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madara-fate · 3 years

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If Kishimoto really wants people to believe that Sasuke loves Sakura and that they have such a good marriage then he's doing a piss poor job at it. You don't see people arguing if Minato loved Kushina or not or if Dan loved Tsunade or not. You don't. The fact that there are so many people arguing whether Sasuke loves Sakura or not, and many people believing he doesn't is just proof that Kishimoto failed somewhere or else there wouldn't be this much controversy surrounding this matter. It's either Kishimoto implying Sasuke does not love her, either Kishimoto intending to portray his idea of a good realtionship/loving husband through SS and failing miserably. Sasuke did not look happy when he saw Sakura in Gaiden first time after 10 years of absence. He couldn't even bother to send a letter to her and Sarada to let them know he was alright and thinking about them during this period. And no, please don't come at me with that bullshit excuse that he didn't keep in contact because he wanted to keep the secrecy of his mission and did not want any private information to leak and that's why he was only keeping in contact with the Hokage or whatever. No one says that if he ever bothered to write them he had to go into details about his mission. He could've just told them he's alright, that he misses them and hopes they're fine and that would've been great too and wouldn't have compromised his mission in any way. The man has space time abilities for fuck's sake. He could've easily teleported to see them and then go back to his business. In my opinion Kishimoto wrote SS in this ambiguous way to appease both the SS haters and the SS shippers. He knew SS fans were going to be happy with whatever he threw at them even if it was the absolute bottom of the barrel and he knew the antis were gonna have a good time using Gaiden to further tear the ship apart. This man is either terrible at writing romance either a huge troll who enjoys pitying his readers against each other. Or maybe both. And I assure you, I don't even hate SS, despite what I have written so far, nor do I ship something else. And Sasuke is also my favorite character. I'm indifferent to this pairing and maybe that's why I can have a more objective opinion on it than its shippers or its haters since I'm not biased due to personal feelings of either distaste or love for it. SS can be seen in both a good and a bad light, but to be honest the balance is more inclined towards the bad light.

This is just more of the stuff that I've heard plenty of times before. I'll firstly preface this by saying that I'm very highly critical of Gaiden because it included pointless drama for the sake of pointless drama. It's execution was horrendous to say the least, but I'll always still appreciate the message that Kishi was trying to relay. However, I will always take issue with those who defend the notion that Sasuke doesn't love Sakura. Hence, the following.

You don't see people arguing if Minato loved Kushina or not or if Dan loved Tsunade or not. You don't. The fact that there are so many people arguing whether Sasuke loves Sakura or not, and many people believing he doesn't is just proof that Kishimoto failed somewhere or else there wouldn't be this much controversy surrounding this matter.

Minato wasn't drowning in hatred due to a supernatural phenomenon which cause him to push away love in favour of the darkness. Dan wasn't made to undertake a preposterously long mission while intending to keep everything about it confidential. Why on earth do people think they can just compare any random relationships to SS's and go "well look at this couple! Why couldn't SS have been more like them?". Well here's your answer - Because their situations were nothing alike. But why do people constantly believe that those relationships are the only models for what a loving relationship can be? The struggles that Sasuke and Sakura faced during Gaiden were not due to issues with each other, but rather, they were shown facing hurdles which they overcame together. They were perfectly happy with each other, and not once did their dedication to one another ever falter during Sasuke's mission. Just because the couple faced hard times does not mean their bond is any weaker. On the contrary, the fact they they faced those hard times together and came out of them just as strong if not stronger than before, is a testament to the strength of the relationship.

You wanna know what I don't see? I don't see people questioning Neji and Hinata's relationship despite Neji trying to kill her during the Chuunin Exams. I don't see people questioning Hiashi's feelings towards Hinata despite essentially disowning her because he deemed her to be a failure. I don't see people questioning Gaara being the Kazekage despite him previously being feared as a killing machine who slaughtered many innocent people, by the very same villagers who now respect him as their leader. I don't see people questioning why Kabuto was trusted to become the head of the Orphanage and taking care of the future of the village, despite being a notorious war criminal. No, but of course people will question SS right? Despite them just being another example of the same theme.

It's either Kishimoto implying Sasuke does not love her, either Kishimoto intending to portray his idea of a good relationship/loving husband through SS and failing miserably.

Kishi flat out said, that the love between the Uchiha family is the real deal. He's not implying anything, and if he truly failed at depicting this, then SS wouldn't have consistently proven to be the most popular canonised pairing for years following the manga's ending.

Sasuke did not look happy when he saw Sakura in Gaiden first time after 10 years of absence.

And you think that's indicative that he doesn't love her? Are you serious? The entire time, Sasuke was very clearly shown to be aggravated because people who weren't supposed to be at his and Naruto's secret meeting place kept showing up. He didn't look happy when first meeting Naruto either, despite not seeing him for just as long. So what? You think that means he doesn't care about Naruto either? He was aggravated that Sarada was there because she was supposed to be in the village safe from all this, he was annoyed with Naruto for allowing the kids to follow him in the first place, and yeah, he didn't jump for joy when seeing Sakura because again, she was meant to be watching over Sarada in the village. One of the biggest incentives for his secrecy was to keep Sarada safe, and everything that was happening then, was the opposite of that.

He couldn't even bother to send a letter to her and Sarada to let them know he was alright and thinking about them during this period. And no, please don't come at me with that bullshit excuse that he didn't keep in contact because he wanted to keep the secrecy of his mission and did not want any private information to leak and that's why he was only keeping in contact with the Hokage or whatever. No one says that if he ever bothered to write them he had to go into details about his mission. He could've just told them he's alright, that he misses them and hopes they're fine and that would've been great too and wouldn't have compromised his mission in any way.

You can call it a "bullshit excuse" all you want, but that doesn't change the fact that this is the reason that was given. But it's like people just refuse to acknowledge the fact that Sasuke admitted that he had made a big mistake, and refused to allow Sakura to apologise because he knew that he was the one at fault:

I mean what? Do people think that Sasuke has to be perfect or something? Is he not a human who makes mistakes just like everyone else? Sasuke knew that he took his secrecy too far, he hadn't anticipated the adverse affects his absence would have on Sarada, and he apologised for his mistake. Why? Because he cares, for goodness sake it's not hard to comprehend. I seriously would have never thought that people would actually question whether or not he loves his family. Why would Kishi promote a loveless marriage in his manga aimed at young boys? It just boggles the mind. If Sasuke didn't care about them, he wouldn't have thought he did anything wrong by his lack of contact with his daughter. I emphasise with his daughter because Sakura was still somewhat in contact with Sasuke as she was kept informed of what he was doing.

In my opinion Kishimoto wrote SS in this ambiguous way to appease both the SS haters and the SS shippers.

Why would Kishi care about appeasing the same fans who harassed him so badly following the manga's conclusion, that his editior had to respond in broken English and basically tell those entitled children that the story doesn't belong to them? I'll reiterate that there's nothing "ambiguous" about their relationship, nor is Kishi implying anything. Gaiden made it crystal clear, that the love between the Uchiha family is the real deal, there's nothing ambiguous about that statement, there's nothing ambiguous about Sasuke giving Sakura the forehead poke, and there's nothing ambiguous about Sasuke flat out clarifying that his heart is connected to Sakura's.

#Sasuke Uchiha #Sakura Haruno #sasusaku

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true-blue-megamind · 3 years

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Fan Theory Thursday – The Not-So-Evil Overlord?

Shhh… Want to hear a secret? Come closer... SPOILER ALERT!

Okay, this one delves a little deep into the imaginative side of Megamind fan theories, however I believe it holds enough interest and has enough support to be well worth discussing. There is a supposition which I frankly love: our favorite blue alien was an Overlord of sorts before he briefly took control of Metro City, and he had good reasons to be so. That might sound a little crazy, but bear with me.

This idea has appeared in several fan fictions, and essentially goes as follows: Megamind was more than a supervillain; he was also a crime boss, and he chose that path for the most unlikely of reasons. Bizarre though it may seem, his primary drive was bettering Metro City. (And, yes, I’m aware of how contradictory that sounds.) However, it’s logical when considered more closely. By making himself the de facto ruler of the city’s underbelly, Megamind was able to control crime to an extent, probably even setting limits on certain activities, and guidelines for others. In the majority of fan fictions using this concept, that includs things like reducing violent crime, setting purity standards and purchase limits for narcotics, and ensuring sex workers were neither underage nor abused.

I’ll be the first to admit that, on the surface at least, this seems like nothing more than fans seeking to justify or even moralize a beloved character, but research reveals that there is actually some support for this theory. Firstly, there is the fact, touched upon previously in the Fan Theory post concerning the Warden, that Megamind was clearly already establishing control over other criminals at a young age. While writing a truly wonderful blog article, Demishock actually went through the trouble of deciphering the newspaper clipping shown at the beginning of the film’s title sequence. It contains, among other things, a reference to the fact that, although an elementary school age child, Megamind was feared and obeyed by other inmates at the prison where he grew up. A quote from the Warden reads: “I've got experienced, hardened criminals in here who are afraid of him.” The article goes on to mention an incident which involved a few other inmates, adding that “the other prisoners refused to point fingers for fear of retaliation.”

It is quite possible that Megamind was already building and consolidating a base of power.

Next, there is the fact that the blue man seems to have lines he won’t cross, even as the self-proclaimed Evil Overlord. In one of the storyboards, when Megamind is approached by the Doom Syndicate, he clearly holds them in disdain, yet they are careful to placate him. Obviously they have somewhat different standards. When Agent Orange—who was later reimagined as Psycho-Delic before being cut from the film entirely—compares Megamind’s “inspirational” defeat of Metro Man to “a car crash on prom night,” the blue alien looks rather disgusted. Although they refer to celebrating his victory, it also seems the Doom Syndicate may be indirectly asking Megamind’s permission to go on a crime spree. While this may be because he is the new Overlord, it seems odd that other villains would immediately leap to the assumption such approval is necessary if they were accustomed to acting on their own. However, if they were already in the habit of requesting the blue alien’s sanction, their actions make more sense.

youtube

Whatever the case, it seems that, once again, Megamind and the Doom Syndicate may have very different ideas of what sorts of crimes are acceptable. The Destruction Worker refers to “really putting the screws to the city,” while Agent Orange adds his desire to “swim in the torment of the innocent.” However, these suggestions don’t seem to match what we actually see Megamind doing. In the movie, Megamind does, indeed, go on a crime spree, but none of it appears to be violent. He certainly causes chaos, but no one seems to ever be injured. In fact, in the DVD commentary, one of the creators even states outright that the supervillain never goes beyond vandalism and theft because he doesn’t really want to hurt anybody. (Indeed, in the film it rather seems that, by being raised in jail, bullied, and constantly rejected, Megamind was pushed into supervillainy.) This, together with the previous evidence, paints an image of a man who has been forced to do some harsh things, but who nonetheless dislikes violence and, deep down, possesses a certain moral code, albeit a skewed one.

There are, in fact, several other details that point toward Megamind being far from truly evil despite being a supervillain. As I mentioned in Megamind and Identity, he displays several redeeming qualities, such as his largely friendly treatment of Minion, his respect for Roxanne’s intelligence, and his playful, affectionate game of fetch with the brainbots. However, I won’t go into a long explanation about that here as it can be found in the aforementioned post.

Nonetheless, I don’t believe we can seriously expect that the former villain has never once hurt anyone in his life. Keep in mind that, as discussed in the post How Strong is Megamind, the blue alien almost certainly had to fight in order to survive. However, his unwillingness to attack citizens suggests that he only injured others when it was absolutely necessary. Similarly, the aforementioned “news article” indicates that he may have limited his physically aggressive responses to other criminals only. (After all, the reference to prison inmates fearing him is the sole evidence of possible violence we have.) I have seen it suggested here on Tumblr that he may have taken over Metro City in part because he believed that, if he didn’t, someone worse like the Doom Syndicate would. It may even be possible that he was afraid of appearing soft and thus losing control over the criminal underworld.

Of course, it has to be mentioned here that Megamind also fought with Metro Man, who certainly wasn’t a criminal. However, there are two factors that I believe need to be considered. The first is that it is very likely that Megamind didn’t expect he could truly harm his nemesis. This is evidenced by both the his apparent shock when Metro Man seems to actually be dead, and by his overt statement during the museum scene that he “didn’t think it would really work.” The second is that, as young Metro Man was a bully, tormenting Megamind without provocation and encouraging other children to do the same, Megamind may have mentally placed him in the bad guy/threat category.

His lack of violence is not the only proof that Megamind had a better heart than most credited him for even when he was a supervillain. Keep in mind that he had a holographic disguise watch and a hoverbike. Presumably, Megamind could have simply fled Metro City when Titan turned evil, but he didn’t. Instead he went to Roxanne for help, stating that if they could not find the new villain’s weakness Titan would “destroy the whole city.” And this was after Titan had tried to kill him. Clearly, despite being a supervillain, Megamind cared enough about his home town to put his life in danger.

The final support for the Benevolent Overlord theory is less obvious: Megamind had to have been getting funds from somewhere even when Metro Man was still functioning as the Defender of Metro City. (Indeed, in some of the early concept art, the Evil Lair was imagined as a luxurious space boasting things like a huge library and a sleek laboratory. Some fans still picture the living quarters in much the same way despite the creators stating that he built his inventions from whatever he could get his hands on.) Near the beginning of the movie, Minion mentions a supplier in Romania, and presumably he and Megamind had to be getting food and other necessities somehow. While it’s true that the blue villain was clearly not above thievery, we also know that his plots were always defeated by Metro Man, so it’s safe to assume that he rarely if ever got away with stealing anything before the former hero’s supposed “death.” Of course, it also seems extremely unlikely, even laughable, that Megamind would have had a day job. Where, then, did the money come from? Many fans theorize that, as the local crime boss, he received a cut from all illegal activity. It certainly seems like the most probable explanation.

Art by Kory Heinzen, found in The Art of Megamind by Richard von Busack

So why would Megamind build his technology and machines largely from scrap if he had a constant cash flow? Given his concern for the city, several fan fictions have imagined the blue man secretly and anonymously donating a significant portion of his ill-gotten money to various charities and non-profits. That idea is not directly supported by any evidence, but it does fit with what we know. It’s also consistent with Megamind’s character: a feared supervillain who possesses a surprisingly good heart and, given his past, knows too well what it’s like to be thrown away by society.

So, was Megamind a crime boss as well as a supervillain? Did he use that position to secretly better life in Metro City? If so, is he still doing that now that he is the Defender of Metro City, thus curbing criminal activity from within as well as fighting it from without? (For the record, given that there is no apparent gang war happening during The Button of Doom, I would propose that the answer to the last question may be yes.) These are certainly interesting ideas to consider, and the mere fact that this animated film offers enough details to argue the point is a testament to just how well-constructed the movie is. I consider it yet more proof that the film Megamind is truly an underrated masterpiece.

#Megamind #Megamind movie #megamind fan theory #fan theories #fan theory #fan theory thursday #Overlord #crime boss #good bad guy

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wiypt-writes · 3 years

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Riding On

CH26- In Sickness And In Health

Summary: A bug hits the Adler household, and it isn’t pretty.

Warnings: Bad language, talks of puke and vomit (grim!)

Pairing: Frank Adler x OFC Fliss Gallagher

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Fliss Gallagher and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Word Count- 5.1k ish

Riding On Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 25

Fliss woke in the middle of the night to Thor gently scratching at the bedroom door, little whines seeping from his mouth. She sat still, her ears craning for what had gotten him so agitated and then she heard soft crying from across the hall. She knew from the fact it wasn’t coming over the baby monitor it wasn’t Alex, which left one other person.

“Frank...” she nudged him with her elbow gently in his ribs, where he lay in his preferred sleeping position, on his stomach, arms folded under his pillow. “Babe, Mary’s crying.”

He grumbled something before his nose screwed up and he gave a sleepy questioning hum as Fliss flicked on the lamp and rose from the bed, locating her sleep wear which had been discarded the night before as they’d gotten a little frisky. He groaned again, blinking against the light before his sleepy brain suddenly registered what was going on and he sat up, frowning.

The door to their room opened as Fliss headed across the landing and Frank jumped out of bed, pulling on a pair of sweats that were discarded over the back of the chair by the vanity and followed. As soon as Fliss opened the door to Mary’s room the smell of vomit hit his nostrils and he sighed, instantly realising what was going on.

“Hey, hey...” Fliss stood on the bottom rung of the steps which led up to Mary’s bed, reaching over to brush her hair which was spattered with puke off her face. “Sweetheart, it’s ok.”

“I couldn’t get to the bathroom in time...” Mary sobbed. “I just woke up and...”

“Stack, calm down.” Frank soothed as he moved behind Fliss. “Does your tummy hurt?”

“Yeah.” She nodded and then without warning she pushed Fliss away, retched, and spewed up once more all over her bedspread, her sobbing growing louder. Frank grimaced, and in front of him Fliss gave a little, sudden half retch of her own- he knew she hated dealing with puke but it was testament to her mom instincts as she swallowed and reached out, rubbing Mary’s back.

“Okay, honey. Let’s get you cleaned up. Can you stand in the shower or do you want me to run you a bath?”

“Bath.” Mary stammered, retching again and Fliss nodded, turning to Frank. “I’ll go sort it, can you help her down?”

“Sure.” Frank nodded as Fliss dodged round him, heading to the bathroom.

“I’m sorry.” Mary whispered.

“What for?” Frank frowned.

“For barfing in my bed.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.” Frank soothed her. “Have I ever been mad at you for being sick?”

“Only when I ate all those marshmallows.”

“That was different, I told you to stop stuffing them into your mouth and you didn’t.” Frank chuckled, the back of his hand pressing to Mary’s forehead. She felt clammy, her cheeks tinged with pink. “You can’t help it if you’re ill, sweetheart.”

“But the bedcover is new.”

“Mary, it doesn’t matter.” He repeated. “It’ll wash. I’m more worried about you. Now come on, let’s get you in the bath okay?”

With a little clever manoeuvring, Frank helped Mary down from her bunk and she made her way slowly into the bathroom where Fliss as busy drawing her a bath.

“Okay, you want me to stay with you or you wanna be on your own?” Fliss asked Mary as she slumped ok the close toilet seat.

“Can you stay?”

“Sure.” Fliss smiled.

“I’ll go strip the bed and toss it all in the machine.” Frank gently ran his hand over the back of Mary’s head as Fliss handed her a glass of water. “You can get in with us for the rest of the night.”

Mary drained the glass and nodded, wiping her eyes. Frank straightened up and Fliss gave him a little smile before he turned and headed out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Half an hour or so later Mary was in a fresh set of pyjamas, had taken a dose of medicine and was settled in their bed. After an initial bit of another flap about her not wanting to be in the middle in case she needed to get out, Frank had assured her that if she moved he would wake and she was now settled in between him and Fliss, curled on her side and snuggled into his chest, her head tucked under his chin. His large arms cuddled her close, his left hand gently rubbing at her back as he gave Fliss a tired smile as she flicked off the light and settled down beside them having checked on Alex to make sure the noise hadn’t disturbed him.

“I’ll stay home with her.” He whispered as Fliss leaned over and pressed a kiss to the back of Mary’s head before she moved and placed a soft one on Frank’s mouth. “It’s easier for me to rearrange stuff than you, I can work here.”

