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misnomera · 4 years

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On racial stereotyping of the Haans in TMA...

Right so as someone who is ethnically Chinese I have NO FUCKING clue how I didn’t notice this more distinctly in my initial binge of tma (going too fast and not paying closer attention to character names and descriptions, probably) but the Haan family storyline is, all horror elements aside, pretty fucked up in terms of racial representation re: stereotyping. This got long as hell, but please please please take a moment to read through if you’ve got time for it. thanks.

To start off, the Haans are one of the few characters in tma with an explicitly specified race and ethnicity—Chinese—and pretty much the only explicitly Chinese characters in tma, other than the mostly unimportant librarian (Zhang Xiaoling) from Beijing. But like, Haan isn’t even a properly Chinese surname, at least not in the way that it’s spelled in canon (it should be Han, one a. A quick google search tells me that Haan as a surname has...Dutch origins??).

Of course, that could be chalked up to shoddy anglicization processes within family histories, which certainly isn’t uncommon with immigrant families, so I’m not going to dwell on names too much (although I also find it interesting that John Haan’s name is so specifically and weirdly anglicized that he changed his own surname?? Hun Yung to John Haan is a very big leap of a name change and frankly not very believable. ANYWAY, this is not that important. I don’t expect Jonny, a white Englishman, to come up with perfectly unquestionable non-Cho-Chang-like Chinese names, though it certainly would be nice. Moving on).

What really bothers me about the Haans is how they almost exclusively and explicitly play into negative Chinese immigrant stereotypes. I don’t even feel like I need to say it because it’s like...it’s literally Right There, folks. John Haan (in ep 72) owns and operates a sketchy takeout restaurant. They’re all avatars of the Flesh—and John Haan is Specifically horrific and terrifying because he cooked his wife’s human meat and fed it to his unknowing customers. Does that remind you of any stereotypes which accuse Chinese people of consuming societally unacceptable and ethically questionable things like dog/cat/bat meat (which, if it’s not already crystal fucking clear, we don’t. do that.), which in turn characterize us as horrible unfeeling monsters? John Haan’s characterization feeds (haha, badum tss) directly into this harmful stereotype that have caused very real pain for Chinese people and East Asians in general.

And Jonny does nothing to address that from within his writing (and not out of it either). And, speaking on a more meta level, Jonny could’ve easily had these flesh avatars be individuals of any race (like, what’s Jared Hopworth’s ethnicity? Do we know? No? Well then). Conversely, he could’ve easily, easily had a Chinese person be an avatar of any other entity. So why did he have to chose specifically the Flesh?

(This is a rhetorical question. You know why. Racial stereotyping and invoking a fear of the other in an attempt to enhance horror, babey~)

On Tom Haan’s side, Jonny seems weirdly intent on having other characters repeatedly comment on his accent (or rather, lack thereof) in relation to his race. Think about how, in ep 30 (killing floor), the fact that Tom Haan had spoken a line to the statement giver in “perfect English” was an emphasized beat in that statement, and a beat that was supposed to be “chilling” and meant to signify to us that something was, quote-unquote, “not right” with Tom Haan. Implicitly, that’s saying that it was unexpected, not “normal”, and in this case even eerie, for someone who looks Chinese to have spoken in fluid, unbroken English. Mind you, the line itself was perfectly scary on its own (“you cannot stop the slaughter by closing the door”), so why did Jonny feel the need to note the accent in which it was spoken in? Why did Jonny HAVE to have that statement giver note, that he initially “wasn’t even sure how much English [Haan] spoke”?

This happens again in episode 72 with a Chinese man (and again, his ethnicity is Explicitly Noted) who we assume is also Tom Haan. This one is rather ironically funny and kind of painfully self aware, because the statement giver expresses surprise at Haan’s “crisp RP accent” and then immediately “felt bad about making the assumption that he couldn’t speak English,” and subsequently admitted that thought was “low-key racist.” Like, from a writing perspective, this entire passage is roundabout, pointless, and says absolutely nothing helpful to enhance the horror genre experience for listeners (instead it just sounded like some sort of half-assed excuse so Jonny or other listeners could say “look! We’ve addressed the racism!” You didn’t. It just made me vaguely uncomfortable). And again, having other people comment on our accents/lack thereof while assuming we are foreign is a Very Real microaggression that east asians face on the daily. If Jonny needed some filler sentences for pacing he could’ve written about Literally anything else. So why point out, yet again, that the crazy murderous man was foreign and Chinese?

At this point, you might say, right, but yknow, it was just that the statement givers were kind of racist! It happens! Yeah sure, ok, that’s a passable in-universe explanation for descriptions of Tom Haan (though not John Haan, mind you), but the statement givers are fake made up people, and statement’s still written by Jonny, who absolutely has all the power to write overt discrimination out of his stories. And he does! Think about just how many minor (and major!!) characters are so, so carefully written as completely aracial, and do not have their ethnicity implicated at all in whatever horrors they may or may not be committing. Think about how many lgbtq+ characters have given statements, and have been in statements, without having faced direct forms of discrimination, or portrayed as embodying blatant stereotypes in their stories (though lgbtq+ rep in tma certainly has their own issues that I won’t go into here). Jonny can clearly write characters this way, and he can do it well. So why, why, am I being constantly, repeatedly reminded in-text of the fact that the Haans are East Asian, that they’re from China, that they’re Chinese immigrants, that they’re second-generation British Chinese or whatever the fuck, and that they’re also horrifying conduits for blood, gore, and general fucked-up-ness? It’s absolutely not something that is Needed for the stories to be an effective piece of horror; the only thing it does is perpetuate incredibly harmful and hurtful stereotypes.

And listen, I love tma to bits. It’s taken over my blog. I’ve really loved my interactions with the fandom. And I am consistently blown away by Jonny’s writing and how well he’s able to weave foreshadowing and plot into an incredibly complex collection of stories. But I absolutely Cannot stop thinking about the Haans because it’s just. It’s such a blatant display of racial stereotyping in writing. And I’ve certainly seen a few voices talking about it here and there, and I don’t know if I’m just not looking in the right places, but it certainly feels like something that is just straight up not on the radar for a lot of tma fans. And I’m disappointed about that.

Just, I don’t know. Take a look at those episodes again and do some of your own thinking about why these characters had to be specifically Chinese (answer: they didn’t.). And in general, PLEASE for the love of god turn a critical eye on character portrayals and descriptions whenever they are assigned specific races/ethnicities (Some examples that come to mind are Jude Perry, Annabelle Cane, and Diego Molina), because similar issues, to an extent, extend beyond the Haans, though I haven’t covered them here.

You shouldn’t need a POC to do point out these problems for you when they’re so glaringly There. But for those of you who really didn’t know, hope this was informative in some way. I’m tired, man. If some of the only significant Chinese characters you write are violent cannibalistic men with a perverted relationship with meat, just don’t do it. Please don’t do it.

EDIT: Since the making of this post Jonny has acknowledged and apologized for these portrayals on his twitter and in the Rusty Quill Operations Update, which went up September 2020. A long time coming, but better late than never. This of course doesn’t necessarily negate the harm done by Jonny’s writing, and doesn’t make me much less angry about it, but is appreciated nonetheless. For more on this topic there’s a lot of productive discussions happening in my “#tma crit” tag and in the notes of this post

#tma #the magnus archives #magnuspod #tma 30 #tma 72 #tma crit #racism #sinophobia #racist stereotyping #tw cannibalism #tw violence #long post #tom haan #john haan

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chalkrevelations · 3 years

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SO. Back to the beginning, Episode 1 of Word of Honor. This is likely to be a little bit different experience than the prior posts, when I was watching the eps as they aired, compared to now approaching the show as whole and complete. May be rummaging around for things I missed the first time through, stuff that takes on new meaning set in additional context – we’ll see how it goes.

With that in mind, spoilers for not just this ep but possibly for the entire series. Get out of the car now and come back later, if you haven’t seen all 36.5 eps and want to watch it unspoiled.

First thing to strike me, right up front: You know, I think we tend to lose sight in later parts of the show – when we’re getting Laopo!Zhou Zishu pouting so he doesn’t have to cook dinner - how terrifying ZZS is in his own right (and by “we,” I actually mean the show, too). One of the things the first few episodes gets right, I think, is the sense of eerie inevitability and dread created by both the falling lanterns of Tian Chuang and the blowing paper figures of the Ghost Valley, and how similar they are. I think it’s easy to lose that - when the lanterns and the paper figures are gone and our charming and adorable couple are busy being charming and adorable at each other, in between varying rounds of being wracked by guilt and PTSD – easy to lose that this is there too, part of them – both of them - under the skin. I think it’s particularly easy to lose that for ZZS, when he’s already done a lot of work, off-screen, pre-Episode 1, during the 18 months he was putting in those first six Nails, to come to some kind of equilibrium, and meanwhile we watch Wen Kexing’s entire torturous process play out on-screen. Wen Kexing’s story is one of reaching an equilibrium, but Zhou Zishu’s story is one of maintaining it, which I think may be less showy, but is equally valuable, just as I value the Four Seasons Manor arc, especially, for giving us a vibe of two adults comfortable in an already intimate relationship, as opposed to the veritable sea of will-they-won’t-they tug-of-war coming-together-for-the-first-time-as-emotional-AND-plot climax relationships that we’re usually awash in.

Anyway, straight up we’re introduced to an assassin who, we discover, doesn’t like to get blood on himself. It looks like metaphorical blood is fine, just not actual blood, but then we discover, well, maybe he’s not as OK with metaphorical blood as he schools himself to look. Also that conversation with Li Jingan about her dad having to die because he’s a traitor to the country – I now wonder how much of that particular conversation Zhou Zishu mentally brings to the table in later conversations about his own father being executed for the same reason. Also, wait wait wait. Zhou Zishu tells Jingan that he took Jiuxiao’s body back to Four Seasons Manor and buried him next to their shifu, but I don’t remember seeing another grave there, other than Qin Huaizhang’s and his wife’s. Script inconsistency, or are you supposed to be lying, ZZS? I mean, would you be so downcast at the state of Four Seasons Manor when you arrive with your husband and son for your honeymoon, if you’d actually been there only a couple of years before? It didn’t fall to pieces overnight. Also, HAIRPIN FORESHADOWING ALERT. Our first sign of how important the hairpin is, the way ZZS’s impassive face cracks wide open when he sees the hairpin that Jiuxiao made and realizes he must have given it to Jingan. Clearly important!

Mmm. Here’s a point for the “Prince Jin is a f’kn asshole” list – Prince Jin wants ZZS to deal with Bi Changfeng personally when Bi Changfeng requests to leave Tian Chuang. And OK, ZZS is the leader of Tian Chuang. But you’re never going to convince me Prince Jin wants ZZS to deal with it personally because Prince Jin is actually so very furious that Bi Changfeng made a mistake. You will never convince me this isn’t a … it’s not even a test of loyalty, at this point, because Prince Jin has no reason to think yet that ZZS is anything other than the faithful hunting dog on a leash that he’s been, lo, these many years. Putting ZZS in a position where not only is he losing the last of the direct disciples of Four Seasons Manor, but he’s being asked to (as good as) kill him with his own hands - it’s just cruelty for the proof of your power and influence over someone. Also, given Prince Jin’s later diatribe about how everyone leaves him OMG (have you considered it’s your personality?) (But also Beiyuan! I know who you are now, and yeah, I would have let Wu Xi bride-kidnap me away from this jerk, too), I have to wonder if Prince Jin isn’t trying to make ZZS feel exactly as isolated as he, himself, feels, as part of his overall desire to make sure that ZZS has no one other than Prince Jin so that their positions are parallel – only having each other in the whole world. I also have to wonder if he’s not hoping for precisely the reaction ZZS has to Bi Changfeng – you’d rather be dead than be with me? Because that hurts, you can see it on ZZS’s face (thanks already, Zhang Zhehan), and I rather suspect Prince Jin wants it to hurt. I notice we get an echo of this later in the ep, with Prince Jin saying pretty much the same thing when ZZS asks for the final Nail. GOOD. I hope it hurts you just as much. I wonder if ZZS realizes this while he’s kneeling there in the throne room. It’s probably too late for him to get any satisfaction out of it.

OH, HEY. That’s HAN YING already, one of the two people accompanying ZZS to put down Bi Changfeng, looking super-pained like he knows what this is all costing his beloved. Han Ying, I really hope you got to tap that at least a few times before ZZS made his break for it. Is that one of the reasons Prince Jin seems to have such antipathy for you, or is it really just that he can’t stand the idea of someone whose loyalty to ZZS is greater than their loyalty to Prince Jin, himself? (Seriously, y’all, why is there not much much more Han Ying/ZZS fic?) Meanwhile Duan Pengju, omg, this asshole, is already looking smug and punchable. Really, he’s kind of enjoying the Seven Nails placement a little too much. Showing your hand pretty fast on the petty evil thing, show.

