#wristcutters a love story

[pixiexbites]

[deramin2]

(Spoilers for Critical Role Campaign 1)

I don't have any expectations for wherever FCG will stay dead or come back somehow because I've spent 9 years watching Sam Riegel totally subvert my expectations in a narratively compelling way.

But I will say that "FCG shouldn't come back because it would lessen the impact of a narratively perfect death" is EXACTLY what people were saying about Percy's first death after C1 E68. (The first televised character death.) If he had to have an end, it was a fitting end that, while tragic, neatly tied up the thesis of the story. Would Taliesin even want him to come back? With Whitestone saved and Ripply killed, was there even much left to explore?

They found Percy's death letter telling them he loved them all but please bury him in a ditch with all his designs so he could be forgotten by history. He was so sorry for all he'd done and he could never make it up.

But they tried anyway, having to wrest Percy's soul away from Orthax. The players knew what they said in the resurrection ritual was meaningful along with their rolls. But they did not know they were also having to convince Taliesin. If they'd tried to appeal to Percy's soul in the wrong way, dice be damned, Percy was going to refuse. What we got was really meaningful and powerful roleplay (especially from Marisha and Laura) that did convince Percy along with successful rolls.

Being brought back did not at all weaken Percy's own sacrifice or the impact of his death. It forced him to confront everything he'd been running from. It forced him to see that there were people who loved him and would not let him throw himself away for them. They didn't want a martyr, they wanted their friend. It utterly changed the trajectory of his character.

There's only four ways I can think of on the table to bring FCG back:

True Resurrection — Incredibly expensive high level spell. They would have to find the materials as well as someone who both can and is willing to cast the spell in the middle of a war to stop a second Calamity. None of this would be easy. The ritual could still fail. FCG could decline to come back and the other players would not know that until they went to all the effort. The Raven Queen views True Resurrection as heresy which is why they didn't try it on Vax. How would a second chance change them?

Reincarnate — Lower level and cheaper spell. FCG would come back as a fleshy being instead of an Aeormaton. Would the experience live up to FCG's fantasies about it? How would it change them to realize they are truely alive, and always were, but are now also mortal? Reverse Veth story? Wild ass Pinocchio retelling? What does it mean to get a second chance but everything about you is different?

Wish — I think this would count as duplicating True Resurrection. High component cost and requires a high level magic user. (If it's duplicating a spiral there's no risk of no longer being able to cast Wish.)

Hag Deal — They do know a fatestitcher Hag who likes them and limes making deals even more. Orym may be able to just extend his existing deal. What are the consequences for the deal marker as well as FCG? Would the robit feel responsible for that person's fate? How would that affect how they feel about coming back and the meaning they need to make from it.

I don't think there's a right or best option because whatever we speculate on, the actual result will be full of meaning and very poignant. I can't imagine that Bell's Hells won't try to bring him back. They've lost so much already. They couldn't bring back Eshteross or Bertrand or Will & Derrig. They couldn't live with not even trying. Maybe their method works, maybe it doesn't. But at least they tried.

And if FCG does come back, they have to live with knowing that even though they saved their friends and put an end to Otohan, they also hurt their friends by treating themselves as disposable. They forced their friends to confront that each of them might have done the same and that's deeply unhealthy. It will change the character development tremendously.

My favorite film and play genre is where the protagonist dies (or nearly dies) (usually self-inflicted) at the beginning and has to journey through purgatory to find themselves again before they can return to the living. Films like Wristcutters: A Love Story (2006) or Castaway on the Moon (김씨 표류기 2009). Death matters because it reminds you to live. The journey is finding meaning in both life and death and coming back utterly changed.

[teashopcrafts]

A nice eclectic mix of posters, lol. The Mini Movie Poster Collection just keeps growing.

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[haveyouseenthismovie-poll]

[kathrynmhahn]

Being here with you reminds me of what I was like before my suicide. What were you like? I was happy...

Wristcutters: A Love Story (2006)

[texaschainsawmascara]

Wristcutters: A Love Story

[soggybongwatter]

wristcutters: a love story

[carnivorecarcass]

[sxizidbyniex3]

<<another compilation that isn’t just zero day>>

IM CUMMINGGG

I’m also in this so face reveal uhm…

[gxxdomen]

shannyn sossamon and a white boy in distress is my favourite genre

[youtookthesunwithyou]

Forever one of my most favorites 💖

[faith3i3]

“even though i've never met her in person, she's with me in really weird subliminal universe ways.”

[houndsinhades]

💬 for the asks! <3

Hi pookie! <3 Happy New Year!

Of all the options, that's the toughest one for me to answer because dialogue is not a strength of mine. Especially when there's three or more characters in a scene? Woof. That's painful.

I have an unpublished, half-written wolfstar fic in the docs that's very dialogue heavy. It's an AU based off of Wristcutters: A Love Story (one of my favorite movies ever), so tw for mention of suicide/death under the cut - the story takes place in an afterline for people who've committed suicide. (It’s also a rom com)

Remus blinked his soft hazel eyes at Sirius, and Sirius thought that if he could smile at him, he’d be dazzled by it. He bet Remus had a lovely smile - he had dimples that showed when he spoke, and slightly crooked teeth that made him only more endearing. “Thanks.”

“It’s no problem,” Sirius said again. Except this time he meant it. Remus was fairly quiet, even shy, but he was funny when it was least expected, and it was easy to forget that he had been a stranger only a few hours ago.

He wasn’t one to push, either, which was why Sirius was so surprised that he finally asked him about their road trip once they were laid out on their shared blanket under the starless sky.

“Here,” Remus insisted, handing him a folded sweater that was too thick for the heat here. “It’ll make a better pillow than your t-shirt.”

