#and because there's many layers to his odd relationship with sexuality. Or even just the aesthetic appreciation of the body

[yeleltaan]

“Flesh.”

Down to her haunches, poised as a beartrap, the assassin slips a portion of dried meat past her lips, and chews thoughtfully before speaking again.

“Hunger, you possess. I know this for certain; you hunt for knowledge to feed upon, after all. You collect facts. You devour stories. But, and you’ll forgive the directness, I don’t believe I’ve ever seen your appetite sway towards flesh. You don’t stare at naked shoulder blades, your throat doesn’t parch at a bared thigh… I don't recall ever hearing you comment on the beauty of all that is bodily, as a matter of fact. I’m curious: is it just because the human form is unappealing to you, blood of dragons? Or the act itself simply not on the list of your desires? I do not judge.”

She angles her wrist in his direction.

“Dried meat?”

Before all else she utters the word, and as is the case every time Heysel presents him with another topic, Cayin puts his reflections aside to focus on what she may share. She imbues his interest in learning, something he would have deemed wholly unremarkable, with a lyricism that feeds the pride- but even with this in mind the mention of appetite, hunger and flesh briefly mislead him into a literal interpretation, one that would have swiftly led to confusion if she didn’t chose to elaborate. She does, and as the true meaning of her inquiry sets in, his gaze begins to lower following an invisible path to the grass at his side. Verdant strands are caught between his fingers as the latter squeeze and slide along their rising shape. An inhale signals for his response, but all air in his lungs fails to find the words to carry it in time, and so he only breathes out again, deep in the thought.

Think before you speak, one of those small wisdoms he tries to incorporate into his habits. But for some reason this time the deafening silence of his indecision rings his ears with a strange discomfort. His hands move to settle on his robe again, grasping and folding handfuls of it while his arms remain crossed loosely over his lap. Quiet breeds expectation, and today it is unwelcome, which is why he opts to begin prematurely, like one walks into the blinding mist hoping each step will reveal enough to take the next.

“…It’s not. I don’t dislike it.” It appeared strange to him once, but then so did the trees, the rivers and rocks and castles, sands, fields, clouds and even lights, nearly every piece of the world you could fathom, for it was new, and so were the eyes that looked upon them. In time it all fit into place more comfortably, including the physique of man and its many derivatives.  Some such sights he’s revisited through his memories, others he’s built solely from the foundation of an artist’s depiction. Harmonic, grotesque, balanced in its small asymmetries, each piece presumably there for a purpose. Worth picturing again sometime, maybe.

But that’s not what he feels when he sees them up close. Because in the truth of the moment, the first thing he catches is an absence of fur, or at least any dense enough to impede the path of his teeth where it matters. Then, an absence of scales- instead the thin, easily pierced skin that wraps around fat, muscle and cartilage. Shapes alluding to the bones within, connected by tendons, guarding only some of their organs. Everywhere, at every turn, his eyes look first to survival.

The same observations must come naturally to her, a master of her craft. Surely she knows these connections intimately by now, how to undo them without waste, how to bring about the collapse of the whole human structure, at times without even the need to sever. Somehow, it doesn’t seem to him like that’s stopped her from retaining a different paradigm of appreciation for it. Not that he’s ever witnessed the signs of it on her face.

 “It’s just… there’s much else to stare at. Much to look out for.” Things he truly needs for himself, and those he needs to keep away. Those that may make a difference when he’s in need of taking something else. “…I don’t know.”

When she offers the meal right in front of him, it all seems so much more obvious. Two clawed fingertips hook through the given meat, and without a second thought he bites a chunk from it. His jaw munches on its own, and it tastes good. And it is a pleasure that seems so much easier to make happen, than to find someone pleasing and willing to sate you in a safe place. A simple delight that comes in the form of a need that sustains him so vitally, of course he would be hungry for this.

And still, throughout all that chewing his head lingers in more of those stories he’s read. Upon swallowing, his eyes lift to hers to give another inquiry in return, as is their custom.

“…Would you say it’s something worth hungering for?”

[lady-griffin]

It’s honestly amazing to me how the Try Guys story remains ongoing. Sure, it’s still new and all, but it just feels like there shouldn’t be THAT MUCH MORE to it.

Yet, it keeps gaining layers.

For instance, consider the tone-deaf SNL skit. Where they make fun of the three men who removed their co-owner for having a long-term affair with one of their employees; as though that’s not a serious workplace violation, misconduct of behavior, and abuse of power that opens their company to several different lawsuits. 

It’s amazing how many people don’t seem to understand that it’s bad for a company to have someone onboard who puts the business in that kind of danger. Ned’s actions also put their company under some heavy financial strain and negative public scrutiny – which again, bad for business.

The skit treats the remaining Try Guys, like they’re overreacting and even insinuates that this affair was just a one-time kiss, thus downplaying the whole "boss having a long-term affair with an employee” thing. 

How dare these three men hold their former friend and co-owner accountable and protect their company from his actions. This skit turns them into petty, greedy drama whores, who are only upset because he didn’t tell them first about the totally innocent “kiss.”

As well as the weird tone - that because they do silly and stupid things for people’s entertainment that means that they can’t be taken seriously nor are they running a real business. Which weird take for SNL to have, like that’s an especially weird for them to have. 

Or at least that’s one of the vibes I got from it. 

Basically, the skit doesn’t make fun of the man who made so much money selling how perfect his marriage was and also apparently stupid enough (despite going to Yale) to go out in public and cheat on his wife with an employee. 

Which is odd, considering the many ways SNL could’ve gone about this scandal; even NBC’s twitter got in on the joke of “I lost focus and had a consensual workplace relationship.”

Now is the skit all that shocking? No. Especially considering some of SNL’s other skits and especially their own problems at the workplace with things of this nature.

However, it gets so much juicer and arguably even more telling, because apparently one or two of Ned’s friends from Yale are writers on the SNL staff.

Like what?

And this also brings back to light a lot of the sexual misconduct and assault SNL has enabled and it’s just…

In a twisted way, I’m curious to what the next layer will be.

How will this story mutate next?

[hextechmaturgy]

Do you have any headcanons for how Grief and Andrey's relationship is like? What do you think Andrey has done for the town's criminals? (i saw your tags on the voice lines reblog)

OH FRIEND...... YOU HONOR ME WITH THIS ASK YOU DO..... i got so excited to answer. i'm actually writing an angrief fic atm spanning from when they meet to when the game ends, but because i'm a very very very slow writer it's not coming out anytime soon. if you're interested tho wink i'd be happy to send u a very short sneak peak in dms wink

regarding headcanons tho, i'll try to be concise but honestly i have many unorganized thoughts and feelings about those two. should also be said that i have a timeline in my head for pre-game events that probably doesn't match canon at all, but it makes sense TO ME and time in pathologic is more of a suggestion anyway sooo hihi let's go

andrey is a bit older than grief; they meet at age 19/20. artemy is leaving and grief's losing his friends, his family. he's turning to gangs for company, which only further alienates him from lara and stakh. andrey is making friends for once, a rare thing after years on the run. his head's full of ideas, ideas that someone actually wants to hear, it's exhilarating. they meet at a plot of land where a staircase will stand one day, both immediately clocking Each Other™️, but the knowing looks go beyond a tick in their gaydar. andrey is a free man and grief wants to be free, desperately so, but he's also afraid. what will it cost him? grief fears the unknown, the steppe curses that keep him up at night, the scorn of his friends and the abandonment, the unknown. it's hard to be authentic, isn't it? andrey sees this struggle, understands the want to fight, the want for freedom. andrey tells him it's okay to want

that first meeting emboldens grief, sustains him when his family breaks for good. they don't see each other for months, and a lot changes for the two of them, but they still remember and all too well. andrey asked to see him again, grief is reluctant. just meeting the man was already impactful enough, he's relived it so often, lost in dreams. but he feels bold, andrey makes him bold. he finds andrey bleeding at his own bar. he needs stitches somewhere he can't reach, won't you help me out, sweet filin? he does. his hand trembles, his stitches are terrible. odd thing, piercing skin, sinking into another man's flesh. hope this doesn't awake anything in him!!!

(spoiler: it absolutely does)

it's probably not a huge surprise at this point if i state i write grief with internalized homophobia in mind, and a considerable amount of religious trauma too. the man he wants to be brings him to shame, and that reflex goes beyond sexuality yes but it's also about that. andrey is uncharacteristically patient. he'll push and prod, poke at the hidden layers behind those freckles he's memorized for some reason, but never goes beyond grief's limits. freedom shouldn't be scary. grief will evolve, he will grow, and andrey will look at him with pride in his eyes and something that is definitely not love (andrey only knows violence. what does he do with love?)

grief is becoming a proper criminal now, respected even if he won't cut, perhaps respected because he gets the job done without cutting. he becomes a seller of all things illegal, and andrey is always in the market for something dangerous. he wants a weapon that will allow him to get up close and personal, and he gets something personal alright. grief gives him a knuckle-duster, a gift. places it around his fingers to see how it fits, awfully gentle. it's not a ring, it's not a promise, they're not that ridiculous

(spoiler: they absolutely are)

the first outbreak is scary. peter suffers immensely from it and when peter suffers, andrey agonizes, but peter is fine...... grief wonders if the pest is divine punishment, if he's to blame for it somehow, but surely not....... they're both restless and healthy, alive, and they're sort of neighbors (oh my god they were neighbors). it's easier to call their INVOLVEMENT stress relief. neither is prepared for the truth really

friends who bang! andrey's got plenty of those and this one isn't any different, okay? barkeeps hear all sorts of juicy gossip, and if he happens to perk up at news on grief and his gang, it's only because andrey is a dangerous man too, and he's wise to look out for the goings on of the underworld. i'm actually still unsure what the line 'wasn't long ago he was on his knees, begging before me' is all about, but i'm convinced it's not horny, at least not 100%. they spend a lot of time on their knees before one another, almost anything andrey says sounds like a threat or a preposition. andrey is held responsible for the death of at least one man (rip farkhad) so he's probably feared in the town. his lifestyle alone shocks plenty of people. grief holds his men back with a "no stabbing, no shooting, no killing" leash, but we know they're able, we know some are willing. perhaps grief needed andrey to intimidate a gang member he was having trouble with, truly desperate, out of other solutions. i'm begging you for help, on my knees if i have to. those men are terrified of you, and frankly so am i (but not in the same way, oh never, somehow i know you would never kill me). it would explain why andrey brings it up to artemy during the second outbreak. grief's men will start misbehaving soon - i wonder if he will come crawling to beg again

i think they're amicable for the most part, their personalities bounce of one another. they're insistent on the just friends thing mostly out of habit. i know you will come if i need you, and we have plenty of fun together already. that's enough, no? what else could a bastard need

second outbreak is a mess and we all know just how much. apple basket reunion is awkward because hey grief why did the guy at the bar tell me about you being on your- how about we don't talk for a while? oh also, this is a small thing, but shout out to the day you find grief and peter at aspity's house. i laughed so much imagining that conversation, or the very OBVIOUS lack of one. peter isn't even really there, dozing off lost in his thoughts, and grief is nearby sweating bullets. be cool grief, be cool - wait why are you even trying to impress peter?

when the polyhedron dies - because she is alive, and she is dying - andrey is lost to senseless violence. he doesn't believe artemy's confession because that would mean killing grief's childhood friend. it's easier to be angry at thirty faceless men. we also know that grief is... NOT WELL, after the whole thing with aglaya. grief is sitting at a staircase (THE staircase that once wasn't here) and he stays there until it's dark, until it's light again. andrey finds him, drunk out of his goddamn mind, probably guided there by all the twyrine in his system. it's unsettling to not see her when he reaches the top, it's unsettling to not see grief as well. what can two broken men do but weep? they whisper to each other. come with me, let's kill them all. it's not worth it, nothing is anymore. i'll go without you. you'll die. do you care?

there's stuff i missed, stuff that probably doesn't make sense, i'm writing this at 6 am in a frenzy of angrief feelings because i love them. i love this ask, i had to reply or i wouldn't sleep. what happens after the game is a wonder to me as well. i've said before somewhere that p1 grief is who p2 grief could become after the diurnal ending. andrey is also going to struggle with his place in the world, mourning the loss of a perfect tower that can never be reproduced, of brilliance and hard work, probably mourning the loss of his brother too, not to the pest but to love. peter has grace now and i think that will be jarring, not being the only family peter has. the twins have only ever had each other, is andrey falling behind? how will he catch up? can he? twins are perfect opposites, he says: it's only natural that when peter starts to improve, andrey begins to degenerate

but i like to be hopeful, because i like these characters a lot (i know u would never be able to tell xoxo). two negatives make a positive, so maybe andrey and grief can be miserable together, and maybe then they'll realize that love is fit for bastards too

[positivelybeastly]

"There was a momentary wobble of a finger, a halting breath - before the scalpel moved, the gleaming stainless steel tip pressing to warm, unmoving flesh, unzipping the thin layer of - in front of the - that covered the, sternum, that . . .

Blood.

A clatter, a turn of a stomach. And then warm, pale fingers on the back of his neck, and Henry went stiff, feeling the familiar touch of his - mentor's hand on the so very human looking flesh of his neck."

[At the risk of tossing in the entire post, I will just include this portion. Amazing. Spectacular. Incredible.]

You do me entirely too much credit, friend. 🩵

So, this was something I've been wanting to write for a while now - the creation of Dark Beast, so many years ago in the Age of Apocalypse - and it's mostly because we have no idea what his early life was actually like. We can guess a bit, based on what we know about 616 Hank and how his early life went, but the Age of Apocalypse is a goddamn nuclear mutant supremacist nightmare, so we have to assume things went very differently.

When you start to fill in the holes in a character's history, you generally - or, well, I do, anyway - look at what you know about that character and then extrapolate backwards, and something that's always struck me about Dark Beast is his relationship with fear.

He clearly loves to instil it in others, clearly revels in being a figure of horror and power, but this isn't something you really see in Hank, he does exactly the opposite, he minimises, he clowns, he dresses and accessorises to make himself seem less threatening.

In Hank's case, that's a reaction to people seeing him as a threat, despite what he has to offer. Even when he looks human, he's afraid of being recognised as a mutant, and kinda rightly so - the instant he displays his talents, someone tries to take advantage of him, his parents get a little freaked out, and his life crumbles. But that's in a society that values normalcy, that values the human baseline.

So what does that look like in a society that values the 'abnormal,' that values mutant power? Suddenly, Dark Beast is, at least to start with, weak. He's fleshy, he's human looking, he just has big hands and feet, he's barely a mutant in the visual sense - and the only valuable thing about him is his brain, which is where Sinister comes in.

In the comics, they have an odd relationship - not quite peers, not quite enemies, not quite rivals, something all mixed up and strange, and I've always interpreted it as vaguely parental, or, at least, as parental as it gets with someone like Sinister. But he's also clearly afraid of Sinister. The entire reason he swapped places with Hank in the 90s was because he wanted to hide in plain sight, from a "very powerful man."

So, we can assume a mentor-student relationship that was - not kind. We also know that Dark Beast doesn't really know his family, since he doesn't recognise his grandmother's name in the issue where he nearly kills Hank's parents, so we have to assume he was taken young. Now, this upbringing can't have been fun by any measure, but Sinister isn't the type to just start beating and abusing a kid with obvious incredible mental gifts, so he has to be - gentle. By his standards, anyway.