So, one thing I didn’t catch the first time around, is that ZZS isn’t just self-injuring to punish himself when he takes the knife to his chest – he re-opens wounds on all the places where the first six Nails have already been placed, so it will look like the placement is fresh. If you can’t tell he hasn’t just put them in, there’s no reason for anyone else (read: Prince Jin) to suspect he’s bought himself some time before he loses his senses. As far as anyone knows, he’s going to fall over with locked-in syndrome any day now. Which just makes the implications of Prince Jin vowing that he’s only letting him go for now EVEN ICKIER. For all Prince Jin knows, what he’s going to get back is a flesh doll that will just lie there, although I guess on the plus side, ZZS would never leave him again. Thanks, show, I need a shower, now.

ZZS says all the right things to argue his case to Prince Jin – he’s only good as a weapon, he has no skills nor utility for building and governing the country – and I think partly this is because he just knows the right things to say. I mean, you don’t become the Number Two guy in the country, with thousands under you and only one above you, if you can’t play imperial politics. But I also wonder if deep down he doesn’t actually believe it – he was successful at building Tian Chuang, but he couldn’t maintain Four Seasons Manor and even drove it to ruin. So, I’ll just be over here, clutching my chest, over my heart. Fortunately, Zhang Zhehan provides quick distraction from this pain, and I … Y’all. I can’t. I just. I CANNOT. When ZZS drops to his knees and starts stripping in the throne room. Just. Mmmmmrgh. THIS VISUAL. Although, you want to know what one of the hottest parts actually is? That pair of leather bracers hitting the floor on top of his belt, and ZZS isn’t even in the shot at that point. OK, fine, I am willing to read some dirtybadwrong fic with this whole scene premise at its heart, even if it does include Prince Jin. Zhang Zhehan, you are KILLING ME. I might have rewound this part. More than once. You can’t prove anything.

Aaaand then we get that gorgeous, painful shot of ZZS riding out into the snow that I know I’ve talked about before (including the way I get an odd echo of Lan Xichen off of it). There are several places in this ep where the cinematography is to die for, and this is one of them, the bleakness of the landscape and Zhang Zhehan (and his FACE) deep in that shadowing cloak against the stark snow as he rides out into freedom and the unknown. Then cut to somewhere green and forested. Interesting that the show starts with snow and ends with snow. That parallel with the imperial cage says some things about immortality that could stand to be unpacked – but later. Because ZZS is putting his face on – literally – and I am once again in pain, only it’s not the good kind of pain. It’s caused by that dreadful fake facial hair. There are some things that could be unpacked here, as well, about the fact that making ZZS supposedly unattractive involves a clearly fake goatee, a single aesthetically placed scar, and darkening his skin. I’m going to try to step carefully here, because this is kind of out of my lane, but it is … a noticeable thing. That probably ought to be noted.

So, ZZS takes just a moment to turn his (fake) face up to the sun and feel the warmth on it … and then with 10 minutes left, we’re on our way to Ghost Valley, where there’s some chaos and then Hanging Ghost gets got by a Mysterious Stranger To Be Revealed Later, who chokes him out (remember this). The Mysterious Master of Ghost Valley appears dramatically on his High Ledge to Make Some Pronouncements while playing with some walnuts omg (rolling two of them in one hand – remember this), and we see his eyes, which are partially obscured by chunky sidebangs, which are farther forward on his forehead than we’re going to see later, not only hiding some of his face but making it look more angular. The troops get berated, shit rolls downhill, and another dude gets choked (remember this) as Ghost Valley Master’s hair continues to artfully hide most of his face and he worries about his manicure post-kill (remember this). War is declared on Hanging Ghost for stealing the Glazed Armor, and more chaos is set into motion.

All of that takes literally two minutes, and then we cut to three months later, and no one realizes it yet, but the fam is getting together. ZZS is tits out in the gutter - only beginning his career of being a minx who flashes his collarbones an awful lot for someone who has Very Secret Scars He’s Hiding On His Chest - happily drinking himself to death in the sun (we really need to talk about this correlation of snow and immortality vs. sun and happiness …). Meanwhile, slo-mo shot of Wen Kexing looking precious and perfect, with delicate pink lips and dove-grey robes, as he checks out the rough trade in the gutter. Oh, the expectations this show is getting ready to smash. We cut from a shot of pristine precious WKX to ZZS holding up his hand, and we get a shot of the sun through ZZS’s fingers looking an awful lot like some shots of characters halo’d in light that we’ll get back to much much later in the show. Chengling appears out of nowhere to be Best Boy. A-Xiang is purple and smol and ready to brawl, and I already love her. I already love them all! So much! Here are my delicate and precious feelings, show, go ahead and stomp all over them!

#zhou zishu #prince jin #han ying #wen kexing #gu xiang #zhang chengling #word of honor #word of honor episode reax

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storyunrelated · 3 years

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NaNo 2020 - Conclusions

So I didn’t finish this year. Whatever. Any time I have quote-unquote ‘finished’ it’s been a steaming pile of shit anyway, so did I really lose anything? Did I? Really?

No, the answer is no.

But did I learn anything?

No, the answer is no. Again.

What ideas bloomed this month though? Ideas that might charitably described as having sprung from NaNo in some way, shape or form?

Everywhere Be Dragons

The original idea that I abandoned. Schlock, standard sci-fi. Lasers and shit. A retired man and his electronic friend who is presently in the robotic body of a bird go off to try and find out who injured his nephew. Turns out its some guy from some podunk evil space empire with a sword that can some summon chrome space dragons that can fly through space or some shit. Whatever. Garbage garbage garbage

Here’s a bit. The first lines, in fact:

Alarmingly naked, David Bellamy strode up to the largest of his windows and flung back the curtains to let what he hoped was the glorious sunshine of another sedate, mellow day flow in and bathe his more personal regions.

Being a man of leisure now he had the time available to do this sort of thing.

Awful.

Anyway, next.

And now for something completely different

Some admin schlub who works for a nebulous evil organisation ala SPECTRE is tasked with sourcing twenty-five red, plastic wallets by next week. It should be easy. It is not easy.

This was a very threadbare idea based on something I actually had to do, leading rather naturally to the thought “Wouldn’t this mind-numbing task be funnier if it was happening in an evil organisation?”. High-concept stuff.

Here’s a bit:

“Why am I doing this? This isn’t anything to do with me?”

“It’s nothing to do with me, either, but they passed it to me and I’m passing it to you. I’m higher up than you so now it has something to do with you. It is, in fact, now your problem.”

“What happened to Bill anyway?”

“Dead.”

“Dead?”

“Yeah, him and a bunch of others. Whole chunk of procurement, in fact. Super agents, last month.”

“What had procurement ever done to them?”

“I don’t think they were aiming for there specifically, they just got in the way. Think they were trying to hit the weather control department - they’re underneath them.”

“Oh yeah, yeah. Poor bastards.”

“Yes, well, now you’re here to carry on their fine work. Next week. Red. Sort it out.”

“But-”

“You’re a resourceful man, I’m sure you can manage.”

That’s literally all I did before I got bored.

Next!

Bad Wizards

I was reading about The Sword of Truth and I was reading about how Confessors worked in The Sword of Truth and it was this super-weird combination of an absolutely terrifying sounding power being the implications of which were ignored in a super-weird way.

Basically a whole class of women can ENSLAVED ANYONE THEY TOUCH FOREVER and this ability isn’t something they use it’s something they have to concentrate NOT TO USE and the purpose of this class of women is to...

...basically go around and brainwash/murder anyone they deem isn’t being honest and good. Oh, and they decide who’s honest and good. And there’s no question that they’re honest and good.

Oh and there’s no men with this power. Why? Because any male infants born with this power are murdered by their brainwashed loveslaves ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS.

Very odd. Very very odd. But easy fodder for villains, so I just thought “What about people being charged with coming up with ways of trying to fix this or go against it?”.

Then I did a bit where two guys are visiting a dead guy in a dead city. I don’t know why.

Much to his displeasure Percival was once again accompanying First to the city of Erhart, home to the court of Baldric the Everliving. Percival did not like the court of Baldric the Everliving. He didn’t much like Erhart, either.

He did not like the silence, the utter and complete silence. He did not like that, despite all of the citizens having died, there were no bodies anywhere, nor even a hint of violence or struggle to mark their passing.

(Not that heaps of corpses would have made him feel better, obviously, but knowing that they had died it was eerie not seeing so much as an upset teacup to indicate that this might have been the case. It just didn’t seem fair to them, somehow. Like they’d passed on without a fuss, without so much as a whimper.)

He did not like the way the empty windows seemed to stare at him. He did not like the way the streets were so dusty. A dirty street he might have been able to understand, but to have such a layer of dust, lying as thick as snow, untouched by the elements, undisturbed by any living footfall other than their own periodic visits - it just made him uncomfortable.

Everything about Erhart made him uncomfortable, frankly, from the mere thought of it, up through the physical reality of it all the way to the ruler of it, who he was going to have to go and talk to. Again. Nothing about this day was good for Percival.

BORING! NEXT!

Worse wizards

Uh, another idea, less related to anything else I was reading - I think? - but more, uh, what if there was a horrific ruling class of magical people who were for all intents and purposes utterly untouchable.

Can kill you soon as look as you, mess around with your brain and your body just for kicks, come back from death easy as anything and only get more powerful as the years go on. One of them has a huge tower held up solely by their willpower, whatever. They’re a horrible, immovable fixed point in society.

Then one day mechanisms and techniques start showing up that can kill them and ignore their powers. Just out of nowhere. And these methods are super-simple to do and also start to spread.

What happens?

Lame lame lame lame lame.

“Did all of you miss what I told you at the start? The nature of what was used to kill Dennis?”

Blank looks. They had listened, but they had promptly forgot. It hadn’t seemed important.

That it was important and that this should have been obvious had passed them by. John gritted his teeth and straightened up, reaching around to a nearby trolley and - carefully - picked up a kidney-shaped dish resting on it and bringing it around so they could all see its contents. In the dish rattled several small, dark, sharp bits of what sounded to be metal. These the wizards peered at.

“He was killed by something that not only ignored his magical protections and ignored them completely, might I add, but which also then drained his body of even the merest trace of magic and severed whatever connection there might have been between his mortal shell here and anything beyond the material. Did you listen that time? Would you like me to say it again? Would you like me to go slower?”

More blank looks, though some were starting to get less blank. Some were getting confused. Some were getting worried. They’d actually paid attention this time.

What was I THINKING?!

Indulgence

This was me just doing a re-write of one of my secret, shameful pieces of fanfiction, with the fanfiction elements removed. Because why not?

[REDACTED]

Nope, not even a little bit.

Stupid! Next!

N/A

Some random thing in first person about following some rambling lady across some bridges and getting some weird book I don’t fucking know.

Where did all this water come from, anyway? And where did it go? I could see the vast lakes below us, of course, stretching off as they did towards wherever these caverns terminated, but did those lakes drain anywhere? The flow of water from above never ceased, and yet the levels below never rose. What maintained this equilibrium? Or was the scale involved simply so great that no change could ever or would ever be observed?

I do wonder why I wonder about these things sometimes. The answers to these questions wouldn’t benefit me in any way.

Yet still I wonder.

Who ccaaaaaarrreeeessss? Next!

Delicious Godmeat

A long, long time ago in some faraway land in another universe or whatever there was some vague, vaguely benevolent overgod. They had of children and they looked after all the normal people and blah blah all was well.

One day those children decided to devour their parent and split up their power between them, so they could care out their own little demenses and rule things the way they thought they should. So that happened.

However, the biggest, juicest bit of godly meat went missing somehow, much to their chagrin. They looked and looked but they never found it. Because it fell through time and space in a way that’ll never be explained, and ended up here. And now, by accident, some random young lady touched it.

Whoops! You’ve got a chunk of a dead god stuck inside you now! Better go free the land of those rapaciously evil children, absorb their power and try to bring some goodness back to this land! Whatever that means! Figure it out! You’re basically a demigod now!

Have fun battling the alien feelings of a dead deity and an ever-increasing level of godlike power!

“Sooner or later you’re going to have to make a choice knowing that whatever choice it is you end up making it is going to make a lot of people very, very upset with you.”

“Can I just do nothing?”

“Sadly, no. Someone in your position chooses not to decide, that’s still making a choice.”

“Gah! I can’t win!”

CONCLUSIONS

Awful. Awful awful awful awful. They’re all awful. They’re all terribly. Sweet Jesus what a waste of time, every last one of these is a stinking, rancid turd now fouling my Google Docs with their stench. Awful awful awful.

Know what’s missing in all of these? Well, lots of things, but you know what crucial element hobbles each and every one of them from right out of the gate?

No fucking characters! Just a half-baked idea shoved out and left to die in the sun! No-one involved I give even the merest whiff of a shit about! Not a one! And no situation I care about either! None of these do anything for me! They leave me cold! And everyone in them leaves me colder! Frozen!

A setting isn’t worth shit if you’ve got no-one to do anything with it! Settings just sit there, inert, characters make it happen! Characters make the story! AND YOU’VE GOT NO CHARACTERS YOU WORTHLESS SHITHEAD! YOU’VE GOT NOTHING! JUST THE SAME WORDY BASTARDS OVER AND OVER AGAIN! JUST A THOUSAND COPIES OF YOU! I HATE ME! THAT’S USELESS!

