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ladyyatexel · 3 years

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I Went On A Manga Binge

So you don't have to

For those of you who have wisely avoided the shreds of it I've left around the blog thus-far, I had some weird notion to go re-experience Yu-Gi-Oh uuuuuh a week ago? We'll go with that. Time is meaningless.

I'd been able to read a good portion of the early manga at the end of highschool, and somewhere in my stacks and stacks of paper is fanart from this dark time, so you know I cared. I also still own a Dark Magician action figure somehow, so. I'd also watched a large portion of the anime with my brother because it had been laced with some kind of crack and we couldn't look away? I remember when we both were just like shit, wait, don't change the channel, I can't stop looking at it. And the next thing we knew we were waiting for new episodes and I was doing research on the Japanese original because I was that kid.

Anyway, unnecessary backstory out of the way, here are some... let's call them Observations and Consequences of having read somewhere in the neighborhood of 300 chapters (and growing) of a manga primarily hinged on card games from a spectrum of sources ranging from boringly lawful to sketchy as fuck.

Surprise actual character that develops in typical shounen fashion being Jounouchi. My limited experiences with the 4Kids dub and only early manga had not painted him in a particularly good light. I don't know if episodes were being aired out of order or if I had just missed the ones that established that he was making shit up as he was going along, but Wow I liked him a lot more going through the manga than I ever did watching the (dubbed, heavily edited and censored and thrown into a slurry machine) anime. I'd managed to come out with the impression that he was just as reasonably experienced with the game as Yugi back in the day. Wild.

I'm now reading every single comic-style post on Tumblr backwards.

Striking inverse to first point, wow, I don't like Seto Kaiba. Though he gets points for his general philosophy of the future, and the line I read in my sketchy online combo of scans and scanlations in which he said, "If God is in your way, you run him down," was Metal As Fuck. I somewhat shame-facedly admit to enjoying him a lot more as an Abridged Series character. (I watched Abridged as it came out back in the day! The experience of watching the anime with my brother had been so fresh that I got all the in jokes about the way things were edited and dubbed, it was great. Series remains influential part of my life to this day, which is hella weird.)

I almost understand how Duel Monsters works now. I don't want this.

That said, wow a lot of the decisions made in the anime made everything a lot more ridiculous than the admittedly already ridiculous original. I got the distinct feeling in the manga that the Duelist Kingdom stuff we were seeing was designed to be used and exploited in ways that don't make sense in an actual cardgame just played on a table like a normal person and this was part of testing everyone to think higher, differently. Maybe this is obvious to everyone already, I don't know. I had always liked that it was very, 'Not so fast, I'm going to blow up the moon to change the tides,' but I'm not really sure the anime gave enough explanation that this was an extra layer added to things for that event? You can see people actively getting used to it in the books, and people who aren't considering the real or 3D nature of it getting owned, but my memory of anime version is everyone just like, 'oh, shucks, fuck me, I forgot to consider the phase of the moon before i played this card, can't believe I forgot.' No one calls Yugi on any of this stuff because it's valid play in that situation. Plus Yami Yugi had mad trickster energy in the beginning and it suited him to think of ways to do things inside these little simulation boxes the way it suited him to set perverts on fire. I imagine the real card game trying to emulate this element as something that would be to its detriment, but I neither know nor particular care haha

Ryou Bakura.

Really, though. I think he became kind of casualty of 'wow, we have a lot of characters who really aren't able to do anything in this story anymore,' despite the fact that his whole inner life could have been as interesting as Yugi's. I always like thinking about the possibilities of stories in which main character falls into magical world and is given magical item and told they're the hero and then they find out they've been the bad guy the whole time. The first several volumes of manga were about the quiet weirdo kid that no one talked to who was always blacking out and turning into a fucked up version of himsef because he was so attached to his ancient Egyptian jewelry, so like, Bakura could have much the same shit going on. I want to know what's happening with him so much. He clearly doesn't love being possessed, but he's also so drawn to the ring. Despite it having stabbed him at least twice and him knowing it's a danger to him and his friends, he keeps being pulled back into it. You see so much more of him being like, 'Oooh, a creepy thing, I love that! :D' in the manga than ever in the anime, which I'm all about. Also more blood. I'm very about that as well. Though my memory of the anime also made it look very much like normal regular daily Bakura was just a weird facade in places before he ever would have been. I think that was it trying to compensate for what people didn't see from the Toei anime, but okay whatever, that I love everything about this guy is not news, I don't need to talk about Bakura excessively here, I'm pretty sure that's gonna show up on my blog by itself

On a related note though, damn, more of these people need to talk to each other. Can we have some existential crisis support clubs or something. Can we get like some apologies or something? "I respect you as a duelist." "Cool, but you literally built a tower designed to specifically assassinate me and my friends? You were supposed to get Better after I retaliated by putting you in a coma, but you kinda didn't." "Why would the coma have made it better" "I just told you it didn't" ---- "Sorry I went along with the plan of your evil parasite stabbing you, misled you, and then also jumped in and took up some real estate in your head too." "I understand, I also have an evil thing inside me that does things while I'm blacked out." "...no, I was conscious for all of that." "Oh." "..." "..." "..." "Do you like Ouija Boards?" "sure okay" ETC. Like damn we are reading shounen manga because no one is talking extensively about their feelings here and I'm tapping my foot angrily.

Holy shit there are so many mythologies happening at once. The ancient family guarding the Egyptian Pharaoh has a surname that's a Mesopotamian goddess. None of the god cards make any Egyptian sense except Ra, and just like. Baaarrrrely. Somewhere either Evil Ring Bakura or Mar/lik makes a reference to cremation and spirits being taken to heaven with smoke which several things, but definitely not Ancient Egyptian. Marik/Malik meanwhile is clearly trying to head Arabic, along with Rishid, but then, hey, our sister is just Isis. Goddess McGoddess. Sometimes they're the same goddess! Her name could be Isis Isis or Ishtar Ishtar. Meanwhile, all the obviously 'occult because Christians think it is freaky' stuff. ~ancient egyptian pentagrams~~~This isn't a complaint, I guess so much as a 'Wow, I can kind of see the cultural spot the author was coming from and where he was aiming' kind of thing.

Wonder where things would have gone if the card games had not been latched onto the way they were.

Managed to forget how gross the pre-cardgames stuff was on the sexual harassment front. I'm glad there was a sort of explanation of everyone drifting away from being dick heads and that that decision was made. It got way more comfortable to read after no one was bringing Yugi p*rn on VHS.

Yugi looks better with a nose, glad we got that upgrade.

Interesting to watch the series style shift as it goes away from being horror to being over the top cardgames and friendship (with blood!). The first picture of Mokuba is fucking Jarring. Also noticed that the nicer a character is, the less their teeth are defined.

Glad manga did not go as completely off the fucking the rails about Marik's face. I never got as far as seeing him back in the day because college occurred, but I remember seeing pictures and stuff and being like, "what in the Fuck happened to that dude, I think the house style has collapsed in on itself"

Things the author Really Likes: motorcycles, belts, SHOES, holy shit the shoes. These are some of the most lovingly rendered sneakers I've ever seen. All the detail on his characters goes straight to their feet and then it's stretched upward until it forms stiff peaks. Gently fold in 3000 years of trauma and bake face down in a crumb coat of scattered mythology. Remove when you roll two zeros.

Where the fuck am I going to put the extremely large omnibus volumes of this comic I purchased in order to balance out how much I would be reading for free on the internet. I should have grasped that a three in one edition would be Thick and yet somehow I was still :O when it arrived. Have I strategically purchased volumes that contain my favorite parts, maybe, what's it to you will i eventually get the whole thing because incomplete book series gnaw on my soul? yes

Wish the transition from "I've murdered several people in delightfully karmic ways" to "all you need is friendship in your heart and cards in your hand" Yami Yugi/Pharaoh had been discussed more/transitioned better. Buddy, where did you get this approved for television high horse? Please go back to strangling people with yo-yos or at least tell me why you stopped.

I still can't tell anything that looks like a big robotic monster apart from any other big robotic monster. My dude, I can't tell cars apart, all these monsters look the same.

Yami Yugi fascinated me way more in highschool? Maybe because it was still super early and the anime was like 'we need to torture you about his origins WeEkLy. Now I'm just like 'wait hold on, can we go back to Bakura and Marik for a minute, there's some extreme unpacking to do here?' Those two are paying so much more in baggage fees here my guy wow

Violently uninterested in any of the spinoff media

#yugioh #yu gi oh #ygo #there you go i can't imagine any other way you would decide was necessary to tag this #perhaps now that i have thrown this up i can #something #i don't know how i was going to finish that sentence #shut up lady

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kissinginkitchens · 3 years

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You Bring Me Home—Chapter Ten: When it Rains

a/n: hi besties!! This one is... tough I’m ngl to y’all. It is the second to the last chapter which is so wild to think about, but alas all good things must come to an end. Hopefully you don’t hate me too much by the end of it but feel free to vent in my inbox :))) much love, Mel <3

Pairing: Hawai’i!Harry x Original Character (Halani <3)

Warnings: swearing, some suggestive humor, ANGST (!!)

Word Count: 7.4 k

catch up on parts one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, and nine

“Is that my shirt?”

“No,”

Alani squints at the cartoon bee printed on Harry’s white t-shirt and crosses her arms in disbelief.

“Yes it is! I’ve been looking for it everywhere,”

“Don’t worry, you can have it back soon,” he admits, crawling back into his bed with an apologetic kiss to her pouting lips. “Doesn’t smell like you anymore,”

“Thief,”

Harry scoffs and props himself up on an elbow. “Don’t act like my Spice World jumper isn’t hanging at the foot of your bed right now,”

“You left it there,” Alani defends. “I was merely being kind and looking after said hoodie because it was abandoned by its owner,”

“Oh yeah and you’ve fought real hard to reunite us,”

“Can we get back to the main issue at hand? Which is that I’m kinda pissed off that you look better in that shirt than I do.”

Harry chuckles to himself and presses an affectionate kiss to her temple. “You’re too kind.”

Alani rests her cheek against his chest and listens to the rain pattering harshly against the window, admiring the flashes of lightning that illuminate the dimly lit room. Harry had convinced her to stay the night, worried about her driving home alone in the storm, and he was met with very little resistance. Secretly, he thanks the rain gods for allowing him another night to hold her close.

********

“H, you gotta tell her,” Jeff had warned the previous night. “I already pushed the flight back a week—”

“I know,” Harry huffed. “I just need a little more time.”

Jeff sighed, rubbing his tired eyes with the heels of his hands. “You have until this weekend when we go away with the girls. One week in Maui, and then it’s back home. I’m sorry.”

********

Harry’s stomach turns remembering the conversation, but he decides to push all the nagging thoughts to the back of his mind and focus on the present.

“You all packed?” he asks, trailing his fingers up and down her arm.

Alani drapes her leg over his hip and nods. “Been packed since last week.”

She had been ecstatic the day after Mila and Chad’s wedding when Harry invited her to tag along on the couple’s trip with Jeff, Tom, and their significant others. His eagerness to include her in his friend group was not only reassuring, but exciting. It felt like their lives were coming together, even more so after she had introduced him to her parents. They, of course, had adored him and quickly given their seal of approval. While Alani knew that it was ultimately her choice, it still felt good to have support from the most important people in her life, and she hoped to win his friends over just as easily. Harry, on the other hand, had no doubts that she would fit right into his chosen family. Her name had been cautiously dropped during a weekly FaceTime call with his mother and sister, and he was overjoyed when they enthusiastically grilled him for details.

What Harry was less sure of, however, was how Alani would react upon hearing that his vacation was up and that he would be headed back to L.A. in a week’s time. It was still early in their relationship and an indeterminate break seemed less than ideal. He had tried to convince both Jeff and the label that he could finish the album in Hawaii, but the same couldn’t be said for Jeff Bhasker, Mitch, Tom, and his new bassist, Adam, who all had families waiting for them back on the mainland. It was too risky personally and financially, so Harry reluctantly negotiated one last week to persuade Alani that a long-distance relationship wouldn’t be a death sentence.

“What d’you wanna watch?” he asks, sitting up against the headboard to turn on the T.V.

Alani sighs and settles deeper into his side. “When Harry Met Sally,”

“But it’s not Christmas or New Year’s,”

“So?”

“So,” Harry explains. “We have to wait ‘til the holidays, wouldn’t be right otherwise,”

Alani scoffs and peers up at him with a judgemental look. “So I guess Serendipity is also out of the question?”

“We’ll have all Christmas to get through that list, darlin’,”

Her stomach flips at his suggestion of their future holiday plans. Privately, she had wondered about such things, as well, including what gifts she might get him or where they would spend the holidays. Though still months away, it suddenly felt within reach.

“Fine,” Alani softens. “The Notebook,”

“And let you drool over what’s-his-face?” Harry pokes. “No fuckin’ way,”

Alani pinches his side and sits up. “Would you stop being insecure about that? I’ve already told you I was just kidding that time,”

“Yeah well, it still stings,”

“Why don’t you tell me your celebrity crush? You know, so I can be totally fine about it because it doesn’t mean anything,”

Harry shrugs, the corners of his lips turning into a playful smirk. “Don’t have one,”

“Liar,”

“M’serious,”

“Why, because you’ve already dated them?”

“Hey,” Harry pouts. “That was a bit snippy,”

Alani’s muscles tighten. She hadn’t realized that his dating history was a sore spot, but she takes a deep breath and plants a sweet kiss to his jaw as an offering of peace. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,”

“S’alright. Truce?”

“Deal,”

“Jennifer Aniston,”

“Huh?”

“My celebrity crush,” Harry explains shyly. “When I was younger,”

Alani giggles lightly. “I see. Good taste, she’s hot,”

“Don’t tell me you’re gonna leave me for her too,”

“I just might,”

“Can’t say that I blame you,”

“Look I know this is a cute little bit we do,” Alani sits up, her gaze dead-set on Harry’s to communicate the seriousness behind her words. “But I just want you to know that I feel so lucky to be with you. I’m not going anywhere any time soon,”

Harry swallows harshly. It was everything he’d ever wanted to hear and it kills him that he can’t return the sentiment with full honesty. A little less than a week is all he has to prove that even though he physically has to go, his heart will remain wherever Alani is. “Me either,”

Another round of thunder booms outside and the lights fizzle out, leaving the room completely dark save for the intermittent flashes of lightning that gently illuminate the room.

“So much for watching a movie, huh?” Alani sighs.

“I think I know some other ways we can keep ourselves entertained.”

********

Harry sets a steaming cup of tea down onto the table in front of Alani and she looks up from her tube of nail polish curiously. Harry flashes a dimpled grin in her direction and whistles a familiar tune, one that she had heard in the studio when he was busy doing his Bob Dylan impression.

“What’re you singing?”

“Hm?”

“The song,” she clarifies. “You were singing it the other day, what is it?”

Harry serves her plate of hash browns and shrugs. “Dunno, just a little tune ‘ve been workin’ on,”

“It’s nice,”

“Thanks, sweets,” he offers, setting her food down and pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“Hey Alani,” Jeff interrupts, stepping into the kitchen with his cellphone pressed to his shoulder.

“Glenne wants to know if you’re okay with her setting up a spa thing for you guys,”

"Yeah, definitely,” Alani perks up.

“Cool, thanks.”

“Look at you,” Harry teases, taking a bite of his toast coated in strawberry jam. “Minglin’ with the girls,”

“They’re not even here yet,”

He scans over her appearance and his brows furrow, hit with the sudden realization that she’s dressed in formal attire.

“What’s with the fancy outfit”

“I have a meeting, remember?”

“With?”

Alani blows on her freshly painted nails and holds up her other hand for Harry to do the same.

“My senior advisor. We’re going over my research project,”

Harry’s brows raise. “Smarty-pants,”

Alani had scheduled her meeting with Dr. Hudson months ago and had, truthfully, forgotten all about it until she had received a courtesy email the day prior. She had been working on her proposal in the spare minutes she had away from Harry, which were few and far between, but she knew the initial meeting would be much more casual. Alani checks the time on her phone and stands quickly when she realizes that she is supposed to meet Dr. Hudson in less than thirty-minutes.

“Gotta go,” she offers, shoveling potatoes into her mouth and grabbing her bag.

Harry ceases blowing on her nails and kisses the back of her hand before sticking out his lips for a kiss of his own. “Good luck, darlin’. Meet me at the studio after?”

“Sure thing, sunshine. See you later.”

********

“How did the Joni Mitchell piece go? You never told me,” Dr. Hudson questions, taking a sip of her coffee.

Alani offers a shy smile and toys with the hem of her skirt. “A flop,”

“Just one more closer to the winner,”

“Yeah,” Alani sighs, stirring her smoothie. “Maybe it’s time to move on from that,”

The professor shoots her a disapproving look and sets her drink down. “Alani—”

“I just think maybe there’s more realistic—”

“You are not giving up,” Dr. Hudson reassures her. “You’ve come too far and you’re a terrific writer. One of the best I’ve ever had the pleasure of teaching. These things take time,”

Alani nods gently, her lips pursed in a tight smile. “Thank you, that really means a lot,”

“What are you working on right now?”

Absolutely nothing, Alani thinks, but then she remembers the half-written article about Harry sitting in her files.

“A short piece about… a local musician,”

Dr. Hudson’s brows raise, intrigued, and she nods. “That sounds interesting. Definitely more personal,”

You have no idea. “Thanks. I mean, it’s not really anything—”

“I’d love to read it when you’re finished,” the professor continues. “What’s the scope?”

Alani thinks, trying not to give too much incriminating detail about her subject or their relationship.

“Well,” she starts, hesitant. “He’s writing new music and working on his first album. I guess I kind of want to follow his journey and redefinition of success in the music industry,”

Dr. Hudson hums. “I love it. Send me a draft.”

Alani swallows and takes a minute to consider the offer. Surely there couldn’t be anything wrong about sharing her work privately with her advisor. She had been so excited about the potential of the article when it was first started, but it had since been neglected like so many of her other rejected pieces. Starting again seemed exciting, and she knew that Harry would be pleased to play such an important role in making her dreams come true. That had, after all, been the initial terms of their agreement.

“Okay,” Alani accepts. “I will.”

********

Harry draws out the last note and Mitch lets the chord ring between them for a moment.

“I think that’s the one,”

“Yeah, I liked that progression better,”

“Hope you got that, Bhasker,” Mitch calls to Jeff in the sound booth, who gives a thumbs up in response.

Harry continues humming, his head still bobbing to the tune, when he hears the studio door creak unpleasantly. His eyes shoot up to find Alani wincing and timidly stepping into the room.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt,”

He softens and beckons her over. “Never an interruption, sweets,”

Alani slots herself between his legs and wraps her arms around his neck, giving a gentle peck to the tip of his nose before pressing their lips together.

“How’s the weather?”

“Just got a lot sunnier,”

“Meeting go well?”

She nods and twists a lock of his chestnut hair between her fingers. “Yeah, actually,”

“Then we should celebrate!” Harry perks up, peppering a kiss to her cheek. “Dinner, wine, movie, the whole shebang,”

Alani frowns, thinking back to the article she promised Dr. Hudson. “Hmmm, raincheck?”

Her boyfriend deflates. “You’re ditching me?”

“Just for one night,” she explains, pulling him closer. “I wanna finish up some school stuff before our trip. Otherwise I won’t be able to give you my full attention,”

Harry pouts, but he nods understandingly. “‘Kay,”

“I’m sorry, sunshine. I’ll miss you tons,”

“Ditto, sweets,”

Alani presses her forehead against his and her fingertips wander through the growing curls at the nape of his neck. “Please don’t be upset,”

Harry smiles warmly and smoothes his hands up and down her back. “Never, m’love. Could never be upset with you,”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” he nods, planting a sweet kiss to her lips. “Hey, I wanna play you somethin’,”

Alani grins and pulls back a bit to read his expression. “Let’s hear it,”

Harry grabs the guitar next to him and slings it over his shoulder before adjusting the capo. The song starts sweet and gentle, his voice light to match the tune.

And oh we started

Two hearts in one home

It’s hard when we argue

We’re both stubborn I know, but oh

Sweet creature, sweet creature

Wherever I go, you bring me home

Sweet creature, sweet creature

When I run out of road, you bring me home

Alani watches in awe as he pours so much emotion behind every word, his vocals effortlessly powerful and rich. She claps when the song finishes and leans in for a kiss.

“I love it,”

“S’not finished yet,” Harry shrugs, still fiddling with the strings. “Just the chorus right now,”

“Will you teach it to me?”

His brows raise in surprise. “You play?”

“No,” Alani admits. “But I have a feeling you’re a good teacher,”

“Well, let’s see what you got,”

Alani turns and Harry props the guitar in her lap, his arms wrapping around her as he guides her into the right position. His left hand demonstrates the beginning chord and she replaces his fingers on the fretboard to try for herself. She strums and the beginning note resonates in near-perfect pitch.

“Hey,” Harry beams. “You’re a regular Hendrix,”

He continues positioning her fingers over the right spaces and letting her strum, humming the lyrics softly into the shell of her ear.

“We don’t argue that much,” Alani defends playfully.

Harry chuckles and kisses her temple. “Maybe not, but we’re really good at makin’ up.”

“Easy, Styles.”

********

Harry: Hungry?

Alani peels her eyes away from the computer screen and reads the message lighting up her phone.

Alani: Not really

Harry: …

Harry: oh

She laughs and pads over to the window. Sure enough, Harry holds up two bags and flashes a cheesy grin down below.

“Need a study break?”

“I’ll meet you at the door.”

Harry makes himself comfortable in the middle of her bed and unpacks the bags.

“I’ve got a California and a spicy tuna for my favorite girl,” he announces. “With a side of eel sauce,”

“And the world's best boyfriend goes to Mr. Harry Styles,” Alani grins, taking a seat next to him.

He smirks and pulls out his own order of miso soup and sushi. “How’s the homework comin’ along?”

“Not too shabby,”

“Glad to hear it,”

“Hey, what time do I meet you at the airport tomorrow?” she asks, dipping her roll in the sauce.

Harry freezes and turns to her with confusion written all over his face. “I’m sorry, did my girlfriend just insinuate that we’re not leaving for the airport together?”

“I really need to finish this,” Alani explains. “It’s almost there,”

“Two nights?” he complains.

Alani nudges him with her shoulder and shakes her head. “We’re gonna be spending an entire week together, non-stop. You’re gonna get sick of me,”

“Never,” Harry rebuts. “Not possible,”

“Just one more night,” Alani bargains. “Then I’m all yours, no interruptions.”

