#well except arguably for the he’s a little in love with his beat friends sentence but not my fault THEY said it first not me

[electracraft]

even outsiders are rooting for the meet up it really is everyone against mother nature and fate and the world now

[hopeymchope]

Judging the Danganronpa x Sanrio character pairings

You may have already heard that a DANGANRONPA X SANRIO line of crossover merch was announced a few days ago! Which is obviously AMAZING, because they’re combining cutesy characters that have often been marketed to wee children with everybody’s favorite murderdeathkill game! I LOVE IT.

I have a niece who went through a Sanrio/Hello Kitty phase, so I actually know a few of these characters. In turn, this means that I have THOUGHTS on how the DR1 and Sanrio cast were paired up.

Granted, I still had to look up a lot of these guys and read about them. But now I feel adequately educated to the point where I can judge just how well the Danganronpa and Sanrio pairings actually match up. 

Makoto Naegi/Cinnamoroll - Obviously this totally works because Makoto IS something of a cinnamon roll, eh? EH? But Cinnamoroll is said to be shy albeit still very friendly. He also likes to seek out fun new adventures. So, aside from “very friendly,” I’m not sure that this sounds like Makoto. I also doubt that calling a character a “cinnamon roll” is common slang in Japan. So this is whatever.

Sayaka Maizono/Wish Me Mell - Mell has the power to connect people’s hearts by simply stating the feelings they keep inside. She was initially withdrawn and believed she didn’t have any friends, but the people who cared for her finally broke through her shell and convinced her that she DOES have friends. So uh, Maizono... I guess music can also bring out people’s feelings? And perhaps you could plausibly HC that Sayaka has often felt like her surrounding friends were “fake” and only there because of her celebrity status. There’s not really much to go on here. 

Leon Kuwata/Tiran - Tiran is an orange T-rex that is said to be scatterbrained but still a strong and reliable leader. Meanwhile, Leon has orange hair, and he’s certainly strong and kind of scatterbrained sometimes. It sorta works.

Kyoko Kirigiri/Marroncream - Marroncream is bright, positive, and fashionable. She is talented at making crafts and sweets. She lives in Paris. She has nearly nothing in common with Kyoko, although Kyoko did live abroad a lot in her younger years. So I could try to latch onto the Paris thing.

Hifumi Yamada/Pokopon - Pokopon is a raccoon that loves to read but dislikes ghosts and “the thunder god.” (uh... what?) He also finishes his sentences with the unusual suffix “-das.” Of course, Hifumi loves to write (which certainly is connected to reading), and he likes to end all names with a weird suffix (”-dono”), so I can see how they might make a cute pair.

Kiyotaka Ishimaru/Pekkle - Pekkle is a duck who is good-natured and kind. He loves to sing and dance. It kind of sounds like he should’ve been matched with Sayaka, but instead he’s here with Taka. While Ishimaru is definitely a good person, I don’t think most people would immediately describe him as “kind.” And he certainly isn’t known for his love of music.

Yasuhiro Hagakure/Monkichi - Monkichi is a laid-back, easygoing guy who is upbeat and loves puns. His dream is to become a poet. It’s said that once he sets his mind on something, there is no stopping him! And in comparison, Hagakure is... well, he’s kind of laid-back in the sense that he’s kind of lazy? But he’s actually pretty high-stress a lot of the time, too. Honestly, there’s not much linking the two.

Chihiro Fujisaki/Kurousa and Shirousa - Shirousa is the white one and is the older sibling to Kurousa, the brown one. Shirousa is described as an energetic leader and Kurousa is described as being nice but lazy. They like to make cakes. What does any of this have to do with Chihiro? Beats me. This particular pairing is nonsense.

Byakuya Togami/Badtz-Maru - Badtz-Maru is said to have a bad attitude and dreams of being “the boss of everything” when he grows up. He tends to act a bit selfish, and he mocks things he dislikes/disagrees with. He enjoys expensive food and collecting photos of movie villains. With the exception of that last point, I’d have to say that this sounds like a near-perfect match for Togami.

Mondo Owada/Goropikadon - The Goropikadon are a group of cave boys whose actual names are Goro (blue hair), Pika (pink hair), and Don (teal hair). Goro is always hungry and joking around. PIka is a thoughtful, shy mama’s boy. Don is serious and places a high value on honesty. Overall, I suppose that how quick Mondo is to get angry and resort to violence kind of makes him seem like a stereotypical caveman? But in terms of their distinct personalities, only Don’s focus on honesty rings true for Mondo. 

Toko Fukawa/Lloromannic - Another multi-character one. The Llormannic are a pair of creatures named Berry (the black one, who is male) and Cherry (the pink one, who is female). They are mischievous and love to play pranks on humans. Cherry was originally alone and created Berry for companionship; however, she mixed up her magic spell ingredients and used salt when she meant to use sugar, which resulted in Berry turning out to be a more hostile being than Cherry. I suppose the fact that Berry is a darker creation of Cherry’s sort of reflects the relationship between Toko and her other self, Genocide(r) Syo/Jack. However, Berry and Cherry are still best friends. Toko and Syo/Jack are definitely not that.

Celestia Ludenberg/Kuromi - Kuromi is the rival of a bunny named “My Melody” who doesn’t appear in this promotion. Kuromi is said to look “tough and punk” in her jester’s hat with the pink skull on it, but in reality she is very girly. She enjoys writing in her diary, reading romance books, cooking, and checking out good-looking guys. I suppose Celestia did have that dream of living in a mansion where she was served by handsome guys dressed as vampires? So... they both like hot guys? But that’s all I’ve got here. Pretty sure this pairing only exists for aesthetic reasons. And admittedly, their aesthetics mesh very well.

Aoi Asahina/Keroppi - Keroppi lives with his family on the edge of Donut Pond. He is bubbly, a fantastic swimmer and, because of the name of his home pond, is often associated with donuts and/or things that are donut-shaped. Ok, so this was an obvious pairing, then. They nailed it. Probably the single best pairing they came up with.

Sakura Ogami/My Sweet Piano - Yes, the character’s name is literally “My Sweet Piano.” She’s described as soft, kind, and girly. Given Sakura’s secret love of girly things, I can see how this soft, pink, girly sheep would be something she’d love to be around. 

Junko Enoshima (...?)/Hello Kitty - Hello Kitty (a.k.a. Kitty White) is described by Sanrio as “cute, bright, sweet, kind-hearted and tomboyish.” They also say that Kitty is very close with her sister, Mimmy. As for Junko... look, the only reason I think maybe this is supposed to be Junko is because Mukuro already has her own Sanrio matchup (see the next entry), but in terms of her appearance, this “Junko” sure looks like it’s “Junkuro.” The telltale sign is that giant bow on the left side of the head, which only Mukuro-as-Junko has ever worn. I doubt we’re supposed to be thinking that they did two Mukuros in two different outfits, though? 

It’s like this: If it’s Junko, well, I guess both Junko and Kitty are icons within their respective brands. And Junko tries to put on a “cute and bright” exterior persona, I guess? But that’s pretty thin. On the other hand, if this is Mukuro in disguise, this is actually a semi-decent matchup! Mukuro is arguably tomboyish and certainly very close to her sister (at least from her own perspective), so these two are not without their parallels. 

In either case, both Kitty and the Unknown Despair Sister have a big bow on the left side of their head. Which I think is the real reason they’ve been paired, honestly.

Mukuro Ikusaba/Little Twin Stars - Kiki and Lala are a pair of twins that were born on December 24th. Mukuro is one half of a pair of twins ALSO born on December 24th. Instant connection! Kiki (the blue-haired boy) loves fishing and inventing things. He is curious and cheeky. Lala (the pink-haired girl) loves drawing, writing poems, and cooking. She is rather timid. In short, the “twins with the same birthdate” thing is the only thing connecting Mukuro to these two. Still, it’s not bad.

Also, the most amazing thing to come out of this team-up so far HAS TO BE MonoKitty. Hello Kitty cosplaying as our favorite psychotic MurderBear? How great is that? SELL ME MERCH OF MONOKITTY.

[watching-pictures-move]

Put On Your Raincoats #21 | Double Chinn Double (Double) Feature (with Hyapatia Lee)

By the time the '80s rolled around, Bob Chinn, best known for his collaborations with John Holmes (the inspiration for Boogie Nights), had been directing movies for over a decade. For much of that time, he'd been making them for peanuts (in an interview with the Rialto Report, he recounts being once asked to make a movie for five thousand dollars, which was handed to him in fifties on the spot), but in the early '80s, he was directing for Harry Mohney's Caribbean Films, working with respectable budgets (by porn standards). Some of these films starred Hyapatia Lee, one of the most popular porn stars of the era and one of the first contract girls. Now, I suspect these aren't necessarily the defining works of Chinn's career, and I do intend to get to some of his movies with Holmes. But Vinegar Syndrome had a sale and there were two double features of their collaborations going for dirt cheap, and because I am weak and foolish with money, they ended up in my cart and a few weeks later in my grubby little paws. How did this happen? Through the magic of Canada Post, of course! Anyway, what I found was that these didn't represents any extremes of artistic ambition. They were neither seeking to elevate the genre, nor were they hackwork. Rather, they represent a happy medium, movies that seek to deliver the genre's goods in a polished, diverting package. Slick cinematography, courtesy of Jack Remy. Catchy theme songs that wouldn't sound out of place if you caught them on the radio. Flashy titles. Lee recounted the atmosphere on set as one of professionalism and engagement, where everyone present wanted to do as good a job as possible. Chinn claims to have been losing interest in his work at this point, but the results onscreen are the result of confident execution by somebody who had been doing this kind of thing for years and knew how to put the production's resources to good use.

The first one I watched was The Young Like it Hot, where the operators at a phone company worry about being replaced by computers. To keep their jobs, they scheme to go the extra mile in helping their callers. As this is a porno, most of this help is sexual in nature, as when Rosa Lee Kimball stays on the line while an obscene phone caller played by Bill Margold finishes. (In an interview on the DVD, Margold says after shooting his scene, he was invited to record additional dialogue. Being the method actor that he was, he insisted on whipping it out during the recording session despite the lack of cameras.) Sometimes they are informative, as when Bud Lee (real life husband of Hyapatia at the time) explains why the perineum is referred to as taint ("cuz it taint cunt and it taint ass"). But the highlight of their efforts are Shauna Grant's increasingly life threatening home improvement advice to one poor sap played by Joey Silvera. Hyapatia Lee is ostensibly the star, and has a certain charisma, playing the supervisor, but this is really an ensemble piece, and she's joined by more experienced actors like Kay Parker and Eric Edwards. The latter I've occasionally found bland elsewhere, but he has a nice obnoxious quality that serves him well as the villainous manager whose idea it is the automate the operators' jobs. The movie reflects a very real concern (that's very much still an issue in the modern workplace), but overall this is a breezy, affable comedy.

A bit more serious in tone is Sweet Young Foxes, a coming of age story whose dramatic parts are more sensitively realized than I expected. The screenplay was written by Deborah Sullivan, Bob Chinn's wife at the time, and this is a case where a movie definitely benefited from having been written by a woman, and it seems like an earnest effort to capture the anxieties and yearnings of its young women protagonists. Lee moves closer to a real starring role, and is joined by Cara Lott and Cindy Carver as her friends, who aren't quite as strong actors as her but do have decent chemistry. I can believe they're friends even if their line delivery can be stilted. (That the movie has a good ear for genuine sounding dialogue also helps.) Kay Parker is especially good as Lee's mother, hitting some of the same notes as Taboo, and has a credibly emotional masturbation scene in front of a mirror that did not leave me unmoved. (In what way? That's none of your damn business.) This was shot by Jack Remy, the same cinematographer who worked on The Young Like it Hot. That movie looked nice and slick, but this one is a little more stylish, with the solo sex scenes in particular resembling magazine centerfolds. There's also some nice new-wave-ish music that shows up on the soundtrack, which I certainly didn't mind. I do wish some of the sex scenes didn't run quite as long (the previous movie kept them refreshingly concise) as I'd prefer more of the runtime was dedicated to the dramatic elements, but what's there is still good.

Body Girls goes back firmly to comedy territory, where Hyapatia Lee and the members of her gym are trying to win a bodybuilding contest despite a rival gym's attempts to undermine them. This comes in the form of a pair of schlubs in yellow tank tops who break into the gym after hours to sabotage their equipment, only to be foiled by Hyapatia and her girls who just happened to be having sex in the locker room as people do. Of course, despite Lee's attempts to teach them a lesson (which depending on your proclivities, may have the opposite effect), they don't give up, and during the contest threaten the judge at gunpoint. Not one to take things lying down (okay, poor choice of words here), Lee finds a way to influence the judge back in her favour. (The judge is played by Francois Papillon, bringing a dopey charm to the character as he fumbles through his lines in his French accent.) Her method is pretty ridiculous and certainly in service of genre requirements, but I did laugh.

Now, there's probably a dilemma in audience sympathy here as both Lee and her rivals are cheating, but Lee's methods are more agreeable and directed at the judge instead of her rivals so I guess we ought to root for her. She's also buoyant, charismatic and has a real star quality, and is joined by such fan favourites as Shanna McCullough and Erica Boyer, all of whom sport wildly different hairstyles. As can be expected given the exercise theme, most of the ladies have toned, athletic bodies (and given the decade, voluminous coiffures), with the exception of Tigr, who brings a wiry punkish energy that stood out to me despite her limited screentime, and she also performs the miraculous feat of making a mullet look cute. (I'd previously been moved by her work in Kamikaze Hearts, the great mockumentary about a porn production and her relationship with Sharon Mitchell. She didn't stay in the industry for too long, but I'd be interested in seeing more of her work.) The screenplay was written by Lee with her husband Bud (who plays the judge's assistant with an agreeable presence that's neither too alpha nor too schlubby) and is full of exercise-related dialogue. Most of this is pretty clunky and calling it wordplay might be a bit generous ("sexercise" features at one point), but I did appreciate the effort. Also as is requisite for the premise, the longest set piece in the movie is an orgy in Lee's gym with the various participants snaked around different pieces of equipment. I must note that one of the male actors resembles Barry Gibb and that Francois Papillon is shown to wear a tiger-striped speedo. Did I enjoy the movie? Yes, but not for reasons cited in that sentence.

At the end of Body Girls, Bud Lee suggests to Hyapatia, "Let's get physical", which is the title of the next movie. (Body Girls also features a character looking at dirty magazine with stills from Sweet Young Foxes and ends with a plug for some of these other movies, anticipating the MCU's narrative and marketing strategies by a few decades.) Now, all of these movies have had decent theme songs, but the one in Let's Get Physical has lyrics that are plagiaristically close to those of Olivia Newton-John's 1983 hit. (The delivery however is more shrill but not unpleasing.) This movie is a drama where Lee plays a dance instructor trying to put together a ballet performance despite her strained relationship with her impotent husband played by Paul Thomas. (In the interview I listened to, Lee speaks well of almost everyone she worked with on these films, with the pointed exception of Paul Thomas. If there was bitterness behind the scenes, it arguably helps their performances.)

Lee wrote the screenplay for this one, and unlike Body Girls with its surface level references to bodybuilding and exercise, the dialogue here feels packed with knowledge of the real thing, which is understandable given Lee's real life interest in dance going back to her childhood. (I looked up "Luigi jazz dancing" after finishing the movie and was pleasantly surprised to learn it was a real thing.) This movie goes all in on her star power, and features a number of dance numbers that seem genuinely interested in the form rather than just leering at the performers. (There is one scene where the song Lee dances to sounds suspiciously like "Beat It".) I did appreciate that the sex scenes were kept relatively concise and tied into the dramatic aspects, although in some cases, the choices made could be goofy, like the scene where Lee makes love to her student Shanna McCullough while Thomas, in a dramatically justified but still awkward gesture, watches from another room and jacks off. (I assume he's playing the audience in this scene. Also, McCullough's character remarks "I've never done this before" when going down on Lee, and yeah, okay Shanna.) Other highlights include a car stunt that may or may not have been lifted from elsewhere but still looks decently executed, as well as a dream sequence where Thomas (or his character at least) plays the piano and sings a song. This is held back a bit by the genre's demands, like when it places a completely superfluous sex scene at the end after Lee's reconciliation with Thomas, but on the whole this is probably the best one of the lot.