I’m dead inside now!

Well, deader than I was before!

Awful! Awful awful! Eurgh!

Oh well! Same time next year!

#NaNo 2020 #NaNoWriMo #Amwriting #Writblr #Writeblr #Writing

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invertedeidolon · 4 years

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The Longest Library #5: The Crying Sisters by Mabel Seely

(This is a series in which I attempt to read and review all (or most of) my library of 297 books.)

Rundown: A librarian wishes for a little more excitement in her life and IMMEDIATELY regrets it. Goes to a resort with a stranger, hired to look after his kid. His kid is cute but he may or may not be a fucking literal murderer?? We don’t know!! 4/5, good suspense, great pacing, a steady read that won’t make you obsessively read for three days straight, but it will definitely overtake your lunch breaks.

This entry took me a little longer, not because it was a bad book, but because for roughly two or so weeks I got caught up in mental health shite and had to re-tweak my schedule YET AGAIN and force a half hour of reading in the mornings to make sure I actually had time to read. This book was wonderful.

I think this book marks the first actually good mystery I’ve ever read. Considering I never read mysteries, and the first one I read was catballs mcgee over here. There are some reviews that seem to be bothered by the authors occasional tendency to mention something and then go “I had no idea that would be so important at the time”. Personally, I loved it. It put me in a further state of suspense, and it had me attempting to put more things together. There’s not enough info to pin one person down, and the really obvious choice is a REALLY obvious choice, and the main heroine constantly agonizes over it, so you know the book wouldn’t do THAT, but still... what if? The very last resort my mind ended up going to in a lazy scooby doo kind of way ended up being right, but the intricacies of their place in the whole plot was still a surprise.

No, the super conservative prude witch lady had absolutely nothing to do with any of it, she was just unpleasant.

A really cool thing about this book, at least the copy that I have, is that it’s a reprint from 1944, during the war. There’s a little note in the front about book cloth shortage because of war-time rationing (you can see it in my instagram post here). So instead it was bound in a ‘sturdy paper fabric’ instead. That, plus the aging of the paper, give it a really smooth and airy feel, for a book. I love holding this thing.

Okay, onto quotes.

We already start off strong with the writer’s description of oppressive summer heat:

“In the afternoon I was a cooking waffle between two irons, the steely paving and the chromium sky; heat from below pressed up and heat from above pressed down until the juice oozed out of my bones and each eye was a separate furnace”

Hot damn that’s a HOT day.

“My imagination worked overtime a bit, but the last thing I would ever have thought was that that revolver would come into my possession”

There’s that hinting that people were talking about. But it wasn’t useless or meandering. This line appears on page seven and become EXTREMELY pertinent by the end of the story. I don’t mind hinting if it isn’t useless without giving too much away. We have no idea about the circumstances of how she gets the gun, but all we know is that she gets it, and that’s just a tiny bit exciting already. The author putting a little foreshadowing in front of us directly didn’t bother me because not only was it immediately relevant (usually within a chapter or so), but also relevant in an even more significant way by the end of the book.

“...if Cottie calls me mamma, then anyone who hears him will think I’m your wife.” “I won’t.” It was cold enough to douse me the rest of the way back to sanity. “I’m sorry, I’ve changed my mind. I‘m not going.” His answer came with the tired reasonableness of a construction boss rebuking a steel riveter who complains he is afraid of high places. “Aw, quit being a sissy pants.” Sissy pants! Before I could recover he had elbowed me aside, and was inside my car.”

What the FUCK. What a little shit! Holy fuck! This man makes me feel offended and incredulous like an amish spinster looking at capri pants! Like what the fuck!!!!

“I can see, now, how expertly he handled me, how exactly he conveyed the right amount of disinterest in me, how he goaded me into staying.”

This man is a fucking EXPERT at manipulating the heroine. Your own mind sort of starts to soften to him the further you read, because like the heroine, in the beginning there’s no reason to like or tolerate the man, but as you go on, it becomes a necessary evil if you want to figure out what the FUCK is going on. I also started to get just as curious as to who he really was and what business he had at the resort. (by the end of the book I came to understand it’s a lot like how Kain had to handle Raziel: You can’t reveal too much or you risk your plans going astray, but for fuck’s sake Kain, you could be way less of an ass about it, you know?)

“Whatever had been done in the resort tonight, for whatever reason a woman had screamed, he was staying. The cot creaked lengthily as he lay down. I tried, with an effect of pressing a lid down on a kettle that bubbled and boiled over, to suppress my expectant terror.”

Damn that’s a good description of that feeling. I used to get that way when I heard stuff at night and my (at the time) untreated, panic prone brain immediately went “IT’S A CRIMINAL, A MURDERER, A CRIMURDERER, YOU MOVE AND YOU DIE”

“Mrs. Clapshaw carried herself like a small dragoon and had a nose like a thin white claw. I thought she’d be the acid test. “A scream?” She repeated rapidly, reaching upward with the nose. “Mrs. Corbett, I’m so glad you heard it. It’s the Reds. I’ve told Mr. Loxton here. There are un-American activities going on at that Flaming Door. Nazis.” She bit at her decisive words as they went past her teeth.”

Oh my god. Thankfully we don’t really deal with this lady for long, but holy fuck. The heroine wisely doesn’t spend any more time with her on purpose.

“You can decide to treat me like a person or I leave. I don’t like being pushed over or taunted or overruled or spoken to contemptuously. I can leave here today. It’s my car.” “Sure. Why don’t you?” Why is it that being invited to make good on a threat makes you want to change your mind? As usual when I’m pushed over the edge of anger, I couldn’t find words, and stood sputtering.”

The thing about Steve (this asshole’s name is Steve) is that he doesn’t force her to stay. He makes it quite clear in his smug little way that she always had the choice to leave at literally any time, and many times gives her orders knowing full well she can very well disobey them (and she does at times). She has a gun. Why doesn’t she shoot him? Go to the sheriff? But just. God. The man is infuriating and uncomfortably manipulative, but when immersed in the book, it becomes something mildly amusing, although the real world implications and usage of this kind of manipulation are sobering. The curiosity overrode everything else.

“I didn’t know how difficult it was going to be to keep out of Mr. Sprung’s way, or for what a long section of the chain he was going to be responsible.”

Another hint. The heroine frequently refers to the thread of the mystery as a chain (i.e: Chain of events), and it’s used fairly frequently through the book, sometimes in creative ways. There’s a moment where she realizes she’s reached the point of no return, that she’s in too deep, and goes on to describe how she can feel the chain whipping around her and binding her.

“Something would come of this night business now. I had in an instant a hundred blinding expectations -- a shot through the door, harsh angry voices calling to open, Steve Corbett rushing to attack the source of the light, men tramping in to say he was caught. My internal arrangements drew out into a rope and then tied themselves into one tight knot as I sat there with all animation suspended.”

Night noises be like that though. Man, these descriptions of the heroine’s internal reactions to things have been excellent!

“I’d heard that thin, high tone before. I’d heard it walking along a country road with telephone wires over my head and a wind in the wires. It was eerie in the wires. It was deadly in the man’s voice.”

“The boy was the man’s son, and the man loved him almost with agony. Yet last night he had walked out of the cottage into some circumstance he thought might be so dangerous he might never come back.”

“Suddenly I was shaking again, clutching Steve Corbett’s arm. He wasn’t shaking, but the muscles hardened as my fingers grasped; it was like touching a sleeve holding a warm marble arm. Had this been the arm I fought against last night?”

“The eyes above me had the same blue-metal gleam as the revolver’s mouth.”

The author does a fantastic job of making Steve Corbett seem like a very threatening potential murderer, nearly everything around him is foggy, suspicious, and mildly threatening in it’s implications, and yet there’s never enough solid evidence to truly pin anything on him. Both myself and the heroine could only stand by and watch further with a distinct sense of unease as everything unfolded both too quickly and not quickly enough.

“If tampering with the truth was illegal, the sheriff was a bit unlawful himself. “She couldn’t see, it was black as pitch,” Niddie denied weakly. “So there was something to see!” Niddie wasn’t the stuff of Hoxie Moebbels; once the sheriff had an opening wedge he weakened quickly.”

I like the sheriff a lot.

“I had hardly heard her. The corner of my eye had caught the stubby white patent-leather sandals on her feet. Caught between the heel and the instep of one sandal was a dry scrap of plantain leaf.”

So, something that annoyed me a little bit in the last mystery, was that the glimpses of suspicion raising evidence sometimes didn’t mean anything. They’re were just like ‘ooooo, suspicious!!!! It MEANS something!!!’. Here the narrator (our heroine) seems way more credible, relatable, and the events preceding it turns this into a massive clue. AND it’s later actually relevant, and NOT evidence of the heroine being (understandably) paranoid!

“If ever there was an evil-eyed harridan, I thought, she was it. I wondered what had built the immense familiarity with the worst impulses of men, that lay in her eyes, the thickness of her slow, significant voice, the turn of her hands, the slide of her thick hips.”

Another good description of yet another extremely suspicious person.

“We called hello in return, Carol prinking and smiling.”

Autocorrect can’t tell me that’s not a word.

prink /priNGk/ verb spend time making minor adjustments to one's appearance; primp. "prinking themselves in front of the mirror"

Ah, so nowadays we would more readily recognize ‘primping’ as opposed to this one. Nice! I learned a new word!

“In a white rayon bathing suit her figure was as plushly luscious as an overstuffed pink satin davenport.”

So she’s cute chubby! Nice! I assume this is roughly the era or coming from a writer from an era that was just on the edge of where being ‘too skinny’ was a REALLY bad thing.

“Look, Janet.” It was the first time he’d used my name.”

213 pages in. What a piece of work.

“Wasn’t it too bad I couldn’t be placated by an ice-cream cone, I thought grimly, as I went to obey orders.”

Me too, Janet. Me too.

“This was the sheriff to whom I held with the emotion portrayed by the girl in the old oleograph of the storm swept cross.”

If anybody knows what painting this is, that would be fantastic. I can only barely imagine it based on context, but that’s about it.

The quotes and the commentary are more sparse here at the end because I don’t want to give too much away.

This was a book that I genuinely enjoyed, and I could easily recommend it for some casual but still absorbing reading. They still print this book in paperback now, so it shouldn’t be too hard to find, it’s just me that has the old as balls copy.

Good shit!

#thelongestlibrary #book review #mabel seely #the crying sisters #mysterynovel #origin1 #wri1

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myownpersonaldemons · 5 years

Text

Self-Tober Prompt 15

Prompt: Soul

Gaster/Reader

Short n’sweet *chefs kiss*

Souls.

Turns out they weren’t just a figurative thing as so many had thought, but an actual thing that was cumulative of your entire being. It was rare that any human ever saw theirs, but it was becoming less so. You, for one, had seen your SOUL. Hard not to when your husband was a monster who was fascinated by human SOULs. Of course, he never experimented on your SOUL nor did he ever ask to do so. He got all the funding at the University to research all about SOULs and everything else he wanted to do.

After all, it was hard to refuse funding to the world’s greatest mind…and possibly oldest mind.

That still hit you sometimes, that you were literally married to basically an ancient eldritch monster. A monster that many of your old teammates at the University had been afraid of at first.

Windings Gaster was pulled from the Void by Sans and your team at the university. It had been a big shock that it had actually worked, and a few of the teammates had fled the room in fright even though no monster had ever shown violent tendencies. Then again…when Gaster had first left the Void, he was not all pulled together. There was black goo that seeped from his bones and laid over his form as if a cloak, he had a painful grimace that was almost a smile on his face, and he…almost melted at the feeling of gravity.

Well, he had, just kind of slowly shrank into the ground and the goo spread.

It took him a while to be able to shake off the goo, stand straight, and have a different expression other than pain on his face. Each step of the way Sans and you had helped him through it with all the research that had been done on SOULs. His SOUL was fragmented still but you could see evidence in small wisps of magic attempting to rebind his SOUL back together.

Sans took him to re-meet Papyrus, and the moment he came back and Sans showed you Gaster’s SOUL readings, you knew that Gaster would make a full recovery. No matter how many years it would take him.

It actually came as a surprise to you how quickly Gaster recovered once he moved in with Papyrus and Sans. A weekend had past and the next Monday as you were sipping coffee and going over your notes to refresh your mind, he walked into the lab with Sans…in a suit! You were floored by the change in the skeleton as well. He no longer was the short, goopy skeleton who seemed to melt slightly if you smiled at him too warmly, as if it heated up the black goo.

He was incredibly tall compared to you, thin too. It made you start to wonder why Sans was so short instead of wondering why Papyrus was so tall compared to their father. The face that was cracked and splintered from various points in his life now freely smiled, frowned, scowled, or smirked during conversations.

Gaster spoke in hands, and not the typical sign language that you were used to seeing. His voice was silent but still seemed to permeate through your skull in an eerie way but he could not read your thoughts.

You remembered the first time he had flirted with you, it was so bad that you hadn’t even realized that he was. Not…that you normally realized people were flirting with you, but you extra didn’t notice. Actually, you had been focused on your work so you had just kinda hummed in response and then started talking to Sans about your findings.