Which means . . . well, there's no real way around it, grooming. I don't think in a sexual manner, but to try and mould a young Dark Beast into a worthy pupil, absolutely. Look, all the books you could want to read, a safe place in this hellish environment, freedom to do as you wish - by comparison, he has it good. And even if I doubt there was any real warmth there, it's easy to imagine Dark Beast feels indebted. A degree of attachment to the only caretaker he's ever really known. A need to impress, which is something that 616 Hank feels very often as well, a need for validation, which is so easily manipulated.

So, you have all of this incredible mental pressure being applied to this young kid, and he's trying so hard to perform.

"There was a momentary wobble of a finger, a halting breath - before the scalpel moved, the gleaming stainless steel tip pressing to warm, unmoving flesh"

In this little opening, you don't get Henry's name in narration, it's just his actions. He wobbles, he breathes heavy, the scalpel moves as if on its own, and it's partly because he's trying to remove himself from this equation, trying to separate his consciousness from what he's actually doing, but it's also because Sinister is sucking the air out of the room and exerting his control over his protege. There is no autonomy here, there is no Sinister and his student, it's just Sinister and the extension of his will. There's just fear, and tension, and disappointment, and a child being forced to hurt someone because it's what his caretaker expects of him.

"unzipping the thin layer of - in front of the - that covered the, sternum, that . . ."

This is Henry trying desperately to keep this clinical, but I think that there's still too much warmth in him to keep that straight, so he keeps fumbling, like a kid being put on the spot in a classroom and trying to find the right page in the book that'll get him out of trouble. He can't detach himself, it's still his fingers hurting someone.

There's a reason you do so much training to be a surgeon, you have to learn so much about adopting the proper mental state and schooling your emotions, but with Sinister? No. You do it when I tell you to do it, and if you feel anything about it, then that's your personal failing. That's the weak, human part of you that our society despises.

"Blood. A clatter, a turn of a stomach.""

It's one thing to start cutting, it's another to see someone bleeding. We don't even know how much there was, how much Henry's actually cut, but it's enough that it's all he can focus on, that little bloom around the scalpel tip means that this is real. This isn't a medical textbook, this isn't a cadaver, this is someone who is still alive and that is -

He can't stand it.

I also like creating a mental soundscape and letting the reader's brain fill in the blanks - it's fine but a tad boring to just write that he dropped the scalpel and he feels sick. But if there's a clatter, you, the reader, know exactly what happened, except now you've heard the sound in your head, you've put yourself just a little bit in Henry's shoes, even if you're only hearing what he's hearing. Especially in introspective pieces like this, it's really important to try and foster a connection between the reader and the character.

"And then warm, pale fingers on the back of his neck, and Henry went stiff, feeling the familiar touch of his - mentor's hand on the so very human looking flesh of his neck."

Something I love to play around with is very exacting use of bold and italics. I find it creates a good sense of cadence and rhythm, and denotes an easy signifier of something being important and worth dwelling on - it draws the eye, so you focus on it. You ask, why that word, and especially depending on what you surround it with, it can denote such passion and warmth, or cold, lip curled disgust.

This is probably the most basic literary technique ever, but it's still important because you want to start layering in your themes as early as possible, and while the degree to which this society hates human appearances will become much clearer later, the sooner it becomes apparent that it's significant, the better. You need to understand what would drive Dark Beast to, in a way, mutilate himself with his forced mutation - what drives him to such self-hatred of his body that he changes it completely?

(I'll also confess, I lifted some dialogue from the comic where Hank changes himself into the Beast for this fic, but altered it to fit Dark Beast instead. Instead of ego, it's fear. And I stole the unique narration because I just love the way this issue plays out and the way the story is told, the way that it frames Hank as this dumb kid making a mistake that might ruin his life forever. It felt appropriate.)

I also like to play with dashes in sentences. You can create such a sense of a mental lurch, of a pause to consider your thoughts, a sense of pregnancy and choosing your words carefully. It allows you to align what seems to just be narration from an omniscient writer, i.e. me, with the character. Suddenly, it's not me writing about Sinister's hand around Henry's neck, suddenly the narration has naturalistically become Henry's, coloured by his thoughts and feelings and emotions.

So, yeah! That's my commentary! Hope you enjoyed it!

[rwprincess]

Two Worlds Collided

Masterlist

A/N: Oh, an anachronistic songfic from RWPrincess? But this time it’s about John Bender! :D Inspired by Never Tear Us Apart (originally by INXS in 1987, but I particularly like this Paloma Faith version)

Word Count: 2K

Synopsis: Bender met reader at the Breakfast Club and the two seemed like opposites, but they shared a common hidden sadness. Over the years, feelings and relationships change.

CW: Swearing, sexuality, Bender being a general asshole

Bender had met her the same way everyone in the Breakfast Club had, on the Saturday detention on March 24th. He had seen her in the hallways prior to that as he was always observant. He had seen everyone in the Breakfast Club before that day; but he hadn’t given her much thought. Now, he was paying attention to little else. He had no idea why he was drawn to her; they were both so different and he could never picture himself with a goody-two-shoes like that. But the way she had reacted to his more vulnerable, real moments, how she tried to make a connection with him...that stuck with him. He knew he should have learned from his disastrous blow-up with Claire that two people who were so different just wouldn’t work out. He repeated this to himself over and over, like a mantra, but it never changed how he actually felt.

After the breakup, the Breakfast Club had a split between those who chose Bender and those who chose Claire. Of course, Andrew sided with Claire unconditionally, but John considered that as no big loss. Allison tried to play the middle ground and Johnson had sided more with him, but he was surprised at the wholehearted backing he received from Y/N. He had assumed that she would either try to be neutral like Allison, or pick Claire. She had no reason to side with him, he had always come off as an aloof ass. But she had, and he was eternally grateful for that. He had originally decided to get together with Claire because the notion had a hot, forbidden quality to it. They spent time insulting each other and making out to make up for it. It was as passionate as it was destructive, so of course it couldn’t last. However, when he was alone and reflected to himself, he had been attracted to Y/N all along. She was hot, yes, but he had plenty of good-looking girls to choose from. He was more drawn to that kind, quiet inside she had displayed that day. How she had gone out of her way numerous times to reach out to him and had been genuinely nice to him. Most of the time, someone only did that to gain something for themselves. Whether it was to use him or to make themselves feel better, it depended on the person, but with Y/N that never felt like it was the case.

Don't ask me

What you know is true

Don't have to tell you

I love your precious heart

He thought back to the first time he saw her on that Saturday, walking into the library and looking so out of place. He was already adjusting into his spot when she entered and she froze in front of all the tables like a deer-in-the-headlights, as if she had just materialized there and had no clue what she was doing. He remembered feeling both attracted to that doe-eyed look and scoffing internally at it. While she wasn’t part of the cliques that Andrew and Claire were, she had a very sheltered look to her and he was envious of that type of innocence. Her ignorance must have been bliss compared to the hell he lived each day at school and at home. She was just as out of place as the preppies or ultra-dweeb Johnson, but instead of being offended by that notion, she looked terrified. She meekly put her items on the front-row desk opposite to him and he thought about all the fun he could poke at everyone here, including her. However, the first blow did not land well. Bender loved making people uncomfortable, but he didn’t necessarily want to make them cry. He’d made some off-handed remark towards her. He had been circling her and eyeing her, employing the discomfort he liked inflicting, trying to ‘guess’ why she was in detention. “I bet you were caught fooling around with a teacher, right? Always the quiet ones that you’d least suspect…”

John Bender rarely regretted his words or actions. He knew he was an asshole and let unfiltered thoughts through so that he could be the center of attention. In doing so, he had to stand by all the shit he said, even when he crossed a line. This was one of the scattered occasions in which he felt remorse, though. She didn’t reply, not verbally, anyway, but she looked scared shitless and was rooted to the spot. Tears instantly sprang up in her eyes and she looked as if she were about to hurl right on his combat boots. He backed off after that. He didn’t apologize, because that’s not something John Bender could have on his reputation, but he didn’t target her. There was something so sincere about her reaction and he saw himself reflected in that expression. Not the tough-as-nails persona he projected, but his secret self who had seen too much too early in life and could barely stand another blow. He didn’t know what her deal was, but there was a heavy sadness behind those eyes that was far too real for him to tamper with.

When he had shown the group his souvenir for spilling paint in his garage, courtesy of his father, she must have seen that reflection back. No one in that group actually knew him. They all thought he was a lying sack of shit; what could he say? His reputation preceded him. But he caught her gaze as he backed away from the group, and the sadness in her recognized the sadness in him. He felt an odd sort of click, a mutual understanding, but he turned away from them all and trashed the library.

I, I was standing

You were there

Two worlds collided

And they could never tear us apart

That was months ago, and out of everyone he met that day, she was the one who truly stuck by him. He’d surprisingly connected with Johnson, sure. Everybody likes to get high and Bender was the supplier. And he and Allison had similar interests, but she wouldn’t give up Andrew and with that territory came Claire...there was just no going back to that. But Bender still had Y/N, and he could never understand it. The first time he had brought her into his friend circle, he tried to justify it as sticking to his word and ‘having the balls to stand up to his friends’ like he had told Claire to do. He also reasoned that it was some sort of social experiment. As much as he liked to portray himself as someone who couldn’t care less, Bender was entirely social. He craved attention and admiration for others and could read just about anyone like a book. Maybe that’s why he didn’t mess with Y/N after that first comment landed so wrongly. He felt like he knew exactly what she was thinking and feeling and decided to back off. However, it wasn’t just some ‘watch and see how she interacts’ set up; Bender genuinely wanted her there. He wanted to integrate her into his life.

She was still extremely quiet, mostly a speak-when-you’re-spoken-to type, but he started to peel back layers in her personality. He found that, despite that lurking sadness, there was an unending pool of optimism. She tried to see the best in situations and in people. She meshed incredibly well with his friends because she listened instead of judged. She would nod along like she knew exactly what they were talking about and how they felt. He started to develop an attachment to her. While he was still dating Claire, he told himself it was akin to having a pet. Y/N was like a goldfish that he could tell his problems to and know the secret would be kept. But after Claire, he realized that wasn’t the case...particularly when he sought Y/N’s comfort above all else. He divulged the entire last big fight he and Claire had to her, and she was just so...reassuring. After that day, he began to see her in a different light. He argued with himself over what his feelings and intentions actually were, but he couldn’t keep them at bay for long. She was good for Bender. He had never felt lighter.

Of course, Bender had not known stability in his life ever, and the risk of falling for Y/N and having it mean something and being accountable to one person overwhelmed him. He did what he knew best: he fought it and ran away from it. At first, he tried to avoid her, just distance himself. But he’d gravitate back; being without her was too heavy to bear. He wanted to try to actively push her away, to fuck up this relationship with his words, just like he did with everything else. But when he opened his mouth to try to lie, to say he didn’t need her or want her around or whatever, he would look into her eyes and it became impossible. He remembered the way he had shaken her to her core the first day they met, and he couldn’t allow himself to bring that sadness up again in her.

We could live for a thousand years

But if I hurt you

I'd make wine from your tears

Eventually, he gave in. While he was able to control his words to not say anything harmful, he wasn’t able to contain them from slipping up and telling her, “Dammit, I love you!” It wasn’t in a context that could be taken as joking or being said flippantly; she knew immediately what he meant and that he meant those words, wholly.

She took his face in her hands and told him, “I love you, too.” There was no turning back, and as the years passed, they fell deeply in love. He'd dug up her secrets and fears, but she seemed to trust him enough to not use them against her in any way. They both dreaded the prospect of never getting out of Shermer and falling into the same circular trap their parents had. However, he reassured her that the moment they had the opportunity, they would bust out of there. He lucked out that Claire had never asked for her diamond earring back. It was probably one of many and she had forgotten she had even given it to him as a token. He decided to pawn it to top-off the savings he and Y/N had accrued. "You're too good for me, you're sure as hell too good for this place,'' he told her. The trade-in was enough to get them out of town and start anew, but only one of them could really ‘move up’ for now. While they argued back and forth about who should get to pursue which dream, Bender rationalized to her, “I was barely cut out for high school. I can’t really do college. And that’s okay. You’re the brains in this relationship, I’m the beauty.” He winked at her and with her laughter as response, that sealed the deal of who was going to school.

I told you

That we could fly

'Cause we all have wings

But some of us don't know why

She searched the crowd, holding her diploma. Bender had supported her both financially and emotionally these last four years and now they had the degree to prove it. She felt pride in being able to take over from him and let him follow a new path. He had always been good with his hands, but despite his protests, he was good with his mind too. He was a sharp-thinker and she knew that he could make a career that he loved out of that. She’d be there to push and brace him as he had done for her. Finally, she spotted him. When their eyes connected, she felt that same crackle that she had the first day they had met, all those years ago. Before the friendship and the love, she knew there was a spark there, that they were two of a kind, even though they were so different.

I, I was standing

You were there

Two worlds collided

And they could never tear us apart

[cor-ardens-archive]

Hi, I'm a different anon from the one who asked for incest recs (and I promise I'm not baiting you either; sorry you have to deal with dickheads on here :/) but I loved your answer and I was wondering if you had a rec list specifically for sibling incest (or even just intense sibling relationships)? Thank you in advance!!

I was taking a long time to answer this because I knew I was forgetting a lot of relevant titles, but then I realized I’ll never be able to make a complete list, so have a few scattered recs instead.

Some of these are quite triggering and involve child on child sexual abuse, others are just very dysfunctional/unhealthy, and some are simply romantic. Look them up before delving into them if triggers might be a problem, or feel free to ask me about specific works.

Books/short stories:

Querelle de Brest, Jean Genet

Les Enfants Terribles, Jean Cocteau

The Carnivorous Lamb, Agustín Gomez-Arcos

Ada, Vladimir Nabokov

The Blood of the Walsungs, Thomas Mann

Os Maias, Eça de Queiroz

The God of Small Things, Arundhati Roy

The Cement Garden, Ian McEwan (recently recommended to me by a mutual, I haven't read it yet though!)

Twins, Bari Wood

The Magic Toyshop, Angela Carter

Angels and Insects, A. S. Byatt

There’s a brief incestuous encounter in James Baldwin’s Tell Me How Long The Train’s Been Gone (and i hardly see this mentioned at all, which is odd because homosexual incest is considered particularly scandalous, and the incest motif is pretty important in Baldwin’s works in general. i have a lot to say about this and how it compares to the incest motif in gothic literature actually but this is not the place). There's mention of an incestuous couple in Le Guin's The Left Hand of Darkness that isn't central to the book but still relevant. Geryon in The Autobiography of Red is sexually abused by his brother as a child, and although not central to the plot it is very important to his character.

Subtext/ambiguous:

Wuthering Heights, Emily Brontë (if you read Cathy and Heathcliff as siblings, and their relationship as sexual, which i do)

The Fall of the House of Usher, Edgar Allan Poe

White is for Witching, Helen Oyeyemi

War and Peace, Tolstoy

A Sicilian Romance, Ann Radcliffe

Just about anything by William Faulkner. There is of course The Monk by Lewis, but I have so much to say about that and how bad it is and also how different from Gothic works written by women (like, compare Radcliffe’s brother-hero to Lewis’s rapist brother. but of course this is not the place.)

Also, I don’t want to say much, but there’s As Meat Loves Salt by Maria McCan. There are layers to this... I could say more but I won’t :)

Off of the top of my head, two great books with dysfunctional/co-dependent siblings (actually sisters in both examples) are We Have Always Lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson (i think it was Joyce Carol Oates who said the relationship was incestuous? i didn't read it that way but it's certainly an extremely compelling, dysfunctional, co-dependent relationship. this is a perfect example of what i want to read more of!) and Sharp Objects by Gillian Flynn.