He nods and takes a sip of his soup. “Alright, deal.”

You have to tell her, Jeff’s voice rings in his mind.

********

The airline stewardess ushers Harry and Alani to their seats while Scott and Miles settle down a few rows behind. She didn’t know exactly what to expect from first-class, but suddenly the perks of having a famous boyfriend increased tenfold by the sight of their luxurious accommodations.

“Wait, what are you doing?” Alani asks while Harry hovers over his chair.

“Sitting, or I was about to,”

“And you’re not even gonna offer rock-paper-scissors for the window seat?”

Harry shakes his head with an amused chuckle. “No because I already know that you’re gonna get up to pee every five minutes,”

“Not true,”

“It is too true and it’s exactly why we can’t cuddle while we fall asleep,”

“Or maybe the reason is because I’m claustrophobic and I just don’t wanna hurt your feelings,”

Harry frowns. “Really?”

“No,” Alani admits, taking the aisle seat. “I just said that so you’d give me the window,”

“Get up, we’re switching,”

“Thank you, sunshine! You’re the best,”

Harry slumps into his new chair and crosses his arms. “Forty-five minutes and we’re already fighting like an old married couple,”

“Oh really?” Alani smirks. “Is that what old married couples argue about? Who gets the window seat?”

“And leaving the toilet seat up, going antique shopping—”

“—What old married couples have you been hanging out with—?”

“—Picking up the kids from school,”

Alani presses a kiss to his shoulder and rests her head in the crook of his neck. Her eyelids are still heavy from staying up the night before, but her article was completely finished and sent off to Dr. Hudson just like she’d promised. Now, she could enjoy her vacation free of any worry or obligation, completely focused on the perfect boy still rambling next to her.

“But, obviously I mean that doesn’t count, right?” Harry asks, craning his neck and smiling softly when he sees that his girlfriend has already dozed off. He kisses the top of her head gently and lets his own eyes flutter close with a deep, contented breath.

********

“And then I’ll have to repaint it, but I haven’t decided on a color yet,” Glenne explains to Alani as they stroll through the airport.

Alani hums. “It was your grandmother’s?”

“Well, it was somebody’s grandmother’s. We picked it up at this little antique shop in Santa Monica.”

Jeff escorts Glenne into the shuttle car while Harry and Alani share a knowing look and stifle their laughter. They shuffle into the back seats as Tom and his wife, Jenny, claim the middle row.

“So you’re a journalist?” Jenny asks, turning in her seat eagerly to face Alani.

“Not quite,” she explains with a polite smile. “Still a student, but hopefully someday,”

Jenny nods and twirls the ring around her finger. “Sounds exciting. Maybe you can hitch a ride on tour with this one and do some writing there.”

“Yeah,” Alani smiles, settling further into Harry’s side. “Maybe.”

The idea of traveling the world with Harry and being a part of the excitement of touring the album was something she had considered briefly, but hadn’t allowed herself to fully indulge until this moment. It was already thrilling to see him polish the songs he had begun during his trip, but she could only imagine how much more special it would be to see him perform them for the rest of the world. A twinge of jealousy sparks at the thought of having to share any part of him with the public, but Alani knows that his gifts are much too special to keep all for herself. Harry was golden and he deserved to shine in all of his radiant glory. That was exactly what she had penned in her article, and she said it not because he was her boyfriend and there were clear personal investments, but because she knew it was true even before he had shown any romantic interest in her.

“What’s tour like?” Alani pipes up as Harry watches the landscape out his window.

He considers it for a moment and clears his throat. “Fun, mostly. Can be tiring,”

“Lots of partying and adoring fans?”

“No,” he chuckles to himself. “Not so much the partying. Enthusiastic fans, sure,”

Alani narrows her eyes. “No partying?”

“Nope,” Harry reiterates. “Don’t really like to do all that stuff when I’m working. Also just didn’t wanna…”

He trails off and Alani waits a beat to see if he’ll continue. “Didn’t wanna?”

“Fuck it up,” he finishes. “You know, like, be the one who ruined a good thing for a little bit of fun.”

She lets his words settle in, rubbing a reassuring circle on the back of his hand. “Makes sense. Sounds really responsible of you to do that.”

Harry presses a soft kiss to her temple and resumes his study of the scenery. They chat amongst their friends for the remainder of the drive and Alani immediately presses Glenne and Jenny for information about her boyfriend in his younger years. They indulge her inquiries and ask their own questions, deciding privately after a few minutes that her and Harry are a good fit.

When the group arrives at the resort, Glenne takes charge and instructs them all to meet at the lobby for lunch in twenty minutes. They collect their keys and head up to their respective rooms, which are all located on the very top floor.

“What a view,” Alani muses as she takes in the sight from their private balcony.

Harry admires the wonder on her face and nods, his eyes not leaving her side profile. “You’re tellin’ me,”

“Let’s never go home,” she poses, arms snaking around his torso. “Let’s stay here forever, just me and you,”

His throat tightens as he thinks back to the inevitable conversation waiting for them. Harry didn’t know why it was so hard to think about leaving because he had every intention of keeping touch and making their relationship work at all costs. But there was a part of him, a very tiny recess in the back of his mind, that feared the possibility of Alani not feeling the same.

“Yeah,” he agrees with a gentle kiss to the tip of her nose. “Whatever you want, sweets,”

Alani senses a shift in his demeanor, but she can’t read it. “You okay?”

“Never better,” Harry swallows, mustering up a small smile. “But I am hungry,”

She isn’t entirely convinced that there isn’t something bothering him, but she decides not to push it and tightens her grip around his waist, instead.

“Race you to the lobby.”

“You’re on.”

********

“You’ve never seen Finding Nemo?”

“Was I s’posed to?”

“My god,” Alani marvels. “You know, I’m starting to believe those rumors that you were grown in a lab,”

Harry’s brow raises and he blinks. “That I was what?”

The restaurant that Glenne and Jeff chose features an aquarium tunnel at the entrance, much to both Harry and Alani’s excitement. Fish, large and small, swim around them and the pair take turns pointing out their favorite colorful species. The Hull’s snap photos for their four year-old daughter, but Jenny also secretly captures one of Harry and Alani with their hands clasped under the mesmerizing blue lighting as a keepsake for her friend.

“Add Finding Nemo to our movie list,” Alani says, admiring a clownfish that swims close to the glass.

“S’it gonna make me cry?”

“Probably,”

“Goddamnit,”

Alani giggles softly and turns her head away from the glass to silently observe Harry under the lighting of the rippling water. The combination of his serene features and the sound of Billie Holiday’s I’ll Be Seeing You over the sound system creates a perfect image in her mind, one that makes her afraid to blink, lest it be gone forever. Harry glances over at her through the corner of his eye and his lips curl.

“Checkin’ me out?”

“Always,”

“Like whatcha see?”

“Love it.”

His heart nearly stops at her words, but before he has a chance to process their implication, the hostess calls on their group.

“And I’ll have the piña colada,” Harry orders once they're seated.

“Oh my god, H,” Glenne laughs from across the table. “That reminds me, remember your birthday last year when James got trashed and hoarded the karaoke machine for, like, two hours?”

“Ruined that song forever,” Jeff quips, reliving the memory of the Late-Late host drunkenly serenading the entire party with the same song on repeat.

Harry cringes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I try not to,”

Alani watches as they reminisce on the event, adding their own details and pieces to the puzzle. It’s amusing to watch, but a small part of her also has to fight the pang of exclusion settling into the pit of her stomach. She feels guilty for being affected by it knowing, logically, that it isn’t intentional or malicious in any way. Still, Alani is painfully reminded of the vast differences between their worlds. Harry had gotten to know practically every part of her life, including her family, but there was still so much that she didn’t know about his. It was something she worked hard not to dwell on, given the novelty of their relationship, but she also worried that fear and insecurity would prevent her from investing what little of her heart Harry hadn’t claimed yet.

“Who was it that started dancing on a table and almost broke a chandelier?” Tom asks, wracking his brain.

“I think it was Ken—” Jeff hesitates, clearing his throat. “Actually, I don’t remember,”

Harry shifts in his seat beside Alani and reads over the menu, quickly changing the subject. “What’re you gonna get?”

“I don’t know,” Alani admits. “Everything looks so good,”

“Oh look,” Jenny pipes up across from Harry. “They’ve got your fav, the mango sorbet. I wonder if it’s as good as the one in Italy,”

Harry beams and reads over the item. “Oh yeah, that was amazin’,”

Alani files the detail to the back of her mind. She hadn’t known mango was his favorite flavor of anything, and while it was a trivial detail, she realized that there were so still many little details about him that she wanted to know. Harry had made such an effort to remember everything about her, like her go-to sushi order and the fact that she always saved the kiwis for last in her fruit salad, so it made her feel a touch guilty that she hadn’t made the same effort.

“Wanna share the coconut shrimp?” Alani asks with a gentle nudge to his shoulder.

“Oh, uh—”

“He’s allergic,” Glenne says offhandedly, not cold or condescending, but more in the same way that an older sister would.

“Oh my god,” Alani’s eyes widen. “I’m so sorry,”

Harry laughs lightly and shrugs. “S’okay, I’d let you poison me,”

“I didn’t mean to be rude,” Glenne apologizes, reaching her hand out to Alani. “I thought you knew.”

Alani accepts the hand and waves away her concern. “No, don’t worry about it. I didn’t know, actually.”

“We can stop talking about my defects now,” Harry teases. “‘M not dyin’,”

He leans in closer to Alani and presses a kiss to her temple. “But if I was, it’d be an honor to have my last meal with you.”

She responds with a soft smile before returning her attention back to the menu. His sentiments, however sweet, unfortunately did very little to soothe the embarrassment of her mini faux pas. It was irrational, Alani knew this, but it made her wonder what else she didn’t know and what bigger secrets he was potentially keeping. Whose name had Jeff meant to say earlier to identify the mystery dancer at Harry’s party, and why had it created an awkward shift in the air? She decides not to let the spiraling questions spoil her fun and takes a generous sip of her cocktail to avoid them for the time being.

********

Harry sets the room key on the nightstand next to their king sized bed and lets himself sink down into the soft mattress. The group had spent the entire day sightseeing, from botanical gardens to scenic beaches, but he was really itching for some quality time alone with Alani. Lately, their time together had been cut frustratingly short by work, school, and life in general. Even when they were seated right next to each other with arms linked or fingers interlocked, she felt far away and he didn’t know why. He hoped that this trip would allow them time to reconnect and solidify their relationship before he had to return to California.

“Mini bar,” Alani comments, kicking her shoes off and wandering over to the small refrigerator in their suite. “Who’s paying again?”

“The label,”

“Thank you Columbia Records,”

She swipes a few bottles of tequila before climbing into the bed next to Harry.

“Wanna play a game?”

Harry props himself up on his elbow and nods. “What kinda game?”

“Never have I ever,” Alani explains. “But instead of putting your finger down, you take a shot,”

“Sounds dangerous,”

“It’ll be fun. You can go first if you want,”

He hums and nods in agreement before sitting up to face her. “‘Kay. Never have I ever...named my car after a musician,”

“Cheap shot,” Alani narrows her eyes, taking a sip from the bottle of Jose Cuervo.

“Your turn,”

She fiddles with the bottle cap, a question already in mind, though she isn’t sure if she should ask it.

“Never have I ever… dated a model,”

Harry’s brow furrows, but he opens his own bottle slowly and takes a sip. “So it’s that kind of never have I ever,”

“Just trying to keep it interesting,” Alani shrugs innocently.

“Right. Never have I ever slept with a guy named David,”

Her eyes widen, but she laughs half-heartedly and takes a sip. “Jeez, okay. Never have I ever—”

“Wait, so you two actually…” Harry interrupts, trailing off at the end.

“I mean,” Alani starts, her eyes wandering to the ceiling. “Yeah, a long time ago,”

“How long ago?”

“Okay, maybe this was a mistake—”

Harry shakes his head. “No, I’m sorry. I’ll play nice,”

“Alright,” Alani accepts. She knows that she should probably steer the game back onto safer territory, but the wound has been re-opened and she can’t resist the urge to keep picking at it. “Never have I ever slept with a fan,”

Harry takes a slow sip. “Never have I ever cheated on my partner,”

The bottle stays put in Alani’s hand. “Never had I ever gone on a vacation with my partner before this trip,”

The tequila washes over his tongue bitterly like the faint memories that it symbolizes. “Never have I ever dated someone just for the publicity,”

The bottle in Alani’s hand doesn’t move, much to Harry’s relief, but her mind is not as tranquil.

“Never have I ever told someone I loved them when I didn’t,” she says slowly.

Harry takes another shot and it burns all the way down. “Why are we doin’ this?”

“I don’t know, but I don’t wanna play anymore,”

“Alani,” he starts, springing to his feet when she leaves the bed. “Hey, look at me, please,”

She blinks back the tears that threaten to spill over her lower lashes before turning to him. “I’m sorry, that was a stupid game,”

“S’just all out of context,” Harry offers, reaching for her hands. “Wasn’t the right way to have all of those conversations,”

Alani takes a deep breath and nods. “Yeah, you’re right,”

“What’s really botherin’ you, hm sweets?” He coos, bringing her cold knuckles to his warm lips. “Tell me, please?”

She releases a shaky breath and tries to sift through the fog in her brain for the right answer.

“I don’t know, really, I just,” Alani hesitates. “Am I a bad girlfriend?”

“No,” Harry says quickly, his hands lifting to cup her face. “God no, you’re the best,”

“Then why didn’t I know that your favorite ice cream flavor was mango? And why didn’t I know that you were allergic to coconut, and why—”

“Hang on, is that what this is all about?” he questions. “Cause I’ll go eat an entire coconut right now,”

Alani laughs lightly and pinches her eyes shut. “No, it’s not about that. I just feel like you’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met and you make me feel so fucking special and, God, I just wanna be good enough for you because—”

Harry holds his breath and watches as her eyes gloss over.

“Because I love you,” she finishes, voice small. “More than I ever thought possible,”

His own eyes sting, but he doesn’t fight the tears that fall as he presses his lips to hers firmly.

“I love you, too,” Harry murmurs. “I love you so fuckin’ much it drives me crazy,”

Alani chuckles softly. “Ditto,”

“I’ve been wanting to say it for ages, can’t believe you beat me to it.”

“Guess you’re not the only one full of surprises.”

********

The early morning sunlight creeps gently into Harry and Alani’s room, casting a soft, golden glow onto the bare skin that peeks through the white duvet. Harry stirs first, a strand of Alani’s hair tickling his nose and making him smile. He prys his heavy eyelids open and winces at the dull aching of his head aggravated by the light. Alani hears his muffled groan and sighs, willing the sun to go back down and let her sleep a few more hours.

“Mornin’ sweets,” he rasps with a warm kiss to her bare shoulder.

She peels her own tired eyes open and flashes a sleepy grin. “Good morning, sunshine,”

“How’d you sleep?”

“Super. You?”

Harry props himself up on his elbow and rests his chin in his palm as he admires the traces of sleep still on her face.

“Just swell.”

Alani chuckles lightly and reaches a hand up to comb through his unruly bedhead. His skin is warm to the touch, and the light from the window casts a heavenly glow around his visage. She pokes her finger into his dimple, which elicits a soft laugh and makes his smile grow wider. They stay intertwined under the sheets as the sun fully rises and soak up their own details to keep as souvenirs from this moment. Alani takes in the scent of vanilla and the juxtaposition of Harry’s inked bicep against the plain, white sheets. He stores away the image of her sleepy, mocha eyes and the pink, manicured fingernails that trail up and down his arm. Neither of them are sure exactly how long they remain in this moment, for all they know it could be hours or days. But whatever the duration, it doesn’t seem to be enough. I need more time, Harry had told Jeff, but there was no more left to give. He had to tell her, and it was now or never.

“Hey,” he begins carefully. “I need to tell you something,”

Alani sits up to be eye level with him and nods. “Anything,”

Harry waits a beat, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear and pressing his lips to her bare shoulder before letting the confession spill out.

“I have to go back to L.A.,”

“I kinda figured,”

He draws in a deep sigh of relief. “You did?”

“Yeah,” Alani shrugs. “Hilo isn’t exactly Hollywood,”

“I asked for more time, but the label—”

“No, I get it. So… when? Next month?”

“Friday,”

Alani’s brows furrow. “This Friday?”

“Yeah,” Harry admits with a gulp.

“The last day of our trip?”

“Yes,”

Her heart drops into her stomach and she feels sick. It all made sense now why Harry’s mood had shifted when she jokingly asked him not to leave, and why he had been so insistent on spending as much time together as possible this week. Their game of never have I ever turned instantly defensive when asked about his dating history. Never had I ever gone on vacation with my partner before this trip. Never have I ever told someone I loved them when I didn’t. He had whisked her away on a farewell trip and God knows who else had been in her place before, or worse, who would be in it next. Harry was saying good-bye.

“Wait,” Alani says finally, mind still racing too fast to process. “How long have you known?”

“Alani—”

“How long?”

Harry swallows. “Couple of weeks,”

“You knew for weeks and you didn’t tell me?” she questions incredulously.

“I tried—”

“You know that I hate surprises, you know how I feel about plans—”

“I’m sorry,” Harry insists, sitting up straighter. “I wanted to tell you so many times, but it just never felt right,”

Alani rolls her eyes. “So what, you were just gonna leave a fucking sticky note on my pillow and hope for the best?”

“Don’t say that—”

“Is that why you brought me here?” she asks, voice hoarse. “Is that why you gave me this necklace? A souvenir of our little summer fling so you could leave with a clear conscience?”

Harry’s jaw tightens. “How could you even think that?”

“Because maybe it’s true. Why else would you wait until the very last minute to tell me about this?”

“Maybe we should take a minute,” he suggests, the whites of his eyes now bloodshot. “Before we say something we’ll regret,”

“I think I already did.” Alani admits. Never have I ever told someone I loved them when I didn’t.

Harry’s head pounds and he feels like he’s drowning, treading water in every direction only to be dragged further into the current. He quickly pulls on his clothes from the night before and tries to steady his breathing.

“M’gonna go wait in the hall,” he offers. “Give you some space to think and then we’ll talk, yeah?”

Alani doesn’t respond or even meet his pleading eyes. She simply tightens the duvet around her body and turns her head to the window, letting a single, bitter tear roll down her cheek. The door closes softly and she is immediately filled with regret and guilt. Had she truly meant all of the things she said? Or was it fear and the instinct to flee taking over her mouth? Alani wanted to believe that she was wrong and that Harry hadn’t intentionally kept her in the dark, but from where she stood, the sun had long disappeared behind the clouds and all that was left was the storm.

Harry trudges down the hallway and the walls spin, closing in on him slowly. If he had just told Alani sooner, everything would be different. He had avoided doing so for this exact reason and out of fear that their relationship wouldn’t be worth the risk in her mind. It was selfish—he was selfish—to try to make the decision for her, and now the woman he loved was getting ready to walk away because he had broken her trust. What else was there to do? His back meets the wall and he sinks to the floor.

“Hey H,” Jeff clears his throat from above. “We should talk,”

“She knows. Didn’t go well,”

“So she did approve the article?”

Harry lifts his head and his brows furrow. “What?”

There’s a harsh knock at the door and Alani jumps. In Harry’s absence, she had managed to cool off and sift through her frantic thoughts. She had been wrong to think that he used her, all it took was a quick stroll down memory lane to prove otherwise. He had never given her any true reason not to trust him, so there had to be some other reason why he hadn’t told her about his plans to leave so soon. Alani pads over to the door and unlocks it gently.

“Harry, I’m sor—”

“Wanna talk about surprises?” he seethes. “What the fuck is this?”

She squints at the phone screen that he holds up to her face and the title of her unpublished article stares back at her.

“I don’t know—”

“Well it has your goddamn name on it,” Harry shoots back.

Alani steps aside and lets him into the room before she closes the door behind her. “I can explain—”

“Did you write it or not?”

“Yes, but—”

He shuts the phone off and slams it face down onto the night stand. “How fucking dare you call me a liar and then pull this shit behind my back,”

“I didn’t lie,” Alani defends, voice weak. “I had no idea it was going to be published, please just listen—”

“A class project,” he interrupts with his back still turned. “That’s what you said,”

“It was never meant to be released,”

“How do I know that? How do I know you’re not just trying to cover your ass?”

“Please,” Alani begs as her vision begins to blur. “I was wrong, I shouldn’t have said all those things,”

Harry runs a hand through his hair and casts his eyes to the ceiling in an attempt to quell the emotion that pools behind his eyes.

“So why did you?”

“I was scared,”

“Of?”

Alani takes a deep breath. “Of losing you for good. Of falling in l—”

“Don’t,” he interrupts. “Don’t finish that sentence,”

“I don’t know how,” she tries again. “And I don’t know who released it, but I swear—”

“You really expect me to trust a word you say after you accused me of lying about this whole thing, about us?”

Harry’s gaze lowers back to hers and the bright, green eyes that she has come to love are replaced with a blood-shot, stormy sea that makes her stomach drop. The words get caught in her throat.

“I fucked up,” he continues. “I know that I should’ve told you. But I’m having a hard time believing that this wasn’t planned, that this random website would just accidentally publish your work without your consent,”

Alani can’t explain it either, she truly had no idea how her writing had ended up in the wrong hands. There was only one other person she had entrusted it with, but surely Dr. Hudson hadn’t betrayed her, had she? Alani didn’t know who to believe anymore.

“Harry, I’m so sorry,” she tries. “I didn’t mean what I said, and I know I can’t take it back, but you have to at least believe that I never wanted to hurt you,”

Harry is silent for a moment, and Alani decides that it’s her turn to tell the truth. There was nothing left to lose.

“At first, I did want to publish it,” she explains. “But I changed my mind and I scrapped the whole thing. In the end, the only person I intended to show it to was you,”

“So how did it get onto the internet for the whole fucking world to see?” he presses.

Alani sighs. “My advisor wanted to know what I was working on, so I sent it to her, but she never had my permission to publish it. Now I realize how stupid it sounds, but it’s the truth,”

“If you had come to me, I would have given you permission,”

“I’m so sorry,”

Harry’s shoulders tense. Every fiber of his being wants to believe her, but how could he? She had told him herself that things would be messy and warned him that he didn’t know what he was asking by pursuing a relationship with her. Maybe it really was all his fault for not seeing the signs, but that still didn’t change the fact that he couldn’t trust her anymore. And based on her reaction to the news of his departure, it seemed as though Alani didn’t trust him either.

