#and also has some sort of weird god/saviour complex

[recareels]

Omg the potential and already abundant angst in the backstories of reader x aventurine and reader x sunday are amaziiiing!!! Do you have any snipets or more info about them?? If you ever get around to write something about them i'll die. Regardless thanks for sharing your amazing mind with us <3

thank you!!! eeeee so i’m not entirely sure if you’re talking about my selfships with them or just the lil pieces i’ve written on this blog thus far but either way!!! i really love these characters and i really want to dive into more narrative centred pieces with them!! 

ah i don’t have any snippets to share aside from really unhinged, tangled thoughts (things maisie hears on the daily, really) but you are more than welcome to ask any questions if they ever pop into ur head!!! i’m Dying to talk more about them <333 i honestly did not expect to fall so intensely in love with sunday & aventurine but they’re both just SO fascinating as characters!!!!! WEEE thank YOU for being here with me!!!!! and listening to me gush!!! <33

[super-nova5045]

cannot articulate my thoughts for the life of me so sorry for this one.

i think killing bunny was the catalyst for henry’s breakdown which seems strange because if anything henry seems the most blasé about the entire affair. however i think in a way henry and bunny are narrative foils of each other. bunny is all-american, “unintelligent”, athletic, WASP-y, big family, conservative, unserious like 24/7 yet in hindsight the most normal and stable of the group and thought to be wealthy. whereas henry is quite LITERALLY rather uneasy on the eyes, chronically ill, small and unloving family, very rich, very solemn, rather liberal about his sexuality (the whole bacchanal…) and SUPER detached from reality, quite literally making him the most unstable. because who in their right mind kills someone and is like “arghhh that was so freaking epic 😍😍😍”

and i think it comes from this greek/shakespearean idea of temperaments and different moods, the idea two people can balance each other out because they’re tied together by some transcendental string. by killing bunny, he’s immediately sick by it as his migraines come on and he acts weird at the funeral (i think from both the stress and the guilt). i mean the dude literally wipes grave dirt on himself, and i think it’s because he’s SO unstable and unbalanced that he’s entirely vacant and detached, completely ungrounded from reality, because BUNNY was the one who grounded him, who told him “bro this is insane”, who was the constant reminder that henry is unfortunately human, a human with flaws and weaknesses, not a god.

i think then that it’s also interesting that henry is sort of above love, especially heterosexual love. yes he “loves” camilla but it’s in a really weird, unbalanced way. iirc (it’s been a few months since i read the novel) most of them are a bit shocked by it. henry even refuses to acknowledge it (that whole fuck scene with charles). he seems entirely disinterested in camilla as a person and sees her more as something to protect, something to fuel his saviour/god complex. what i then find interesting is that when camilla and charles start to rebel against this, and he can’t kill charles or camilla (camilla thought he would) to get rid of this evidence that he isn’t a perfect protector, a perfect person, he kills himself, which in a way protects the rest of the group.

unlike richard, who later believed henry brought him into the murder so he could perhaps make a scapegoat of him, henry completely excludes bunny from ANYTHING that involves the bacchanal and the murder, despite bunny being his oldest friend and closest for the most part friend. i think it’s been said quite a bit that bunny could’ve been a little less horrified by the murder if he was just included in the bacchanal, because he’s so clingy and has serious rejection issues. i think, in a weird way, henry was trying to protect bunny but also protect bunny’s perception of him as a “good friend” who had his back - ie his protector. and as soon as bunny’s rose-tinted glasses are broken, henry turns the tide against him and kills bunny.

richard mentions a fatal flaw a lot, the thing that sets a character spiraling and usually kills them. however, none of the mains die except for henry and bunny - most of them live miserable, but free, lives. they’re protected by bunny and henry’s sacrifice. they will forever perceive henry as their saviour in a way, even if he had to die for it, even if bunny had to die to preserve this perception. ultimately, bunny (and bunny’s death) was the reason the group got into so much shit, the reason henry had to die. bunny was his weakness - the thing that kept him stable by calling out his blatant flaws and god complex, the thing that, by dying, therefore lead to his detachment from reality and eventual death. so therefore i don’t think henry’s fatal flaw is his detachment; i think it’s bunny.

[rwriting]

the last victim // sayu yagami (deathnote)

description: gosh, i love sayu yagami so much. i have so many headcanons for her –  it’s a little embarrassing… i really wanted to write this piece! it’s post canon with a few dark themes. i’m of the opinion that sayu’s a character with so much potential, so little of which is explored in the canon. hoping you all enjoy! 

word count: 1.6k

content warnings: light yagami (ha, ha…), implied self-harm, self-hatred (?), the term psychopath (ableism), magazines being gross, sibling and parent death, bullying… sorry, i know that’s quite a lot to bear with. please take care of yourself!

 Breathe.

She’s trying, she really is.

Breathe.

Her hands spasm and reach for her throat.

Breathe.

She forces her hands to her sides.

Breathe.

She opens her eyes.

Sayu Yagami stares at the ceiling of her apartment, head fuzzy with… she wants to say the remnants of a dream, but perhaps a nightmare is closer to the truth. She can’t quite remember. Besides, her waking, no matter the night she’s experienced, is never pleasant. It always involves too much breathlessness, too much begging, too much… emotion.

Sayu feels torn about that. Too much emotion. It seems weird to think that she could be overwhelmed with emotion, when she spends so much time simply without it. She’s not sure what is worse: drowning beneath the waves, or feeling as if she’s dying of thirst.

Maybe I deserve them both, she thinks. It’s a recurring thought – she can never be rid of it. It sneaks up behind her, holds her hand. Offers comfort, somehow. There’s a reason for this, it whispers. Sayu thinks she likes reasons, likes logic, likes… explanations. That’s understandable, they all say. You want to know how one of your own hurt so many others.

I don’t, thinks Sayu. She doesn’t know if it’s a lie or not. How odd to not even know if you yourself are telling the truth.

Desperate not to get stuck in a loop of contemplation as she’s prone to (she’s spent days like this before; lying in bed, pondering and pondering and pondering), she swings her legs off the bed and plants them on the cold, cold, floor. The sensation of the frozen tiles and the jolt they send through her is oddly pleasant; it’ll prevent her from falling back to sleep at the very least.

A quick walk to the bathroom and she considers herself fully awake. Well, as awake as she gets; too many days of hers are spent in a daze, a state so distanced from reality she can hardly call it a state of being awake. A state of dreams and disillusionment.

She takes in her face in as she stares at the mirror. For a terrifying moment, her eyes gloss over her own reflection as if there is nothing there – as if it the face of someone else, or simply a smudge. Or a ghost… she thinks, and smiles in spite of herself. A ghost. That is what she feels like so often, floating from minute to minute, hour to hour, day to day… or place to place, though she rarely leaves her home. The high rise apartment with its large windows and intimidating staircases isn’t exactly comforting, but that doesn’t mean she’s not enamoured with it – obsessed with the way it makes her feel. The way it makes her feel. Calm, mysterious. Like she has a plan. Like him.