“I can rearrange some stuff if needs be but, well, she’s always a daddy’s girl when she’s sick.” Fliss yawned.

Frank chuckled a little as he too gave a soft yawn. “Yeah, and I’d be lying if I said I ever wanted that to change.”

****

Mary was off colour for just over two days. Just as Fliss had stated, she’d been clingy to Frank, laying on the sofa by his side or on his knee, her head resting on his lap whilst she slept. Thankfully, by the time the third day rolled around she was back almost to her usual self although Frank insisted she stay home from summer camp for the rest of the week. The bad news was, however, the bug was seemed to have caught him now. He felt funny on the Monday morning and as he drove into work he had to pull his truck over so he could puke out of the door. With a groan he grabbed the bottle of water out of the holder and with a shaky hand drained half in one go before he pulled a u-turn and headed home. Fliss saw his truck arrive back onto their driveway and came into the house to find him rushing into the bathroom, throwing up violently into the toilet. With a sigh she gently rubbed his back and sent him to bed, fetching him some water and kissing his head, telling him to rest up. “Where’s dad?” Mary asked as she walked into her kitchen later that evening, having been picked up by Bill following a call from Fliss earlier that afternoon. “In bed, he’s caught your bug.” Fliss sighed. “Poor bugger.” Bill grimaced. “Yeah, he’s not well.” Fliss wrinkled her nose. “Just a case of it working through his system.” She smiled at Alex as she took him from her dad. “They behaved?” “Good as gold.” Bill smiled as Alex gave his momma a huge grin as she kissed his cheek. “Do you want us to pick them up again tomorrow evening?” “Would you?” Fliss sighed. “Frank won’t be up to it and I’ve got lessons until six.” “Sure, Mary can stay if she likes. We’ve got the twins so...” “Oh please Mom, can I?” Mary grinned and Fliss shrugged. “Sure, if you want.” “Yesss.” Mary gave Bill a hi-five before she excused herself and headed into her den. Bill had a cup of tea before he headed back home and Fliss got Alex ready for bed. Just as she was carrying him out of the nursery for his night bottle, Frank emerged from their bedroom. He was pale, and looked absolutely drained. “Hey, how you feeling?” Fliss gave him a sympathetic smile and he shook his head, giving a little sigh. “Like I’ve been hit by a bus.” He grumbled as Alex gave a noise of excitement at seeing his dad. “Hey, buddy.” Frank gave him a smile and waggled his fingers, chuckling a little as the baby mimicked his actions. “Frankie, go back to bed.” Fliss coaxed and he sighed. “I can’t sleep, been awake for the last hour.” “You been sick again?” “Not yet. Although my stomach is killing me.” “Can you face anything to eat?” Frank shook his head. “Just need to get some water.” “I’ll get it, just go lie down and watch some TV or something.” “Is Mary okay?” He completely ignored her instructions and Fliss shot him a look. “Stop ignoring me. She’s fine. I’ll send her up to say hi, now go. Go on.” “Yes, Mom.” Frank grumbled before he turned and headed back into their room. As Fliss headed down the stairs she heard the vague sounds of him retching into the toilet in the en-suite. ***** The next morning, Fliss found herself with a sick fiancée and a sick eleven month old as Alex promptly woke her up at five am screaming, and proceeded to projectile vomit all over her as she lifted him out of his vomit spattered crib. With a sigh, she soothed him gently before she carried him into the main bathroom so as not to disturb Frank and stripped them both off, stepping into the shower with him in her arms to clean them both off. Being an expert at doing things one handed now thanks to usually having him on her hip, she managed to wash her hair and his before she stepped out, wrapped him in a little towel. She shrugged on her robe and carried him out of the room, dressing him in a clean romper before she wandered downstairs to make herself some breakfast. As soon as it was an acceptable hour, she called Joanne to have her cancel her lessons for the day before she then called her mum who assured her that her or Bill would collect Mary and drop her at summer camp so she didn’t have to. It was a little after ten when Frank headed downstairs to find Fliss gently rocking Alex to and fro as he griped in her arms, his little hands curled round the material of her t-shirt, his cheeks red as he rest one against her shoulder. “Oh he’s not got it as well?” Frank sighed and Fliss nodded. “Yup, I got a wonderful five am wake up call.” “Oh, Honey, I’m sorry.” “It’s not your fault.” She looked at him, giving him a soft smile. “How you feeling today?” “A little better, not great but...” Frank shrugged as he ran a hand over Alex’s head. “Is he really bad?” Fliss wrinkled her nose. “He’s not been sick for an hour or so now but his diapers are grim.” She pulled a face. “I’m just worried about him not eating or drinking and getting dehydrated.” “Just offer him something plain to eat.” Frank looked at her, rubbing her arm. “Maybe some rye crackers or those little animal ones he likes and some diluted apple juice. If he’s like Mary then this will pass in a couple of days, don’t worry about it, it’s not like he’s a tiny baby now.” “Hmmm. Maybe I should ask Mum what I should do, I mean she’s done this before and...” At that Frank paused, his hand dropping to his side as he felt his temper flare. “Yeah, because it’s not like I have or anything is it, Fliss?” He knew he shouldn’t have said it, but he was tired, wasn’t feeling too great himself and her lack of faith in him had riled him to the point he’d blurted it out without thinking. And he immediately knew he’d pushed the wrong button when she stilled and turned to him, her eyes blazing. “You’re such a dick!” “I’m a dick?” He snapped back. “Jesus, you constantly second guess everything I suggest. I’ve done this before and Mary turned out just fine.” “I don’t second guess everything.” “You know what, just do what you want. I can’t have this argument now, I feel like crap. Maybe you should check with your mom what I should eat as well while you’re at it.” “Fuck off, Frank.” Fliss spat at him as she adjusted Alex in her arms and stormed out of the room, her feet heavy on the stairs as she made her way up them, Alex’s little cries growing quieter as she went before they died out completely as she shut the door to his nursery. With a groan Frank grabbed a bottle of water and followed her up the stairs where he headed back into the bedroom, climbed into bed and pulled the covers over his head. **** Thor alerted Fliss to someone’s presence and her head turned to see her mum enter through the back door holding a canvas shopping bag.

“Mum?”

“Hey love, you sounded a little stressed on the phone so I thought I’d swing by.” She smiled. “How is he?”

“Who, Alex or the asshole upstairs?” Fliss rolled her eyes and Verity arched her brow.

“You two had an argument? I thought Frank was ill?”

“He is. Suffering from asshole-itis.”

“Okay.” Verity sighed as she placed the bag on the counter in the kitchen. “Well, I made you a lasagne and some chicken soup for when Frank feels like eating. Probably better on his stomach than a heap of meat and cheese.”

“Thanks.” Fliss gave her mum a smile as she stood up and headed over to the kitchen area of the large family room, checking on Alex who was sleeping in the pack and play in the corner of the room.

“Did he eat his crackers?”

“A few.” Fliss shrugged. “But he drank most of his apple juice and keeping him hydrated is the most important thing, right?”

"He’s not a new-born now, Fliss.” Verity smiled. “And this isn’t the first time he’s been off colour.”

“No, but it’s the first time he’s been puking up every hour or so.”

“Yes, but as long as he keeps drinking then there’s no need to worry about it.” Verity looked at her. “If he’s still bad in another twenty-four hours and you’re worried, call the doctor. But Frank was right with what he said. Diluted apple juice will make sure he gets water and a bit of sugar, and if he munches on a few crackers then at least he’s eating something. You could always offer him a piece of banana too. Full of vitamins and the potassium will be good for him, too.” At that Fliss pulled a face and Verity chuckled. “You’ve never liked bananas.”

“Frank and Mary love them as well as him, but the texture makes me want to hurl.”

“You eat avocado.” Verity rolled her eyes and Fliss shrugged as she filled a kettle. There was a moment’s silence as Fliss placed the kettle on to boil and her mum reached for two mugs. “So, you going to tell me why Frank’s an asshole?”

“Oh, just before.” Fliss shrugged, tossing teabags into the teapot. “He accused me of second guessing him when I said I wanted to call you about Alex.”

“Right.” Verity nodded, leaning back against the counter. “And you weren’t?”

“No, of course not.” Fliss looked at her mum and Verity shrugged.

“Okay,” she held her hands up, “but, try and see it from his point of view, sweetheart. He is his dad…”

“I know that…”

“…and he’s done this before. In fact he’s done this before the same amount of times I have.”

At that Fliss paused and took a deep breath as her mum continued.

“You and Steve are both my children, but don’t forget, I didn’t meet Steve until he was five. So my sum total experience of babies was from looking after you, which makes Frank as equally qualified as me, certainly from the six month mark anyway.”

Fliss hesitated, in all honesty she hadn’t thought about it that way. She let out a sigh as her eyes filled with tears and her mum gave her a small smile and gently touched her arm. “Hey, don’t get upset, come here…”

Fliss willingly stepped into her mums arms for a hug, sniffing a little as Verity gently stroked the back of her head. “Being a parent is stressful, and being a first time one is the scariest thing in the world, but I wish I’d had the support from someone like you get from Frank.”

“I know, and he’s great, he’s more than great he’s fantastic, sometimes I just,” Fliss sniffed and shrugged lamely as she pulled back a little, “you’re my mum, that’s all.”

“Yeah I was last time I checked.” Verity smiled and Fliss let out a soft chuckle as she stepped back. “But Frank is your fiancée, and Alex’s dad. I can understand why he got a little frustrated.”

“He’s never snapped at me before when I’ve called you for advice.”

“Yeah, well, he’s not feeling great is he?” Verity reasoned. “He’s most likely tired and a bit cranky and you just got the brunt, unfortunately. Isn’t that the way it works? You’re a snappy bitch with him often enough.”

“I know.” Fliss turned to the kettle. “Least he doesn’t beat me black and blue for it, huh?”

“Don’t.” Verity said sternly and Fliss poured the hot water into the tea pot.

“True though.” She sighed, before she shook her head. “Anyway, enough. What are you doing with the kids tonight?”

“Your Dad's pumping the inflatables up for the pool.” Verity took her tea with a thanks. “Then we’ve stocked up on sausages, burgers and enough soda and sweets to keep them wired for a week.”

“Standard night and Nanna and Granddad’s then.” Fliss smiled and Verity chuckled as the two of them made their way outside to sit in the garden.

“The twins are staying until the weekend.” Verity smiled. “Steve’s taking Sian off for a last little break before your wedding and the baby arrives. If you want to gather some more stuff for Mary, she can stay longer. We were going to take them to the waterpark on Thursday.”

“She’d love that. I’ll check with Frank as we’ve paid for summer camp, but I don’t think he’ll have an issue.”

“Issue with what?”

Both women looked up to see Frank stood in the doorway, rubbing his eyes slightly. At the sight of him looking so tired and sick, Fliss felt all her earlier anger ebbing away and she took a deep breath.

“Oh, Mum was just saying, the twins are staying with her and dad until Friday, she suggested Mary might like to as well.”

“You don’t need to check with me.” Frank shook his head, his voice soft. “You’re her mom. If she wants to then, whatever.” Frank shrugged. “Not like we’re going to be doing anything at the moment, is it?”

“How are you feeling?” Verity looked at Frank and he gave a shrug.

“Crap.” He snorted, “How’s Bean?”

“He ate a few crackers and had some apple juice, he just seems tired.” Fliss shrugged.

To his credit, Frank didn’t mention the fact that she’d done exactly what he advised. Instead he nodded. “Good.”

“Do you want anything to eat?” Fliss offered. “Mum brought some chicken soup.”

“No, no offence V but my stomach isn’t quite ready for that.” He grimaced as Verity waved his apology off. “I just came for some air and to grab a drink.”

“Do you want me to make you a honey and ginger tea?” Fliss looked at him. “Might help.”

Frank gave her a soft smile, “sure, thanks.”

She stood up and passed him in the doorway, her hand softly brushing over his arm as she went. Once she’d gone, Frank stepped outside, taking in a breath as he let the sun warm his face. “You sure you don’t mind Mary staying for a few days?”

“Of course not.” Verity shook her head. “I was just saying to Fliss, we’re thinking of taking them all to the water park on Thursday.”

“She’ll love that.” Frank smiled, taking a deep breath as a wave of nausea washed over him.

“As long as it’s not an issue, Fliss said you’d already paid for camp.”

Frank shook his head. “It’s not expensive, plus you have to pay for the full summer up front, regardless. Just easier to make sure she has a place. As long as we tell them she won’t be there for the rest of the week it doesn’t matter.” He took a seat in one of the outside comfy chairs, and ran his hands over his face. “God, this is disgusting.”

Verity chuckled. “Yeah, it seems a pretty nasty bug. Make sure you rest up.”

“I’m bored of lying in bed.” He groaned.

“You’re just like Bill.” Verity looked at him, sternly. “Don’t be a stubborn bastard and rush around until you’re ready.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He gave her a salute and she narrowed her eyes playfully.

“And whilst we’re at it, I’ve spoken to Fliss about her being a snappy little madam.”

“What do you mean?”

“She told me you’d had an argument before, and yes, before you say anything I can see your point but I can also see hers.” She looked at him. “I gave her a gentle reminder that my experience with babies amounts to the same as yours so I’m by no means more qualified but I’m glad she feels she can call me. It’s a support network I didn’t have, nor did you for that matter. And I bet you wish you did.”

Frank took a deep breath. “I know, I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did. I was just, well, a little frustrated, that’s all.”

“No, I know, I get it.” Verity assured him. “And so does she. Just maybe try not to be such a cranky little shit.”

At that Frank snorted and their conversation was cut off when Fliss appeared, placing a mug on the table in front of him.

“Thanks.” He smiled as she ran her hand through his hair affectionately. Reaching up, he caught her hand and pressed a soft kiss to the inside of her wrist.

“I’m sorry I snapped before.” He looked at her and she smiled back.

“It’s okay.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like I don’t trust you something.”

“I should have pointed it out to you in a better way than I did.” Frank conceded, before his eyes playfully darted to Verity before they flicked back to Fliss’. “I was a cranky little shit.”

Verity chuckled and shook her head as Fliss smiled and moved to take her seat. Frank reached over for his drink and took a small sip, leaning back in his chair, happy to be outside the confines of the bedroom for a few moments, until his stomach gave a violent lurch, reminding him exactly why he hadn’t strayed far from the bathroom.

With a groan, he jumped up, almost falling over Thor in his haste and knowing full well he wasn’t going to make it to the toilet, he turned and violently spewed into the kitchen sink.

“Well,” Fliss sighed, standing up to go and help him out, “at least he’ll be bringing up nothing but water.” She pulled a face. “Don’t fancy fishing chunks out of the plug hole.”

*****

Frank woke early the next morning, having slept so much over the last forty-eight hours and he was pleased to report he was feeling much better. It was still quite dark outside and he took care as he climbed out of bed not to make too much noises. He padded over to the spare room, Fliss having chosen to sleep in there along with Alex in the travel crib so as not to disturb him too much, and was happy to see the pair of them fast asleep when he poked his head through the door. Thor eyed him a little before he stood up, stretching and wandered over, yawning.

“Wanna go out, pal?” Frank reached out and scratched the large dog behind his ear as his tail wagged lazily, his mouth opening in a wide yawn. “Okay, come on.”

It was an hour or so later he heard Fliss shout down the stairs. It was a frantic, broken yell of his name and in a flash he sprinted up onto the landing in time to see her bursting into the bathroom where she emptied her stomach into the toilet.

“Oh, baby.” He sighed, walking towards her but she waved him away.

“Alex,” she spluttered, before she turned and puked again and Frank instantly understood. Heading into the spare room, he picked up the baby who had himself thrown up, but was surprisingly cheerful all things considered. There were no tears, no fuss, just a huge grin for his daddy as he sat peering up at him.

“Not quite sure what you find so amusing.” Frank arched his eyebrow and swept the baby up, turning him so that the front of his vomit spattered romper was facing outwards, one large arm supporting his butt. He made his way back onto the landing to see Fliss now emerging, her face flushed and her eyes heavy.

“Go back to bed.” Frank nodded to their room, before he dropped a kiss to her forehead. “I got this.”

Without so much as a word of protest she headed into their bedroom, Thor following, and she closed the door behind her. Twenty minutes later, Alex was cleaned up and sat in his high chair next to Frank who was perched on a stool at the island, both of them munching on a banana. Alex’s appetite was back with gusto, but Frank was wary of overloading the tot’s stomach (and his own for that matter) so soon following their illness, so he had cut Alex’s banana into smaller pieces than normal in an attempt it would fool him into thinking he had eaten more. No such luck. As he finished the last piece he examined his now empty bowl and then looked at Frank, making a questioning noise.

“No more buddy, not yet.” Frank shook his head, chuckling as Alex reached for the one Frank had in his hand. “This is mine.” At that, Alex frowned and let out a loud noise of protest. Frank merely looked back at him again. “Complain all you want, it won’t get you anywhere.”

Once their breakfast was done, he carried him over to the play mat, watching him carefully as he entertained himself, crawling across the rug to get to some of his brightly coloured blocks. Frank played with him for a little while before he called both work and Joanne explaining the situation and that neither he nor Fliss would be in work that day. Once that was sorted, he then decided to take Alex out for some air into the garden, selecting a spot in the shade by the pool. By the time lunch time rolled around, neither of them had thrown up again, but there was no sign of Fliss. Frank set Alex down for a nap in his room, and headed over to check on her. She peered up at him from where she was led in bed, something playing on the TV and she gave him a weak smile.

“Hey.” He dropped onto the bed by her side, his hand running through her hair. “You need anything?”

“No.” She shook her head. “Is Bean okay?”

“He’s fine. He’s had a banana and some crackers for breakfast and a little more for lunch. So far so good, it hasn’t come back up.”

“Course I would have to get it too.” She grumbled and Frank chuckled, leaning over to kiss her forehead.

“Well, were you really expecting anything else?” He smiled and she rolled her eyes.

“No, suppose not.” She shifted and stretched, grimacing a little. “Fuck, my back is starting to go funny.”

“Lying down too much?” He asked gently, knowing she struggled with that sometimes if she was on it for too long, a consequence of her accident all those years ago.

“Yeah, that and I think I pulled it puking.”

“Well, how about I draw you a bath and then you can come downstairs and rest on the couch?” He offered, his hand cupping her cheek. “I got plenty of cuddles and sympathy in me, especially now I know I’ve had it and therefore immune.”

“Okay.” She nodded.

It was little under half an hour later when Fliss made her way downstairs, dressed in a pair of sleep pants and a t-shirt, her hair pulled back into a messy pony tail. Frank gave her a small smile and lifted his arm as she sat down next to him. He pressed a kiss to her temple as she cuddled up to him.

“You need anything?” Frank asked her softly and she shook her head, adjusting herself so she was comfy, snuggling into him a little further. Only it didn’t last long. Approximately five minutes later she gave a little whimper and shot up from the couch, running for the bathroom. Frank let out a sigh as he stood up and followed her, his large hand rubbing at her back as he knelt beside her whilst she puked into the downstairs toilet.

“Fuck this shit.” She groaned as she sat back, her face flushed, cheeks streaked with tears. “I don’t wanna be ill. I hate you.”

“Me?” Frank chuckled.

“Yes, you. You gave this to me.”

“Well, actually, I think I gave it to Alex. Who likely gave it to you.”