[aclosetfan]

are u still doing the ask game? can i ask for 19 or 20?

for you anon, of course! 20 is actually a really lame two-sentence note that isn't worth anyone's time, so I'll do 19!

19 is a really sad story tbh. I've always really liked the character Sedusa and it kills me that the writers never did more with her. I believe they said the reason why was because they couldn't think of many kid-friendly scenarios to put her in, which is fair lmao.

lol one of my notes for this outline is "this is my dark manifesto to [Sedusa] and it comes off like a bad CW remake," which was written way before the CW show announcement. so not to get a big ego about things, but I totally beat them to the punch. This fic is my only rated M fic (though arguably Acting Normal may also change into M just for its dark themes as well).

This story is adequately tilted "Sedusa" and it follows how a plain jane named Sara became one of Townsville's most notorious villains. The plot's below, though content warning, please don’t read if your triggered by abusive relationships, domestic violence, child abuse, sexual assault/harassment, or gore. The outline won't be detailed (and tbh the actual story won't be heavily detailed either) but i believe that everyone still deserves a fair warning :)

The outline doesn't do the plot justice, but it's all I got so hopefully people just Get It.

CHARACTER NOTES:

Canonically, I believe the Sedusa's character was supposed to represent envy and lust. So, one of the main themes I try to stick with when writing her character is the definition of envy, which is a "feeling of discontented or resentful longing aroused by someone else's possessions, qualities, or luck."

PLOT:

Sara is a sweet and mousy little girl, who tries her best to stay invisible. She's rather plain-looking except for her really beautiful long dark hair. Originally, she's not from Townsville, but somewhere in the "country" where a person could be considered a bumpkin. Sara's a smart young girl, but her intelligence is rather unrefined. She spends most of her time obsessing over greek and Egyptian mythology.

She's from a rather big family, but she's the baby. Her father is abusive. Her mother is neglectful and Sara resents her mother for just standing by while abuse is occurring. To cope, Sara dreams of running away and falls deeper into her mythology obsession--specifically Medusa. Sara feels like Medusa would understand her.

At 16, she runs away to Townsville where she tries to be a hairdresser. With no money, she ends up in a really seedy part of town and the beauty parlor she works for ends up being a front for more illicit activities. She still does hair, but really makes her money as a call-girl of sorts. Just one of those girls who gives handjobs in the back to sad old men. It's easy money (I'm pro-sex work lol so I don't make this a big deal, but she's still a minor and it's wrong), but she's disgusted with herself (and men). At this time, she isn't very good at manipulating men--it's more like they have power over her and it reminds her of her father, only making her angrier and angrier.

It is also of note that while she's working at the Parlor, she encounters Sarah Bellum via tv (Ms. Bellum is just an intern with the Mayor at this point). She's instantly fascinated by this other Sarah and forms an odd (slightly toxic) parasocial relationship with her. Sara thinks it's amazing that Sarah went to school and is just so glamourous. Ms. Bellum is really everything Sara wants to be.

*time skip*

Sara falls in love with some jackass. Still slightly obsessed with Sarah Bellum. Still working at the parlor. Sara feels stagnant and worthless. Her jackass boyfriend and a few of his shitty friends end up attacking Sara and cutting off her hair (which was her prized possession). She gets away, but not totally unscathed.

In the process of running away, she bumps into a mysterious man who promises He can fix whatever is troubling her. The mysterious man manipulates an affirmative answer out of Sara and he "fixes" her problem. The man is HIM and he transforms her into the woman we all know as Sedusa (who goes by Ima when disguised).

“And what is it that you want?” HIM tsked, almost sounding bored.

She looked back at the mirror, at her broken reflection and lipstick smeared down her face. With a sore, croaking voice she sneered, “I want my fu-fucking hair back.”

Behind her, the entity smiled, Its facing splitting wide into two, “Oh, now that I can do.”

She watched through the shattered glass how It—HIM—snapped its odd monstrous claw. HIM’s smile grew more grotesque, as a thin bead of sweat began to break out on her forehead.

“This might hurt a little bit,” the entity giggled as she began to hyperventilate, “but what is that you little humans say?" HIM paused, watching her with a tilt of Its head as pain shot through her temples, "Oh, that’s right—”

She gasped and then screamed, dropping to her knees as she clutched at her head. Something wiggled underneath her scalp, pushing harder and harder to break against the resistance of her skin. It felt as if something was pressing against her brain, trying to carve away at her skull.

“—beauty is pain.” HIM growled, appearing next to her so Its voice—now low and baritone—was right in her ear, and It grasped her by the chin forcing her to watch the mirror as snake-like tendrils sprouted from her skull. She cried out at the sight and her body trembled with the pain.

One black, oily, twisted snake after another shot out of a bloody crater on her head. She tried her best through the pain to shake HIM off—to look away—but It held her still with a twisted laugh. She thrashed and howled in agony as the blood poured down her face in rivets. HIM didn't let go. Instead, HIM forced her still, grabbing her by the chin so she'd peer directly into the broken mirror.

Sara paled right before her very eyes, from a peachy skin tone to a white paste. She tried to blink away the tears that wouldn’t stop welling in her eyes—the green of them becoming more acidic with every passing second.

“The fun should be ending soon.” HIM giggled again, Its voice back to a soprano, but she was too forgone to hear him, as her eyes began to lull into the back of her head.

Eventually, when the transformation is complete, we see this:

Sara had stayed collapsed on her knees after HIM vanished into thin air. She stared with wide eyes as blood, sweat, and tears dripped onto and rolled off her thighs. She hardly paid attention to her surrounding, all she could do was listen. She listened to her hair. She listened to the constant moving, living, mass that slithered around her head, neck, and shoulders. The coils almost seemed to be cooing at her, comforting her through her pain, offering sweet apologies for what they had done. They promised her nothing bad would ever happen again. They were a dangerous shield forged from her own body to protect her.

Her body. A vessel for this odd new life.

“Heh.” A deranged giggle escaped her mouth, “Heh. Heh ha—hahaha!” She laughed until her throat burned and tightened, her tears finally drying.

It was instantaneous. It was powerful. Sara had never known love before, but she loved them. She loved every single one of them.

And here she had thought she'd never be a mother.

Sara becomes Sedusa--taking inspiration from Medusa, her childhood fascination. She wonders if HIM knew, but she wouldn't bother asking. She feels sexy, powerful, and unstoppable. Her hair has instilled a new confidence in her and she's finally able to stand up for herself. Soon, she realizes that she's an "exotic" beauty and has men eating out of her hand. She isn't someone who kills, but if she gets bored (or feels threaten) she will.

Things are going good until the PowerPuff Girls are finally created. When she sees them for the first time, she pities them, especially when they're run out of town. She relates to them for not being loved little girls, but is completely shocked when she finds out they've won the town over. This shock turns into resentment and she decides she'll get even with the girls

Then, cue canon. Sedusa seduces the Professor. We see what happens in that episode plus a little more. Sedusa takes out a lot of her repressed childhood trauma on the girls and is plain awful to them. By the time her stint with the Professor is over, she hates them all.

Then, there's the episode with Bellum. Bellum becomes the Athena to Sedusa's medusa. Bellum is still this elevated person in Sedusa's mind, and it only makes sense to Sedusa that she should become Bellum. To become Bellum, Sedusa seduces Bellum and they end up having a brief relationship. (Sedusa pretends to be an intern at City Hall and the two ladies bond over having the same first name). Eventually, Sedusa reveals her plot and the canon events happen. (Bellum is heartbroken over Sedusa).

I'd like to emphasize that Sedusa's relationship with Bellum almost turns her "good," but her hair coils (HIM's curse) prevents her from taking those steps. Her coils prevent close loving relationships--since they're supposed to be shield that keeps people out, preventing any chance that Sedusa's heart may be broken again. [coils represent her inability to heal from the past]

Then we run through a quick montage of her other appearances.

[throughout all of this, I would write how her hair coils are making her more and more insane]

*time skip to after the events of the og show*

This is where my plot can go anywhere. I think Sedusa becomes sloppy, maybe kills a politican. She's spirialing out of control and mad that she can't find any real happiness in her life. I think it'd be interesting to show her interacting with the rrb, not necessarily to show their relationship, but to show how Sedusa would be infuriated that HIM had sons, especially sons who hurt girls for fun ( i.e. the ppg) (a real 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend' moment for her). She's also infuriated at HIM for turning her into a monster, so being mad about his "sons" is just an excuse to get even with the entity.

To hurt HIM, she decides to hurt the boys, but the girls interfere. They won't let innocent live be taken, no matter the person's moral alignment. This infuriates Sedusa even more than HIM ever could. Because again, despite all the shitty things that have happened to the Girls, they are still good as opposed to Sedusa, who ended up bad. She doesn't understand why she had to end up the way she did.

However, the girls aren't the people who finally "defeat" Sedusa. Instead, that honor is left to Ms. Bellum (Sedusa's "Athena"), who Sedusa still very much loves in her own sick twisted way. Paralleling the Sedusa/Bellum episode in the og show, the girls (while protecting the boys) are almost defeated by Sedusa until Bellum intervenes. It's revealed that Bellum had a shitty childhood too (again enforcing the parallels/differences between the two women) and believes that it's not too late for Sedusa to change her ways (it’s a real “I’m rotten work” “no it isn’t. Not if it’s you” moment) In a moment of mental clarity, where the coils (and by extension HIM) cannot affect her judgement, Sedusa releases the boys and the girls. Sedusa doesn't stay though, like Bellum pleads, she gets scared and runs away. (but does tell Bellum she’d always love her, whatever that’s good for)

[also I decide bellum to defeat sedusa to show that the girls are still to young and that adults should be the ones dealing with other adults] [and bellum has a good track record of doing just that]

Idk if she'd be gone forever, but it's implied that she hasn't been seen in Townsville for a long time. What she gets up to is left ambiguous. She can't be good because of her hair coils, but she doesn't want to be bad. idk I don't want it to have a sad ending, but I don't think it can really be happy.

-----

I try hard to play with the concept of beauty, womanhood, purity, love and how negative/positive responses to trauma affect these concepts. Idk it's really rough and needs to be thought out more, especially the end, but I think Sedusa deserves her own story.

[nalgenewhore]

A rogue storm had her presumed dead and stranded on the red planet. Left on her own, astronaut Aelin Galathynius has four years to make it to the next drop-site, some two thousand miles. Armed with her smarts and dwindling supplies, Aelin attempts to survive on an inhospitable planet, when the nearest help is only millions of miles away. 

masterlist - ao3 - last chapter - next chapter 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

“It just can’t be. Have you double checked?”

Weylan Darrow’s disapproving face stared at Nox through the computer screen, Asterin sitting next to him with a blank expression.

“Yes, sir. Everyone in SatCon and the RPL checked them,” he replied, trying to keep the exasperation out of his voice. “See, the images show both the rovers moving and the solar panels being cleaned. Modifications have been made to—”

“Modifications? What modifications?”

Sartaq Dalavtchai, the director of the Rocket Propulsion Lab, held up an image, “Galathynius took the battery off the second rover and attached it to the first, to double its power…”

Asterin spoke, finishing his sentence, “She’s trying to travel to the Mistward crater for The Crone.”

“Exactly, Asterin, or that’s what we believe is happening.”

“But the rover will only be able to travel a total of one-hundred kilometres and Mistward is… two-thousand at least. Not to mention, she’ll need to use the heater during the nights.”

Sartaq nodded, “You’re correct. Which is why we believe she is planning to attach the solar panels and…” he and Nox shared a look; they wouldn’t be happy to find out what she’d dug up.

“And?” Weylan prompted, wariness in his eyes. “And what?”

“Sir, she dug up the RTG.”

Asterin’s otherworldly eyes – the truest black flecked with brilliant gold – widened, “The plutonium battery?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She sat back in her chair, thinking aloud, “Well, it would be able to fully power the rover without needing to be charged.” As well as powering a nuclear bomb, but Asterin kept that to herself.

 +*+*+*+*+*+*

“She’s what?” Manon barked, glaring through the computer at Nox, as if he had grossly offended her. “Who even is this, where’s the director of SatCon?”

Asterin calmed her cousin, “Stop being a dick, Manon, this is Nox Owens, he’s a satellite planner and the one who found out Aelin’s still alive.” She addressed Nox next with a cheeky grin, “Don’t worry about her, she hasn’t drunk the blood of a virgin for a while, she’s a little grouchy.”

Nox laughed, still terrified of the glaring woman, and Weylan shook his head from the opposite side of the table as Manon, as if thinking, Why did I hire so many witches?

“Please, continue, Nox,” Gavriel said, “where’s Aelin going?”

“Well, we’re not sure, sir. We believe she’s testing out her modifications on the rovers. She drives for thirteen hours, stops, and returns. We think the stops are to charge the batteries.”

Weylan frowned, he seemed to do that a lot. “But you said that she attached the solar cells to the top. Why would she need to re-charge and what about the RTG?”

Sartaq waved to introduce himself, “I can answer that. The solar cells are extremely delicate and the rover is designed to cross all sorts of rough terrain so she can’t have the solar cells out all the time because the risk of breaking them is higher. As for the generator,” he paused, rubbing his fingers over his jaw, “it’s good for spacecrafts but if it ruptures around humans… no more humans. Which is why she isn’t completely relying on it. And why we buried it, with a flag so we would know not to touch it.”

The Orynth team all nodded thoughtfully and Weylan asked, “Sartaq, what’s the fastest you can get a food probe ready?”

“Hmm,” the gears in his mind circled and he narrowed his eyes, “with the planetary positioning… nine months. We’ll need six months to build it in the first place—”

“Three months. Get it done.” Weylan held up his hand when Sartaq startled, looking to protest, “You’re going to say it can’t be done and I’ll give some speech about the immeasurable capabilities of the RPL team and you’ll say something like the overtime alone will be a nightmare.”

“The overtime alone will be a nightmare,” the harried rocket scientist mumbled, looking behind the camera at the rest of his team who were all shaking their heads and holding up a sign that read FUCK NO!!!

“Get it started, I’ll find you the money.”

Manon breathed out, trying to keep her anger in check, “It’s time to tell the crew.”

“Manon,” her boss started, his voice conveying his emotions on the topic they’d already discussed many, many times. “We’ve talked about this.”

“No, you talked about this. But I’m the crew director, I decide what’s best for the crew. They deserve to know,” she pressed, balling her hands into fists, her iron nails flashing for a second.

Gavriel shook his head, “I agree with Weylan, Manon. They need to concentrate on getting home safe.”

“Fuck all of you,” spat Manon, murder in her eyes. “Fuck all of you.”

“When we have a rescue plan, we’ll tell them. Until then, it’s useless. Sartaq has three months to get it done, be patient.”

“We’ll do our best,” Sartaq said, his face pale.

Manon turned her gaze on him, cocking her head to the side, “Aelin dies if you don’t.”

 +*+*+*+*+*+*

Rowan couldn’t sleep.

Hadn’t been able to in the month following Aelin’s death.

He wanted more time. Not a lot, just five minutes, just enough to tell her he loved her with all that he was and would ever be.

There had always been some unspoken thing between them, it was impossible to stay away.

They’d loathed each other at the start.

Oh, she drove him crazy.

She seemed to know everything about everything and beat him to the first spot in their classes in the space program, utterly ruthless. At least, when Elide beat the two of them, she was tactful and humble, but Aelin…

She knew just how smart she was and refused to downplay it. Despite loathing her, it was always something he subconsciously admired of her.

She was a wildfire, unapologetic with her quest to get what she wanted, accepting nothing but the best of herself.

With her corn-silk hair and electric blue eyes, it was easy to peg her as a princess – a brat, only here on Daddy’s money.

Gods, he was an ass. It wasn’t until she had fled the dorms, crying after he’d insulted her by calling her a dumb blonde, looking for her Mrs. degree, and told her that she didn’t deserve to be here like the rest of them, and the verbal beating he’d received from Elide (arguably the most terrifying experience of his life – especially when Nesryn was forced to physically restrain the five-foot woman) that he’d realized how badly he’d fucked up.