She focuses once again on the mirror, on her reflection. All her features are accented, more obvious, more vivid. No. All of his features are more accented, more obvious, more visible, no, wait, all of a sudden they’re the only ones there, and he’s here in the mirror, she can see him, she can touch him, she can let him out!

The mirror cracks as Sayu’s fist makes contact with it, the sound loud and unforgiving. Unforgiving also is the gift it gave her – an open wound, leaking blood. She watches the blood trickle slowly, dripping down into the sink. She doesn’t bother to wash it away. Somehow, to do so would feel like a betrayal. To what, she’s not sure. Maybe she wants evidence. This happened. Or maybe it’s to do with the blood – maybe she considers it proof her existence, her being, her living.

There are other ways to see that blood you know…

The thought is not so much a thought as a temptation; a beg disguised as a calm offer. No, she thinks sternly. She almost wants to say it out loud, but there is something sacred in the silence. Even her footsteps seem more quiet than usual, the sound of her bare feet not muffled by socks but just by the air itself.

Her feet take her away, to kitchen, where she reaches up to a shelf, to grasp in her hand (the one free of blood) a small medical box, filled mainly with bandages and gauze. She tends to her hand, and for a few seconds wishes she had someone to do this for her, with her. It’s a bad idea, a bad thought. Not only is it a foolish longing, but it leads to a reminiscing; an unearthed memory which she wants to hold dear. If only it weren’t so tainted.

Her knowledge of how the memory will make her feel, her warning to herself – none if it seems to help, to stop it as it takes shape in her mind. She’d have been eight when it had happened. She’d planted some flowers on her windowsill and had cut her hand on one of the small terracotta plant pots. Downstairs she’d gone, tears welling in her eyes. And there he was, washing his hands in the sink, turning to meet her with a small smile on his face. Okay, what’d you do this time?

She’d stuck out her hand to show him, and his eyes had widened almost imperceptibly. That looks a little serious, Sayu. Despite the pain, she’d stuck out her tongue at him cheekily, at which he had offered a slight grin. Alright. Sit at the table and I’ll tend to it. Even at eleven, he’d had a presence – a sort of commanding aura which made one want to heed his words, hold them close. Obey him. She hadn’t though it dangerous then, it was hard to think of it as anything but now.

My brother. It’s the only way she can think of him. His name… his name invites too much. Personal effects gone through, a computer dragged away by two men in suits. And headlines, so many headlines. Who knew how the press got hold of the information; who cared. All it mattered was that she could no longer see his name - in her mind or written on paper – without every article she’d ever read crashing down on her, words, words, words. Genius. God complex. Misguided youth. Psychopath. Saviour. Killer. Kira. That one hurt almost as much, despite how impersonal it was, a moniker started by… who even knew? The internet was a cluttered, anonymous, graveyard and, beyond that, a mystery. Who cared enough to track down the first person to gift her brother with this title, to find them out?

She thought of this annoyingly often. Maybe if her brother had been given a different title, no title at all, things may have progressed differently. It was so, so foolish. She knew this. It sounded like a time traveller’s pathetic attempt to change the future without destroying the past. Pathetic. The word repeat itself a little in her mind, echoing.

There were articles on her too, of course. Complicit? they said, the question mark seeming more for show than anything else. Yagami sister involved in killings? Imagine that. Her, an accomplice to the Kira killings, and not questioned by the great detective L simply because he thought her young and girlish. Complicit… the word reverberates and she questions it, pulls it apart. Was she complicit? Did she know of her brother’s actions before they were revealed in the news? She was more observant than anyone gave her credit for, but Light (LightLightLightLightLightLightLight) ‘s change in demeanour could have been down to any number of factors, including adolescence, or even his father’s work. Our father’s work, Sayu corrects herself. He belonged to both of them. And now he belonged to the earth.

I lost you both, Sayu thinks. Although she’d previously envied her father and brother’s strong sense of justice, now she felt quite thankfully to not share it. In a way, it led them both to their deaths. One at the hand of the other.

As she looks out the wide window of the apartment, she feels lonely. There are a few precious memories involving both her brother and the night skies, but they’re not what evokes this emotion. Seeing how much there is out there, the bright lights of all the other people living lives like hers, makes her realise how few people there are in her life. She’d maintained no friendships from her school or university, nor her bonds with her mother. Not that the former had many any effort on their own parts – any interest displayed in her was as ‘the sister of Kira’. She could recall so many times, the insensitive questions, the pulling of her hair, the tearing of her clothes. They’d scream at her.

Did my uncle deserve to die, you stupid girl? Did you agree with your brother? Did you go to sleep every night knowing what he was doing in the next room? Did you care?

Her own thoughts, both then and now, are a mirror.

Did my brother deserve to die? Did you disagree with him? Did you wake up every morning to watch the news and fear for your life? Did it scare you?

They’re ugly thoughts, but anger doesn’t need to be beautiful. Neither does justice.

And there’s no justice, she thinks. There never was.

[remade3940580486940568]

hi idk if i can be arsed writing more rn but have some information for the record. theres nothing graphic and i cba beyond that re: tagging so be warned

ivir:

hes a featherless aka Kaiiva... a subspecies of harpies isolated by geography who worship living clay/Breathing Earth. he lives alone in tocka valleys forest away from the rest of Kaiivan society... japhet is related to him, making mima his Beloved Niece/Grandchild/Grandniece. and sort of livanne, in a nonbiological sense? mima just sort of includes livanne hahaha. is niece in law a thing??

he is lanky and Very Tall For A Harpy and actually a bit of a powerhouse until he gets joint problems lol.

he was the weird nonverbal autistic kid who was given the job of hauling corpses to their final resting spot among the breathing earth. he has a very unharpy-like social repulsion and mostly just... talks to the corpses... as a result he is actually maliciously accused of being a necrophile by quite a few people. others think this is all just evidence of him being really perfect for the job and a sort of proxy for ancestral spirits.

over time, the breathing earth recognized the hand that fed it and formed a special bond with ivir.

eventually after mima mass feeds the breathing earth (although ive considered moving this to an earlier time?) ivir gets an injury and starts growing clay in his flesh. his psychic bond with the breathing earth is solidified now; he can sense life as acutely as they can. he is now an extension of them.

he ends up growing to be old as fuck! but by then he is full of dirt and digested identity soup and its a miracle slash torture that he still breathes.

ym:

ill be honest, she started as an author self insert and then got out of hand as a metaphor for my mental illness and the concept of saviour complex shit. she makes little sense so i cant tell you the backstory.

the premise is that she bleeds ichor and is thus "functionally immortal". she also suffers from eternal youth, because she just simply stopped growing the moment she grew in her adolescent feathers. she regularly takes advantage of this to garner pity and views herself as a martyr god.

to me she is the manifestation of a desire to have a narrative, a purpose, a sense of permanence, and finding it in helping others (or the illusion of this).