“Exactly, you infected him and he infected me.”

“If we’re playing the blame game, then Mary is totally ‘Patient Zero’.”

Fliss looked at him, swallowing, before she moved him out of the way and retched again, only this time nothing much came up on account of her stomach being empty.

“I need water.” She mumbled.

“Okay, you want me to fetch you some here or are you done?”

“I’m done, for the time being. I think.” She sighed and Frank stood, pulling her to her feet. He waited whilst she splashed cold water on her face and rinsed her mouth out before he gently scooped his arm round her as she slowly walked into the hallway, stumbling a little as she went. Not wanting her to fall and add a concussion to the mix, Frank easily swept her up into his arms, bridal style and she groaned.

“I’m not dying.”

“Well, you looked you were going to fall so, suck it up, Buttercup.” He shrugged, depositing her back on the couch before he made his way to the fridge. He came back with a bottle of water and unscrewed the lid before passing it to her. She took a large gulp, her face pale before she gave an exhausted sigh, the back of her forearm wiping at her forehead.

“Is it warm in here?” She frowned and Frank shook his head.

“The Air-Con is at normal temp. You’re running a slight fever, same as us.”

“Fantastic.” Fliss groaned, flopping down and stretching out beside him, laying her head in his lap.

“Well in my eyes you’ve always been hot.” Frank joked lamely, as his fingers gently ran down her neck and back, the same way she’d comforted him the previous day. She shook her head, scoffing at his lame joke.

“You’re an idiot.”

“Calling it how I see it, Lissy.” He chuckled, his hand gently brushing down the side of her face. “Try and get some rest, Sweetheart. You’ll feel better when you’ve slept, I promise.”

They sat in silence, eyes trained on the TV and when Alex woke a short while later, Frank glanced down to see Fliss had fallen asleep. Reaching for a pillow he gently moved her head, propping it up on the cushion, a soft sigh escaping him. She’d spent pretty much the entire last week taking care of them, it was certainly time to repay the favour.

“You gonna be quiet so you don’t disturb Momma?” He spoke in a hushed voice to Alex once he’d changed his diaper and carried him back downstairs. Alex made a little noise in response, a garble of sounds that sounded a little like 'Mama' when Frank thought about it. He had no doubt in his mind that the baby would be speaking sooner rather than later.

“Yeah, Mama.” Frank nodded as he opened the door to the family room. Fliss was still fast asleep and thankfully, Alex seemed content once he’d seen her to be distracted by Fred, who sauntered over towards him as he sat on the rug, his tail swishing in Alex’s face making him laugh as he went to grab it. Fred scooted off and Frank spoke, his voice low.

“Alex, no. We don’t pull tails.”

Alex looked at him before he gave a giggle and spun quickly onto all fours and shot after the animal as fast as he could crawl. With a roll of his eyes, Frank headed after him and grabbed the back of his t-shirt, lifting him up. Alex’s cackles rang around the room and despite himself, Frank chuckled as well as he spun the baby to face him, holding him at arm’s length.

“You’re a menace, you know that?” He arched his eyebrow as he brought him back down to press a kiss to his cheek, before he extended his arms again, once more bringing him back towards him, more giggles bursting from Alex’s mouth as he continued to repeat the playful motion. “Cute, but a total menace.”

When Frank held Alex above him for a fourth time, it wasn’t a giggle that burst from the tot’s mouth. It was a steady stream of banana and rye barf which hit Frank straight in the face.

“Oh, Jesus fucking Christ.” Frank grimaced, wiping his face on his shoulder, before he turned to look at Alex who grinned at him. “Thanks a lot, pal.”

**** Chapter 27

#riding on #frank adler #frank adler x ofc #frank adler x original female character #gifted #gifted fan fic #chris evans #chris evans characters

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jngles · 3 years

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Thoughts You Definitely All Asked For on ‘The Mandalorian’ Season 2 Finale!!

These are in chronological order for the show.

One of my biggest fears about them reintroducing Boba Fett was that by removing some of his mystery, they would make him less cool. Thank god that has not been the case. He’s still an aloof and nasty piece of work but with dimensions added.

We all know the Empire is most often a metaphor for America right? At least when it’s not being Nazi Germany? The Imperial pilot talking about destroying an entire planet (of peaceful weaponless civilians no less) to stop terrorism hits a little too close to home of the nuclear bombs the US has dropped and the endless destruction of the Middle East in the “war against terror.” And of course we frame all our wars in similar language like “our troops died to keep our country safe,” which hasn’t really been true since WWII.

I do think it’s worth noting that this is the first time SW has had someone acknowledge the human losses of the Death Star blasts. Usually it’s framed as a loss in construction time, strategical advantage, and power. The Empire proved time and time again that the lives of its soldiers were utterly expendable, which always made me question why people remained loyal outside of fear. Through this pilot’s phrasing, you can see the propaganda Imperial superiors used to twist the truth to their followers, always blaming those deaths on Rebel aggression instead of prideful Imperial neglect (I.e. not abandoning ship when there was still time) or even direct Imperial aggression like Operation Cinder where they fired on thousands of their own (discussed in S2E7.)

You can’t tell me Din wasn’t into it when Cara shot that asshole pilot. That cold faced revenge shot? 100% Mandalorian style, and also very very hot.

I appreciate that it was a pretty equal match between Boba and Koska Reeves. So much of Boba’s advantage comes from his suit, but since she also has one, it’s a battle of wits on how to use it, and they even out. This both maintains his legendary badassery and also that of highly trained Mandalorian warriors, and hopefully avoids asshole chauvinist SW fans on the internet complaining abujt “pandering to feminism” (fuck off @ all of them, especially since Mercedes Vernado who plays Reeves is a WWE champ and could kick all of your asses.)

Din point blank asked how many Death Troopers there are and Dr. Pershing never answered, and that annoys me.

Why is no one suspicious why Dr. Pershing is being so helpful and revealing so much information? He totally did not have to tell them about the Dark Troopers or any of the specifics of locations on the ship. He’s still with the empire post-fall, implying he’s a loyalist, so... wtf on his part (since no tricks come of it), and “be smarter” on the part of everyone else. Unless he’s been captive as a clone engineer all this time. But couldn’t he have made his escape back in Season 1 when Din killed everyone at that lab to get the kid back?

Bo Katan really could’ve just told them how the retrieval of the dark saber needs to work in the flight before the mission instead of being vague about “he belongs to me.”

Boba Fett’s usage of “Princess” and “don’t worry about me” are a good throwback to Han Solo and the culture they both grew up in. You can never quite tell if it’s based in misogyny or resentment for upper classes, but both of them seem to use it as a shield for begrudging respect they hold for a woman they think is brave but following a fool’s errand (the Rebellion and retaking Mandalore).

The Comms Officer (Katy O’Brian) assisting Moff Gideon will forever and always look like Ilana Glazer to me, and then I get swept up imagining what would happen if the Broad City cast accidentally got transported to Star Wars.

The launch tube sequence has some amazing cinematography.

The second I saw Boba was cut off from the pack, I really thought they were going to kill him again and make his return bittersweet. Glad they didn’t.

God this team of Bo Katan, Koska Reeves, Fennec Shand, and Cara Dune is SO BADASS. I’m just obsessed with all these characters and their various motivations to get shit done. I honestly didn’t even think about the fact it’s all women until my re-watch, showing that the writers made it feel natural, the way women deserve to have their representation done. You can bet I am SO EXCITED for my future daughter and the wealth of possibilities she’s going to have of characters to play pretend as, action figures she can relate to, Halloween costumes to wear, etc. It’s so validating that we’ve gone from only Princess Leia as a female main character to all these women + Rey, Jyn Erso, Ahsoka, etc. etc.

Can’t wait for the trap remix of the Dark Trooper activation noises. (And the transition from that to the minimalist flute theme is perfect.)

The spy movie version of the main theme music is sick.

The Dark Trooper droid faces have a lot of similarity to Darth Vader’s mask. That callback is especially apparent when the one is literally lit from the inside with fire. He was already a martyr/legend to the Imperial remnants, Kylo Ren didn’t start the trend of ignoring his redemption.

Cara’s “excuse me” right before shooting up Stormtroopers is hilarious. Literally “can’t talk rn, doing hot girl shit and murdering space Nazis.”

Finally an Imperial ship got some frickin security cameras. Truly- the amount of times people just wander down hallways they’re not supposed to be in with no one being able to find them throughout the course of Star Wars is ridiculous when you think about the degree of surveillance our real life society carries out. I also love that this means The Mandalorian characters have also seen The Mandalorian.

The storytelling does such a service to Pedro Pascal and his already heroic efforts to portray emotion through a helmet. For example: Din easily could’ve killed the one stormtrooper outside Grogu’s cell much more efficiently, but instead, to show his absolute rage, they wrote in Din choking him out with a spear.

Moff Gideon would have been the BIGGEST pain in the ass in philosophy class. “Assume I know everything” my ass. I want to hear about his backstory (he would’ve been “coming of age” at the time of the Clone Wars) mostly just to hear about him getting bullied at school.

Smart move honestly, to try to tempt Din with the Mandalorian throne, given the Mandalorian power struggles of the past. Proud of our boy for keeping his priorities straight.

So has the blood from Grogu been transferred out of the ship and back to the remnant empire already, or do they have to find a new “donor” to help with building Snoke and Palpatine’s clones? Will they continue to go after him with Luke?

Lmao Din being so annoyed by Bo Katan being stringent about the tradition of winning the Dark Saber through combat is HILARIOUS, coming from a man who up until like a day ago hadn’t shown his face to a living being in decades.

The dark troopers can punch in blast doors but NOT Din’s helmet?? That’s a wild testament to beskar. Somehow that’s the comparison that sticks out to me, more even than its resistance to lightsabers.

This show works because of the cynicism of so many characters adding contrast to the moments of heart. Cara Dune is not a “fan” the way Rey was (for the record I love Rey, don’t come at her, it’s just different). Cara doesn’t see an X-Wing and go OMG THE REBELLION I LOVE THEM. She’s been through too much to believe in the magic saviourism of the “good guys,” and is instead thinking strategically when she, the one Rebel present, brushes off the usefulness of “one X-Wing.” The only positive things she seems to feel in battle situations are moments of relief and brief satisfaction in hurting the empire, with a dark knowledge that it will never make up for the hurt they did to her.

How do you keep a cloak hood on while fighting? Both from a technical standpoint (my hats fall off without me even having to move- is he expending force energy just to keep it on and look cool lol?) and also because idk, maybe it’s just me, but peripheral vision is helpful when surrounded by killer robots on a thin bridge above oblivion. I know his first lesson was to “see” through the force, but every resource helps, right?

Now that she has the ship, I wonder if Bo Katan can reprogram any salvageable Dark Troopers to help with retaking Mandalore?

There is nothing like seeing Luke’s fighting style, with its efficient choppiness and twinge of darkness. I always wonder how much is natural and how much is influenced by his first fights with Vader (that Skywalker diva flair). I love how they’ve advanced his technique but also kept him extremely “grey” here- like to straight up COMBUST a Dark Trooper takes some violent energy lol.

How tf is Moff Gideon alive after threatening Grogu’s life twice directly? That’s a wild testament to Din’s regard for Cara.

I love how seeing Luke slice through a bunch of murder droids like butter probably was a huge point in his favor for Din actually letting Grogu go with him. Like he will only send his child to boarding preschool if he knows the teacher will be a certified killing machine.

Oh my god they finally brought in some OG Star Wars theme music for Luke to take his hood off to 😭 It felt weird seeing him fight to different music, so the emotional payoff is huge when his themes come back for the face reveal.

Whoever added the digital young Mark Hamill face NAILED those classic shining Luke eyes and the earnest eyebrow lift.

Whoever shines the glass of Baby Yoda’s lil puppet eyeballs each day deserves a raise. The light caught in those babies is devastating.

Din is shaking as he takes off his helmet. This is the most enormous show of love he could give him, and possibly the last he’ll be able to for a long time. He only just got Grogu back and is desperate for a moment of real connection before letting him go once again.

This is the first time anyone has touched Din’s face since... likely his parents as a child.

Whoever wrote this scene clearly actually has kids. Anyone who’s ever had to leave a young child even just to go out for a bit or to drop them off somewhere knows that heartbreak of seeing them look in your eyes and hold on to your leg, trying to keep you with them. Especially when they can sense your mutual separation anxiety. The one thing that starts to make them feel better is something fun like a new toy or friend who can be their guide in the new environment, and R2’s friendly introduction is exactly that (since digital Luke isn’t being particularly emotive or child friendly... I hope that’s just because he’s reaching into Grogu’s mind while also keeping an eye on the multiple people with guns trained on him, not because he’s going to be totally unfeeling raising this kid.)

I love that Grogu and R2 are immediately buddies in contrast to Episode 5 when R2 was like “fuck this guy” @ Yoda stealing food and hitting him with a walking stick lol. I would imagine Luke must be reminded of that first introduction too and entertained by this display of playfulness in a *positive* light between R2 and mini-Yoda.

I need to know if Luke and Ahsoka have met- it is KILLING ME.

Does this mean Grogu will get killed by Kylo Ren when he fucks up Luke’s academy??? I will reincarnate Ben just to kill him again if that’s the case.

How does Luke not even fully SMILE at Grogu?? An adorable little baby version of his beloved master Yoda, and you’re telling me he doesn’t have the same heart stopping gasp we all did when we first saw him?? Maybe he did when they first connected through the force. He has a bit of bemusement on his face, and also wonder in his eyes, but I want a grin of recognition and welcome, dammit.

I really wish Luke had somehow acknowledged Cara Dune. Everyone else seems to see the tear drop Rebel sign and know it means Alderaan. He could’ve been like yo I have a badass warrior sister from your planet that you should meet. Or just “thank you for your service.” (I know this actually wouldn’t have been cinematically good but my heart wants it.)

Luke didn’t tell Din his name?? Or ask for any details about the kid and his care?? I could literally never let my kid go with someone, regardless of how worthy, and not be like, “Excuse me sir who are you and where tf are you taking my tiny beloved green goblin in case I need to find him? Here is my contact info. He likes to eat frogs and eggs, and he can have macarons as a treat. He’s 50 years old and his favorite toy is still a ball. Bedtime is 8pm and he’s allergic to dairy.”

Another reason I wish Luke had identified himself would be to see the mishmash of reactions that would ensue. Cara would be like DAMN IT’S THAT GUY WHO BLEW UP THE DEATH STAR AND KILLED THE EMPEROR, ACT COOL (and she would indeed act cool). Fennec would be like ugh it’s that guy who helped kill my best paying client Jabba the Hutt and then fucked over my boss Boba, I helped save the kid for THIS? And I would LOVE to know how Bo Katan feels about him, assuming she’s heard of him, and especially if she knows he’s Anakin Skywalker’s son. That confusion is probably the reason WHY the writers didn’t have him reveal himself- they didn’t want to break the emotion of the scene.

Let‘s all be real I’m just being needy about wanting things from Luke because of what he meant to me as a kid and my resulting innate need to have more canon of him, whatever it is, whenever I can get it. Especially in this form that’s so similar to ROTJ, a movie I watched on endless repeat. Even getting this was incredible though. Who else could we trust this lil heart-stealing green bean with so fully? Yet who would be so arrogant as to try to train a baby yodling (see: Ahsoka’s wise refusal)?

R2 is reckless as hell lmao. Not that we don’t already know that, but for him to just head on in, effectively abandoning Luke’s ship (how can they know if there are more troopers or not who might blow it up?) and also putting himself in the path of the ridiculously deadly Dark Troopers is NUTS. I’m usually on his side but he absolutely deserves a scolding by C3PO for this one.

I wonder if Grogu has any memories of R2 or vice versa since they did occupy the Jedi Temple at the same time. Can Grogu understand droids? They could swap stories about mutual acquaintances.

Does Din pretty much have to go with Bo Katan now since a) he’s shown his face and may not be able to go back to the Watch, and b) because he has the darksaber and has to figure out how to get it back to her without dying?

How in the hell did Bib Fortuna (whose chins age was not kind to) go from being butler to being boss? Were all the henchmen just like, “Fuck yeah, no Hutt parents no rules, let’s do what we want!!” And then they’ve spent the last ten years living off of whatever money they could salvage from Jabba’s non-banked wealth? Why has no one challenged them for that prime real estate and loot? I would love to hear that story.

Fennec Shand says “respect sex workers” so you better fuckin’ do it.

Idk dude Bib Fortuna really was a good butler, and he seemed pretty willing to comply with whoever’s in power. Did he screw Boba over in his attempt to return from the dead and earn that killing shot somehow? Or was this to make sure there was no one left who would have a claim to loyalty? Or maybe Boba just really wanted to sit in that chair.

Does “The Book of Boba Fett” mean we’re not on Din Djarin’s story anymore? Or is it a new show? I would much prefer the latter. I want to see Din help retake Mandalore or at least get a hug.

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isoscele · 3 years

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Lumberjanes Week Day 6 - Ghost Stories/Land of Lost Things

In Xian’s bullet journal, in purple gel pen, the four of them wrote their last will and testament. It was an incontrovertible fact, said Presley, that they were going to die here. One, it had snowed every single one of the four days they had been here, and showed no signs of stopping. Two, despite their best efforts to ration their fruit leathers and peanut-butter-banana sandwiches, they had run out of food. Three, Ana’s ankle was sprained and they were probably not going to be able to get back up on the cliff they had fallen from. Four, despite what fantasy books said, kids on hiking trips did not actually survive tripping into a desolate, war-torn alternate dimensions, no matter how much moxie and general perseverance they showed.

It was hard to argue with that. So they divvied up their belongings among parents and siblings and pets, taking turns with the pen in a kind of grim ritual.

Once they finished, they surveyed their work.

“Don’t give your rollerblades to Peter,” Ana told Xian. “He’s going to break his collarbone immediately.”

“If I have to become a ghost, I want to spend my afterlife watching Peter eat it in the Walmart parking lot,” Xian said firmly.

The sky here was a kind of burnt-rubber color. The snow kept coming down, so there must have been clouds up there somewhere, but it was difficult to distinguish them from the blank slate of horizon.

There were no plants, no animals, nothing but a long line of snow-covered earth. If you dug down to the surface, as Siobhan had, there was only scorched dirt. There was a little rubble, but not much. As far as otherworldly apocalyptic wastelands went, it was disappointingly barren. There were no helpful clues, or conveniently-placed newspapers with pictures of mushroom clouds. Even the breaks in the landscape looked harsh, a continual jag of cliffs and valleys and something that smelled like it might have been a swamp, a long time ago.

When they’d first set up camp, Siobhan had knelt down to wrap Ana’s ankle and Presley had started clearing space to make a campfire, and so Xian had gone around looking for something to help start it, trudging through the knee-deep snow with her windbreaker tied around her legs to keep herself from getting frostbite.

Mostly, she had been walking towards a massive rupture in the snow that looked like it might have been a felled tree. Probably, it would be too damp to burn, but Presley had mad survivalist skills wrapped up in her little band-geek brain, so maybe she would be able to scrape the bark off or something. Or maybe there would be something they could eat. Even then, back in the halcyon days when they still had two out of four fruit leathers left, that was a pressing concern.