Movies:

Incest is so common in films (especially in horror) that I simply couldn’t begin to make a list. But I think you’re looking for an specific kind of dynamic (sorry if I’m wrong!), so I recommend you these:

The Mafu Cage (1978), dir. Karen Arthur (sibling incest explicitly referenced but not shown, parental incest as subtext)

Crimson Peak (2015), dir. Guillermo Del Toro (everyone’s seen it by now)

Carne de tu Carne/Bloody Flesh (1983), dir. Carlos Mayolo (explicit)

Ginger Snaps (2000), dir. John Fawcett (subtext)

Dead Ringers (1988), dir. David Cronenberg (subtext)

Actually, I can’t do this. There are too many. Google “films with sibling incest” for a number of lists.

[highladyluck]

Mat’s Types, or On Tricksters

I recently made a joke about Mat's 'type' essentially being the Shadar Logoth dagger, and while I stand by it, I also think there's a lot more to it than that. I believe Mat actually has two types, which is entirely appropriate for a trickster archetype. One of his types is playful, joyful, generous people, who reflect his early- but persistent- personality. The other is sharp, powerful, existentially dangerous people, like the person he becomes over the course of the series. Like a raven- itself a trickster figure in Haida storytelling- Mat is attracted to shiny things, mirrors, and death.

But first, some definitions. I'm calling Mat a trickster archetype, so what is that? The trickster archetype is built on a kind of dual contrast. To trick someone, you must change things in a surprising way. Tricksters introduce chaos into an ordered system, or reveal order in what was thought to be chaos. (It's not surprising, or a change, to add order to order, or chaos to chaos.) So tricksters are transformational, liminal figures, who defy expectations and subvert the preexisting order- but who therefore *require* predictions and structure to have any kind of impact or meaning at all. Playing a game requires there be rules; revealing a loophole requires there be a contract.

Within this definition, there's still a huge range of characters you can call tricksters, and it's useful to categorize them across spectrums. One axis of a trickster is "effectiveness", which refers to the trickster's ability to effect change; this is 'incompetent to competent', 'foolish to canny', 'harmless to dangerous'. Another axis is "motivation" which refers to the trickster's ethical structure; this is 'good to evil', 'generous to selfish', 'just to unjust'. There's another kind of axis that's related to motivation, which I'll call "comprehensibility", and which refers to the trickster's transparency of motive; the range there is 'knowable to unknowable', 'familiar to alien', 'clear to mysterious'. If you wanted to chart them all I'd make effectiveness the horizontal x-axis, motivation the vertical y-axis, and comprehensibility the z-axis perpendicular to both of them, but this is starting to get into 'gesturing at the wall map with crazy eyes' territory and I'm mostly just going to be talking about effectiveness and motivation anyway, so let’s move on.

Tricksters can be foolish figures, always getting caught, often the butt of their own joke. That's our early impression of Mat- a prankster who never really seems to get away with anything, or a fool caught in a trap of his own making. Mat is also generous, insofar as he has apparently been rescuing people his whole life, plus he's very 'easy come, easy go' about money, and has a decent instinct for gift-giving, whether those are compliments or actual physical presents. He has a strong sense of justice that puts him at odds with people who have (unearned) privilege and who are abusing power, and he loves verbally trapping people into confronting their own hypocrisy.

He keeps these traits throughout the series, but he also develops ones on the opposite side of the axes. Stealing the Shadar Logoth dagger is the catalyst for Mat's development from 'harmless, benevolent trickster' to 'dangerous, morally complicated trickster'. It literally overwrites first his personality, and then his memories. While he gets the personality back- sort of- he never gets the memories back, and his quest to do so sets him on the rest of his path.

By the end of the series, Mat has undergone enormous trauma and developed a much stronger sense of self-preservation. He becomes a canny and multi-talented figure, a brilliant tactician and strategist, a dangerous enemy to have. He's most selfish and cruel when under the influence of the Shadar Logoth dagger, but it turns out he's also never been in the rescuing business for free, he wants to be needed and will get a little pissy if he isn't (although to his credit, he respects people's wishes if they say they don't want to be saved from themselves.)

His greed for adventure and shiny things was what got him into trouble with the dagger, and he never quite loses his appraiser's eye (or taste) for luxury goods. And Tuon is entirely right to name him 'Devastation' or 'Ruin'; he's constantly blowing things up, killing enormous amounts of people directly or by proxy, and while everyone in this series commits war crimes, he's got the dubious honor of having another character (Teslyn) actually say to his face, "You know you just did a war crime, right?"

Mat spends the early books- when he's in good enough health to do so, and has the opportunity- pursuing women, wine, and song, and I mention them all together because that's the vibe he's going for. Mat genuinely loves flirting and dancing for their own sake, as fun things to do with receptive people, and that extends to sexual activities as well. It's a joyful, generous, playful way of interacting, and Mat's joie de vivre seems to attract people with similar attitudes.

Yes, Mat sometimes puts his foot in his mouth, but he's not actually disrespectful of anyone else's agency, so he's doing better than the rest of the Two Rivers boys. He doesn't make assumptions about whether there will be a next interaction or not, or how far each interaction will go; each step is negotiated with input from both players, which makes it a kind of game. Mat doesn't have long-term relationships with these fun, playful people, but he's not looking for that, and neither are they.

The other kind of people Mat is attracted to are what I'll call 'dagger people', who are sharp (smart, competent, possibly literally an edged weapon), powerful, and existentially dangerous. It is *possible* that Mat might have acquired this taste without the Shadar Logoth dagger's influence. He likes battles, he likes adventure, he generally treats women as respected equals, he might have gotten to 'date a woman who can kick your ass' all on his own. But Mat loved that Shadar Logoth dagger, they had a whole entire fucked-up relationship, and when they broke up he got a bunch of rebound knives and also some sharp, powerful, and existentially dangerous people's memories shoved into his head. Like calls to like, blood feeds blood, etc.

And boy, does Mat find these ladies, or more accurately, boy, do these ladies find him. Case in point: Melindhra, the sexy darkfriend Maiden of the Spear. I think Aludra partially fits, too- sharp, confident if not powerful, dangerous (though not so much to him as like... the world.) Mat isn't pursuing or attracted to either Joline or Tylin, but they also fit this description, and they definitely pursued him. (I'd love to add Lanfear to the list of 'dangerous ladies who made passes at Mat' but I can't quite do it with a straight face.) I don't think Mat's thing for dagger people really reaches its full flower until he starts getting to know Tuon, though.

Mat spends much of the series looking for both his types, and tends to find either one or the other, but not both in one person- until Tuon. Like Mat, Tuon is actually both these types in a sometimes uneasy coexistence. For all their many differences, they think about each other much the same way. They both find each other very layered and confusing, but also are surprisingly quick to trust each other, which is striking in people who are very suspicious, in a fraught situation, and on opposite sides. I think most of the reason they trust each other is because they have the same very contractual personal honor system, where 'my word is my bond'. That's a trickster thing; tricksters have to keep some kind of rules, or how else will they play games and know whether they've won or lost? But their rules can be hidden or idiosyncratic (that's the z-axis, comprehensibility) as you see in 'bargains with the fae'-type situations. Personal honor is also a feature of royalty, though, where the personal and political are bound together, and a person's promises can be treated as legal contracts, as well as honor-based societies in general.

Mat and Tuon take their promises to each other very seriously, but are also always both looking for loopholes so they can get the upper hand. They also are both following the script of prophecy, which I mention because they both devote a lot of time to subverting their own expectations about how exactly that prophecy is going to play out. Mat buckles down and says “I’m going to make this come out in my favor somehow, even though it’s not what I wanted,” yet he’s still surprised at how and when Tuon completes the marriage ceremony; Tuon does not find Mat anything like she expected, and she also is surprised at her own feelings for him. Near the end of the series, they take a break from playing tricks and mind games on each other, and instead bluff everyone else on the battlefield, tag-teaming their trickster powers for one last surprise attack.

Ok, so how is Tuon Mat’s first type, playful, joyful, and generous? She loves playing games with Mat, both actual literal games like stones, but also their weird flirting/power plays. She's super competitive, because anyone who wasn't who was in her shoes would be dead, but she's a good sport, "satisfied when she wins and determined when she loses". She's also got "mischievous" smiles, and turns the tables on Mat in a super trickster-y way, writing the letter that puts everyone in the circus under her protection except for Mat and his crew; which means he and his coterie are still 'not safe' and thus he has to keep travelling with her rather than bringing her back to Ebou Dar right away, by the terms of their promise.

Mat gives us really lovely descriptions of her in moments of joy, and one of the first things we learn about her is that her genuine smile makes her look completely different from the normal Resting Bitch Face she affects for self-preservation reasons. She's generous in the sense that she's (often) willing to consider other points of view and give people second chances, when others in her position wouldn't and don't. She has the generosity of privilege, which I admit is not the most laudable form of generosity, but it's still a form of generosity. She also has a natural compassion and merciful impulses that have been trimmed and hemmed and twisted into only the forms her society deems socially acceptable, but they're still there.

I have less of a job to do proving that Tuon is a 'dagger person'. You remember how I joked about 'sharp' meaning 'literally an edged weapon'? Well, I don't know how else I'm supposed to interpret "Tuon’s right hand swept across, bladed like an axe, and struck [the footpad's] throat so hard that he heard the cartilage cracking". SHE'S LITERALLY A WEAPON. MAT HAS FINALLY FOUND A REPLACEMENT FOR HIS SEXY EVIL KNIFE. :') She's also super smart, super canny, and a snappy dresser to boot. She's one of the most powerful women in the world, and by the end of the series Mat is absolutely into it. (The bit where he's like "She's so good at giving orders! *heart eyes*" is simultaneously hilarious and alarming. I get it- I simp for Kuvira from Legend of Korra, I can't throw stones at anyone who’s like ‘hot evil Empress, please step on me’- but there's a time and a place, Mat.)

And, of course, she's an existential threat to the world, Mat's family and friends, and (theoretically) Mat himself. The Seanchan Empire, despite not being bigoted towards the Tinkers and having pretty good gender equality, is committing massive human rights violations left and right, thanks to the slavery, channelerphobia, and imperialism. As a tool of the Empire, unless he works on extricating himself, Mat's going to be culpable for that (he already is, really, but it could be worse), which is a stain on his soul that I don't think either he or the readers want. Being a tool of the Empire is an existential threat to Mat's idea of himself as an independent agent and good person, and I guess also an existential threat to his life since he's getting all those assassination attempts from his coworkers. (I am excluding Tuon from the assassination attempts; as I've mentioned in a previous essay, her threats to Mat are not serious and are in fact a form of deranged flirting.)

Tuon and Mat are both dual-axis tricksters, in their way. Tuon- or I should really be saying, Fortuona, Lady Luck- is more on the bringing order to chaos side, and Mat falls most characteristically on the bringing chaos to order end of things. But they switch roles- Mat shores up the proper order of things when he reminds Tuon to keep her promises, and Tuon is often a chaotic influence at court, with her mercy or willingness to change her mind. They also both understand what it's like to be both a person and an archetype- Mat worries about losing his individual choice and freedom by becoming a hero, and Tuon worries about becoming too vulnerable and individual to be the strong and impartial hand she thinks the Empire needs.

They've also both experienced their instincts and worldview being overwritten by external forces; for Tuon it's been happening since birth and she's almost entirely embraced the process; for Mat, it was the consequence of a choice he made and he fought it every step of the way. They have very different responses, but they've experienced weirdly similar 'erasure' experiences. And they both have good and evil impulses entwined in complicated ways. Tuon is a survivor and a monster; a preserver and a destroyer; a person and an empire. And Mat builds a relationship with her when- and because- he accepts that he is both a lover and a fighter; generous and thieving; a person and a weapon. You may not like it, but this is what peak narrative compatibility looks like.

[heuristicallyinclined]

Recently, I’ve been thinking a lot about jades and have been trying to organize my thoughts on what the implications of their caste mean for their romantic lives and how that absolutely impacts them in how they are seen by and interact with society.

This gets a bit long discussing jades as a whole and the individuals we’ve seen so I’ve kept it under the read more.

Jades are destined for a life of isolation from the moment they hatch. We don’t know much about life pre cloister, but once they’re in, they aren’t allowed outside of the caverns except for special occasions/exceptions so forming any sort of relationship with a non jade seems to be extremely difficult because it’s either all online or based off of them sneaking out or their partner sneaking in. 

Jades aren’t allowed to contribute to the slurry and non jades will be culled if they don’t which makes it that much more difficult to have any kind of concupiscent relationship with non jades since they have their caste working against them because when drone season comes around. They just don’t count as a viable quadmate to contribute with and both would likely be culled if they try to. Even in the best case scenario, where their partner is cool with it and has a hookup in another quadrant/quadmate, it’s still profoundly shitty to know that for all practical purposes, you don’t count. Feelings of being a liability and probably feeling like your relationship isn't as “legitimate” or as “real” as other people’s serves to further isolate jades from the rest of society. 

In my opinion, this would lead to a few pretty pervasive ideas about dating a jade. Namely it either just not being worth the effort since you can’t contribute with them and meeting up can be difficult and if you do go for it, it’s going to be a one day thing or fling at best because it’s doomed from the start. They would likely get pigeonholed into pale and ashen quadrants get taken less seriously for red and black ones if not just being outright dismissed or weirdly sexualized for being the "chaste" caste. There seems to be an inherent tragedy in dating one because even if things go great, they are most likely going to be shipped off to a brooding planet and you will never see them again. 

Jades are deliberately put in this position where they really have only each other and are encouraged to keep to themselves. But even bonding with other jades comes with some major caveats. As adults they do have enforced chastity meaning that red and black relationships are either off the table entirely or extremely clandestine. I am assuming that this is to keep their focus on the continuation of their species (as well as some of my own jade bio hcs, but this isn’t about that.)  

To me, this viewpoint adds another dimension to the jades we've met and how they interact with others. 

Elwurd and Bronya dating in the first place? Wild. And could provide a reason for the break up. Bronya becoming head jade probably meant that she needed to be a role model and her sneaking around with a concupiscent quadmate was not a good look. Also Elwurd wanting to get assigned together? Likely impossible, but that’s a hope player for you. 

Lynera having red feelings for another jade? The head jade no less? As acting number two? Absolute scandal and adds another reason that she feels like she can't or shouldn’t tell her. And she could be right. Bronya trying to become head matriarch one day could be hindered by those kinds of rumors. I don’t think a lot of people in the cloister knew about Elwurd and Lynera is in a much more visible position where other jades will notice and will talk. 

Lanque's anger towards his ex, a fellow jade, just has so many more layers to it and really explains some of his behavior. Lanque was in a relationship with another jade who he felt understood him and that he didn’t have to explain or justify any troll Catholic guilt or gender stuff to and didn’t have to deal with any of the baggage that dating a non jade might come with as well. This likely felt as great as any somewhat frowned upon but not yet banned relationship could be and despite the odds and whatever their relationship was like, he made it work and was likely happy. Until Actias joined a troll kpop group and managed to escape the caverns, leaving Lanque behind and heartbroken and making his previous baggage look like free carry ons. He is absolutely carrying some residual feelings towards this and caused him to further value/develop his ability to “read” people.  

Jades have this wild dichotomy as adults of being surrounded by the only people who truly understand the position they’re in, but also having to limit the ways they interact with them because of restrictions not made in their best interest. It’s just a lot and it’s tragic and I just have so many feelings on jades right now.