The first time you had flirted back, he somehow seemed to melt again. You had freaked out thinking that his SOUL had reverted but he had said, “no, my dear, the void is a part of me forever. I simply learned to control it.”

My dear.

First time he called you that but never the last.

After a while it felt like you were the one to begin melting whenever he complimented you or said something stupidly sweet. He encouraged your own research projects, and never made you feel like an idiot if he knew something you didn’t. It was always a conversation or debate with him, and he never talked down to you, which was a nice change of pace from some of your coworkers.

It wasn’t even either of you to ask the other out. Papyrus had invited you over to their place for dinner and then he and Sans mysteriously had to go and do something VERY important, immediately, and no neither of you could help. Though, he was not very subtle about attempting to get you two to treat the dinner as a date. Considering that the dining room was lit with candles, and there were rose petals everywhere.

You and Gaster had taken it in stride, joking about it, but by the end of the night both of you were treating it like it was a date. He even walked you to your car and kissed your freaking hand like the gentleman he was.

You had blushed, stammered, gotten into your car and let out a happy squeal. Which he could hear, and gently teased you about it the next time you saw him.

Gaster had proposed to you after you had successfully gotten funding by yourself for a project. That hadn’t happened before, and you had been over the moon with excitement…until you realized that it was indeed a project that you were heading and you’d either succeed or you’d fail…and if you failed you just wasted University money and it was a whole thing including tears and worrying that you should’ve waited a few more years until you had done more research and that maybe you would never be able to lead a team, as well as Sans or Gaster, were able to.

He had merely listened to your rant, giving gentle encouragement or disapproval to your negative statements before sitting you down and telling you, “Your worries are unfounded, but I will not discredit your feelings as they are a part of who you are. However, you are also intelligent and enthusiastic, and your work reflects that tremendously. You have been wanting this for longer than I have known you, and you will lead your team amazingly. Plus, I have already calculated your chances of successfully completing this project and the odds are incredibly in your favour.”

You gave him a look, “would you tell me if the odds weren’t in my favour?”

He looked at you for a long moment, head tilted ever so slightly, before he nodded. “Yes, but I would have told you before and said that my calculations are based upon hypotheticals as I cannot predict the future.”

“But because they’re in my favour, you can predict the future?” you teased, and he smirked.

“Of course, I am very brilliant after all,” he squeezed your hands, “and so is my datemate.”

You had leaned forward and smooched his cheekbone.

“Though…there is one question that I am still attempting to solve, if you could help me?” he said, gesturing towards his study. You frowned slightly but nodded. That was strange for him to ask someone to help him solve something, normally he’d just sit and ponder forever over one question. Not that he didn’t trust others brains, but he was just the kind of person who preferred to stretch his own mind to the limit. If he didn’t get the question, you weren’t sure if you’d be able to.

But! There was always the chance that he’d been studying it for too long and was merely missing a step or two.

So, you followed him in.

You studied the chalkboard before glancing over at him, “okay? Uh…why don’t you get this?”

“I need a second opinion,” he said simply, gesturing to the chalkboard.

You gave him a look, this was easy shit…but you solved it anyways for him…

“Okay??” you said stepping back and looking over at him, “Dings you okay?”

He gave you a whithered look at the nickname, but he then double-checked the problem quickly and then gave a fake surprised gasp. “Oh! No! Sorry, my dear, this was the wrong side.”

“Okay, seriously. You never make mistakes like this, are you okay???” you had asked, becoming concerned.

He ushered you back a step before flipping the blackboard around.

“This is the question I need help with,” he gestured towards the blackboard.

Will You Marry Me?

Your heart jumped into your throat, and you remember distinctly calling him the biggest fucking dork you’d ever met before you threw yourself at your datemate turned fiancé.

The next day, Sans had approached you during work and had chuckled and said, “ya know, i asked you to help restore his SOUL, not fall for it.”

#gaster/reader #fanfiction #fanfic #myfanfics #my fanfics #undertale fanfiction #selftober #self insert #reader insert

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winchester-ofthe-lord · 5 years

Text

Classic Winchester Adventures - Chapter 6

Square Filled: Motel

Rating: gen

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: Sam and Dean have to find out what’s going on in the “Haunted Motel” they discovered in chapter 2

read on ao3 read from the beginning

A/N: hiya guys, this is chapter 6 for @spnclassicbingo ’s challenge. MASSIVE thanks to @thefandomforme for helping me with this <3 Stay tuned for the next chapters :)

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A couple of days later, the Impala - now (un)fortunately back to black - rolls off of the highway, and onto the narrow forest road leading toward the “Haunted Motel” Dean is already very keen on entering. The building is only a few minutes outside of town, but for whatever reason about half a mile into the woods, accessible only via a bumpy track that doesn’t really benefit Baby’s suspension.

“Who the hell came up with the stupid idea of building a motel here?” Dean complains, wincing when one of Baby’s tires hits a pothole, rattling both the car and the two brothers like children in a washing machine. Dean sighs internally, externally, and most of all, eternally, as he tenderly strokes over his steering wheel, muttering plaintive apologies under his breath.

They reach the parking lot, or rather the slightly more flattened area in front of the bedraggled building, and let their eyes roam the shabby house facade that seems to be crumbling away right before them, the abandoned, rusty-looking swing hanging from the tree in the ‘front yard’, the wall of trees surrounding the parcel of land and the road, and a decayed sign that says ‘Welcome to Coal Creek Motel - Enjoy your stay’. Homey.

Today is the eleventh, meaning that they’ve got two and a half days left to find out what exactly they’re even hunting here, why it’s killing people, and how to annihilate it. Easy as pie.

“Why is it always Friday the thirteenth, anyway?” Sam asks as he opens the Impala’s trunk to grab his and Dean’s guns and knives - they decided to scan the area first, then the, at this time of the day hopefully empty, building, before they’d interrogate the owners and possible previous victims. “I mean, why not… I don’t know, why not Thursday the 25th or something?”

Dean takes the proffered weapons from his brother, shaking his head with a soft huff, “Hell, if I knew.” He tucks the gun into the back of his jeans, the knife into the sheath at his ankle, and locks the car. Checking his flip phone for the time, he also sees his most favorite notification: no service. Awesome. “Okay, Sammy, cell reception is shit out here, so we gotta make sure we’re both back at the car in about-” he checks the time again, because he sometimes has the attention span of a goldfish- “one hour and fifty minutes, before the owners open the motel for the nightly tour. You copy?”

“Yes, sir!” Sam scoffs, grinning smugly while he salutes to his brother.

______________________________

Neither of them found anything on their search around the property. No weird symbols, no dead bodies, no creepy altars, no traces of blood, nothing. Which leaves only the house itself to examine.

The brothers accompany a group of seven other people on the tour through the motel. Their guide is a grumpy old man with an unkempt beard, and a generally unkempt outer appearance. But he answers most of the questions some of the overly excited visitors ask him, so he’s at least doing his job.

Unfortunately, even though the tour includes the entire building, nothing Dean and Sam didn’t already know is brought to light. Except for maybe the horrifyingly poorly done getup of the whole “Haunted Motel”. Including faux skeletons and cobwebs (although, looking at the overall condition of the house, the latter ones might actually be real), fake blood stains on the walls and floorboards, eerie paintings and soiled mirrors in the most random places, and a bunch of other stuff that doesn’t bring the Winchesters closer to solving the case.

They let themselves fall behind the group for a moment to share their thoughts, but none of them noticed anything off, or even slightly suspicious, so they decide to come back in the early morning to sift through the house on their own, without that creepy old dude watching their every step.

______________________________

“Hey, Dean,” Sam yells from somewhere on the first floor while Dean lets the yellowish beam of his flashlight wander across the walls in the hallway on the second floor. “I think I found something, get your stupid ass down here.”

It takes him almost two minutes to find his way back through the maze structured building until he finds Sam standing right in front of the front door, illuminating the ugly rug splayed on the floor. More precisely, the rug is rolled to the side, revealing dark wood planks underneath it. There’s a faint outline of a symbol...or a sigil maybe? drawn in dark gray paint (it probably used to be black, but over the years it must’ve faded) onto the floor, looking like a big ‘T’ with some sort of swirl above the upper horizontal line, and another swirl on the right next to the vertical line. “A tulpa?” Dean asks, squinting into the blinding beam of his brother’s flashlight pointed at his face.

“Sure looks like it.” The blinding light lowers toward the floor again.

Awesome. Just. Awesome. Tulpa means they can’t kill anything, and have to convince possibly hundreds of people, if not more, that there’s nothing going on here. Easy. As. Pie.

Which also means that they can’t do anything at the moment.

“Let’s get back to our motel and get some shut-eye. I’m so fucking tired, man,” Dean says and kicks at the rug, causing it to roll unceremoniously back over the painted planks. He opens the door and waits for Sam to walk past him before he follows suit.

______________________________

After sleeping until late morning - they came back from their self-guided, private motel tour around 4:30 am after all - they spend several hours reading stories about people’s experiences in the “Haunted Motel”.

“Holy shit,” Sam curses at his laptop sitting on the desk in front of him, “there’s someone who ran away from about 500 giant tarantulas that were scattered across the entire house.” He taps viciously on the touchpad of his laptop to scroll to the next entry. “And then there was a guy who said he, quote, ‘was torn apart by giant cockroaches with wolf heads’. Damn, that shit sounds terrible.”

These stories go on for quite a while, and Dean isn’t so sure if they’re really dealing with a tulpa in this building, or if they’re entirely on the wrong track here. “Isn’t a tulpa like, a bunch of people believing in the same shit?”

Sam nods his affirmation. “Yeah, a tulpa is created when many people are concentrating on the same thing while looking at the Tibetan Spirit Sigil we saw on the floor in front of the door. Once created, the tulpa takes on a life of its own and doesn’t need people to believe in it anymore. But Dean, I’m not that sure anymore if it’s really a tulpa going nuts in that motel.”

“Yep, just my thought,” Dean says, leaning forward to scrub his hands over his face. “I mean, first off, the sigil is under that ugly ass rug, so people aren’t really likely to see it, right? And every single person is seeing something different? Shouldn’t most people at least see the same thing? That doesn’t make any sense.” Heaving an exasperated sigh, he sinks back into his chair, closing his eyes, trying to sort through the given information.

Sam shuts his laptop with a soft click, and sighs almost as loud as Dean did mere seconds ago. “I don’t know, man. But I think you’re right.” He sighs once more, running a hand through his girly hair. “But if it’s not a tulpa, what else could it be? We only have like, one more day to find out what it is and how we can kill it, Dean.”

His brother is right. And this year, Friday the 13th only happens twice, so they have to kill whatever it is now, or they won’t get another chance for a rather long time.

______________________________

“No no no no no no no. Fuck. No. Nope. Nu-uh. Big. Fucking. HELL NO,” Dean repeats over and over again, a little under his, but mostly out of breath, as he’s running down the hallway on the second floor of the motel. Why he’s running? Oh, just the blonde woman in a white nightdress, looking suspiciously similar to his mom, chasing after him while screaming bloody murder.

Oh. And she’s on fire. Literally.

All of a sudden, she appears right in front of him, causing Dean to come to an abrupt halt, almost face planting into the wall to his right in his attempt to change the direction of his stampede.

“Where are you going, Dean?” his not-mother asks in a malicious snarl. “Don’t you love your mommy?”

Dean jerks his head around to look for another escape. “Not real,” he mumbles under his breath. “Not real, not real, not real, not real.”

The blonde, burning woman reappears right in front of Dean once again as he tries to make his way downstairs where he suspects his brother. Just that now he watches his mother’s face slowly melting off her bones, revealing charred flesh that starts to turn into a new shape.

It’s black and gooey for a few seconds, but little by little, the charred shape merges into a new face.

“Dean, why on earth is my car pink? What have you done?!” the slightly contorted replica of his father asks in an accusing tone. What the fuck, John isn’t even dead. This fucking tulpa is obviously on crack. Besides, the car was pink. It’s black again. Thankyouverymuch.

“SAAAAAAAAAAAAAAM,” Dean shrieks into the hallway.

Mary-John-now-flaming-Vampire-Hellhound dissolves into thin air, only to re-materialize behind Dean, growling threateningly at him, and drooling hissing acid on the creaking floorboards. Where the fucking hell is his idiot brother?

The day before, while Sam was busy doing research on the origin story of the tulpa, Dean was equally busy chatting with Nancy the witch via text messages on his flip phone. She may have mutilated his car for a day, but she was also pretty darn hot, and Dean’s never been one to miss out on an opportunity to do some horizontal tango. During all his, what could easily be called, sexting, he pretty much blanked out the Samsquatch and his findings, so Dean doesn’t actually have any idea what’s really going on in that “Haunted Motel” after all.

He vaguely remembers Sam telling him something about Harry Potter fans staying at the motel in 2000, the year after The Prisoner of Azkaban was published, and something about Boggarts. Dean thinks that Sam mentioned the fans “summoning” the Tulpa-Boggart more or less by accident, when they talked about how interesting and frightening the idea of the physical manifestation of one’s worst nightmares would be - while standing right over the giant tulpa sigil in the entrance area.

