#also harrow is so depressed poor thing

[kiradotexe]

oooo Harrow the Ninth is written in 2nd person? thats interesting!

[not-so-rosyyy]

Your post the other day got me thinking and sparked my interest - I haven’t bought a manga in years. Do you have any recommendations, especially more current?

OMG! I love this topic.

okay, so i actually don’t know what genre you’re into with regards to manga, but judging from your other interests, i’d say you’re into Shonen/ Fantasy/ Action/ Historical

some of these you might have already heard about, but these really are my favorite from recent years, and they're all excellent:

1. Attack on Titan - set in a post-apocalyptic world where the last of humanity are stuck inside a gated community surrounded by what they call The Walls because there are man-eating giants outside to get them. this is like the Game of Thrones of manga, in that it's like super dark, gritty and harrowing. lots of mysteries and conspiracies and real-world parallels with social issues that plague us today. the early volumes are especially top-notch. everytime i read this, i'm like "humanity is shit" but also somehow i still want to root for us lol. i cried a lot here.

2. One Punch Man - about a depressed and bored superhero facing an existential crisis because he's become so strong he can defeat any (and i mean ANY) monster and villain with just one punch. lmao sounds ridiculous but that's the point because it's really a satirical look into the superhero genre. it subverts a lot of your expectations into that kind of narrative because it directly exposes tropes. really funny (like, the main character treats average things like budgeting and groceries as his biggest problems like the rest of us), but also action-packed and the main plot and mystery just gets better and better over time.

3. Akatsuki No Yona - well, this one isn't a shonen because the main character here is a woman and romance is a huge part of the story. BUT it is not the driving force of the plot. it's really more about politics, leadership, adventure, etc. the lore is really rich, too, imo. and Yona (the MC) is one of the most inspiring female characters i've ever encountered in manga. this is the story of how she, a once sheltered princess in a once "peaceful" kingdom, had to escape the palace after the emperor got murdered during a mutiny. on the run from her enemies, she soon learned that the world outside the palace is far from the idyllic place she once thought, and from her dealings with the common people, found her strength and grew to be a great leader in her own right all while trying to stop the ongoing war and take back the kingdom from her foes. (it's a very I JUST LOVE WHEN WOMEN! type of story)

4. My Hero Academia - this one I think is the most typical shonen story in this list (you know, the very untalented and weak protagonist who grew to be the most powerful one by sheer willpower coupled with a heart of gold). but it executes the genre's tropes and cliches really well, me thinks, and that's why it's wildly popular today. it's set in a world where having "quirks" or superpowers are common, and yet Midoriya (the MC) doesn't have one...even though his dream is to be the greatest superhero like his idol All Might. long story short, they meet and All Might, after seeing how Midoriya possesses the most important quality of a hero, passes his quirk onto him. and thus starts Midoriya's journey of proving that he deserves that power and living up to his idol's name. also cried a lot reading this. (lmao notice the pattern)

5. Kingdom - this is like...one of my most favorite mangas i've ever read. i'd say it's up there with One Piece as one of the best in the shonen genre. the main story is a fictionalized account of the Warring States period of China and it's told mainly from the POV of a young and poor war orphan who joined the military and rose to be one of its greatest generals. if you're into history, philosophy, politics, battlefield strategies and tactics--i couldn't recommend this manga enough. the characterization and story progression are A++. lots of epic moments and speeches that made me shiver and cry buckets. and it constantly ups the stakes and introduces allies you'll love and enemies you'll come to respect. (also...i love the female characters here.)

***sorry for this long ass answer you didn't ask for btw lmao***

[camnotes]

the cost of a full scholarship

Next door is a Turkish German girl, she told Thu about being a Muslim without wearing 'the scarf' and although not having sex with her boyfriend yet, they have done other things. They went to have breakfast together at at Turkish café next to Great Portland Street tube station. The waiter gave them some extra yogurt. The service is always nicer when you and the waiters have opposite sex, unless they're homosexual.  

Thu walked to the International Student House on Great Portland Street to ask about the room that she already booked for online as guided by the scholarship office but never got a reply. It turned out she could have moved in the day she arrived, they just did not let her know. So the second week starts by calling a taxi to go across the street because Thu didn't know how to get there and the university staff thought it would be easier with a taxi. 6 pounds, not too bad but she could have walked. The room is downstairs in the basement, it is a small room for two people, and one of the closets was outside in the hallway because there is no space inside. Roommate was also a full scholarship student from India who has moved in before. She was walking barefoot into the room, drying her feet with a cloth, complaining also the room is too small for too people. Thu was surprised to see the girl opening a laptop. Thu thought all full scholarship students must be from poor family like her who cannot afford a laptop. Thu bought a small netbook with most of her saving money before knowing the scholarship result, just so she can work in public libraries during the day - to avoid her parents' fight. The Indian girl said it is her dad's laptop.

They decided to walk to the student house and ask for a bigger room. They were then separated into two different twin rooms. Thu chose 355 on the third floor, dragged her suitcases in the room, the roommate was not there but there were photos, she looks white, probably European - Thu preferred to get to know the western culture more and thought this would be nice. It was an exchange student from the U.S. who is doing History. Thu asked the American girl if she was passionate about History. She said it is boring but was easy to get into. Thu had to choose Sociology & History instead because the university does not have Anthropology, as she wanted to do. In the last few years, Thu has been passionate about 'having a passion'. Thu had asked many people what their passions are. In Hanoi, the chances are people are not doing a course or a job they like, because their parents do not want them to follow their passions. Most Asian students who study abroad would do Business or Finance, same as what mum wanted Thu to do at university in Hanoi and Thu did, for one semester then dropped out to pursue her 'study abroad' dream.

Thu does not remember the American roommate's name now, only that there is the word 'kill' in part of her either first or surname. She seemed a bit depressed, often sleeps until noon. Thu wakes up early in the morning, earlier than in Vietnam, probably because of the time difference, have a shower before sleeping and sleep before midnight - just like in Vietnam. Though Thu went to John Lewis to buy a kettle to share with the roommate; it did not take too long until they had a big fight - on the night of Thu's birthday.

Timelines:

roommates:

indian - not dare to ask the scholarship office about things

American

scholarship student meeting - be careful with me, I'm the man with money and power, tears, worry, scare - Africans, Indians

3 americans, 1 agitated

single room Harrow, A, winter, SAD, depression

counsellor, change course, scholarship office staff - threaten

back to ISH, double room, thought master's student, indian girl again

food out of fridge, argue pointing fingers, bringing Thu's family stories out, sound from the underwear, Thu's 'cold war' - she moved out, just as Thu moved out before?

Pakistani girl, rich family, car pick up all the time, uncle congratulated 'brave' moving with a taxi from the other student house to this one across the street, direct phone, mobile, skype, pray five times a day, in the morning then sleep - good physical exercise, mentally? engaged, seen the fiancé one time, law families

summer, banhmi11 - not wash coriander, bossy, boring manual work, not much talking with customers, 60 pounds new stall, rained, grumpy boss, took the cooker, last day

Cambridge work - English prof - no entrance - arrogant attitude towards strangers & about her college, M, castle, yes and no and yes and end…3 times young boys

couchsurfing: T, skype C

single room, CS Russian couple and friend, vnmese food - summer rolls and noodle, Barclay, push game; C - English parents, small village, 1st, bunk bed room, invite and end - scary laughs in the middle of the night

ballet and French lessons, composer - aging

finding a guitarist to audition to sing in bar - a guy said yes then didn't introduce

BB: 3 months later, another one introduced - 1 month after, fb message replied

met up in piano room

got in his room with Vahan, sang Hallelujah, made fun of Carla Bruni

practised yoga, cooked pasta

9 month no rel google calendar commitment with Ly, B wanted to watch a movie together (texts), now it's been almost 2 yrs and a half.

fights: jealousy (most of the time), finance (one time - several small ones)

future: not sure, no stable jobs - both, career question - fanmails, female students

friends:

Q: talked behind the back instead of direct comment

Ly: peacemaker or people pleaser?

Z: ignore, distant, cold blood?

group, popularity friendship

Nina, Lung: male alike friendship and it stays

1 week Korean roommate, sentimental, tears when saying goodbye

summer german girlfriend, older sister, no buying because of sales, euro vision, birthday - cake, gifts, English poem about London from grandfather, Greenwich, Cambridge, nottinghill, started with Canterbury, shopping. she doesn't like London, ambulance, left before signing the contract

English and European classmates: guys intention, girls no interest, Chinese one - small province in south china - 3 kid family, sister mental...she likes cemetery, dark personality, probably depressed without knowing it - like most of vnmese and chinese who don’t know a way out?...even now when she has choices because she has a permanent residence visa

vnmese students in London: too expensive dinner - hotpot, Korean food, talked about shoes, clothes - once each…

ISH:

arrogant music students, no interest british ones

Andrei & Anne from Romania, Kasturi from India - roommate for a month, sleep late eat late, internet, computer, skyping with friends - one time I sang 'part of that world' to her close male friend, she turned into a jealous face;

Indians: Abisha - 35 first time to supermarket, Adytia

French: Alex, Jim, Joel, Gina, Benoit, Estelle - swimming, expensive breakfast, flirt guys

Ashjeen: strict and boring student resident assistant

Richa indian Canadian, Saniya - indian groups and drama

C Giang

Tibetans: Dhun, Dorjee, Galek (peed in bed), Thuley, Thupten,

Bhutan: Sonam

vnmese: Hao, Lan - domestic violence, Linh - awkward, c Hanh & c Tra, Thuy

Jia Rui: gave me concert ticket, crazy old woman roommate - she needs a guy? jumping up and down, far away from microwave - so?

Julia: german late teenage girl :D

Kevin: had wife and kids then turned gay, English boyfriend, dropping face pink cheek

Lam Nigeria: dance, sing when washing the dishes - SOAS?

Lydia: Malaysian, Christian biologist who believes in god more than 'evolution'

Pakistani: Taimur, girl who I thought was interested in B

Jamyang Buddhist Center

Switzerland volunteer

40sth looking like 60sth host, her heart is in the healing room, not the house

Angela

U.S. visa, Belfast - castle hill - stress released

California - vnmese americans - southern & northern vnmese

casino, san diego - dissert

L.A., classmate - married

San Fran - art, culture, health!

UC Berkeley -  Anthro pre class, Stanford, Mountain View - Google

Watford stay

vnmese housemates

English housemates, south London, garden - read, write, paint, yoga, love

Slovakia, zen wedding, Budapest, couch surfing - eastern European!

[sowingseedsandshootinghoops]

Dreams Deferred: The Destructive Effects of Descrimation

Note on the text: I used Thomas Hardy’s Jude the Obscure as published in 1989 by Bantam Books

What happens to a dream differed?/Does it dry up/like a raisin in the sun?/Or fester like a sore-/and then run?/Does it stink like rotten meat?/Or crust and sugar over like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags/like a heavy load

Or does it explode? (Langston Hughes, Harlem)

It explodes. It definitely explodes and takes down every vestige of your life with it. Or at least that’s what happens to Jude Fawley, the simple stone mason at the heart of Thomas Hardy’s 1895 novel.

When we first meet Jude he is a smart, kind, and precocious kid who is determined to make a name for himself. Even more specifically he is a working class man who is interested in ancient Latin and Greek who dreams of becoming a scholar. To that end he wants to go to college and get a degree because it “is the necessary hallmark of a man who wants to do anything in teaching” (10).

Now it is immediately obvious that Jude is an extremely hardworking man who is more than willing to put in whatever time and effort he needs to in order to get things done. He knows that in order to even stand a chance of getting into a university and becoming a professor he has to be at least as educated, if not more so, as his upper class counterparts. To that end he finds some books on Ancient Greek and Latin and starts to teach himself, which he is eventually able to master. It is a Herculean task in a lot of ways but eventually he is not able to read and write in those languages, but is able to quote the Bible and all the great Latin and Greek authors in their original language.

Not only is Jude smart but he is also a very kind person who “cannot bear to hurt anything” (17). Time and time again he goes out of his way to help people, even those who, like Arabella, have been really cruel to him. Arabella who calls him a “tender hearted fool” when he is forced to slaughter his beloved pet pig, and later says that there has never been “such a tender fool as Jude [especially if] a woman seems to be in trouble and coaxes him a little” (68, 283). So it’s obvious that Jude is, in every respect, just as worthy as anyone else is of seeing his dreams be fulfilled: “I have understanding as well as you; I am not inferior to you: yea who knoweth not such things as these?” (Job 12:3 as quoted by Jude on page 126).

So when he realizes that his dreams of becoming a scholar and a teaching must be eternally deferred because he is too poor to go to school the result is incredibly harrowing and depressing, and thus begins his gradual descent into his own personal Hell:

This terribly sensible advice exasperated Jude. He knew it was true. Yet it seemed a hard slap after ten years of labor and its effect on him just now was to make him rise recklessly from the table and, instead of reading as usual, [decide to go out and get drunk] (124).

It’s while he’s at the bar, staring at his fellow patrons that he comes upon what in many ways is the central theme of the book:

He began to see that the town life was a book of humanity infinitely more palpitating, varied and compendious than the gown life. These struggling men and women before him were the [real] reality [of the city] of Christminster (125).

It’s at this moment that his life begins the downward trajectory that will result in him dying alone and unhappy. Jude is a shining example of the negative effects that discrimination can have on the marginalized. Because dreams that have been arbitrarily strangled and made to die for reasons outside of a person control do not die quietly. They explode.