[fyeahnevilleslongbottomsocs]

YOUR FINGERPRINTS ON MY SKIN, A PAINFUL REMINDER! ⚰️ CAN BE READ ON AO3

❝Catherine Cullen, born out of wedlock to the late Carlisle Cullen and Elspeth Fynch, struggled to live in the village that had ostracized her since birth. At nineteen, her only chance for survival is to sell her body; ironically this is what leads to her mortal demise. Aristide Athanasiou of the Volturi, finds a Blood Singer in the form of Catherine Cullen after intending to kill her, but he spares her. And he spares her over and over again until the painful reminder of her beating fragile heart becomes too much for him to bear.❞

part of PETALS FOR ARMOR a twilight au series of one-shots! please read tags before reading the one-shot!

warnings: mild smut, blood kink ( ??? im not sure about this but just in case ), prostitution, possessive behaviour

pairing(s): OC/OC | Carlisle Cullen/OC ( past relationship )

characters: catherine cullen ( oc ) | aristide athanasiou ( oc ) | aro ( mentioned ) | carlisle cullen ( mentioned ) | elspeth fynch ( oc )

click on ‘keep reading’ if you prefer to read this one-shot on here instead of on ao3!

RED EYES BURN into her pale freckled skin, they belong to a young man of the name Aristide. Catherine Cullen doesn't have to turn around to know it's him, he's the only one who ever looks at her. Her freckled skin and long messy, matted strawberry-blonde hair made her less than attractive compared to the other women in the area, and, of course, there was the fact she was a bastard child. None of the local men wanted her and the village scarcely brought in travelers. Catherine loosens the buttons on her late husband's old white blouse, exposing her the chest before turning around. The young woman nearly gasps when she sees that Aristide is standing right behind her. She had expected him to be across the street, where he normally waited, every night that she came to these parts for the past month and a half. If she thought about it, she would reckon that it was unusual, scarcely any traveler stayed this long but he paid her well so who was Catherine to complain.

She clutches her chest inhaling sharply. Before she can scold him for startling her, Aristide reaches up in a swift movement and brushes over her bruised cheek "My sweet singer, what harm as befallen thy cheek," He questions her in honey-coated voice, his fingers are freezing against her skin but it feels good against her throbbing cheek. Sometimes Catherine thinks that Aristide feels to cold to be truly alive. He was a strange young man, the strangest she had ever encountered.

"It is nothing, Aristide, merely Pastor Cullen," Catherine says, "He does detest me so, and with his old age —"

"You should forbear attending —"

"You know that I cannot do that, Aristide," Catherine says fiercely, more fiercely than she intends to. The last thing she needs to do is scare of the only paying customer she has but that place meant so much to her mother. Even though Pastor Cullen had always treated her and her mother terribly, her mother, Elspeth Fynch, had insisted that they go as often as they could. Her mother had said that the place was very important to her late father, Carlisle Cullen. 

"He is old, Aristide. I have heard gossip that he is appointing a new pastor soon."

"Has thou? I am sure it shall be his son, that cannot be much better," Aristide says, sarcasm dripping from his tone and he's met with a solemn look.

"Afraid not, his son went missing nearly twenty years ago," Catherine says quietly, "On one of those vampire hunts, his father planned . . . No one knows what happened to him, we do not talk about it but I have heard many good things about the man."

Her mother had talked highly of him, Carlisle this and Carlisle that, was what had filled Catherine's childhood. Her father was all her mother talked about, his death had left a hole in Elspeth's chest and if he had not died than nobody would have known that Catherine was born out of wedlock and she wouldn't be facing the poverty that she is now. And perhaps her mother would not have perished so brutally upon that pyre all those years ago. Talking about Carlisle Cullen now did nothing but leave a bitter taste in Catherine's mouth. 

Aristide frowns, he wonders if it's possible that the missing man had found real vampires and if he did that would mean, he's still around somewhere. Aristide had not sensed any in the area but there are plenty of sewers that they can hide in here. He pulls Catherine closer, she was his and his alone. Aristide had been passing through London when he seen her wandering the streets late at night, in need of money for medicine. In fact, Aristide had not met a single supernatural creature in this town, not even a witch and they were almost everywhere. Although just because he had not sensed another vampire around, it doesn't mean they weren't there, they could have easily found a mundane scent to cover theirs up, the son she spoke of could still be around, hidden in the shadows, it would make sense as to why his father had survived so long without a single uprising to his medieval ways. This son could be hidden somewhere, anywhere in this village which means Aristide would have to keep a closer watch on Catherine.

He had not meant to grow so attached to Catherine, he usually killed his blood-singers hours after encountering them but for some odd reason he found himself besotted with Catherine. Aristide had know her for a month or so by now. It started on a night quite like this and her alluring scent sang to him, her scent was much better than her appearance, she had been near this exact spot looking for anyone willing to pay her for sexual favours. He had given her the money in exchange for her to come back to his home where she believed that they would have sex but he had other plans. Catherine was supposed to be his dinner that night but as soon as the door closed behind her and he moved to pounce, she kissed him hard against his open mouth. The very same mouth that had been seconds away tearing through her jugular and draining her of her life. After that Aristide couldn't bring himself to kill her, he let her kiss him hard over and over, pressing hot and wet kisses on his mouth and down to his neck. It ignited a feeling in him he hadn't felt in centuries and he knew he had to keep her around, for the past month he's been coming to this dump of town just to see her night after night. Some nights, she wasn't there because she had made enough money to pay for the medicine of the little girl that lived near her. Aristide doesn't understand why she bothers to work so hard for someone that isn't herself but he's grown to adore it because that means she has to be here to do it.

Catherine presses a clammy hand to his face "Aristide, are you alright? You have grown tense . . . Have I done something to upset you?"

"No, my sweet singer, I am cold, it has naught to try with you." Aristide says, pressing a kiss to her forehead with causes her to shiver.

"Indeed, you are freezing . . . Shall we go back to your place and warm ourselves up," Catherine offers, pushing herself against Aristide's cold body. She looks up at him through her pale lashes, his red gaze is hot, it feels as though it's burning straight through to her wicked soul.

"That sounds enchanting, ma chérie," Aristide says smoothly, whispering in her ear. And off they go, arm in arm to Aristide's 'place' hardly a block away.

Unlike the last few times, Catherine does not throw herself on him immediately after the door closes behind her and as much as he'd love to see her naked body writhing with pleasure and bathed in the candle light, he assumes she's grown fond of him; she must trust him now. He licks his lower lip, it was naïve of her to trust him but something about the thought of earning her misplaced trust excited him.

He lights the candles and she sits down on his bed, technically not his bed but the person who owned it before he killed them, but Catherine doesn't need to know that. He smiles at her and she smiles back at him albeit a bit hesitantly, her heart speeds up and he wonders why — could it be she possibly fancies him?

Catherine's desperate, desperate enough to give her body time and time again to a man she's quite certain is the devil. He has red eyes and he's perfectly perfect and oh so tempting. There is no way that Aristide is human but she never dwells on it for long, she needs the money. Agatha is sick and her parents are even sicker, Agatha relies on her, Catherine couldn't let her down and she doesn't care if she's sinning or not.

He stalks towards her slowly and comes to a stop between her legs, he lifts her head up with a finger and leans down to kiss her, slowly but passionately. Her heart skips a beat as she kisses him back, she reaches up and wraps her arms around his neck, he snakes his arms around her waist. Aristide starts trailing kisses down her mouth to her neck, allowing her to catch her breath as he didn't need to stop to do that. He kisses her neck, finding her pulse-point with ease, he kisses the spot again and again, then he gently drags his teeth against her skin which elicits a quiet moan from her. So unaware how close she is to death, he pulls away to study her, her eyes are closed and her pink lips are swollen. Freckles coat her face as well as her exposed shoulders, Aristide is sure that every inch of her is covered in freckles, making her look like a constellation in the sky.

Catherine lies down on the bed, she smiles up Aristide as she slowly begins to untie her dress, he reciprocates her smile as he begins to unbutton his petticoat. By time he's pulled his blouse of, she's untied her outer-layer corset, she shivers again and he wonder if his home is really that cold. He, of course, wouldn't truly notice.

"It is cold in here," Catherine whispers, her pale face flushed, as her thin fingers begin to remove her blouse, Aristide can see that they're trembling and he frowns. He had forgotten how sensitive humans were to temperatures.

"Keep it on, my sweet singer, you will be warmer that way," Aristide says, and it will be easier for her to leave quickly in case something goes wrong. He unbuckles his trousers, Catherine hums in response abandoning her attempt to undress herself and instead busies herself with watching him, she takes in his too perfect features, his long black curls which were pulled back with a thin white lace. His pale skin seems to glimmer in the light of the candles, he was heavenly-looking, almost god like. But every moment with him felt like a sin.

Once Aristide has kicked off his trousers, he crawls over her and listens to her heartbeat race. He settles himself between her legs and pushes her long skirt down to her waist to expose her thin and freckled legs. They're covered in bruises especially her thighs, and they're all from him, as gentle as he tries to be with her he always leaves evidence of his strength. He tugs off her undergarments, his calloused fingertips brushing against her inner most thighs as he does so.

She hisses at the harsh coolness but arches her hips towards him nevertheless, He smirks at her and says "Eager are we now, ma chérie?"

Catherine nods her head, whimpering. Playing it up because she just wanted to get this over with, she doesn't hate it and she quite enjoys their time together but she wishes he would be quicker. She just needed the money, Agatha is relying on her. If they got this done with quicker, she could probably get home in time to make some soup for Agatha and her parents. Aristide was the only good man she had ever been with, outside of her marriage, but this was never about good, this was about survival for not only herself but those she cared about. It was nothing more than that.

He chuckles, grabbing her legs and pulling her close. Their hips meet and Catherine shivers violently at the feeling of his freezing body pressed against her already cold one, Aristide hushes her, stroking her cheek in a gentle manner as he tells her to sit up. Catherine does as he asks, they're so close their bodies were practically one. Although she, herself, felt cold, to him she felt like a raging fire against his own cold, undead skin.

His finger traces her lips before pulling her into a bruising kiss, she hisses against his lips but the hiss turns into a pained moan as he thrusts into her. He's careful as he can be, she's a delicate flower compared to him and he could easily kill her this way. He pulls away from her, muttering "You're beautiful," against her bruised cheek. How he longs to taste her blood, her skin itself was surprisingly sweet and he's sure that her blood is even sweeter.

"Thank you, sir," She mumbles, bucking her hips into his. Quiet pants and moans escape her chapped, swollen lips. She grips her skirt tightly, her eyes screwed shut and Aristide watches her every expression with keen interest from the smallest twitch of her eyebrows to more noticeable action of her mouth falling open as louder moans fall from her lips. He's learned to let her do most of the moving because it results in less bruising, at first he didn't care but as their intimate encounters grew closer together, he had grown fond of her and her safety.

He gently moves his hands so they're entangled in her hair, he pulls on her matted locks slightly. Her strawberry-blonde hair appears almost golden in the glow of the candles. If she had the ability to take care of herself, she would have been breathtaking. Catherine, in Aristide's opinion was unique for a mortal. He could give her the power to be so much more than that, he had thought about it for an agonising amount of time. But, Aristide had never turned someone before, it was usually Aro who did that and Aristide had went alone this time around. 

Her heart pounds loudly, mocking him and his cowardice. He was afraid to turn her, he could kill her instead and for the first time in his immortal life, Aristide did not want to kill. He thought about bringing her to Volterra but he thought it unlikely that Aro would turn her, Catherine appeared to be lacking a gift, in other words, useless to Aro. But, she meant everything to Aristide. 

His name is whimpered, as he tugs a little harder on her hair, Catherine's hips press into his. Momentum is growing, a feeling akin to being alive grows inside him, Aristide moans lowly. He swallows the venom pooling his mouth and presses his lips to her shoulder, over and over and over, slowly moving up to her jawline.

After a few minutes, her moans get louder and her legs start to shake but Catherine does not cum. Typically the mortal doesn't last this long but Aristide had taken it slower tonight, mostly lost in his thoughts. But now, it was getting harder for him to ignore his bloodlust, he trusts into her hoping that it would be enough to push her over the edge but it's not. All he earns in a loud, pained moan and then she bites down on her lip hard and draws blood which is enough to send him spiraling over the edge. He inhales sharply as he does his best to restrain himself, he grips her skirt so tight that it tears. Aristide doesn't want to kill her, she's too precious, too good to be killed no matter how good her blood smells.

He pulls away from her, stumbling backwards and he hears her whine quietly as she sits up. She goes to ask for her pay but she falls short upon seeing the ravenous look on his face, her grin turns into an uneasy frown "Aristide, are you alright, have I done something wrong?" 

"Get out," He hisses, he wants nothing more to tear her apart, he wants to completely destroy her just for a drop of her precious blood, "Get out now!"

Catherine scrambles out of his bed, looking terrified out of her wits as apologies profusely fall from her lips, she tries to move closer to him but he throws the first thing he can grab — a pot — in her direction and he screams "GET OUT!"

For a moment, Aristide expects her to flee, he hopes that she will but Catherine surprises him and she stays. Stupid, foolish girl. 

Her eyes, blue as Aristide remembers the Mediterranean Sea to be, are wide with fear. Her bloodied lower lip is quivering but she stands motionless and determined. And although, Aristide would never raise a hand to her, he understands why the pastor raises his hand to her; she doesn't seem to obey what she's been told to do. 

"The money," Catherine says, trying and failing to keep her meek voice steady, "I did what you wanted me to do, if you're done I would like my pay." 

A thin line of blood trickle down her lip and onto her chin, his red eyes zero in on it. Catherine's words become lost to him, her pounding heart is all that Aristide can hear and he can no longer control himself. He lunges, she screams. 

He takes her out easily, his teeth tear into her jugular with ease, her scream becomes muffled by the blood filling her mouth, some of it splatters against Aristide's pale cheeks. It tastes much better than he ever imagined, Catherine was not the first Blood Singer he had encountered the many centuries he had been alive but she was by far his favourite. 

Her hand slams against his chest in a feeble attempt to fight him off but all she gains is a broken wrist. The snapping of her bones brings Aristide back to reality, he remembers that he doesn't want to kill her and with great difficulty he pulls himself away from her. Catherine screams meekly, her voice hoarse already, blood pools out of her mouth as she rolls onto her side and curls into herself. Her small frame trembles violently with every sound, the venom spreads through her veins like a forest fire, she has no idea what's happening.

Aristide watches with keen interest, he had seen Aro turn lots of people but it seems different now, a whole new experience for his old soul. Every tremble and every scream from her excites him. 

"Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop," Catherine screams over and over, she grits her teeth together after every word, eyes squeezing shut as she hugs herself around her middle, writhing violently on the wood floor, her words fade from harsh and hoarse screams to a soundless chant. 

Aristide reaches out, brushing her hair out of her face, she looks at him with complete and utter betrayal, she whispers a plea for him to put her out of her misery. He doesn't, his bright red eyes zero in on the bite he left on her neck. It was not as clean as Aro's and it would leave a nasty scar, Aristide thinks that it will look much better than the bruises of his fingerprints ever did on her. His bloodied lips pull into a satisfied smirk, she was his forever now. 

[melanielocke]

Lost in the Shadows - Chapter 17

AO3

Taglist: @nott-the-best @foxglove-airmid @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @justanormaldemon @styxdrawings @ipromiseiwillwrite @a-dream-dirty-and-bruised

Previous Chapter: Chapter 16

Next Chapter: Chapter 18

Lucie spent the rest of the afternoon in the garden trying to figure out how to do magic. It didn’t help that she had no idea what she was doing or how magic worked and instead she was just trying some methods she remembered from her favorite books. So far, nothing happened. After some time, Jessamine came outside to watch.

‘What are you doing?’ she asked.