Even Lorcan gave him a disgusted look and slapped him upside the head before Rowan chased after her and begged for forgiveness.

After… they weren’t friends but they weren’t at each other’s throats all the time either.

Everything had changed the night she’d stumbled into his room, high after smoking with Elide and Nesryn – a birthday tradition he was told – and he fell. Harder than he’d thought possible, irrevocably and irretrievably in love with her.

Rowan kept his eyes at the kitchen table, picking at his fingernails, refusing to look up as Fenrys and Lorcan sat down.

They stayed silent and for that, he was grateful. There were no words to say and so they sat, quiet until Rowan was ready.

 +*+*+*+*+*+*

Gavriel was absolutely exhausted.

It had been a long day, after flying to Perranth from Orynth and meeting with Nox, who he was currently sitting next to as they watched the satellites.

He could feel his eyes drooping shut. Slapping his cheek, a couple times, and draining the rest of his coffee, he sat up and tapped the screen, “Why is there a jump here?”

“Oh, because of how the orbits line up, there’s a thirteen-minute gap every thirty hours,” Nox explained, pushing his glasses onto the top of his head and rubbing his eyes.

“Where is she going,” Gavriel wondered, tracking the movement of the rover through every frame, “there’s out there except for…” he sat up straight, his tawny eyes wide. “I need a map.” With that, he was gone, making his way out of Satellite Control as Nox scrambled to his feet and hurried after him, not sure what was happening.

They sped-walked down a hallway until the cat-like man stopped abruptly and took down a framed image of the Anascaul crater, where the hab was located, and took a marker from his pocket as someone said, “Hey, man, you can’t just do that—”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s fine. Nox,” he addressed the younger man next to him, Nox’s mind still reeling, “what are the hab’s coordinates?”

He rattled them off and Gavriel marked them on the glass protecting the picture, drawing another mark halfway across the picture, in the opposite direction of the Mistward crater. He nodded to himself, “Alright. I know where she’s going. Where’s Sartaq?”

 +*+*+*+*+*+*

Nox still had absolutely no idea what was happening as he trailed after Gavriel and Sartaq through the lab. The dark-haired man said to Gavriel, “I got everyone who was here in ’03, which is when the probe went silent. I’d like to point out that it lasted three times longer—”

“Of course, Sartaq. No one is criticizing the RPL’s work, you’ve done an amazing job.” He shook hands with the three scientists, Malakai Scéalaí, Brulo Vojnik, and Philippa Bisset. “So, I’ll just get right to it. What’s the likelihood of Aelin getting it working again?”

Philippa answered him, “It’s hard to say, really. When we lost contact, we lost a data bank, so we were never able to figure out how it lasted as long as it did and why it stopped working.” She indicated the covered machinery behind him, “We have the replica all ready for you.”

Gavriel turned around and they pulled the tarp off to reveal the original Farnor probe – The Lord of The North.

 +*+*+*+*+*+*

Aelin had been sitting outside the hab for an hour. She was so ready to just give up, but every time she thought about throwing a fit and stomping inside, Lorcan’s face appeared and his voice filled her head, insulting her and threatening her with gross bodily harm if she went the ‘pussy-ass-bitch’ route and gave up. Aelin had to stop herself from answering to him, not ready to be that kind of crazy.

She stared at the probe, praying for it to move to point to either one of the signs she’d written and stabbed in the earth after travelling to dig up another TNSB relic.

There were three signs in total, the closest one reading Yes, the middle one: Messages written here. Are you receiving? And the third: No, which was a little redundant because if they didn’t receive, they wouldn’t be able to point to any of the signs, let alone No.

The sun was setting and Aelin could feel herself nodding off, drained after her day and the emotional toll. Gods, I just want to go home, she prayed, take me home, please. She hadn’t let herself cry and it seemed she had put it off too much to control when her eyes grew wet and soon enough, tears were rolling down her cheeks.

A whirring noise interrupted her and she opened her eyes, her heart in her throat as the camera spun to… the left. Yes, they were receiving.

Aelin almost didn’t believe it and stood on surprisingly strong legs before taking one step and then another, but when the probe stayed on the ‘yes’ sign, she threw her arms up and roared of her victory to the high heavens, her voice breaking as the tears came faster and faster.

 +*+*+*+*+*+*

“So, here’s the thing,” Aelin addressed the camera once again, eating oatmeal for dinner, and potatoes. She’d always loved oatmeal, loved to load it up with brown sugar and cream aplenty, to the confusion of every person she’d ever met. “We have to have serious astrophysical engineering conversations with a still frame camera that has a thirty-two-minute round trip communication time. Luckily,” she ate a bite, talking with her mouth full, “the camera does spin three-sixty so I can use an alphabet.”

She stood and walked her empty bowl over to the sink, scraping it clean, “It just can’t be ours because with twenty-six characters plus a question card gives me a twelve-degree arc, which is too narrow, we’d never know what it’s pointing at. Which means,” she spun, pointing her spoon at the camera, “hexadecimals to the rescue!”

She elaborated as she dragged Nesryn’s box into the frame, “Only sixteen characters gives me enough room and I’m hoping the geeks at RPL can send me some code so that the rover’s computer can communicate with TNSB. Fingers crossed.”

Sitting down, she held up a TSCII – Terrasen Standard Code for Information Interchange – table, “I figured one of you had to have an old TSCII table lying around and, ladies and gents, I give you super nerd: Nesryn Faliq. Mala above, Nes, you’re such a computer geek.”

The code had been developed from telegraph code and eventually formatted for the very first telephones and then evolving to computers. It used the decimal numbers – 0,1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9 – and six extra symbols, which were transmitted in binary code to be converted by computers.

 +*+*+*+*+*+*

It had been three days since the probe first made contact with TNSB and Aelin had been right, the folks at RPL sent her instructions on how to hack the rover’s computer and with just a smidgen of code, they could now communicate by using the Lord of The North’s broadcasting system.

She’d told them what was happening and what had happened during the storm, reinforcing that it was not the crew’s fault.

Text appeared on the screen.

TNSB: Aelin, this is Gavriel Aryeh

TNSB: We’ve been watching you on the satellites for a while now, amazing job modifying the rovers and growing crops, we’re all rooting for you

LTN: I should hope you all want me to survive, Aelin replied, laughing to herself. Giddiness had taken over every emotion since they’d made contact.

TNSB: RPL is putting together a supply mission to keep you fed until The Crone

LTN: Glad to hear it, really excited about not dying

LTN: How’d the crew take it when they found out I was alive?

+*+*+*+*+*+*

an: well that was a fun place to end on! till next time lovies and as always, let me know if you want to be added/removed from the tag list! 

@mythicaitt​ @kandasboi​ @schmlip-scribble​ @the-regal-warrior​ @westofmoon​ @empire-of-wildfire​ @rhysands-highlady​ @city-of-fae​ @shyvioletcat​ @alifletcher2012​ @tangledraysofsunshine​ @ttakeitbacknoww​ @tswaney17​ @ourbooksuniverse​ @flora-and-fae​ @that-other-pineapple​ @sleeping-and-books​ @superspiritfestival​ @faerie-queen-fireheart​ @chemicha​ @rowaelin-cressworth​ @mynewdreamwasyou​ @candid-confetti​ @bat-wing-rhys​ @the-reading-obsessed-stitchbear​ @feyrethedarklady​ @booklover41802​ @rowaelinforeverworld​ @jamesxdaisy​ @julemmaes​ @hellas-himself​ 

[diverse-writing]

Book Review: “Queer City” by Peter Ackroyd

Thanks to @kyliebean-editing​ for the review request! I have a list of books I’ve read recently here that I’m considering reviewing, so let me know if you’re looking for my thoughts on a specific book and I’ll be sure to give it a go!

2.5 ⭐/5

Hey all! I’m back with another book review and this time we’re taking a dip into nonfiction with Peter Ackroyd’s Queer City: Gay London from the Romans to the Present Day. Let’s dive right in.

The good: Peter Ackroyd is a hugely prolific writer and a historian clearly trained for digging through huge archives of history and his expertise shows. This particular volume--his 37th nonfiction book and 55th overall published work--provides a startlingly comprehensive timeline of London’s gay history, just as promised. Arguably, the book’s subtitle short sells the book’s content; Queer City actually rewinds the clock all the way back to the city’s origins as a Celtic town before it became Roman Londinium. From there, Ackroyd’s utilizes his extensive historical experience to trace proof of gay activity through the ages. From the high courts of medieval times to the monks of the Tudor era, the gaslit back alleys of Victorian London to the raging club scene of the 1980s--gay people have lived and even thrived in London for literal millennia, and Ackroyd has the receipts to back it up. If you need proof that homosexuality has been a staple of civilization since the Romans--and the homophobia has often recycled the same arguments for the same period of time--then look no further.

The mediocre: All that being said, Ackroyd’s “receipts” often tend towards the salacious, the scandalous, and often the explicit. It seems that legal edicts and court cases made up the foundation of his research, so us readers get to hear in full detail the punishments levied against historical queer individuals, from exile to the pillory to the gallows. Occasionally, Ackroyd dips into the written pornagraphic accounts of the time to describe salacious sexual encounters, which add little to the overarching narrative except proof that gay people do, in fact, have sex. Later down the historical record, once newspapers became more common, we also receive extensive account of the gossip pages of the day, complete with rants about the indecency of “buggery” and the moral decay of “the homosexual.” Throughout the book, ass puns and phallic wordplay run rampant, so much so that it occasionally feels like it’s only added for shock value.

While I’m not a professional historian, as a queer person I can’t help but feel that there must be more to the historical record than these beatings, back alley hookups, etc. In focus on the concrete evidence of gay activity--that is, gay sex and all the official documents surrounding the subject--it feels like Ackroyd neglects the emotional side of queerness in favor of the physical side. Even the queer poetry excerpts or diary entries of the time (which I’m nearly positive exist throughout the historical record, though once again I’m not a professional) sampled in this book are all focused on the physical act of sex. No queer person wants a pastel tinted, desexed version of our history--but we also don’t need to hear a dozen explicit accounts of gay park sex. Queer love and queer sex go hand in hand and to focus on one without the other is disingenuous, not to mention dangerous in promoting the idea that queer people are hypersexual and predatory. Admittedly, I do think the omission of queer love is an unintentional byproduct of Ackroyd’s fact-checking and editorial process. He may not have intended to leave out tenderness, but his intentional choice to focus on impersonal records--court cases, royal decrees, newspapers, etc.--rather than personal ones--diaries, poetry, art, etc.--meant that emotion was largely excluded anyway. 

The bad: Though Queer City does a good job of following queer history through the ages, Ackroyd fails to connect his cited historical examples with larger sociocultural movements of the time. He discusses queer coding in Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales but not the larger (oft homoromantic/homoerotic) courtly love traditions that Chaucer drew on. He describes the cult followings around boy actors playing female parts in Elizabethan and Jacobian London but neglects to put those theaters and the public reaction to them within the context of the ongoing Renaissance. Similarly, Ackroyd omits explicit connections to the Enlightenment, Romanticism, Neoclassicism, free love, and countless other cultural movements that undoubtedly shaped both the social and legal responses to the queer community. This exclusion, unlike the exclusion of queer love, had to be intentional on Ackroyd’s part; it’s hugely unlikely that a historian with his bibliography accidentally forgot to mention the last millennium’s worth of Western civilization cultural movements. It’s a massive oversight that utterly fails to place London’s queer history within the context of wider history.

And finally, last but definitely not least, oh boy does Ackroyd have some learning to do when it comes to gender, gender presentation, and gender identity. From the very first chapter, it’s apparent that Ackroyd’s research and writing focused largely on MLM cisgender men, with WLW cisgender women as a far secondary priority. While there are chapters on chapters dedicated to detangling homosexual men’s dealings, homosexual women are often pushed to the fringes of London’s queer history. They receive paragraphs, here and there, and occasionally the closing sentence of a chapter, but overall they’re clearly downgraded to a secondary priority within Ackroyd’s historical narrative. Some of this can once again be blamed on the type of records Ackroyd uses; sex between women was never criminalized or discussed in the public sphere in the same way that sex between men was, so it was a less common topic in London’s courts and newspapers. (And, once again, I have the sneaking suspicion that turning to less traditional sources would’ve helped resolve this issue, though in part the omission can likely be pinned on Ackroyd’s demonstrable preference towards male history.)

Additionally, Ackroyd tends to treat crossdressing as undeniable proof of homosexuality. While it’s true that historically queer individuals found freedom or relief in dressing as the opposite sex, the latter didn’t necessarily equal the former. Additionally, if the crossdressing individual in question was female, dressing as a man was often a way for a woman to secure more freedoms than she would receive while wearing traditional feminine outfits. (Also, he tended to use “transvestite” over “crossdressing,” and while I tend to think of the latter as more preferred, the former may be more in use among queer studies circles or British slang). Though Ackroyd briefly acknowledges that women could and may have crossdressed to more easily navigate a misogynistic world, he nevertheless continually dredges out records of crossdressing women as concrete proof of historical sapphics.

Which brings us to the elephant in the room; in clearly identifying crossdressers as homosexuals, Ackroyd entirely overlooks the existence of transgender and nonbinary people in London’s historical record. This omission, arguably unlike the others, seems definitively intentional and malicious. In the entire book, I could probably count on one hand the number of times Ackroyd mentions the concept of gender identity, and I could use even fewer fingers for the number of times he does so respectfully and thoughtfully. Though he largely neglects to discuss transgender history as a subset of queer history, when he does bring up historical non-cisgender identities it’s often as a component of his salacious narratives rather than a vibrant and storied history all on its own. In the final chapter on modern gay London, Ackroyd’s casual dismissal of the concept of myriad gender identities felt dangerously close to modern day British “gender criticism,” which is likely more familiar to queer readers as TERFism masquerading under the guise of concern for women and gay rights (JK Rowling is a very public example of a textbook gender critical Brit, if you’re wondering). By the end of the book, Ackroyd’s skepticism of so-called “nontraditional gender identities” is so glaringly evident that he might as well proclaim it outright. 

The verdict:  For a book supposedly focused on queerness, the focus on male cisgender homosexuality is both disappointing and honestly not surprising. This book is a portrait of gay London, yes--but it’s also a portrait of Peter Ackroyd as a historian and a professional. It’s clear from early on that he’s writing from the perspective of an older white gay man (I think queer WOC know what I’m talking about when I say that that POV is very distinct, and his clear idolation of 1960s-1980s gay culture makes his age quite evident as well). As you progress through the book, his blindspot in regards to gender and gender politics become increasingly clear, as does his simultaneous obsession and criticism with transgender identities. Overall, Queer City is a clear example of how “nonfiction” doesn’t necessarily mean unvarnished truth--or at least not all of it--and how individual historian’s methods and biases bleed into their research. 

A dear London friend suggested Matt Houlbrook’s Queer London: Perils and Pleasures of the Sexual Metropolis as a more gender inclusive review of the famous city’s queer history. While I take a break from London for a bit, I would welcome any and all thoughts on either Queer City or Queer London, the latter which I fully intend to get to eventually so I can properly compare the two.

[iamalivenow]

You've been fishing for the better half of the last day.

It's been pouring for the last four.

Typically you don't mind spending time in the woods, The Shroud is familiar in a way few places really are, and ever since you've gotten back from the First, since everyone else got back too, you've been clinging to that familiarity. You've flung yourself into a new hobby, to take your mind off things, but lucky for you, fishing can happen pretty much anywhere, which is why you've been doing it here.

When you fish, and you do fish for hours, your mind just goes blank and empty. It's astonishingly mind numbing, and makes an astonishing amount of money, and aside from the worried glances the other Scions give you when you see them after days at a time, there's really no downside to speak off.

You get so caught in the moment to moment of waiting for your rod to bob that you don't even notice the cold and the wet for the most part. It's the perfect activity for someone who definitely isn't extremely sad and tired all the time. Because that can't be you, right, you're the hero! Your friends are all back and safe and sound! And you definitely didn't murder a child, maybe! Or realize that some ancient version of you summoned a god into existence and actively caused all the harm and suffering in every reality. You didn't. Definitely didn't do that. And definitely don't continue to do that.

