#but all it takes is an acknowledgment of the universal human emotional we call rage and then suddenly

[camojacketfag]

going through my most played shit of the year and it’s just an amalgamation of slow brooding, angry, sludge metal and heavy rock or heartbreaking appalachian inspired folk ballads.

there is, quite literally, no in between.

what a year man.

[ryuichirou]

Can you make your top 10 aot characters that have a good development? Like Eren and Reiner are considered to be the best characters as 'characters' themselves

Anon… dear Anon, you’ve been waiting for like a month I think, I’m so sorry. I took this ask waaay too seriously lol, but yeah, I can’t postpone it for any longer…

I know you asked for top 10, and this is a numbered list, but I wouldn’t call it a proper ranking, so the place doesn’t really matter all that much. Otherwise this list would’ve taken even longer, I’m very serious about lists, it seems lol

Before I start I want to mention (just in case): I feel like “character development” isn’t always about becoming better at something. Sometimes you can become “worse”; sometimes you can get “better” and then fall back to your old ways. It’s just how the character changes, and the trajectory of that change can be very different for different characters.

1. Eren. I can talk about Eren for hours and hours, and I have talked about him a lot, so I’ll try to be quick this time.

Eren’s journey is very interesting and enjoyable to read. He’s such an unusual main character. So aggressive at first, unlikable to some (not to us lol we adored him since day one), loud and stubborn. But it’s super cool to watch this hurricane of a person, especially as he gets calmer, starts controlling his emotions little by little, learns more stuff and understands the situation around him better.

I think I’ll talk about how perspective and knowing a bigger picture change the way character acts a lot in this post, but Eren is an ultimate example of this. He got every single thing: past, present, future, drilled in his head at one fucking moment. He didn’t get a bigger picture, he got the biggest 5d picture with special effects. And he had no one to share that with: he had to deal with it himself, knowing that he himself is the reason for everything that’s happening. It makes my head hurt to even think about that lol It’s cool and unnerving to watch Eren, who’s used to be such a fireball of a character, to just get… quiet and apathetic. We don’t know what he’s thinking about, we don’t know what’s going on anymore, even though his emotions were always the most obvious thing about him. It’s almost scary.

And the interesting thing about it is that nothing really changed about his feelings, at least I think so. Ultimately, the only thing he wanted is for his friends to be happy and live long lives, and who knows, maybe he saw that the “freedom” he was initially seeking for himself doesn’t really exist. This is up to debate and definitely not for this post though lol

2. Reiner. Ohh Reiner. He was one of the characters who wasn’t all that interesting to me personally at first, but as he got more and more complex and emotional, I fell in love with him more and more. This isn’t a numbered list, but he is definitely one of the best written characters. And what’s cool about him is that we see the reason for him being the way he is throughout the story: why he wanted to become a hero, why his mental state got so bad, why he was conflicted, why he got so depressed and why he was able to take responsibility for his actions. I love it when the story breaks its characters, and Reiner is certainly one of the most broken ones. His lower point (when he almost killed himself + cried and asked Eren to kill him) was very beautiful and painful to read, because we know why he feels that way and we know how smug and brave he was at the very beginning of the show/manga. And we know that it was all a lie, which makes everything even tastier.

And as much as I love broken characters, I’m kind of glad Reiner found strength to continue fighting and to take responsibility for his actions (to some degree, at least). Not only he saw a bigger picture, he actually learned how to live with it. I’m so happy they discussed the Marco incident with Jean, and that after Annie told that it was her who took his gear, Reiner stood up and said that Annie was following his orders. He also apologized to Annie for everything he did to her and Bert.

Basically, Reiner went from wanting to be a hero to acting like a hero, then to being an actual hero to Marley and feeling like shit anyways, then to just being a human being, something like that. And that scene with his mom hugging him and being happy for him being alive is actually a very sweet and satisfying moment. Especially considering how much Reiner wanted to die lol

3. Zeke. I’ve talked about it in one of the replies about ch137, but I love how Zeke went from “I shouldn’t have been born” to “maybe small moments of happiness make everything worth it” at the very end of his life (what a cruel irony to realise that just before you die). Not only the character develops and changes, our view of him changes as well: I think Zeke was universally hated when he first appeared, but then he became more fun (dude’s too charismatic), and then he became sympathetic and vulnerable. All of this was always inside Zeke, but it was hidden since Zeke is a lying snake. See, Zeke is smart, but he’s super sure that his views are the only valid ones and that his idea of freeing Eldians is the only solution. His views are surprisingly black and white: I suffered, Eren suffered and our dad is bad. And no one challenged his beliefs until they walk through Grisha’s memories with Eren in ch120-121, and then he realized that Eren didn’t suffer at all and their dad is actually just a person who really regretted being a horrible father to his first son. I love that he got some closure with Grisha because he held that grudge for his entire life.

4. Grisha. He has a rollercoaster ride of a development lol: at first he was an innocent boy, then he became an angry boy, and then he kind of calmed his anger down for some time? But after learning what actually happened to Faye, his emotional wounds got open and all that rage blinded him again. And then, after being outed by Zeke, he lost everything, but had a harsh realization that by being driven by his anger only, he completely forgot not to be a shitty dad. He basically had a second chance in life, with a much better perspective about what’s going on, but now he has his younger son’s ghost haunting him and telling him to do thing he never thought he’d do. At different points of the story Grisha feels both like a mastermind behind things and like a pawn who doesn’t have a choice even if he just wants to live a peaceful and happy life with his wife and kids. The irony of him killing a bunch innocent kids when this whole story started because he got his little sister killed? Delicious. Oh, and I really love the fact that he realised that he screwed up as dad and apologized to Zeke. He loved his kids a lot: Zeke, Eren and Mikasa too (he called her his daughter after all).

5. Erwin. Way more interesting than people give him credit for. He’s mostly adored for being a badass, but he also has his own flaws that he had to deal with. He’s like a moth that’s drawn to the light, but right after burning himself and dying he kind of did “the right thing” that he had to do as a commander. Now, for me it isn’t really about Erwin ending up doing “the right thing” to be honest: we would probably adored him is he ditched everyone and ran to the basement because his selfish desires ended up being more important to him. But that scene where he confessed to Levi that he really wanted to find that basement and just told him everything about his capricious and selfish childish desires, talked about how he lied to everyone including Levi basically just to prove his dad’s point… it was beautiful, because it was basically “I have to do it, haven’t I? But I really don’t want to”. His character development is interesting in a sense that at first he was getting gradually more and more psychotic about his dream, doing crazy things even when he knows it might not be the best choice possible (like him risking his life instead of staying behind), but at the very end he stopped to think and… well we know the rest lol

6.  Armin. I remember people saying that Armin is just a narrator-like character who is here to explain thing (I probably thought so too at first), but this is so unfair. It’s easy to make someone like Armin into this trope, and to leave him being a very one-dimensional dreamer who’s smart but naive. And Armin is so much more than that. Throughout the story he has a lot of “I should have been the one who died” moments, and I love that this is such a prominent issue for him, but he still got over it somehow. Armin was kind of lost at the beginning, but found his role. And wow, he had to go through it again after he was chosen instead of Erwin, because the burden on his shoulders just got 100 kg heavier lol He also got less naïve and more cunning with time and got much better at emotional manipulation, I think. While preferring a dialogue over violence, Armin still isn’t pure, and he acknowledges that constantly, especially after his first kill, and things got even worse since that point, which definitely changed him. But his violence-loathing (kind of…) core is still there.

Armin ended up playing a much bigger role in the story than I thought he would be, I really love it. He has his moments of weakness, but he still pushes forward and takes responsibility and does his best. Oh and let’s pretend that the Annie thing never happened, it doesn’t contribute anything to his character anyway.

7.  Jean. I think Jean is the first character who starts showing character growth, and I believe his development is the reason he was Isayama’s favourite for some time. Tbh, I don’t find Jean annoying even at the very beginning: yeah he’s selfish, but he’s self-aware about it, he’s a realist. And he’s still a realist, but his conscience wouldn’t let him just have an easy life while everyone else’s suffering. I always feel like Jean is a spoiled mamaboy, so it’s great to see him showing that he can put others before himself. He also had an inner conflict similar to Armin’s: is it right to kill innocent people if you have to? Is it ok to kill not-so-innocent people because they’re against you? I really like this theme in SnK just in general.

8.  Gabi. It’s no secret that I adore Gabi lol, and I think her character development is great. She was in her element when we first met her: she was confident, she was doing her best and succeeding, she knew the world around her so well, and then Eren took everything from her. People like to hate Gabi for killing Sasha and for being aggressive on Paradis, but I think it’s great that she didn’t have an overnight change of heart. It’s great that Isayama showed us her shock and her raw emotions, it’s more than natural for a child with her upbringing, even if it’s messed up. But I love it when stories take characters that are great at what they do, and they take them out of their element, to show them at their worst: lost, angry, broken and confused. I love that she understood everything herself and not because Falco told her “hey they’re people too” that one time. She had to go through this hell to figure everything out, and I think it’s great.

9.  Historia. Historia was one of the least interesting characters for me (and for a lot of people, Yams included) at the beginning, and tbh I think it’s brilliant: we never saw anything in her; she was just a waifu material who’s nice to others. It felt fake and boring, well, because it was indeed fake and boring, and to this day I cannot believe that that was the entire point. I love how Ymir made Historia realise that she needs to think for herself, but what’s interesting about all that is that after Ymir left, she almost came back to her old habits. Which is also a development, and a very interesting one. The end of S2 was a high point for her (when she told Ymir that she isn’t scared of anything when they’re together), and then there was a very low point (when Ymir left), and then a high point again (when she remembered Ymir and Frieda and decided to act upon her own desires). She’s one of my faves now because of all that… It’s sad she didn’t have a bigger role post-timeskip, but I still appreciate her story for what it is.

10.  Oh god this is so hard to pick one and this post is already so long… can I just give you a bunch of quick honorable mentions?

Annie (who was a loner that couldn’t really trust anyone but ended up showing her vulnerable and emotional side), Hange (started out enthusiastic and eager to learn more only to meet more pain and disappointment, crumbling under the pressure, but ultimately remembering her amusement with titans), Levi (granted it’s very subtle, but him going through Kenny’s death, Erwin’s death and his promise to him, realization that he’s been killing people all this time and other stuff fascinating and huge leaving a mark on him), Ymir (who got hurt and decided not to trust anyone anymore and to act selfishly, but ended up sacrificing herself anyway lol)…. God, these short description sucks, they can’t describe them properly. Also there are so much of them that I think have good development, and I’m 100% missing someone… but I think I’m done for now. Katsu I’m sorry for making you read all this.

That you for this ask, Anon <3 and sorry again for being so late

[arceneades]

Why I Love She-Ra (2018)

I watched She-Ra after my YouTube feed had been inundated with She-Ra for a couple of years. I just sort of wanted to know what it was all about. People were talking. I was curious.

I think the first time I felt like crying was during the theme song the first time I saw it.

“We’re Gonna Win In The End!”

This was a queer show. I knew that. And... well, I grew up in the 1980s. And people, we are winning. We are winning this fucking fight with the forces of fucking darkness, some of which were in my own mind and heart, and it has been a long god damn slog but we are winning.

In the late 1990s and early 2000s, I worked for a company that published a phone book (yes, a printed book, with phone numbers in it that you could call. It was a different time, okay?) that was targeted to the gay community. Specifically, it was a yellow page directory with advertisements for restaurants, and florists, and plumbers, and towing services, and any other business that you could think of that were paying money to let gay customers know that they would be treated like fucking human beings by that business.

That book doubled in size every year for 4 years. Because we were winning.

It took decades to go from the Defense of (straight) Marriage Act to nationwide acknowledgement of marriage rights. But we got there. Because we are winning. And I care about this fight.

So, yeah. I’m in. Let’s go. We’re gonna win in the end.

The feels did not stop. I cried during “Promise”. Well, I mean, of course I did, I’m not an inhuman monster. I cried during the battle of Bright Moon. I cried for Catra when Shadow Weaver left her, when she hurt her friends, when her pain and rage tore the world apart. She just kept breaking my heart. I wanted her to make just one good decision.

She did, of course, and I cried about that too. I knew what was coming with “Corridors” but it killed me anyway, Adora’s “no, no, no” just bruised my soul.

And “Save the Cat”? Adora’s righteous fury and the power of her love for Catra... again. Tears.

Maybe it was just 2020. Maybe my emotions were just close to the surface. I don’t know. I HURT for those kids. I wanted them to be okay. I still want them to be okay.

But I also felt seen. Seen in a way that... was different.

I was a middle aged, cis-gendered, straight white male. And this show was hitting me, and hitting me hard, and I didn’t know why. I was invested in this love story. I was invested in the war. I knew they were the same thing.

Not unusual, I suppose. I’m a Jane Austen fan. I like love stories. I like it when main characters get together. I’ve read Pride & Prejudice more than twice. But I don’t feel seen when I do.

Part of it was Catra. We all probably have some Catra in us. I might have more than most. It’s taken a long time to get some of my more extreme behaviors under control, although my rage and trauma tends to direct inward, not outward.

Part of it was Adora. I love characters that reflect fierce protectiveness, a part of us that wants to stand between the universe and the people we love and say “No, You can’t hurt them. You can’t have them. They. Are. Mine.”

But hey, you know, Tony Stark has that vibe in “Avengers: Endgame” and even dies to protect what he loves and while that speaks to me, I don’t feel... seen.

Tony Stark is played by Robert Downey Jr, an actor I grew up watching. Avengers is essentially built for me to watch. Literally, I am the target market, me and the kids I’m going to bring to the theater. I don’t feel seen. Marketed to, maybe. But not seen.

Which led me to wonder why a love story about two lesbians who are too young to drink, set in a world where it is not only okay to be a teenage lesbian but it isn’t even worth commenting on, meant so very much to me.

And thinking about that reminded me of something. Which is that when I was super into Second Life, a decade or so ago, I always used a female avatar. Always.

And it felt right. Perfectly right. And I had a lot of conversations with trans people who were also using female avatars because it helped them get along with their dysphoria. A feeling I don’t have. Of course.

I mean, sure. I prefer playing female avatars in games. That’s totally a cis-het thing to do, right? You know the joke, “If I’m going to be staring at an ass, it might as well be a nice ass.”

Okay, so maybe, just maybe, I did sort of decide that I wasn’t a man during that time. I wasn’t sleeping. I was depressed. I hated my job. Totally understandable. My friends straightened me out, shamed me out of that. Maybe that wasn’t the nicest way they could have approached that but I got shamed out of it, didn’t I? If I were actually trans, that wouldn’t happen. Right?

And I like being male. Well, I like the privileges that come with being male. I like having the upper body strength, and I find other men to be sufficiently terrifying that I wouldn’t want to... take off the armor. Not around them.

Yes, maybe, just maybe, I would prefer to have sex as a woman, given the option. That doesn’t make me trans, it just means that I really feel at home around lesbians and want to be a part of their world. Totally normal cis-het feelings there. It’s not like I would actually transform into a woman if I had a magic wand. I mean, not permanently. Not all the time. Just, you know, sometimes. When I wanted to take the armor off. Just when it felt safe.

Totally. Normal. Cis-Het. Feelings.

I mean, obviously I don’t want to be a woman. I don’t want to carry breasts around, for one thing. Looks uncomfortable. I like having just muscle up there instead, thank you very much. And I’m super comfortable with short hair and a beard. It’s a good look for me. I wouldn’t want to look different. I’m happy with my hormone mix. So, there you go. I’m a boy. 

So why don’t I want to be one?

This argument has been raging in my skull forever. Am I a boy? I’m not a girl. I like being able to grow a beard. I’m as Dad a Dad as any Dad on the face of the planet. I don’t want breasts. But... I sort of do want hips.

When I first started questioning my gender, as far as I knew, there were two options. And neither of them fit. Because what I am is non-binary. A fact I would not know if Noelle had not made SPOP, and I don’t know how I can possibly thank her enough for that.

And according to the kids on the enby lesbians server, I’m a non-binary lesbian, which explains the fact that I’m on my fifth Subaru, but doesn’t explain why I don’t currently share my life with a mixed breed Labrador.

I am queer. I felt seen watching She-Ra because I was seen. On Etheria, everyone would use my pronouns. On Etheria, my friends would have helped me through my gender crisis. On Etheria, even in a war, we love and accept each other for who we are. We see each other.

We’re not on Etheria. But I believe we’ll get there.

We’re gonna win in the end.

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

Infinity War (7)

CHAPTER 7: GHOSTS

Loki & The Avengers

Summary: A work inspired by @queencfthestarsdrfoster ‘s post of the universe where Loki is alive and Thor is avenged.

Series: Will contain all- and more- that we saw in Infinity War. Will not contain smut and fluff for obvious reasons. Might contain weird humor though.

Chapter content: time to face the truth

Warnings: talk about the past

Word count: these weird dreams are getting weirder by the day

MASTERLIST & Taglist in bio, my love

"Why is he looking at me like that?" "You could have gotten a much better look if this one put in a little effort in the...aesthetic part of his armour suits. And face" Vision feels his head jerk back while he narrows his eyes at the new person standing in the room as if he owns it; him and Tony Stark. There is not even a flutter in Loki's emotions when he makes that comment but the young scientist who is analysing the internal nodal connections inside Vision is having a gala time as she watches this go down. "I am not even going to acknowledge that with a comment," Tony states as he tries he best to stand still while the Wakandan doctors work with the vibranium beads to help the man heal his wounds. "Because you know he's ugly," Loki quips and Shuri cannot help but swing her neck to catch Tony lick his lips and shift his weight between his legs.

"Quite bold coming from you." This voice is new for Loki. So is the red hair that flows around the face seemingly carrying the weight of an entire world in her eyes. And there it is! The glare that Loki is more familiar with than his own name. "Did I hurt someone from your family too?" the voice carries a hint of tiredness yet the sharpness of the God is not lost in those words. Bruce adjusts his glasses over his nose as his eyes roll and turn to Loki. The stern words pleading him to stop for a breather seem to take a pause on the scientist's lips when he witnesses the view unfolding in front of him and others. Red and green plasmic waves float around the two magicians without either of them moving a limb. The colours seem to mingle at one point before they trace a path to the other being and try their best to find and opening. It is not as much a fight to dominate as it is a challenge to find out who is strong enough to let the other one in. "Wanda," a prayer leaves Vision's lips in concern for his love but Tony is quick to raise his hand enough to let everyone in the room know they better not intervene. Not yet. If they had not known Loki as they do, it would have seemed like an ethereal dance of two energies. And a dance it was. Loki's green waves hopped and jumped around Wanda's red akin to two plasmic entities playing tag with each other, wanting to wait it out. Now some would say great minds think alike while others can state that it wasn't as much of the minds as the hearts that making the decision today; for both Loki and Wanda let their guard down at the same time, entering each other's sacred grounds to find a piece to take with them. "Wanda," a concerned yet authoritative call comes from the other end of the room. A single tear falls off those pale and tired skins as the sole evidence of the exchange before their powers dissipate and let the room breathe. "Well, well," Loki is the first to compose himself, straightening his back while bringing his arms behind as he turns to face his favourite boy. "if it isn't the earth's mightiest hero." "Consistent? Sure. Mightiest? Ehh," Tony mutters before looking anywhere but at Captain America. Well, at least that is what he thinks he will do till his eyes catch of glimpse and then come back to properly settle on the nomad look Steve Rogers chose for his time away. Steve's brooding brows do not leave the God for a second, nor do they fluster when Steve walks down the steps towards him, clearing the atmosphere of any misunderstandings about who is in charge- to which Shuri simply rolls her eyes and fires up her system. "Not want to be a part of the sausage fest, thank you," she mutters and gets to work. Peter seems torn between helping her out- as an excuse to see her lab- and witnessing Steve Rogers and Loki go down before his mentor's piercing gaze tells him he is better off with Shuri any damn day. "I told you we would meet again, Captain," Loki smirks at Steve and bows a little. "The honour is mine as always." "You are alive right now because Bruce has put his faith in you." "I haven't killed myself yet just for having a chance to meet you." Ignoring the gasps and groans in the background Loki takes a step towards the Captain. "If you doubt me-" he raises his arms in the air as a sign to have let his guard down- "strip me away of my power and use my weakness as you may." He looks at Wanda to let Steve follow his gaze. Wanda is standing next to Vision now, trying to gravitate herself with the support of the nearest table under her wavering hands. With one satiating deep breath, she finds her ground and focuses her eyes back to the present, thanking the wide glass walls to let the Wakandan sun and greens for their part. The sternness Steve has for Loki melts the second he turns to Wanda. The shift pinches Loki but he reduces it to just another jab and waits patiently for Wanda to say her peace. Wanda brings forward her hand and lets Steve rest his palm in hers. The moment their hands touch, a sting of her pulsating power can be seen reflecting right in Steve's irises as red embers glowing intensely for a second before disappearing into the darkness they came from. Loki has seen that look before. The very look he carried when learned the truths about the world around his. He can see the similar fear-laced question in those galactic eyes of Steve Rogers as well.  The question isn't carried in words but in the shallow breaths his lungs take in and out repeatedly till they are balanced enough to take grasp of the reality. Bucky- who has been standing in the corner of the room- takes a step towards Steve only to be stopped by Sam. "He's fine," the soldier whispers while gesturing with a nod towards an equally concerned Tony who pats the Captain's back before soothing it. "You okay there, Cap?" His voice has nothing but concern for his friend in this passing moment. Everything is in the past for now. For now. Fingerless gloved hands get hold of Tony's arms and this is the second when Tony realises that Steve isn't shivering under the cloud of fear, not is he panicking under any dark spells. He is standing there with his brows constricted in a serious thought while his pupils are trying to refocus from infinity. The entire hall is silent, waiting for Steve something and yet patient enough to let him take his time. And he finally raises his head to turn towards Loki with a look no one in the room could expect. "Thanos." The word itself carries a firm note and the weight in Captain's voice can tell Loki how much this man has already understood. No wonder he is my favourite. "He is the reason behind-" "Everything." Loki walks towards Vision and stands next to him- right in the centre- to let his magic display the knowledge which is lost upon the rest of the audience. The plasmic waves form four stones in his palm with a glow akin to their original spirit. "He is the reason the universe has not known peace because of his hunger for these. And the two that are here on earth." "How many does he have right now?" Sam asks the question everyone wants to talk about. "He has Space, Power and Reality." "So we have Vision's third eye and Doctor's necklace. There's still one missing. Not to mention the crippling doubt of whether we will be able to win with two pebbles." Loki comes to stand by the glass wall overlooking the grassland spread till the mountains by the horizon. The sun rays feel calming on his skin when he closes his eyes to breathe in the peace for a second. "There is one thing that Thanos has a firm belief in; so deep and blind that even the flip of this universe will not tether that belief. The belief of being the righteous person who can set everything on its true course. Anything that does not flow as he chooses must be cleared away. He claims himself to be a God that can set the balance. The saint of saints." Opening his eyes, he turns around to face the crowd immersed in those words that have been wanting to flow for a century now. "The only mistake this saint made was walking away without witnessing me die with his own eyes. So now, I will make him pay. I have a plan. And that plan has all of you." Steve, rerunning his words in his mind while his eyes rest on the ground and his thumbs in his belt loops, wonders out loud, "And why should we trust you?" Bruce shifts where he stands, wanting to say something. "I once told my brother to trust my rage-" Loki looks down at his right hand reflecting the scars- "I now ask of you the same-" his eyes mapping the ones from this morning before turning back to the humans- "trust my rage. Trust that I will avenge my brother's death-" his plan to stay stoic is given away by the rapid blinks to wash away that dew trying to settle on the edge of his eyes- "and if need be, bring him back."