“Even if you’re telling the truth,” Harry begins, slow and deliberate. “You still thought, after everything, that I would abandon you. And if that’s the kind of person you think I am, if that’s the person you wrote about—”

“Harry—”

“Then I hope you got all the material you wanted.”

“Please, don’t go.” Alani cries but it’s too late. The door slams and her heart falls.

After a beat, she races to the door and into the hallway but there’s no sign of Harry. As quickly as he had appeared into her life, he had vanished. Gone without a trace.

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles writing #harry styles x oc #ybmh #sorry besties <3

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mikauzoran · 3 years

Text

Nathaniel and Adrien: Redemption (One-Shot)

@magician-of-esperance asked for Nathaniel and Adrien. Thanks for the request! This was a fun one. ^.^

Summary: A chance encounter makes Nathaniel realize that maybe he misjudged Adrien.

Read it on AO3: Nathaniel and Adrien: Redemption

There was about half an hour before school started, so Nathaniel decided to take advantage of the opportunity to work on his comic.

He took a seat on one of the benches along the inner wall of the courtyard and opened his sketchbook.

He was trying to come up with a new villain design, and he’d decided to use Majora’s Wrath from The Legend of Zelda: Majora’s Mask for inspiration. He’d add unique details and make the end result his own, but the character design of Majora’s Wrath offered a good base to start from.

He took out the reference picture he’d printed and smoothed it, setting it down on the blank page facing the page where he was working so that he could easily look back and forth between his sketch and the reference.

He’d been at it for about fifteen minutes when he was rudely interrupted.

“Do you like Legend of Zelda?”

Nathaniel looked up into the tentatively smiling face of Adrien Agreste.

Internally, he cursed.

Adrien was the last person Nathaniel wanted to deal with so soon after being summarily rejected by Marinette for the ditzy, blonde jock slash literal supermodel.

“Yes,” Nathaniel responded curtly, hoping that Adrien would get the message that his intrusion wasn’t welcome and move on.

Instead, Adrien’s face lit up, and he took a seat beside Nathaniel. “Me too!”

Nathaniel had to try hard to contain a grimace.

“What’s your favourite game?” Adrien asked enthusiastically.

“Probably Wind Waker or Breath of the Wild,” Nathaniel muttered.

Adrien nodded in approval at Nathaniel’s choices. “Those were both really cool. I loved all the innovations. The graphics in Wind Waker were especially amazing.”

A brief silence settled between them, and Nathaniel realized that Adrien was (eagerly) waiting for Nathaniel to ask him which game he liked best.

Nathaniel almost didn’t, but then he thought of what Marinette and Ladybug would think of him being rude to the new kid who was obviously trying hard to make friends.

Internally, Nathaniel sighed.

“Which ones are your favourites?” He tried not to sound as put out as he felt.

Adrien nearly started to bounce in his seat in his joy at successfully carrying on a conversation.

“I actually like some of the older games best,” he informed Nathaniel exuberantly. “Oracle of Seasons and Link’s Awakening kept me busy for entire days at a time. My absolute favourite, though, is Majora’s Mask.”

Nathaniel nodded. “It’s a good game. …What did you like about it?”

An embarrassed blush spread across Adrien’s cheeks, and he looked down at his feet as he twisted the right one back and forth in a nervous gesture.

“The structure, actually. I really like the three-day cycle that repeats again and again.”

Nathaniel quirked an eyebrow. “Why’s that?”

Adrien shrugged. “It’s comforting. It’s safe inside the time loop. If you mess up, you can start over, and, if you miss something, you can just get it on the next go round.”

Adrien’s teeth sank into his bottom lip, and he hesitantly looked up to meet Nathaniel’s gaze. “I’m not sure if people know this, but my mom disappeared a couple months ago.”

Nathaniel’s eyes went wide because he had not known that, and how on earth did Adrien act so normal and happy and nice with that kind of rubbish going on in his life?

“After it became clear that she wasn’t coming back right away and we weren’t going to find her, I sort of started playing video games a lot and really immersing myself in their worlds. Majora’s Mask was one of my favourites because the time loop is so stable.”

Adrien winced, averting his eyes again. “This is probably really weird. It was just really nice to have something that made sense. Every day in the game proceeds according to the script, and I knew where I could find any of the characters at any given time on any given day. It was nice to have that kind of certainty.”

Tentatively, Adrien looked back at Nathaniel (who was sure his face was a mixture of horror and stupefaction).

“Sorry. I’m not sure if that makes any sense.” Adrien forced a smile—the same smile as usual, only Nathaniel saw it for what it was now—and rubbed at the back of his neck.

“No. It’s okay,” Nathaniel rushed to assure. “It makes sense that you’d want something you could rely on when your world was flipped on its head like that.”

Adrien’s fake smile softly melted into something more genuine. “Oh, good. Sorry. I didn’t have friends besides Chloé before I started coming here, so I’m not very good at having conversations yet. Nino says I say weird things sometimes, so I’m trying to work on that.”

Nathaniel nodded, trying to ignore the way his cheeks were heating up along with the realization that Adrien was kind of adorable.

“I don’t think you’re weird or anything,” Nathaniel insisted. “Most of the time people think I’m the weird one.”

Adrien’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Really? I’ve always thought you were cool.”

Oh my God. Adrien Agreste thought Nathaniel was cool.

Nathaniel’s voice squeaked a little as he suggested, “Maybe you could come over sometime and we could play video games.”

Adrien’s face fell. “My father doesn’t let me leave the house, so I don’t think I can do that. I’d like to, though. Do you maybe play any games online?”

Nathaniel nodded. “Yeah. A couple. We could definitely find something to play together.”

“Awesome!” Adrien’s whole face glowed with joy.

The bell rang, and Nino came over to walk to class with Adrien, effectively ending the conversation.

“It was nice talking to you,” Adrien remarked in parting with a smile and a wave.

“Yeah,” Nathaniel agreed, surprised to find that he genuinely meant it.

Maybe Adrien wasn’t so bad after all.

In fact, Nathaniel could kind of see why Marinette liked him.

#Miraculous Ladybug #Adrien Agreste #Nathaniel Kurtzberg #MLB #Miraculous Ladybug Fanfiction #Fluff #Getting to Know You #Friendship #Finding Common Ground #Writing Prompts #Mikau's Writings #Le Carnaval

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loves124 · 3 years

Text

Neighbors ch. 2

If there are any errors or mistakes please don’t hesitate to let me know :)

Also don’t hesitate to give me some fresh ideas

Thank you,

Love you,

Enjoy!

(Shouta Aizawa x fem!reader)

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I hadn't spoken to my neighbor in a while since the night I got locked out of my own apartment. It's not that I didn't want to; trust me, I wanted to. He gave me a sense of peace when I talked with him. He focused on the details of all of my words as if they were the last words I would ever say. He made me feel as if I were actually important.

I want to see him again. I also am a little terrified of seeing him again. The end of that night felt so... intimate. I am really attracted to this man; it's not even funny. I don't want to go through the pain of rejection or abandonment again. I had already gone through that with a previous boyfriend.

I had given him everything—all of my time, my love, my adoration. I did everything for him. I wanted to live my life just for him, but all of my efforts were just met with a disappointing ending. He was my first for many things, and I wanted him to be my last.

I don't know if I could handle that same look of disgust on Aizawa's face when it came to me. I didn't want to throw my life away for another guy. If anything, I should stick to being friends with him. Nothing more.

That doesn't mean I can't imagine all of the things he could do to me.

I know. It sounds creepy. I mean, but come on, how could I not?

Aizawa filled my head for the next couple of days. I was surprised to have not seen him even once, especially when he is my neighbor. I don't want to get attached to him, but it wouldn't hurt for me to stop by with some treats, right? It's the neighborly thing to do. Right? Right.

I decided that I was going to make a strawberry cake. I just hope that Aizawa is a fan of strawberries. If he isn't, I'll call him psychopath for not finding them absolutely delicious, and then I'll retreat to my room and wallow in shame and embarrassment.

On my way home from work, I run to the store to grab the ingredients that I need for the cake. I take a quick look in the "Tea & Coffee" aisle to see what they have to offer. 'Maybe Aizawa would like a nice calming tea with the cake?' I take a look at all of the options labeled and decided to buy both peppermint and rose teas. The rose tea will pair well with the strawberry cake, and the peppermint can be another gift for him. I remember reading something about how peppermint tea is good for fatigue and stress. Aizawa looks like he needs something that would help in that area.

Once I get back home, I immediately start on my work. I was trying my hardest to follow the recipe to the last letter and attempting to finish the cake before it got too late.

It looks alright, my frosting skills are in room for improvement, but the taste is immaculate. I go and grab two slices of cake and the teas, giving myself a quick pep talk outside of the door to prepare.

You are just being a good neighbor. You aren't going to eat all of this cake by yourself, right? No. This cake deserves to be shared with someone, right? Correct. So it is perfectly okay for you to stop by and offer some cake.

I raise my hand and give a quick couple of knocks on the door. And my heartbeat starts to pick up more.

Shit. We still have time. We can run for it. I look over to your apartment door. I can make that in a couple of seconds. Yeah, I can make that. Aizawa will just think it was some stupid ding-dong-ditchers. Okay, run-

Before you even have another thought, the sound of the door unlocking and opening interrupts. It opens to reveal my neighbor himself. He is wearing black slacks, a button-up shirt, and he loosened the tie that was one tight around his collar but is now lazily draped on his chest.

He looks more delicious than that stupid cake you made. Shit, the cake. I haven't talked since he opened the door. Talk idiot.

"Hey! um... sorry, I just made some cake and had no one to share it with, so I thought I would bring some um some over." I feel so intimidated by him. Why does he have to be so hot? It feels like it should be illegal.

He smirks down at me, probably because I look like a hot mess right now.

"You don't have to accept, by the way, I totally understand-" I get cut off.

"Cake sounds amazing right now," he truthfully tells you. "I will say, though, I was just winding down. Would you mind waiting a bit for me? I just have to take a shower and get changed."

"Oh yeah, sure, I can wait a bit" I smile. I get ready to pivot on my feet and head back to my apartment, but he invites me inside. Oh. He meant to wait in his apartment.

I slowly make my way inside, asking permission to use his kitchen to make tea. As I prep the tea, I can hear the shower run.

My thoughts go wild.

That hot hunk of a man is naked and wet behind the wall right next to you, and you are here making tea for him.

Life is crazy.

I wish life was a little crazier and would let me see those washboard abs of his. Bet I could grate cheese on them motherfuckers, hot damn.

I take a look through his cabinets and find the two mugs that we both used the last time I was here. Deciding to use them once again. I fiddle with the rim of the mug as I wait for him to get out of the shower.

"Sorry, did I take too long?"

My head turns to see him walking through the doorway. He looks a little more in his element, being in a white T-shirt and baggy sweatpants—steam radiating off of him.

Dear Lord...

I choke out a quick reply and avoid eye contact. "No, you're all good."

"You didn't have to wait for me, you know?" he says while pulling out a chair next to you by the counter.

I smile as I take a sip of the rose tea. "Food always tastes better when the other person is eating with you."

"cute," he mumbles, and I can feel my face flush red. He takes his first bite, and I can't help but stare in anticipation. I feel relieved when he gives an approving "Mmm" sound and goes in for another bite.

I finally release that breath that I didn't even know I was holding and follow his actions by taking a bite of my own. It's a comfortable silence between us both, and I start to find myself less intimidated and more at ease.

Conversation strikes again once we both finished.

"It's been a little while since I last saw you. Have your days been getting better?" he questions, grasping both of my empty plates and bringing them over to the sink to rinse them off.

I lean back into the chair, pulling the warm mug to my chest before I reply. "Yeah, it's been better. I'm pretty sure that I was just at the breaking point that one day. I'm glad that it's over with." I sigh into the mug.

"Good. I hope that's the end to your breaking and entering as well."

I laugh, "How could I break into my own apartment?"

Turning his head over his shoulder so I can see his smirk, he replies, "I saw you do it before my own eyes. You're a criminal, sorry to break it to you, sweetheart."

Ooh, sweetheart, I like that.

"Whatever," I scoff. "What about you, Mr. Dark and Broody? How has UA been?"

"Oh, it's okay—something new every day. I had a student blow up his desk today after arguing with another student. He seriously has anger issues that need to be handled." he laughs.

"Really that's crazy! What's his quirk?" I'm genuinely curious now.

"His sweat contains nitroglycerin, and he can ignite it on command," he replies.

"Wow, finally, a sweaty prepubescent boy can use his sweat to his advantage" we both laugh. The conversation continues, and I learn more about the students in his class and the tasks given in the day to prep them to become famous heroes.

It takes you a second, but you realize something. "By the way, I never asked you, but what's your quirk Aizawa?"

He leans against the counter, "I can disable other people's quirks by staring at them, but if I blink or can't see them, it won't work."

"That's so cool!" I enthusiastically say. "No wonder you work at that school. Your quirk is so good."

He quickly shifts the conversation from him to me. "What about you (L/N)? What's your quirk?" I guess he isn't the type of person that likes to bask in admiration.

"Oh, it's nothing like yours, but I can manipulate plants. It comes in handy, especially since I like being a plant mom."

"Oh, you like plants?" he asks.

"Like is a bit of an understatement. My home practically resembles a jungle," I laugh. Nerding out a bit, I talk about all of the plants I own and their qualities.

"What's your favorite plant you have?" he asks. He looks so interested in everything I have to say. He leans in close, grasping every word I utter. Questioning the qualities of some plants or asking for the descriptions of them when he can. It makes my chest feel warm inside. It's been a long while since I felt like someone actually listened.

We continued to talk till we both got hit with waves of fatigue. With a yawn and stretch, I get myself up and grab my stuff. He walks me to my door outside my apartment.

"Thanks for having me over again. I really enjoyed talking with you. For someone who is dark and broody, you are pretty easy to talk to. I hope we can do it more often." I have a gentle smile plastered on my face as I gaze up at him.

"Maybe next time we can have tea at your place, you can show me all the plants you were talking about. I'd like to have an image to match a description," he tells me.

I dig through my pocket trying to find my key card, and through my struggle, some strands of hair escape my messy bun. When I successfully find it, I unlock my door and turn to wish him goodnight. I am then met by his hand brushing the stray strands of my hair behind my ear.

"Goodnight, sweetheart," he tells me.

I mumble a quiet "goodnight" back before closing my door and sinking into it, face flushed.

Now how am I going to sleep...

#aizawa sensei #shoto aizawa #my hero academia aizawa #aizawa fanfiction #mha #mha fanfiction

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lefaystrent · 5 years

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Nursing Home au

Patton works at the nursing home as a registered nurse, because the man truly cares for people.

He oversees the activities of the rest of the nursing staff, and he’s always keeping them in high spirits.

There’s a vacancy for a nursing aide. Who could possibly fill that position?

It’s Virgil.

At first, Patton honestly doesn’t think Virgil should have been hired there.

Patton had seen Virgil during the hiring process, and his personality didn’t seem like a … good fit. Too closed-off and kinda gruff, and probably not a good bedside manner, right?

Plus there was that criminal record to consider …

But the nursing home administrator hires him anyway, and Virgil joins the staff.

Patton keeps a close eye on Virgil.

Yes he feels guilty, but even Patton isn’t free from prejudices.

Virgil goes about his work very meticulously.

He arrives five minutes early every day, without fail.

He never complains about the tasks he’s been given, just quietly accepts them in a way that makes Patton and the others wonder what he’s really thinking.

He doesn’t talk casually with the other staff much, giving short answers whenever prompted.

Patton worries about the staff’s morale as a team.

Surprisingly, he starts hearing a lot of praise about Virgil. Not from the other staff members, but from the patients themselves.

One of them, a man named Roman, sounds like he’s complaining about him.

“And then he started criticizing my favorite movies!”

“I’m so sorry sir, I’ll talk to him about that.”

“What are you talking about? Kid had some good points. I like him.”

Patton starts subtly bringing up Virgil in conversations while visiting with the patients. For some, he doesn’t even have to warm up to the subject. They stop him in the hallway.

“Patton hun, you know that new boy with the eye-makeup?”

“Yes ma’am, that would be Virgil.”

“He’s so sweet. He helped me with my phone, it’s one of those smart ones? It wasn’t working right, and he fixed it. He’s a smart boy.”

The biggest sign is when one patient—Logan Crofters, who’s a notorious nitpicker—actually voices his approval of Virgil.

“He’s not an idiot,” is all Logan says on the matter, which coming from him, it’s high praise.

Patton doesn’t really understand yet why the patients have taken such a liking to him, but he endeavors to try harder to see who Virgil really is. Mostly he’s glad that his first impression seems to be wrong.

Virgil, for his part, doesn’t understand why the patients like him either.

He just knows that they do.

One of them goes out of their way to call him over to ask for his opinion on what color scarf to knit for their granddaughter.

Another one makes a point to introduce him to their visiting family.

Lots of them seem to like to talk his ear off in general and give him life advice.

Virgil doesn’t really mind it. He’s not used to people wanting to talk to him so much, and to be honest he could use some of the advice.

And the stories they have to share are kinda wild.

He likes bantering with the one old dude, Roman.

“I’ll have you know I’ve killed many a dragon witch in my day.”

“Was this before or after you went senile?”

“Brat.”

“Old fart.”

And then there’s Logan, the elderly man in a wheelchair. He’s probably the smartest man Virgil has ever talked to.

“You’d be surprised how many people assume I’m stupid.”

“You’re in a wheelchair, not braindead dude.”

“Yes, but I am old and crippled, and many people cannot separate physical inadequacy from mentality.”

“Well most people are idiots.”

Logan shows off his dentures in a rare grin.

After those two, there’s Remus.

Even the other staff members warn Virgil in advance about him.

It takes Virgil a month into working there to realize that he’s Roman’s brother.

It really should have been obvious.

“Virgil, where would you bury a body?”

“Why bury it when you can just burn it? Or feed it to some pigs; they’ll eat anything.”

“… oh, I like you.”

Okay, not so obvious, because Remus is a crazy old coot. But he’s got a lot of ideas and grand stories like Roman, only darker themed.

Virgil is convinced Remus is fucking with him to get a reaction out of him.

“He only says all that to get a rise out of you,” Logan confirms.

Challenge accepted.

Virgil continues being a bomb ass nurse.

He’s always super self conscious around his superior, Patton.

He knows Patton is wary of him and Virgil is terrified of messing up in front of him.

Or messing up in general. Poor babe really is too hard on himself.

Even the patients worry about him from time to time.

“You getting enough sleep at night, son? Ya got bags under your eyes!”

“That’s makeup, sir. You know that’s my makeup.”

“Hahaha, but it was funny, right? But seriously, are you sleeping enough?”

And Virgil can’t count how many times they’ve thrown food at him.

“You’re too skinny. You need to eat more.”

“I already eat a lot. I’ve got a high metabolism.”

“Is that one of those social media sites?”

“Roman, if you don’t stop acting stupid—”

“Kidding! I have an Instagram after all. Which you should totally follow me, by the way.”

It’s like suddenly being adopted and Virgil is now the grandson to many old folk.

He’s not even surprised when someone tries to set him up with one of their grandchildren.

What does surprise him is that it’s Logan.

“You should meet my grandson, Remy. Judging from what I’ve observed of your personality, you two would be compatible.”

“Huh, that’s funny, Roman’s got a grandson named Remy too.”

“Yes, Remy is both our grandson.”

“Wait, what?”

“We used to be married, Roman and I. Didn’t you know he was my ex-husband?”

Somehow Virgil has missed that.

But he is so going to grill them for details, because Roman with Logan?

Roman jumps on board when Virgil brings it up.

“Yes! Remy! You would be perfect for him! I can’t believe I didn’t think of it first!”

Virgil laughs it off because they can’t be serious.

Of course, they’re very serious.

Virgil is doing his rounds when he walks into Roman’s room and a guy not too far off from his own age standing there in a leather jacket and shades.

“Oh, you are cute,” the guy says in a way that lets Virgil know that he’s clearly heard about Virgil before.

Roman is exceedingly proud.

Virgil officially meets Remy, the grandson.

It’s awkward.

By the end of it, Virgil apparently has a date after work that he swears he doesn’t remember agreeing to.

Remy’s waiting for him in the lobby.

“You ready for the night of your life, babe?”

“…”

“Wait, you’re walking the opposite direction. Come back.”

Virgil goes out to eat with Remy.

Remy actually apologizes for his grandfathers.

“They’re cool old gay dudes, but they can be really pushy. They’ve been complaining about me being single for like yeaaars. Um, maybe I like being single?”

“Do you?”

“Okay, a bitch is lonely, but gurl, I can find a man or whoever on my own, amirite?”

“Why’d you agree to this then?”

“’Cause you really are cute and seem cool. Plus can we just talk about your aesthetic for a sec? What products do you use on your hair? The purple dye is perf.”

It’s not really a date.

But Virgil might have made a friend out of it, at least.

Virgil finds himself talking about it the next day with Patton.

It just sort of happens.

“They set me up with their grandson.”

“Oh Remy? You’ve met him?”

“Yeah…”

“Well? How’d it go?”

“Uh … I’m not sure? Like, I’m pretty sure we established it wasn’t really a date. But I think we might …”

“Might what?”

“Be … friends?”

“That’s nice, Virgil,” Patton says in a way that Virgil can tell he means it.

Virgil shrugs. “Yeah, I don’t know what I’m gonna tell his granddads though. Their gonna jump on me as soon as they see me. God old people love to gossip more than teenagers.”

“Just try to let them down easy, okay? They really adore Remy and just want him to be happy.”

It’s the first conversation Virgil has with him that doesn’t make him nervous.

The days go by and Virgil is starting to feel like he’s really settling in.

He still doesn’t understand why the patients like him so much.

Not until Patton finally sheds some insight.

It’s a busy enough day, and then Remus has one of his episodes.

He’s screaming and the other staff members who are more experienced with dealing with him are trying to settle him down.

Virgil hears the commotion from down the hall and comes running into the day room where all the patients gather and visit or watch tv.

“He gets like this sometimes,” Logan tells him. Roman sits silently beside him holding his hand, lips pressed in a thin white line and eyes not looking away from the chaotic scene.

Remus is throwing things at the nurses, yelling something about how the lights are trying to eat him.

“It’s best to stay back, Virgil,” Logan tells him.

Virgil doesn’t listen.

He goes and turns off the lights.

There’s still enough sunlight filtering in through the windows, enough to see. But everyone looks around.

Virgil pushes through the other staff.

He nudges Patton aside who had been attempting to console him.