So anyway, fishing is good. If you had to think of a complaint, your tackle box is getting pretty heavy lately, so maybe you could clean that out sometime, but other than that.

It's been great.

When did the sun set?

You send a blip of aether to the end of your rod and it glows a gentle green across the surface of the lake you're standing at. You feel a tug, finally, and start reeling in, gripping the rod and tugging every few seconds- whatever it is feels big so you dig your heels in. The rain beats down as hard as it does, masking the movement of your line so you let yourself pull harder.

You can almost feel it break the surface as something pushes down on the back of your neck, hard enough to break your concentration for just long enough that the fish gets too much give and rips the rod clean out of your hands.

You spin around, already swinging at thin air.

“Who the fuck-” No one is around, probably not for miles, and certainly not at this time of night, not in this weather.

“Oh come now. You almost sound unhappy to see to me, hero.”

You're used to people monologuing at you, dramatic and from the shadows. And you'd be fine with that, any excuse to beat up the fucker that made you lose your expensive rod to the lake. You've need a good fight for a while now, maybe.

Except you're the one who said that.

Your mouth opened, and those words came out, and sure you've been standing out in the rain in the dark for hours and who knows when you've last eaten (or slept) but you've never hit this degree of-

“You think so quickly for how little you talk.” You say again- or rather someone- “Even in your more animated moods, I would never have assumed you do so much thinking.”

You've been possessed, it seems.

“Yes.” Your voice says, gentler, and you feel your hand lift up and someone else spread your fingers before clenching them tightly. “How did I never notice how nice your hands are?” There's really only one ascian who's ever been this familiar with you and his name catches in your throat. You laugh at yourself, turning to look around as if this is just a normal thing that happens. “It's alright, you can say it, I promise I'll hardly be offended.”

“You're dead.”

“Yes.”

“I killed you.”

“Yes.” It comes slower this time, and something clenches in the center of your chest.

“Have I finally lost it?”

“No. Well.” He makes you look down at yourself, and then lifts your face up to the rain. “Arguably.”

“How are you-”

“The veil is thinner here, someone had opened the lifestream in these woods before.” You think about Y'shtola for a moment, her body slipping back into reality, and you laugh again. “Twice? She's quite the abnormality, isn't she-”

“How are you-” You ask again and your hand comes up to your mouth, muffling yourself.

“Possession is easy.” You're whispering now, against your palm. “I only had to find you. And it's easier now. Though I must say, I expected you to be better taken care off.”

“Why?” Why now, why here, why not at any moment before-

“Well.” Your shoulders sag, and all of a sudden you start to feel the exhaustion you probably should have been feeling for a long time. “I would hardly want you too keel over because of your agonies.”

You feel the cold now, the wet, sinking into you and causing you to shiver. Or maybe your hands are trembling because you've not eaten in how ever long.

“What have you done with yourself- mm?” Your hands lift up again, pressing to your face. “I can hardly let you waste away for your own neglect. You're much too important.”

“I'm sorry.” You say because you've wanted to tell Emet-Selch that for a long time. “For-”

“You can be sad when you're warm. I'm rather fond of being sad in furs. Or in a warm bed. Love being miserable in a good bed.” Your legs start moving- you stumble for the first step, “Out of practice-” he says, but it's a smooth walk all the way back to The Roost.

He orders you a room, with a tub of hot water to be brought in, and a full dinner an hour later.

“Hades-” You say and your mouth shuts itself with out even the aid of your hands this time.

You're let into your usual room, and the tub is steam in the corner.

“Hades-” You try again when you're alone and you feel your head shake.

“I'm taking care of you.” He says, and it's not like you can argue. He smiles for you and starts tugging at the wet fabric of your clothes. “Has anyone ever taken care of you before?”

Your life flashes before your eyes, like he's looking through your memories, trying to find instances of kindness. Your can barely breath as you both come to a realization that no, not since you were a child, and isn't that pathetic. He forces you too sigh, to breath and lets you lean forward against the rim of the tub.

The warmth feels good- You haven't had a hot bath since The First- everything else has been dunking yourself in rushing rivers because it's faster.

“I'm sorry.” You say again, quietly and he sighs, exasperated. You can feel it-

“These dramatics hardly suite you.” Your fingers unbutton your clothes, and you forget to feel any kind of way about it other than sad. He nudges you- and it does feel almost external, like someone prodding a finger against your shoulder, and you get into the hot water. “Isn't this better?”

You lay there in silence and he seems content to lay with you. You wish you could see him- that he was really here, that you hadn't killed him. That just once diplomacy could actually have worked.

“Did you use to do this for me?” You don't know why you're asking. The me in that sentence isn't even really you. Or the other way around rather, because Azem was more parts of you than you are of them.

“Ha- You'd go to Hythlodaeus more often than me. On more than one occasion I would get mad because I thought you were-” Your hand waves in the air and it's so him you're almost shocked your wrist can actually bend like that. “Well. You weren't stepping out.”

“Was it because I didn't want to worry you?”

“That does sound like you, doesn't it? All your heroics.” And then he forces you to take a deep breath and dunks your body under the water. You sit until your lungs start burning and then you're allowed to come up for air. “I only ever insisted once.”

And then you're fed a memory, overlaid one of yours, of two figures, laid a top one another in a long pool. The figure the other was leaned on covered the other's face, and they were laughing about something- Nabriales, it sounds like.  

“You had left for a year, and when you finally came back the you had said the trip hadn't gone as well as you hoped. I can hardly recall a time I've seen you made more miserable.”

Azem seemed happy beside him.

“I'm sorry.” You say again and now you roll your eyes.

“Bit late for it now.” There's a knock at the door and you get up to let your dinner in. The robe the inn had was soft though not soft enough to keep Emet-Selch from commenting- and then you were sat slowly eating.

“Hey.”

“Go ahead.”

“Were you watching me the entire time?”

“After you got back.” He swallows. “It's been astonishingly dull.”

“It's felt dull.” You take bread in your hands and rip it aimlessly. He lets you, even if he thinks its a waste of time. It's easy to imagine a life with him, somehow, and you can't tell if it's Azem in the room with you or your own gut feeling. “I keep hoping your great grandson will come threaten to kill someone again.”

You huff a laugh and your hands drop the utensils with a clatter.

The confusion doesn't last long when you make to hold your own hand. You right hand, which has been heavy and out of your control loosens for a moment. He squeezes your hand and when you squeeze back its of your own volition.

You sit like that for a long time, in the quiet of the room. Someone comes by eventually to take the food and the tub out of the room, so you're left to sit on the bed in silence. It's comfortable, despite the absurdity of the situation. You can't help but wonder if Lahabrea and Thancred had any moments like this, which sends Hades into a fit of laughter. When he calms down, the smile that stays on your face is yours.

“Will you still be here tomorrow?”

“I think you'll be quite busy, tomorrow. You won't need me.”

“Even without knowing the circumstances of what tomorrow may bring, I disagree.” Because it's you, you think.

“Well.” You fall back on the bed, still holding your own hand. “If you come wasting your time with fish in the Twelveswood, maybe I'll ensure another fish steels your fishing rod.”

“It cost me a good deal of gil-”

“What a travesty.” As dry as ever, but you're both smiling. He closes your eyes for you, and you feel him try and slip away a few minutes later, the same pressure at the back of your neck. “Take better care of yourself.”

“Mm-” You say very intelligently as he plunges you into a full nights sleep.

The morning is busy and hectic, just like he said it would be.

It's easier to carry yourself than it has been a while.

[nervyghost]

Back in all of my glory with another chapter of  @littlekiwifrog ‘s Turned good AU! This one (like the last chapter) got crazy long, but it mostly did so because I wanted to write something with the rest of the losers. (Cursing, as per usual with these losers) I’m tagging @da-chubby-burb as my lovely beta, and just before I begin, I wanted to ask if any of you wanted to be on my tag list.

Yep! You heard it! I’m starting a tag list, so if anyone wants to be added, shoot me a PM and I’ll be more than hapy to throw your name into the next one! That’s it from me, enjoy the chapter!

Bill hammered on his younger brother’s door for what had to be the thirtieth time that morning, his patience wearing thin as seconds ticked by. “JUH-GEORGIE! C’MON!” He shouted irritably. The sound of bedsheets being torn off of a mattress followed his words, causing him to add: “If you’re not out here in f-f-five minutes, I’m leaving wi-without you!” There was a crash from within the room along with the sound of clothes hitting the floor with a panicked sort of haste. Bill smiled and shook his head fondly, knowing full well that his brother was nowhere near ready to go and meet the gang.

Richie was hardly ever on time anyway, and Georgie was practically stuck to the other boy’s side whenever they were in the same room, when he wasn’t asking Stan a thousand questions about birds. Both would complain sometimes, but Bill knew they both secretly loved the attention the seven-year-old was more than willing to give them. Before he could become too lost in his thoughts, he turned his attention back to the door decorated with turtles and banged on it again, harder this time. “Suh-sometime today!”

“COMING!” Georgie hollered. Bill listened as the banging noises became more frantic, less spaced out, and altogether hectic as the boy within fought with his pajamas and tugged on his clothes. With a final creak of protest from the floorboards, Georgie emerged in all of his glory, his hair swept awkwardly across his face to obscure his bright eyes. He was quick to brush his bangs out of his eyes and look up at Bill with a grin on his face.

He tugged at the strings of his yellow hoodie before striding forward, trying- unsuccessfully- to hide his excitement. “I’m ready to go, Billy!” He chirped. Bill shook his head firmly.

“Guh-go eat something.” Georgie’s face fell near instantly.

“You’re going without me?” Bill snorted and leaned forward to ruffle his hair.

“Course not.” He reassured him. “But you sh-should eat something first.” Georgie looked ready to argue but Bill silenced him by turning on his heel and striding in the direction of the door. “I’m j-just going to fuh-fix Silver up a bit, okay?”

“Okay.” Georgie seconded, running to Bill’s side to grab him around the waist and stare up at him with his big brown eyes. “Promise?” He asked. Bill smiled.

“Of cuh-course.” Georgie grinned up at him. Bill almost felt bad for crossing his fingers behind his back as the younger boy bounded to the parlor to snag a muffin.

Bill knew he wouldn’t have long to wait before he was back at his side, so he quickened his step, letting his feet carry him out of the front door and to the pair of bikes parked neatly out front, looking like two dogs waiting for their masters to return. Bill ran his hands over Silver’s rusted frame. “Not yet.” He whispered to it, letting his fingers run over the dents in the handlebars before pulling away. Silver was in pristine condition, as always. The bike he was worried about, was Georgie’s.

He stared at it, wondering idly if it would disappear before his very eyes, but the bike remained, its blue paint gleaming in the sunlight as it waited for Bill to touch it. It seemed to call to him, which was ridiculous. It was a bike, not some sort of child-eating-demon. Bill still couldn’t bring himself to even touch it, the smell of what he knew wasn’t popcorn clinging to it like a foul musk to a wild animal. He had to take a deep breath before laying his hand on the cheery paint, just to calm his racing heart. It was stupid, really, to be afraid of a bike. He hated that he had to fight to convince himself that was true.

He knelt next to it and poked at the spokes, his eyes scanning the chain for any kinks or breaks in the metal. He ran his finger along the edge and inspected it further, the links cool on his hands. He pulled away with hesitance, wiping the grease stains on his hands across his pants, leaving twin smears across his jeans. He hardly batted an eye, standing to feel the seat instead, searching for anything sharp, not wanting to be responsible for anything bad happening to the kid.

He almost wanted to find something, just to prove to Georgie that Penny was nothing more than imaginary, but the lack of anything dangerous was driving him up the wall.

And, it still didn’t explain how it ended up in his bedroom with a red balloon. He didn’t want to admit how long he had stared at the red balloon, a feeling of dread causing his stomach to twist into a tight knot of sheer fear, the room near electric. The hairs on the back of his neck had stood on end as though Georgie had left his window open.

He hadn’t.

As he further inspected the bike, he couldn’t hold back more skeptical thoughts regarding Georgie’s friend. It was impossible for it to have brought the bike back, and Georgie wasn’t one to lie. Bill had no trouble believing that the Bowers gang had attacked his little brother, it had happened enough times. But the part that he was finding hard to swallow was the fact that the bike had been returned. Someone would’ve noticed if their house was broken into, surely. And for the intruder to be carrying a bike? It just didn’t make sense.

But, as his hands wandered up and down the pristine bike, he came to his conclusion. The bike, was just that. A bike. A blue bike that somehow had magically appeared in his younger brother’s room after being tossed into the river.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when the door behind him swung open on squealing hinges. He threw his leg over Silver’s sturdy frame and rested on the seat, watching with a forced smile as Georgie galloped over to his own ride.

“I had a muffin!” He proclaimed.

“Knew it.” Bill booted the kickstand into place and began to pedal forward. “C’mon, or R-Richie will beat us th-there!” That was all the convincing Georgie needed to spur the bike forward and out of their yard. Bill looked toward the road as Silver began to pick up speed and he stood up on the pedals, loving the feeling of wind in his hair. He let it blow all thoughts of ‘Mr. Penny’ out of his head, and with every noise of metal-on-metal that Silver let out, he felt just a little better about- well, everything.

He would never admit it, of course, but on the day Georgie had gone out all alone with his little paper boat, something inside of him just screamed that his brother was in danger. And not just in danger of a fall, or a bruised forehead, no. Bill was almost certain that something absolutely horrifying was going to happen to Georgie while he had been immobilized by fever. It was stupid, really, but the fear gluing him to the bed had felt so real, so cold and sharp, he was positive that he’d never see Georgie again. He didn’t want to admit how he had stared at the ceiling and said a silent prayer for his brother’s safe return as the piano downstairs played the tune Für Elise. It seemed to last for hours. Hours of waiting to hear Georgie’s screams from the window. Days of wanting to be anything but as useless as he was. Years of feeling his head burn and sweat drip down his back.

And then- Georgie had come home. Wet and waterlogged, but with a joy that warmed him from head to toe. He would never admit to practically leaping down all the stairs in a single bound when he heard his brother call him down.

He wasn’t even mad about the boat, not really. It was only his cold that stopped him from scooping his brother up in his arms and holding him close, just for a second. He’d be able to blame it on being more than a little loopy off his meds (As they all knew Eddie had been in the past) and that would be that.

“Wait!” Bill slammed on the brakes and nearly went flying over the handlebars as Silver screeched to a stop. He shot Georgie a dirty look.

“Wh-What the hell, Georgie?” He snapped. Georgie looked a little bit sheepish as he dismounted and began to pull his bike toward Bill, crossing the arguably large distance between them until he was at his brother’s side.

“Could you slow down a little?” He asked, looking as though he was asking Bill to carry out his own death sentence. Bill’s glare turned into a soft smile.

“Course.” He slid off of Silver’s seat with ease and began to walk his beast of a bike, Georgie’s looking ever so small in comparison. The small grin he earned as a reward was more than enough to make up for being late.

“So,” Georgie looked at the passing houses as he spoke, a hundred unsaid thoughts rushing about in his head. “Why exactly did Richie call you in a panic last night?” Bill let out a small laugh.

“They went to the N-Neibolt house, H-Him and Bev.”

“Why?” Bill shrugged.

“D-Dunno. Riche was too puh-panicked to say an-anything other than fuh-fuck and shit. It’s a w-wonder I got anything out of him at all.”

“Why was he panicked?” Georgie asked. Bill hesitated for a moment before deciding to be truthful.

“Well, I couldn’t guh-get much out of him, y-you know T-Trashmouth. Buh-but, he said that it always seemed ruh-really creepy to him, juh-just the whole place, y’know?” Georgie nodded. “An-Anyway, th-they said it was no-normal, except for the smell.”

“The smell?” Georgie echoed.