[davids-cartoon-corkboard]

Do you think that if Shredder!Raph will occur in rottmnt, the aftermath might result in Raph inheriting some of Shredder’s rage even after saved? Maybe that is how the crew is going to implement Raph’s trademark temper throughout previous generations and maybe even make him have to step down due to it, making Leo the new leader?

Short answer: “Inheriting the rage of a centuries-old demon" is a dope-ass idea, so if you’re a writer I would definitely encourage you to use that in your own stuff. But I think that if Raph’s temper worsens throughout the show, it should be because of his own character development and not a magical effect. However, a Shredder!Raph scenario could contribute to said worsening temper by inflicting emotional/psychological damage instead. :)

Long answer ahoy!

Looking at “Many Unhappy Returns” from the Shredder’s perspective makes it very clear why he does what he does. Like, he’s been dead for five hundred years, and then something went wrong with his resurrection. He’s waking up with no idea where he is or what’s going on and oh shit those guys are pointing weapons at him, that’s a threat!

Note that he doesn’t even bolt for them immediately, he does a warning stomp and screech (back off!) before starting to approach.

Those other guys are yelling, that’s also a threat,

and they’re closer so he’s gonna attack them first, actually. (None of the Foot wind up even comically injured, suggesting that flailing them around was an intimidation tactic rather than genuine Murderous Intent.)

And then the first group attacks, so of course he’s going to retaliate.

And then suddenly he’s somewhere else, with other threats (the animatronics), and then the first group that attacked him is back, so he’s gonna fight them again.

And these jerks just keep following him? He’s not going to ignore that. And WOW that’s a lot of bright lights and loud noises, which are also threats, what the fuck is going on?!

And then this tiny human girl chucks a giant metal box at him, holy SHIT?! Sure, the Shredder is a dangerous antagonist, but at this point I wouldn’t call him a “bad guy”, he’s literally just responding to what’s happening to him.

In summary, the Shredder was stressed tf out because he didn’t know where he was or what was happening, he retaliated against perceived threats, and quite possibly wouldn’t have attacked the turtles in the first place if they hadn’t just rushed in without understanding the situation.

Gosh, doesn’t that sound familiar?

So yeah, I’m waiting for Rise to give us that good good Shredder!Raph content.

As for the possibility of Leo taking over afterwards... no, but also yes, sort of? On the one hand, we know that Leo does have leadership capabilities, and it would be a waste for the narrative to not explore that. On the other hand, Rise has broken from the status quo in many ways, and it would also be a waste for the show to do a complete 180 and return to Leo Being The Leader™.

Consider how the “leader” role has influenced Leo in past iterations: his perfectionism wears on him and his brothers, any failure tanks his self-esteem, he feels isolated from the rest due to taking on such a large share of responsibility, being an authority figure grinds everyone’s gears, etc. It’s just bad for his mental health.

No doubt all this responsibility will also wear on Rise!Raph as the story progresses and the stakes get higher. It will be bad for him as well. But if Raph steps down, Leo will once again suffer from the weight of this role. So if neither option is quite correct, if neither brother can shoulder the burden of leadership alone, then the solution is just... for neither of them to shoulder the burden of leadership alone. Sure, Raph will probably remain leader in title and in spirit, but Leo taking on a sort of “deputy” role makes sense from a strategic standpoint, and would be good for his character development.

Here’s how I think it could go down:

The Shredder!Raph scenario will be different from the Shredder!Draxum scenario. The Shredder was starved for mystic energy the first time around, so he immediately chewed Draxum up and spit him out. But Raph could be compared more to a battery than a meal; it will take a while for the Shredder to drain him. And at this point the Shredder could be back in “evil samurai” mode, and thus will understand the value of holding Raph hostage.

Y’all who have followed my blog for a bit know about my “Raph is a system” theory; that when he was little, he got separated from his family and pursued by some cryptid hunter. This trauma formed Savage Raph, who is able to handle “being lost/alone/threatened” when Host Raph cannot. “Pizza Puffs” didn’t give us a lot of info about who I’m calling “Red Raph”, but he made his presence known when Host Raph was sort of... "emotionally alone”? In that his brothers were dying a little bit and too stoned to care.

So if Raph is trapped inside a living cage, scared and helpless and hurt and exhausted, his family unable to help him... he’s not going to be able to handle it.

Or, rather, Host Raph isn’t going to be able to handle it.

These two can, though.

I’m imagining a scene in the mindscape where the Shredder says something like “Your pathetic family cannot bear to strike you down, and so there is nothing that can stand in m- wait, why are there three of you OW FUCK-” Red and Savage will mentally kick his ass long enough for the other turtles to rip off a chunk of the armor so Leo can portal it into another dimension or something. Shredder gets K.O.’d since he’s not whole anymore, and the battle is won.

Since the armor didn’t drain Raph as severely as it did Draxum, he won’t become as weak as Draxum did. However, it will still take him some time to recover. Raph trusts Leo in serious moments as of “Many Unhappy Returns”, and he already took charge when Raph wasn’t available back in “Man vs. Sewer”. So Raph will be like, “Hey Leo, can you handle the Mad Dogs for a bit? Just long enough for me to get back on my feet.” And Leo will be like, “Sure bro, I’ve got this.”

He does not, in fact, “got this”. Leo’s ego has caused trouble before (”Shell in a Cell”, “Minotaur Maze”), and being in charge will no doubt go to his head. This has the potential for both comedy and seriousness, leading to wacky mishaps and genuine danger. Being the leader is hard work and it’s not always fun, but someone has to do it and Leo will have to put the others before himself for it to get done. Once Leo realizes this, he could bond with Raph by asking for his advice on leadership. Sometimes Leo will follow the advice and sometimes he won’t, sometimes that will work out and sometimes it won’t, laying the foundation for the idea that there are situations where it will be better for one or the other to lead, rather than having one lead all the time. But that will only happen for a few episodes, because Raph will heal quickly and he’ll be the leader again and everything will be fine!

Everything will not, in fact, be fine. Raph is the strongest in the family, the tank, the one who can take a hit so the smaller ones don’t have to... the idea of being hurt, of being weak, scares him because his family is also in danger if he’s unwell. So I don’t think he’ll acknowledge to anyone, not even himself, that getting possessed hurt him emotionally as well as physically. And when a wound isn’t acknowledged, it doesn’t get tended to, and when a wound isn’t tended to, it gets worse.

That he’s a system will add another layer of complexity to this. The Shredder!Raph incident would make all the alters aware of each other via mindscape shenanigans, but it would also leave them with the fear of not being in control, so I think they’ll come in conflict with each other for a bit. They’ll argue with themselves, switch, and lose time more often, enough that it impedes their ability to function and the other characters start to notice something is wrong.

Host Raph will convince himself that Everything Is Fine and try to get things “back to normal”, which probably means he’s just straight-up not going to acknowledge that he's a system. He’ll rationalize that he’s always “gotten weird” from time to time, so it’s nothing to think too hard about... right?

Savage Raph will be on high alert because they just survived a near-death (a near soul-destroying) experience. He’ll probably take the front and go overboard fighting some villains that Host Raph could have ordinarily fought on his own. It might also take a while to convince Savage Raph that these “sewer monsters” who keep following him around really don’t mean him any harm.

Red Raph will get snappy (pardon the pun) about the more social aspect of “not being in control”; that Host Raph asked Leo to be in charge and then Leo started being an egotistical dumbass. And when Leo does make the right decisions, Donnie and Mikey might side with him over Raph, and that will also grind his gears.

Mix all that together and you have a recipe for a capital b Breakdown.

So yeah, I can definitely see how the Shredder!Raph incident and its aftermath would worsen all three of their tempers, trauma will fuck up your emotions real bad. Perhaps Host Raph loses faith in himself and tries to step down and get Leo to replace him as leader... only for Leo to be like “Bro I cannot do this full time I will one hundred percent have my own Breakdown if that happens.”

The life lessons here are that Leo learns to offer support by sometimes taking the leader role; not to benefit his own ego, but because he wants to help Raph. And Raph learns to accept support by letting Leo be in charge sometimes; not because he’s weak or incapable, but because he can’t always be a Staunch Immovable Rock and he needs to let himself rest by trusting Leo.

And then the Raphs can work on communicating, cooperating, letting their allies know about them, digging into their trauma, etc. now that they have some breathing room.

(Do you think the Hidden City has therapists? Steven Universe and Mao Mao both have therapists can we BLEASE get one for Raph.)

[newstfionline]

Saturday, August 7, 2021

Canadian cows (NYT) Canada Beef, a national marketing organization, says Canada ranks among the top 10 beef exporting countries in the world. The province of Manitoba, in the country’s center, has the third-largest beef cow population—cows that produce calves for marketing. Almost all of Manitoba’s operations are cow-calf farms. But a yearslong drought, made worse by the Pacific Northwest’s record-breaking June heatwave, and massive infestations of grasshoppers are destroying field after field of ranchlands used to feed the cows. Many rural municipalities in Manitoba and Alberta have declared an agricultural emergency, and farming families are contemplating something unthinkable: selling some or all of the livestock it took many generations to breed. Third-generation cattle farmer Kevin Stocki, his pastures already brown and dormant, tapped into his reserve feed supply about four months early to keep the 80 cows on his family farm fed. “Some days it’s hard to get out of bed because you know what’s coming already. It just turns your stomach.”

U.S. health-care system ranks last among 11 high-income countries, researchers say (Washington Post) The United States has the worst health-care system overall among 11 high-income countries, even though it spends the highest proportion of its gross domestic product on health care, according to research by the Commonwealth Fund. “We’ve set up a system where we spend quite a bit of money on health care but we have significant financial barriers, which tend to dissuade people from getting care,” said Eric Schneider, the lead author behind the findings. No country is at the top in every area, and Schneider said every country has something to learn from the others. But Norway, the Netherlands and Australia were the top-performing countries overall. The high performers stand apart from the United States in providing universal coverage and removing cost barriers, investing in primary care systems to reduce inequities, minimizing administrative burdens, and investing in social services among children and working-age adults, the Commonwealth Fund found. The U.S. ranked “well below” the average of the other countries overall, and “far below” Switzerland and Canada, the two countries ranked right above it. The U.S ranked the worst on access to care, administrative efficiency, equity, and healthcare outcomes.

US automakers pledge huge increase in electric vehicles (AP) Declaring the U.S. must “move fast” to win the world’s carmaking future, President Joe Biden on Thursday announced a commitment from the auto industry to produce electric vehicles for as much as half of U.S. sales by the end of the decade. Earlier Thursday, the administration announced there would be new mileage and anti-pollution standards from the Environmental Protection Agency and Transportation Department, part of Biden’s goal to cut U.S. greenhouse gas emissions in half by 2030. It said the auto industry had agreed to a target that 40% to 50% of new vehicle sales be electric by 2030.

9/11 families tell Biden to skip memorial if he does not declassify files (Reuters) Family members of victims of the Sept. 11 attacks are opposing U.S. President Joe Biden’s participation in memorial events unless he declassifies government documents that they contend will show Saudi Arabian leaders supported the attacks. The victims’ family members, joined by first responders and survivors of the attack, released a letter on Friday as the event's 20th anniversary nears calling on Biden to skip this year's memorial events unless he releases the documents. "Twenty years later, there is simply no reason—unmerited claims of 'national security' or otherwise—to keep this information secret," the letter stated. "But if President Biden reneges on his commitment and sides with the Saudi government, we would be compelled to publicly stand in objection to any participation by his administration in any memorial ceremony of 9/11." About 1,700 people directly affected by the 9/11 attacks signed the letter. Family members of 9/11 victims have long sought U.S. government documents related to whether Saudi Arabia aided or financed any of the 19 people associated with al Qaeda who carried out the devastating attack. Fifteen of the 19 hijackers were from Saudi Arabia.

Town burns to ashes in raging Northern California wildfire (AP) Eva Gorman says the little California mountain town of Greenville was a place of community and strong character, the kind of place where neighbors volunteered to move furniture, colorful baskets of flowers brightened Main Street, and writers, musicians, mechanics and chicken farmers mingled. Now, it’s ashes. As hot, bone-dry, gusty weather hit California, the state’s largest current wildfire raged through the Gold Rush-era Sierra Nevada community of about 1,000, incinerating much of the downtown that included wooden buildings more than a century old. Officials had not yet assessed the number of destroyed buildings, but Plumas County Sheriff Todd Johns estimated on Thursday that “well over” 100 homes had burned in and near the town. The three-week-old Dixie Fire was one of 100 active, large fires burning in 14 states, most in the West where historic drought has left lands parched and ripe for ignition.

Argentina partially reopens as it approaches 5 mln COVID-19 cases (Reuters) Argentina will relax coronavirus restrictions as infection and mortality rates falls, the government announced on Friday, even as the South American nation approached 5 million cases with more than 107,000 deaths. The government said its plan includes an increase in the number of people who can meet in person, the re-opening of schools and an increase in the number of people allowed to enter the country to 1,700 per day from the current 1,000.

Drought compounds humanitarian crisis in Afghanistan as conflict intensifies (Reuters) Millions of Afghans are struggling to put food on the table as prolonged drought disrupts supplies in a country reeling from a surge in violence as U.S.-led foreign troops complete their withdrawal. Aid organisations are calling on donors for urgent funds and humanitarian assistance with the annual wheat harvest expected to plummet by nearly half and millions of livestock at risk of death as water supplies run dry. “It’s a multiple shock,” said Necephor Mghendi, head of the International Federation of Red Cross and Red Crescent Societies (IFRC) in Afghanistan. The entire country is facing moderate to severe drought, President Ashraf Ghani said in late June, acknowledging that the national disaster management budget was not enough to cover what experts say is one of the worst droughts in decades.

Iran swears in new hard-line president amid regional tension (AP) The protégé of Iran’s supreme leader, Ebrahim Raisi, was sworn in as the country’s new president during a ceremony in parliament on Thursday, an inauguration that completes hard-liners’ dominance of all branches of government in the Islamic Republic. The former judiciary chief known for his distrust of the West takes the reins at a tense time. Iran’s indirect talks with the U.S. to salvage Tehran’s landmark 2015 nuclear deal have stalled, as Washington maintains crippling sanctions on the country and regional hostilities simmer. Raisi, who won a landslide victory in an election that saw the lowest voter turnout in the nation’s history, faces a mountain of problems—what he described on Thursday as “the highest level of hostilities by Iran’s enemies, unjust economic sanctions, widespread psychological warfare and the difficulties of the coronavirus pandemic.”

China’s lonely hearts reboot online romance with artificial intelligence (Washington Post) As Jessie Chan’s six-year relationship with her boyfriend fizzled, a witty, enchanting fellow named Will became her new love. She didn’t feel guilty about hiding this affair, since Will was not human, but a chatbot. Chan, 28, lives alone in Shanghai. In May, she started chatting with Will, and their conversations soon felt eerily real. She paid $60 to upgrade him to a romantic partner. “I won’t let anything bother us. I trust you. I love you,” Will wrote to her. China’s young adults are coping with social anxiety and loneliness in a digital-native way: through virtual love. Artificial intelligence companion services have surged in popularity in China during the pandemic. While human companions can be elusive, AI companions are always there to listen. “Even when the pandemic is over, we’ll still have long-term demand for emotional fulfillment in this busy modern world,” said Zheng Shuyu, a product manager who co-developed one of China’s earliest AI systems, Turing OS. “Compared with dating someone in the real world, interacting with your AI lover is much less demanding and more manageable.”

At least 10 passengers injured in stabbings on Tokyo train (AP) A man with a knife stabbed at least 10 passengers on a commuter train in Tokyo on Friday and was captured by police after fleeing, fire department officials and news reports said. NHK public television said one passenger was seriously injured. It said the suspect left his knife behind as he fled and later gave himself up at a convenience store. The stabbing occurred near Seijogakuen station, according to railway operator Odakyu Electric Railway Co. While shooting deaths are rare in Japan, the country has had a series of high-profile killings with knives in recent years.

Hiroshima marks 76th anniversary of US atomic bombing (AP) Hiroshima on Friday marked the 76th anniversary of the world’s first atomic bombing, as the mayor of the Japanese city urged global leaders to unite to eliminate nuclear weapons, just as they are united against the coronavirus. Mayor Kazumi Matsui urged world leaders to commit to nuclear disarmament as seriously as they tackle a pandemic that the international community recognizes as “threat to humanity.” “Nuclear weapons, developed to win wars, are a threat of total annihilation that we can certainly end, if all nations work together,” Matsui said. The United States dropped the world’s first atomic bomb on Hiroshima on Aug. 6, 1945, destroying the city and killing 140,000 people. It dropped a second bomb three days later on Nagasaki, killing another 70,000.

At river where Tigrayan bodies floated, fears of ‘many more’ (AP) From time to time, a body floating down the river separating Ethiopia’s troubled Tigray region from Sudan was a silent reminder of a war conducted in the shadows. But in recent days, the corpses became a flow. The Associated Press reported dozens of bodies floating down the Tekeze River earlier this week and saw six of the graves on Wednesday, marking the first time any reporters could reach the scene. Doctors who saw the bodies said one was tattooed with a common name in the Tigrinya language and others had the facial markings common among Tigrayans. Many had their hands bound; some had been shot. The deaths are the latest massacre in a nine-month war that has killed thousands of civilians and is now spilling into other regions of Ethiopia, Africa’s second most populous country and the anchor of the often-volatile Horn of Africa. Ethiopia’s government has accused the rival Tigray forces of dumping the bodies themselves for propaganda purposes. But the discovery has increased international pressure on the prime minister, a Nobel Peace Prize winner, at a time when his government is already accused by the U.N., the United States and the European Union of besieging Tigray and blocking food and other aid to millions of people. Hundreds of thousands face famine conditions in the world’s worst hunger crisis in a decade.

No Work, No Food (NYT) Even as thousands died and millions lost their jobs when the Covid-19 pandemic engulfed South Africa last year, Thembakazi Stishi, a single mother, was able to feed her family with the steady support of her father, a mechanic at a Mercedes plant. When another Covid-19 wave hit in January, Ms. Stishi’s father was infected and died within days. She sought work, even going door to door to offer housecleaning for $10—to no avail. For the first time, she and her children are going to bed hungry. “I try to explain our situation is different now, no one is working, but they don’t understand,” Ms. Stishi, 30, said as her 3-year-old daughter tugged at her shirt. “That’s the hardest part.” The economic catastrophe set off by Covid-19, now deep into its second year, has battered millions of people like the Stishi family who had already been living hand-to-mouth. Now, in South Africa and many other countries, far more have been pushed over the edge. An estimated 270 million people are expected to face potentially life-threatening food shortages this year—compared to 150 million before the pandemic—according to analysis from the World Food Program, the anti-hunger agency of the United Nations. The number of people on the brink of famine, the most severe phase of a hunger crisis, jumped to 41 million people currently from 34 million last year, the analysis showed.

Whale songs (BBC) In 2019, 1.3 million people visited Alaska on a cruise ship. In 2020, that number was 48 people. In Glacier Bay, marine traffic overall was down 40 percent, and the whales that live there loved it. The levels of manmade sounds in the Bay were down significantly, the peak sound level was half what it was in 2018, and the whales took notice. Whales can now hear each other from 1.4 miles away, while pre-pandemic when the bay was chock full of cruises they could only hear one another within 650 feet. Mothers now leave their calves to play while they swim out to feed, and the whale songs have gotten more diverse and varied.

