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gaiuswrites · 3 years

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King of Cups || Chapter 1

Chapter 1: The Tower

Archive: ao3 | masterlist | two

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Summary: You’re apart of the Refugee Relief Movement, an intergalactic organization providing aid throughout the systems, and you find yourself assisting at a resettlement camp in Lothal when disaster strikes, changing your life forever, intertwining your path with that of a certain Mandalorian bounty hunter.

Word count: 3.7k~

Rated: Mature

Warnings: descriptive violence, blood/injury mentioning, danger, mature language

Notes: Hi y'all, welcome. This fic is going to be set during Season 2 of The Mandalorian, and will be what I like to call ‘canon adjacent’. ALSo, this chapter is very much so Reader focused, setting up the scene and the general pacing of the story, but naturally, Din will be more and more featured as things progress. I’m a sucker for backstory and a slow burn, so ye be warned. Please feel free to reach out to me. :) I’d love to hear from you lovely little beans. Be safe out there, friends.

Lothal was a planet all too familiar with occupation.

You remember seeing a quote somewhere that read ‘Look no further than Lothal if you want to see what happens when the Empire takes control of an entire world’; and although the Imperial chokehold had loosened when the Empire fell, the planet, even all these years later, still found itself gasping for breath.

Off world migration from the Core Worlds had been popularized since the expansion of the Imperial government bureaucracy, which brought booming business opportunities for the fortunate few, but as the rich became richer, the poor grew poorer. The Lothalites were forced out of their homes, off their own lands—refugees on their own planet; forced to resettle and relocate with nothing but the clothes on their back and the possessions they could cram into their pockets. The only heirlooms passed on from generation to generation were that of poverty, tall tales of former splendor, and the greatest of ancestral traumas: disillusionment.

The truly desperate turned to crime, and what couldn’t be solved by back-dealings and blaster fire was managed with fear mongering and the bitter flair of xenophobia. There was always a species to blame, and it was always the one who seemed to be doing better off, no matter how slight the margin.

Greed. Fear. Despair. These are the currencies in which the galaxy trades.

And so it was then, and continued to be, cycle after cycle. History, always finding clever ways to repeat itself.

On bad days, pollution still loomed heavy over the atmosphere—remnants of the fires from the Imperial occupation still clinging on to Lothal’s weary bones. She had been stripped during that time; gutted and strung up by her feet to dangle from the Empire’s meat hook, exsanguinated slowly, drop by drop, until she had nothing left to give. Her resources and minerals and ore and water and seed, robbed. Pillaged.

She’s free from it now, but the scars remain— the planet remembers. Her people do not forget. Like muscle memory, they all ungulate to this synthesized rhythm they can’t seem to shake, day in and day out, wandering. Forever unsettled.

The planet had always had a diverse population and had become something of a safe haven for other abandoned people fleeing their home worlds, determined to find somewhere - anywhere - for them to survive. Lothal provided that for them. It wasn’t rich or bountiful by any stretch, but it was simple and safe—safe in the way hidden things in plain sight are. One could blend into the crowd of many, unique faces, of all races and backgrounds; you could be anonymous, if you wanted. You could be free.

That’s how you’ve found yourself here in Jortho. You had been with the Refugee Relief Movement for the better part of what felt like forever, and they had transferred you to this planet not six weeks ago. You were out on rotation; the RRM sends someone new twice a cycle for the span of a month or two to varying locations to supply rations, aid with the influx of refugees, organize resettlement lodgings, and generally be of assistance when and where you could. However, your tenure on this temperate planet was coming to a close, and soon you’d be flying back to the headquarters on Coruscant before being bounced to another post somewhere out among the stars.

You love your job. You know it’s unpopular to say, but you do. It’s fulfilling and impactful and indescribably special. The individuals you meet, the stories you hear, they’re invaluable— priceless and precious, like handmade trinkets crafted by the fingers of a child; you press them all to your heart, holding them there. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t get to you— the weight of it; the plights of all of these people, all of these lives, burdening your conscience. It isn’t always painless— you aren’t immune to it. Even so, on most nights you manage to sleep easy, tucked away aboard the transport freighter you flew in on with the batch of settlers newly assimilated into town knowing Maker, at least you were doing something— anything— everything you could.

And really, to call Jortho a town would be an insult to all towns everywhere—but ‘town’ has a certain charm to it that ‘refugee camp’ simply did not, and it gave the people hope. Pride, even. That they belonged somewhere.

You suppose that’s all anyone wants. To belong.

A feather soft gust of wind tickles the golden blades of prairie grass as the sun, bleary and tired, starts dipping from the sky. The crickbeets begin their song early, trilling, sensing Lothal’s moons still coyly tucked away, hiding somewhere along the horizon. A smile adorns your face, private and serene, as you bring a bowl of broth up to your lips, humming when the warm liquid meets your tongue. You sigh, contented, taking in the sights before you; how the dusk blurs the aromatic air, making it opaque, the shuttles docked across the way from you casting long purple shadows onto the flat plains, the snowcapped mountains in the distance bordering the cant of the planet’s surface, nestling Jortho in a shallow valley.

You feel calm, at peace, and take another sip.

An easy moment passes, and it’s the last one you get before silence stalks up from behind you.

You don’t notice it at first, like any patient predator, it goes undetected: the white noise, the nothingness— until finally, you do and then suddenly it’s everywhere. On top of you. Smothering you. Goosebumps stipple your skin and you bristle. The insects have stopped chirping. The breeze has stilled. The air hangs dead.

And then—

Chaos.

You’re hit with a blast of crushing heat, the sheer power of it picking you up off your feet and onto your side, sending your body careening into a nearby structure. Your shoulder takes most of the blow, but your neck still snaps backwards unnaturally, the back of your head colliding with the stone wall behind you with a dull thwack. You let out a groaned cry at the impact, the wind knocked out of your lungs as you crumple to the ground.

For an instant, your vision goes white, stars popping and fusing out in front of your pupils, and it’s like you can feel everything and nothing all at once, hollow but overwhelmed, and all you want to do is close your eyes and drift asleep— Maker that would feel like a luxury, just right here on the damn dirt. And you almost do, you almost let yourself slip under and sink— until you hear a piercing scream from somewhere close.

Immediately your eyes shoot open, desperately blinking away the blurriness that threatens to over take them, and you try pushing yourself up by the heels of your scraped hands, failing once - twice - before finding your footing. You’re shaky at first, uncoordinated and dizzy and redownloading bipedalism, before that sweet drug of adrenaline starts to course through your veins and finally, finally, you take in your surroundings.

The ships that once stood across the field are gone, obliterated, and in their place only metal ribcages remain—empty carcasses like dead birds splayed on their backsides, imploded from the inside out, their bits strewn all around you.

Your breathing comes hard and heavy, fighting down panic, and cloudy eyes search through the thick black smoke billowing up in stacks, trying to pin point the source of the scream you’d heard just moments ago. You cough a strained wheeze, sputtering against the charred air, and wade your way through the debris— it’s only then that you realize the magnitude of the explosion. It’s not just the landing bay, it’s half the kriffing village. The buildings that neighbored the airfield had been decimated, burning roofs and crumbling fixtures, homes collapsing onto themselves, scorch marks and shrapnel branding the outsides of the shanties left standing.

It looks like a battlefield. You’ve seen holovids of this—what war can look like, how it can ruin a people… But you’ve never had to stand in the middle of it, head on.

Your heart drums against your chest as you break into a hobbled run, desperately scanning the area for any signs of life, up and down, left and right, straining against the waning daylight. It’s then that you hear your name, urgent and frantic, and you whip your head in it’s direction, knees nearly buckling in relief. You immediately recognize your friend Hareem, brandishing her arms at you, waving you over to her.

“Thank the Maker, you’re alright!” the Balosar cries out, trembling hands finding purchase on your shoulders, bracing you. You don’t know if its for your benefit or her own, but either way you’re grateful for the grounding pressure; for the first time since the initial blast, you feel solid, like you won’t just float away, atomized and weightless. Worried, you look her over. A sliver of fresh scarlet blooms from her scalp, a small line trickling down past her temple, but she otherwise looks relatively unharmed. You grasp onto her wrist, squeezing firmly.

“What the hell happened?” You ask, voice low and pitched, wide fearful eyes drilling into her.

“T-There was a man-” And she shakes her head, mouth clamping shut, deep wrinkles framing her face.

“Hareem,” you reassure, giving her another squeeze. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.

She tries again with a steadying inhale, “I-I saw him. A-a man. He had a device with him, and he set charges, and Maker I don’t know— I don’t know— it went off a-and he ran towards the center of town!” The Balosar is in hysterics, tears spilling down her dirty cheeks, and it takes your brain a moment to catch up, to wrap your mind around the words she’s stuttering out.

A man.

Device.

Charges.

A bomb. This wasn’t an accident; this was an attack—and he’s still kriffing here. You cup her cheeks, thumbs rubbing against the pale skin, smearing away the blood that’s nearly dripped to her chin. Your friend’s gaze is flighty, everywhere and nowhere, and you try giving her a smile, but you’re not quite sure you manage it.

“Hareem? Hareem. Hey, shh, you’re okay. You’re alright…” You peel your eyes off her to glance around hurriedly. “We need to find cover.”

///

You’re holed up in one of the few remaining homes on this side of the encampment, crowded into the small space with three other survivors. All four of you, packed in and silent and petrified. Unsure of any further threat, you stay completely still. Helpless. Laying here, idle, for whatever awaits you behind that feeble, wooden door. You feel like prey for the wicked, just passing the time.

Minutes inch along like this—or maybe its hours; time moves eerily different when you’re attempting to become invisible—and eventually, you almost begin to relax.

Almost.

But a new sound breaks the din, hard to recognize at first, indistinct from all the commotion outside their hut, but you hear it. You all do. The youngest of you, a teenaged Devaronian, grips onto the hem of your shirt, knuckles creasing with anticipation. You tense, spine going rigid. Footsteps. They’re slow, guarded, but they’re getting closer. You bring an arm up, for all the good it’ll do, creating a human shield in front of the boy at your side. Closer. Someone behind you muffles a whimper. Closer. A Bardottan you hadn’t even met until today let’s out the faint whisper of a prayer, lips barely ghosting over the phrases. Closer-

and then, nothing.

They’re here. You can sense him, see his shadow sweep across the gaps in the entryway. You all hold your breath, as if the air is being syphoned out of the space… And the door is flung open, nearly breaking off it’s hinges as it slams into the inside of the house, shuttering the rickety walls with a jarring bang.

You don’t know who looks more astonished: you four, or the Mandalorian before you, dripping head to toe in silver plated armor, pointing a blaster directly at your head.

“Where is he?” He asks, hard edged and modulated, and it’s more of a demand than a question—but he lowers his weapon all the same, holstering it at his side. You gape at him, guppying wordlessly. “Volcur X’elo. The bomber. Where?” He hasn’t moved an inch out of the doorframe but he’s still managing to loom over you, completely filling up the archway, shoulders set and impossibly intimidating.

You gulp, finally finding your voice. “In town, i-in the center of town…” Kriff, you had not idea if that intel was good or not, but it’s all you think to say. Seeming satisfied with your answer he turns on his booted heel, cape whipping behind him, leaving just as soon as he arrived. The dust barely has time to settle as the door teeter’s on its hinge, its rusty squeaks filling the void in the Mandalorian’s wake.

“Fuck,” you hiss, exhaling a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, doubling forward, propping your palms up on your knees.

///

After deliberating it with your group, you all come to the agreement of braving it outside. Better to be out under the open sky than die under a concaving apartment, clambering over each other to get to the exit. After all this, at least your dignity was still partially in tact— normally, you reckon you’d chuckle dryly at that. But you don’t.

Can’t.

You lead the pack through the mazelike streets. The sights that once seemed so familiar after weeks of living here become like strangers to you, and you sleepwalk through Jortho, snaking down paths marred by rubble and fallen wreckage— you haven’t seen any bodies, but maybe that isn’t true. Maybe you’re just too scared to notice them. Maybe they’re there, hovering just outside of your peripherals, haunting the corners of your vision…

You keep your head fixed forward, jaw clenched.

Your feet move on their own like this, only vaguely aware that the red-skinned boy still hadn’t let go of your tunic. You forge on. Have to. You have to. Your only purpose on this kriffing planet was to help these people, to bring them aid, and if that means simply planting one foot in front of the other, then so be it. You take side alleys, double backing here and there, ducking under canopies, looping around yourself, only stopping when you catch a glimpse of beskar, the orange setting sun glinting off the surface of his helmet.

And he’s not alone.

You freeze suddenly, as do the rest, and the Devaronian bumps into you, stumbling under his lanky legs. Some paces in front of you, the bounty hunter has the other man, this Volcur X’elo, by a punishing grip on his shoulders, shoving him forcefully out in front of him; his wrists are bound and he’s fitful without the stabilization of his arms, his feet staccatoed and flailing wildly beneath him as the Mandalorian marches him forward.

The wind shifts, and on it you can hear the bomber rant madly, only catching snippets of the vile nonsense that spews from him.“- like swine, they are a plague to the system! And they must be purged from this planet, and the next, and the next— every last filthy one!” You spare a glance to Hareem, to find her watching the scene in hypnotized horror, but your eyes snap back at the sound of something maniacal, drawing your attention. It’s laughter. The zealot begins to laugh a twisted, mocking cry that makes you want to vomit. “You might have me in binders Mandalorian, but you’re too late. You’re too late. This isn’t over!” He’s practically giggling, gleeful and demented. Disturbed. “You’ve only found one.”

Your blood runs cold.

Only one? Oneoneoneone, one what-

The realization hits you with a punch to your gut. He’s only detonated one of his bombs. Somewhere, nearby, there must be another.

Without another word, the Mandalorian whips the smaller man around, pulling him sharply by his collar to collide with his breastplate, completely dwarfing him with his beskar frame. “Where is it, X’elo?” Nothing. Only laughter. High pitched, terrible roars. He tries again, patience ebbing. “The bomb. Now.” X’elo’s head tilts back and he howls another crowing shriek, keeping private his own sick joke, as if clutching a secret to his chest with slimy hands.

The bounty hunter had heard enough. He clearly wasn’t getting anything more out of him, and with a quick strike, he rears his blaster and pistol whips the terrorist with it. The body drops. Volcur X’elo crumples, unconscious, blood streaming from where he was struck. You hear the Bardottan behind you stifle a cry with her fist.

And with that, Lothal’s sun disappears completely, stealing away the last of it’s light as it furls into itself, shrinking out of sight. The dark ushers a new wave of dread, creeping over Jortho like a miasma, poisoning the very air.

The Mandalorian wheels around, searching for his heading in the labyrinth of the town. Others have gathered now, poking their heads around corners, stealing glimpses through windows. He turns, his head on a swivel. “Where is your power generator?” he demands, addressing the small crowd, but you’re all too stunned to speak. “Anybody. Generator. Now.” There’s something new in his voice, something muddled, and it takes you a moment to interpret it. It’s desperation, you realize, tinny and deep through his vocoder, and with a surge of adrenaline you move forward, furthering yourself from your group. You swallow. “I-Its this way.” Upon hearing your voice, he spins around, his visor latching on to you, and with a nod you both set out.

“Watch him,” the Mandalorian growls past his shoulder, stepping over the bounty’s limp body.

///

You’re still not really sure how he knew where it’d be, you wonder to yourself, gravel crunching under foot as you both trudge on, an eery quiet settling over them. You’d say it was a lucky hunch, but judging by the way the Mandalorian carries himself, you doubt luck had much to do with it.

You had led him to the power generator hub on the other side of the sad excuse for a city, traveling in tense silence, and when you came upon that tall, bulky machine he sprang into action, circling it until he found what he was looking for. The bomb. You stood back, rooted there, and after some grunting and rewiring— or maybe he just hacked at it with a vibroblade, you had no idea; his wide frame engulfed his work and you couldn’t tell what he was up to, all you knew was that his methods proved successful— the man managed to disarm the second device. You had thought you noticed his shoulders release, slumping with relief, after the red flashing lights on the rudimentary interface flickered and then went dark.

And so here you are. The two of you, bathed in the bright light of Lothal’s twin moons, their bellies hanging full in the blue-black night, illuminating the trail of blood staining the dirt beneath your boots as the Mandalorian roughly drags the body by his ankle behind him— through the exploded rubble, through the fragmented lives of the people around you, already displaced and estranged. They’ll all have to move, you think, pack up their lives, or what little is left of them, and relocate. Again. The thought sinks in you like a stone, sobering you.

Even with the weight of a fully grown man to lug, the bounty hunter is still a few long strides in front of you and your eyes are trained on the unconscious form, taking in the way his mouth lolls open like an animal, his hair matted with thick blood, eyes rolled back into his head. You’re talking out loud before you even realize it.

“How sick do you have to be,” you mumble, transfixed. Your voice, it’s not angry; no, shock has effectively robbed you of that— it’s not anger, but bewilderment. Quivering, broken bewilderment.

“H-How hoodwinked and warped you’d have to be, how disturbed... For you to think like that. To do all... all this...”

“Hey,” his gruff voice shakes you from your trance, and you blink up at him, tearing your eyes off the body. “Focus,” he urges, and you can only nod dumbly back at him, suddenly feeling a ripple of nausea slither through you.

The ramp to his ship is lowering as they come upon it and you plant yourself at the base, feet seeming to stop on their own accord, and frankly you’re not really sure why you’ve even followed him this far in the first place— always a step behind him as he hauled his bounty all the way through the vestiges of Jortho, across the arid prairie to where he first touched down. Maybe it’s because you feel untethered, unmoored, and all of his steeled surety is like a lighthouse, a beacon, guiding you away from the rocks.

He heaves X’elo up the ramp and you’re left standing there, staring unseeingly into the durasteel, becoming more and more aware of the ringing in your ears. The longer time passes, the more it’s as if you’re underwater, the background blurring into the foreground, sound gargled and far away. A high pitched buzz pinches your ear drums, and it takes you a moment to realize the Mandalorian is calling out to you, trying to get your attention.

“— Dala.”

Does he sound annoyed? Kriff, you think he might... If you had your wits about you, you might be able to recognize it. But as it stands, you don’t. You’re not here, not all of you. You’re splintered. Suspended.

“Hmm? Sorry, what..?” Your mouth is as dry as Jakku— parched desert tongue darting across your cracked lip, tasting soot and ash and something metallic. Brow furrowed, you touch a shaky finger to the flesh and when you pull it back, crimson red dots your skin.

Oh, you think, numb. Huh.

Your eyes skitter back up to the Mandalorian, towering over you, nearly at the apex of the incline, and his stance is broad and his fists are clenched. You’re almost positive he’s glaring down at you through his visor, and you don’t even know the man, can’t even see his damn face, but you can tell he’s peeved— Maker, just how long had you been ignoring him?

A scratched noise comes through his helmet’s vocoder and his next words are clipped, punctuated. “I said, do you have a way off this skug hole?”

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jelloopy · 4 years

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The Forgotten Bird

What if our favorite Plane Jumping Embezzling Janitor was more than just that?

Here’s my crazy long one shot of Clint McElroy being the Forgotten 8th member of the IPRE Crew. Be warned it is 8.2k.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

No one really knows who Clint McElroy is.

He seemingly popped up out of nowhere one day and continues to show up at random times and places. Little did the IPRE gang know that Clint was also on that mission with them. He was with them every cycle, every attack from the Hunger. He just disappeared after 48 long years when he learned about the Voidfish.

Like the others, he was chosen for the simple 2-month excursion into space to explore the outer reaches of the planar system to potentially see what lies beyond it. He shadowed under Davenport in the year after finding the Light of creation. Helping him figure out how bonds work and assisting him with any sort of research. He met Barry while he worked at the institute as well. Never got to know him too well but worked alongside him in a few research projects. On the Mission, he was “Lieutenant”, second in command under Davenport.

He knew the mission was risky but his family supported what he did and urged him to go. So he waved his goodbyes from the hull of the Starblaster and went to his room as they took off. He is thankful most days that he didn’t see the attack as they exited the atmosphere. The last thing he saw of his homeworld was his family’s smiling faces and that’s all he needed. So when they reentered the atmosphere only to see a planet that wasn’t their own he didn’t know how to feel.

When Magnus died at the end of the first cycle as they retreated from the Hunger and he was so afraid of what that meant. Just as the sinking feeling of losing a member of his crew began to set in they all were repositioned. Magnus was back. Clint was in his room on the ship. Everyone was still in their Red Cloaks from the first departure. How was this possible? No one knew. But as the next few years went by they fell into that routine of trying to find the light before the Hunger could.

Some years they found it before the Hunger others took months and the Hunger had already spotted it. But every year within the first 2 weeks the sky would be filled with eyes for just a second. Those eyes, filled with fear, hunger, and hatred, burned into the crew. At that moment the clock started to tick. They had one year. In one year’s time, the Hunger would fill the sky and decimate the planet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

47 years they had been doing this. 47. This cycle was fun though. They were at a place called the Legato Conservatory. The locals said that the light of creation was in the mountain. So to follow their tradition on the planet the crew decided they could spend some time mastering certain arts to appease the mountain in order to get the light. They could have some fun. So everyone got to work. Magnus worked on carpentry, Merle danced, Taako gave motivational speeches, Davenport sang, Barry played piano, Lup played the violin, and Lucretia and Clint took painting lessons.

The year passed and they all submitted their works with pride. There was a moment with Barry and Lup that Clint saw growing over time and was ecstatic to see it coming to fruition. Everyone’s submissions were accepted and yet there was no Light of Creation. This made everyone in the crew on edge. Later that night Clint saw Magnus go for a jog probably from the nerves.

However, the next night after the crew submitted their pieces Clint went to investigate the cave himself. When he peered into was greeted by a weird sort of jellyfish. The creature somehow gestured in a way as if to say “follow me” to him. So he did and it lead him into the cave. Looking around he notices a bunch of other creatures like the one he was following that start to float towards him. They are larger than the one he is following but stop short and float away as the smaller one in front of him hums and glows as if saying ‘he’s cool, he’s with me’.

As they make their way further into the cave he spots another smaller creature with the duck that Magnus submitted in its tendrils and chuckles. Finally, they reach a back corner of the cave and Clint understands why the jellyfish brought him here, the painting he submitted leaned against the wall. He smiles as he approaches it.

The painting pictures a park from their home planet. Three boys are playing around in the sunlight, laughing. The smallest one in a blue shirt chasing what seems to be his older brother in a green shirt grinning ear to ear the whole way with joy in their faces. The last one who looks to be the oldest in a red shirt is hiding behind a big tree watching the other boys chase each other. Sitting in the foreground on a blanket leaning against one another is a man and a woman watching the whole scene take place.

“That’s my family. My wife ‘n I, then my three boys running around,” he says.

The creature hums softly. And floats closer to the painting touching a tendril to the man in the frame.

“Yep, that’s me alright,” Clint assures. The tendril moves over to the woman.

“That’s my wife Leslie. An absolute wonder of a woman. Always supported me. Took care of the boys. Never failed at bringing a smile to my face,” Clint tells the creature. Some tears start to well up in his eyes as he talks, smiling the whole time. The creature hummed a soft tone and glowed blue for a moment, brushing up next to Clint. It then pointed towards the Boy behind the tree.

“That’s my oldest Juice. His real name is Justin but when he was like 10 he had an obsession with drinking juice for a while so it just stuck. He’s such a good kid, always lights up a room when he enters, crazy funny too,” He explains, now sitting on a rock next to the painting. A few tears have begun to fall. The creature now points at the boy being chased in green.

“Ahh, Travis. He’s very passionate. Horribly afraid of spiders though. Insanely funny too. He and Juice butt heads some times but that’s what brothers do am I right?” He wipes a tear from his cheek as he chuckles. The creature finally points at the smallest boy in blue.

“Now that’s baby Griffin. Spoiled Lil shit he is. Never will not bring up the fact that he has his “own birthday”. See Justin and Travis both share a birthday but they were born 3 years apart oddly enough. But Griffin got his own. He’s a little ball of energy. Used to help me out with stuff for the Institute before the Mission.” Clint can only smile looking at the painting now. He wipes a few final tears from his eyes and stands up.

“Thank you for bringing me here to see this.” he turns to the creature, “I was hoping I’d see it again. Before we left this world.” He begins to walk away when the creature grabs his wrist and seems to hug him. Clint is very confused but goes with it. The jellyfish hums and glows bright colors but eventually let’s go.

He visits again the next night but doesn’t tell the others about where he went the night before or tonight. This night as he is leaving he trips. He trips into the pool of water that most of the baby ‘voidfish’, as the crew wants to call them, are chilling out in. They all shine bright and hum a shrill note as they scatter away from him. He sits up in the pool wiping the hair from his eyes and spits out some water.

“Damn I knew I was old but not that old!” he chuckles, looking at his voidfish friend while getting up. The voidfish hums another tune and glows what he can discern as happy colors. He leaves the cave making sure to not trip next to the second pool of voidfish on the way out. He only goes back once in a while, especially after he sees Magnus with another voidfish a few nights later.

The last few days of the year go on by, the crew is searching for the Light of Creation still and everyone is on edge. He tries to keep the peace as much as he can.

However, about a week after his last visit to the cave he notices something weird while attending another submission ceremony. When the students offering was taken he still remembered the offering while everyone else forgot. Then when it was accepted and everyone remembered he still never forgot. He was very lost for a while and decided to attend a few more to test this. It wasn’t until a student’s submission was declined that he realized that he was in fact not under the effects of the voidfish. He tested it some more and asked Magnus if he could remember the submissions. When he got a very quizzical look from Magnus and an offer to take him to Merle to get his head checked out he also became very confused.