Patton wants to pull him back. Remus is in a vulnerable state of mind right now and it could be bad for either of them.

But Virgil leans in and starts talking in a low voice to Remus.

And … it’s working.

Remus’s screams taper off.

He doesn’t look any less confused or scared. Just subdued.

“I want to go,” he says, eyes looking through everyone there. “Want to go back to my room now. Want to go back.”

“Okay, we can go, Remus. Let’s go,” Virgil says and guides him out.

It’s a slow process, but they make it to his room, Patton hovering close the entire way.

They give Remus a mild sedative to help him relax.

When Virgil walks out of the room, Roman is standing there.

He doesn’t say anything to Virgil, but he claps a hand on his shoulder.

There’s gratitude glistening in his eyes.

Roman goes into the room.

Virgil leaves for the break room. He’s definitely earned a break.

Plus his hands are kind of shaking, but shhhhh, don’t tell anyone.

After a long time, Patton comes into the room.

He sits at the table with Virgil.

“He’ll be fine,” Patton assures him.

“I didn’t say I was worried for him.”

Patton smiles and shakes his head.

“They all love you, you know?” he surprises Virgil by saying. “The patients. You do a lot of good by them.”

Virgil shrugs. “I don’t see why. I’m just me. Just doing my job. Nothing special.”

“You treat them like people.”

Patton leans closer over the table. Virgil doesn’t look away.

“You listen to them. And you talk to them, like they’re people. And for them, these people who have lost a lot of their independence and are often left forgotten here by even their own families—that’s worth a lot.”

Virgil doesn’t know if he believes all that.

But it’s a nice thought.

#sanders sides #patton #patton sanders #virgil #virgil sanders #roman #roman sanders #logan #logan sanders #remus #remus sanders #remy #remy sanders #nursing home au

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these-are-the-first-steps · 4 years

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“The Rise of Skywalker”- A Review from Memory

So it’s been a week since I’ve had to live with this film in front of my eyes, and a week and a half that I’ve had to grapple with the brunt of its sins. With a heavy sigh, I think I’m ready to go through the play-by-play of every plot hole in this film that I can manage from memory without the thing in front of me. And even then, the laundry list is hefty. Keep in mind that this is a FILM-BASED review only- I have tried to refrain from including new information we have learned since its release last Thursday in an effort to keep this as focused and topical as possible.

+The first scene of this film is weird. I’m all for watching Adam Driver wild out on some dudes, but it is never explained who these guys are and if it’s just Kylo ‘committing more slaughter’ (as the casual audience is wont to think) or if there’s something significant here. As the movie goes on and Kylo makes it clear that he’s under no one’s thumb, *and* that the object he was after was Sith, you start to get an idea that maybe those guys at the intro are No Good, but this is never explained or confirmed. To a casual audience with no interest in additional materials, it just looks like Bad Ole Kylo Doing More Bad Ole Stuff. *sigh*

+Exogol and Palpatine’s hideout looks like the Borg Cube from Star Trek: First Contact from 1996. This really smacked me in the face how similar it was.

+Snoke’s significance getting sniped by Palpatine in one fell swoop felt like two five year olds arguing over action figures in the sandbox. “No! He’s dead now! Now the good guys can go on their quest!” “Well if he’s dead now, it’s only because MY guy was the REAL bad guy! DOOSHDOOSHDOOSHDOOSH!!” Like….really? At least Palpatine’s never-spoken-of Snoke manufacturing lab was vaguely interesting. Too bad we never saw anything about that- what a story of intergalactic puppet-masters that would have made! We’re not here for clever storytelling, though, so moving on…

+I don’t think they should have included Leia in this film. It really added to the disjointed nature of this movie with flat audio, crippled dialogue, and CGI where Leia only really had one facial expression for 90% of her appearances. It really wasn’t worth it. I know Star Wars doesn’t do flashbacks (which, frankly, I appreciate a lot), but I think they could have utilized the IDEA of Leia better than her actual self. Leia was forced, it showed, and it wasn’t good. Honestly they did a WAY better job reviving Tarkin in RO.

+An incredibly unnecessary amount of new information for the third act of a series was introduced in this film, starting with Leia suddenly being a well-trained Jedi or something. At least enough to ‘train’ Rey, which…frankly wasn’t believable. Leia having the force was a given. That she distanced herself from active application of the Force as a residual reaction to the bombshell of Darth Vader being her father is what is, and always has, made sense. THAT is a nuanced perspective, but it gets thrown out in favor of not just shoe-horning Leia in to the movie, but also because they had no idea what else to do with her at all in this film. This is also why Leia shouldn’t have been in this movie the way she was.

+Oh, you knew Palpatine was behind all this the whole time, Leia? Really? Always there, huh? When in TFA it was always snoke? Obvious dialogue lift is obvious, but the use of it was just Bad and inconsiderate to the story.

+Poe’s backstory was published on December 18th, 2015 in a book called “Before The Awakening” that details the lives of Poe, Finn, and Rey leading up to TFA. Poe is the son of two famous Rebel fighters and he grows up with a nice quiet life on Yavin 4 learning about ships and loving to fly. He goes straight from his home world to joining the Republic navy. It’s a handful of months before Leia Organa picks up on him and brings him into the Resistance. Now…this is a backstory that is JJ Abrams approved, has been out since 2015, and yet Oscar Isaac said he ‘never knew’ Poe’s backstory, and JJ somehow thinks four years later that there is space in this incredibly concise timeline for him to become a drug runner. What?? This was possibly the BIGGEST wtf moment for me in this film. What in the actual world. WHAT.

+Sidelining old characters to pointlessly introduce new ones does not serve a story, it clogs it up, drags down its rhythm, and confuses the hell out of it. As seen by Zorri and Jannah. And out of those two, only Jannah carried any kind of actual literary weight, because for Finn, he’s found more people like himself. This sort of setup is a typical play to foreshadow where Finn eventually settles down and goes at the end of the war. But this is never expounded on or explained further. It’s just, BOOM, more former troopers and a girl who is suddenly irrationally attached to him at all times.

+Rose gets replaced by Jannah, a brand new character that we only know one single thing about, and who gets to latch on to Finn out of the blue while Rose is left at home or on a ship. It was weird. It was obvious. It was incredibly awkward to watch. There was no point to Jannah clinging to Finn like this. She was reduced from a strong character to a cringy clingy one, while Finn’s love interest was completely ignored.

+The ‘Journey to The Rise of Skywalker’ comics released a couple weeks before the film heavily implied we’d get a lot of great Rose and Rey team time. We received none of it. It felt like someone had jerked a present away from us and it was a gross omission.

+It is only by the very end of the film and after multiple watches that you THINK they are trying to hint that Kylo is spiraling, thus why Leia steps in in death, but it never ever gets shown. Never once are we let in on Kylo’s state of mind. In fact, never once are we let in on *any* of these characters’ states of mind. We never really see what they are feeling or thinking or going through. Kylo is nothing but action when in TFA and TLJ we see him falling apart. This is what bad direction looks like, and it takes a Real Talent to fuck up directing an actor like Adam Driver. Another big sigh…

+There are only two cool things about this movie- The bleeding of reality between Kylo and Rey, and Palpatine’s shadow senate. When Kylo and Rey fight and the red bits go flying on the floor, it screamed serious TLJ aesthetics to me that I had to blink a moment. I think this ‘Bleed-through’ of their realities is the only TLJ hold-over we were allowed. It was a genuinely fascinating touch, which is how you know it didn’t come from *this* film’s production office.

+When you stick three people in a closet together, you expect some sort of progress in two-thirds of the potential relationships in such a cramped space. We received no such thing. Forced Trio Time resulted in no character development and seemed more like an unnecessary comic relief vehicle than anything.

+In ‘Before The Awakening’ and ‘Rey’s Survival Guide’, both publications printed under JJ Abrams’s blessing, we learn Rey named *herself* after a helmet she found in the desert. How is it Rey’s alleged parents know her fake name? Gross, gross plot-hole.

+Four years was spent emphasizing that you don’t have to come from anywhere ‘special’ to be Important to a big story. Then they threw it out. Post-TROS interview with JJ reveals it was because they ‘couldn’t think of how else to get rey engaged in fighting palpatine’. Because he wasn’t a nasty enough dude on his own? Seriously? This is pure negligence.

+Four years was also spent emphasizing that you also don’t even NEED the force to be important to the big story and make a huge difference to the future. But let’s throw that out, too, and give Finn the force. Clearly regular people are absolutely worthless in the Star Wars Universe, according to JJ Abrams.

+Finn is only used to babysit Rey the entire time they share screen time together. The number of times he shouts her name could be turned into a drinking game. It’s one thing to care about somebody, and another thing entirely to act like you’re their high school chaperone. The whole thing was weird and awkward.

+Zorri Bliss sounds like a stripper name and she served no purpose other than to shoehorn Felicity into a star wars movie. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but Babu Frik is the only true-to-star-wars critter in this whole film.

+Leia literally goes and lays down on her own funeral spread? What was that about. And that’s what that was because why would her bed be out in the open like that? That was really, really weird. And the RoTJ medal throwback was just a tacky tether to the past.

+Everyone seems so irrationally tethered to the past in this film. Kylo Ren’s spent two movies desperate to ‘leave the past behind’ and I don’t blame him at this point because it’s getting exhausting.

+As stated previously, it’s only vaguely suspected but Kylo seemed to SUPPOSED to be spiraling. Adam Driver plays Kylo like a man finally free of the voices in his head, but the plot and dialogue point to an entirely different direction saying that REALLY the monsters have allegedly doubled-down and he’s even more unhinged than before. Here is a MAJOR indication of story re-working after the film has already been shot. Adam Driver, and Daisy for that matter, is a PRECISE actor. It seems almost impossible to tell a story with him that you did not originally MEAN to tell. And it shows. JJ tried to U-Turn the story but it absolutely failed- Adam’s Kylo Ren is a calm, free man, focused, who finally knows what his purpose in life is, and that is uniting with his Dyad in the force. When really JJ tried very hard to suggest that he was spiraling so hard and so ‘lost’ in the Dark Side that it took his mother’s last breath to swing him back around. No one is going to see that narrative. The only reason why I see this shoddy attempt is because I’ve been absolutely immersed in this shit since December 2015. But the main audience? This was absolutely not conveyed.

+Seeing Dark Side Rey was nothing but a ‘cool’ moment and actually served zero function to the plot. Rey was always shown as being Grey in the force and someone who struggled to maintain balance. If that whole scene was removed, it wouldn’t change anything.

+Kylo was never in a position to kill Rey on the Death Star, and Rey taking her cheap shot to stab him while he heard his mother’s voice is an attempt to convey how much seeing her Sith self affected her than Kylo’s already very faded aggression in this film but it failed. It was weird and out of character, and even coming to that conclusion took may rewatches to come to because there is NEVER a ramp-up to Rey’s darkside taking over long enough to stab Kylo- there’s no fire, no red eyes, no teeth, none of it, to indicate she was ‘overcome’ so it just looked like bad mischaracterization. Yikes.

+Kylo and Han’s moment on the Death Star is the most moving scene of the entire film. The dialogue starts out rather familiar, and it almost seems like a cop-out, until you realize….how many times has Ben had this conversation with himself?? He doesn’t seem shocked at all that his father is there. Not at all. In fact, that Last Conversation on the bridge of Starkiller comes off as a well-rehearsed dance that Ben puts himself through regularly. And every time he hopes it’ll be affirmation enough that it’s all been worth it. But here, at the last reenactment of the worst day of his life, the script changes. He surrenders. He says dad. And he rejects Kylo Ren forever. Harrison Ford and Adam Driver are two beautifully matched, talented actors and I’d watch a movie with the two of them in it any day. God bless them.

+Hux has been wasted for the past two films. He was Terrifying in TFA and Dom gave him such significant presence that I was genuinely terrified for what he might try in the future. But instead he was lost as comic relief. When it is comically delivered that HE is the spy, every single person in my movie theatre shouted “WHAT??” in a way that was not a Good what, but in a “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me” kind of what, and I will never ever forget that. I hate seeing Star Wars diminished like this.

+Luke rehashing Obi-wan’s speech to him about how Rey MUST confront the Big Bad was an obvious rehash, and way too convenient to what Palpatine wanted. This whole appearance of Luke is very suspect, but that would be crediting them again with clever storytelling, which again this is not.

+Luke claims that Leia saw ‘the death of her son’ at the end of her Jedi Path, which one can assume why she threw it away. But then Luke says something bizarre about ‘hoping someone else would pick up her path someday’. Is that...is that not the same path leading to Ben’s death that she was avoiding in the first place? And if someone else picks it up, is that not no longer Leia’s path but that other person’s? Therefore, is not the outcome automatically going to be different and thus *avoid* Ben’s death? This was an attempt at supposedly clever foreshadowing or Mystical Talk or some shit, but all it was was dialogue that backfired in meaning spectacularly due to looping-in on itself too many times. Luke negates himself at the same time he tries to prove his point...which he then negates in the same breath. What a mess.

+All of Ben Solo’s lines were cut the last act of the film to stuff more pointless exposition at the END of film and to give more screen time to Ian McDiarmid. Ian’s great, but he’s not the main character of this series, and cutting Ben’s lines for this was Gross.

+Space Horses? Really?? I didn’t like them in TLJ but at least there they had context- they had zero context here. The size of the horses and the ship they came off of was absurdly mismatched. Is that ship the TARDIS? That whole bit was so unnecessary and ridiculous, especially with zero setup. Which is amazing because this film is 90% set-up.

+All those ships at the end? That’s all it took? After books and comics going on about how everyone’s too terrified to help Leia because of FO scorched earth policy? Jesus it was weak, and too obvious a Deus ex Machina with THAT many ships.

+Palpatine’s Shadow Senate is cool. The idea that this guy trapped on an ugly planet stuck on Sith life-support couldn’t go two seconds without attention and praise to the point where he had to recreate the exact same senate he destroyed years ago is a concept I like. Is the Shadow Senate just in the *shape* of the old senate but filled with animated Sith proxies? Or is it actually comprised of the enslaved souls of former Senators now forced to attend the Emperor for eternity? Either way, destroying the Shadow Senate at least either set those souls free or sent them back to wherever they came from. That was actually interesting, and it’s a shame we didn’t get to learn more about such a genuinely creepy thing.

+Palpatine’s ‘we’re family’ routine drops the moment he realizes Ben and Rey are a dyad. This is suspicious, but considering the whole movie so far, it seems incorrect to giver JJ and Torrio credit for a possible mis-direct.

+Rey and Ben’s realities bleeding into each other is experienced again in swapping the light saber. This is cool. This is probably the coolest moment in the film. And then the coolness literally gets thrown into a pit when, instead of the both of them, as a Dyad, defeating Palpatine, Rey is left to carry the burden alone.

+Oh hey look a cop-out to save Rey from being bad- just have her reflect his own power back at him so it’s like he’s killing himself, wow, so original! The second Palpy revealed his gameplan about wanting to die, this became the obvious choice to both kill him and avoid giving him what he wanted. Eh….

+The Star Wars 9-movie series is the story of one man desperately begging anyone within hearing range to kill him, apparently. This is so, so old by the 9th friggin movie.

+Ben Solo spends his entire life begging for guidance from his ancestors only to be ignored and Rey get all their attention instead. Ben Solo spends his entire life since the womb being a burden to his parents by merely existing and being manipulated by gross sith ghosts. But nah, let’s be parents to Rey and help out Rey. This is not to say she doesn’t deserve any of this, but to say there are priorities here- Rey has had a lonely life, but at least she had her sanity and was self-sufficient. Ben had neither his sanity or any control over his own life whatsoever. And to place Rey above Ben is a literal mess. The two of them were meant by the Force to rise TOGETHER, and it didn’t happen.

+Rey doesn’t disappear when she ‘dies’ after using the last of her life force to both feed Palpatine, fight him, AND defeat him. And yet while Rey has two strikes in her before kicking it, Ben, someone who is RADICALLY more trained in the force, its lore, and mechanics, only has one? This doesn’t make any sense.

+Rey has no reaction to the literal other half of her soul vanishing in front of her. Because this is a mangled JJ Abrams Finale(tm) and why should anyone, let alone his own characters, have any space to Feel? I mean, that’s not what movies are even about, right? Feeling and Telling A Story? It’s not that, right? Right?? JJ Abrams covers up Rey’s reaching-hands scar on her arm for the entire film, doesn’t address it, and apparently hates the shit out of it. I don’t know how the King of Cheese could possibly hate something like that. It was a weird and obvious omission, and frankly disappointing because the scar had come to mean something at the end of TLJ and it, like a lot in this film, got thrown in the trash.

+More forced trio time in the form of a group hug where nothing gets actually expressed because we ran out of space for dialogue 30 pages back.

+Anakin Skywalker viewed Tatooine, his place of enslavement, as the worst place in the galaxy. Luke Skywalker spent his entire youth trying to escape. Leia hated it on principle because it was where Darth Vader came from and where she herself had been enslaved in a gross gold bikini for a giant slug. Rey spent 14 years of her life dreaming of leaving the sand planet she was trapped on. But I guess that’s a fitting place to bury some memories, yeah? The place where nothing good ever, ever happened. That’s a nice spot, right?

+Rey Skywalker isn’t explained, is never led up to, and feels like a gross gimmie after four years of trying to create a Better Message that names don’t matter. HEAVY SIGH.

+Rey watches the two suns set as she is left with little more than she started- alone, on a sand planet, but this time taunted by the Twin Suns of Tatooine that the other half of her soul is literally missing and that she is now left with a gaping wound in her Force signature and her own spirit worse than if she’d just lost a Force Bonded mate.

+Ben Solo is left missing, vanished on a world that is supposedly a thin spot in the force, with no ghost, no presence, and no one to mourn him- not even by the other half of his very soul. THREE GENERATIONS of Skywalkers over NINE FILMS died to try and rescue their future embodied in the form of Ben Solo and it looks like it was for nothing. Instead, the incessant bad guy no one can move on from looks like he ultimately wins the day through an alleged granddaughter, and even that claim is on shaky ground considering the mistakes in the vision and how quickly the family conversation vanished upon the revelation that Ben and Rey are a dyad. Ben is lost, so every family member died for nothing, apparently. But hey, this is a Fun and Hopeful narrative, right?

+While the Final Order fleet is destroyed at the end, the First Order is.....still out there? It’s still out there. Nothing in that department has changed whatsoever. Leaders die. They get replaced. The cycle goes on. We spent three movies batting at a fly we didn’t even kill. Amazing.

Overall this movie is BRUTAL. Every other scene is a plot hole served to us on a silver platter, with the biggest insult being that they are plot points JJ created HIMSELF 4-6 years ago. This man literally shot himself in the face and then said it was fine as he bled out all over the film reels and it shows. If you were anyone who came along for the Additional Materials ride of the past four years, you were greeted by this film with a hard, swift, and REPEATED, backhand to the face. There was no reward here at the end of this road for fans, old and new, who actually paid attention and took an interest in the deeper lore surrounding this sequel trilogy. There was just a big fat Disney-branded middle finger as all your hard work and cash was ripped from you with a trademark villain laugh.

And that is what we’re left with.

This review does not go into detail over what we’ve discovered since the release of the film, either. That it was never finished in the editing room. That a current comic series, Rise of Kylo Ren, and what’s in the new TROS visual dictionary maddeningly contradict themselves. That allegedly SIX different endings were shot for this movie, and in the end the one they chose looks like it was *literally* reverse-engineered to confusingly kill, as JJ once called him, ‘The Other Half of Our Protagonist’. There is no time to go into detail about how Oscar Isaac just told us that noone in the cast knew that Rey Palpatine was going to be endgame except for maybe Adam when they made him do ADR declaring it with a masked face on screen (convenient). There is no room to show you the collective cast reaction they all gave to the end of the movie- none of them good, and John Boyega looking like he was holding back from punching something (he loved Kylo/Ben as much as the audience did and more). And there is no room to include what we will continue to find out as the days roll on about the tangled mess of a film that was edited and reedited, and how word on the street is a cocky director demanded Carte Blanche from Kathleen Kennedy, and I guess the story group too given the state of things, and then promptly self-destructed in the grossest, messiest end to a 40+ year series in cinema history.

There’s just no space.

But there IS a lesson.

And the lesson is this: No matter what, never stop investing in Story. Never stop caring about the details and about plot and about moving a story FORWARD. Never be afraid to move FORWARD. Look at TROS, the mess it is and the potential it had it in itself to be, and then look at the beauty that is TFA and the love that went into TLJ, and study that shit until it burns into your brain- Do not repeat those mistakes. Go out into the world and write better, shoot better, direct better, and BE BETTER. Because these producers and directors? They’re old and they’re on their way out. Just like the stable boy at the end of TLJ who secretly has the Force, know and realize that those of you out there reading this are the next generation of storytellers. YOU. And YOU, and I, and others out there like us who loved this series with our whole heart and who are watching it bleed out now on a floor that doesn’t give two shits about it, have the ability to make sure this NEVER happens again. But in order to do that….we have to pick up that pen. Pick up that pencil. Pick up that camera. Jot down that story idea and share it with likeminded friends. Go out there and CREATE, and create BETTER. Because it’s up to us now- the future of cinema is up to us. And my god, we have so much potential….

#reylo #@starwars #star wars #TROS #The Rise of Skywalker

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talldarkandroguesome · 3 years

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17th of First Seed, Middas

The letter swapping has been going well so far.

I have been learning the handwriting for Urtisa’s contact and have made several forgeries now. I have even attempted a few draft letters. They look passable except for the quality of the parchment, I will need Nabine to steal a couple sheets of parchment when she has the chance. I have gotten the same type of quill and ink, but the parchment is so far the only difference.

I have also gotten word that uncle Urnel has given his word that he approves of the consent for Kuna’s recognition and that the decision is being brought before the Council to give their opinions before the finalization of things.

Word has also been given to me that Kuna’s name will be added to the family registry as my child and we have been asked if she is to be put down with the Indoril family name or under Mossbrook for her mother.

Nabine and I discussed it over the course of dinner. Of course, I had assumed that Nabine would like to keep her family name, since record of the matriarchal line is so important. She asked how it would change things if Kuna was to carry my name.

So I had to explain that when you enter any of the great Houses, you are given that House’s name to be put before your personal and family names, so that you are immediately recognized as being a part of the House. That Kuna could certainly be Indoril Kuna Mossbrook, retaining Nabine’s family name as her family name and just being taken as a part of the House. In that case, however, people would assume from the name that Kuna was accepted into the House, but that there would be no indication that she was part of the Indoril bloodline, since only those with Indoril blood are allowed to take Indoril as their family name. Having Kuna take the name would prove to any from the moment her name was announced, that she was blood linked to the House, affording her more respect instantly. Although once her parentage became more widely known that might improve, having the name would open doors more quickly.