IN FACT she is so obsessed with playing saviour, she lets mima FEED her to ivir :')

she met ivir, mima, and livanne when she was pretty young... for a being like her. im talking under a century, not under a decade. either way, shes running from something, and finds them instead. tocka, in all its horrors and depression, becomes her home, and she becomes obsessed with trying to save certain people from it.

she is a weirdo with sucky boundaries with excellent intent lollll. cant even accuse her of being a cult leader because that would imply shes good at it

[koukouture]

A quick rant about angels because it’s interesting as fuck

So idk why but Angelism is so interesting?? Like, I just wanted to research stuff for my story and I went down this rabbit hole analyzing the different classes and looking at what they stand for because I noticed an odd correlation between the archangels and some of the lesser named angels (because the archangels is sort of a mess) and the angel hierarchy. 

Basically the angel hierarchy goes: 

 seraphim - six winged angels and sometimes are depicted covered in eyes, they guardians of God’s throne or sometimes they help run Heaven which is confusing for reasons we will see later. Also Lucifer/Satan was one of these???

 cherubim/cherub - also six wings but they have four faces: a person, an ox, an eagle/hawk, and a lion and sometimes have eyes on their wings, they provide wisdom and I guess the represent scholars

Thrones/Ophanim - two rings nestled into each other covered in eyes, sometimes they have wings and sometimes the don’t, also they’re on fire and are said to be wheels for God/the archangels’ chariot

Dominians - they look like regular angels and give out guidance

Virtues - looks normal and they provide enlightenment. What kind I’m not sure but I’m assuming any kind of enlightenment. Also they’re angels of choice and motion, and by motion I assume that means life

Powers - they’re warrior angels and as such they wear armour 

Principalities - they wear crowns and have scepters/staffs, they are leaders/guardians and also are angels of time 

Archangels - Apparently they’re the ruling class of angels but are put close to the bottom of the hierarchy???? Idk. If they’re the ruling class than why are they at the bottom? Are the angels ranked by power or importance??? The confusing thing is this word is only used to describe Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael, fuck sometimes ONLY Michael since he’s the only one that’s called an archangel in all versions of the Bible.  It’s also really confusing as to who is an archangel and who isn’t, because how many archangels there is heavily debated. Sometimes there are three, sometimes four, and sometimes SEVEN. But even then no one is consistent and like I said before, Michael is the only one referred to as an archangel in all versions of the Bible. So this might not even be a class of angels and just a title or even ONE FUCKING PERSON but we’ll never know because even if you take all versions of the Bible into account, there aren’t enough angels to suggest that this is an entire class since each is differentiated by 1) one specific thing/set of abilities/job and 2) there are hundreds of them, and as far as I know, all of the archangels stand for something different anyways so it’s more of a title??? Anyways point is the archangels are confusing and I hate it so much and also I don’t think this should be a class if NO ONE CAN AGREE ON WHAT THE FUCK IT IS. 

Angels - run of the mill angels, they’re the “guardian angels” and messengers. Yeah. There are some angels that are named that aren't the archangels but idk what class they are so I’m going to put them here. 

.

Ok so with all that in mind, take a look at the archangels, except only four because the other three are never consistent and therefor I cannot speak for them: 

Michael - he’s the like chief angel, he’s the one in charge. It’s unclear if he replaced Lucifer/if Lucifer was an archangel but that’s not important here. Anyways, Michael is depicted as a warrior and sometimes holds a scale. As the chief angel he is obviously very close to God like the seraphims, he is a warrior and looks like the powers. Also, unrelated but I drew Michael in seventh grade for this weird saint project I had and my friend said he looked hot. Oh also, he’s associated with lighting and warriors which is really badass. In my story he’s got a saviour complex and is really serious so yeah. I find it so funny that he overlaps with figures from other religions that go against EVERYTHING he stands for and it’s so funny imagining a very serious and composed Michael loosing his shit bc he overlaps with Mr. Fucks-everything-with-a-hole-Zeus who is the cause of most problems in Greek mythology, and Thor who has no brain cells whatsoever in Norse mythology. Just Michael chewing out Zeus like “YOU CAN’T STICK YOUR DICK IN EVERYTHING AND EXPECT IT TO BE OK, NOW GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER AND SPEND TIME WITH YOUR WIFE, AND BE A PROPER LEADER WHILE YOU’RE AT IT” while Thor eats a chicken thigh in the background. (I wanna draw this now lol-) 

Gabriel - he’s a messenger, so it’s pretty obvious which class of angel he’s close to: the regular angels. Not much more to say but interestingly enough, if the only thing he does is send messages on behalf of God/Michael.  He seems really chill and does not deserve all of the shitty iterations he has in media. I’m looking at you, Constantine Gabriel. You bitch. Gabriel is the most popular for some reason bc of how he’s involved with Christmas, so most people make him out to be this warrior/corrupted angel when really he’s just a chill messenger god? Like I’m sorry are filmmakers allergic to proper research of topics they want to have their films revolve around? 

Raphael - ok before we get to his connection, I love this guy so much. He’s like the Bible’s version of Hermes (in character at least) So he’s really charismatic and funny + I love seeing similarities between religions. Also he’s bros with this human named Tobias. Anyhow, Raphael is associated with nature and life, and the colour green. The virtues also sometimes have control over the elements which are associated with nature so yeah, I’m saying he’s with the virtues. I like this guy a lot, super interesting and chill, Bible Hermes, 9/10, solid guy. 

Uriel - He. Baby. My mom was watching Lucifer and told me that he’s the youngest of the angels and idk I always think that Uriel is really young now. In my story he is the youngest of the angels so I now associate Uriel with children. But that aside, he’s actually a relentless judge so no more bby.  Seeing as he’s a judge I associate that with choice for some reason so the virtues, however he is sometimes a cherubim/seraphim so that just adds to my confusion about the archangels? 

[hunterinabrowncoat]

Confession and Religious Trauma

I was reading a chapter in Nadia Bolz-Webber’s amazing book ‘Accidental Saints’ the other day, about sin and confession. The idea of Confession with a Capital ‘C’ is pretty foreign to me, having grown up in an Evangelical church. That kind of stuff was far too Catholic, and therefore suspect.

In my tradition, you just say sorry to God in your private prayer time, and it’s all forgiven already anyway because of the Doctrine of Grace means God looks at people who’ve Accepted Jesus As Personal Lord and Saviour and sees Jesus in all his perfection instead.

Pastor Bolz-Webber said some great stuff about sin. Like this:

“In the end, we aren’t punished for our sins so much as we are punished by our sins.

And sin is just the state of human brokenness in which what we say and do causes these sometimes tiny and sometimes monstrous fractures in our earth, in ourselves, in those we love, and sometimes even in our own bodies.”

I like the way she presented sin; not as some stain that dirties us and needs to be washed away, but the state of human brokenness we all inhabit. And in that light, confession stops being about making you feel guilty or reminding yourself how many bad things you’ve done, but rather is about giving you freedom from the guilt that already consumes you and the things that are eating at your conscience. It’s about coming to God, coming to community, and finding healing and restoration from that brokenness through God’s beautiful, raging mercy. It offers release and a chance to experience God’s grace through community and liturgy.