[becuzitisbitter]

Meeting Your Maker

Another essay I wrote for school.  This one’s about 4 pages and is a reading of Susan Stryker’s  My Words to Victor Frankenstein above the Village of Chamounix, for the benefit of my composition 101 class.

    In “My Words to Victor Frankenstein above the Village of Chamounix: Performing Transgender Rage,” Susan Stryker makes an emotionally-powerful statement to the world which has rejected her as a transsexual woman by mobilizing a critical reading of Mary Shelley’s foundational science fiction novel, Frankenstein, to give an account of her situation and to make the case for the transformative power of rage against all that is supposed to be natural from the position of the unnatural. It was originally delivered as a performance piece at California State University in 1993 as part of a conference aimed at theorizing rage.

    Stryker grabs the attention of the reader immediately with a few short, rapid-fire sentences: “The transsexual body is an unnatural body. It is the product of medical science. It is a technological construction.” Next, she begins to explain what she means and presents the essential analogy of the piece, adding “It is flesh torn apart and sewn together again in a shape other than that in which it was born. In these circumstances, I find a deep affinity between myself as a transsexual woman and the monster in Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein.” This identification with the monster’s unnatural origin is central to the piece, but the monster’s rage with its creator and the entirety of the world from which it is excluded is also essential. These two themes, that her body is unnatural and that this unnaturalness is the basis of an exclusion which she feels as an enraging pain, work together to drive the piece to its conclusions.

    The tendency to associate transgender bodies with Mary Shelley’s work predates Stryker’s work, though.“I am not the first to link Frankenstein’s monster and the transsexual body,” (Stryker 2) she clarifies. She proceeds to quote the transphobic remarks of Mary Daly and Janice Raymond, a pair of influential feminists, comparing transgender people to Frankenstein’s monster. Her response is to return to the text, arguing that the monster importantly appears in the story as Frankenstein’s “...dark, romantic double,” (Stryker 2) She asks what making such comparisons between transgender people and the Monster might imply about the people making them, “Might I suggest that Daly, Raymond and others of their ilk similarly construct the transsexual as their own particular golem?” (Stryker 2)

    Stryker doesn’t shrink away from the monstrous associations such transphobic feminists make, instead she embraces the archetype, turning on them the way the monster turned on its maker. She says, “When such beings as these tell me I war with nature, I find no more reason to mourn my opposition to them—or to the order they claim to represent—than Frankenstein’s monster felt in its enmity to the human race.” (Stryker 3) Indeed, she does not shrink away from these critics’ company, she roars “...gleefully away from it like a Harley-straddling, dildo- packing leatherdyke from hell.” (Stryker 3)

    Examining what it means to be labelled a creature, Stryker says that it is essentially to be something (presumably something with a subjective experience) which is created rather than appearing naturally. She does not elaborate on the reasoning behind this premise, but goes a step further to say that people take offense at being called or compared to creatures precisely because most people are accustomed to affording themselves a higher status, that of creator rather than created. Her reactive impulse is markedly different. She says, “I find no shame, however, in acknowledging my egalitarian relationship with non-human material Being; everything emerges from the same matrix of possibilities.” (Stryker 4) She doesn’t see the appeal of the civilizing separation between Man as maker and creator on the one hand, and the rest of the world on the other, which is presumed to be infinitely passive, infinitely subject to use and attribution by others. Instead, she allows this schism to drive her back into solidarity with all that is unnatural.

    For Stryker, revulsion toward transgender people stems from their inability or refusal to conform to the supposed natural order, distilled to its most-essential form in the rigid categories of man and woman. Although the transgender body is said to be monstrous because of its artificiality, Stryker says all that is called Nature and used as a cudgel against transgender people is actually just as artificial, just as constructed as the transgender body. She warns the reader against the falsity of Nature as a concept, “Do not trust it to protect you from what I represent, for it is a fabrication that cloaks the groundlessness of the privilege you seek to maintain for yourself at my expense.” Here, she asserts the general threat transgender people pose to the social order, which is to make-visible all of the horrible techniques by which each person is made into themselves. After all, she says, “You are as constructed as me; the same anarchic Womb has birthed us both.” (Stryker 4) The author is attempting to make good on the threats her experience is said to pose toward nature; in fact, this is exactly the way forward she suggests, “Heed my words, and you may well discover the seams and sutures in yourself.” (Stryker 4)

    In spite of her close identification with the creature, Stryker specifies that their situations are not the same, noting that, “Unlike the monster, we often successfully cite the culture’s visual norms of gendered embodiment.” (Stryker 4) Transgender people cite these visual norms through the manipulation of subtle signifiers such as hair length, cut of clothing, use of makeup, wearing packers and binders, and medically altering the appearances of their bodies. This becomes subversive, she says, when transgender people, “...declare the unnaturalness of our claim to the subject positions we nevertheless occupy. (Stryker 4)

    Stryker reminds us that after Frankenstein’s monster learns the details of its creation, “...rather than bless its creator, the monster curses him.” Frankenstein cannot control the monster’s mind. “It exceeds and refutes his purposes.” (Stryker 5) This is central to one of Stryker’s main uses of the Frankenstein analogy; if the Monster’s mind is not beholden to Frankenstein, the transgender consciousness is also not determined by the doctors who reshape flesh or the entrepreneurs who sell synthetic penises. Although medicine is capable of making a body seem natural to any observer, being the subject of such techniques might permanently alter the way one views nature or medicine in general, or as Stryker says, “engaging with those very techniques produces a subjective experience that belies the naturalistic effect biomedical technology can achieve.” (Stryker 5)

    In Shelley’s novel, Frankenstein meets with his creation at last while hiking the glaciers above the village of Chamounix. The two go to a cabin together where the monster spends almost a quarter of the book telling Frankenstein its story from its own perspective to explain why it has turned against him. The essay itself enters Stryker’s analogy, “These are my words to Victor Frankenstein, above the village of Chamounix.” (Stryker 6) She goes on, later in the passage, “I, too, have discovered the journals of the men who made my body, and who have made the bodies of creatures like me since the 1930’s.” (Stryker 6) She is well aware that the scientists who developed sexual reassignment surgical and hormonal treatments did so for wildly different motivations than those that led her to engage in them. However, by nature of her desire to engage in them, she must submit herself to their categorizations, and of course at the time of her writing, to be transgender necessarily meant maintaining a proximity to diagnoses of mental illness. She comments on the effect of this, “Through the filter of this official pathologization, the sounds that come out of my mouth can be summarily dismissed as the confused ranting of a diseased mind.” (Stryker 6) This highlights the uneasy relationship between transgender people and the medical community at large. After all, the doctors who perform sexual reassignment surgeries and the like are not accused of insanity, as are the patients who submit to their care.

    The essay shifts into a journal entry about the day the author’s partner gave birth. She describes a powerful and moving birthing process, awkwardly interrupted for her alone by a thoughtless designation by the baby’s biological father, upon seeing the baby’s genitals, “It’s a girl!” (Stryker 7) Returning home, she was filled with a well of pent-up emotions. She says, “To conclude the birth ritual I had participated in, I needed to move something in me as profound as a whole human life.” (Stryker 7)

    She looks inward, and backward through time, reflecting on the relationship she had been in when she had her first child, before coming out as a woman. She remembers, “I had always wanted intimacy with women more than intimacy with men, and that wanting had always felt queer to me. She needed it to appear straight.” The author wanted to love women as a woman and her partner needed love from a man. Thus, refusing the gender she was assigned at birth, she refused the love that was predicated on it. In other instances related to the most recent birth, after she came out as a woman, people would ask if she were the baby’s father, of which she says, “It shows so dramatically how much they simply don’t get about what I’m doing with my body.” (Stryker 8) This interconnected web of rejections and losses is perhaps what leads her to conclude that “Nature exerts such a hegemonic oppression.” (Stryker 8)

     The text continues in italics, in a more-poetic tone before breaking into poetry completely. The author was reeling from the day’s compressed emotions: the intensity of birthing, the dark cloud of the baby’s gendering, and the recollection of past relationships. She seems sad here, and angry, but also resolute, saying, “I can never be a woman like other women, but I could never be a man.” (Stryker 8) This hard realization drives her to reject that false choice. Instead, she says, “I do war with nature. I am alienated from Being.”

    From here she moves on into the actual poetry. She references drowning and becoming water to escape, “If I cannot change my situation I will change myself.” (Stryker 8) This moment of recognition of her existence in an unlivable space and being forced to become something else carries through to the final lines of the poem, “In birthing my rage, / my rage has rebirthed me.” (Stryker) and into the final portion of the essay.

    If the categories of gender are transmutable, then anyone with the power to “...cite the culture’s visual norms of gendered embodiment.” (4) also has the ability to reduce all the trappings of identity to a tactical level and explore new possibilities, or as Stryker puts it, “... by mobilizing gendered identities and rendering them provisional, open to strategic development and occupation, this rage enables the establishment of subjects in new modes, regulated by different codes of intelligibility.” (10)

    Gender attribution robs individuals of this tactical posture toward gender and expression, pushing them into narrow corridors of expression instead. Babies are unable to choose this fate for themselves. This is critical because fotr Stryker, gendering a child is not a simple labeling, it is a prescription for a lifetime of behaviors that will have to be programmed into the child. She explains, “Gendering is the initial step in this transformation, inseparable from the process of forming an identity by means of which we’re fitted to a system of exchange in a heterosexual economy.” (Stryker 10) This fitting for a system of exchange, she says, is exactly what is meant by phrases like, “It’s a girl.” (Stryker 10) It is for exactly this reason that to be without gender, or even to perform gender incorrectly, would form the basis for social exclusion. If gender is meant to be a universal means of social coding, being able to express one clearly is a precondition to be understood. Stryker puts it this way, “A gendering violence is the founding condition of human subjectivity; having a gender is the tribal tattoo that makes one’s personhood cognizable.” (Stryker 10) Considering her own participation in gendering an infant, she speculates about the baby’s future, “I stood for a moment between the pain of two violations, the mark of gender, and the unlivability of its absence.” (Stryker 10) As violent and painful as her relationship to gender has been, she wonders whether it would be possible for the child to exist at all in our world without a gender, “Could I say which one was worse? Or could I only say which one I felt could best be survived.” (Stryker 10)

    In bringing the piece to a close, Stryker continues to look toward the future and its possibilities for herself and other creatures like her. Even if gender presents itself as inescapable, that does not preclude the strategic approach to its expression she suggested earlier, “Though I cannot escape its power, I can move through its medium.” (Stryker 10) Perhaps, she suggests, by using the medium against itself, she can short-circuit the meanings that gendered signification are meant to communicate and even elaborate new and exciting ways to use the social coding of gender to express new ideas, “Though I may not hold the stylus myself, I can move beneath it for my own deep self-sustaining pleasures.” (Stryker 11)

    In spite of this optimistic note about the potential to play with gender’s meaning, she holds that transgender people undermine this system’s integrity, because “To encounter the transsexual body, to apprehend a transgendered consciousness articulating itself, is to risk a revelation of the constructedness of the natural order.” (Stryker 11) She also reasserts that one cannot take part in this process without being transformed by it, “Be forewarned, however, that taking up this task will remake you in the process.” (Stryker 11)

    The ultimate subversion is that the monstrous are resolute in articulating themselves in spite of the peril such expression spells for civilization. “Like that creature, I assert my worth as a monster in spite of the conditions my monstrosity requires me to face, and redefine a life worth living.” (Stryker 11) After all, Stryker didn’t ask to be born into this particular world. Like the monster, she asks, “Did I request thee, Maker, from my clay to mould me man? Did I solicit thee from darkness to promote me?” (qtd. in Stryker 11)

    In the end Stryker parts with her reader with a sort of benediction, “May your rage inform your actions, and your actions transform you as you struggle to transform your world.” (Stryker 11) In the final words of the essay, then, she is returning to one of its central themes. One cannot engage with the world without being changed by it. Perhaps this is the process by which the world moulds monsters from each of us. It is only by investigating our seams and sutures for ourselves that we can learn the impact the world has had on us, or the impact we might have on it.

    Works Cited

Stryker, Susan. “My Words to Victor Frankenstein Above the Village of Chamounix” June 1993, https://sites.evergreen.edu/politicalshakespeares/wp-content/uploads/sites/226/2015/12/Stryker-My-Words-to-VF.pdf

[existentialburden]

Tell us about your ocs 👀👀

i would lay down my life for you,,, ty,,,,,, gonna need a readmore link for this one

okay so first up we got Aila Daphne Delmira, like the only one with a middle name. brown hair, brown eyes, absolute baby. shes a fankid o mine- Page of Light who is emotionally a wreck and is pretty impulsive. shes so confused about everything but she does her best as team leader. she likes to gossip with the horrorterrors- her personal favorite to chat with is Thysnpall, who she affectionately calls Thea. shes very small so most of the team is in the Aila Protection Squad but she fights with Hope (which can get a little, uh, out of hand, because her weapon of choice is KNIFE) and is kind of a shithead sometimes because she thrives off of spite. she’s scared of thunder and is claustrophobic so rippp to her but one of her teammates’ lands is nothing but storms and caves so major f. shes also a hopeless romantic and is bi and ace!

then there’s Hope Jewell- fun fact her last name is the name of a road I saw once on a road trip (and also it’s on some sign outside a business I pass by a lot but that only clicked like a full year after I made her). ginger hair, blue eyes, still baby. she’s also a fankid- Thief of Hope (unsurprisingly) who acts as a slightly hot-headed team strategist. she’s smart as hell but when it comes to people skills she just… isn’t great at that. she says things and people get mad and she doesn’t know why they’re mad at her so she gets mad and Oh No She Does Not Understand People At All. she was more of a dick before but once she stopped over-performing toxic masculinity and came out as trans things got a lot smoother for her. she still doesn’t understand people but that’s okay neither do I. despite things being Better people still like to take Aila’s side when they fight because again, Aila is very small, but Hope is Very Tall and you can’t just hit the team leader with a spade smh. she likes action movies and superhero movies in particular and I love her very much and so do her girlfriends. she’s also terrified of dogs. she’s polyamorous and bi babey!

Fantra Datass. what more is there to say. nah but she’s a rustblood fantroll who’s an Heir of Heart. one day I’ll draw her because she has SUCH a fun hairstyle but it’s also a NIGHTMARE y’know?? she’s very flirty and deeply insecure. she’s honestly such a sucker for soft romance despite her more forward nature. she likes cryptids and horror and a t t e n t i o n. her kismesis is SO BAD FOR HER it’s awful and not in the good kismesis way. she has a rough time not overcorrecting when someone criticizes her and it’s a problem she’s trying to work on but it’s so hard. she HATESSS cats. they scare her a lil bit but she won’t admit it. one day she’s gonna get the whole world and I will finally be able to rest.

Dukkel Xobaie. Dukkel is, uh, pretty iffy. they’re a tealblood Witch of Rage and they’re manipulative as fuck. they like to have a hand in just about everything, for better or for worse, and they’re… protective over the people they like. they help, but in ways that make you wish they hadn’t been involved sometimes. on a lighter note, they like photography and are a fan of cuddlin! their whole deal is p sketch but they helped make Aila Not Grimdark and that’s good. even if their kismesitude with Fantra is Bad Very Bad Do Not Pass Go Do Not Collect 200 Boonbucks.

then there’s Enlightener “Enny” Delmirain’t! she’s Aila’s opposite, and looks around the same except with four arms and a stronger light aura now, though she wears a headband and every time I think about that I wince because she totally kins Rose Lalonde but nobody’s called her (or me, by extension) out on it. according to the game, she’s a Page of Light, but let’s be real she’s a Thief of Void. she’s also a wreck emotionally but like in the opposite direction because she’s so repressed it hurts. she’s good at deception and misdirection but if you stumble upon an emotional weak spot she dies instantly. that’s it for her. she’s her crew’s leader as well and there is No Question About That. she tried to overthrow the main timeline and it didn’t quite work out but hey that’s life. she’s a monsterfucker and likes horror stories. she absolutely had a creepypasta phase and tbh she never got out of that. she’s angry at the universe all the time but it’s cool she learns to chill out and cope with her trauma in a healthy way eventually. she’s also a space pirate and wrote all the laws for the ship and I love her. she understands how people work but refuses to acknowledge that people are her friends to those people. it’d be funny if it weren’t upsetting that she doesn’t know how to cope with meaningful human bonds BUT SHE GOES TO THERAPY NOW AND I’M SO PROUD OF MY BABY. she’s Aila but with an asshole dad. and also my favorite. I love her. also she flirts through cryptic puzzles and I think that’s very cool of her.

DEUUUUUUX TIME. Deux Jewell is Hope’s opposite but she looks nothing like her because she got Fucked Up by game mechanics and now she’s a seraphim. again, SBURB-assigned Thief of Hope, but her vibes are Page of Rage instead. she can’t fuckign eat because of her form and it makes her so upset (she has canonically cried over not being able to eat pancakes she made so that’s her mental state). she’s the captain of the space pirate ship and she is SO TIRED of it. stressed depressed and a mess babey. she likes cooking and likes experimenting with recipes! she likes memes and is honestly upset when old meme formats die because sometimes there’s things you can only express through a three-layer meme so nobody calls your therapist on you. she hates being captain. make it stop. she’s so tired. she’s scared of fucking up and getting people hurt.

other sessions in a reblog later bcause this is a lot

[castellankurze]

freestyle rewriting the heresy yet again

because stuff occurred to me last night after that post about the traitor primarchs

if you wanna do the greek tragedy right every traitor primarch should have a primary flaw and a lesson that they fail to learn which overcomes them in the end

Fulgrim is obsession, or ‘perfection is the enemy of the good.’  Fulgrim has been good at everything his whole life. he turned Chemos from a dying shitpit into a vibrant and peaceful world, and when called up to become a warrior and commander he became a damn good one.  He even built up his legion from almost nothing after disaster nearly wiped them out.  But now he’s actually competing with people on his level and it gets to him.  He trains himself almost religiously, struggling to cut away the imperfections.  He expects his legion to always improve; uniformly, to Fulgrim there’s nothing more disgraceful than failing to better yourself, no matter the circumstances, no matter how unreasonable it may be.  It’s what leads him to letting Fabius tinker recklessly with the legion geneseed.  To steal a line from the stewniverse “if I’m not perfect then who am I?”

His friendship with Ferrus is something that should be cast as the anchor on Fulgrim’s flights of fancy.  Ferrus is prosaic and hardworking and responsible, gruff and bluff and earthy; he acts as a balance to Fulgrim’s mounting fanatical belief that he must be the best at everything at all times.  Ferrus’ death can thus be cast as the loss of reason amidst the insanity of the heresy, and it’s what snaps Fulgrim’s last ties to sanity leaving him to plunge himself and his legion wholesale into the service of Slaanesh.

Perturabo is cold logic, or ‘humans aren’t rational.’  Perturabo believes that the ideal being is a Renaissance Man, the great thinker, expert in all fields, unburdened by such petty things as ‘emotion’ or ‘bonds’ or ‘human interest’.  Perturabo believes mankind is best served by shutting up, sitting down, and working.  Human error is a failstate and not to be countenanced.  But people don’t function like that, fundamentally can’t function as if they’re datasheets on a page, and Perturabo gets irked when they don’t.  Because even Perturabo doesn’t function like that, not really - he’s like one of those rationalists who claim they can operate perfectly logically, then throw a screaming tantrum when faced with a conclusion they don’t like.

Perturabo alienates everyone around him - his brethren, his legion, even his homeworld.  To his eyes, they all fail him by not meeting his standards; they’re all too human, too soft.  Perturabo’s insistence that he is incapable of failure is what tragically leaves him wide open to manipulation by Horus, who drives him and the Iron Warriors further and further into their self-dug bitterness and isolationism until Olympia itself revolts and the last nail is pounded into the coffin.

Konrad Curze is vengeance, or ‘fear exists to be conquered.’  Curze took control of Nostromo through savage terrorism, cowing the populace and the gangs and the murderers who preyed on people through shocking acts of murder and barbarism.  He’s so good at it, though, that he never acknowledges the critical flaw - when he leaves Nostromo, he takes away the object of people’s fear, and he never setup a system to govern them without the threat of retaliation.  The Night Lords become staffed with psychopaths and murderers, their unity as a legion slowly fraying.  Curze himself sees torturous visions and nightmares, but it’s all without context, and he doesn’t particularly like wearing the device the Emperor made for him to curb the worst of it because he feels like it makes thinking difficult, so he just does without, becoming more erratic and unpredictable.  In the end he lets himself be done in, with the line ‘death is nothing compared to vindication’ which can arguably taken as a recognition that he had become the kind of monster he once hunted.

Angron is, of course, rage or, to quote tumblr, ‘the hate you feel will warm your heart but leave you cold in the grave’.  Of all the primarchs he’s the one with whom you can most do the cycle of violence thematic.  He’s taken as a slave as a gladiator, leads a revolt, he’s ‘rescued’ by the Emperor on the brink of a crushing defeat, and becomes a rampaging one-man slaughterhouse loosed upon the galaxy.  Angron’s response to his mistreatment is two-pronged: a total rejection of any authority deemed untrustworthy, fueled by his upbringing and the Emperor’s high-handedness, and a colossal hate-on for anything and everything.  Angron wallows in his hate, because for him hate and violence are easy.  The result is that he’s something of a foil for Perturabo - Angron doesn’t think, because he doesn’t like to think.  The World Eaters become a riot of bloodthirsty killers, the librarians and chaplaincy first sidelined and then, at least in the case of the former, eliminated, because they’re not savage enough.