[inun4ki]

i am so feral. no, i have no chill. i need to rant.

I have spent my life chasing things That had only brought me pain In the end, when I'm dead Hope it was for something

First of all, how dare you. Seriously.

Secondly, sigh... I came in here all charged up to write something about this, but all I can do is drag my ass and lament for Kaede. The poor kid drew a terrible hand; Constantly chasing after, I think, approval and forgiveness from all the wrong people, in all the wrong places. He buried himself in his work because I couldn't handle also being a person around them - it was just too much, because it was never enough. Everything he did, he did for his family, and they took advantage of him - took him for granted, too. And, y'know, he's convinced he'll die before them all. He's fighting curses day in and day out, he's narrowly escaping harrowing situations with his life, he's the reckless one. He's the one who sacrifices, constantly, always, no matter how bratty and shitty his personality can sometimes be.

He is the one who sacrifices. Despite his complaints, despite what he really wants, he refuses to have it any other way. Because he cares. Infinitely more than he lets on, but he cares. He wants to help, wants for the family to prosper and grow, wants everyone to be safe from harm - even those he couldn't possibly care less about. In an instant, the people you love most can be taken from you; Doing everything you can to protect them... Well, that's just the right thing to do in the first place. It's love. It's a foolish, childish love that ardently refuses to give in, one that desperately wants for his sacrifices to be recognized and for his love to be returned.

But when everyone's massacred - again - it becomes abundantly clear in a more literal sense that no, his sacrifice was worthless. Everyone's dead. He wasn't there to protect them. He wasn't there to prevent, exorcise-- The many years he spent whittling away at his sense of self and what it means to live when the people he loved most didn't, so much guilt and sadness, were ultimately worthless. He learned only that being close to someone, caring about them, leads only to the loss of them. And it doesn't matter how close to them in proximity he could be. Right next to them, miles upon miles away...doesn't matter. It's too much, and he can't cope with it. He just can't.

By this same token, as he is naturally in conflict with himself, he might...also be relieved. It's over. It's done. Even if it seemed like it was all for nothing, in the end, he has his freedom. He is no longer beholden to the Shikabane Clan. He's...just Kaede. Released from his mental and emotional prison into the loneliness, companionship, hope, and despair life offers. There's more to life than living according to duty, more than selling his soul to cursed spirits and jujutsu sorcerers who lost the plot centuries ago. He can do something, now, with the time that's been afforded to him, hard as it may be. Change things. Be more than the pain he bears. And live. Oh, just to live. Break the cycle and instead of succumbing to it, accepting it, grieving, and moving on - healing.

He'll always be sad. He'll always mourn. He'll always carry the weight of their deaths. The evidence of his failures will always cover his body. I think, it's just another thing that makes him human. He's complicated and idiotic, but his heart is warm - he's only tired. So tired of constantly losing, hung out to dry by the world he was supposed to belong in, neglected and abused by the people he swore to protect, and all he ever really wanted was for his sacrifice to mean something in the end. Alone, depressed, a shadow of his former self, and for what? They're all gone.

He'll probably yoyo through all that until he's able to let it go, but when he does, finally... I hope he'll be kinder to himself and maybe, for once, let someone in.

[automatismoateo]

Some of the comments religious people make online still disturb me via /r/atheism

Some of the comments religious people make online still disturb me

You'd think I'd be immune to it by now, its nothing new. It certainly doesn't surprise me anymore but it still have the ability to disgust me, disturb me, depress me and make me sick. I was watching a video, on YouTube, about the station nightclub fire in Rhode Island in 2003. This was a massive, fast spreading fire in a nightclub that killed 100 people and is the 4th worst nightclub fire in US history. A washed up band called (not so) great white thought it was a good idea to let off fireworks on the stage, the stage also happened to be covered in extremely flammable sound proof foam. Anyway the entire thing is on video, (its very very harrowing to watch) when i looked at the comments i found that some of them managed to be even more harrowing with people saying they deserved it for worshipping Satan (because some of them give ''satanic'' hand gestures on the video (there's about 5 minutes of pre fire footage where you can see the people enjoying themselves not knowing what was about to happen) or because they were drinking and having a good time or whatever) that they ''danced their way to hell'' ''that was a taste of the hellfire to come'' ''they worshipped Satan, now they will meet him in person'' and on and on. Then some of the comments have the nerve to talk about a ''loving god'' while at the same time talking about the same ''loving god' 'sending these poor people to suffer even more in hell. Its just awful. No one deserves what happened to those people that night and yet you get religious people with no compassion and no empathy saying they deserve it and saying they will suffer more in an afterlife. Then i think if any of the victims loved ones were to see those comments how would they feel? Ugh its sick. Why is it ok for religious people to post that sort and the comments are allowed to stay?!

Submitted August 13, 2022 at 10:36AM by pinkpanthercub (From Reddit https://ift.tt/PEldsTO)

[thebibliosphere]

Not to rehash my trauma on main, but I’m just going to remind everyone suffering from chronic fatigue, depression and other misc illnesses that doctors file under “anxiety” like they’re playing scratch off lottery tickets to get their b12 levels checked, because although I survived my ordeal last year, I cannot convey to you the amount of damage that was done both physically and mentally from being allowed to be so ill for so long without adequate medical care.

My condition was discovered with mere hours to spare, and I will be forever grateful to the hematology team who fucking rallied to make sure I lived. But I will likely always be resentful of the doctors too who looked at all my symptoms, told me I had ghosts in my veins, and tried putting me on anti-psychotics instead. And then when I refused that treatment, labelled me a “difficult patient” so going forward any doctor checking my file over the next decade and a half would see that little marker and go “ah, not worth my time.”

It took until I was literally so symptomatic the poor PCP who saw me the day I staggered into his office thought I had late stage cancer, and he threw me at every specialist possible because this was a problem beyond diet, exercise and a prescription for “shut up and go away” pills. And while yes, I have recovered in major, fantastic and amazing ways (I got belly fat y’all!) I’m still also dealing with the fallout.

Physically, I’ve made my peace with the pain. The fatigue. Knowing I’ll be on treatment for the rest of my life. But mentally? Oh god, mentally I don’t even know if I have the words to tell you anymore. And not because it was harrowing, even though it was, but because my pernicious anemia was allowed to advance to such a state where I was experiencing early onset dementia. And while to many, especially my friends who knew me before, it seems like I’m back... Mentally there’s pieces of me missing. Whole years are gone. The memory of friends, jobs I’ve worked on, things I have written. Names. Faces. And words. So many words. I find myself staring frequently at Word documents, head tilted to the side as I try to parse what’s wrong, to bring back the words forever poised on the tip of my proverbial tongue but are swallowed by grief instead.

And it’s so fucking frustrating. It’s so frustrating because I know, I know what I was capable of if I go back far enough and look at all the things I’ve done. But that person isn’t me anymore. I’ve got a ghost in my head, and it’s the person I used to be and sometimes I think I can hear her wailing because it’s not fair. It’s so unfair it hurts and I swear if I could give this pain away I’d break it off in pieces like poison and feed it to all the people who said “it’s nothing, you’re fine, stop exaggerating, take your anxiety pills and go away.”

And then sometimes I will remember the right words and the sun will come out and I remember vaguely the person I used to be. Though mostly I don’t. But I write the words I have down anyway, because some words is better than none. Even when it hurts. 

[merakiui]

hello!!<3 can i request an angst scenario (it can have a happy ending it's up to you!!) childe x fem!reader where they are together for some time and she didn't know he's fatui (she hates them bc her parents were in debt and overall they ruined her life and he's too scared to tell her) but she finds out and wants to broke up?? THANK YOU

In which you discover Childe’s ties to the Fatui.

cw: angst, debt, small mention of depression as a result of debt, female reader note - I woke up and chose pain with this one. >:) it also got long;;; oops!

You hate the Fatui. And although that’s such a strong, hurtful word it's your true feelings. You’ve never experienced their wrath firsthand, but you have witnessed what it can do to people. Your sweet, loving parents, who took loans out of the bank in order to pay for repairs to their shop, were reduced to frightful messes at the mere mention of that harrowing F-word.

It’s horrible to see them in such a state, especially since a few agents had come by once and practically demanded the money. As a result of such a distasteful discussion, you refuse to go into any sort of monetary career: trader, merchant, and even a wandering saleswoman. You’ll find a way to make things right by getting a job that will bring in lots of riches for your poor parents. Then the Fatui will have no choice but to leave your family alone.

Your own funds have dried up, having gone into another Fatui agent’s gloved hands. You can’t even argue because you have an inkling as to what will happen when you finally run out of money to give. Ever since this entire debt charade, your parents have become hollow shells of their former selves: paranoid, depressed, and starved of the happiness that comes with being in a regular, debt-free family.

Childe tunes into your rant as if someone had just turned on the switch that designates his listening skills. The two of you are sitting on a lovely hilltop, watching the stars twinkle in and out of focus. Liyue Harbor can be seen from afar, glittering in warm colors of gold and red. If Childe remembers correctly, another festival should be right around the corner. He’ll have to take you when he finds time to slink away from his work.

Speaking of his work, he’s never actually told you about it. When you asked, he simply said it was a job that allowed him to travel. It sounded like a traveling merchant to you—perhaps even a fishmonger specializing in exotic types—considering he was seemingly loaded with Mora. It made you jealous that he was so well-off with his finances, but you couldn’t complain when he so readily emptied his pockets for your sake.

“And then that stupid agent shows up at our door right when I get home! It’s the worst timing ever. My parents were pretending to be out of the house and I showed up and ruined their plan.” A heavy sigh tumbles from your lips as you flop back onto the grass, where Childe fixes you with a lopsided, sympathetic grin. “I hate it. They’re not even themselves anymore. It’s like they lost all sense of life. I’m picking up as many commissions as I can, but it doesn’t even help. The Fatui just take it all faster than I can save it.”

“They’re the worst, aren’t they?”

“And the sky isn’t blue. Of course they’re the worst!” You inhale softly. “No use getting mad about something that already happened, though.”

“You’ll just give yourself more stress and you don’t need that.” He joins you on the plush grass, turning his head to look at you rather than up at the inky night sky. “I can help with your commissions, you know. I’ve been itching to smash some hilichurl camps.”

“I can handle it myself. It’s fine.” Only it’s not and you’ve started realizing that. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Funny. I was going to ask you something, too!”

“Oh. Uh...”

He chuckles, staring at you with blue eyes that don’t sparkle. “There’s this festival coming up and I wanted to take you. It’ll be just the two of us for one night. You can forget all about work and money—”

“What about you? You said your job has you traveling all over the place. That’s why we’ll rarely see each other in the future. Once you’re done here in Liyue, that is.” You move onto your side, holding yourself up on your elbow. “I don’t think it’ll work.”

“Well, my boss doesn’t have to know. It’ll be our tiny secret!”

You roll your eyes, smiling a little. Deep inside you’ve always felt like something was off about his story. For the past few months, he’s remained in Liyue and once you even caught him slipping into Northland Bank when you were running some errands. You hope he isn’t in a similar situation concerning debt and poverty. No, he wouldn’t need to be. He’s shown you just how many lavish things his funds can afford. Why would he be in debt if he has a stable job?

“Are you...doing something bad?”

You could’ve phrased that better, but it’s already out in the open now. Sheepishly, you avoid his befuddled stare, opting to watch the moon as its light becomes obscured behind a dark cloud. An airy chuckle escapes him, but he doesn’t say anything. His silence confirms your fears and it dawns upon you that he hasn’t been truthful this entire time.

“This mask.” It’s in your hands before he can stop you. You’re tapping at it with a finger, equal parts curious and apprehensive. You refuse to beat around the bush; your doubtful gaze catches his and it hardens at once. “You’re Fatui, aren’t you?”

He sits up calmly, holding out his hand. “That’s quite the accusation, my dear. Let’s not jump to conclusions.”

“I’m not jumping to any conclusion. I’m right, aren’t I?” Now you’re sitting up, staggering to your feet to find some sort of leverage over him. He’s taller than you and far more powerful than he once let on. “Childe, why would—“

He sighs, lowering his hand out of defeat. “I suppose there’s no point avoiding it now. You were bound to find out one of these days.”

“One of these days? What? Like, when my family’s on the streets because the Fatui took our house?”

It hurts that he wasn’t honest and it hurts even more knowing that he has the power to help. He could’ve spent his time working out ways to get you out of debt, yet he decided to shower you in affection and useless trinkets! Trinkets that are only good for selling and receiving money to pay off the debt. You could cry; that’s how much it hurts. And when he makes no solid effort to comfort you, the tears begin to form.

“Of course not. I’d never let that happen!”

“Then why would you lie about it? Why not help me? Why can’t you just be honest? You always avoid questions you don’t want to answer and I hate it! I’ve been with you long enough to know that that mask is bad news. I was just waiting for you to confirm it, but you didn’t.”

You think it’s selfish for wanting his help—for wanting help from a Fatui agent, no less—but you’re too upset to care.

“(Name), you know that’s—“

“What else haven’t you told me? What else have you lied about? I don’t care if you’re trying to protect me. I’m already on a list. The Fatui still show up to my house and you just...let them. Why?”

“If I interfered, it would look bad in front of Her Majesty. You know I can’t go against her orders. I want to help you—I do. But...”

