more. Additional stage time for Prince Helio in Act One would help us become more invested in our heroes’ romance from the get-go. At the same time, judicious cuts (including perhaps a couple of Act One songs by minor characters) would bring The Next Fairy Tale in at a more kids-friendly two-hour running time, and get us more quickly to its powerful second act. Also, as fine as musical director Wayne Moore’s work is, Pugach’s songs would sound considerably better with a richer accompaniment than the rather tinny-sounding upright piano they get here, though Adam Halitzka’s percussion does help.

Pugach and the Celebration have lucked out big time in the cast Jami Rudofsky has helped them assemble for this World Premiere, beginning with the trio of performers who bring to vivid storybook life its biggest roles—Christopher Maikish as Prince Copernicus, Rachel Genevieve as Hazel, and Gina Torrecilla as Minerva. Maikish and Genevieve have been waiting for that perfect part to best showcase their talents, and Pugach has written them just those parts. Maikish’s dreamy good looks, rich tenor, romantic sparkle, and comic zip make him the perfect Prince Charming. Genevieve’s combination of dark-haired beauty, charismatic stage presence, gawky charm, and downright adorability combined with her glorious soprano simply couldn’t be more right for Hazel. As for Minerva, Torrecilla expertly channels every fairytale villainess (particularly Snow White’s evil stepmother and Cinderella’s Maleficent) with touches of today’s NOM demonesses to make for an imposing figure of “family values” gone berserk.

Handsome, golden-voiced Patrick Gomez is a Prince any Prince could fall for at the wave of a wand, and doubles delightfully as a silver-haired mustachioed Geppetto. Hazel’s fellow Godmother’s are brought to quirky, scene-stealing life by three vivacious blends of beauty and comedic/vocal chops—Stephanie Fredricks as Thistle, Kendra Munger as Glinda, and Nell Teare as Moonflower, with Fredricks a delicious Cinderella and feisty Baker and Teare a spunky Little Red to boot. Vash Boddie is another charmer as Scarecrow and Ben Caron delights as Rumpelstilstkin. Completing the cast is Charls Segwick Hall, the epitome of fabulousness as the Mirror (and the voice of the Dragon).

Music director Moore gets bonus points for his excellent vocal arrangements. Jeffrey Polk has choreographed some lively dance sequences, Victoria Profitt’s set design has just the right classic fairytale look and is lit dazzlingly by Matthew Brian Denman, and Raffel Sarabia’s costumes are a highly imaginative visual treat. Thumbs up go too to Martin Carillo’s sound design, Ronn Jones’ hair and wigs, and Michael O’Hara’s properties. A number of expertly executed slight-of-hand tricks have been coached by magic consultant Joyce Basche, “Ms,gician. John F. Wilson is music consultant and Tijuana Gray assistant choreographer.

The Next Fairy Tale is produced by John Michael Beck, with Ryan Bergmann, Cameron Faber, Parnell Damone Marcano, and Pugach as associate producers. Shepperd and Michael C. Kricfalusi are executive producers. Kevin Wisney is production stage managers and Paul Doble assistant stage manager.

With minor script revisions to give it more adult appeal and judicious cuts to make for a more kids-appropriate running time, The Next Fairy Tale could easily become an LGBT and (progressive) family theater favorite. Children will respond to its engaging storyline and cast of characters, adults will go for the romance, and grown-up gays will find The Next Fairy Tale an enriching and even cathartic experience. Here’s hoping that its near-universal appeal will attract audiences beyond Celebration regulars to Brian Pugach’s at-last-told tale.

[azlrse]

Okay hear me out: Licorice and/or Red Velvet with an S/O who's basically the cookie run equivalent of a Kpop idol. Like, they're probably part of a group and have likely brought their partner to at least one of their practices. Even better if they're part of some sort of cutesy group. (I hope this is detailed enough)

(Preferable not yandere if ya don't mind)

His Star Above The Stage (Licorice Cookie/Red Velvet Cookie x GN Cookie!Reader Hcs)

CW: None, just fluff!!

A/N: This will be the first time I'm going to write for Red Velvet so imma try my best on him!

P.S please refer on the list of characters on my carrd before requesting, thank you!!

Part 2

‿︵‿︵ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ・❉・ ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ‿︵‿︵

Licorice Cookie 🖤

Before you became a member of the most popular group in Earthbread, you dated the once lonely Licorice Cookie.

At first, many cookies would assume that he's evil and wicked since he worked for Dark Enchantress Cookie but to you, he's an absolute sweetheart.

Even though he's kinda bad at showing affection.

He supports you non-stop about your passion for singing and dancing.

He loves seeing you singing your heart out on the huge hallway towards his workplace.

Before the day of your training to become an idol, you danced with him in his dark room.

Having you in his arms as the both of you are swinging back and forth makes his heart go brrrrrr.

From the moment your training has started, you couldn't see your boyfriend often.

So sending him letters and small polaroids of yourself makes his day.

He posts those pictures on his dresser of his room hehe.

At one point, your manager stated that anyone can visit the trainees so you told Licorice that he could watch you practice.

He's cheering for you non-stop when you and your group are practicing. After all, he's your number 1 supporter.

"That's the love of my life there!"

"Go, (y/n)!!!"

"I love you, sweetie!!"

Surprisingly, he doesn't feel embarrassed when he cheered for his s/o.

A year later after your debut, your popularity increased as you and your group sang lots of songs for the fans.

Being an idol can be tiring and stressful sometimes but your boyfriend's presence makes you alot better.

There will be secret dates since your date will be disturbed if there were too many paparazzi and fans swarming the place.

His allies maybe annoyed at the sight of his room, filled with the merch of your group and your autographed polaroid was framed on his work table.

Also, you had his picture both on your dressing from and on your bedroom mirror.

Needless to say, both of you loved each other so much <3

Red Velvet Cookie 🌹

Unlike Licorice's s/o, you dated Red Velvet Cookie when you just debuted as an idol.

Let's talk about the first day the both of you met each other, the beginning of Red Velvet and your love story.

You were coming your way towards the studio when you noticed a cake hound in distress.

You knew how strong and dangerous these cake hounds were but you felt sympathy for the poor creature.

You reassured the poor creature that you won't hurt them but instead offering them to patch up their wound.

"I don't have much but I brought some bandages for that wound."

Red Velvet saw the commotion while hiding behind a tall tree, seeing you nursing a cake hound back to health makes him in shock and in awe at the same time.

He never saw somebody being so kind to his cake hound.

"I better go now, little fella. Take care!" You spoke as you fixed your bag and starting walking again.

He soon realized that the member of the most popular group on Earthbread had a soft spot towards his cake hounds.

At first, he was weirded out and awkward when he tries to talk to you.

He may come off as harsh and cruel in his words but you were patient enough to understand his motives.

It took him awhile to be open towards you (being raised in a harsh environment is really hard for him to be adjusted towards you) and after a year of friendship, the both of you fell in love.

Just like Licorice, he's highly supportive of you.

Loves it when you're practicing your dance moves and singing in his workplace (his cake hounds also loved your voice, it's soothing for them <3)

At one point, you even brought him to the studio to see you practice with your group.

Red Velvet was in awe when he saw you in action.

He doesn't cheer loudly but praises you when you have your water break.

"You did great, sweetie!"

"You were killing those moves sweetheart!"

"You know, Chiffon and the others would be happy if you show those moves when we go home."

During one of your concerts, he was ecstatic on the inside as soon as he saw you in your sparkly outfit.

As usual, he doesn't cheer loudly but will stand up and claps his hands hard for you.

Always gives you kisses when you were done practicing or when your concert is over<3

‿︵‿︵ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ・❉・ ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ‿︵‿︵

Do not republish, edit, or repost to other websites.

Reblogs and likes are appreciated! 💕

[gascon-en-exil]

Who Can Say if I've Been Changed For the Better?: Ferdibert Does Wicked

This concept has been a bit in building. It started from a much-loved cover by Hubert and Ferdinand’s VAs inspired by their support line and the broad observation that these two are a musicals couple who absolutely would sing their feelings in all manner of theatrical AUs. It continued through my later observation that there’s ample material to carry that idea even further, albeit with a shift outside of Crimson Flower for a better tonal match. Still, I’m not quite sure what to call this project; it’s not really a headcanon nor is it fanfic by any means. I’ve written a handful of longform character/narrative explorations before, although when it comes to FE I’ve previously been inspired to do so only for Jugdral characters. That setting is somehow both underdeveloped and deceptively dense - and I suppose in a way you could say the same of Three Houses as well, insofar as it’s been incredibly popular for fan content of all sorts.

Regardless of what this post is in terms of my fandom output, the following isn’t exactly a Wicked AU as such. Rather, it’s how I would envision a hypothetical blend of the non-CF routes of FE16 centering around the Eagles trio and set to the structure and songs of the musical as organically as possible. There are no 1:1 analogues with characters and plotlines from Wicked, because few if any would exist without a lot of tweaking; to use the VA cover example, Ferdinand might be a decent proxy for G(a)linda, but the mere presence of Edelgard substantially complicates Hubert’s claim to the Elphaba role. The similarities only unravel further from there, but I did my best.

Writing this out gave me the opportunity to play around with Edelgard’s character as a way of addressing what I and many others in my circle have long considered to be some of the major problems with her canon presentation. For Ferdibert meanwhile I got to make use of my headcanons for how their relationship would develop outside of their support line, in a way that mostly preserves Hubert’s delightful evil wickedness. Add some ruminations on how one would splice together the non-CF routes in a dramatically satisfying fashion, some snark directed at the non-character of Byleth, and a bit of background Dimidue/Lions OT5 for spice and that just about sums it up. Enjoy this…whatever this is.

Act I

“No One Mourns the Wicked”

The show opens on the citizens of Adrestia celebrating the death of their emperor and the end of her bloody war. Ferdinand rides in, resplendent on his steed, and is hailed as the new Duke Aegir as he relates to the crowd the news of Edelgard’s death at the hands of the combined army of liberators. The “Are people born wicked?” flashback sequence is replaced with a summary mostly in pantomime of Edelgard’s backstory: the Insurrection, her being taken to Faerghus and then returning, and then being experimented on by the Agarthans before agreeing to work with them. Notably Hubert is not named or referenced anywhere in this song, appearing only as a boy at Edelgard’s side at appropriate times during the flashback.

“Dear Old Shiz”

Someone in the crowd finally brings up Hubert, the emperor’s vile and murderous minister, and accuses Ferdinand of having been his friend. With Ferdinand even more flustered than Glinda since his “It depends on what you mean by friend” definitely carries sexual undertones, so begins the flashback to Part 1. There’s an equivalent intro of Garreg Mach, so one may feel free to insert any headcanons for school songs here. The following dialogue scene establishes the student body in general and the dynamic of the Eagles trio in particular: Ferdinand pompous and eager to one-up Edelgard at any opportunity, and Edelgard and Hubert cold and dismissive toward his antics and just about everyone else for that matter. Edelgard is instantly enamored of the quiet new professor, of course. Because the room assignment conflict doesn’t make a lot of sense with the monastery’s setup, instead Ferdinand is incensed that Edelgard is chosen as the Eagles’ house leader over him even though it’s been ages since a Hresvelg has attended. Neither Nessarose nor Morrible has an exact equivalent (although Seteth can act in Morrible’s role as the academy’s main authority figure), so the segue into the next song ends there.

“The Wizard and I”

Now alone together, Edelgard and Hubert have a brief dialogue outlining their villainous plans for the school year. This establishes Hubert’s hypercompetency but also how detached and professional Edelgard is around him. Then comes the song, now “My Lady and I,” which serves as Hubert’s character introduction. In tones more sinister than Elphaba ever reaches - you know he’d have fun with “When people see me they will scream” - he outlines his history with his lady, that he delights in serving her because she validates his work ethic and gives him an outlet for his ruthlessness and cruelty. Where Elphaba fantasizes about the Wizard removing her green skin, Hubert instead goes full Nice Guy, believing that once he’s given Edelgard her continental empire and crushed all her enemies she’ll be so grateful that of course she’ll put out for him.

“What Is This Feeling?”

You could rip the tone of this one directly from the Ferdibert C support and change nothing - homoerotic subtext included. I like the thought of Hubert replacing Elphaba’s deadpan one-word summation of Galinda with a mocking imitation of Ferdinand's most memetic line: "He is Ferdinand von Aegir!". The chorus can be made up of any number of other students excluding Edelgard, who’d happily agree that Hubert is ugly, creepy, and downright unpleasant.

“Something Bad”

The content of this song and surrounding scenes would have to be completely altered, but they work as a necessary reminder that the plot of Part 1 is still going on in the background of all the school drama. Seteth runs through the major events up to Chapter 9 of the game, including the bandit threat, Flayn’s kidnapping, and the experiments on the Remire villagers. The audience/accompaniment for this exposition dump ought to be Dimitri and Claude with Byleth as a silent observer (more on them later), with Edelgard brushing off the news and eventually being the one to shut down the song as Morrible does. There could be some small side character moments in here as well particularly involving the Lions and Deer since they get so little focus in this story.

“Dancing Through Life”

Speaking of which, this was an awkward sequence to place. It matches up chronologically with the ball in Chapter 9 and the main part, Fiyero’s, is a dead ringer for Sylvain and his flirty, hedonistic nihilism (“Nothing matters / but knowing nothing matters!”), but it’s hard to tie into what’s going on with the Eagles trio particularly with the Ferdibert timeframe preserved, i.e. unlike Elphaba and Galinda they don’t become closer until after the timeskip.

As such I see this song as an opportunity for little vignettes with the other students: Dimitri angry over how Dedue’s talked about and hoping they can share a dance (fitting contrast with the coldness of Edelbert), Felix prickly between Dimitri’s recent outbursts and Sylvain’s showboating, Claude hinting toward the bigger picture with Hilda flitting between her excitement over the dance and knowing more than she's letting on, Dorothea casually taking note of Edelgard’s fascination with Byleth (see just below), Bernadetta as a wallflower who doesn’t want to be disturbed (a setup for Act II), etc. Thanks to one of the Forging Bonds events in Heroes I had the thought that the "You/we deserve each other" through line that later gets attached to Nessarose can become one for Dimitri's relationships, with Felix initially throwing it out at him and Dedue and the two of them then turning "We deserve each other" into a romantic line...and then an ironic one and finally a triumphant one come Act II, by that point with Felix et al included as well.

I’m not sure that the following scene of Galinda and Elphaba bonding on the dance floor really needs an equivalent, although it could be altered to something Edeleth-related. In any case Ferdinand ought to get a dance scene of some nature, so he can try to show up Edelgard as he brags about in canon.

“Popular”

It would be a travesty to have a musical starring FE16’s cast and not give Dorothea and/or Manuela a solo. This song works quite well for the former, and it doesn’t intrude on the Ferdibert development with the aforementioned timeframe and how the lightly sapphic vibe doesn’t translate well to two guys. Dorothea has taken note of her good friend Edie’s crush on their mysteriously wooden professor, and she senses the opportunity for a makeover. Not as exaggerated as Dorothea trying to make over Hubert, naturally, but I still think this works out well. Also, Galinda’s observation on leaders, “Did they have brains or knowledge? / Don’t make me laugh! They were popular!”, is darkly comedic when said to Edelgard.

“I’m Not That Girl”

This song comes with preceding dialogue scenes for setup, so those first. Edelgard emerges fresh from her makeover (given her general hot for teacher fixation, I’m thinking she’d lean pretty hard on the naughty schoolgirl look) to Byleth silently grieving Jeralt’s death - bad timing there. She’s as callous about it as she is in canon, only now with more clumsy flirting, and while it’s impossible as always to tell if Byleth notices or cares Hubert most certainly does. The scene segues into the Eagles trio together, with Edelgard alluding to the upcoming events in the Sealed Forest and indicating that Hubert should meet up with her later for some more villainous scheming after he’s ditched Ferdinand. Ferdinand, indignant about being left out of the loop as he is in canon, grumpily points out that he was a much more splendid dancer at the ball than Edelgard, makeover or not. To his utter surprise, Hubert acknowledges that this is true before leaving. This leads into the actual song, altered from homoerotic via triangulation of desire to an outright sexual awakening for Ferdinand. He realizes that part of his jealousy toward Edelgard is that he wishes Hubert were devoted to him instead, and tells himself not to get his hopes up because he’s, well, not that girl or even a girl. We shall of course leave aside how anyone could be attracted to someone as repulsive as Hubert; that’s part of the inherent comedy of this pairing.

“One Short Day”

This was the hardest song to place in this whole project. The touristy trip to the Emerald City just doesn’t have an analogue in the story of Three Houses, especially not late in Part 1 when tension is mounting toward the upcoming reveal and war. It took me a while to realize that it works wonderfully as an Edeleth piece: Edelgard invites Byleth to Enbarr for her coronation, but that scene is left offscreen in favor of a light romp through the city that further highlights Edelgard’s crush as well as her emotional immaturity in spite of everything she’s about to do. She just wants to have a fun day out and take in the sights and eat sweets with her beloved teacher, and it’s all very “Edge of Dawn”-esque where Edelgard knows she’s about to do terrible things that will change everything forever and hopes to prolong the time until she has to take that step. Adjustments to the lyrics could even work in reference to that song to make the similarities more apparent. An awkward/funny issue here is that I envision Byleth to be totally silent throughout this musical with no sung or spoken parts, which would naturally make them having a duet impossible and make Edelgard’s fascination with them even weirder. Even their gender should be left ambiguous throughout, somehow never confirmed if it’s m!Byleth or f!Byleth. It would take a lot of reworking, but I can see the value in it.