As Xian approached it, though, it started to look less and less like a tree. It was curved in a weird way, and it didn’t have any branches. It took a long time for her to reach it, so by the time she reached out one hand to wipe away the snow, there was a part of her that already knew what she’d find.

It was a rib. More specifically, it was the rib of something that had ribs the size of a school bus. It was picked completely clean of meat, as pristine as a museum exhibition.

Xian had to take a step back and stare at it. It filled her whole vision, and she couldn’t get over how clean it was. Her first thought was scavengers! Her second thought was HUGE scavengers! Her third thought was no, that’s dumb. It’s just old.

Siobhan’s theory had been nuclear war. Presley agreed with her–maybe not with the method, but she thought they were in an alternate dimension that had destroyed itself somehow. Ana had suggested time travel, like they’d tripped into Earth’s first ice age.

But something bad had happened here. With that understanding came a powerful, terrible relief. Of course they were standing on a graveyard too vast and ancient for them to ever understand. Of course this was a place of tragedy. It still was, the white of the ground and the orange of the sky and the way that Presley had said we should find some kindling, as if they were ever going to find any kindling.

Xian had looked at the bone for a moment longer. She thought about how, in horror movies, the characters always tried to find some justification for what was happening to them, had some big why-me breakdown. From an audience’s perspective, though, it was easy to tell who was earmarked for catastrophe. From the moment they stepped onto the screen, they were tasked with telling a story. They were suffering because they were only ones who could tell it. It wasn’t their fault.

Xian didn’t know what that meant about them. They were teenage girls, which could make some sense within certain narratives, but they were teenage girls who were probably not going to get out of here. Girls who were plucky and inquisitive and charming and still would not be saved.

Then again, sometimes the answer to why-me was just you were there. Sometimes, it was as simple as an extinction event, coming to wipe you and everything you knew clean.

Xian turned around and started the long walk back to camp.

The hike had been Siobhan’s idea. School had just ended and it was Presley’s last summer before she moved away, so everything was terrifying and big and moved in slow-motion. It felt like every minute the four of them weren’t doing something amazing together was a minute wasted. Siobhan imagined growing up like a skin you shed in reverse. The more you crammed into those early layers, the harder it was to lose them.

She’d packed the bag, which was another mark on her ledger. If she had brought a first-aid kit, if she had brought more food, if she had brought a second water bottle, things might be different. Never mind that it was only supposed to be a day trip, and her mom would’ve lost her mind if Siobhan had packed for an overnighter.

The third thing that she could never ever be absolved of was that she was the one who saw the fox.

It had streaked through the trees, a blur of formless red, but for a second it had looked at her and–and Siobhan wasn’t exaggerating, time stopped. Its eyes were golden and a million years old, and somehow she had known exactly what it was saying to her.

They’re leaving you they’re leaving you every second they are getting farther away from you and you can’t do anything to stop it and you’re the only one who wants to anyway, you’re the only one selfish enough to ask for forever.

And then time had unstuck and it had leapt back through the trees, and Siobhan had pushed past Ana and almost tripped over Xian and she hadn’t even realized that she had started running, it was more like she knelt into the air and kept going.

She hadn’t realized the others would follow her, but of course they had.

So Siobhan couldn’t sleep. She was cold, and she was hungry, and she was ashamed that during their will-writing she’d made up people to give her things to because she wanted her friends to think that she had friends other than them, that she too had cool cousins in New York and family members she could trust with the contents of her bedroom.

And she was ashamed about everything else, too, every dumb decision she had made in possibly her whole life, and then Presley said “Siobhan?” and she realized she was kind of crying into the snow.

“I’m okay,” Siobhan said, “I’m okay, I’m fine.”

Ana reached out and touched Siobhan’s elbow. Her fingers were cold, but steady, and it did make Siobhan feel better.

“I think I’m gonna go look for food,” Siobhan said. She hadn’t realized she was going to say it until she did, but it felt right. She couldn’t stay here. She couldn’t just lie down and try to sleep through another night that looked exactly identical to the day.

“Okay,” Xian said. She pushed herself onto her elbows and tried to brush some of the snow off her shirt. “We’ll come with you.”

This was how they got into all kinds of world-ending trouble, but Siobhan supposed there were worse things.

She didn’t think she could get any words out if she tried, so instead she reached out and helped Xian get the snow off her shoulders.

Ana’s ankle didn’t hurt much anymore, but Presley still stoically bore the task of giving her a piggyback ride. Ana liked this arrangement because Presley would kneel down and wait for Ana to loop her legs around her waist and then she would say, with all the seriousness of a soldier about to pull the knife from his dying comrade’s stomach, I’m going to do it, get ready, get ready, and then she would stand up.

They didn’t have a direction, and none of them were entirely sure which way they had come from, so they were just kind of walking. Most likely, they had already gotten turned around three or four times, but Ana was hoping it would eventually cancel itself out.

But then again, it probably didn’t matter whether they got anywhere new. Already, the snow had probably completely concealed their old campsite. Everywhere they stepped was a new world, fresh and footprintless. Packed with promise.

Presley and Xian were talking, but Ana was a little too tired to follow the conversation. Instead, she tried to catch Siobhan’s eye and silently communicate something deep and necessary to her. She didn’t know what that deep and necessary thing was, but she trusted Siobhan to figure it out.

They walked for a long time without finding any kind of break in the landscape. Ana let herself feel reassured by the steady rhythm of Presley’s footsteps below her, the slow thread of Xian’s voice. It almost felt like home, pacing circles around Siobhan’s trampoline or getting marched to the principal’s office for “disturbing the classroom environment.”

So of course, she was the last one to see the cave.

It looked a little like a wasps’ nest, fat and bulbous and buzzing from the inside out with a pale yellow light. Shadows stretched across the entrance, flickering in stop-motion. The cave, whatever else it meant for them, was inhabited.

Ana looked down at Xian, who tended to be the most genre-savvy of them all. But Xian wasn’t looking at the cave; she was staring into the sky with a look of abject terror on her face.

“Presley,” Ana said. “I think we should–”

Presley locked her arms around Ana’s ankles and took off running towards the cave.

Ana had to duck so they could get inside, pressing the side of her face against Presley’s crown of braids. Then, the light was everywhere, and she had to blink hard to disperse the pink clouds that spotted her vision.

“Oh my God,” Siobhan said from somewhere behind her.

Xian shuffled closer. “What is that?”

In the center of the cave, a candle had burned almost to a stub, giving off the unmistakable smell of pine. Behind it, half-submerged in the pool of light, lay some kind of abomination.

It was a wolf and yet it wasn’t, couldn’t be. It had thick white fur and a distinctly lupine body, but it had human hands, bent and weathered. An old woman’s hands.

Oh Grandmother, Ana thought, inanely. What big teeth you have.

And if it was dead, which it could very well be, it had not been dead for long.

As slow as the shifting of a tectonic plate, it lifted its head and opened one blazing eye. Ana understood with a jolt that it had known they were there the whole time, that it had been listening.

It surveyed them, looking very old and very tired. It locked eyes with Ana. Then it spoke, in a voice so gravelly and ancient that Ana had no problem believing that it had been here for as long as there had been a here to be.

“Kids come with two heads these days?”

“Yes,” Ana said automatically, because even in her mindless terror she had to indulge her favorite hobby, which was tricking old people into believing things about The Youth. “But only the ones who are on social media too much.”

Presley frowned so hard that Ana could feel it from her shoulders, like an earthquake. “That’s not true,” she said. “We’re two separate kids. Stacked on top of each other.”

Wolf Lady huffed and closed her eyes again, apparently done with the conversation.

“Hey!” Siobhan said. “Hey, ma’am, please–can you help us?”

“We fell down a portal,” Presley supplied. “We’ve been here four days, and we’re going to die here.”

Wolf Lady smiled. It was the smile of a rotting jack-o-lantern, and it showed a glint of teeth. “Not a bad place to die,” she said, almost to herself. “But most people deserve better.”

“Do you have food?” Xian had crouched down, like she was speaking to a sleepy child. “Or–or do you know how to get some?”

“No,” Wolf Lady said. “No. You don’t need to get food. You need to get out.”

Silence. Outside, the wind wailed.

“What happened here?” Xian asked. Her voice was tight, thin. “I found these–all these bones.”

“You what?” Siobhan said.

“War,” Wolf Lady said. There was something inarticulable in her voice, a kind of grief that had exhausted all other avenues and therefore had no choice but to live forever in this cave.

“They were huge bones.”

“Big war.” Wolf Lady opened her eyes again. “Maybe you’ve noticed it. Wasn’t the kind of thing you can get out of the carpet. You, two-headed one. Grab my specs.”

“Specs?” Presley said, confused, but Ana tapped her head and then pointed to one edge of the cave, where a pair of thin, cracked glasses had gathered what looked like years’ worth of dust and melted snow.

Xian was the one who picked them up, but she handed them to Ana. On some old impulse, Ana slid them over the bridge of her nose.

Immediately, the world exploded in a paroxysm of color, spreading across the four of them like an oil slick. Wolf Lady seemed to be the center of it, bleeding orange from every inch, but there was so much of it coming from everywhere that Ana had to pull them off again.

“You can use those to get home,” Wolf Lady said, in the tone that one might say you can use salt to improve this soup. “Find the portals. For the love of God, get out of here.”

Ana cradled them against her chest. Siobhan looked openly skeptical, but she hadn’t tried them on. Ana believed that the glasses could do whatever they had to. Could reach through time and bring them back to some soft, scared world where everything they needed was still in one piece.

“Are you coming with us?” Xian asked. Her voice had gone quiet again, the way it did when she already knew the answer. Like when she predicted the endings of movies, the sad, certain everyone dies.

Wolf Lady laughed. As strange and animalistic as the rest of her was, her laugh seemed very human. “A very, very long time ago, I worked at a place where the only rule was that the kids had to make it out okay. The rest of us–well, it depended on how the forest felt. But we made it a long time, on that rule. I’m not breaking it now.”

“Thank you,” Presley said. Every word out of Presley’s mouth had an incredible gravity to it even in the silliest of situations; now, Ana could hardly bear to hear it. “We’ll remember you forever.”

“Oh, don’t do that to yourselves,” Wolf Lady said. “My name is Rosie. Think of it every once in a while, and forgive yourselves for the rest.”

Outside, everything was degrees of white and black, the snow bracing itself against the sky. Presley’s stomach was a black hole, and the rest of her was so numb as to cave in on itself.

She took one of Siobhan’s hands and one of Xian’s. Ana reached down and squeezed her shoulder.

They began to walk, and across the end of the world, a portal blinked into being

#okay take 3 #lumberjanes #lumberjanes week #my writing #for context: this is yesterday's prompt which i accidentally posted on a sideblog at 4am

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spaceorphan18 · 3 years

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Marvel Movie Nights: The Avengers

Admission time. I’m not a huge fan of action movies. And.. after watching the first half of this list (as well as having watched a lot of the Batman films, too), I’m not surprised why I came into these kind of films with a bit of apprehension. I didn’t have background of comics knowledge like I did with X-Men. And because I had only seen the original Iron Man before this one, the first time I saw this movie, I was a blank, and somewhat apathetic, slate.

The thing that surprised me when I first watched it was how captivated I was by it. It was fast and snappy and even the action sequences held my attention. It was not just a good action film. It was a good film all together.

And it’s a fact I still stand by today. I had been anxious to get here, especially after we hit the MCU films, because the beauty of this film is that it is an accumulation of what comes before it. There are layers to this film -- that it can be appreciated as a stand alone but also as a climax of the three-ish (do we really need to count Hulk?) films that came before it.

This film is brilliant. It’s almost simple in its brilliance now -- we joke about Marvel films being standard three-act structures (I’d argue this one follows the five-act format), and this one follows the structure pretty closely. The story telling is pretty simple - evil guy trying to take over the world, superheroes come to stop him. But it’s the way this story is told that seems pretty genius.

This is a story about characters. What really works is the fact that these characters have all been introduced in earlier films, so we don’t need the origin stories of how all of them are heroes -- we already know they stand on their own individually. But this is a story of these very, very different characters coming together to form a real team. This is the origin story of not of one individual character -- but of the Avengers, of how this group of various strange and superpowered individuals work past their differences and save the world.

And it’s incredibly effective.

The thing that stands out to me on rewatch is how brilliant the little scenes are between the characters. Black Widow, in particular, gets some stellar scenes with her individual scene partners; but the entire cast works well together. They play off each other beautiful in a story that’s relatively tight and yet is weaving all of these individual character threads through the main plot. It’s no easy feat. And while I’m not huge on crediting Joss Whedon on things, this is one time his style of filmmaking is well suited for the project.

The Avengers stands out among other comic book films. It’s light and fast paced. It has a sense of humor, knowing when to take itself seriously and when it doesn’t need to. It’s bright and colorful like a cartoon, and yet is grounded in some very human emotions like a good drama. It doesn’t stray outside of its story even though the baggage of each character complements the storytelling instead of working against it.

And it's a testament to how good this film is that ten years later, and after seeing quite a lot of times, it still can hold an emotional impact.

I’m not going to go into huge detail about the characters here. I think everyone is served pretty well -- even if I have small quibbles such as Chris Hemsworth (or the writing) still not feeling like he has a handle on who his character is or the lack of development with Jeremy Renner’s Hawkeye. Marvel is often (rightfully) criticized for its villains but Tom Hiddleston shines as Loki. The cast is truly a joy to watch on screen -- making us care about these characters -- which is a big part in why Marvel continues to dominate the genre today.

The production of the film is pretty stellar, too. I’m not bogged down by too much CGI (though there’s a lot of it) and since we’re entering an era of better technology it isn’t hampered by the awkwardness of special effects being outdated. The film itself looks (and sounds) nice and clean and effortless.

I have a few (very minor) quibbles; there are a few comedic one-liners that fall a little flat, as stated above Hawkeye and Thor both feel a little underdeveloped (or underserved); the battle of New York drags on just a hair too long; and despite the presence of Nick Fury - it’s very much a white-guy fest.

But at the end of the day, I still love this movie. It’s a simpler film to me now -- as this is a Season 1 finale rather than a Series Finale, but it was bold and groundbreaking, and is still a marvel (pun intended) a decade after its release.

Final Verdict: I’m glad I can look back on this film and still have a very fond feeling for it.

Next Up: The Amazing Spider-Man -- which I have never seen. Andrew Garfield just isn’t gonna feel right...

#marvel movie nights #the avengers

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lochrannn · 3 years

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AU-gust: Mama, didn’t mean to make you cry

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prompt no 11: Summer Camp

Characters: Lila Pitt, Diego Hargreeves, Number Five Hargreeves

Relationship: Lila Pitts/Diego Hargreeves

Diego has asked her twice whether she’d like to help out with the summer holiday programme that he’s set up at his gym for inner city kids whose parents haven’t got the means or availability to send them off to camp, but Lila just waffled a half-answer that boiled down to “no thanks” and he hasn’t asked her again.

It’s not like she doesn’t support the idea. She supposes it’s a nice thing to do for the kids. Diego’s definitely thriving and she’ll usually actively support anything that’ll make him happy, but he’s enjoying himself with or without her participation and when it boils down to it, Lila really doesn’t need to spend her days hanging out with a bunch of snivelling children full of tragic backstories. She’s got plenty of that herself, thank you very much.

That may not have been how she put it to Diego. Maybe the fact that she very quickly started ranting about snot-nosed brats is the reason why he hasn’t brought it up again.

Until today that is.

“Hey Lila,” Diego calls from the kitchen as she’s in the process of brushing her teeth, “can I ask for a favor?”

Lila walks out of the bathroom, mouth full of toothpaste and scrubbing away to find Diego at the kitchen table tinkering with a torch.

“Wha’ ‘ooh you nee’?” Lila asks, finding it a bit hard to articulate around the foam, but she’s sure Diego got the message.

“I… uh… I’m running a little late and I kinda need Five’s van,” he says, not looking up at her, instead concentrating on connecting two very thin looking wires, “He said I could pick it up this morning but I’ve got to get to the gym and won’t have time to swing by the Academy first.”

Then he does take his eyes off his work and instead turns them on her, big and round and shiny, the puppy dog eyes that she personally believes are an unfair tactic in any conversation and asks, “You’re not doing anything this morning, right? You wouldn’t… you know…?” he trails off, apparently hoping that he doesn’t actually have to ask, that she’ll just fill in the rest for herself.

Lila goes over to the kitchen sink to rinse her mouth out and get rid of the toothpaste and once she’s satisfied that she will be able to talk properly again she asks, brandishing her toothbrush a little menacingly at him, “So you’re asking me, on my day off, to take the bus over to the Academy, so I can get the van that your murdering, geriatric brother who walks around in a child’s body, stole off some unsuspecting handyman, even though you could all afford to buy a fucking van, and then bring it to you and what? Get the bus back home after?”

“Uh… yeah?” Diego says a bit dumbly, then rallies and offers, “I’ll make you pancakes this evening!” and when she’s still staring him down he adds, “and I’ll give you a foot rub!”

“That’s not a fair offer, Diego, those are things you like!” Lila says indignantly.

“Yeah, but so do you!” Diego shoots back with an almost sly smirk.

“Urgh!” She throws her hands up in the air, “Fine!”

When Diego gets up and wraps his arms around her, she only resists for a moment on principle and then lets him press his lips against her temple. “Thanks babe!”

“Helloooooo?!” Lila calls out as she’s walking into the big entrance hall of the Umbrella Academy mansion.

She doesn’t actually have a key, but she doesn’t need one as nobody ever bothers locking the door. Anyone who might be even a remote threat to the Academy would easily get in whether the door was locked or not.

Her voice echoes in the hall but nobody answers, so she heads to the back stairs to make her way down to the kitchen.

When she gets there she finds both the man she was looking for and also her least favourite Hargreeves sitting at the kitchen table with the newspaper and a cup of coffee.

“Mh, where are the others?” she asks without any real greeting.

“Lila, always a pleasure!” Five’s response is dripping with sarcasm.

“Yeah, fuck you too!” she shoots back. “So where are the ape man and ghost boy?”

“They’ve gone to help our stabbiest brother with his little community engagement project,” Five answers with a bit of a huff, turning a page of his paper and then giving it a straightening shake.

“Why aren’t you with them?” Lila asks, genuinely curious now.

“I don’t particularly like children.”

Lila nods almost sympathetically.

“And they usually seem to think I’m one of them, which makes me want to chew off my own foot.”

“You are one of them, though, pipsqueak!” Lila says, ruffling his hair on the way to the coffee pot to pour herself a cup. It’s a testament to how far they’ve come that all he does is swat at her but doesn’t try and impale her hand with a fork.

“Also, why am I picking the van up if one of you three stooges could have brought it over just as easily?” She’s suddenly filled with indignation.

“Klaus and Luther were already gone when Diego rang and I’m waiting for an important call from Switzerland,” Five says a bit primly and Lila has to stop herself from rolling her eyes.

“Oh, the CERN thing… And? Will we be sucked into a black hole or do you think that’s another apocalypse you can best?” Lila asks, not actually too concerned. Once you’ve dealt with enough doomsday scenarios, you become a bit desensitised.

Five shrugs. “Time will tell.”

“Right!” That’s enough playing nice with Five for one day, one of the reasons they do get on in a way is because they make sure to interact in bite sized increments, “Where are the keys, then?”

