#queer tragedy

[howlingtothevoid]

Begging God to fix you!

(And other tales about religious trauma)

[corvid-newtwork]

Hikaru's death is so anticlimactic and I am so enamored with that as someone with their fair share of death preoccupation. On the one hand, the only reason he was on that mountain was to perform a useless and arbitrary secret ritual. But at the same time, his death had very little to do with the main source of dangerousness for that mountain. That could have happened on any mountain, for any number of reasons, under a variety of circumstances. Which in many ways is such a fitting representation of our collective relationship with death: something that is incredibly preventable and utterly unpredictable at the same time. Something that always happens for a reason (cause and effect) but can be almost any reason. A force that is inevitable yet negotiable; shockingly powerful yet astonishingly mundane.

And this is especially the case for the queer themes of the story. The whole ritual is very symbolic of social pressure, normativity, and conformity—having to do this dangerous and unfulfilling thing for the alleged sake of other people that also doesn't actually need to be done. But Hikaru's death (particularly under the reading he's also queer) makes it so it doesn't feel like queer trauma porn à la “to be queer is to lead a life of misery and woe!” And I hate it when people act like it is. Sometimes people just die...and it's sad. And maybe it could've played out differently. But it didn't.... So now what?

[someloserlol]

Let me first clarify: this post isn't hating on queer tragedies

I love myself a good tragedy. A queer tragedy, especially trans ones, hit me in the feels

But, alot of the best trans stories (specifically transfem stories) are tragedies, and that mixed with the current state of the world is kind of a tragedy of its own

BUT that just motivates me to work on my own trans short film concept! This one with a happier ending for our trans girlies!

Pulling a Get Out and changing stories to be more hopeful and give a win to those who really need one right now

[colection-of-chaos]

@flashfictionfridayofficial

TW: Murder, death, blood

Soldier, Poet, King

The soldier

Louis had never thought that this would be how it ended. With that he didn't mean lying on the marble flooring of the castles throne room or in a puddle of his own blood, he didn't even mean watching his King, his lover, his Eric being just a second away from being killed himself, even if it was one of the worst ways he had contemplated dying. Because if Eric was still in danger of dieing meant he had failed, as a knight, as a protector, as a lover.

No what made this so unexpected, a scenario he had been unable to consider as the end of his life, was the woman who threatened the King's live with a look of disgust and a weapon ready to strike.

He had known that she was no longer a part of Eric's inner circle, he had even known that there had been some profound disagreements between her and a good bit of Eric's rulings but never in his entire life would Louis have expected her to be here, looking ready to kill, without the least bit of regret, without even a trace of sorrow of what once had been.

He grieved for the love and warmth he had once connected with them. The laughter and happiness that had been so reminiscent of his life with them.

Never could he have imaged the person that he had known, had loved, killing the one both of them had been enthralled with for so long, the one both of them had adored and that had adored them in return.

Louis had known she had chanced, but he couldn't believe that now everything they had once been seemed so irrelevant to her, so unimportant that she could look down on Eric in such a way.

The Poet

Rona couldn't quite describe what she felt, no, that was not right, she probably could describe what she was feeling it would just require some quiet contemplation, an instrument and a lot of metaphors. Two of which she didn't have to hand at the movement, and if she was quite honest with herself, she had no interest in starting to play the small flute she carried with her everywhere one of the only two presents she had gotten back when she had lived in these gods forsaken palace, that she had kept with her.

The other was dangling between her and the king, on whom she was looking down at the moment, smiling a hand placed next to his neck against the backrest of his throne holding her upright, a leg placed between his on the seat, other hand holding a knife to his neck.

If the knife hand't been there and Louise had been standing next to them, smiling down on his lovers this would have been a picture of a time longe gone, a position just too familiar. But it wasn't that time anymore. It hadn't been in a long time.

She was no longer the lover of a king and his guard, nor was she a timid lady far to romantic to see all the pain and suffering of the people, understanding that Eric could have done something to prevent it if he wanted to.

She was no longer a girl filled with love and idealism, no, she was a bard, one singing of rebellion and oppression. An assassin that had killed for the better of a people that were starving while a king lived in luxury and excess. A spy that had lost her virtue to coxing nobles into helping the cause and getting rid of them if necessary.

Now she was a tired woman, a poet with too many emotions and not enough to tell the stories that had to be told for a better tomorrow.

And if she was able to complete this last mission, she would be free. Free of her guild for having looked away for fat too long, free of her guild of what she had done in the hopes of a better tomorrow, free of her guild to the girl that once had been and that would have become a far softer, far happier woman if she could have continued staying ignorant.

She just had to kill this man for justice, for freedom, and for at least a chance of a better world.

The king

Eric should be angry, he should be seething, should fight. He couldn't.

He didn't even feel disappointment.

He felt grieve, for the man he had loved that was now lying on the floor bleeding cut open by a person that had accompanying the one now holing a knife to his throat, a person that seemed to be waiting for a command form the person particularly sitting on his lap.

A person he was far too familiar with. She had changed so much it was hard to comprehend.

He could probably have told himself that this wasn't Rona if she hadn't worn the pendent he had given to her once upon a time, when he had been nothing more but a stupid prince in love with two people he knew he couldn't have.

Her face had become more mature, there were the first traces of wrinkles around her exes and on her forehead, and she had gotten much more tanned than she had been all those years ago.

She had even gotten freckles, similar to the ones Louis got in the summer. She had changed, but she was still one of the most beautiful things in the world to him.

A stupid feeling considering she was holding a knife to his thought and looked far to ready to kill him.

If she still had that beautiful singing voice? She must have, his spies had told him that she was a known bard, famous for the rebellious nature of her songs.

When did everything go so wrong? When did they loose her?

Why hadn't they been able to continue being happy with each other. All three of them like it had always been meant to.

For some rather sick reason he thought, that at least in the end it would be them again, that as much as the hatefull look on her face pained him, it would end with them three. In the end, they would be reunited.

When the bards were going to sing songs about this day, it would be them three again and forever.

Maybe one of their songs would even be written by her.

Note

Hi, who do you belive? Is Rona's hate justifite? His the king blind?

I don't know I just thought these three perspectives on one scene thing could be a cool new challenge.

Hope you like it.

[onemorecoffeeshopau]

All i want is a fantasy story with people learning to fall in love despite their flaws and their traumas, realising that their companion is perfect for them only to be ripped apart just after they realise. I just need that unselfconscious tenderness while they interact but don't realise the intimacy until at last they do but it's too late and the world or time or fate is against them but at least they know in their hearts they could have had each other if they'd realised it earlier but not anymore. And also maybe they fuck.

[howlingtothevoid]

[howlingtothevoid]

SANDA || Queer tragedies

[glitterpyre]

Happy Pride from these two drama kings