Nabine actually considered the matter more than I expected.

After some time of asking for the finer details and implications, Nabine asked me if there were any precedents for having more than one last name.

I told her that I was unsure of times outside of when there are two Great Houses joining, and so I sent a request by messenger to the Chancellor of Precedent.

Before the end of the evening we were informed that most typical it was for cases of marriages between Houses. Though, given that Kuna is part of a different culture, we could certainly attempt a similar argument with the Family Registry Office.

In typical cases, the order of family name is determined by the House that the child was being raised by, placing it in the final position, that of greatest importance.

As an example, Sildras’s official name is Indoril Sildras Hlaalu Indoril. If he were to also join House Hlaalu, he would be known as Indoril Hlaalu Sildras Hlaalu Indoril. House naming order, of course, is determined in the reverse, so that the one which is your primary loyalty is placed first. Of course, membership to more than one House is so very rare that it is only granted in the most selected circumstances, since membership to one House usually is seen as a conflict of interest in joining another. After all, there is so much in-fighting it would be difficult to truly follow the directives of more than one House objectively.

When presented with this naming option, Nabine said she would like to petition to see if, given Kuna’s mixed parentage, she would still be allowed to take both names.

I made sure in drawing up the request for the House Registry Office, to cite the precedent number given by the Chancellor, along with an overview of Bosmeri naming rituals and the fact that it was important to the Mossbrook family, in order for Kuna to remain a recognized part of the family, to keep their surname name. So the proposition is that, until she undergo the joining and recognition ceremony, Kuna be added to my family registry as Kuna Mossbrook Indoril. Upon the completion of her joining and recognition, she will then be known as Indoril Kuna Mossbrook Indoril.

Before I set my seal and sent the request off, Nabine and I sat Kuna down and discussed the matter with her as well. We wanted to make sure that she understood that it would afford her more, while also expecting more of her. There would be more lessons and more responsibilities in the future. And while we were aware that she was very young to be making such a decision, it needed to be done now and could not be undone once it was completed.

Of course, she was very enthusiastic, her wild dreams of godhood clouding her judgement.

It is unfair to make a child choose at this age, I know. But there is no other option given the cultural traditions of my people.

So I made sure to go over, once more, all the things she would be expected to do. That she may, in future, be asked to prove her loyalty, to fight, to send others to fight, that she might be expected to choose the path of other people’s lives, and that her decisions would determine the lives and deaths of people.

That did make her seem to think more. She had a few questions and I did my best to answer them. I even told her that she could talk to Mother about all her questions if she wished to wait before deciding.

She shook her head and said that she would not become a god if she did not have the ability to make good decisions on her own. I told her that there was much wisdom in seeking the knowledge and experience of others and that even Almsivi counciled with one another and with other people before making much of their decisions. I reminded her that even queens and emproresses had councils to help them make the decision that was in the best interests of everyone.

Kuna said that she would like to speak with Mother before deciding and asked if we could send the request after she spoke to Mother about it and her tutors.

I said she was most wise for her age to do so.

Nabine laughed at me. I did not mind. It is a big decision and it is hardly a bad skill for Kuna to get accustomed to discussing her choices with others before making them. If she ever does become a part of the House in a greater capacity, she will need to do so.

After the girls were in bed, Nabine gave me a long, silent look.

I asked her if I had something on my face or if she was simply struck by how handsome I was again.

She threw a cushion at me and we laughed.

Nabine explained that she had not known why it was that I had given up everything and risked being poor, even if it meant leaving a cage. But seeing now what it was like, she understood. And that she was amazed that I would go to such effort to see that Kuna had as much choice as possible.

I laughed, expecting her to be jesting, but she placed a hand on my shoulder and told me she was serious.

I told her that I had not been given any choice and that I was forced on a path that I ultimately was unable to take in the way presented. That I was given only one choice and then told it was my fault that I was unable to meet those impossible goals. There was nothing I wanted less than for any child of mine to have to go through the same hurt. Especially since I could do little to help prevent Sildras from having started his life with the same fate. My one consolation was that he was a gifted mage with a love of knowledge and learning, and so would be able to fulfill that which I had not been able to. The House would be able to easily find a myriad of uses for his skills and eventual knowledge.

Nabine pulled me close and stroked my hair and told me that I was not to blame. I told her that I knew, but she just pulled me closer and kept saying to me that I was not the reason for that hurt, that the system and the adults involved were responsible, no matter how they loved me, that they had let that hurt come to me.

When I tried to speak against it, Nabine threatened to bite off my tongue and told me to just listen.

She spent a long while telling me how amazingly I had grown into an adult and that given all that had happened, I had done well for myself. I had managed what many could not. And that she loved me, soul or no, always. That no matter what was to come, she would always love me.

I kissed her and told her I felt the same. My emotions were welling up and threatened to spill out like a fountain in the pouring rain. And as she spoke of things that had passed, my eyes, ever so slightly, let out a couple of tears.

Nabine and I made love afterwards in a way that felt as though my old wounds were being healed. Not fully, it was not enough for that, but they were soothed, as if by a cooling salve.

Thank the Three for delivering to me not one, but two, amazing people into my life who love me in the ways that I need most. I feel your blessings and see them as reward for having proved my character in overcoming challenges and facing one of the Four Corners.

Should there be any other task which you require of me, I will gladly take it.

#ESO #TES #RP #Dunmer #Elder Scrolls Online #The Elder Scrolls

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liquidink21 · 4 years

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If I were doing the Avatar Remake

Just a list of things changes and tweaks to the original I would make to Avatar if I was in charge of this netflix remake, given that we’ve all lost hope in it and now I’m just speculating to make myself feel better. I’ve already made a list of things it really needs, and this list includes them, but I’m just going to go hog wild with my imagination and opinions on Avatar. In a rough order of when I think and them and what episode it becomes relevant.

How long are these new episodes going to be? I’d like to extend them for more story content, though am wary of overdoing it. How does thirty minutes sound? Enough for some more depth to some episodes.

I think it should be pointed out earlier on that there are more villages across the South Pole. This is canon, and would make the Southern Water Tribe feel more alive.

Aang’s friends from the past: in addition to Kuzon and Bumi, give him a Northern Water Tribe pal. He’s never been to the South Pole, and was deliberately coming to make new friends somewhere the Monks wouldn’t think to look for him. We can reference this friend again when we reach the North Pole.

Somebody, probably Iroh, mentions Zuko’s name in front of Aang. It’s always infuriated me that the Gaang know’s Zuko’s name suddenly in Warriors of Kyoshi without anyone telling them what it is. I don’t think it needs its own episode, just somebody says it while he’s captured.

The terms of Zuko’s banishment don’t restrict him from the colonies in the Earth Kingdom, so they don’t consider those colonies to be proper Fire Nation territory. I feel they should have their own name, just to make the politics of the show feel deeper. “The Eastern Protectorate” is a nice reference to the Chinese “Protectorate of the Western Territories.” Zhao can namedrop it when they go to his port.

The fact that Kyoshi Island has such a different culture from the main Earth Kingdom should be brought up. The answer is a mix between isolation and cultural exchange with the Southern Water Tribe. Katara and Sokka probably have a passing knowledge of the island. “Oh, that’s where we are.” Also, if Aang knew to come here for the Koi fish, how didn’t he know about there being Kyoshi revering settlements there?

There should be an adult Kyoshi Warrior training the others. She approves of Suki training Sokka, and comments on the rarity of outsiders and men being Kyoshi Warriors. I feel Sokka is the first outsider, but there was another man. Adult warrior gives the explanation that when she was a young trainee, a man working on the docks was teased for “fighting like a girl” so warriors taught him exactly like a girl.

There should be an Earthbending Kyoshi Warrior. I mean Kyoshi herself was a bender, the art can’t be exclusively a non-bending form.

Maybe point out that there are multiple villages on the island. This is in fact canon.

Haru’s mother and village could use some actual names.

We never see any non-bending Earth Kingdom soldiers. I loved how the Fire Nation has different uniforms for its bending and non-bending warriors, and I’d like to see the same for the Earth Kingdom troops.

I want to know more about those pirates? The captain is ethnically a Fire Nation citizen. Is there a story behind that? A navy deserter? Like an opposite of Jeong Jeong, deserting not for ethics but because he didn’t like duty getting in the way of fortune? I’m probably just overthinking it.

The names of the Freedom Fighters are obviously pseudonyms, and Jet probably urges the Gaang to adopt some themselves.

While I don’t actually feel that Aang lying to the two groups in The Great Divide is an unforgivable wrong, I feel the lie itself was a little demeaning and could have been a little more sophisticated.

I have seen that post saying there needs to be more Indians in Avatar than just Guru Pathik, given how many Indian concepts are in the show. Many people also share the opinion that there should be Indian airbenders, so yes they should appear in the flashbacks in The Storm (and The Southern Air Temple as well). Also some Earth Kingdom villages should be Indian based as well. I think the market from The Waterbending Scroll could be a good place to start, maybe the port from The Storm as well, though probably somewhere that isn’t just a background place as well. Maybe the nuns in Bato of the Water Tribe too.

Iroh could be less creepy with June.

Ah, The Northern Air Temple. Honestly I feel that while the ultimate message of Aang being okay with the Mechanist and his people settling in the Air Temple is okay, I feel it needs to end with a greater emphasis on the Mechanist’s people being more respectful to the site. Ramming pipes through historical mosaics and demolishing statues is really not on. Also, while Sokka being cool with industrialisation is in character, I do think he’d disapprove the desecration.

I feel the fact that a lot of the Fire Nation’s technological might (not all of it, though) is riding off the back of a blackmailed Earth Kingdom citizen is something that could be brought up more often.

Yue’s story with the Moon Spirit needs to be explained almost immediately, so that it’s not kind of an arse-pull when the plot needs it.

Legend of Korra makes a big deal about the South gaining independence from the North, but they’re already treated as separate nations? I think it should be mentioned somewhere, probably from Hahn, that the South is technically subservient to the North, though operates with a great deal of autonomy that comes with not being able to contact each other.

The North is pretty sure it’s the original Water Tribe, but can’t say for sure. Hahn thinks of the South as nothing but a colony, though Arnook is more progressively minded and notes there are no records of who came first and treats the South as a sister tribe.

I think there’s another character worth adding, a captain of the Northern warriors. He can appear several more times throughout the series, which I’ll elaborate on.

Zhao comments “there’s a reason they’ve survived a hundred years of war” whereas other comments suggest the Northern Water Tribe has been sitting out of the war. Apparently the North did take uniforms from soldiers 85 years ago, so I think the idea should be that they received one big siege back then, and since then they’ve been experiencing raids since then culling their villages and forcing them into that single fortified city-state. Since then, their ability to send ships out has been impeded by Fire Nation ships patrolling those water but not engaging the city itself until Zhao’s siege.

Yue, when mentioning the waterbenders learning from the Moon, should reference humanity receiving bending from the Lion Turtles, just to introduce the concept that bending could be given and therefore by implication taken away.

There’s a historical character I want to introduce: an Earth Kingdom general that was nearly able to push the Fire Nation out of the Earth Kingdom around half-way through the 100 Year War, but was taken down by internal Earth Kingdom politics. The Fire Nation had to do its conquests all over again because of him. It would help fill out a century of history that is poorly explained. I think he could be introduced by Sokka asking General Fong how they still have an outpost on the west coast when most of that region has been occupied by the Fire Nation.

Azula’s blue fire should be depicted like blue flames are in real life: very straight jets rather than the flickering things you see in the animation. Since it’s basically just powerful fire, I think it should be seen with a couple of other firebenders, though Azula is the only one that exclusively uses it. Jeong Jeong and Iroh would be good people to use it.

I saw a post once by a Korean rightfully upset that the only Korean characters in the show (Song and her village) are lumbered in with the essentially Chinese Earth Kingdom as if they’re the same culture despite Korea obviously being separate and having a poor history of China attempting to enforce hegemony over it. I think maybe something could be made of Song and her people being a distinct culture that has had a generally poor relationship with the Earth Kingdom at large. Maybe the previously mentioned Earth Kingdom general was screwed over for being of this culture.

I’m not sure how to depict the Swampbenders. They'll no longer be caricatures of the guys in the next studio, so they’ll be more respectfully treated and not hillbillies. I’m not sure if they should be Vietnamese (given the original characters have Vietnamese names) or southern Native Americans (given they’re waterbenders, and the other waterbenders are Inuits).

After failing to get Bumi as Aang’s earthbending teacher, they throw around suggestions. Since Aang is learning waterbending from Katara they consider a similarly aged Earthbender. Katara suggests they go find Haru, while Sokka suggests the earthbending Kyoshi Warrior I mentioned before.

I saw a post once suggesting that the Beifongs were collaborators, and while I think this is somewhat extreme, I would like to explore the interplay between their wealth and their position in the war. Also, the fact that Toph had been sheltered from the war and has far less of an emotional stake in it needs to be explored in more detail.

In the Zuko Alone flashbacks Azula really needs to be made out as a normal child with a bad influence (her father) instead of an inherently bad child. My sister points to this episode and claims Iroh or Ursa should have just drowned her and that’s something incredibly fucked up to say about a ten(?) year old.

In that vein, Iroh’s “no she’s crazy and needs to go down” line really needs to be changed to something more compassionate. Most Avatar meta states that Iroh doesn’t actually hate Azula; he’s just prioritising Zuko’s safety, and his line here needs to reflect that.

Aang should recognise the Lion-Turtle, and know that they gave humanity their bending powers. Just to keep that concept in mind, so that when it comes to the energybending climax it’s less of an arse-pull.

Wan Shi Tong’s morale compass and lumping a bunch of kids attempting to avoid genocide in with conquerors needs to be called out more, and I feel Katara should be the one to do it.

Suki gets to stay on for one extra episode and help fight the Drill. It also makes for a better explanation of how she got back. Right now it’s implied she went back across the Serpent’s Pass; in my own she’d explicitly head along the wall and go back with the ferries.

I want more discussion of Ba Sing Se’s social stratification. Was Jin able to visit the Jasmine Dragon? Or was she blocked from entering higher rings?

Toph’s lie detecting thing made into a spiritual or chi related thing. The whole heartbeat thing is pseudoscience.

The Northern Water Captain I mentioned earlier reappears, having met and joined his men with Hakoda’s. Hakoda praises his son with helping bridge the gap between the two water tribes.

Ty Lee gets more appearances in Book 3, even if just in the background. She got some nice development in The Beach and I want to see more of it as Azula’s brought her out of that circus and back into the Fire Nation nobility.

Sparky Sparky Boom Man’s tattoo has a different design that is not a villainised appropriation of a Hindu symbol. Something nice and geometric, maybe sun based.

Hawky at some point returns to Team Avatar. I want them legitimised as a member of the Gaang! Equal status to Momo and Appa! Also I suppose bringing a letter back from the Beifongs could have significance to Toph. But let Hawky return!

Hama has a more compassionate ending. I feel after she’s led away, Sokka figures it’s pretty fucked up that they’re handing one of their own over to the Fire Nation so they go and rescue her. They give her a choice between joining them to fight during the eclipse or returning to the South Pole to help rebuild the Southern Water Tribe (given that there’s Notherners helping rebuild she could help make sure they rebuild it in the style of the south and not a facsimile of the north). She chooses the latter.

No weird Guru Pathik during Aang’s hallucinations please.

While discussing the allies that Hakoda picked up, he mentions some people he couldn’t get: they couldn’t find the Kyoshi Warriors, the Sandbenders didn’t want to come, the Omashi Resistance wanted to use the eclipse to retake their city, and General Fong’s outpost had been overrun. Just flesh out things a little.

Sokka and the other Water Tribe warriors should be wearing that facepaint for the Invasion.

I want more interaction with The Duke, Haru, and Teo with the Gaang.

Chit Sang’s girlfriend and friend join with the second escape instead of being strangely absent. Also, who is he? Sokka probably looks him up to make sure they’re not bringing a serial killer into their midst. Preferably not, I like to think they were thrown in there for opposing the war.

I’d like Suki to learn from Hakoda that the other Kyoshi warriors are alive, if imprisoned.

Suki doesn’t like wearing prison clothes and attempts a facsimile of Kyoshi islander clothes by stealing Katara and Haru’s clothes.

Some more emotions between Sokka and Suki relating to her imprisonment please. There’s a lot of pent up trauma there and I’d like them to work through it.

People like to play up Katara’s “you obviously didn’t love her as much as I did” line into an insight to a horrible character rather than just something stupid said in the heat of the moment, though I do think Katara should apologise, if only to show the haters that this isn’t her personality.

Training with Aang, Zuko finds out he has the peace of mind to do lightning. He wouldn’t use it against Azula, but it would be a nice demonstration that his inner turmoil is more or less resolved.

The adult Kyoshi Warrior I mentioned at the very beginning of this reappears as a White Lotus member. She, for whatever reason, has a replacement warrior uniform for Suki, because I feel Suki shouldn’t have to go through the climax in a Fire Nation disguise. Also maybe Sokka should be wearing his warpaint too? I mean it’s culturally significant to him.

You want lightning? No I don’t. Azula’s growing inner turmoil denies her the use of lightning, mirroring Zuko’s original inability to use it when he was lost and confused. So when it comes to sneakily zapping Katara it’s just her fire, but a flame more concentrated (and by implication, rage-fueled) than we’ve ever seen from her. A veritable beam that Zuko has to put his all into deflecting, opening him up to an attack. A non-lethal attack; Azula still has that line about “the family physician”. She doesn’t want Zuko dead and leaves him be when he’s down. Despite going off the deep end there is a spark of compassion in her that stops her from doing that.

As I’ve stated previously, Aang needs to do something slightly more significant and spiritual in order to access the Avatar State again rather than that stupid rock. Some sort of spiritual lesson.

As I’ve said a few times now, the Lion-Turtles should be known to the audience by now, along with their ability to give bending to humans, so that the ability to take bending has been implied.

The weird orange-vs-blue lightshow with the energy bending was kind of melodramatic, though the corruption-vs-purity thing could still be visually represented by Ozai trying to physically overpower Aang and failing.

Possibly to be continued.

#avatar

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bookandcranny · 4 years

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Stone Heart Gambit

Part 1 - Chapter 1

Soso likes her town, but she’s starting to think she’s never going to find a single interesting thing about it. There’s a supermarket, a park, a few family-owned shops and eateries that haven’t yet succumbed to the pressure put on them by the encroaching chain franchises. Pretty standard small-town fair, not unlike the one she grew up in.

Therein lies the problem. She’d been so excited to leave home for the first time all those semesters ago that she hadn’t considered that change doesn’t always equal improvement, and putting a hundred miles of distance between her and her old problems didn’t guarantee her a perfect new life. She doesn’t particularly miss living with her parents, rather she finds herself feeling homesick for a place she doesn’t think she’s found yet. There’s a restlessness in her-- her mom claims she gets it from her dad, and vice versa. It’s plagued her in small ways all her life, in the way she finds new friendships but struggles to make them last, in the way she throws herself into new passions only to grow bored of them within weeks, in the way college had seemed so thrilling and full of promise when she was a bright-eyed freshman and now here she is, on indefinite academic leave, struggling to remember what it was she saw in the place that was worth a lifetime of student loans.

She only has so long to figure it out too. She wants to finish her degree, she does, but art requires inspiration and there’s only so much to photograph in a town whose main export is cow shit and stale gossip. If she changes her major again at this point her advisor is for real going to mount her head on a pike outside the bursar’s office, so she has to at least try.

It doesn’t help that she’s pretty much limited to the immediate vicinity surrounding her housing co-op until she either manages to get herself a car or the bus drivers union wins their latest standoff with city hall. Cars cost money though, which means getting a real fulltime job, which she expects will spell the end for any lingering chance of her going back to school anyway. The snake devours its tail, and Soso commutes by bike.

Soso’s handy; she’s confident she can fix anything given enough time, the right tools, and a couple reliable video tutorials. That, among other odd jobs, is her main preoccupation right now. It’s something, but she can’t picture herself changing tires and cleaning out gutters for elderly neighbors to support her Chinese takeout dependency forever. At the rate she’s going, her best customers are going to start dying off before she graduates.

On that morbid note, Soso decides she needs to get out of the house. She slings her bag over her back just in case she manages to run into something photo-worthy and grabs her bike. It’s a brisk autumn afternoon and the fresh air is just what she needs.

On the way out she runs into one of her housemates, Carmen the highly caffeinated, returning from campus looking frazzled. Soso isn’t particularly close with any of her housemates, frequently as they tend to come and go, but that doesn’t stop her from offering her sympathies.

“Any luck with the research?”

Carmen groans. “My paper is doomed. Remind me why I thought ‘modern impact of classical mythology’ was a good choice for my level 300 history course?”

“Uh, beats me.” In reality she thinks it sounds like a fun subject, but it doesn’t feel her place to say so given that while Carmen’s been slaving away at the school library, she’s spent the better of her day half-watching questionable documentaries on alien conspiracies.

“Ensfield is full of weird old superstitions and legends,” she goes on frustratedly. “The old bridge makes it on one of those ‘top 10 spooky locations’ lists like once a month. Complain about a cough to the wrong person and suddenly you get people telling you you’re hexed and you need to walk in a circle counter-clockwise under the new moon to get rid of it.”

She’s pretty sure that’s not a thing, but nods anyway, waiting for the point she hopes is coming.

“You’d think the library in a town like this would have better sources on mythology. But no, all I get is a shrug and the same three books everyone else in the class is using. If I want to bump up my GPA, I need something you can’t just find on Wikipedia.”

Another one of their housemates crawls out from the shrubbery by the porch. “Maybe you should try that other library.”

“Jesus!” Carmen jumps. “What are you doing down there?”

Phoebe brushes dirt off her knees. “I saw a black cat go into the gap.” She points at a thin crack in the woodwork. “Halloween is coming. Any cats, especially black ones, you see wandering around need to be brought to the shelter pronto. People do terrible things to them if they see them wandering around this time of year.”

Soso squints. “Looks too small to fit a cat.”

“I saw what I saw. Anyway, there’s supposed to be an old town library way past the woods, thataway.” She points. “Guy who works there is really weird I heard but almost no one goes there anymore so you’d have first pick.”