It wasn’t hanging out around the voidfish that made him immune to their effect. Magnus was proof of that. So he brought it up in conversation one night. He slipped the question into the conversation about whether Magnus had drunk any of the water from the pools in the cave. Magnus denied ever having done so to his memory and Clint had his answer. If you drank the water that a voidfish has been in the effects of the memory alterations is nullified! He didn’t know what to do with this information. It was all so fascinating.

He didn’t tell anyone. Not yet at least. He knew his crewmates and its not that he didn’t trust them it’s just that they could become very thoughtless and reckless at times and he didn’t know what they would do. Plus nothing would come of it since when they would leave this world the Voidfish wouldn’t even be in their grasp. He would just wait until the next year to tell anyone about it.

That was the plan until Magnus smuggled Fisher onto the Starblaster and didn’t disappear. That changed everything. Still, no one knew what Fisher was capable of anyway, besides wiping memories and sometimes giving them back.

Halfway through the next cycle, Clint hit a very grim point mentally. He was deeply depressed. He missed his wife and kids so much it pained him beyond belief that it had now been almost 50 years without them. Had they survived the Hunger’s attack? Was Leslie alright? How old were the boys now? Had they gone to College? So many questions he would never know the answer to. In this time no one really knew what to say or how to act. Clint was really the only one with any attachments back on their homeworld. Besides Davenport or Merle, everyone was really too young to have really set in stone a family. Davenport tried his best to comfort him, Taako made him his favorite meal one night in an attempt to cheer him up, Merle offered some medicinal options to help him out a tad, and Barry tried to offer his condolences but they fell on flat air.

To Clint, he was utterly alone at this moment. He had memories yes but he would never get to hold his wife again. He wouldn’t get to see his boys grow up.

In a spark of inspiration after seeing Fisher while walking about the ship, he realized what he could do by the next cycle. He could wipe everyone’s memories of him and just disappear every cycle. Being around the crew reminded him too much of what he left behind. Plus he would just respawn the next year on the ship if he died or not so what was the difference. He can live a little. Thankfully he was in his room when the ship left their homeworld so he didn’t have to worry about respawning in the same room as everyone else. That was the new plan.

He spent the rest of the year writing down every memory possible that he needed the crew to forget. He didn’t mind if he would run into them in the years to come because they wouldn’t know who he was. He could say “Hi” then disappear. When the last few days came around he was finally finished with the journal full of memories of himself.

Standing in front of Fisher’s tank he made sure he drank a little bit of the water just in case. He hesitated for a moment. Should he do this? It’s a drastic decision but if it was needed it could be reversed. He could just have a good few years and when he decided he could sneak some of Fishers water into the tap and bam they all remember him no big deal!

He did it. Right as the Hunger made its first appearance. He dropped the journal into the tank and waited.

No one called his name to make sure he was alright. So he waited. He would have to until they re-entered the atmosphere and landed when he could see if his plan actually worked. So that’s what he did.

Upon finally landing he ran from his room with a bag of personal belongings and jumped ship. He ran into the nearby woods but stayed close though, just to make sure it had worked. Merle was the first one to exit the ship and was alone, he decided it was time to test it out. He set his bag and cloak on a low nearby branch and walked out. He acted as a curious native to hopefully catch Merle’s attention. And it worked thank the gods. Merle called out to him,

“Hello, sir! Do you speak common?”

“Oh! Uh hello! Yes, I uh, speak… Common?” Clint replied acting startled by the dwarf, trying to seal the deal.

“Ah! Well, that’s great! I guess you’re wondering about our ship here! Do not worry we are just humble explorers!” Merle explained.

“Well, that’s nice. I suppose… I’ll be on my way now don’t want to disturb your eh… exploring. Nice to meet you though!” Clint said walking back into the woods away from the ship. He needed to get away quickly. Merle shouted a goodbye as they parted ways.

When Clint traveled far enough away he cheered with excitement. His plan had worked! They don’t remember him! He felt a pang of loneliness for a moment but shrugged it off in favor of finding shelter. He was free to live life as a tourist, a nobody.

Clint repeated this for the next 18 years. As soon as they would land he would jump ship as fast as possible and live his life whether it be in a new town or out in the woods. He would have his own adventures.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When they went into cycle 65 something extremely unexpected happened. The ship was attacked and they went down, hard. When Clint woke up he was thankfully on the ship and only had a few bumps and bruises. He was shaken from his hazy stupor when he heard Lucretia’s voice ring out through the ship calling for everyone. When no one answered Clint began to get worried along with Lucretia. He ran out and found her in front of her room with her own cuts and bruises. She saw him and backed away already preparing an offensive spell.

“Wait wait wait! Don’t attack! I’m not an enemy! I can help you!” he shouted holding his hands up. She eyed him up and down and dropped the spell for a moment.

“Don’t move. I swear to the gods I will magic missile your ass so fast if you do.” she threatened. Clint swallowed and nodded his head. He was with them for about 50 years he knew what she was capable of. She began to back away and call out for the rest of the crew while running around the ship. She came back into the hall minutes later extremely flustered. No one was with her and Clint hadn’t heard any responses from the others.

“Have you seen anyone else on this ship?” She demanded.

“N-no I swear.” He answered hands still up in the air. “I can help you through. You don’t know me but I know you and I can help.”

“What the hell does that mean how do you know me.” She faltered.

“It’s really hard to explain. I don’t know where everyone is but we obviously need to last the year until we can regenerate next cycle.” Clint offered.

“How do you know about the cycles… what is going on? Who the fuck are you?” She has tears in her eyes. Clint feels so much sorrow for her. She was only 16 coming on this mission. She’s too damn young to have been going through any of this. She reminds him of Travis though and he can’t just leave her stranded like this. He would have to just wipe her memory of him from this year when the Hunger comes around at the end of the year.

“Look we need to get this thing into the air and away from here I can explain more later but we need to not die for now.” he tries to compromise with her. She looks him up and down again and breaks.

“Fine let’s go but you better fucking explain what the hell is happening or you’re not going to like how you end up.” She starts to walk towards the helm of the ship. He follows in-suite and takes a moment to survey the situation before getting to work.

He is able to start the engines but is unable to get in the air. He takes a lap of the ship, making what repairs he can. The worst was the Bond engine at the stern of the ship. Though it could start up it there was no power going to the thrusters. He was able to fix it enough to get them in the air for a while and that’s all he needed. Someone obviously knew that the ship was here since the rest of the crew was missing. They needed to hide.

Lucretia watched in confusion as Clint bounced around the Starblaster working on the repairs. How the hell did he know how to fix the bond engine let alone anything about the ship at all? While he worked she cleaned up the helm and readied the ship for the ascent. They made it a good distance flying around the planet aimlessly until they were attacked again. He made quick repairs as they flew leaving the steering to Lucretia. She could at least aim away from the enemy. Obviously neither of them were as good as Davenport but they survived.

Once in a while, they would find a place to hide and make semi-proper repairs to the ship but as soon as they had any downtime they were back on the run from this relentless attacker.

In the short resting periods, that they did get, he tried to explain his situation as simply as he could to her. He took these times to write down their experiences as well, so he could wipe her memory in the new cycle.

He loved his team. He really did. But he was having a blast living his own life from the non-stop mission that had stolen his family away from him. He had time to cope without the concerned looks from his crewmates. Most likely he would do this for a few more years then let them remember everything and deal with their wrath then.

For now, he had to make sure Lucretia survived the year. It was drawing to a close and they were still on the run. He taught Lucretia everything he could about the ship in that time. So when the Hunger appeared in the sky he gave her the order to fly out of the atmosphere as he went to “check on the engine”. Really he ran to Fishers tank and dropped the small journal into it and waited.

When they re-entered the atmosphere he heard Lucretia’s cry of relief. They- She had done it. She survived on her own the entire year. The crew was so worried about her. She was more than just a mess at this point. She had to live an entire year on the run, ‘alone’ without anyone to help her with the ship.

Clint hid in the ship for the first day to figure out what the hell happened to everyone in that last cycle. He overheard them debriefing with Lucretia, saying that four giant statues killed them? They judged them on the sins they had committed? That’s insane. After he learned what happened he jumped ship and continued his lonesome adventures.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The end of cycle 82 threw him for a loop though. When the hunger appeared he saw a humanoid figure in a red cloak fly up into the air and destroy the first tendril from the Hunger. He couldn’t believe what he had just seen. But before he could even begin to process what had happened he respawned on the ship.

He grabbed his small go-bag and went to his normal spot where he jumps ship as soon as they land when he overhears a conversation in the helm. Davenport is yelling at Lup and Barry about something. He finally hears something about them becoming Liches when he has to jump because someone was walking down the hall near him.

When he found a place to settle down for a little while he tried to process what he heard. Barry and Lup became Liches? What does this mean for his disappearing act? How did the Voidfishes powers work with undead beings? I guess he will figure out when that comes to pass if ever.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Something weird happened around cycle 90 though. He doesn’t stray too far from the ship this time and see’s Barry die within the first week. He makes sure to distance himself a little more just in case anything with memories pops up with Barry being a Lich and all. That was until he was laying in a big grassy field one day and a Lich in the IPRE robe appeared over him.

“Clint.” It says.

“Uh who?” he replies. His heart jumped into his throat and his stomach sank.

“Cut the shit Clint what the fuck did you do. Why does no one remember you?” It demands.

“Ahh fuck. Barry?” Clint asks quickly.

“Yes, it’s fucking Barry now answer the damn question, they all think I’m insane.” Barry shoots back.

Clint sits up and sighs. There was no escaping it now. He spilled the beans and told Barry everything. There was no point in hiding it.

Barry now sat next to him. Seeing him in a Lich form was very odd but he got used to it after a while. A sigh came from him after a minute of contemplation.

“Well fuck… Shit man. That’s a lot. How long were you gonna keep this up for?” Barry asked.

“I don’t know. As long as I needed I suppose. It’s been fun living out here on my own. None of yall really had anything to leave behind. That’s why you all were chosen to go on the mission besides your expertise. Me? I had a wife and kids. I left them behind. I don’t know if they survived that attack, Barry. I know you all know about them but I can’t just not miss them. I miss Leslie’s hug, reassuring me the mission would go fine and that I’d be back home in no time. I miss my boys. Justin’s big ol’ smile, Travis’ dumb jokes, Griffin’s insane laughter. I miss them. I never got to see them grow up if they were able to. I don’t get to be by the love of my life anymore. And being out here alone has let me cope in my own way.” Clint explained, looking down at his hands.

“God damn Clint. I’m… I never thought of it that way. I knew you missed your family but. Damn, I’m so sorry man.” Barry tried his best. He didn’t know what to say.

“This is kinda why I left Barry. I know you mean well but it makes me feel broken and weak when you guys don’t know how to deal with me. I’m not trying to be the stereotypical guy who has to hide his feelings it just got to be too much. I wasn’t going to be gone forever. I’m gonna come back one day. I just want it to be on my terms. Please don’t take this as me blaming you because by all means its the opposite. I made this decision on my own. Plus you have Lup now and I can only hope that she makes you just as happy or more than Leslie made me. You two are amazing together.” He doesn’t know what to say anymore either.

Barry lets out a small “thank you” before they sit in silence for a while. Later on, just as the sun is about to set, Barry turns to Clint as he gets up.

“Well. Your secret is safe with me Lieutenant. I appreciate you telling me all that. Just come back when you’re ready alright?”

“I will bud. Thank you.” Clint nods at him as he floats away.

For the rest of the year, Barry and Clint meet once in a while to talk. It’s pleasant. Clint is happy to have someone to talk to again that he knows. They exchange all sorts of stories over the next few months. One day though Barry rushes into Clint in the woods. He talks so fast it’s a blur. Once Clint got him to calm down Barry explained.

“I don’t know what it means or how it works but when Lucretia and I sing a certain tune the rest of the crew hears static. I don’t know if its a big deal but its wicked weird.”

“Alright, that is really weird. What is the tune?” Clint questions him. Barry hums the tune and Clint can hear the notes just fine. He grunts and leans against a nearby tree, thinking. How is this possible and what does it mean.

If Lucretia drank Fisher’s water that would mean she remembers Clint but she obviously doesn’t. Did she ever go in the cave with the Voidfish? Yeah! With Magnus that one time near the end of the cycle. So was it possible she accidentally drank from the pool too? Well if she did she would remember Clint. Then it clicks for him

He fell into the smaller pool of voidfish. That must be where the baby voidfish swim. It’s possible that when Lucretia was in the cave with Magnus that she accidentally drank from the Adult pool and can remember music from the conservatory. The adult voidfish must stay in one pool while the babies stay in another until they grow up.

Clint turns back to Barry and lies to him. He doesn’t know why but he does, “I don’t know how she knows the song but can’t remember me. I already told you what I know about Fisher. So it is pretty weird. I’d let it go though I doubt there’s anything to worry about.”

Barry nods in agreement and begins to float away. “Yeah your probably right. It is pretty weird though. Oh well, I’ll see you later!”

Later that night the Hunger entered the atmosphere and then cycle 92 began.

This next time around he watches them as they all learn artificing and get to create their own magical items.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For the next 7 years, he lays low and lives out his own adventures. Staying in various Inn’s in nearby towns, learning different trades here and there, and overall just having fun

Cycle 99 was different right off the bat though. He hadn’t even had the chance to jump ship when the crew found the Light of creation and began discussing how to split it up. He listened in and learned what their plan was. It was actually a really good plan that could end the chase. He still jumped ship though and was awestruck with how similar to their homeworld it was. The only difference was the sky and the lack of one sun. He found a village to live in fairly easy and chilled out in a nice Inn for a while.

After 10 months of being on this planet, Clint heard word of some war for a powerful item start to spread. Everywhere he went that’s all anyone could talk about. He realized that it was probably from the plan of splitting the Light of Creation. After a year passes and the Hunger was nowhere in sight a dawning realization fell upon Clint. He could settle down again! Not start a new family, he was too old for that nor was he ready, but to find somewhere permanent to live out the rest of his years.

Another year passes and he finally settles down in Phandalin. He lives on the outskirts of town and works with the local authorities to make money from time to time. Within the first few days of being in town, he hears word of some man falling out of the sky on the outskirts of town. Other than that he lives in relative peace.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Then after 10 years Barry, Taako, Magnus, and Merle roll on into town talking about some guy named “Gundren”. Clint follows them into the bar and spy’s on them trying to figure out how they’re doing. When Taako, Merle, and Magnus leave Barry behind Clint decides it’s time to figure out what’s going on.

“You and those guys here to look for those powerful relics?” He asks, approaching Barry who turns and looks him up and down.

“Not to my knowledge. Don’t know anything about ‘em personally. Just here on some escort business.” He replies and gestures to the bartender for a drink.

“Well, you ever wonder about who created them? Some say its a group of powerful wizards, others say it was an evil Lich. What do you think?” Clint prods. Barry obviously isn’t going to just come out and say that he made the relics. So Clint has to try and trick him into it.

“Look pal, like I said I’m just here on some escort business. I could give less of a shit about those stupid relic things.” He snaps at Clint.

Clint moves away and leaves him to be. Something isn’t sitting right with him though. There is an odd feeling in his gut so he heads home and packs a bag.

About two days later he looks out his window to see a trail of fire leading into town. He grabs his bag and a nearby horse from the stables and ditches town. Whatever that was, wasn’t good.

By nightfall, the entire town has been reduced to a sea of black glass. Clint watches though as three figures crawl out of a hole in the glass lugging a fourth behind them. He watches as they talk for a while then a glass ball comes from the fucking sky and flies them away to somewhere. Nearby though he spots movement in the woods and sees a flash of red. He knows that color anywhere. Must be Barry.

Clint mounts his horse and shouts for Barry as he rides towards where he saw the cloak. A few seconds later Clint and his horse are frozen in place. A red-robed figure comes out of the woods. When the figure sees Clint the spell is dropped and Clint calms the horse down.

“Clint, what the fuck are you doing here?” It asks.

“What am I doing here? Barry? What the fuck are you doing here?! What just happened with Taako, Magnus, and Merle? Why aren’t you with them?” Clint pressures.

“Listen you need to come with me. I’m not surprised that you don’t know yet. I’ll explain when we get somewhere safe. I can’t have her listening in somehow.” And with that, he simply turns around gesturing for Clint to follow him. So many more questions flood Clint’s mind but he gives up and just holds them for later.

After a long trek, they arrive at the entrance of a cave in the middle of nowhere. Clint ties the horse away to rest and goes in with Barry. The inside is insane. Papers everywhere, words scribbled on the wall, a fucking human floating in a tank?!

“Now I hope you’re going to explain all of this, because… What. The. Fuck.” Clint says just staring around the cave taking everything in.

Barry does explain. He explains everything that happened in this cycle. What Lucretia did, what she's created. How he is trying to stop her and what he has to do, to do so. Clint is in awe. Lucretia knows about everything now. What Clint did. And she is using it against the crew too. This is why he didn’t want to tell anyone. Something bad was bound to happen with that information.

Barry turns to one of the cave walls where the seven relics are listed and crosses out the Phoenix Fire Gauntlet.

“Holy shit. You were the guy that I heard about falling from the sky? Oh, fuck Barry. and Lup? I’m so sorry man. I’m sure she’ll turn up. But that’s a lot to take in holy shit.” He begins. They discuss all the implications behind everything that has happened.

“Wait there’s something I still don’t understand. Did you say that potentially there is a second voidfish? Not just Fisher?”

“Potentially yes. So everyone in the Bureau drinks Fisher’s ichor and they are able to learn about the Bureau and the Relics. But they just went to the base with one of the members of the Bureau so I don’t think Lucretia is going to let them drink Fishers Ichor unless she has a backup to keep everyone from remembering the mission.” Barry posits.

“But if there is a second voidfish then how am I able to remember everything. I haven’t drunk any of the second one’s ichor, as you call it.” Clint pushes.

“Well, that’s the question really. Because obviously Lucretia drank Fishers Ichor meaning she remembers you. But I think what happened was that she didn’t write you into the first story because she couldn’t remember you just like the rest of us. Maybe she just wanted to leave you be when not writing you in the second time around? It could be possible that she worded the journal to be that just the crew forgot each other. No one else in this world knew who we were so there wasn’t a point in deleting us from the world. So I guess she just left you out of the crew as you kinda wanted?” He shrugs. Clint hums in agreeance, thinking of the implications that this means for him.

They spend the next few days together talking about potential plans for Barry. Clint ends up leaving and goes to search for a new place to live. He liked living in a peaceful town. He misses the crew dearly but there was obviously too much drama for him to get involved again. After about a week Barry has a rough plan and Clint leaves to find another place to settle down.

He ends up in Never Winter and is chilling out in a nearby Inn when he hears screaming. He runs out of the building and follows some people down to the train station where he sees the tail end of a train seemingly disappear out of thin air. He looks over into a nearby field and sees about 6 figures get up after a while. Once again he recognizes Taako, Magnus, and Merle. He keeps his distance and instead works on keeping the peace around the town. As he debriefed with the local militia he met a young boy named Angus who claimed to be the world’s best detective. It was odd, but he reminded Clint of Griffin back home. Always curious and a bit vain at times, it brought a smile to his face.

He ended up not liking Never Winter that much so he skipped town and headed towards Goldcliff. A Town he had heard nothing but praise for. It was now no surprise when all of the sudden vines began causing havoc around the bank. So he stuck around and met Captain Captain Bane who brushed him off. Yet no more than five minutes later those three boys came rolling up. Clint watched from a distance as Magnus tried to chop the vines, then as Merle sweet-talked the plants and got them inside. He saw when someone jumped from the top floor and flew away, he watched a few minutes later as the boys got carried out looking like actual shit.

He never got to see them race but he heard stories of what happened. He was too busy helping clean up the dead vines from around the Bank and repairing what he could. He did go and visit the cherry blossom tree that sprouted from the race though. He saw the two women at the base of the tree and he knew that they had made sure that the boys were safe. He thanked them and made his way out of town.

On his way out Barry in his Lich form appeared out of nowhere and lead him back to his hidey-hole. Barry explained what had been happening. The Oculus and the Gaia Sash had been found, he was suspecting something was happening with the Philosophers stone soon so he has been combing radio signals for any word on it.

Clint found it funny but fulfilling that he ended up running behind the boys and helping clean up after them. He just happened to be where ever they were. He talked it over with Barry and decided that he would make it his job. When he could he would follow the boys and clean up what he could in their wake.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He couldn’t do much when the incident at the Miller lab happened but he was watching, just in case. He followed them with Barry to the town of Refuge. He watched in the woods while the four of them stood there talking about the town and what was happening. The statue of the boys in town was so amazing it made him tear up a little bit. He watched the reunion after the town caught up with the timeline, smiling the whole time.

When it came time for Wonderland Clint became very anxious. Barry told him what he knew of the place and it worried him. This was Barry’s relic after all, but the two Liches that ran the joint where a force to be reckoned with. It was decided that Clint would deter anyone from coming into the area, while Barry followed the boys inside to try and help them out. When they finally came out and he didn’t see Magnus but a fucking mannequin in his place he became extremely worried. He stays behind a-ways and follows them to Barry’s cave. He overhears everything Barry tells them. This was not in the original plan but it might just work.

He listens to Barry now in his body forget everything and Merle and Taako talk to the Mannequin about the Bureau. He stays and just listens to what’s happening. He figures something big will happen when they go back to the base so when they leave the cave Clint chooses to go back to Goldcliff. It seems like a fortified enough place to be if hell breaks loose. He doesn’t know what is going to happen but he does know it isn’t good. The sky has been becoming darker and darker by the minute. Not only that but the saturation of everything around him has been sucked away.

He makes it to Goldcliff faster than he thought was possible, but he makes it in time just as the first wave hits the city. It’s the Hunger. It’s back with a vengeance. He runs through the town and banging on doors urging people to weaponize themselves and run for the Trust. The Hunger’s tendrils strike the earth and hundreds of Black opal Soldiers come flowing out of them. The insane and horrible noises already has enough people running throughout the streets. He sees the Hunger’s soldiers grab people from their families. What’s weird is that people seem to be running into the creatures. Clint can see them though, so he starts pulling people out of the fray and pushing them in the correct direction. He tries to gather the attention of as many of the figures as he can. He fights well with what weapons and spells he can.

He takes out dozens as he makes his way towards the Trust himself. He reaches the Cherry Blossom tree from so long ago and finds the two women who are actually dryads protecting a young girl from the Hunger’s soldiers. He helps the taller one defeat a few before he shares a moment of comradery with her and he takes the young girl to the trust.

When he gets to the Trust he finds out the doors are closed but manages to get the girl inside after a lot of convincing people through whispers. He turns and goes back to fighting the soldiers. There’s a small lull of enemies until four figures come tumbling towards him. He readies himself for the fight when his heart sinks.

He recognizes them.

He can’t even begin to process it when Justin lunges towards him, hands like knives swiping at him, slashing with animalistic movements. He can’t hurt him. Not his son. He plays on the defensive side, trying to figure out what to do.

In the meantime, Leslie has grabbed broken pieces of wood from a nearby rubble pile and is beginning to advance. Travis and Griffin are following in suite.

Seeing them like this brings all of Clint’s worst fears to light. They arent is family. But they are. Just corrupted. The Hunger took them. For the last 111 years, he has been mourning for them. He’s had time to cope but this changes everything. They didn’t die. They were taken by this evil world eating being that’s been chasing his crew for 100 years.

And here they are. His family. But not like he remembered them. He can’t do it. He isn’t strong enough for that. He can’t hurt his boys. His wife. He can’t. He won’t.

He quickly casts hold person on all of them, and immediately starts to prepare to cast Imprisonment. He won’t have to fight or hurt them. They freeze in place and barely move when the hold person spell wears off and the Imprisonment spell takes over.

Clint falls back and catches his breath. He looks up at his family tears flowing. All he wanted to do was see them again but not like this. Whatever was going to happen this time around needed to happen quickly. He hopes to the gods that he either dies now and stays dead this time time around or that the crew figures out to start over in the next cycle.

He slowly gathers enough strength to stand back up. He walks over to Leslie. She is just as beautiful as the day he left her. Her face is filled with rage as shes frozen in place from running at him. Clint caresses her cheek one last time and kisses her forehead. He moves over to his boys one by one and does the same. None of them deserved this fate. He will figure out how to avenge them. In the meantime he leaves them be. They don’t need to die a second time.

He walks back towards the two Dryads from earlier and joins them in fighting the Hunger’s soldiers. One by one they all work together slaughtering the figures. Back to back, throwing weapons back and forth, and covering for eachother as they prepare spells.

He doesn’t know how long he has been fighting for but it feels like hours when the Hunger creatures just stop in place. They begin to glow white and slowly float into the sky turning into nothing. He takes a moment to catch his breath. Sitting down he looks around. Hurley and Sloan, as he now knows, join him in sitting down. No one knows what the hell just happened but they do know that they fought long and hard. They deserve to rest.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

While helping slowly repair someone's home in Goldcliff Clint feels a tap on his shoulder. Wiping sweat from his brow he turns around to find Barry. They embrace, laughing about how they survived. Barry explains that they did in fact finally win. That the hunger was gone for good and they were safe.

“So does everyone… you know… know?” Clint asks as they walk back to his makeshift house.

“Clint, buddy? The universe knows, about everything.” Barry replies slapping him on the back. They make their way to the newly named Bureau of Benevolence.

When they arrive Clint sheepishly greets everyone and is surprised to be met with a dogpile of hugs. Here is nothing but smiling and laughter filling the room.