But like much of the Christian liturgy, I really struggle to engage with it. Partly because it’s so foreign to me and just feels a bit... weird. But partly because of religious trauma.

As I’ve spoken briefly about before, in deconstructing my faith and Evangelical upbringing, I’ve become disillusioned with and wanted to distance myself from many of the practices I grew up with. I feel uncomfortable in those spaces now. And in its absence, I desperately long for religious ritual and festivals; for meaningful practice that connects me to my ancestors and my community through collective tradition.

And yet, whenever I am in a Christian space that has liturgy, or that is more traditional, I am just left feeling distinctly uncomfortable, disconnected and out of place. It feels as though this is someone else’s tradition, something I have no connection to.

I haven’t found a solve for this yet, honestly. I just continue to go to church and feel out of place.

And maybe that’s part of why I struggle to engage with confession. But that’s not all it is, because it’s not just alien, it’s deeply uncomfortable and difficult.

I’m not going to pretend that all of my problems with saying sorry are about church and the way I was churched, because I also struggle to say sorry to other people. It’s a pride thing. Even when I feel bad, it’s like the word physically get stuck in my throat. I dislike being vulnerable with other people, and I find actually verbally talking to people about difficult or personal things, like, really hard.

But I also can’t deny the impact that my religious upbringing had on the way I view apologies, especially confession. When I engage with that part of the liturgy, or that practice, when it comes time to confess, I don’t experience absolution or God’s grace or any sense of release. Instead, I am overcome with feelings of toxic shame and guilt and self-hatred that my Evangelical upbringing instilled in me.

I grew up in a tradition that taught the concept of ‘Original Sin’. It told me I am inherently dirty and I was born unclean and I could never do enough to earn God’s favour because I will always fall short. Needless to say, it’s done a number on me.

The concept of Original Sin, as well as the emphasis Evangelicalism puts on sin, particularly things that in the grand scheme of things are often inconsequential like having sexual thoughts about somebody or swearing or feeling perfectly natural human emotions like anger, is incredibly damaging. It makes you feel guilty for enjoying anything. It makes you feel so much shame simply for being a perfectly ordinary human being with normal, human desires and needs and emotions.

People who are much more learned and articulate than me have written extensively about the subject. But needless to say, it caused me a lot of self-hatred, and a lot of guilt and shame that just festers as the sort of background noise to my life.

So much of my deconstruction journey has been letting go of that and learning to experience life without feeling guilty about everything. I’m allowed to enjoy things just because they’re enjoyable. Pleasure isn’t sinful. Who I am - my queerness, my sexuality, my gender - aren’t sinful. Indulgence isn’t sinful. Experiencing emotions aren’t sinful - they’re perfectly normal and healthy, and the important thing is not to deny them but allow myself to experience them, and make sure my actions and responses to them are measured and appropriate.

Then I come to confession, and I feel all of that guilt and shame and self-hatred creeping back in and undoing all of that work.

I was taught, growing up, that not only are we all born inherently sinful and stained, but also that we all sin every day. And when it came to prayer, and we were encouraged to say sorry to God for the bad things we’d done (you know the teaspoon [TSP] prayer - Thank you, Sorry, and Please). There will always be something to say sorry for, and to think otherwise means you’re proud or conceited, because we’re all imperfect and we all do things wrong.

And I don’t think that’s necessarily untrue. We are all imperfect. Even when we don’t fuck up in some big way that plays on our conscience for ages, we all say or do things that are less than kind. There are always situations where we could have shown a little more grace, or had a little more patience, or shown a little more love. None of us are perfect. We do all make mistakes.

But when it comes to confession, I often can’t think of anything to confess. I can’t think of something I’ve done recently that that I need for absolution over. Rarely do I do things and feel really torn up about it later. And if I do, it’s usually because of anxiety and not because I’ve committed some heinous grievance against my fellow humans.

When people tell me I’ve hurt them, I apologise and I try to do better. And... there is the resolution. When I feel I’ve wronged someone, I apologise and I try to do better. And there is the resolution.

To then bring it up again to God during confession feels like pointlessly drudging back up stuff that has already been sorted, for no reason other than to remind me of all the ways that I’m imperfect.

There’s also the issue of course, the eternal Exvangelical Sturggle, of “is the guilt I feel actually a reasonable amount of guilt to feel due to something I’ve genuinely done wrong, or do I just feel a deep sense of shame because it was effectively instilled in me that I am dirty and bad and I’ve learned to feel awful for many things that I don’t believe are wrong at all, like... experiencing human emotions, or seeking pleasure, or saying ‘no’?”

So in the absence of things I actually feel guilty over, I often confess rather vaguely... Sorry for all the times I wasn’t as patient or gracious as I could have been. Sorry for the times I could have got up and done something, but instead was lazy and just didn’t. Sorry for all the ways I’ve fallen short this week. Sorry for all the petitions I didn’t sign or GoFundMes I didn’t donate to that I could have if I didn’t buy that book or that t-shirt. Sorry for being selfish. Sorry for not getting all my work done this week. Sorry for every time I forgot to read my Bible. Sorry for every instance I could have prayed but didn’t.

And it just feels like it quickly becomes “sorry for not being good enough”. Which is a horrible way to think about yourself.

I’ve done so much work to get myself to see that I am enough. To be kind to myself. To forgive myself. To accept that I am not nor will I ever be perfect. That I cannot be everything and give everything and do everything. That I’m a limited human being, and that’s okay.

And confession just makes me feel like I’m undoing all of that work. And honestly? I just don’t know what to do with that.

I don’t know if this is a common experience for people deconstructing their faith and trying to reconstruct some kind of meaningful practice. I don’t know if I need to “fix” this and find a way to engage with confession. I’d like to think that God is big enough to find a way to reach us all, even with our messiness and complexities and all our baggage.

[artificialqueens]

(Treat Me Nice) Never Let Me Go, 13/15 (Branjie) - Pinkgrapefruit

[ chapter 13. an open heart is an open wound to you ]

Vanessa shakes her head, sighing to herself. “When I was a little girl,” she starts, smiling at the memory, “my mama used to lock me in the attic when I was naughty. I was there often - but it wasn’t bad. I used to pretend I was a princess, trapped in a tower by a wicked queen. And then suddenly this knight, on a white horse with these colours flying, would come charging up and draw their sword. And I would wave. And they would climb up the tower and rescue me.” She looks out across Los Angeles and then to Brooke, whose face is indecipherable. “When I grew up I realised I didn’t need to be rescued, but I still wanted the fairytale.”

[ pretty woman au ]

A/N - God we’re almost at the end. This has been going for over a year and I’m almost scared? It’s going to be weird not having the doc open constantly lmao. Thanks to frey for being my ever wonderful beta and all the branjie stans who still like this!

enjoy! <3

They wake quietly, a sense of unease seeping through the crack under the curtains along with the daylight. Brooke orders breakfast while Vanessa showers (an unspoken agreement), and the shorter woman enters the dining room in an expensive robe to the sight of Brooke - newspaper in hand, coffee in front of her. She’s ordered Vanessa a smoothie bowl and a croissant and Vanessa smiles gratefully at the gesture.