“A Sentimental Man”

The core of the Wizard’s character is not all that different from Rhea’s. Both were thrust unexpectedly into positions of authority that required them to enact a large-scale deception to maintain their power/safety, and both are driven somewhat by parental feelings. The tone of the Wizard’s songs doesn’t align well with Rhea, but once you cut out the vaudeville and do some rewording I could see this one working as Rhea addressing her child (among other things) Byleth at the Holy Tomb just before the Flame Emperor reveal. Of course the dramatic irony hits differently; Rhea knows who and what Byleth is whereas the Wizard doesn’t learn about Elphaba until the end of the show. Nonetheless this would still establish Rhea’s character and motivations as well as set the stage for the impending betrayal.

“Defying Gravity”

Said betrayal being Byleth’s, who decides to stand by Rhea and condemn Edelgard as the Flame Emperor when she arrives with her army. This is another song in parts that would need to be broken up. Edelgard gets the bulk of it, but the middle sections between Elphaba and Glinda could work as a kind of separated duet with Edelgard and Hubert attempting to convince Byleth and Ferdinand respectively to join them. Because of Byleth’s silence only Ferdinand can reply in song; only he and Edelgard add the “my friend” bit to the end of this segment, to illustrate the unevenness of Edeleth and Ferdibert at this point in the story. Then things turn to full bombast, albeit darker than in Wicked proper. Edelgard does the belting, Hubert’s sinister laughter reverberates below her (would it be too tasteless for him to be leering up her skirt the whole time?), Ferdinand has Glinda’s mournful “I hope you’re happy!” toward Hubert, and through this and the reprise of “No One Mourns the Wicked” the major events of the timeskip are enacted in pantomime or silhouette. Byleth tumbles off a cliff, Rhea is taken captive as is Dimitri but Dedue rushes after him, and Claude makes a tactical retreat. Side note: “And if I’m flying solo, / at least I’m flying free” is classic Edelgard fixating on Byleth and forgetting that Hubert exists.

Act II

“Thank Goodness”

A surprisingly tough one here. The core of the song, pivoting around the double meaning of “I couldn’t be happier,” suits early Part 2 Ferdinand perfectly, second-guessing his choice and, outside of CF, melancholy about fighting his homeland. In terms of plot it’s an easy translation too, with the crowd announcing the terrible things the Empire has been doing to win its war - persecuting believers, abducting civilians and turning them into Demonic beasts, consorting with inhuman shadowy figures who can disguise themselves as ordinary people - and the assembly working as a way to bring together the leads of the three routes: Byleth, Dimitri (who had Dedue always at his side and thus never had a full psychotic break), Claude, and Seteth, with Ferdinand representing the Adrestian resistance. It’s only the wedding announcement that’s hard to pin down, and I toyed with a number of ideas including Dimidue making yet another public declaration of devotion to one another or Ferdinand planning to follow through with his arranged marriage to Bernadetta they have in their supports (which makes more sense in light of the following sequence). In the end though I don’t think the marriage element is strictly necessary, leaving the song as a means of catching up with the cast five years later and seeing them united against Edelgard - with Ferdinand’s private regrets the only sour note.

“Wicked Witch of the East”

More a dialogue than a song, but still important. Bernadetta is arguably the Eagle other than Hubert most comfortable supporting Edelgard, because all Edelgard has to do is put Count Varley under house arrest for Bernadetta to sing the emperor’s praises. I can also see her as the same sort of self-centered, negligent ruler that Nessarose becomes in Wicked, not because of an unrequited attraction but because of her reclusive desire to be left alone. I see this scene playing out as Hubert surprising Bernadetta at her estate, angry about rumors that she may be helping the rebels and/or engaged to Ferdinand if going with that plot point after Edelgard has done her the favor of locking up her father. He’s fully prepared to, ahem, “persuade” Bernadetta, but before he can break out the torture implements Ferdinand arrives asking for her to support the rebels’ cause.

Farcical, sure, but it gets the two of them together again after five years and underscores how strong their UST has become in their time apart, with Hubert too flabbergasted to attack a known enemy and Ferdinand expressing how happy he is to see Hubert again despite everything. Each learns that the other isn’t as happy about his chosen path as he’d hoped, in Hubert’s case because his lady has grown ever more distant from him as the war has dragged on. Bernadetta cuts through the tension by bringing things back to the song (sort of) and blurting out that she knows both sides are marshalling their forces near Gronder Field. Ferdinand is too caught up in the fraught romance angle to do more than leave with this new information, but Hubert recovers enough to condemn Bernadetta for her flagrant misrule (venting by inference his frustrations toward Edelgard in the process) and resolve to set her on fire for her treachery.

“I’m Not That Girl (Reprise)”

The Gronder rematch happened offscreen - and Bernadetta was indeed set on fire - and on the Imperial side Edelgard is left increasingly frustrated over her losses and hurt that Byleth still refuses to listen to her and continues to fight her regime. You may notice that I’ve shuffled around the middle of Act II, necessary at this point in order to better line up with FE16’s story and Hubert and Edelgard’s separate narrative climaxes while also ensuring that those climaxes don’t overlap too much. This song is only a brief reprise, but it’s a significant one; Hubert finally realizes that Edelgard will never love him. It’s also kept gender-neutral, because Byleth.

“As Long as You’re Mine”

That segues naturally into this moment. Ferdinand sneaks into Enbarr using his unexpected stealth powers (I usually talk about Dedue having them, but Ferdinand shows he’s no slouch in his Mercedes supports) and encounters Hubert. Their UST boils over in a furor of awkward, impassioned sex and also this song. I like the idea of rewording some of Fiyero's lines to incorporate Hubert's acidic snark: “Maybe you’re brainless, / maybe you’re wise.” It’s all very desperate and sensual, ending with Ferdinand taking Elphaba’s line about feeling wicked for the first time - which will have a dark reverberation two songs from now.

“Wonderful”

Again, axe the vaudeville and it’s a solid Rhea song. There’s just the small problem of Rhea being captured at this point in the plot; I thought about moving this number toward the very end at first before reconsidering. While Hubert and Ferdinand are rolling in the sheets, a distraught Edelgard confronts Rhea in prison. Rhea responds to Edelgard’s frustrations with Byleth with her backstory in song, much more somber than the Wizard but, like him, still willing to rehabilitate her estranged listener. The bits of this song about the nature of history are especially relevant to what Edelgard falsely believes about the church and what she views as her own legacy, so I could see this as an interesting character study on what Edelgard actually wanted with her war apart from dragon genocide. There’s a lot that could be done here in the dialogue surrounding those revelations.

“No Good Deed”

However the interrogation of Rhea turns out, Edelgard takes a leaf out of SS Dimitri’s book and visits Byleth alone at the monastery, only to be as harshly rebuffed as is possible to be without the rebuffer speaking. Then comes this song, which was incidentally the one where I realized that Edelgard would need a major role in FE16-does-Wicked even with the Ferdibert focus. Hubert fully embraced his evil wickedness long ago and wouldn’t think twice about being wicked or being perceived as such, but Edelgard is a different matter. Here she breaks down, admitting that her good intentions were largely selfish and that she regrets that her war has cost her any relationship she could have had with Byleth (continuing the joke at his expense, Hubert goes unmentioned when Edelgard names the people she’s lost/failed). It ends with a foreshadowing of her Hegemon form, the sign that she’s abandoned all pretense of goodness and become truly wicked.

“March of the Witch Hunters”

Another ensemble/vignette piece, checking in with the various members of Byleth’s army as they prepare to storm Enbarr. Dimitri hopes for the chance to forgive his stepsister, Claude has big plans for the continent and wants to remove the threat Edelgard poses, Seteth is desperate to find Rhea, and Byleth…is there. As in many of the songs, the self-righteousness of the crowd here rings more sincere and less hypocritical than in Wicked given Three Houses has actual villains, but it still works.

“For Good”

The song that inspired this whole thing, now with many paragraphs of context to set it up instead of only some fluff based on the Ferdibert A+ support. Ferdinand sneaks into Enbarr (again) ahead of the battle, and their second love ballad is more somber as they resign themselves to their fates. As in the VA cover, Hubert refuses to ask forgiveness for anything and Ferdinand is fine with that.

“Finale”

Wicked reduces the final battle from The Wizard of Oz to silhouettes backed by sections of “No One Mourns the Wicked,” and that’s what comes here: Ferdinand and Hubert facing each other in battle, Edelgard becoming the Hegemon before being defeated and then dying as in AM’s final cutscene, and Dimitri taking the throne with Dedue at his side and proclaiming his intention to do all he can to restore both the Kingdom and Duscur - and that his first act as king is to announce that he and Dedue have decided to open their marriage up. This is met with much manly cheering and stripping and someone (Ashe?) saying incredulously that he didn’t even know they were married. End silhouettes.

The final scene with the Wizard and Morrible becomes Claude, Seteth, and Byleth rescuing Rhea. Rhea names Byleth her successor as leader of the church and says that she will go into quiet seclusion and do what she can to correct her mistakes. This all suits Claude just fine, who tells everyone that he’s off to take care of some other business and that Byleth will make a great archbishop - and also they can have the Alliance, no big deal. As with the King of Faerghus’s gay orgies, the King of Almyra’s grand ambitions are too large for this story to do more than allude to.

Next, Ferdibert does a version of the Elphaba/Fiyero scene, with Ferdinand revealing that he had Hubert spared on the condition that he help root out any remaining Agarthans and that he remain under house arrest at the Aegir estate. Ferdinand was also required to assume governance of the Empire, because Dimitri wasn’t getting that dumped on him as well. They can be together, but the general population can’t know that Hubert survived lest Ferdinand’s reputation and basic ethics be compromised…which in a darkly funny hypocritical twist then segues to Ferdinand pontificating before the crowd at the beginning of the show, reprising “For Good” with Hubert until they’re drowned out by “No One Mourns the Wicked.” Thus the story concludes on one of my favorite things about Ferdibert: perhaps even in this non-CF continuity Ferdinand wasn’t changed for the better by falling in love with the Most Wicked Man in Fódlan, but they’ve both been changed….

[sambinnie]

1. Happy Mabon! Every autumn, I forget that the darkness comes clanging down in a great rush in the mornings. One day, I am greeted by a pinking sunrise. 48 hours later, it’s so dark on my run to the river that I have to stop a passing runner and check the time, in case my disturbed sleep sent me dressing and leaving the house at 2am. This summer may not have given us those mornings where it’s so hot I can barely get out of the water, where those early hours feel like full silent days carved out just for me to sit in the light and wait for everyone else to wake up, where the only extra thing I put on to run home is my trainers — I look at my waiting winter gear, neoprene socks and gloves, head torch, two more thickening jumpers, hat, thermal mittens — but every season, every day, is beautiful.

Today we go early for celebrations, and the water is silky, and Orion hangs over us with his phallic sword dangling and Betelgeuse winking on one shoulder. The near-full moon spotlights us and I feel almost ready for the shortening days.

2. Hilary Mantel continues to be a literary god. How does she write with that clarity? How can I ever speak with her calm good sense and wit? 

3. We have two main problems at the moment, as far as I can see. a) What we’re doing (“curating” our lives; twitter spats; purity spirals; division and isolation; wanting ‘debates’ that can only be won or lost; encouraging people to buy more things; trying to buy our happiness; letting marketers tell us how we feel about the world rather than encouraging major moral lessons from throughout the ages to challenge us on our weaknesses; refusing to accept that life is suffering; asking self-care to be a plaster for everything we don’t have) and b) what we’re not doing (joining together to stand against those with more money and power; protecting the people who have even less power and voice than we do as a matter of course; learning from history; protecting nature above all else; prioritising going for walks; learning to repair things and campaigning to make things repairable; having a basic belief in human dignity for all, not just those with whom we agree; accepting that truly, we are all different and no amount of shaming or disgust will change that; working to shape our societies, culture, economies, production, food supplies and communications around improving — not just sustaining — the air, water and land, and fighting to ensure all of those new shapes protect women and children).

Individualism has morphed into something so completely self-destructive that we’ve forgotten we need nature more than anything — literally, more than anything — and we need to unionise and unite and put aside differences and work together even with people we don’t like. 

Because when there are wicked people in power, when it’s genuinely exhausting to think about all the corrupt, venal, toxic, divisive, false, and cruel things they have done since coming to power, those people love to watch everyone below pointing their fingers at one another, saying, You, You’re The Enemy, You’re The Problem, while corrupt populist leaders rub their bellies and chuckle at another promise broken, another mass death on their hands, another building site on a protected forest. Do you understand the stakes here? Do you understand that it’s actual survival? It’s not about being right any more, it’s not about besting someone in the argument. It’s about having decision makers who can not only ensure there is still food to eat and air to breathe, but that relations both within a country and between countries are built on care, and support, and compassion, and believing in human dignity. And while it sounds wishy-washy and hands-clappy it’s the schmaltzy, sentimental truth. It’s the only one, really. 

If we instead continue to believe every single day that my feelings are the most important, that my beliefs are the right ones, that I’ve got to prove those baddies there are evil and awful and wrong, then honestly, what the fuck? If we’re happy to live in a country where hostile architecture is the starting point for all public builds, where we send refugee boats away from our shores, where affiliate links are a career goal, where we haven’t stormed the Daily Mail offices with accounts of all our lovely immigrant friends and family and had a huge feast together and compared our long and tangled family trees, then come on. It’s only a race to the bottom if we all keep running. 

Because, pressingly, whatever the spark of a major global conflict — assassination, fuel shortages, hyperinflation, invasion — the kindling is almost always a populace fed pure hatred for months, for years, until they can’t even taste it anymore but are ready to spew it out again, and are ready to use another populace as the receptacle. And hatred is brewed up in silence and isolation, and in the ashes of bridges burned between disparate groups. 

And on that note, I’m not a conspiracy theorist, mainly because I don’t believe governments are generally competent enough to manage Grand Plans, but it’s annoying that technology and social trends and culture have developed in such a way that no one knocks on anyone’s door for a chat as a matter of course now, that it’s a given that a ringing phone triggers anxiety, that it’s not the norm for cups of tea with your neighbours, that we don’t know each other’s neighbourhoods, that we don’t even talk on the phone, with live words and intonation and synchronised laughter, but in text, in WhatsApp chats, in tapped out words and symbols that we know can be screen-grabbed and misinterpreted, that we know are kept, filtered and sold by the tech companies. It’s not a conspiracy. It’s just a reality that every single one of us can choose to do differently. 

Sometimes exactly the right thing comes along at the right time. All of us here watched About a Boy at the weekend, a film which is so wonkily weighted and oddly rhythmed, but a perfect depiction of everything I’m banging on about here. Hugh Grant’s character likes being alone. He’s happy that way. It suits him. It’s his choice. Then, between one thing and another, he finds himself drawn into a world of a suicidal single mother, a duck-murdering young boy, more single mothers, more tricky teens, plus exes and mothers-in-law and awkward support groups. And it turns out that actually, being with people is better. Being uncomfortable often develops you as a person. Constantly prioritising only yourself produces a waxen, pointless baby. Making shared sacrifices might just be the point of being alive. Remember that to be human is to be flawed. That no one is ever completely right, and no one is ever completely wrong. That the boring stuff makes us feel good, and the glossy stuff, if all we strive for is gloss, doesn’t. 

If you want anything practical, here are the things that have really helped me over the last few years:

Writing a letter or email regularly to my MP, to CEOs of organisations, to anyone I want to communicate my strong feelings and how I’d like things to be done better. Tweeting eats your soul. It’s a horrible myth the media pretends is important. It really, really isn’t.

Inviting people to go in front of me in queues, in traffic, getting on to buses and trains. It lowers my stress levels right down.

Learning the names of my neighbours and people I meet regularly on walks and letting them learn mine. (I definitely haven’t just decided I loathe a neighbour because they cut a bird-hatching tree down in their garden on the last day of the year it was legal to do so. It’s fine.)

Joining a few political parties, and the closest thing I have to a union

Making something, anything — everything can be done with love, and learning to not get sucked into the capitalist conceit of having to make it perfect, sellable, exhibitable is a genuine gift to yourself; making a cake or a film or a coaster and not putting it on social media, letting it be ugly or serviceless and loving it anyway. I felt extremely overwhelmed the other evening, but instead of doom-scrolling I knitted a… I don’t know, something flat and woollen, and it helped to have my hands and eyes working on directionless introspective creation. 

Trying to stop hating. Every time I want to tell a negative story in my head about someone, I attempt to turn it into something positive: how unhappy that person must be, what they must be missing out on. It’s so nauseatingly Pollyanna-ish, and of course it isn’t always successful, and of course every single day brings a hundred thousand examples of cruelty and injustice and wickedness, but the alternative only makes my life feel worse, so why would I indulge that? 

Teaching myself the names of birds, trees, flowers, clouds and constellations. I’m still at the most basic levels on all of these, but the difference one feels in the world when you can name things  — let alone use them and know their stories — is a very real sort of magic. (For that reason I hope to read this book very soon.) This episode of The Cut is also good on the wonder and power of learning the names of the weeds that grow in your nearest pavement crack. 

4. Creating anything is always a gamble, isn’t it, but writing a book you actually like for once and seeing it slowly and beautifully sink to the bottom of a river never to be seen again is ever so slightly crushing. However, it turns out even Thom Yorke feels that way, so I am comforted. 