There was also a good reason why it’s always Friday the 13th, maybe it was because one of the fans was thinking about Jason with his ugly hockey mask. But maybe Dean got that wrong. He wasn’t really paying that much attention, to be honest.

Sam seemed to know and have a plan, so that was enough for the older Winchester.

This plan included an attempt at “exorcising” the Tulpa-Boggart by performing some kind of spiritual cleansing Sam found in one of his books. Or on the internet? Whatever. The important thing is that he did have a plan including the destruction of… something. They’d hoped that by destroying this something, the Boggart would vanish.

It did not.

“Dean?”

Breathing a relieved sigh at the sight of his brother ascending the stairs from the first floor, Dean takes a step toward him. “Took you long enough, asshat. We really need to get outta here. This thing is driving me ins- WHAT THE HELL?!” His relief quickly fades away into nothingness when his brother’s head, rather unexpectedly, bursts into a thousand pieces, painting the walls around the staircase in blood splatters.

Worst fucking nightmare.

Dean scrubs viciously at his eyes, trying to scratch the disturbing image from his retinas, while stumbling forward, and rushing down the stairs. Please let Sam be here somewhere.

“Sammy?” Dean tries carefully, peeking around the corner and into the room where he hopes to find his brother.

Two strong hands clasp at the lapels of his jacket and press him against the wall. “Dean? Please tell me it’s you.”

“‘Course it’s me, you dipshit,” Dean grunts into his brothers face, squirming slightly in his attempt to free himself from the persistent grip. “Now get your giant Sasquatch hands off of me. We need to get the fuck out of here.”

Finally, Sam lets go of Dean’s jacket with a nod, takes a step back from Dean, and briefly skims the room with an unnerved expression. It’s been quite a long time since Dean’s seen his brother that panicked. If it wasn’t for fear of his own life, he actually might find it hilarious.

“What does it look like for you?” Dean asks as he leans around another corner to make sure the entrance area is empty, holding his fist up as a sign for Sam to stay behind.

He hears a grumbled, defeated sigh before Sam answers, “Clowns. Yours?”

“Mom.” This time it’s Dean who exhales a shaky sigh. Only a couple more steps until they reach the front door. “And then Dad lecturing me on defiling his car with the pink velvet shit.”

Sam stops next to him, furrowing his brows in a judgemental expression. “Really Dean, that’s your worst nightmare?” Dean’s eye-roll is basically a full body move. He yanks at the door handle, and says, “Well, now it certainly is.”

They step out onto the front porch, down the stairs and toward the Impala where they take a couple of minutes to catch their breath, and process their respective nightmares. Leaning against the side of the car in the middle of the night in front of an eerie building somewhere in the woods is definitely not one of Dean’s favorite things to do.

“What the hell are we supposed to do now, huh?” Dean pinches the bridge of his nose for the hundredth time tonight before refocusing on his brother. “I mean, technically, there’s not really much we can do. We can’t kill it. We can’t stop people from coming to this fucking motel. We can’t find these damn Harry Potter fans and make them, I dunno, unthink the Boggart out of existence. We can’t do shit, man.”

For once, his smart-alecky brother doesn’t have a witty remark. All he manages to do is a somewhat forlorn shrug, letting his arms go limp by his sides, exhaling wearily.

“Okay, then,” Dean says and pushes himself away from the car, swatting his thighs once, “let’s burn that shit down.”

“What? No, we can’t do that, Dean!”

“Why not?”

“Uhm, because it’s wrong? And what if they just rebuild it?”

Dean rolls his eyes again. “Then we’ll come back and burn that down, too.”

There’s a minute of pregnant silence until Sam speaks again. “You know what? You’re right. Let’s burn it down. The building’s empty now, so at least nobody will get hurt. And it’s not like they’re making a fortune with that shit house anyway.”

So they do exactly that. They each take a gas can from the Impala’s trunk, and spread the highly flammable content around and inside the house, soaking the already rotting wood of the first floor and the porch - neither of them dares to go upstairs in fear of another nightmarish encounter, but well, if the first floor burns down, so will the rest of the house, right?

While Dean is already back at the car, getting it ready to head off by driving it toward the narrow path leading back to the highway, Sam spreads a trail of gasoline from the front door of the motel down the stairs of the porch and several yards away from the building, until he’s next to the car.

“Would you do the honors?” Sam asks his brother, holding out his favorite Zippo with a knowing smirk. As much as the two of them enjoy solving cases, actually killing the monsters they’re hunting, and leaving haunted places...not haunted anymore - it’s also fucking amazing to destroy things. Besides, watching a house burn down does have something oddly meditative.

And the truth is, not everything can be saved.

__________________________________________

taglist: @leatherandapplepies @demoninflannel @cross-roads-blues@thefandomforme @tiernayne

(please let me know if you wanna get added to/deleted from this list)

#crack fic #spn fic #sam and dean winchester #supernatural fanfiction #my fic

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merlinthoughts · 5 years

Text

Season 1 Episode 2 - Valiant

- ik for a fact that this one is the episode with the asshhoole. not bc i recognised it from the title but perhaps it was because i recognised it from the title u got me there

- i always go to mr clean too when i want protection, val, ur not alone

- yeah, this is harry potter l ma o

- the next thing u know theres a stone that makes arthur live forever and the snakes start joining into one and growing bigger until a phoenix (im dibbing on kilgie here), pops their corneas out

- DAMN DON'T KILL UR DEALER WHERE U GONNA GET THE NEW SHIT FROM NEXT TIME SMH VALIANT

- okay but who names their son valiant

- he was probably named valerie and didnt like it so he said “woah imma be valiant like courage, thats sick”

- that was probably his superhero persona as a child ngl

- no, shev, no respect for val stop doing this

- merlin in armour, what a fucking bLESiSNG GIVING ME THIS RIGHT ON THE SPOT BBC KNOWS WHATS GOOD

- ok a y but hear me out, merlins a servant. i have not seen any of these servants been asked to train with the royals??? like in the sense where it helps the servant train as well?? and the FIRST thing arthur does with merlin as his servant is train with him. not only is arthur a huge JOCK, he’s not using his manservant properly

- neverfuckingmind “most servants collapse after the first blow”, so it seems to be arthur likes to train with his servants. now that in itself is a question to be asked, but is he the only royal who trains with his servants??? how did this man survive on his own without a personal servant until merlin??? did he have a personal servant??? was it just regular servants?? who are those other servants he trained with??? did arthur just say hey lets go to the field in the morning, put on armour and let’s have a fun time?? UNLESS merlin literally just took someones job away from them kmao

- also my mind went right to the gutter guys, ngl, it sounded like an innuendo. it had me quaking i wish i was one of those servants

- “we all have our duties, even arthur” “it must be so tough for him, all the *hesitates* girl, all the glory”

- so we probably get at least 1 out of every 2 episodes where there’s a scene with merlin dressing arthur in his armour. bring the popcorn, lads.

- MORGANA LOOKING LIKE A FRICKEN SNACK

- the reigning champion is arthur, wonder fucking w h y

- valiant is in fucking mustard, while arthur is fucking ketchup idk why i thought of that but it happened. my literature teacher always told me to look for symbolisms. guess we found one guys.

- merlin after hating on arthur for the past episode is literally just cheering arthur on like a good husband he is

- did ARTHUR JUST SNICKER AT MERLINS “CREEP” LMAO DON'T TRY AND HIDE IT BY HUFFING AT HIM AFTERWARDS YOU FUCKING GOOF

- omg he hid it by telling merlin to do a full novel of chores

- AND MERLIN DOES IT WITH MAGIC A PAIR OF GOOFS

- “are you using magic again” “no” merlin ffs he just saw you use magic, while the items fell and landed right in front of him while you didn’t move at aLL. they are nOT BLIND

- “very aggressive style” I MEAN SURE UTHER

- valerie be fuckboying morgana lmao with a “i saw you watching” and a, “then i will give everything to win the tournament”

- i wish this show was set in the early 2000s so i can see val in low sweatpants, a backwards cap with gelled spiky hair and cheap neon sunglasses (maybe even some gold teeth just for kicks), while hes trying to rap 50 cents or make a mixtape of brit pop songs. bc yes.

- honestly im loving my 2000 fuckboy au. gonna make an ao3 after this.

- of course merlin would be the one to find out the magic shit in valiants room, it just lures him. AND OF COURSE VALIANT IS THERE

- i'm so fucking glad arthur looks confused as to how merlin did what he asked. when u have this kind of hubby, arthur, its amazing what things he can do.

- i dont know why theres dramatic music as merlin put armour on arthur but im living for it

- “is it my imagination or are you beginning to enjoy yourself?” merlin doesn't know what to say to that bc he’s turning gay and doesn't know if that counts as enjoying oneself when the one you are gay for is the asshole prince

- typically enough, valiant and arthur never fight except for the finale. like with all conveniences in place, youd expect them to have at least fought at some point with as much knights as there to determine the final two but no, just the finale. k.

- this poor fucking purple knighted bloke didn’t need to be fucking demonstrated on, val. like you didn't need to kill him?? that could have blown ur cover

- DID NOBODY SEE THAT??? DID NOBODY SEE THE FUCKING SNAKES???

- oooh merlin found out what happened everyone gonna be fucked. nobody harms arthur is he has something to say about it

- if someone starts off a sentence with “i just saw someones snakes on their shield come alive” nobody would fucking believe you, merls. but given the fact that magic exist… mhh maybe it wouldn’t be too absurd. but ppl apparently are thick as hell

- “why were you in his chambers” well i know how id explain if i was in valiants chambers ;)

- jk i dont fall for this toxic shit

- imagine getting paid as an actor just just lie down there like this poisoned kid. “yeah, id like to audition for ewan’s role???” “why are you lying on the ground?”

- i hate those tropes where it's like “i know how to tell someones bad, here’s proof” and then nobody believes you and tells you you’re lying and should die or whatever but then you kNOW IT'S THE FUCKIN TRUTH BITCH that trope gives me damn anxiety >:((

- yes merlin, fucking slash the shield with your sword. i'm sure that's how it works. im sure it will kill the snakes.

- HOWA RE THE SNAKES ALIVE WITHOUT VAL SAYING “ISHNAHASHAHI”

- i think val would know that you cut off the snake’s head, merls, just saying. ur were the oNLY ONE.

- TELL ARTHUR WHAT??? “I CUT A SNAKE”

- EXACLTY ONG THAT'S WHAT MERLIN FUCKING SAID I WAS RIGHT LMAO

- ARTHUR BELEIVED HIM I'M FUCKING LIVING BUT IK WHAT HAPPENS AND AHH

- uhhh the anxiety is rolling up boys

- ewan is mcfuckingdead

- snake be sliding in like a hoe on a business

- bfehfjdjfskf i hate this part

- arthur's pride, merlin’s pride, fuck me

- i'm not even gonna write this part, it breaks my fragile heart when arthur sees the look of people not believing him, especially his dad, and merlin seeing how arthur doesn't trust him anymore like prepare the eulogies girlies

- okay but if arthur is struck and gaius has the antidote?? arthur aint gonna die technically

- but now val knows merlin knows

- AND MERLIN INTERVENES

- why are royals so bitchy towards servants. like they do their best to help you??? they are loyal to you and are paid there to serve you and are often very kind, generous, passive, understanding people??? yet merlin interrupts uther and he fucking sends him to the pit

- VAL YOU ASS LMAO DON'T HURT MY SON’S PRIDE

- he said allegations like four times, yes uther we know ur vocab is shining with intellect but seriously, there’s other synonyms that could still be acceptable and still sound fancy

- quick search on google bc my mind doesnt roll fast enough: claim, assertion, charge, accusation, declaration, statement, contention, deposition, argument, affirmation. see daddy uther, not hard to look up.

- forget they didnt have internet whoopsies

- :((( arthur doesn't trust merlin anymore

- the husbands FIGHT

- not just a banter petty fight, this is a huge fight

- SACKING MERLIN DON'T FUCKING SACK MERLIN YOU GOOF

- TRUST UR HUBBY

- FUCK

- I'M GONNA CRY AND IT'S ONLY EPISODE TWO

- I'M HAVING EMOTIONAL PROBLEMS CONCERNING MY TWO BOYS

- GUYS IM NOT OKAy

- its been 2 minutes after i wrote that last sentence, and i am now okay

- “a half cannot truly hate that which makes it whole” iconic as hell. so many things could be said about that quote. either for innuendo purposes, love purposes, destiny purposes, how long it took me to say it right, just so many purposes man. it’s just iconic.