You’re fumbling for new words, at a complete loss with yourself. No matter how many questions you spout, he’ll evade them like they’re optional. And even if you want answers and honesty more than anything right now, you know he’ll fail to provide it. You shove the mask into his hands, shaking your head in disbelief. A swell of emotions overcome you: sadness, anger, and regret. You feel utterly betrayed. The sweet Childe, whom you once thought was your perfect match, is working for the Fatui—the people who have turned your life into misery.

And that’s probably not even the half of it.

“Let’s break up,” you say before he can spin another false tale. Another easy excuse to avoid this downfall. Childe stops short to stare at you in surprise and it’s weird to see that emotion scrawled across his face. He’s usually smooth and collected; he always knows what to say and how to act. Not this time, though. “It’s not going to work if we’re together while the Fatui are hounding my parents. And they wouldn’t approve of our relationship either.”

“Now, (Name), wait a moment. You’re not thinking straight. You’re just—” He struggles to find the correct words and in that small moment between foggy clarity and paralyzing uncertainty he plasters another plastic smile on. “Look. I know you’re upset, but I didn’t mean to lie to you. I was going to tell you eventually. Just had to find the right time to do it, you know?"

“I know. And that’s why we should go our separate ways.” Like Childe, you also put on a faux show, building up your walls as high and strong as his are. You don’t think you’ll last another minute in his presence, as you’re far too close to tears. “Thank you again for tonight. I’ll take my leave now.”

Rather than pain, it’s bitter when your lips fall upon his soft cheek. And the gesture stings harder than a slap on the wrist. 

The searing pain returns when you pull away and begin the descent from the hill as fast as your trembling legs will allow. You refuse to look back and fall into his arms in hopes that he’ll reassure you. The fact that he doesn’t chase after you—doesn’t even call out—stabs your conflicted heart and it’s more than enough confirmation. Childe isn’t exactly boyfriend material. He’s callous when it comes to a battle and he’s driven by his own ulterior motives. Surely this relationship was just a means of spending his extra time when he found himself bored and lacking a fight. Maybe he thought of his work when the two of you were on secretive dates. Maybe his heart was empty when the two of you were intimate. Maybe you were just the glue holding this crumbling bond together.

Childe remains on that hilltop, watching you disappear into the distance. And it’s then when realizes he’s lost you. The feeling is different from the battlefield and it’s far more real than when he’s snooping around as a Harbinger. You’re just a normal, good-natured citizen and he...ruined that part of you. With his ties to an enemy that has crushed your family. He’s partly, if not fully, responsible for what transpired just now and for the first time in a while real guilt gnaws at him. He’s left wondering why he did all of that—why he couldn’t just face your questions head-on.

It’s his fault, isn’t it?

On that windy hilltop, under the silent, disapproving darkness of the sky, he’s left to pick up the pieces of a fractured relationship. And it’s all because he couldn’t admit the truth to his precious girlfriend.

In a way, the Fatui have taken something from him, too, and he’s not sure if he’ll be able to patch it up with honeyed promises. 

Looks like we won’t be going to that festival anytime soon...

[matt0044]

My Complicated Feelings Towards 13 Reasons Why

I’m about to view the final two seasons of this highly controversial series on Netflix. A while back, I had decided to reluctantly take the dive and engage with it on its own terms. I wasn’t going to disregard those who felt it gave mental health problems a bad look yet also wasn’t going to let my opinions be colored by what others had to say.

So I watched Seasons 1 and 2. I... honestly enjoyed them.

For me, they hit all the same beats as Black Mirror had with characters that I often didn’t know how to feel about. Even with Bryce, the worst of the worst, didn’t leave me with a straight-forward feeling. And yes, that was after what he did to Hannah.

Clay Jenson was the shlubby awkward dude that I saw a lot of myself from how he blamed himself for things outside of his control and took things very personally. Yet even he wasn’t the straight-laced good guy as our supposed audience surrogate, something that grew with each season.

While some claim that it glorifies suicide, it hardly if at all made the act out to be anything but damaging. The aftermath of Hannah Baker’s suicide isn’t the perfect revenge as some critics make it out to be. Even when recording the last tape, she held out just a little more before succumbing to her inner demons.

The second season finale even affirms that there’s never a reason no matter how much you might rationalize it. However... this is coming from somebody who had struggled with self-identity issues and darker thoughts about myself but never to the severity of suicide. As such, I’m not sure how much of my word is worth.

Netflix would add in disclaimers for the heavier episodes and suicide hotlines to the credits as well as having the cast give a disclaimer before the first episode. However, it’s hard to deny that they cause plenty of grief despite their best of intentions.

Hello Future Me describes it well in his video on Mental Health’s troubled history in fiction in terms of how depictions of the suicide itself such as with Hannah Baker would push certain people struggling over the edge. While the character herself is hardly black or white in terms of morality, crossing the streams like this still made for what I like to categorize as “good story, poor takeaway.”

Now I could understand that the characters weren’t exactly totally good or bad so much as people trying to get through harrowing times in the lives. This isn’t always applicable to those struggling with dark thoughts or suicidal tendencies.

For some, the show can give them a vibe of, “This show gets me,” in the sense of emotional catharsis. For other, the show can give them a vibe of, “This show gets me,” in that the surface level depressing tone validates their negative mindset or makes it worse.

Hence, my mixed feelings. If I had stayed away, I would’ve nodded to the consensus and agree that it was trash. Yet... I gave it a chance and now can’t hate it now that I’ve looked passed the YouTube hate crowds (the ones that don’t give a fig about mental health outside of clout and profit from clicks, that is).

It’s just... the show stuck with me with each episode feeling real to me. The actors, the script, the visual direction. It just all clicked for me. However, I can’t downplay the harm it reportedly caused and only stan it so far.

[kaypeace21]

Will’s fear of clowns

*Ps -not mine. this is a submission from an anon. tw: for s.a. It’s an interesting submission. ANON-please make a tumblr account already . I’m begging you XD

Hi! It’s me, Lonnie Meth Anon. Back with more depressing thoughts about Lonnie!

I just read your post on Jonathan’s ab*se at the hands of Lonnie, and I second it all. It breaks my heart. But it also got me thinking deeper about Will’s fear of clowns. I think you’re right that part of the horror for Will is that the clown attacks in bed. The bed is, obviously, like you say, a common site for s*xual assault. (Doesn’t El’s picture of “three legged Brenner” also have a bed in it? In a picture with not much else?) The fact that Will needed Joyce to sleep with him for a week suggests he was specifically feeling unsafe in bed, or at night. 

But maybe it’s not just the location of the attack in Poltergeist that Will found so harrowing. Maybe it’s the combination of that location with the fact of a clown being the attacker. 

I think Lonnie might have dressed up as a clown for Will’s birthday one year, and something happened. 

In this instance, I don’t think Joyce would know what happened. I think the incident in her mind would be something like “Lonnie dressed up and Will was scared of the costume”. She might even have thought it was cute. Just a typical little kid fear of something mundane. When she teases him about Poltergeist, she doesn’t actually say the movie was the START of his fear of clowns. Just that he was afraid of that particular clown. The general fear of clowns could have been an older one, going back to when Will was even younger.

Maybe Will even liked clowns, before whatever happened with Lonnie turned them into a source of fear for him. Will has a lion plushie (lions are commonly found in the circus) and the circus seems like the kind of vibrant, colorful environment full of outcast, that a young gay kid would really enjoy. If Will did like circuses and Lonnie poisoned that for him, that’s just another reason to hate Lonnie. But it definitely seems possible. 

Lonnie is a deadbeat dad in general, but we’ve seen before that he’s capable of faking the “family man” act in front of Joyce and their neighbors. We’ve also seen that even though he treats Will horribly, he would also try and keep Will on his side with father son bonding activities, like baseball. And Will’s birthday is one of the few occasions Lonnie makes a half-assed kind of effort, even when there’s nothing directly in it for him. He sends that card, even though it’s late. Maybe Joyce made called him up and made him send it, but she always seemed happy to keep Lonnie out of the picture. She didn’t even want to involve him when Will went missing. And we know Jonathan would never try and facilitate more interactions between Lonnie and Will. So it seems like Lonnie did this of his own accord, when he realized he’d missed the day. Kind of weird. And it’s classic abuser behavior, to make contact on an anniversary date, reminding you they exist and you can’t escape them. Reminding you to keep quiet. Or hoping you’ll miss them, remember the “good times” when they made an effort, and let them back into your life. (Ugh.)

So, anyway, back to my theory. Young Will likes circuses, and the Byers family are poor, so they can’t afford to take him to one, or throw him a party at an ice cream parlor or a bowling alley, like other kids. It makes sense that they would have a party at home instead, and that the family themselves might dress up. We know Joyce made Will’s Ghostbusters costume in season two, and a clown is a pretty easy costume. Most of it is just make up. It’s possible the whole thing was Joyce’s idea, and she made the costume, and Lonnie just went along with it to look like a good dad in her eyes. 

Remember how we see Bob (Will’s new father figure) dressing up in costume for Halloween? Joyce loves it. This is a thing good dads do, to have fun with their kids. That’s also the same episode we see Will scared by a guy in a clown costume, and Jonathan is hyper-protective of him that night. School is okay, but he doesn’t want him trick or treating. (Like he knows that school is a safe environment, but in other contexts, costumes and parties might be a trigger for Will.) Jonathan is convinced to leave Will and “let him have fun” and what happens? The clown attacks. Later that night Jonathan goes to a costume party himself, where he finds Nancy upset and takes her safely home.  Maybe this is how Will’s birthday party ended - with Jonathan finding Will upset, and trying to comfort him. The whole night could be playing out like a parallel to that birthday party, from Jonathan’s perspective. 

What actually happened with Will and Lonnie is up for debate. It’s possible there was a s*xual assault, and that’s why the clown scene in Poltergeist was such a trigger for Will. Or maybe Lonnie thought circuses weren’t “manly” enough for his son to like, and actively tried to scare Will, so he wouldn’t like them anymore. It’s hard to know. Something would have happened though, and probably something pretty formative, because the fear of clowns lasts a long time. 

Something else interesting is that when Mr Clarke is talking about the Upside Down in season one, he uses the metaphor of the flea and the acrobat. Acrobats are a main act in the circus, and, well … fleas. Flea circuses. That’s a thing. Maybe it’s a hint that the trauma that created the Upside Down was circus / clown - related?

Kali, El, and their gang wear clown masks too, when they’re going to confront their childhood trauma, and the child-like Alexei is surrounded by clowns when he is killed at the fair. 

Clowns are just so associated with birthday parties and little kids, that it doesn’t seem like a coincidence to me they’re Will’s biggest fear. Especially as the show keeps dropping hints about Lonnie and Will’s birthday. It feels like there’s more to the story. I have a horrible feeling SOMETHING happened. 

RESPONE (kaypeace):

I think it’s very possible-that maybe he did dress as a clown for Will’s birthday and something happened. We have alexi (paralleled to Will) playing carnival games with kids. Then he's attacked by the Lonnie-look alike : and alexi looks at his wound then stares at all the clowns laughing around him. Joyce and Murray find Alexi bleeding/dy*ng next to a clown statue. As joyce looks in horror and Murray says to her, he was “only gone for a second” (which sounds like something you’d say in relation to a kid you were supposed to watch-running off ). We also had sarah at age 7 die while wearing a gown with clowns on it (Will: it was a 7 the demogorgan it got me). Death of innocence symbolism? Hopper also describes his depression as a cave- he goes through the carnival ride where it mentions a "cave of horrors", which had decor of a tiger and a clown painting. So yeah... whatever happened probably isn't good. So- there may be some symbolism there in relation to Will’s past. Not only because (like I and you have mentioned before) Lonnie is highly associated with birthdays. And canonically we know he mentally scarred jonathan on his b-day. But also, s4’s ‘victor creel’ may be an easteregg to the xmen character victor creed- who had a tradition of tra*matizing family members specifically on their bdays

As another alternative:I could also totally see Lonnie “ruining” circuses for Will because it’s not “manly” to him. Like how Jonathan liked thumper the rabbit-from the film bambi. in the film, Thumper is bambi’s bff, and the hunters are the bad guys who k*ll Bambi’s mother and terrorize all the wildlife. SO yeah- making Jonathan become a hunter, and k*ll a rabbit ,despite this fact, is really messed up. And shows Lonnie has already tried to ‘ruin’ things the boys like. By mentally scarring them in one way or another…

I also mentioned how Will’s bday could even be a trigger for jonathan in a diff post.

if the s4 bts calender hinting it’ll be near Will’s bday and easter it could be relevant to Jonathan.we know in s1 el has tra*matic flashbacks when seeing certain things- coke, closet, cat, etc. And Will in s2 has his ‘anniversary effect’ where memories flood back based on the time of year.But like … Easter has bunnies - could seeing rabbits jog stuff up for Jonathan? El seeing a cat made her have a flashback of brenner trying to make her kill a cat. Would Jonathan seeing like Easter bunny decor jog up a flashback of lonnie making him kill a rabbit? (It happened on his bday too). So Will’s b day being around easter would only fuel that memory. (heck even popped balloons may trigger gunshot symbolism idk). And then for Will there is clowns that could be a tr*gger at a party.