5. I’m sure I’ve mentioned plenty of these before, but if you want some suggestions of where to find joy, here are my favourites from the last year or so:

I was given Lucy Easthope’s book, When the Dust Settles, for work recently, and I was surprised and delighted to discover the most uplifting, hopeful, human and rightfully angry book I’ve read in a long time. Do yourself a favour and preorder it. I bought this other book for my own birthday, gave it to a housemate to give to me, forgot about it, and was delighted to later unwrap He Used Thought As A Wife. Laughed a lot, cried twice. Marvellous. 

Now even the youngest housemate here can recite John Finnemore sketches and sing the songs. Has also taught them various composers, gods, logical fallacies and gothic story tropes. Also v funny. Oh, Kate Beaton! Her two books (Hark! A Vagrant and Step Aside Pops) are a bit like a comic-book version of Finnemore, but swearier and sexier and utterly unsuitable for all the housemates who have read it and been educated about the Brontes, Katherine Sui Fun Cheung, Tom Longboat, Nancy Drew, Ida B. Wells, Sacagawea, and the Borgias. 

Had to give Inside a restraining order against me for the sake of us all, but Bo Burnham’s Eighth Grade is a masterpiece of writing, acting, sound design and optimism. Spy is dumb action comedy polished to perfection, and Yasujirō Ozu’s Good Morning seems like the inspiration for almost all US arthouse films since 1990, and is also beautiful, funny, thoughtful, and good. 

Taylor Swift’s Evermore, like all brilliant albums, isn’t completely perfect. But most of the songs are. And Hole’s classic Live Through This is still just ideal for turning up very, very loud after a tricky day, for the enjoyment of any neighbours who may have hacked down a bird-friendly tree on the last day of February. 

Watched both series of Liam Williams’ Ladhood when I had a week off this summer, and really relished the location, the intention, and the writing. More please. 

Miles Jupp and Justin Edwards continue to be my comforting bedtime listening in In and Out of the Kitchen. Has it ruined Nigel Slater for me? Well, a bit, but no more than any of us deserved. 

I thought this would be a book I’d mumble through the first chapter of, then let get buried in my To Read pile, never to re-open. Instead, I found Whatever Happened to Margo? laugh-out-loud funny, drily written, and full of humanity. Excellent Women has made me want to read everything written by Barbara Pym, a goal I am slowly but surely working towards. 

6. I’ve spent the last few years trying to find hazelnut trees, and finally found a copse between a car park and a play area, full of nuts the squirrels hadn’t noticed. Now I’ve found them, the spell has been cast and I see hazel trees everywhere, on walks and on pavements and running along motorway slip roads. A tray of green and brown frilled hazelnuts now dries with the laundry. They are so beautiful. 

[intothewickedwood]

Once Upon A Time Rewatch: 5x12 Souls of the Departed

Currently reading (well, listening) to The School for Good and Evil Series. It’s so good! It’s basically Wicked the Musical and has a fairy tale element like OUAT. Can’t recommend enough!

I had the weirdest dream last night that Ouat’s Gothel was hiding behind my bed at my old house trying to scare me. She stayed up all night with some blankets, waiting to pounce. Also, she was naked. Jesus Christ, wtf is wrong with my dreams?! I do not see Gothel in that way at all!! I was so freaking disturbed! @fairytalepsuedonym​ this is all your fault for putting that dirty hippie witch bitch on my mind lol xD! /jk

Also guys, we’re getting Disney+ today. I’m so excited! Let me know if anyone has any recommendations.

And you know what I just thought of? It looked like they were implying that Merida and Lord Macintosh were gonna be a thing (possibly? I think it’s up for interpretation) but he outright shot an arrow at one of her brothers and wanted the others dead too. Merida would never! Her brothers mean too much to her to forgive such a thing. Also, she gives me gay vibes. I don’t make the rules. Alistair makes all the rules. 

Back to the rewatch.

Oh yeah! This is the 100th episode! The compilation for 100 episodes was so freaking epic!

Neal! Is that really him though?

She’s staring at his lips lol!

Omg! Emma would have come back for Neal if she could. That means she believes they were true love, and she could have split her heart with him, right?

So, he appeared to her? 

Omg! The way Emma is stroking his face and is staring at him, you’d never know she was working on saving her boyfriend lol.

You know what would have been so much better? If the underworld was perpetually dark and foggy (within reason) like the sims 4 Forgotten Hollow. That would have looked so much cooler!

Here comes the red filter. As a gifmaker and even as a viewer I wanna scream every time I see it but at least it’s not the Dark Swan arc.

I said it before and I’ll say it again: they should have let Regina’s and maybe even Rumple’s victims confront them! That would have been interesting to watch play out. I know we got Regina’s dad and Peter Pan but give me a family of Regina’s slaughtered villagers. What would their reaction be to seeing her?

Eww. I hate the way she dips her finger in that pie.

Guys. It doesn’t matter that you have Regina surrounded, she has pyrokinesis and telekinesis! Y’all are screwed! She blew the flames out? She had the advantage! I’m glad she didn’t hurt them of course, but as someone writing a book that consists of characters with magic abilities, you’ve gotta know when a powerful character has the advantage and when to use it. Where was Snow dodging a fireball as one of her arrows flies at Regina and it pauses in mid air only to sore back at Snowing and their friends, but they manage to outsmart her somehow? 

Woah. This is the boldest Henry Sr. has ever been. He’s really trying to help Regina out here. 

Cora!! My love!! I missed you!!

I love the Blind Witch. Does she have a name? I enjoyed her in ‘Regina Rising.’ I remember she’s quite a bit older than Regina

The Blind Witch: “What can I get you? Do you like gingerbread or children?” Omg Snow’s like “what the actual f**k??”

James, why are you like this?? Get off her, dude.

Those key rings are cool.

Why the hell didn’t Emma just tell Henry she saw his dad? I can think of absolutely no reason why she would keep that from him.

Lately all Robin has done is make random comments pointing out the obvious. “It’s uncanny. It’s so similar yet so off.” Yes, Robin we established that 9 minutes ago. His next line will be, “Goodness, is that a tree over there?” or “Regina, you were the Evil Queen”, mark my words. Where has his personality gone? I was never a big fan but at least he was kinda arrogant and cheeky before, at least in season 2 and 3. Now he’s just a dude that points on the ground and tells you there’s a stone. And they have the chemistry of a banana and a cheese cracker.

“Her puny army of sweaty little child beasts.”

Are those black roses? 

I may be wrong but wasn’t Cora trying to get Regina to stop hunting Snow White and find true love instead in 4x20 or am I making things up? And I wonder if this is before or after she appeared in 4x20. 

I just love Cora so much.

Is that how she got to the EF in 4x20? Through a looking glass?

The fact that she could so easily cross realms suggests that she willingly gave Regina her space. Which is something! But it feels like she’d have ulterior motives for that. Also Jefferson and Rumple would be screaming if they knew it was that easy to cross realms.

Regina: “are you threatening me?” Cora: “No. Of course not, never.” But you literally are though.

Peter Pan! He was under-utilised this season. Come on! They could have done so much with him! I’m glad at least Cora and Cruella got decent screen time.

Imagine watching OUAT for the first time with this episode and you see this full-grown man refer to a teenage boy as is father. I would be so confused lol.

I wonder if Rumple / Rumple’s father hail from Dunbroch originally. You know, with the Scottish accent. I’m kinda thinking about headcanoning that now. At least, I think Malcolm had a Scottish accent?

That got me! I forgot Cora had glamoured into Henry Sr.! I thought Cora had shapeshifted into Snow to trick Henry.

Oh, so Henry Sr. contacting her was the reason Cora could walk through the looking glass. If only someone had contacted Jefferson. And I’ve just remembered that in 4x20, she said a white rabbit brought her to the EF.

Killian looks creepy as hell here!

Lol Cora, you let Henry wrap the heart? What did you expect to happen!

Why did Regina need Snow’s heart to kill her? She could have easily killed her without even touching her. 

What the hell does Snow think is in there? She looks terrified.

Archie, wtf were you doing between Snow’s titties?! And what were you doing with a match? Gonna set some titties on fire xD? I bet she could never look at him the same again. 

He doesn’t want Regina to kill Snow because he thinks it will make her dark forever? What about all the other people she’s killed?! That makes no sense!

Okay, given that Grace didn’t seem to physically age much between the flashbacks in 1x17 and the present day in 1x17, this probably happened after the flashback’s events in 4x20. 

According to wiki, Regina’s birthday is February 1st. I’m only learning this now.

I’ve never seen Henry Sr. so bold and Adam end to help Regina.

Okay, so Regina shrunk Henry with her magic but she needed a mushroom to return him to his normal size?

Don’t lock him in that box omg!!

Cora: “when are you gonna get it in that thick head...” she’s so casually abusive.

Random thought but why is Henry’s surname Mills? It just seems like it’d be Cora’s surname. Maybe he took hers on but that seems strange for a Prince to do.

Cora, don’t!

Henry’s alright!

Aww. Henry got to meet his 3rd Grandpa! He’s so happy she named him after him. 

I’m tearing up.

“Remember who you are, Regina.”

Henry, honey, you need to go home.

Is that Persephone?

Oh my God! I’m so excited for the Cora and Zelena stuff!! By far my favourite thing of the season! To hear Cora say Zelena’s name- the fact she knows her name- I’d waited for so long for this! It left open so many questions!

And Hades infuriated with Cora on the love of his life Zelena’s behalf!! He loved her so much and would do anything for her. I don’t ship it as much as I initially did because of how it ended but that man freaking loved and cherished Zelena. He wanted everything for her. She desperately needed that and it was an emotional experience to see her get it.

That’s like her worst nightmare, being a peasant again. 

I can’t with the flame hair.

I forgot this episode was pretty good. I didn’t remember liking it but Cora saved it for me. I forgot she was in it because I have probably watch season 5 the least as I try to avoid it lol. 

[letterboxd]

The Other Bill and Ted.

As No Man of God hits theaters and VOD following its Tribeca premiere in June, director Amber Sealey talks to Dominic Corry about her Ted Bundy two-hander and answers our Life in Film questions.

Amber Sealey has been very acknowledging of the fact that her new film is one of many to center around the horrific crimes of serial rapist and murderer Ted Bundy. As she outlined in her Tribeca Q&A with Letterboxd, one way she intended No Man of God to stick out from the pack was through the use of consciously silent background characters who represent Bundy’s voiceless victims.

The structure and source of the film also help distinguish it from other Ted Bundy movies: No Man of God is based on the recordings of FBI agent Bill Hagmaier (played in the film by Elijah Wood), who was tasked with interviewing an incarcerated Bundy in the years leading up to his execution, in order to help determine whether or not he was criminally insane, which could’ve helped to remove Bundy from death row.

With many of Bundy’s victims never officially attributed to the killer, Hagmaier also sought to draw confessions, and something resembling remorse, out of Bundy, to help bring closure to those victims’ families. As detailed in the film, much of which was taken directly from transcripts of the interviews, Bundy and Hagmaier’s relationship was complicated, and the intimacy that develops between them informs No Man of God in often uncomfortable ways.

Luke Kirby and Elijah Wood in a scene from ‘No Man of God’.

Wood (also a producer on the film) and Luke Kirby turn in career-high work as Hagmaier and Bundy, respectively, while Sealey textures the film with some of the most emotive stock-footage montage sequences this side of The Parallax View. Among positive reactions to the film, Claira Curtis, in a four-star review, writes: “Perhaps one of the most successful elements lies in Amber Sealey’s uncentering of the ‘genius’ moniker that has followed Bundy through his years of infamy.” On the pairing of Wood and Kirby in the leading roles, Connor Ashdown-Ford notes that “the chemistry between them both is so authentic it’s darn right unsettling”.

Unsettling is right. Late in the film, Sealey depicts a real-life TV interview that took place between Bundy and evangelical preacher/​author/​psychologist James Dobson (played by stalwart character actor Christian Clemonson), who uses Bundy to forward his anti-pornography agenda. Throughout this scene, the camera lingers on a young female member of the TV crew (played by an uncredited Hannah Jessup) as she silently reacts to being in Bundy’s presence. Emblematic of Sealey’s aforementioned philosophy in constructing the film, it’s a moment that appears to be having an impact on audiences, as detailed in Nolan Barth’s review: “She might have one of my favorite performances of this year? She shows us fascination, guilt, disgust and fear in like only 30 seconds of screen time. Give her an Oscar. Please.”

In an awkward incident that represents a perhaps unanticipated effect of there being so many contemporaneous movies with the same subject matter, director Joe Berlinger (Metallica: Some Kind of Monster, the Paradise Lost trilogy), who recently directed both the Zac Efron-starring scripted Ted Bundy biopic Extremely Wicked, Shockingly Evil and Vile and the documentary Conversations with a Killer: The Ted Bundy Tapes, sent an email to Sealey ahead of No Man of God’s Tribeca premiere about remarks she had made while discussing how her film differentiated itself from the existing Ted Bundy movies. He felt she had accused him of glorifying Bundy. After Sealey took the exchange public, she explained to Variety that she had never singled out Berlinger’s films in any of her remarks.

In a conversation with Letterboxd, Sealey delves into her approach to No Man of God, and talks about some of her filmic inspirations.

‘No Man of God’ director Amber Sealey.

There is really effective and creepy use of stock-footage montages in this film. Sometimes you see that sort of thing at the beginning of a film, but it’s interesting that you keep going back to them after using them in the opening credits. What was the thinking in using those montages and how did you select the footage? Amber Sealey: The thinking for those was a couple things: One, we don’t leave the prison, and I wanted [the audience] to know a little bit what’s going on outside, in terms of the cultural zeitgeist, like what’s the tone of the time? What movies are popular? What books are popular? What are people wearing? I wanted to have there be a kind of cultural touchstone outside of the prison, but at the same time I wanted it to represent potentially a little bit of what was going on inside Bill’s mind. So the story of the montages as they go on, it gets a little bit more fucked up, for lack of a better word, for Bill, inside of his head.

We were originally going to shoot the crowd scenes [of protesters outside the prison] and recreate them and then because of Covid restrictions, we couldn’t do that anymore. So then I knew we were going to be using archival footage for the crowd, and I didn’t want the archival crowd footage to suddenly jump out as being so different from the rest of our film. We’re shooting on an ARRI camera, [so it’s] not going to look like a Hi-8 from the 1980s. I needed to incorporate this look, this ’80s grainy look into the rest of the movie so that it feels like it’s part and parcel of the film, part of the storytelling.

We got [the footage] in different ways. I have an old friend that I’ve known since I was like, two, he lived next door to me, and my cousin, they both had video cameras in the ’80s and would film everything. So some of that footage is old family footage of their family or friends. There’s a couple shots in there of my neighbors when I was growing up. Then some of it, we did a lot of research on [stock-imagery services] Getty and Pond5, just finding archival footage that we could use that really told the story that we wanted to tell with the montages. It was a lengthy process finding all of that footage for sure.

What was Bill Hagmaier’s involvement in the film? Bill is an executive producer on the film, so he was very involved. The transcripts of those conversations between Bill and Ted, we got from Bill. Bill gave us so much great stuff to work with—the newer FBI files that he was allowed to share with us and the recordings, and when the script was originally written it was written based off of those recordings, and the writer originally spoke to Bill and then when I came on board, I talked to him and then I changed the script, even more from conversations I had with him. He was just a resource.

Almost every [character] you see on screen, those are real people, and he hooked us up with a lot of those real people. I spoke with the prison guards and the wardens and all of that. Then he was just a resource in terms of like, I would ask him, “what color were your shoes?” “Did you carry this kind of briefcase or that kind of briefcase?” Because it was important to me that all that production-design stuff was really authentic. I liked to know, like, “what were your haircuts like then, Bill?” So he was available to talk about the emotional side of things, and then the real just humdrum kind of things. He’s just a lovely guy, he’s really supportive of me and of the film and he just wanted to be accessible as much as he could and he was. He’s a very humble, generous person.

Aleksa Palladino plays civil-rights attorney Carolyn Lieberman to Luke Kirby’s Ted Bundy.

What films did you watch, or cite as reference points in preparation for No Man of God? Literally hundreds and hundreds of movies. When I’m looking for my creative look, I just watched so many films, and a lot of old films. I’d have to go back and look at my look book to tell you all of them but I pull images from the weirdest places. But once I get past figuring out the creative look of the film, I don’t then like to watch the movies a lot because I try to really make it its own thing and I worry too much that I’ll be copycatting other artists and I want to try [to] avoid that.

What’s your favorite true-crime movie? Oh god, what was the one about the guy who like, went to the bathroom and confessed, accidentally? He forgot his mic was on? Do you remember that one?

The Jinx? Yeah. Even though it’s a documentary, I’m going to go with that.

What’s your favorite big-screen serial-killer performance? It has to be Luke Kirby. Luke Kirby as Bundy.

What was the first horror film you saw? My dad had me watch Cat People when I was nine. Does that count?

The Val Lewton one? The ’80s one.

Oh, the Paul Schrader one? Yes! The Paul Schrader one.

Nastassja Kinski in Paul Schrader’s ‘Cat People’ (1982).

When you were nine years old? Yeah. I also watched Blue Velvet when I was nine. Oh wow, thank you Dad.

What’s the most disturbing film you’ve ever seen? Most disturbing, hmm… Kids.