- merlin looks absolutely done with kilgaharama’s shit

- “just give me a straight answer” seems like kilgarass here is being too gay for merlin

- gwen already knows merlin’s the heroin of the series, saying everyone knows it's merlin who will save the day. but same tbh

- i dunno if this is like me or not but it says her nickname is gwyn in the subtitles but im typing it as gwen which i thought was how u wrote it, even if her full name is gwynevere but like gwen has a ring to it while gwyn sounds like gwin or smth and i dunno which one is right so ill just leave it alone ahjsjfk

- MORGANA HAS VISIONS WE ALREADY KNOW WHERE THIS GOES SHES MAGIC ISNT SHE HAHAHAHAUHD

- merlin trying one last time to convince his husband not to die, but at least this time arthur knows he’s up for val’s magic and is like “k iloveyou but i have to do this for the country not just bc of pride and thinking val is not magic”

- staring into the fire like he’s hoping it would suck him up into the void, not only is merlin a now confirmed emo, so is fucking arthur it seems. perfect for one another i'm telling you

- eerie music as morgana enters… wha suddenly i can't read

- i thought at first morgana and arthur were gonna end up together cause of the fucking weird tension going on and i was prepared to be disfuckinggusted but no! the show and producers actually put my expectations away and helped me see that it wasn’t going in that direction! thank fucking god!

- k but arthur looks majestic in his gear im just a huge bi

- “don’t go into my room” he says then gaius peaks in and almost gets mauled by a large chihuahua

- me too val, id step on someone's toes then fuck them up with an undercut. thats the bad bitch way to go. unless it for arthur, then val hahaha you can go fuck yourself

- no one sees mErLin??

- but they now see the snakes smh fakes

- “what are you doing? i didn't summon you” i don't think that will work val cause you didn't say it with a serpent tongue, it has to sound more like “shhashhwhat ahhssare hiisssyou iisshhaadoing?”

- okay but i thought arthur was impaled for a half second until he started to talk then i screamed that he was aight and he would now believe merlin

- uther better give merlin an apology

- arthur just said he wouldnt

- but still uther BETTER APOLOGISE TO FUCKING MERLIN

- “yknow i wish valiant was escorting me” “me too” i thought for a fricken moment arthur wished valiant would have escorted HIM. i'm dying.OMG

- “i wanted to say i made a mistake. it was unfair to sack you.” “don’t worry about it. buy me a drink and we’ll call it even.” DID YOU JUST SAY WHAT I THINK YOU JUST SAID MERLIN YOU SLY DOG OMG

- “i can’t really be seen to be buying drinks for my servant.” so if he wasn’t ur servant?? you’d say yes?? they are so fucking gay i can't anymore

- yeah, i literally fucking can't

#merlin #merlin bbc #merthur #s1 #this is early bc well it was already written #peeps up for the next one boys #tho its not done #expect it in a few days oop #s1.2

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biavenger · 7 years

Text

A Case of You;

Summary: There was always an age gap between Y/N and Tony, which was the only reason he never confessed his true feelings for her. But after a near death experience when Y/N sacrifices herself for him, Tony decides to open up; helping her through rehab and recovery, they grow closer.

A/N: I would put Y/N’s age around 23-25. I hope everyone likes this! Please like/reblog/follow, because I’m looking for some more Marvel-related blogs to follow. Thanks for reading xx

“Got a few Hydra guys headed towards you from your right, Y/N!” Sam called into the comm, causing Y/N to swing around in response. She took on a defensive stance, ready to take them out when they were suddenly blasted away by Iron Man.

She rolled her eyes, internally cursing Tony Stark for a second while she got back to work. “You don’t have to babysit me, you know,” Y/N said as she jogged along, heading towards their target: an old, recently abandoned munitions factory that was adapted to be a Hydra hideout. This particular location was flagged specifically for the Avengers to destroy, since SHIELD intelligence reported the possible development of new Winter Soldiers. That’s why they were down a man this week, too. Steve made the call for Bucky Barnes to sit out this mission (which led to a series of destroyed computers and a broken table, none of which particularly bothered Tony).

Because of this handicap, Y/N and the others were forced to be everywhere at once. Sam’s reconnaissance drone buzzed about, gathering information to warn them about upcoming enemies. Y/N was literally all over the place, teleporting from one area to another, depending on where the fighting was the heaviest. The Avengers crew spent almost as much time dodging Steve’s shield as they did fighting.

“Thank you works, too,” Tony simply responded, flying alongside her as they neared the building. “Almost there, ladies and gentlemen. Everything outside clear?” Tony asked everyone.

“Clear.”

“Clear here, too.”

“Clear. Let’s just get this over with,” Clint responded impatiently, “I’m cooking for the wife tonight.”

Y/N made eye contact with Steve, who nodded in acknowledgement, before busting down the door to the surprisingly unfortified building. Perhaps they thought their biggest defense was the secrecy of the place? “I have an odd feeling about this,” Y/N said nervously into the comm system, “Why isn’t it more heavily protected?”

No one else said anything, however, as they finally entered. The entire area was dead silent as each member of the team carefully stepped across the concrete floor, looking for anyone who was waiting to attack. “Tony, Y/N, Clint-go right,” Steve commanded quietly into the comm system, “Wanda, Natasha, Sam, and I will go left.”

While Tony and Clint walked as quietly forward as they could, Y/N teleported ahead to clear the area.

“Everything seems okay out here,” Y/N reported at a normal volume, seeing as there was apparently no one to give away their location to.

“Same here,” Natasha said, sounding as suspicious as the other girl was. When Tony and Clint finally caught up, they joined her in searching the area. “We’ll be heading your way in a minute after we shake this area down.”

The girl noticed Tony, having just taken off the suit for better mobility, hunched over something in the corner. “Tony, What is that?” Almost as soon as she asked, though, she knew it was a bomb. “Don’t come over here!” Y/N yelled hoarsely into the comm, so loudly it made Clint jump and pull his earpiece out, “There’s a bomb-I repeat, there’s a bomb.”

“Y/N, you three need to clear out, too. Do you need help? Is anyone injured?” Steve assumed his stern Captain voice.

“We’re fine,” Tony answered for her, “But there’s only a minute left on this timer, and I’m sure it’ll set off a whole chain reaction of explosions, so you need to get out.” Then, he stood up and turned to Clint and Y/N, who both stood behind him with worried faces, “You two need to clear out in case I can’t disable this bomb.”

“I’m not leaving you here, Tony,” Y/N whined, “But Clint, you should go...just in case.” Clint started to open his mouth in protest, but decided against it to avoid wasting any more time.

He nodded in goodbye to them before jogging out, and after he was out of sight, Y/N crouched down beside the bomb. “Maybe if we just cut the blue wire?” Y/N asked, her voice shaking unsteadily, “It always seems to be the blue wire in movies.”

“No, sweetheart, it’s usually the red wire,” Tony joked, trying to keep himself calm just as much as he was trying to reassure her, “I don’t think its either of those, though. It’s coming from Hydra- it has to be more complex than that.” He squatted down to get a closer look, trying to ignore the timer that blinked an eerie 00:00:40 back at him. “Is everyone back in the Quinjet?” Tony asked the fellow Avengers through the comm system.

“Affirmative,” said Sam, “Are you going to be able to disarm the bomb?”

“No, I don’t think so, not in time at least,” Tony replied, ignoring the wide-eyed response from the young girl beside him, “We’re going to try and outrun it to the Quinjet, so maybe that way we can dodge the explosion.”

Gripping one another’s hands, they sprinted forward, trying to put as much distance between them and the bomb within the 37 seconds they had left. “This would be one of those times,” Y/N huffed as they hauled ass, “where it would be very convenient to be able to teleport with another person.”

Hydra must have rigged the time to be wrong, though, because the detonation and the blaze that accompanied it took them both by surprise.Y/N had only enough time to tackle Tony to the ground, shielding his body from all the danger she could with her own, much smaller, one.

“She has mild burns on the right side of her body, particularly her arm, which shouldn’t take too long to heal ,” a husky voice said, “Several ribs were also broken, as well as her coccyx. The femur in her right leg is broken, and had to be stitched up because it was poking through the skin. Uh, Mr. Stark, can I please ask, what happened to this girl to cause such injuries?”

“No, you can’t ask. Please leave us if you’ve done everything you needed to,” the familiar voice of Tony flooded its way into Y/N’s drowsy, yet slowly more aware, consciousness.

“T-Tony?” Y/N groaned, one eye flickering open at a time. The bright lights burned for a second as her eyes adjusted, but the sight was a welcome one. Her line of sight was quickly eclipsed by the face of a very worried Tony Stark, one who looked like he hadn’t slept in several days.

“You look like shit,” the girl tried to joke, but her voice sounded rough from several days of disuse, “Are you sure you shouldn’t be the one in a hospital bed?”

He tried to force out a smile, the girl could tell even with eyes half open, but the tears that had managed to begin streaming down his face made it hard for the man to do so. “You’re okay,” he breathed a sigh of relief, moving his hand up to brush some of her knotted hair from her face, “and you’re a little bit sweaty.”

“Well, that’s the last time I almost die for you. Rude bastard.”

Luckily for Y/N (and the hospital staff, who quite frankly had trouble accommodating the Avengers who were always rotating in and out of the room), healing, as well as teleportation, were a part of her superpower tool belt. While her body was nowhere near 100%, or even an average 80%, the doctors felt like the facilities at the Avenger headquarters would do just as well as any hospital.

“Thanks again!” Y/N called out, trying to twist in her wheelchair as she waved goodbye to all the staff that had helped take care of her.

“Please face forward and sit, like you’re supposed to,” Steve ordered sternly, although smiling endearingly down at her, “Tony would kill me if anything happened, or if you re-broke your coccyx.”

“HA! You said coccyx. I’m telling everyone that Captain America said coccyx,” Y/N giggled hysterically at the word.

“I’ll blame that on the pain medication you’re on,” Steve rolled his eyes, pushing her along faster.

The ride back to the tower was a short one. Although the doctors said Y/N would be able to travel perfectly fine in the car, Tony insisted on sending one of his many personal helicopters to pick her up and airlift her home. “Your boyfriend is a little bit excessive,” Steve said as they loaded her up.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” she grumbled with disappointment, focusing on the view from out the window.

Unloading her and her stuff was even easier, since Thor decided to take a vacation from his Asgardian duties to check on one of his favorite Avengers (”That hurts, man,” Tony had said when he found out). Thor simply carried her throughout the tower, stopping along the way to let Y/N say hi to everyone.

“Hi Tony!” Y/N grinned excitedly, causing Tony to jump out from behind his computer and rush towards her.

“I can take her from here, Thor,” he said, holding out his arms to make the transfer.

Thor only chuckled, “Are you sure you’re strong enough? Lady Y/N is heavier than she looks.” Y/N pretended to look offended and punched Thor in the shoulder, which probably felt like no more than a brush of a butterfly’s wing to him.

“It’s the cast that’s adding all the extra weight, I swear!” Y/N finally cracked into carefree laughter, “Just put me in my wheelchair, I’ll be fine, I promise.”

“I can’t do it,” Y/N cried out in frustration at Steve’s instructions. After a few sessions of physical therapy with a real therapist, she saw remarkable improvement in the functionality of her leg, and therefore Steve decided he could take over her.

At first, it wasn’t so bad, but the increased repetitions and more complex exercises pushed her to her limits.“C’mon, Y/N. It’s just one more set of these, and then we can walk it out, okay?” Steve tried to say in his most soothing and supporting voice, although it sounded to her as though he was scratching his fingers down a chalkboard.

Tony happened to have walked in, ready to start his own training for the day, and was stretching on the track as he watched Steve try and coach Y/N back up off of the gymnastic mats. After a few minutes of watching the struggle, he couldn’t stand to see any more tears of pain roll down her perfect cheeks. “Just give her a second, alright? Have you even given her a water break?” Tony snapped on Steve, forcing his way between the two and shielding Y/N’s body with his own, just as she had done for him.

“Of course I have,” Steve said incredulously in response to Tony’s accusatory tone, “But she needs to be pushed if she’s going to get any better.”

Instead of putting more pressure on the situation, Steve opted to walk away for a minute, letting the other two have a minute to themselves. The rest of the team had decided it was wiser not to mess with Tony when it came to Y/N. Everyone but Y/N knew how madly in love with her Tony was, but he simply refused to admit it to her, especially after she sacrificed himself for her on a mission.

“Are you alright?” his big, brown eyes gazed concernedly down upon her, and he used his thumbs to gently wipe the remaining tears from her face, “You can take a break, it’s okay. I’ll sit with you and make sure the Big Bad Captain doesn’t come back.”

Y/N chuckled at his stupid joke as he sat next to her. She surprised him by resting her head on his shoulder. “My leg still really hurts, ya know. And its hot as hell in here,” Y/N finally said after a minute of silence.

“Why don’t you wear short sleeves then?” Tony nodded to the long sleeved, gray t-shirt that adorned her upper body. She shrunk away from him at that question, avoiding his eye-contact. “Seriously, why not?”

“The burns, they left scars,” Y/N whispered.

At that, Tony angrily pulled off his own shirt. “Is it really the time to get naked, Tony?” Y/N asked, confused, which only irritated Tony more.

“Y/N, look. My chest is scarred from what happened to me in the Middle East. And I used to hide it, too, because I thought people would judge me, but they don’t. They look up to me. I change the world, Y/N, and so do you. Don’t be ashamed of any part of who you are,” he rambled angrily to her.