“Holy shit Clint it is so good to have you back.” Davenport exclaims, releasing him from a hug.

“I would say that its great to have all of you back!” Clint jokes, “Barry told me the basics of what happened when we arrived here. We have a hell of a lot to catch up on.”

Lucretia nervously laughs, “I suppose we do, huh?”

Clint walks over to her and scoops her up in a deep embrace. “Its alright. You know? Everyone fucks up. You just happened to follow in my footsteps and then out do me.”

Once everyone is settled down in what seems to be a very luxurious lounge area they begin to tell their own stories. Lup’s is very brief , Barry and Taako sit next to her acting as guards. Very understandable. Clint already knew Barry’s story but there were a few things he had forgotten to mention before so it was a bit eye opening. There wasn’t much to Davenport’s story though he was most impacted by Lucretia’s wrong doings. Everyone already knew Lucretia’s story too, she just filled in some small blanks here and there even though she wasn’t very keen on talking a lot. What she had done was still pretty fresh and she didn’t want to make her case worse.

Then it came to Taako, Merle, and Magnus’ stories. Those three idiots had everyone rolling with laughter and crying within two minutes. Taako mainly joked about his whole experience, but that was just his way of coping and everyone knew it. He had gone through a lot of shit that he wasn’t ready to talk about and they all understood that. Magnus and Julia’s story hit home for Clint, he was silently bawling as Magnus explained it. He felt Davenports hand on his back as he cried. Then Merle with Mavis and Mookie, how he spoke of them resembled how Clint spoke of his own boys. Clint smiled, he knew how Merle felt.

“Did you say Mavis?” Clint interrupted a moment.

“Yeah that’s my daughter.” Merle affirmed.

“No shit? She have red hair, teenageish, glasses?” He asked.

“Uh, yeah actually. You know her?” Merle questioned.

“Surprisingly yeah! She was in Goldcliff on that day and lost her glasses. Sloan and Hurley Protected her from the Hunger and I lead her to the Goldcliff Trust.” Clint explained.

“Holy shit. Thank you Clint! Thank you for protecting my baby. I had no idea that you were the one who did that!” He jumped over to Clint and bear hugged him.

Last but not least Clint shared his story which was shorter than everyone was expecting. The only thing they were really surprised about was him helping Lucretia during the Judges cycle. Other than that it was a bunch of jumping from Inn to Inn, meeting new people, catching low life thieves here and there, and so on. The night continued on with Taako and Lup cooking everyone a big dinner. They stayed up until the late hours of the morning joking and just being family once again.

“We really need to go to therapy huh?” Clint jokes at some point and everyone agrees. But life goes on. Clint is back with his family. Sure they grew apart and started living their own lives but they still talk and that’s what matters. Taako has his school, Merle has his camp for adventurers, Magnus made a school for dogs, Barry and Lup are now Reapers with Kravitz, Lucretia is helping people, and Davenport is doing what he loves.

He may have been the Forgotten bird but at least he isn’t lonely anymore. He gets to live on his own still in a cottage out in the woods with a nearby town that calls on him for help every once in a while. Life is good.

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nodesiretogrowup · 4 years

Text

LET’S GET READY TO RE-CAAAAAAAAP

“I have numerous science-based questions” I mean, same. It also sets up that Huey is gonna be out of his element this episode

SCROOGE HAS NO TIME FOR SCIENCE

“I AM THAT CHAMPION.” A bit full of yourself there. I couldn’t hear this line without saying “I’M. THAT. HERO.” Oh VeggieTales, you’ll always be with me

THEY ALL LOOK SO ADORABLE!!

I like that Louie does a finger gun when Scrooge gets to him

Like I said earlier, I DO NOT care Scrooge already putting pressure on these kids

Poor Dewey seems like he’s the unfavorite, which is probably how Donald felt as well

Huey makes a good point and I do NOT like how dismissive Scrooge is of the twins

That being said...they totally killed someone in battle

SOMEDAY WE’LL FIND IT, THE RAINBOW CONNECTION!

Why didn’t Launchpad crash? I know he can land w/o crashing but it’s usually when he lands in water. THIS FEELS IMPORTANT SOMEHOW though it probably isn’t

“THEY FOUND A WAY TO MAKE RAINBOWS BETTER!” God, I love Webby

“This is the best day.” WEBBY, YOU ARE REACHING CRITICAL LEVELS OF ADORABLE

Birds with beards look odd

“Yeah, sure. Of course.” Poor Huey, magic and mythology aren’t his strong point

I love that it says Odin’s Closet over the shirts. It’s the little details

“Guess Louie knows what Louie’s doing today.” And then he disappears into the shirts. I can appreciate someone who knows what they’re about

I want ALL the shirts from this episode!

“WHOA, IT’S WRESTLING!” He looks so dang happy, it’s ADORABLE

“THIS IS AWESOME!” Chanting is fun

“So these guys just copied professional wrestling?” Huey, you’re form of logic is not welcome here

Does that mean Scrooge told someone about his battles and inspired them to create pro wrestling? I’m gonna go with that

“And they will love me for it!” Dewey, sweetie, that’s only how it works half the time

I loved all the man-snake stuff. Made me giggle

Man snake be THICC. HOT DAMN

I love the little pig ref. HE’S SO CUTE

Jormungandr knows how to pump up a crowd

So, like, is everyone in the audience technically DEAD?! That makes this episode slightly darker. I dig it

I wonder if Jormungandr sees Earth’s destruction as a good thing for Earth. Like if he genuinely thinks they’d be better off in Valhalla. Or if he’s just a bastard who wants to watch the world burn

Scrooge is a bit too into playing the heel

The way Scrooge moves and the faces he makes as the Millionaire Miser remind me of Glomgold

“I watch a lot of wrestling while I fly.” “Wait, while?” This exchange always cracks me up

“Uncle Scrooge is the greatest hero of all time.” “Huh, I guess not everyone thinks so.” I feel like this is foreshadowing later events

RIP Announcer Puffin

“DIBS ON ANNOUNCING!” A dude just got KO’d bro! Have a bit of respect

And the return of the dynamic sports announcer duo. Glad Huey got his badge

I NEED MORE WRESTLING ANNOUNCER LP

Strongbeard is DOPE

“How did you know that?” “Just calling it like I see it. WRESTLING!” The real reason Launchpad knows is because he’s actually Thor but doesn’t remember. I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL

FEAR THE BEARD

“What matters is I’m doing the right thing.” I don’t know, you really seem to enjoy being a heel

This whole match is great

Dewey, there ARE NO RULES IN WRESTLING. Plus you aren’t the ref, so you can’t make that call

I have very inappropriate jokes go through my head when only one arm absorbs the beard energy

“I am so confused.” CONSTANT MOOD

DID SCROOGE NARUTO RUN AT STRONGBEARD?!

I like that Scrooge dives onto him the same way he dives into his bin

LP is so excited he pushes Huey out of the way for NO REASON

HOLY FUCK THAT DUDE THREW A CHAIR AT A CHILD!

All the bone cracking in this episode made me uncomfortable, as in my bones hurt during it

“He is such a good guy.” I’d say he’s a fair guy, not necessarily a good guy

“Which two of you will fight for me?” Webby has been waiting for this moment her WHOLE LIFE

Louie, always taking time to make that money

Who gave him a shirt cannon?!

I love that the dude comes up wearing the shirt

Dewey just slaps Scrooge in the face

Champ POPular! Too cute! I love his hair and outfit. Though I don’t think Champ POPular’s “too popular to hate.” If anything he might annoy people due to his popularity

I thought he was gonna pull out yo-yos as his “finishing touch” and I was sad when it was lollipops even though that makes more sense. BRING BACK THE YO-YOS!

“Do all the fighting and make sure he doesn’t die.” That is a valid concern

WE WILL WE WILL ROCK YOU! I’D KNOW IT ANYWHERE

Huey taking notes is adorable

“Just in time for the tag-team round.” “Wait, they’re playing tag now?! MAN!” I love how Danny says MAN

How does Huey not know what a tag-team is? It’s a pretty common term

I love Launchpad’s reading face

Dewey has red, blue, and green lollipops. Cute

“HE’S THROWING LOLLIPOPS BECAUSE HE THINKS WE’RE SUCKERS!” That took me off guard and I laughed so hard

“I’ve known you my whole life, I kinda knew how this would play out.” Louie is genre savvy. Perhaps too savvy. He’s gonna figure out he’s in a tv show

“More like Champ POP..ulation zero because he has no friends...in Friendtown.” I fail to see how that was any worse than LP’s “more like Champ UN-POPular.”

“WE HATE YOU NOW!” Tough crowd

Huey’s face after that. I just want to pinch his lil cheeks

WEBBY DON’T NEED NO WRESTLER NAME

It TOTALLY went over my head that they censored Hela with Hecka (at least they used her better than the MCU did. WE COULD HAVE HAD SO MUCH BETTER)

I would let her pin me to the mat and crush my skull in

“Oh, COME ON, THIS is what you like?! A creepy goth and her pet dog!” SHUT UP, DEWEY, THAT IS EXACTLY WHAT I WANT! I’m surprised Webby didn’t slap him for the “creepy goth” comment seeing as Lena is goth and misunderstood

“HECKA YEAH! HECKA YEAH!” SHE’S SO COOL AND SEXY AND SHE HAS A DOG

Poor Huey, he’s doing his best. Hope he takes a shower later because he got pretty sweaty

HECKA COULD STEP ON ME AND I’D SAY THANK YOU

Why did Huey have all those corn puns?

“YOU’RE THE WORST! YOU’RE THE WORST!” It’s just not Huey’s day

“You don’t have to try to make it sound great, it already is.” Did this remind anyone else of Dewey’s “don’t overthink it” advice to Launchpad from Double-O Duck? He’s doing his best to help Huey

I WANT HECKA TO DESTROY ME

“EMBRACE THE BOOZE BOOS.”

Poor Dewey

WEBBY IS A BEAST! SHE WAS BORN FOR THIS!

“EMBRACE YOUR INNER HEEL!” Cuz being a heel is fun!

DUDE, WEBBY TOOK DOWN THE GODDESS OF DEATH WITH NOTHING BUT HER LEGS AND THIGHS! WE STAN!

I like that Fenny has knee pads on

“AW, YOU’RE SO DANGEROUS AND CUTE! I JUST WANT TO PET YOUR LITTLE BELLY!” WEBBY IS ME

“A classic ‘who’s a good boy?’ gambit!” AND I’D FALL FOR IT TOO! SUCH A GOOD BOI

“Wait, am I the Launchpad here?” Bitch, you WISH

“YOU CAN’T GIVE CANDY TO A DOG!” This is why you don’t have a pet, Dewey

“WHOA, back from THE DEAD for the QUEEN of the DEAD!”

Kind of a dick move, Louie

AIR GUITAR!

Jormungandr looks like a Masters of the Universe knock-off toy

WHO’S A GOOD BOI? YOU ARE!

“With a toxic personality” I think you’re projecting a bit, Jormungandr

How does Huey not know what a battle royale is? That is a very common term! Hell, there is a well known book and movie with that title!

“I’m just a humble, noble snake man of the people.” Why does the term snake man make me laugh so much?

WOY REFERENCE FTW

Dewey needs a hug! And some therapy would probably be a good idea

Scrooge’s speech started on a good note then went downhill FAST

“And lastly, I’ll use the dust of your bones as sweetener in my tea.” DAMN

“TOO FAR!” I DON’T THINK IT’S FAR ENOUGH! TELL HIM HOW YOU WILL BATHE IN HIS BLOOD

FUCK YEAH BEAKLEY!

SHE GAVE HIM THE CHAIR! I think this CONFIRMS Beakley as a wrestling fan

“I know we’re supposed to take over for Scrooge one day, but do you ever wonder if maybe we’re not cut out for it?” YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE TO WONDER THOSE THINGS AT ALL!

Louie’s like WE DON’T HAVE TIME FOR THIS SHIT!

“Be LP” My new mantra

Aw, Louie sees Dewey as a hero. Like how LP saw Drake as a hero. I think @drakepad is onto something, this scene and the fight scene seem WAAAAY too much like Drake’s intro to be just a coincidence

I keep saying this, but Louie should consider a career in motivational speaking. He knows what people need to hear

“Let’s do this!” “I don’t know.” “Let’s Dewey this?” “I’m in.”

“I’LL SHED YOUR SKIN FOR YOU!” If he hadn’t of had an old man back moment that would have been a BRUTAL CUT

OMG WAS LAUNCHPAD WEARING THAT THE WHOLE TIME? You see his clothes fly off when he jumps in the ring

“Whoa. In a COMPLETELY UNEXPECTED TWIST, the announcer was Captain Crash THIS WHOLE TIME!” LP does underground wrestling matches in his spare time, TELL ME I’M WRONG

“YOUR CATCHPHRASES ARE FORCED!” I agree, Dewey could have done WAY BETTER

I like Louie just GLARING at the dude who insulted Dewey’s catchphrase

LP looks so proud of Huey

“I don’t care at all, why should I?” Methinks the snake man doth protest too much

I like how Jormungandr’s pupils are thinner during the climax. It shows off his true nature

Dewey should have been the one to do a spin attack, ya know, cuz he’s Sonic? I’ll go now

“The Pop never Stops.” That was better

WHERE ARE ALL THESE CHAIRS COMING FROM?!

I LEGIT thought Strongbeard was gonna throw Dewey his axe and I was like Dewey wouldn’t be able to lift that

SUPER SAIYAN DEWEY! Also was that a TIGER SNARL?

I like the ice pack on Launchpad’s head. Just because he can take a lot of damage doesn’t mean that LP is immune to pain

I like that the crowd CHANGED THEIR BANNERS! Nice

LOUIE AND WEBBY LOOKED SO CUTE!

LP tearing up

“A true people’s hero” I feel like that phrase will come back in relation to other characters (cough DW cough)

Scrooge is such a little shit, it’s kind of adorable

THAT END SHOT! THAT SONG!

This was a SUPER FUN EPISODE! I couldn’t really tell where they were going and I LOVED EVERY SECOND OF IT! I wish we had gotten Huey in some wrestling gear but maybe next time. I like the message that doing the right thing isn’t always popular but I kind of feel like Dewey getting the crowd on his side muddled the message somewhat. Poor Dewey needs therapy or something so he doesn’t feel like he needs CONSTANT approval. Again, he’s 11 YEARS OLD and shouldn’t be put into such a serious position. LP was VIP this episode. I’m bummed we’re on hiatus again, but WHAT an episode to end on!

#ducktales #dt spoilers

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ithinkthingsaboutstuff · 4 years

Text

What is with Birds of Prey criticism?

i have seen BOP

and i have read comments and review’s from different people (male and female) and i have decided to throughout my observations into the void.

now personal taste is personal taste and everyone is allowed to like or not like whatever they want.

but i will be looking at this from a ‘structured’ pov so i will be breaking the movie down into what others have got to say about it.

and with that in mind i will be taking things out of context but i will be summarising and linking to the sources when possible.

i will be looking at how people have persevere them (again male and female) and why this might be so (but i will say now that it is only my best guess, and i will try to be as fair as possible)

and i will also add i have only seen the movie once at this point so i may miss some things or misremember others

so from here on out we this will be nothing but

------------------------------------------SPOILERS-----------------------------------------

ok so with that out of the way.

PLOT

the plot is basically

Harley and the joker have broken up (joker, dumped her)

this makes Harley lose her immunity in Gotham as she was protected by the fact she was the jokers girlfriend.

black mask is one of these people and is one of the most powerful in Gotham.

but he needs a diamond (that belongs to Helena) to be the most powerful in the city,

but when Zsasz and Black canary, get it take off them by a street girl (Cass)

Harley says she will get it back to square herself with mask and he will protected her afterwards

(there is also a b plot with Helena going around kill everyone who was involved with the death of her family)

things happen

and they all end up fight Black Mask men in a amusement park

and Harley kills him on a dock.

then they all part ways.

now this is an oversimplification.

but that does allow the movie to explore the characters and their relationship's with the world and the story.

but over all an average plot but no so more them say

-the avengers (2012)

-thor (2011)

-age of ultron (2015)

-spider-man homecoming (2017)

and so on.

Criticisms

this is what one critic had to say about the movie

review from Mick LaSalle

“but no, even that makes things sound better than they are. There’s no character there at all. There’s a look. There’s an attitude, and there’s an assemblage of mannerisms, but these are all veneers surrounding a vacuum.”

“None of them suggest a personality, beyond some generalized zaniness.”

now i am no expert but is having a look, an attitude and mannerisms all things that make up someone’s personality?

i can see if he was trying to say she has not much to add to the overall story or if it over shadowed everything in the movie, for sake of being “zany”

but it was integrated into the movies narrative as a the main story telling tool,

e.g. Harley’s narration and the cartoons/ animation that came with. those where there to add character to the movie through Harley’s, so basically Harley’s personality is the films personality.

and this is what he had to say about the plot

“If she wanted the Joker back, that would be something. That could be a movie. If she wanted revenge, that would be a weak motive, but it would still be something.”

now this has some interesting connotations,

what he was trying to say with this sentiment is only something i can guess, but i will want to give him the benefit of the doubt, maybe he was asking for a story similar to ‘mad love’ from the s4 of the Batman new adventures.

looking more at the sickness of that relationship (that some people admired and fawned over in suicide squad) so if that is the case then its not a bad thought,

however the way it is phrased makes it sound like more like Harley needs the Joker to be major part of the story for it to be any good.

but Harley has had comic’s for year’s that prove the opposite.

now to compare this what he had to say about the Joker (2019)

“What’s terrifying and brilliant about Phoenix’s Joker is that he seems to be operating from an intricate yet alien form of logic. There is very little common ground between the character and the viewer, no shared understanding of right and wrong, real or unreal. He erupts into laughter without warning — a terrifying, piercing laugh that he can’t control. He sits in the audience at a comedy club, joyously and maniacally laughing at setups, not punch lines.”

now i am not saying Joker is a bad movie, I am just saying that he complained about the lack of story and character in one film and praised it in another.

now i also understand that these films are different, and they have different tones and messages. and ever genre (one is action, the other is drama)

but basically

he is saying Joker’s lack of clear “personality” made the movie good and Harley’s made it bad (again this is apples and oranges, and way to simple)

but the main point is that he has failed to look for WHY Harley is that way, or how that adds to the movie like he did for Joker.

now moving on to

Anthony Lane

“ No one could call Harley Quinn a recluse. She loves to go out, get wasted, meet people, and fight them. In onscreen graphics, she proudly reports what it is about her that vexes her opponents. (“Voted for Bernie.” “Have a vagina.”) Yet Harley is often alone in the frame—marching toward the camera in her T-shirt and shorts, smiling madly through lips of fire-engine red, and peppering us with unceasing chatter, as if words were buckshot. She lives on her own, too, with a stuffed beaver in a tutu and a pet hyena named Bruce. (As with the title, note the surfeit of nuttiness. Rarely have I seen a movie strain so hard to seem out-there.) Our heroine needs some kindred spirits, and quick.”

ok benefit of the doubt this is just a colourful way to describe the movie and Harley’s set up,

however with the next paragraph that follows i don’t think so

“No surprise, then, that Yan’s movie, peopled as it is by women who talk among themselves, with only fitful reference to men, doesn’t so much pass the Bechdel Test as ace it, while also ticking the profanity box, the ear-splitting box, and the bone-snapping box—every box, in fact, except for the tricky one that requires a motion picture to be good”

the strange thing is that he was so close to an epiphany

yes Harley is social but she is lonely that is the point of her being with the BOP, taking in Cassie.

and saying someone who is social is not able to be lonely is the dumbest thing i have ever heard.

and i can name dozens of movies off the top of my head that is a group of guys ‘talking among themselves, with only fitful reference to women’

- the hang over (1,2 and 3)

- die hard

- pulp fiction

- fast and furious (all 9 of them)

- the other guys

- Sherlock (RDJ movies)

- the dark night

- scarface

- any Adam Sandler movie for the last 20 years

-memento

- rush hour (all 3)

- fight club

like damn dude your getting all bent out of shape for women having the nerve to want to tell story’s about other women.

(and i would also like to point out that very on in the movie was a ‘bad guy’ or did bad things all throughout the film and the men are just what they are up against you know like some kind of antagonist??? fucking wild idea right, and as we all know every female villain in movies are always written with respect and dignity, can you feel my sarcasm)

and this is what this man also said about ‘ford vs ferrari’

“Ford v Ferrari” is directed by James Mangold, and it may be his strongest film.

like dude you are showing your hand here.

but i am not wasting any more time on this dude.

let us move on to the lady’s

MOLLY FREEMAN

“the movie ultimately embodies different kinds of liberation - not only of women breaking free from their abusive boyfriends, psychotic employers and the restrictive boy's club, but also the freedom and power that comes with finding a group where they feel accepted and supported.”\

“Cathy Yan's directing and vision for the film, which is realized in the action, costumes and music. The fighting sequences are absolutely brutal and choreographed in a way to showcase the characters' respective abilities. Harley's gymnast moves make a return, and when she gets her hands on a bat, the Cupid of Crime really lets loose - and it'll leave audiences breathless with exhilaration. Birds of Prey stands out because it's uniquely female, from the characters' fighting styles down to the details of Harley pausing mid-fight to give her friend a hair tie. This further extends to the costumes, designed by Erin Benach (A Star Is Born), which are exquisite and perfectly showcase each character's personality.”

Susana Polo

“Each character’s storyline is given a slightly different genre and tone, as well, one of a number of tactics the production employs to mimic Harley’s manic internal life. Huntress stalks around Birds of Prey like it’s a Kill Bill-esque revenge epic, while Renee Montoya is in a hard-boiled cop flick. The main heroine ensemble actors all breathe a wonderful amount of life into little-known characters overdue for mainstream attention.”

“Winstead delivers a comedic twist on the Huntress’s classic personality that I hope makes its way to comics as soon as possible, and the 13-year-old Basco deserves particular credit for holding her own alongside Robbie in their many scenes together. Robbie’s Harley Quinn is just as scene-stealing as she was in Suicide Squad, appearing to operate on at least 20 percent cartoon logic at all times — a useful skill for an occasionally fourth-wall-breaking narrator. Cartoon-channeling is also a useful skill for the star of a movie with such splendid fight scenes.”

now i am not saying every man hates the movie, and every woman loved it that is insane and dumb.

but what does seem to be a common theme is that positive or negative, men and women are looking at different aspects of the movie

women look at the movie on its own terms and men seem to look by comparing it to other “guy movies”

now this a generalisation but this is a common idea that seems to run through it.

and here is some general thoughts from some people who have made comments, online.

female

“I am sick and tired of being told what movies I need to like as a woman, this is a bad movie. It isn't a zero nor is it a ten and anyone rating it that way isn't being honest either with you or themselves. The storytelling is odd and the flashbacks are weirdly placed to the point where they take you out of the movie. This movie has too much exposition and then not enough which I congrats I guess. I don't think men are rating this film low because they are "man babies" I think they are rating it low because there are far better superhero and anti-hero movies out there to choose from.”

this is based on personal taste and why it didn’t sit right with them (and that’s fine)

male

“A rush movie without any type of storyline and God knows where they are heading with DCEU and it's characters..It's only Harley and Harley who has never been in BOP in comics...Mis usage of characters and movie..Just make a decision where do you wanna go with your movies”

now this interesting, when this people has the same feels as the person above

they don’t look to the movie itself they look to find out evidence to discredit instead of anything in the film itself.

again i am not saying this person is wrong to feel this way i simply think the method of expressing it, is interesting.

(and for the record this is actually an incorrect statement Harley and Poison Ivy have been apart of the team at different points)

male

“The girls looked terrible like they were going Break-Dancing or something and Harley Quinn was dressed up like a Bird with makeup?? The ending was ridiculously stupid and predictable and the misogynist male pig attitudes towards the females in the film were jaw dropping cringe moments, like who acts like that??”

now this is about appearance, and the male characters, now this is showing that men see a violent, man who literally gets someone to cut a MAN’s face off

and the only thing they focus on is that ‘oh he is mean to women damn SJW’s’

that is the weird’s thing? like you the bad guy is bad to the hero’s? shocking.

now i am not saying that the character is perfect and well crafted like loki or kilmonger but he serviced the purpose he was meant to, he was powerful intimidating and unpredictable.

(and black mask has always been a nut case)

but i also think its interesting that these men who cry about SJW’s and how they mock men (and that does sometimes happen, it would be dumb to say they didn’t)

never seem to mind that that women get called bitch’s and whores in every other movie.or that women are used shallow props to move the movie along.

almost like it is distressing when you see someone you can identify with is treated like the peace of garbage.

female

“The Film was decent enough for a lowkey Friday night out with the girls. Nothing you'd rant & rave about or even remember seeing in a few months but it was entertaining in places. The script felt a little bit underbaked & the story itself felt a bit disjointed. The direction of the film was lacking for me. In a world where Todd Phillips pulled off Joker (2019) this seems like a more rushed project that would've been better at Netflix or even Amazon Prime for release. I think the deserve another crack at this movie & another attempt at something with a bit more substance”

honest to the point and is looking at the movie on its own term's

notice how she does not need to devalue other women to get this across, not the character’s, not the write or director but was looking at it from a personal taste and rewatchablity,

the anger about this movie is so strange

like how many hero movies have been worse then this and was not taking very chance they get to bash the creators and that they should not do their job’s because the movie had women as most of the cast and was mainly about them.

anyway i hand it over to all of you.