The flea and the acrobat analogy (in relation to Will and circuses is very interesting) and could be foreshadowing- it’s even a title for an episode so I feel like it’s narratively an important hint to …something. similar to a s1 ep being called “the bathtub”.  Also, Will was compared to a circus flea- which were placed in an enclosed space, where heat was applied as they jumped  and tried to escape the increasing temperatures as they burned .Which could relate to my theory about Will having a se*zure due his body overheating due to Lonnie injecting him with m*th.

 If Will’s bday is in s4- I feel like Lonnie will come back in some capacity (flashback or literally). The ‘sorry, I forgot you b day’ card from Lonnie in s2, in Lonnie’s shed Joyce mentioning Will’s b day, the rainbow ‘happy birthday cup’ placed next to Will at Mike’s -while Will explains the supernatural, Lonnie already tra*matizing Jonathan on his bday, etc…

[feanorianethicsdepartment]

more thoughts about the homecoming au, the au where maedhros and maglor get brought back to tirion after the war of wrath to be prettied-up trinkets on finarfin’s shelf, with painted-over scars and muffled screams. it is dark, it’s full of all kinds of emotional and caretaker abuse, and the brothers weren’t exactly in a good state of mind before any of this happened. @sunflowersupremes wrote the initial au that wasn’t even meant as horror, @outofangband - this au is as much theirs as mine, several of the concepts here were originally theirs, and a lot of this originally came out in dms with them. part 1 is here. this part contains gaslighting, loss of autonomy right at the end, more suicide mentions (thanks mae) and just general abuse from people who care more about their own comfort than the people they’re supposed to be caring for. it’s worse than the first part, honestly

most of the stuff the fëanorians had on them when they surrendered got taken away pretty fast. which is honestly understandable; some of it was cursed, a lot of it was weaponry, all of it stank to the high vault of the stars

but they both managed to hold onto some personal effects, or get them back before they went in the incinerator. a broken locket, a torn-up book, nothing fancy, nothing large, but things that still mean a lot to them

the valinoreans aren’t entirely comfortable with this. they find a lot of the brothers’ comfort items mildly disturbing, stained with darkness and (occasionally literal) blood as they are. maedhros had this dessicated finger he refuses to explain anything about that got disposed of very quickly

maglor has a few strands of brightly coloured thread, spun around each other somewhat inexpertly. he tends to pull it out when he’s feeling depressed, working it between his fingers until he feels like he can face the world again

one day, one of his minders who gets along better with him asks where he got it. from the twins, maglor admits. it’s part of some embroidery elrond abandoned when they left -

and it’s snatched out of his hands. his minder looks down at him compassionately. ‘i know you miss them, but you caused those boys a lot of pain, you know? you shouldn’t romanticise your relationship with them’

which - maglor’s relationship with the twins was complicated, and while it wasn’t nearly as hellish as elwing fears, it wasn’t entirely healthy. maglor was dependent emotionally on the kids a lot more than any adult should be to children, and vice versa

because the twins were the last people he had left. when maedhros executed celegorm’s servants with no warning at all, this rift began to grow between the sons of fëanor and their followers. they’d always been terrifying, but they’d also been comradely and inspiring, the white-hot stars around which their people orbited. but when they turned their fangs on their own host, all that started to fall away, leaving only the fear behind

it got worse after sirion. by the time vingilot rose in the sky, maglor’s only real remaining relationships were with maedhros, who he hated as much as he loved, and the twins. watching over them, talking to them, not hurting them - it kept him grounded in reality, kept him sane

he knows, he knows, he knows, they’re better off without him. but his time with them is the only happiness in his memories that still feels real

but the valinoreans can’t accept that. the exile was an awful time with nothing in it worth keeping, and the sooner he can recognise that the faster he’ll be back to his old self

besides. their caretakers don’t like being reminded of their more... unpleasant deeds

(elwing sidebar: elwing and eärendil are having an easier time, because the teleri have experience dealing with trauma and are also just more accepting of the right to have your own take on your own experiences. still, though, elwing occasionally hears that a proper telerin mother would have stayed with her children, even if she had to give up the treasure her people died for to the monsters of her childhood nightmares)

(elwing was a young adult in a horrendous situation with no obvious way out, elwing is dealing with her own damage as best she can, elwing is valid, we stan elwing. she’s also one of the few direct-ish sources the noldor have for beleriand and what the fëanorians did there, and her (perfectly reasonable!) perspective colours a lot of their treatment)

in general the valinorean noldor are quite sure they know what beleriand was like and how it felt to be there, and aren’t particularly interested in being proven wrong

it was miserable, it was harrowing, it was nothing anyone should want to think about. it was a long nightmare maedhros and maglor are so fortunate to have finally woken up from

and you can kind of see why they think like that? the ones who have seen the hither shores saw them when ash rained from a void-black sky and almost everything was dead, and the survivors told stories of a long hopeless defeat and cruelties beyond imagining

but that deep black image blots out the genuine joy they felt in those five hundred years, the chance to prove their own greatness, the knowledge they were doing something good, nights when music echoed across the gap, warm hands in a cold fortress. there were things in beleriand worth remembering, aspects of the people they became there legitimately worth keeping

and even if there wasn’t - five hundred years. the scars on their bodies make it plain to see, every little piece of who they are was shaped by beleriand, for worse and for better. they just can’t leave it behind

their valinorean caretakers find this horrifying

maedhros likes to exercise. it keeps him calm, gives him something to do. it’s not something nelyafinwë was super into - he was more the peripatetic type - but it’s a feasible hobby for a noldorin prince to have, so he’s allowed to do it

sometimes, though, he’ll unconsciously shift into the old combat forms, precisely timed drills ingrained into his bodies. the first few times he does this, his minders are bemused more than anything, but then one day he happens to have a stick in hand to use as a mock-sword

then every time he starts to slip away into that meditative trance, hands reach out to stop him and hold him in place. ‘there’s no need to fight here, maitimo,’ an elf he knew before the unchaining tells him ever so gently. ‘you’re safe now’

... they say that, but maedhros’ nightmares keep getting worse

it’s like that with everything that makes the valinoreans uncomfortable. whenever they try to speak of their time in beleriand, no matter what they say, they’re told that oh, they know it was hard, but it’s all over now and they don’t have to dwell on it

but even after they’ve spent years in paradise, maedhros and maglor still won’t let go and allow themselves to heal

they just can’t come to terms with the truth of their ordeal

the narrative the valinoreans have constructed erases all of the bright spots, but it also bleaches out the true darkness

certainly they did horrible things, but did they really have a choice? in such a harsh world, they always had to be on guard, lest they themselves be killed. these poor boys never meant to harm anyone, but their father’s cruel madness and the painful chains of their oath and the vileness of beleriand forced them into atrocities they never wanted to commit

(surely the monsters the sindar spoke of wouldn’t cry. they wouldn’t lose themselves in waking nightmares or curl up shivering in well-hidden closets, they wouldn’t jump away from a casual touch or watch every new person like they might be a threat. they wouldn’t convince themselves the children they stole were happy, or talk to the shade of a dead kinsman they abandoned. surely they wouldn’t. surely)

(because if they are, and they’ve let a couple of orcs loose into the royal palace...)

(maglor and maedhros’ movements are pretty restricted. this is mostly for their own protection, but it’s partially - well, just in case. just in case)

this rankles at maedhros, though he tries not to show it. terrible they might have been, but his choices were his own

he was a warlord, he was a king. he expected to be hated for the things he had done. he didn’t expect to be pitied. he didn’t expect to be dismissed

sometimes, when he’s surrounded by people earnestly telling him that he’s not a bad person, he never was, it was all pressure from his father and the oath, he wants to scream that he chose to attack sirion because he was so, so tired of diplomatically dancing around problems he knew he could solve with his blade

but he stops himself, always. he knows how much what little freedom they do have is based on them not being a threat

and he will not wash this peaceful, innocent land in blood. he’ll kill himself first

maglor has lost all such scruples

it’s not often, but when they’re behaving themselves and no one who’s likely to take offense is in town, the brothers get taken out to court events

they paint makeup over their scars (which still won’t heal, everyone is concerned by the implications of this) dress them up in finery, string them with jewels, and show off how well they’re doing

(even if maedhros rarely says anything, and they never leave each other’s side)

tonight, it’s a feast. a minor celebration, nothing too crowded, nothing too loud. there’s revels and merrymaking and all kinds of fun

and after the food has been cleared away, there’s music

would his nephew like to play something, finarfin asks. it’s hard to tell if it’s a request or a politely phrased order

maglor decides he doesn’t have the patience to be taken aside and tell how much everyone wanted to hear his music, and accepts

finarfin smiles kindly. he’s thinking about how maglor’s minders have been talking about how he’s finally stopped trying to sing depressing or horrifying songs and how his voice grows more melodious by the day

maglor is thinking about how they won’t even let him sing about his wife. he wrote no odes to her beauty or her skill in the forge, but he sang ballads about the swiftness of her spear and her laughter after a battle

none of which the valinoreans want to hear. they want to pretend that love never existed, that there could be any joy found in darkness, that she’s at all worth remembering -

he gets up to play, and launches into the most vicious, most hopeless, most painful part of the noldolantë

they try to stop him, but he’s the greatest warsinger the world has ever seen, he’s sung with blood in his lungs over the roaring of dragons, there’s little they can do to block out everything they’re trying to ignore. he wails defeat and death and grief and death and despair and death

when they finally manage to knock him out, their whole petty festival in tatters, shock on their faces, tears streaming from their eyes, all he can think is that if they understand now, even a little, it’ll have been worth it

for the first time, but not the last, he wakes up in a cell

finarfin comes to visit, and starts giving a very disappointed lecture maglor is in no mood to hear. instead he just snarls that nothing they’ve been doing is helping him at all, and he’s so sick of false sympathy and no one listening to what his actual problems are

finarfin shuts his eyes, says ‘i’m sorry to hear you feel that way’ and leaves

a few days later he wakes up with a collar around his neck

it’s demeaning, but he gets released that morning, so he rolls with it. he gets told to never do that ever again, first by his minders and then by maedhros

his minders he nods at until they leave him alone. maedhros he snarks back at that it’s not like he’s doing anything to improve their condition

only he can’t

the words don’t just freeze in his throat, they can’t even form in his mind. what’s happening, he can’t say. what did you do to me, he can’t say. he can’t even scream

as maglor is clutching at his neck (he can’t get it off he can’t get it off) and all the colour is draining out of maedhros’ face, the minder in the room smiles

‘see? this way you’ll stop making yourself and everyone around you miserable. you can still talk about happy things -’

‘they did this in angband!’ maedhros roars, a statement that provokes his first actual fight with their minders. he’s harder to pin down than maglor. bigger

but their caretakers are becoming annoyed with the brothers’ obstinate refusal to let themselves get better. they may be content to wallow in the misery of their past, but inflicting it on others is a step too far

they clearly aren’t going to move any further down the road to recovery on their own volition, so it’s become clear they need a gentle push. is it a little distasteful? yes, but such things are sometimes necessary in medicine

the bright cheerful princes they will be again will thank them for it

oh god how did this end up so long. the last one should be shorter, it’s mostly clearing up some loose ends. why did i write this

[missdawnandherdusk]

The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe

Hufflepuff!Reader X Draco

The tricky thing is yesterday we were just children

But now we've stepped into a cruel world

Where everybody stands and keeps score

So here you are, two steps ahead and staying on guard

Every lesson forms a new scar

They never thought you'd make it this far

Chapter 1     Chapter 2    Chapter 3    

Chapter 4     Chapter 5     Chapter 6

Chapter 7    Chapter 8     Chapter 9

Summary: Planning for something in theory is easy... putting it into practice? That’s where the weak are separated from the strong. 

A/n: Hello my lovelies! So here is the second part to the last chapter!! If I had posted it all at once it would have been over 20k words so... yeah. I split them up. Also, this gets pretty dark and well, we all know how HBP ends... so I guess that’s a warning. And to add, this went in a completely different direction than I planned, but now it’s closer to my original idea so... Let me know what you guys think! Seriously, I thrive on your approval. (Also, I’d like to see if someone notices a MAJOR problem for these two kids... because I barely caught it myself) 

“Oh, my darling boy,” Narcissa crooned, nearing Draco’s bedside. She took his hand though he was in a spell induced coma and could not hear her.

“I’m so sorry Narcissa,” I teared up. “I...”

“Snape explained it all my dear,” She consoled, reaching out for me. “You have nothing to apologize for,”

I all but collapsed in her arms, breaking down into tears as she held me. Though Abby and Pansy—as well as many others including Ernie, Blaise, Greg, Vincent, and Hannah—had comforted me and offered me a solace, it was different having a mother there to hold me and tell me it was going to be alright.

“It was awful,” I sniveled. “I thought... I thought...” I began to hiccup with the lack of oxygen due to my tears.

Narcissa shushed me softly and rubbed my back in a soothing rhythm.

“You’re alright darling,” Her voice was gentle. “Everything’s going to be alright,”

She stayed for the remainder of the night and came back the next day. I was only allowed a day off from classes before I had to return though Draco had still not woken. Though I knew there would be rumors and whispers, and though I expected to have to retell the harrowing story again and again, everyone already seemed to know. And more surprisingly, each student I came across was sympathetic and kind to me and even towards Draco, wanting to know how he was faring. Yet the thing that took me back the most was the amount of Gryffindors who offered their sympathies to Draco, rather than siding with their own Golden Boy. Even McGonagall offered her sympathies.

And for the most part, I completely ignored Harry. The best I could. Which... well. I’d like to say that I did, but I can’t. To be fair, he did try to talk to me on my first day back, two days after his attempted murder.