What film made you want to become a filmmaker? It was Michael Winterbottom’s Nine Songs. My first film was a reaction to that movie. I’m a huge Winterbottom fan. That’s a great movie, but also it advertises itself as being a real relationship and real sex and I watched it and I was like, well that’s not like any… it was like two models, you know? Their sex scenes were like a perfume ad and I was like, well that’s not what real sex looks like for real people. I made my first feature after that.

What’s your go-to comfort movie? Oh, so many, let’s think. The Proposal. I love Trainwreck. I really like rom-coms, like if I’m sick or something, I’ll watch rom-coms. Roman Holiday, stuff like that.

What’s a classic that you couldn’t get into or that you think is overrated? Umm. Star Wars. I’m trying to think, there’s something else that I just don’t like… everyone loves that singing movie. What’s that singing movie that when Moonlight won the Oscar, it got announced?

La La Land. Yeah. I was not into that.

What filmmaker living or dead do you envy/admire the most? Yorgos Lanthimos. Or Phoebe Waller-Bridge.

If you were forced to remake a classic movie, what would you remake? Grease.

Who would be in the cast of your Grease remake? Oh I don't even know but it would be much darker. It would still be a musical and still be funny, but much darker.

I would like to see that movie. I would too.

Related content

Diego’s list of films featuring the FBI

Boris1980’s list of films about serial killers

Follow Dominic on Letterboxd

‘No Man of God’ is in theaters and on VOD from August 27, 2021.

[dreamsofthescreen]

The Abstract Point Of A Clockwork Orange - Review

Released for streaming on Netflix two years ago, is this a so called ‘masterwork’ of a film, or just cinematic satire?

Malcolm McDowell in 'A Clockwork Orange'

Based on the book by Anthony Burgess, Stanley Kubrick’s 1971 adaptation of ‘A Clockwork Orange’, proved greatly controversial, yet influential. The dreamy, edgy swinging 60s sets up the scene for ultra violent home invasions and tortuously explicit murders performed by ‘The Droogs’. Released for streaming on Netflix two years ago, is this a so called ‘masterwork’ of a film, or just cinematic satire? Surrounding the idea of free will, this can be tossed around endlessly and reviewed in philosophy as something problematic. But is this film’s talk of freedom and suppression all really necessary? It’s upfront commentary on humanity that can be deemed as abstract, yet is this label of abstract just an excuse to glamorise the utter violence? Or does ‘A Clockwork Orange’ stand strongly with a point in hand? We can say both. The retro aesthetics, in terms of costume & production design that Kubrick can be recognised for, do play into the significance and absurdity of this work.

Set in a dystopian England where the governed rules are anything but at liberty for citizens, morals aren’t only tested, but are completely rejected. In this world, the government find order in good behaviour, something that the main character, Alex, (Malcolm McDowell) completely detests. Alex has no moral limits and gains pleasure from violence with no concern for the consequences. Within the first half an hour of the film, we see him and his gang of ‘droogs’ beat up a homeless man and mercilessly invade an old mans home, robbing it as well as raping and murdering his wife. Though labelled as a lesson in testing how far freedom of choice can go, A Clockwork Orange’s meaning can seem scattered.

Seen to represent someone so outwardly alive in his lack of concern for society, Alex’s mad challenging of human morals tests the meaning of freedom. But given themes, are they just barren and only strive to portray substance? It can just be seen as senseless violence for many. The intensely rebellious attitude is a reflection of the oppression faced in this film’s universe, and ultimately is an exaggerated comment on society today. Yet, you could say this about a film like Dirty Harry or Pulp Fiction, given their brutality. This theme, focusing on order vs chaos in society, is no doubt relevant, but however meaningful is it? The meaning left in it could be that, through it’s distressing realism, it so rawly opens ones eyes to today’s illicit society. Commenting on the confusion surrounding the film’s meaning, Kubrick stated that, “It is a story of the dubious redemption of a teenage delinquent by condition-reflex therapy. It is, at the same time, a running lecture on free-will.” Furthermore, author Anthony Burgess writes in ‘A Clockwork Orange Resucked’, that the meaning is in the title, ‘A Clockwork Orange’ referring to one who “has the appearance of an organism lovely with colour and juice, but is in fact only a clockwork toy to be wound up by God or the Devil or the Almighty State”. In saying this, Burgess does confirm that from his perspective, this is a comment on human nature being sucked away by a totalitarian government. Yet, even given the comment from the author, our perspective as an audience is truly subjective.

In the author’s word, commenting that ‘A Clockwork Orange’ reflects someone who “has the appearance of an organism lovely with colour…but is only a clockwork toy to be wound up by the Almighty State”, refers to our potential for evil, and the importance of it in human nature. This is certainly a thought provoking theme, as most of the film is. The extreme capabilities of human beings can be an incredibly positive light or looming darkness, given which we choose to act on. Yet when this potential is squashed by a higher state, we can question whether one has free will, if it is still controlled. In a scene where Alex’s rebellion in lessened by Ludovico’s Technique, a process in which he is brutally forced to watch films of atrociously violent acts, with treatment in order to make him physically sick at even the thought of committing any crime. In hope to make him less of a threat to present society, he is less of himself. Again, we can think about the fact that is is of course necessary to change such wicked behaviour, but we can also think about how it could be, had we not chosen to create any governed rules.

After seeing state officials confirm that Alex has been cured of his homicidal behaviours, a prison chaplain states, “Choice! The boy has not a real choice, has he? Self-interest, the fear of physical pain drove him to that grotesque act of self-abasement. The insincerity was clear to be seen. He ceases to be a wrongdoer. He ceases also to be a creature capable of moral choice.” In total, Alex’s behaviour is ceased to be wrong, but he is also ‘ceased to be capable of choosing for himself, since he had been rewired to believe what the state had wanted him to believe - that acts of violence simply are wrong. To the normal mind, this isn’t a hard concept to grasp, as we are surrounded by basic morals that tie in with our empathy. Yet to someone with more sociopathic or psychopathic tendencies, this concern isn’t there. So, again, Kubrick leaves us questioning whether or not people in this state of mind should have the choice there in the first place, as they are unable to distinguish that morals are important in humanity.

Furthermore, in 1973, Kubrick decided to ban A Clockwork Orange in the United Kingdom, due to continuous upheaval. Renowned film critic Roger Ebert gave it two out of four stars, stating that it was an “ideological mess”. Comments on it’s explicit sexuality, dehumanisation and violence were made, with some thinking that the point of the film in itself was missed. As some claimed it’s content was to create a raw piece of art, others claimed it an offensive excuse to pointlessly portray horrific scenes. And horrific the scenes are, though with fashionable features, the torturously disturbing scenes of ‘The Droogs’ murders’ are certainly crude, and have no backstory whatsoever. These brutal scenes can be seen as damaging to on audiences, or even dangerous. What kind of insight are audiences given when shown such destructiveness?

If we talk about the stylistic features of Kubrick’s adaptation, they have certainly played into it’s iconic status, having audiences sometimes classify it as a performance art piece, rather than a film. The renowned costumes of ‘the droogs’ have been used repetitively as Halloween costumes, as well as the storyline being referenced in The Simpsons. The production design is, without a doubt, gorgeous, kooky and as abstract as the film’s meaning. The interiors stun with colour blocking wallpapers, framed pictures of 1960s models and record players spinning in one room. The sense of 1960s jazz certainly is there, with a slanted, modern design, that Kubrick is known for in other works like ‘The Shining’. Whilst Alex and his gang members commit crime, they dance along to Gene Kelly’s ‘Singin’ In The Rain’, and as Alex is tested through Ludovico’s Technique, a recognisable symphony by Beethoven is played. The 1960s wardrobe bursts with colour, an exaggerated view of the Britain in the swinging sixties. Audiences are attracted to these joyful features like music and fashion, the stylistic features making it such a cult classic. A cult classic needs to be fashionable, but is this fashion in the film pretentious? Especially when surrounded by such violence, as though to say that it’s chaos can be softened by pretty interiors or a recognisable score. Or does it make it all the more disturbing through adding joyful song or colourful designs, as they so oppose the distressing acts that Alex and his droogs perform. Had it not had Kubrick’s touch, would we view it the same way? Though Academy Award winner Milena Canonero’s costumes and John Barry’s production design remaining outstanding, does their glamorisation gloss over the underlying trauma of the plot? This type of questioning is something we can participate in throughout watching Kubrick’s production, as both it’s ideas and meaning are not black and white. 

Kubrick’s adaptation of ‘A Clockwork Orange’ is clever in that it has us wondering whether or not it has a point, yet regardless, audiences are still left thinking about the impact of immoral behaviour and how our society responds to it. However consequential it attempts to be, it really can also be seen as blank, leaving audiences to decide on which to focus on. The pop-art aesthetics of the film can overrun the meaning or either try to stir us away from the barren landscape that it can be seen as. However strongly critiqued and analysed it may be, it’s meaning is all the more subjective, both creating interest and successfully winding up audiences.

Stars Out Of Five: 3.5/5

[blodreina-noumou]

question: how sexist do you think the show is? I used to think it used to be the height of feminism (I was a dumbass) but I want your opinion on what it does wrong, etc because as time goes on the way the narrative treats female characters is disturbing to say the least, at least to me

Be kind to yourself, anon - at one point, I do think this show was pretty good in terms of representing women in a diverse, positive way. While not “the height of feminism” (which is a tricky thing to pin down anyway,) the early seasons featured a range of women of all ages, abilities, races, and most sexual orientations. 

Back in 2014, when it premiered, I think it was actually doing pretty good work at not only featuring these female characters, but making sure that their storylines included agency and motivations that went beyond what the men in their lives wanted/needed.

But the show has slipped a lot since then. Not only have our standards lifted, but the writing itself has taken a serious dive, and season six was the lowest point so far, for me. If we look at the way the female characters’ motivations have changed from season to season, it’s clear that, at some point, the writers kind of forgot that these women have agency and conflicting motivations, and don’t just exist to prop up the missions of the men or children in their lives.

In s1 and s2, Clarke was all about making firm choices and sticking with them. She was motivated by the safety of her friends and the rest of The Hundred, and a general impulse to “do the right thing.” No one single person or role compelled her - she was flexible and realistically able to fit into leadership positions, rebellion stoking, and squad commander. Although she was backed into a corner, it still felt as though her choices were hers.

In s5 and s6, Clarke is a “mama bear” driven into a illogical frenzy at the thought of her adoptive daughter being put into any sort of danger whatsoever, despite that being a reality of the world when one actually has to interact with people. Her decisiveness becomes impulsiveness, and her motivations are drained of all their complexity. It just becomes “Madi, Madi, Madi,” with no room for anyone else, and even less room for flexibility. She’s one-note, now. By giving her exactly one motivation in her life, one singular person to focus all of her affection and need to protect on, she’s been stripped of all of her complexity and agency. This is made even worse by the fact that she spent half the season on ice, essentially dead to the world, while her body was inhabited by the most charming lil sociopath this show has ever seen - one Josephine Lightbourne. A character who should have been a refreshing return to that kind of complexity, but falls flat for her own reasons. 

In s6 we’re introduced to one of the most interesting characters in The 100 universe. A cunning, cutthroat, cold young woman with a cheery disposition and enough cleverness to kill a cat with a smile. Josie has been alive, on some level, for hundreds of years. She’s seen untold violence, and has become a greedy, selfish, cruel woman because of it. You would think that this kind of person’s return to life in this universe would’ve been earth-shattering - that she would’ve had some sort of epic, evil plan, motivated by the need to grab more and more power for herself. But what did Josie really, truly want in the end, more than anything? To reunite with her ex-boyfriend and body-snatch until the end of time, so she could stay with him, forever and ever. She was motivated, at the end of the day, purely by her romantic feelings for a man.

That’s disappointing to me. Especially because, in the latter half of the series, everyone’s motivations, but especially the women’s, end up coming down to one person - a person who is dependant on them for affection/comfort/softness/love, etc. Basically, everyone has now been hamstrung by their inability to focus on anything other than one person. And for each of the women, that’s often meant taking on the role of supportive girlfriend/mother, rather than having agency and goals of her own.

Other examples - Emori was a background character for most of season six, basically Harper Mcintyre’d, right up until her necessary betrayal of Josephine and Murphy becomes relevant to the plot. Echo was sidelined by her longterm romantic partner, ending up in serious danger, while he gallivanted off making googly eyes at his (old??) best friend, and this was treated as perfectly acceptable. Raven has been reduced to nagging shrew, and was also more or less set dressing until she become plot relevant to Madi’s story. Madi herself was the literal meat puppet of a creepy dude controlling her brain. Abby lived just long enough to make a meaningful sacrifice as a grandmother and then died. And so on.

I think that, as the series went on, and more and more characters and set dressings and crazy scenarios were added, the writers had to simplify character motivations and story arcs. If you just compare everything Raven went through and had to do in s2 (losing use of her leg; learning to use a brace; her romance with Wick; cracking the Mt Weather radios; figuring out how to stop the acid fog; watching her first love die; dealing with her grief; getting seriously wounded again at the end of the season, etc,) with what she had to do in s6 (work on a motorcycle; chastise Ryker for being a body-snatcher; watch Abby die; save Madi from Sheidheda) - it’s clear that the writers have shelved certain characters for the sake of others.

And what ate up the most time this season? The story of the Lightbournes, which is ultimately, yet again, a story about how a small group of people are solely motivated by protecting only each other, even if at the cost of everyone else. Specifically, Josephine is motivated by wanting to protect Gabriel from death forever, and her parents (particularly Russell) are motivated by making her happy, whatever the cost.

A cautionary tale for our OG heroes? Maybe, but it sure didn’t feel that way during the season.

The weird flipside of this is the way Bellamy and Russell existed purely for women in this season. Bellamy wanted nothing but to save Clarke, Russell wanted nothing but to save Josephine. But the difference is that, even within their singularly-focused motivations, Bellamy and Russell still had agency, and they both ended up making more decisions for the women in their lives than those women made for themselves. They moved the plot around the women, who simply had no choice but to react accordingly.

I think the show is trying to not be sexist, but in its current bloated state, it’s gotten really lazy, and the writers have lost sight of the complexity and characterization that made s1-s3 more impactful. I think JRoth and Co are probably bored with this universe - that’s why s6 was such an insane leap in tone, setting, and world-building.

And I think, like most human beings, they’ve allowed themselves to get comfortable with what they’ve already achieved. Unfortunately, the “good representation” aspect of this show has suffered a lot for it.

The short answer is: on a “how sexist” scale from 1-10, with 1 being “super sexist” and 10 being “not sexist at all” - we started at an 8, now we’re at about a 4. The show has done better. It will probably never do better again.

[ask-de-writer]

THE HOUSE, (part 1 of 3), a tale of Flocking Bay

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to Flocking Bay

THE HOUSE

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

7357 words

© 2020

Written 1990

All rights reserved.

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express consent of the author.

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Copyright fair use rules for Tumblr users

Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may reblog the story. They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions. I will allow those who do commission art works to charge for their images.

All sorts of Fan activity, Fiction, Art, Cosplay, Music, or any other thing is actively encouraged!

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I am John Peaslee, and I am writing this in the hope that it shall somehow be found and a cycle of greed and evil can be broken. Beware of Flocking Bay Realty Company and the old Wickes place!! But I am ahead of myself. Let me tell what has happened to me and you can judge for yourself.

It began innocently enough. My father died and I inherited a modest fortune. Taking a permanent leave of absence from my dull job, I left New York forever. I went north, up the Atlantic coast. Stopping for a day or a week as the whim took me, I came at last to the small town of Flocking Bay, Maine.

The bay, with its iron gray water and breakers like lead, flanked by headlands topped by hardwoods that became brooding pine forests on the inland ridges, captivated me. I determined to settle in that small New England town. Leaving my rented lodging near the water-front, I went to the Flocking Bay Bank of Maine. There, my funds were transferred and I inquired after a good Realtor.

I was directed to the Flocking Bay Realty Company and spent an unprofitable morning looking at small houses in the middle of town.

“I’ve showed you three good houses for a bachelor or a small family,” the Realtor said. “You don’t like any of ��em. Tell you what I think. You want somethin’ a bit older, more atmosphere to it. Right, son?”

“Yes, Sir, Mr. Jason,” I replied, “that’s just what’s wrong with those houses. Good for somebody that just wants a place to live. Not for me. I want a place where I can feel the age of this town in my bones.”

“Hum, none in the current listings, I’m afraid … I can only think of two that might suit …” he muttered softly. More briskly, he stated, “Son, there’s the oldest house in Flocking Bay, the Hilstrom house. It was built in 1658. Actually it was the first house ever built in Flocking Bay. Been continuously occupied by the Hilstroms since it was built. Only hitch is you can’t buy it… yet.”

“What’s the problem?”

“Old Hilstrom was at least 95 when he wandered off six years ago. Hasn’t been seen since. It’s still a year before he gets declared dead so̓’s the place can be sold to settle the estate.

“The other prospect is also an oldie. Built in eighteen an’ fifty two, it’s got gas lights, indoor plumbing, and all the conveniences of when it was built.”

“Gas lights?” I interrupted.

“No kidding, they really let you feel the age of the house. It’s the old Wickes place. It’s not in the regular listings. It’s up to settle an estate. You can get it for a song, if your voice is in the $50,000.00 range.”

“Sounds great if it’s in good shape,” I ventured.

Mr. Jason escorted me to his car. “I’ll let you see for yourself,” was his reply. Only a short drive out of the town proper, an easy walk, waited the Wickes place.