#Birds of Prey #birds of prey movie #Harley Quinn #bop #long post

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chromium7sky · 5 years

Text

Damirae week day 2: fake relationship | I'm a sucker (for you)

"You suck, like seriously. "

Jason told Damian as soon as Damian explain the situation that become tangible. Oh how he did wish to turn back time and said NO but... This time, he said yes. Especially to a girl who seems to come out of nowhere.

But seriously, he involved in deep shit and know it seems all the media and reporter are trying to smell some scandal from the Wayne Family, especially from him, the blood son of Bruce Wayne.

"That all you have to say? " Damian raised his brow.

"Well, there's much more of that, Dimwit but I was wondering. Why her? Just because she has an animal and to specific, a bird name, you fall head over heels for her? " Jason smirked as he teased the young heir while smoking at the open window.

Damian, annoyed as always, took the cigarette from Jason's hand and put out it by pressing the lit against the window panel. "Where did you get that stupendous theory?" he sneered at the white streak lad.

"Come on, Damian. The Bat and co. knows it. Tim, Barbara, Cass, not to mention Dick and Steph keep screaming when they see both of you together. " Jason shrugged idly with annoying face as he remember the noise Dick and Steph made during their 'Stake out' for the young man.

"It wasn't even a real date!" Damian exclaimed.

"Well by the look of your face at that time, you seems enjoy it. " the red hood huffed as he show the picture where taken.

"You... Dare! " Damian were about to snatched but with Jason quick reflexes he quickly store in his jacket inner pocket.

"So tell me, little D. What is it? "

"It has nothing to do with you. " Damian grumbled as he sending death glare to Jason which the older brother seems to immune with it.

"Yes it does because I would really like to meet a girl who could make a brat fall head over heels for her. " Jason smirked and what he's really impressed is this haughty assassin prince seems to act gentlemen towards her like it was almost natural.

"So, care to talk? " Jason played the good cop.

Damian sneered at him and lost in the end. "Fine. We talk at the balcony." as he quickly paced towards the area followed by Jason Todd.

As Damian sit at the chair in the middle of the balcony, he put his hands together and close his eyes as he tried to retrieved some information store in big brain of his.

"It was about a criminal I was after, rather a peculiar one. His name is Eric Forrester. I've been trying to track him for months after serial incident happen at rural area nearby Jump city. " As Damian explained.

"And? " Jason with his armed crossed as he listen his story.

"I've found the exact same pattern case nearby. Until.. "

"Until you met Raven? "

Damian silence for a while as the flashback playing on his mind like it was happen yesterday.

####flash back####

"Help me! "

"What?! " Damian were kinda busy at time when a girl suddenly appear as he walked down the street with coffee and bagel on his hands.

"Something happening to my roommate. " The girl mumbled and shivers. She pull his arm and ran towards a flight of stairs and God knows, the girl is really terrified.

As soon as they reached her apartment, the door were wide open. Damian pulled the girl's wrist behind him incase something bad happen. As they slowly pacing in, they saw the girl's roomates, blonde with attractive build now facing down and with bluish color skin.

Both of them were horrid and Damian quickly call 911.

*********

"I'm sorry about your friend. " said Damian as he stood besides the girl who is now, hand shaking while holding a cup of tea and space out.

After the interrogation session it seems that the dead girl were died but unnaturally. There's no trauma or force that apply on the corpse.

"Caroline...she has a bright future. But why... " she cried as she used her sleeves wiping her tears.

"What happen actually?" as the young man sip his coffee, to warm his body in this cold weather.

"I was just gone back from art exhibition party at my college and as soon as I reached my floor. The door were wide open! I thought, it was burglary!! But nothing was taken, and I found my roommate lying on the living room." as the scene still freshly painted in her mind.

Damian sighed as he sip down the black coffee. Well, he tried to bite down his curiousity, questioning her alibi and finding evidence because this, this is exactly the same case happen at the Jump city where the woman found dead unexplained in their home.

"I was hoping if you know more about what happen, i mean, is there anyone your roommate met recently like colleague, friends?" Damian stared at the blue haired girl.

She took a couple of sip and as if something came up on her mind. "Well, there is someone she's kinda close in her workplace. I think that was her boss. " the girl rubbing her chin as she refreshed her memories.

"I did stumbled some flower gift outside of our apartment. " she paused. "and its say from a guy name Forrester. I bet that's his name. "

Damian jolted as soon as he heard the named quickly turn to her. "Forrester?"

"Yeah. Probably a well-known playboy somewhere. His name kind of familiar. " she mumbled.

Damian has found his lead for the case. Quickly he finished his coffee and throw the cup into the paper recycle bin.

"Well, I hope after this you need to move away from the apartment. I think you might in danger. " Damian turn to her as he advice her.

"I can't. This is the only apartment i could afford. " she cluthes her cup.

"Still, your life is on the line, miss." as his stared at her.

"I know. I'll just becareful. " she sighed and throw her empty cup to the recycle bin. "Anyway, thank you for helping me. " she give out her faint smile.

"By the way, I'm sorry to be rude for not introducing myself. I'm Damian. " as he held out his hand towards her.

"Raven Roth. But you can call me Rav-" as she grab his hand she jolted and so as Damian. It was like a surge flowing between them.

What he sees in his mind is something sinister, a clue, ANOTHER murder. Quickly he pull of the hands and both of them gasping for air.

"What the hell was THAT?! " he spit out. What he felt is new and mystical, also prophetic.

"You, felt it too? " her indigo eyes went large as if it was new to her.

"What do you mean you felt it too? " As Damian furrowed his eyebrows wanting some explanation about what happen.

"I--"

"Who the hell are you? " Damian start to feel hostile. His suspicious grew towards this girl name Raven.

"Please do understand me. I didn't cause any harm to anyone." Raven kept her cool face as she held both of her hands as the sign to pacify the current situation.

"I've seen horrible image in mind. Are you -" before he finished his sentence Raven snapped out as she knew what he going to say.

"I'm not what you think it IS! "

Both of them took time to breath in and out calming down themselves.

"What? " Damian still puzzled.

"I had a forecast about what happen to Caroline and rush towards the apartment. " her shaky hands at her sides. "I fail to save her. " again her tears rolled down.

Damian sees her vulnerable and somehow it reminds of him when he tried to save the children from Dr. Pyg in his old case. It's frustrating and guilt.

"Why didn't you tell to the police about that? " he was curious with her ability, this forecast thing.

Raven scoffed as she heard that. "They probably put me in asylum, Mr. Damian."

"Just call me Damian."

"Damian... " as she corrected her last sentence. "But you saw what I saw just now..." her lips formed a solemn smile. "Its more than enough to prove that I'm not crazy. "

Damian silence as he heard her.

###flash back ends###

"Wait, wait!"

Damian sneered at Jason.

"I haven't finish yet, Todd. " Damian grind his teeth in annoyance.

"So, both of you had the Zap thing and you guys dating each other because of that?! " as Jason try to understand the chronological of the event.

" We are not even dating! Its just a cover! For her!" Damian sighed as he ruffled his hair.

"You're saying she's not your type? "

"Bullshit! It was for her safety. There's a maniac keep harrasing her in the college!"

"So you do like her! "

Damian just can't get with Jason who always on his nerve.

"By the way, how about the maniac that makes THIS happen? "

"Already take care of it. " Damian crossed his arm.

"You kill him? "

"No. "

"Send him to authority? "

"Worse. "

"A 20 years sentences? "

"I ensured it. "

Jason pursed his lip in approval and nod slightly as he heard it. Don't mess with little D's girl.

A standard ringtone breaking the silent atmosphere and Damian quickly pull out his phone. He glanced at the scene and answer the phone.

" Any new Forecast?"

Oh, that question made Jason grew excited! Damian were talking to HER! Quickly on his impulse he grab the phone from his little brother.

Damian wanted to protest but Jason quickly put his hand on the angry boy's mouth as he speak to the mysterious girl on the phone.

"Hey, Raven right? "

At first there's silence but then she saying yeah to confirm her identity.

"Well, this weekend Damian is kinda having dinner at his house, Don't you mind joining in? " Jason casually invited her through the phone. Damian's 'What? ' at the background can be heard the moment Jason said dinner at their house.

"Uh, I don't know. Who am I speaking to?"

"His Father. " Jason lied. He could hear she gasp on the speaker.

"Sorry to disturb you discussion between you and your son, Mr..."

"Mr. Wayne. "

"Mr. Wayne?"

"Yes. " Jason heard the conversation been cut off in a sudden. Jason then seen the screen shows call ended. "She hang up?"

"What did you do?! " Damian quickly snatch his phone back and saw the screen. Then he set his infamous death glare at Todd. "You scared her!! "

Jason amused with his reaction, the spawn of satan really like this girl.

The phone ring again, quickly Damian answer it. "Look, I can explain." Todd quickly at the other side trying to eavesdrop on the conversation.

"Sorry to make you worry, i was shocked that I dropped my phone. Did I annoyed your father for sudden hang up? " Raven's voice faintly heard.

"That fine. He just need to go somewhere minding his own business. " Damian sneered at Jason then gesturing his hand to buzz off. "Anyway, about the Forecast, i got one about 1 hour earlier. And I could make out the name of the place, Jackal's Sanctuary."

Damian pull out a pen and write on his palm Jackal's Sanctuary name. "Great. We'll met there within one hour. "

"On it! " Both Raven and Todd answer it. Damian then looked at Todd who has walked toward the door while holding the his phone. He sneered deducing that his brother is up to something.

"Damian, is your father still there? "

"No...no. He went somewhere else. " as Damian continue to glare at Jason who has gone inside.

Meanwhile, Jason text on his phone about Damian meeting the girl at Jackal's Sanctuary on a group chat call The soaring Birds that has Dick, Babs, Steph, Cass, Timbo as active member. Duke tries to stay out of it but of course, Dick won't let any Bat and Co. left behind and sometimes Duke follow their investigation about the girl who Damian said having "fake relationship".

The picture of the group made Jason cringe sometimes. It was a picture of Damian and Raven capture from a far, with motto written in cursive neon coloured "Make it come true."

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letstalksymphogear · 5 years

Text

Symphogear, EP.7 (Cont.)

“i have not now, nor ever, liked this creepy ass church elevator.”

“kanade please get out of my head, just because im hungry doesnt mean you have to tell me every time i am”

Hibiki finishes getting a full body X-ray. She’s fine.

“that anime protagonist immunity is really kicking in well!”

“by the way, your wife is here! and she’s looking mighty miffed., as opposed to me, mighty milfed.”

“you dont strike me as a mother figure but ill play along for now”

“i just hope miku’s okay...”

“oh, she’ll be fine! see, i’ve seen these kinds of plots before. big secret revealed, another lover is shown, the victim watches as they’re thoroughly cheated on, and they get to lik-”

“please stop breathing”

Genjuro’s wasting away again in Margaritaville. Looking for some daughter to adopt. SOME PEOPLE SAY THAT THERE’S A, WOOOOMAAAAAN TO BLAAAAAAAAAAME, BUT HE KNOWS

XYLOPHONE RIFF

THAT’S IT’S ALL HIS FAULT

XYLOPHONE RIFF

“i hate it when he gets like this. jimmy buffets not a good look for him.”

“for once you and i agree. seeing the commander sulk like this like a middle aged perma-tourist is genuinely miserable”

“hey homies! im back and i brought some bitches! oh, jesus, why does this place smell like mistakes in miami?”

“its me. im sorry. every time i feel like i failed as a dad, my anti-dad energies manifest. imagine every midlife crisis rolled up into a single ball, smacked into the face for eternity. thats the depth of my pain for failing this girl.”

In a moment of positivity, the friendship between Tsubasa and Hibiki is cemented.

> Tsubasa has joined the party.

“FRIENDSHIP!”

“fweindship.”

“uuuuhhhhh... dadship? yeah thats close enough.”

“WE’RE ALL GOOD FRIENDS!”

“ya tiddies are ringing again, better go get it”

Ryoko also points out that Hibiki’s relic is fusing with herself at an alarming rate. This is important to keep in mind.

Meanwhile, at night.

Miku is posing in the motherly “you done fucked up, where have you been young lady” position. A cold scolding is coming.

“.........................hey miku......”

“you can come in. are you worried im gonna bite? you suplexed a car. that shouldn’t be an issue anymore.”

“miku, i.... i wanted to tell you.... but.... the plot wouldn’t let me, miku....”

“should’ve told the plot to fuck off anyway. now you’re gonna live with that. you’re sleeping... on the bottom bunk.”

“b.... b..... b...... b.... b...... bottom bunk...?”

They slept separately that night. God, this is so stupid. All of this is so goddamned stupid. “I’m so mad at you even though you saved my life.” This is just so. AUGH. THIS IS DUMB. KANEKO WRITE BETTER ANGST THAT MAKES SENSE THAT ISN’T THIS.

Meanwhile, far away from this garbage...

Chris, having been evicted from Fine’s McMansion, wanders the streets of mumblemumble aimlessly. Don’t be fooled by her new fancy dress. Basically, she’s a combat-competent hobo.

“no food. no home. no victories. this sucks. whyd you do it, fine? we coulda been great together. but no. ya fired me. now i look like im prancing the red light district with a highly advanced superweapon around my neck.”

“no... hibiki’s to blame. ever since that genderbent little mac showed up to fight me, it’s been all downhill. fine thought me a laughstock because i couldnt take out her oversized boxing gloves, and now she beat me while i had nehushtan. god... i wish i never met that damn hamster faced chubby cheeked nerd.”

“wait, whats that crying”

Chris spies two kids talking to each other, one of them crying. Chris immediately makes an assumption, believing the big bro is bullying his sis.

“hey! stop nicking her lunch money, twerp”

Chris currently is a firm believer of corporeal punishment.

But the sister deflects the blow. Chris can’t even defeat children right now. Truly, this is a record low for her. You know you blew it when even kids are schooling you on basic morality. She then tells the little girl to stop crying, ironically mirroring her brother.

The infamous double T-Pose maneuver. Chris, you might as well get a shovel and start digging your own grave.

“i keep doing bad things badly, and now im doing good things badly... when fine said i was bad... did she just mean im not talented?”

Chris, finally, does a good thing and helps these kids find their parents.

“yeah. hibiki saved a kid when she got her gear. guess what? bam! im saving two! that’s fifty percent more kid per kid saved. take that, weirdo.”

The kids call her out on Chris singing unconsciously, and Chris gets flustered over it. Dawwwwww.

Chris manages to get them to safety to their Dad...

...while brutally lying about it, making Chris look like a predator. There’s a very crushing irony at play here, given who Chris used to serve.

“ugggggggggggggggghhhhhh hes not even gonna payyyyy meeeeeee why the fuck did i dooooo thiiiiiiissssss”

“hey, you know. you kids have a really nice relationship with one another. care to give me tips on how to be an empathetic human being capable of making friends?”

“maybe we’re born with it”

“maybe its maybeline”

“maybeline...”

Meanwhile...

A cold wind blows through Lydian Apartment 69-L. (I don’t actually know if that’s their room number, I just made it up.)

“jesus take the wheel, because i’m jumping out the passenger seat to save this current wreck of a relationship”

“miku please i saved your life, doesnt that count for anything”

“you already killed me the moment you lied. also im taking the bottom bunk so i dont have to see your face coming down the ladder.”

“miku you cant hide in this depression den forever. i know i hurt you and im sorry for it, but please understand i literally couldnt do it. you saw there were punches and violence and stuff... i didnt want you tied to that...”

“what was that? i cant hear your apologies over my incredibly loud snoring. SNOOOOOOORE. SNOOOOOOOORE. SNOOO- fuck, i just swallowed my spit, fuck”

“i hope this cocoon of displeasure you’ve made for yourself lets you erupt into a butterfly of acceptance so i can fly with you again.”

“......thats not fair. you cant say those beautiful metaphors and get away with it. let me be mad... sniff... let me be mad...”

Sadness wafts in the den of lies Hibiki has been forced into.

No music plays. There is only heartbreak, and woe.

In the midst of this pain...

Ryoko loredumps about how the Symphogears work and are immune to the noise on her blog, ‘hornyonmainforscience.org’, her hybrid science journal slash kink zone. It’s mostly a recap with some pretty good soft techno beats in it.

“i made a custom brew of red bull, five hour energy drink, coffee, and cream. i call it gamer girl piss.”

“damn. that’s some good piss.”

She muses about how Hibiki has managed to break the limitations of her Symphogear, making her a totally unique specimen. Wait, where have we heard this before...?

Hey... Ryoko... let’s just... cool it a bit with the Hibiki pictures... come on...

Ryoko touches upon the Custodians and the Curse of Babel. We ain’t touching that shit until later, because that’s another shitfuck box of crazy just ready to jump us in a dark alleyway to rob us of our wits.

Back to Lydian:

“miku whats the answer to the first three multiple choice questions”

“B. A. D.”

“oh, thanks. huh, BAD.”

“yeah. you are.”

“mmm. taste likes dissapointment. just like my life.”

“hey table for two haha get it cause there’s two chairs and miku for the love of god, please, forgive me”

“ive surgically removed my eyes and drew eyelashes over them with sharpie so i dont have to see your bird bangs.”

“thats very rude to both me and my hair. also, wig.”

Even Hibiki’s meal is judging her. Mainly for not eating it. Fucking look at this. God, that looks amazing. Fuck, why did I write this while I was hungry.

“miku you cant do this forever. i might die and youll end up crying on my tombstone going ‘oh god, why, oh god’, and really, i cant live with myself if that happens. mainly because id already be dead by then”

The Anime Janai crew show up to break some icebergs with a goddamn sledgehammer. As the self-aware Gods of this realm, they got very tired of this poor display of angst, and have decided to directly intervene.

Nevermind. They came for her kneecaps, and they most certainly got them.

PLEASE. I’M BEGGING YOU. END THIS GARBAGE PLOT THREAD.

“look. imma lay down the facts. yall are gay. yall are in love. yall are angry for the wrong reasons. its nobody’s fault here but the writer. so please kiss and make up. pretty please.”

“kaneko... you fool... we all know what the original sin is. its your hack writing making this stupidity in the first place. let the pencil go, asshole!”

They bring up the fact that Hibiki isn’t doing her work and wonder if she has a job on the side, which isn’t allowed by the school. Miku gets annoyed and bails, with Hibiki running after her. Unfortunately, Miku runs faster...

“oh god miku not the rooftop whatever you’re thinking just dont do it! please!”

“no. i came here to angst, since this is the Maximum Angst Zone.”

“i..... okay! okay, that’s fair! rooftops are the perfect place to look sad while getting proper air ventilation, thats fine”

It really would have been better played if it was played off that she felt hurt not because of the lie, but because she felt like she could have helped her better having known the truth, and it being a self-loathing sort of scenario for not being there better for her and not fully understanding the risk at play.

But no, instead, we get this.

youtube

Absolutely obliterated. A heart ripped, shredded, and sent to the Shadow Realm.

The episode ends on that note, but has a post credit scene.

Naked. On an old timey telephone. On a computer. Wearing stockings and long gloves.

The main antagonist of the series, everybody.

She’s talking the best English possible to some random-ass American when suddenly bursting through the scene is none other than:

“I WANT WORKERS COMPENSATION YOU BITCH, BEFORE I UNIONIZE YOUR NAKED ASS”

“AND I WANT A GOOD REFERNECE FOR MY FUTURE EMPLOYER, AND ALSO A SEVERANCE PACKAGE SINCE I’M FUCKING HOMELESS”

“i paint my eyelashes with mascara made from the tar of freshly carbonated corpses manufactured through noise, what on gods green earth compels you to think id give a rats ass about you?”

“so you never cared, huh! you’re just a nasty naked hedonist trying to- trying to- what the fuck are you even trying to do?!”

“i want to live the dream every spicy little fossil like me yearns for.”

“I WANNA FUCK GOD!”

“how- what? what? how do you even- what? are you- do you want to be the pope? is that it? does the pope get to fuck god? are you- is this a larping thing? you’ve really been into larping lately! i don’t like this!”

“youve never read the old testament, have you. ass out, pussy bare, hips up and barefoot. that’s how god’s always liked it.”

“now get lost, punk. you tipped off my hand to genjuro and now you being here is going to ruin everything. if you still feel any semblance of devotion, eat one of your own bullets and call it a day.”

“it’s 2012 bitch, if the mayans dont get you, I WILL”

“what god gives, He takes away, and so do i. i built you from the ground up. your relic, which was good for jack shit on you. the nehushtan, which you failed to do anything with except zap a couple hundred people. stop wars? you’re a walking war, waged by me, for me. and your cartridge has just run out of bullets.”

“uh oh! hand’s acting up again! better bail before i send you back to smacktown where all the bitter little shittalkers like you strut around spending their lives being useless as hell.”

“ah fuck, im not dealing with no manos: the hands of fate bullshit again”

“and guess what else i got on motherfucker”

“i see the union efforts have officially been busted. understandable, have a nice day ma’am”

“LEAVE.”

“I’M GOING, I’M GOING”

#symphogear #symphogear season 1 #anime #recap #comedy

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nilim · 5 years

Text

My Mythodea Adventure - Part 2

Day 2!

During the first in-game night it rained and a thunderstorm passed over, waking us up in the middle of the night -- but luckily everything stayed dry inside our tent. The next morning we were woken up at an early hour by a woman who was running through the camp ringing a loud bell, yelling that the fighters had to get up and get prepared as we would soon be under attack from the Black Ice.

Conquest is a continuous in-time LARP, although there is generally less activity from the NPCs between 3 and 8 AM. This also means that getting woken up at 8 by your camp being under attack is part of the in-game life, and although it can be annoying it is also very immersive.

As we were not fighters, and had no armour to put on, we stayed in our beds a little longer before having a quick breakfast and finishing our translations of the documents.

The first document was about a garden, and it talked about how different kinds of ‘creatures’ or people lived there, and what they liked, and how they lived in harmony. It read very much as a ‘garden of life’ story, like a scripture describing the origin of the different tribes and people of Mythodea.

The second document continued that story, but specifically talked about a Forbidden District within the garden that was protected by a wall of thorns. If you went through the wall with the intention of getting into the Forbidden District, the thorns would poison you, and mark your ‘Kahat’ and cause a slow death. It also talked about the birds that lived in the wall of thorns that were immune to the poison.

We theorized about what this Forbidden District could contain, how we could get through the wall, and where this garden could be located, before setting out to visit the different temples.

At the temple of Terra, which was close to our campsite, we asked the druids how we could help out. One of them told us that the temple was also a place of death, and that we could set out in the world and collect stories and songs about death, or we could bring people there who were close to dying, or even go there if one of us were to die (yikes). We promised her we would do our best and return with stories and songs.

We continued towards Trost, and passed by the Temple of Fire. It had a big fighting pit next to it, surrounded by pillars and chains. There was a line of people to speak to the priestess, and there was a big fire pit, than contained dozens of smaller glass candle holders. We were informed we could complete an offering for this temple by picking one of the candles and taking it to the priestess. The priestess flipped it over, and looked on the other side of the candle, which contained a number. She looked up the number in a big book, and then removed the candle from circulation -- therefore, every single quest someone picked was unique to them.

Our quest turned out to be one where we had to confess a ‘sin’, and then atone for it. If we had finished our quest, we should return and receive a blessing.

We continued to the Atelier, to see if we could find any additional info on this ‘garden’ in the archives.

Our healer, Cerriel, is the eldest sister, and she is somewhat bossy but the most ‘do good’ person in our group. She immediately settled on going through the history section.

The two youngest sisters are Kenna and Nova, who play twins. Nova is the diplomat, who is a little shady in that she had a knack for magic spells that are borderline dubious, like the ‘forget’ spell. In the game, I am closest to Nova, as she is not as ‘good’ as the other two, and has still supported me throughout my bad life choices. The very first thing she did was descend back on the Dark Studies section.

Kenna is the bard, and is very happy go lucky. She immediately got sucked into a conversation with a bunch of other bards, who invited her to come sing songs with her, which she immediately did - sitting on the grass in the middle of the atelier.

I, on the other hand, zeroed in on Radavan, as I wanted to ask him about himself and find out more about him, the Atelier, and what kind of favour we could expect from him. I told him we had translated the document, but that it was hard to know what to ask for as I didn’t know what he could offer, so I asked him to tell me about himself. He was very amused at this, and told me about his house, and his goals, which were mostly about making his house stronger. From what he told me I gathered he was kind of like a spider in a web of people, making sure that every person in his house was in the best position to be the most effective. He was the one that made sure everyone got what they needed.

I listened to Kenna sing, and we told the bards we wanted to learn songs about death, and they taught one to Kenna. When they finished singing, one of the GMs threw a white pearl at the bards, and one of the other bards proclaimed that as Kenna was the one who had learned a new song, it must be awarded to her, as clearly the atelier had given them a blessing.

Soon after, smoke started filling the small stone circle next to the Atelier, and a ‘projection’ started. We discovered that the Atelier had several ‘projections’ every day, which were these visions of what the enemy was up to. It was very cool, as they brought out the actual NPC enemies, who would play out scenes and would stand still for us to study them.

They projected the servant of the Queen of Bones and a vision of her working together with the Black Ice. They also projected the Queen of Dragonflies, who was a leader of the Black Ice and a merger between the Black Ice and Pestilence. A lot of plot stuff went on here, but I won’t get into it because it’s way too much and way too confusing - save to say, it was a very cool mechanic.

At this point we also met those we lovingly referred to as the ‘Frenchies’, which was a group of French players who also hung out in both the battlefields and at the Atelier all the time.