As Lila climbs out of the van she wonders how best to get the keys to Diego with the least amount of interaction with any of the screeching children on the premises.

For a moment she even considered just leaving the key in the ignition and wandering off, but she thinks Diego would throw a hissy fit. God forbid a car thief might take an interest in their stolen van.

As she comes around the side of the building she can already hear the absolute racket the group of children inside are making and a genuine shiver of apprehension runs down her spine.

But then a closer noise draws her attention and when she takes a look behind the dumpster she regrets having followed her instincts because cowering in the corner is a small child with long, dark, wavy hair that is sobbing uncontrollably.

For a second she thinks she might just hurry inside to let one of the adults know there’s a kid on her own out here, but even to her that doesn’t quite feel right, so she calls out softly, “Uh… little girl… I don’t think you should be out here.”

The girl spins around in shock and her huge, watery, brown eyes fix on Lila, almost like she’s a little bit afraid.

Then she sniffs loudly, Lila tries not to wince at the sound, and says with determination, “I’m not going back in!”

“Yeah? Why’s that?” Lila asks, approaching the child but also looking around for anyone more qualified to deal with the situation.

“Because Brad’s a dick!” she shouts as if Lila should have guessed that.

Lila has to suppress the urge to laugh at the foul language coming out of such a tiny little person, instead she says, “I don’t think you’re supposed to use words like that.”

The girl scowls at her, so Lila tries a different tactic. “What did he do?” she asks while crouching down next to the girl, who doesn’t seem to be too scared of her now.

“Don’t wanna talk about it.” the girl mumbles petulantly.

“Okay…” Lila feels entirely in over her head, but so far she hasn’t had the urge to strangle this kid, so maybe she can make it through a conversation with her.

“What’s your name?” she asks.

“Niha,” the girl answers, “What’s yours?”

“Lila,” Lila offers.

“Oh cool! You’re Lila! Coach Diego talks about you all the time!” There’s genuine excitement in the girl’s expression now and LIla is completely taken aback.

“He does?!” she asks, her voice maybe just a bit shrill.

“Yeah! He says you’re one of the best fighters he knows and that it doesn’t matter that you’re a girl, that you put him on his ass all the time in training. See, Coach Diego uses bad language as well!” Niha says triumphantly, as if she’s just won some kind of argument.

“Yeah, I bet he does.” Lila is quite baffled at the glimpse she’s getting of Diego’s summer camp.

“Do you really not want to talk about what Brad did?” she then asks with as gentle a voice as possible, hoping to change the subject, as she suddenly feels a bit awkward about the idea that all of these children apparently know about her.

Niha huffs and caves in on herself again.

“He said I was dirt poor because I didn’t bring any snacks from home.” She sniffs and then blubbers on, “But that’s not even the truth, my mom just didn’t buy any for me. She doesn’t really care that much, I don’t think she really loves me!” And then the girl starts sobbing again and Lila has no idea what to do.

That’s not quite true. She knows what she’s supposed to say. She’s supposed to say ‘of course you’re mummy loves you, she probably just forgot’, but who the hell is she to tell anyone that their mum loves them?

So instead she puts her hand on the small girl's back and rubs it gently, then says, “Hey Niha, you know what? In a few years’ time you’ll be able to get a job and earn your own money and buy all the snacks you want!”

“I’m only eight!” Niha says with a bit of confusion and a bit of indignation and Lila has to admit maybe that wasn’t the best argument.

“Okay, look, I’ll buy you some snacks, okay? And Diego can bring them in for you tomorrow, how does that sound?”

“But he brings us snacks anyway!” The girl looks at her like she’s a bit of an idiot and right now Lila feels almost inclined to agree.

“But these’ll be special snacks, you little knowitall, just for you from me, alright?” Lila explains, trying to keep the exasperation out of her voice.

Niha’s eyes start shining brightly again, filling with more unshed tears and Lila hopes she’s not going to start crying again because she doesn’t think her brittle heart can take any more of that, but then something else seems to occur to the girl and she asks, nosily, “Are you Coach Diego’s wife?”

“Uhm!” Lila just makes a noise in panic and is luckily saved by the clanging sound of the metal door to the gym.

“Yo Niha, what are you doing out here? Oh, hey Lila!” Diego calls out with a surprised look on his face as he makes his way over.

Niha looks up at Lila, apparently hoping that she can explain the situation, but really, Lila is not too sure.

“Uh, she said she just needed some air, but she’s all better now, right?” Lila looks at the girl imploringly and she seems just as happy to go along with the lie.

“Well you’d better get back inside, then, we’re about to start an epic game of hide and seek!” Diego explains to the girl and it seems that was the best suggestion Niha has heard all day, because she jumps up to run over to the entrance. She just about manages to remember her manners when she calls out “Thanks!” to Lila before disappearing through the door.

Lila is still crouched on the floor, feeling a little overwhelmed.

“You okay?” Diego asks while she can hear him approach her. She doesn’t need to look at him to know that he’s frowning.

Lila just hums noncommittally, but doesn’t move. The thought of that little girl making her way through life without being sure of her mother’s love is slowly breaking her heart.

“What’s up?” Diego tries again, as he reaches her.

She still doesn’t answer and when a tear rolls down her cheek, she feels Diego’s hand wrap around her arm and he pulls her to her feet before enveloping her in a tight hug.

She wraps her arms around his waist, to squeeze against him even more tightly and presses her face into his chest, hoping she can hide the fact that she’s crying. If not from Diego, then at least from the rest of the world.

He doesn’t ask her about it, at this point he knows she won’t talk until she’s ready to, instead he just holds on to her, stroking her hair gently with one hand until she feels no more brimming tears and she pulls away.

He does keep his hand at the back of her head though as he stoops a little to look her straight in the eyes. “You good?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Lila says, a bit embarrassed about her sudden mild breakdown.

“You wanna come inside?” Diego asks with a soft smile that never fails to make something flutter in her chest and she feels at least a bit better.

“Nah, I’m good!” she says, voice more steady now.

“You sure?” Diego tries to make certain as he rights himself and lets his hand drop from her head to take her own with it instead.

“Yes, definitely,” Lila squeezes his hand to reassure him. “Don’t have the time, anyway. I’ve gotta go to the supermarket and buy some snacks!”

#au_gust_2021 #fanfic #tua #the umbrella academy #diego hargreeves #lila pitts #dielila #diego x lila #diego/lila #five hargreeves #lochrannn lxd au challenge

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tsarisfanfiction · 3 years

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Nakama (Tales From The Heart)

Fandom: One Piece Rating: Gen Warnings: None Characters: Law, Penguin, Shachi, Bepo, Polar Tang

Travelling in a submarine posed a unique problem, which the Heart Pirates had noticed early on, and that was the requirement for fuel. Mercifully, the Tang had several huge tanks, half of them reserves, so the likelihood of ever finding themselves running on empty was slim.

The run of bad luck started when island after island was unable to provide them with any fuel. The Tang wasn't picky about what powered her – a stroke of luck, considering how specialised she otherwise was – but they'd been young and naïve enough to not start looking for fuel until they were down to the reserve tanks, believing that they still had plenty of fuel left.

"I don't like this," Shachi admitted, staring at the display panels in the control room. All four of them were gathered there, not quite comfortable with their current situation as the dials claimed they were down to less than an eigth of a single tank. In an ideal world, they'd have resorted to sailing long ago, manoeuvring her bulk the traditional way until they found enough fuel to start the engines going again.

Doflamingo had unhelpfully decided to be in the same area as them, and Law's pink flamingo-induced paranoia had overridden his running low on fuel paranoia, so they'd taken in the sail and dived, regretfully igniting the engines to escape.

"He won't linger long," Penguin said hopefully, looking at Law, who shrugged helplessly.

"Keep the engines on minimum power," the youngest ordered. "We'll let the currents carry us, just use the fuel to keep our vital systems running. Bepo, chart where it takes us so you can get us to an island once we resurface."

"Aye, Captain!" the mink agreed eagerly, already surrounded by maps and his paws covered in ink, which smeared onto everything he touched. The maps seemed unintelligible to the humans, inky black smudges covering the lines between land and sea, but Bepo didn't seem perturbed by his additions to the cartography. "We're here," he explained, adding another splotch of ink to the map as he nudged the spot in question. The other three leaned in, unable to tell for themselves and trusting that the mink was right. "The current seems to be heading this way so far," he continued, dragging the claw along the parchment, leaving a black streak.

"There aren't many islands that way," Penguin commented dubiously. "If the current takes us past that cluster," he pointed to a small group of islands almost but not quite on their route, "we're going to be sailing for a long time."

"We should be able to surface there," Law said. "If we come up just past them and backtrack, it'll take a little more fuel but we'll be able to avoid Doflamingo. He wasn't heading this way from what I saw, so coming up the other side of the islands should keep us out of sight."

"Do we have enough fuel for that?" Shachi asked, unconvinced, as he glanced back at the gauges again. He couldn't read the exact level from where he was, but it was worryingly low.

"Yes," Law said, sounding about as certain as Shachi had been. "We might need to cut power everywhere except this room," he added, thinking out loud. "But we have enough."

No-one bothered to ask if they knew how to isolate a single room. They all knew they didn't.

"It'll be fine," Bepo said, his grin almost genuine, and they smiled weakly. It was a testament to the fear Doflamingo instilled in their captain, and by association the rest of them, that running out of fuel underwater was still their preferred doom.

Two hours later, with their fuel gauge now firmly at the bottom end of the red, Shachi ventured out of the control room to make sure all the lights were turned off in all the other rooms, and anything else that was taking unnecessary power. A painful order from Law had him shutting down even the machines in the infirmary, and as he carefully picked his way through the darkness back to the control room, the external lights flickered off.

"Where are we?" he asked Bepo as he re-entered the room to find even the control room's lights had been dimmed as much as possible.

"An hour away from the islands," Law replied for him, having clearly just asked the same question himself, and Shachi breathed a shaky sigh before collapsing into a chair. It let out an oof, but Penguin didn't push him off. Opposite them, the other side of the table, Law was covered in ink and nestled on Bepo's lap. For once, he wasn't protesting at the mess. "This current is staying steady." There was nothing left to say, so Shachi slouched back against the taller boy, whose arms loosely wrapped around him while a chin found rest on his left shoulder.

It was going to be a long hour.

Or so they thought.

If the external lights had still been on, they might have had some warning. As it was, there wasn't even a flicker outside the sole, dark, window in the room before the Tang lurched wildly. A high-pitched wail started up as they were flung to the floor, caught off balance. Something shattered.

"I thought we turned that off!" Penguin shouted above the wailing, flapping a hand towards the red light now flashing away urgently on the control panel.

"Priorities!" Law snapped back, already fumbling his way forwards to slap the external light controls. Shachi shrieked.

Suddenly illuminated outside the singular window was a row of gleaming teeth, each one easily larger than any of the pirates. As they moved, heading forwards towards the prow of the Tang, scales glinted in the light, and a large eye passed right by the window.

"S-s-sea King!" Bepo screamed, throwing himself back, away from the window.

"Why now?" Shachi lamented, scrambling towards the control panel himself. "Weapons, weapons, weap-ah!" The Tang lurched again, jostling him sideways into Law, who toppled to the floor. "Law!"

"Weapons are offline!" Penguin shouted from where he had managed to cling to the section of the panel that controlled the engine power. "Fuel is almost zero. If we turn the weapons on we won't be able to surface!"

"We won't be able to surface if we're dead!" Shachi yelled right back, slamming a fist on the power button. "Come on, come on, come on!" he muttered as the systems started to re-engage. "Come on, come on, come o- no! No, no, no, no!" he screamed as the lights flickered and died. "No, dammit, come on! You can do it, please, come on!"

The external lights flickered once and died, followed shortly by the ones in the control room itself, plunging them into almost total darkness. The faint glow from the control panel, the sonar screaming now-silently as it declared the threat circling them.

"What do we do?" Bepo cried. "Captain?"

Law was silent for several long moments, fingers dancing over the controls as if he could coax some response, any response from them. The fuel gauge declared total emptiness, completely drained by the attempt to turn on the weapons, and slowly the background hum of the Tang faded away to nothing.

"I don't know," he said finally, and for once sounded his age – a scared young teenager trapped as death raced towards them - in the unnatural silence. "I… I don't know."

"There has to be something!" Penguin exclaimed frantically, joining his captain in flicking controls. "Something, please, please."

The Tang lurched again, sending them all toppling to the floor in one giant heap, and they clung to each other, each of them trying to use the darkness to hide the way they were sobbing in terror.

"Please!"

None of them knew which of them said the final plea out loud, maybe it had been all of them, but as if it were a cue, a familiar roar sounded.

The roar of the Polar Tang's engines coming to life.

None of the lights came back on, and in reality it was less of a roar and more of a dying splutter, but the stuttering hum beneath their feet was unmistakable, and they all looked up at the panel as one, just in time to see the lights signifying the weapons were active flicker weakly on.

The sonar shrieked, the sound once again on, as the shape denoting the sea king hurtled towards them, and before any of them could move, could comprehend what was happening, the Tang moved.

It was a lurch, but this time there was no shuddering impact to go alongside it – a fact only noticed in its absence. It felt more like a roll, the sort of movement they did when dealing with a sea king attack with plenty of engine power to spare.

The controls moved, just a little but enough that it couldn't be explained away as a trick of the half-light, and the Tang lurched back the other way just as the sonar reported the sea king passing over their heads.

Bepo was the first to react, pulling himself out of the pile of pirates on the floor to run to the panel, where the gauges still said there was no fuel despite the way the Tang's engines were humming and her weapons system was somehow online. He grabbed the moving controls, glancing at the sonar and steering the Tang as if she had a full fuel of tank, away from the next attack.

The impossibility of the situation could wait. Shachi was next to surge to his feet, throwing himself to the weapons and firing off at the sea king as it lurched towards them again. True to form, as a World Government standard ship, the blast was powerful enough to knock the sea king a long way down, into the depths.

They didn't wait for it to come back, Law and Penguin now joining them at the control panel as the Tang roared painfully, accelerating and peeling away from the current she'd been riding to head for the surface.

Doflamingo was long-forgotten as they broke the waves, the action feeling like a triumphant leap from the water even though in reality it was little more than a final splutter before the Tang's engines went silent, all of the controls turning off and locking up as whatever mysterious energy that had powered her disappeared, leaving her a drained husk.

"We… we're alive," Shachi panted, flopping over the dead control panel limply. Beside him, Penguin was shaking in disbelieving laughter. "We're… how?"

"Raise the sail," Law said automatically, looking around blankly. "Bepo, where are we?" The mink scrambled to pick up his map and carry it over to the window, where daylight was streaming in. The map was covered in black ink, and he frowned at it for several long seconds before his ears flattened in defeat.

"The map's ruined, I'm sorry," he mumbled, following Law as he decided to leave the still-dark control room and head for the main door. Somehow, despite the Polar Tang being completely offline, the main door slid open jerkily to let him out on the deck.

"Don't worry about it," Law said absently and Penguin and Shachi wandered past, still dazed, to raise the sail.

It was only once the sail was up, the white fabric catching the breeze and slowly pushing the submarine to glide along the surface of the water, that Law let himself sink to the decking, head in his hands. The others congregated around him, all in equal states of shock.

"How did she do that?" Penguin asked, his voice cracking. "She was empty – is empty. How..?"

No-one had an answer for him, shaking with relief and the fading dregs of adrenaline as they flopped back on the deck. Somehow, the Polar Tang had done the impossible and snatched them from the jaws of death. None of them knew how.

"You're amazing," Shachi said, running a hand along the damp wood. The ship remained silent, save for the wind in her sail and the waves lapping at her side, but he just smiled.

"We'll get fuel at the next island," Law said, and it wasn't a wish, it was fact. No matter what it took, they'd fill the Tang to the brim with fuel so she never had to do that – whatever "that" had been – again.

"Best ship ever," Bepo added, his fur still stained with ink that was rubbing off on the deck as he lay there. "Thank you."

She bobbed just a little bit more vigorously over the next wave.

#one piece #one piece fanfiction #heart pirates #tales from the heart #tsari writes fanfiction #trafalgar law #penguin #shachi #bepo #polar tang

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smokeybrandreviews · 4 years

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Smokey brand Reviews: A Series of Unfortunate Events

I’m a product of the 80s. I as born at the beginning of the middle years of the decade so i as old enough to experience a lot of the cultural milestones firsthand or fresh on VHS. Beta Max, if i was at my grandpa’s house. Indeed, i was the target audience for things like RoboCop, The Never Ending Story, Labyrinth, and Legend. I grew up in the decade of the Mall Crawl feature and the high school hero narrative. RAD, Revenge of the Nerds, and Fast Times at Ridgemont High were staples of my youth. For the most part, i was okay with them. I Didn’t care for Rad or Story but it was The Karate Kid that rose up as the one with the most staying power. Now, i don’t like those films. Daniel is an asshole and no one talks about that enough but i was willing to give Cobra Kai a chance. I was suspect about it, this thing felt a lot like a nostalgia cash grab, but Netflix picked it up from oblivion so i decided to give it a shot. Is it more than just a callback to a franchise that lost it’s luster long ago or does this new take actually have legs to be more than it’s source material?

The Good

Revisiting the world of The Karate Kid has been a nostalgia bomb for sure. I was never a massive fan of the franchise but this show? This feels right. This feels organic. This feels like a Karate Kid flick more than any of the sequels ever did.

I love the shift in perspective. I was always one of those people who subscribe to Daniel being the villain in his own story so seeing Johnny get his due all these years later felt right. This is a world of gray, of moral ambiguity. This isn’t a one sided narrative used to bolster a feel good teen dram. These characters feel like people now and not just plot devices to embellish a plot.

A lot of this excellence stems from the outstanding writing of this show. It’s nuts what you can create with thirty years of hindsight. The original film, the first Karate Kid, was a feel good, genre piece, wrapped in 80s ninja exploitation. That’s not to say it wasn’t a decent watch or anything, the fact that nostalgia has endured for this this long is testament to the film’s popularity, but the plot and characters were paper thin. You’s see that movie time and time again. Cobra Kai takes those characters and makes them whole. They’re people bow, not just tropes or cliches.

I was a little surprised i cared so much for some of these characters because i don’t necessarily subscribe to the saccharine teenage melodrama. I’m not a fan of that over-the-top, CW inspired, 90210, Hollywood fairy tale, high school life. It’s bogus. No one acts like that. The kids in this? they act like kids would act and it’s refreshing to see. A lot of this is kind of those same 80s tropes driven by the film series but it’s interesting to see them take on a more modern spin. I as okay with a lot of what was going on, that slow heel turn for everyone, and it felt organic. It felt real.

This thing would have fell right on it’s face if the cast didn't actually portray these characters with the proper heart and realism necessary that the script demands. This show is a show about people and relationships. there is no fantastical, Matrix level, fights or sci-fi shenanigans. I have to say, at least for this first season, they pulled that sh*t off. No one gives a bad performance and every one of the supporting characters get enough of an arc to stay relevant and and keep me engaged.

I need to give Ralph Macchio the highest of respect for not only reprising his role as Daniel LaRusso, but signing on as producer for this show. I don’t know that it would have gotten off the ground if not for that co-sign but I'm glad he did. More to the point, it’s nuts seeing where this character ended up in life. It’s not some romanticized version of who he could have been, it’s a grounded portrayal of a man who grew up. High school happens but that was just a part of his life. He has an entirely new battleground to face and it feels right that his slip back into that world he left behind, is portrayed as a negative for the Daniel we have now.