They were both quiet a moment before he sighed, pulling his shirt back over his head. “I’m sorry- Y/N, it’s just that-”

“Tony, why don’t you admit that you love me?” Y/N cut him off, staring accusingly at him, “I know you do. And I know that you know that I know you love me. And I also know that you know that I love you, too.”

“You’re too young, Y/N, I just thought you wouldn’t like-” Y/N cut him off again, this time by kissing him softly. Tony immediately relaxed into the kiss, reaching up to cup the back of her neck and pull her just a little bit closer. Pulling away after a moment of bliss, Tony simply said, “I love you.”

“I love you, too. Although, if you really loved me, you would be wearing a shirt with my emblem on it, not Captain America’s,” Y/N criticized, nodding to the replica of Steve’s shield that was on Tony’s shirt.

“What can I say? I love a man in uniform.”

#tony stark #tony stark imagine #avengers imagine #avenger imagine #imagines #imagine #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #tony stark x reader

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madcapmoon · 7 years

Text

Interview with Guy Picciotto

After beating the shit out of your guitars for over 15 years (or more?), do you still get that same kick each time you go on stage and plug it in?

I've been playing shows for about 17 years I guess and performing still has the power to completely re-order my mind. It is a little different now because I have a lot more experience so i have a sense of the possibilities (both positive and negative) of what could go down. When i first started playing it was almost impossible to contain all the adrenaline and i just felt almost too jacked up all the time - it was literally really hard for me to even execute the songs. Now, I still get really heavy doses of energy but i feel more in control, that's the main difference.

How did the lawsuit with that truckowner turn out? He sued you even though it wasn't your fault, right?

The lawsuit was for $300,000 which the van owner didn't get - he had to settle for $3,000 and my insurance was able to cover that. I still have no idea what happened with my car that day - one minute I was parked at the side of the road - the next the car was speeding down the street at full throttle and I smashed into a van, completely crippling it. It was definitely not the fault of the van guy - either I went temporarily insane or else the car had a cruise control malfunction. My car was so totally destroyed there was no way to do any kind of analysis on it. It was an awful moment in my life - completely fucking terrifying.

Please, tell us more about each member!

Alright:

Joe runs a record label called Tolotta Records which releases incredible records by the band Spirit Caravan.

Brendan is recording an album with Lois for the Kill Rock Stars label as well as composing music for television documentaries.

Ian works full time managing the band and booking its tours as well as running the Dischord label - he recently did some production work with a new band called "Q and not U".

I have a side label called Peterbilt which just released a split-CD with Dischord of one of mine and Brendan's old bands called One Last Wish...I also just produced records by Quix-o-tic and DeepLust.

How are you gonna break down the barriers between band and audience?

I actually think there is a natural line between the band and its audience- i mean you literally have someone dispensing the music and others receiving it and i'm into that. Things get weird when that line gets exaggerated and becomes a barrier in the sense that one side is privileged against the other. For us a good show depends on fluid interaction/communication between the two. I think there are a lot of ways to foster that vibe from low door prices (so there is no sense of the evening being solely a dispensing of "entertainment" and spectacle) - minimizing the presence of security -etc.

Why are you so much against merchandise? (Don´t tell me about the baker...)

Basically, we feel we exist to make music not to generate logos, t-shirt designs, coffee mugs etc. As a matter of convenience we haven't had to deal with carrying that shit around both literally and mentally - its like a weight off our backs. What other bands do is their own business but for us avoiding merchandise has greatly increased our sense of freedom.

Why don´t you play festivals? Is it the festivals you´re against or just against to play them?

Mainly because we are control freaks - we like to monitor all aspects of our shows from the entry price to the security and the sheer size of festivals just makes that much more difficult. Plus - there is a lack of focus at festivals - there is just such an overload of music that it everything just ends up feeling a bit diluted after awhile. Its like an all-you-can-eat cafeteria - after a while all you can taste is the salt.

How do you think your records have developed/changed through the years?

That is more a question for the people who listen to the records to decide. We rarely ever listen to our albums so it would be hard for us to judge the development. From the perspective of working on them I would say that they have become more and more fun to do as we got more comfortable with the tools of recording. The studio is a lot less alienating for us than it once was.

Who does all the artwork for Fugazi?

All four of us get involved with the artwork and along the way we usually collaborate with one or two other graphics designers to help us flesh out the ideas. On the first records up through "Steady Diet" we collaborated with a guy named Kurt Sayenga. For the last 4 we've collaborated with Jem Cohen, the same guy who directed our film "Instrument". On the technical end we've gotten a lot of help from Jason Farrell (who also plays in the band Bluetip).

How much money do you earn? (As a member of Fugazi)Can you live on the music though you´re underground in USA?

The amount of money we make fluctuates every year depending on how much we tour and how many records we sell. For the first 5 years of the band most of us had to work part time jobs on the side. Now, we can mostly make a living from the band though since Brendan has a family with 2 children I think it is a lot more difficult for him and he has had to do a lot more work on the side like soundtrack and production jobs.

I read somewhere that you thought it was a failing if people didn´t understand what you had meant with the lyrics to your songs. Please explain

My hope is not that everyone will understand 100% exactly what i meant when I wrote each lyric but that they will at least provoke some interest, that they will engage the listener on some level - even if it just sounds good to their ear. That is my hope but i don't consider it a failure if not everyone gets something from the lyrics - that's kind of an ambitious hope so i just do my best.

The Fugazi documentary is now complete. Are you happy with how it turned out? Can you tell us anything about it that you can´t see on the screen?

We worked on it for so long that once it was done it was initially a bit hard for me to watch but now i can be more objective about it. I do think the film offers a lot of different angles on the band - it’s not the complete story but it is a lot of good chapters. The only insider information i can think of off the top of my head is that we used one fake sound effect in the film - it’s the sound of a submarine diving ( that eerie drowned beeping) that we put under one of the studio shots.

Which movies and filmmakers do you admire?

Here's a few:

John Cassavetes - "Faces", "Husbands"

Robert Bresson - "L'Argent", "Au Hasard, Balthazar"

Jean Luc Godard - "Weekend",

Pontecorvo - "the Battle of Algiers"

Todd Haynes - "Safe"

Lars Von Trier - "the Idiots"

You used to tour 6 months a year... Have you missed being on the road, or are you happy to take a break from the touring?

Part of me misses it quite a bit because it was so relentless and demanding that really appealed to the part of me that likes that kind of challenge... getting to travel to so many places was always awesome plus playing live itself is just such a blast. But we did that kind of 6 month pace for a lot of years so its is kind of nice to try and find a different kind of rhythm now. we are still fine tuning what our approach will be with touring now that Brendan has a family. We'll see how it pans out.

Are there many people still involved in the DC-scene there were involved in the eighties? I mean if there are many people still around or if they had disappeared?

DC does have a strong gravitational pull but there's no hard rule about it some people are still about, others have disappeared, some disappeared and then came back, some disappeared, then reappeared then disappeared again - its like anywhere else i guess.

How long do you think Fugazi will be around?

I have no idea - as long as the four of us are into it we will continue to play - as soon as it starts to feel like a dead end, we will hang it up with no regrets.

As the question above says, Fugazi´s first show was in september ´87. But you got involved in ´88. Right? How was it? Can you describe it? How to turn from the roadie to a member in the band you loved? How was your feelings back then?

Fugazi only played one show in which i wasn't involved at least in some minor capacity and that was the first one. By the second show i was already kind of worming my way in on back up vocals and the position just grew from there. In one sense it kind of felt inevitable that i would join the band because brendan and i had been playing together for so long (before Fugazi, we had been in Insurrection, Rites of Spring, One Last Wish and Happy go Licky so we had a really strong bond). At the time though I wasn't really sure what i wanted to do and it took me a while to really commit myself to the group. The early Fugazi thing was very loose – a lot of people came on stage and played with the band- people would play trumpet or percussion or dance on stage or play organ or whatever so my being on stage felt like part of that openness. it wasn't until the band started to tour that we kind of formalized my position and I started to feel like an actual member. In retrospect, I'm really incredibly glad things worked out the way they did.

Rites of Spring has often been described as emocore-starters and so on...How do you look at that time now? What is emo?

I have nothing but incredible memories of that band - my only regret is that we were way too volatile to ever get any touring done. we really only played like 14 shows and all but 2 were in DC. Still, the kind of intuitive communication we had as a band was really intense and the shows were always killer. A definite high point in my life. As far as "emo" goes - I have no real comment because I have no fucking idea what it is supposed to refer to. Rites of Spring had nothing whatsoever to do with any genre designation particularly one as amorphous, bogus and tacked on as "emocore".

What is "the Positive Force"?

Positive Force is a organization of young people in DC involved in radical protest and political organizing. They have collaborated with us a lot over the years, particularly in setting up benefit concerts and protest rallies.

Which Fugazi-album is your favourite? And why?

Like i said earlier i never really listen to our albums. That said i have a soft spot for "Red Medicine" - it felt like we had found a new way to attack the studio. but actually sonically speaking, the one i enjoy most hearing is the "Instrument” soundtrack because it is the most spontaneous and loose of them all.

What is "The Black Light Panthers"?

The first time Brendan and i hung out in 1982 we formed BLP. Over the years the 2 of us have performed under that name at parties or small concerts. Last year we put out a 12" with the first boombox tape we ever made in his bedroom on one side and a more modern piece from 1997 on the other.

I´ve heard you did a recording with Steve Albini or Bob Weston but were disappointed and re-recorded it... It is true? And when was that? Can you tell us about it?

Right before we recorded what became "In On the Killtaker" we did take a trip to Chicago and recorded with Steve Albini at his old house. It was not intended to be an album - we just wanted to demo our songs and we also really wanted to get a chance to work with Steve. He was awesome - he is an incredible engineer and a fucking amazing guy. Our only disappointment with the tape had more to do with our performance on it than on the sound quality of the tape. More than anything the session was the beginning of a long, sustained friendship between us and Steve and by extension his band Shellac who we have often had the pleasure of sharing the stage with. Plus we got to school him in dice.

#guy picciotto #fugazi

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bekahdoesnerdshit · 3 years

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Playlist: Rainivere

Alternate Title: I Lost My Ability To “Feel” Twelve Levels Ago (No I Didn’t)

Are Things Still Burning by Em Harris

I can't imagine life on earth now. And I just want to know is my bedroom still there, is it still standing. Is the tree that I planted still there in the backyard. I want to know are things still burning, still burning.

This song isn’t so much about the lyrics as setting the general tone for the playlist. The dark indie sorta vibe, the heaviness, the rhythmic trombone and drum, the almost lazy way the singer drifts between notes, the slow start that ramps up into the rest of the song, it’s all good shit! Could I tell you what this song is actually about? No! But the vibes. The Vibes!! Pitch perfect for the start of Raini’s playlist.

A Little Wicked by Valerie Broussard

No one calls you honey, when you're sitting on a throne Beware the patient woman, 'cause this much I know No one calls you honey, when you're sitting on a throne

This is the “I’m a bastard! Did you forget?” song! It builds off the heaviness of the last song while adding a twist of “I act like hot shit because I am hot shit” that I just felt like really fucking nailed Raini’s general contempt for anyone who isn’t one of the like ten people she knows and tolerates. Also! It represents (especially hypothetical early level raini’s) drive to and unshakable belief that she would succeed at becoming powerful enough to become a god. No one calls you honey when you’re sitting on a throne, and no one says shit to you when that throne is in the upper planes, bitch!

Deep Green by Marika Hackman

Just because I love your skin Doesn't mean I'll jump in The water's clean and warm and green I'm not allowed to swim I'm scared of getting in

First of all, again, vibes. Is Raini’s playlist 75% vibes? Maybe so. But they’re structural vibes so they have to stay or the whole playlist won’t be up to code, so. Once again, I couldn’t for the life of you tell me what this song is about. But I’m sorta starting to think that may be a problem between me and indie stuff instead of the songs in particular. I love again the laziness in the singer’s voice, as well as the eeriness of the backing vocals and the instruments, and like not to beat a dead horse about it but vibes!! Hello.

Come What May by The Last Bison

Come what may we will always be the same. You and I Shall remain in every way, so will I

You know the first of all at this point (it’s “vibes”) so let’s just skip to the second of all. Is it uhhh. Friendship time? In literally THE most haughty, roundabout way? Maybe so! “Hey I do have an aesthetic to maintain but. I do care about you. Technically.” Like the chorus is literally such an intense declaration of devotion, but it takes a hot minute to get to it and the second verse picks up immediately after it, moving the song quickly along. And I think between that and how intense the claim/music is, it’s the only possible way Raini could tell someone she’s in it for the long haul with them. You know who you are. Keep scrolling.

Don’t Fall in Love by Wake Child

Though I know I can't stay There's a price i may pay Baby don't fall in love while I'm away

Finally!! It’s a fucking BANGER in here boys!! And you know what it’s about. Sometimes you’re a hot and sexy and sexual pirate, and you travel a lot. Sometimes you’re a hot and sexy and sexual wizard/adventurer, and you travel a lot. Sometimes you and said pirate/wizard are dancing around each other in the longest, dumbest, horniest type of courtship imaginable, and sometimes you get deep enough into it where you’re like. Invested. In the other person. But you’re still not far enough into it where you can admit that you’re invested. So you. So you uh. So you? Silently pray that they don’t find somebody they like more than you in between your -admittedly more and more frequent- “accidental” run-ins? Because, boy, you’ll feel foolish if it turns out you’re the only one catching feelings. Best to just keep your mouth shut and hope for the best!