Carmen looks thoughtful. “I think I’ve heard of it. I kind of thought it was just something people made up.”

“Nah, it’s real. My brother’s fraternity brings freshman there to haze them. They tell them to go up and throw eggs at the place and then ditch ‘em in the woods.”

Soso blinks. “Why?”

She shrugs. “It’s just a thing they do. It sucks and it’s totally immature but no one ever accused those guys of being creative.”

“Whatever,” Carmen says. “I’m done with books for today. I’m gonna go inside and enjoy some nice brain-rotting TV.”

“Good call, honestly. If you get caught hanging around that place too much they’ll probably start egging us next.”

Carmen heads inside and Phoebe goes back to making little coaxing noises at the gap in the porch. Soso frowns to herself. Sometimes she feels like people in this town purposely go out of their way to ruin anything that could be the slightest bit different. It’s probably just a normal library that happened to be in a weird spot, run by a typical cranky old librarian. Even if it is nothing it probably has more to offer than spending the rest of her day throwing french-fries to birds and squirrels in the Burger Beast parking lot.

“Hey Phoebe,” she says. “Where did you say that library was?”

The trip is longer than she had anticipated. Her legs are strong but the sun’s getting low enough that she worries she’ll be riding home in the dark. A generous part of it she blames on Phoebe’s vague directions, scribbled into a patchwork paper map of hear-say more than anything else. Despite this she continues. She’s snapped a few pictures of the foliage in its brilliant reds and golds, so if all else is a bust at least she won’t have completely wasted her time. Worst case scenario, she returns home with a little extra muscle on her calves from all the pedaling.

Well, the real worst case scenario is probably more along the lines of her getting caught by an axe murderer and left to rot in the spooky woods, another ghost for the local repertoire. Even then, at least she won’t have to worry about the next family phone call if she’s dead.

Grim musings aside, she loops back and manages to find the correct path, a trampled dirt road half-hidden under the leaf litter, and at last make her way to the fabled “other library”. It’s one of those old brick buildings, surrounded by a low fence that struggles to hold its own against the climbing vines and insects nibbling at its posts. It’s early enough in the season that their collective buzz-chirp-hum still fills the air, though otherwise it is almost eerily quiet. It’s strangely peaceful, Soso thinks as she wades through wild patches of tall grass, as if she were returning to somewhere familiar.

The place is clearly abandoned, she decides, sunlight refracting off the firmly shuttered windows. It’s a cool discovery to be sure, but she ought to have known a mysterious library in the woods with an equally mysterious shut-in tending it was too much to expect from a town like Ensfield. That doesn’t stop her from exploring though. She likes it here, and she especially likes the gorgeous, ancient-looking gargoyle that sits in front of the steps leading up to the entrance, like one of those stone lions that stand guard outside of libraries of greater fame than this one.

The thing is magnificent, as well as truly hideous, its face twisted in a snarl so visceral and strikingly lifelike that it sends a genuine chill down her spine. The attention to detail, to carving out each individual wrinkle of flesh, is astounding. The stance the stone creature is frozen in comes off much more threatening than the regal intensity she might have expected, and it seems to her a counterintuitive choice of décor, but one the artist in her wholeheartedly approves of.

Propping her bike up against the stairs she crouches in the shadow of the gargoyle to get a better look. Organic shapes like vines encircle the beast, so lifelike that feels compelled to touch, as if they might fall away under her fingertips. Just as she reaches out however, the front doors of the library swing open and a stout, middle-aged man rushes out.

“Don’t- who- don’t touch that! It’s- it’s not-“ he stammers. “It’s an antique. Very breakable.”

The man is well-dressed, but his head of yellow hair is mussed to one side, like he’s just woken from a nap, enforced by the wrinkles he anxiously tries to smooth out of his vest. His eyes are a shocking shade of spring green.

“Sorry?” Soso offers, still recovering from the fright. She pulls her hand back guiltily and he seems to relax. How fragile could something made of stone be, she wonders, that he would work himself up into such a state over it. “Uh, is this the library?”

The man finishes straightening himself out before he responds. “That’s what you’re here for? Books?”

“What else?” she asks. His eyes remain narrow with scrutiny, so she adds, “Books on mythology. It’s for a school project. I heard… I am in the right place, right?”

There’s a copper plaque by the door that reads “North Ensfield Public Library”, but at this point she’d be as willing to accept that she wandered into a random person’s front yard, for how he looks at her. After another awkward pause, the man turns back towards the entrance and gestures for her to follow.

“Sorry about that. I don’t see many regular patrons anymore, not for a while now. Pardon the mess.” He speaks quickly, not leaving any room for interruption.

There isn’t much mess to pardon, not really. In fact, the shelves look well organized, if a bit dusty, and the space isn’t as cramped or cluttered as she had expected from the outside. A certain saying about books and covers comes to mind, but she doesn’t think her host would appreciate the joke. It’s no wonder he doesn’t see many people if he acts this way with everyone. Soso bumps into a table and nearly upsets what seems to be a pyramid assembled from various glasses, topped with an upside-down teapot.

“Do you live here?” she asks before she can curtail her curiosity.

“I’m a librarian,” he answers. “This is a library.”

“Right, but that doesn’t…” she fumbles.

“Do Canadians not live in Canada? Do Norwegians not live in Norway?”

“Vegetarians don’t live in vegetables,” she counters.

He considers that. “Well-played.”

Soso laughs despite herself and, to her surprise, things seem to go more smoothly after that. She continues speaking with the librarian and learns that his name is Surehouser, though if there’s a first name attached to that one, she doesn’t catch it. He’s certainly as eccentric as the rumors had led her to believe, but he seems harmless, and quite frankly more than a little lonesome. She doesn’t know how a person could be anything else, living like this.

He’s not friendly or unfriendly; his words have a measured quality to them, as if he’s afraid of saying too much. Soso gets the impression, as the sole carer for this seemingly ancient place, his occupation is more out of a sense of obligation than a passion for literature. He looks the part of the academic for sure, down to the silver that threads through his hair and the half-moon reading glasses folded in the front of his shirt, but his eyes track her as she browses like he doesn’t know what to do with someone who actually wants to check out a book.

“Do you have an idea of what you’re looking for?” he asks after she’s been at it for a while.

She doesn’t want to admit that not only is she not sure, since it’s not really her class she needs it for, but that whatever organizational system is in place here is totally incomprehensible to her. “Anything you have should be good.”

Which is how she ends up checking out way more than she meant to, sending up a tiny prayer that her comparatively tiny backpack can rise to the occasion. Surehouser gives her a look like he knows what’s going through her head as he leads her to the front desk. There’s no computer in sight, just a leatherbound book of names and dates and a thick rubber stamp.

“On my way out, would you mind if I took some pictures of that statue you have out front? For my project.” She adds that last part as an afterthought, then regrets it right away. She’s a notoriously terrible liar and the more she enforces the threads of this pointless story she’s weaving, the more awkward she feels.

He frowns and says, more to himself than to her, “I always thought that old thing was a bit gaudy myself. I’d have gotten rid of it ages ago if I could.”

Something about the way he says it strikes her as strange. Not knowing how to respond, she simply says, “I don’t know, I think it’s cool.”

He laughs. Or, she thinks that’s what it is. The sound is gentle but rusty at the edges. “I suppose you would. Feel free to do whatever you want, only do not touch it, and be careful.”

She walks down the stone steps, her haul unexpectedly light on her back, and pauses to look at the gargoyle once more. The light isn’t any good right now, but she’ll be back.

“See you later,” she tells it.

Sure enough, the next day she’s back. She hadn’t actually planned to be such a regular, but she’d been unable to keep the place from her mind, and it wasn’t as if she had anything better to do. Carmen had looked about to cry when Soso showed her the books she’d picked out. The ones she didn’t need for her paper, Soso decided to flip through herself and had found herself more invested than she’d counted on. The book on obscure pagan deities she’d selected, though dense and confusing in places, was particularly interesting. Before she knew it, she was finished, and thus had the perfect excuse to go back.

“This guy kinda looks like you, don’t you think?” She holds the page open so that the gargoyle could “see” it. Despite arriving at noon on a Wednesday, the library seems to be truly closed today and no amount of knocking had managed to change its mind. Since she’d already come all this way, she figured she might as well find some other way to entertain herself before heading home.

“The horns are all wrong, but the general look is there. He could be, like, your second cousin,” she tells the statue.

The statue doesn’t respond, obviously, but Soso likes talking to it regardless. She adjusts her position so she can keep reading while keeping the book within its line of sight. When it’s time to leave, she turns to it and says,

“Keep an eye on that guy who runs the place for me. He’s weird, and should really keep more regular hours, but he’s nice, and I think being alone out here is making him a little…” She makes a spiraling motion with her finger. “Guess I’m not one to talk though. I’m chatting with a hunk of rock.”

She doesn’t stop though. Maybe it’s the boredom, maybe it’s something just fundamentally Soso, but whatever the reason, she keeps coming back. Partially for the library, yes, and for the company of the strange librarian that dwells within, but primarily to have a quiet place to vent her frustrations and speak her mind, where often the only one around to judge is one who’s incapable of talking back.

Surehouser is an acquired taste, and they don’t have much in common, but he never turns Soso away on the days when her visits magically coincide with the hours of operation. He always seems to have snacks on hand and is content to let the young woman ramble on about whatever latest subject has caught her interest, which as much as she could ask of anyone really. He still speaks frustratingly little of himself, but she believes she’ll get it out of him eventually.

She’s moved from taking pictures around the library to breaking out her old sketchbook, sitting on the steps and muttering to the empty air as she tries to map the contours of the stone body before her. She’s always been visually minded, for whatever good it does her.

“My mom keeps calling and asking if I want to come home for the holidays,” she complains, holding her knees to her chest. “And I know that’s months away but if I say yes that means having to see my family in person while they interrogate me about my future. I’m not even sure I have a future.”

She paces around for a minute to work out some pins and needles and brushes back her hair where it’s been falling in her face. Feeling playful, she imagines she can feel the gargoyle’s gaze watching her.

“Oh this? Yeah, I did get a haircut, thank you for noticing. Just a couple inches off the bottom but I think it’s nice.”

She tosses her head. Nestled among her dark hair, a tip of pointed ear pokes out and she worries idly at the cartilage like she used to do when she was younger.

“You noticed that too, huh. I was born with this itty bity point to my ears. They used to stick out when I was a kid. I was kinda self-conscious about it, actually. I dreaded whenever we had a course in school about fairytales because the kids in my class would call me an elf. I started making my mom do my hair so that they were hidden and just, never grew out of the habit I guess.”

The gargoyle is without comment. She smiles.

“I knew you’d understand, dude. Us freaks have to stick together.”

The following week is a flurry of last-minute Halloween preparations. Soso herself hadn’t been planning to dress up, not having anywhere to be other than planted firmly on the couch in front of a horror B-movie marathon, but the other girls insist they decorate, as there’d been whispers in their neighborhood of pranks planned on those deemed not festive enough. According to Carmen, who had become the resident expert on local tradition since she aced her last history test, the custom of shunning those who didn’t partake was almost as firmly rooted as the decorating itself. It stemmed from a belief from ye olden days that the festivities helped to fend off ghosts and goblins and the meddling of the fae on the day when the border between their worlds was the thinnest.

“Wait, do ghosts come from the same place as fae, or do they just, like, carpool here?”

She snorts. “It depends who you ask, but a lot of people around here believe that anything that’s magical or ‘otherworldly’ in origin is technically ‘fae’. Ensfield has a whole history of convoluted fae-based superstitions. Did you know some people still leave out bowls of fresh milk for house spirits?”

“House spirits?”

“Like, brownies.”

Soso nods. “I love having milk with brownies.”

Phoebe pipes up from the kitchen. “I had a girlfriend in high school who left out offerings when she was doing her SATs.”

“Did it help?” Carmen asks. “I’ll try anything.”

Soso is no skeptic, but she’s more inclined to believe that leaving food out overnight will attract more mice than faerie blessings. The sentiment is nice, but it’s hard for her to take comfort in fairytales without remembering her childhood teasing. How much worse could it have been if it had been more than just a joke, if her ears and her daydreaming demeanor were enough to get her labeled as an outsider for life, rather than just for the span of third grade.

“Are you doing anything special for Halloween, Soso?” Carmen asks.

“You mean like leaving out bowls of milk?”

She laughs. “No, like going to a party. You can come with me to Katy’s if you want. It’ll be lowkey.”

Carmen has been making more of an effort to get to know her since she got her those books for her paper, but while Soso appreciates the thought, being a plus-one at a stranger’s party where everyone knows each other from the classes she’s still not attending doesn’t sound like her idea of a good time.

“No thanks. Someone’s gotta stay and hand out candy to the trick or treaters, right?”

“Good point. Did you pick up candy?”

“Not yet, but I’ll do it.”

“Just don’t put it off until the night of.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

That is exactly what happened. October 31st finds Soso standing in line with a back of candy under each arm. Their neighborhood isn’t exactly kid-heavy, but better safe than TP’d she figures. She’s nearing the register when a pair of college-age boys stumble in, looking conspicuously red around the whites of their eyes. She sighs inwardly as they wander around, talking just a bit too loud for comfort, and does her best to ignore them even as they get in line behind her. Looking out of the corner of her eye, she notices that there is nothing in their baskets except a two-liter bottle of off-brand soda, a box of marshmallow snackcakes, and about four cartons of eggs, each.

It almost doesn’t click for her until she remembers what Phoebe said about the frat bros and their hazing. That paired with it being a night notorious for pranks by idiot teens is enough to get her nervous. After making her purchase she lingers outside the store for a moment and watches as the boys climb into a car and drive away in the direction of the woods.

It might still be a coincidence, they might be heading to some other destination that just so happens to be in that direction as well, but the image of some stupid stoners invading her sanctuary makes her hackles raise all the same. She starts pedaling after them, following just far enough behind so as not to be spotted in the swiftly fading light.

#fantasy #writeblr #original fiction #my writing #project: stone heart gambit

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kyberphilosopher · 4 years

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Chapter Twelve

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

I’ll admit, the first thing I felt after my encounter with the Haxion Brood, was relief. Relief, with what I hate to admit was mixed with hope. I was too exhausted to be angry or vengeful, but I was overjoyed to find that Sorc Tormo was true to his word. Things are changing, I thought, right before I slipped into sleep. I can start again.

But not as much changed as I’d hoped. My location changed. The nightmares stayed. The paranoia stayed. The guilt stayed. I keep telling myself that those nonmaterial things don’t matter, but I’ll never really believe that. It’s hard to believe that something doesn’t matter when you wake up in a cold sweat because of it.

At least the new place is nice. The system is filled with trees that I swear could touch the sky. There’s always a babbling body of water nearby, no matter where you walk. The sky is the shade of a blue birds wing. It’s rare to see clouds. The weather is always warm with a soft, refreshing breeze. No, it’s not my cup of tea. It’s not the mountains, or the cold, or rainy and foggy. But it’s worked out well enough.

For the first few days, I expected the Haxion Brood to come back for me. I stayed awake with my lightsaber in hand, ready to strike. I waited until the days slipped into weeks, which quickly turned into a month. Honestly, I doubt they even remember I exist now. They’re not coming back.

Endor, it’s called. The system with a moon that’s constantly crescent shaped and unmoving.

I live in a small cave in the middle of the woods, covered in a wall of hanging ivy. I tend to go out during the day and scout around. I don’t really have any plans for leaving, but I don’t know if I could see myself staying forever. I just exist here, with no thoughts of the future. But that’s what I asked for. Not that I’m complaining in the first place.

My toes curl against the floor of the stream. Instinctively, I bend my knees until all but my collarbones up are covered in the cool water. I don’t know why I act like that will protect me, because the water is so crystal clear you can still see my body. But it reminds me of a blanket and that helps somewhat.

Both my hands reach up to smooth back my hair. It’s grown longer in the last month. Letting it out of my braid felt wrong, but my scalp had moaned in approval. Now it reaches to my collarbones, below my shoulders. It looks almost black when it’s wet. Black and greasy, which isn’t a surprise given that washing it is a rarity for people like me.

I watch some golden colored fish swish past my legs peacefully. They don’t bother to nip at my skin. I always reward this by laying a net and cooking them over a fire for dinner.

As I push my palms back into the cold liquid, I can see the scars embedded in the skin. My left palm is covered in mauve streaks from the incident with the rock. For the first week on Endor, I was so scared of getting an infection. If it weren’t for the cleanliness of this water, I probably would’ve gotten one. I was lucky.

I can see the divot in my index finger from when Talik nicked me. There’s only a few chips of the black nail polish she put on me left. I don’t have the heart to even try and scrape it off. I am weak. Talik made me feel weak.

Fingers drag across my neck, all the way to my shoulders. They ghost over my collar bones as they slip over my chest. One covers up a side while the other trails down my ribs, running over the bumps of the bones. The moment the fingers tickle at my hip, I jerk up from my bent position.

They’re gone as quickly as they appeared, almost as if they were never there in the first place. That statement is both true, and untrue. It makes me want to disassociate.

Instead, I put my fingers into the river bed and push myself up. The water drips from my form, onto the warm blades of emerald grass. My slim fingers run through my hair, smoothing it back as I dip my toes back in the river. I braid my locks. As it dries, it’ll become more fluffy and wispy and messy.

Once my hair is braided right, I stand up. I grab my clothes from beside me and slip my feet in one at a time. My trousers slide on easily. My black tunic follows, along with the gray wrapping that I attached. Finally, my toes wiggle into my black boots, and I look just the same as I did a month ago. All that’s left is to pull my double bladed lightsaber towards me, and the look is complete.

The hike back to my cave is short. The river is less than half a mile away, but it’s easy to get lost because all the trees look the same to me. But living on my own in the wild most all my life has made me adapt for this. I know that I have to memorize something about my way so I know it’s right. So I assigned each tree a noticeable feature. They’re all a landmark, guiding me. I’m about to pass one with one single yellow leaf instead of all green. In twelve paces, I’ll go by a tree with seven branches above me. From there it’s only a little over seventy paces to my sanctuary.

Sometimes I think that it’s better this way for me. Being alone, I mean. I have time to reflect and think, with no consequences. I get lonely at times, but being lonely is better than being suffocated by people right? And it’s not like I really mix well with people anyways. Last time I was with people, I lost control.

I feel bad for thinking that. I shouldn’t want to feel ‘in control’ when communicating with other people. No one should. Because you shouldn’t want to control others or force them into doing something that’s convenient to you, or something that goes against their nature. If I don’t like it when people do it to me, I should not attempt to do it myself. Not unless I have to, that is.

Twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, I’m almost to the cave. Clouds roll across the sky, dimming the earth in front of me. Everything darkens, and I have a split second of silence where all I can think is ‘this is what I’ve been waiting for’.

Rain is rare here. When it happens though, it tends to mess up my direction. Mist fills the air as the sheets of water come down, somewhat obstructing my vision and impairing my ability to see the details I need to. Because of this, I let my left thumb roll over the lightsaber switch, and the red side of the blade ignites. It flickers in the rain, but I know it won’t go out. Then it’s just me and my saber, alone on Endor.

We pass through the open area together, where there are no trees. It’s about forty steps through there, with the newly made mud seeping into the soles of my boots, which have become more dirty and scuffed over time. I think about how quiet my life is as I make my way forward through the area. My lightsaber looks like a dazzling ruby in comparison to the gray cast around me.

After forty steps, I reenter the forested area. I turn to the right eight paces, until I come to a familiar wall of ivy. I switch my lightsaber off, and push the wet greens away with my right hand. Then I’m home.

First thing to do is make some light. In the back is my small pile of sticks I use as a campfire, with cackling with an orange tinge from the early morning. A little, dry blow on the embers reignites the area immediately. It’s best I don’t go out again during the storm, at least for a while. Luckily I had the foresight to gather some extra berries and fish from by the river before this.

I put the golden tinged fish on a stick and hang it over the fire to cook. I pop some maroon berries into my mouth. They aren’t bad, but they taste overly dry and sweet to me. I’ve had better, but I can’t remember from where. Then all that’s left to do is sit by the fire and watch it.

I wish I didn’t have to use fire. I don’t like the heat, for it is a constant reminder of what it’s taken from me. But cruelly, I need that heat to survive. Some people, like Jarvers and Mur, can’t say the same.

I wonder where Kip and Talik are often. I wonder if the Empire let them go, or if they let them suffocate in space. Maybe there’s not even really a difference. I think Talik would be okay. She’s smart, and she probably seduced some officials to get herself out of it. Kip… I don’t know about Kip. I suppose he could’ve used his father’s political standing to garner some leverage, but he would never have allowed himself to do that. He hates his father far too much to let his pride down. But maybe Talik struck a deal for both of them.

Or maybe she didn’t. Because they both died before anything could’ve happened.

I didn’t even try to save them. I just watched them leave and hopped into space with Garreth, who I also killed. Killed. I’m sixteen years old, nearing seventeen, soon, and I have killed someone. No, not just someone- multiple people. Garreth, Jarvers, Mur, K-19, four Jedi, Omisha, a Haxion Brood guard who I didn’t even know. That makes nine. I am sixteen years old, and I am responsible for the deaths of nine people.

I’m no better than that Clone on Ilum. The one with the yellow stripe, who I see in my dreams. I can see his color in the fire, laughing at me. I can say it, gazing at me with all the malice in the galaxy. It wants to shoot me down and let me bleed out slowly. It wants to watch the light drain from my eyes as it spits on me. It hates me without knowing me, and it’s convincing enough to make me think that maybe I did deserve to be shot and killed.

No, Keres. Don’t do this. You’re safe here. You’re safe here. You’re not on Ilum, or Jakku, or Coruscant. You’re on Endor. The Empire isn’t on Endor, and neither are the Clones. You’re okay.

It’s all lies. My body snaps into a standing position, and I quickly wisp myself over the entrance. I push the vines back again, poking my head out to look around and make sure there’s nobody there. Of course, I see nothing. But I can’t help the hairs on my arms standing up, waiting for someone to snipe me dead center of my forehead. It doesn’t come.

My name is Keres Vagor. I am sixteen. I am on Endor. I am safe.

Now repeat it.

My name is Keres Vagor. I am sixteen. I am on Endor. I am safe.

Again.

My name is Keres Vagor. I am sixteen. I am on Endor. I am not safe.

“Kriff,” I hiss to myself as I march outside. “Kriff. Kriff.”

I want to curse at myself for being so stupid. But I’m already outside, weaving my way down a familiar hiking path as a low sound of thunder booms overhead. The mud sloshes under my feet, brown puddles splashing with every new movement. I’m too preoccupied to count my steps, so I stop abruptly.