“Y/n,” He rushed out in the Great Hall as I sat down with Pansy and Abby.

“You need to stay away from me,” I gritted out, glowering at him. “You’re a coward!” 

“Look, I didn’t know what the spell would do, okay?”

“No! That’s not okay!” I stood. “You almost killed him! And you would have! Why in Merlin’s name would you use a spell if you didn’t know what it did!?” Bristling, Abby had to place her hand on my arm before I drew my own wand. Her gentle hand allowed me a moment to take a deep breath and cam myself, ever so slightly. “Just get out of here Harry. Don’t... don’t talk to me,”

“Come on, mate, let’s go,” Ron pulled Harry’s arm back, sensing the rising tension in his best friend.

“You’re... you’re not really going to...” Abby asked softly as we sat back down. “About being the bad guy?” She was almost timid to ask.

I sighed and shook my head.

“No,” I admitted. “I just said it because I was mad and scared. I’m not gonna go off and join the Dark Lord,” a sad smile played at my lips. “I... I feel like I have no choice... This path was forced into me because of Precious Potter and I... I don’t want to be angry. I don’t want to be broken... but I don’t want to be walked on,”

“And you don’t have to be,” Pansy encouraged. “We all have your back,” Pansy nodded to the Hall. “We’re on your side,”

“I don’t want there to be sides!” I dismayed, scrubbing my face. “I don’t want to be divided because we still do have the same enemy and...” I let out a sharp breath in defeat. “When did it all become so complicated?”

Abby said nothing but wrapped an arm around me, soothingly rubbing my shoulder.

“It’ll all work out, you’ll see,” She encouraged, sharing a look with Pansy. “For all of us.”

After dinner, as I always did, I went and saw Draco. His steady grey eyes trailed me as I rounded his cot.

“Hey,” He offered softly as I slipped my hand into his. Despite his many blankets and long sleeves, his hands were still ice cold.

“Hey,” I echoed sadly. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” There was little confidence in his voice. “How’s class without me?” I scoffed and stared at the intricate carvings on the pillars of the infirmary.

“It’s not the same... nothing is the same...” The depressing thought left my lips before I could stop it. “I do miss walking to class with you though,” A small smile played at my lips at my gaze returned to him.

Wordlessly I reached out and brushed a few stray hairs from his face, my fingers ghosting over the pale pink scar that ran along the side of his face. Maybe fortune was on our side because though his skin was marred with scars, the spell hadn’t left permanent damage to his senses. His skin was still chilled under my touch.

“You’re still cold,” I murmured. “Do you want tea? Another blanket? I’m sure there’s a warming potion around here somewhere,”

“I’m alright,” His lips tugged upward. “Pomfrey and Snape said that it might happen, because of the Dark Magic...”

Worrying my lip, I nodded and intertwined my fingers with his pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles.

“What’s on your mind?” His question was soft.

“Nothing and everything,” I smiled. “Little Lotte thought of everything and nothing... but loved most of all, when she went to sleep, to hear the Angel of Music...”

“Haven’t read that one in a while,” Draco mused softly. “I think they’re having a show in London over the summer holiday...”

I wanted to snap at him. I wanted to say that it was stupid to think about the summer. It was foolish to think we’d survive the semester. That going to the opera shouldn’t be a plan we made on some false hope that we’d actually make it.

But I didn’t.

Instead I entertained the idea. Just for a while. Even if it would hurt later.

“You’d take me then?” I mused.

“Well, of course,” Draco smiled, enjoying that I was playing along. “Of course, Pansy and Abby would come with us,”

I laughed softly at the thought. The false memory of the four of us in some opera house amidst twinkling lights, dressed lavishly, laughing and having fun. I could see myself on Draco’s arm as he held his head high, smiling soft at my antics. I could almost hear Pansy scolding Abby for her poor etiquette. I could almost feel the thrum of the music in my soul and the magic of the performance before me as I was enraptured again by another story.

“I’d like that,” I whispered softly, tears stinging my eyes. 

“Then think of it done,”

A silence fell between us.

“Can I stay here tonight?” I asked softly.

“Would you expect me to say anything but yes?” He quirked an eyebrow.

Curled up in his arms, again I thought of everything and nothing, utterly exhausted—mentally, emotionally, physically. Draco still offered a sweet comfort that I had never found in anyone else. A comfort that quelled my anxieties and allowed me to sleep soundly.

“Told you she would be here,” I heard Pansy whisper harshly. “It’s not like it’s the first time they’ve done it,”

“Yes, yes, you’re so smart,” Abby said flatly. “They’re still precious, aren’t they? Even now,”

There wasn’t a response. I shifted through my sleep logged thoughts and blinked my eyes open. Draco was still fast asleep beside me, his mouth hanging slightly open as gentle breaths passed through his lips. Abby and Pansy were forgotten as I watched Draco bathed I the soft morning light.

“Hey Feathers, Dumbledore wants to see you,” Abby nudged my arm. “I don’t think it’s good either.”

Fear and dread struck my heart as I froze.

“Did he say why?” I squeaked out, carefully slipping out of the bed, not to rouse Draco. 

“No, just that it was a serious matter,” Abby frowned at me. “Are you okay?”

“Do you really want the answer to that?” I mumbled. “Please stay with him, tell him where I am when he wakes up. And if he tries to come and find me, make sure he doesn’t. He’s still healing,”

Timidly I made my way up to Dumbledore’s office, a list of a thousand things that could go wrong sprinting through my mind, willing them all true. Those thoughts however, changed and funneled when I saw that I wasn’t alone in his office with him. No, Harry, Snape, and McGonagall were all present along with the old headmaster.

“Miss Y/l/n, thank you for joining us,” Dumbledore smiled kindly. 

“Yeah... okay,” I closed the door behind me. “What’s this about?”

“What happened in Myrtle’s bathroom,” Snape informed with a monotone voice. “Though I have thoroughly explained that what Harry did to Mr. Malfoy was much worse and you acted in self- defense,”

“Uh... okay...” My eyebrows furrowed. “What exactly did I do?” 

“What did you do? You used an Unforgivable!” McGonagall dismayed. 

“You tortured me!” Harry exclaimed.

“You attempted to murdered Draco!” I shot back. “What was I supposed to do!?” 

“As I said, she acted in self-defense.” Snape cut the tension with his calmed voice.

“That wasn’t self-defense, that was malicious intent,” Harry growled. “You have to mean the curse for it to do any damage,”

“Oh yes, and I’m sure your use of Dark Magic is completely justified,” I snapped, crossing my arms. “And are you really going to play the victim when I have every right to loathe you?”

“Miss Y/l/n,” Dumbledore interjected. “We are not here to point fingers, but rather here the entire story. Both sides.”

“Why isn’t Sprout here?” I looked around. “She’s my Head of House... shouldn’t she be here?” 

“This isn’t a House matter,” Snape clarified. “This is a matter of the Order,”

“Of which you are a member,” McGonagall finished. “Now please, your side of the story,”

My mind processed this information then I began my tale.

“Draco was having a panic attack, so I led him to the nearest quiet place that I could find—” 

“Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom?” McGonagall clarified and I nodded.

“I was comforting Draco—walking him through grounding and Harry burst into the bathroom. Draco got defensive of me, drawing his wand, and Harry cast a hex at the two of us... I remember telling Draco to stop... there was water everywhere. And then Harry,” I glanced over to the golden boy who was sulking in his chair. “Cast whatever awful spell that was. I didn’t think. The Unforgivable was the first spell that came to mind...” I paused, drawing in a sharp breath. “Then there was so much blood. Merlin...” I wrung my hands together in a desperate attempt to wash my clean hands of blood that was no longer there. “I did cast the spell, and I’m not going to apologize for it. I’m sorry for hurting you, but not for defending Draco,”

“I see,” Dumbledore nodded. “Well, it seems that all’s well that ends well,” 

Harry and I both sputtered, glaring each other down.

“She should be going to Azkaban!” Harry exclaimed.

“Oh, you should really keep your comments to yourself Potter,” I snarled.

“If I remember correctly Mr. Potter, you also cast an Unforgivable at Bellatrix not last year,” Dumbledore raised an ancient eyebrow at a fuming Harry who instantly fizzled out.

“You cast an Unforgivable and you have the nerve to accuse me! Oh, stars above Harry where does it end with you!?”

“That doesn’t count! She was trying to kill me! She killed Sirius!”

I stared at him in quelled anger. “Funny,” My voice was calm and even. “I could have sworn I did it for the same reasons,” I watched the color drain from his face. “But I get it, I’m not the Chosen One, I don’t get free passes, do I?”

“Miss Y/n,” McGonagall warned.

“Am I free to go? I need to get back to Draco,” I looked to Snape.

He gave a seldom and I rushed out of the office, practically running back to the hospital wing. Abby caught me in her arms, stilling me outside the door.

“Hey, talk to me,” She demanded. “What happened?”

“Harry needs to mind his own damn business,” I growled. “He told that I used an Unforgivable against him after he tried to kill Draco. After he already used one last year! And he has the nerve—”

“Y/n?” Draco’s shaky voice was a lot closer than I thought it would be. It had to mean that he was up and walking.

“Dray?” My anger softened to concern and hope. “Draco what are you doing up?”

“You could have given us more of a warning about how much he would fight us after telling him that Dumbledore wanted to speak to you,” Pansy muttered, Draco’s arm slung around her shoulder.

“Sorry?” I offered, taking Draco’s weight, freeing Pansy. “You need to stay in bed,” I scolded him softly.

“How could you think that I would? How could you just leave?” His voice was trembling and uncertain.

“I know, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking,” I led him back to his cot, setting him down gently. “Forgive me?”

He nodded as I pulled the blanket back over him. Pansy and Abby aided me in getting him settled again.

“This is so stupid,” He groaned. “I should be there with you,”

“A few more days, my love,” I comforted softly, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Then you’ll be back beside me,”

__________________________________

Draco’s eyes met the plated silver. His reflection mocking him. His pale skin was decorated— was that the right word? Ruined, perhaps—with faded pinkish scars.

Of course, his mother had been livid. Visiting him in the hospital wing more days than not until he was medically cleared to go back to class, she was there, pacing, muttering, threatening, demanding.

Your sentiments matched his mother’s but ever since the fateful day that Harry had taken him inches from death, you had gone silent with a cold ruthless fury. A look that only faded from your eyes when they met his. Then adoration was evident. Love and dedication was evident. Kindness.

As he stared at his reflection, the phantom memory of pain danced along his skin.

“Hey there handsome,” Your gentle voice caught his attention. Catching the sight of you in the mirror he turned, leaning against the vanity.

“I don’t remember you ever calling me that before,” He mused, slightly teasing—part of him wondering if you were just saying it to make him feel better.

“I know you Draco,” You pressed off the doorjamb you were leaning against and took his hands. “Self-assured, confident, absolutely gorgeous,” A smirk hinted at your lips. “But I know you’re unsteady right now.” Gently your fingers traced the scars on his hands trailing up his arm making him shudder.

“And what of you?” He asked softly, bringing your hand to his lips pressing a kiss there softly, reveling in the warmth of your skin; something that he had lost, his skin retaining an icy chill with the dark magic that plagued it.

“What of me?” You countered softly. “I’m quite assured that I’m beautiful to those who matter to me... call it vanity,”

A chuckle escaped his lips, your words reminding him of Pansy. “No, that’s no mystery. You are stunning,” Your arms draped lazily around his shoulders as you waited for him to continue. “Are you okay? I know you, and you’ve been... I don’t know. Withdrawn? Distracted?”

He feared the anger that flashed in your eyes until you seemed to blink it away. With the fluttering of your eyelashes the ire turned to sorrow. Your shoulders rose and fell with the deep breath you took.

“I’m tired of being walked on. I’m tired of people underestimating me. Of thinking I’m harmless or weak.” You paused but then your eyes met his pleading, “I know who I am, I really do. I’m just tired of other people not seeing it.”

Draco smiled at you, reaching up and caressing your cheek delicately. “And?” He knew you had more on your mind.

“I’ve had enough of Harry thinking he can get away with anything.”

Draco nodded. Before his prejudices against Potter had been just that—prejudices. Now? Now they went so much deeper. The hurt and pain that Harry had caused to you and him was something that couldn’t be brushed off. Draco’s anger matched yours when thinking of Potter, but maybe the difference was he had never seen it from the outside looking in.

“He almost killed you Draco,” Your voice wavered. “If Snape hadn’t shown up, you would have...” Tears pricked your eyes and you quickly shut them. “I can’t... I can’t lose you... and I never want to feel helpless like that again,”

Draco cupped your face softly, your eyes meeting his as quiet streams of tears trailed down your cheeks.

“And you won’t have to, but my love,” He sighed softly and pressed a kiss to your forehead before drawing you into his arms, “I don’t want you to lose yourself... I know you’re angry, and I know you’re scared... I know you wish it would all just go away, because I do too,” He sighed deeply. “But we can’t lose focus on who we are,”

“When did you become the wise grounded one?” You pouted into his shoulder, earning a small chuckle from him.

“Some girl brought me back down to Earth,” He mused.

“Must have been some girl,” He could hear the smile in your voice.

“Oh, she’s quite wonderful, I think you’d love her. I know I do,”

“Sap,” You accused, smiling up at him.

“And yet you love me anyway,”

“I do,” You pressed up on your toes, your lips brushing against his softly.