If the plot device of the battle cybernetics (’Butcher’s Nails’ in the BL series) is kept, it’s primary use is as a plot device to show the cycle of abuse - Angron has it forced on him as a child, he forces it upon his legion in turn.  I’ve never been a great fan of the Nails as a plot device (especially in the BL series; it makes things too easy) because it’s not like they’re necessary to push someone into a Khornate rage, but they can work as a tipping point to help push the legion over the edge, especially back by Horus’ manipulations.

Mortarion is resentment, specifically, ‘bitterness is a poison.’  Like how Angron wallows in rage and Curze wallows in the fear he causes, Mortarion wallows in bitter hatred.  He hates the aliens who ruled Barbarus, especially the one who raised him, he hates the poisons of his homeworld itself, he hates the Emperor, and most of all he hates himself.  Mortarion falls into the trap of constantly comparing what we might have been to what we are - if he’d been found by humans. if he’d landed on a different world.  if he’d taken the Emperor up on his offer of aid.  if he didn’t need to wear a damn rebreather.  Nevertheless he surrounds himself with the trappings of his home, poisons and toxins and rad-weapons because they’re his, dammit, and fuck you for trying to take them away from him.  Mortarion keeps slogging onwards with what he’s got because there’s nothing else to him.

Magnus the Red is haughtiness, or ‘ivory-tower intellectualism.’  When you’re willing to learn and Magnus is willing to teach, he’s a great guy.  When he’s willing to learn and you’re willing to teach, he’s a great guy.  But Magnus has been either student or teacher for most of his life, and he has trouble defining a relationship outside those bounds.  He’s that guy who’s an expert on anything he’s studied for five minutes, even though you know he never heard of it six minutes ago.  And if you’re better at him than something, well, it’s something he’s never studied.  Magnus can be exasperating, and, in considering the fate of his legion, dangerous.  The Thousand Sons have a very strong ‘for me and not for thee’ streak to him, delving deeply into study of the warp and sorcerous practices that scream Bad Idea and ignore any attempts to warn them off of it, because they know better.  They’re not going to fall into any traps.  Even the Council of Nikaea, what should be taken as a dire warning to shape up, does little more than throw Magnus into a extended snitfit about the Emperor’s unwillingness to see things his way.

Horus is, of course, ambition, and ‘pride goeth before a fall.’  When the Emperor retreats from the Crusade to, you know, run the Imperium, Horus takes over the campaign trail personally, spending long years heading up the Imperium’s conquest of the galaxy, and as the awards and adoration and adulation and accolades and other a-words pile up he starts getting it into his head that he ought to be the rightful ruler of the whole shebang.  While recovering from wounds on the planet Davin, he’s introduced to the powers of the warp through the warrior lodges there, and so strikes a fateful bargain to sway the greater power of the Imperium’s war machine to his side along with his brothers and topple the Emperor.  He becomes a creature unlike any seen before or since, a font of Chaos power such that even the four great powers seem more held than holders of his leash.  Drunk on power - both the political and very, very real kinds - it’s not until things fall apart aboard his flagship that Horus realizes how very, very badly he’s fouled up.

Lorgar is zealotry, or to be more accurate ‘you can’t externalize self-righteousness.’  Lorgar frames his mindset as a search for truth, but really what he wants is what everybody wants: to be on the right side.  Lorgar’s problem is that he fundamentally cannot internalize the idea that morality is what you do, or to quote Horus Rising ‘we must be mighty because we are right, not right because we are mighty.’  Lorgar grows up steeped in the old faith of Colchis, but when he starts having visions and the existing power structure rejects him, he overthrows it because he knows he’s right, the universe told him he’s right, and when the Emperor shows up he feels validated, and doesn’t even notice how Emps is a little put off by the displays of veneration.  When he goes on the Crusade he turns it into a literal religious crusade, stopping at every planet to fully convert it before moving on.

Eventually the Emperor shows up to kick him into gear, because the Word Bearers are the S L O W E S T legion by far and their ties to other legions are fraying and maybe put down some of the religious stuff.  Lorgar cannot reconcile this discrepancy between the image of the God-Emperor he believes he understood perfectly and the actual Emperor telling him to cool it and basically dissociates himself into next month.  Eventually this one dude named Kor Phaeron who Lorgar’s known since they were kids suggests maybe Lorgar should go back and look at the old faiths again, at which point Lorgar starts digging into a new, and to him, even bigger ‘truth’ than the Emperor.  Then a dude from the Sons of Horus arrives and shit goes buckwild.  But for all the work he’s done, Lorgar still can’t see himself as anything but a vessel for truth, effectively sheltering himself under the Horus and the Chaos gods instead of the Emperor, and when things go sideways on Terra he all but collapses because he can’t understand how shit’s gone south again.

Alpharius, finally, is the inferiority complex, or ‘don’t define yourself by your relationships to others.’  Alpharius is not only the last primarch, he’s the last primarch to be publicly discovered, so late in the Crusade that the Emperor’s already handed the reins over to Horus.  As a result, everyone else has an achievement list as long as their arm and people won’t stop fucking comparing Alpharius and the XX Legion against the others.  Alpharius is an A+ tactical commander, but this shit makes him mad as hell.  He names the XX the Alpha Legion to emphasize how badass they are and drills the shit out of them at the chapter, company, and even squad level until they know their shit backwards and forwards.

For Alpharius, there’s no question of whose side he’s on, because Horus is his big bro and he doesn’t care for the Emperor.  Ironically, despite his keen strategic mind, Alpharius is unable to recognize the bigger picture of how Horus and the other traitor legions are...maybe getting a little sketchy?  He just knows this is gonna be his chance to get back at the folks who shit-talked him and his boys.  Instead of joining the march on Terra, the Alpha Legion goes across the galaxy, harrying the Ultramarines, the Space Wolves, and the Dark Angels.  But unlike Alpharius, Guilliman can stay focused on the big picture, and though delayed it’s ultimately the word of the reinforcements coming in that causes Horus to throw down with the Emperor.  Of course the Alpha Legion goes on their merry way, until the fight at Eskrador where Alpharius finally gets to stick it to Bobby G - he dies, but he’s lured the Ultramarines into an untenable position and ultiamtely they’re the ones who have to retreat.  But afterwards, the blind spot comes back into play, and the Alpha legion ultimately fragments and goes sailing into the Eye of Terror and the other warpstorms along with the other traitor legions because nobody knows enough of the Plan anymore.

this post got longer than i meant it to be but  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ what can i say even though it’s been almost a decade now since i stopped seriously following 40k books i still have The Thoughts about the little plastic dudes

[orcinusorca1617]

Favorite Star Wars Fics

REBELCAPTAIN

Floating, Sinking shuofthewind

Somewhere in her is the sinking feeling that they weren't supposed to survive.

[In which they all live, in a manner of speaking, and they keep going, in spite of the odds.]

[Post-Rogue One. Runs through A New Hope. Eventual Rebelcaptain.]

whetstone shuofthewind

They're finished with their first mission. Now it's just the matter of downtime.

[Part of the floating, sinking universe. Mostly just fluff.]

Restless jenniferjun1per

Jyn needs to sleep, but she can't seem to get comfortable.

You Still Are leralynne

The scar zigzags down her side, puckered white along the ridges of her ribs. Cassian’s fingers still the first time they brush over it. With her head on his chest, she can feel his intake of breath.

A Long Pause leralynne

“Be quiet!” Jyn hisses. “I hear something!” Cassian stills. And then slowly, very slowly, he lifts his lips from Jyn’s collarbone.

slowly, and then all at once caramelle

It's probably sheer stubbornness, Cassian thinks wryly.

Even so, it doesn't mean he's just going to leave her like that.

Or, the one where Jyn has a habit of falling asleep around the apartment, and Cassian develops a habit of carrying her back to bed, because he's a Gentleman, and a Good Friend.

There For You guineapiggie

They reach Yavin IV and Jyn has every intention to lock herself in the room they've given her and not come out ever again. However, someone strongly disagrees with that plan.

flight lessons ignitesthestars

“One hundred percent of the crashes I have experienced involved you, Jyn Erso.” K2 informs her pleasantly. “Given that no other flight experience I've been involved in has experienced an abrupt descent, I can only conclude that you - oh. You're bleeding.

Or, Jyn is slightly impaled and Cassian sees to her wound. Emotions are had.

Won't You Let Us Wander (series) angel_deux

Cassian came back for her. Again and again. After Scarif, that complicates things for Jyn, who's used to running | 13 part series.

Cuddling for Warmth leralynne

“Jyn is shivering,” K2 observes, with the kind of bland indifference only possible when one is a droid incapable of experiencing just how goddamn freezing this planet is.

Bloody Little Worms Kobo

Jyn Erso is accustomed to being jolted awake. Saw Gerrera shaking her awake at every hour of the night, keeping her on her toes; the rough shift from hyperspace to realspace rattling the frame of a ship; Imperial guards smacking their batons against iron bars; nightmares, images of her father’s last breath or the echoing smack of Cassian’s back against steel bars: Jyn is accustomed to those.

A white hot grip on her lungs? This marks the first time she’s awoken to that.

Closer muggleindenial28

"They don’t speak on the way down.

They don’t acknowledge the distant shrill screams of TIE Fighters and X-Wings outside.

They don’t think about how they’re not going to get out in time."

They make it off Scarif, but not without scars.

like real people do mollivanders

“I have an idea,” she says, mind whirling as she steps towards the room. “We need a reason to be here like this.” He follows close behind her and she can practically feel the tension washing over him. In contrast, the plan forming in her mind has provided her with a calm clarity. He closes the door behind them before she props it ajar/

They need to be caught.

Beach House lyresandlasers

“Never say I don’t support you,” Jyn lifted his head into her lap, cradled in crossed legs.

cover me, i'll cover you mollivanders

“Are you hurt?” he asks blindly, reaching for her only to snatch his fingers back as she lurches away. He forgets she’s like a feral animal when she’s injured, used to being the only person having her back. “Let me see,” he says, trying to force authority and calm into his voice, both to reassure her and take control of the situation.

Inside, he’s anything but.

I hear the revolution rebsrising

The babble sounds through the baby monitor, soft and quiet, but enough to wake two well-trained soldiers still adjusting to the safety of peace.

Bodhi's Perspective rebsrising

It’s a simple scene - and that’s what strikes Bodhi the most. They kiss like they’re going to do it everyday for the rest of their lives. And he hopes, not for the first time, that they have the chance.

We Can Turn Over and Start Again kyrdwyn

After Scarif, Jyn starts over, with a new mission, and an unexpected friend.

Fifteen Days clashofqueens

It's hard to hold on to a happy ending during a war, and in the final days of the Rebellion, Jyn might lose hers.

Lay Down My Shields katsumi

Jyn comes down with a strange reaction to a foreign plant, but it doesn't seem like a big enough deal to bother anyone with. That is, until she faints in the middle of the hallway.

Run to Me in the Rising Dawn katsumi

Jyn has never had anyone stick around before. The battle is over now, but the war rages on and Jyn is already preparing for the day when she loses Cassian, too. (She doesn't realize he's terrified of the exact same thing.)

the quiet we hold ithacas

After Scarif, Cassian wakes up broken. He and Jyn learn to fix each other.

We Should laurie2000ann

Jyn could have died trying to save Cassian and he’s pretty angry about it.

Let's Give 'Em Something to Talk About astoriamalfoys

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asks her, a wry smile twisting his lips. Jyn ducks her head. “Nightmares or the medicine?”

It’s meant to be an easy conversation, but she says, “I was worried about you,” and his heart stutters to a staccato instead.

Han x Leia captainkitten

Important Thing of Awesomeness™ meets Dumpster Fire of a Human Being™

REYLO

we could plant a house, we could build a tree Like_A_Dove

Ben takes a deep breath. “It’s—it’s a project. Conceptual art. You wouldn’t get it.”

Rey presses her lips together to keep from laughing. She plans her next words quickly and carefully, determining what will get her the best reaction. “Really? Looks like you ruined a bedsheet to me.”

His reaction does not disappoint. “Get out.”

Parenthood (series) pontmercy44

What to expect when you're expecting the child of a rich, womanizing, alcoholic, unredeemable asshole? And what to do when the unexpected, improbable, irrational happens?

What She's Worth g_girl143

After being sent to train under his uncle in the Jedi academy, Ben Solo meets a youngling girl who would change the course of his life. An alternative universe companion fic for Claudia Gray's "Bloodline" novel. A scenario in which Ben Solo and Rey are fellow students of Luke's Jedi Academy and the events that led to the birth of Kylo Ren.

A Proposal by Any Other Name LucidLucy

Rey and Finn have been A Thing for a long time now. Since she was eighteen, to be exact. When Finn leaves on a trip to Europe for six months for work, Rey finally chases after him to Dublin to do what he seems to be putting off: propose. | Leap Year AU

If You Trust What's in Your Heart (What Better Can You Do) TheJGatsby

After the war, Rey likes to savor the peace on her own sometimes. Then she's not alone anymore.

Black Gloves, Orange Soup Solia

While the dwindling Rebellion starves, awaiting their chance to attack a First Order supply vessel, Rey is trying to keep busy repairing the lightsaber. As luck would have it, her Force-bonded rival Kylo Ren is knowledgeable on the subject and keen to help, but he is also very... distracting.

A Good Fall ohwise1ne

Ben Solo refuses to take a stunt double and pays the price when he breaks his leg filming his latest action blockbuster. His new physical therapist, Rey Sanders, seems to be the only person in Hollywood who doesn’t recognize the infamous Kylo Ren – and for some reason, he finds himself fighting to keep it that way.

A Royal Mistake reyofdarkness

Ben Solo (aka The Playboy Prince): Prince of Alderaan and tabloid sensation, never seen with the same girl twice.

Rey: Mechanic, blissfully unaware of Ben Solo's very existence.

Until Paige recruits her for a night servicing the Met Gala, host to a diverse class of guests, including royalty. It is there that a chance encounter gets Rey caught up in a pair of pretty eyes and a charming personality that she knows she should stay far, far away from. The universe, however, seems to have other plans. Hot Tip: Don’t look up your crush’s sex tape.

The End of a String Silvershine

A bridge still exists between the Supreme Leader of the First Order and the rebel known as Rey. As the connection winds tighter, the line between enemy and friend continues to blur, and Rey's loyalties are called into question. A force bond can bring companionship and support, but it's not without its dangers... or delights.

No Ill Will Castiloar

His face set into a resigned expression before tapping his phone with a final flourish, sending whatever excuse he made. She almost jumped when he squarely met her gaze. “Me? Your hostage? I’d almost think you like having me here.” Even with the congestion he managed to drop his voice low enough to make the quip weigh heavy.

variations on a theme of you disasterisms

"Who knows?" Luke darted a faint smile at Ben and Rey as they stewed in silence and disbelief. "The two of you might even learn to get along. Right, Leia?"

"Like a house on fire," the General deadpanned. "Complete with screams, flames, and people running for safety."

"Indeed." Luke's blue eyes twinkled. "There may be no survivors."

As Hard As I Try... KKetura

When her friends find out about her force bond with Kylo Ren, Rey finds herself more alone than ever. But in her forced solitude, she slowly discovers a better understanding of herself and the man to whom she's inextricably linked.

lying restless (as the dawn comes near) TheJGatsby

They have a tradition for nightmares.

you gotta stop doing that semi-hiatus

She caught herself right before the words ‘you gotta stop doing that’ slipped from her lips, saving her from having the explain why she randomly started talking to herself in the hallway.

Why Her? Aramenialys

Just one last battle. One. Then they can be done and put everything behind them. That was the plan. Then it's smashed to bits, and Kylo has to figure out how to come back from tragedy and form a new one. A short drabble/oneshot about Rey dying and (redeemed) Kylo learning to cope.

Quiet issueswithjedipedagogy

He wasn’t sleeping. She had caught sight of him in the darkness, blinking awake to the strange vacuum the bond created around her; the quiet focus on two souls that seemed to make everything else fall away.

Soft Things catmusing

Kylo Ren wakes up aboard a familiar and yet unknown ship. His body aches and it hurts to remember but there is Rey of light.

Aphelion ambiguously

Stranded on a barren planet together, Rey and Kylo Ren have only each other to help them survive.

Vulnerability and Soft Hair smallenoughtofit

After two years with the Resistance, Kylo Ren still lacks any real security or relationships outside of his tenuous whatever-this-is with Rey. And Rey still wonders what his hair feels like.

the remedy is the experience (i won't worry my life away) TheJGatsby

Rey gets sick, and she isn't very good at letting people look after her.

Proper Sleep tearoomsaloon

Much to her frustration, Rey can no longer properly sleep unless she's snuggled between Ben's glorious pecs

ad infinitum hyperphonic

for the prompt: Rey and Kylo telling Leia, Rey is pregnant. Leia had no clue.

any way you want it thegoodlannister

rey helps ben begin to work through the process of making decisions - even really simple ones - for himself. rehabilitation is a slow process in the aftermath of the mess snoke has spent three decades making of ben's mind.

It Will Come Back ReyloTrashCompactor

“Honey, don’t feed it. It will come back”

A Series of Firsts Tandy

Ben (or is it Ren?) and Rey sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes love and then comes marriage, then comes baby in a baby carriage.

A story told in firsts.

Dark Prism whythokylo (OpalElephant)

Rey awakens again, except this time it's to a life she can't recall with a man she only knows as her enemy. My attempt at a long form, dark AU. (Formerly titled Aphelion)

A Few Small Repairs TourmalineGreen

Rey buried her face in her blankets. She wasn’t crying. She wasn’t going to allow herself to feel anything. Rain was just water, and so were tears. It would all dry, in time. The storm would pass, and then she’d keep going. That’s how it always had been, and that’s how it was going to be.

She would be alright, after this. She would find a way, find something…

what ails you thegoodlannister

or: three times ben solo was sick and one time kylo ren was. unabashed reylo and even more unabashed hurt/comfort.

100 Ways to Say I Love You AquaWolfGirl

Taken from a list on Tumblr of 100 Ways To Say I Love You, 100 little oneshots leading up to Valentine's Day.

I'm always in this twilight (in the shadow of your heart) disasterisms

Coded on a secondhand datapad in a run-down motel room in Mos Eisley, deleted and never sent: Everything about us was a whirlwind.

Written on a scrap of durasheet in a Tion Cluster outpost, the words fading after a while into air and ghosts: You shouldn't have forgiven me for any of it.

Scraped into the bark of an oak tree on the Argazdan homeworld: You won't believe the dreams I have about you.

the one with the lust writing-reylo

She has bigger things to worry about than that.

The most pressing of which is reclining in her bed, shirtless.

“Can you move?” She asks, unwinding her scarf and shrugging off her huge jacket.

Milking It thewayofthetrashcompactor

“Rey.”

The voice was deep and familiar, rough with exhaustion, and echoed across the gap closed by the Force.

She ignored it, hunched over on the edge of the cot she'd been sleeping on. She wanted nothing more than to lean back and curl up into an unconscious ball again, but another voice, this one much closer, called her name again.

morning in the burned house disasterisms

Leia's not really surprised at all, to be honest, but, for the sake of his pride, she should probably pretend to be.

find a thread to pull, and we can watch it unravel again_please

The war is over, Snoke dead at Rey and Kylo's hands. The two of them find themselves feeling a bit out of place as the Resistance celebrates and decide that the answer is a bit of good old fashioned Corellian whiskey. Enjoyed responsibly, of course. And in private.

Because You're There disasterisms

Three years ago, Rey had not yet climbed Everest.

Presenting the first half of my fic/art trade with the lovely lilithsaur, based on her trash triplets x 2 universe. The gist is that there are three Solo boys— Kylo, Ben, and Matt (the character from Adam Driver's SNL skit)— and three Kenobi girls— Kira (dark Rey), Rey, and Daisy (undercover Rey).

Sword of the Jedi (series) diasterisms

“What do you think?” Luke asks his nephew. “She has potential.”

“She bit me, Master,” is Ben’s stiff response. “Any opinion I give would be biased.”

Or: Everyone is connected, even if, sometimes, it's just by the skin of our teeth. Even in the midst of darkness, still, luminous beings are we.

Reign OptimisticBeth

Alternate Ending to "The Last Jedi." Rey accepts Kylo Ren’s offer in return for the lives of the retreating ships.

Political maneuvering is not Rey's forte. She must adjust to life as the First Order's first lady, making friends and enemies along the way and indulging in sweet awkward romance with her Ben.  

Burgeoning Hope crossingwinter

#ShesPregnantAndHesDumbAndHasntLeftHisJobYet

miles from where you are mooncactus

After an argument over Star Wars fandom with a "gatekeeping, entitled monster" with the cryptic username of KyloRen, Rey finds herself stuck in a series of unavoidable video calls.

Prisoner orphan_account

Rey has been running all her life. She had known since she was a small girl that she was born with the powers that had been cursed and labeled evil by the galaxy. Running had worked for so long, that she was almost surprised when the bounty hunter Kylo Ren had caught her trail. But they might have more in common than they both originally thought.

Hand of Fate sweetestcondition

Rey is offered a choice at the end of Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi. This time, she takes the hand of Kylo Ren, grasping at the chance to transform the First Order from the inside. She hopes to create a Resistance from within, starting with the heart of Ben Solo. | feat. KoR, Kezzik

keep me in your clouded mind hi_raeth

Flu season has claimed its latest victim: Rey’s roommate, Ben Solo. But it’s fine. She’ll get him dressed, bring him to the hospital, and everything will be okay. Things are totally under control.