Raindrops patter against my skin. They drip down my eyebrows, my nose, and off my eyelashes. They make the old makeup under my eyes mix with my dark circles even further, and my olive skin tone somewhat cleaner in comparison.

“You’re so stupid,” I say to myself. Then I look up to the silver clouds above me and whisper, “I’m so stupid.”

You’re a murderer, Keres.

Something snaps behind me. A twig. I whip around on instinct, hand closing around my lightsaber tightly. For a second, I worry I’ve wandered into Ewok territory, but then I get a grip on myself. The trees aren’t that of Ewoks, and I know the area well enough to understand that they don’t pass this way.

From between the trees, I can see a blur of stark white. My heart gives a great surge as I slip behind one of the larger trees, pressing my back flat against it. There is silence for a few seconds, other than the rain. Then there is more sounds of wood crunching and leaves crinkling. My heart sinks in fear when I hear the all too familiar ‘ksh’, almost as if from a communication device.

“Weird. I could’ve sworn I saw something here.”

No. Please, please no.

“Ah, must’ve been your schizophrenia acting up again.”

“I do not have schizophrenia, and I think you know that.”

“Really?” the second voice questions. “Because you just led us off of our assigned trail to chase nothing.”

“Okay well it’s not my fault for being vigilant.”

“It is if there’s nothing to be vigilant for.”

I recognize to tone of voice. It’s the unique, distorted tone that is only achieved through one kind of helmet.

"Let’s just get back to our trail,” the first voice sighs.

Stormtroopers.

“Whatever,” the second voice says. “Let’s just hope Aegus doesn’t find out about this.”

I listen to the sound of their clunky boots march further and further away. Even after the sound disappears entirely, I stay completely still, holding my breath just in case.

Then I let all my hair out of my lungs, nearly collapsing as I lean over. And I’m forced to realize that I was right. The Clone with the yellow stripe really never did leave me all along. He stayed when the Stormtroopers did, and those are one of the only things in life I may not ever been able to outrun.

I have to make sure they haven’t found my cave. Since I left the fire going, they’ll know someone was there recently. It’d only be a matter of time before they start their search.

I am more than hyper vigilant in my pacing back. I’m constantly looking over my shoulder. Looking to my sides, spinning around and then snapping back forward, trying to identity even a sliver of white to hide from. My toes are poised so carefully, I’m ready to sprint at the softest of sounds.

When I make it back to my secluded wall of ivy, my heart pounds softer than before. It looks completely untouched. Still, I wait a moment to still myself completely before I enter. Once it becomes apparent that that will never happen, I enter anyway.

And everything is the same as I left it. The fish over the fire is now burnt and smelling rotten, but the fire is the same. Lower, but the same. The only thing that is not the same, is the addition to the cave.

All the way in the back, on the other side of the flames and the burning fish, is a figure. Clad in black robes and wielding a cylindrical weapon, he croaks something to me from behind his mask.

“I was beginning to wonder what was taking you so long.”

#star wars #star wars fanfiction #star wars fandom #star wars story #endor #lightsaber #gray jedi #greenlightsaber #red lightsaber #sith #jedi #jedi fallen order

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incarnateirony · 6 years

Text

Let’s talk about subtext. Again.

This is a topic I've talked on before, but at that point, it was a fairly closed-in discussion about the (mis)use of the word "subtext" abroad, especially in regards to intentional undermining of discussion of canon. Lots of people use the word, but nobody really understands what the word means before they use it, even well-intended people, much less people arguing for the sake of argument.

So I'm going to start with this, then put it behind a cut.

I will warn due to the nature of examples, there’s some Megstiel-critical stuff included even if it’s not entirely the core-point of the post. Plenty of disclaimers about your right to fanfiction and your headcanons there but there’s a lot of stuff I’ve noticed Megstiel shippers just... don’t want to read, or something, so if you’re like super duper defensive of the ship, stop while you’re ahead. But for what it’s worth (though I absolutely SHOULD NOT have to disclaimer this, but it’s SPN fandom, so,) Rachel Miner is a doll and my reservation to her or her character does not reflect on her whatsoever. Actors are not their characters, and opinions of characters in no way represent opinions of actors.

But yeah. *points up* subtext.

(Edit: I’m gonna spare everybody a lot of time and say that if you’re a reactive Megstiel shipper that refuses to practice basic self-care or heed the warning, once you read this post in full, also read the notes in full, in order, to prevent any cyclic time wasting repeating yourselves, since you guys seem to have a very linear argument track that I’ve now watched across multiple people on multiple SM platforms. If you hit a redundant point, your only response will be *points at previous notes* or *points at post*, so let’s not waste kilobits. Somebody got there ahead of you and already ran full ouroboros in advance.)

Cool. Got it. So subtext is the underlying spirit of a story, especially if it is implicit and thematic to the piece; Canon I went into extensive detail in this previous post but the basic points to consider in fictional literary canon, since that was fairly single ship focused post; let’s just scrape out a few of the original sourced points on what fictional canon is:

Original works of a writer who created certain characters and/or setting

In fiction, canon is the material accepted as officially part of the story in the fictional universe of that story. The alternative terms mythology, timeline, universe and continuity are often used [...] to refer to a richly detailed fictional canon requiring a large degree of suspension of disbelief, while the latter two typically refer to a single arc where all events are directly connected chronologically.

Other times, the word can mean “to be acknowledged by the creator(s).

I think, in base premise, everyone agrees with the base line of this: Fanfiction is not canon; stuff made by the original creators is canon; elements like mythology, continuity, etc, especially elements directly acknowledged by the creators, are canon. I don't think anyone's going to argue this, and if you are, sit down, Carl.

Don't worry, this isn't going to be a "Destiel is/isn’t canon" post. I've beaten that literary field to death. It's just the continued misuse of the words that is pissing me off right now.

One thing you will notice, however, is that "subtext" is thematic and implicit; and at times, authors have commented on subtext and given approval, nods, or confirmation. In example, despite subtext, those areas are inherently canon, even if never-ever overtly textualized.

But we're gonna go deeper than this, because some people have wrapped and tied it up in their noggins that people have to literally continuously creator-nod at the canon, despite thematic and implicit elements of storytelling that are previously confirmed.

Schroedinger's Canon

If an idea is formerly established, but we don't take the explanation out of the box every time, is it really canon?

(Psst: The answer is actually yes, I’m just being a smartass.)

I'm going to give the simplest examples.

Demons have black eyes (unless of course, they're higher ranking.)

We are aware that this is an established premise.

Early on this was even textually explained.

However, it was never stated that only demons have black eyes.

There are many encounters where a creature flicks their eyes black and we recognize them as a threat. And what kind.

In some of these moments, they are not explicitly labeled as demons. They are just ambiguous bad things if we ignore the meaning to these thematics.

That said, if we don't have a "you're a demon!" or "I'm a demon!" revelation, is that character suddenly not, canonically, a demon?

The simple answer is no. They are still a demon.

The same goes for angels. We are aware of a variety of angelic reasonings and behaviors and elements that were established at some point.

However, there are cases that are not necessarily called out and explicitly labeled "I/they am/are an angel."

Let's take 9.03 "I'm No Angel."

We see a pharmacist attack Castiel. Castiel slays the pharmacist and the pharmacist collapses without any dialogue exchanged to clarify angel-ness, but a bright white flash of light.

In fact, despite only having seen the pharmacist prior jamming to music, the transcript goes so far as to include "He is obviously possessed by an angel."

Why though? Why do we consider this "obvious"? Because there are thematic, subtextual, enduring elements, that even when not spoken, they are implicit. This is the very meaning of canonical subtext.

Canonical subtext is not "A random line I can extrapolate into whatever the hell I want in a given moment removed entirely from scenario." That is just interpretation of a moment. If you're just pulling random lines out of your ass that don't have consistency, that is not subtext. The line is canon. The interpretation, if not built off of established thematic subtext, is just that: an interpretation.

A wild interpretation appears.

Logic is destroyed!

But the fact is, deep down, we all know this. There are thematic, subtextual, enduring elements to the show that we don't need ELI5'ed to us to understand. We may need them ELI5'ed to us to feel the need to win a digital argument with someone you feel is being thicker than Rocky's pectorals, but we don't need it to actually understand these events.

Previously established and enduring premises that are technically subtext to continue to adhere to include:

Demons are bad things, and generally possess people against their will. There have been a few exceptions to this rule, which canon made point to highlight vividly.

Vampires are monsters, and generally drink blood to survive. There have been a few exceptions to this, which canon made point to highlight vividly.

Despite these changes, we all understand the enduring subtextual mechanics involved. Just because Ruby got the medical certificate of her coma patient after Sam grilled her about eco-friendly recycled hosts doesn't mean all demons are choosing coma patients and walking around with their medical records now. Just because we've met a vampire clan that sucks on cows instead of people doesn't mean they all go vegan. Just because exceptional moments of these tennents exist do not mean we should assume this applies to every scenario moving forward, or pretty much the entire scenario of the show goes in the shitter.

Nobody disagrees with me here, right? Pretty sure we all agree here.

So the real point of where "subtext" arguments get obnoxious is when people choose to undermine thematics. It's one thing to not *notice* the thematics initially. Not everybody is a high-acuity meta viewer/reader/writer. Sometimes we don't consciously absorb them or we miss a detail. Sometimes a few years later the authors are bashing their heads off their desk because we're still arguing over a point they tried to make so they write it in neon letters on a character's forehead. But it's another thing entirely to willfully reject thematics.

Let me fall back to these previous examples. Angels, demons, empty vessels, etc.

Ruby recycled her body and made point to do so. In making a point, they evoked a coma patient who was considered braindead. This warranted a clean, empty vessel without a host.

In 5x21, Castiel wakes up in the hospital feeling a bunch of human elements after losing his grace, having been considered brain dead.

Now, we can banter headcanons on day on how exactly we went from (later quote of) exploded by an archangel (previous to this would be Raphael) to a season-gap and then clinically registering as braindead. Logic on my end would indicate Castiel hadn't been strapped up to machines to gauge his brain-dead-ness until then, ergo, nobody was there to gauge that he was brain dead. Unsurprisingly, doctors didn't fly out to test molecularly-recomposed Castiel immediately.

But that's a heck of a random element to include after them slapping it around as a unique item before. While subjecting him to itches, pain, hunger, and headaches suddenly and talking about his lack of mojo.

Well, that's because it's not random, and it's thematic, Carl. The same way it's thematic he acquires those as a human later (and technically previously-later in 5.4), and even Lucifer in season 13. That's because we understand these thematic elements of the story. This is subtext at this point, but this is canon.

(In this example, Castiel is confirmed an empty host in 5x21 in thematic fallback to Ruby's host braindeath, but also confirmed humanized/degraced in both forward and backward thematics.)

These things aren't not-canon simply because they didn't have Chuck step in to narrate it to you. They aren't not-canon. They're definite canon elements that quite definitely reached the screen.

So where is my issue with this?

Well, have an example: Recently, I've been having problems with possible-Megstiel shippers. (I say possible because there’s also been an insurgence of well-known-Castiel-haters brushing shoulders with the Megstiel crowd and rooting for her to come back to respark the ship FIVE YEARS LATER because, IDK, I guess they’re panicking about how gay it’s getting and realized spitting acid at TPTB for years isn’t working so I guess they figure they can try to side-write him off. And when they suddenly pop out being combative AF as below, I mark them as possible anti in Megskin.)

Now, you guys have followed my blog for a while, and you may notice I've never commented left or right about Megstiel, because generally, if people are leaving me and mine alone, I leave them alone. But the genuine fact is I fucking loathe it. It makes me furious to my core. And not "because Destiel shipper." I only went true dumpster season 13 and maybe started tipping towards it around S11. But I hated Megstiel since the concept of it.

So I want you to first imagine this set-up. Me, some friends, Destiel conversation thread. BOOM. Aggro Megstiel shipper kicks in mocking ship superiority. Gets shut down. They stop. Next day, repeat. BOOM, starts talking bullshit about more canon stuff to their ship. Gets mad when people counter. BOOM, kicks in another day, starts saying people only don't like Megstiel because it's a "threat" to Destiel (...I'm not sure how a ship that died 5 years ago is a threat to anything???) - so people start setting this person straight on the reasons they don't like it.

Now, if you're super-defensive of Megstiel, you may want to skip this section, but this boils down to:

Vividly painted consent issues

Lack of honesty in the character

Psychological abuse elements

Psychological is semi-relative but considering Cas' mental state over time, some of his stans aren't fans; Meg isn't the demon's name - it's the name of the girl she possessed, and we never learn more about this demon and who they actually were. But back to the girl she possessed: in 4.2 it was Meg - the real Meg - the human Meg that REALLY manifested the consent issues to light, almost in counter-highlight to Ruby expressly clearing herself of riding with a passenger. And yes, Meg* (asterisk because HONESTY, wtf is your name demon dude/chick/other?) acquired another vessel, but also talked about the girl's aspirations and suicidal attributes. The long and short of it is - some people have a legitimate visceral reaction to this because, especially and of all characters, Meg Masters (human) illustrated this as a problem and then people just sort of wandered off and acted like it was NBD, like, she probs did the same thing as Ruby, right?

Well... no. That's where things hit the line of headcanon. And you have the right to develop your own headcanon to build a little fanfiction corner to do what you want in it, but you don't just get to ram it down everyone's throats and act like "their interpretation of canon is wrong." Not if they’re the one following thematics.

Thematic elements are canon. Excuses around them are headcanon.

This bullshit of “all interpretations are equal regardless of who does or doesn’t have actual canon content and supporting quotes, references, or moments and it’s all just interpretation and nothing is true and there’s no true canon because it’s all an illusion and it’s all interpretation” needs to die.

Otherwise, just deadass admit that you think there is no spoon, there is no canon, and there is no consistency or theme to the writing going on whatsoever at any point.

Because entertainment is art. And yes, you can interpret things. But things do have genuine themes. Supernatural is not one big floating 3D image of floating cubes you squint at that is entirely relative to the viewer. There are in fact stories being told, elements had, and truths within the world setting.

Otherwise, we can randomly choose to extrapolate that Sam’s hair isn’t hair, because it’s never molecularly analyzed, and we can clearly and reasonably argue and be totes-equal-canon if we state it’s actually a bunch of Leviathan Scales stripped into hair shape. And yell that my opinion is as valid as everyone else’s and just as canon as the people who thinks Sam’s hair is hair on a molecular level. Except we can’t. Because there’s common sense and base rules to reading things in context.

Points raised were

"well Meg fell down after exiting so the host is empty." Okay, and an entire fresh-black-cloud-possessed town fell down after a mass exorcism before, so that means what, exactly? Nothing. There is no implication or even premise to that, which is thematic and sound, and in fact, thematic evidence to the contrary.

"Well when Meg exited she got stabbed and she left her so the host died. THEN she came back." Okay first of all, the knife was pulled and she was never actually stabbed, but even if we add the argument she secretly got stabbed off screen (not canon) for her to have died to try to make this an okay argument - Okay, but... if demons could just possess actual corpses, wouldn't that kind of undermine the entire point of The Everything here in picking braindead hosts? Why aren't entire legions possessing graveyards themselves instead of just raising zombies (like Samhain did?) To be dead like that but not dead-dead and only-mostly-dead is a level of devil's advocate that hits the realm of absurdity. Like, they waited until she braindied, but not organ diedededead? What's the odds of it even working like that? ????

THAT ISN’T EVEN HOW BIOLOGY WORKS. There is no implication or even premise to that, which is thematic and sound, and in fact, there is again thematic evidence to the contrary. And past even the thematic evidence to the contrary, you’re now basically going to, what, argue some bazillion to one order of operations where she experienced brain death BEFORE organ death somehow? Is it only interpretation that Sam and Dean probably have to use the bathroom every day cuz it’s only mentioned a few times and that’s the only time those body functions are canon? Common sense on basic body processes is just interpretation now?

And just to clarify for the argumentative shits out there:

It has been proven that demons can continue to occupy dead hosts, if the hosts died while they were in possession. Exorcism of the demon at that point double-deads the host (again, ironically, Meg 1), as they are no longer supernaturally animated. However, a demon has never possessed or repossessed a previously-dead host. (And as above, what would be the FUCKING point of Ruby then? Or ANY of these instances if we can just possess the dead? Of the entire show?)

See examples: Meg 1 was alive when possessed; Meg fell out the building and broke; but Meg was possessed and got back up; Meg died immediately on exorcism because she was no longer supernaturally animated. New vessel was found. Similarly, the boys will kill demons in existing-dead vessels from fatal wounds which they identify, meaning demons continue to animate a host.

There is no instance TO DATE of a demon going into a previously-fully-dead-body, or otherwise, you know, the entire premise goes to shit. Yeah sure Ruby would take care to leave her braindead body on the floor instead of, I don’t know, just swinging through and picking up the first 100% dead chick available. Or she wouldn’t have just done that to begin with and shown Sam the grave or death certificate. Because it’s totally easier to find completely braindead patients than dead people, right? Because again. Thematics guys. Brains. Use the cells in them.

BUT AGAIN, SHE NEVER ACTUALLY GOT STABBED, SHE LEFT CUZ SHE WAS ABOUT TO.

So it’s almost like there is zero reason to even believe canon is trying to make a she-dieded-here excuse because she didn’t get stabbed, and almost like that is all completely arbitrary fanon.

I just felt the need to address how there is no universe that excuse even works in canonically.

Now, if you want to use these headcanons in fanfiction land to write a fanfic where it isn't noncon, that's great. You do that.

But canon has been very, very vivid about clarifying these issues; sometimes bluntly (Ruby's exposition), sometimes subtly (Cas' braindeath post-Ruby's braindeath), sometimes recurring until everyone gets the goddamn point (No, dude, he's alone, and human, he doesn't have other voices; no, dude- that's his heartbeat- no, dude- okay, fine, we'll have Cas explain EXACTLY the period Jimmy died [available in the same bracket] AND show him in heaven to make SURE everybody knows Cas isn't lying because for SOME GOD AWFUL REASON THEY ARE STILL ARGUING WHY.); sometimes they paint it as a story for an episode (cow-vegan vampires), sometimes they paint it almost like someone's changing and have them regress (Benny.) But they paint these elements if they are meant to be painted within canon.

And no, choosing not to ELI-5 these things every single time isn't bad writing. It's them trying to put faith in an audience. At best, it's bad understanding of the volatility of their audience. Much of the art of writing is through subtlety and persuasion. There is nothing more annoying than a villain that monologues his every decision and nothing more condescending than bashing your viewers with kindergarten explanations EVERY. SINGLE. TIME.

But apparently some people in this fandom need that, because otherwise they'll run circles yelling it's just subtext, but that it isn't canon, despite it being subtextual canon, and that maybe the bad thing with black eyes that came from a black cloud wasn't a demon because they never called it a demon maybe it was an ebonyoompaloompa and you can't tell me otherwise because they never said it's a demon and THATS JUST SUBTEXT.

...THAT ISNT HOW THIS WORKS. I don't care if it's about races, about powers, about story elements, or about ships. Thematic, implicit, enduring subtext is canon. I honestly don't give a shit if you like the canon implications, and if you don't like the canon implications, that's what fanfiction is *for*, but this is not some ambiguous void in which the universe doesn't have any true rules whatsoever just because they don't stop to explain literally every single event happening on screen at any given moment.

This fandom is one of THE. MOST. FRUSTRATING. PLACES. to even TRY to hold literary discussions in. Because people don't just move the canon goalpost, they just flail it around wildly while telling people nobody can hit or declare what a goalpost is and that everything is irrelevant and there is no goalpost, and there is no canon, only Zuul, and again, THAT ISNT HOW THIS WORKS.

But while we’re at it, why the HELL is the ship called Megstiel? We are fully aware that is the name of the human girl that was screaming about consent. Why aren’t more people bothered by the continued use of her name? Nonamestiel? Anonstiel? What even is this? She’s not only walking around with a (generously, at-best) questionable consent host, she’s freely using the name of her last dead, terrified, used and abused host and Megstiel fans seem to not understand why people have HUGE squick issues with this.

Regressively, they tried to take a potshot at Destiel and Jimmy with season 4-5. At which point they claimed, blindly, I was moving the goalpost with the following points:

Destiel launched 4.1, Meg addressed this 4.2.

Not everyone is a meta author deeply considering these things *IMMEDIATELY*

This is different from aggressively resisting the ideas years after the idea was entered into central fandom narrative

Generally speaking the Destiel fandom of that era adapted by writing fanfiction to alleviate the shared vessel issue, or OT3 fics that involved his consent, or ironically actually wrote fics premised exactly on what happened (Jimmy died at a splodey advent and was released) and was confirmed even hammer-on-head-blatantly in canon.

Trying to yell at or about people who literally didn’t know better because it wasn’t even a spark in the common mind at the time, versus aggressively refusing to accept it years after it became an accepted thematic canon establishment, are two wildly different things Carl.

Blameshifting, gaslighting, goalpost moving; it’s all ridiculous. But we can cull goalpost moving. Again, about *any* part of narrative discussion. Because most importantly and essentially, subtext is actually a very important part of our everyday viewing experience and understanding of entire universes, as long as it is true, implicit, thematic subtext.

I’ve also heard the comment “I’ve wished they clarified that more for Meg.” Well... no? Has it come to mind they never wanted to clarify it? They clarified Ruby at the same time (Human) Meg screamed about consent. They clarified Castiel. But Meg just jumped vessels and kept using the name of the girl that was screaming about consent. Talked about her host’s mental state. Did not redeem for years after the fact. Had no real compulsion to do so. Her redemption WAS her highlight of learning at least a *few* of her mistakes (though it failed to address many of them, respectively), and being different than Just Another Demon. *points at the various demon subtext above* If they wanted to clarify that... well... they would have. They did with the others. Unsurprisingly, they didn’t with her.

And people can say that’s just an interpretation, but son, that’s the canon. That is literally what is there, through and through, in the canon. Top down left and right from origin to sunset. Demons Are Bad Smoky Things That Turn People’s Eyes Black And Have Little Moral Compass And Possess People Without Consent Unless Given Active Resistance To Make Them Act To The Contrary is canon. “But passing out implies empty” is not canon; new hosts have done that too; “But she got stabbed so could be dead” is not canon, because if she died, well, how the hell was she possessed again beyond Magical Fairies Preventing Her From Organ Death In Spite Of Braindeath While She Bled Out? - these things are not remotely canon. They are not even subtext. They are not thematic. They are headcanon. And again, you are free to have a headcanon in your fic land, but you don’t get to act like the canon of other stuff isn’t there and just tell everyone else they’re being mean/wrong/whatever for... reading... the content... both textual... and thematic... that is there.