The day that he returned to class, as expected, he got plenty of stares. Students gawking at him and whispering behind his back. Not that it was new for him. But maybe you were right—he was unsteady. You still held his hand in the halls though, and still looked at him as you would a piece of artwork. And whenever he became uncertain about his appearance your gently smile and soft kisses created phantom memories that kept him grounded.

“Ginny and Harry are together,” Hannah gave off hand one day at dinner.

Draco’s eyebrows raised in surprised. Your face soured a bit as your eyes drifted over to the Gryffindor table where sure enough Harry and Ginny were sitting together amidst their friends. He pressed a kiss to your temple, pulling you a bit closer. The pout didn’t leave your face, but your focus reverted back to your friends before you.

Draco hadn’t spoken to or gone near Harry since he had been back to class. The only real struggle was Potions, but Harry seemed content on ignoring him, and with Ernie as Draco’s partner, Draco’s thoughts weren’t consumed with Harry. Ernie was actually quite pleasant in class, Draco had to admit. Though he was a bit reckless and impulsive in a childlike manor, but he wasn’t impossible for Draco to work with. In fact, Draco almost preferred to work with Ernie because Ernie didn’t treat him any differently after his near-death experience. It was a vein of normalcy.

“This should work,” You lowered your wand, running your hand over the mended Vanishing Cabinet. “We should be done,”

His eyes met yours. There was hope in your warm eyes. Draco gave a seldom nod and grabbed an apple from his bag. It was the first test. Though weeks ago, the apple had made it to Borgin and Burkes, the live finches you had sent hadn’t survived. You mourned the small birds and buried them beneath your tree by the lake.

The apple was closed behind the wardrobes doors and after counting to thirty, your hand gripped tightly in his, Draco opened the door again and saw that the apple had a slice cut out of it. You let out a steady breath and went to the golden wire cage, with gentle grace setting down the small bird into the wardrobe. You closed your eyes, refusing to watch as he closed the door this time. Thirty seconds again, he opened the door, and the small finch was there, staring up at the two of you, an apple slice in his mouth.

You let out a scream of excitement and joy as you gathered the bird into your hands and kissing its small head before setting it back in the cage to enjoy its treat.

The next was a crow, easily transfigured from a goblet. Draco ser the bird into the cabinet and closed the door yet again. The ruffling of wings faded for twenty seconds until he heard frantic cawing and agitated movements. Throwing open the door, the crow flew out. With a quick flick of your wand the crow was a goblet once more, falling harmlessly into the piles of rubbish around the two of you.

“I have to go,” You breathed out, words that he had been dreading.

“Y/n,” He refuted. “We don’t know if it’ll work for larger animals, Pinnae might not make it.”

“It worked for the crow,” You pointed out. “Pinnae can make it,”

“It’s too dangerous,”

“Draco,” You gave him a flat look. “I need to go,” You took his hands into yours. “It’ll be okay, I’ll be back. If not, I’ll just fly back here from Diagon Alley.”

“You make it sound so simple,” He nuzzled his nose to yours.

“Because it is,” You smiled, pressing your lips to his fleetingly. “I’ll be back, I promise.”

“Please be careful,” Draco dismayed as your morphed into Pinnae, fluttering into the base of the wardrobe.

Then he closed the door, trapping you in darkness. Thirty seconds had never been so long.

There was a knock on the door then it slowly opened. Your smiling face was shining as you crawled out of the cabinet.

“It works,” You breathed out, amazed.

“By Merlin it works!” Draco exclaimed, spinning you in his arms.

You laughed and held onto him tightly. The two of you celebrated with laughter that turned to tears. When the entire world seemed against you two, at least one thing went right.

“I love you,” You sniffled through tears.

“Stars, I love you too,” He breathed in the scent of you deeply, burying his head in your shoulder. “We’re gonna make it,” He was almost hopeful.

“We’re gonna make it,” You affirmed.

“Who’s there?”

You and Draco froze, staring at each other in paralyzing fear. 

“Hello?” The voice called again.

You sagged and let out an aggravated groan. “It’s Trelawney,” Gritting your teeth you let go of him, sighing. “I’ll go see what she wants. You get to Snape and tell him we do this tonight.” There was fierce determination in your eyes.

Draco nodded and watched as you made your way toward the exit. He could hear your faint conversation with the professor. Giving you five minutes head start, Draco slipped from the Room of Hidden Things undetected.

“It’s done,” Draco panted out, catching his breath after nearly running to Snape’s office. “The raid has to be tonight,”

“I see,” Snape rose. “And you’re certain?”

You burst into the office just then, also out of breath. “Harry and Dumbledore are leaving to go find something called—”

“Silencio!” Snape casted the spell on you, proving you mute. Infuriated, Draco drew his wand, stepping between you and the professor. “Calm down, she’s in no harm,” Snape rolled his eyes and lifted the spell. “But be careful with what you speak. It is wise to hold your tongue.”

Fuming, you nodded still.

Draco lowered his wand and took your hand.

“Now, you both know the task ahead of you?” Snape questioned. Silent nods affirmed the question. “Very well. He will be pleased, Draco. Very pleased indeed.” Another silent moment passed. “You have twenty-three minutes.”

Draco took your hand and pulled you into the hallway and along the corridors.

“Go, find Abby. Warn your friends. Warn your house. No one needs to get hurt. We’re already doing enough damage,” His voice was soft and gentle as unshed tears lingered in his eyes.

“I love you,” Your voice broke as he cupped your face and pressed his lips to yours desperately.

The kiss was hasty and despairing. Though neither of you would admit it, you both knew that it was a kiss goodbye. The warmth of your breath against his was the last of your warmth that he expected. The urgency of your fingers in his hair was the last of your comfort that he sought. The taste of your mouth was the last of your sweetness that he accepted. The softness of your lips was the last of your peace that he pursued.

“Twenty-three minutes,” He breathed out before letting you go and heading down to the murky waters of the Slytherin Common Room.

The Mark on his arm burned and Draco knew that Snape had called the others of the raid. A plan set into motion long ago, now coming to fruition.

____________________________

“Y/n!” Abby called my name as you burst into the common room. “What’s going on?”

My friends were all gathered in the common room as Abby tossed to me something small and shiny. A galleon. My galleon. From D.A. I might have cursed.

“How does he even know?” I chucked the galleon into the fire, watching it ricochet a flurry of ashes. My eyes met Abby’s. “It’s tonight,”

She nodded, knowing what it meant, knowing what was expected of her. A plan made long ago, that was now set into motion.

“Okay, this is going to get very bad, very quickly.” My voice trembled as I looked at all of the horror-struck faces before me. “But please, I need you all to keep the younger years safe. I need you to stay out of the halls until Abby comes and gets you.”

“But what about you?” Ernie asked.

“Look, you’re going to hear things. Awful things about Draco and me. And I can’t deny them, nor should I ask for your forgiveness. But please,” Tears streamed down my face. “Believe that everything I’ve worked for... everything I’ve done has been for this family,” I looked around the room. “I don’t have much of one by blood, but you? All of you... you’ve always been my family. And Hogwarts is my home.”

Abby’s arms wrapped around me and I could no longer hold back my tears. Soon there was a massive comfort pile and I was in the center of it. My friends, my family all there, all holding me close.

“So, what do you need us to do?” Taylor asked. I wiped my eyes and stood tall.

“Someone get word to the Ravenclaws and the Gryffindors that they need to stay in their dorm. You all have about fifteen minutes to be completely locked down. Cast protection spells. Silencing spells. Comfort younger years. Distract them. Do not take an order from anyone unless it’s Abby. Make sure she is not under a spell before you listen to her.” I glanced over at her. “This is a grave matter and lives are on the line tonight. One of which is mine. I don’t know what will happen tonight, but I won’t be coming back. Not for some while.”

“But why?” I didn’t see where the question came from.

“It will all be revealed soon. I love you all. And I hope that you all can forgive me after tonight. No matter what you think of me, please, don’t forget: have courage and be kind.”

They all nodded. I rushed up to my room, changing quickly into dueling robes, pulling my silver cloak on.

“Are you okay?” Abby asked, tying her hair back.

“I’ll be fine,” I drew her in for a hug. “Please just get out alive,”

“You too kid,” Abby smiled weakly, taking my hand. “Sister for life,”

“Hufflepuffs for life,” I finished, looking back one last time before taking off through the window and into the night.

With a soft thud I landed on Draco’s floor. He was expecting me. We didn’t embrace another, but instead got to work.

“The Hufflepuffs?” He asked.

“Warned and locked down. Word was sent to Ravenclaws and Gryffindors. The Slytherins?” 

“Secured.” Draco affirmed. “Seven minutes,”

“Okay,” I nodded. “The Mark,”

Draco looked out his opened window and chanted something short and unfamiliar to my ears and I watched as a snake coiled from the end of his wand in a thick green smoke and into the sky merging with a skull. I took his hand, standing beside him.

“I still don’t want to kill him,” Draco confessed. “But I’ll do anything to keep you safe,”

“Draco don’t worry about me. Your mother and I have a plan if things go wrong.” It was an easy lie as I met his confused grey eyes. I smiled softly. “You don’t have to be afraid.”

“The Astronomy tower,” He pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Go,”

I leapt out of his window again and circled the school, patrolling, watching two figures on brooms land on the tower I was destined for. The quiet night was eerily quiet as I landed, perched on a sill, watching Harry and a frail looking Dumbledore. I almost slipped out of Pinnae because of the regret that fluttered in my chest, but it was easily pushed aside.

I watched as Harry hurried over to the door leading to the spiral staircase, his hand just meeting the door as I heard running footsteps from the door opposite to Harry. My eyes trained and waiting for Draco missed whatever had caused Harry to keep fleeing.

“Expelliarmus!” Draco shouted, and I sprang into action, catching the wand in my claws and settling back on the sill.

Standing against the ramparts, very white in the face, Dumbledore still showed no sign of panic or distress. He merely looked across at his disarmer and said, “Good evening, Draco,”

Draco stepped forward glancing over to me then to the empty room. He was making sure that we were alone. I wanted to warn him that Harry was close, but I couldn’t not yet. Draco seemed to figure this out on his own however, as his eyes fell upon the second broom.

“Who else is here?” He demanded.

“A question I might ask you.” Dumbledore eyed me before his attention reverted back to Draco. “Surely you’re not acting alone,”

“No,” Draco said. “I’ve got backup.”

“I see,” Dumbledore said as if Draco’s actions were praiseworthy. “And won’t you join us Miss Y/n?”

Draco glanced to me, panicked. That wasn’t a part of the plan. I wasn’t to be human at all. No one was supposed to know that I was there. Not the Order or the Death Eaters and certainly not Bellatrix.

“I know that it’s you my dear, you might as well join us,”

It was a wildcard neither Draco nor I were expecting. Draco gave a seldom nod, looking utterly defeated. Against my better judgement, I morphed back human, wand in my hand as I took my place at Draco’s side, adrenaline and anxiety threading through my chest.

“You always were such a talented witch,” Dumbledore praised. “I assume you had a hand in this plan, finding a way to get the other Death Eaters into my school?”

“Yes,” I answered, my voice shaking.

“You do complicate things don’t you my dear,” Dumbledore’s eyes fell upon me. “To think if Mr. Malfoy never had you, what would have become of him.”

“I don’t dwell on what might have been,” My eyes narrowed at the frail headmaster. “But rather what is to come,”

“Ah yes, your little job,” A twisted smile curled on his face. “Well, then, you must get on and do it, my dear boy,” said Dumbledore softly.

Confusion flitted across my face. Did Dumbledore know what we were here to do? How long had he known? Why the bloody hell hadn’t he said anything? A tense silence fell between us and I could faintly hear the fighting of Death Eaters and The Order occur somewhere below. I winced at the mental images.

“Draco, you are not a killer.” Dumbledore smiled. The words sounded cruel coming from his mouth rather than mine. Condescending.

“You don’t know what I’m capable of,” Draco snarled, gripping his wand tightly.

“Oh yes, I do,” said Dumbledore mildly. “You almost killed Katie Bell and Ronald Weasley—”

“That wasn’t us,” I interjected. “You really think I’d allow that?”

“Well you are here to kill me, are you not?”

Silently I seethed, gritting my teeth.

“It wasn’t us,” Draco replied coldly. “And we never figured out who it was,”

“Very curious,” Dumbledore mused. “But you were saying . . . yes, you have managed to introduce Death Eaters into my school, which, I admit, I thought impossible...How did you do it?”

Neither of us said anything. The echoes of the fight below were deafening. My blood ran cold, torn between who I needed to win. One to protect Draco and I. One to protect my family.

“Perhaps you ought to get on with the job alone,” Dumbledore taunted. “What if your backup has been thwarted by my guard? As you have perhaps realized, there are members of the Order of the Phoenix here tonight too,”

“The Order is here?” Frowning I met ancient blue eyes. 

“You think I wouldn’t have back up at my own school?”

Betrayal washed through me. I had no idea that the Order was here. That they were the guard against the raid that was merely a plan b. I never wanted them to get hurt. Why wasn’t I told that they were here? Wasn’t I apart of the Order as well? Then it dawned on me.

“You... you manipulated me!” I shouted. “You never wanted me as a part of the Order! You just wanted to keep an eye one me! Never for one moment did you believe in me!”

Draco winced at the realization of my words, as he took my hand, grounding me. 

“Who was I to go against your father’s wishes?”