It was all that Mr. Jason had declared it to be. The stone and wrought iron fence was in excellent repair. The yard was immaculate, with roses, pansies, and violets in orderly beds. There was not a crack or weed to be seen in the brick drive that looped through the porte cochere at the front of the house. This last was two sprawling stories of the finest Carpenter Gothic architecture that it had ever been my pleasure to see. The roof was perfect, with not a loose shingle to be seen. Not so much as a cracked window disturbed its perfection.

“How did an estate property come to be so well kept?” I inquired.

“It gets seen to,” was the cryptic reply.

“And the windows?” I pressed.

“What about ‘em?” he parried.

“They’re all there. Aren’t there any rock-throwing children hereabouts?” I wanted to know.

“There’s kids. They mostly stay away, it’s a landmark,” he replied, abruptly changing the topic. “Notice them scale shingles? You don’t find ‘em that good any more. Shall we go in?” The elaborately carved front door opened onto an entry hall with wainscoted walls. The entry gave onto a transverse hall that ran the length of the first floor. To the left of the entry was a formal parlor. Its walls were of flocked paper, disturbed by well-executed but vaguely unsettling paintings that closer inspection revealed to be signed “Wickes.” All the furniture was early Victorian: end tables, settees, and chairs were elaborately carved, the upholstery perfect. The carpet on the floor was a genuine Persian antique.

The room across the entry hall was a sitting room. It, too, was impeccably appointed. The study was done with inlaid desk, escritoire, Mogul carpeting and oak paneling.

And the library! Books rose from knee level to ceiling on all four walls. There were sliding ladders to give access to those above reach.

I will not dwell on the mahogany paneled dining room or the bright copper-filled kitchen, except to say that they looked freshly cleaned. I assumed but did not ask, that some one from the town came in regularly to clean and care for the place. Even the upstairs bedrooms, bath and large ‘workroom’ showed not a spider web or speck of dust.

I had to have the Wickes place. The low price indicated that the estate was eager to sell. Back at Jason’s office, some sharp bargaining began. In the end we settled on a price of only $45,000.00, to be paid in a lump sum at closing. Since my money was already in a local call bank, there was no obstacle. I could scarcely believe this excellent piece of fortune.

In only a few days, my small car was parked in the porte cochere. Each trip in and out of the vestibule to unload my things told me that I was truly home… My clothing, cameras, a bit of camping gear, and a few other odds and ends of personal possessions were all that I had. I passed one of the most restful nights of my life in the massive four-poster in the master bedroom.

It occurred to me that I wanted to find out more about my unusual abode. As the next day was bright and sunny, I set out for a brisk walk into town.

I started at the Flocking Bay Courthouse. There, a clerk was very helpful in searching out tax and transfer records on my property. At first, she seemed a bit startled at which property I was looking up. A few dollars saw to the copying fees for the records that I wanted. She suggested that I might also try the town library.

Fortified with a pleasant lunch from a small café, I walked into the gloom of the library to continue my research. As soon as I identified the object of my quest, Mrs. Alderman, the librarian, pegged me as ‘one of them spook writers.’ Nothing short of force would have changed her mind. It did save me from a lot of rooting about on sagging dusty shelves. She had gathered most, if not all, of the information on that ‘creepy ol’ Wickes place’ into a single bulging file. I saw at once that there were several days worth of studying to do. The library had no copier and Mrs. Alderman refused to allow file materials to leave the library. I did not wholly blame her. The file was the result of much work and most of the things in it could not be replaced. There were letters, newspaper clippings, land records (including my own recent purchase!), an assay, a strange gold coin, court documents, a botanical report, and more. Some of the materials went back to 1851.

Begging some file folders from Mrs. Alderman, I began the task of sorting the file by subject and date. Long before I was done, I had to stop. The library was closing.

I walked home in the deepening twilight. A gentle breeze helped me on my way. The sky became pocked with stars. My mind was in a whirl from briefly seen headlines.

WICKES’ GOLD GOOD AS GOLD … FAMILY VANISHES … BOY GOES MAD …

And more, None seeming to fit any rational pattern. Once home, I spread the papers from the courthouse out on the beautifully inlaid desk in the study. In the soft glow of the gaslight I began to study. Just as a pattern was beginning to emerge, I heard something.

It sounded like a rat or perhaps several of them on the floor above. Seizing the flashlight that I kept in the kitchen, I went to look. As I went up the stairs, I became convinced that the rats were in the attic. It took a few moments to remember where the attic door was.

A comforting circle of light from the flash preceded me up the attic stair. No rats. Also no spider webs or dust.

It ceases to be good housekeeping when an attic has no cobwebs or dust. It is unnatural.

The rats seemed to be beneath me on the second floor. I followed the sound. By the time that I got there, the sounds had gone down to the first floor. Returning to the first floor, I could hear the rats sporting about in a basement that I did not know of.

A quick look around the first floor showed no doors that might lead to a basement. Giving up on the search for the spectral brigade of rats, I went to the kitchen and fixed myself a light dinner. Looking at the dates of sale, I saw the pattern that had eluded me before. Hiram Wickes had built the house in 1852. It was first sold in 1873, next in 1880, then at exact seven-year intervals until 1985. The last date marked my purchase.

I was the seventeenth owner of Wickes’ house. There was only one thing that I could think of that could account for such a regular cycle of sales. The file at the town library would show whether my notion was foolish. But that was for morning. I retired in the master bedroom’s four-poster. I slept fitfully.

In the morning, I walked into town once more. Light puffy clouds were gamboling in the sky like puppies. At a gnarled old oak in the park, I turned left. Dubbing the ancient oak the “Hanging Tree” in my mind, I strode under its branches, straight across the grass to the library.

Mrs. Alderman was pleased with the sorting that I was doing. She set the file before me once more. “You’re the best of them spook writers so far,” she told me. “You’re not just after a haunted house or mysterious disappearances. You’re settin’ the whole story into order. Make a great book, the way you’re goin’ at it.”

“I do hope so, Mrs. Alderman,” I replied.

“I hope that you’ll remember us with a copy of your book,” she fished hopefully.

“If I get published, you certainly will,” I hedged, feeling a bit guilty at the deception, as there was no book in the works. How could I explain what I was doing when I was not sure myself? That morning I finished sorting and started to take notes to try to keep the mass of information straight.

Since Hiram Wickes had built the house, I started with him. Little enough was known for sure. He had been apparently fluent in at least eight languages, and carried on an active correspondence around the globe. He was independently wealthy, although the source of his funds remained a mystery.

He was once jailed briefly, for counterfeiting. He was cleared when it was pointed out that it was perfectly legal to use foreign coin, provided that it was used by weight and not passed as a U.S. coin. An assay proved his coin to be 24 carat gold, exactly 2/5 of an ounce, troy. Hiram always paid for everything with his strange coins, at three to the ounce. He would never accept change. (One of the coins and the assay were in the file.)

In the year 1852, Hiram finished the most modern and up-to-date house in Flocking Bay. Even maids and other servants hired from town could not keep up with the sheer clutter and disorganization he caused. Hiram was not popular with servants. They came and went until 1866. There was no further mention of servants after that date.

Hiram’s disappearance in that year was a nine day’s wonder. His mail had been impounded for possible clues but nothing turned up. No heirs claimed the estate. In 1873 he was declared dead and the house was sold for back taxes.

A quick check of the court records part of the file turned up, not one, but fifty nine(!) court ordered death certificates, and seventeen land sales since 1851. The records revealed a seven year income merry-go-round for whoever would take advantage of it. Flocking Bay Realty Company had handled every sale since 1908. They had always sold the house to folks from out of town …

It was closing time before I had finished putting this picture together. As I crossed the park the wind was buffeting me from the left and clouds roiled overhead. Just at my ‘hanging tree,’ my foot caught on something in the grass. When I had recovered my balance, I saw that I had tripped on a bronze plaque on a low stone.

It said:

“This tree is dedicated to the memory of Hiram Wickes. If ever he returns, may he be hanged therefrom!

Dedicated by Harold Oates.

- 1880 -”

I turned right, up the street, and made for home. I was pursued by clouds like hounds baying wind at my back and slathering rain drops at my heels. I barely beat the storm home. Watching the lightning from the bay window of the dining room, I ate a cold supper in silence. I saw the lights fail in the town and was glad of the gaslights in the house.

Shortly after sunset, I heard the rats again. They were in the basement that did not exist. I resolved to find the basement, if there was one. I figured that it had to have a hidden door or trapdoor. I moved the furniture and carpets of the first floor. Nothing.

Next==>

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to Flocking Bay

[tessatechaitea]

Batman Loves Superman #2

Hey DC! Stop portraying people who laugh as pure evil!

I don't know what genius centrist character speaks first in this comic book but fuck them.

People love to make statements that make them sound above it all. Statements that let them get away with sounding like a logical and rational person while really exposing the terrible things they believe. "Weapons are only tools." The "only" in that statement speaks volumes. They're defending weapons. Weapons are neutral. They're beyond blame. They're innocuous. Their follow-up statement providing evidence to bolster the first statement, "means to an end," shows that they don't give a fuck about context. What "end" are you trying to reach if your tools are weapons? Silverware are only tools as well, a means to an end, but we know that the end reached by silverware almost certainly is simply an empty tub of ice cream as opposed to a school full of murdered children. Oh no! Look at me bringing up murdered children to play on the emotions of the audience! How dare I bring in a real world example of an end that the means of these mere tools brings about! If your defense of weapons are that they're simply tools to be used to reach a particular end, you can't just ignore that the "end" you're discussing in the most general terms is violence. Weird that people who can't wait to be attacked so they can kill somebody and prove that their choice to carry a weapon was the right one often try to distance themselves from the inherent violence of their beloved weapon. The person speaking is Commissioner Gordon who laughed last issue so he's obviously a monster. I guess he's trying to point out that the real evil has been locked away at Arkham and the tools the evil people used aren't dangerous on their own which is why they've been locked in an armory outside Gotham City. He's come to liberate them with the help of a mystery person who has a sort of claw hand (Black Condor?!). A good writer would reveal who it was because they know that would get the reader really excited about Batman and Superman's confrontation with them. A good writer continually gives up surprising information. A mediocre writer hides as much as possible from the reader because it's the only way they can make a story suspenseful. Meanwhile, Shazam has begun calling himself "Earth's Mightiest Nightmare." See, he usually calls himself "Earth's Mightiest Mortal" so you can see how hilarious his wordplay is. But don't laugh because you don't want to appear wicked to the people around you.

Bullshit. Batman absolutely wants to fight him.

Shazam uses his magic lightning to try to destroy Batman but Batman just dodges because he probably trained with Himalayan Lightning Dodgers years ago. When Shazam uses his magic for evil, The Phantom Stranger's nose bleeds and Zatanna gets severe cramps. I guess magic in the DC Universe is like the Force in Star Wars. It's disturbing and shit. Superman almost gets the upper hand but, as I pointed out how the exciting battle might go last issue, Shazam turns back into Billy Batson to remind Superman he's fighting a child. So Superman is all, "Aw, shucks! I didn't mean nothing! You can fight it, Billy! Stop finding things funny!" But then Shazam is all, "SHAZAM! Fooled you!", and Superman is all, "D'oh!", and Batman is all, "SMDH." But remember! Batman is the king of the DC Universe! So he's definitely got a way to stop Shazam. I bet he's got a Bat-Monkey's Paw in his belt with two wishes left on it. Batman doesn't like to talk about the first wish and why Alfred now has to care for that tiny pianist living in the terrarium in the study. Batman doesn't use his Bat-Monkey's Paw to save the day but if you thought that idea was completely ludicrous, you'd better prepare your mind for Joshua Williamson's solution.

Batman finds the Batman Who Laughs Batwing, flies it up in the sky where Superman and Shazam are battling, and then, um, I don't know. He launches himself out the cockpit window against the g-forces of the accelerating Batwing? I suppose Batman learned to do this while training with the Sheep Hoppers of Aberdeen?

Um. Wait a second. Is Batman the greatest detective or am I because I think I just solved the mystery of the six heroes turned into Heroes Who Laugh.

The poison batarangs all have the symbols of the hero they're meant to infect on them! Just look more closely at the molds you found, idiots!

Shazam escapes because Superman held back and because Superman had to save Batman after Batman thought he could beat Shazam by crashing through the sturdy glass of a jet's cockpit while it was accelerating while only having a boomerang as a weapon. I guess Batman is only as smart as the writer writing him. He should have used his fucking Bat-Monkey's Paw. Later at the Bermuda Triangle Fortress of Solitude, Batman and Superman note that each Batarang Who Laughs has been infused with a specific Batman Who Laughs Juice based on the DNA of the intended victim. What they don't notice is that the Shazam one was a lightning bolt on it and the Superman one has the Kryponian symbol for hope (I know. Lame back story on the "S" on Supe's chest) on it and that they found the fucking molds for six Batarangs Who Laugh. Which means the answer to who else has been infected is in their stupid hands! Unless I'm supposed to believe that the symbols were carved onto the Batarangs Who Laugh after the fact. Which I totally don't even though that would probably be the way to do it seeing as how you're probably going to want to eventually make more than just six heroes laugh. My real opinion on this situation is that Joshua Williamson didn't actually think it through very well. Batman and Superman don't know what to do so they decide to pretend Superman was infected by Shazam. Shazam knows he didn't infect Superman but I'm sure he won't say anything to the Good Guys Who Laugh and ruin Batman and Superman's surprise when Superman goes undercover to work with the Batman Who Laughs. I'm sure failing to infect Superman so that Superman would have to pretend he's the Superman Who Laughs and thus free the Batman Who Laughs so he can find out the Batman Who Laughs plans is totally the Batman Who Laughs' plan. Because whatever the heroes do to stop the bad guys in the beginning of a story is always exactly what the bad guy knew the good guy would do. They're evil geniuses, remember! And Batman and Superman fell for it! Batman Loves Superman #2 Rating: C. If you didn't read this comic book yourself for a real world example, let me tell you how a mediocre writer writes a comic book: first, the bad guy attacks the heroes rather than doing something criminal or evil while trying to avoid the attention of the heroes. That's because a mediocre writer doesn't know how to write heroes discovering crimes being committed and instead need the villain to wave a lot and shout and say, "Hey! Jerks! I'm doing crime!" Or, better yet, have the criminal's entire plan simply be "I will antagonize the heroes for petty vengeance!" After that, the heroes will fail to stop the criminal. Depending on how long the story is, the heroes will either have to redouble their efforts and super believe in themselves to rally and win the day or the heroes will begin plans to defeat the villain. If they begin plans which make them seem like they're getting the upper hand, those plans will always be exactly what the villain wanted to happen in the first place. The heroes will then be defeated again just when they thought they were going to win! At that point, they'll probably need to do the rallying thing where they just fight a little bit harder than they did before and believe a little bit more than they believed before to show their strength of character and will. Because good always has stronger will and greater strength of character than evil! I really wish a writer would simply come up with a genius plan by the villain that isn't simply the villain saying, "They're falling right into my plans," after whatever the fuck bullshit the writer wrote. How these evil geniuses can plan such complicated and intricate plans that rely on knowing exactly what every hero is going to do is beyond my limited comprehension. I might even say it's contrived bullshit!

[qwertythepopstarian08]

JSAB Fanfic: Duality

Okay, so I promised @small--crcle on anon that I’d write a fanfiction for the Reverse Superhero AU that was briefly mentioned on their blog. The idea’s been nagging at me for awhile now, so I finally sat down and finished it.

The Reverse Superhero AU is VERY loosely inspired by Danny Phantom, Miraculous Ladybug, and any other superhero media in which the main character’s alter egos are the enemies of their parents. Because, y’know, ANGST FUEL.

Sadly, this pushed back production of Feeling Blue and Grey Area a bit, but I worked just as hard on this story, so I hope everyone enjoys.

For anyone who doesn’t know, @small--crcle has a swap AU askblog that’s pretty neat, so... go follow them for the original source. Trust me, I can’t do it justice.

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy (and forgive me for inactivity ugh).

Description: An AU in which instead of shapes and beats, there are heroes and villains. However, one villain... isn’t that bad.

At thirteen, Blixer already has more scars than one could count. He’s weak, fragile, most of his peers say. They’d probably be right, had it not been for New Game. New Game simultaneously fixes everything and ruins it as well. New Game is part of him, but it’s still another shape altogether.

Blixer’s horns are cracked and brittle, and several cracks and fractures, chips from being thrown around by monsters, riddle his face and arms; he always keeps the scars from battle. New Game can’t be harmed, so it passes the hurt onto Blixer.

Each villain is more dangerous than the last. Blixer wishes he’d never gotten these powers. Everything is after him, wanting nothing more than to shatter him until there’s nothing left but dust. He thinks he’s about to do just that as he struggles through each day.

He walks down the street, towards his step-dad’s house, his only safe haven. It’s raining, icy water pelting him from above, most likely the precursor to some weather-based monster rearing its beastly head. Whatever it was, New Game would deal with it later, anyway. Nothing came after Blixer. They didn’t have to; he was a mess, already.

He stared down at the puddles, just waiting for them to ice over right before his eyes. Of course, all he sees is New Game, the being who ruined his life, who continued to save his life, who stole his life.

New Game grinned back, as usual. Blixer didn’t think it could stop. Frankly, he didn’t care. There was no point in contemplation; in a few hours, when night fell and that thing took over, it would be his face that was pulled into that cursed rictus grin. It would be his form that would be twisted into one of the very monsters that he fought to protect the city from  with his life.

And once again, he and his alter ego would be one and the same.