And this is tumblr. I fully expect one of the Megstiel fans to come crawling buttchapped out of the woodwork, but I do defer you to

Your friend crawling our asses for days and seeking us out just to argue

The lead in that wasn’t just purely about Megstiel, as much as inspired by a Megstiel conversation, and still addresses broader fandom narratives

Why you so mad, bro.

If you want to have a problem, send me an ask and we can make a new thread about it. This thread is for literary discussion only. You *will* be blocked if you try to start a troll-off over it in hyper-super-inflated-defensive-psycho-shipper-mindset running off of emotion rather than logic, especially after as many disclaimers and “enjoy your fanfiction” labels as are present.

But the bullshit claim I encountered today that these reservations are “just shipwar wank” rather than upset survivors and/or people with disassociative or similar episodes being terrified and horrified by the presented concept is so fucking trivializing I could vomit glass.

Or that it’s “most” people just using it for shipwar wank. You don’t get to decide who has abuse survivor history, or MHI history, that could be deeply and fundamentally bothered by this. Whether or not you have a survivor card of your own, you don’t get to decide that. If it doesn’t bother you, great. Yet again: Enjoy your fanfiction. And if reading these repeated drilldowns about the canon problematic nature of it bothers you when everything else is rando excuses, then consider why it bothers you to be given those excuses in fanon but not canon spaces, and consider how those of us who take issue with it for these issues feel every time you drop it into conversation like a nuke.

And the thing is, it’s not just Megstiel. Not by a long shot. Like I said, I’ve stayed quiet on Megstiel through the course of my time in digital fandom. Most of the time, I’m laughing out bullshit from bronlies that are completely revisionist. Sometimes, I butt heads with other Destiel shippers (generally wherein they read my “subtext can be valid canon” and think I’m saying “queer people should settle for subtext”, of which these statements are not connected nor implied. Not even in thematic subtext.)

And again, like in the previously mentioned, previous post about subtext, canon and literary discussion: Even applying any Death of the Author excuses is wildly abused. There’s a goddamn spoon, Neo, and I’m going to smack you with it. Because when they’ve managed to collaboratively manifest these details into fruition and they have in fact aired, you can’t just run around yelling NOOOOO at everything. You can’t just pitch random excuses like spitwads into conversation hoping they stick to the wall. Content needs to be reviewed in full context. Otherwise you are literally spit-balling.

Even the most generous styles of literary analysis will tell you that, unless your interpretation is literally that it is a completely abstract piece with no intent, continuity, objective, moral, thematics or anything like a Wassily Kandinsky painting, and even then he had SOME sort of premise to his stuff. But hey, if you want to write a fully, top to bottom, consistent and thematic analysis where literally the entire show is made in an arbitrary and random nonlinear hodgepodge of non-events, by all means. It’ll be pretty hard to convince people, but go for it. You’ll probably be up against far more solid readings, though.

If we want to get into “full context analysis” while trying to diminish actual content in the series, then the time comes to argue if any content can be removed from the series, due to seeming non-canonical; getting everyone to adhere to this revised canon is its own feat, of course, and is instead a side branch of alternate canon which may or may not be widely accepted (just as in literary canon, there’s multiple canons for different genres, etc.)

An example of a premise for this would be:

I genuinely believe Megstiel only exists because all related episodes of initiation (notwithstanding her flirting with Cas like Demons Do in previous seasons, where he complied only long enough to THROW HER AS A BRIDGE TO WALK OVER FIRE, but instead to season six where it started tilting) were penned by rookie authors during a season that has been proven to have poor executive story editing and many plotholes. Initiating episodes were written by new authors on their first and second episodes, while the one writing the teleplay was simultaneously among the story editors that were failing in other areas, making double-checking their work even more dangerous. Failures to address issues like seeing her true face and more, which were previously established, can easily be considered as part of this.

(Before 6.10 Caged Heat Jenny Klein only wrote 5.07; she co-wrote with Brett Matthews, who previously only wrote 6.05 Live Free or Twihard. Brett Matthews was also credited exec story editor on this episode. So two newbies cowrote an episode and then story edited it themselves. In a season full of plot holes big enough to fly a Boeing 747 through so nobody upstairs was doing tighten-up work either.)

This would be an argument to try to strike it from canon considering standard elements of even non-direct non-Megstiel-ick, just why-didn’t-he-see-her-face wumbo sized oversights.

However, despite however logical this may seem to a large swathe of people, I am not snorting enough crack to think I can convince the entire fandom to consider this and revise the fandom wide canon acceptance. Ergo, I will not premise an authentic argument from it.

But that’s about what your other options are if you want to, say, try to scrub out thematics of demonic possession/exorcism effects or whatever else.

Ironically, the antis that yell a bunch of long-disproven points about Destiel, who are grudgeshipping Megstiel, are stepping foot in the same things they falsely yell are problematic. Even if we argued huge devil’s advocates on Meg’s life state as... dead and her reanimating her post-full-death after exiting at some point... then that’s necro? Like they try to claim Destiel is necro, despite Cas being explicitly divine-revived and having his own heart beat on multiple occasions afterwards since then, thus not being dead? Or that it’s noncon, despite canon aggressively clarifying time and again since as far back as season 5 that it isn’t? Or the above-mentioned pulled survivor card trying to speak for all people with that survivor card; is it because they tried to pull the “angels trigger me because of church abuse” card and got told to watch another show? Because... like. SPN is literally about magical creatures and angels, that’s part of what you sign on for. We don’t sign on for central themes of rape, incest, pedophilia or any other wild shit. There’s other TV shows for that. That isn’t this show. If angels bother you, practice basic self care. Just like my self care involves avoiding Megstiel episodes, or any episodes with T.A.W. in them.

Do they think they’re gonna pull an “ah hah, gotcha” if they make someone argue it? Because... these... these things aren’t parallel. Not even close. And at the risk of sounding like “my ship is better than your ship,” they’ve made a point of removing these problems for one character, and with the other character, repeatedly narratively highlighted these issues directly as enduring issues. So whatup with the super ironic grudge shipping?

Oh, lemme guess. “Subtext.”

...*looks up at the wall of everything above*

Myeah, no, that’s not gonna work.

#supernatural #canon #subtext #literary discussion #megstiel critical

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liminal8 · 5 years

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2/11

I’ve been meaning to do something like this for a while, especially since this tour started. In truth ‘blogging’ - or something like it - has been a childhood ambition of mine, ask any of my high school friends (it was kind of a running joke). I feel like now might be as appropriate a time as any to start something like this. Also so I really don’t like people who don’t practice what they preach. I have a strong opinion and hope that everyone will go for stuff they want to do without hesitation or fear of judgment. Personally, fear of judgment has been something that’s always loomed over my decisions to do or not to do, and as I recently discovered, has really been a hindrance in my singing. Like, physically causing tension in how I sing. I’m rambling, but the point is: go for it. This is me going for it.

I’m driving from Columbus to Chicago right now on a ‘travel day.’ I guess we’re eleven shows into the tour now, which is insane. It’s going by so fast. Birmingham feels like a year ago. I’ve been to so many places already in this short amount of time, and have many more miles to go still. If I can say anything, it’s that I’m thankful. I’m really trying to consciously be present in each moment, this time - when it’s just the four of us traveling across the country - may not exist like this again. I could die tomorrow! Making every second matter is important to me. I think some of the most memorable moments so far for me, as I take a second to reflect -

- Walking out on the stage at The Saturn in Birmingham (hours before the show), and thinking ‘holy shit, this is the kind of room I would have gone to in high school to see one of my favorite bands!’ A venue in the early hours of a show day is somewhat enchanting. It has so much potential. It’s this big space that is just waiting to be filled - with music and people alike. Being a part of this thing that happens to an empty room is really cool, especially having been on the other side of it for so long (as a concert goer).

- Again, in Birmingham, hearing a large part of the room singing the words to Something I’ve Been Waiting On, when there is no reason they heard the song before the show. It’s been very strange, in the best way possible, to look out at each crowd and see people singing the words to my songs. This is still something I haven’t fully processed, and I’m so grateful for you is all I can put to concrete words now. But this moment, which is a repeat thing in our sets, stood out especially on this first night in Birmingham because I could hear the crowd singing over my in-ears. That’s pretty impressive given they are molded to my ear canal to block out outside sound.

- Driving into the city of DC. Driving through Philadelphia. We’re towing a fairly big trailer behind our van, and navigating the narrow and hectic streets of one of these cities (can’t take credit for New York, all Noah there) is nerve-racking, to say the least. I’ve learned it’s a do or die attitude that’ll get a southern boy, like myself, through a situation like that. If you let fear or doubt into your brain, you’re doomed - trust your instincts! At least that’s what I’m going to keep telling myself.

- Staying the night in this really creepy hotel where the only channel on the TV was the Twilight Zone. We are getting to experience a lot of hotels. Most have been normal, this one was not. But as you know if you’ve coordinated driving a trailer, unloading that trailer, parking, setting up a bunch of gear, taking down all that gear, re-loading the trailer, and finding your way out of NYC on a cold rainy night, any bed is a welcomed bed at 2 AM.

- Noah somehow getting us out of a closed-off street we’d parked on through a parking garage that we couldn’t fit through. This was just one of those situations where my thoughts were ‘well, we’re either getting out of this or we’re sleeping in the middle of this parking garage.’ Luckily, with the help of an attendant, we managed to back out and onto the street. By then the construction vehicles had cleared a path for us.

- Most recently, when we started playing the first song of our set, King of Nothing, and the whole front of the Columbus crowd was jumping and going wild. That was really cool to instantly connect with a crowd like that. As a listener and concert-goer myself, I understand the inherent skepticism that comes when seeing an opening / new band. A band needs to earn your respect, at least in my opinion. In a commercial market, given the desire to be commercial, earning an audience’s approval and trust is important.

This tour has been good. It’s been very rewarding and exciting. It’s also been eye-opening and challenging. Being on a real tour like this is a whole other level. Obviously. But just stuff that you, or at least I, didn’t think about reveals itself. Since it’s just the four of us, we really have to be on top of all the minute and mundane details that will bite you in the ass, such as realizing no one has found a place to stay after the show, so you end up spending a ridiculous amount of money on a hotel. There’s also a lot of lifting and carrying stuff. Around the block, up a flight of stairs? What’d you expect!’ I personally don’t mind that when all is said and done, as it helps ‘keep me in shape,’ or so I tell myself. Navigating cities, waking up early to be on time, lots of stuff. I’ve got to give a huge shout out to all of our parents for their help - both emotionally and financially. Our workload (outside of the music) is a fraction of what it would be without them.

That’s all for today. I don’t know how regularly I’m gonna do this. When I want to. And who knows what I’ll write about. But that’s where we’re leaving it today. If you have questions or topics you’d like to hear incorporated please let me know. Hanging in Chicago tonight, back at it at Lincoln Hall tomorrow night.

Graham Laderman

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katherinelhughes · 5 years

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Ireland Impressions

I just returned yesterday from a five-day trip to Ireland with my daughter, Isabelle. She is applying to grad schools, and this last summer I let her know that I had AAdvantage miles that needed to be used. I thought she might use them to travel to interviews, but it turns out that in the world of Biology, the schools pay for prospective students to come interview. I realized yet again that I chose a difficult field--as a free-lance professional violinist, I’ve gotten used to paying to play, so to speak... Anyway, she suggested that we take a trip to Ireland. She works in a lab with someone who had gone there on his honeymoon, and he had very enthusiastically recommended that she go.

Without going into a lot of detail, Isabelle had a run-in with a virulent virus (I know that’s redundant) in September. The virus caused some frightening seizures which resulted in two hospitalizations. We weren’t sure that we would be able to go on our trip, scheduled for the end of November. So when Isabelle got the okay from her doctors, it was excellent news, in many ways.

We had held off making hotel reservations, but fortunately the end of November is off-season in Ireland. Ordinarily I would have done a lot of research to decide where to visit and where to stay, but the last-minute nature of our planning made that impossible. Maybe the more spontaneous approach to this adventure made it more satisfying. Also, thanks to crowd-sourced reviews of everything on the internet, gone are the days of toting guidebooks around. Our last big trip was to Munich and environs--eight years ago--and we definitely did that the old-fashioned way.

Okay, I’ll get on with it. We actually had five full days in Ireland, bookended by two days of travel. The airline travel was unremarkable, which might be remarkable, now that I think of it. Our plan was to spend one night in Dublin, two nights in Galway, one night in Cork, and the last night back in Dublin.

Day One: Dublin

Our hotel was just south of the River Liffey in the City Centre. We took a cab there from the airport and dropped off our suitcases so we could immediately start exploring. On our way to see the library at Trinity College, we ran across a cool exhibit of art books at a gallery. A good start. At the library we learned that only a facsimile of the Book of Kells (the famous medieval manuscript) would be on display that week. Not a big deal, especially since the library itself was awe-inspiring. I overheard someone saying something about Harry Potter, and we learned that they had shot a library scene there. It was also featured in one of the later Star Wars movies. Did that make it more meaningful to me? I’m almost ashamed to admit that it may have... We also visited the Guinness Storehouse in the early evening. It’s described as a “brewery experience”. A bit too theme-parkish for my taste, but I definitely know more about the process of brewing beer in huge quantities! The top floor bar where we had our complimentary pint has a 360 degree view of the city. We had two great meals that day, both at pubs. I have a much different impression of what pub food is now--many vegetarian and even vegan options.

Day Two: Dublin to Galway

A few days before our trip, I literally awoke in a cold sweat about driving on the left side of the road. My colleague Catherine had given this advice, to be used as a mantra: drive on the left and look to the right. We were picking up the rental car, and I would be the only driver--Isabelle isn’t able to drive for six months from the time of the last seizure. The weather was pretty intense--driving rain and wind. I thought it was charming that so many people apologized for the weather. We had escaped just before a big snow in Chicago, so I kept assuring folks that we had seen worse! The driving challenge turned out to be my position on the right side of the car. It took me an entire day of Isabelle saying “Mom, you’re over the line!” to get used to centering the car in my lane. Driving on the left side wasn’t as weird as I had thought it would be. And I think the roundabouts are brilliant. They keep traffic flowing, and cause fewer accidents than traffic lights.

We had breakfast/early lunch at Tyrrellspass Castle, and continued on to another castle at Tullamore--Charleville. Evidently, they have an annual music festival there called Castlepalooza. They were shooting a rock video when we arrived, and we weren’t able to go in, but the drive up to it was downright magical. That was a word that kept popping into my head over and over. The rain and temperate climate cause the vegetation to be green, even in late November. That, along with the mist and ancient trees, conjured up images of fairy tale enchanted forests.

We decided that we would go directly to the Cliffs of Moher since it looked like it would be rainy the following day. The drive up there was pretty harrowing. We were on rural roads that narrowed without much notice, and I was still trying to hone my new driving skills. What a reward when we arrived though! The cliffs at the edge of the Atlantic are ruggedly breathtaking. Because it was off-season and relatively late in the day, there were very few tourists. And there were sheep grazing right next to the trails--even a proverbial black sheep. They are the “Shaun the Sheep” type with the black faces, and both Isabelle and I are big fans. It’s too bad that today I started thinking about the fact that they are livestock and not pets...

When I started the car at the Cliffs, two warning lights came on. We looked them up--Electronic Stabilization Control and Emission Control. I figured we could make it to Galway, but we knew we would have to address the issue the next day. Thankfully, we did get there with no trouble. Our hotel was once again in the City Centre. About a block away was a Christmas market with food stalls and some carnival rides. Before we left home, I had wondered how commercial Christmas would be in Ireland. We learned that decorations generally go up a day after Halloween, so I guess that the US isn’t the only place that extends the holiday to last over two months. But to us, everything looked so quaint suspended over cobblestone streets. There is also an upscale Irish department store, Brown Thomas, that does some wackily inventive holiday windows. In Galway, one featured a male mannequin with an owl’s head. We had another great dinner--excellent farm to table food and a vegan local beer.

Day Three: Galway

We finally had a chance to sleep in! Then, unfortunately, we had to drop the car at an Enterprise-approved car repair facility for diagnosis. It was very close to the City Centre, so we walked to the Fisheries Watchtower (museum) and the Galway Museum. The wind was fierce--equal to anything I’ve experienced in Chicago, but that weather was over by 2 PM or so. At the museum, we learned about the ancient and more recent history of the city, including the Irish uprising against the British. I know through 23andMe that my DNA makeup is 41% British and Irish, the largest percentage in the mix. 23andMe doesn’t specify English, Scottish, Welsh, or Irish--I’m probably all of the above. We're pretty sure that the Hughes name comes from Wales, and our background is pretty thoroughly Protestant. I grew up with the impression that the Reformation was a positive thing, and that the Protestants held the moral high ground. But in this phase of my political thinking, my belief is that religious differences have most often been used to justify` the lust for power and the control of natural resources and goods. I also just finished an amazing book on the trip--”Fantasyland: How America Went Haywire” by Kurt Andersen. The US was founded by some pretty crazy Protestants, and I can’t take much pride in the ways that they behaved. Anyway, the visit to Ireland has led me to wonder what my ancestors’ political roles were in these struggles for independence.

We had savory pie for lunch--mine was kale and wild mushroom, locally sourced again, with spelt flour crust. Isabelle and I agreed that it was our favorite meal of the trip. We had to go back to the car repair place, and they informed us that we needed to get a replacement vehicle. This gave us the opportunity to talk with the lovely young woman from the Enterprise facility in Galway, the longest conversation we had with any local on the trip. The replacement car was newer and better, and they gave us a free day’s rental, so it was a win-win-win situation! We briefly visited the gorgeous Galway Cathedral where a nice man let us in even though they had just officially closed. We also heard some Irish traditional music, and ate at yet another farm to table restaurant. Incidentally, the prices were really reasonable compared to Chicago prices for similar food.

Day Four: Galway to Cork

Isabelle figured that Limerick would be a great place to stop on our way to Cork. We ended up spending much more time there than we had planned. After a great mocha (my first time trying oat milk) and breakfast, we went exploring. There was a mostly ruined castle, King John’s Castle, that had an excellent museum component that inspired more rumination on the conflicts between the different factions in the British Isles. And very nearby was the 850 year old Cathedral of St. Mary. Very impressive to us Americans when we’re inside a building with that kind of history...

We decided to visit Blarney Castle on our way to Cork, and it was much more captivating, and much less touristy than I had imagined. As we approached the castle on foot, we passed signs that read “90 minutes to the Blarney Stone”, “60 minutes to the Blarney Stone” etc. We were once again grateful that we were there in the off-season. Our wait to kiss the Blarney Stone was...0 minutes! Yes, we did it. There are many stories about the Stone, but the most common is that it gives you the gift of gab, and not in a good way. But I figure I can use the gift of gab--everyone always tells me that I’m too quiet and very private. Wow--it may already be working, since I’m writing this long involved post about our vacation! Surrounding the castle is a gorgeous park that is truly a botanical garden, including a poison garden. That traditionally would have had medicinal plants that “will either kill you or cure you.” There were huge redwoods, oversized rhubarb plants, a spectacular fern garden with waterfall--magical, you might say!

We went on to Cork, found our B & B, and went into the City Centre for another excellent meal. We wandered around, figuring out what we wanted to do there the next morning. There was a large courtyard with a light display called “Glow” that was set to open the next day. Also a ferris wheel that seems to be a standard part of a Christmas market--who knew? Our B & B was pretty cool, but the woman who ran it seemed disappointed that we hadn’t opted for the breakfast part of the equation. We had our sights set on a coffee place we had seen on our reconnaissance mission...

Day Five: Cork to Dublin

We did go to the Bean and Leaf, and it was very near to the English Market that we planned to visit. The English Market is a covered food market that houses a huge variety of fresh grocery items. We wondered about the origins of the name, and found out that the English or Protestant Corporation that ran Cork untl the mid 1800′s founded it. It catered to a wealthy clientele while the Irish Market catered to the working class folk. Now, everyone goes there, and they have all of the super-trendy foods that you would find in an upscale grocery store in the states. We bought a few things there, walked around a bit more, and got in the car to head to our last big adventure.

Almost as ubiquitous as the sheep on the hillsides were the rainbows. We saw a few every day that we were driving, including a couple of double rainbows. The conditions were perfect--light rain, followed by the sun breaking through the clouds. Now I understand the whole leprechaun and pot of gold at the end of the rainbow image. They seem so...magical!

I think it was the vinyl record store we checked out in Cork that got us onto the subject of rock operas. On our next car ride we listened to Pink Floyd’s “The Wall”. It was one of the few times we listened to music in the car. Most of the time the British-accented Google Maps lady was telling us where to go--”take the slip-road on the left.” Thank goodness for Google Maps! It would have been difficult to navigate all of those one-way streets with me driving on the left, using an old-fashioned map... Anyway, it was a pretty long stretch on a main road to get us to our next destination: the Wicklow Mountains at Glendalough. The same mountain range extends into Dublin where they’re called the Dublin Mountains. It was astoundingly beautiful there--and the smells were so fresh and fragrant. We hiked a very short trail that took about 50 minutes, but it gave us the flavor of the park. We had lunch at the Glendalough Hotel. And that reminds me--many of our servers, especially in the Dublin area, were young Eastern Europeans. Evidently, Ireland is a very popular place to look for better job opportunities, and a better life in general. We did remark on the fact that we saw very few people of color though. I want to find out why that is the case. It does make me wonder about ethnic and religious homogeneity. Would I have felt such an affinity for Ireland if I weren’t white and culturally Christian?

On the way down the mountain and back to Dublin, we listened to “Thick as a Brick” by Jethro Tull. Isabelle had never heard it before. I thought it had an appropriately Celtic feel, and was loosely in the rock opera genre. We listened to a few Irish artists as we were making our way back into Dublin in Friday evening traffic. We checked into our last hotel, did a bit of last-minute souvenir shopping, and ate at a pub with live music. The two musicians played mostly traditional Irish music, but also included a few American tunes. It was kind of a fitting transition since we would be heading to the airport in the morning.

I am so grateful that Isabelle was well enough that we could make this trip. She was a great traveling companion, and our energy levels were very well matched. We shared a similar idea of the optimum balance between planning and spontaneity. I’m not sure how to wrap this up except to say: Travel with your adult children! Go to Ireland in the off-season! Enjoy the rainbows!

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