“L-Like something from the o-old drainage tunnel. Se-sewer water.” He knew that his brother wouldn’t sleep that night, but he hardly cared. “And downstairs, B-Bev and Richie kept s-saying that they were hearing this creepy n-nursery rhyme about oranges? M-Mike said it was super old, like from the seventeen-hundred-”

“Oh, Billy! Wait a sec!” Georgie rolled his bike to a stop and pushed down the kickstand of his bike. Bill watched him slide off of the seat and reach into his pocket, fumbling for a moment before his hand closed around something. “Mr. Penny?” He asked, a small grin finding his face. “Thanks for getting my bike back!” Bill could’ve sworn he saw something glimmer in the dark opening, but once he blinked, it was gone. That same feeling of unease began to creep back into his bones as his brother drew a small bag of popcorn from his pocket, along with a couple of hot cocoa packets. “I brought you some popcorn since yours blew away in that storm! And some hot cocoa packets ‘cause I bet it gets cold down there.” Bill smiled softly as Georgie rested the offerings in the leaves.

He shot Bill an innocent smile as he straddled his bicycle once more, only stopping to say a cheerful: “Hope you like them! Bye, Mr. Penny!” over his shoulder. The two pedaled forward a few feet before Bill spoke again.

“You really th-think that your imaginary f-friend from the sewers is the one that b-brought your bike back?” Georgie nodded enthusiastically.

“How else did it get in my room with a red balloon? I just wanted to say thank you.” Adding under his breath: “And he’s not imaginary.” Bill rolled his eyes, the near-horrific prickling sensation in his stomach completely forgotten.

“F-Fine.That just better not have been the k-kettle-corn from the fair.” Georgie began to pedal faster, Bill keeping pace easily astride Silver.

“I only took some of it.”

“G-Georgie!” Georgie, however, had already shot ahead a few feet, his legs pumping madly as he raced along the street. Bill grit his teeth and pedaled harder.

Had either of them turned to look back, they would’ve seen a pair of gloved hands reach up from the sewer and delicately grab the offerings, pulling them into the darkness.

Georgie kept shooting glances over his shoulder at Bill, cackling madly in a way that only a seven-year-old child can. He wasn’t even mad, not really. He just wanted to get into the competitive spirit, and what better way to do it than to race his sibling to the Barrens?

“Shit and shinola!” He heard Georgie shout as Silver’s huge front tire began to overlap his shadow. Bill grinned, standing up on the pedals and coasting past Georgie with ease.

“I’m g-going to beat you th-” This time, it wasn’t his stutter that caused him to stop. He was stopped by a sharp cry of:

“Look out!” from Georgie. Bill slammed on the brakes for the second time that morning and felt the back tire begin to skid out of control, leaving a black line on the street in its wake. He screeched to a halt, his heart hammering heavily in his ears, but-

Georgie began to cackle and he shot past Bill, nothing more than a blue blur. “Gotcha!” He crowed. If looks could kill, Georgie would have winked out of existence in an instant, leaving his bike to freewheel right off the road.

“You little sh-shit!” Bill leapt off of Silver and grabbed the handlebars, putting his head down like that of a charging bull as he tried to coax Silver out of its dormant state. He began to barrel forwards, the clink clink clink of the chains beneath him drilling into his skull. Forcing himself to breathe evenly, he kept on pedaling, sweat beading on his brow even though the morning was cold. His hot breath fogged up the air and he lowered his head, giving Silver one more good kick to keep it going as he stood on the pedals once more. He could see Georgie’s bike wobbling and pushed himself to keep on pedaling like a crazy person.

Georgie looked over his shoulder and Bill grinned as his face drained completely of color. “Gotta be fuh-faster than that!” He taunted as he crept ever closer. Georgie squealed in response and stood up on the pedals. Bill didn’t do so much as slow down.

“Bill!” Georgie shouted. Bill stuck out his tongue as he zipped past.

“Gonna b-beat ‘ya!” He knew he was the textbook definition of a big brother when he rolled into the Barrens, a huge, somewhat cocky grin in place on his face. Georgie wasn’t too far behind, but even though he was tired, it couldn’t stop the scowl that slid onto his face.

“Cheater.” He huffed, sliding off of his bike so he could properly cross his arms. Bill playfully knocked shoulders with him.

“I’m n-not the one who caused the uh-other to slam on the buh-brakes.” He quipped. Georgie sighed, but Bill could see the small smile on his lips. “Cuh-come on, the others are probably waiting.” That caused Georgie to stop hiding his smile.

“Really?” Bill didn’t have time to respond before his suspicions were confirmed.

“Oh, come on!” Richie’s voice rang through the trees. “I’m not going to die, Eds! It’s a leaf, for fuck’s sake!” Bill grinned and began to quicken his pace in the direction of the shout, already able to see flashes of Richie’s eye-bleedingly bright Hawaiian T-shirt through the trees.

Bill was about to turn to Georgie to prompt him in the direction of the gang, but the boy was already bounding ahead, the strings of his yellow hoodie bobbing unevenly on his chest. It didn’t take him long to follow close behind. The scene he walked into was one that instantly caused his already wide smile to stretch impossibly wider.

Eddie was standing on a tree stump, pointing an accusing finger at Richie as he yelled something unintelligible about diseases and animal shit, hands fiddling weakly with his inhaler. Mike however, was his polar opposite, leaning forward and tapping his fingers on his thighs, eyes fixated on the object of Eddie’s discomfort.

“You can’t just eat leaves!” Eddie shrieked, “You’re going to give me a fucking asthma attack!” Ben was laughing so hard he could hardly make any noise, his shoulders shaking with frenzied giggles. Bill could practically hear Stan roll his eyes. Richie looked up at Georgie with the biggest shit-eating grin that he had ever seen, a leaf hanging from between his lips.

“Why are you eating a leaf?” Georgie questioned between giggles. Richie held up one finger, causing Eddie to gag.

“If you swallow it, you’re dead to me.” He threatened. Richie shrugged.

“I’m already dead if I eat this anyway, if what you say is true.” He managed to say around a mouthful of plant.Stan choked on the laughter he was holding back, letting it out in a sort of gasping bark.

“Suicide attempt,” he wheezed “I can see the headlines: Local boy killed by leaf.”

“T-Tragedy.” Bill agreed. Georgie was already at Richie’s side, peering curiously at the boy who was now doubled over, holding up his glasses with one hand to keep them from falling off.

“What’re you doing?” Richie made an exaggerated gulping noise and Eddie let out a high-pitched whine.

“Don’t you dare!” Eddie’s voice was nearing a screech now, sounding just a little more frantic. He turned his wide-eyed gaze to Stan. “Did he fucking swallow it?” Stan shook his head.

“Not yet.” Georgie’s eyebrows knit together.

“What’s he doing?” Mike chuckled.

“This loser,” He pointed to Richie, causing the accused to lay a hand over his heart dramatically. “Was pretending to lick a leaf, which, of course, set Eddie off.” Stan nodded, brushing a few stray curls behind his ear before continuing Mike’s narrative.

“And so Eddie’s ranting on and on about-” He laughed, cutting himself off. He had to brace himself against a tree until his frenzied giggles stopped. “About how you can get some disease-”

“Not a disease,” Eddie cut in. “Poison. Deadly poison.” Richie rolled his eyes dramatically and began to tip his head back. “SWEAR TO GOD, RICH!”

“Right,” Stan continued, “That. Anyway, that led to Richie saying, and I quote-” Richie grinned widely.

“I’ve got this one, my man.” Richie cleared his throat, but momentarily forgot that his mouth was full of leaves. This, of course, led to him inhaling a mouthful of leaves and gagging as one got stuck in his throat. Eddie instantly began prancing about on his stump whilst screaming:

“I FUCKING KNEW IT!” Richie hammered on his chest once and coughed feebly.

“I said-” He croaked. Bill cringed as something green dripped from Richie’s mouth. Richie followed Bill’s gaze and tried to wipe it from his chin with little success, leaving a bright smear across his jawline. “I said-” He tried again, only managing to make it worse, to everyone except Eddie’s amusement. “That-” A gob of something green was visible between his two front teeth. Georgie giggled, which of course, caused Richie to grin wider. Eddie gagged again. “That I could probably eat five of them and be fine, because they’d taste better than his Mom did last night.”

“Beep beep, Richie.” Mike warned, jutting his chin out in the direction of Georgie. Richie waved him off.

“He’s fine, right Georgie?”

“Yep!” Bill rolled his eyes and moved to sit beside Mike.

“How long’s huh-he been ch-chewing on those?” Mike flashed him a wide grin.

“Few minutes? Eddie can probably give you the time to the second.” They both leaned forward as Richie turned back to Eddie. “I wish we had popcorn.” Mike mumbled. Bill covered his mouth with his hand to hide his laughter.

“You know what,” Eddie threw his hands up in the air and stalked over to where Bill sat. “It’s your funeral.” This sent both Ben and Stan back into hysterics. Richie surveyed his audience with a gleam in his eyes that made Bill more than a little bit nervous. It was the signature Trashmouth look, the ‘Hey, look at me!’ sort of look he usually put on when he was about to do something stupid. Bill wasn’t wrong.

With a theatrical sort of flourish, he tipped his head back and swallowed the leaves in one gulp. Eddie looked like he wanted to scream.

“You’re disgusting.” He spat. Richie shrugged.

“Maybe so.” He licked his lips and Bill noticed that his tongue was tinted with a toxic looking green. “Still tasted better than your Mom did last night.” With that, he bent at the waist and bowed low, holding up his glasses with a green stained finger to keep them from falling off of his nose. Georgie applauded enthusiastically while Ben and Stan hooted their approval. Eddie glared at Richie until the giggles coming from the rest of the losers ceased.

“As much as I cherish every moment spent with you,” He growled. “I really hope this isn’t the reason you called me, and my mother while doing a god awful Mexican-”

“Pancho Vanilla, senor.” He corrected, but his smile faded with his next words. “No,” He broke off into nervous laughter. “God, I wish.” Something about Richie’s tone of voice made Bill’s stomach knot. He shifted his weight from one side to the other in a sort of nervous fashion as Richie wiped his tongue on his shirt and cleared his throat once more. “Can I wait ‘til Bev’s here?” He asked.

“Sh-She’s coming?” Richie nodded.

“Si, senor.” Mike leaned further back toward the tree he was propped up against.

“Depends if her psycho dad lets her come.” He pointed out. Georgie frowned.

“Psycho Dad?” He repeated uncertainly. Richie opened his mouth to respond, but Bill was quick to cut him off.

“Beep buh-beep, Richie.” They all knew Beverly’s home life was far from perfect, but Georgie didn’t need to know why she showed up with bruises on her arms some days, or with nasty gashes on her knees. They’d all seen the scars. All, that is, except for Georgie, and they intended to keep it that way.

“Ah, he couldn’t keep me away if he tried.” All eyes turned in the direction of the feminine voice, and they all pretended not to notice how Ben sat up just a little straighter.

“Bevvie!” Georgie was the first one to move, prancing through the trees to give her a hug. Bill would never say just how much he liked to hear her laugh.

“Hey, Georgie!” She said between melodic giggles. Bill watched as Georgie tugged her into the circle by the hem of her spotted summer top, oblivious to the eyes on him. Bev’s smile faded once she saw the solemn expression on Richie’s face. “Neibolt?” He nodded meekly.

“Wanted you to be here, but you’re here now, so…” Richie rubbed at the back of his neck nervously and coughed, causing Eddie to elbow Mike in the ribs. Bill managed to overhear Eddie saying something about how:

“He’s been poisoned, see?” Mike scoffed.

“Nah, he’s fine. Just nervous.” Bill’s stomach twisted unpleasantly upon hearing that Richie, of all people, was nervous

“Yuh-Yeah.” Bill agreed. Ben and Stan had both sobered up once Beverly appeared and sat at attention. Even Eddie had calmed down enough to take his eyes off of Richie as he sat next to Georgie, Beverly on the other side of the smaller boy.

“Do you want me to start?” Beverly asked, her questioning gaze connecting with Richie’s. Richie nodded.

“Si, Senorita.” She cuffed him on the shoulder playfully before turning her attention the ensemble.

“Okay, so. Neibolt street.” The clearing was silent as she gauged their reactions. Bill silently willed away the blush on his cheeks and the way her gaze made his thoughts blur together like the words that left his mouth. She laughed nervously. “Where do I even begin?” She stood and began to pace, nervously fiddling with the folds of her dress. “Everything inside was normal, I guess, for Neibolt. It was this idiot’s idea to go into the basement.” Richie let out a small squeak of indignance.

“Your idea.” He corrected. Beverly rolled her eyes.

“Whatever. We weren’t down there for very long anyway.” Richie slumped forward and averted his eyes, mumbling something that nobody could make out under his breath. “So, we’re walking around in the pitch-darkness, both of us bitching about our lack of flashlights when-”

Richie shuddered. “The fucking singing started.”

“Singing?” Stan asked, his voice showing how much he didn’t want to know, but also how much he knew somebody had to ask.

“Yeah, singing, if you can even call it that. It came from the well past the puppet room full of clowns.” Bill was surprised that Richie could even get the words out of his mouth from the way he was shaking. “It kinda, echoed…” He pushed his glasses up into his hairline and let out a groan. “Jesus.” He har to take a few deep breaths before continuing. George shifted over to him wide eyes, sidestepping Eddie in order to get closer. “We ran after hearing that shit, we didn’t even have to say anything to each other, we just kinda-” Richie searched for the right word for a moment. “Knew.” He settled with. “Like, dunno, we read each other’s minds or something.”  

“No,” Beverly corrected, moving to tug at Richie’s shirt. “We just fucking ran.”

“True.” Richie admitted. “God, I can still fucking hear it, just the tune.” Mike propped his chin on his hands, letting his feet shuffle nervously beneath him.

“Oranges and lemons…” Bill frowned, not wanting to acknowledge the prickling sort of anxiety sparking into existence in the back of his mind. Georgie, however, didn’t seem to mind. His gaze kept shooting from Richie back to Beverly, his questioning gaze lingering on them until they looked away. Bill knew he wanted to speak up, but also knew that he could sense the tension leaking off of all of them.

“Oranges and lemons?” He watched as Georgie tried to make eye-contact with the losers. “What does that even mean?”

“It’s a nursery rhyme.” Mike answered, his voice uncertain, as though he didn’t want to keep speaking. Bill knew the feeling well. He had enough problems with speaking to know. Every time somebody teased him for his stutter and he knew that defending himself would just make it worse, he still wanted to, just to prove them wrong. Every time he would stand in front of his Mother in the dining room, hands clenched into fists that quivered at his sides and his jaw so tightly shut, he thought it would break off from the tension. Every time he would open his mouth with her eyes on him, trying to make sense of all the noise.

He thrusts his fists

“It’s about churches.”

Against the posts

“How’s that scary?”

And still insists

“Look, when you hear it while in the basement of a house that could collapse at any given moment.”

He sees the ghosts

“It’s pretty fucking terrifying.” Bill could tell Richie was fighting hard to keep his voice under control. Even Eddie looked like he was showing the boy some sympathy, his gaze infinitely softer than it had been mere minutes ago. “We hardly even talked on the way back.”

“I cuh-can see why.” Silence descended in heavy waves in the barrens, not even the birds were singing as they all thought over the words that had been shared. It was crazy, really. Batshit insane, as Richie would not-so-delicately put it. Bill couldn’t say he disagreed. “D-Do you remember the tu-tune?”

The two who had been in the house paled and shared a glance.

“It’s just a song.” Richie reasoned. Beverly nodded.

“Right.” Beverly agreed. “Not like it can follow us.” She was the first one to start humming, and after a few bars, Richie joined in, adding his voice to the haunting melody. Bill felt the hairs on the back of his neck begin to stand on end as slowly, Mike began to try and add words, despite his lack of a proper tune.

Uneasy looks were shared between all of them, Richie and Bev’s eyes staying firmly squeezed shut, as if opening them would unleash an unspeakable evil onto the entire club. Bill wasn’t sure he disagreed with the notion, as insane as it sounded. Even after they had stopped, the notes seemed to linger in the air along with Mike’s uncertain words, leaving a near-electric sort of crackle in the air in its wake.

“That was…” Stan’s voice trailed off uncertainly. “Wow.” He settled with.

“Yeah.” Eddie’s voice cracked and he flushed beet red. “Shit.” He mumbled, rubbing idly at his left arm, not wanting to meet anyone’s eyes. Georgie was gripping Richie’s hand tightly and bouncing his knees.