Shaking his head to rid himself of the thought, Blixer kept walking, his nublike horns drooping, his eye trained straight forward so as to avoid eye contact with his reflection. No one else can see it, after all, so he doesn’t bother speaking to it.

Nonetheless, the being chimed in, reading his thoughts, “So, Blix, what do you think we’ll have to fight tonight?” It chuckled in that horrible, evil laugh. Blixer is sure that he’s the only thing keeping New Game from going completely mad. New Game continues with a snicker, “Maybe it’ll be Cia… Ooh! Or, that mysterious cyan beast will show up. I’ve wanted to shatter him for ages.”

Blixer refused to look down, although he hissed under his breath, “The cyan one never attacks us. He’s tough, so we should try to keep it that way.” He winced as his most damaged horn suddenly throbbed with pain, reaching up to hold his head. “Unlike you, I don’t have a death wish.”

New Game only giggled, its smile stretching. “I can’t die, silly! Been there, done that, and now I’m glued to your soul.”

Blixer chose to ignore that last comment, quickening his pace. He was just a few blocks away from Kubix’s house, and if he wanted to get any rest, he needed to get home before sundown. The sky was a dismal grey, although Blixer knew from experience not to underestimate how fast the time could slip. Time seemed to drag on in the minutes before sundown, but from the moment he left school, to the moment the sun hit the horizon, it was quicker than he could process.

He zoned out, distracted by his thoughts, moving on autopilot as he approached the great doors to Kubix’s home. The square was rich, that was for sure, but he insisted on living in a smaller neighborhood to be close to Blixer. It was a sweet gesture, although Kubix could be cold at times. It was just another odd factor, a detail that Blixer often overlooked, attributing it to the other nonsense of his life.

He stepped inside, silent, not wanting to disturb Kubix in whatever he was doing. The square almost always seemed to be busy in the afternoon. Busy with what, Blixer never dared ask. If there was anything else he was sure about when it came to his mysterious relative, it was that he was secretive.

There were no mirrors or reflective surfaces inside. It was always dark, the curtains and blinds shut tightly. Blixer couldn’t say that he liked the darkness, although it made it easier to sleep, at least until the inevitable happened.

He was extra tired today. His feet dragged with each step, and his horns drooped, looking more frail than usual. His eye was glassy and unfocused, although its glow grew brighter with each passing moment, as it grew closer to sundown.

Without so much as a word, Blixer retreated to his room, going straight to sleep. He cared little for homework, only thinking of his crucial rest. After all, in just three hours, the monsters would awaken, ready to hunt down the worst monster of them all: him.

The sun retreated, the moon taking its place. The day was over. The evil, once chased away by the light of day, reared its head, and where there was once order, chaotic beasts came out to play.

New Game opened his eyes, his grin already stretching across his face. His entire body glowed with an almost radioactive light, fueled by a restless energy. It was his favorite time of day; hunting down villainous beasts. He was in no way a hero, but he knew full well that he was the city’s best hope for protection against evil.

Standing, he approached the window, throwing the curtains aside. The window itself was already open, already awaiting his arrival, the moon’s pristine light shining in and beckoning him.

New Game grinned, climbing out to sit on the ledge, to admire the stars for a moment before all chaos broke loose.

The moment passed in an instant, the heart rate in his eye starting to beat madly. He scrambled down the roof, catching himself with his claws as he slid down. Of course, he lost his grip. A roof shingle came down with him as he crashed onto the grass, although he felt nothing.

Blixer was his scapegoat for pain. New Game almost felt bad for him, although the sympathy faded as the being laid, splayed out on the grass, bright pink “blood” already pooling beneath him.

It wasn’t really blood; he couldn’t be hurt.

He just stayed there, collecting himself, staring blankly at the moon above, his smile constant. He thought about pain; Blixer was always complaining about it, so it must have been fun. Anything that annoyed Blixer seemed to be fun. So New Game tried to feel pain.

In five minutes, he was bored. New Game stood, his grin twitching, his good eye narrowing as he looked around. It was oddly peaceful tonight. Not even Droplet’s minions had shown their faces.

He was… lonely.

Horns drooping, New Game found himself standing there, listening to the wind, waiting for something to happen. He couldn’t sleep, so there was no escape from this emptiness… Without another word, he teleported to the top of some skyscraper. He didn’t care exactly where; he just wanted a better view of the sky, beyond the clouds.

He watched the stars for the longest time, sure than an eternity had passed. It was peaceful, even with the sound of passing traffic and the clamouring of the city. This… was the only thing that could placate him...

The sound of a twig snapping alerted the antihero to the presence of another shape… he wasn’t alone.

Whirling around, New Game tensed, his heart monitor quickening in pace as he eyed the being before him, expecting a fight. He immediately began formulating a plan of action, although he knew that, if it was a lower-level enemy, he’d just rush in blindly, anyway; it was more fun that way.

His smile nearly dropped, his heartbeat flatlining for a moment as he processed the sight before him. The shape wasn’t cerulean blue or even red, like most of the corrupted villains. He wasn’t some incoherent beast, either. The shape was just a normal square, set apart only by his expensive-looking clothes and the wicked horns that curved from his head.

A single, fearful word escaped New Game, “King?”

No one knew the true name of the infamous cyan beast. All the other criminals of the night lived in fear of the being, afraid to merely utter his title. Usually, if he was causing any trouble at all, he was causing it for the other villains, although he was by no means a good shape, even in New Game’s eyes. He’d seen this monster shatter innocents before his own eyes, a deed that not even the antihero would even think of, let alone attempt.

The King of Chaos let a small grin quirk at his features. He made no move to fight, although New Game still tensed, his near-constant grin threatening to drop.

“Calm yourself,” King huffed. He raised a hand, shaking his head. “I wish not to harm you, only to talk.”

New Game tensed. “And how am I supposed to believe that?” His voice raised its volume, a growl clear in his tone. “You’re a monster, you-”

“Blixer.” King cut him off, his tone cold, yet nonthreatening. “I promise not to hurt you.”

A slight feeling of relief blossomed in New Game’s heart, undoubtedly appealing to his other half’s fearful nature. However, one word in the other shape’s promise made the pink being’s stomach twist with unease.

“How…” The alter ego staggered back, bristling. “How do you know that name?”

No one was supposed to know of his connection to Blixer. Unlike him, Blixer could be harmed, and rather easily, at that. If the most dangerous villain of all discovered him… Blixer was as good as shards.

New Game kept his voice low as he growled, “You’re not supposed to know that.”

The cyan being’s gaze became distant, before he looked away, his voice lowering. “I know much more than that. More than you can imagine.”

New Game suddenly lashed out, discomforted by the other night-dweller’s phrasing. One of his arms reformed into a large claw, which he held at King’s neck, hissing.

“Y-you’re really insane, you know that, buddy? And that’s coming from me!” He stepped closer, his movements shaky. “I knew you were trouble! I’ll shatter you before you can get CLOSE to Blixer!”

King eyed the glowing claw with a bored expression, although something changed in his tone, his nonchalance seeming to falter. New Game felt a bit of satisfaction well up in his core; was that… fear?

Pushing the claw aside with a hand, King hummed in musing. “Bold of you to assume I would ever harm you… either of you.” His cyan eyes softened, if only slightly. “I was merely looking out for you. Just because we are considered enemies doesn’t mean I desire to bring you harm.”

New Game yelled, “That’s exactly what that means!”

Nonetheless, King smirked. “Well, then I suppose we aren’t enemies.” He approached New Game slowly, his hands held up in plain view so as to ensure that he wouldn’t try anything.

The antihero stumbled back, only stopping when he found himself standing on the edge of the building, gravity almost pulling him over. King caught his transformed arm, ignoring the spikes, dragging him closer to the center of the roof.

He stepped back as New Game was returned to stable ground, his smile still present.

New Game refused to look at him, averting his gaze to stare at the bustling streets below. The streets were alight with yellow light, packed with commuters, travelling shapes who would’ve normally cleared out as soon as a monster appeared. New Game hadn’t seen the city this active in months.

He had a feeling that King had something to do with it...

Taking a chance, he mumbled, “You’re not a villain, are you?”

“Oh, of course I am,” King chuckled, grinning with sharp teeth. “The most dangerous of them all.”

The alter ego closed his good eye, his heart rate eye displaying a slow beat.

“Then why?” He turned fully away from King, hoping that he would vanish. “Why do you help me? Is it a joke to you? Are you just... bored?”

At this point, New Game was just listing his own reasons for being a hero. He wasn’t a good person. He wasn’t nice. He tormented Blixer all day just to keep his body running all night until it broke. He only did the right thing because no one else would, and he liked to fight.

He was just another monster, a demon that had just happened to get stuck to a good person, to be influenced by altruism instead of greed and anger. But at his core, he was just a parasite with nothing better to do.

So what made King different?

Much to his shock, the ruler of chaos spoke up, his voice suddenly taking on a softer tone, sounding eerily familiar to someone that Blixer himself held dear.

“I cannot bear to see a child get hurt, Blixer.” King stepped closer. New Game heard him, although he made no move to escape. He felt himself being pulled into a hug, his anxiety skyrocketing as his instincts told him to shatter the other shape on the spot. However, King’s next words made New Game’s mind fill with something other than restless anger, something more than a bored listlessness.

He retorted, “That’s… that can’t...” He trailed off, defeated. There was nothing to say.

King whispered, the strange, otherworldly echo leaving his tone, his formal language dropping in favor for something kinder, something familiar. “Blix, I’ve told you this before…” New Game’s will to fight melted away, and he was filled with a different kind of fear, a denial that made both Blixer and himself want to scream, to make it go away. The worst monster in the word couldn’t be him, not HIM of all shapes.

Tears welled up in his eyes, and he found himself choking on his own breath, unable to process the conclusion his mind was putting together. The shock was greater than anything that New Game had felt, so great that he felt Blixer wake up, although he refused to take control.

Both of them were awake, awake to hear the truth.

King, or rather, Kubix, continued, his voice airy, filled with a parental love instead of that cold, calculating tone from before. Suddenly, he wasn’t a monster, wasn’t the most terrifying thing that dared to appear, who was just biding his time until he inevitably shattered Blixer.

No, it was just Kubix. Emotionally disconnected, awkward, Kubix. Blixer’s only guardian. He wasn’t much of a fighter, but he’d shatter to protect his son.

New Game’s heart nearly stopped at the next words, although he’d heard them countless times before, knew them by heart.

“I can’t let a kid get hurt… especially not my own.”

The King of Chaos was New Game’s only guardian. He wasn’t the best person, but he’d shatter to protect his heir.

[popculturespiritwow]

THE WICKED + THE DIVINE #28: COMING OUT PARTY

FLOAT LIKE A BUTTERFLY

For me, the beginning of issue 28 especially on reread and knowing a couple of the twists to come is sort of like boxing Ali. Gillen floats around catching you off guard again and again until you’re just sort of dancing there on your own. Not only does David have a son and a long-departed Asian (ahem) wife but his son is Woden (supposedly) (nice job bro) and yet another riff on Larkin playing out.   Oh and all of that is a lie, Woden having totally played the moment (and Cassandra) brilliantly with a classic super villain origin story, complete with school for evil geniuses mental institution vibe. And woven in we’ve got this tremendous argument about identity between Woden and Cass which takes everything to such a deeper place.

Each one of those steps is so unexpected and pleasurable as a reader, I find it leaves me less interested in “figuring it all out” (aka trying to assert control) and more interested in just going with it. Woden’s words to Cassandra really are a challenge to us: comic book-as-puzzle readers, screw you.

There is one mystery I can’t let go of, though. Whose room are we in those first pages?

It’s gotta be Jon’s right? We’ve got that poster of a Transformer type robot, the de rigeur poster of women in slinky outfits (do we still say slinky?) and another of a Terminator-like shirtless sunglasses guy with a gun. It all screams teenager.

But that family photo Cass finds there, Jon as a baby with his parents, I don’t know, it seems much more a “parents remembering the beginning of their family” photo than the kind of thing a kid has in his room. Maybe it’s the last picture before David drove Jon’s mom away? Or the only moment of happy family he has?

Or – and this is a reach – could this actually be David’s room? It seems small, admittedly, again much more child’s bedroom than parent’s. But most of those posters absolutely fit Woden’s gross adult-adolescence. (The Transformer not so much, though it, too, is quite an image of male power.) And somehow the idea that this could be Woden’s room makes him even more disturbing than I already had him at, which makes me think it absolutely has to be at the least a space he spends time in and oh God can we please move on?

PREY-ER...

I go back and forth on what exactly Laura has been up to with Sakhmet. She doesn’t want to talk about her feelings, Laura, why do you keep bringing them up? To me, it reads a little like a false lead to keep “But is she the Destroyer for real though?” alive.

Maybe it’s another form of driving your motorcycle into the embankment – I’ll just keep poking the tiger until it rips my throat out and takes me out of my misery?

In this particular issue, though, it’s clear that Laura is also trying to understand the horror she sees herself as having caused/causing. Who better for the Destroyer to hang with than one who destroys. Some dark dark stuff going on there.

...AND PREY

Meanwhile being an unfeeling sex monster is about not getting hurt. Except as it turns out, it’s precisely in bed–and at the hands of Ammy of all people--that Sakhmet is forced to face her own vulnerability. 

In his Notes Kieron has really interesting things to say about how he and Jamie think about sex scenes.

In part, those scenes are meant for us to observe, they’re about us watching, and all the chars here are POV, we don’t want them to be the objects of our view.

Also, we don’t learn anything from the sex. We learn from the choice to have sex and how you feel afterwards. So do lots of that.

What I love about having sex be the context here is that it is Sakhmet’s seat of power, the place she feels safest: here she is the mirror that prevents her being seen, the hunter surrounded by prey, and it is here that she ends up being hurt. It’s brilliant. Even as she is completely wrong in her judgment that everyone thinks her a fool and has been laughing behind her back (can you imagine ANYONE EVER laughing at or about Sakhmet except maybe Luci? I mean, those claws...) – in fact the scene reveals that she is indeed a fool, precisely because she has thought she was safe.

At least when all’s been said and done and revealed she takes the time to eat a little something.

AMMENTO MORI

Is it notable that this is the first time we’ve seen an Ammy service since the very first issue? Probably, though they don’t make a point of how Laura’s life has changed since. If anything the comparison is more about how Ammy has changed, how much more confidently unhinged she is. Most specifically...

This sequence is such a fantastic contrast with the pure apotheotic godliness of our first experience of Ammy in in issue one.

In fact, it leaves you wondering what did we even see in her back then. Which I guess in a way is what Laura must be feeling, too...

DEAR DIARY

Obviously there’s a lot to consider in the very fact that Ananke precedes her likely death by writing a heartfelt letter. It tells us there’s someone else out there that not only knows what’s going on but has the power to get involved. Someone who seems to care for her.

Knowing what we know as of a few issues down the road, it’s almost certainly Baal, isn’t it? He’s the one she’s told the most, and manipulated the best.

Of course, there’s also the question that has floated through the series all along like oil scum on a pond, is it possible that Ananke is actually in some awful way a white hat? We’re definitely in the realm of both/and here – you can’t do what she’s done to any of these characters and not be a full and total monster. But it’s hard not to see this private moment and not gain some degree of pathos for the lady. (Dagnab it.)

(Just realized -- is it me or is this also the very first time we’ve seen Ananke without some kind of mask? God, she’s actually being vulnerable here, isn’t she? ARGH. LET ME KEEP MY PREJUDICES.)

[araitsume]

The Desire of Ages, pp. 68-74: Chapter (7) As a Child

This chapter is based on Luke 2:39, 40.

The childhood and youth of Jesus were spent in a little mountain village. There was no place on earth that would not have been honored by His presence. The palaces of kings would have been privileged in receiving Him as a guest. But He passed by the homes of wealth, the courts of royalty, and the renowned seats of learning, to make His home in obscure and despised Nazareth.

Wonderful in its significance is the brief record of His early life: “The child grew, and waxed strong in spirit, filled with wisdom: and the grace of God was upon Him.” In the sunlight of His Father's countenance, Jesus “increased in wisdom and stature, and in favor with God and man.” Luke 2:52. His mind was active and penetrating, with a thoughtfulness and wisdom beyond His years. Yet His character was beautiful in its symmetry. The powers of mind and body developed gradually, in keeping with the laws of childhood.

As a child, Jesus manifested a peculiar loveliness of disposition. His willing hands were ever ready to serve others. He manifested a patience that nothing could disturb, and a truthfulness that would never sacrifice integrity. In principle firm as a rock, His life revealed the grace of unselfish courtesy.

With deep earnestness the mother of Jesus watched the unfolding of His powers, and beheld the impress of perfection upon His character. With delight she sought to encourage that bright, receptive mind. Through the Holy Spirit she received wisdom to co-operate with the heavenly agencies in the development of this child, who could claim only God as His Father.

From the earliest times the faithful in Israel had given much care to the education of the youth. The Lord had directed that even from babyhood the children should be taught of His goodness and His greatness, especially as revealed in His law, and shown in the history of Israel. Song and prayer and lessons from the Scriptures were to be adapted to the opening mind. Fathers and mothers were to instruct their children that the law of God is an expression of His character, and that as they received the principles of the law into the heart, the image of God was traced on mind and soul. Much of the teaching was oral; but the youth also learned to read the Hebrew writings; and the parchment rolls of the Old Testament Scriptures were open to their study.