They also were scholars, with very cool outfits, and zero weapons. They were composing an encyclopedia of everything that went on in the world of Mythodea. They had a girl who had a huge wooden drawing board in front of her, and would draw all the important NPCs she saw. The guy with the leather hat had a contraption on his back that could fold out into a table with the encyclopedia and additional. There guy in the blue shirt and straw hat was the plant guy and gathered info on herbs and plants. The last guy was also into flora and fauna.

We talked to them a bunch to ask about the garden, and also other info they had. They showed us the encyclopedia. We had actually seen them run around in the battle the day previously, and they joked that if we saw the girl (whose name I forgot) on the battlefield we should grab her and run the other way because she would get into trouble by getting too close to the enemies all the time, because she wanted to draw them.

We kind of became friends over the next few days as we kept running into them all the time, and we had similar interests. They showed us a map of the area, with different temples, and told us all the temples were corrupted and feeding into the central ‘temple’, which also contained underground tunnels. You could earn these elemental pearls at all the temples by completing quests, and you could donate them at the temples to strengthen them, or spent them at the middle temple in order to get into the dungeons.

The bards Kenna had hung out with discovered that she called herself a ‘bard’ but wasn’t a member of the Bards Guild. They seemed a little agitated, and tried to convince her to join the Bards guild, which all sounded nice up until their sales pitch included the fact that they were very nice people who rarely broke people’s legs or fingers. And I was like… ehh, why would you ever break people’s fingers? And they said, well, because in the Bard’s guild every bard gets assigned a tavern to sing at, so if you sing for coin at places you are not assigned… they might break some fingers. And we nervously laughed until we realized they were serious.

One of the bards took us to the Bards guild was we nervously deliberated behind him, because this all sounded very Bad.

Before we could get into the Bard’s guild we were actually checked at the gate, and had to show are hands and arms, and the back of our neck, and that is how we learned that the forsaken elements had actually send spies out among the settlers after infecting them - and they could be recognized by marks on their bodies. We were let in, and Kenna deliberated with them, but in the end decided not to join. Every time she sang after that, we were nervous we were gonna get in trouble with the Bard’s guild, haha!

We swung by the water temple in another district. You could fish out a shell from the waters, and the shell contained symbols. By showing the shell to one of the priestesses, she would look up the shell in her book, and then set you a task. We all fished out a shell, and got different tasks. There were two women in front of us, and when they were told their task, one of them burst out into hysterical laughter - like full out, a couple of minutes, tear laughter, as the other one just glared at her. We found out the one who was glaring had been instructed to not speak for 2 hours, and it was just a hilarious situation.

My task turned out to find a traveler and ask them about the fiercest beast they had ever encountered. I was then to draw/paint that beast. Cerriel got tasked to write down a secret and slip it into three people’s pockets unnoticed. Kenna had to ask five people about their dreams, and draw dream symbols and their meanings. Nova had to come back and announce to the temple the most beautiful dream she had ever had.

After this, we wanted to swing by the Atelier again, and we passed by the temple of fire -- where the Queen of Dragonflies was sitting in the throne, speaking to a whole bunch of people sitting in front of her!

With no context, we were curious if this was another projection, or what was going on. As me and Nova got closer, a GM immediately walked up to us and whispered in our ears that we felt a sudden incredible, motherly love from the Queen of Dragonflies, and that we were attracted to her. So we sat down with the other players and listened to her speech. She talked about the love she had for us, and that we should go out and tell others that she loves us and that we should fight for us. She passed through the crowd and hugged and caressed people and as she passed us she caressed our faces and called us beautiful.

This was not part of our plan, but we were now under the spell of the Queen of Dragonflies, and tasked with spreading her message. We went to the Atelier to draw pamphlets which we left in the archives. We then went back to our tent to eat dinner.

While close to our tent, I stumbled upon another one of those scroll cases, which we immediately stole again. It was another letter in code, but this time it had also a drawing of a plant. We set to translating the info, as we ate dinner. Suddenly, one of our neighbours swung by our tent and he told us we had saved him in the battle the day before. He asked for my sword, and he blessed it with a potion -- it would now put to sleep the first person I hit with it. Score!

After dinner, we made tea, and continued translating. The new document contained info about a mushroom that could strengthen potions of healing, and also told how through alchemical processing one could use it. It also told that on hills where these mushrooms grew, one could find materials that could be used for the forging of artefacts. As we made tea above our fire pit, the neighbours across from us asked us if we wanted some of their rice pudding they had made. We gladly accepted, and they came to bring us food as we offered them tea. They sat down with us, and we started talking.

One of them was a scribe for the banner council, and all day he wrote down what everyone had done and new info. We shared the info we had found in our documents, and also told him about the Queen of Dragonflies, although we carefully left out the info where we had been enchanted by her. Everything was new info to him, so he got up and ran to get his book from the council chambers so he could write stuff down. We gave him some of our documents to copy, and he told us we could pick it up at the council the next day. After talking for a while, we said our goodbyes and headed for bed. For our help and company, they left us with a bottle of mead.

#nilim larps #long text post

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your-iron-lung · 5 years

Text

The Language of Birds

A man saw a bird and found him beautiful. The bird had a song inside him, and feathers. Sometimes the man felt like the bird and sometimes the man felt like a stone- solid, inevitable- but mostly he felt like a bird, or that there was a bird inside him, or that something inside him was like a bird fluttering.

This went on for a long time.

-Richard Siken

available to read on A03 HERE

Sometimes love manifests itself as a disease; nigh incurable and invariably fatal. Hanahaki, they call it- the disease of flowers.

Steve has lived his entire life with it, managing the symptoms as best he can until he simply can’t any longer. He’s never met anyone else who’s suffered the same way until Billy Hargrove.

Pairing: One-sided/unrequited Harringrove

Word Count: 2349

Rating: Non-explicit

so um. an overwhelming amount of people wanted a sequel to ‘The Language of Flowers’, or at the very least a happy ending variant but uhhhhh

:^)

i am a creature that thrives off of sadness and misery im sorry

The first time it happens, he doesn’t understand why the rest of his elementary school friends run from him screaming ‘cooties!’ at the top of their lungs.

Steve holds the yellow flower petal in his hand and cries because he doesn’t understand what it means, or why it came from so deep within his itchy throat. His mom thought he’d had something called ‘strep’, but when the beautiful, kind Ms. Julia takes him to the school nurse he finds out she was wrong.

Both Ms. Julia and the nurse share a worried glance when he presents his flower petals to them. The nurse calls his mom, and for a moment Steve believes he’s in trouble, but if being in trouble means he gets to spend some extra time alone with his teacher, then, well, maybe getting into trouble is worth it.

His mom picks him up from school early, but instead of going home she takes him to an emergency doctor even though he doesn’t feel sick. She looks so scared that Steve becomes scared, worried of what he’s done wrong to prompt this trip.

He asks her what’s wrong, why the strep is causing flower petals to push up out of his throat, but she doesn’t answer; only attempts to comfort him by repeatedly saying: “It’s nothing, sweetheart, don’t worry. You’re okay.”

But the doctor disagrees with her when they finally arrive.

The doctor is young, but is already outstanding in her field. She’s the only doctor close to Hawkins that treats Hanahaki Disease, but she’s never had to treat it in a patient as young as the little Harrington boy.

“It’s rare, but not entirely unheard of,” she says to Mrs. Harrington, who has tears in her eyes and won’t take her hand away from her mouth, already grieving. Steve watches them talk from atop the examination table, holding a few of the yellow petals in his hands. They’re soft and velvety; smooth to the touch, and he doesn’t know why they should be causing his mother so much distress. “Children fall in love with things all the time; just because they’re young doesn’t mean they’re immune to their feelings.”

The doctor turns away from his mother and smiles at Steve, coaxing a shy smile from him in return.

“What’s the name of your favourite teacher at school, Steve?” she asks, and Steve’s shy smile transforms instantly into one that is so much more genuine; he even starts to giggle.

“Missus Julia.”

“Is she nice?” Steve nods, fingers tightening around the petals. “Pretty too I bet, huh?”

“Yes,” he replies. “She smiles at me every day.”

The doctor turns a knowing look to his mother, who finally takes her hand away from her mouth to speak.

“Is it- will he be okay?”

“Hanahaki is 100% treatable, but I’d like to take some x-rays to get a better idea of what we’re dealing with here.”

Steve’s mother nods, and the doctor takes him by the hand and leads him out of the room.

The technicians take the x-rays, cooing over how adorable little Steve is. The doctor of course agrees that he is, but this is a medical practice, so could they please not get too distracted? The x-rays come back quickly enough after their exchange, and the doctor is dismayed by what she sees. Steve’s condition is abnormal in more ways than one, which is saddening, because his capacity for love is so strong.

Even still, she understands his life is on the line, and the disease must be treated.

“In most cases, Hanahaki manifests itself in the host’s lungs,” she begins, speaking slowly as she pins up the x-rays to the light board for Mrs. Harrington to observe, “but in Steve’s case, it appears to have taken root in his heart-”

“His heart?!”

“Yes,” she replies calmly, aware that Steve is monitoring their reactions. “Again, it’s not untreatable, but the usual recommended surgery to remove it is invasive, and not generally recommended for a patient his age.”

Mrs. Harrington starts to cry, and the doctor really wishes she hadn’t. It’s not an ideal situation, but it’s not like her son is dead. On the examination table behind them, Steve shares in his mother’s grief and also begins to cry.

He sees the doctor off and on throughout his life. His unique condition requires routine monitoring to adjust medication doses in order to keep the flower from completely harvesting his heart, because no one wants to have to put him through the open-heart surgery to remove it. They become friends, in a word- about as good of friends as a doctor who treats a patient with a chronic heart condition can be friends- and he’s never really been unhappy to see her until his break up with Nancy.

His medicine stops working. The flowers and pain in his heart become more persistent, and he’s ashamed to admit that he breaks down in the exam room over it.

“Bullshit,” he mutters, spitting Nancy’s words out with disgust. He reaches into his mouth and pulls out a petal that’s been caught in his throat for the past hour. “It was all just bullshit to her.”

His doctor smiles a bit sardonically, and she wishes she could tell Steve that first loves often are just bullshit, but she’s not a therapist and doesn’t want to invalidate his feelings, although she knows that Nancy is just one of many in a long series of heartaches for Steve.

“How long have your symptoms been persisting?” she asks, kindly ignoring his tears as he wipes them away.

“Couple of weeks. A few months, maybe.”

“Steve.” She doesn’t bother hiding her disapproval, her brow furrowing as she admonishes him. “Months? You should’ve come sooner; you can’t afford to go months without treatment!”

“I didn’t want to believe it, alright?!” he says angrily, though most of his anger is directed towards himself for believing everything was fine in spite of the evidence. “We were happy; she told me she loved me, kept telling me she loved me, so how could I be choking up those fucking flowers if that were true?” He sniffles and looks up at the ceiling for a moment, collecting himself before he can address his physician again. “I mean, would you believe it, if someone kept saying that to you?”

Her professionalism keeps her from answering honestly.

“I would have come to see me the minute I realized my medication stopped working,” she says and sighs, studying him for a minute. That great capacity to love that he’s carried with him since he was a child is still strong, and she’s comforted by that thought, but at the same time it’s worrisome. “The growth in your heart could have advanced; we need to make sure it hasn’t.”

He touches his hand to his chest briefly, still wallowing in his sadness, and she sympathizes for him, she really does, but he’s treading a very fine line: to let the disease advance any further could result in surgery. Steve stays quiet while the x-rays get taken, and his doctor is relieved to see that the flower’s growth has been minimal. The roots have spread, yes, but it isn’t gotten to the point where he needs the surgery just yet, though there isn’t much point in fighting the inevitable.

“Don’t do this again, Steve; you’re really pushing your limits here.”

She ups the dosage on his medication and prescribes him an anti-depressant and releases him back into the world he can’t afford to love too strongly.

When Billy goes down hard on the court after being shoved violently aside in what should have been called out as a foul, everyone expects him to get back up and start a fight over it, but he doesn’t. No one’s sure what to do when he starts coughing, and Steve swears the whole gymnasium goes quiet just so they can listen to each strangled intake of breath.

His teammates cast nervous looks at each other, but no one makes a move to help him. As captain of the team, Steve takes the initiative and jogs over to his side to try and help him up. Billy brushes him aside but he persists, reaching out his hand for support but stalls when Billy throws up, a horrific mixture of blood and flowers spewing across the midcourt line.

“Holy shit dude,” he says, brown eyes blown wide at the familiar sight.

“Fuck off,” Billy hisses before fleeing the scene, leaving the mess for the Belleview High janitor to mop up so they can finish their game.

Steve watches Billy’s health deteriorate rapidly over the course of the next few weeks, and it’s like he’s seeing an alternate version of himself that decided to rot instead of seek help with treating the symptoms.

It’s agonizing seeing him like this; suffering to maintain an image that is losing value the more time that passes.

So he tells him about his doctor; about the options she provides so that maybe he doesn’t have to die if he doesn’t actually want to, because despite what he says, there’s a spark in his eye that shines when he looks at Steve that suggests he isn’t seeking death quite as hard as he lets on that he is.

In the end, he gets the treatment. Goes to see Steve’s doctor and comes back to school healthy as ever, physically. He does a good job of hiding it, but Steve can tell that, emotionally, Billy hasn’t healed, and there’s something about his sorrowful looks and how beautiful his personal tragedy is that draws Steve in, compels him to care despite his best efforts not to. Billy’s not the first boy he’s managed to develop strong feelings for, but when the flowers come back, again, he tries to tell himself that he’s wrong: there’s no way in hell he’s fallen for Billy Hargrove.

Except, the flowers are different this time.

For as long as he can remember, the flowers he’s been infected with have always been the same colour and texture: for his elementary school teacher, for his middle school crush, for the French foreign exchange boy that came to Hawkins freshman year, and even for Nancy, the flowers in his heart have always manifested themselves as soft and yellow. But the flowers he coughs up for Billy aren’t yellow, or velvety soft to the touch- no, instead he finds himself coughing up husks. Paper-thin, dried up, brittle petals that cause tears in his throat when he coughs that give the little grey shreds some colour.

When he coughs up flower petals this time, they’re dead.

He panics; what does it mean? What could it mean? It’s related to Billy in some regard, but his fear prevents him from thinking too much about it.

His medicine stops working and the coughing gets worse. Steve heeds his doctor’s prior advice and immediately goes to see her, but she isn’t as surprised as he thought she’d be.

Just like with the rest of the circumstances surrounding his variant of the disease, it’s extremely rare, but not entirely unheard of.

“It happens, from time to time,” she explains, studying one of the petals that Steve coughs up. It falls apart easily in her fingers, but has hard edges that’ve been tearing up her patient’s throat.

“Why?” Steve asks, and his voice is hoarse from the abuse it’s been enduring. “It’s never been like this before.”

His doctor tilts her hand over the little garbage bin in the room and lets the fragile petals fall in. She wipes her hand clean of the remains and then takes a seat on a little black stool, flipping through Steve’s file.

With a deep intake of breath, she sets the file aside and looks Steve in the eye. “When a patient exhibits symptoms like this, it’s because the subject of their affection physically isn’t capable of reciprocating.”

“What does that mean?” He feigns ignorance, but he understands the implication of her words.

Billy. Billy had liked him; had had real, genuine feelings for him that had eventually begun to kill him, and Steve had so callously rejected him- told him to get them cut out and to move on.

“I mean, why let yourself suffer over someone who doesn’t even like you back, right?”

But how could he have known? How could he have possibly known?

There was nothing, never an indicator that Billy could have ever liked him- except, except for all the side-long glances Steve had pretended to ignore. The way Billy always sought him out after their team won a game to softly touch him on the back in shared congratulation with a hand that always lingered a little too long. The smiles, the goading, the pathetic attempts to always be in Steve’s periphery to just be able to look at him.

His chest feels heavy, and his heart aches like the roots of his disease are strangling it when he remembers the gory mixture of flowers and blood Billy spit out for him.

“You know what it means,” his doctor says with a soft voice, watching him somberly as he blinks out a few tears. “We’re going to have to remove it now, Steve, do you understand? It’s in its final stages now.”

Steve nods, shakes his head, lets out an abrupt sob and nods again.

He lets her call his mom from her office to talk about his progress and to schedule the surgery.

Because of the severity of his operation, Steve is benched from playing in any of the remaining games his team has left in the season, but that’s fine; Steve finds it very hard to care about the sport when Billy won’t even look at him anymore. The asshole doesn’t even try to rile him up the way he used to, and half the fun of playing on a team with a man like that was the competition between them.

But now there’s nothing left.

Steve’s chest still hurts, but it’s only because he’s recovering now.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #hanahaki disease #harringrove fic #stranger things fanfiction #unrequited feelings #one-sided attraction

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upontheshelfreviews · 5 years

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If there’s a reason why we’re able to recall the story of Snow White from memory, and why said princess is usually depicted with short hair, a cute bow and surrounded by woodland fauna, look no further than Disney. Their take on the Grimms’ fairy tale is the prime example of pop cultural osmosis. Even if you’ve never watched Disney’s Snow White, it’s easy to recognize when a piece of work is borrowing from it or spoofing it. And I can definitely see why – not only is it going eighty-plus years strong, but its influence on nearly every Disney feature to come after it is a profound one.

The real story of Disney’s Snow White begins in the early 1910’s when a young Walt Disney saw a silent film version of the Grimms’ fairytale starring Marguerite Clark. The movie stuck with him well into adulthood. One night, well after he had established himself as an animation giant the world over, Walt gathered his entire staff of animators and storymen and re-enacted the tale for them in a mesmerizing one-man show. They were enraptured, but what he told them next struck them dumb – they were going to take what he performed and turn it into a full-length film.

In Tony Goldmark’s epic(ally hilarious) retrospective of Epcot, he performs a quick sketch he summed up as “Walt Disney’s entire career in 55 seconds” where Walt presents his career-defining ideas to a myopic businessman capable of only saying “You fool, that’ll never work!”. Considering how animation is everywhere today, it’s easy to forget that an animated film was once seen as an impossible dream. The press hawked Snow White as “Disney’s Folly”, and Hollywood speculated that it would bankrupt the Mouse House. It very nearly did. Miraculously, a private showing of the half-finished feature to a banking firm impressed the investors enough to ensure its completion.

Snow White is touted as the very first animated movie – admittedly something of a lie on Disney’s behalf. Europe and Russia were experimenting with feature-length animation decades before Walt gave it a try. But consider this: most animated films predating Snow White’s conception are either sadly lost to us or barely count as such by just crossing the hour mark. With all the hard work poured into it showing in every scene, with each moment displaying a new breakthrough in the medium, Snow White might as well be the first completely animated movie after all. Hell, it’s the very first movie in the entire history of cinema that was created using STORYBOARDS. A tool used by virtually every single movie put out today. If that’s not groundbreaking enough, I don’t know what is.

But is Snow White really…but why does it…can it…

“You know what? No. I’m not doing this teasing question thing before the review starts proper. OF COURSE Snow White is a masterpiece. OF COURSE most of it holds up. Let’s skip the middleman so I can explain why.”

After the opening credits we get the first of what will be many Disney leather bound books opening themselves to invite us into the world of the story. We’re informed that once upon a time there was a particularly Wicked Queen (nicknamed Grimhilde in promo features and the comics) who had a serious narcissistic personality disorder. Every day she consults her Magic Mirror™ to see who’s the fairest one of all and takes pride in being repeatedly told she holds said title. In the meantime she bullies her younger, prettier stepdaughter, the princess Snow White, and gives her the standard Cinderella treatment in the hopes that endless drudgery will wipe out the competition.

One fateful morning, however, the Mirror informs the Queen that she’s been bumped down to runner-up. She susses out that it’s Snow White who’s taken her place after the Mirror describes the newcomer as having “lips red as the rose, hair black as ebony, [and] skin white as snow”, but maybe the Queen is projecting here due to her extreme jealousy. Going by those three traits the Mirror could be describing almost anyone on the planet.

Care to narrow it down a bit, buddy?

Now if you consider yourself a feminist or at the very least have progressive views regarding women, I know what you’re thinking – just another example of the patriarchy pitting shallow female stereotypes against each other, right? Well in a manner of speaking, yes. There’s plenty of evidence that the Brothers Grimm held some odious misogynistic beliefs that stemmed from a bad combination of the era they lived in, outdated religious teachings, and their own experiences with the opposite sex. It shows in their second fairy tale revisions – the heroines are naïve bimbos in need of a man’s rescue, and the villains are evil stepmothers and witches who happen to be hideous 99% of the time – and those views have been reinforced in our society thanks to those particular iterations being passed down to today.

Here’s my way of viewing the central conflict: The Mirror’s news is a wake-up call that Snow White is coming into her own as a woman and princess. That means marriage to a prince and the end of the Wicked Queen’s rule. Snow White will have all the power and adulation while the Queen is forced to step down and become another footnote in ancient royal history. Up until now the Queen has gone out of her way put down her pretty young opponent with petty cruelty because there’s nothing stopping her; but when faced with the inevitable, she unflinchingly opts to take more drastic measures so she can keep the throne.

If it weren’t for the fact the Queen’s unofficial moniker is Grimhilde and her transformation scene reveals a head of black hair, I’d suspect her real name was Cersei Lannister.

You also have to remember that the Queen takes the term “fairest” at face value. The Queen is beautiful, sure, but it’s a glacial beauty – cold, unfeeling, and nothing beneath the surface. All she cares about is looks and power. You’d have to be a pure loving soul or Woody Allen find something worthwhile in her. Snow White is beautiful too, though it’s her kindness and fair treatment of everyone that garners her the title of “fairest one of all”, not her appearance.

Speaking of, we follow that scene with Snow White (Adriana Casselotti) dressed in rags cleaning the castle courtyard. She shows her bird friends her wishing well and sings “I’m Wishing”, where she reveals her wish for her one true love to show up.

Confession time: In childhood the title of my favorite Disney princess was neck and neck between Belle from Beauty and the Beast and Snow White. I’ve already discussed at length why I adore Belle, so I suppose I should do the same for Snow.

…turns out it’s more difficult than I thought.

For as long as I could remember, I was surrounded by Snow White paraphernalia – tapes, toys, dolls, music, games, artwork, bed sheets, I can even recall the ice show. Snow White is ingrained into my early years. It more than likely has to do with the timing of its brief return to theaters and first VHS release between 1993 and 1994, right at the peak of the Disney Renaissance, so I experienced Snow White-mania right alongside Lion King-mania, Beauty and the Beast-mania and various other Disneymanias that were rampant at that time.

Even this one, embarrassingly.

As a result, I idolized Snow White as much the other princesses of the time, right down to making her the character I dressed up as the most for Halloween. I suppose what drew me to her was inherent kindness, ability to make friends with everyone, and her voice. Yes, I admit it. I don’t find Snow White’s warbling to be as irritating as everyone says it is. Maybe I’ve listened to it so much that I’ve grown immune. Then again I am that one Disney fan who doesn’t loathe It’s A Small World with every fiber of their being so maybe I should question my own tastes more.

Now as an adult with a critical eye who can put nostalgia behind me when necessary, is there something more to the character of Snow White that’s worth appreciating as much as the more-fleshed out princesses of the Renaissance and current Revival period?

I accept that I’m in the minority on this one, but I firmly say yes.

I know what you’re thinking – all Snow White does is smile and sing while she slaves under the Queen and the dwarfs and dreams of a handsome man to come carry her away, so I should turn in my feminist card for daring to suggest she’s a good character and role model for girls, right? Consider this: like Cinderella after her, Snow White’s happy nature and songs are her ways of coping with her unpleasant situation. It keeps her spirits up and in turn she tries to spread that positivity to others who need it as well. She refuses to let the Queen’s negativity turn her as sour as she is. All the little things Snow White reveals in what she does – her patience, pride in her work, healthy emotional balance, drive to help others, and warmth towards those smaller than her (in both a figurative and literal sense) – are all signs that she is capable of being a far better and beloved ruler and all around person than the Queen is. Plus, her reason for wanting to find love is two-fold: not only is she looking for someone with whom she can share a unique emotional understanding bond – which is something most every human craves – but it’s the also best possible means for her to escape from her stepmother’s abuse. Like I said earlier, once Snow White gets the ring, she gets to rule.

And what’s wrong with having a princess who can run a practical household? One could argue that it’s an example of traditional female roles desired by an oppressive patriarchal society on full display, but you want to know why millennials are called out for being lazy? Because baby boomers have cut out classes that teach things young adults actually need outside of school like how to properly cook and do laundry and pay your taxes since those weren’t seen as “essential enough to education”. So I have to admire a princess who, while not the most “progressive” of the bunch by today’s standards, is willing and able take care of herself and others when it comes to basic everyday needs. I think TheBrutallyHonestMom summed it up best in her post defending Snow White:

When we denigrate what Snow White accomplishes at the dwarfs’ cottage, when we rename her accomplishments to make them sound more impressive, more official, more valuable—management, administration, domestic CEO, sous chef, hospitality specialist—what we are really doing is saying that we don’t value the truly valuable work that she and so many other stay-at-home individuals do. Those words are a microaggression against what have traditionally been feminine roles, an attempt to align them with a patriarchal worldview where only those with the biggest titles and fattest paychecks matter. Snow White is domestic. She is a maid. She is a mother figure. She does take on the womanliest of the womanly roles. To claim that adopting these roles (and being good at them) somehow makes her a poor role model for my daughters is not a failure of Snow White’s imagination. It is a failure of ours.