‘Trying to do magic,’ Lucie answered, a little frustrated with her lack of progress. ‘You don’t happen to have any clue how that works?’

Jessamine looked shocked. ‘About magic? Of course not, why would you think such a thing. I’m a good Christian.’

Lucie guessed she should have suspected such a thing. ‘Jess, in all the time that you’ve been here, was I the only one who could see you?’

Jessamine thought for a while.

‘Actually, no,’ she said. ‘There was someone else, years ago. The sister of Mr. Gray. She travelled to the manor shortly after my death, to express her condolences to my family, and she could see me and spoke to me.’

Mr. Gray’s sister… Her mother couldn’t see ghosts, but perhaps she was somehow distantly related to his woman and to Jessamine’s old suitor through her mother. Perhaps that power did travel in families.

‘And was there anything else she could do?’ Lucie asked.

‘I don’t know,’ Jessamine said. ‘Mr. Gray always thought his sister was odd, occupied with things not suitable for a young lady. She rarely came to balls, even if she was old enough to be out and looking for suitors. But he thought discussing what his sister was up to would be inappropriate for the proper ladies present, such as myself.’

‘She must have been a witch too then,’ Lucie speculated.

Jessamine looked horrified. ‘Witches don’t really exist, do they? Mr. Gray’s sister was certainly odd, everyone knew that, but I never thought she could be a witch.’

‘Jess, you’re literally a ghost. And I can see you and speak with you, just like Mr. Gray’s sister did. When I’m near you can pick up hair brushes, which you normally can’t.’

‘All this time, you’ve been bewitching me?’ Jessamine asked, her voice small.

‘No, not like that,’ Lucie said. ‘That wasn’t something I did intentionally, and I never forced you into anything. Although I’m thinking maybe I could. Jess, my friend is in danger and I need to save him. Are you willing to help me?’

Jessamine looked reluctant. ‘What will you do to me?’

‘Just test a few things, figure out what I can do,’ Lucie said. ‘I’ve always made you stronger, I have no idea what you could do with my help.’

She looked down, resigned. ‘Alright, Lucie. I will see what I can do. What is it that you ask of me?’

Lucie looked around, and noticed a stick lying on the ground.

‘Can you pick that up?’ she asked, pointing.

Jessamine looked confused, but bent down and picked up the stick, holding it in her hands. Usually, ghosts could pick up things they cared for around her. In Jessamine’s case, hairbrushes and dolls. Lucie didn’t think Jessamine cared much for sticks.

‘That looks odd,’ Thomas, who was sitting in a garden chair next to Alastair, commented. ‘Like you just made the stick float.’

‘Yes,’ Lucie said. ‘But that’s not exactly helpful, is it? Jessamine, can you touch Thomas? Usually you’d pass through him.’

Jessamine dropped the stick and rubbed her hand even if there was no dirt remaining on her ghostly form. She walked over to Thomas, who'd stood up out of his chair, and shook his hand, curtsying politely. Thomas yelped, which indicated that he could feel her. Interesting.

‘Do gentlemen not kiss a lady’s hand anymore?’ Jessamine asked.

Thomas turned red, and lifted his hand up, taking Jessamine’s hand with him, and kissed her. To Lucie, this looked relatively normal, but Thomas couldn’t see Jessamine. This had to be awkward. Jessamine let go of Thomas’ hand.

‘It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, sir,’ Jessamine said.

Lucie repeated Jessamine’s words to Thomas.

‘Ah, it is a pleasure to meet you too, miss,’ Thomas said, looking over her head instead of at her.

Lucie sometimes wondered if Thomas got neck cramps from having to look down whenever he was talking to other people.

Jessamine let go of Thomas’ hand. ‘In my day, the gentlemen certainly had better manners,’ she snorted.

Lucie started laughing. ‘Jessamine is not impressed by your manners, Tom,’ she said.

Thomas turned an even deeper red. ‘I am terribly sorry, miss, that my manners are not up to your standard. Wait, is she still there?’

Jessamine scoffed. ‘I’ll never understand the gentlemen of this century. If you can call them that. People are so contradictory. I always felt like public displays of affection are frowned upon nowadays, especially between gentlemen, even if they are very close friends. But your two gentlemen seem to be very affectionate and improper with each other.’

Lucie started laughing. She suspected Jessamine had seen Alastair and Thomas kiss each other the other day, she’d seemed very shocked by it, but Lucie didn’t realize she’d interpreted them as having a very intimate friendship. Some decades before Jessamine lived, such a thing had been more normalized though, known as the romantic friendship. Although Lucie suspected at least some of those “romantic friendships” were really concealed gay relationships. ‘Oh no, that is not considered normal in this day, but Alastair and Thomas are not simply close friends.’

Jessamine looked absolutely horrified and Lucie decided to change the subject. She did not feel like discussing sexuality with a ghost from the Victorian era, she didn’t think that conversation would end without anyone getting hurt or offended.

‘What did she say?’ Thomas asked.

‘Jess is very confused about the gentlemen of this day. Usually they are not so affectionate towards each other as you are with Alastair,’ Lucie summarized.

‘I,’ Alastair announced, ‘am very glad to live in this day and age and not whatever century this lady must have been from.’

Lucie could imagine, the modern day might still be a mess but she would certainly prefer it over being a 19thcentury lady. She imagined she would have married young, a gentleman she’d thought she was fond of, but didn’t really feel romantic attraction to, and then she’d be trapped. That wouldn’t happen to her main character Eloise though. Eloise and Mabel would find a way, although of course writing a story about a sapphic couple in the 19th century had its limitations in their happy ending.

‘So Jess can touch objects and people who don’t see her,’ Lucie continued. ‘Anyone has any other ideas?’

‘Could you make her visible to us?’ Alastair asked.

‘Jess, show yourself,’ Lucie said.

Jessamine frowned. ‘I don’t know how to do that.’

Nothing happened, at least not that Lucie could tell.

‘She looks a lot like I pictured her,’ Thomas said.

‘I thought her hair would be darker,’ Alastair commented. ‘I don’t think bleach for hair existed back then, and I’m pretty sure no one has hair that’s naturally this light.’

‘I think it depends on where you’re from,’ Thomas said. ‘Light blonde hair is more common in Northern Europe.’

Cordelia snorted. ‘Just because you used to bleach your hair, does not mean everyone who is blonde does the same.’

Thomas frowned. ‘You bleached your hair?’

‘I dyed it back to black, and it’s mostly grown out now,’ Alastair said. ‘It was too much effort to maintain, I had to touch up the roots every four weeks. It looked good though.’

‘It did not look good,’ Cordelia commented. ‘He looked like a turnip.’

Lucie’s eyes went wide. It worked. They were seeing Jessamine. Lucie was feeling a little faint, but did not let it distract her.

‘Come on, pay attention. You’re looking at a ghost for the first time in your life, isn’t that more interesting than Alastair’s hair?’ Lucie shouted.

‘Almost,’ Thomas said. ‘Have you seen Alastair’s hair?’

Alastair rolled his eyes. ‘Let’s pay attention to the ghost. Alright, blonde people are real. And her dress is very nice, I always liked the bustle style.’

‘You can see me?’ Jessamine’s smile lit up. ‘Oh this wonderful. It is such a long time since a gentleman has been able to see me. And it is a lovely dress, I had it made when I visited Paris with my mama.’

She pronounced Paris the way the French did. Lucie knew Jessamine loved to talk about her gowns, although she wasn’t fond of modern clothes. She wore a green day dress with a bustle, something Lucie imagined was a bit unpractical. So many layers. Not to mention the corset.

Alastair looked up thoughtfully. ‘How long do you imagine she’ll stay visible, Lucie?’ he asked. ‘What about if you step away from here? Go inside?’

Lucie took several steps away from Jessamine, taking hold of the door to open it.

‘She’s gone,’ Thomas said.

Lucie turned around and walked to Jessamine. ‘What about now?’ she asked.

‘Nothing,’ Cordelia said. ‘I think once she disappears, you need to ask her to become visible again.’

‘Show yourself,’ Lucie repeated.

‘There she is,’ Alastair said. ‘She looks surprisingly human. I always thought ghosts would be more transparent like in movies.’

‘If they were, do you think I would have mistaken ghosts for living people?’ Lucie asked. ‘If you look carefully, ghosts have a bit of a shimmer but beyond that they look just like people.’

‘Living people, that is,’ Jessamine said. ‘I consider myself a person still, thank you very much.’

‘Of course you are a person,’ Thomas confirmed, indicating that he could hear as well as see her. ‘It is odd to think you’ve been here for such a long time, and always invisible.’

‘It has been very difficult,’ Jessamine said. ‘For a long time, no one could see me until Lucie came here. And modern times are so confusing. Why do ladies wear clothes that reveal their ankles at all times? Worse, the knees? In my day, the occasional ankle slip was to be expected, of course, but visibility of the calves and knees was unheard of. Have people lost all sense of propriety?’

‘Because it’s more practical to not wear floor length dresses all the time,’ Lucie said. ‘Also, no one cares about ankles nowadays. Or knees.’

Lucie did like wearing dresses and skirts, but didn’t like them too long. She was short and therefore the hem always dragged over the ground, which meant she either tripped over the skirt or got it dirty when she wore it outside.

‘But it’s so improper,’ Jessamine insisted, horrified. ‘How could people just stop caring about such things? If this continues, it will not be long until humans go out with no clothes at all and society will fall into chaos.’

‘Now that is generally frowned upon,’ Alastair said. ‘I do not expect that to happen anytime soon.’

‘It would be uncomfortable,’ Cordelia added. ‘And also very cold. The point of clothes is to stay warm.’

‘Does anyone have an idea on how to open a gateway to the land in between?’ Lucie asked. ‘Because that is different from what I can ask of ghosts.’

Cordelia frowned. ‘Maybe you could ask Jessamine.’

‘Jess, can you open a gateway to the land in between for me?’ Lucie asked.

Jessamine frowned. ‘I’m sorry, I do not understand what you ask of me.’

That wasn’t it, then. Lucie guessed opening the gateway was something she’d have to do herself. Making Jessamine visible, that was also something she did, she commanded it and Jessamine could not do it without her. Then perhaps it was about commanding.

‘Or you could ask for a gateway,’ Thomas suggested.

‘Like, open sesame?’ Lucie asked.

‘Be specific,’ Alastair added. ‘What is it that you want to happen? Perhaps Thomas is right, perhaps all you have to do is ask.’

Lucie tried to remember what Grace said, that her magic was dark magic. Perhaps she needed to ask the darkness, or shadows, or something like it? Grace had hinted at this too. Careful what you wish, you just might get it.

‘Darkness, open a gateway to the land in between that is only open to myself, Thomas Lightwood, and Alastair and Cordelia Carstairs,’ Lucie said, remembering to be detailed. Perhaps that was what Grace had warned her about, that what she asked for would happen but not the way she’d intended. ‘A gateway that will not close until all four of us made it back safely to our world.’

It didn’t look like a gateway exactly. There was just a hint of shadow, and when it touched Lucie her friends disappeared. There were no ruins here, the change was subtle beyond her friends being gone. The air was just a touch darker, the breeze a little colder. Some of the color had faded, the grass was a bit duller. There was a fog hovering above the ground. The house was still there, but from here she should be able to see her father’s car and that was gone.

Cordelia, Thomas and Alastair appeared beside her, Cordelia with cortana in hand.

‘I don’t see any ruins,’ Thomas commented.

‘I think the land in between is layered over our land,’ Lucie said. ‘So perhaps to find those ruins, I need to open a portal around where the ruins are. Or I guess we could walk there, but then we’d leave a portal open here and we’d have to walk all the way back once we find it in this world.’

‘I imagine you could open another portal,’ Alastair said. ‘But finding the place the ruins should be in our world and then opening a portal is likely safer. Come, we should get back. This place doesn’t feel right.’

Alastair had a point. Lucie looked around to the way back. In their own world, the gateway looked like a shadow. Here it was a ray of light in an otherwise dark and gloomy environment. She watched her friends step into the light and disappear and then Lucie followed.

The four of them were back in the normal world, her parents both in the garden, concerned. The gate of darkness disappeared behind her. Lucie had asked it not to close until all of them were back, she guessed on its own it didn’t stay open for long and would close if she didn’t stop it. She made a mental note of that, she didn’t want to have to open another portal while they were being attacked by something. The portal closing behind her while all four of them were back was a good way to make sure nothing else came through.

She was feeling a bit more faint than before, light headed. She should have expected using magic would come at a price, but perhaps it was like exercise and she could improve her magic stamina.

‘Where did you just come from?’ Tessa asked.

Lucie looked around for help, but figured since this was her power she was to explain it. She started with Grace visiting again, with her telling her that she had more power than she knew and that she could open a gate.

‘I figured out how to do it,’ Lucie concluded. ‘So we can go into the woods and find Grace’ skin.’

‘Are you sure you don’t want us to come along?’ Will asked.

Lucie considered it, but it was a long time since her father had fought anything and her mother had barely any experience. It wouldn’t be safer with them there. Cordelia had a sword, Lucie was the only one who could open the gateway, and Grace seemed under the impression that it was also necessary for Alastair to come, that his memory would be essential. At least one person with the sight would also be useful.

‘I think it’s better if you didn’t,’ Lucie said. ‘But there’s something else you could do in the meantime. According to Cordelia and Alastair, their father has lots of notebooks from their ancestors, and one must have described a witch similar to me. Perhaps you could call Elias, or uncle Jem, and ask for them.’

Will frowned. ‘Do you think Elias would help us now? He was so opposed to Cordelia coming here with us before.’

Cordelia hadn’t been allowed to come at first, but then her mother had moved out and taken her children with her and her father couldn’t stop her anymore. Sona had decided it would be good for both her children to have some time away and had encouraged them to go. Lucie agreed it was unlikely Elias would be any help on his own accord. She couldn’t say she understood him or his relationship with his children well, all she knew was the damage it had done to Alastair and Cordelia.

‘Father does listen to Jem at times,’ Alastair said stiffly. ‘I think perhaps he could reason with him.’

‘I’ve been meaning to call Jem anyway,’ Will said. ‘If you do not return before dinner, we will come looking for you.’

‘I could leave the gate open for you,’ Lucie said. ‘But we cannot be sure about the time. It doesn’t run the same way, we could spend only a couple of hours there and we’d be missing for a whole day. We cannot keep track of time in there.’

‘Dinnertime,’ Will repeated. ‘I won’t blame you if you’re not back, but we will come looking.’

‘Perhaps we should go tomorrow,’ Alastair suggested and Lucie wondered if maybe after this morning, he did not feel up for it and needed rest. ‘I think it is unlikely we will finish before that time, and if we go tomorrow early in the morning, it is far more likely we can finish before dinnertime.’

Lucie had to admit his line of reasoning had merit, even if she was impatient to get out there. Besides, that gave her time to practice. Cordelia returned to her practice with cortana, whereas Lucie tried asking the darkness for other favors. She practiced opening and closing gate. The gateways all worked and did what she asked of them, but it was tiring though. After four more gates Lucie collapsed onto a garden chair and took to watching Cordelia practice, too tired to get up. Perhaps Alastair had a point in postponing going for the skin, and she imagined even if he was feeling better now that he was exhausted after this morning. She’d had a break down on a rare occasion, autism and stubbornness didn’t always go well together, but never as bad as Alastair had. She knew how exhausting it could be.