She sips at her water and watches as Brooke methodically turns the pages. She’d woken up with Brooke already gone and she’s not concerned per say, but maybe confused.

“Whatcha been doin’ out here alone?” She asks, eyes softening as Brooke lowers the newspaper. She looks tired.

“Just thinking that this will be our last night together, then you’ll be rid of me,” Brooke admits, almost reluctantly. There’s a melancholy to her words and it soothes Vanessa a little to know that neither are wholly happy about this.

Vanessa smiles, trying to lighten the situation. “Well, you’ve not been the easiest,” she jokes, and it almost brings Brooke to chuckle. They share another smile before they both go silent, eating and drinking.

By the end of the meal Brooke seems to have collected herself, there’s a guard up that Vanessa hasn’t seen since the dinner and she hasn’t missed it. The blonde seems colder, more unfeeling - as if they haven’t exchanged vulnerability and expensive gifts through the week. It’s unsettling.

“Once this is over I’m heading back to Canada,” Brooke tells her, and it’s like a rod is forced up Vanessa’s spine. She sits tall and straight like if she wobbles, she will fall off a tightrope, and if she’s being honest - every breath feels dangerous. There’s a pause and then Brooke follows with, “I’d like to see you again.” And against everything she knows, Vanessa still smiles.

“You would?” She asks like it is too good to be true. Her mama always told her not to trust big businessmen, but Brooke Lynn is a lady. Mama never said nothing about ladies.

“Yes,” Brooke tells her like it’s obvious. And then she switches, because Vanessa still isn’t sure the blonde understands that people can love without money. “I would, so I’ve arranged for you to have an apartment, to have a car, a wide variety of stores guaranteed to suck up to you anytime you want to go shopping.” Vanessa almost grimaces because this is not what she wanted. “Everything is sorted.”

“It is?” Vanessa asks because it’s like Brooke has gone down a tick list and just ticked it all. No consultation, just fixing all her problems like she’s some helpless damsel - which she isn’t. She refuses to be helpless. “What else?” She exhales, palm finding her forehead. “You just gonna leave money on the dresser whenever you pass through town?” Brooke winces like her words hurt, but Vanessa just shrugs it off, because someday she will need to learn these things.

“Vanessa,” Brooke responds, quiet, too quiet. “It wouldn’t be like that.” It’s quiet and earnest, but Vanessa cannot believe it true.

“Yeah? What would it be?”

“Well for one thing it would get you off the streets.” This is the point where Vanessa stands up because this is the point where Brooke has truly hit a nerve. She’s trying to save her when Vanessa does not need saving, and she wants to tell her as much, but she cannot find the right words.

“That’s just geography, Brooke Lynn!” She almost shouts, because she’s angry. She storms out onto the balcony and hopes that Brooke won’t follow her, because she just needs the cold air to bring her back to herself.

To her credit, Brooke manages to wait a few minutes. When she does come out, she stands next to Vanessa, arms braced against the cool concrete balustrades.

“What do you want from me, Ness?” She asks and for a second Vanessa sees the same Brooke who smiled as she watched her eat ice cream at the ballet. “I can give you money, stability, whatever you want.”

Vanessa shakes her head, sighing to herself. “When I was a little girl,” she starts, smiling at the memory, “my mama used to lock me in the attic when I was naughty. I was there often - but it wasn’t bad. I used to pretend I was a princess, trapped in a tower by a wicked queen. And then suddenly this knight, on a white horse with these colours flying, would come charging up and draw their sword. And I would wave. And they would climb up the tower and rescue me.” She looks out across Los Angeles and then to Brooke, whose face is indecipherable. “When I grew up I realised I didn’t need to be rescued, but I still wanted the fairytale.”

She scoffs. “But never, never in those dreams did the knight tell me they’d put me up in a condo and pay my bills.” Brooke gulps, teeth pressing into her bottom lip. She stares at Vanessa. “That ain’t a fairytale. That’s a saviour complex.”

Brooke opens her mouth to respond, but her phone rings and she digs into her pocket to answer it immediately, putting a finger up for Vanessa to just wait a few minutes.

“Ru?” She answers, eyebrows furrowed.

“I just got off the phone with Cain. Get this. She wants to meet with you today.” Brooke shakes her head in an effort to think a little clearer.

“What about?”

“She wouldn’t say. Brooke, I think we got her. She’s on the block.”

“We got her!” Brooke exclaims, laughing in relief.

“Look, if she’s really caving in, I want to get her to commit her stocks to us this afternoon,” Ru tells her, and Brooke sighs, glancing at Vanessa before she makes her next move.

“No, it’s no good,” she relents. “If she’s really caving in, I don’t want to wait ‘till this afternoon. Have Cain meet me downtown this morning. Good bye.” She hangs up with a definitive tap and slips the phone back into the pocket of her slacks. Vanessa looks at her with questions in her eyes, and Brooke just huffs an exhale.

“I have to go now,” she tells her, almost apologetically, “but I want you to understand that I heard everything you said. This is all I’m capable of right now, and it’s a really big step for me.” Her eyes are wide again, and honest too, and they make Vanessa’s insides twist uncomfortably.

“I know,” she sighs, fingers massaging at her temples. A curl of still wet hair falls onto her cheek and she tucks it back behind her ear. “It’s a really good offer for a girl like me.”

“I’ve never treated you like a prostitute,” Brooke tells her.

Vanessa purses her lips and sighs out a long exhale.

“You just did.”

*

Brooke’s been gone little over ten minutes when the phone rings. Vanessa has been darting around the hotel room, drying her hair and slipping on a pair of plaid trousers with a white shirt tucked in. She pinches one of Brooke’s vintage looking watches and slides it onto her wrist.

When the jarring sound of the phone cuts through Janelle Monae’s singing, she pads across the room, picking up the phone with a huff of breath.

“It’s Nina West here, Miss Vanessa,” comes Nina’s tone, warm like honey, and Vanessa relaxes slightly picturing the matronly woman. “Could you come down to the front desk? There’s someone here who wants to speak to you.” She gives a pause clearly meants for Vanessa’s response, but the brunette’s mind is racing through anyone who would want to talk to her at the moment and she misses the cue. “She says her name is ‘Miss Ganache’,” Nina adds, and Vanessa lets out a sigh of relief.

“Could you just let me talk to her, Nins?” She asks, trying to do the vocal equivalent of fluttering her eyelashes. “Pleeeease.” She hears Nina let out a weary exhale and smiles, knowing she’s gotten her way.

There’s the noise of the phone being handed over and then Silky’s voice comes booming through. “Yo, Ness, babe. Would you come down here? The sphincter police won’t let me through.” She tells Vanessa, and the brunette just smacks her palm to her forehead with a sigh, chuckling to herself.

“Sure.”

“Okay, she’s coming down,” Silky says, although it is clearly meant for Nina, and Vanessa slips on a pair of low heels.