“My father is dead because he believed in you,” I spat.

“He died for you. Not me.”

I growled dangerously.

“But never mind all of that,” Dumbledore waved the thought as if it were something easily dismissed. “And after all, you don’t really need help... I have no wand at the moment... I cannot defend myself.”

I ran my fingers over Dumbledore’s wand in my hand. It was urging me on, daring me to cast an Unforgivable. Begging me to. If I didn’t get my fury under control, Draco might not have to kill Dumbledore. Because I would.

A silence fell again.

“I see,” said Dumbledore patronizingly. “You are afraid to act until they join you.”

“I’m not afraid!” Draco snarled, though he still made no move to hurt Dumbledore. “It’s you who should be scared!”

“But why? I don’t think you will kill me, Draco. Killing is not nearly as easy as the innocent believe... So, tell me, while we wait for your friends... how did you two smuggle them in here? It seems to have taken you a long time to work out how to do it.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” I hissed. “We had the plan since this past summer. We could have easily done it by Christmas, but Draco and I deserved another year together at our home,” My words dripped venom as they met the crisp air.

“We had to mend that broken Vanishing Cabinet that no one’s used for years. The one Montague got lost in last year.” Draco explained because anger claimed my voice, deeming me silent.

“Ah.” Dumbledore’s sigh was half a groan. He closed his eyes for a moment. “That was clever... There is a pair, I take it?”

“We don’t have to explain anything to you,” I whispered, my eyes closed as I tried to reign in my anger.

“I see,” Dumbledore smiled. “But I suppose that I was incorrect when I assumed that you were not sure you would succeed in mending the cabinet and acted rashly? It does leave me to wonder who did almost kill Ms. Bell and Mr. Weasley.”

Draco’s grip on my hand tightened. He didn’t like the loose end any more than I did. “If you suspected us, why didn’t you stop us then?” Draco demanded.

“I tried, Draco. Professor Snape has been keeping watch over you on my orders —” 

“He hasn’t been doing your orders, he promised my mother--”

“Of course, that is what he would tell you, Draco, but—”

“But nothing!” I interrupted. “I think Narcissa means a bit more to Snape than you do,” 

“We must agree to differ on that, my dear. It so happens that I trust Professor Snape —”

“That’s marvelous,” I deadpanned. “But trust isn’t the same as loyalty,”

“Isn’t it though?” The old professor seemed as if he were having a hard time standing on his own without the help of the railing. I almost offered my aid. “But as for being bout to kill me, Draco, you have had several long minutes now, we are quite alone, I am more defenseless than you can have dreamed of finding me, and still you have not acted...”

Draco glanced to me and a gave a soft smile. The fear and uncertainty in his eyes caused my anger to morph into a fierce protection.

“I see,” Dumbledore went on. “I wonder why Voldemort has let you live so long Miss Y/n. You really do hinder Draco from what is expected of him,”

“Shut your mouth!” Draco snapped. “She is the cleverest, most brilliant witch I’ve met! If anything, she pushes me past what I should be and into who I am!”

“And who are you Mr. Malfoy? Are you a killer?” Neither of us answered. “There is little time, one way or another,” said Dumbledore. “So, let us discuss your options, Draco.”

“My options!” Draco scoffed. “I’m standing here with a wand—I’m about to kill you—”

“My dear boy, let us have no more pretense about that. If you were going to kill me, you would have done it when you first disarmed me, you would not have stopped for this pleasant chat about ways and means.”

Draco’s aspiration to kill Dumbledore might be fading, but my desire for it was growing with each moment that passed as I untangled a web of lies and manipulation in silence about the frail headmaster before me.

“I haven’t got any options!” Draco despaired. “I’ve got to do it! He’ll kill me! He’ll kill her! He’ll kill my mother!”

“I appreciate the difficulty of your position,” said Dumbledore. “Why else do you—”

“No,” The fury in my voice was cold and unforgiving. “Don’t. You. Dare. Don’t you dare make yourself the martyr. You have no idea the hell Draco and I have been through together. Your chosen one almost killed him for Merlin’s sake, and you have nerve to offer a false kindness? As if you were blameless? As if you understood?”

“No, you can’t,” Draco agreed to the weight of my words.

“Come over to the right side,” Dumbledore continued as if I had never spoken, “and we can hide you more completely than you can possibly imagine. What is more, I can send members of the Order to your mother tonight to hide her likewise. Your father is safe at the moment in Azkaban...When the time comes, we can protect him too. Come over to the right side, you are not a killer...”

“Like you protected my father?” I whispered softly. “When will you see we are on the side of good. But we’re not on your side.”

Dumbledore did not speak. His mouth was open, still trembling, as if to find the right words to manipulate us back to his side. 

But suddenly footsteps were thundering up the stairs, Draco and I turned, in fear. We were both buffeted out of the way as four black robes burst through the door.

It seemed the Death Eaters had won the fight below.

A lumpy-looking man with an odd lopsided leer gave a wheezy giggle. “Dumbledore cornered!” he said, and he turned to a stocky little woman who looked as though she could be his sister and who was grinning eagerly. “Dumbledore wandless, Dumbledore alone! Well done, Draco, well done!”

“Good evening, Amycus,” said Dumbledore calmly, as though welcoming the man to a tea party. “And you’ve brought Alecto too... Charming...”

The woman gave an angry little titter. “Think your little jokes’ll help you on your deathbed then?” she jeered.

“Jokes? No, no, these are manners,” replied Dumbledore.

“Do it,” said the stranger standing furthest from me. He had a deep raspy voice and almost barked the words. All of my instincts told me to run from this man.

“Is that you, Fenrir?” asked Dumbledore.

“That’s right,” Fenrir barked, and I understood. Fenrir Greyback, the savage werewolf. “Pleased to see me, Dumbledore?”

“No, I cannot say that I am.”

Greyback grinned, showing pointed teeth. Blood trickled down his chin and he licked his lips slowly, obscenely. “But you know how much I like kids, Dumbledore.”

I choked back a sob, struggling to stand upright. Faces of my family flashed through my mind. Whose blood was on my hands and on his teeth? My world spun as I tried to get it back into order. Draco’s arm wrapped around me, trying to keep me upright.

“Ah, the little harlot,” A familiar voice cooed. “I should have known you’d be the one to stop Draco from his task.”

My eyes flashed up, meeting Bellatrix’s.

“She’s actually helped quite a bit,” Dumbledore interjected. “She has my wand, and she’s the one who made your arrival possible,”

“Shut up you old fool!” Bellatrix sneered. “Now come along little prince, we are short on time,” There was an urgency in her voice that made me hopeful that perhaps the Death Eaters hadn’t won but merely escaped.

“Draco, do it or stand aside so one of us—”

I didn’t take note into who was speaking because just then, from the door that Draco had arrived, came Snape, rushing forward and taking in the scene before him. His eyes met mine then went to Draco’s before settling onto Dumbledore’s.

“Severus...” The plead startled me. My eyes turned to Dumbledore who for the first time tonight was begging.

Snape said nothing but walked forward and pushed Draco and I roughly out of the way. Draco steadied me and we both moved to the back wall, watching the other Death Eaters—even Bellatrix fall back without a word.

Snape gazed for a moment at Dumbledore, and there was revulsion and hatred etched in the harsh lines of his face.

“Severus... please...” Snape raised his wand and pointed it directly at Dumbledore. 

“Avada Kedavra!” It wasn’t my voice or Draco’s. But rather Snape’s.

Time around me slowed. Or maybe I could register everything around me all at once.

Dumbledore staggered back, falling, falling, falling down. Bellatrix cackled victoriously. Draco was a solace beside me, clinging to me as if I was his only lifeline.

“Out of here, quickly,” Snape ordered, glaring Draco and I down, a snarled look on his face.

He seized Draco’s cloak and forced him first through the door, with me trailing not far behind Draco. I didn’t bother to look who was behind me. Darkness fell over me and I proved blind. All I could do was cling to Draco’s robe and pray that wherever this darkness led, that there was a light somewhere at the end.

The darkness lifted as the starry night sky stretched before me letting me know that I was on the grounds of Hogwarts, not far from Hagrid’s.

“Go! Off the grounds and disapparate!” Snape ordered. “Go home!”

Draco and I stumbled as we ran through the dark. I wished nothing more than to morph into Pinnae and fly away, but I knew it was impossible. Just as we were at the outskirts of the grounds, Draco had to pull me out of the way of a bright red flash.

“Stop righ’ ‘ere!” A gruff voice called.

“Hagrid!” I called in relief until I realized I was no longer wanted here.

“Y/n?” Hagrid seemed just as confused as I was. “Wah are you doin’ ou’ wiff a bunch o’ Death Eaters?”

“I’m so sorry Hagrid,” I yelled into the darkness as Draco and I kept moving towards our freedom. “Take care of Steve, please!”

The distraction was enough to let a few black robes step foot off campus and disapparate. I turned back, a mistake, and saw Harry sprinting towards us, malice and torture in his eyes.

“I was right about you all along!” He shouted. “Don’t you dare show your face here again!”

Before I could respond, mostly just wanting to scream in frustration, Snape intersected the two of us, allowing Draco to grab my arm and pull me off the grounds.

“Y/n!” He called. “You need to disapparate! Go back to the Manor!” His eyes were wild and wide.

I nodded and wand in hand, I landed softly into the foyer of the Manor.

Of home.

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chapter 11

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[faintingheroine]

A Lukewarm Defense of Rebecca de Winter

Look I am not going to argue that Rebecca was actually a good-hearted person. She was a bad person. She traumatized poor Ben and her treatment of Frank can be called workplace sexual harassment.

But I see people depicting Maxim as a poor man trapped in an abusive marriage and I just don’t agree. He had the instinct to kill her as early as her confessing her general sexual behavior to him in their honeymoon:

“She sat there, laughing, her black hair blowing in the wind; she told me about herself, told me things I shall never repeat to a living soul. I knew then what I had done, what I had married.” (...) “I nearly killed her then,’ he said. ‘It would have been so easy. One false step, one slip. You remember the precipice.” (Chapter 20)

Now, I think it is clear that Rebecca didn’t confess to being a serial killer or something. She confessed to being sexually active. Now, what that pertains to can be debated, did she have sex with multiple men, did she have affairs with women, or is it simply her not being a virgin? Either way, Maxim’s instinct to kill her there is horrifying. And it is also horrifyingly realistic, unfortunately.

Then they make a pact. Rebecca never cheats on Maxim, because she never lies to him. And we don’t actually know how much Rebecca was driven to marry with Maxim. She might have strived to marry him but this could also be an arranged marriage where both parties weren’t crazy about it. We don’t know. They make a pact. Rebecca will be able to carry on her affairs in exchange of managing Manderley excellently and putting a good face to the public and Maxim accepts. He isn’t a poor fifteen years old girl forced into an arranged marriage with an abusive man, he had a choice, he could easily divorce her, but he ultimately valued his reputation above his happiness. When Rebecca breaks this contract and brings her lovers to Manderley, he threatens to shoot Jack and ultimately shoots Rebecca.

Yes Rebecca does terrible things like her treatment of Frank, but Maxim doesn’t kill her because of these things. He kills her because she polluted the shades of Manderley by bringing Jack Favell into the grounds and then threatened him with someone who does not have his DNA owning Manderley. He does not shoot her because of jealousy or hurt, it’s an entirely pragmatic murder to prevent this latter possibility from happening. He does bring that gun to the cottage in preparation for an encounter with Favell, this is not a spontaneous crime of passion. And Rebecca manipulated him knowing that it will cause him to kill her, which does not say anything good about his character.

He does not feel one bit remorseful about the murder, he freely admits to that. Despite everything else that can happen afterwards, it was still worth it for preventing her son from owning Manderley. He is motivated enough to conceal the murder to the point of purposefully misidentifying a Jane Doe, which is horrible if you think about it a bit.

Some defenders of Maxim say that we would be ok with the murder if the genders were reversed. When some people defend women killing their abusive husbands those women are often battered wives who fear for the physical safety of themselves and frequently the safety of their children and who can’t walk away from the marriage without fearing for their lives. It is excused when it is regarded as self-defense. If a woman killed her husband for merely being a serial adulterer and having illegitimate children I would absolutely regard that woman as a horrible murderer. Also a simple gender reversal doesn’t work. Women and men are not equal in the society Rebecca and Maxim live in, and the attitudes towards the sexual promiscuity of men and women are absolutely different.

There are some other charges laid against Rebecca. Animal abuse is one of them, it comes from an episode related admiringly by Mrs Danvers of her whipping a horse bloody. This episode is certainly harrowing and is one of the most disturbing scenes in the book, but I think the disturbance is caused as much by Danvers’s admiration in relating it as much as the actual act itself. When put into context Rebecca is actually sixteen when this scene happens. It is also important to remember that hunting is the chief hobby of most of the characters in the book. They are not a class of people super sensitive about animal abuse. The same thing also can be said regarding the “incest” charges laid against Rebecca, these people are British gentry in the interwar period, while being with your cousin was getting less common, it was certainly not considered wildly abnormal, and no one in the book regards it as incest.

Regarding the trauma of poor Ben, this is certainly the worst thing Rebecca has done. And it is the first clue in the book to her true character. Rebecca threatens Ben with sending him to asylum so that he won’t talk about Jack and her being at the cottage. Remember that Maxim threatened shooting Jack if this happens. What Rebecca does is horrible but it is not motiveless cruelty, she does it for self-preservation. It is certainly not excusable and it does not make Ben’s trauma any less real, but it is not a sure sign of psychopathy.