Cordelia’s stamina had to be a lot better than Lucie’s, because she kept going for a long time and didn’t seem to get tired. She certainly had a weak spot for girls with swords, and Lucie made a note to use that in one of her novels. Cordelia had tied back her dark red hair in a high ponytail, and was wearing a wide shirt tucked into a pair of jean shorts, something a bit more practical than Lucie’s yellow jumpsuit. Well, it was comfortable to walk around in, but a struggle to go to the bathroom. Cordelia had begun to break a sweat, a few drips on her forehead, but that didn’t stop her. Perhaps later she’d want to go swimming to cool down. Thinking of water, Lucie realized she hadn’t drunk anything in a while. And considering Cordelia had been training for some time, she had to be dehydrated.

‘Do you want something to drink?’ Lucie asked.

‘I could use a glass of water,’ Cordelia said. ‘I always forget to drink when I’m training.’

Fortunately, Lucie was there to make sure Cordelia drank enough water. She tended to forget herself too, especially when she was busy writing. Sometimes she’d complain of a headache, only to realize she hadn’t drunk anything since breakfast.

She went inside to find Alastair and Thomas were about to leave, both carrying a bag.

‘Where are you going?’ Lucie asked.

‘Just to the lake,’ Thomas said. ‘We won’t go too far into the lake, but it’s getting too warm pretty much everywhere. Maybe you and Cordelia can join us later when you’re done training.’

‘I’ll ask Cordelia,’ Lucie promised. ‘Have fun, in the meantime.’

She returned outside with two glasses of water, putting one on the table.

‘The boys have gone swimming,’ Lucie said. ‘Thomas said we were welcome to join once we’re done.’

‘Sure,’ Cordelia said. ‘Just let me finish.’

Cordelia went through a few more repeats of her training, and then transformed cortana back into its necklace form.

‘I get tired a lot sooner than you,’ Lucie admitted.

‘I can’t do magic,’ Cordelia said. ‘I have no idea how exhausting opening or closing a gateway is. I imagine it is a lot more work than simply swinging a sword.’

Lucie guessed perhaps that was true, magic ought to have some limitations. If not, then how could Cordelia’s ancestor have defeated the witch from Grace’ story? ‘I’m curious what else I can do. Grace said something about controlling the dead and making them fight, but that seems a bit unethical. Jessamine isn’t a fighter, and I’d never make her fight something on my behalf.’

‘It depends on the situation, I guess,’ Cordelia said. ‘We don’t know what it takes to stop Tatiana and save Thomas.’

‘No, but I do need to draw moral lines for myself,’ Lucie said. ‘I feel bad for that witch from the story, and I don’t want to end up like her. I don’t want us to become enemies.’

Cordelia took her hand. ‘I’ll never become your enemy, Lu.’

‘Then I guess I’ll have to stay on the safe side of that ethical line. I know how easy it can be, to have the end justify the means, but that’s something I’d rather save for my stories.’

[feysandandnyx]

I find it funny people who are so determined to defend Nesta that they are willing to vilify any other character to justify their favorite, as if the situations that occur in acotar were white or black and nothing more. Let me tell you a little bit about the argument used to say that Rhysand sexually abused Feyre Under the Mountain. I think in the first place, sjm made choices that I don't agree with. Why did Rhysand have to drug Feyre with the bewitched wine? What exactly did he not want her to see? The explanation would have been better if Sarah had been clearer in her writing.

Underneath the mountain it is certainly one of the darkest and most distressing moments in these books. The characters are in a very dark place and they need to act like that. In Under Mountain Rhysand is the monster the world thinks he is. But the way in which he related to Feyre until then is minimally dubious, even so we ended the book with anger at him.

If you reread ACOTAR it is easy to see the ambiguity of Rhysand's attitudes. He looks curious and is polite when he meets Feyre. But he acts cruelly on their second date. In Under the Mountain, he kisses Feyre against her will, he makes her wear clothes that leave Feyre's body exposed, he twists her arm, and he does drugs every night to the point that the character himself takes it as a habit.

However, if Rhysand dresses Feyre like a whore, he puts a crown on her head and declares to the entire court in Amarantha that Feyre was your protect and that the two had made a deal where she was supposed to spend a week with him at the Night Court. . This moment is very important, Rhysand is explicitly telling Amarantha that her reign was over, but you only notice it if you read it a second time.

Rhysand twisted Feyre's arm, but gave her a tattoo that in his homeland is a sign of strength and good luck. He kissed her to hide from Amarantha what Feyre and Tamlin had done. He was the only one who bet in favor of Feyre on her first test, he cheated to help her on the second test and he literally fought for her on the third.

Rhysand also manipulated the guards so that Feyre did not have to perform domestic activities that seemed endless, he made sure that she received quality food in her cell, he sent Feyre beautiful things when she was close to breaking: a song and a glimpse of the night sky . Rhysand showed a mask of cruelty to everyone, but he was always more than that for Feyre. He always showed her a part of himself that he could not reveal to anyone else, which is made explicit when he shows her her wings or as close to what her true form would be. And somehow, Feyre FEELS Rhysand, because the bond between them was already something real and noticeable under the mountain.

Some people will simply say: but isn't he Prynthian's most powerful High Lord? Why didn't he act differently? Simple. Rhysand practically no longer had his powers and he later explains that Amarantha had protection even against physical attacks. That's why he gets beaten when he fights her.

So even though I don't particularly feel comfortable with Rhysand drugging Feyre Under the Mountain, I can understand the reasons for his behavior and put the character in a GRAY category. Rhysand does bad things, but not without a reason. At first he is confused about how to feel about Feyre. He doesn't understand how he feels, but he realizes that she is the answer to rid Prynthian of Amarantha. So in a first layer, Rhysand uses her as a pawn, in a second, he helps her simply because Feyre is her mate and the character realizes this when Feyre was about to die. But all the time, he was already acting like he knew.

Rhysand would be a much bigger problem for me if he didn't talk to Feyre about the choices he made Under the Mountain or if he had actually taken sexual advantage of Feyre . If he felt any pride in what he did. However, this is not what was developed in acomaf and that is why it remains the best ACOTAR book for me. Rhysand is not proud, he admits that he was a monster, he is apologizing, he does not think he is worthy of Feyre, he never had hopes of having a romance with her. He is resigned and resigned to the price he had to pay to break free. He is willing to break the bargain between the two and let Feyre go to find what made her happy. On the other hand, Feyre is confused about him, but she also despises him and believes that he is the monster that everyone believed he was. There is no romanticization of Under the Mountain here. Rhysand and Feyre are initially at odds. Feyre needs to meet Rhys to understand and discover that he can be good and selfless.

To understand that he could be a monster to protect what he loved. I don't see romanticization in this construction since the characters are simply talking about these things. Rhysand was wrong to drug Feyre, but he is not saying he was right, nor is he proud of it. The same when he kisses Feyre against her will. When Rhysand kisses her, Feyre immediately understands why. So Rhysand is doing morally dubious things to keep Feyre alive. What would you have done in Rhysand's place? Would he have let Amarantha understand about Feyre and Tamlin and kept his morals intact, or would he have compromised his morals to save someone?

What is the morally correct situation in a life or death situation? Depending on your answer, you can understand why Rhysand can be forgiven by Feyre and most ACOTAR readers. Rhysand is not and has never been a perfect character. He is gray, neither black nor white, but something in between these two things and he is capable of destroying the world to save those he loves. I agree with the criticism that it is disturbing to see a person who is a victim of sexual abuse having to make these choices, but these criticisms should be directed mainly at sjm.

And maybe you can understand why Rhysand's reason for being "abusive" with Feyre is still different from the reason why Nesta was abusive to Feyre. Nessa abused Feyre to hurt her and make her feel bad to protect herself . Rhysand crossed a line with Feyre to keep her alive and free Prynthian from Amarantha. Feyre and Rhysand had an entire book to talk and get along with. All we wanted from Nesta was for her to talk and show her regret to Feyre. Let her show how she felt, with words and not just gestures. Feyre deserved to hear from Nesta what she said to Cassian or Amaren. But he will have opted for a lazy solution and tried to reduce Nesta's years of abuse over Feyre as a disagreement between sisters. So, I'm sorry if we can forgive Rhysand and not Nesta. The problem is not the characters themselves, but the way sjm chose to treat each of these relationships in the end.

Nesta didn't need to let herself be who she is, she just needed to apologize. I think the problem was never whether Nesta loved Feyre or not, but Nesta acknowledging to Feyre that she was wrong and apologizing for it. It's lazy for you to do Nesta simply by saving Feyre, especially when Feyre once died. Perhaps that is why many people did not like the way Sjm decided to end the conflict between the sisters in acosaf. Particularly speaking, I feel good about Nesta's healing process, but not the way she solves her problems with Feyre.

Again, if there were any mistakes I bought in the text I apologize because English is not my first language.

[terramythos]

TerraMythos 2021 Reading Challenge - Book 21 of 26

Title: The Galaxy, and the Ground Within (Wayfarers #4) (2021)

Author: Becky Chambers

Genre/Tags: Science Fiction, Third-Person, Female Protagonists

Rating: 9/10

Date Began: 8/15/2021

Date Finished: 8/22/2021

Gora is an unremarkable planet. It has no natural life and few resources to speak of. In fact, its only use is its proximity to more interesting places. Over the years, it’s become a waystation, notable only as a temporary stop for travelers as they wait for their spot in the wormhole queue. 

The Five-Hop One-Stop is a small, family-owned rest stop on Gora. Three travelers— a marginalized nomad, a military contractor, and an exiled artist-- lay over at the Five-Hop awaiting the next stage of their journeys. But everything goes horribly wrong when repair work on an orbital satellite causes a cascade event, destroying the planet’s communications. Now stranded on Gora with debris raining down from the sky, the travelers and hosts must live with each other while cut off from the rest of the galaxy. As they learn more about one another, each is forced to confront their personal struggles… and challenge their perspective on life.

Speaker had a word for how she felt right then: errekere. A moment of vulnerable understanding between strangers. It did not translate into Klip, but it was a feeling she knew well from gatherings among her people. There was no need being expressed here, no barter or haggling or problems that required the assistance of a Speaker, but errekere was what she felt all the same. She’d never felt it with an alien before. She embraced the new experience.

Content warnings and spoilers below the cut.  

Content warnings for the book: Non-graphic sexual content, child endangerment, ableism (if you squint; it’s not malicious), references to warfare, discussions of intergenerational trauma re: colonization (not the scifi kind), prejudice and xenophobia, recreational drug use. 

I’ve had a mixed experience with Wayfarers, which is unusual for me. I can’t remember the last series I read that fluctuated so much in terms of personal enjoyment and (in my opinion) quality. People as a whole seem to enjoy this series more than me, hence the multitude of awards and glowing reviews. I liked book two, A Closed and Common Orbit, because of the focused narrative and dedicated development of two lead characters. But the first and third books suffered from an overly large cast and reliance on generic archetypes. When a series is built on character development and plot is a secondary concern at best, those characters have to be outstanding. And to me, they usually weren’t.

But in this fourth and final book, I felt that Chambers finally hit her stride. On a surface level, The Galaxy, and the Ground Within has striking similarity to book three, Record of a Spaceborn Few. Both are virtually plotless novels which do deep dives into a cast of characters. What sets The Galaxy apart is its execution. All three leads have unique and compelling personal conflicts. An underutilized strength of the series is its creative aliens; something Chambers takes advantage of here with a fully alien cast. Finally, this book hinges upon interaction between the three leads, something sorely missing from the previous book. 

In these reviews I often seem critical of ensemble casts. But when done well, I actually prefer them to singular narratives. The main hurdle is having consistently interesting characters across the board. When there’s one or two characters I prefer over the others, I usually struggle with the novel. There’s an inherent sense of disappointment when leaving a favored character’s POV. For me this affects my overall enjoyment of the story. But when I like all of the characters or they all have something interesting going on, ensemble casts are great. The Galaxy, and the Ground Within is successful in this regard because I thoroughly enjoyed all three perspective characters. In no particular order…

Speaker is an Akarak, a birdlike scavenger species introduced as sympathetic antagonists in the first book. Going in, we know their home planet was colonized by the Harmagians, which has caused irreparable harm to their culture. Robbed of their homeworld and forced into the margins of GC society, the Akarak are nomadic, and many of them rely on banditry in order to survive. We have seen very little of them besides that. The Galaxy expands their lore a lot; their short lifespans, their incompatible biology with other sapients, and the resulting generational trauma from centuries of colonial exploitation. Speaker’s arc in particular is about dealing with the prejudice she encounters daily, adjusting to acceptance after being othered for so long, seeing things from a new perspective, and persistent worry for her twin sister Tracker, who she’s been separated from due to the events on Gora. 

The Aeluon Pei is actually a recurring character; she’s Ashby’s love interest from the first book. Here we get a more intimate view of her as a person. In particular, she struggles with living a double life. She works a prestigious yet dangerous job among her people, running cargo into critical warzones. But her affair with Ashby (a Human) is a huge cultural taboo among the Aeluons. If her colleagues discovered her romantic relationship, her life as a cargo runner would be over. The double life is wearing on her, because she loves both aspects of her life, but knows that it can’t go on like this forever. To make matters worse, she goes into “shimmer”, a once-in-a-lifetime fertility period, during the events on Gora. This adds a layer to her struggle; does she do her duty to her species and produce a child, or does she pursue what she really wants? 

Finally, there’s Roveg, a Quelin. Like the Akarak, Quelin haven’t received a whole lot of development in the series. In the first book, they’re portrayed as a xenophobic insectoid race, and their role is unambiguously antagonistic. Roveg is the polar opposite of that. He’s something of a renaissance man; an appreciator of fine art and dining, who designs artistic sims by profession. He delights in meeting aliens, befriending them, and learning everything there is to know about them. His arc centers around his exile from Quelin society and all the hidden pains associated with that. Chief among these is a mysterious meeting he has to make— which the Gora disaster obviously complicates. 

Complementing the three leads are the Five-Hop’s hosts; a Laru mother and child named Ouloo and Tupo. Similar to the Akarak and Quelin, we haven’t seen many of the Laru (who I always picture as fuzzy dog-giraffe hybrids). Ouloo struggles to be a kind and accommodating host in the wake of disaster. She’s also forced to confront her own prejudices, especially regarding Speaker, the first Akarak she’s ever met. The two initially have a lot of tension, but grow to be great friends over the course of the novel. Her child Tupo is a nonbinary character using xe/xyr pronouns throughout the novel. Xe’s basically a Laru teenager, and super endearing. I love xyr natural curiosity and naiveté. Definitely the “heart” of the group. 

Interaction between these characters is the bread and butter of this novel. There’s very little action; instead it focuses on their differing perspectives and life experiences. It’s a gradual build as the characters grow more familiar with one another. The epilogue is brilliant, because we see the long-term effect of these characters meeting. Despite interpersonal conflict in the story, Speaker inspires Pei to make a specific decision. From this decision, Pei realizes she can help Roveg with his meeting. As a result of this, Roveg is inspired to help Speaker based on one of their earlier conversations. His help fundamentally alters Speaker’s perspective on life— and there’s an implication it will reach beyond that, to the Akarak as a whole. It’s a cascade effect, but rather than the disastrous version that happened on Gora, it’s a positive social change for the leads. That’s the kind of literary parallel that really fires me up. 

I do have a few criticisms of this novel, minor and otherwise. The first is, I wish the tension between Speaker and Pei was more strongly built throughout. While I’m glad the novel isn’t all sunshine and rainbows when it comes to the character interactions, their conflict goes from an idea in the back of one’s mind to an explosive event. This is something of a nitpick because it’s otherwise well executed. I especially like that despite their interpersonal problems, they work together in the climactic events of the novel without sacrificing their respective principles. 