More than anything, the driving force behind this show is William Zabka’s Johnny Lawrence. In the film, Johnny was this caricature of the 80s high school bully antagonist. Rich, pretentious, kind of a dick. He was scripted to be hated but there was always so much more underneath that. Cobra Kai looks at all of that and we even get a view of the film from his perspective. It’s nuts. Zabka’s earnest performance and genuine emotion for the role shines through and makes for a properly compelling watch.

The new Karate Kid, Miguel Diaz, was an interesting character to see develop. He walks the line between the two extremes of Daniel and Lawrence, slowly turning heel and embodying the ideology of John Kreese. It was kind of heartbreaking seeing such a great transformation, tainted by the vitriol from a past he had nothing to do with, and Xolo Mariduena delivers that nuance perfectly.

I really enjoyed Daniel’s daughter, Samantha. She was kind of a b*tch at first, but followed an arc in reverse of Miguel. It’s one of the better redemptive arcs I've seen and he does it without beating anyone’s ass. But you know she soul. There are not so subtle hints that Sam is a little bit of a bad ass but prefers being the voice of reason. She’s a better Daniel in this how, than Daniel was in his own films, and a lot of that credit goes to Mary Mouser.

This show feels like something straight out of the 80s There are a ton of those old school martial arts tropes all up in this sh*t. The return of a ling dead sensei, the hero taking in the villains kid, the kumate tournament scene. There’s even a beachfront confrontation. It’s a nostalgia bomb, for sure, and i loved all of it!

The Bad

The only thing that kind of grates on me about this show is the complete and total lack of communication. Seriously, if anyone just, you know, sat down and had a talk with each other, none of this conflict would have escalated passed anything. You actually see a little bit of that start to happen between Daniel and Johnny toward the end of the first season, but then another misunderstanding!

The Verdict

I really like this show. Seriously, it surprised the f*ck out of me how much i enjoyed my time with Cobra Kai. I was never a huge fan of The Karate Kid, mostly because i don’t like Daniel at all, but this feels like the Karate Kid we should have seen years ago. I love the performances, i love the plot, i love the time jump perspective. It’ awesome seeing that Daniel isn’t such a Gary Stu, thanks to one helluva performance by Ralph Macchio. It’s awesome seeing that there is legitimate depth to Johnny through a legitimately excellent portrayal by William Zabka. You can see cracks in his performance here and there but it’s still relatively strong. All of the kids from the younger generation are outstanding, as well, particularly Xolo Mariduena as Miguel Diaz. Dude was great as the new Karate Kid. Don’t get me wrong, all of the youngsters were excellent but Mariduena made this show. More than anything, however, it was the writing that kept me coming back. I love how well these characters are developed, how endearing their relationships are, and how captivating the conflict between everyone is, even if it could have been diffused by a talk or two. Cobra Kai has it’s faults at time, certain narratives are left on the cutting room floor, the antagonists feel like disposable, and the conflict is a little flimsy at times, but overall, this show is a great watch and definitely a better continuation of The Karate Kid spirit than any of the sequels. Or, at least, I can say that about season one. Season two is on deck next.

#Smokey brand Reviews #Cobra Kai

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sebthesnipe · 5 years

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The Dreamer by Whatwashernameagin an Analysis? Part 2

All portions:

Chapter 1: Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4

Chapter 2: Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4

The Dreamer

by @whatwashernameagain

Reminder: Spoilers under cut!

So… Where were we? Aw yes… The desperation for acceptance of a POV which is both unique and far out of the reach of the human populous as a whole. In other in other words, Logan being very lonely and wanting to share his ideas with the world and hoping against hope he will not always be alone in them… heartbreaking…

The next portion of Whatwashernameagain’s work introduces The Dreamer. Going into the work with foreknowledge of the ship and the characters within, we as the readers (or I, rather) know that Roman is The Dreamer and thus know that Logan is referring to him. So, to be completely honest I am not sure if I am imagining this next bit or if it is truly the case (hence why I have chosen to focus more on Reader-Response theory rather than some of the more closed reading disciplines). However, in Logan’s first description of The Dreamer there are a few …. Odd choices in wordings. Eva writes:

“The one thing consistently standing between him and the fulfillment of his plans had turned out to be an outrageously insignificant detail…. This thorn in his shoe showed up at the most inopportune moments, predictably puffing up his chest in his ridiculous, unpractical costume, ready to boldly reassure the public before thoughtlessly storming in to hinder his plans with his irritating presence” (Whatwashernameagain).

There are a number of things in this small paragraph that gives way to yet even more of Logan’s personality, still molding the mental image that the author is painting while still leaving the blanks to be filled in our heads. ‘Consistently’ being italicized, for example, provides me with the mental image of a small tick of annoyance like Logan is mentally hissing the word while his index finger and thumb are pressed together drawing it out with annoyance (kinda like Moriarty during the pool scene in BBC’s Sherlock). Anyways, it immediately pulls the reader back into his frustration but this time… something is different.

Lets recap a moment, So far we know that Logan is a cold calculating man with only his work to keep him company; we know that he wishes for someone to share his view points but otherwise hasn’t really shown any emotional fluctuations (he obviously has emotions, there just seem muted almost) and yet his train of thought here, indicated by the italics is fairly harsh. His choice of words far less calculated than we’ve seen thus far. Here we see him use something akin to an oxymoron calling The Dream ‘an outrageously insignificant detail’. Why would he use so many words when a simple ‘insignificant’ would work? Unless… He is compensating. Many authors will push a thought or description to further lengths than necessary to give the owner of said thoughts a unique perspective. One of the best I’ve ever seen/read would be Robert Jordan in his The Wheel of Time series. Jordan switches from POV to POV flawlessly without pausing to explain it to the reader but as talented as he is at making each so unique the reader never needs the explanation, following along without a hiccup. As much as I would love to say that Eva is there, she isnt... at least not yet… but then again, I haven’t found anyone on par with Robert Jordan’s use of POV and character development as of yet. My point is that she uses the type of flow shifting POV very fluidly without having to spell it out for the reader; and the use of the additional descriptors are a testament to that. (I hope I am making sense I am so very tired #dead).

Logan goes on to talk about the ‘puffing up’ and how ‘unpractical’ The Dreamer’s costume is and his ‘irritating presence’, he talks about grand speeches and attempting to appeal to Logan’s ‘humanity’. The tone of the paragraphs is that of annoyed humor as if it were amusing to think Logan had any humanity at all. That being said… another literary study comes to mind when reading this portion of the work. I will do my best to keep from going too much in depth but basically back in the early EARLY 1900s Sigmund Freud invented psychoanalysis with his publication of The interpretation of Dreams (Rivkin, Julie). Why was it such a big deal? Well, before the publication psychology assumed that what goes on in the mind was limited to the conscious (Rivkin, Julie). What does that have to do with Logan? Well, the revolution was a huge part of history and the strides that were made in psychology didn’t only affect the medical world but the literary one as well. Psychoanalysis wasn’t only limited to a person but the work they created as well; it began to be used as a way of studying literature, analyzing the author through their work. But… I’m veering a bit too far to the left. The reason this is important is because some of Frued’s research was based on the ‘defenses’ that the ego mobilizes against unacceptable libidianal or unconscious material (Rivkin, Julie). I.e. The mind can invert a feeling into its opposite, so that a yearning for contact can become a desire to do violence (Rivkin, Julie). That, of course, is an extreme but we see the same psychological mechanism here for Logan. The Dreamer is a man who represents the very thing Logan is determined to pull down; it would be extremely illogical to have any sort of attraction to the man. There for, to put it simply, he’s in denial. (Yes… I am aware I went into a bunch of Fruedian jargon just to say Logan is in denial and everyone already knew that… He would have approved though so I’m not editing it out. You will just have to deal with it.)

This says a lot about Roman’s character as well. Those who are familiar with the character knows how outrageous the creative man can be, but Eva writes (from Logan’s POV) ‘the idiot was actually attempting to change his mind’ (Whatwashernameagain). This give another shift in the emotional tone of the work, feeding off Logan’s annoyance and dark undertones and changing it into something more hopeful; giving us our first glimpse at the painting of The Dreamer; so far nothing but a symbol of hope (and a ‘thorn in Logan’s shoe’).

Going to reverse for a moment as well. Bringing up the metaphor of ‘a thorn in his shoe’; there is a lot to be said about this line as well. It really puts The Dreamer in perspective from The Utilitarian’s point of view…. At least his conscious one. It shows that Logan wants the hero to be beneath him, that he consciously tries to convince himself that he is. That The Dream is at his feet causing more annoyance than actually damage. I’m a sucker for a good metaphor and this one certainly isn’t a bad one.

Within the next paragraph Logan goes on ranting about The Dreamer being a nuisance, continuing on his rant that really only cements his attraction to the hero. But, once again, the image of The Dreamer is becoming more detailed. Logan describes him as ‘clinging desperately to his ancient, deontological ethics with its rules that mustn’t be broken at any cost’ (Whatwashernameagain). It sounds as if despite the way Logan whines about The Dreamer he sees him as misguided. If he truly believed that the ethics The Dreamer represents were the man’s own then we would no doubt see the frustration we did when Logan spoke about the state of the world. Instead, we see the deflection of the blame from The Dreamer to ‘ancient, deontological ethics. It is obvious that Logan doesn’t blame him but rather sees that he is attempting to simply ‘do his duty’. This provides a sense of honor for The Dreamer which is quite fitting for Roman really.

Logan only cements his denial and affection for the hero but commenting on his concern for the man’s well-being despite his inconvenient presence: “Many a times he’d foiled his operation with simple stupidity, like running into an already unsafe sweat-shop he was about to blow up in order to rescue the industrialist he’d tied up in the vicinity” (Whatwashernameagain). It is possible that he has this concern for everyone that is not directly involved in the crimes he is attempting to shine some light on but it is doubt full.

To add to the growing case against Logan’s inaffection for the man, he actually tries to defend himself! He claims that he hadn’t planned on killing the industrialist, just make a statement and ‘singe his eyebrows’ (Whatwashernameagain). I love this line; it does a lot for the story is so few words. So, first it paints Logan, the cold calculating villain, as a sulking teenager who has been scolded. I love the imagery. It also brings a bit more humor into the work than the subtle outlines of Logan’s denial had been providing. It is makes it even more clear that Logan does not dislike Roman enough to actually want to hurt him; in fact, quite the opposite. It paints Roman as someone he would like to protect, emphasizing the ‘misguided hero’ view of The Dreamer once more.

Now to the good bits: “He knew very well how much the media loved [The Dreamer] with his uniform accentuating his broad shoulders and his lush, caramel hair, his blinding smile and perfect, tan skin” (Whatwashernameagain); Really Logan? Lush, caramel hair? Who talks like that? Only someone with a crush…. And boy do you have it bad! You think he’s smexy with a capital ‘M’! I don’t even have to explain this one… we all know… We all understand.

After that oh so very subtle remark, Eva follows up with a ‘He was a nuisance, is what [Logan] was trying to say’ (Whatwashernameagain)…. Mhmmm suuurrrrree D-E-N-I-A-L. Freud would love you! Just saying!

I think from now on I’m just going to break it down paragraph by paragraph. This is getting quite long and I don’t want anyone having to jump back and forth. So:

“The Utilitarianist prided himself in his polite, calm manners, yet this – man – brought out a temper he was not fond of. How dare this simpleton speak to him about right and wrong? Despite knowing the math advised against it, he found himself drawn into moral arguments repeatedly … and had almost gotten caught by those strong hands several times due to his frustration. He found himself simply unable to refrain from correcting the man when his claims were just so utterly stupid.” (Whatwashernameagain)

We’re going to jump back into Freud’s work now… be prepared. So, obviously Logan blames Roman for Logan’s reactions, his loss of self-control. This is known as projection. In projection, we assign to others feelings or thoughts in ourselves that are unacceptable (Rivkin, Julie). What possible feelings could Logan be having that are unacceptable? Maybe it has something to do with being caught by those ‘strong hands’. -eyebrow wiggle- This is also a good example of intellectualization. In intellectualization, we avoid potentially overwhelming feelings by focusing out attention on things that allow us to exercise that part of our mind devoted to reasoning rather than emotion (Rivkin, Julie): Hence, the arguments.

Before I move on, I want to point out the author’s talent here. Writing characters with a lot of depth can be difficult especially with characters that weren’t originally yours. I say that because I do these analysis’ constantly; I do them for work, I do them for school… I obviously do them for fun on occasion… but, while talking psychoanalysis can be daunting and perhaps a bit boring; the fact that I can apply these theories to a CHARACTER not the author is astounding. That is when you know someone has a great talent for their character formations. Sure, I can slap a few fancy words to describe a character but to actually be able to analyze a fictional character’s psyche… that is when you know that they are fully formed.

I’m afraid I will need to end Part 2 here. Once again work is approaching. I will be back with a Part 3 When I get the chance, however. Hopefully, I can get through more than 5-6 paragraphs of the work then… Some dialog is coming up so it should be a bit quicker. I am quite enjoying this analysis and I wanted to thank everyone who had read/commented/liked/reblogged Part 1; and for all of the asks I have received. I quite enjoy hearing from you and love answering questions so feel free to drop a line! Special thanks to Whatwashernameagain, as always, for writing so brilliantly and just being a genuinely wonderful human being. Until next time…

(Please forgive any poor grammar or misspelling. I tend to run short on time so I don’t really proofread)

Rivkin, Julie. Literary Theory: a Practical Introduction. Wiley-Blackwell, 2017.

Whatwashernameagain. “The Dreamer - Chapter 1.” Hello Guys Gals And Non Binary Friends, 8 Sept. 2019, https://whatwashernameagain.tumblr.com/post/187581477262/the-dreamer-chapter-1.

#THe dreamer #villain!logan #hero!roman #sanders sides #logince #logan sanders #roman sanders #logan/roman #analysis #readerresponse #sigmund freud #reaction #fanfiction

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blankasolun · 4 years

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source: Loudersound May 31, 2016

How Mayhem’s De Mysteriis Dom Sathanas changed metal

By Dayal Patterson (Metal Hammer) May 31, 2016

Mayhem are one of the most influential black metal bands on the planet, and their album De Mysteriis Dom Sathanas remains a timeless classic

It is an album whose significance, both inside and outside of black metal, has been acknowledged by a wealth of leading contemporary metal acts, from Watain to Enslaved to Inquisition, and one that led Nergal of Behemoth to proclaim it “the opus magnum of extreme metal”. Two decades after it was recorded, it continues to top ‘best album’ lists by longtime fans of the genre, while at the same time providing primary inspiration for new bands whose members were not even born when it was recorded. There are many who would say it is the single most important album in black metal’s broad and ever-growing catalogue, and very few who would argue that it is not, at the very least, a strong contender for that accolade.

The record in question is none other than Mayhem’s De Mysteriis Dom Sathanas, a milestone work that the long-serving Norwegians are set to perform in full around Europe this year, including Finland, Norway and France. And well they might, for this is an album that has lost neither its devoted following, nor any of its potency, in the years that have passed.

There are plenty of even more hyperbolic (yet equally true) statements that could be made in support of this unique collection of songs. Yet the biggest testament to its artistic value is perhaps the fact that discussion of its recording, songwriting and performance qualities continues to outweigh the highly notable circumstances of its creation. Indeed, it is testament to Mayhem’s significance as a musical force that any music was able to overcome all the drama involved with the band during the period in question. For – as most reading this will probably know – this is also a record that captures the vision of a musician who was not only cut down in his prime, but cut down by a bandmate appearing alongside him on this very recording.

The former party is of course Mayhem guitarist and co-founder Øystein ‘Euronymous’ Aarseth, who was stabbed to death in his apartment in August 1993 by the latter, Varg Vikernes, best known for his similarly-influential project Burzum but also the bassist for Mayhem during the era of De Mysteriis’ creation. The ultimately fatal conflict between the two men is a long and complicated episode in black metal’s grim history that has been discussed at length by fans and media alike for two decades.

What is still worth noting today though, is that the album’s roots are intrinsically linked to two now-departed members of the band. The second is the Swedish-born vocalist Per Yngve Ohlin – otherwise known as ‘Dead’ – and in fact it was he who actually came up with the title; Latin for ‘Of Lord Satan��s Mysteries / Secret Rites’, and a title taken, he explained, from an occult book he had discovered. The fact that Dead took his own life in 1991, while the album was released in 1994, gives some idea of how long the band’s debut studio album was in gestation.

Certainly it was long enough that the band’s first full-length, the legendary live album Live In Leipzig, (recorded in November 1990 but released almost three years later) captured the band (the line-up then comprised of Dead, Euronymous, bassist Necrobutcher and drummer Hellhammer) performing no less than half of its eight numbers. The oppressive, melancholic and suffocating aura found on that recording would thankfully remain in place following the transition of these aforementioned songs to the studio. While the obvious standout track Freezing Moon ia a grim monochromatic epic that remains a fan favourite even today – the unholy and, well, freezing feeling within that song is just as present on Funeral Fog, Pagan Fears, Buried By Time And Dust.

Complementing these older compositions and undoubtedly giving the album a more three-dimensional character was the incorporation of four newer, somewhat more angular and twisting songs, namely the title track, Cursed In Eternity, Buried By Time And Dust and From The Dark Past. Euronymous’ playing had become somewhat more calculated and considered by this point, his writing influenced significantly by the introverted but talented guitarist Snorre Ruch, whose unique approach to riffing within his band Thorns had proven ridiculously influential within the Norwegian scene. In fact, Snorre (now going under the name ‘Blackthorne’) would be inducted into the group as a second guitarist prior to the album’s recording. Despite not appearing on the finished record, he would contribute entire Thorns riffs to several songs, his presence being felt not only during these moments but more generally through his impact on much of Euronymous’ creeping guitar work.

His other role would be to rearrange Dead’s lyrics on several songs in preparation for the deceased vocalist’s replacement, Attila Csihar. A Hungarian musician who was admired in Norway thanks to his short-lived but seminal black metal band Tormentor, his appointment and spirited performance remains a defining factor of the record, and it was one that provoked no small controversy at the time. In contrast to the more typical black metal vocal styles of the time he introduced an eccentric, otherworldly and theatrical approach incorporating a drawling delivery and lurching from screams and rasps to an almost operatic form of singing that makes a feature of his distinctive Hungarian accent.

“The way of singing it, we were talking about how to do it of course,” recalled Attila in an interview conducted back in 2009. “I heard some demo recordings that had been done by Dead and [previous vocalist] Maniac before, but I like individualism… so when I talked to Euronymous in the studio I said, ‘Why don’t we try something else instead of making again the traditional screamed vocals?’ The De Mysteriis Dom Sathanas song, when I looked at the lyrics there was this Latin line so I thought, ‘Let’s do this voice there.’ I came out with the low vocals with more melodies, and he liked it so much we did the whole recording that way.”

Though seemingly a long-running plan on the part of Euronymous, the decision to use Attila for the role proved as much of a surprise for other musicians in the Norwegian scene as it was for the Mayhem fanbase. After all, not only was Euronymous surrounded by an abundance of local talent, but many of the vocalists in the country actually knew the songs on the forthcoming album already, having listened repeatedly to an instrumental tape that had been making the rounds for some time.