When she reaches the front desk, Nina looks exhausted despite it only being a little past nine in the morning. Silky is dressed in a pair of cut off shorts and a white tank top, leaning against the antique looking front desk like she’s not aware she’s horribly out of place. Vanessa feels awful for thinking as much, knowing how she felt less than a week ago, but she’s also dressed like the wife of a respectable lawyer, so she decides nothing less can be expected.

Courtney tells Nina something about a window washer and the woman looks towards Vanessa. “Watch her,” she says, pointing at Silky, and Vanessa laughs, raising a hand in mock salute.

“Nina, yes, Nina,” she jokes and Nina just shakes her head, bemused.

Silky gives her a once over before pulling her into a hug.  “Listen, I’ve been calling you,” Vanessa says while grabbing her hand, guiding her towards a back door that opens into a gorgeous looking garden, where she reckons they can sit and talk a bit easier.

“Yeah, I know, they told me at Trixie’s,” Silky responds while they walk, and Vanessa furrows her brow as if to tell Silky that that answers exactly nothing.

“You were supposed to come by Tuesday. I left money at the desk.”

“I was hiding from Ra’Jah.”

“Well, if you picked up the money, you wouldn’t have to hide, bitch.”

“I was busy. I got a life.” They fall onto a bench surrounded by lilacs. It faces a fountain and the water twinkles in the morning sun. “Marco got beat up. We had to visit him in the hospital, Morgan got arrested. It was a mess. Anyway, I got the money. Thank you very much for saving my ass. Now Ra’Jah can get off of it.” Vanessa has to laugh at her friend’s blunt way of putting things.

“Shit for Marco,” Vanessa states lamely. She doesn’t really know him that well. Just a pot dealer by Trixie’s.

“You know, he was talkin’ about you last night,” Silky tells her, and Vanessa slumps in her seat jokingly. She rolls her eyes. “He would bust somethin’ if he saw you in this outfit.”

“Yeah?” She asks, eyes widening at the statement.

“I was afraid to hug you up there. I might wrinkle you! But yeah, you clean up real nice.”

“Well, thank you, big Silks.”

“You sure don’t fit in down on the Boulevard lookin’ like you do, not that you ever did.” Just because Vanessa knows this is true, it doesn’t make it hurt any less.

“Well, thanks, but it’s easy to clean up when you got money.”

“Yeah,” Silky sighs, looking down at her own clothes. They make quite a pair, sat in an expensive hotel’s garden together. Vanessa is starting to realise she will never fit in on Olympic anymore.

They sit in a pleasant silence for a few minutes, just watching as butterflies flutter around the plants.

“You’re in love with her, aren’t you?” Silky asks, but it’s less of a question and more a statement of fact.

“Silky!” Vanessa exclaims, because it is the least explanatory answer she can give.

“You’ve fallen in love with her,” Silky sing-songs again, and Vanessa shoves her playfully.

“Silk, Please.”

“Did you kiss her? On the mouth?”

“Uh, yeah, I did,” Vanessa retorts like she’s proud of it (which she is) and like she would do it again (she would).

“You kissed her on the mouth?” Silky asks in indignation.

“I did,” Vanessa replies again, a blush travelling across her cheeks. “It was nice.”

“You’re in love and you kissed her on the mouth. Does my teaching mean nothing to you?” Vanessa rolls her eyes and gives Silky another push.          

“Look, I’m not fucking dumb okay. I’m–  I’m not in love with her. I just like her,” she tries to explain it, but she just sounds like a confused and whiny teen. Silky looks at her disparagingly.

“You like her?”

“Yeah.”

“You definitely like her?” Vanessa knows the chip Silky has on her shoulder about people like Brooke and she gets it. The more human Brooke shows her, the more Brooke seems completely incapable of separating money from love, but Vanessa still likes her.

“Well,, she’s not a bum. She’s rich, and classy.” Silky raises an eyebrow, and Vanessa sighs. “Who’s gonna break my heart. Right.”

Silky winces at having crushed Vanessa’s spirit. “I mean, it could work. It happens,” she tries to add, but Vanessa just raises a single eyebrow.

“When? When does it happen, Silky?” Silky squints trying to think, and Vanessa cuts in again. “Did it work out for Skinny Marie or Rachel? No.”

Silky makes a face like she’s about to laugh. “Well,” she draws out, “those were some very specific cases of crackheads and one very drunk police officer.” They laugh together for a few seconds and then it peters out.

“I just wanna know my chances, who it works out for,” she tells her, quieter now.

“Trixie and Kat–”

“Doesn’t count. Give me a name.”

“Oh, god, the pressure of a name.”

“Cinder-fuckin-ella.”

They burst into peals of laughter again, Vanessa’s head eventually lands on Silky’s shoulder. Silky shrugs it just to bounce Vanessa’s head and gets an elbow in her ribs.

“When does she leave?” Silky asks, voice low to match the mood of the question, and Vanessa appreciates it.

“Tomorrow.”

Silky rubs soft circles into Vanessa’s arm and just lets the woman sit in her sadness. She reckons she needs it.

[roxannepolice]

Rocky path of a heroine in a galaxy far far away

Do you have those moments when you have some sort of sensation that you can’t really put your finger on and it keeps nagging at you with its unconceptuability until one day you discover a word that expresses exactly what you’ve been feeling? Like finally finding out the wonder of the word Weltschmerz which suddenly makes your world so much more understandable?

Well, today I had this experience regarding the sequel trilogy when I read this I won’t exactly say great but being definitely a good introduction to the heroine’s journey article and in it saw the word aridity. Oh, yes, isn’t that the word which suits best what it feels like to imagine epix consisting of Rey the maiden of light vanquishing evil Renperor with some straightforward bigger scale pewpewpew in the background. Arid. Infertile. Unproductive. Bringing nothing new into the overall saga. Actually sounding as if it was here only to let the creators shake off the Skywalkers once and for all. Waste of a good heroine.

And aridity is exactly the word used in the article to descibe what for so many is the only obvious way for epix to go. In it are presented following stages of a heroine’s journey, as based on Maureen Murdock’s Woman’s Quest for Wholeness (they are all better descibed in the article, here I give only the desciptions I find most important to the argument):

HEROINE SEPARATES FROM THE FEMININE

IDENTIFICATION WITH THE MASCULINE AND GATHERING OF ALLIES 

ROAD OR TRIALS AND MEETING OGRES AND DRAGONS

EXPERIENCING THE BOON OF SUCCESS by overcoming the obstacles.  This would typically be where the hero’s or “shero’s” (a female protagonist on a hero’s journey) tale ends

HEROINE AWAKENS TO FEELINGS OF SPIRITUAL ARIDITY / DEATH because the new way of life is too limited.  Success in this new way of life is either temporary, illusory, shallow, or requires a betrayal of self over time 

INITIATION AND DESCENT TO THE GODDESS.  The heroine faces a crisis of some sort in which the new way is insufficient and falls into despair.  All of her “masculine” strategies have failed her