My other criticism is a series-wide observation. Wayfarers is optimistic to a fault. As such, it’s pretty rare that we see true evil or even bad behavior in this series. On one hand, it’s nice to read something where the characters are people who want the best for everyone. But there’s a lot of dissonance here, because there are MASSIVE social problems with the GC at large. For example, we see the effects of xenophobia, war, slavery, and colonialism, but the ones who perpetuate these issues are faceless. If Chambers wants to portray good characters, that’s fine, but it strikes me as odd to build complex social issues into your society, yet exclusively portray groups of morally good people. Why would a society full of such nice, helpful groups also marginalize the Akarak, or create an entire caste of slave clones to sort through their junk? This approach comes off as a desire for nuance without committing to it. 

This trend continues through the final book. The Galaxy, and the Ground Within is clearly a COVID-19 response novel (“we’re all in this together”!)— but everyone is blameless, and the government response is reasonable and timely. That’s just not how it worked in real life. So many people were (and still are!) selfish in response to COVID, often outright endangering others. Practically every government botched their response for the sake of money, leading to mass death worldwide. If Wayfarers has similar social issues to the real world, why would the response to a disaster be any different? It’s an ongoing contradiction; the Wayfarers society is simultaneously utopian and flawed, and it’s hard for me to suspend my disbelief. 

As an individual novel, though, I really enjoyed The Galaxy, and the Ground Within. Like all the other books in the Wayfarers series, it’s a standalone and can be read on its own. My experience with this series has been up and down; I recommend the second and fourth books, but I’d skip one and three if I ever do a reread. There are things to like about Wayfarers in terms of worldbuilding and the creative ideas behind all the different aliens. Characterization is hit or miss, but the hits are great, and this book in particular knocked it out of the park. Chambers’ prose improves a lot over the series, and it’s nice to see how she develops as a writer. As I’ve mentioned, Wayfarers has gotten lots of positive feedback, so it’s possible you will enjoy it more than I did. But I’m looking forward to reading something new.

[amphtaminedreams]

Farewell to Spooky Season, AHS Style: Lookbook no.12

Hi to anyone reading,

Happy belated Halloween!

I capitalise it because if I'm gonna recognise any day as sacred, it’s the spookiest one of the year! Halloween 2020 obviously hasn’t been as exciting as usual, parties and club nights being banned has meant there’s been far less opportunities to dress up, but I still managed to get out for the night before they announced the upcoming second lockdown and do a couple of spooky movie nights (and carve a pumpkin!)!

I originally intended for this lookbook to be last minute halloween costume inspo but I was lazy and didn’t manage to get it out on time-a lot of these looks minus the makeup and maybe an accessory or two could work on any day or night out so I thought I’d go ahead and post it now anyway. Celebrating the fashion moments of American Horror Story is something I’ve wanted to do for a while; it’s probably not the first show you’d think of for sartorial inspiration but Mr. Ryan Murphy has fucking fantastic taste in stylists and the first five seasons of AHS in particular, which I’ll be focussing on in this post, have given us SO many amazing looks. The man may be guilty of many things-subjecting us to the character of Will Schuester, trying to turn Richard Ramirez into a thirst trap, embarrassing everyone who raved about how good Scream Queens was when he wrote season 2-but costume related laziness is not one of them. We see more consistency in a Ryan Murphy character’s wardrobe than we do in their story arcs and I respect that because honestly, as much as I love joining in when it comes to ripping into his ability to cohesively bring an AHS season to a close when it airs, I’d probably be the same; if you put Lady Gaga in front of me and told me to write her lines I’d probably end up getting overly invested in what her character was going to be wearing in the scene too. 

So! Enough Ryan Murphy bashing from me! I’ll get on with it! Starting with 3 season 1 inspired looks:

Murder House: Elizabeth Short, Tate Langdon and Violet Harmon

-striped jumper from caitlinlark on Depop, kick flare jeans from ellagray-

When it comes to reflecting on season 1 of American Horror Story, all I can say do is thank the internet overlords that Tumblr has moved on from the romanticising school shooters and wearing normal people scare me tops phase to instead collectively taking the piss out of the “GO AWAY, TATE!”, “YOU’RE ALL THAT I WANTTT! YOU’RE ALL THAT I HAVEEE!” exchange. 

In terms of fashion *moments*, whilst season 1 doesn’t stand out as much as the seasons that come after, Violet and Tate’s wardrobes did give birth to a bit of a 90s grunge renaissance with their oversized knits and faded jeans and layering of textures. It did also give us good costumes in the form of Alexandra Breckenridge’s Moira O’Hara and Mena Suvari’s portrayal of the Black Dahlia, Elizabeth Short; unfortunately, I didn’t have a slutty maid costume lying around so I did the best I could at giving the outfit Elizabeth wears when she makes that fateful visit to the Murder House a modern, more party appropriate update.

In terms of season rankings, Murder House isn’t my favourite. It starts off really great but lulls a bit towards the end and I could never get behind Violet and Tate as a couple because you know, one of them is a school shooter who sexually assaults the other’s mum, and that’s a hurdle that I think most couples might struggle to get over irl. That being said, it was the season that started it all and showcased some of the most innovative writing and directing on TV, and it opened up a spot for horror on primetime television which as far as I know was kind of unheard of before then. Back when I first watched it, I had no idea what to expect not only because I’d never seen horror in a serial format but also because it seemed to be able to get away with the kind of storylines you’d expect network executives to fire people over. It introduced us to Jessica Lange and Sarah Paulson and Evan Peters and Denis O’Hare who would go on to make the show what it is today and more importantly, through Jessica’s glorious portrayal of Constance Langdon, provide us with an endlessly versatile meme format for this trying time.

Asylum: ‘60s Lana Winters, ‘70s Lana Winters, and Sister Mary Eunice McKee

-afghan coat from louisemarcella on Depop, red AA skater dress from julietramage, pink gingham co-ord from zshamim-

I think we can all agree: Asylum would’ve been a perfect series of television if it wasn’t for the completely unnecessary alien storyline. Like, I get that they fit in with the whole good vs. evil theme as a kind of non-biblical alternative to the idea of a higher, all-powerful being but there was already so much going on that it just wasn’t needed. Aside from that, I think the general consensus amongst watchers of the show is that Asylum has the best writing of any season and I think I’d tend to agree. It’s not my favourite because it’s too depressing to rewatch but if we’re talking the first time round, this is the series that had me hooked. Lana Winters?

Iconic. 

Sister Mary Eunice? Iconic. The Name Game? Iconic. Remember when you couldn’t go a day on Facebook without seeing that one photo of Naomi Grossman as Pepper used as the go to “what I really look like” photo in one of those “expectation vs. reality” style posts on your newsfeed? Those were simpler times.

Because this season was mostly situated within the hospital, we didn’t get that many proper outfits but when we did, they were stunning; if I had to state my absolute favourite AHS character of the entire show I’d probably go with Lana Winters and the part her wardrobe played in her characterisation would 100% play a part in that. The late 60s/early 70s was such a wonderful period for fashion and through her character we get to see both of those explored a little. Of course there’s also *that* Sister Mary Eunice scene with the red slip dress and suspenders too which yes, could be a perfect halloween costume, but I also strongly believe should be a perfectly acceptable outfit for any day of the year. 

Coven: Misty Day, Madison Montgomery, and Zoe Benson

-chiffon dress from rags_to_riches on Depop, pinstripe corset from hanpiercey, and tennis skirt from mollie_morton-

I hate to be a basic bitch but I have to say it: Coven is my favourite season of American Horror Story. Once you get over the complete waste of Evan Peters’ acting capabilities that resulted from the *choice* to have him play Kyle, the unnecessary rehash of the Evan/Taissa pairing from season 1 in what I can only assume was an attempt to capitalise on the popularity of the questionable Tate/Violet relationship, and the subsequent sacrifice of any interesting character arc we could’ve foreseen for Zoe Benson beyond her obsessing over a resurrected, non-verbal frat boy, it’s a perfect season. A supreme (heh) balance of horror, humour, and character drama, as well as the stunning aesthetics and forever quotable dialogue, make it my go-to season if I’m ever considering a rewatch. And if you disagree, let me jog your memory with the most mainstream (not to get all “normal people scare me” and suggest AHS is not a mainstream show, I literally just mean in the sense that even those who have never watched the show will have seen this)  reaction GIF set any FX show has even spawned:

Buzzfeed employees had a field day, Emma Roberts enthusiasts (I mean me) finally saw her cemented as the pop culture icon Scream Queens has since showed us she deserves to be (because not enough people have seen Unfabulous, Nancy Drew or Scream 4) and the gays everywhere rejoiced at the year’s worth of meme fodder they’d been provided with. It was Madison Montgomery’s world and we were truly just living in it.

And the fashion! I mean, Stevie Nicks meets 21st century teenage witches! Come on! 

Freakshow: Dandy Mott, Maggie Esmerelda and Elsa Mars

-olive green satin skirt from morganogle on Depop, headscarf from tonijordan, platform sandals from elliefewt, PVC skirt from bethpin_, corset top from sadieflinter, beret from house_of_erotique, flame detail platform boots from mad_rags_vintage-

When people talk about the declining quality of AHS, they usually point to Freakshow as the beginning of the end, but I have to completely disagree. I wasn’t a fan the first time round but on rewatch it’s probably the most emotional season of them all; no, there aren’t as many “horrifying” moments as in other seasons and Elsa is probably Jessica’s worst performance (which is still an incredible one by anybody else’s standards), however it makes up for it with the most sympathetic bunch of characters yet, and on the flip side, also one of the most amusingly depraved with Finn Wittrock’s Dandy Mott. Fans usually argue that the season went downhill once *SPOILER* Twisty the Clown was killed off but for me, he really primarily served as the catalyst for the far more interesting devolution of Dandy, who, imo, is the show’s strongest villain to date, rivalled only by Bloody Face. Then there was the episode Orphans too which made me cry buckets, the sole AHS episode to do so. 

We got a lot of great fashion content in this season too: the theatrical opulence of Elsa Mars’ wardrobe, “Maggie”’s nomadic fortune teller costumes, and all those twee suits we saw Finn Wittrock in. Highly underrated if you ask me. It seems an odd choice for me to use Elsa’s Dominatrix look as an inspiration for one of my looks here when we have that Life on Mars performance outfit and all the extravagant robes Jessica got to waltz around in for reference buuuut I didn’t really have anything to do the vibrancy of either of those justice so I went with the black leather option which is much more me. Am I saying I moonlight as a dominatrix? Maybe. Lol, no. I wish. It’s not for lack of trying. WHERE ARE ALL THE GENUINE TWITTER PAYPIGS AT!? Your girl wants to insult creepy men and get some new clothes out of it xoxo

Hotel: Hypodermic Sally, Liz Taylor, and The Countess

-silk white bralet from xlibby_maix on Depop-

Hotel is another season that I liked a lottttt more upon rewatch, once I knew I was okay to tune out the (completely predictable and utterly nonsensical) Ten Commandments Killer storyline that so much of the season initially seems to hinge on. I love Chloë Sevigny but the fact that her and Wes Bentley’s wooden John and Alex Lowe are positioned as the protagonists at the expense of the far more interesting Liz Taylor, James March and Hypodermic Sally really does a disservice to what is an otherwise great season upon initial viewing.

The visuals this season are magnificent and I think if I had to pick one character’s wardrobe to steal from the entire cast of AHS characters, it would be The Countess (a toss up between her and Misty Day tbh, so I kinda just settle for low-key channelling both). No fucking idea where I'd wear any of her clothes to but I’d make it work. Liz Taylor and Hypodermic Sally have some amazing looks too-there’s just honestly so much to choose from; that being said, this post wouldn’t be complete without a specific ode to the vampire goddess Elizabeth Bathory, who is everything I want to be in life minus the murderous qualities:

Everything. EVER-Y-THING. LOOK AT HER!

Lady Gaga is really a fucking goddess isn’t she. And people were claiming before they’d even seen it that she couldn’t act? A patriarchal society doesn’t like women that can do it all. Just saying. 

Anyways!

That’s it for now! I hope you enjoyed the post if you did read til the end! Sorry I couldn’t get this out before Halloween, I was typing and Picmonkey-ing madly from 2 in the afternoon on the 31st but I taking fucking forever to get ready and had to abandon all hope of getting it out on the day by 4PM. I’ve got so much content planned and it sucks because a couple of them are lookbooks which now feel completely redundant given we’re heading into a second lockdown, but maybe I should just do it anyway? The grunge inspired moodboard I just did seemed to get a good reception too so I’ve got some more of them planned. 

As always, hope everyone is keeping well, and feel free to inbox me with any suggestions, queries or even just to say hi if you need someone to talk to! I check here quite a lot so I should see it. Lots of love to everyone in this time!

Lauren x

[w2beastars]

The most important people in Louis’ life and how they affected his life.

Louis is probably the most popular character in the series due to how much he changed and how many layers his character has.

Oguma.

Oguma saved Louis from ending up as food. He bought the small and weak deer noone thought anything of. Why? Because he sensed greatness in the fragile thing, and shaped him into being the next Beastar candidate.

Unfortunately, Oguma is a very odd male. He has a hard time showing emotions, so Louis felt unloved by his adopted dad. Which was a shame since Oguma loved Louis very much. This partly resulted in Louis becoming... well, a prick.

It was only after Louis had spend half a year as a crime boss and lost his leg that he began to understand that Oguma really DID care and the two of them at least TRIED to get along. Oguma even became more open about his emotions. Unfortunately, Oguma died as a result of a car accident, but not before letting his son know how important he was to him, even if it was very awkward.

Haru.

Haru became the closest Louis had to a friend for a long time. They had a sexual relationship that was somewhat romantic. But it was unfortunately a very toxic one since Haru wanted more than just sex but Louis deemed their relationship a temporary fling since he believed animals should pair with those of their own race AND he was engaged to the daughter of a CEO of a company Oguma did business with. So the relationship was on Louis’ conditions and Haru just accepted it.

Haru played a key role in Louis’ life since he realized how pathetic he was by not saving her life. He valued his own life over hers, making him rethink his world view and make him realize how flawed he actually were. This was the beginning of Louis becoming a better person.

Now, they are just friends.

Legosi.

Louis and Legosi had an odd relationship for a long time. Legosi looked up to Louis and had no idea how much the older deer envied him since Louis was the sort of animal Legosi wanted to be: A herbivore that would be appreciated for being strong. Louis felt somehow the same, but he HATED Legosi for having the body he wanted, a big and strong one. He loathed him even more for hiding his strength since he(in his traumatized mind) found it insulting and belittling.

Louis became a crime boss since he was cynical and believed everyone to be as bad as he was. So he assumed the same about Legosi when he found him in the Back-Ally Marked and wanted to see him eat meat to feel justified about hating him.

... But then he realized that Legosi had never eaten as much as a sausage. An important discovery for the deer since it made Louis realize that maybe not everyone was as fake as he wanted them to be.

Legosi might actually be Louis’ best friends as odd as it may be.

The Shishigumi.

The Shishigumi, AKA the Lion Mafia, is Louis’ family.

It might not be a very healthy family, but Louis is not a very healthy guy to begin with, so there’s that.

The lions decided to make Louis their boss after he killed their former boss in cold blood. Louis did very well as a mafia leader since he was a talented negotiator and was skilled as a business man despite only being 18. As time passed, the lions grew fond of Louis and began to realize that he was just a really big kid, making their relationship odd since even though Louis was their leader, the lions began to act like they were his uncles and big brothers. They became the openly loving family Louis needed, the one that gave him the affection Oguma was too clumsy to provide.

Ibuki.