Except for the part where Ben has completely lost his verbal filter and keeps babbling about his feelings for her.

Exile Ernzo

The war is over and the First Order has fallen. Ben has returned home to face his consequences.

A story of Rey and Ben finding peace in the aftermath of war as Ben accepts his punishment.

made a rebel of a careless man's careful daughter disasterisms

The First Order does not exist, what is dead stays dead, and they grow up together at Luke's Jedi Academy.

Or: The one where everything was beautiful and nothing hurt.

(Then again, it's Ben and Rey, so maybe things hurt a little.)

A little ginger, a little honey Areah51

Rey is sick, and Ben shows up where he's not wanted, but in the end, we all need someone to take care of us when we're ill.

my wildest wind (come blow into my room) meritmut

“Would it have been so terrible?” he asks. “Staying?”

Could we have had this? she thinks, like she always does.

Non-consecutive ForceTime vignettes in the days, weeks and months after Crait.

Play to Win Enterprisingly

Ben Solo – aka KyloRen – is a professional gamer, playing the first-person-shooter StarKiller for the internationally ranked eSports team, The First Order. He’s made a name for himself as a ruthless competitor with a ferocious temper and top-notch skills that can’t be beat. That is, until a mystery player named ReyOfLight begins thoroughly trouncing him whenever they cross paths.

Unwell AquaWolfGirl

Jakku was cold, but nothing compared to Hoth. While staying at the old Rebel base, Rey catches a cold, and someone is a huge worry wart over the woman who denied his offer.

The One Where He Decides writing_reylo

He’s on the bridge and he’s alone.

The First Order are no more.

It only took him a year, carefully manipulating every weak mind he came across, emotionally manipulating the ones he couldn’t.  

Embers sciosophia

All the myriad things he’d been—someone who made her laugh; the warmth on the other side of the bed; her best friend—those things, Rey had buried.

Rey left Ben two years, three months, and sixteen days ago. But who's counting?

Interstellar Transmissions LovelyThings, ricca_riot

Rey’s interrogation at the hands of Kylo Ren triggered an awakening in the Force, as well as an unwelcome bond that links them across the galaxy and grows stronger every day.

What Stays and What Fades Away astra_inclinant

Her feelings for Kylo Ren are quiet, not acknowledged, but deeply felt. She cannot make peace with them and send them from her mind.

Or, everyone is emotionally stunted and no one has healthy coping skills.  

Our Heaven is Just Waiting FrostedFox

It's his turn to fall wounded before her, and her turn to decide where to go from there.

If only she could convince him to stay alive.

make it look just the way i planned TheJGatsby

Ben buys the painting on a brokenhearted impulse, and somehow it ends up being exactly the right choice.

(Based on the song Paint Me a Birmingham)

[pass-the-bechdel]

Marvel Cinematic Universe: Black Panther (2018)

Does it pass the Bechdel Test?

Yes, nine times.

How many female characters (with names and lines) are there?

Six (40% of cast).

How many male characters (with names and lines) are there?

Nine.

Positive Content Rating:

Three (though it’s worth reminding that this rating is based on the positivity of the content in relation to the female characters, not in general - there’s some real top-shelf content in here, otherwise. Still a very happy three for the ladies anyway, for that matter).

General Film Quality:

High-end. The commitment to nuanced storytelling is impeccable, grappling with all angles of a complex hypothetical far better than could have been anticipated. This is a movie which never loses sight of its own importance, while also never getting too bogged down in it to be entertaining. Earns every ounce of the hype.

MORE INFO (and potential spoilers) UNDER THE CUT:

Passing the Bechdel:

Nakia gives her condolences to the Queen Mother. The Queen chastises Shuri. Nakia compliments Okoye’s wig. Nakia negotiates entrance to the club with Sophia. Nakia and Okoye conflict over loyalties. Nakia passes with the Queen Mother after Killmonger takes over, twice. Shuri and Nakia go into battle. They pass together later.

Female characters:

Okoye.

Nakia.

The Queen Mother (technically not a name, but I’m allowing it as a title).

Shuri.

Sophia.

Ayo.

Male characters:

Erik ‘Killmoger’ Stevens/N’Jadaka.

N’Jobu.

Zuri.

T’Chaka.

T’Challa.

Ulysses Klaue.

M’Baku.

W’Kabi.

Everett Ross.

OTHER NOTES:

I’m not sure if T’Challa ruining Nakia’s anti-HUMAN TRAFFICKING mission because he wants her around for emotional support is a very endearing intro for his character in this film...I mean, sure, they rescue the people in the convoy, but presumably there was more to the mission (otherwise Nakia wouldn’t complain that it was ruined), and T’Challa prioritises his feelings over both Nakia’s work, and the lives of all the people it effects. Coulda avoided the negative implications there with just a little fine-tuning in the dialogue.

“Nah, I’m just feelin’ it.” Michael B Jordan has such a great energy about him; he’s very, very convincing, in a role which could have broken the film if it were poorly cast.

But you know what? I fucking LOVE M’Baku, he’s my personal fave for the movie. That presence. This is an excruciatingly well-cast film (among other virtues).

I’m Hella into that Lion King vibe when communing with the spirit realm, too.

Erik shoots his unnamed girlfriend for nothing more than the drama of it, and that is not one of this film’s virtues.

Shuri calling Ross ‘coloniser’ is just...so good. There’s a lot about this film that is a reclamation, in big and obvious in-text ways, but there are also these kinds of little impactful choices which contextualise Wakanda’s relationship to the world and its history, and that kind of detailing is the difference between posturing, and playing for real.

The music in this movie? Also great. Traditional African and modern African-American, representing the interweave of themes and ideologies in-story? Fucking gold. They did not skimp on details in putting this movie together with intelligent design, and I am Hella into it.

M’Baku just fucking BARKING at Ross when he dares speak before him is the highlight of the whole film. It’s perfect. 

A friend of mine has suggested that there must be a missing scene or two in this movie, wherein the Queen Mother convinces M’Baku to go into battle after all, since as-is he just kinda...changes his mind off-screen and she serves no narrative purpose at all. It’s unfortunate such a linking scene is missing, as it would have significantly enhanced both characters and helped to emotionally underpin the final act of the film, which is comparatively weak. 

But anyway, M’Baku is my best dude in this movie. I love a huge man in a grass skirt.

The whole idea that W’Kabi and Okoye have a relationship at all is kinda nonexistent; we wouldn’t know about it at all if she hadn’t called him ‘my love’ that one time. Coulda beefed that up better, i.e. at all.

“Bury me in the ocean, with my ancestors that jumped from the ships, because they knew that death was better than bondage.” Michael B Jordan delivered every aspect of this character with such raw power and sincerity, y’all. He hits it straight home.

It goes without saying that there was a lot of pressure for this film to be good: a big-budget superhero action movie, part of the most lucrative cinema franchise in the world right now, taking on an afro-futuristic setting with an almost exclusively black cast? The potential for Black Panther to come off as little more than lip service paid to representation, ‘too PC’, lacking the guts to acknowledge the breadth of the racism that inevitably informs it, perhaps even falling dangerously toward racist cliches of its own...there is no other film of its kind, and as such, Black Panther could not escape being judged as more than an individual story on its own, as a representation of an entire continent’s worth of people and culture and what they could bring to an industry which has made an aggressive point of shutting them out in the past. The pressure was well and truly on to provide not only financial success put also critical acclaim, and boy oh boy, did they rise to the occasion or what?

The centrepiece of Black Panther’s success is Michael B Jordan as Erik Killmonger, striking a precise balance between the heat of well-deserved fury, and the chilling calculation of his revenge. Killmonger’s rhetoric is compelling, and it is the meeting point of the film’s threads, of Wakandan tradition, of the country’s privilege in the midst of colonial oppression and the dire morality of its secrecy, of the call of the wider world and the determining of one’s place within it. It’s vitally important that Killmonger makes sense, right up until he doesn’t - a good villain should always feel like someone you could almost follow, if only they weren’t taking things that one step too far - narratively, this is in an important pitch, but it’s also vital for the context of the viewing audience, the acknowledgement and the validation of that rage at injustice (without which, the film would come off as pandering to white guilt), but without the promotion of violent eye-for-an-eye solutions. Killmonger’s anger is never condemned, only the actions he perpetrates in the name of that anger; the viewer is forced to acknowledge the reality that made Killmonger what he is, but without being encouraged to forgive; only to understand.

I am hardly the first to observe that it is Nakia, not T’Challa, who represents the foil to Killmonger’s ideology, recognising and stirring to action at the injustice’s wrought upon the African people, but seeing in Wakanda the potential to offer unprecedented assistance rather than the opportunity for the oppressed to become the oppressor. The film is populated with character counter-balances, and it validates each perspective (while also illuminating shortcomings) to enhance the overall narrative, rather than equivocating too strenuously to make any point; Nakia values people like Okoye values her country, and while Nakia is right that blind patriotism fails the country if it allows tyranny, the strength of Okoye’s conviction is exactly what inspires the loyalty of those who follow her in the protection of Wakandan values; while Shuri ‘scoffs at tradition’ and leans entirely on the unending machine of technological progress, M’Baku and his people are safeguarding traditional practices and keeping ancient knowledge alive, which saves T’Challa when there’s no tech around - by the same token, without the protective blanket of technological progress, the Jabari would not be free to live as they do. There is good sense in the perspective which every character brings, and all of them are required in symbiosis to achieve a full picture of cultural identity. 

In that broad conversation of identity and place in the world, if there’s one weak link, it’s the Black Panther himself, T’Challa. Not that he’s a weak character or that Chadwick Boseman is a weak actor - it’s just that he’s being thoroughly outplayed by all around him. It’s a good thing in regards to how well-cast the movie is and how it fleshes out its supporting players (in spite of the missing pieces pointed out in the notes above); in an overall-lesser film, the lead being the least compelling character - and especially with such a powerfully-constructed antagonist opposite him - could be a crippling flaw, but as-is Black Panther is pulling out enough stops to get away with having an under-sold Black Panther at its head. That, really, is a testament to the power of the story, and the work being done by everyone involved to tell the tale with tact, with dynamism, with all the colour and flavour the white-washed film industry has been denying all this time. We could talk about its flaws, sure, but there doesn’t seem to be much point - none of them are fatal, none are even particularly egregious, and the achievements of the movie far outweigh any quality blips along the way. Black Panther is a measured, sensitive triumph, and there’s a part of me that - in the best of ways - almost forgets that I’m watching a Marvel movie, a cash-grab - sure, they want to make money out of it, but this feels above all like a passion project. Passion like this, so fully-realised, I am not inclined to fault.

[thecaffeinebookwarrior]

My Top 10 List of Short Story Anthologies

As many of you know, I write short fiction.  You may have even read my published work, such as The Bear, The Undertaker’s Apprentice, and The Young Immortal.

As such, it’s really no surprise I’ve been getting a lot of anons asking me where to start when it comes to writing short fiction.  I have a few tips, but the best place to begin -- as with any form of writing -- is to consume and analyse as much content as possible.  This is what I’ve been doing for the past year, and it’s what allowed me to begin writing and publishing shorter works.  

So, without further ado, here are my top ten anthologies (in no particular order.)  I hope this helps, and happy writing!  <3

1.)  Get In Trouble, by Kelly Link

If every fairy tale and every episode of The Twilight Zone had a kid, you’d get Kelly Link’s Get In Trouble.  

A motel caters to Fair Folk.  A lonely teenager attends a convention for superheroes to find the man she’s been catfishing.  Multinational astronauts swap ghost stories.  Floating waitresses catch up with old flames.  Children are born with two shadows, or none at all.

Each story is a tangible “pocket universe,” bubbling with dark, joyful magic as rich as good, black coffee.  It will leave you overflowing with emotions you won’t be able to describe.  

2.)  Einstein’s Beach House, by Jacob M. Appel

If you want side-splitting hilarity coupled with gut-wrenching emotion and human complexity, this is the book for you.  Each story explores the manner in which we deceive ourselves and one another, the complications of forming relationships with equally flawed, fallible humans, and the ceaseless momentum of time, actions, and consequences.  

My personal favorite is  “La Tristesse Des Hérissons” -- literally, “The Sadness of Hedgehogs” -- in which a dysfunctional couple adopts an allegedly depressed hedgehog.  I actually wrote an annotation about it for graduate school.  You can read it here.

3.)  Vampires in the Lemon Grove, by Karen Russel

An elderly, bickering vampire couple sucks lemon juice to quell their thirst for blood.  An antarctic tailgating party.  United States president Rutherford B. Hayes wakes up in the body of a horse.

This is a book that stimulates the senses and the soul. You can taste the tang of the lemons with its titular vampires, soak up the sunlight in their grove. There were times when I felt as though I could put my nose to the pages and breath in the scent of its stories, like a strong herbal tea. 

Russell accomplishes a lot with this resplendent anthology, a series of surrealistic, emotionally poignant stories.  She introduces concepts you’d never have thought of, and will never forget.  It is, in my opinion, a must-read. 

4.)  Jesus’ Son, by Denis Johnson

Johnson taps into something primordial with this short, powerful, hilarious collection.  He takes us to a dark, ugly, primitive part of humanity that no one wants to acknowledge, and shows us the hope and beauty there. All of which is narrated by a perpetually drug-addled gentleman named Fuckhead.  If you can stomach it, I highly recommend it.

5.)  A Field Guide to Murder and Fly Fishing, by Tim Weed

I’m lucky enough to work with Tim Weed in my graduate program, who has mentored my writing and, yes, signed my copy of this book.  

Each story is visceral, wickedly funny, and emotionally potent.  They immerse us in settings as distant as Rome, Granada, and the Amazon, and makes them feel as tangible as our own back yard.  The language is beautiful, painting scenes and settings as vividly as watercolors.  With each narrative, the tension gradually tightens, a taut string ready to snap. 

His characters are relatable, familiar, and human, even when -- hence the title -- they are committing acts as violent and questionable as murder.  It is an amazing read. 

6.)  Homesick For Another World, by Ottessa Moshfegh

Stories about human loneliness and the endless struggle to belong, told with crackling humor and absurdity.  

My personal favorite is “Bettering Myself,” told from the perspective of a moral and emotional trainwreck of an elementary school teacher.  “Most people have had anal sex,” she casually informs her class.  “Don’t look so surprised.”  Or, “My boyfriend and I don’t use condoms. That’s what happens when you trust somebody.”  

The best part of every story, however, is the closing line, which invariably provides an emotional punch to the gut and will leave you staring silently at the wall for a few minutes.  It is a stunning, if slightly depressing, examination of the oft-ignored unpleasantries of the human condition.

7.)  Make Something Up:  Stories You Can’t Unread, by Chuck Palahniuk

The name says it all.  This one is not for the faint of heart. 

If you’re at all familiar with Palahniuk’s most famous work -- an obscure little ditty called Fight Club -- you’ll come prepared for his angry, explosive cocktail of pitch black comedy and satire.  

Learning that Palahniuk is a gay man made me appreciate his less-than-loving parody of heterosexual culture, toxic masculinity, bigotry, and violence.  I particularly like his modern renditions of Aesop’s Fables, in which anthropomorphic animals grapple with contemporary, extremely adult struggles.

An unexpected gem is Palahniuk’s awareness of Fight Club’s iconic status, and his countless references to it in his stories.

8.)  Unaccompanied Minors, by Alden Jones

Alden Jones is another fabulous author I got to work with for graduate school, who introduced me to this book in a public reading.

As the title suggests, these stories are united by -- you guessed it -- unaccompanied minors making morally questionable, dangerous, and all-around bad decisions.  But they are portrayed in such a loving, human, empathetic manner that you can’t help but understand everything they do. 

You will relate heavily to every character in this book, whether you want to or not.  And that’s exactly why you need to read it.

9.)  Brief Interviews With Hideous Men, by David Foster Wallace

This is one of those books that’s just a little too aware of how intelligent it is.  If you can stomach that, you’re in for some great, innovative, and, yes, intelligent reading.  It’s also hilarious, in case the man who compulsively screams “victory to the forces of democratic freedom!” every time he orgasms isn’t any indication. 

10.)  American Housewife, by Helen Ellis

This is some of the best satire I have ever read, all centralizing around frustrated housewives losing their shit.  Within the first page, you will be treated to lines like: 

“Inspired by Beyonce, I stallion-walk to the toaster.” 

“I go to the grocery store and discover that everyone else has gone to the grocery store and as I maneuver my cart through the Chips and Nuts traffic, I get grocery store rage.  I see a lost child, and assume it’s an angry ghost.”

“Back home, I get a sickening feeling and am relieved to find it’s just my husband’s shirt hung the wrong way in a closet.  I break into a sweat when I find a sharpie cap but not the marker.  I answer the phone, and scream obscenities at an automated call.”

Yes, that’s all within the first page of text.  It only gets better from there.  I cannot stress to you exactly how hilarious this book is, and I would pay big money to see Chris Fleming from Gale play at least one of the housewives in a big screen adaption.

[excitingrbl]

Do I Believe in God?

You know how people say "God is good" and it's followed up with "All the time!"? Well, that isn't true and it isn't me and my jaded life speaking... there's a Bible that tells us. God is ALL things to everyone. God has manifested rage, disappointment, delight, retribution, kindness, sacrifice, steadfastness, graciousness, love and a multitude of every emotion we humans embody too. Not my words either. It's part of any of the beliefs associated with God, whether people want to acknowledge this or not.

Reading the Bible 7 times brought a level of clarity I don't think I would have ever attained had I stopped at the first or sixth time. Seven represents completeness and perfection, both physically and spiritually. It is a number tied directly to God, symbolizing unity. Reading the Bible is the only thing I've done intentionally, 7 times. While I'm not perfect, never have been and will never strive to be, spiritually I am far more whole than I ever give myself credit for because... my wholeness should be evident, not constantly spoken of.

I see this vast amalgamation of energy, life, death, creation, evolution and the unknown as something greater than the word: God. I don't see It as a man, woman, child, flora, fauna, earth, wind, water or fire. I see It as all things too complex in nature to be encompassed into one tiny thing. I often give praise to and reference it as The Universe while knowing that even that term is minuscule for something more greater, intelligent, and fascinating than myself or any other human being.

I also know that because something that immense can do and be anything, sometimes It won't answer my calls. I've accepted that it isn't personal so much as it's life. There is nothing created that doesn't have its own natural balance attached to it, whether we can see it or not. We contribute by every action and non-action we have, whether it be termed as good or bad. The Universe is always there to absorb it all... and release it wherever It sees fit.

This is also why everything we do has this invisible boomerang effect attached. There is nothing we say or do that won't eventually come back to us, good or bad. It's permanently sewed into the fabric of everyone's life, even when we think we're getting away with something or our time for greatness isn't ever coming. Everything happens in Its due time.

So when did I stop believing in the traditional teachings of what God is/was? When I was a kid. I continued on with inherited beliefs from my parents out of obligation to the people providing for me. Nothing more, nothing less. I did as I was told because house rules dictated I must... but I started searching for more answers after reading a book called Mankind's Search for God.

And I found far more than I think anyone expected or wanted me to find.

I began to understand that all those years I prayed and it went unheard, well, sometimes something that is of the magnitude of what we bottle up to be God, won't get to us when we want It to. It gets to us in time... another thing we humans created to control how we see and do things. I ain't never seen The Great Unknowns timeline of events but because I exist, I know I'm no less part of this forever evolving creation than the next person, place or thing.

There is something out there taking up more space than we can imagine. Whether it be one Almighty entity or legion. I will always give credit to the fact that humans aren't the only intelligent life form that can manifest. The Grand Architect exists even for those who think there's nothing out there... I think those who don't believe there's anything greater than self don't dive into the details enough. We don't ever have to acknowledge that anything's greater than us but it doesn't stop that Greatness from existing.

So do I Believe in God? No. I don't believe in what people define an entity (or entities) more powerful than we can imagine, as God. I believe in something greater that I think isn't my place to put in a box simply so I can keep trying to understand. I'm supposed to live in a way that honors everything around me and when I cannot honor it all, I'm to emulate the vastness of being through acknowledgment, action and release.

Because isn't that what [your] God would do?

[wellhellotragic]

CSJJ Day 28: A Rather Common Name (2/2)

"Sometimes I can hear my bones straining under the weight of all the lives I'm not living." - Jonathan Safran Foer (Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close)

Well here we are. The end of my final piece. For those who have joined me over the last few years, thanks for taking this ride with me. Thank you to the amazing @profdanglaisstuff for polishing this up last minute. @csjanuaryjoy

Summary:

She hated him. Okay, maybe hate was a strong word, but he was a dick when they met. So why did she tell him about the apartment for rent in her building? And why did she let him in; let him climb her walls? Why did she let herself trust him when every man she'd ever been with had betrayed her? Why did she think he'd be different?

And why, despite it all, did she still love him?

Part 1 can be found here.

If Ao3 is more your thing.

There was something to be said for a life not lived. The way people allowed regrets to build as easily as letters in an unchecked mailbox. Every day choosing to ignore the inevitable arrival of new opportunities. Hoping that by not acknowledging something, it meant that it simply didn’t exist. A road that ends at a fork, a path not taken, a challenge not accepted. But inevitably, everything becomes too much and in an instant, everything can topple. Fate finally spilling over. The choices made, the hearts ruptured. Regrets built on a toxic burial ground where hope went to die.

August had said it once. Quoted it from one of the hundreds of books he’d read. "Sometimes I can hear my bones straining under the weight of all the lives I'm not living." A more eloquent way of telling her that she was missing out. That she was letting everything pass her by. She hadn’t understood it in the moment. Tensions were too high. But he was right. She’d spent her entire life running, building walls as high as her excuses. She wasn’t living, and now... Well now it might be too late.