“You can open your eyes.” The nervous way he was speaking made Bill feel a pang of sympathy. “Richie?” Richie slowly opened one eye.

“What, little dude?”

“Are you…” Georgie bit his lip. “Are you feeling okay?” He laid his hand on the other boy’s knee.

“I’m always okay!” He insisted. “It was just,” He shuddered violently. “God…”

“It’s over n-now.” Bll managed to get out. “You’re huh-here with uh-us. It’s suh-safe.” The others nodded in agreement.

“And if it isn’t, whatever was down there is getting the shit kicked out of it.” Bev cracked a smile at Mike’s words. Her green eyes widened and she blinked once, slowly, as if she was lost and just regaining her bearings. Bill offered her a small smile and tried to hide the flush his cheeks gained when she returned it.

Conversation was hesitant after that, the dark cloud of what had been said hanging over the small group, weighing on their shoulders with just how- real it was. Even Richie’s constant jokes couldn’t lighten the mood, no matter how many times he pinched Eddie, all he got were a few forced chuckles. Eddie hardly even reacted, just swatted him away and tried to refocus on the rest of the club. He ended up being the first to go, and before Bill had time to do so much as blink, he was walking his bike next to Georgie on the way home.

“They were pretty scared of that lemon song.” Georgie stated after a few moments of silence.

“Yuh-Yeah.” Bill agreed, shifting so he could push his hair back from where it hung on his forehead. “Let’s just guh-get home, okay?” He silently begged Georgie to grasp the change of topic, not wanting to have to tell him about the creature that they all knew was haunting the town of Derry.

“Okay, Billy!” Georgie chirped, straddling his blue bike. His yellow hoodie seemed to glow in the sunset, and Bill couldn’t help but smile. “Do you think Penny liked his popcorn?” Bill swung his legs over Silver’s back and began to pump.

“Puh-probably tastes better than wh-whatever’s in the sewer.” He panted between breaths. The steady clicking of Silver beneath him helped ease his mind.

“Sewer popcorn.” Georgie mused. Bill grinned at that.

“Gross.” Let the kid have his fun. After all, imaginary friends were harmless, and a clown in a sewer couldn’t be the worst thing in Derry.

[mrsspidermanmaryjanewatsonparker]

Part 4

One more for the road

“MURDERING SMALL ANIMALS Granted, it is a rat. But still, beating a small animal to death with a boot is probably not the healthiest way to relieve stress. Or is it? Since that one really shouldn't count, let's go with..”

  So...this list couldn’t even make it to it’s full number without cheating. Shocker. “REMINISCING ABOUT THE "GOOD OLE DAYS” From time to time, usually when fraught with worry, Mary Jane might pull out an old yearbook and start reminiscing about the good old days when her husband was in love with her best friend. I don't care what you say, that's just complicated and weird.”

 Gwen wasn’t Mary Jane’s best friend but I will let this slie since most people think that.

 Ben doesn’t care what we say. Nor does he care for abject reality apparently.

 Reminiscing about the past when life was less complicated and people you cared about were still alive isn’t weird it’s human.

 Arguing that she’s remembering a time when her BFF was dating her husband is weird is just...immature.

 Gwen is dead and MJ knows Peter loves her more.

 So she can remember positive times with her friend who died without getting insecure about it, much as Peter can remember those times and not feel it compromises his love for Mary Jane in the present day.

   But Ben’s demonstrated an awful lot of insecurity thus far anyway.

 Oh and MJ did this like...maybe 5 times across 20 years. Maybe.

      “INFIDELITY There was a time period where Mary Jane entertained the idea of having an affair with a character named Jerome James, accompanied by the clichéd reluctant kiss.”

  No there wasn’t.

 She was attracted to him and he was on her mind because she was lonely and vulnerable.

 She did even LESS ‘contemplating’ than Homer Simpson did about Mindy in ‘the Last Temptation of Homer Simpon’ episode. She didn’t even take things as far as Marge Simpson did in that episode from season 1 where she began spending time with that creepy dude from the bowling alley.

  He took advantage of her, the harassed her and she ONLY met him face to face to tell him to leave her alone.

 That isn’t infidelity.

 Not even a little bit.

 Which means this next sentence.

  “While this may be a realistic story to tell of a wife that often feels abandoned by her husband, there’s probably no quicker way to turn an audience against a character than infidelity.”

 Makes no sense, demonstrates a misunderstanding of what words mean what and yeah is also pretty sexist again. Shocker.

 “Even the contemplation of infidelity. (The one and only time I ever wrote and mailed a letter to Marvel as a kid, was to express my complete disgust of this subplot.)”

 Then Ben is a goddam immature loser who doesn’t understand how grown-ups act. The entire storyline actually exists specifically to demonstrate that MJ WOULDN’T cheat on Peter and is ultimately loyal to him.

 Plus...I’ll be honest...I always kind of felt the Jason Jerome storyline was a bit out of character for Mary Jane anyway so it shouldn’t really count in the first place.

  “Even her eventual "heroic" denial of his advances did little to undo the damage done.”

 In Ben’s eyes but most people don’t even remember this moment because it’s outweighed by all the OTHER heroic and selfless things MJ has ever done.

  A moment of weakness in a storyline of questionable characterization?

  Yeah...how dare Mary Jane not be flawless.

  I notice Ben has never mentioned Peter thinking about Gwen or Felicia during his marriage to MJ or times when he has, quite naturally, taken notice of other attractive women.

 It’s almost like there is a bullshit double standard in play here wherein Ben is incapable of seeing past his biases and prejudices for a solitary moment.

  “DRESSING HER HUSBAND IN THIS OUTFIT

  Okay, that’s just a joke, but on the subject on outfits…”

 Again, Ben has to pad out the list with bullshit because his whole stance is bullshit.

  “DEMANDING PETER GET RID OF THE BLACK COSTUME

Mary Jane’s feelings were hurt by Venom, so she decided that Peter could no longer wear what was arguably the best alternate costume ever created.”

  Fuck Ben.

  Nobody could look at the end of ASM #299 or the FIRST PAGE of ASm #300 and say it was a case of MJ’s feelings merely being hurt.

 He didn’t call he ugly like a schoolyard bully.

 Venom TRAUMATIZED her.

 He terrified her and reduced her to tears of complete fear for her life.

 And he frightened Peter himself even.

 Her feelings were not hurt she was one step away from PTSD.

 Her husband was now dressing in a costume that made him look just like her victimizer and maybe mental abuser and she asked him to get rid of it. She didn’t even say that she just told him it made her uncomfortable and being the good husband he was he got rid of the thing that made his WIFE feel bad and reminded her of being a victim (which is kind a big deal for someone who grew up in an abusive household you fuck!)

 But yes MJ is such a total b**** for asking her husband to dump a costume that looked kewl.

 Dump the costume that literally made him look like a homicidal maniac a fact that Peter himself brings up, meaning abandoning the outfit was a practical move regardless.

  “I liked the black costume, and she was just being unreasonable.”

 I’d hate to be Ben’s partner. I really would.

 Also I’ll say it...the red and blue costume is better.

 It’s not more slick or bad ass...but it’s SPIDER-MAN.

    “Okay fine, maybe she was being perfectly reasonable, and with the creation of Venom there was a good editorial reason for Spider-Man to stop wearing the costume. But still, I liked it.”

  So instead of this being a top 10 most unhealthy things MJ did in the marriage it’s a top 10 Ben Smith’s immature pet peeves due to being incapable of reading and understanding literature list.

   “ABANDONING HER HUSBAND Almost from the moment the decision was made to marry Peter Parker and Mary Jane, editors were looking for ways to erase it.”

  No they weren’t.

  It wasn’t until like 1995 that was a thing, a full 8 years after the fact.

 8 years after the fact isn’t ‘almost from the moment’ of anything....at all.

 Learn to know what words mean Ben!

   “Nobody wanted Peter to be a divorcee or widower, so that left only convoluted methods to end this vile abomination of a status quo.”

 I’d take vile convoluted methods to end this vile abomination of a ‘list’.

    The Clone Saga famously began as a way for Peter and Mary Jane to ride off into the sunset and return a younger-seeming, unattached Spider-Man to the forefront.”

 No it didn’t.

 It began as a way of competing with Knightfall and Death of Superman with DeFalco and Fingeroth’s behind the scenes intentions being that Peter and MJ would return with a baby whilst Ben Reilly got a spin off like War Machine or Thunderstrike.

 Plans changed when DeFalco stopped being EIC.

  “That didn’t work out, so next came John Byrne. His first attempt was to have Mary Jane appear to be killed in a plane crash, but despite how unlikable she sometimes became, nobody wanted to her to die. So instead, it turns out she was really kidnapped by an obsessed stalker, and Spider-Man had to find her and save her. (I’ve never actually read this story, so if I got the details wrong, whatever, you win.) The trauma of her imprisonment, and Peter’s continued adventuring, forces her to decide that they’re better off apart. (I’m guessing those were the reasons, because I’m not reading that comic in full.)”

  I’m not reading the story that I’m commenting on or criticising because I’m super duper good at my job of throwing out criticism ya know!

  Also Byrne left long before the MJ break up thing and it wasn’t even clear cut that that was the case because it was so poorly written. It may well have just been a trial separation.

     “Thus began the separation status quo, with Mary Jane out of the picture off in California, and Peter on his own but not really single in NYC. It was not a good look for either character.”

  Yes it was.

  This was the JMS run which SAVED Spider-Man after Mackie had brought the series to the brink of destruction.

  JMS intentionally separated them specifically to reconstruct Peter after Mackie’s character assassination.

  He stripped Peter down to his nuts and bolts as a character in order to win back readers (it worked) and then he used the separation to make a point about what the marriage meant to Peter and MJ and why it was important via it’s absence.

  It was an arc specifically ABOUT fixing the marriage and FIXING the seires by bringing them back together and making them stronger than before.

  And it also worked.

  But maybe Ben missed that because he was wanking to his pre-marriage MJ issues or something.

  “You either have to end the relationship, or embrace it (for all of JMS’ faults as a Spider-Man writer, and human being, at least he decided to depict the marriage as positively as possible) but keeping the marriage in limbo served no one.”

 Except everyone and the series as a whole and wound up being incredibly positive because by exploring how they felt about being apart JMS made a point about why they SHOULD be together.

 Also...faults as a human being?

   “(For the record, I think the McFarlane and Larsen runs had some of the best depictions of Mary Jane as a loving and supportive wife. They also had Jonathan Caesar, but that's a whole other topic.)”

  So now Ben is PRAISING the very runs he is also blaming for all this bad shit?

 Also Jonathan Caesar was a GOOD aspect of the seires. A realistic human villain for Mj specifically who could hurt her and Peter believably. Creepier than guys in Rhino suits any day.

But here is the real part that pisses me off.

  This list is about MJ’s unhealthy behaviours during the marriage and this point is about her ‘abandoning’ Peter.

  Fuck Ben.

  MJ didn’t ‘abandon Peter in the points he raised. She has post traumatic stress disorder from being kidnapped and imprisoned for SIX MONTHS in one little room and chose to leave him after that temporarily.

 That is NOT abandonment and the fact that it’s not even considering her feelings ont he matter is disgusting frankly.

  “Infidelity, abandonment, cigarettes, and dancing. Not a good look for what was once one of the best supporting characters in the Spider-Man comics.” 

She didn’t abandon him. She didn’t commit infidelity, there was nothing wrong with the cigarettes, absolutely nothing wrong with the dancing and she continued being the best supporting character in all Spider-Man comics.

  But hey....incompetence, sexism, toxic bias, misinformation and outright lying. Not a good look for what once one of the best...oh wait. Ben Smith and Comics Cube have never been the best at anything...except bullshit.

  “That's not even mentioning the other terrible subplots we were subjected to that were not her fault. It may not have been her fault in-story that she was sexually harassed by Jonathan Caesar in a story that refused to ever end, but it's not like we would have ever had to read it if she didn't become Spider-Man's wife.”

  The Jonathan Caeser plot was good and DID end so he’s again lying there. But why trust the word of a man who literally doesn’t understand the definition of what certain words mean.

  Also you could’ve told some take upon the Jonathan Caesar storyline even if Peter and MJ were not married or in a relationship.

  “To be clear, I'm not blaming the victim in any way, I'm blaming the creative teams for believing that would be even remotely interesting to read.”

 I really don’t believe that Ben isn’t blaming the victim based upon what I’ve just subjected myself to.

 “I do not like reading or watching anything like that, ever.”

  Your preferences aren’t the grand arbiter of quality or consensus within Spider-Man fandom Ben.

 “I actively choose to avoid fiction like that.”

  Then do not read Spider-Man because most of this stuff is bread and butter to Spider-Man stories.

  “Beyond that, there were the little dramas that came with being, and I hate even typing this, a soap opera star. Nothing says fun-filled superhero action like Mary Jane being chastised by overzealous elderly fans.”

 Spider-Man isn’t entirely ABOUT ‘fun filled superhero action’ jackass. It’s ALSO about normal life down to earth human drama and has always been since day one because Spider-Man IS a soap opera.

 Fucking idiot.

  “Hey kids, this issue Mary Jane and Aunt May get in a spat over Peter's best interests! Excelsior!”

   Oh you mean like that time GWEN and Aunt May did that in a run long predating the marriage? Excelsior jackass.

  “I know some of you will read this and come to the conclusion that I hate Mary Jane as a character, but I can assure you that is not the case.”

 I sense a disturbance in the Force. As if a million voices cried out in unison chanting ‘LIAR’

 “Like I wrote earlier, when I was a kid she helped form the template for what I wanted in a wife one day.”

 That’s weird and gross and sad fucked up.

  “Now, that was mostly based on her being smoking hot and usually very loyal and supportive (and also they had sex a lot, like A LOT)”

  Yep. A sexist dudebro. I knew it. He’s Marvel material though.

  “but those things don’t hold as much weight on an ongoing basis as an adult reader.”

  Then maybe you outgrew the series. Or maybe the series outgrew you since MJ was supportive more often than not.

  “The fact remains, that beyond her usefulness as eye candy and that occasional support system, her status as the wife of Spider-Man was so badly mishandled that there’s no objective way to conclude that the marriage was a success narratively.”

Yeah there is. Most people conclude that.

  Because most people are capable of narratively analysing stories better than Big Ben over here.

 “Almost everyone that argues otherwise, argues for the marriage as an idea, or because it represents something to them, and not based on actual storytelling execution.”

 No they don’t.

 I’ve spent years interacting with such people and all of them can pull out multiple objective examples of where it was handled well and when you look at the grand scheme of things it was actually handled okay. Probelms arose but they were accompanied by problems in pretty much ALL areas of Spider-Man.

   “ Sure there are always exceptions (the Sensational Spider-Man annual written by Matt Fraction being one of the best) but the examples above are far more damaging than any of the good.”

 No they are not because the examples above are mostly nonsense and lies sprinkled with sexism.

 “ At her best, she was a loving partner and friend to our main character. At her worst, she made Peter (and us) feel bad about him continuing to save lives as Spider-Man.” 

  One most lie for the road I guess.

[allura-a]

Freezing Rain

For @voltronwhumpweek2017!

Day Two: Hypothermia 

Summery: Lance couldn’t pass up the opportunity to jump around in the rain again, despite it being a little on the cold side. He should’ve checked with Pidge about it, first.

Ship: Klance

Word Count:1890

Extra Note:f For this story I made up a planet! The planet is named Lackto (Lack- toy) and the inhabitants are Lacktoians (Lack-toy-an-s) That’s it, enjoy! :^)

"Is that what I think it is??" Lance all but yelled through the com waves as he, Keith and Shiro Hunk and Pidge entered the orbit of yet another planet sending out distress signals. As the five lions approached the ground, Lance felt something all too familiar begin to lightly pelt Blue. Lance swore if he wasn't needed for the most important duty of being (arguably the best) paladin of Voltron and chasing Galra away from this planet to free its inhabitants, he would've cried.

Rain. God, Lance had missed rain so much.