In the days of Christ the town or city that did not provide for the religious instruction of the young was regarded as under the curse of God. Yet the teaching had become formal. Tradition had in a great degree supplanted the Scriptures. True education would lead the youth to “seek the Lord, if haply they might feel after Him, and find Him.” Acts 17:27. But the Jewish teachers gave their attention to matters of ceremony. The mind was crowded with material that was worthless to the learner, and that would not be recognized in the higher school of the courts above. The experience which is obtained through a personal acceptance of God's word had no place in the educational system. Absorbed in the round of externals, the students found no quiet hours to spend with God. They did not hear His voice speaking to the heart. In their search after knowledge, they turned away from the Source of wisdom. The great essentials of the service of God were neglected. The principles of the law were obscured. That which was regarded as superior education was the greatest hindrance to real development. Under the training of the rabbis the powers of the youth were repressed. Their minds became cramped and narrow.

The child Jesus did not receive instruction in the synagogue schools. His mother was His first human teacher. From her lips and from the scrolls of the prophets, He learned of heavenly things. The very words which He Himself had spoken to Moses for Israel He was now taught at His mother's knee. As He advanced from childhood to youth, He did not seek the schools of the rabbis. He needed not the education to be obtained from such sources; for God was His instructor.

The question asked during the Saviour's ministry, “How knoweth this man letters, having never learned?” does not indicate that Jesus was unable to read, but merely that He had not received a rabbinical education. John 7:15. Since He gained knowledge as we may do, His intimate acquaintance with the Scriptures shows how diligently His early years were given to the study of God's word. And spread out before Him was the great library of God's created works. He who had made all things studied the lessons which His own hand had written in earth and sea and sky. Apart from the unholy ways of the world, He gathered stores of scientific knowledge from nature. He studied the life of plants and animals, and the life of man. From His earliest years He was possessed of one purpose; He lived to bless others. For this He found resources in nature; new ideas of ways and means flashed into His mind as He studied plant life and animal life. Continually He was seeking to draw from things seen illustrations by which to present the living oracles of God. The parables by which, during His ministry, He loved to teach His lessons of truth show how open His spirit was to the influences of nature, and how He had gathered the spiritual teaching from the surroundings of His daily life.

Thus to Jesus the significance of the word and the works of God was unfolded, as He was trying to understand the reason of things. Heavenly beings were His attendants, and the culture of holy thoughts and communings was His. From the first dawning of intelligence He was constantly growing in spiritual grace and knowledge of truth.

Every child may gain knowledge as Jesus did. As we try to become acquainted with our heavenly Father through His word, angels will draw near, our minds will be strengthened, our characters will be elevated and refined. We shall become more like our Saviour. And as we behold the beautiful and grand in nature, our affections go out after God. While the spirit is awed, the soul is invigorated by coming in contact with the Infinite through His works. Communion with God through prayer develops the mental and moral faculties, and the spiritual powers strengthen as we cultivate thoughts upon spiritual things.

The life of Jesus was a life in harmony with God. While He was a child, He thought and spoke as a child; but no trace of sin marred the image of God within Him. Yet He was not exempt from temptation. The inhabitants of Nazareth were proverbial for their wickedness. The low estimate in which they were generally held is shown by Nathanael's question, “Can there any good thing come out of Nazareth?” John 1:46. Jesus was placed where His character would be tested. It was necessary for Him to be constantly on guard in order to preserve His purity. He was subject to all the conflicts which we have to meet, that He might be an example to us in childhood, youth, and manhood.

Satan was unwearied in his efforts to overcome the Child of Nazareth. From His earliest years Jesus was guarded by heavenly angels, yet His life was one long struggle against the powers of darkness. That there should be upon the earth one life free from the defilement of evil was an offense and a perplexity to the prince of darkness. He left no means untried to ensnare Jesus. No child of humanity will ever be called to live a holy life amid so fierce a conflict with temptation as was our Saviour.

The parents of Jesus were poor, and dependent upon their daily toil. He was familiar with poverty, self-denial, and privation. This experience was a safeguard to Him. In His industrious life there were no idle moments to invite temptation. No aimless hours opened the way for corrupting associations. So far as possible, He closed the door to the tempter. Neither gain nor pleasure, applause nor censure, could induce Him to consent to a wrong act. He was wise to discern evil, and strong to resist it.

Christ was the only sinless one who ever dwelt on earth; yet for nearly thirty years He lived among the wicked inhabitants of Nazareth. This fact is a rebuke to those who think themselves dependent upon place, fortune, or prosperity, in order to live a blameless life. Temptation, poverty, adversity, is the very discipline needed to develop purity and firmness.

Jesus lived in a peasant's home, and faithfully and cheerfully acted His part in bearing the burdens of the household. He had been the Commander of heaven, and angels had delighted to fulfill His word; now He was a willing servant, a loving, obedient son. He learned a trade, and with His own hands worked in the carpenter's shop with Joseph. In the simple garb of a common laborer He walked the streets of the little town, going to and returning from His humble work. He did not employ His divine power to lessen His burdens or to lighten His toil.

As Jesus worked in childhood and youth, mind and body were developed. He did not use His physical powers recklessly, but in such a way as to keep them in health, that He might do the best work in every line. He was not willing to be defective, even in the handling of tools. He was perfect as a workman, as He was perfect in character. By His own example He taught that it is our duty to be industrious, that our work should be performed with exactness and thoroughness, and that such labor is honorable. The exercise that teaches the hands to be useful and trains the young to bear their share of life's burdens gives physical strength, and develops every faculty. All should find something to do that will be beneficial to themselves and helpful to others. God appointed work as a blessing, and only the diligent worker finds the true glory and joy of life. The approval of God rests with loving assurance upon children and youth who cheerfully take their part in the duties of the household, sharing the burdens of father and mother. Such children will go out from the home to be useful members of society.

Throughout His life on earth, Jesus was an earnest and constant worker. He expected much; therefore He attempted much. After He had entered on His ministry, He said, “I must work the works of Him that sent Me, while it is day: the night cometh, when no man can work.” John 9:4. Jesus did not shirk care and responsibility, as do many who profess to be His followers. It is because they seek to evade this discipline that so many are weak and inefficient. They may possess precious and amiable traits, but they are nerveless and almost useless when difficulties are to be met or obstacles surmounted. The positiveness and energy, the solidity and strength of character, manifested in Christ are to be developed in us, through the same discipline that He endured. And the grace that He received is for us.

So long as He lived among men, our Saviour shared the lot of the poor. He knew by experience their cares and hardships, and He could comfort and encourage all humble workers. Those who have a true conception of the teaching of His life will never feel that a distinction must be made between classes, that the rich are to be honored above the worthy poor.

Jesus carried into His labor cheerfulness and tact. It requires much patience and spirituality to bring Bible religion into the home life and into the workshop, to bear the strain of worldly business, and yet keep the eye single to the glory of God. This is where Christ was a helper. He was never so full of worldly care as to have no time or thought for heavenly things. Often He expressed the gladness of His heart by singing psalms and heavenly songs. Often the dwellers in Nazareth heard His voice raised in praise and thanksgiving to God. He held communion with heaven in song; and as His companions complained of weariness from labor, they were cheered by the sweet melody from His lips. His praise seemed to banish the evil angels, and, like incense, fill the place with fragrance. The minds of His hearers were carried away from their earthly exile, to the heavenly home.

Jesus was the fountain of healing mercy for the world; and through all those secluded years at Nazareth, His life flowed out in currents of sympathy and tenderness. The aged, the sorrowing, and the sin-burdened, the children at play in their innocent joy, the little creatures of the groves, the patient beasts of burden,—all were happier for His presence. He whose word of power upheld the worlds would stoop to relieve a wounded bird. There was nothing beneath His notice, nothing to which He disdained to minister.

Thus as He grew in wisdom and stature, Jesus increased in favor with God and man. He drew the sympathy of all hearts by showing Himself capable of sympathizing with all. The atmosphere of hope and courage that surrounded Him made Him a blessing in every home. And often in the synagogue on the Sabbath day He was called upon to read the lesson from the prophets, and the hearts of the hearers thrilled as a new light shone out from the familiar words of the sacred text.

Yet Jesus shunned display. During all the years of His stay in Nazareth, He made no exhibition of His miraculous power. He sought no high position and assumed no titles. His quiet and simple life, and even the silence of the Scriptures concerning His early years, teach an important lesson. The more quiet and simple the life of the child,—the more free from artificial excitement, and the more in harmony with nature,—the more favorable is it to physical and mental vigor and to spiritual strength.

Jesus is our example. There are many who dwell with interest upon the period of His public ministry, while they pass unnoticed the teaching of His early years. But it is in His home life that He is the pattern for all children and youth. The Saviour condescended to poverty, that He might teach how closely we in a humble lot may walk with God. He lived to please, honor, and glorify His Father in the common things of life. His work began in consecrating the lowly trade of the craftsmen who toil for their daily bread. He was doing God's service just as much when laboring at the carpenter's bench as when working miracles for the multitude. And every youth who follows Christ's example of faithfulness and obedience in His lowly home may claim those words spoken of Him by the Father through the Holy Spirit, “Behold My Servant, whom I uphold; Mine Elect, in whom My soul delighteth.” Isaiah 42:1.

[theonceoverthinker]

OUAT 2X16 - The Miller’s Daughter

I actually don’t have a pun this time, but if you want to read some semi-interesting thoughts on this episode, comedy bits that may or may not be funny, and for me to try to analyze costumes despite having fork all knowledge about them, then come with me and you’ll be in a world of fairytale serialization!

Press Release Cora’s desire to rid herself of Rumplestiltskin in order to take his place as The Dark One takes one step closer to becoming reality as she and Regina try to overpower a dying Mr. Gold, and Mary Margaret is once again tempted by dark magic. Meanwhile, in the fairytale land that was, Rumplestiltskin agrees to offer his services to a younger Cora - for a price - when the king calls her bluff and orders her to actually follow through on her boast of being able to spin straw into gold. General Thoughts - Characters/Stories/Themes and Their Effectiveness Past Cora’s psyche was FABULOUSLY written in this segment. She’s not completely unsympathetic, but seeing the things that tick her off and her suggestion of “bloodlust” as her fuel for her magic show that she’s a psychopath. She wants to torture people for looking down on her and it’s appropriately petty. Her ambitions are so strong and appealing to her that they eclipse even her sense of love. We get such a complex picture of this woman here and it frames her perfectly for the tragic fate that comes upon her in the present.

Cora, you are an evil woman but I’d be lying through my teeth if I said you didn’t rock that dress! Actually, despite knowing fork all about fashion, I want to continue. Let’s talk about the use of color in this scene. Cora’s wearing a red and black dress, though it’s predominantly red. I feel like this can be read (Or rather, RED XD ) as Cora being a person who wants bloodlust and who is finally deciding to let the blackness in her heart take over in order to get what she wants. Also lets not the silver on he dress as well in the form of the jewel or brooch (Note my lack of fashion know how), a small but noticeable reflection of the values Henry Sr. wants in a wife. And speaking of, Henry Sr. is dressed, not only in white, but white and silver. The white, of course, is his sense of goodness which does win out in the end, but the silver to me stands in for the speckle of darkness that his future endeavors with an evil Cora and an eventually evil Regina will be involved in. Finally, let’s look at the king. His clothes are roughly half black and half white. I read that as him ultimately having good intentions for his son and kingdom but being wicked for all that he puts Cora through, knowing her rank, status, and likely abilities.

While I understand that this borders of shipping stuff, and I usually separate that, I like how while Cora and Henry Sr. have a relationship that’s not at all antagonistic at the very start, they don’t spend enough time together to discover whether or not it’s love, making their dysfunction later on make so much sense. Present I have a lot to say about Snow wanting to kill Cora...just not here, if that makes sense. While I remember it going overboard in upcoming episodes (Prepare for the longest eye roll in the world when Snow goes on about how it was easy to kill Cora), it’s really well executed here. Snow riles herself up to kill Cora and when it finally happens, she realizes how she wasn’t ready for the internal consequences in regards to her heart and sense of goodness (Not to mention her safety from Regina!). Snow’s rage from the last episode’s ending is still so present, and it’s appropriately framed as a risky path she might not want to take, but just might have to.

Snow utterly GETS Regina as she’s giving her the heart. It’s horribly twisted just how much she’s able to pick on Regina’s need for a mother’s love and use that to get Regina to kill Cora. That moment really struck as the one where she realized (And me) that for as tactical as the move was, it may have been too cruel. All Encompassing I love seeing Cora as she started out because it says so much about the presentation she’s built around herself over the course of her rise to power. Cora has a fiery and snippy temper that she can just hardly control, even among the royals who she so desperately wants to be one of. The Cora of the present composes herself so well and it’s such an interesting contrast, especially in the moments when that anger does comes out.

It’s such an interesting contrast as the scene where Emma learns how to use magic cuts to the one where Cora learns to use magic. In the Emma scene, Rumple has her conjuring a mental idea of those she loves and wants to protect and why so that she can help others. Meanwhile, in the Cora scene, the ideas Rumple has Cora conjure have to deal with those she wants to harm and kill so that she can better her own status. It’s a great point of contrast not only for the two characters, BUT also for how light magic and dark magic are uniquely created. Also, given how Rumple is a Dark One who was at one point a Savior (Though I acknowledge that that might not have been created at the time), it’s great to see Rumple at the cornerstone of both lessons, showing a sympathy and understanding for both women.