“People were a little bit pissed that they didn’t receive the phone call,” recalled Grutle of Enslaved during the same interview, “but they thought, ‘Well that’s going to be interesting’ – and it was! Actually while [Attila was] doing the vocals Øystein went to the callbox and called me and said, ‘He sings like a sick priest, he sings in Latin, with an accent, it’s incredible!’”

Of course, one cannot mention De Mysteriis without mention of the pounding and detailed percussion that underpins it. A fine performance by one of black metal’s best known drummers, Hellhammer (a man who has performed for innumerable bands from Arcturus and Covenant to Dimmu Borgir and Shining), the formidable yet restrained drumwork is complimented by both the spacious, eerie and strangely minimal bass work and a powerful and gloriously unpolished production. The latter is no small factor in the album’s success and was apparently the result of a considerable amount of work on the part of both Euronymous and the infamous Pytten, a producer who spent much of the 1990s capturing iconic works by legends such as Enslaved, Burzum, Hades, Gorgoroth and Immortal.

“Euronymous had specific ideas about each instrument and he had specific ideas about echoes,” recalled Attila. “The drums were recorded in a huge concert hall, solos were recorded in a room and he was moving round all the time and saying, ‘Okay, there we have it.’ If you listen to records from the time and then De Mysteriis you hear the production is far and away better than anything else.”

“The whole album was recorded in very spacious areas,” confirmed producer Pytten. “Øystein, Hellhammer and me were walking about, talking about how to do it and I really wanted to use the stage for the drums. I really like big sounds — especially for the drums — and reverb on the leads. So the drums were done on stage and [in that hall] you have nine stories going up, so we closed the room side, but kept all the height.”

It isn’t only the drums that utilise large numbers of tracks, another defining ingredient in the album is the mass of multi-tracked guitars, which create a huge (yet suitably icy and treble-heavy) wall of sound, a perfect compliment to the similarly sizeable percussive bombardment. Indeed, the combination only accentuates the crushing and malevolent character of the whole record, the overall effect being a dense and impenetrable assault on the senses, one only balanced by the surprising touches of groove throughout the album.

And this is perhaps the last thing to underline, particularly for newcomers to the record. Though undeniably a standout opus, it is not an easily accessible work – even by black metal standards – and is not necessarily a gateway album. Nor is it meant to be. It is a purposely gloomy and aggressive beast, and one that makes no concessions to outsiders, instead following its own wilful and destructive path without any apology. Give it the time it deserves however, and it will be with you forever. We can only hope that its forthcoming live invocations are equally memorable.

The interviews in this piece were originally conducted for the book Black Metal: Evolution Of The Cult and appear in an extended form there. The book and its sequels are available at now.

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How Mayhem’s De Mysteriis Dom Sathanas Changed Metal source: Loudersound May 31, 2016 How Mayhem's De Mysteriis Dom Sathanas changed metal By Dayal Patterson…

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couldnt-think-of-a-better-name · 5 years

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Mujika is demon!Jesus & other possible Bible references in TPN

It’s time people to get ready to have your minds blown again, my newest crazy theory post is here!

Disclaimer: This post contains manga spoilers up to and including chapter 127. Also, I don’t mean to offend anyone’s religion, I’m just making comparisons out of interest, and I am getting most of my info from wikipedia. Chapter 127 full fan translation dropped, and not just for me, but for others as well it has instantly stuck out like a sore thumb how much Mujika’s story parallelled Jesus from the New Testament

The facts: 1) Musica’s very existence is an unexplained miracle, as she is able to do things no other demons can (keep her form without eating humans), and none knows where she came from (she is most likely of common birth).

2) She can and have been performing straight up miracles of “curing” demons of their hunger, and saving them from devolving into unintelligence.

3) What’s more, she has been passing her power to her followers and supporters, who can spread her “cure”, and teachings of the need to not eat humans in order to save even more demons from starvation and devolving.

4) Her blood taking away the demons’ hunger is basically a literal take on these Bible verses with illustration added as well:

5) She was persecuted and ordered to be killed by the rulers out of no fault of her own.

6) If you are still not convinced, she was LITERALLY called the demon MESSIAH by Norman, and I honestly don’t know if I could make it clearer...

It may seem a bit random at first, but I have already mentioned Bible references in TPN in my Mujika is Medusa theory post, so this isn’t really out of the blue. As a bit of a reminder, or if you haven’t seen that post here are the possible references:

1) Minerva’s mythology book has a snake and apple just like the story in Genesis.

2) Mujika herself is later associated with an apple on a cover.

3) The Promised Neverland may be a reference to the Promised Land from Exodus, as well as to Neverland from Peter Pan. This isn’t just a similarity in name, since their demon god is responsible for the PROMISE that we know ensures the NEVERLAND where no human child gets to grow up (since they get eaten). Right, that’s it, TPN is a mashup of Peter Pan and the Bible.

There we go, I have made my crazy and outlandish claim just like before, but can I give any even remotely believeable evidence for it?

Well, for the Peter Pan part, I have already made a huge post on the list of possible references, so please head to my Theory Directory where you can find a link. If that doesn’t work for you, I will also reblog this post with a link.

As for the Bible part, well, is there any evidence beyond Mujika? Ok, how about we play a small game. Try pronouncing Son-ju and then St. John. Hear any similarity? Am I messing with you? Well, yes and no. How about you take a look at the wiki info on St John, Jesus’ apostole (not to be confused with John the baptist).

Sooo, wasn’t Son-ju the only follower of Mujika left alive? What a strange coincidence... Then didn’t Son-ju also wear a fish shaped cloak pin? I thought it signified that they were underwater, but St. John was a fisherman...

Oh yeah, and isn’t it funny how we have James, Peter and Andrew all feature in St. John’s description? Weren’t there some characters in TPN also called these names...?

What’s even more interesting is John and James having been brothers, but John surviving James for a long time. I find that interesting because I recently discussed a theory by @fyria-hans that Sonju may have been the one wearing the Minerva cape and sending that morse coded message to the kids to stay put where they were.

Since it was morse code, they didn’t hear a voice, and in those panels the wide shouldered frame and those shoes really looked like Sonju’s. We know he had justification for wanting the cattle children to survive “in the wild”, and he also most likely had the skill to create fake tracks to throw off Andrew. So it is a possibility that he had been James’ supporter... The other interesting fact was that both St. James and James Ratri died first out of the cast. Btw, fun fact about St. Peter: he holds the keys to heaven. Isn’t that a bit like how Peter Ratri has control over the access to the human world, which would be pretty much heaven to the cattlechildren?

Oh btw, did you know that there were two apostoles called James? So the other one was known as the Lesser James? Hm, isn’t Norman kind of a smaller, younger version of James Ratri right now? Oh yeah, and did you know that St. Andrew was the brother of St. Peter? And he is also a patron of fishermen, farmers, miners and butchers?

Hmmm, sooo we he a small number of coincidences, surely there won’t be more! Right...? RIGHT?!

Well, you might know that St. Matthew is associated with an angel

Hmm, but where did we see angels in TPN?

Ah riiight, in Minerva’s famous mythology book! And isn’t it funny how there is a CUP next to that angel... Didn’t we just have MUJIKA associated with a CUP (of blood she offered) this chapter?!

Hmm, and wasn’t there a character who had a strange connection to Mujika we didn’t understand? That she showed up in his “DYING” MEMORIES? Here is another fun fact.

LEUVIS?! But didn’t I say in my Peter Pan theory that Leuvis was associated with the Lost Boy Curly? Am I contradicting myself? Well, lucky for me, we also have this:

So the authors have confirmed that their characters can hold multiple references, and my guess is that I may have just managed to find 2 out of 3 for Leuvis ;D (It’s funny how Shirai-san wanted to be so secretive about the references, right?) Similarly, I don’t think there is any problem going through the other characters and finding references to them. So let’s dive in further!

So there is another Apostole who is called JUDE (Thaddeus). That name bears perhaps a passing resemblance to LUCE, or not? How about the things associated with this apostole?

Wasn’t Luce a bit of a LOST CAUSE? And didn’t his servants weild CLUBS? Also, what about the time Emma threw an AXE at him? Hah, these coincidences sure are getting trippy, right?

While we are on the topic of Luce, I would like to point out that before he died he made this little comment:

Huuh, so his dad is some important mofo? But we sure haven’t seen or heard anything of him ever since... right? Well, how about you compare these panels for me?

This dude who murdered Mujika’s followers suuuure bears a passing resemblance to Luce, except he looks much more buff and badass... and older...

But lets not get sidetracked! We were looking at apostles, so how about I bring up the wiki info on another one?

Funny, didn’t I associate NOUMA (isn’t that slightly close to THOMA?) and NOUS with the Twins in my Peter Pan analysis? Btw, do you know that St. Thomas died by the spear, so he is associated with it? I Thought Nouma and Nous had spears... But there is a Thoma among the kids as well! Huh, but isn’t he always with Lani? Acting as if they were something like twins... huh... Weird, but let’s look at another apostole!

So Bartholomew doesn’t sound much like Bayon, except they both start with “Ba”, but did you know that St. Bartholomew, among other things is a patron of butchers and TRAPPERS. Huh, didn’t Bayon kinda enable the trapping and hunting of cattlechildren like wild animals at Goldy Pond...?

Also, yeah, we have a Nat among the kids again, and we also have a Phil... Did you know that we have a Mark as well? While Mark wasn’t an apostole, he has some written passages in the Bible...

But lets not get hung up on a couple of names that are similar sounding! Although I can’t help but wonder what could be the name of the demon king who ordered the death of Mujika... and if it sounds anything like PONTIUS PILATE who ordered the death of Jesus? It’s a shame we don’t have his name :(

But do you know a funny fact about Pilate? He was a ROMAN prefect. Huh, didn’t we have a handful of roman references in TPN? Like mirrored LATIN, or MINERVA, a ROMAN GODDESS?!

Hmm, you know what is a funny thought though? If Mujika is demon!Jesus, and we know that we have a demon!God (the one with the demon gylph written name, called just HIM in the anime), then I wonder if the analogy extends further. You know, God has sent Jesus to the human world to be the saviour of humankind, but then the humans in charge chose to persecute and kill him... although Jesus didn’t die permanently. So I can’t help but wonder if it wasn’t demon!God who sent Mujika as demon!Jesus to be the saviour of demonkind, only to find that the demons in charge had the bright idea of persecuting and trying to kill her... but luckily she isn’t dead even though everyone thought she died! Well, if that’s the case, I bet demon!God is facepalming right now. And if that analogy holds, it may also stand that the demons are an analogy for the jews (who had their PROMISED LAND from God, while demons have their PROMISED NEVERLAND from demon!God (which also fits with my idea that demon!God used their powers to literally create the demon world below the deep sea... you can read more on this in another post of mine)) whereas the cattlechildren are an analogy for the gentiles (non-jew). If you think I’m done and ready to finish this post on that crazy thought, then you are WRONG. Some of you may have read my post on my thoughts that Mujika may be a Medusa reference. If you haven’t, just look it up either in my Theory Directory, or in the links I will put in a reblog to this post. I was anxiously awaiting this chapters to see if it would disprove that theory or confirm it. And I will be honest, I was at first disappointed with this chapter, ‘cause like a damned fool, I was expecting to see snakes, or something about petrifying gaze, BUT then I looked further into the Medusa lore, and felt like an idiot and slapping myself. Why?

Medusa had 2 sisters in the myths, together they were known as the Gorgon sisters. But Medusa was different to the other two, and her name meant ruler/queen. Hmmm, doesn’t this panel look kiiinda like 3 sisters?

Also, just in case you missed it, I have circled a jar there that looks eerily similar to the golden water jar that the kids have. Tsk, all these coincidences that I keep spotting!

So the other thing about Medusa is that in all of the myths the goddess MINERVA wants to kill her out of no fault of Medusa. Didn’t we kinda have someone in TPN right now with a MINERVA alias say something similar?

Oh hello there Norman. Funny that you would say that... In the myth Minerva doesn’t kill Medusa herself, but aids the hero Perseus who cuts off Medusa’s head, which ends up on Minerva’s famous shield the Aegis. In many sources it is said that the shield is used to petrify Minerva’s enemies. But Medusa had one more funny quality about her that had the interest of Minerva in the mythology:

“ The character of Medusa can also be seen to come along with some qualities that emerge after her tale of origin. For example, one half of Medusa’s BLOOD is HEALING – and so, along with her petrifying ability, she could also heal. Blood taken from the veins on her LEFT was POISONOUS, while blood taken from her RIGHT could RESTORE THE DEAD TO LIFE.”

Huh, didn’t we just learn that Mujika’s blood is SPECIAL? That it can “CURE” the demons from their hunger of humans, but it is also DANGEROUS for the demons in charge and for the humans in case the “cured” demons decided to still eat humans? Btw, isn’t it funny how Mujika draws blood from her right in this panel when healing those villagers?

Maybe I didn’t need to be so worried about my Mujika Medusa theory after all...

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salaciouscrumpet · 5 years

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Whumptober Day 8

Whumptober Day 8 Prompt: “Stab Wound”

I dunno, kind of losing my motivation here (although I appreciate that at least a few people are reading these, and definitely appreciate @a1thusa‘s feedback). This one took a bit longer in part because I didn’t feel like writing, but also because the idea itself kind of spiraled out of control.

This is posted with limited editing because it’s over 7 pages long and I’m 2 days behind again so I just want it done and out there.

CW: Animals are threatened and injured, but no animals are killed and the injuries are dealt with. (It’s hard to explain more without being spoiler-y.)

Characters: Charlie, Luke, Kate, Bear (the dog)

Most people assumed that when Charlie shared the bed with Kate and Luke, it was Luke who ended up in the middle, as assumption based on the fact that Luke was the one who was sexually intimate with the both of them while Kate and Charlie’s relationship was purely platonic. As if somehow the only person you could want to cuddle up to was the one you were bumping uglies with. On the contrary, Luke didn’t like sleeping in the middle of the bed because it made him feel penned in, and Kate – who was also a furnace – was far too restless; she might start the night in one position, but usually by the end of it she was draped across the bed or sprawled across their feet like a cat. Charlie, however … Charlie loved sleeping in the middle of the bed. As a child he’d shared his bed with a veritable army of half-siblings, and as a result of growing up surrounded by a noisy, rambunctious and physically affectionate crowd he could pretty much sleep through anything. Throw in his years of university and vet college and he could sleep anywhere, anytime. Having Luke cling to him like a giant octopus and Kate roaming the bed was just par for the course, and the best times were when he woke up with his two partners snuggled up against him, wrapped up in Luke’s strong arms with Kate throwing out 100,000 BTUs on his other side. Toss in a huge, fluffy dog and a couple of cats and even in the dead of February with the furnace out Charlie would sleep snug and content.

It was a testament to how deep a sleeper Charlie was that it wasn’t the loud crash that woke him up, but rather the sudden violent awakening of both Luke and Kate. The crash, which had come from downstairs and was complemented by the barking of a large, furious dog, had initially been written off by Charlie as coming from his dreams, but when both his partners lunged out of bed he was abruptly jolted into wakefulness. Charlie might be a deep sleeper, but he woke quickly and fully, the consequence of many nights of emergency shifts and late-night phone calls.

Light flashed, the pale silvery-blue glow coming from Luke’s hands as the former Knight of Oberon summoned a matched pair of short swords through his argent bonds. Charlie sat up, blinking sleep out of his eyes, his heart thudding as he realized he couldn’t feel his wards. The magical wards that had wrapped around their home had been in place when he’d gone to sleep – he knew this for a fact, because long habit had him checking on them every night – but now they were just gone. And that shouldn’t have been possible. Tearing a witch’s magic down like that, so completely and suddenly, required a significant amount of magic and power, and Charlie should have felt it happening, even in his sleep.

“My wards are gone,” he said, voice hushed. Downstairs he could hear more crashing and smashing, as though someone or something was tearing through their dining room. Outside Bear was barking; the dog could let himself in and out of the farmhouse at his leisure – Leonbergers were a smart breed – but from the sound of his increasingly agitated barks he was unable to get inside the house now.

“Stay here,” Luke replied, heading for the door, his conjured weapons shining like beacons.

“What?” Charlie started to climb out of bed, but Kate pushed him back, her face close to his.

“Stay. Here,” she hissed, before following Luke out of the bedroom.

Sitting alone in the darkness while his partners went off in search of danger, it was strange the thoughts that flashed through Charlie’s mind. He’d heard glass shattering and worried that the cats, who were indoor-only cats, might escape through a broken window. He’d heard smashing and wood breaking, and worried that the intruders had destroyed his mother’s good china, which was one of the few keepsakes he had from her. He heard Bear barking, and worried that someone might hurt their dog. It didn’t really occur to him to worry about Luke or Kate, despite the fact that they had gone down to confront whoever or whatever had torn down his wards and broken into their home. It didn’t really occur to him to worry about himself, left alone and defenseless in their upstairs bedroom.

Not until harsh fingers threaded through his hair, yanking his head back as something cold and sharp dug into the exposed skin of his throat.

The gust of breath against his cheek was searing hot and fetid, smelling of death and decay. The grip on his hair was tight enough that there were sharp little spikes of pain where the hair was being pulled out. The knife against his throat felt sharp enough to cut through his skin like it was warm butter.

Demon! Charlie’s mind shrieked, as he realized what had torn through his wards. He held himself very still, his heartbeat sounding too loud in his ears, almost loud enough to drown out the sounds of violence from below.

Across the room something moved in the open doorway, and for a brief moment of sharp relief Charlie thought, from the size alone, that it was Luke. But while the shadow was exceptionally tall, it was angled all wrong, knees and elbows bent at awkward angles, the head too small for its body, the shoulders far too broad. The thing stepped inside the bedroom and stood, silent and menacing, just inside the door, tucked up against the wall. Eyes bright like ember sparks glinted at Charlie, and there was another gust of hot breath as the demon holding him let out a soft laugh.

“Call them,” it said, tugging his head back harder, until the back of his head brushed against something smooth and solid like the carapace of a beetle. The thing beside the door moved, shifting restlessly, and Charlie saw it switch a weapon from one massive hand to the other. He couldn’t make out what the weapon was, but it was large and probably tipped with spikes or made of bone or something equally horrible.

“No,” Charlie gritted out. He had to resist the urge to swallow against the blade at his throat. His mouth was dry, his lungs aching from the smell of the demon holding him. He knew, without needing either demon to state it explicitly, that there could be no good reason to call Kate or Luke back upstairs. He could still hear fighting downstairs and he wondered how many more demons there were. How many had his partners already defeated? How many were left? Where was Bear? Had the cats gotten out? He was afraid for his own life, of course, but far too distracted by his worries over everyone else.

“Call them,” the demon hissed, and the knife pressed deeper into Charlie’s skin, hard enough that there was the bite of stinging pain and he felt something wet and warm trickle down his throat.