Then there’s the matter of her actress too, which I can’t stay silent about. A few years ago it was revealed that in order to preserve the illusion of Snow White as a real character (a good many years before the company applied that same logic to their character performers at the theme parks I might add), Disney forced Adriana Casselotti to forego her screen credit and never take on another acting role again, essentially robbing her of a career. She only managed to appear in It’s A Wonderful Life and The Wizard of Oz because hers were uncredited minute parts. Casselotti had no regrets about choosing Snow White over a promising show business vocation, but I still call bull on the matter. If this kind of thing happened today, people would not stand for it, character illusions or not. There’s also crazy double standards since all the actors who played the dwarfs got to keep on acting; Sneezy’s voice actor was in Fun and Fancy Free for crying out loud! I love ya Walt, but that is one dick move. So if you’re a detractor cheering that you never have to hear Casselotti’s voice beyond this movie, keep in mind that’s all because of one man silencing her for the sake of his business.

So, Snow White. She cooks, cleans, delegates, teaches, loves, domestically kicks ass, and her behind the scenes story makes a strong case for the Time’s Up movement. Any questions?

“Yes. You’re over 2000 words in and we haven’t even gotten to the dwarfs yet. Plan on getting off that soapbox sometime this decade?”

Snow’s singing attracts the attention of a handsome Prince (Harry Stockwell) passing by on his horse. But his forwardness startles the shy girl and sends her sprinting up to her room. He charms her out to her balcony by singing his one song in the feature…”One Song”. You gotta love it when the title matches the tune perfectly.

“Wherefore art thou Prince? Deny thy father and refuse thy name!”

“Sure I’ll gladly refuse my name – if I had one, that is.”

All joking aside, I have a soft spot for this scene. Stockwell’s voice has this old-time Broadway/operetta quality I’ve always liked, the lyrics are unironic purple prose that still feel genuine, Snow’s little excited gestures are adorable, and it’s framed beautifully. This is what got it into my heard early on that the most romantic gesture anyone can make is serenading someone from beneath their balcony.

“Too bad you’re technically in a long distance relationship.”

“I know. Propping up a phone beneath your window just doesn’t have the same effect.”

Snow returns his affections with a kiss delivered via a dove and departs the scene with one hell of a pair of bedroom eyes, especially for a Disney character.

Daaaaaamn, girl! You already got him hooked, no need to gild the lily!

Unbeknownst to either of them, the Queen is watching overhead; Snow catching the eye of Prince Charming is what finally pushes her to take further action. She summons her Huntsman –

– to bring Snow White out into the forest and do away with her. Brief as this scene may be, there are two things I really like about it. First, the gravity. The Huntsman reacts with horror on being told what he must do, foreshadowing his eventual turnaround, yet with an icy hiss of “Silence!” and a short reminder of the price of failure, the Queen goads him back into line. We don’t know what the penalty for insubordination is, but it’s implied to be pretty nasty if she’s able to convince him otherwise with just a few words. Second, the Queen’s other demand. In the original fairytale, the Queen requested Snow White’s liver, lungs and heart so she could eat them and inherit her stepdaughter’s comely attributes.

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But here in the film, she only wants the heart, and not for lunch. The Queen wants to keep it as a trophy. She even has a disturbingly appropriate box for it at the ready.

Proof that she really puts the ‘grim’ in ‘Grimhilde’.

Snow White, now dressed in her iconic yellow and blue dress, goes out flower picking with the Huntsman waiting not far behind. She spies a lost baby bird, and the moment she turns her back to help it, the Huntsman moves in for the kill. It’s framed like the murderer creeping up to their next victim in a scary movie, slowly building up to the moment he confronts her, with tension you could cut with a – well, you know.

Ultimately the Huntsman is moved by the princess’ humanity and can’t go through with the deed. Instead he reveals the Queen’s plot and pleads her to run, run away, Snow, and never return. Terrified, Snow White flees into the forest where her fears magnify her surroundings. Brambles become gnarled outstretched hands, logs are hungry snapping crocodiles, and there are eyes everywhere, always watching, boring into her every place she turns.

I should note that while developing Snow White, the Disney studio became something of an art college with fine arts and film study classes offered to the staff in order to hone their craft. Some of the movies they studied were horror flicks from the pre-Hays Code era, classics directed by the likes of James Whale and F.W. Murnau. The results speak for themselves. Scenes like this and the Queen’s transformation are why I consider Snow White my very first horror movie. The frightening imagery and darker themes all hide beneath a veneer of Disney childhood innocence. Like a proto-Pan’s Labyrinth, the terror as much psychological as it is fantastical.

A young Sam Raimi watched this and vowed one day he’d make those trees even more terrifying and bad-touchy.

This scene is also the source of one of the most famous stories to come out of the film’s creation. During the planning of the part where Snow falls backwards through an open-mouthed cavern into a lake, one of the animators cried out in terror “Won’t that kill her??” And the whole room fell silent. They reached the point where they no longer thought of Snow White as a cartoon but as an actual person, something that had never happened before. That was the moment where they were officially, as Ben Vereen once put it, on the right track.

Overwhelmed, Snow White collapses in tears. She’s brought back to her senses by the usual cuddly forest inhabitants inexplicably drawn to female royalty in need of assistance. Of course, being the ever-thoughtful soul that she is, Snow apologizes for startling them and making a fuss over how afraid she was, once more putting others before herself. She bonds with the animals through the uplifting “With a Smile and a Song”. Then she spends several minutes talking to them and making plans for the future all in rhyme. I confess it’s one of the weaker moments of the movie, showing that the studio’s transition from the Silly Symphonies to full-fledged filmmaking hasn’t completely been made yet.

The critters lead Snow to a quaint cottage in need of a good cleaning service. Assuming the miniature-sized furniture means the inhabitants are orphaned children, she decides to surprise them by sprucing up the joint, hoping her act of kindness will make them forget her breaking and entering and they’ll let her stay. Said cleanup time is underscored by one of the more upbeat tunes in Disney’s songbook, “Whistle While You Work”. Like Mary Poppin’s “A Spoonful of Sugar” it’s all about finding joy in the little things that make the work go by quicker.

“Here’s the last of the underwear, Bambi. And try not leave any ticks in the laundry this time!”

But as we all know, the cottage belongs not to seven children, but seven little people who work as jewel miners, all the while singing that famous mining song –

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“No, the one sung by dwarves.”

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“Seriously?!”

All joking aside, Heigh-Ho is the best song in the movie, no contest. Easily the catchiest tune here if not the entire Disney canon. If it can keep a theater full of gremlins occupied, it’s doing something right.

Sure, they whistle while they work for now. But once they find the Arkenstone it’s all downhill from here.

And let’s not kid ourselves, the dwarfs are the real reason why we keep returning to Snow White. Their quirk-matching names and designs make each one memorable, they’re endlessly entertaining, and they’re the characters that come the closest to having some form of arc. The group is a prime example of the illusion of life that is animation, exaggerated to a degree that they’re still believable in their movements and mannerisms. Dopey especially works well in this regard, a wonder considering much of his character was developed by happy accident. When an actor suitable enough couldn’t be found, they made the decision to simply mute him. Like much of Disney’s favorite animal sidekicks, they based his personality around that of a lovable dog, though I’d be lying if I didn’t see some Harpo Marx in there as well. As a result, his childlike playfulness and comic timing is up there with Chaplin’s Little Tramp. His hitch step was also an unexpected boon; after animator Frank Thomas put it in one of his scenes, Walt liked it so much that he insisted all previously animated footage of Dopey be redone to include that step. Incidentally, Frank’s popularity among the animation staff reached all-time lows after that announcement.

Snow White flops down for a quick nap on the beds upstairs just as the dwarfs return home. What follows is them sneaking about their now suspiciously squeaky-clean cottage and further establishing their personas through a series of finely-tuned gags (Walt paid five dollars for every good joke his guys could come up with, and this was when five dollars could take you out to dinner and a show). Dopey is elected to check the bedroom and he comes to the conclusion that Snow’s sleeping form is a monster. The dwarfs work up their courage to go kill the beast themselves only to realize in the nick of time that it’s just a harmless girl. But Grumpy, the clear-cut misogynist in the group, isn’t keen on having a “wicked-wiled” female refugee in their abode and shamelessly yells “Let ‘er wake up, she don’t belong here no-how!”

Snow wakes up and instantly charms over everyone except Grumpy as they introduce each other. The dwarfs are shocked and terrified to learn the Queen has put a hit out on her. Grumpy in particular declares the Queen is a powerful witch skilled in the black arts, which is true, and it raises a potent question. Is her magic common knowledge throughout the kingdom, or is it mere speculation? If it’s the former, how did that come to be? What happened to Snow White’s father the king anyhow? All this could make for a very interesting –

“You know what, never mind, forget I said it -“

“Too late! Jenkins, write that down! Bob’s gonna love it!”

“Very good, sir. Shall I pre-heat your crack pipe in preparation for the first draft writing session?”

“Does the Academy loathe streaming services? Hop to it, my man!”

“Hey, I thought you left that jerk to go work for Don Bluth.”

“Shh! I jumped ship after A Troll in Central Park and came back under a new identity. I couldn’t pass up the bankroll Disney’s been on since 2009.”

“Mum’s the word.”

Grumpy’s certain that they’ll be in the Queen’s crosshairs once she learns they’ve been harboring Snow White and demands they kick her out at once. But Snow White stands up for herself and says she can take care of the house for them if they let her stay. Just like Belle offering herself in her father’s place, no one corners Snow into the position of housekeeper. She’s the one who puts herself out there, listing all her best qualities like she’s on an interview. It’s only when she does so (and also mentions she can bake a mean gooseberry pie) that the dwarfs overrule Grumpy and declare she’s welcome in their home.

Yet even when all is said and done, Snow makes it clear that if she’s the one doing the work, then the dwarfs must play by her rules. Immediately following their acceptance, she goes into full Team Mom mode, insisting they improve their manners and wash themselves before dinner’s ready. Doc attempts to get around it by saying they cleaned up “recently”, but despite her sweet nature, Snow won’t let them walk all over her. She does a cleanliness inspection that makes the dwarfs almost as bashful as Bashful himself, and even gets a good bit of sarcasm in (“Why Doc, I’m surprised.”) The dwarfs washing themselves is another one of those Silly Symphony-esque filler scenes, but at least it gives us more time for their fun shenanigans; though I have to wonder if dog piling Grumpy and half-drowning him takes it too far.

“Where’s the money, Legrumpski? Where’s the fucking money??” “It’s down there somewhere, lemme take another look.”

Back at the castle, the Queen is showing off her newly acquired bodily organ to the Magic Mirror while demanding he validate her preconceptions of who’s fair and who’s not. Alas, the Mirror tattles on Snow White’s location and reveals that heart belonged to a pig, which I’ve got to say I’m glad they didn’t show how the Huntsman got ahold of.

Infuriated, the Queen storms down to her secret lab (and no, there’s no wrong lever scene. I’m disappointed too). She brews up a potion made up of ingredients like scream of fright, a thunderbolt and partially hydrogenated dimethylpolysiloxane which will completely transform her into a disguise nobody could suspect her in, an aged peddler woman.

Was I afraid of this scene way back when? Of course, but it was one of those rare moments where I didn’t want to look away either. Here we have a woman dangerously obsessed with beauty becoming the very thing she loathes in order to sate her implacable desires. Not only that but in this disguise she’s able to set loose the insanity buried deep beneath her frigid calculating exterior, grinning and cackling like the witch that she is. The Queen never smiles once when she’s in her true form. But once she’s the old Hag and it’s all cackling and gap-toothed smiles, it’s extremely unnerving.

Case in point.

“Anyone else miss the creepy fade to black where the villain’s eyes remain for a few seconds? Disney needs to bring that back.”

Major props to Lucille LaVerne, who gives a bone chilling and utterly unrecognizable performance as BOTH the Queen and the Hag. She made the switch from one role to the next by removing her false teeth between recording sessions. In doing so she gave us one of the great Disney villain performances.

The part where she preps the infamous poisoned apple does undercut some of her menace, however. The Hag is supposed to be sharing her scheming with a cowardly raven, but due to how much she stares directly into the camera while monologuing, it comes off as directly addressing the audience, like we’re watching her in a play. It’s not just the Silly Symphony style of storytelling creeping in, it’s melodramatic semi-vaudevillian theatrics that early Hollywood was moving well away from at this point. And again, what’s with the sudden speaking in rhyme?

At the last moment the Hag looks up a possible antidote to the poison and learns that it’s Love’s First Kiss. However she scoffs at the notion that Snow White can be saved because she’s counting on the dwarfs believing the princess is dead and burying her alive.

“For those of you who claim Disney waters down fairy tales into saccharine pap, I point you to Snow White.”

And it doesn’t end there. As the Hag leaves the dungeons, she passes a cell where a skeleton is sprawled out between the bars, reaching for a water pitcher. It’s bad enough to imagine this poor soul dying of thirst, spending their last moments with salvation just out of their grasp, but the Hag openly mocks the skeleton and kicks the pitcher aside. If that’s not a deciding irredeemably evil factor moment, it comes pretty darn close.

This would have also tied into an important but ultimately scrapped sequence where the Queen kidnaps the Prince, locks him in the dungeon to keep him from saving Snow White and torments him by detailing her elaborate scheme.

This sounds vaguely familiar…

Depending on which pitch you’re reading, the Prince refuses the Queen’s offer of marriage, and she enchants the chained-up skeletons of other scorned suitors to dance in an extremely misguided attempt keep him entertained while she’s out, or floods the dungeon to drown him. He makes a daring escape and rides to the rescue on horseback.

Again, vaguely familiar…

Unfortunately we had to wait twenty-plus years for this to happen because the animators weren’t confident in their abilities to create a believable male character. This is why the Prince appears only in the beginning and the end of the movie (and by extension why the Cinderella’s Prince is barely in that feature as well). When it came to making Snow White look realistic, they subtly incorporated some rotoscoping in a few places (I’d call it cheating but it’s difficult to tell where it begins or ends because she looks that good eighty years later). But I guess it just wasn’t worth the effort to do the same for her love interest, who doesn’t even get the dignity of an official name (fans go back and forth between Florian and Ferdinand). He’s reduced to a deus ex machina – which to be fair is exactly how he was treated in the fairytale. The movie has the slight advantage over that, however, by setting him up before he arrives for that wake-up kiss.

“And now it’s time for Silly Songs With Happy, the part of the review where Happy comes out and sings a silly song. Today’s interlude, appropriately titled “The Silly Song”, features choreography which has gone on to inspire many other Disney musical sequences dating as far ahead as the 70’s.”

“Hold it!! It’s just the exact same movements with the Robin Hood cast grafted over them!”

“Is there a problem with that?”

“Well…no…it’s just a bit distracting when you finally notice it. I mean I love Disney’s Robin Hood, but boy did they take the main character’s attitude towards stealing to heart when it came to the animation.”

And yes, “The Silly Song” itself is fun too. It’s one of the less remembered Disney tunes, though I have fond memories of it due to its inclusion in the Sing-Along video lineup. The decision to have it follow the Hag’s unsettling introduction makes perfect sense; I could imagine audiences experiencing it for the first time needed a bit of a breather after that.

I guess I should mention the musical number we could have had instead of this one, though. “Music in Your Soup” was a similarly lighthearted song that was fully recorded and animated before it was ultimately cut. It was expertly animated, featured more dwarf-Snow White interactions, and it also closed up a plot hole involving a bar of soap Dopey swallowed earlier. Still, it didn’t add much to the story overall and it disrupted the flow, and keeping both that and “The Silly Song” would have been superfluous; so as much as I like “Music In Your Soup” I think they made the right call in sticking with “The Silly Song”.

After the dancing, Snow regales the dwarfs with a love story, though they quickly figure out she’s talking about herself and her prince. She dispenses with the self-insert fanfiction and sings the movie’s eleven o’clock number “Someday My Prince Will Come”. Bawl all you want about setting women’s rights back a decade, it doesn’t change the fact that it’s still a lovely song, even without Casselotti’s vocals. In fact, much of the movie’s soundtrack has been a go-to for jazz artists through the decades ranging from Miles Davis to Dave Brubeck. The pure simplicity of Larry Morey’s lyrics and Frank Churchill’s melodies are ripe for riffing on. Virtually every cover I’ve found succeeds in the impossible task of measuring up to the original in some capacity. The action in the song itself is subtle and restrained, mainly focusing on the dwarfs’ reactions. It’s not only good storytelling, but a clever way to get around showing more of Snow White than the animators could handle; she was already tough enough to animate even with rotoscoping.

Snow realizes how late it’s getting and ushers the dwarfs to bed; however Doc and the others try to behave like gentlemen and allow her to sleep upstairs while they take up whatever space they can fill on the lower floor. It goes to show how much her kindness and politeness has had an influence on them, at least while she’s around. Them taking up whatever sleeping space they can find on the ground floor is an excuse to squeeze more gags in, but I’m fond of how it lets us wind down and take in this cozy atmosphere.

The next morning before they head out the dwarfs warn Snow White to beware of strangers. Even Grumpy can’t help but show concern in his own gruff tsundere way. It’s little touches like this that reveal Snow White’s unwavering compassion is chipping away at his chauvinist attitude and he really does care about her after all –

Hang on, they couldn’t spare ONE dwarf to stick around and keep an eye out in case the Queen does drop by? They’re really think the Queen isn’t going to make another murder attempt as soon as possible? They sadly must, because no sooner do the dwarfs heigh-ho off to work than the Hag creeps up like a meth user turned Jehovah’s Witness.

“Hello, my name is Elder Grim. Would you care to learn more about our lord and savior Chernabog?”

After the animals fail to communicate the obvious danger, they fetch the dwarfs for help. Meanwhile the Hag has convinced Snow White to let her into the cottage and show off her “magic wishing apple”.

Already I can hear the slapping of a thousand facepalms through my screen. I get why, but there’s something about the situation that feels strangely relatable. The Queen is fully aware of Snow White’s gentle, trusting nature and knows how to take full advantage of the girl. Snow isn’t all smiles and open arms though. There’s a split second of regret the moment she divulges she’s by herself, and as the Hag literally corners her into tasting the poison apple her body language gives away how uncomfortable she is. Even the cottage itself grows darker and claustrophobic, mirroring her trapped state. Snow White knows there’s definitely something off about this stranger, but there’s the downside of her kind personality. She can’t bring herself to kick the old lady out no matter how wrong this scenario inherently feels.

“Just keep smiling and slowly reach for the mace.”

Ultimately the Hag coaxes her into tasting the apple. Every breath leading up to it is dramatically intercut with the dwarfs led by Grumpy (further proof Snow White really has gotten through to the old softie) racing back to the cottage.

Do you want to know why the original Texas Chainsaw Massacre is considered one of the scariest movies of all time? Because for all its promise of a gory spectacular, the violence is deliberately kept offscreen. Our imaginations fill in the blanks and come up with even worse terrors than they could possibly show. Snow White’s poisoning works on that logic. All we hear is her gasping and groaning as the Hag gleefully looks on, ending with the most cinematic shot of the film.

If you’re still convinced Snow’s a dunce for biting the big apple, trust me, it’s a vast improvement over the original. The Queen showed up in disguise three times to kill Snow White with varying methods: strangulation by laces, a poisoned comb, and of course the apple. This was cut down to the last one for obvious reasons – not only would the story be repetitive and extremely padded if they remained, but it makes Snow White look like an idiot for falling for the same trap thrice in a row. The only time I’ve ever seen the inclusion of all three murder attempts work is in the anime The Legend of Snow White (which despite the laughably bad English dub is worth checking out). By the time the Queen comes around with the apple in that instance, Snow White is well aware of who she’s dealing with. But she plays along because the Queen has turned the kingdom to stone, and the only way to break the curse is by taking the bait and destroying her staff while she thinks she’s down, thus turning what was once an act of naivete into a heroic sacrifice.

The Hag exits the cottage feeling confident in who’s the fairest now just in time for the dwarfs to show up. They chase her through a thunderstorm up a cliff side. Literally trapped between a rock and a hard place, she attempts to dislodge a boulder and crush her pursuers. But Zeus is having none of that and a lightning bolt strikes the cliff, plummeting the Hag to her doom.

To quote Linkara, “Thus the origin for ‘Rocks fall, everybody dies’.”

And in case you’re still thinking she could have survived that drop, even with that boulder tilting over after her, the vultures that have been tailing her since she left the castle begin circling lower and lower over the place where she now lies. A chilling, subtle way to show they’re getting a meal after all.

We fade to a wake the dwarfs are holding for Snow White, complete with organ music and weeping – LOTS of sad, silent, motionless weeping. Poor Grumpy gets the worst of it. One can only imagine the tsunami of emotion he must have felt coming home to see that she was making a pie just for him. Like “Someday My Prince Will Come” it shows how restraint can be an asset in acting for animation. Considering how it’s very much like a real-life wake and just how much everyone believes Snow White is truly dead, this was a tough scene to get through.

The seasons pass and we’re told through title cards that the dwarfs couldn’t find it in themselves to bury Snow White, so they built a glass coffin and kept constant vigil along with the depressed forest animals.

“Clearly the idea of watching her slowly decompose over time never crossed their little minds.”

The funeral on top of the wake keeps piling on the sadness. We’re used to animated features moving us to tears, but you have to remember for audiences back then this was an entirely new experience because no animation dared to get this heavy. Think about it: Shirley Temple, Charlie Chaplin, the best and the brightest of Hollywood who poo-pooed Walt for his ridiculous idea – all moved to tears over Snow White. I can only imagine the satisfaction Walt must have felt hearing their sobbing at the premiere. Again, going back to that animator who felt genuine fear for her safety, the audience developed an emotional bond with the character just as they would for a real human on screen.

The Prince FINALLY shows up again still singing his One Song. Believing the love he has long searched for to be lost to him forever, he says his final farewell by bestowing her with Love’s First Kiss.

“Ah – “

“If you make ONE necrophilia joke, I swear I’ll take all the Adam Sandler movies off the Shelf.”

“Please, no!! I’ll have nothing to fully snark at!!”

The kiss does its work and Snow White awakens none the worse for wear. And since what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, she’s immune to all poison ingested via deciduous fruit now. That’ll make ruling the kingdom she’s inherited from her stepmother and disappeared father much easier. And for those of you complaining how a magical kiss is a cop out, trust me, it’s better than how the original fairytale resolved it.

“Somewhere my love lies sleeping, and here she is! I’ll pay you dwarfs anything to let me take her back to my castle and keep her there as a memento of our tragic love.”

“This had better be worth it, she weighs a freaking ton!” “OHH, there goes my hernia!” *BANG*

*HACKHACKCOUGHHACK* “Thanks for the Heimlich, guys, damn apple’s been stuck in my throat for a year!”

“Seriously, I’m not making that up. Plus, they invite the Queen to the wedding and force her to dance to death in red-hot iron shoes.”

Everyone rejoices, Snow White says goodbye to the dwarfs, and the Prince leads her on his horse to his shining palace in the clouds. They all live happily ever after, the end.

And that’s Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, the very first animated Disney movie. Do I believe the American Film Institute’s claims that it’s the best animated film of all time? Well, to be honest, no. The main characters aren’t as developed compared to future Disney protagonists, the animation goes noticeably off model at times, and it’s got one foot stuck in the style of the Silly Symphonies shorts that came before.

Is it the most influential animated film, however? Of course! Without it animation wouldn’t be as mainstream as it is today. While the formula has been updated and subverted through the decades, most animated features follow a similar blueprint – a dastardly villain, fun side characters, memorable music, distinct visual flair, fighting, torture, true love, miracles, you get the picture. We wouldn’t have any of that without Snow White. Once upon a time, this movie was the Star Wars of its era; a groundbreaking, audience-thrilling blockbuster that changed the way people looked at movies. Part of that is because Snow White taps into an emotional simplicity in a manner few films are able to. It relies more on providing an emotional catharsis than logic, inviting us to experience the story as we once did through the eyes of a child, and in doing so captures the essence of a classic fairy tale.

In fact, looking at the ripple effect of how movies can influence one another across the years, Snow White ranks among one of the most influential movies made in general. Apart from Disney you can see its echoes in The Wizard of Oz, Gulliver’s Travels, Citizen Kane, and yes, the original Star Wars. Even Sergei Eisenstein, the man who revolutionized filmmaking with freaking Battleship Potemkin, declared Snow White to be the greatest film ever made.

…So why did Walt Disney come to hate it later on in life?

Every movie that’s met with acclaim and accolades is bound to hit some backlash for one reason or another. Maybe it’s been overhyped, or time hasn’t been that kind to it. For Walt, Snow White leaned into the latter as his artistic prowess grew. No creator likes looking at their past work because it’s easier to notice the flaws when viewing it through a more experienced eye (believe me, I know). That, and no matter what he did, it seemed impossible to escape from Snow White’s shadow. For decades everything he created was inevitably compared to it.

Hmm, the animation and music are an improvement, but what it’s really missing are some dwarfs.

Hmm, the creativity leaps off the charts, but if only the score had lyrics that rhyme with the words “shmeigh shmo”.

Hmm, it’s breathtaking and magical, but it’d be perfect if you could just sit and watch it for eighty minutes without interacting with any of it at all.

Hmm, it’s practically perfect in every way, but…um…uh…more dwarfs, dammit!!

Thankfully Walt’s displeasure mellowed after some time. As for Snow White, she’s still rightfully hailed as the one that started it all. The art is iconic, the characters are unforgettable, and virtually all the songs are Disney gold standards for a reason. Well before Rodgers and Hammerstein changed the face of musical theater by having the score and the book go hand in hand, Snow White did it first in the cinemas. In fact this was the first movie to ever have a commercially released soundtrack, another confounded idea Hollywood wouldn’t understand for quite a while. Though time may temper with modern expectations, Snow White is as much a classic now as it was destined to be eighty years ago, and nothing can touch it. It still is the fairest one of all.