HEROINE URGENTLY YEARNS TO RECONNECT WITH THE FEMININE

HEROINE HEALS THE MOTHER/ DAUGHTER SPLIT  

HEROINE HEALS THE WOUNDED MASCULINE WITHIN

HEROINE INTEGRATES THE MASCULINE AND FEMININE to face the world or future with a new understanding of herself and the world/life. Heroine sees through binaries and can interact with a complex world that includes her but is larger than her personal  lifetime or geographical/cultural milie

So, this peaked my interest, considering how only yesterday I was venting out about how I feel there’s something wrong about this trilogy’s doubtlessness, how it doesn’t fit in with the overall symphony. But the prequels were a tragedy, plain and simple, whereas the originals were a hero’s journey. I won’t put here all of Campbell’s hero’s journey stages but basically the hero has more doubts at the beginning (clue in Luke’s I’ll try and You ask the impossibe), then has an apex (facing Palpatine and leading to Anakin’s salvation), followed by overconfidence, “refusal to give up his divinity” (basically creeping up on your nephew at night, reading his mind and igniting a lightsaber because you’re Luke Skywalker) and only recovering peace and purpose when that has been defeated (with an outside help, no less). Tu juxtapose, a heroine has a moment of overconfidence coinciding with what would have been an apex in a hero’s journey, followed by realisation of aridity of her hitherto path and a crisis, leading to healing and reintegration.

What I think is the general belief of the audience - definitely ant*s, but I think also the vast majority who aren’t really against “anything” but just can’t see how “that” could be and a good deal of reylos who read Rey as patiently waiting for her prince to disenchant himself - but more importantly, of Rey herself, is that she has reached her apex, her inner journey is finished, she is now the goddess she was meant to be, saviour of the Resistance and the last Jedi.

And that would be true. If hers was a (s)hero’s journey.

Having the Beast on a leash

There are many great edits paralleling Ben at the end of TLJ with Beast after letting Belle leave the castle, which appears to be point 4 of heroine’s journey. While the separation is important here, the above notion that this stage parallels hero’s apex had me reconsider what is the must, the essence of what happens here. It may sound weird, but I think this is the point where the Beauty “defeats” the Beast, the moment where the power imbalance shifts, where he does what she asks - or is on his knees before her. I think this “defeating” element is the best visible in one of the simplest renditions of BatB, legend of st. Martha and dragon Tarasque that I have a personal sentiment for because I used to resent my first name until I saw a picture of my namesake with a freaking dragon on a leash. There it is heavily underlined that she manages to tame, place in her - or, at least, God’s through her, it is a christian legend - power the beast most valiant heroes couldn’t defeat.

Now, Rey has in fact been in position of power over Kylo Ben twice already in the story - first on Star Killer Base and the second time when she woke up first in the Throne Room - and on both occasions didn’t use that power to finish him. Which is exactly what heroes do in this story but I’ll elaborate on that below. But what is worth noting is that the resident Beast has - or at least hopefully has - a subjective power shift when on his knees on Crait. Whatever he splurted out minutes ago, he now realises he won’t be able to do. Even if he doesn’t understand, he remotely feels his disempowerment.

Journeys  and trope subvertion or why serious reylo duel is actually possible

The fact that the crisis in the heroine’s journey comes after her heroic apex is conceptual expression of the shivers I get whenever I hear Kylo Ben say when the time comes, Rey’ll be the one to turn. Now, it’s tempting to assume he was overconfident and Rey overcame every obstacle but that’s turning a blind eye to the fact that heroine’s crisis is yet to come. As stated, Rey herself thinks she overcame every obstacle but how naive this assessment of facts was is probably best expressed in the smut hut, when she - beautiful as it was - tells Ben it’s not too late for him to turn. Just like Han, she underestimates years of manipulation he’s been through. She’s just been through what should be a sort of nadir for her so if she can go on, he’ll have no problem returning to the light, right? Note, this is something she just believes in, she says that before the force vision.

But again, did she have a nadir? Did she have a moment which challenged all of her previous beliefs the way Luke fidning out Vader is his father did? It’s extremely important Luke finds out in ESB something new whereas Rey is faced with a truth she has been denying. We don’t know how Luke dealt with his vision in the tree on Dagobah, but we know how he reacted to its realisation in action.

Of course, regardless of how hysterical this was, he still did the right thing and epically refused. But he’s shown to accept the fact that Vader is his father and it affects all of his future actions leading to his heroic climax I only later realised how this sounds but I won’t change it.

So, the cave scene. There are quite a few interpretations of what exactly this scene meant. Some intrerpret it as Rey finding out the dark side will give her no answers - which makes little sense as an element of her journey as juxtaposed with Luke on Dagobah. If, however, the cave did give her some answers, either telling her to stop giving f*cks about her parents, making a symbolical expression of their nobodiness or hinting at her future - again, she denies them. When Kylo Ben has her finally face the truth, she seems to take it pretty well - which is good but isn’t good in a heroine’s journey. A journey isn’t from point A to point A, there has to be a percepetion change, the new unerstanding of world/life/self. I bring back the heroine faces a crisis of some sort in which the new (post-apex) way is insufficient and falls into despair.  All of her “masculine” strategies have failed her.

Now, I would prefer to detach Rey’s journey from masculine-feminine categories, mainly because it frustrates me that a woman’s journey should be considered in terms of relative gender ideas rather than more absolute ones. Call it a yin and yang and it definitely has a lot to do with light and dark side. Now, as far Rey’s separation from whatever is concerned, I’m a bit uncertain what to think. Can it be said that TFA and TLJ are about Rey separating herself from her scavenger personality and embracing the jedi knight/resistance saviour one? Which would mean that she’ll later have to reembrace while reinterpreting her tendency to “salvage broken renperors things”? Still, this interpretation is hardly expressed in the movies. Overall, it does make sense, as in TLJ her outward motivation is that of the newly taken title of resident force sensitive on a quest to get Luke Skywalker to save the galaxy the way Reistance knows it’s to be saved. 

Heroines tend to be more dissonant than heroes, though I’d argue it’s mainly due to the fact that their stories tend to be more introspective, character driven, allowing more nuance in their attitudes than the latter, more action oriented (and when I say tend to, I mean tend to, not that it’s a rule). It’s not an inherent trope in heroine’s journey or female literature, though it is bound to the fact that a hero will have his doubts expressed and refuted in the earlier parts of his story. A heroine can feel one way but to the outer world and more importanty, her own consciousness, she’ll frame her motivations in a way more acceptable in the 2-4 stages of her path. So, Christine Daae isn’t fascinated by the mysterious man with a disturbingly sexy voice, she’s taking music lessons. Belle is in Beast’s castle so that her father can be free. Rey only hopes that Ben can be turned because that’s how Luke saved Darth Vader and the galaxy (notice - she aspires to acting like the resident hero, and Luke in the novel and comic repeatedly expresses his fear of how much Rey - a heroine - wants to be him - a hero not that he’s thinking in those latter terms, they’re just deeper implications of structures). Needless to say, Christine wouldn’t be enthusiastic about music lessons with anyone else, Belle starts enjoying her “captivity” without noticing when and Rey has very personal interests in Ben’s brightly illuminated pecs future. 