"Pidge, this is actual water, right? Not some kind of acid or poisonous mystery liquid, right?" Lance asked, hoping her lion would be able to give them some information on what was falling from the sky (besides them, obviously.)

".. My scanners are telling me it's plain old H2O Lance."

"Are you serious?? Really?? Thank you, Lackto!" Lance shouted, practically jumping up and down in his seat.

"Stay focused Lance," Shiro's booming voice brought Lance back to reality, though Lance was sure he could hear the smile in his voice. "We can play in the rain once we free this planet of the Galra."

..Did Shiro just say ...Play? In the rain??

Lance was going to make quick work of this mission. There was so much more at stake here, so much more than Lance had anticipated. I wanna play again..

"Lance, can we please call it a day already?" Keith called out, irritated. The Galra were forced off this planet hours ago, and Lance has been playing in the rain ever since. Team Voltron had exited their lions, and Coran and princess Allura had come out so she could address the Lacktoians and recruit them in their fight against Zarkon. But instead of Lance hanging around with the attractive Lacktoians like everyone presumed he would, he ran off and started playing in the rain with the young children.

At first, everyone had to admit it was very cute. Lacktoian children were tiny, and Lance was having the time of his life playing with them and climbing around on Blue. But everyone had slowing realizing that they had enough. Well, everyone except Lance.

"Lance, as much as you love these kids and their planet, it's freezing." Keith tried to explain. He and Shiro were standing inside Red's mouth, who was keeping them warm. They were on "Watch Lance" duty. "How are you not cold? You're always complaining you're cold!"

Lance rolled his eyes as he splashed in another puddle. "Maybe it's because I'm running around having fun and you're just standing there!" Lance picked up a small Lacktoian kid and threw her up in the air, his face lighting up when he heard her giggling. "And besides, the coldest it can be out here is 32 degrees, otherwise it'd be snowing. Because that's when water freezes. Duh." Lance explained condescendingly.

"I'm not too sure about that." Pidge's voice said skeptically through the coms.

"Excuse me?" Lance began, hoisting two Lacktoian kids onto his back. "Pidge I know what temperature water freezes at, thank you very much. I'm stupid but I'm not that stupid." He chuckled as he began running around, letting the kids pretend he was Blue and they were his paladins. Keith smiled the smallest bit. He'll hand it to Lance, that is adorable, not matter how fed up he is with him at the moment.

"No no, Lance I'm not attacking your questionable intelligence right now." Pidge answered. Lance frowned, and Keith burst out laughing while Shiro spared a chuckle. "I noticed it was really cold on this planet, so Coran and I ran some tests on it. Turns out the water molecules from the sample we took move much more rapidly than just plain old H2O from earth." "You told me this was plain H2O Pidge!" Lance shouted, a feeling of betrayal spreading through his chest.

"I know, I know but that's all that came up when Green scanned it."

"So what else did you find out, Pidge?" Shiro asked, removing the glove of his armour and reaching out to let some water fall on the palm of his hand. He retracted almost immediately.

"The water on this planet freezes at a temperature of negative 79.6 degrees." Pidge explained. "I think we should get Lance into the castle and warm him up." Before Pidge could even finish her sentence Keith was running out to drag Lance inside the castle.

"Lance we wanna keep playing!" A few Lacktoian kids cried.

"Don't worry guys, I'll be back another day, I promise." Lance said, placing the two kids he had on his back on the ground. They waved and ran back to their parents, and Keith wrapped his arms around Lance and started leading him to the castle. His eyebrows knit together as they started walking.

"Lance you're shivering really hard." Keith sputtered in surprise. Lance leaned his head on Keith's shoulder tiredly. He tried to laugh."

"I guess I w-was having so much f-fun I-I didn't n-n-notice." Lance could barely talk his teeth were chattering so violently. Lance stumbled and Shiro ran over quickly to help Keith get him into the castle.

This was bad.

"Can't we just put him in a pod? He's miserable." Hunk observed as he took the cup of Altean tea he had made for him out of Lance's trembling hands so he could lay down his bed in the med bay.

After getting Lance back into the castle everyone worked quickly to try to get him warmed up. They didn't realize how serious his condition was until they took off his armour to find that his lips, fingers and toes were blue. Though Coran and Allura didn't see the problem with this at first, the rest of the paladins were quick to inform them how bad it was.

They put him in his softest, warmest pajamas, his sweater, and wrapped him in two soft, thick blankets, and he was still shivering violently. Keith, who had been sitting next to him since they got him back in the castle, was holding his hand. It was cold and no matter what Keith tried to do it would not warm up.

If anything it felt like it was getting colder.

Coran, who was teaching Pidge and Shiro how to read the Altean device monitoring his vitals, shook his head.

"The pods work by cooling the body to heal wounds." Coran explained. "Cooling his body seems to be quite counterproductive at this point, I'd think"

"And look at his heart rate." Pidge said, pointing to the line jumping up and down on the screen. It was slow and couldn't quite hold a steady beat. "If he gets any colder it might just stop altogether."

"I didn't mean put him in there to freeze dry him, I meant what if we could find a way to make the pods heat up instead of freeze?" Hunk clarified. Coran and Pidge shared a glance.

"It has never been done before, but it's worth a shot." Coran agreed. He and Hunk started towards the room containing all the pods. Pidge looked up at Shiro before she followed.

"If he starts going south, come get us right away." She explained in a hushed voice.

"Don't y-you mean, N-Nor-th-th?" Lance asked. He looked up at Pidge, eyes half lidded.

"It's c-col-d-der u-up th-the-re." Lance struggled to explain. Pidge mussed Lance's wet hair, offering him as best a smile she could offer.

"We'll get you warmed up in no time, Lance." Lance nodded and Pidge hurried to catch up with Coran and Hunk. Lance looked at Keith.

"I'm s-s-orr-y." Lance tried, his voice weak and strained. Keith brushed some hair from his face.

"Don't talk, save your energy. And you have nothing to be sorry for, you just wanted to have some fun with all those little kids." Keith did his best to keep his voice from cracking, but he hated seeing Lance like this, everyone did. Lance is always the fun, energetic person in the group, seeing him curled up into himself whimpering is hard for everybody. "We all did our job and you wanted to unwind, there's nothing wrong with that."

"Mmm" Lance grunted in response, his eyes becoming unfocused. Keith lightly tapped Lance on the cheek, silently hissing at his icy cold skin.

"Lance? Lance can you hear me?" Keith asked, to no response. He put his finger under his nose and felt nothing. Keith looked up at Allura and Shiro. "Guys he's not breathing."

"His body temperature is going down, and fast." Allura tried her best to keep her voice level, but it cracked out of fear.

And then they heard the machine flatlining.

Keith felt like he couldn't breath.

Shiro pushed him out of the way, unbundling Lance from his blankets, desperately trying to get to his chest. Keith's mind finally caught up to the situation, and he helped Shiro get his jacket and shirt off. Shiro immediately started chest compressions in an effort to get his heart to start again.

"Hunk! Pidge! Coran, we need that pod!" Keith called out. The three of them rushed into the room.

"Alright, we got it to basically do the opposite of it's intended purpose, but we're not sure how it's gonna work." Hunk explained quickly. The monitor machine beeped twice, and Keith let out a breath he didn't know he was holding when he saw the line jumping up and down across the screen again.

"Well it's all we have left." Keith grunted as he lifted an unconscious Lance from his bed and disconnected him from the machine. Everyone followed him as he rushed Lance to the pod that was glowing red instead of their normal blue colour. Keith got Lance inside and Coran shut the door. Keith stared at his friend, suspended in the pod.

"We'll have to monitor him until his body temperature is back to normal." Coran explained. "We leave him in there unattended and he could boil alive."

"I guess we're in for a long night then.." Keith whispered as he crossed his arms. He wasn't leaving this room until he knew Lance was okay.

The first sensation Lance noticed when he faded into consciousness was warmth. A radiating warmth all over his body. Then he felt a rush of cool air and he was falling, but he was enveloped in warmth again. He smiled lazily and hummed, and Keith couldn't help but smile. Shiro had pulled up a bed and Keith gently laid him down, waiting for Lance to open his eyes. Shiro went to get the others, leaving Keith alone with Lance.

"Are we in Cuba?" Lance asked, his words slurred. Keith laughed, almost sobbing when he heard Lance's voice.

"Still on Lackto. You were playing in the freezing rain, remember?. Hunk, Pidge and Coran overhauled a pod to warm you up. Shiro's getting them right now." Keith explained.

"I should've been more careful." Lance admitted, more to himself than to Keith. Keith took one of Lance's hands in his, bringing it up to his lips. "I'm sorry." Lance apologized. Keith shook his head, peppering Lance's now warm hand with more kisses. He leaned over and placed one on his cheek, welcoming the sweat that meant Lance was gonna be just fine.

"Don't be sorry. Just maybe check with Pidge before running around without your helmet on from now on. Deal?" Lance lifted his head slightly, his lips meeting with Keith's. He pulled away, but only for a second.

"Deal."

[bleatinginpolish]

Dismembered Arms & Wonderful Humans

Most of my students knew how I felt about Kołobrzeg. They knew that, for a variety of reasons, it was about as much fun as having an assailant violently rip my arms from my body and use them to beat me whilst mockingly asking "why are you hitting yourself?".

As such, I was often asked why I would subject myself to such barbarism. The answer was simple: I adored my students. With very few exceptions, they were lovely, open-minded humanoids and I wanted to get to know them, their culture, and, of course, help them speak English like weirdos.

While many students came and went for one reason or another, there were some who I saw essentially every week for the duration of my time in Kołobrzeg. Here they are, based on the day of the week I had them:

Mondays

My "Business English" class was an intermediate-level group of 7 adults who all worked for the same company. With an 08:00 start time -- and on Mondays, no less -- it wasn't always easy for everyone but they were a fun group. For the most part, they were engaged, asked questions, and were clearly interested in improving and learning what sorcery brought a guy from southern California, of all places, to a small city in northern Poland. To my delight, by the end of our time together, we were having more spontaneous conversations than using the book, which was good for everyone, methinks.

Dawid, an 11-year-old boy, came to me after school and was always a pleasure even though he couldn't even put a sentence together, let alone have a conversation. Every week, I'd start our class by asking him what he did over the weekend, and his answer never waivered; he "played his console". XBOX, that is. That little brain-melting machine was his pride and joy. In time, I came to recognize when he didn't understand what I'd said or asked but acted like he did. Occassionally, he'd say "yes" with all kinds of confidence even though I hadn't asked a yes/no question. He was a smart kid who was able to laugh at himself and was always willing to practice.

The "Teens" class was next. They were an interesting bunch of high school students with varying levels of English, though all of them were conversational.

Weronika was the one I mentioned in a previous post that loved pups and volunteered at the local animal shelter weekly. She and her friends Ola and Oliwia were very quite in the beginning. Eventually (read: a month before I left), Weronika and Ola opened up because the class size got smaller, so we were able to actually get to know each other in a way that wasn't possible with a larger group. That's when Weronika invited me to walk some doggos with her! They were the only two who showed up to our final class, and even got me a tear-jerkingly thougthful gift!

Asia and Iden, who were aunt and nephew respectively despite being the same age, were the talkers of the group. And I mean that in the best way possible. I could always count on them to keep the conversation going! Asia, in one of the most spectacular acts of kindness I experienced in K-rzeg, invited me to spend Christmas with her and her family. They were tremendously warm and welcoming, the food was lovely (except the "gelly fish" - nie dziękuję!), and they taught me a ton about Poland and Polish Christmas. It was a truly heart-warming experience that I shall ne'er forget.

They also initiated "food lessons" (or "potlucks", as I call them). Everyone made food, brought it in, and we had the lesson in the dining room while sharing a meal. Another time, we all chipped in and bought a pizza and drinks (no, it wasn't Vodka!) to celebrate Iden's birthday. That was a glorious day!

Oliwia P. kept me on my toes with her depth and insight, though I think there was more to her than I got to see in the context of our group lessons. As someone who has done a gaggle of volunteering, I was impressed when she went to the Dominican Republic with her parents to do some volunteer work. Her friend Klaudia came to some classes but I think she said about 31 words all year, so I didn't get to know her too well.

A guy by the name of Jacek was the last to join the group. He didn't make a good first impression (he stared at his phone for 90% of his first class), but he ended up being quite engaging.

Next up was my "Adults" class, which was 5 low-level, working adults ranging in age from 25 to 45, I think. They were lovely people that were eager to learn but it didn't make sense for them to have classes with me because they were so low level that we could barely communicate. For that reason, I had to use a book that, thanks to Terry, wasn't appropriate for them so I was constantly simplifying or completely skipping entire sections. Those folks needed to be practicing the basics, not learning the nuance of cynicism (true story!).

Karol, a first year high school student who was in an IT-focused program, was a bit of a wild card for me. I never really knew what to talk about with him, but somehow we kept the conversations going. Whenever I got into a pickle in terms of having nothing lined up to talk about, I would use my admittedly outdated knowledge of IT to spark a conversation.

Tuesdays

A few months into my stay, I got a new student named Magda. She was beautiful soul in her mid-20's who wanted to improve her English, partly just for herself but also to feel more confident while traveling. Like me, she had grown tired of the routine of "normal" life and was looking to change things up. As I had walked down that same road, I was perfectly suited to not only help her with English but also to give advice related to backpacking and how to get over the mental barrier of letting go of the things we're so used to having. It was quite exciting to be a part of her journey! (Update: She's backpacking in the Philippines as I write this!)

Initially, I met Monika in my "Business English" class. Her level was a bit lower than the others, which is why she wanted to have individual classes as well. She was a Kołobrzeg native that had lived in Spain and Argentina for many years, so she spoke Spanish fluently and handled the Spanish-speaking markets at her job. Whenever she couldn't explain something to me in English, she'd swtich to Spanish and I understood more often than not, so that was handy.

Natalia was Monika's 13-year-old daughter. At first, we could barely communicate. That was nerve-racking, but as she got more comfortable with me and gained confidence, it got easier. Her mom told me that was enjoying our lessons, which was the first time she'd been even remotely excited about English, so she was thrilled. By the end of my time in Poland, we were able to understand each other well enough to maintain (simple) conversations.

Wednesdays

Borys, the tallest 16-year-old in the universe, was an incredibly nice kid who lived and breathed basketball. For the NBA playoffs, he stayed up all night to watch the games live. In 8 months of classes, I don't think a single one went by without us talking about basketball. That's quite a feat for me considering I could not care less about the sport. A few times, I tried to mix up the topic but we almost always hit a dead end and turned into awkward turtles. Luckily, it was easy enough to quickly Google "basketball news", then let him run with whatever headlines I found.

A second year high school student, Kinga, was one of the hardest working people I'd ever met. As arguably my highest level student, our lessons covered a multitude of topics ranging from dance class (hers, not mine) to traveling to the daily struggles of having long hair. Given her high level, she was hoping to refine her knowlegde of the simple things that don't come up conversation very often, such as "windowsill". We got along so well that she wanted to continue our lessons after I came back to the US. (Update: We have indeed started having lessons via Skype.)

Łukasz had a wife and young son and was probably in his late 30's. They owned a local business that catered to the summertime tourists, so he was taking advantage of the off-season and improving his English. While our conversations frequently drifted towards the depressing side of life, such as politics, climate change, and social media addiction, they were always thought-provoking and enjoyable. And when the laptop I had borrowed from the school decided to stop working, he lent me one of his! That was a life-saver because I had just started teaching online and couldn't continue without a laptop.

Even with a 20-year age gap and wholly different upbringings, Kasia and I had an extraordinary amount in common. She was one of the few students with whom I never worried about running out of topics to discuss because we were both able and willing to talking about anything and everything. Our conversations seemed to always boil down to our shared fascination with human nature; why people do what they do. In fact, we were often so deep in conversation that we'd lose track of time and go over by 10 or 15 minutes. I was (and am) genuinely excited to see where she goes in life as she needs and deserves more than Kołobrzeg can offer.