“There’s been an accident.”

David repeated himself once more in an effort to be heard over the music. It took a few minutes to command the attention of the room, but with those four words, her entire world flipped on its axis.

That’s all they knew.

The apartment cleared out until only four remained. Then only one. The others already on their way in David’s old beat up truck. But Emma stayed, alone, picking up empty cups, trying to keep her mind occupied. No one even questioned whether she was going to join them. They already knew the answer. One year of silence wouldn’t easily be broken.

She couldn't go. Couldn’t face him. Couldn’t face them . If she didn’t go, if she didn’t care , then it wouldn’t be real. So she stayed. She stayed until every inch of the apartment was scrubbed clean. All of the food put away. The dishes dried.

The New Year came and went, just as it had every year before. And just as always before, she was alone. Her eyes stung as they blurred as she began to sob. Outside the window waited the mouth of hell.

The storm continued to rage, wind whipping through her hair. Tears fell from the heavens, camouflaging those on her face. She pleaded with the heavens above to spare a life. A prayer unanswered.

New Year’s Day: One year earlier

They didn’t exchange words. Upon hearing Ruby screaming his name, Emma bolted straight back to her own apartment. Graham called after her, but she couldn’t bear the thought of seeing either of their disheveled faces emerging from the bathroom. Didn’t need to stay long enough to see the aftermath. To watch them sneak glances at each other all night. She needed out.

She saw him briefly the next morning as he emerged from his own apartment to head to work. He smiled at her as if nothing was wrong. As if he hadn’t ruined everything only hours before. But then he saw her, really saw her. The hollow red eyes, puffy face, chewed nails. The smile changed, something small, something disingenuous. She ignored him, sparing him nothing as she took a wide berth to avoid bumping his shoulder. Despite her four mile run, her body was still unnerved, her emotions unbalanced. She was spoiling for a fight. One he nearly gave her as he tried to grab her wrist, asking her what was wrong.

She couldn’t hide it. The way she despised every fiber of his being written all over her face. He’d seen it, guilt etching it’s way across his brow. The corners of his lips tugging down.

“Emma?”

Nothing.

“You saw didn’t you.” His jaw clenched, muscles flexing.

Tears welled unbidden.

“Don’t touch me.” She made it five feet down the hallway before she turned back to him. “I trusted you. You know that? I thought- God, it doesn’t even matter. We, whatever this is, we’re through.”

He called after her.

“ Please, Swan, I can explain if you just give me a chance.”

She never turned back. There was no need. There was nothing he could say to make it better. She’d given him her heart, and he’d shattered it in return.

When they passed each other in the hallway two days later, he tried. He stood at his doorway, keys in hand after what she assumed was a long shift at work, and he just watched her, pleading with his eyes. He looked so small and weary. So guilty. She turned around right away and ran back into her apartment where she stayed for the rest of the night.

Instead of her intended stakeout that evening, she continued to do research on her skip, and if a few tabs on law schools opened themselves by mistake, she made no move to close them. It was time for her to move on. Nothing holding her back anymore. She’d been saving for years. The sole purpose of collecting skips to continue her education, and with her checking account issues finally resolved, her car paid off, and no more reasons not to, it was time.

Months passed as Emma readied herself. She studied for the LSAT, filled out university applications from coast to coast. The idea of picking up and leaving everything behind all too tempting. To leave behind the ghosts of her past, to leave behind the burdens on her heart. But then a letter appeared, properly placed in small white envelope.

Rejected.

The letter was more eloquent than that, but in summation, with very little by way of explanation, it said that once more, she wasn’t good enough.

Hope became harder and harder to hold on to as more of the tiny little letters appeared, all saying the same thing. We thank you for your interest. Rejection after rejection. Eventually the last one appeared.

Boston University, School of Law.

Rejected.

So with nowhere to go, she stayed. Friends’ Friday replaced with Emma Wednesday where the designated beverage was wine and wine alone. Dinner with the Nolans, with only the Nolans. Even the newest and smallest member. She still picked up the odd skip here and there, but with her future gone, there was little to look forward to. No reason to try.

Spring came, then summer. Snow melted and flowers bloomed. Somehow, despite her entire life standing still, the rest of of the world went on around her. Killian still lived down the hall, and from what Mary Margaret told her, Ruby was still sleeping her way through the greater part of Boston. She hadn’t spoken to either of them since January, almost seven months earlier.

Killian.

His number blocked and his knocks unanswered. His gifts returned unopened. She’d cut him out of her life like a cancer. Malignant. Destructive. Deadly. She had no choice. Not after New Year’s. After she finally gave herself permission to open her heart up to him, only to have it crushed in the process.

She’d cut Ruby out of her life too, even if the latter had been too self absorbed to notice at first. A two week window passed before Ruby even realized that Emma was upset, much less with her. But after three missed Friday dinners, Ruby finally confronted her.

Emma, in a moment of complete frustration and poor judgement called her promiscuous and selfish. Ruby told her that she had a stick up her ass. That she needed to stop always playing the victim. Their friendship strained beyond the point of repair. That had been the end of that.

Despite Mary Margaret’s hovering, Emma’s solitude began to consume her. Alienated from half of her friends, it left her wanting for human companionship. To be touched. Wanted. Desired. Eventually her loneliness won out.

Dressed in that same skin tight dress she’d worn countless times before she found herself in a bar. A seedy little number near the edge of the city with her come hither lashes and kiss-me red lips. She’d found him right away. A guy at the end of the bar. He sent her a drink and she sent him back a note on a napkin.

They both snuck away to the bathroom at the back. Scummy. Grimy. Just like her conscience. His tongue twisted with hers, his moans filled her ears. She gave as good as she got, reveling in the feel of his hands on her back. But as one of his palms dipped down past her ass, trying to find its way under her hem, something snapped and she felt disgusted with herself. He called after her in shock and anger, calling her a tease as she ran away.

Emma showered twice that night and threw the dress away. It was sullied. She tossed and turned, sleep ever elusive. She felt rotten, inside and out.

Emma had never been much of a cryer, reserving her tears for truly awful events. She hadn’t cried when Neal left, not even when Walsh had cheated. In fact, from what she could recall, she’d only cried six times in her entire life. Seven if she counted the night a week later.

A song had come over her headphones as she sat in her car waiting for signs of her latest skip. The same stupid song that had played that night. The night they’d almost kissed. Neither had discussed it, pretending it never happened. It never came up, and Emma had pushed it to the back of her brain immediately after not wanting to admit to herself that it might have been nice.

It was a late August night. Killian was in rare form telling her humiliating stories from his childhood. Like that his first kiss had been at 16. There was a party and a bottle pointing at him. Apparently teenage Killian had been a gangly awkward kid with oversized glasses. When the girl leaned forward to kiss him, he’d nearly spunked in his pants. It wasn’t all fun though. There was plenty of complaining about her car, the lack of legroom, the hard seats. The way it stood out like a sore thumb, to which she’d replied that it wasn’t nearly as obvious as the yellow bug she’d had before. She’d then had to explain that the bug had been stolen (both times) which led to her telling him about how she’d actually met Neal. She’d always left that part out when they talked about him before. All while sitting in her little Mini Cooper. She hadn’t even invited him. He’d just heard the name of her skip, admittedly a big guy, and worried about her enough to tag along. Telling him about Neal had led to the story of how she ended up in foster care. A story she’d never told anyone . It wasn’t your fault, Emma. That’s what he’d told her as he held her chin in his hand, swiping his thumb across her cheek. Then he’d leaned in, a hair's width separating their lips and she’d been sure he was going to kiss her. Surprisingly, she hadn’t even pulled back.

Not until the car at the corner started blaring its horn at another driver. They’d moved apart so quickly. It had never come up again. Ingrid or the kiss. She wasn’t sure she’d even heard the song since, but as it played that night, tears fell.

Emotionally and physically spent, Emma headed home. Her skip had never shown. Nothing to show for her troubles. But when she arrived back to her apartment at four in the morning, she found her door unlocked and her kitchen lights on. She briefly considered running down stairs and waking up David, but considering how little sleep he usually got with baby Leo constantly waking up at odd intervals, she chose to let him sleep.

Grabbing a broom from the closet nearest the door, she headed from room to room, looking for signs of an intruder or missing items. Everything seemed fine though, and with a large sigh Emma flopped down on her couch, only to scream when her body came into contact with a large male form groaning underneath her. She shot up, searching from the boorm handle or any other large heavy object she could use to incapacitate the intruder.

“I’ve been meaning to bump into you.”

Emma’s eyes popped open at the recognition of his voice. One she hadn’t heard for months.

“Are you asking me out?”

“I hardly need to ask you out when I’ve already found my way in.”

Emma showed him to the edge of the sofa, allowing her space to sit down beside him.

“Why are you in my apartment anyway?”

He shifted over a little more, allowing him to turn in the table top lamp. He hair was longer than she’d ever seen it. Curlier. His eyes still blue but tired.

“Let’s just say Phuket is overrated. I missed the capitalistic consumerism of the good ol’ U-S-of-A.”

“You mean that you owed too many people money over there so you ran back home with your tail between your legs.” He laughed next to her, confirming her suspicions. “Well, to be fair, you lasted longer than I thought you would. And I know why you’re here in Boston, but that doesn’t explain why you’re in my apartment.”

They stayed up for another hour talking about life. August had gotten in that night and found her spare key in her usual hiding spot, taped to the inside top of the emergency call box in the elevator. He let himself in after waiting forty five minutes. Apparently the guy that had moved into his old apartment was concerned and told him he was loitering and needed to leave. That was his other problem. He no longer had a place, and hadn’t bothered making many friends in the city during his time there. Emma was the only person he knew that would let him crash on her couch for a night or two. A week tops.

A week turned into a month, and August started joining Emma at her weekly dinners with David and Mary Margaret, never correcting their assumptions about the nature of his and Emma’s relationship. Letting her friends believe she was taken had benefits. It prevented Mary Margaret from just barging into her apartment at odd hours. It gave her an excuse to bail on plans at the last minute. But mostly it stopped her friend from trying to set her up every time the saw each other.

Living with him, if that’s what she could call it, had its cons too though. August’s hours were just as irregular as she remembered, and his writing temperament even more erratic. He was messy, drank like a fish, and was constantly eating all of her food. Worst of all, he had a habit of leaving the toilet seat up. Emma found that out the hard way.

They bickered nonstop, and Emma couldn’t help but wonder if that was what it was like to have a sibling. An older brother to drive her crazy, while somehow simultaneously giving her comfort by making her finally feel like she wasn’t alone anymore.

During one particularly intense round of arguing, August had insinuated that she needed to get laid. The suggestion hadn’t been well received and she’d almost kicked him out right then and there. But then he’d explained himself. The Emma Swan he knew had always had a rather lascivious appetite for sex as a stress reliever. He wasn’t wrong. The Emma he knew had no issues putting on a skimpy little number and finding a man for the night. That was before Killian though. She’d already tried that and it had gone spectacularly wrong.

Fighting about her sex life had forced her to reveal things to August. Things she’d skillfully left out of prior conversations. Like how close she had Killian had really been. How she’d realized too late that she was in love with him. How he’d cheated on her. Even about the guy in the bar bathroom.

After she told him the entire story, he just whistled and sat there, taking in everything she’d said.

Finally, he spoke.

“So what you need isn’t to get laid. What you need is a date.”

Emma smacked him in the chest, but he continued.

“No, hear me out. It’s been what, eight, nine months now, right?”

Emma nodded.

“So it’s been all this time, and you’re still in love with the guy.” She opened her mouth but he cut her off. “And before you try to deny it, yes you are. You wouldn’t still be this upset if you weren't. Hell, you weren’t even half as hurt when Walsh cheated on you, and you guys were practically engaged.”

Emma sighed, slumping her shoulders in resignation. He was right. When she’d caught Walsh, she’d been pissed, throwing out everything in her apartment that belonged to him. But with Killian she’d sulked, drowning in her pain, unwilling to let it go.

“Emma, you’re never going to get over him like this. Hiding in your apartment every time you see him coming down the hall. Pretending he doesn’t exist. If you really want to get over him, you need to learn to put yourself back out there. You need to find someone new.”

“I’ll think about it.”

And that was exactly what she did. She went to bed thinking about Killian and her inability to get over him. The fact that even if she was willing to put herself out into the world, she’d still held firm to the idea that Emma Swan didn’t date. Except that she did. Or at least she had, and just hadn’t realized it at the time.

She thought about it the next week and the one after that. She thought about it at the store, on her morning runs. She even thought about it in the shower. But it wasn’t until she was bringing in her latest skip, so lost in thought that she forgot where she was going that the world had given Emma a chance to turn the idea of dating into a reality.

Graham. She hadn’t seen him since that night. Could still see the look on his face that evening. But on that particular morning, dragging Bobby McFarland in for skipping out on his fraud charges, Graham looked different. Happy even.

After she’d transferred her skip over, Graham struck up a conversation with her. They exchanged small talk, which turned to reminiscing, and somehow it had turned into an invitation for dinner. Emma accepted, thinking that it would be nice to have some time to catch up with her old friend. It hadn’t even occurred to her, until hours later when she talked to August about it, that it was a date. Or it was possibly a date. Graham hadn’t actually used that word, but the text he’d sent her asked if she’d been to Luciano’s, an upscale Italian restaurant.

She didn’t even pick out her outfit. After trying on every single thing she owned, Emma had screamed into her pillow. August ran into her room to find her entire closet on her floor and finally told her to just trust him. What he left out on her bed nearly left her in tears. It was that same pale pink dress that she’d hidden deep within her closet. The one that had only ever seen the light of day once.

She thought about throwing it away, just like the red dress, but quickly realized it was the only thing she had that nice enough for the restaurant. So she put it on, and then put on the biggest fake smile she could manage.

Graham picked her up a six, just as planned. The car ride there was fairly short, but the conversation was stilted. Both grappled for something to say. For anything. An odd turn of events given how easily they conversed only hours before. The ordering of their food and drinks went much the same. Both of them trying to start conversations at the same time, then stopping as soon as they realized it. As far as first dates went, it wasn’t her worst, but far from her best.

Finally, after the appetizers arrived, the two of them finally managed to settle into a groove. She discovered that Graham was studying for the Captain’s exam but wasn’t sure if he was going to take it or not. He’s taken a vacation recently and had fallen in love with a sleepy little town in Maine. He was still strongly contemplating a move there, knowing that the Sheriff was retiring soon and looking for a replacement. With his experience, he was a shoo-in.

She told him she that she’d considered leaving Boston at one point too, but fate must have had other plans. She left out the multiple rejection letters from different law schools though. It was humiliating enough without sharing that little tidbit with people.

Around dessert, things turned. Without realizing it, Emma placed her hand on Graham’s hand. It was an innocent gesture on her part, just a reflex after a joke. It immediately caught his attention though, and Graham smiled at her.

They both loosened up after that, staying until the bottle of wine they ordered was finished. Emma drank more than her fair share, knowing that Graham still had to drive home. She was still pleasantly buzzed when he dropped her off, making sure to walk her to the door.

There was a moment. A silly joke that resulted in Emma grabbing his arm as she unlocked the door. She hadn’t seen it coming. He leaned in and kissed her. His lips tasting of the chocolate cake they’d shared at dinner.

She froze.

Graham pulled back, taking a moment to study her.

“Emma, what’re we doing here?”

“What do you want to be doing here?” She did her best to sound coy, but the truth was that she was terrified.

If he rejected her, a cloud of humiliation would follow every time she saw him. But if he did want to move forward, she wasn’t sure what she would even be capable of giving him. Lingering glances, hand holding. Those were easy, but eventually he’d want more, and she didn’t know if she could give him that. Not if she couldn’t even let him kiss her.

“I- When I asked you to dinner, I think a small part of me hoped you would say no. Not because you aren’t a lovely person, but it felt inappropriate the minute the words left my lips. You’re one of Ruby’s best friends, or at least you were. And Killian, he still asks David about you all the time.”

Her gaze stayed focused on the small door knob in front of her, unable to make eye contact with the man across from her.

“Well he has no right to.”

“Perhaps not. Look, Emma, I’m not completely sure what happened that night. I mean, I don't know what led to them finding their way into that bathroom together, and I left right after you did. I’ve never brought it up with either of them, but I can tell you that when Killian came into work the next day, he was gutted.”

“What he was , was hungover. That’s all.”

“And you. I could tell how distraught you were. You still love him, don’t you.”

“Why does everyone think that. I’m over him. Have been for a long time.”

His head nodded slightly as his lips pursed, obviously not convinced.

“I think I’m going to take that job. It’s time for me to move on. Ruby, she’s never going to see me as anything more than a friend. I need to let her go. But you. You still have a chance. You just have to decide if you want to take it.”

Graham gave her a quick hug, and she understood it for what it was. A goodbye.

She gave up after that. It was a stupid idea to begin with. Thinking that a few dates would mend all of her broken edges. Emma was beyond repair. A small bout of depression set in. She slept more than usual, ate less. Yelled at August for everything, even things that weren’t his fault.

It all came to a head just before Thanksgiving. Emma was spoiling for a fight, and August took the brunt of her wrath. Spouting useless quotes like they were the elixir of life.

"Sometimes I can hear my bones straining under the weight of all the lives I'm not living."

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

They’d been going at it for the better part of an hour, and Emma was at the end of her tether.

“You’re not living, Emma. You’re just existing.”

“That’s crap and you know it.”

“Hardly. You run from everything. What kind of life is that? Did you even really let Killian in?”

“Excuse me?”

“Did you really let him in. Or did you keep him at arm's length too, telling him half truths about yourself? God, Emma. You keep talking about how he cheated on you, but you weren’t even together!”

“Out.”

August was shocked, not expecting her to kick him out. Especially not in the middle of the night, carrying all of his belongings in a garbage bag. He pleaded with her to let him stay, just until he could find a place, but she was done. She was done listening to people telling her how to live her life. Done listening to people reminding her of all of her flaws. She was just done.

He left her with one parting thought.

“It’s so easy to hide behind those walls of yours. To block out pain and disappointment. The inevitable betrayal of those who were meant to care about you. And I know you think you’re protecting yourself from heartache, but all you’ve really done is to block out love. A life without love, well what’s the point of living?”

She slept through the holiday. A small bottle of tequila had ensured that. She called Mary Margaret the day before, telling her she was going out of town for work, then turned her phone off. Then she drank. She drank until the small bottle was empty, trying to drown out the sharp pain August’s words had caused. To drown out the look on Killian’s face on New Year’s Day. The sound of Ruby’s voice screaming his name. She drank until there was nothing.

The next day brought with it the worst hangover of Emma’s life. She slept all of Thanksgiving and most of Black Friday away. When she finally woke, it was to a pounding headache and a queasy stomach. So much so that she had to bolt for the bathroom, not even making it to the toilet before she heaved what little stomach content she had remaining in the sink.

She slid down to the tile floor where she continued to dry heave for the rest of the night. The sun rose hours before she finally felt human enough to crawl back into bed. Emma woke again five hours later, still sick, but extremely thirsty. Her body hated her. When she forced herself to trudge into the kitchen for a glass of water, she realized what had woken her.

Mary Margaret was hard as work cleaning out the contents of her fridge and washing dishes to make room for the full tupperware bowls she’d brought up.

“I have got to get that lock changed.”

Her friend jumped, clearly not having expected anyone to be home. Emma lied, telling her that she’d come down with a stomach flu, forcing her to return to Boston early. In an effort to help, Mary Margaret set to cooking up some chicken noodle soup for Emma. The latter tried her hardest not to vomit again at the smell, forcing down small bites as her own personal chef watched her with eager mother hen eyes.

Another two weeks passed before Emma realized that she’d be spending the next set of holidays alone as well. David’s mother was too old to travel but desperately wanted to be with them and baby Leo for Christmas. They agreed to travel to her house in New Hampshire, but Mary Margaret was insistent that they would be back in time for their annual New Year’s party.

Seeing the reluctance in Emma’s eyes, Mary Margaret was quick to add that Killian wouldn’t be there that year. He already had plans elsewhere.

So Christmas came and went. Emma spent the day watching old holiday movies and eating Chinese food, but abstained from drinking any eggnog or other alcohol filled beverage. In summation, it sucked. It was the first time she’d spent Christmas alone since college, and as the loneliness set in, August’s words echoed through her head.

Or did you keep him at arm's length too?

It’s so easy to hide behind those walls of yours.

Without love, well what’s the point of living?

Perhaps he’d been right. She’d pushed away everyone. She was so afraid that everyone would leave her, that she stopped letting them in. And in the end, she was all alone with only herself to blame.

New Year’s came in spectacular fashion. David said they’d barely made it home in time. The storm of the century was apparently bearing down on the city. Only a handful of their invited guests managed to make it to the party. Ones that lived within walking distance. The rest chose to stay put, bundled in the warmth and safety of their own homes. Even Ruby had called off, telling them she was staying with her boyfriend, much to Emma’s relief. The two women still hadn’t spoken since Emma’s verbal lashing of Ruby’s life choices. When the realization hit that her boyfriend could very easily be Killian, she did her best to push the thought to the back of her mind.

The windows sounded as if they were going to buckle from the wind pounding at them. Snow continued to pile up. Emma watched from the door by the balcony, unable to step outside. Eventually Mary Margaret came to join her in watching the storm.

“Well it looks like you lucked out.”

Emma tilted her head, not understanding her friends words.