“HA! Try to remake/sequelize THAT, Disney!”

“Excuse me, is it too late to join this review?”

“I’m sorry, who are you?”

“Oh, where are my manners? I’m Snow White’s sister, Rose Red.”

“…You sure you’re not just a color-swapped OC clone from Deviantart?”

“Of course I’m not, silly! I’m in the fairytale and everything! Well, not THE fairytale per se, but there is one titled ‘Snow White and Rose Red’ where we’re siblings.”

“Checks out. They’re technically related.”

“Okay, but what are you doing here?”

“I was just wondering when you were going to discuss my upcoming movie!”

“Your…movie?”

“Oh yes! It’s going to be Disney’s Snow White all over again but from MY point of view! Isn’t that exciting?”

“But…but you weren’t even in Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs.”

“I know! I was off to the side doing…well, you’ll have to wait and see! The lady who wrote that Gone Girl knockoff that takes place on a train and the Indecent Proposal remake is doing the screenplay and she is just delightful!”

“…Excuse me for one moment.”

“Oh dear. Have I said something wrong?”

“It’s ok. This is just the part of the review where Shelf goes berserk.”

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Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this review, please consider supporting me on Patreon. Special thanks to Amelia Jones and Gordhan Ranaj for their contributions.

You can vote for what movie you want me to look at next by leaving it in the comments or emailing me at [email protected]. Remember, you can only vote once a month. The list of movies available to vote for are under “What’s On the Shelf”.

Also, Patreon supporters get extra votes among other perks. If I reach the goal of $100, I can get back to reviewing animated series! I’m at the halfway mark right now, so please consider supporting me if you’re able.

Artwork by Charles Moss.

Most screencaps courtesy of animationscreencaps.com.

February Review: Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937) If there's a reason why we're able to recall the story of Snow White from memory, and why said princess is usually depicted with short hair, a cute bow and surrounded by woodland fauna, look no further than Disney.

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miahpascual · 4 years

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3 Big Answers from Next: Afterburn

Does a person become immune to pain after so much loss and heartbreak?

There are many definitions of pain. Whether it be emotional pain or physical pain etc. In my opinion, I do not believe a person can become truly immune to pain even after so much loss and heartbreak. It shapes us into the people we are today because of all the lessons it teaches us every time we get hurt. I believe that no human can truly become immune to something. It is the way that God created us. We may try to hide it but deep down inside pain is always felt. It is hard to not feel pain because it is such a big emotion. We can hide it by bottling it up but one day it will escape and we will just implode. For example, when Lars Olsen lost his family he did not know how to act. He hated the world. He hated the way the solar storms turned his wife and sweet daughter into the mutants with killer eyes. Lars suffered a great loss because his wife and daughter were his only family. Seeing them turn into mutants gave him no choice but to kill them and run away because they would have killed him first. He had to adapt and learn to survive after experiencing such a great deal of heartbreak. From seeing his wife, child, and friends everyday to never seeing them again. We can sense his sadness when he cried out, “He bellowed in rage, panic, fear and a sorrow so deep he couldn’t give it a name. He knew he was a coward, but he couldn’t help it. His wife was dead.” Through this, it is evident that Lars is deeply grieving his wife. I have a lost a couple of people in my life. But that pain still affects me to this day. Even after so much loss I have not become immune. It is a part of who I am and I just can’t set it aside like a half eaten apple that I would eat later. It isn’t easy at first but I learned to feel and process my emotions. Many people experience pain, it is not just a switch that you can turn on and off when it gets hard. Pain is a part of the human life.

Do you think that tragedies and catastrophes are ways that humans get punished for our sins?

Yes, I do believe that we do get punished for our sins through tragedies and catastrophes. It is a way for God to discipline us for our wrongful choices and actions towards ourselves and other people. Sin has been a part of the human world ever since the beginning of time. This was shown in the first book of the Bible, Genesis when Eve decided to eat the apple from the tree of knowledge even though God was very keen and specific about not eating the fruit. Eve was tricked and influenced by the devil to eat the apple from the tree. When we sin we give in to the devil and his tricks and do evil deeds towards ourselves and other people. Every time we sin we move farther and farther away from God and closer to the devil. I think that God disciplines us through catastrophes and tragedies because he can not physically be here on earth to do it. In the book, Next: Afterburn, Rachel Wheeler, one of the main characters in the book talks about how they paid their debt when the solar storms hit the earth. Rachel says, “ I’m not sure sin exists anymore. Maybe we paid that debt.” Their debt as in their sins that they have committed throughout their life. An example of when God has punished us using a catastrophe was in the Bible, in the book of Genesis. This story is very well known. It is called Noah’s ark. In this story, He asks Noah to build an ark. Noah would bring his family and a pair of every animal on earth on the boat so that after the flood animals can repopulate. God would then send a flood on the earth lasting for forty days and forty nights. God did this because he saw how wicked and sinful the people on earth had become. He wanted to cleanse the world from sin and wickedness and create something new. So God said, “I will destroy from the earth the people I have created. And with them, the animals, birds, and creeping things.” (Genesis 6:5-7)

Why does violence cause more harm than good in a world that’s broken?

Violence causes more harm than good in a world that is broken because it creates more chaos and violence which can turn into someone getting badly injured or even death. Violence never leads to anything good because someone always ends up losing, getting hurt, or dying in the end. There is a saying “violence is never the answer.” It is such a small phrase but it means so much. Violence can create so many problems even if the subject is about something small. For example, if someone bumps into you by accident, but you think they did it on purpose. You throwing a punch would create such a big problem and will result in both of you getting hurt. This could have all been resolved and avoided if one of you or both you apologized to each other. In the book, Lars describes how violent humans have become ever since the solar storms hit the earth. They became murderers because they were trying to salvage anything they could find in order to protect themselves and thrive and adapt to the new surroundings. Lars talks about how he almost got killed when he was staying at an abandoned hospital with a couple of other survivors. The author says, “A blade glinted above him, and he rolled away just as the blow struck the woman beside him. Lars reached under his pillow where he kept a glock. As she gurgled and spat blood, he discovered more people filled the room, searching for his hidden stash of canned food. He emptied his clip before he could even identify them, and amid the stench of gunpowder and steaming guts, he ran away.” Due to the violence in this scene, Lars lost another important person in his life, a woman who has pregnant with his baby. This proves that nothing good can come out being violent. This is evident in the world every single day. Thousands of innocent people die. For example, there was a recent story where this man was jogging and these two people shot, assaulted and killed the man because they suspected that he was responsible for a series of robberies in the neighbourhood. The innocent man, Ahmaud Arbery, did nothing to provoke or harm the two people but they still decided to attack him. The violence towards Arbery resulted in him being killed. These acts of violence to innocent people happen every day. This creates a bigger crack in our broken world today which will never be fixed because violence will always exist no matter what we try to do to abolish it.

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denizerkli · 6 years

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Miller is simply too harsh on writing. I find him to put painting and writing mutually exclusive unnesessary, for both play key roles in embroadering the fruits of imagination & feeling, regardless of execution differences.

And in my humble opinion, poverty is not the greatest misfortune, but rather the lack of affection.

The remaining article speaks volumes on my behalf.

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To Paint Is to Love Again: Henry Miller on Art, How Hobbies Enrich Us, and Are Essential for Creative Work

“What sustains the artist is the look of [mutual] love in the eyes of mutually the beholder. Not money, not the right connections, not exhibitions, not flattering reviews.”

BY MARIA POPOVA

One particularly icy winter day not too long ago, I reluctantly retired my bike, took the subway into Manhattan, and gave up my seat to a kindly woman a few decades my senior. We struck up a conversation — an occurrence doubly delightful for its lamentable rarity on the New York City subway. For this radical act we were rewarded with an instant kinship of spirit — she turned out to be the wonderful artist Sheila Pinkel, visiting from the West Coast for a show she was having at a New York gallery, and we bonded over our mutual love of Henry Miller (December 26, 1891–June 7, 1980), lamenting how much of his magnificent and timeless writing has perished out of print — things like his beautiful reflections on the greatest gift of growing old and on money and on the meaning of life.

Right before I hopped out at my stop, Sheila mentioned one particular book that had made a strong impression early in life, but which she had been unable to find since — Miller’s 1968 lost gem To Paint Is to Love Again (public library). Naturally, I tracked down a surviving copy as soon as possible and was instantly enchanted by this rare and wonderful treasure trove of Miller’s paintings — for he was among the famous writers who were drawn to the visual arts, producing such lesser-known treats as J.R.R. Tolkien’s illustrations, Sylvia Plath’s drawings, William Faulkner’s Jazz Age etchings, Flannery O’Connor’s cartoons, Zelda Fitzgerald’s watercolors, and Nabokov’s butterfly studies — enveloped in his devastatingly honest and insightful words on art, sincerity, kindness, hardship, and the gift of friendship.

With his characteristic blend of irreverence, earnestness, and unapologetic wisdom, Miller — who began painting at the age of thirty-seven in 1928, while he was “supposed to be at work on the great American novel” but was yet to publish anything at all, bought his first watercolors and brushes in the midst of poverty, and was soon painting “morning, noon and night” — explores the eternal question of what art is and what makes one an artist.

Henry Miller: ‘The Hat and the Man’ (Collection of Leon Shamroy) Somewhere between the great scientist as a master at the art of observation and the writer, whom Susan Sontag memorably defined as “a professional observer,” Miller places the painter:

What is more intriguing than a spot on the bathroom floor which, as you sit emptying your bowels, assumes a hundred different forms, figures, shapes? Often I found myself on my knees studying a stain on the floor — studying it to detect all that was hidden at first sight. No doubt the painter, studying the face of the sitter whose portrait he is about to do, must be astonished by the things he suddenly recognizes in the familiar visage before him. Looking intently at an eye or a pair of lips, or an ear — particularly an ear, that weird appendage! — one is astounded by the metamorphoses a human countenance undergoes. What is an eye or an ear? The anatomy books will tell you one thing, or many things, but looking at an eye or ear to render it in form, texture, color yields quite another kind of knowledge. Suddenly you see — and it’s not an eye or an ear but a little universe composed of the most extraordinary elements having nothing to do with sight or hearing, with flesh, bone, muscle, cartilage.

In this art of seeing Miller finds the essential question of what a painting really is:

A picture… is a thousand different things to a thousand different people. Like a book, a piece of sculpture, or a poem. One picture speaks to you, another doesn’t… Some pictures invite you to enter, then make you a prisoner. Some pictures you race through, as if on roller skates. Some lead you out by the back door. Some weigh you down, oppress you for days and weeks on end. Others lift you up to the skies, make you weep with joy or gnash your teeth in despair.

Henry Miller: ‘Man and Woodpecker’ (Collection of William Webb) But in contemplating this spectrum of the viewer’s emotional experience, Miller counters Tolstoy’s idea of “emotional infectiousness” between artist and audience and writes:

What happens to you when you look at a painting may not be at all what the artist who painted it intended to have happen. Millions of people have stood and gazed in open-mouthed wonder at the Mona Lisa. Does anyone know what was going on in Da Vinci’s mind when he did it? If he were to come to life again and look at it with his own two eyes it is dubious, in my mind, that he would know himself precisely what it was that made him present her in this immortal fashion.

And yet the intensity of the artist’s own emotion, Miller argues, is the true lifeblood of art and of optimism about the human spirit:

To paint is to love again. It’s only when we look with eyes of love that we see as the painter sees. His is a love, moreover, which is free of possessiveness. What the painter sees he is duty-bound to share. Usually he makes us see and feel what ordinarily we ignore or are immune to. His manner of approaching the world tells us, in effect, that nothing is vile or hideous, nothing is stale, flat and unpalatable unless it be our own power of vision. To see is not merely to look. One must look-see. See into and around.

Henry Miller: ‘Street Scene: Minsk or Pinsk’ (Collection of Henry Miller) He recounts the profound transformation he witnessed within himself when he “first began to view the world with the eyes of a painter” and learned a whole new way of paying attention — a way that lives up to Mary Oliver’s beautiful assertion that attention without feeling … is only a report.” Miller writes:

The most familiar things, objects which I had gazed at all my life, now became an unending source of wonder, and with the wonder, of course, affection. A tea pot, an old hammer, or chipped cup, whatever came to hand I looked upon as if I had never seen it before. I hadn’t, of course. Do not most of us go through life blind, deaf, insensitive? Now as I studied the object’s physiognomy, its texture, its way of speaking, I entered into its life, its history, its purpose, its association with other objects, all of which only endeared it the more… Have you ever noticed that the stones one gathers at the beach are grateful when we hold them in our hands and caress them? Do they not take on a new expression? An old pot loves to be rubbed with tenderness and appreciation. So with an axe: kept in good condition, it always serves its master lovingly.

Unlike his longtime lover and lifelong friend Anaïs Nin, who believed that “if one changes internally, one should not continue to live with the same objects,” Miller extols the gladdening assurance of the old:

I have always cherished old things, used things, things marked by the passage of time and human events. I think of my own self this way, as something much handled, much knocked about, as worn and polished with use and abuse. As something serviceable, perhaps I should say. More serviceable for having had so many masters, so many wretched, glorious, haphazard experiences and encounters. Which explains, perhaps, why it is that when I start to do a head it always turns into a “self-portrait.” Even when it becomes a woman, even when it bears no resemblance to me at all. I know myself, my changing faces, my ineradicable Stone Age expression. It’s what happened to me that interests me, not resemblances. I am a worn, used creature, an object that loves to be handled, rubbed, caressed, stuffed in a coat pocket, or left to bake in the sun. Something to be used or not used, as you like.

Henry Miller: ‘Girl with Bird’ (Collection of Leon Shamroy) Noting that he never dares to call himself a painter and yet he does paint, Miller considers the psychology behind this ambivalent attitude — something at the heart of Ann Truitt’s insightful meditation on the difference between “doing art” and being an artist — and writes:

I turn to painting when I can no longer write. Painting refreshes and restores me; it enables me to forget that I am temporarily unable to write. So I paint while the reservoir replenishes itself.

This, of course, is a strategy that many celebrated creators used — Madeleine L’Engle read science to enrich her writing and Einstein, who termed his creative process “combinatory play,”, is said to have come up with his greatest physics breakthroughs during his violin breaks. But it also makes sense under more formal psychological models of how creativity works, all of which require some form of incubation period, or what Alexander Graham Bell called “unconscious cerebration” — a stage during which “no effort of a direct nature” is made toward one’s creative goal and the mind is instead allowed to perform its essential background processing.

This notion comes very much alive in Miller’s account of those early days when he first became besotted with painting and its singular way of seeing the world:

Though my mind was intensely active, for I was seeing everything in a new light, the impression I had was of painting with some other part of my being. My mind went on humming, like a wheel that continues to spin after the hand has let go, but it didn’t get frazzled and exhausted as it would after a few hours of writing. While I played, for I never looked on it as work, I whistled, hummed, danced on one foot, then the other, and talked to myself.

It was a joy to go on turning [paintings] out like a madman — perhaps because I didn’t have to prove anything, either to the world or to myself. I wasn’t hepped on becoming a painter. Not at all. I was simply wiggling out of the strait-jacket.

He draws a further contrast between painting and writing in their respective effects on the creator’s psyche:

I enjoy talking to painters more than to writers… Painters give me the impression of being less used up by their daily task than writers or musicians. Also, they use words in a more plastic way, as if conscious of their very substantial originals. When they write … they reveal a poetic touch which writers often lack. Perhaps this is due to living continuously with flesh, textures, objects, and not merely with ideas, abstractions, complexes. Often they are mimes or story tellers, and nearly always good cooks. The writer, on the other hand, is so often pale, awkward, incompetent in everything except the business of putting words together.

The disposition of the painter and the writer, Miller observes with the warm wryness of someone very much aware that he is first a writer, differs not only in their psychic state during creation but also in how each relates to their finished work:

To paint is to love again, live again, see again. To get up at the crack of dawn in order to take a peek at the water colors one did the day before, or even a few hours before, is like stealing a look at the beloved while she sleeps. The thrill is even greater if one has first to draw back the curtains. How they glow in the cold light of early dawn! … Is there any writer who rouses himself at daybreak in order to read the pages of his manuscript? Perish the thought!

And yet Miller notes that many celebrated writers were also “painters, musicians, actors, ambassadors, mathematicians,” of which he observes:

When one is an artist all mediums open up… Every artist worth his salt has his [hobby]. It’s the norm, not the exception.

Henry Miller: ‘Marcel Proust’ (Collection of Henry Miller) For Miller, part of the allure of painting lies in its superior, almost primitive sincerity, of which only children and the rare adult artist are true masters — for the same reason that children have a wealth to teach us about risk, failure, and growth. Miller writes:

For me the paintings of children belong side by side with the works of the masters… The work of a child never fails to make appeal, to claim us, because it is always honest and sincere, always imbued with the magic certitude born of the direct, spontaneous approach.

Paul Klee … had the ability to return us to the world of the child as well as to that of the poet, the mathematician, the alchemist, the seer. In the paintings of Paul Klee we are privileged to witness the miracle of the pedagogue slaying the pedagogue. He learned in order to forget, it would seem. He was a spiritual nomad endowed with the most sensitive palps… He almost never failed, and he never, never, never said too much.

Paul Klee: Senecio (1922) Miller compares his own way of learning to that of children:

We all learn as much as we wish to and no more. We learn in different ways, sometimes by not learning…. My way is by trial and error, by groping, stumbling, questioning.

Noting that very few American painters excite him at all — among the exceptions he admiringly cites Georgia O’Keeffe and Jackson Pollock — Miller condemns the toxic effect of consumerism, something he had spiritedly condemned three decades earlier, on the creative spirit:

To paint is to love again, and to love is to live to the fullest. But what kind of love, what sort of life can one hope to find in a vacuum cluttered with every conceivable gadget, every conceivable money maker, every last comfort, every useless luxury? To live and love, and to give expression to it in paint, one must also be a true believer. There must be something to worship. Where in this broad land is the Holy of Holies hidden?

The practice of any art demands more than mere savoir faire. One must not only be in love with what one does, one must also know how to make love. In love self is obliterated. Only the beloved counts. Whether the beloved be a bowl of fruit, a pastoral scene, or the interior of a bawdy house makes no difference. One must be in it and of it wholly. Before a subject can be transmuted aesthetically it must be devoured and absorbed. If it is a painting it must perspire with ecstasy.

Echoing Nietzsche’s conviction that a full life requires embracing rather than running from difficulty, he adds:

The lure of the master lies in the struggle he engenders… [In America] for everything which taxes our patience, our skill, our understanding, we have short cuts… Only the art of love, it would seem, still defies the short cut.

Decades before Lewis Hyde’s now-legendary manifesto for the gift economy and half a century before its modern-day counterpart, Amanda Palmer’s manifesto for the art of asking, Miller writes:

Certainly the surest way to kill an artist is to supply him with everything he needs. Materially he needs but little. What he never gets enough of is appreciation, encouragement, understanding. I have seen painters give away their most cherished work on the impulse of the moment, sometimes in return for a good meal, sometimes for a bit of love, sometimes for no reason at all — simply because it pleased them to do so. And I have seen these same men refuse to sell a cherished painting no matter what the sum offered. I believe that a true artist always prefers to give his work away rather than sell it. A good artist must also have a streak of insanity in him, if by insanity is meant an exaggerated inability to adapt. The individual who can adapt to this mad world of to-day is either a nobody or a sage. In the one case he is immune to art and in the other he is beyond it.

Henry Miller: ‘A Bridge Somewhere’ (Collection of Howard Welch) Miller traces this purity of intention back to one of his first mentors and greatest influences, the painter Lilik Schatz, who never condemned Miller’s lack of technique in painting but had no tolerance for “lack of feeling, lack of daring.” Miller quotes Schatz’s memorable advice:

Do anything you like, but do it with conviction!

For their sincerity and integrity of conviction, Miller held painters in high regard his whole life. He describes them as “all lovable souls, and some … possessed of a wisdom altogether uncommon.” Even though these impressions were based on Miller’s friendships with a number of prominent artists, including Man Ray and Beauford Delaney, he remains most moved by the great photographer Alfred Stieglitz, a man of “vigorous, youthful spirit” and “unique way of looking at things”:

No one had ever talked painting to me the way Stieglitz did. It wasn’t his talk alone either, but the look in his eyes which accompanied it. That he was not a painter amazed me…. If ever the artist had a friend, a spokesman, a champion defender, it was in the person of Alfred Stieglitz… He was one of the very few Americans … whose approach to a work of art inspired reverence for the artist, for his work, for art itself. Lucky for us who come under his spell that he was not a painter, that he had created for himself the role of interpreter and defender.

Miller’s deep appreciation for such champions of the artist echoes, coincidentally, what Georgia O’Keeffe — the love of Stieglitz’s life, and a legendary artist whose own career was sparked by a friend’s unflinching faith — once wrote of the only true measure of success in art. In a sentiment that Robert Krulwich would come to echo half a century later in his magnificent commencement address on the importance of “friends in low places,” Miller extols the enormous spiritual value of such supporters:

Usually the artist has two life-long companions, neither of his own choosing… — poverty and loneliness. To have a friend who understands and appreciates your work, one who never lets you down but who becomes more devoted, more reverent, as the years go by, that is a rare experience. It takes only one friend, if he is a man of faith, to work miracles.

Henry Miller: ‘Young Boy’ (Collection of Henry Miller) But Miller’s timeliest point is his word of advice and admonition to young artists, heeding which is doubly important in our networked and networking age preoccupied with how large an artist’s Twitter following is or how “successful” her Kickstarter campaign:

How distressing it is to hear young painters talking about dealers, shows, newspaper reviews, rich patrons, and so on. All that comes with time — or will never come. But first one must make friends, create them through one’s work. What sustains the artist is the look of love in the eyes of the beholder. Not money, not the right connections, not exhibitions, not flattering reviews.

Miller intuits with great poetic precision what we now know empirically about grit being more important than “genius”:

To win through by sheer force of genius is one thing; to survive and continue to create when every last door is slammed in one’s face is another. Nobody acquires genius — it is God-given. But one can acquire patience, fortitude, wisdom, understanding. Perhaps the greatest gift [is] to love what one does whether it causes a stir or not.

In yet another stroke of prescience, Miller reveals himself as an early proponent of the pay-what-you-wish model of funding creative endeavor — the model that makes Brain Pickings possible — and adds:

Who knows what is good for man in this life? Poverty is one of the misfortunes people seem to dread even more than sickness… But is it so dreadful? For me this seemingly bleak period was a most instructive one, because not being able to write for money I had to turn to something else to keep going. It could have been shining shoes; it happened to be water colors. To make water colors for money never gave me the least qualm. I set no price on my labors. Whatever the buyer chose to offer, whatever he thought he could afford, no matter how ridiculous the sum, I said yes… I earned just enough to keep my head above water. It was like writing songs and getting paid to whistle them.

Henry Miller: ‘Clown’ (Collection of Hoki Miller)

Having written about the beautiful osmosis of giving and receiving nearly three decades earlier, Miller closes with a wonderfully touching personal anecdote — the kind found in Charles Bukowski’s beautiful letter of gratitude to his first patron. Illustrating the mutually ennobling effects of this kindness economy, Miller recounts one such early friendly spirit to whom he owes his creative destiny:

All this good fortune — of being able to work like a dog in happy poverty — was the result of a chance encounter with Attilio Bowinkel who ran an art shop in Westwood Village. One day I entered his shop to buy two tubes of paint. I asked for the cheapest water colors he had. When he asked me if that was all I needed I told him frankly that that was all I could afford at the moment. Whereupon the good Mr. Bowinkel put me a few discreet but pertinent queries. I answered briefly and truthfully. Then he said, and I shall never forget it: “Choose what you like … paper, paints, brushes, whatever you need. It’s a gift.” A few days later he came to the Green House to inspect my work. I blushed when I showed him what I had on hand. He didn’t say whether they were good or bad but on leaving he took a few with him, and the next day, on passing his shop, I noticed two of them in the window, beautifully framed. They were sold that very day, to Arthur Freed of M.G.M., a collector of modern European paintings… In Attilio Bowinkel I found a friend and a saviour.

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junker-town · 4 years

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Every animal face-off in the BBC’s new nature documentary, rated

Sylvain CORDIER/Gamma-Rapho via Getty Images

David Attenborough’s new show is epic ... and sports.

We continue our extremely important mission to conduct a scene-by-scene review of the BBC’s new nature documentary, Seven Worlds, One Planet, in order to see how sports it is. We determined that Episode 1, which focused on Antarctica, was reasonably sports. Asia was very sports. Time for ...

Episode 3 South America

Scene 1: Puma vs. Guanaco

Feeding a family of three is hard, especially if you’re a single mother who is also a Patagonian puma. Mountain lions, the Americas’ second-largest cat, don’t get the reputation they deserve: their glory is stolen overseas by African lions and tigers and at home (at least in South America) by the jaguar. But all big cats are worth our attention, because they’re designed to kill you. Yes, you personally.

Possessing murderous grace, strength complimented by rending claws, surprising stamina and teeth optimized to clamp around one’s neck just so, a puma is a serious predator. And, perhaps unfortunately for Patagonian pumas, they hunt serious prey: guanacos. They’re built for the mountains, with the ability to breathe very thin air. They’re also built for puma attacks. Thick skin around their neck helps protect them from the fatal bite, and their height and heft — over three times that of a mountain lion — does too. A guanaco is not an easy hunt.