Sirius’s own makeshift pillow wasn’t doing much to keep the rocks from digging painfully into his skull, and he took it gratefully, with a soft, “Thanks.” 

It smelled nice, he thought, once he’d settled back against the comfortable wool. The faint scent of soap lingered, along with something that smelled distinctly green - like Christmas. He didn’t know where the smell came from, not when they didn’t have trees here to protect them from the harsh sun, and he couldn’t resist turning his head away so he could press his nose to the blue marled fabric. 

Remus was holding his hands up to the sky, twisting his fingers like they ached in an odd, mesmerizing sort of motion above their heads. “James said you’re looking for someone?” he asked, hesitating like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to know. 

“My brother,” Sirius answered.

“Oh.” Sirius watched Remus’s hands come down to rest on his thin chest. He curled up against them a little, the way a little kid would, and Sirius wondered if he needed a blanket. It was cool at night, but the drop in temperature was a welcome change - for him, at least. 

“I don’t know where he is,” Sirius admitted. “But - I know he’s out here.” 

Remus nodded at that, and was quiet for a long moment. Sirius wondered if that was all he wanted to ask, and when no other questions came, he shifted a little onto his hip, trying to find a position that was comfortable enough to sleep in. 

When he turned to his side, Remus did the same, and Sirius found himself looking at those bright eyes again. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Sirius blinked. “For what?” 

Remus frowned gently, and shifted so that his head was resting on top of his own arm. “I’m sorry your brother died.” 

Up until now no one had offered him any condolences, and it wasn’t until Remus did that he even realized how fucked up that was.

“Well." He pushed down the ache that had built up behind his sternum. "We’re all dead, right?” 

“Well... yeah,” Remus agreed hollowly. He had a small freckle on his lower lip that was more noticeable now that he was frowning, now that Sirius had the opportunity to really look at him. “But - isn’t that sad, too? You and James are so young, you still had whole lives to live.” 

Was that even true? Sirius wondered. He remembered all the bad parts of his life in vivid detail - growing up with parents who only saw him for his failings, the loneliness that extended from his childhood into his early adult years, the futility of it all. How much of a life had he really had, in the end? If he had lived for fifty more years, would he have done anything to show for it?

“Would you change it?” Remus asked, and it was far more personal a question than anything Sirius had been asked since he came to this place. “If you knew what you know now?” 

Sirius’s throat grew thick at that, and he swallowed down past the lump. He wished he had a warm cup of tea, if not to soothe his throat than to help ease some of the sadness in Remus’s eyes. “I think I’d change it even if I didn’t know.” He pressed his knuckles against his inner eye and took a deep breath. “But that’s just what I say now. If I got a second chance, I’d probably do the same thing.” It felt inevitable, after all, damn near fated. 

“Maybe not,” Remus whispered. He took Sirius’s wrist in his long fingers, and gently pulled his hand from his eyes. 

He felt warm, Sirius thought, and he missed the touch as soon as it was over - almost as quickly as it had begun. 

“What about you?” he asked softly, looking at each of Remus’s freckles in turn. He could find constellations in them, he thought, he could get back what had been stolen from the sky. 

“I didn’t kill myself,” Remus whispered, full of conviction that didn’t align with where they were. “I know that sounds crazy - or like I’m just in denial, but… I didn’t want to die.” He frowned again, and this time it was Remus who was running his hand over his face, the sort of way you would rub at it to wake yourself up. 

Sirius sat up on his elbow, and looked down at Remus like he had just told him that he saw a flying horse. “So - how did you end up here then?” 

“I thought rule one was not to ask anyone that,” Remus asked, huffing a breath out his nose that sounded like a snort. 

Sirius rolled his eyes and unceremoniously pushed down his sleeves, holding out his wrists for Remus to see. 

Showed you mine.

Now show me yours.

Remus wrinkled his nose a little unpleasantly at the scars, which made Sirius wonder if he had just gotten here - all things considered, his scars were some of the less gruesome he’d seen here, although he was a little jealous of anyone who’d gone for the carbon monoxide route. His vanity hadn’t died with him, after all. 

“Your turn,” Sirius insisted. 

“Fine. Fuck - that's fair,” Remus agreed, the same way you agreed to let a surgeon cut you open when a scan showed a mass. He rolled over to look up at the black sky, and kept his eyes fixed on the void instead of looking back at Sirius. He felt the blanket under his thighs pull taught as Remus took it in his fist. “I overdosed, but I didn’t mean to. I was just in so much pain, and nothing was helping. So I kept taking more and more pills, just desperate for it to end. And then it all ended. I’ve been trying to get out ever since.” 

That was fucking awful, Sirius thought. This place was a shit punishment for the six thousand suckers a year who deserved it, but to be put here by mistake? That was actually hell. 

“When was that?” he asked him. How long had he been trying to get out? 

Remus sighed - a puff of white breath that hung in the air above his freckled lips. “1985.” 

“Fuck,” Sirius whispered, his jaw dropping as he breathed in the vapor that Remus had just exhaled. “I killed myself in 2004.”

[dreadfaeriejack]

on the note of a Knight's tale: Shannyn Sossamon

Everybody stop and look at this absolute Aphrodite of a person

[transgendergoblinfromspace]

“Once upon a time there was a crooked tree and a straight tree. And they grew next to each other. And every day the straight tree would look at the crooked tree and he would say, "You're crooked. You've always been crooked and you'll continue to be crooked. But look at me! Look at me!" said the straight tree. He said, "I'm tall and I'm straight." And then one day the lumberjacks came into the forest and looked around, and the manager in charge said, "Cut all the straight trees." And that crooked tree is still there to this day, growing strong and growing strange.”

-Kneller(Tom Waits)