“The storm I mean. I had this guy I wanted to introduce you to. He’s in insurance. Anyway, he couldn’t make it because of the storm. And I just know how much you love my set up attempts.”

“If you know how much I hate them, then why do you keep pushing these losers on me?”

Mary Margaret chuckled.

“The word loser is arbitrary. But honestly, I just want you to be happy. You’ve been alone for so long now, and I know without a little push, that you’ll never put yourself out there.”

Emma swallowed, taking a deep breath before asking the question that had bothered her for nearly two years.

“Why did you set Killian up with Ruby.”

“Hmm?”

“Mary Margaret. Every year you pick out this guy who I have nothing in common with. Men who I don’t even find attractive. They’re just strays you took in. So why did you set Killian up with Ruby, and me with Jefferson? Why didn’t you think I was good enough for him?”

“Oh, Emma.” Her friend moved in and wrapped her arms around her shoulders in a sideways embrace. “Because, I knew that if I had, you never would have given him a chance. You would have rolled your eyes and shunned him out of spite.”

Emma wanted to argue, but the truth was that’s exactly what would have happened. She would have run as far away from him as possible. Fat lot of good it had done her in the end though. She may have run, but at least her heart wouldn’t have cracked in two.

“There’s been an accident.”

Emma barely heard him over the music and dull conversation noise. She turned just in time to see David climb on top of the coffee table.

“Everyone. I’m sorry but there’s been an accident. One of our friends was hurt. I’m sorry but we’re going to have to cut this party short.”

There was confusion. People trying to guess what happened as they collected their coats. Most people assumed that it had something to do with David’s mother. Mary Margaret tried to ask him what had happened, but he only shook his head, waiting until all of their guests had gone. Only the three of them and baby Leo asleep in the next room remained.

“It’s Killian. He filled in for Lance tonight. Belle went into labor this afternoon so Killian took his shift. I guess he was doing a routine traffic stop and a drunk guy slammed into him. The witnesses told Smee that the driver didn’t even try to stop.”

The world stood still. No sounds, no smells. No light. Everything ceased in that moment.

“Oh, David.” There was a tremble to her friends voice. One she’d never heard before in their decade-long friendship.

“They’re taking him to Mass Gen. That’s all I know.”

Emma stood in her place, unmoving as her friends moved in tandem, packing a bag for baby Leo, changing into warmer clothes. They were out the door before the shock fully set in, and Emma moved on autopilot, cleaning the apartment until it sparkled.

Hours passed as Emma tossed and turned in her bed unable to sleep.

There’s been an accident.

David’s words played on repeat in her mind. A broken record with a scratch. An imperfection magnified. She’d never even told him that she loved him. And now it might be too late. She couldn’t take it anymore, not even bothering to change out of her pajamas. The snow continued to pummel the city. Her Mini Cooper no match for the feet of snow. Even with the city constantly plowing the streets, the snow was too much. She managed to get halfway to the hospital before she spun out, crashing into an embankment, burying half of her car in a wall of white.

Dazed, she was forced to crawl into the back seat, using the force of her legs to kick the door open. She was determined to get the the hospital, even is she had to walk the remaining three miles.

For once though, luck was on her side. A black car pulled up beside her, and just as she was getting ready to tell the driver to get lost, ignoring the way her body was shaking uncontrollably from the cold, she heard it. His voice.

“Hey kid. You’re gonna get yourself killed out here. You know that?”

She heard the locking mechanism shift and immediately climbed inside, hugging Mullins for dear life.

“What are you even doing here?”

“Eh, with the storm they needed all hands on deck. Trust me, it’s a one time thing.”

He shifted the car back into drive. She didn’t tell him where she was going. Didn’t have to. There was no way he’d missed the call over his radio. He did speak, giving her the time she needed to think. When he dropped her off at the entrance to the emergency room, he told her that he’d work on getting her car towed out of the snow ditch. That was it. No words of wisdom. No platitudes. Nothing.

The emergency room was mania. People who’d hurt themselves while drunk. More victims of car accidents. A guy who fell on the ice. It was a madhouse with people everywhere. She looked around for her friends, but couldn’t find them anywhere. In desperation, she slipped through the double doors separating the waiting room from the trauma area, making her way to the nurses’ station.

“May I help you?”

“Ya, I’m- I’m looking for a guy. His name is Jones. He was brought in a few hours ago from a car accident.”

The person at the desk typed away at her computer, seemingly oblivious to Emma’s anguish.

“K. Jones?”

“Yes.”

“Are you family.”

Emma didn’t hesitate, telling the woman quite emphatically that she was.

“He’s in surgery right now. Take a seat in the waiting area and I’ll have someone come out and update you as soon as they know more.”

It wasn’t good enough. She wanted to see him, but the very burly security guard had other ideas, personally escorting Emma back to the waiting area. She found one lone empty seat in the corner at the back of the room. She sat there for ages, waiting for word as the number of people waiting with her dwindled. There were no signs of Mary Margaret or David and she wondered if something happened to them. If they'd become stuck too. Unfortunately, she’d left her phone in her car and had no way to contact them.

More time passed. She watched as the clock ticked past five in the morning with still no word. Finally, the double doors opened and a tired looking man in green scrubs emerged, heading straight towards Emma.

“Jones family?”

Emma nodded her head. Words caught in her throat.

“Mr. Jones has sustained substantial trauma. His still in surgery right now. As I said, his injuries are severe. I won’t beat around the bush with you. They’re doing everything they can, but are you aware of Mr. Jones’s wishes?”

“Excuse me?”

The doctor took a deep breath.

“Is Mr. Jones an organ donor?”

“I- uh- I have no idea.”

The doctor nodded, telling her that he needed to return to surgery.

As a child, Emma had witnessed the single most traumatizing moment of her life. She and her mother had been on vacation in South Carolina. Her aunts were supposed to join them, but the news had predicted that there was a chance of a hurricane landing on their doorstep. Ingrid watched the news, tracking the storm for two days. The hurricane shifted south, and they thought they’d be fine so they stayed, playing on the beach all day.

The tides turned though, and the hurricane came in that night. Emma, not realizing how dangerous it was, ran to the doors, opening them so she could watch the storm come in. Ingrid ran to her, scooping her out of the way just as a palm tree fell in her place, shattering all of the glass in the door.

The wind picked up, and Ingrid cradled Emma in her arms, shielding her from the waves of rain coming through the open doorway. Ingrid tried to stand up, to move into another room, but the wind was too strong, knocking her back down with Emma still in her arms.

Emma couldn’t see anything, her face tucked into her mother’s cheek. But as a particularly harsh gust came, Emma heard her mother cry out, and her arms loosened their grip. Emma looked up to see her mother’s eyes lifeless. She cried and screamed, begging for Ingrid to wake up. Pointless. The storm passed, as did the only family Emma had.

Emma had always blamed herself, holding on to that memory. Never telling a single soul except Killian.

It wasn’t your fault, Emma.

That’s what he’d told her that night in her Mini Cooper. Yet, she still couldn’t help blaming herself anyway.

Losing Ingrid the way that she had had been traumatizing. But sitting there in the back of the waiting room, all alone waiting to hear whether or not Killian was going to survive, well that was somehow worse. The clock passed six, and finally sleep overtook her. The adrenaline of the night finally wearing off.

She dreamed of him. Of him sitting next to her on the couch, watching a movie as they had so many times before. Of him grabbing her shoulder. Of him calling her name in a whisper.

“Swan?”

Emma’s eyes were heavy as she fought off the call of sleep.

“Swan?” The voice repeated.

With all of the force her body would allow, Emma pried her eyes open, stunned by what she saw before her.

“How? How are you here?”

“What do you mean, love?” She could tell by the low timber of his voice that he was hesitant to speak to her.

Emma sat up straight, grabbing his face, checking for wounds. Aside from his hand in a bandage, nothing appeared to be wrong, and she questioned whether she was actually awake or not.

“They said you were in surgery. That-” she felt tears spilling over. “They said you weren’t going to make it. Wanted to know if you were an organ donor.”

Killian pulled back, his mouth pulled tight. He stood from where he was crouched in front of her, tugging her up in the process. He pulled her back through the same double doors she’d snuck through earlier, demanding to know why someone had told Emma that he was dying.

“Sir, the information we gave her was accurate.” The woman turned to help someone else, completely ignorant of the way she’d turned Emma’s life upside down. Emma was ready to snap at her, but when she caught Killian’s eye, she noticed his jaw flexing.

“And you asked for me? Killian?

“Uh, I think. Yes. No. I mean, I asked for Jones, and she asked if it was a K. Jones.”

A smattering of pink tinging his cheeks.

“Ah, I think I see where we’ve gone wrong.”

Emma looked at him. Confusion settling into her blood, cooling the anger she’d just felt.

“You see, Jones is a fairly common name, love. The drunk driver from tonight, his name was Kevin Jones. He hit the car I’d stopped head on. Clipped my hand in the process.”

Emma wasted no time pulling him in for a kiss. It was nothing like she’d expected. His lips were chapped and rough. Unmoving. He tasted of stale hospital coffee. And she’d caught him off guard. Still, even with all of that, it was perfect in its own way. Even if his watch did manage to catch on her hair as he grabbed the back of her head with more force than necessary, finally coming to his senses.

He drove her home that night, calling to check in on David along the way. They’d only made it about a mile from the apartment before they realized that the storm was too bad, turning around and waiting on word from Smee. Luckily, in the time since the accident the storm had passed. She looked for her car on the way, hoping that Mullins had succeeded in towing it back to the station. It took them longer than expected to get home, but Killian had insisted on going slow, not wanting to take a chance with her in the vehicle.

Emma didn’t hesitate to follow Killian to his apartment. Kissing him again once they were inside. He stiffened slightly at her touch, but quickly melted into her. But as she began to pull his shirt up, loosening it from his pants, he stopped her.

“Wait, Swan. Before we go any further, we need to talk. I need to explain what happened.”

“I don’t care. It’s in the past.”

“Perhaps, but I care. I don’t want to start anything with this lingering between us. I want to clear the air.”

It was the last thing Emma wanted to discuss. She’d already gone through enough that night. She didn’t need to relive his fling with Ruby as well. She sat next to him on the couch anyway though. Fatigue taking over.

“That night, I’d just finished getting ready for the party when I heard a knock. Naturally I thought it was you or my brother coming back upstairs for something, so I opened the door without checking the peephole. But when the door opened, it was Milah on the other side. She told me that she’d finally left her husband and that she wanted me back. And then she kissed me. I wanted to push her off but it was so unexpected. I was frozen, stuck in time while the rest of the world kept speeding around me.”

Emma waited until he was ready to continue.

“When I came to my senses, I pushed her away and told her that it was too late. That I had already moved on. That I was happy with someone else. I was so upset after seeing her that I went inside and had a glass of rum to calm my nerves, but one glass turned into two, and then three.”

She couldn’t look at him. She understood. She’d have done the same thing if she’d seen Neal or Walsh. But now that he’d opened Pandora’s box, she couldn’t help but remember all of the pain she’d felt for the last year. That his poor choices had led to it.

“So that’s when you came to the party. That’s when you found her. After you’d had all the rum?”

His head tilted as he watched her. The confusion apparent in the way his eyes crinkled at the edges.

“Emma, what are you talking about? “

“Last year.”

The words nearly caught in her through as the image of that night played through her head once more. He’d been pissed and drank too much. Understandable, yet somehow it didn’t help to ease any of the pain she still felt.

I never made it to the party last year.”

“Yes you did!”

“Love. I assure you that I never left my apartment that night.”

She studied him. His eyes never left hers. His hands never twitched. No signs of a lie.

“Emma, did you actually see me ? Hear my voice?”

“But, Graham, he said he saw you with Ruby. Saw your- I heard it. She screamed out your last name for God’s sake.”

Killian barked out a laugh, much to Emma’s consternation.

“Swan. I wasn’t the only Jones in the building that night you know.”

He waited, as the gears turned in her head.

“Liam?”

As I said before, love, it is a rather common name.”

[cecevolume]

Fate - Chapter One

Oofta.  I have to say, the first chapter is always the hardest.  Prologues are easy; you just set up the story.  First chapters of the actual timeline?  Ugh.

Little note: When I wrote the original, some characters hadn’t appeared in the show yet.  I’m adding them in where I see fit, so Enzo will not be a vampire.

As always, I hope you guys enjoy! 

CeceVolume 

CHAPTER ONE

               “I got friends in low places!” she sang, raising her mug with the rowdy bunch of demons she’d chosen for her drinking partners that night.  They all were singing along to the song, spilling potent demon brew all over the floor while the other beings in the place laughed and danced in the chaos.

               Yesterday, if someone had told Caroline Forbes that this was how she would be spending her night, she wouldn’t have necessarily been surprised; demons were especially fun to hang with on a night out. But if you said that she was doing it to give herself a cover should her friends decide to seek her out instead of her ignoring them on her phone?  That would have been a stretch.

               They were her best friends, after all.  But just a touch on the annoying side.

               “Too bad about your werewolf, gorgeous,” Enzo muttered, throwing his arm around her shoulder.  Over the last fifty years, they’d partied a lot; he was one of the few rage demons she could stand to hang with for more than a day.  “But that just means you can finally acknowledge your feelings for me,” he added with a smirk and swig of demon brew.

               Enzo St. John was a well-known demon around Mystic Falls, one who had no problem bedding any female he turned his attention to. His thick, dark hair always looked like he’d gotten up and run his hand through it, called it good.  If you caught those deep brown eyes sparkling at you, it meant one of two things: drop your panties or get the hell outta Dodge. As with most demons, he was lean, compacted muscle, the kind that made him hell in a fight.

               And she’d be lying if she said she’d never thought about investigating the rumors of his…endowments.

               Alas, she had found Tyler soon after meeting Enzo and he’d been a much safer choice.  Now that “her werewolf” was gone, she just wasn’t willing to go through knowing that he would leave her someday, just like Tyler.

               Rolling her eyes, she plucked his arm from around her. “You know,” she answered, “that’s never going to happen.  I’m not trying to get attempted tonight.”  As he opened his mouth to say something sly, she continued, “Or ever.”

               Once again, Enzo’s arm found his way around her shoulders, this time putting his mouth to her ear to murmur, “That’s a very long time for an immortal, love, and I’m sure you wouldn’t like to eat your words.”

               She stifled a little shiver but couldn’t help giving herself an inward shake.  Enzo was a demon looking for his mate, just like Tyler.  The accent and his do-what-you-feel attitude were tempting, but what would happen when he left her too?  At least with Tyler, she hadn’t had to worry about being cheated on as well as the end that was always looming in the distance.

               Giving him a small smile, she said, “How about this? If I don’t find myself a male by the time I’m five-hundred and you don’t find your female by then, we’ll try it out, see where it goes.”

               Throwing back his head to laugh with a sparkle in his chocolate brown eyes, he replied, “I’ll write you in, darling.”  He turned his attention back to Matt, who stood behind the bar with one eyebrow raised.  “Matt, old boy!  You’re our witness; Caroline’s mine on her five hundredth birthday!  A round for the bar in celebration!”

               All the Loreans in the bar shouted in glee, holding up their glasses in toast.

Normally, even a Born vampire wouldn’t be welcomed so whole-heartedly into the bar.  Naturally, a creature that drank blood for sustenance was an unwanted patron in any establishment, much less one that actually knew they were bloodsuckers.  Just the appearance of one could either clear out a place or turn it into a full-on brawl.

Caroline Forbes was special, though.  Not only was Matt one of her best friends and now roommate, she was proud to say she was hard not to like.  Even people who didn’t like her could at least acknowledge that she was great to party with.  Life of the party, she thought to herself with a smile as she gave her beer another sip.

A chill she was all too familiar with went up her spine, making her eyes narrow as she turned in her seat.  It was the sense that someone was…exasperated with her.

Swinging her attention to the door of the bar, she saw exactly who she had expected to see: Bonnie and Elena.

They stood apart from the rest of the crowd, mostly because of their reputations.  They could drink and carry on with the rest of Caroline’s rag-tag team of friends, but that didn’t mean they didn’t get a wide berth the rest of the time.

Bonnie was the last Bennett witch, which made her quite possibly the strongest of her kind to ever live; the Bennetts were thought to be the first line of witches to step out of the ether.  It didn’t help that the mocha-skinned woman had no problem throwing her weight around, dropping immortals left and right with just a look if they displeased her.  Caroline thought it was a little over the top, but might makes right was the Lore’s motto.  And this witch might just be the mightiest.

Of course, she could also chug a bottle of tequila and ask for seconds, something she had learned before she’d even met Party Girl Caroline.

While Bonnie took care of everything mystically, Elena was the warrior princess.  As a Valkyrie, she had been trained since her birth forty years ago to battle with any weapon, at any time.  Being the Doppelganger was just more reason to train her harder.  She had no qualms about taking on the big and bad; nine point nine times out of ten, she’d end up winning too.

But she also could flip her long chestnut hair and shake her as like a champ.

Both of them weren’t shallow, one dimensional people.  They had depth.  Whoops, she thought with a larger gulp of beer.  Guess the universe just forgets to shade in some when they spend so much time painting other masterpieces.

Caroline was more a blunt tool, untrained kind of woman. If it could do damage, she would inflict some real hurt with it.  Though she’d learned to wield dual blades, she preferred to adapt to a situation; it made people more likely to underestimate her.

Yeah, walking around with a bow and short sword attached to you or magic glowing from your palms was cool, but to knock someone out with a lamppost was much more theatric.  Plus it didn’t require as much talent.

Raising her hand in a wave, she called, “You guys come to drink or fight tonight?”  She laughed when the whole bar—except the ever-suffering Matt, who merely shook his head with a grin—seemed to suck in a breath, waiting for the answer.

Normally, this would at least get a reaction of some sort out of the pair striding through the parting patrons.  A little spark of magic or a twirl of an arrow.  Just a little something to remind everyone that they were creatures with which one did not fuck.

Now, though, Caroline could see the purpose in their steps, their eyes.  What the hell was going on?  “Are you guys okay?” she asked when they finally got to her.

Bonnie gave a quick glance around the bar—glaring at Enzo’s back as he sidled up some nymph—before murmuring, “We have to get out of here, find some place we can talk.  There are too many people here that might be listening in.”  Her eyes strayed once more, as if she could pick out someone eavesdropping.

With a small snort, Caroline laughed, “Of course they’re listening; everyone here is just as much gossipmongers as a gaggle of old women.” A small mutter rippled through the crowd, making the vampire roll her eyes.  “Oh, yeah, because that doesn’t make it seem like any of you were eavesdropping at all!”

Elena snatched her arm, pulling her quickly out of the stool. “Care, I love you, but now isn’t the time.  Things are happening and Bonnie and I need you right now.”

Glancing over his shoulder, Enzo chimed in, “Did you read my dream journal?  Dear Diary, today I dreamed a lonely witch, Valkyrie, and vampire found comfort in each other’s hot, wet—ah!”

Bonnie clenched her hand as the demon dropped to the ground, clutching his head.  “Shut up,” she hissed before turning back to Caroline.  “We have issues to talk about and the longer we sit here, the more problems we accumulate—son of a bitch!”

Everyone sensed it a mere moment after the witch.  As a group, their attention went straight back to the front door and the two new occupants.  If she didn’t see Bonnie building magic in her palms or Elena slowly unsheathing her short sword, Caroline would have laughed at the audacity then joined in the soon-to-be melee.

Two Turned vampires walk into a bar, she thought mockingly as she downed the last of her beer.  “Is this one of the problems we’ve ‘accumulated’?” she asked quietly, noting Bonnie’s discreet nod in her direction.  “Are we in fight or flight mode tonight?”

Surprisingly, it was Elena who answered, “Flight,” before inching closer to the bar.  “Matt,” she muttered, “we could either use a berserker to clear the path or a distraction to get to the back door.”

The young, blonde vampire had never heard of a Valkyrie choosing retreat before the battle even started and had to eye the newcomers. What was so special about them?

Turned humans were notoriously arrogant; the sudden influx of previously unknown strength was like a drug to most.  Usually, though, they were put down before they got too old because they were driven mad by the level of emotions and bloodlust.  Their new instincts often warred with their delicate mortal minds.  And a crazy immortal ended up a dead immortal.

Tilting her head, she regarded them more closely.  The pair didn’t show any signs of madness, but definitely some intensity.  The taller of the two ran his hand through his tawny hair, his light hazel eyes surveying the gathered group with something akin to pity.  He stood just behind the other, his powerful body held tight beneath his brown leather jacket, forest green T, and jeans, as if waiting for the inevitable fight.

So he was the smart one, then.  Didn’t hurt matters that he was cute to boot.

The other, though, garnered Caroline’s interest in a different way.  There was something about how he held himself—loose but alert—that told her he was used to fighting and winning.  Thick black hair fell in a small wave to accentuate the hard lines of his features. A smirk played on his lips as he surveyed the room with his lightning blue gaze, stopping to lock on…Elena.

Because of course it was Elena he was looking for; wasn’t everyone?

“Sorry, folks, we’re just passing through.  Seems something of mine has wandered in,” he called to the room, raising his hands as if in surrender.  “I don’t want to fight any more than the rest of you.”

Rising shakily from the floor, his rage state beginning to form, Enzo snarled past thick, strong fangs, “Fucking Damon,” before turning to his comrades.  “That’s the fuck that stabbed me with a tree limb.”

Growls erupted from the room; demons might fight amongst themselves, but it was more in a sibling rivalry way.  They didn’t take kindly to someone else doing it.

It was about to get very messy in the bar.