Thursdays

Another second year high school student, Ola, came to me twice a week because she had signed up to go to New York for an English course during the coming summer. For a while, her friend Roxanna was coming with her but she got a job and had to stop. Anywho, even though she'd traveled a fair amount, Ola was a bit nervous about living in such a big, busy city. I assured her she would adjust and provided as many tips as a I could considering that I'd only been there once. She was incredibly smart, though I don't think she'd admit, and I think she'll go on to do great things! (Update: She's currently in New York, making oodles of friends from all over the world, and loving it!)

Fridays

My only class on Fridays was with Marek, a 14-year-old who played soccer in a club, loved to ski, and was a big fan of movies, especially ones with superheroes. We spent many a class talking about the myriad of superhero movies and characters, and watching trailers for upcoming releases. We talked about what might happen in "Avengers: Infinity War" more than I'm comfortable admitting in writing. Coincidentally, it was released the weekend before I left Poland, so our last class was a real geekfest.

Each of the people mentioned above -- and a few other non-students who I'll write about in another post -- played a part in my decision to stay in Kołobrzeg, and I'm thankful for every one of them!

[sweetandunholy]

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“Richard Gansey III had forgotten how many times he had been told he was destined for greatness.”

“He was a king. And this was the year he was going to die.” The Raven King is the thrilling final installment in the dark and magical series Raven Cycle series created by Maggie Stiefvater. A brooding and omnious novel that will hook you from the first sentence, sweep you off your feet and land you right in the heart of the Aglionby Raven boys adventure to be a witness to its all consuming ending.

4/5 Stars Recommendation: Worth every single page from the first sentence to ends. Prophecies will be will be unmasked, curses will be unleashed, relationships will set sail and terrifying fears will come to life. All wrapped in a poetical ending to satisfy all fans. Flawed for a series ending however, and thus I can’t get myself to give it 5 stars.

How to get Hime to love a book: 

Step One: Be preferentially YA Step Two: Include strong and complex characters with original character arcs Step Three: Give me gay boys, all the gay boys. Bonus Step: Be Maggie Stiefvater

Because holy shit where do I start.

The story is set one week after the events of Blue Lily Lily Blue, with Maura and Artemus back in Fox Way along with the cryptical Gwenllian —the later two who are not exactly getting along well— while the Gangsey & Co are still in the search for their Welsh King of Myth. A new addition to their group is made in the form of charismatic and brave Henry Cheng, who will reach and touch Gansey in more ways than one.

One final kiss will be shared. Two last glimpses of special someones will be given, and without a goodbye they part. Three relationships that will at last set sail.  And one final door will at last close but it will leave so many more open, so many many more.

The Raven King is what the Raven boys’ friendship is for Blue: Breath taking, all powerful, all consuming and engrossing. Maggie’s ever praised prose is better than ever, it makes you feel everything you have never been able to put into words between all of the character’s arc climax, the creepier and scarier atmosphere throughout the entire book, her ever present quirky humor, and the larger than life vibe this book is. Its entire more-ness, because that is what it is. More. The Raven King is more than YA itself, its more than fantasy and its more than The Raven Boys, The Dream Thieves and Blue Lily Lily Blue ever was. It is the ever so deserved end, carefully wrapped up in a satisfying end that leaves open the possibility of so much more.

I had a couple of problems with characters who almost seemed irrelevant with how little participation they had in the final plot, however, I will give my kudos to Stiefvater for making each one of them original and interesting nonetheless.

Click Read more for book analysis and rants and spoilers or you’ll find them below this point, my sweet children. Stuff your faces and enjoy !

  Now here’s the thing, I’ve read a fuck ton of other reviews who talk about how they loved the foreshadowing on Adam & Ronan. From the Dream Thieves and Adam being Ronan’s second secret, to all the mentions of homosexuality by Kavinsky, when I thought it was pure teenage dickery and not a direct criticism on Ronan’s sexual orientation— Except no I, I didn’t pick up on it. Shame on me, I know.

But in my opinion, perhaps that made it all the better and this is why:

“Adam smiled cheerily. Ronan would start wars and burn cities for that true smile, elastic and amiable.”

Ronan is a sensible, sensible thing. If anything the entire opposite of Blue’s sensible, prudent. No, Ronan feels too much, too hard and too deep. He wasn’t your YA charismatic bad boy, Ronan was broken and angry, but Ronan craved for love and affection and most specially handing it to others. It had all been so subtle up until that quote, where I put my book down and had to smile to myself for a good ten minutes before I could pick it back up.

Ronan would start wars and burn cities for Adam Parish’s smile. The power of those words hit me like a rock, and no, I didn’t suddenly suspect they would get involved romantically even then.

Ronan let out a breath, put the model down on the bed beside him, and kissed Adam.

Once, when Adam had still lived in the trailer park, he had been pushing the lawn mower around the scraggly side yard when he realized that it was raining a mile away. He could smell it, the earthy scent of rain on dirt, but also the electric, restless smell of ozone. And he could see it: a hazy gray sheet of water blocking his view of the mountains. He could track the line of rain travelling across the vast dry field towards him. It was heavy and dark, and he knew he would get drenched if he stayed outside. It was coming from so far away that he had plenty of time to put the mower away and get under cover. Instead, though, he just stood there and watched it approach. Even at the last minute, as he heard the rain pounding the grass flat, he just stood there. He closed his eyes and let the storm soak him.

That was this kiss.

IT WAS AMAZING. I will be honest when I say I was half bored and half doing something else when I read this chapter and I missed Ronan leaning in to kiss Adam. Instead, I sat through Adam’s description of a kiss before going back and realizing it was Ronan who had just kissed hi,

I felt my heart stop in joy. Then tears in my eyes.

THESE BOYS ARE JUST SO BLESSED? I’M NOT OKAY HOLY CHRIST. Like, lets just sit back and take a moment to appreciate Maggie didn’t just do this to please all of her LGBT+ readers once and move on? We had three heartfelt kisses between these boys that moved me three times as any interaction between Blue and Gansey could’ve ever. We had several descriptions and accounts for how much they had kissed, and how it felt and the intensity of of their feelings.

My feelings are an oil spill. I am so pleased Maggie reached this concussion between her characters, Adam and Ronan did deserve the best. They grew and changed together, this relationship is the one that could feel the most deserved in the entirety of YA.

Shoutout to Blue and Ronan’s friendship.  This and Ronan trying to dream Blue eye cream in the middle of his life going to shit. I’m so happy to see how their friendship has evolved.

“Gansey asked, “Do you have time to run an errand with us? Do you have work? Homework?” “No homework. I got suspended,” Blue replied. “Get the fuck out,” Ronan said, but with admiration. “Sargent, you asshole.” Blue reluctantly allowed him to bump fists with her as Gansey eyed her meaningfully in the rearview mirror.”

And one last shoutout all the way back to The Raven Boys.

“Ronan said, “I’m always straight.” Adam replied “Oh, man, that’s the biggest lie you’ve ever told.”

We now know you know, Adam. These little details made my day while reading the series.

Thoughts on Henry Cheng:

He…. Happens. And it’s weird. People love him and I don’t…. Get it.

Henry Cheng is an absolutely useless, diversity pick character who Stiefvater decided to throw in at the end of the series. Oh forgive me, he did give Gansey some life changing thoughts on beating your fears and like that’s chill; but it feels like something any other character could’ve done if they would’ve been given the right exposition or backstory. Like Ronan or Adam, who are both characters who have been through some shit and could believably have more to their backstory than what we already know.

To me a golden rule of writting should be to never introduce new, major character on the last book of a long series because everything should’ve been established in your previous books. The Raven Cycle was very guilty about introducing a new villain in every book [Except for arguably Blue Lily Lily Blue] and then have him fade into the oblivion of not being relevant to the series again. This is mildly forgivable in the previous books since its A) Not the final book and B) You’re trying to throw obstacles into your character’s paths so they can continue on with their adventure.

But why would you add a main character who adds nothing to the story and add around 200 pages of filler about him? Not to mention Gansy and Henry became instant best friends The Toga party was by far one of my favorite scenes simply because of the simplicity of it. It was a break from the creepy and omnious tone to remind us: Yo, they’re still kids js and it was a nice andd very welcome addition. The scene that actually made me appreciate Blue and Gansey as a couple too and I had Cheng to thank for that… Now why couldn’t we leave it at that? Robobee and the dream black market arc was just… Odd. And the way he came in, helped Gansey fight his fear, the robobee acted as a glorified GPS was way too convenient in my opinion. The book could’ve done perfectly without and it was absolutely irrelevant and specially distracting. Specially through the end scenes where he just seemed to be mindlessly following and strutting along while getting… Absolutely nothing.

The worst of it is the fact that Cheng got more spotlight than Noah. A character that was long established in the previous books and that fans were actually curious about his development and what was going on with him. We had a Cheng word vomit in exchange for Noah’s ever continuing loose ambiguity.

Thoughts on assorted secondary characters:

Another one of the problems I had with this book that minorly disappointed me. It  doesn’t entire bug me per se, but bothered me enough I’d like to put down my thoughts on it on the review.

There were a buttload of character introduced that honestly lead nowhere. I’m talking about the Dream black market net of collectors, curators and sellers. Seondeok, Piper, Laumonier? (wth— was his name again) and Lumonier x3 and probably a few more. These had a very minor purpose in the story and disappeared in the end as soon as they came. Piper was a bitch for no good reason but yeah okay, she’s a bitch and we must dislike her. Seondeok is as needed in this story as his son, and no matter how many clever chapters you start with “Depending on when you start, this story is about Seondeok” I won’t feel for her, I won’t care about her and I won’t care about any of the other secondaries. And I won’t even dignify Laumonier(s) with a segment— It’s so random and unneeded it doesn’t deserve the attention.

I was waiting until the end while clinging to the hope that it’d be some great mystery Maggie would wrap up and would make sense and MAYBE would be relevant to be story but that was that for expectations.

The Grey man’s character arc was more than done in my opinion and I wasn’t sure why he was suddenly forced to leave. Maura’s goodbye was more than uneventful and was disappointingly unmoving. I would’ve not minded his character just staying the way he was, a retired hit man with a psychic girlfriend who now got his well deserved rest. Him leaving and the novel ending with him unaccounted for was very unsatisfying as well.

Neeve died and I’m just lmao I don’t care but ok.

Then there’s Opal (Orphan girl) too, another of the secondary characters that I very much rooted for throughout the novels. I had so many theories for this character, hoping she’d have some sort of major yet hidden relevance to the plot and Ronan but in the end she felt both like some odd… Unfulfilling filler with no closure either.

In fact, this entire section could be easily summarized in a lack of closure for most secondary characters. While I can’t stop praising how greatly wrapped up the rest of the book is, most secondary characters make me fill unfulfilled. I don’t want to hear Maggie could be getting off if she was just paving the road and setting these characters up for the Dreamer trilogy, because this tweet happened on the end of 2016:

and the series was way more than over in 2015. I would very much appreciate and may manage to forgive Stiefvater if she were to develop and add onto these characters on the Ronan trilogy, but the sad truth is that I just don’t care for most of them and I don’t really feel like learning more about them either. Again, just purposeless filler.

General Gansey disappointment:

Another one of my golden rules in writing is that if you’re going to kill a character: You should definitely kill them. Reviving a character as an intelligent plot device or as a character goal can be a relatable thing and an earned struggle. When characters die simply to revive immediately… Simply does not work for me. I’m more grossed out by the moment and feel much less than the emotion overflow I would’ve had to live with if Gansey had died.

What’s more is the potential of Maggie heading down a great path for Gansey when Cabeswater tried to explain he could not just bring him back but “Make some essential part of itself human-shaped” and  “It was impossible to bring him back unchanged […] But it might be able to refashion him into something new”. This was so much wasted potential, such an exciting idea.

One of the most popular theories I was an avid followed of was the idea that Gansey was Glendower. Think about it as a quick parenthesis:

Reasons why Gansey could’ve (and should’ve) been Glendower:

— A continuos theme throughout the novel was time’s circle continuum instead of a straight line. “Not yet happened” a synonym of “Already has happened”: The present Noah sacrificing himself for 10 year old Gansey to live, the gang finding the aged up Camaro wheels along with Glendower’s shield, Blue’s face in the painting of the three women, etc.  These are all examples of how the possibility of Gansey being both Gansey and Glendower exist throughout the novel, or at least, an incarnation of him.

— Blue recognizing there was something more about him, Gansey’s agelessness as described by Adam:

“Adam knew that she had sensed the otherness to his friend: that sense that Gansey was both young and old, that he’d only just arrived, or he’d always been.”

— Gwenllian calls Gansey “My lord” “Father” in multiple occasions — The constant raven motif repeating itself from Aglionby’s uniform to Ronan’s dream Chainsaw — The women and several others creatures chanting “The Raven King, make way for the Raven King” to Gansey. Glendower being the real Raven King. — In the end scene, Gansey asking the wind to show him the Raven King and raven’s responding to his call. Glendower was known for being able to raven’s. — What if the constant Glendower calls were not a path they pointed him to, but the voice calling his own name? — We never got a clear reason as to why Noah would murmur he would live because of Glendower to Gansey when he was living because of Noah in fact. Noah trading his life for Gansey’s with the knowledge he was a King with a prophecy to fulfill would’ve been a more satisfying explanation. — Maggie constantly compares Gansey to the Raven King, while comparing Ronan to his poet, Adam to his magician, and Blue Gwenllian, the witch, the mirror. — The three Blue’s in the flag have red hands, and when inquired about it, Malory explains that the Bloody red hands are associated with the Mab Darogan, which is a mythic title for Welsh kings known as ‘Sons of Destiny’. These are the same three women that appear in Cabeswater chanting “Rex Corvus, parate regis corvi.” [The Raven King, make way for the Raven King] to Gansey & Co. Gansey, if not Glendower, perfectly could’ve been the next Mab Darogan, after all, the book was swamped with references of Gansey being kingly. The King who died and Lived. — Glendower could’ve also been sleeping indeed. Asleep inside of Gansey, awaiting to be woken up with his death. 

But Glendower was really dead, lmao and Gansey was instead revived right after. So anticlimactic.

I mean, honestly seeing Gansey come back as something else as said by Cabeswater would’ve been way more pleasant. Like Blue having to struggle with Gansey to recover part of himself or Blue seeing him off to change the world. Reclaim his long lost kingdom.

If you’re going to kill a character to revive him a few pages later, what is the point of wasting said pages in the first place? It’s something I’ve always had trouble understanding while authors do it a lot nonetheless —Similar to my latest rant of A Court of Wings and Ruin, when we were subjected to the same death pointlessness—. What’s worse is the unexplained plot hole it leaves by Cabeswater explaining to us how it wasn’t possible for it to revive him, and then proceeds to do exactly that.

I will however, recognize how pleased I was with the explanation of why Blue’s curse worked the way it did. Like in most YA or fairy tales, I was expecting it to go on without explanation and I wouldn’t have had much other problem with that. Two mirror facing each other was such a poetical explanation I can’t help but to pin it right on Maggie’s style.

I have mixed feelings about Glendower being dead, honest. The first time I read the book, I was absolutely thrilled by it, as it was arguably the biggest plot twist of them all. But at this point in my reading (and at this point in my review, causing me to reflect over a lot of things) Final Thoughts I’m too incoherent to add into the review:

That demon unmaking things was creepy af, g fucking g. Just the word unmade seems horribly unsettling. The way he was described was point in case amazing.

Noah’s possesion was also such a heartstopping scene as he gauged Blue’s eye. [Anyone else see it coming though? Ever since The Gray man warned she could loose an eye if they Greenmantle were to die]

No one even mentions Noah in the epilogue, which hurts deep. I was left very confused about what it was of him and found myself rather disappointed the characters didn’t seem to… Care enough? To think about him?

The body count was really high for a book by Maggie Stiefvater. It was all gruesome and great. My heart is very, very pleased.

CHAINSAW SITTING ON ADAM’S SHOULDER?? Why yes.

Adam driving Ronan’s car touched my heartstrings, and him not denying when his father mocked him for driving “his boyfriend’s car”. God fucking bless me.

The ending scene with Ronan was absolutely powerful: “Then he closed his eyes and he began to dream.” 

I love this book, through all its flaws. I just love it.

[Review] The Raven King – Maggie Stiefvater “Richard Gansey III had forgotten how many times he had been told he was destined for greatness.”