Everybody Wants to Rule the World by Lorde

We will find you Acting on your best behavior Turn your back on mother nature Everybody wants to rule the world

I would like to personally thank that one Legend of Korra amv that was super popular on tumblr like four years ago for putting this song on my radar. Thank you, Korra. As always: point one, vibes. Point two, VIBES for a character’s who ultimate goal at the beginning of her arc was to become powerful enough to become a god. Point three, VIBES again for a party of level 20 demigods who wield unimaginable power and can stand up to and defeat archdevils and fake gods and universe devouring planar systems and win. Listen to like the last minute of this song and tell me you can’t see a montage of the party shredding the not-mystra and the Abeast and the giant radiant eel and like, listen. It’s sexy. I’m not ashamed to admit it: this song Fucks.

I’m Tired, You’re Lonely by Liza Anne

And if I was a softer person I could give you the kindness you are deserving But I'm not And maybe that's just it

Raini doesn’t know how to process or express her emotions again we GET it do we really have to keep doubling down on this 😪 Obviously the answer is yes, we do. This is the “hey we just got back from hell without any memories, and I don’t know how to process the fact that this is obviously upsetting to the tiefling who flew halfway around the world overnight on little more than a vague sending, made out with me in our front hall, then painted our relationship as ‘glorified booty call’ but also seems to know everything about me” song. You know, that one song every playlist has. Because like! Obviously there was some tension and hurt between every party and their significant other when we came back sans memories, but I feel like there was still efforts made by both parties to reach for the other despite this sudden distance, you know? And Raini just, did not do that. And neither did Ecstasy really, and who can blame her? Morgan and I talked about it (I think ahah) and there was like a non-zero chance that they split up over this memory loss thing! They didn’t of course, but this song captures the mid-campaign tension of “...well, shit. I don’t know what our relationship actually is”.

Lover, Don’t Leave by Citizen Shade

I've said that love is just a word The idea seems absurd That one can give more than they take Away from me Woah, and then came you

Okay YES technically this playlist only has two themes and it’s 1) “Raini is a badass level 20 wizard” and 2) “Raini has never processed an emotion in her life”. What do you want from me. Now I know we don’t say the L word on this blog (l*ve, obviously. Not Lesbians) BUT we have to make an exception for this song because a) it’s heartbreaking and b) I mean. Come on. Sometimes you go into your adult life convinced you’re more than enough for yourself and that you don’t need any kind of romantic attachment to slow you down, and then sometimes you meet someone who can not only keep up with you, but makes you maybe want to linger? And then, of course, you do your best to blow it and push them away because you’re you and that’s what you do. And you’re not great at apologizing and, well, we already talked about how close they maybe came to splitting up in game. There’s definitely a universe where that happened.

Boy Who Has Everything by Annika Bennett

I just wish there was something he needs Some beautiful thing I could be To keep him from seeing the worst in me

Hey guys what if we took that “he” and maybe we... made it a “they”?? what might happen then.... Uh oh.......uh oh.....uh oh!!! Although the singer probably intended this song to be about a romantic relationship, in this playlist this song is about Raini looking at her party and going “.....well, fuck. Why am I here?” She’s an asshole! She’s not a pleasant person, and she knows it. And she’s looking at a group of people who really, really seem to have it together re: being a person. And aside from just the fact that they’re all, at the very least, personable, she knows that she owes them more than she knows how to put into words for what she did to them, without their permission. But it’s fine it’s cool she’s definitely just actually this much of an asshole 24/7 it’s not a defense mechanism or anything ahahahah :))

In the End by Marcus Warner

We’re DONE being emo it’s time to circle back to “Raini is a badass do NOT forget it”. This is our instrumental for this playlist! It starts out lowkey, and builds in power and confidence as it goes, and while the main melody never changes the addition of the timpani and the low brass REALLY brings another layer to the song that makes it driving and intense and I Love it. It’s pretty, yes, but there’s also an underlying power and focus that I feel like reflects Raini very very well. And! It’s an incredible song to picture her casting to! Raini standing, feet planted, arms outstretched, hair and robes whipping around her as she casts spell after spells at enemies that are just out of view, the camera starting low and slowly spinning around and coming up until it’s at eye level and she’s staring straight into it-- YES I’m still obsessed with the imagery of this campaign. Keep scrolling. Thank you for reading. I love you.

#Rainivere #amnesia campaign #playlists #mine

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invertedeidolon · 4 years

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The Longest Library #3: Griffin & Sabine by Nick Bantock (Or, Eidolon again talks way too much about previous relationships, also, pretty art!)

(This is a series in which I attempt to read and review all (or most of) my library of 297 books.)

Rundown: Postcard artist Griffin Moss gets a weird letter from a weird lady who can apparently see what he's drawing telepathically. They form an ill concieved bond over it. The story is told in colorful postcards and envelopes you can open and then read the mysterious things inside. 4.5/5 for calling me THE FUCK OUT and having some BOMB ASS ART.

I can't give it a full 5 because not everyone is going to have that experience when they read this. It's just going to look very strange and floaty and things won't make very much sense. This book hits close to home with me because it heavily echoes (more like yells about) my first long distance relationship. I'm not really able to see this book through any other lens, so that's what my commentary is mostly about.

So for the part that ISN'T about that stuff though: The art is amazing. Even though it's made by one person technically, both fictional artists have their own, distinct style. Let's be real: The art and the interactivity is the main draw of this book. There are envelopes inside with letters carrying a myriad of little details: Griffin uses a typewriter for his long-form letters, and bits where he's crossed out typos or added in letters with pen, or that Sabine's correspondence is something I now recognize as someone who uses quills or manual dip pens. The inconsistency in the color of her writings suggests she's using a homemade ink, brownish in color, slightly too watery. Maybe it's even watered down watercolor and not even ink at all. They've also made the background of her letters and cards a rich dark gray, while Griffin's is a clean, sterile white.

"Will you explain to me about those geometric paintings you did at Art college? I want to understand their hidden language of color and shape. It's so alien to me."

So this is about the fourth time I'm reading this book since I first got it, and now that I have to write about it, I'm noticing so many more details. Here the line "It's so alien to me."is written in smaller, slightly more rounded letters. The ink is much darker here too, suggesting she wrote this slowly, thoughtfully. What a detail!

Anyway that's it for the objective bits of the book, the rest is entirely subjective from here on out.

"The phenomenon that links us has taught me much about you, yet I am ignorant of your history."

My years and years of suffering emotional abuse set me up to be able to read and predict what was going on in your head perfectly, as well as respond in the most helpful ways with eerie precision, yet I am ignorant of your history, and who you really are (because you use such obtuse floaty language and metaphor. Who were you really? Suffering, but that's about all I could tell.)

"Why doesn't this alarm me as much as it should?"

Because we're already "in". And I "feel safe" to you because I've been trained to be the least offensive, most placating being in the universe. If I could build a business model on conversational comfort, if I could sell my goddamn empathy like the capitalist machine really wants me to, *I'd be so rich*. It would be like, a step down from therapist. Anybody want a virtual friend for like an hour? Gimme 20 and we can watch stupid videos or I can calmly talk you through bread making. It's okay, you can cry. GOD PLEASE LET ME JUST SELL MYSELF SAFELY, I WAS MADE FOR THIS GODDAMNIT.

"I want to hear everything. Write in detail. Tell me all about yourself. I demand to know - please."

This is like fucking CRACK to those with a suppressed self. An unwitnessed self. "Someone who's interested in ME, and won't yell at, ignore, or dismiss me for talking! Holy fuck I love you!"

"Finally I knew who you were. I counselled myself to be cautious and find out what you were like before revealing myself fully."

Sabine at this point is to the reader who I was to Him. A weird mythical creature, the non-human monster of your lonely adolescent imaginings, who is intimately aware of your secrets, "I've been watching you" it says before introducing you to a wondrous world free of the pains of living, where you actually feel loved and all is well forever and ever. Except I wasn't as inhuman as I wished to be.

"Occasionally I'd come home to a re-enactment of The Battle of Britain in the front room. [...] My entrance would make no difference to their dogfight, but when one of them accidentally (and inevitably) knocked over a pile of books, they'd stop instantly and unite to examine the extent of the damage."

The whole 'making light of a not-great home life because it was your normal for so long that you still haven't learned that you need to be horrified about it' thing. As well as passing it off as something funny. Thankfully this character's parents (SPOILER?) get literally run over by a truck and he gets sent to live with his mom's step sister who is really good and lets him ditch school to become a potter's apprentice and eventually go to art college. He never really deals with the grief when the step sister dies, OBVIOUSLY.

"And hearing that my existence eased your pain made my heart race. We have found one another, and I give thanks."

Hearing that my existence wasn't going to be punished but instead, made someone happy? Fucking HEROIN. Downplay it a little with grateful gentleness, I don't want to be punished for being presumptuous or for seeming like I like it too much. If I like things too much they get destroyed, hard.

"My kinsmen are responsive to me - but there is no one to reach my heart, and you who are so far away, have been closer to me than any man on the Islands."

This is something I remember. So far all they've done is shared eachother's life stories and gushed about how close they feel now. She (like my past self), has confused the feeling of 'finally, a witness! they're witnessing me! I've been Seen!' with the feeling of attachment. Of course she would feel infinitely more attached to this man. She's witnessed his most private moments as a creator for a good portion of her life. It's been a mainstay throughout her adolescence through adulthood, so of course an unwarranted sense of intimacy is going to be attached to this mysterious figure. The whole thing wrapped up in a dream like sense of mysticism.

"I remember your first erotic drawing; I was trembling from head to foot by the time you'd finished. Was that Sarah? No don't answer; I'm only teasing."

...Unless? (Man the implications hurt to think about. I REMEMBER THIS FEELING. This author has unintentionally called me out. I wonder how much of Sabine’s writing is actually calm, or if she’s reigning herself in almost constantly?)

"I was finding it hard to get over the idea of there being other men in your life when I reached the part in your letter about my erotic drawings. I stopped being jealous. We were lovers and I hadn't realized it. The drawings weren't of Sarah; they were of you."

ow ow ow ow ow ow JUST SAY IT ow ow ow ow, Also, I REALLY wanted her to be like 'bitch that looks nothing like me, what the fuck', but instead she's all like "So you've been making love to me ten thousand miles away - how tantalizing." URGH. TOO CLOSE, TOO FAST. DISENTANGLE YOURSELVES NOW. GRIFFIN GET HELP.

"I had failed to understand how unhappy you are. You cover up with jokes and a front of being self-contained. I'm worried for you."

EVEN SHE SEES IT, GET HELP.

"When you found me, I thought my loneliness had gone for good. I was kidding myself. I desperately desire your company. I haven't talked to anyone in three days. I was sure I was going to start seeing your pictures like you see mine. I've tried so hard. [...] How can I miss you this badly when we've never met?"

BECAUSE YOU MISS HUMAN CONTACT AND YOU DON'T HAVE ANY FAMILY LEFT YOU NERD, GET HELP. DON'T HANG IT ON ONE PERSON WHO IS TOO FAR AWAY TO HELP YOU IN THE WAY YOU NEED.

"Island magic works on island souls. You and I will heal eachother."

ANTIDEPRESSANTS MAYBE UUUUGGGGHHHHH

"I've started to hate this city, this country, all these stupid fucking people [...] I finally snapped. [...] I want to know what you look like."

*HEAVILY RECOILS*

"Why, my kindred spirit, are you prepared to settle for a postcard of my face? If you wish to see me, why not come here? What is there to stop you - you're clearly unhappy where you are. Come."

Yes. I offered and I offered and I offered. What's to stop you from just fucking TALKING TO ME instead of DISAPPEARING OVER AND OVER AGAIN. and then COMPLAINING THAT YOU'RE SO HURT AND LONELY. I'M LONELY TOO. WHEN I HAD THE MONEY YOU DIDN’T TAKE MY OFFER FOR ME TO COME SEE YOU, SO WHAT THE FUCK IS UP KYLE?

"Foolish man. You cannot turn me into a phantom because you are frightened."

This kind of sentiment is what lead to the breakup. This feeling of being large, and dark, and slighted. Being real and supernatural. Make your choice. Say REAL words instead of just flagellating yourself. Do I exist to you?

"If you will not join me, then I will come to you."

Unfortunately, Sabine has what I definitely did not: Mobility, the ability to make things real. She had a job and money and her own life and the ability to travel. I had a shitty little shared room in my parent's house where I spent most of the time partially starved and dodging devils in one form or another. Many many times I wanted to spontaneously show up and give him the closeness that he needed. But I couldn't. And he wouldn't take my words. He wouldn’t take me.

3 down, 294 to go.

#thelongestlibrary #griffin and sabine #nick bantock #origin1 #wri1

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