The crucial mistake that’s so easy to commit while analysing a heroine’s journey is to assume she has all figured out by the stage 4. Again, she would have - if she was a hero. A hero let go from his captor’s castle has triumphed, he has nothing to look back to. A heroine will realise - though doesn’t really realise in the moment she’s leaving, usually due to the fact that she has more urgent matters like a sick father or trapped resistance to attend to - that she’s left her heart there. Matters become even more complicated if she appears to have overcome her ultimate trial before leaving that castle. But again - was that an ultimate trial for her? Was it an actual dilemma in which both choices are equally bad or equally good? No, it was a choice between selfishness and altruism, which is a no brainer for a selfless person, regardless of innocent manipulation used. This can suffice as an auspicious switch for a hitherto morally inferior character, but not the morally superior journeying hero/ine. For the latter, real challenge is a choice between altruism and altruism, marry me and then I’ll save your friends, kill your father and become the hero fanbase half thinks Luke is, slay one person to save thousands. Again, Rey has already faced this last dilemma twice - but never time with immediate pressure of highest stakes. But in the end, it appears the only thing that was challenged in TLJ, prior to the apex of her hero’s path, was her hope for Kylo Ben. Her apparent nadir followed by a climb up is her facing the results of her naive hope in the Throne Room and learning to never do that again, overcoming the flaw of overgenerosity.

Yet if a heroine is to progress, she has to stop being a hero. And Rey's symbolic nadir was the cave, only the actual crisis and climb are yet to come. And Rey hasn't been overgenerous towards Ben, her going to him wasn't out of selfless generosity alone.

So, the three matters to adress while thinking about Rey’s journey in epix are

will her crisis come?

how stubborn will she be about her “new path”?

will heroine’s journey be subverted?

As far as point 1 is concerned - well, if they are doing a heroine’s journey then yes, she’ll have some crisis of her beliefs. Lack thereof is basically the “aridness” viewers feel thinking of lack of some tension within the resistance. The question is, how deep will it be. It could simply be a sort of Amidalaesque “what if the republic has become the very evil we promised to fight?”. The problem is, Rey is quite capable of denial. She’s patient, she can clench her teeth and continue doing what’s right, which is a great quality, most of the time. But when a crisis does come, it will be one of lifelong proportions. The point is, she had no time to properly face her axis mundi having been overthrown and I’m not really sure she wants to face it. And in the end, I don’t think the audience wants her to face it. And yet face it she must for real progress to come.

How does a reylo duel fit into this whole rambling? Well, basically it’s the result of wondering how strong a factor will it take for Rey’s crisis of beliefs to come. Would a person who waited for 15 years for people she knew to have sold her avidly oppose the galactic heroes apparent because of their basic aridity? Or would it take a deeper denial of self over time? Again, I’m considering an actual dilemma situation, right choice vs. right choice, high stakes and immediate action. So... yeah. If right circumstances appear at the right point in Rey’s journey a serious reylo duel, at least on Rey’s part, is a very serious possibility.

Now, it should be argued that dragon slaying is a hero’s job and Rey’s a heroine. But there are two “buts”: first of all, if the duel should happen before the crisis, trigger it actually, then Rey would still be in her “hero stage”. Secondly, and that’s probably the most interesting part, the path has to be subverted. Don’t forget, this IS what happened with Luke, the resident journeying hero of originals. As so many viewers refuse to understand but has been true since the 80s, Luke’s heroic climax lies in throwing  away the lightsaber, in refusing to slay the dragon or even dragon’s evil wizard overlord, against common sense, mentors’ advice and contrary to what he’s been doing for two episodes, one might add. If the hero’s journey is made peaceful, it appears symmetrical for the heroine’s to become aggressive, or at least have an aggressive moment. Because obviously, Luke’s peaceful action still led to hero’s finale where the dragon killed the overlord and then himself burned to release the hero’s boon princess daddy. In the same manner, heroine’s eventual healing and integrating could come despite - or even because of - an aggressive action.

What can poor Beast do ‘xcept to sing for rock’n’roll band?

There’s yet another point to be considered while discussing a heroine’s journey in the form of BatB theme - the Beast’s seperate progress. Now, the question of what will renperor be like is one of the most frequent in the fandom and I dare say JJ will manage to surprise most of us anyway. Personally, I sorta stan a not so bad renperor but  that’s more of Henry Fonda in 12 angry men attitude: everyone is sure he’s guilty but I’m not so I’ll say he’s not guilty and wait to be persuaded. 

However, there is an argument to be made against a really evil renperor based on BatB theme and heroine’s journey - the fact that her post-hero’s apex progress has to involve rejection of her chosen path’s aridity. On a psychological level it takes more complex forms, but in a space opera it’s likelier to be outward. I’m not exactly saying that it’s even most remotely probable that Rey would defect to FO though if that happens I will open a fortune telling business but her eventual life with Ben cannot be as or even more arid than as... ugh... next republic’s (talk about infertility?) jedi hero, vide in prison or exile. Nope, there’s healing and reintegration for her in store, not keeping her two paths separated.

I guess we all agree that if there’s happily ever after but for reylo, it will be because renperor will screw up, not because resistance will be mean. The most basic story would have Ben be depressed and locked up in his tower, but the simultaneously good and bad news is, it’s not an unalterable must. The Beast can f*ck up the story - to his own and Beauty’s detriment and there’s little the latter can do about it. Vide: Phantom of the Opera, focusing on the book. I’m not bringing this up to conjure any what ifs or legitimize and delegitimize ships, but to analyse a BatB version written to end in tragedy. The point is, Erik does in no way alter his behaviour because of Christine after the first time he lets her go. He continues to strangle opera employees and dropping chandeliers when they’re apart - I’m absolutely sure evil renperor would be force dropping chandeliers - and in the end becomes a completely arid option for Christine, even if she does feel compassion for him and has her sexual awakening because of him. It makes an unsatisfying story and leaves Christine an unfulfilled heroine, yet that’s because her “hero” path was still less arid than the continuation of heroine’s, and only on a meta level because of fin de siecle morals. 

Now, the good news is that the above negative example shows passivity isn’t Beast’s obligatory narrative choice, where there’s down, there’s up. I’m far from some sort of dream galaxy saviour visions, but tbh I haven’t been bi*ching for three paragraphs about narrative logic saying epix is to bring moral challenges to pronounce that no morals will be challenged.

Morality that isn't challenged isn't a living messy inner process, only an externalized frozen set of rules called ethics - which can be auxillary in solving uncertain difficult moral dilemmas, but cannot substitute morality. Some change in the Star Wars morals is due and considering the frozen ethics is good rebels-evil empires-one redeemable character, some element has to go, qualitatively change or be added, considering the frozen ethics prequels gave originals was only good republic-evil empire.

So, end of the day, what is to be pronounced that will happen in epix? As always, it’s all speculation that’s a fun way to employ creative powers. TBH, I really think that JJ will surprise almost everyone.