“I realized no matter how good I was or how hard I worked, I was never gonna be more than I am now.” Cora and SNow are conflicting characters in this episode, and it’s so cool to see that at one point (Obviously longer for Snow by a huge margin), both women held the idea that goodness being the cause of good fortune as true. Insights - Stream of Consciousness -I love the design of Cora’s home in the past. With the placement of her father in the wheelbarrow and the dirty colors all around, it really highlights the squalor that Cora’s lived in all her life. Additionally, the castle in the still quite visible distance is the perfect thing to show her ambition to be more than she is and ascend to royalty. The melancholic music in the background just brings it all home. -Going off of my last review, I love how Eva is characterized in her small moment. The trip is pre-mediated (But in a smart way) and the Season 3 episode where they first meet even gives more of a reason as to why she was so horrible here. -Those bunks are actually roomier than I thought they’d be for a pirate ship. -I like Rumple’s subversion of expectations with Emma as he asks if she wants him to die before they return to Storybrooke. He always expects the worst out of people (As semi-justly as that mentality is) and when they show that that’s he’s wrong (whether he understands that or not) is just so nice! -”I-I’m not wicked.” You are about to kill at least four people! Yes, you are wicked! Or evil, since ‘wicked’ is more of Zelena’s schtick. -Also, Cora’s reaction to the phone call is hysterically petty. She’s like a cat. -Yes, Regina! Doubt her! (fork me with a rusty fork, the dialogue is just AMAZING here!) -*wistfully sighs* The stylized design of this ball is so beautiful. The masks, the dancing, the layout! It’s so distinct! -I have to ask: Does Cora know that that’s Henry Sr. when she originally gossips about him right to his face? On one hand, I’m not sure we’re supposed to interpret that that way, but on the other hand, it’s a very Cora thing to do. -It’s really weird to see someone on this show say ‘whore’ (“Whoring” in context, but still!). -”Cora. Sounds like something breaking.” I can’t say that I agree with you, Rumple. Cora’s a lovely name! We just need someone less evil to have it! -”Can ya read”” I think this is the first time Rumple’s actually checked to see if someone could read! He really should do that more! Like, so many of the people he deals with are defenseless peasants! So what the hell?! -Love that pen, Rumple! THAT is a deal-making pen! -”For a rainy day.” You say that a lot, Rumple. What, did a rainy day eat your dog or something? -”And there’s no coming back from death, either.” Give it a season, Rumple. And then another. And Then Another. And. Then. Another. AND THEN ANOTHER! I don’t hate this plot device, but it really happens a lot! XD -”...When he learns that you killed his grandpa.” Rumple, the other solution is her killing his adoptive grandma/great-grandma. This isn’t as much of a point in your favor as you think it is! XD -I love how they showed Emma using magic here. You really feel the step-by-step process in how it’s done. I wish they’d use that filming style more often in the future, but I guess I get that the creators acknowledge that we get the deal in the later seasons. -”I rip out his throat and I crunch his veins with my teeth.” That is amazingly disturbing imagery! Like, the writing of those lines are so impactful and frankly scary! -”To a child.” So, I don’t know if this was the fault of casting, but Eva and Cora are too close in age for the difference to be all that remarkable. -”I want their kneecaps to crack and freeze upon the stones. I want their necks to break from bending.” Another instance of disturbing as all here writing, but done so eloquently that it’s beautiful. -I like how Regina and Cora are able to pretty easily take down Emma’s protection spell together while Cora takes longer to do it on her own, showing that even though Emma’s the Savior and indeed powerful, she still has a lot to learn. -Also, good on you, Emma for giving Regina a last chance! -”WHEN YOU SEE THE FUTURE, THERE’S IRONY EVERYWHERE!” Finally! I not only now know for life where that forking quote comes from, but after referencing it time after time, it’s so good to hear it again! -Another note on the costume colors: The only time Cora rejects her ambitions are when she’s wearing her opposite color: White. The goodness in her is so overpowering! -I love the distorted version of the classic Once tune that plays as Snow is getting Cora’s heart. -”At least this cursed power will pass from this world.” I’m not sure how I feel about this line when it comes to Rumple, given how just two episodes ago, he was so on team magic, but given that the dagger both threatens his family now and caused the initial separation from Bae, I can understand the sentiment. -I’d like to think that when Cora sent Emma and Neal away, she essentially just did it via subconscious randomizer! XD -”Did you ever love me?” Given everything that happened with Milah, it makes sense that Rumple would ask this going forward with his romantic endeavors. -”I did nothing.” Yes, you did! Rumple, who the here told Snow about the freakin’ candle the second time? I love you, man, but don’t weasel completely out of this! -Something I noticed: So, I know that the point of contention with Regina blaming Snow for Daniel’s death is a hot topic (Hell, I even saw a debate about it this morning), and I can’t help but feel like this was written partially so that Regina would have a more...legitimate reason to hate Snow. Arcs - How are These Storylines Progressing? Rumple Finding Baelfire/Neal - I actually discuss there two in just a moment! Regina’s Redemption - This episode definitely shows Regina’s sense of good and evil being pit against each other and Cora is right in the middle of it. In the shop, she’s directly by Regina’s side and there, she won’t even entertain the idea of Emma’s offer to change sides. But when Cora and Regina are separated, and the idea of Cora’s real love is brought up, that’s when we see her goodness win. Cora in Storybrooke - Here concludes this arc, and I honestly loved it. Like all of the best villains and their arcs, Cora leaves so much on the floor (Apart from her corpse, that is) in terms of emotional issues for our main cast, especially Snow and Regina. The arc itself  was also well written and well paced. Not to mention, it mixed very well with Regina’s Redemption by forcing it to be turned back a bit, showing that Regina’s redemption won’t be so easy. Favorite Dynamic Rumple and Neal - These guys have a scene that’s maybe half a forking minute and they steal the god damned episode with it. Rumple finally gets to say what we all know he really wanted to say. And what I especially love here is how Neal hears him out but does not forgive him! Like, Rumple is dying and he doesn’t fully absolve him, and I think that was such a bold and brilliant thing for Espenson to do. It shows that Neal’s pain, even in this moment, still matters, and while there can be softness, that pain hasn’t gone away. It’s such a small, but insightful understanding of their relationship. Writer Jane Espenson hit the writing out of the forking park! At least a few times during the episode had such intricate language. Honestly, it almost freaks me out a bit with the imagery she painted during the ‘bloodlust’ scene with the way she has Rumple and Cora speak about the harm they wish to inflict on those who scorned them! While there are errant lines here and there that I don’t like (I jotted a few down in “Insights”, they’re so few and far between that they hardly matter. The storytelling and character work here is great, too. She took advantage of all of the little nuances from the other episodes and shows just how much attention she was paying here. Rating Golden Apple. This was a great end to Cora’s story. Intersped with two fantastic stories that connect pretty well are great character moments between our main cast. It’s incredibly solid for an episode that serves as such a big moment of culmination, but it is. It’s entertaining, heartwarming, heartbreaking, disturbing at some points, and everything else in between. The feeling of tension as the Mills/Charming-Stiltskin war comes to a head is present through the entire flashback and Cora’s backstory only shows how much of a threat she truly is. Flip My Ship - Home of All Things “Shippy Goodness” Snowing - I like how David knows Snow well enough to know exactly what killing Cora will do to her psychologically. A subtle moment like that really shows how well these two click. Golden Heart (Cora/Rumple) - I’d be lying if I didn’t say there weren’t sparks that could light the Enchanted Forest up like a menorah between Rumple and Cora. I love the way they bond over bloodlust and their kiss in front of the mirror while Cora’s in her wedding dress is a little hot! Look, I LOVE mopey dopey puppy love ships like Snowing, Rumbelle, or Captain Swan, but I LOVE villain ships! I love when a couple loves evil and each other, the exact order notwithstanding and this episode gives me exactly what I want. In another world, I would totally have had Rumple and Cora be together and have episodes and be recurring villains, but that (partially) doesn’t happen. Still, I’m grateful for what we get here. Also, I love when while Cora places her heart on Rumple’s chest, he says “I will show you EVERYTHING,” meaning his heart and love as well. I’ve also got to point out that Rumple and Cora can do that thing that the True Loves do when their kisses can be indicative of when something is wrong. Finally, Cora’s pentultimate dying words are “this would’ve been enough,” and Rumple and Regina are the only two in the scene, meaning that she would’ve wanted to be with them as a family. Rumbelle - I could honestly just put the entire phone call here and it would cover everything I want to say. It’s such a beautiful goodbye. However, I’m going to reference just a single line that comes in early on. “You are a hero.” Rumple knows how much being a hero means to Belle and that’s the first thing he tells her. It’s her ambition for herself and he places that ahead of her ambitions for him. That’s just heartbreaking. And it’s here that Rumple first says a sentiment that carries him to the series finale: “You make me wanna go back to the best version of me.” And that forking almost silent “Thank you, Belle” legitimately choked me up. ()()()()()()()()() Thank you for reading and to the fine folks at @watchingfairytales!

Wow. After all the pain that Cora caused, Storybrooke’s more or less a new town! I guess we should welcome ourselves there. ;) See you next time. Season 2 Tally (142/220) Writer Tally for Season 2: Adam Horowitz and Edward Kitsis: (39/60) Jane Espenson (35/50) Andrew Chambliss and Ian Goldberg (24/50) David Goodman (24/30)* Robert Hull (16/30) Christine Boylan (17/30) Kalinda Vazquez (20/30) Daniel Thomsen (18/20)* * Indicates that their work for the season is complete

Operation Rewatch Archives

[ninja-muse]

Urban Fantasy Recommendation Masterpost

This is a list of the urban fantasies I’ve enjoyed most over the years, split down a few lines and to be updated as I discover new series. I’m also including contemporary fantasies because the lines often blur. Hope you find something you like on it!

$ for LGBT characters £ for characters of colour € for characters with disabilities * for potentially problematic depictions of the above ! for #ownvoices (all based on my slightly spotty memory, so feel free to correct if I’ve missed something)

World-Focused

or stories that spend most of their time steeping you in the magical world

American Gods - Neil Gaiman £

Shadow Moon gets out of jail and is hired by the cagey Mr. Wednesday to … he’s not really clear, honestly, but it puts him in the path of people who may or may not be gods. Multiple mythologies.

Among Others - Jo Walton €!

A 1980s teen flees her troubled home in Wales to get to know her birth father and attend an English boarding school. Is her mother’s family able to work magic or is it just wishful thinking? Reading science fiction might give her the answers. British folklore and faeries, and a very interesting take on magic.

The Boggart - Susan Cooper

A Canadian family inherits a Scottish castle inhabited by a mischievous boggart—who then stows away and finds himself in Toronto. Scottish folklore.

The Bone Clocks - David Mitchell £

The life of a woman from teen-hood to old age as she lives her life and occasionally intersects with an ancient war between good and evil, fought with telepathy and other things that look a lot like magic.

The Changeling - Victor Lavalle £ !

After his infant son is violently attacked, Apollo Kagwa, used bookseller, descends into the hidden world of New York in search of his vanished wife.

The City We Became - N.K. Jemisin - $ £ ! for race

New York City, newly alive, is being attacked, and six humans, no longer quite human, must do everything in their power to save their city.

the Dark is Rising series - Susan Cooper €*

A group of English kids—four siblings, a seventh son, and a boy who might be a reincarnated Arthur—versus the forces of darkness. Five books, only the last of which includes all the kids. Cornish and English folklores, Arthuriana.

Gods Behaving Badly - Marie Phillips

The Greek pantheon now lives in North London and is as dysfunctional as ever. Artemis walks dogs. Aphrodite does phone sex. Apollo is a washed-out TV psychic who’s just fallen, via Eros, for the cleaning lady—who’s trying to date someone else, thank you very much. Greek mythology.

The Golem and the Jinni - Helene Wecker £

A golem and a jinni both find themselves in turn-of-the-century New York, both literally and figuratively. A beautiful exploration of the immigrant experience, friendship, and identity. Jewish and Arabic folklore.

Good Omens - Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman

A mostly-good angel and mostly-wicked demon discover they’ve been training the wrong Antichrist days before the scheduled apocalypse. The real Antichrist wants a dog and to save the whales. Also features a legacy witch, a rookie witch-finder, the Four Horsemen, the Four Other Horsemen, Satanic nuns, and a Queen soundtrack. Christian mythology.

The Hunter’s Moon - O.R. Melling

A Canadian teen visiting her Irish cousin ends up mounting a cross-country road trip to retrieve her cousin who’s run off with the faeries. Irish mythology.

The Left-Handed Booksellers of London - Garth Nix $£

In the summer of 1983, Susan Arkshaw travels to London to find her birth father. What she discovers is a family of magical booksellers, and an Old World that’s very much alive.

Middlegame - Seanan McGuire

Roger and Dodger are exceptionally gifted, telepathically linked, and a little more than natural. James Reed will stop at nothing to use them, or people like them, to get ultimate power. Alchemy, time travel, and portal fantasies are involved.

Neverwhere - Neil Gaiman £

Richard Mayhew has it all: a good job, a hot fiancée, a nice flat. Then he helps an apparently homeless girl with the power to create doors and is pulled into the magical community below London. Nothing will ever be the same.

Of Blood and Honey and And Blue Skies From Pain - Stina Leicht

It’s tough, living in Northern Ireland during the Troubles, and Liam finds it harder than most. No one trusts him, he can’t find work, everyone wants him to choose a side, and to cap it off, he feels like a monster is inside him and knows something inhuman is stalking him and his. The war between the Fey and the Fallen is heating up, and the only people keeping peace are an order of priests—who also, surprise, want Liam’s help. Irish and Christian mythology.

The Sixth World series - Rebecca Roanhorse $£€ ! 

Maggie Hoskie is a Monsterslayer of Dinétah, but she’d rather not be. Even rescuing a kidnapped girl is supposed to be a one-shot deal. But the monster’s a new one, an apprentice medicine man’s attached himself to her, and Coyote’s around, so of course it’s not that simple. Navajo mythology.

Son of a Trickster - Eden Robinson £€ !

Jared’s life sucks. He’s sixteen, living in a crap house in a crap town with crap prospects. He’s paying his dad’s rent with weed money. His mom’s more interested in parties than holding down a job. His only friend’s a pit bull. And just when he thinks that’s as low as it gets, a raven shows up and say he’s Jared’s real dad. Heiltsuk (and other First Nations) mythology and folklore.

Sparrow Hill Road - Seanan McGuire

Rose Marshall, the Phantom Prom Date, the Ghost of Sparrow Hill Road, hitches her way from coast to coast while dealing with paranormal problems and route witches—and avoiding Bobby Cross, the immortal who killed her.

Sunshine - Robin McKinley

Rae is a baker. Tough and practical and smart, but a baker. Who’s just rescued herself and a vampire from captivity using magic she’d half-forgotten she had. Unfortunately, the master vampire’s still after them, the magical police know something’s up, and she just wants to keep being normal. Includes mild, realistic PTSD and a whole lot of delicious desserts.

An Unkindness of Magicians - Kat Howard

The Turning has started in New York and every magician in the city has their own reason for entering the tournament—power, status, acknowledgement, revenge, revolution. The high stakes would be enough for anyone, but it’s starting to look like there’s something suddenly wrong with magic, too.

Witches of Ash and Ruin - E. Latimer - $ £ € *

Dayna wants to be a witch, live her life, and block her OCD thoughts so she doesn’t have to deal with them. Then scary but gorgeous Meiner and her coven roll into town prophesying Bad Things, and a serial killer reappears who seems to target witches and shit. Meet. Fan. Themes of family and abuse.

Ysabel - Guy Gavriel Kay

Ned Marriner’s tagging along with his photographer dad to Provence when he begins to notice magic awakening around him. There’s an ancient love triangle that‘s repeated throughout history, using contemporary locals as proxies—and it’s very interested in Ned, his new friend Kate, and his father’s entourage.

Mystery-Focused

or stories that spend most of their time solving a magical crime

The Arcadia Project series - Mishell Baker $£€ !

Millie’s nearly broke, scarred, a double amputee, mentally ill, and Done with all the BS around that. She’s also despairing of ever resuming her directing career, so when a mysterious woman offers her a job with her temp agency, she’s intrigued. What wasn’t mentioned? She’ll actually be an immigration agent working with the Fae of Hollywood, and one of them’s just gone missing.

the Blood series - Tanya Huff $£€

Vicky Nelson is the pinnacle of the tough, no-nonsense PI—which poses a bit of a problem when she’s hired to catch a “vampire” on the streets of Toronto and then actually meets one. (He writes romance novels.)

the Felix Castor series - Mike Carey $*

Felix Castor is an exorcist. A hard-drinking, down-at-the-heels exorcist in a London brimming with ghosts and demons. Unfortunately, he never seems to get the easy cases where he can just waltz in and play a tune—and his past mistakes might be coming back to haunt him.

Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency and The Long, Dark Tea-Time of the Soul - Douglas Adams

Dirk Gently solves mysteries by wandering around, getting into strange situations, and then connecting dots no one believes even exist. Like time traveling robots and Romantic poets, or rampaging eagles and mold-ridden refrigerators.

The Grendel Affair - Lisa Shearin £

Makenna Fraser is a seer working for Supernatural Protection and Investigations in New York. “Seer” meaning she can spot the ghoulies and ghosties few people can, including her coworkers. When an off-the-books gnome removal turns into a blood-soaked crime scene, she and her partner are handed the case—but will her eagerness to prove herself just land her in hotter water?

the Greta Helsing series - Vivian Shaw $£

Dr. Greta Helsing serves the undead of London. Her best friends are vampires and demons. The boundaries between worlds are thinning, causing all manner of metaphysical trouble. Plays with 1800s horror classics; equal parts sensible, disturbing, and funny.

the Greywalker series - Kat Richardson $£

Harper Blaine prides herself on rationality and unflappability, but after briefly dying on a case, she’s suddenly wrong-footed and seeing ghosts everywhere. In the middle of all that, she’s hired by a mysterious voice to track down an organ that’s more than it seems, and suddenly haunted street corners are the least of her problems.

the Incryptid series - Seanan McGuire $£

Meet the Price family, a close-knit group of cryptozoologists whose mission is to protect and preserve endangered cryptids like dragons, gorgons, and the religious Aeslin mice from humans. They’re also hiding from the Covenant of St. George, a.k.a. why the cryptids are endangered in the first place. Technically paranormal romance.

the Iron Druid series - Kevin Hearne £

Atticus O’Sullivan is a herbalist and seller of New Age paraphernalia by day, two-thousand-year-old druid by night. He thought moving to Arizona would keep him safe from gods bent on revenge. He thought wrong. Multiple mythologies.

Last Call at the Nightshade Lounge - Paul Krueger $£€ !

Bailey Chen is fresh out of business school, broke, and living with her parents. When a childhood friend offers her a job as a barback, she takes it as a stopgap—but then she discovers the secret cabal of bartenders who fight demons using magical cocktails and after that, there’s no looking back.

Moonshine - Alaya Johnson £

Zephyr Hollis, a charity worker and ESL teacher in 1920s New York, and therefore flat broke, takes a side job from a student, Amir, without asking questions. But will the vampire mob, the drug-crazed vamps, Amir’s literal smoking hotness, or her family history do her in first?

Night Owls - Lauren M. Roy $

Valerie is a vampire with a successful campus bookstore. Elly grew up fighting monsters and fearing for her life. When their paths collide via a book in Elly’s keeping, they must unite to prevent said monsters from unleashing hell and then some.

the October Daye series - Seanan McGuire $£€

Toby Daye wants sleep, coffee, and for everyone to leave her alone already—not necessarily in that order. Unfortunately, as a changeling Knight and PI with a knack of finding people and solving problems with maximum chaos, none of those things will ever be easy to come by. Multiple folklores.

the Olympus Bound series - Jordanna Max Brodsky $£

Selene di Silva’s been keeping her head down for a long time, shutting herself off not just from New York, but from the world. (Being a former goddess will do that.) But then she stumbles on the body of a woman who’s been ritually sacrificed and her past as Artemis comes rising up again. Greek and Roman mythology

the Rivers of London series - Ben Aaronovitch $£€

When Constable Peter Grant meets a ghost at a crime scene, it’s only logical for him to take a witness statement. When DCI Thomas Nightingale learns of this, he offers him a job as an auror the sorcerer’s apprentice a valued member of a magically-focused police unit. London, its river goddesses, various magic workers, assorted Fae, and the Metropolitan Police will never be the same.

the Shadow Police series - Paul Cornell $£

Following the mysterious death of a suspect, four Metropolitan Police officers are drawn into London’s sinister magical underworld in their hunt for a killer.

the Smoke series - Tanya Huff $*£

Tony Foster’s found his footing as a PA on a Vancouver-shot vampire show. Unfortunately, the paranormal weirdness that is his life continues and it’s somehow up to him to save the day.

Unholy Ghosts (and following) - Stacia Kane £*

Chess Putnam works as a Church exorcist, partly out of obligation and partly for the pay, which goes to fuel her drug addiction. Unfortunately, no ghosts are nice ghosts and her private life keeps intruding on her cases.

the Watch novels - Terry Pratchett

Ankh-Morpork is the citiest of fantasy cities. Its City Watch is a bunch of misfits. Sam Vimes isn’t putting up with any nonsense. Somehow, they fight crime.

Zoo City - Lauren Beukes £

Zinzi December is a con artist and occasional finder of lost things who lives in the Johannesburg slums with her sloth familiar. Her latest case? Find a pair of missing teen pop stars—before the apparent assassins do.