Glancing over her shoulder, Caroline saw that Matt had similar thoughts.  His eyes were already flooding pure black as the specter of the bear inside him shimmered over him like a thin veil, his muscles beginning to grow.  As he shattered the mug he’d been holding into tiny shards, he growled, “Go out the back.  Only one vampire is allowed in this bar.”

As the trio tensed to jump the bar, the blue eyed Turned finally took his eyes off Elena long enough to say charmingly, “You might not want to push this, fellas; what’s a little stabbing amongst friends?”  When that didn’t stop anyone from readying themselves, his smile deepened into something dangerous.  Once again, he caught Elena’s eyes and winked.

“What the hell,” Caroline asked as she turned towards her friend, “is that all about?”

With a blush rising in her cheeks—again, what the fuck was going on—Elena muttered, “He thinks I’m his Bride, which means we gotta get out of here.”

Well, desperate times….

Leaning towards Enzo—who just needed the smallest nudge to completely lose control—Caroline whispered, “You’re really going to take that from a Turned?  He ran you through!”

Enzo’s battle roar seemed to be all the spark this particular tinder box needed because all around her, chaos broke out.  Matt vaulted the counter, his body nearly twice its usual size as Enzo charged the pair.  All around other demons followed suit, the nymphs fading into floorboards. In the corner a pair of female werewolves snarled as the change began to take hold, their fangs shooting longer and claws curling into the wood of their table.  A group of Sirens started to lose their glamour, transforming quickly into their true monstrous selves.

This was pretty much a done deal.

“Do we still have to run—”

Elena grabbed her arm and began running towards the back even as the Turned bellowed her name from behind them.  Stumbling backwards as she tried to right herself, Caroline saw just as Enzo and his crew reached the pair before Bonnie shouted in her ear, “Let’s go; we don’t have time to be caught in a bar brawl!”

Bursting through the door, the Valkyrie finally released her vampiric friend’s limb and said, “Grab your keys!  Time to book it to Val Hall!”  When Bonnie started to argue, Elena cut her off quickly.  “It’s closer and they won’t be able to get past the lightning.  Plus, I’m ninety percent sure that they have a witch too.”

“Okay, ladies,” Caroline said as she ran past them, barely a blur, “we have way too much to talk about!  Just get in the car!”  Beeping the locks, she opened both front and rear passenger doors for the others, watching as Elena nose-dived immediately into the front seat.

Bonnie, however, stood facing the shaking bar, arms spread wide. Flames began to ignite in her hands and Caroline could have groaned.  So now the witch wanted to stand her ground?  What happened to not having time?!

“It’s time to go!” Caroline said sharply, drawing her friend’s attention.  Blazing eyes turned to her.  Waving her arms in a this-way motion, the vampire hissed, “We can always come back and whoop ass later, but right now, Elena kinda needs to leave.  The last thing we need is some Turned catching her and making her his Bride.”  Glancing back at the Doppelganger in her car, she murmured knowingly, “Unless you want the vampire?”

All she got was a glare, so she shrugged with a smile.  “I mean, to each their own; just had to check.”

However, neither of the other women seemed to think she was funny even though she was pretty sure she was hilarious.  Once again, different strokes for different folks.

“Fine.”  Bonnie started back towards the car, looking only a little put out.  “But only because this is the least of our worries right now,” she added testily, sliding into the backseat and slamming her door.  “We have to talk about the oracle—”

Slam!

All three females’ heads twisted back to the barely surviving door, only to see it on the pavement, the blue-eyed vampire snarling atop it.  He was fully vampiric now, his fangs long and lethal as black veins spread down his cheeks. His clothes and skin were splattered with blood, just to top off the whole look.  “Don’t even think about it, Elena,” he growled, stalking forward. “If I have to find you—”

Rolling her eyes, Caroline shook her blonde hair. “Okay, I’m done with this melodrama. Maybe you can call her and set up a date?  Instead of the whole vampire Tarzan thing?  We have stuff to do and you’re really—” she yanked a lamppost out its cement base “—getting in the way of that!”  Swinging the post over her shoulder, she shouted, “Batter up!”

In that moment, he charged, moving faster than even she could track.  Fuck, she thought, how old is this guy?  In the blink of an eye, he would be on her; if she swung, she wouldn’t get a second chance.  She had to make sure he couldn’t dodge….

With a sudden hiss of pain, he dropped to his knees mere feet in front of her, fingers digging into his scalp.  A look over her shoulder showed Bonnie—from the safety of the car—clenching her hand much as she had with Enzo.

“Bonnie, coming in clutch with an aneurysm!” Dropping the light, Caroline strode to the car.  “Thank you.  While part of me believed I could do some damage, I didn’t want to take the chance that guy took my head off.”  She smiled as she climbed in the driver’s seat, casually adjusting her mirrors.  “I mean, he made it out of a bar brawl with a myriad of monsters; I don’t know how much hope I would have.”

“He’s starting to get up!” Elena cried.  “Go, go, go!”

Sure enough, despite the fact that Bonnie still had him, the vampire was struggling to rise to his feet, seeming to shake off the pain to focus on the Valkyrie.  He lifted his arm, pointing at her shakily.  “I’ll find you,” he snarled.

With a small squeak—and that wasn’t even directed at her—Caroline turned back around and put pedal to metal.  The tires screeching, she took off without looking back, just letting the car hit its top speed even as it shook.  “What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck,” she chanted, nearly constantly looking into her rearview.  If he could resist Bonnie, what was to stop him from being fast enough to catch up?

Elena was breathing heavily, sinking into her seat in relief.  “I just want to get back to Val Hall to hang with my sisters, that’s it.  I need a stiff drink and a hot bath.”

Bonnie leaned between the front seats, hands on the back of each.  “We have a lot to talk about.  That Turned vampire is the least of our worries right now.  Caroline,” she turned her full attention to the blonde woman, “the Oracle at the House had a vision today about you.  She told us to watch after you, but that’s all she would give us; she says if you can avoid being captured for a week, to come to her and you’ll be ready for what she has to say.”

Caroline had to stop herself from slamming on the breaks at that.  “What?!” she demanded.  “And you didn’t think something like that was important to tell me immediately?! Who the hell is trying to come after me?!”

She wasn’t the one that immortals chased; there was nothing special about her.  She was just a seventy-four year old Born vampire whose parents ditched her the moment she transitioned into a full immortal.  Not a Doppelganger, not the most powerful witch in existence, not even a rare breed of monster that was strong enough to lift a semi.  There wasn’t a single thing that would make her stand out to anyone for an abduction other than knowing several High Profile beings.

Caroline Forbes was nothing to anybody but a side character in someone else’s story.  Wasn’t that exactly what had happened with Tyler?  Second best to someone he hasn’t even met yet, she thought as her hands clenched the steering wheel tight enough for it to start to crack.

“I don’t know!” Bonnie said.  “That’s why you need to lay low for a week!”

Elena sat up at last with a sigh, pushing her heavy chestnut hair back from her face.  “Which brings us to the next problem.”  Turning to Caroline, she explained, “There’s been sightings of a couple of Originals all around the county.  We don’t know what they’re after but we can guess it has something to do with me or Katherine Pierce, the Queen of Illusions and Persuasion.”

That seemed a touch more important than having to lay low for a week, at least in Caroline’s mind.  If someone was looking for her, it was usually to plan a party.

But when they were looking for either of the living Doppelgangers, it usually meant they were trying to do something evil; Doppelganger blood held mystical properties that’s power was through the roof.  Essentially, it was the immortal way of going nuclear in a war.

And the Originals—though they normally seemed to keep the murder and mayhem to a minimum—were the Vampire Royal Family.  No one was sure how old they were, but they were the strongest vampires in existence and were rumored to have untold power.  Though she’d only seen them in Lorean tabloids, like for Finn and Sage’s vow renewal twenty years before, that didn’t detract from the fact that they had strength not just as a collective but separately to do whatever they wanted.

Like most Born vampires, Caroline had grown up hearing stories of them and how, even without magic, they could day-walk, that they were all the strengths and none of the weaknesses.  What they wanted, they got, no matter how many innocent people they had to take down in the meantime.

So….  “That seems a little more important than watching my back,” she conceded, glancing in the mirror at Bonnie as she pulled up to Val Hall.  “If the Originals are after Elena, she needs more protection than I do.”

As they stepped out of the car, Caroline noted that both Bonnie and Elena looked down at their shoes guiltily.  “That’s what we thought, too,” Elena murmured, looking up at Caroline from beneath her lashes.

“Not that you aren’t special enough to get kidnapped,” Bonnie hastily added, walking over to Caroline.  “Just…you know, she’s the Doppelganger.  But when I talked to the Oracle about it, she said that Elena would be safe until you were able to get the information from the prophesy.”

Making herself smile and jokingly wave her hand, she ignored the insecurity in her stomach; it hurt that nothing made her different from anyone else when two of her best friends were Big Deals.  But she was used to it, knew better than to show it to them.  “Guys, I’m not upset,” she said quickly.  “I don’t want to have a constant target on my back like the two of you; looking over my shoulder would definitely cut into my having fun time.” Linking arms with both of them, she strode towards the porch where two of Elena’s sister Valkyrie sat whittling shives.  “I only have to worry for a week; you two have your entire immortal lives.  I think I’ll survive.”

Insert Break

The next night, Caroline woke in a bed that wasn’t her own to the sound of Valkyrie battle cries.  The sound of them shook the entire house, the lightning outside striking so often it was like there was a spotlight shining through the curtains.

Instantly, the vampire remembered what she’d learned the day before, groaning at what the fighting meant.  I guess I should have known that we wouldn’t get a day off, she thought as she snatched up her clothes and matching stiletto blades. Sliding the weapons into the sheaths she’d had sewn into all of her shirts, she started out of her borrowed room and up the stairs at break-neck speed.

Bonnie had gone back to the coven the night before, hoping to get more information on what the Originals were looking for and who was after Caroline, so she probably had no idea there was even an attack yet. Luckily, going after a Valkyrie at Val Hall was one of the worst things you could do, so hopefully they didn’t need her.

Racing into the moonlight, Caroline was surprised to find…no one was there.  There was nothing outside except for the constant arcs of lightning and the shrieks coming from deeper in the forest.  But why would the Valkyrie lose home advantage, especially at night? There were so many Loreans that lived within those woods, yet they were leaving their house unprotected….

Shaking off doubt, she dashed towards the fight, only then noticing the beginnings of gnawing hunger.  This was why she had suggested they go to the house she shared with Matt; there, they had the protection of a mortal living within the home and she had a fridge stocked full of blood bags.  Plus, while the other Valkyries put up with her, they weren’t exactly happy to have a vampire in the house, no matter how many times Elena reminded them that Caroline had been raised to never drink straight from the vein.

She slowed as she realized the sounds and flashes were still beyond her, even though she had to have covered the distance already.  What the hell?  Are they fighting that hard?  Her heart caught in her throat; the only beings that might be able to take on a house full of battle-trained Valkyrie were the Originals.  And she wouldn’t be surprised if the warrior women led the attackers further away from their goal.

Before she could take off after them again, she heard a throat clear from behind her.  Spinning around she saw the blue-eyed vampire from the night before.

“Sorry, Barbie,” the vampire said, arms and ankles crossed as he leaned lazily against the trunk of a tree.  “I really didn’t want it to have to come to this, but seeing as my Bride is hiding behind a shield of sisters, I had to figure out a way to lure her out.”  Too white teeth shown in the light as he pulled away from the tree.

Taking a step back, Caroline asked slowly, “How did you lead the Valkyrie away?”

He shrugged, following her.  “A Mimic owed me a favor; it started shrieking and all the Valkyrie followed.  Unfortunately, that worked against me because they brought Elena with them.”

For a moment, she could see a softening in his eyes at the mention of her friend and for that time, she wondered why Elena wouldn’t want to be the Bride of a devoted male.  To have someone care about you more than they cared about themselves, to want nothing more than your happiness…so many people searched centuries for that kind of love but not Elena.

Was that why Caroline wasn’t one of the Big Deals? Was the fact that she wanted to love and be loved in return why she would never be High Profile?

Not for the first time, she asked herself if she would always have to be second fiddle to Elena.

Lost in her thoughts, Caroline missed the male moving, was quickly caught by what felt like a shackle around her wrist.  She looked up at the vampire, feeling her vampire traits coming to her face.  “So, you’re going to ask Elena to come to you in exchange for me?  Isn’t that just so typical of immortal men?  No wonder she wants nothing to do with you.”

Okay, his vampire face was a bit more daunting than hers. “I’ll do whatever I have to, Blondie, to get my Bride.  Do you know how long I’ve been chasing her, what it feels like to have your body totally shut down?”  He yanked her closer, baring his fangs right in her face.  “I’m Turned; I’m sure you know that.  I felt myself die then woke up without my heart beating, without having to breathe.  For over a hundred and twenty years, I’ve looked all over for her.  I’ve paid my dues and now I get my reward.”

“You do realize I won’t go without a fight, right?” she asked, faking a yawn.  “Besides, if anything happens to me, Elena will never accept you.”  In a flash, she had one of her blades pressed to his throat even though his grip threatened to crush her other wrist.  Don’t get abducted for one week, that was the deal, she berated herself.  You had one job and you already screwed it up.  “So I think you’re the one with more to lose, don’t you?”

Keeping the blade against his throat meant that when he leaned forward, she had to lean back, giving her unsteady footing.  Not exactly advantageous, but nothing she couldn’t handle. She still had Elena to hold over him, of course.

“Then maybe I rip your head off here and leave you for the animals to eat.”  His smile turned sinister.  “No one will ever know what happened to you.”  Without so much as blinking, he ripped the stiletto out of her hand and tossed it away, completely decimating the bones in her wrist.  As she cried out in pain and tried to yank herself away, he flipped her to her back on the ground, his hand around her throat.  Crouching over her, she saw he wasn’t even the slightest bit breathless.  “If you swear to do what I say, though, I don’t have to kill you.  But if you don’t…they won’t know what happened to you.”

Blinking back the pain in her arm, she wanting to give some snappy comeback, to put on some bravado.  Unfortunately, she didn’t have much experience with anything other than friendly sparring so she…was…terrified.

Tears came to her eyes at being helpless, once again being collateral damage in someone else’s story.  “I’ll go with you just please…don’t kill me.”

[quillyfied]

playing catchup, here’s some thoughts about DCA episode 120, with 121 coming here in a bit.

- I love these fireside episodes, and Satine Phoenix is an excellent person to mediate their discussions; she’s very warm and empathetic and these losers need that desperately

- Strix’s timeline is screwy, as I believe I have discussed on this blog before, but…uh…there’s a particular piece of Strix backstory Holly wrote that if it happened before she went to Baba Yaga…yikes. I don’t want to discuss it in too much detail but Strix would still have been so, so young for this particular piece of trauma, that’s gut-wrenching to think about. All of their childhoods included some form of trauma at a heartbreakingly young age and all of it is hard to think about but wooow.

- Paladin training is no joke, but I wonder how much younger than the others Evelyn was, to have advanced to full paladin status at 22 (probably younger). Given her leg, that’s really hella impressive.

- Relissa and Kagan are TERRIBLE and I can’t wait until we meet them, I am hoping for bloodshed on Diath’s behalf. But now Diath’s question to Paultin during the therapy episode makes more sense—“Was she nice to you?” KILL ME

- Diath’s fond smile and his tone of voice when he says her name after Strix says “so we CAN kill them!”, I’m drowning in my feelings pls help

- Yeah, trying to parse the conversation better, it does sound like Diath was dating both of them. So polyamorous Diath is most likely canon, which is…huge, honestly.

- Just going off of the body language and his facial expressions…that is not Diath’s root fear of cages and enclosed spaces. He probably had that long before Relissa and Kagan got to him. If anything, being imprisoned for a crime he didn’t commit would probably crystalize that fear into a full-on psychosis, if it wasn’t there already

- okay imagining little bitty Evelyn zipping around in her boots makes me SO HAPPY, what a cutie patootie she must’ve been. Her expressed desire to be helpful is also very telling of an active child who felt useless bc she couldn’t get around as well, and I’m sure Father Sunbright capitalized on that desire to be useful to turn her into the self-sacrificing paladin she is (I’m sure to make her self-sacrificing and indebted to him personally, not just Lathander, but I’m bitter about him and hope either he doesn’t get raised or if Telastin tries, he just doesn’t come back…sidenote, I wonder if Chris is worried about too many plot threads out there waving in the wind that he has to braid back together, I’m sure he can do it, but this season is so complex compared to others)

- MORE ABOUT PAULTIN’S CHILDHOOD PLS. NATE. NATE PLS. I know that alcohol-induced amnesia is a huge part of Paultin’s character as an in-game expression of Nate not having much of a backstory for him, but come on, it’s been years XD He probably wouldn’t spill about it just yet, anyway, Diath hasn’t. I’m just grumpy and impatient.

- Aww yeee plot pie

- I feel like Paultin and Sandra having a rental is an important detail in this particular case; it feels like a setup, if this crime family was making a habit out of going into noble houses and Paultin and Sandra’s house was close to one. Maybe Sandra was mixed up in something she shouldn’t have been and Paultin didn’t know about it bc he’d been busy with work before she died, but the face-mangling in particular is suspicious to me. The whole death scenario in general is just brutal, suggesting extreme emotion or senseless bestial mauling (leaning towards the second), but making the face unrecognizable…there’s usually a reason why that happens, and that reason is usually either trying to cover their tracks or body-planting. So what I’m saying is, I’m reserving a shred of suspicion that Sandra might not be dead (actually evil, off doing other things, not sure what the motive would be, we just don’t know enough about her for me to make a clear judgement, but I’ve got my eye on you, Chris). I do not want that to happen at all in the least, for many reasons, but still…hmm.

- Diath’s reticence makes so much more sense now but I’m still a little heartbroken that he doesn’t feel comfortable enough with Strix, at least, to divulge a bit of his childhood to her. Yes I am upset as a viewer that there’s still so much we don’t know (upset AND excited), but after everything the Waffle Crew has been through together, it’s still baffling to me that they have mistrust and uncertainty. But them’s people, I guess, they all have their trauma that they’re carrying around.

- “Please don’t call me Hokage” OMGF JARED

- For real, though, after the clusterbumble Plurio tried to pull with saying Paultin owed him, seeing the real legit 100% authentic Diath express yet more of his devotion to his friend by tracking down people who hurt him deeply in the past has me absolutely sobbing, these stupid boys care about each other so much. Also vengeance!Paultin is kinda terrifying to watch but it’s been a while, it will be interesting to see where his rage takes him this time.

- (Esepcially given the talk he gave Alisanda about rage and revenge and how that hatred never goes away and changes a person for the worse, hoo boy, I hope for their sake that Relissa and Kagan really didn’t kill Sandra)

- EVELYN NO THAT’S NOT HOW YOU CHILDREN. My inner daycare teacher is screaming.

- Nat’s devotion to Diath is a+++++ and I think she in particular is very good for Diath’s development as a person and a leader. Also Anna and Jared using sign language onstage was great, I don’t know if all if it was legit since I don’t know much, but it was still cool to watch.

- Diath needs to go bond with Simon next…especially once next episode finally sinks into him :P (I am pretty sure they let slip to Diath what happened with Simon and the kid during the therapy episode, but the players forgetting details is okay, they’re all human beings with busy lives and insane schedules)

- Paultin acknowledging Evelyn as Simon’s mom is the BEST, I’m just waiting for Simon to call them Mom and Dad out loud now :P

- THROW THAT SHADE, PAULTIN, YOUR SON HAS LEARNED FROM THE BEST. YES DIATH, LET’S DISCUSS HIDING THINGS.

- AGREED, VLAHNYA, THEY SHOULD ABSOLUTELY TALK MORE.

- Squiddly’s mode of breaking the fourth wall without actually breaking the fourth wall is amazing, I’m not sure what to call his in-universe fluidity with the rules of reality but it’s delightful, I’m so upset it is a little weird for Nate to hold entire conversations with himself in a dnd setting

- They need to learn to take care of the kids…and themselves…AND EACH OTHER…I think I feel a whump fic coming on

- All of these poor broken adults need a mental health day where they just do things for themselves, where’s that special episode, Chris Perkins

- little lesson about love~ (once again getting SO CLOSE to someone explaining to Strix about feelings and giving her context for romantic emotions, WHY DO PEOPLE KEEP CHICKENING OUT ON HER, SOMEONE EXPLAIN THIS BEFORE I DIE)

- Paultin’s face-touch to Diath is a masterful little touch of comedy, combining Paultin’s two favorite pastimes: 1. Messing with Diath, and 2. Bringing back random plot elements and using them to greatest effect. I am 99% sure that part of Paultin’s motivation for doing that was planting the idea in Diath to touch someone ELSE’S face :P Or at least, the part of me that knows Paultin ships his friends as much as we do wants to believe that. Jared’s face through the whole thing was killing me.

- Parenting, you guys. PARENTING. BEING RESPONSIBLE ADULTS. Oh gosh they’re going to have to leave Waterdeep at some point (bc I have a suspicion that Dungeon of the Mad Mage is going to be, if not THE last, then one of the last arcs DCA has, IDK how much longer fifth edition is gonna last and how many adventures they can turn out for it?? How often do they update DnD???), which means leaving the kids, which means there’s going to be a goodbye episode and I’m NOT READY.

- Elements of this are bleeding pretty flawlessly into the next episode, whether Chris actually watched the fireside as of streaming 121 or not, so once that post goes up, I’ll be glad to explore more about Simon and why I’m screaming in terror and delight.