Louis’ second father figure. Already talked a lot about him and Louis’ relationship on THIS BLOG.

Juno.

Juno was the first animal to see through all of Louis’ pretty boy bullshit. This meant that they had an relationship of honesty that Louis never had before.

I talked a lot about this one as well on THIS BLOG.

[redcrownedcrane]

Biography

__ Basics 

Name: Danzō Takahashi. Age: 32 (03/02/1990) Gender, Pronouns & Sexuality: Male (he/his); bisexual but prefers women Hometown: Kyoto Affiliation: Civilian Job position: Martial Arts Studio Owner Education: Homeschooled Relationship status: Single Children: / Positive traits: Pragmatic, loyal, crafty, wise, composed Negative traits: Ruthless, stubborn, secretive, proud, mistrusting

__ Biography

Danzō was born in Kyoto 1990 in a family of businessmen. Because their blood line could be traced back to several hundreds of years back to the golden age of the samurai and beyond that the Takahashi’s deemed their family and their traditions highly – or at least that’s what Grandfather Hayashi claimed. Nobody dared to contest it to this day, though that wasn’t to say there was no doubt. Hayashi most notably was the father figure of Danzō and his older brother Sen. Their biological father left when Danzo was only 4 years old and nobody spoke of him since –– as if he never existed. That was to be expected for those who betrayed the family. Whether he escaped, ran away or whether one of Hayashi’s men assassinated him was a question he was afraid to know the answer to. His mother would not speak of it, anyway, no matter how often Danzo inquired. Over the years, his anger became a mere ache, one he could never shake but background noise, nonetheless. He had not forgiven her silence. He had only learned to live with it.

Anyone will betray you. Anyone.

These were not the words of his mother, not even the words of Hayashi. No, his brother of all people was the one to share this wisdom with him. Danzo did not grasp the meaning of the words until much later. Their relationship was an odd one. Danzo and Sen were opposites it seemed. Sen was obedient if not a little shy, docile almost but quick to read Grandfather Hayashi’s lips which, of course, fed Hayashi’s pride even further. He read often and painted, both with near-supernatural talent. Danzo was wilder and more boyish, always outside knee-deep in dirt. Hayashi had to punish him more often for sneaking away, for observing the workers at the factories after daytime or for  simply being too rude. But they were inseparable for the bond they shared. Sen trusted him –– I thought. If his word was to be believed, Danzo was the only one who knew just how cunning his brother could be. He still remembered the day when he saw Sen stood against the window like he was expecting him, and he looked even more confident, even more vain than Hayashi himself. Danzo never quite understood why he felt he had to pretend in front of the others, but he enjoyed being close to his brother, feeling like he was special and, of course, he enjoyed the gossip of the house and the secret hideouts and all the trouble they got up to. Most of all, Danzo felt safe, because Sen needed him. If Hayashi found out that he had been lied to for so long, that would be the end of him, there was no doubt about it. No, surely, he could not lose Danzo as a brother and an ally. The way this family worked, this bond was exploited one time or another for rather mundane things – to get away with a girl, to lie about work, to do all the things boys did when they were young. But Sen was two-faced. The racoon dog was his favourite animal and that perhaps was the perfect depiction of his true nature – a trickster at heart.

Grandfather Hayashi was a businessman more than anything. He owned two big factories in Kyoto where he employed hundreds of workers to work textiles into luxurious shirts and suits. Business started to boom again in Japan in general so there was no lack of demand for business attire and hip gadgets. The workers often were provided rooms and meals on site to allow them work for longer and cut their wages. Their families were allowed for free too which made many of them want to come voluntarily. We say workers now because the rules have gotten stricter over the years. Hayashi always thought the hypocrisy amusing. They changed the language but all it did was to make conditions worse. Now, many hundreds of people were tricked into slavery because that was really all it was. Hayashi made sure they could not escape because there was nowhere else for them to go. Hayashi thought himself above them and so did everybody else in the house. The best thing? It made him look good in public. People thought he was doing them all a favour by employing them and giving them shelter. Laughable! That said, his main business came from the drug plantation he operated and his connections to the local mafia. Methamphetamine was the drug of choice and especially with the yakuza on their side, Hayashi had no trouble distributing white crystals to the paying man. People needed suits for sure, but they were fucking desperate for meth. And contrary to public perception, there was no such thing as dirty money.

The dream started to crumble when Danzo turned 25 years old. He learned to watch his brother every so often. He used to joke he had some sort of sixth sense, that he would get this feeling whenever Sen was up to no good. This time, the older Takahashi had taken things to the extreme, taking one of the slaves to bed in the factory. Danzo knew he occasionally lusted after the girls. He didn’t understand why for that he lacked neither looks nor reputation to get intimate with a real woman but that itself was only of little concern. Sen had gotten away with it a few times, fucking the whores in their rooms. This time, however, it was different. He couldn’t keep his mouth shut. The girl knew about the assassins the Takahashi family had sent to put an end to a local rivalry and there was only one sentence for that. He understood the need for privacy, but Sen very much must have known about the guards. Sen usually disposed of the girls or silenced them after and Danzo hoped this would be no different, though it never came to this. One of Hayashi’s men had spotted them and was about to bring news to Hayashi. It happened so quickly, Danzo did not realize his blade cutting through the man’s chest until it happened – until the guard sank to the ground lifelessly and he was faced with the scared eyes of the girl and the shocked expression of his brother. He had never seen him like this before. Shit!  But this only would bring them both down. The workers were docile people. They never complained, they knew better than that, and they certainly would not rebel in such abrupt fashion. So, he had to make them. Danzo and Sen that night killed every man guarding the plantation and piled their bodies into the fabric. The workers not understanding what happened very much knew what fate would await them if they stayed. So, most of them left before Hayashi found out, some of them were tortured until they gave out. This was a close shot. Sen would joke that he made him a man later on. It was the first time he had blood on his hands. His demeanour had changed since, he had gone quieter, more distant but they got away, nonetheless. There was no reason to suspect any of the brothers. Besides, Hayashi managed to make a profit out of the whole ordeal by launching an investigation and graciously accepting the reimbursements of the government.

It was a 3 years later that life fell apart completely. It’s the only way you learn. Anyone will betray you. So, he did. Long story short, Sen told Hayashi the truth. Of course, he did not do it openly but something, one day, led Hayashi to believe that Danzo was to be suspected to have triggered the bloodshed. He was called into the room and he swore he could see the unwillingness in his grandfather’s eyes. That only made it worse. Yet it was when quiet, docile and obedient Sen spoke up to tell the others what he saw. Sen rarely spoke unless he was spoken to and this only made it more believable. But it was the sword he cut the first man with that was matched against the wound they located and that served as proof enough. It was the truth – that was the biggest tragedy of it all. Danzo felt like his breath was taken away and his flesh was pierced by a thousand swords all at once. What was he going to do? Danzo was sure Hayashi would have him killed for this. And it was fucking Sen who spoke up once more, begging to leave his life. To say he was confused was a massive understatement. But he had to take it. Hayashi let him go but not without atoning for his crime. He felt the blade against his arm, then his skin. Hayashi nearly skinned him alive, allowing one cut for every man that fell that night. Everyone betrays everyone. Danzo’s arm was lined with layers and layers of thin scars. They covered his skin lengthwise.

Danzo had spent the next years travelling from one place to the other – mostly America and Europe, as far away from Japan and Hayashi’s men as he possibly could. There was too much grief and anger still to move on and build a life of his own. Besides, there would be no place safe for him. Sen made sure of that. If there was one thing he had learned about his brother was that what you thought would be his end game, never was his end game. There was always another move to make, another trick up his sleeve.

[alinaastarkov]

i am not an anti or a jonrya, i'm just trying to get a grasp on whether or not there's foreshadowing for it. I don't mean offense but I hope you'll humor me. Couldn't Jon thinking of Arya when he meets Ygritte just be him comparing her with his biggest female influence, Bran compares Meera to Arya! Jon saying "What do you know of my heart?" could just be Jon guarding the part of him that loves all of his siblings. Do you think there's any unambiguous evidence? No hate tho, you do you! x

Hey! No offence at all I’m happy to elaborate on asks like this x

There is merit to what you’re saying about the Ygritte comparison, but I am gonna have to disagree. Jon comparing Ygritte to Arya makes sense because they have similar personalities and it helps his admiration of her grow that they are so similar. Jon and Arya are close, naturally someone similar to Arya would be a huge plus in Jon’s eyes.

Jon could see fear and fire in her eyes. Blood ran down her white throat from where the point of his dirk had pricked her. One thrust and it's done, he told himself. He was so close he could smell onion on her breath. She is no older than I am. Something about her made him think of Arya, though they looked nothing at all alike. "Will you yield?" he asked, giving the dirk a half turn. And if she doesn't? - Jon VI, ACOK

"If you kill a man, and never mean t', he's just as dead," Ygritte said stubbornly. Jon had never met anyone so stubborn, except maybe for his little sister Arya. Is she still my sister? he wondered. Was she ever? He had never truly been a Stark, only Lord Eddard's motherless bastard, with no more place at Winterfell than Theon Greyjoy. And even that he'd lost. When a man of the Night's Watch said his words, he put aside his old family and joined a new one, but Jon Snow had lost those brothers too. - Jon III, ASOS

(I’m gonna come back to that second quote cause it’s important).

But these moments aren’t really what we mean when we talk about Jon comparing them meaning romance. It certainly adds up - the qualities he likes in his lover being the same as Arya can’t be ignored, but it’s these moments that are more overt for the romantic foreshadowing:

Ygritte watched and said nothing. She was older than he'd thought at first, Jon realized; maybe as old as twenty, but short for her age, bandy-legged, with a round face, small hands, and a pug nose. Her shaggy mop of red hair stuck out in all directions. She looked plump as she crouched there, but most of that was layers of fur and wool and leather. Underneath all that she could be as skinny as Arya. - Jon VI, ACOK

Ygritte trotted beside Jon as he slowed his garron to a walk. She claimed to be three years older than him, though she stood half a foot shorter; however old she might be, the girl was a tough little thing. Stonesnake had called her a "spearwife" when they'd captured her in the Skirling Pass. She wasn't wed and her weapon of choice was a short curved bow of horn and weirwood, but "spearwife" fit her all the same. She reminded him a little of his sister Arya, though Arya was younger and probably skinnier. It was hard to tell how plump or thin Ygritte might be, with all the furs and skins she wore. - Jon II, ASOS

This is what jumps out as being super inappropriate and definitely non-brotherly. What kind of brother thinks about his lover’s naked body and the compares it to his sister? Not mine, that’s for certain, and thank god. It’s so odd to have this kind of thought if they are supposed to have a pure, sibling bond. Compare that to Bran, whose thoughts are similar to Jon’s first impressions:

“He wouldn't hurt you. He knows I like you." All of the other lords and knights had departed within a day or two of the harvest feast, but the Reeds had stayed to become Bran's constant companions. Jojen was so solemn that Old Nan called him "little grandfather," but Meera reminded Bran of his sister Arya. She wasn't scared to get dirty, and she could run and fight and throw as good as a boy. She was older than Arya, though; almost sixteen, a woman grown. They were both older than Bran, even though his ninth name day had finally come and gone, but they never treated him like a child. - Bran IV, ACOK

Bran never has a moment of thinking about nakedness and Arya, he simply admires the qualities they share which are mostly playful, childhood fun. Bran is also much younger than Jon, and Meera never entered into a relationship with Bran like Ygritte did with Jon. Yes, they both admire Arya-like qualities they find in other women, but on top of that Jon thinks some overtly physical/ almost sexual things and connects them to Arya. I think there’s a clear difference here between Bran’s brotherly thoughts, and Jon’s rather inappropriate thoughts.

Going back to the passage from before, Jon thinks this:

Jon had never met anyone so stubborn, except maybe for his little sister Arya. Is she still my sister? he wondered. Was she ever? - Jon III, ASOS

Bran never has a moment of doubt like this. Arya always is and will always be his sister. Understandable. Jon, however, doubts it constantly. Because of his vows, his bastardy, but there’s something else too. He doubts his other siblings as well, but he doubts it with Arya the most, perhaps rationalising his less-than-brotherly thoughts about her.

There’s no doubt Jon loves all his siblings. He thinks of Bran and Robb constantly and so many quotes are about them, his whole family.

When Jon had been very young, too young to understand what it meant to be a bastard, he used to dream that one day Winterfell might be his. Later, when he was older, he had been ashamed of those dreams. Winterfell would go to Robb and then his sons, or to Bran or Rickon should Robb die childless. And after them came Sansa and Arya. Even to dream otherwise seemed disloyal, as if he were betraying them in his heart, wishing for their deaths. I never wanted this, he thought as he stood before the blue-eyed king and the red woman. I loved Robb, loved all of them . . . I never wanted any harm to come to any of them, but it did. And now there's only me. All he had to do was say the word, and he would be Jon Stark, and nevermore a Snow. All he had to do was pledge this king his fealty, and Winterfell was his. All he had to do . . . . . . was forswear his vows again. - Jon XI, ASOS

Jon flexed the fingers of his sword hand. The Night's Watch takes no part. He closed his fist and opened it again. What you propose is nothing less than treason. He thought of Robb, with snowflakes melting in his hair. Kill the boy and let the man be born. He thought of Bran, clambering up a tower wall, agile as a monkey. Of Rickon's breathless laughter. Of Sansa, brushing out Lady's coat and singing to herself. You know nothing, Jon Snow. He thought of Arya, her hair as tangled as a bird's nest. I made him a warm cloak from the skins of the six whores who came with him to Winterfell … I want my bride back … I want my bride back … I want my bride back … - Jon XIII, ADWD

“What do you know of my heart” is not one of these times. There are no two ways about it, whether you’re a shipper or not. That quote is about Arya, and Arya alone. Jon’s heart is Arya.

"The heart is all that matters. Do not despair, Lord Snow. Despair is a weapon of the enemy, whose name may not be spoken. Your sister is not lost to you." "I have no sister." The words were knives. What do you know of my heart, priestess? What do you know of my sister? Melisandre seemed amused. "What is her name, this little sister that you do not have?" "Arya." His voice was hoarse. "My half-sister, truly …" "… for you are bastard born. I had not forgotten. I have seen your sister in my fires, fleeing from this marriage they have made for her. Coming here, to you. A girl in grey on a dying horse, I have seen it plain as day. It has not happened yet, but it will." - Jon VI, ADWD

This passage makes it pretty clear. Arya is the one in his thoughts, pretty much exclusively, leading up to this, because of the news of her marriage and Jon’s several attempts to rescue her. Melisandre is the first one to connect Jon’s heart to Arya his sister, and Jon’s thoughts are so explicit here. Arya is his heart, the person who means the most to him. Shipper or not, that’s a fact, though to me, having a brother with the same age gap and both of us would find it very, very weird for him to call me his “heart”, it is extremely romantic. Calling someone your actual “heart” so earnestly is extremely romantic and meaningful. It makes sense seeing as Jon goes on to die for Arya later on.

To me, these are pretty unambiguous. There’s a clear difference between Jon’s thoughts about Arya to the rest of his siblings/ other Starks’ feelings towards each other. I’ve explored more quotes that are hard to be viewed through a sibling lens here too. I’ll just leave you with a quote from GRRM’s original outline because that thing is basically heaven to us Jonrya shippers.

Arya will be more forgiving ... until she realizes, with terror, that she has fallen in love with Jon, who is not only her half-brother but a man of the Night's Watch, sworn to celibacy. Their passion will continue to torment Jon and Arya throughout the trilogy, until the secret of Jon's true parentage is finally revealed in the last book.