I am not trying to paint Rebecca as a poor little victim, the whole point of the book is that she lived and died on her own terms. But I am very much disturbed by the real-life readers of the book excusing her murder by saying that she was emotionally abusive. My visceral reaction might have been caused by me coming from a culture where femicide and honor-killings are quite common. Many people in my country would still unequivocally regard an adulterous woman being murdered by her husband as entirely just. And there were multiple discussions surrounding femicide prevention about the time I started reading Rebecca, and I’ve seen in real time many men adopting the “emotional abuse by the wife” defense to explain away the prevalency of femicides. I am not joking. So I may be bringing my own cultural context into my reading of the novel. It might strike Western readers as merely a scandalous murder mystery, in my context there is nothing scandalous about Rebecca’s murder, it is a depressingly typical societal ill.

And Rebecca’s life wasn’t as glamourous as people seem to think it is. This is what Mrs Danvers says about her childhood:

“She was lovely then,’ she said. ‘Lovely as a picture; men turning to stare at her when she passed, and she not twelve years old” (Chapter 18)

And this is said by the woman who raised Rebecca. Her beloved cousin attempts to use her murder to get money, and his first response to learning about her having cancer is hoping that cancer is not contagious. Doctor Baker was clearly impressed by her stoic response to learning her illness and it was the most impactful part of the novel for me. She dies quite a bloody death. Rebecca’s life story gets very depressing when you stop to think about it.

I was put off by the possibility that the book might be trying to manipulate us into justifying femicide. But I think the last chapter proves that this was not really the intent. The last chapter was not the melodrama that I was expecting it to be. It was a farce laden with dramatic irony. And the last sentence of the book is “And the ashes blew towards us with the salt wind from the sea”. The sea is Rebecca’s symbol in the book. They murdered her and concealed her murder and they don’t get to live in the house she created.

I am not saying you can’t love Maxim or you can’t ship him with the narrator. You absolutely can. And you can hate Rebecca the character. But I think excusing her murder on the basis of her being emotionally abusive is too much for me.

[semper-legens]

45. Lies, by Michael Grant

Owned: Yes Page count: The mutants of the FAYZ are under attack. Tensions have risen, and now people are being outright attacked. The ‘normals’ are setting the town on fire, ready to kill all the ‘freaks’ in the FAYZ. But there are bigger problems. Sam’s gone AWOL. The ghost of Drake is walking the streets. And there’s rumours of how to escape... My summary: 472 My rating: 3/5

Halfway through the Gone series and jeez, this thing is still grim as all hell. Tensions are rising, kids are desperate for food or a way out, Sam’s got PTSD, and everything’s going to hell. This is the book with the big iconic image that I always remember, but it’s a spoiler so more on that under the cut. I remember little of what happens after this, so it’s gonna be fun to find that out. And by fun, I mean grim.

In every series where there are mutants or people with magic, there’s always going to be people who discriminate against said people. Here, we’ve got Zil and the Human Crew, who think that ‘normals’ are being mistreated by the ‘freaks’, and wants to kill them. To the point of setting half the town on fire and trying to lynch a kid. It doesn’t take, but Jesus, it’s a harrowing read. I think Zil and his friends are a good reflection of real-life discrimination against minorities, this is exactly how hate and bigotry spreads in an extreme survival situation.

Meanwhile, Drake’s alive, and it’s in the most horrifying way possible. See, last book, Drake killed a kid called Brittney, a young girl who was just a nice, ordinary kid until she died, didn’t actually die, was reanimated, and now shares a body with Drake. At random, they transform from being Drake to Brittney to Drake again. Brittney’s trying to keep Drake at bay, but the Darkness is communing with her in the form of her dead brother and trying to lead her astray. It’s both surreal and horrifying, and a really creepy read.

The other main thread is that Orsay, the kid who can see into dreams, has been getting visions of the world outside the FAYZ. She’s convinced that when people disappear at age 15, they just zap back to reality - and that dying also does the same thing. This information gets to Mary, the girl looking after all the little kids and dealing with bulimia, anorexia, and severe depression whose fifteenth birthday is soon. So she does the only thing she can think of. She takes the kids to the cliff, and gets them to jump as she turns fifteen. They don’t die, they are saved, but the buildup to this happening is horribly tense, and Mary’s slow decline into irrationality is dreadfully realistic. I suffer from some of the same issues as Mary, and I relate hard to the poor kid. I just wanna give her a hug.

Next up, the imaginary world of some very famous children.

[pointnumbersixteen]

Quick Reviews of the Episodes of Series 1-3 of Inside No. 9

[With a Few Mild to Moderate Spoilers Which Shouldn’t Make Too Much Difference If You Haven’t Seen Them Yet]

Series 1:

Episode 1: Sardines

I enjoyed this one a lot, and not just for Ben Willbond (who is playing one of his standard parts: ‘really bad boyfriend’). ‘Shove the entire cast in a closet together’ somehow worked as a concept. The plot, and particularly the ending making sense, hinges on mentions of CSA, though, so if you find that triggering, maybe avoid.  

Episode 2: A Quiet Night In

This might be the funniest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. I watched it twice in a row and laughed just as hard each time.  It’s both overtly violent and smutty, though, so if those aren’t your things, avoid. But my 77-year-old religious conservative father watched it with me the second time, and even he thought the shear hilarity made up for the smut and violence, soooo...

Episode 3: Tom & Gerri

The acting is very good, particularly Reece Shearsmith (he does descent into insanity alarmingly well), but I thought the plot was kind of plodding. 

Episode 4: Last Gasp 

This one was a fun exercise in watching awful self-serving people do awful self-serving things. Very amusing. The ending makes it.  

Episode 5: The Understudy

A bit meh, but I liked the ending twist with the assistant. 

Episode 6: The Harrowing 

The plot is very basic horror: pretty young teenage girl lured in for demonic possession. The acting makes it, though. The late great Helen McCrory stars, doing Narcissa Malfoy better than she actually did playing Narcissa Malfoy (probably work watching just for that), and the two teenage girls did excellent work, too. This is one of the ones I watched with my dad and he found it disturbing, though. Demons and Baptists don’t mix. 

Series 2:

Episode 1: La Couchette 

I like things things that take place on trains. This did not disappoint.  

Episode 2: The 12 Days of Christine 

Very well done, but I found it depressing. I probably won’t watch it again, but that speaks nothing to the quality, just to my personal tastes. 

Episode 3: The Trial of Elizabeth Gadge

This was my favorite episode of series 2 and my second favorite of the show after A Quiet Night In. It felt like a Horrible Histories sketch for grown ups. I’m pretty sure the set was even used in a few Horrible Histories episodes. Some of the language is very smutty, but hilarious. David Warner with the Pear of Agony makes it. Bonus: Jim Howick. 

Episode 4: Cold Comfort

Interesting concept, very well done. This was my second favorite episode of series 2. 

Episode 5: Nana’s Party

Rather boring, typical adultery with the sister-in-law drama. 

Episode 6: Seance Time 

Also kind of boring. I could kind of see what they were going for, it just didn’t work for me. 

Series 3: [I feel like this was the weakest series of the first three.]

Episode 1: The Devil of Christmas

The sort of episode where you sit the whole time thinking, ‘hmm, this is an interesting concept.’ Also helps if you enjoy the sound of Derek Jacobi’s voice. I do.

Episode 2: The Bill

My least favorite episode of the show so far. Mostly people tediously bickering. I guessed the twist before it got there. Very meh.  

Episode 3: The Riddle of the Sphinx

Very clever. Very disturbing. This one literally kept my poor 77-year-old father up at night. He decided not to watch any more episodes with me after this one. I probably won’t watch this one again, either, but it was probably the best episode of series 3.   

Episode 4: Empty Orchestra

A bit boring. It’s reasonably well done, there’s just not a lot to it. Mostly workplace backstabbing and relationship drama in a karaoke bar. Bonus Sarah Hadland, though, and I can’t think of anything else I’ve seen her in besides Horrible Histories off the top of my head. 

Episode 5: Diddle Diddle Dumpling

Slow, but again Reece Shearsmith’s acting makes it. Also the lady who plays his wife does very well, too. Bonus: Mat Baynton. 

Episode 6: Private View 

Felt a little bit like one of the earlier Saw movies, but I liked it.  

[kkoraki]

ultimate ship meme round 2

please keep them coming!

thank you @tooprettyforpants for the validation: 

MOM HELP THE STICK INSECTS ARE FIGHTING IN THEIR CAGE

I’m just determined to make everyone regret following me hmm aren’t I

General:

Rate the Ship -   Awful | Ew | No pics pls | I’m not comfortable | Alright | I like it! | Got Pics? | Let’s do it! | Why is this not getting more attention?! | The OTP to rule all other OTPs | homeschooler4homeschooler... toxic4toxic... nerd4nerd... snake4snake... volcel4volcel... lightmage4darkmage... that pure and wholesome lack of age difference! *chef’s kiss* impeccable! 

How long will they last? - forever, they run on spite and toxicity 

How quickly did/will they fall in love? - they never did and they won’t. maybe in an AU when they’re 60 or 70 they can gain some slight intellectual fondness for one another. i will grant that. 

How was their first kiss? -                                 ...Next! 

Wedding:

Who proposed? - neither, it was arranged 

Who is the best man/men? /  Who is the bride’s maid(s)? - ghsfdlkjfldkfjsdklfjlkkl don’t make me type this. oh my god it’s colum and gideon 

Who did the most planning? - ok actually Harrow because she at least has a certain aesthetic flair 

Who stressed the most? - both 

How fancy was the ceremony? - Back of a pickup truck | 2 | 3 | 4 | Normal Church Wedding | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Kate and William wish they were this big (but with skulls) 

Who was specifically not invited to the wedding? - no one was invited but everyone had to attend anyway, v awful times  

S*x: wow can’t believe you would EVER ask this about such a pure and wholesome ship. anyway this is the future, they have science for that.

Who is *n t*p? - 

Who is the one to instigate things? -

How healthy is their sex life? - nonexistent so obviously very healthy 

How kinky are they? - 

How long do they normally last? -

Do they make sure each person gets an equal amount of *rg*sms? -

How rough are they *n b*d? -

How much cuddling/snuggling do they do? - ew 

Children:

the 3+ necromantically adept androgynous weasels born from this unholy union are raised through an awkward yet charming co-parenting arrangement... not involving either one of the biological parents

How many children will they have naturally? - like, naturally through science? maybe 3 or 4. poor things. 

How many children will they adopt? - 0 

Who gets stuck with the most diapers? - they have Gideon for that 

Who is the stricter parent? - LOL they’re both too absent to be strict. silas when he remembers, i guess. harrow is much better at 100% well enforced absence. 

Who stops the kid(s) from doing dangerous stunts after school? - Colum Asht 

Who remembers to pack the lunch(es)? - also Colum 🥺

Who is the more loved parent? - Gideon Nav 

Who is more likely to attend the PTA meetings? - harrow will go. I don’t know why but I just feel this, in my bones 

Who cried the most at graduation? - yep, this one’s also Gideon 

Who is more likely to bail the child(ren) out of trouble with the law? - LOL NEITHER they ARE the law 

Cooking:

Who does the most cooking? - if I honestly and in-character-ly answer all these questions it really is going to turn into the Colum And Gideon Show. umm harrow because canonically she will, at least, make shitty soup

Who is the most picky in their food choice? - Neither? Given that Harrow comes from a planet where there is like 1 food and Silas comes from a planet where you don’t eat. I’m making myself depressed 

Who does the grocery shopping? - they are both control freaks but the ways in which their controlfreakness manifests is subtlely different enough to the extent that I feel confident in saying, Harrow would do the grocery shopping 

How often do they bake desserts? - never, I don’t think they know what that is 

Are they more of a meat lover or a salad eater? - both probably salad as I doubt they know what meat is 

Who is more likely to surprise the other(s) with an anniversary dinner? - like THAT’S ever going to happen 

Who is more likely to suggest going out? - This is the funniest thing I’ve ever read. Neither. 

Who is more likely to burn the house down accidently while cooking? - Neither. This would never happen. 

Chores:

Who cleans the room? - silas because he’s weird about that 

Who is really against chores? - neither, both are VERY much in support of chores

Who cleans up after the pets? - wow I can’t imagine a couple that would be less likely to have pets. is gideon the pet 

Who is more likely to sweep everything under the rug? - emotionally? both. in terms of chores? neither one would ever. 

Who stresses the most when guests are coming over? - both and in fact it’s stressing me out just to think about it 

Who found a dollar between the couch cushions while cleaning? - neither, they amplify each other’s cringe and unluckiness. no dollars found at any time during this relationship, no sir  

Misc:

Who takes the longer showers/baths? - based on the scraps of canon evidence I have to go off of... yeah I’m gonna go with Silas

Who takes the dog out for a walk? - there is no dog. but if we consider gideon the pet, then harrow 

How often do they decorate the room/house for the holidays? - Harrow decorates, inspiring theological debates (sexy) (probably the most emotionally charged thing that happens in this relationship) 

What are their goals for the relationship? - have necromantically adept offspring to preserve their cringe dying Houses

Who is most likely to sleep till noon? - Harrow 

Who plays the most pranks? - neither, they don’t believe in pranks... only chores