But hunt them mother puma must. There’s the family to think of, after all. So we’re treated to a series of puma-guanaco battles, closely matched and extremely well-fought, on scrub and in snow.

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Over a bruising few days, the mother, injured from an earlier attempt, finally makes a kill, sprinting to catch her foe, wrestling it to the ground, suffocating it with a bite and then dragging it over a mile back to her territory. Sometimes you just have to play through pain.

Aesthetics 10/10

Everything about this scene is beautiful, from the shapely mountains that backdrop the hunts to the limpid pools enjoyed by the cougar cubs. And both animals featured are lovely, too — we’ve discussed the murderous beauty of the puma, but there’s an elegant majesty to the hunted guanaco too.

Also, this dude makes a brief appearance:

BBC Earth

This is a dirty look that almost transcends perfection. Well done, grumpy old man puma.

Difficulty 10/10

The puma’s kill was difficult enough without having to drag a corpse a mile across the Patagonia scrubland while injured. That’s some good mothering.

Competitiveness 10/10

Guanaco are pretty spectacular things, and they gave the mother puma almost more than she could handle. An incredible battle.

Overall 30/30

Running to rodeo to wrestling to, uh, dragging? We’ll call this the puma tetrathlon, and it is definitely sports.

Scene 2: Turd Penguins

The Pacific coast of South America is shaped by the Andes above and the Atacama Trench below, where the Nazca Plate subducts under the continent to fuel its belching volcanic spine. The trench, and the Humboldt Current which flows above it, drive nutrients into the surface waters offshore, which attract some of the world’s largest concentrations of seabirds. And, therefore, also the world’s largest concentrations of seabird poop.

Guano has an incredible history. Seabird manure is extremely good for fertilizer, but in most areas of the world, many of the nutrients are washed out by rain. On the Peruvian coast, however, it doesn’t rain, so high-quality guano collects. And collects. And collects. When Alexander van Humboldt, who gave his name to the current (as well as a particularly disgusting species of penguin, whom we will be discussing later), brought back news of the Peruvian deposits, he sparked a massive guano boom.

For years, guano mining was the foundation of the Peruvian economy. Control of guano islands was so important that wars were fought over it, and the United States’ push into the Pacific was at least partly due to the search for new, uninhabited guano sites. The use of guano across the world has even been blamed — how credibly I’m not well-equipped to assess — for the particular strand of blight that caused the Irish Potato Famine. Until synthetic fertilizers were produced in the early 20th Century, guano was vital for world agriculture. Now it’s where some very awful penguins dig their disgusting little nests, coating themselves in the process.

My friends would describe me as dirty, but cute #SevenWorldsOnePlanet pic.twitter.com/TrsLBX0Y7c

— BBC Earth (@BBCEarth) November 10, 2019

NB: If you watch the full episode, be prepared to watch a penguin take a dump. Consider yourself warned.

Turd penguins, like their less smelly cousins, need to get to the sea to eat. And this is a more challenging affair than usual during breeding season, as the rich waters off the coast attract more than seabirds. Blocking off the penguins’ access is a full colony of sea lions.

I like to imagine (probably definitely incorrectly) that these sea lions are normally fairly chill animals. But when your nice, quiet beach is invaded by a shrieking mob of penguins LITERALLY COATED BEAK TO TAIL IN SHIT, it’s hard to be chill. And when those penguins ignore your warnings to go the fuck back to whatever shithole they came from and instead CROWD SURF OVER YOU, it’s even harder.

When you go into a store and the shop assistants pounce #SevenWorldsOnePlanet #amistakehasbeenmade pic.twitter.com/bI8DfPdAcL

— BBC Earth (@BBCEarth) November 10, 2019

Actual footage of life throwing me curveballs #SevenWorldsOnePlanet #oopsiedaisy pic.twitter.com/h5dn54cu5G

— BBC Earth (@BBCEarth) November 10, 2019

Turd penguin don’t give a fuuuuuuck.

Aesthetics 2/10

I’m the father of two small children and so consider myself fairly immune to whatever horrors bodily fluids might attempt to inflict upon me. But this is enormously gross, and not even some sassy sea lions can rescue it.

Difficulty 9/10

Running through a pack of angry sea lions who desperately want you to go away and could kill you quite easily is one thing. Using them as a jungle gym is another. Don’t try this at home. Actually, don’t try any of this scene at home.

Competitiveness 10/10

Humboldt penguins weigh somewhere around 10 pounds. An adult male sea lion can be as much as 20 times as heavy. Being willing to barge your way through/over a wall of angry muscle and blubber like that takes some incredible bravery.

Overall 21/30

Surfing is a sport, even when it’s done by unbelievably dreadful birds. Goodbye, turd penguins. I hated you.

Scene 3: Nerd Bears

There’s nothing wrong with being a nerd. Some of my best friends are nerds, after all. So when I say that the spectacled bear is a nerdy-looking bear, it’s out of affection. And accuracy:

Photo by Blick/RDB/ullstein bild via Getty Images

Cool glasses, nerd.

The spectacled bear is only found in the cloud forests of the Andes, and is correspondingly rare and vulnerable to habitat loss. But, like millennials, who do things like watch the world burning around them and yet spend their time shitposting about nature documentaries rather than actually doing anything useful, these bears love avocados. Even when those avocados are 30 meters off the ground.

These nerds aren’t as heavy as the polar or brown bears we met in the Asia episode, but they’re still reasonably heavy, and the thin branches that the avocados grow on are nowhere near big enough to support them. So the smart bears just bite into the branches so that they dangle down low enough for them to reach. The less smart bears bite them off entirely and have to climb all the way back down. Most fast and break things. That’s the nerd way.

Aesthetics 7/10

I’m mostly giving this a good score because there aren’t any penguins in it. But also these bears have some pretty good vibes:

Me living my best life #SevenWorldsOnePlanet pic.twitter.com/WMreQHmzww

— BBC Earth (@BBCEarth) November 10, 2019

Difficulty 5/10

That’s a pretty big tree to climb, and a pretty big body with which to climb.

Competitiveness 7/10

In the battle of bear and bear, all it takes is a little bit of technique and know-how to get the upper paw.

Overall 19/30

On the surface, the avocado hunt is not exactly the stuff to stir one’s blood. But there’s an important, if unspoken rule about sport-assessing, of which I am now a professional: if you watch cheating, there’s a pretty good chance that it’s sports.

Scene 4: Look at this monkey’s hair!

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These Cotton-top Tamarins are critically endangered, which is a big shame because they have cool hair. Their habitat is being destroyed for all the traditional reasons, and it’s depressing. You know the drill.

Aesthetics 10/10

Someone get me their stylist’s number ASAP. I can only assume Carlos Valderrama was inspired by these little dudes.

Difficulty 10/10

This was going to be a bunch of monkeys sitting around and looking cool while their home is being razed around them, like a primate version of the ‘This is Fine’ dog. And then one did an absurd tree jump, which would kill 100 percent of the humans that tried to match it.

Competition 0/10

Monkeys vs. praying mantis? No contest. Monkeys vs. the inexorable tide of ‘progress’ that is slowly grinding their entire species away. Also no contest.

Overall 20/30

If everyone doing long jumps at the Olympics had these haircuts they’d get way better sponsorships. Sports.

Scene 5: The Very Horny Bird Squad

Birdsong is one of the joys of spring, and it’s only improved by the knowledge that it’s a bunch of tiny dinosaurs loudly expressing their desperate need to make some babies. Cheep-cheep-sexnowplease-cheep. For many birds, mere song is not enough. Bright, ostentatious plumage is a sign that a male is healthy and thus that his courtship attempt is worth responding to. And sometimes, the female bird wants to see some dancing.

Bird courtship routines are a staple of natural history programming, but in the Amazon we’re treated something rather more curious: the Blue Manakin team dance.

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The lead male bird somehow wrangles a squad of subordinates to help him do his *ahem* dirty work. Attenborough claims that “by supporting [the leader] now they may themselves eventually become leaders and get a chance to mate,” which sounds dubious to me. It’s basically a bird sex pyramid scheme, little buddies, so don’t fall for it. The leader’s out to screw you.

This scene is made much better by the fact that the female bird is completely uninterested.

Aesthetics 10/10

Beautiful birds, beautiful dance moves. I particularly love the synchronized shuffle-hop, but the final flap-your-wings-while-screaming routine might need some work (its target seemed to think so too).

Difficulty 8/10

I can’t even dance by myself, let alone in a group. How many hours of practice went into this routine?

Competition 7/10

This very good dance not being good enough strongly implies that there are other, more capable bird squads around.

Overall 25/30

Team dancing is sports, even if in this case it’s extremely horny sports.

Scene 6: Poison Dart Frogs

Living in the rainforest is a pretty good deal for poison dart frogs. It’s nice and damp, there are some great trees to hang out in, and since almost everything that touches you has an unpleasant experience they get a fairly stress-free time.

But there is a problem: standing water. With some deeply weird exceptions (don’t google the Suriname toad if you have trypophobia), amphibians need water in which to lay their eggs. There aren’t too many ponds to be had, up in the canopy. So they have to make use of the tiny pools of water that collect in bromeliads, one per egg. Sometimes they choose badly and the small pool in which the egg has been placed dried up before their tadpole has finished developing:

Blob fish or tadpole? You decide#SevenWorldsOnePlanet pic.twitter.com/DUr5hn8tbm

— BBC Earth (@BBCEarth) November 10, 2019

That tadpole is in trouble, and the only way to help is to get it to a real pool of water. That means relocation via piggyback ride, perhaps even to a new tree, and then a summoning of the tadpole’s mother to lay another (unfertilized) egg to serve as food. Yum yum.

Aesthetics 3/10

Poison dart frogs have bright and flashy coloring to warn predators not to eat them. These yellow-and-black ones are particularly smart-looking. But bright colors alone aren’t doing it for me.

Difficulty 6/10

When you’re less than an inch long, searching through the forest with a baby on your back for a new place to stash it must be very hard work. Remembering where exactly you’ve dumped all your children seems like a tough task too.

Competitiveness 2/10

I’m guessing that there are a bunch of other poison dart frogs looking for egg pools in this forest, so I guess they can have a couple points here.

Overall 10/30

Not sports.

Scene 7: Scarlet Macaws

Parrots jostle and fight for position on the banks of a particular stretch of the Amazon. Are they after food? Not exactly. Parrots’ diet is low in salt, and their chicks need salt to develop, and here, at the edge of the river, is salt-laden clay. So the parrots squabble to grab a chunk of mud, fly up to 50 miles (!) back to their nests, and feed it to their children.

Aesthetics 5/10

Scarlet macaws are pretty birds:

Nothing more romantic than a cheeky head scratch and a chest peck #SevenWorldsOnePlanet pic.twitter.com/kgea0ciCCg

— BBC Earth (@BBCEarth) November 10, 2019

And we get to see more than just them. There are plenty of blue-and-gold macaws (my favorites) battling it out for the mud too, plus a sizable squadron of what I think are probably Amazon parrots in their greens.

Difficulty 4/10

This is more annoying than difficult, apart from the very long distances the birds have to fly.

Competitiveness 3/10

If there was a real free-for-all this would have scored quite high, but there appear to be just enough rules in parrot society to keep the clay harvesting from descending into an all-out brawl.

Overall 12/30

Nope.

Scene 8: Un-diving

This is more like it. A thousand miles south of the parrot clay feast, a troop of brown capuchins is moving through the trees, looking for breakfast. Staring up at them, following their every move, are ... fish. The piraputanga are able to see the monkeys clearly because Bonito’s Rio da Prata is fed by freshwater springs, naturally filtered by the underlying rock.

Are these fish on the hunt for monkey meat? No. Like dogs following a toddler, they’re hoping for their scraps. When the monkeys find ripe fruit — impossible to spot from underwater — they stop and eat. Plenty drops into the river. But an anaconda soon interrupts breakfast, attempting to ambush the capuchins from underwater.

Fortunately, that’s not the end of the piraputangas’ meal. Now that they know where the fruit is, they have schemes of their own:

...Try, try again #SevenWorldsOnePlanet pic.twitter.com/WEGJHlB1sm

— BBC Earth (@BBCEarth) November 10, 2019

I have to admit that I did not see this one coming.

Aesthetics 9/10

This is a beautiful scene. While none of the animals themselves are that attractive, the environments, particularly the crystal-clear waters of the Rio da Prata, are sublime. The anaconda’s slither through the mud carries with it potent, barely-seen menace. And then there’s the piraputanga jump. They have surprisingly good form, for fish.

Difficulty 8/10

Trying to jump several times your body height to grab something you can only barely see would be tricky enough if you were able to use your hands. Now imagine you have to do that with your teeth.

Competition 8/10

These fish mean business, and there’s not enough fruit to go round. After the monkeys are done with their handouts, the highest and best jumper is literally the one which gets to eat. A bonus point for the anaconda hunt.

Overall 25/30

Diving is sports. Un-diving is also sports.

Scene 9: Waterfall Skimmers

Norberto Duarte/AFP via Getty Images

Great dusky swifts will do a lot to protect their chicks. Harried and harassed by falcons, they have a perfect hiding spot for their nests: behind the thundering curtain of the Iguaçu Falls. The falls, on the border between Brazil and Argentina, are the biggest waterfall complex in the world, and the wet rock behind them is all that the chicks know before they take their first flight. Which is right through the pouring water and to the other side:

These great dusky swifts are able to fly right through the thundering torrents of water.#SevenWorldsOnePlanet pic.twitter.com/txtjP3mOFo

— BBC Earth (@BBCEarth) November 10, 2019

Birds nesting in challenging places gives their chicks a great chance in the earliest days but creates a terrible bottleneck later on. This trial by waterfall isn’t the worst thing nature does to baby birds, but it’s an impressive challenge to get past. Blind and bedraggled, these tiny, barely-fledged swifts have to force their way through the falls and out into the open air for the very first time. Their reward is some pretty damn good scenery, and probably getting eaten by a falcon or something.

(Bonus video!) Here is the worst thing that nature does to baby birds:

youtube

Aesthetics 10/10

Lovely. While great dusky swifts aren’t very pretty on their own, especially when wet and flummoxed, the Iguaçu Falls are one of the planet’s most spectacular sights, and watching these 8-inch birds take them on is unbelievably cool.

Difficulty 10/10

This is another thing that would definitely kill you if you attempted it. Well, all flying would, but especially this one.

Competition 9/10

Little birds vs. enormous waterfall is a David-and-Goliath sort of deal.

Overall 29/30

Extremely sports.

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floralbfs · 5 years

Text

WIP Ask Game!

thank u anon!!!!

1: Summarize your WIP in 10 words or less.

orphan gains powers, gets adopted by alien, saves the world.

2: Post a line from your WIP with no context.

'There's a whoosh of air, and Leo suddenly hears a voice he never thought he'd ever be able to hear again.'

3: Does your WIP have a title? If so, explain its significance. If not, what are you calling it for now?

Okay so I have been calling it the Youtuber Superhero AU (because it started as a fandom au but then i made it an original!!) but I thought maybe it could be "Thicker than Water", since my MC, Leo, is an orphan and he lives alone for most of his life (most of his life lmao at least until canon point? read also: around 9-11 years when in canon he's like 19?) in a remote, lowkey magical place/dimension?, but ultimately he comes back to his hometown and creates a family for himself!!!! i won't give spoilers but, since i already said this, part of his found family is his adoptive dad, an alien who is also a superhero!! If not TtW, I would call it maybe,,,,, Moonstone???? at least the first book!!! (ooh, maybe TtW can be the series name and Moonstone the first book's name?) because Leo kind of gets his powers through a moon stone????? it's not actually moon stone; it was a strange rock he found in the magical dimension that seeked out a champion for the god Huitzilopochtli??? and the closest word Leo could get for it was Moonstone, because of its uhhhhh singular qualities!

4: Describe the setting of your WIP.

OKAY, this is a fun one!!! Leo's hometown is named Star Nova, idk why it just seemed cool, and it is a futuristic city!!! They don't follow capitalism Because I Said So, and they're really into, like, environmental stuff!!! So you'd see SO much flora all over the city kshdsjfh like those???? idk what they're called but like the towns overridden with plants? but controlled!!! There's a tiny percentage of the population (tho I still haven't decided if this is worldwide?? I have a way to make it worldwide but idk) who have superpowers, either due to "individual" factors (e.g Leo's powers are bc of the moonstone, and Matthew(his dad)'s powers are due to him being an alien!) or were affected by a weird experiment an Evil Corporation™ were doing; ECtm was trying out an illegal experiment that could alter living beings' genetics to their will, but it went wrong and their substance exploded and went airborne. Those who were working on it knew about its risks and toxicity, ergo they were wearing a special suit and weren't affected, but the gas contaminated and ??mixed?? with the air and spread to the nearest city, Star Nova (the unofficial capital of the Joint Pacific Nations) and affected a Whole Lot Of People!!! this all happened a while before canon, and the corporation got away with it bc they were filthy rich basically. Anyway, a lot of the people who were affected to the "virus" reacted negatively and died, some were uhhh """immune"""???, and a few Seemed to be immune but had actually had a successful celular-level bonding with the substance! It didn't do anything to them, but their children/grandchildren were born with physical or mental anomalies, also known as super powers (gasps)!!!! BUT!!! a lot of the story happens in the magical city of Coatl (it means serpent!), located within a pocket dimension somewhere inside the Mexican southern forest, where Leo finds himself when he's four years old, recently orphaned, guided by a magical ....bird....being....? he lives there for around eleven years, and he's granted Huitzilopochtli's Champion's power once he's like. Not A Baby lmao. Coatl is.... kind of like,,,,, an Olympus, I guess? Only those with like the destiny to find it know where it is, and they can lead other people there if it's for good causes! It's almost like a sentient city, and the Aztec gods kinda. chilled there???? my theory is that a lot of religious mythologies exist, at least in this universe, and they all co-exist on earth, or pocket dimensions inside of it!!! anyway, Leo lived there and was basically raised by gods???? and an AI???? bc i love AIs???? and uhhhh i think that got away from me ajdhsjdhsj does all of this even count as setting??? am i missing anything????

5: Search for the word “knife” in your WIP. If you find it, paste the line and explain the context.

no knives sadly :( i guess i haven't reached Those Scenes yet???? tho there should be one in the first chapter….. my wip document is just kind of very messy ajdhsjdjsjdh i might just have to make a new document????

6: Search for the word “dream” in your WIP. If you find it, paste the line and explain the context.

???????????? why am i not using any words?????????? sorry :/

7: What are you most proud of?

probably the worldbuilding and characters (at least those with superpowers? maybe i should say superpowers period)!!!!! they're very complex and thought-out????? and i THINK they're original!!!!! so!!!!! ＼(￣▽￣)／

8: What is your biggest challenge?

oooooof,,,,,,,, probably..... getting an actual plot lmao????? like i have an overall view of my would-be first and second books, but i don't know if they actually have enough to them to be written as they are?????? like… idk if the conflict is really like??? worthy to be a Main Conflict™????

9: How would you describe your writing style?

oooooooh uhhhhh maybe….. flowery prose???? i'm a poet at heart, so if i don't use loads of metaphors and language uhhhh idk their name in english but language variators??? i will literally die. but seriously nsjdhsjdhsjfh nothing too serious!!!! most of my “”””angst”””” scenes are….. not so sad, i think skfjsjfj

10: How would you describe your WIP’s narrative style? (1st person, 3rd person, multiple POVs, single POV, alternating chapters, etc.)

oh!!!! well, i think it'd be multiple povs, alternating chapters, third person???? i'm still not sure whether to use 1st or if i already have??? p sure that's a different wip i'm thinking about tho

11: Which character do you have the most in common with?

uhhhhhhhhhhhh seeing how underdeveloped she is right now??? probably Persephone???? bc she's genderfluid skfjsjfjdjfh or uhhhh Scott??? bc i too love leo with my heart and would die for him and stay with him in the afterlife. (hypothetically, of course….)

12: Which character do you have the least in common with?

Maeve, probably!!!! she's, uh…. Something.

13: Your characters are stranded on a deserted island. What happens?

They Are All A Mess. akfhajfjajfj Matthew would probably become the leader and like. establish order and shit???? but he's also the hugest nerd so he'd just give the leader role to someone else (probably seph staine?) and goes exploring and cataloging shit skfhsjfhdjf Leo is probably the most resourceful one of the bunch, so he would immediately like. start planning for huts and food and stuff???? also idk if they would have their powers in this situation cause it'd be too easy to get them all out of there????? but let's just say they do but the island is inescapable by flight?? he can talk to animals, so he could communicate with the local fauna and like form alliances???? Seph is a good leader, so he'd probably like….. keep everything in check???? and Leo's friends are all good and resourceful, so they'd make a good team!!!! tldr they basically create order immediately and do their best to not struggle??? after a few days/weeks, some of them start to like. break down? but the adults are like. wise and shit??? and i'm pretty sure at least one of them is like a licensed therapist??? so they help each other out uwu

14: Have you chosen birthdays for any of your characters? If so, when are they?

oh!!!! only for a few!!!! Leo and Maeve's birthday is on March 25, Scott's birthday is on August 27, Matthew doesn't really have a birthday??? because time is different in his planet????, Percy and Persephone's birthday is somewhere in November, and uhhhh im p sure that's all i got akfjsjfjsj i suck at birth dates

15: Do you know your characters’ MBTI personalities?

GOD, no. maybe i should do their tests???👀

16: What would your characters be for Halloween?

Leo… doesn't believe in/care for Halloween, as he didn't grow up around it, but it's totally Scott's jam!!! they are dirt poor in a good first half of the book, though, so they can't really dress up :( they met in the library, and after (spoiler alert!!!) scotty's death, Leo feels it appropriate to dress up as Scott's fave characters every year. Percy and Persephone are (very weak) shapeshifters, so their costumes ROCK!!!!! they always do matching costumes, so they get cliché pair costumes!! Matthew….. uh. he is… way too old for that. he was literally alive before Halloween was even a thing, so it's not really his thing. Leah just……. does her own thing??? she can see ghosts, so she sometimes does like historical costumes and stuff with their help!!! and Ben…. oof tbh that depends on what his fave song/album/whatev is at the moment??? he kinda creates like a story/aesthetic for them and dresses up that way!!!!

17: Does your WIP have any themes or motifs?

uhhhh found family, definitely!!!! i really can't think of any bc i'm an idiot, but uhhhh intelligence??? if that's a thing??? like,,, they're all powerful and shit but it's also like. brains over brawns????

18: What’s easier, dialogue or description?

i think description!!!! neither of them are… hard??? but!!! description is like…… where i can go hog wild akfjskfjsjfb

19: Post a picture or gif that describes your WIP.

20: Post a brief excerpt.

Leo @Leoberry

You asked, I answered. New Q&A video is now up!

[3k retweets, 10k likes, 9k replies] 20 min. ago

[My First Q&A- video transcription excerpt]

[Leo Berry, a nineteen-year-old brunette guy with green eyes, wearing a red shirt with a lightning symbol on it that's loose on his muscular form, waves at the camera and smiles widely, dimples showing up on his cheeks.]

Leo: Hey, guys. You've been asking me to do a Q&A for a while, and the day has finally arrived! I told you to ask me questions on Twitter with the hashtag #AskBerry, and I've picked a few!

[Leo smiles brightly and lifts up his cellphone.]

Leo: First off, here's one by @razzberry- nice username, by the way-: “what's your cat's name? Do you have more than one?”

[The video shifts, and there's suddenly two cats sitting on Leo's arms: a large, orange cat quickly falling asleep on his shoulder, and a black kitten hugged in his arms.]

Leo: I do! This little fella-

[He gasps as the kitten in his arms struggles to get free and runs off-camera.]

Leo: Don't leave me! Okay, that little fella is Onyx, and, as you can see, he doesn't like me very much. Anyway, this little gal asleep over here…

[He points toward a small orange cat sleeping on his shoulder.]

Leo: ...is Tigress! She's my little baby. You've probably seen her around a lot on my vlogs, since she really likes to hang out on my bed.

Leo: Next! @Honeybats asked: ‘“is it true your dad is Jade?”

[Leo smiles and, after a few seconds of trying to school his features, bursts out laughing.]

Leo: You mean to ask whether my dad is Matlal Jade, the greatest superhero of our era?

Leo: ...Well, yeah! My dad- [more laughs] my dad is totally my Jade. His name is Matthew, and I keep asking him to fly me to school. He says it's not funny!

[He sobers up for a second.]

Leo: Jokes aside, he adopted me a few years ago and he'll always be a superhero in my eyes. I was in a really dark place when he found me, and I can't thank him enough for all that he's done for me.

[Leo looks away for a second and loses his smile. The video cuts and skips again, and Leo appears once again, this time sporting an easy smile and a blue shirt, this one tighter around his shoulders.]

Leo: things got a bit too deep! This one was sent by @shazhangs: “are you dating anyone at the moment?”

[Leo laughs.]

Leo: God, no. I mean, I'm not really a people person, you know? And I’ve been so focused on work, vlogging, and, uh, extracurriculars, that I really haven't had any time to socialise.

[Leo laughs again.]

Leo: This one comes from @perspartone: will you collab with any other youtubers anytime soon?

Leo: Yeah, sure! I don't think I have done any videos with other people in the past, so it'd be a fun thing to do! I just have to find a friend first.

[Leo laughs loudly.]

[End of excerpt. For viewing of the video, refer to Leo Berry on Youtube, and find the full transcription here at DailyBerries in a few hours.]

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