Charlie grunted out in the negative, fighting against the instinctive drive to strike out, to try to get away. His mind rapidly went through several scenarios – slamming his head back into the demon’s face, pretending to faint, calling out for help the way the demon wanted him to – but they all ended in the same way, with him dead or dying, and no one left to heal Luke and Kate. He’d been taught a variety of ways to escape holds, but they’d all relied upon him standing rather than sitting up in bed, and they’d also relied upon his opponent being human, or at least humanoid. Not something with a hard carapace for skin, that his blows would likely just glance off. He wasn’t a fighter, he was a healer. He was a doctor. He was faced with the sudden brief but humiliating burst of frustration that Kate or Luke should have stayed upstairs to protect him, even as he rebelled against the idea of needing protection in the first place.

“Call. Them.” The knife dug in deeper, the fingers clawed in his hair twisting more tightly.

“Go back to hell,” Charlie snarled back.

The demon growled in frustration before suddenly releasing him. Charlie had a brief moment to try lunging away, but then the creature backhanded him, hard, hard enough that bright spots flashed behind his eyes and he couldn’t help himself – he cried out in pain and startlement. It wasn’t a loud cry, and it was bitten off almost the moment he realized he was making it, but both Luke and Kate had superhuman hearing. He heard Kate yell “Charlie!” and then there was the thudding of heavy feet up the stairs.

Charlie opened his mouth to shout out a warning as the demon in the doorway braced to attack. A hard, heavy hand clapped over his mouth as the knife returned to his throat.

Luke came bounding down the hallway toward the bedroom. Even with the blackout curtains in place Charlie knew his lover’s night vision was good enough to see him there, on the bed with a demon at his back and a knife at his throat. Charlie tried to bite the hand covering his mouth, tried to widen his eyes to signal a warning to Luke, but Luke was too fixated on the danger to Charlie to notice the danger to himself.

Luke burst through the open doorway and the demon beside it lunged into action, swinging its massive weapon up and around. The blow connected solidly, an audible crack as the heavy mace or club smashed Luke in the face with such force his head snapped to the side. He stood for a few seconds, staggering, then his body followed the flow of momentum from the hit: he toppled sideways, falling against the wall before hitting the floor.

The demon brought the mace down and Charlie couldn’t help himself – he screamed.

There was a sudden crash behind Charlie and shards of glass and splinters of wood rained down upon the bed. The knife held to Charlie’s throat slid, scraping painfully along the skin, and then suddenly disappeared as the weight against Charlie’s back was jerked away.

Bear – all one hundred and seventy pounds of him – landed on the demon, knocking it away from Charlie and pinning it under his weight. Charlie scrabbled backwards as the dog pinned the demon down, sharp teeth at the monster’s throat with a violence and ferocity Charlie had never witnessed before in the long-time pet.

Charlie snatched up the demon’s knife – a wicked-looking blade made of a glossy red-black metal he didn’t recognize – and, without a second thought to his own safety, charged the monster standing over Luke. The demon had stopped to stare – curious or confused, Charlie couldn’t tell – as the dog savaged its fellow, but the moment Charlie moved toward it it recalled itself to the fight, swinging its club around in order to strike at Charlie.

Charlie didn’t even hesitate. He barreled headfirst into the demon, tackling it mid-waist and forcing it backwards out of the bedroom.

Unlike the demon that had held him, this one didn’t appear to have the hardened skin. It was large and it was strong, but its flesh was as soft and fragile as any human’s, and when Charlie charged it he remembered to bring the knife up and drive it into the creature’s gut. The demon let out a hiss of pain and tried to force Charlie off. There was no way Charlie was stronger than the monster, but his rage and fear made him strong, and he bore the demon down to the ground. He was unaware of the screams coming out of his mouth; all he knew was that there was a terrible amount of shouting and his throat was aching and Luke was unconscious or maybe even dead beside him and where was Kate and –

Something soft and furred bumped against his elbow. Bear whined at him, nudging Charlie away from the dead demon. Its body was already disintegrating underneath him, flesh turning into char and then flaking away. He turned, breath coming out in great heaving gasps, and saw that the demon on the bed was in a similar state. Bear’s muzzle was wet with black blood and it should have been horrifying but it was the most reassuring thing Charlie had ever seen.

Charlie shoved himself off the demon’s crumbling corpse and fell on his knees beside Luke, who lay crumpled up against the wall. Bear whined again and gave Charlie’s cheek a lick before heading out of the bedroom, toward the stairs. Charlie couldn’t spare time to worry about whatever the dog was up to, not when Luke was out cold – but mercifully not dead.

Charlie’s magic enabled him to see where the damage was and how bad it was, and he let out a shuddering, wet-sounding gasp when he saw that while Luke was badly concussed and there were definitely bones in his face and side that were broken, he was alive and his condition was something Charlie could treat. He cupped his hands around his lover’s face and poured healing magic into the unconscious man, just enough so that Luke was stable and could be moved into a more comfortable position. He set Luke out in the recovery position, on his side with one leg bent, the other straight, his head cupped in his own hand.

Everything was quiet in the house, although Charlie could hear the dog moving around downstairs. Bear was otherwise silent, and while Charlie still had no idea where Kate was – or whether or not the cats had escaped – he knew that the house must once more be safe if Bear was no longer barking. He trusted in the dog’s judgment, much as he trusted in his own wards and the protection of his partners.

His hands were shaking as he went about healing Luke’s injuries and he couldn’t seem to get his breathing under control. Adrenaline still coursed through him and he knew it would leave him shaky and off-balance for hours. At the emergency clinic he knew how to channel that energy into his work, but in a fight he was out of his element. The only thing he could do was to focus himself on Luke and on healing the damage, starting with the head injury – a bleed inside his brain, a fracture of the orbital bone, deep lines of bruising all over his face – before moving on to the ribs that had been broken when the demon had struck him a second time.

A low whining sound drew his attention, and when he looked up Bear was standing just outside the doorway, holding something small and furred inside his mouth. For one confused moment Charlie thought the Leonberger had brought in another dead bunny – every spring rabbits made nests under their porches and in the hedge, and every spring Bear found the nests and brought the baby bunnies to his humans. The dog was amazingly gentle, but rabbits were incredibly fragile, and inevitably the bunnies would die. Luke would repair the hole the rabbits had used for their nest and there would be no more bunnies that year, and then the saga would repeat itself the next spring. Poor Bear just wanted to keep the bunnies safe, and no matter what they did to discourage him or the rabbits, it kept happening.

Then Charlie realized that the limp, furred form in Bear’s mouth was a cat. A small cat that he knew very well. It wasn’t Titter, their elderly long-haired moggy who hated everyone (up until the moment she needed her back scratched), nor was it Sekhmet, the black short-haired cat who ruled the house with an iron paw. No, instead this cat was calico, with the softest fur imaginable – and pale blue eyes.

Now her fur was bloodied, and as Charlie took the small cat from Bear – the dog immediately opened his mouth to carefully drop the furred bundle into Charlie’s waiting hands, whining loudly – he saw why. There was a large shard of glass, roughly the size of a chef’s knife, impaling the cat through the abdomen. In addition to that one of her hind legs appeared to be broken, and there were claw marks along her haunches. If Charlie didn’t know better, he would have guessed that Bear had attacked the cat – but he did know better, and there was no way Bear would have harmed the creature in his hands.

“Oh, Katie-Kate, why are you a cat?” he murmured, gently setting the cat – Kate – down on her side. It wasn’t unusual for her to shapeshift in the course of a fight, but normally she picked forms that were more … useful. Unlike were-creatures, who were limited to one form and one form only, Kate could transform herself into any kind of predator animal, and apparently the magic in her blood was rather flexible on its definition of “predator.” The calico was a favourite form for her, but not for battle; she shifted into cat-shape when she wanted comfort and didn’t know how to ask, or when she wanted to escape life and the frustrations of being human for a bit. That she wore the form now, when it made her smaller and more fragile, was exceedingly bizarre in Charlie’s mind.

But of course, Kate couldn’t answer him, not like this, and it was risky for her to transform back with a hunk of glass protruding from her side. In fact, it would have been risky for her to transform into a cat with the glass there; there was no way to know for certain where the glass would move when the body shifted, because magic didn’t follow the laws of physics or even logic. For all Charlie knew, she could have been stabbed through the thigh and when she shifted the glass shifted along with her, moving into her guts. It still made no sense to him why she would have done it, however.

Bear whined again, and Charlie glanced up to see that the dog had moved to sit beside Luke, who was still out cold on the floor. Charlie wasn’t done healing Luke, but the worst of his injuries – the life-threatening one that had left his brain rattled inside its skull – had been dealt with, and Charlie knew Luke could handle the pain of broken ribs if it meant that Kate was cared for. It hurt Charlie to leave a job half-finished, but he had only so much magical energy to go around, and the people he would normally borrow energy from were the very same people he needed to heal.

“Sit,” Charlie said to Bear, following it up with a hand-sign and a gesture in Luke’s direction as he added, “Guard.” Bear took up a watchful stance over Luke just as Charlie looked over his shoulder at the ruined window and the spill of shattered glass and splintered wood all over the king-sized bed. He then looked back at the dog, frowning. “How did you even get up here, anyway?”

Bear gave a lolling doggy-smile, his tongue hanging out, and Charlie rolled his eyes before turning his attention back to Kitty-Kate. If the fact that his incredibly smart and extremely protective Leonberger had somehow managed to climb up to a second-story window in order to rescue him was where tonight fell apart in his mind, well, Charlie’s life was generally all kinds of weird. Besides, gift horses and all that. If Bear hadn’t arrived when he had, Luke would most likely be dead, and Charlie and Kate along with him.

Charlie ran his hands over Kate’s fur, letting his magic sense where all her injuries were. In a way she’d done him a favour: he was good at healing people, but he was a veterinarian by training and trade, and he’d always been better with animals. Shifted as she was into the form of a cat, Charlie could easily call to mind every aspect of her altered anatomy and where best to direct his healing magic because this was something he did almost every day. He suspected making his life easier hadn’t been among Kate’s priorities, however, and as he frowned and tsked at each new hurt he found, he wondered anew at what the hell his best friend had been thinking.

His heart gave a painful lurch when he moved her and Kitty-Kate made a sound that her human self would deny even being capable of making, a pitiable mewl that made him want to wrap her up in cotton bunting and carry her around with him for the rest of her natural life. He apologized, even though she was scarcely conscious and likely couldn’t hear him, but she purred a little – he had to remind himself that while cats did purr sometimes when they were injured in order to draw in assistance, Kate was human and didn’t actually possess any such feline instincts. Beside them Luke groaned and made a retching sound that spoke to exactly why Charlie had moved him into the recovery position in the first place. Concussions and nausea frequently went hand-in-hand, and at least in the recovery position he was less likely to choke on his own vomit.

“My life is glamorous, Bear,” Charlie muttered, keeping one eye on Luke – who, sure enough, quickly curled into himself and began heaving onto the floor – and his other eye on Kate. Even as he healed his partners he began a mental tally of everything he needed to do within the next few minutes, chief among them being calling the General to let her know about the attack on their home. Ardyn was going to be pissed – she always was, when one of her people got hurt, but Luke was something of a pet project of hers and there would be hell to pay if her plans were shot because something demonic decided to target him and his lovers – but the sooner she knew about it, the better. And realistically, none of them could stay there for the night, or even for the next few days, not with Charlie’s wards down and multiple doors and windows smashed. Selfishly Charlie hoped that a temporary relocation would also include an emergency clean-up crew, because the thought of dealing with all this damage (and now he could add “copious amounts of vomit” to the list of things he did not want to deal with) made him feel even more exhausted than the thought of having to move in the first place.

“Chaaarl?” Luke managed to mumble, after he’d finished tossing up the Chinese food they’d had for dinner that night. Charlie spared him another glance and saw him goggling around in confusion, struggling to get his eyes to focus. “Is Kay – mmphmm – is’k a cah?”

“Yes, love, Katie-Kate’s a cat,” Charlie replied, and it was sad, really, how easy it was for him to translate ‘Concussed Luke’ speech. The piece of glass slid out and landed on the hardwood floor, wet and glossy with Kate’s blood. The tiny calico made another soft little whimper before suddenly going limp, and Charlie had a moment of gratitude that unlike normal were-creatures, Kate did not immediately revert to human form upon falling unconscious. Werewolves, werebears and other lycanthropes returned to their natural shapes when sleeping or otherwise out cold, but Kate wasn’t a were, she was a fomoir, and her half-demon blood gave her the gift of shapeshifting. She could hold her form until she chose to turn back – which in this case meant that Charlie didn’t end up with a lapful of naked, unconscious human woman. Instead, he just had a small, bloodied calico with a rapidly-healing stab wound in her side, and for all that Kate was not a large woman, as a ten-pound cat she was considerably easier to move around.

“Why’s Kady … Kayd … Whyzzacat?” Luke frowned and wiped at his mouth with one uncoordinated hand, pushing away from the puddle of vomit and managing to get himself halfway sitting, slumped up against the wall. “Wha’ ha’end?”

Charlie sighed and used Luke’s discarded T-shirt as a makeshift blanket, shaking it free of glass shards before wrapping it around Kate and tucking her in next to Bear’s flank. The dog sniffed her, gave a small whine, and licked the top of her head, his tail wagging uncertainly. Charlie looked at the dog, then looked at Luke and Kate. He needed to go downstairs and check on the damage – and see if Titter and Sekhmet had escaped out into the night. He also needed to grab one of their phones from the charger to contact Ardyn and the rest of the Alliance. He also didn’t particularly want to leave Kate or Luke alone. Did Luke count as a responsible party? Did Bear?

“Love, I’ll be happy to explain everything, but first I need to make some phone calls, okay?” Luke just stared blearily up at Charlie, his eyes unfocused. His gaze drifted downwards and he frowned in confusion.

“Hey, Chaaarlie … why iz … is … Whyzzacat?”

Charlie let out another sigh and gave Bear the same hand-sign again, once more pointing at Luke before adding Kate into the mix. “Guard, Bear.”

Bear let out a soft woof, his tail thumping against the floor.

“Good dog.”

#whumptober2019 #day 8 #no. 8 #original fiction #bear is a good doggo

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vmheadquarters · 5 years

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When it came to Hulu’s revival of the beloved UPN-to-CW teen detective drama Veronica Mars, creator Rob Thomas had exactly 18 f—s to give.

Or give up, that is. The executive producer had assumed that since the resurrected series, now starring an all-grown-up title character (Kristen Bell, reprising her breakthrough role) would be airing on the streaming service, beginning July 26, there would be some latitude when it came to profanity. As they might say over on Bell’s other current series The Good Place, he was forking wrong.

“The original script had 18 f—s in it. In fact, the first word of the show was, f—,” says Thomas with a laugh. “Hulu came back to us and said, ‘You can say any word, but not that one.’” Fans will soon learn the inventive solution that Thomas devised to make sure his title character keeps it clean(ish) as she reunites with her dad Keith (Enrico Colantoni) to run their family gumshoe business in sun-soaked but seriously shady Neptune, California, where there is a steady stream of clients thanks to clashes and alliances between the affluent and the struggling.

“We were so bummed,” says Bell of the cursed cursing, but a silver lining came in the form of comedy gold “because now it becomes a [running joke], and yet another way that Veronica and Keith can stay playful.”

Beyond that glitch, the sailing was smooth AF for the return of the series which began on UPN and migrated to the CW over three seasons beginning in 2004 and spawned a 2014 Kickstartered feature film. Since wrapping the movie, all involved have openly talked about wanting to reunite and the stars — and Thomas and Bell’s schedules — finally aligned. (Hulu is currently airing the first three seasons of the series for new fans to jump in and old fans to brush up.)

The eight-installment season 4 gets right down to business in reestablishing Veronica’s relationships: with her dad, friends like Wallace (Percy Daggs III), reformed bad boy boyfriend Logan Echolls (Jason Dohring), and the cesspool of Neptune’s criminal underbelly. The overarching storyline concerns a bomber attacking spring break locations and thus, putting fear in to the hearts of residents and dents into the lucrative tourism revenue stream.

Bell didn’t think twice about sliding back behind Veronica’s telephoto lens.

“I really want to play this character for a while,” says the 39-year-old Michigan native. “It felt so necessary when I got back into her skin. And I have a theory: When the world felt safer, we were okay rooting for Walter White [of Breaking Bad]. I don’t think people want an antihero anymore, I certainly don’t. And Veronica is safe. She’s fighting for good. She’s in situations that we’ve all been in, where we felt like an outsider. I mean, that is the response I get from fans: ‘This show helped me get through high school.’ ‘This show convinced me not to do X, Y, Z terrible things to myself.’ I’ve had a lot of fun on a lot of jobs, but that’s a huge factor of why I keep coming back to this.”

Colantoni can’t help but beam paternally when discussing the seamlesslness of his reunion with Bell. “She’s always been brilliant in the multitasking even as a younger, more unknown actor,” says the veteran who has made his own imprint in over 30 years of TV and film roles from the shlubby everyguy Eliot of Just Shoot Me to lovable alien leader Mathesar in the beloved Galaxy Quest. “Her dexterity is just so heightened now, her life has gotten so much bigger. And to see her just so present and grounded in that character– it speaks volumes about Rob’s writing and how easy it is to live in — but it’s a testament to her and how talented she is.”

That mutual admiration zings around among the cast as does the sense that returning to the show was like simultaneously slipping on a comfortable old pair of shoes and trying out new ones, as they discovered who their characters were further down the line.

“It’s both, exactly,” says Dohring, who also worked with Thomas on his soon-to-conclude CW series iZombie. “It’s everything that you figured out before, and there’s also new aspects” like his enlistment in the Navy which was revealed in the 2014 film. “What did he do? How did it shape his life? How does he become more disciplined?” were all questions the 37-year-old asked himself.

“Rob is allergic to writing stale stories, which is great for us, because we can keep having him do it, and he will find something to reinvent,” says Bell of the series in general and of the Logan/Veronica relationship specifically, which is definitely not a “happily ever after” scenario. “And that’s what I love. There is a huge dynamic shift when you start with Logan and Veronica. Logan’s been going to therapy, that’s huge. Veronica is not open to therapy.”

“Veronica’s going to start in a different place than she usually does,” says Dohring, “And she’ll have this arc and [Logan’s] kind of the counter balance to that in the way where [he’s] figured out something [in therapy].”

Logan has also, apparently, been going to the gym befitting his character’s work whose deployments are shrouded in mystery, but whose torso is not. (“They brought on the stunt guy and they didn’t even use him all day, it was just me! I was really proud,” says Dohring of a fight sequence in an early episode.)

“What was exciting about it was that I didn’t have to try so hard,” says Colantoni of returning to Mars Investigations, where Keith will be dealing with some personal issues. “You look back at the original series, I still had rosy cheeks. Some people might say I had a little more hair. [Veronica’s] a woman now, I’ve got one eye on retirement — this is in real life too. Veronica survived the worst of it. She’s stronger than [Keith] is, she’s smarter than [he is], but she’s not so smart that she doesn’t need dad.”

That Veronica is an adult is reinforced quickly and forcefully from the outset in some very steamy scenes with Dohring. Since most viewers met Veronica as a teenager — albeit a hard-boiled one befitting the show’s noir atmosphere — Bell understands it might take a little adjustment for some viewers.

“Yes, I have long been caught in between the stage of girl and woman,” says Bell, who followed Veronica with a string of successful film and TV roles including Showtime’s House of Lies, the beloved Disney animated musical Frozen, and the aforementioned The Good Place. “They really made Veronica a woman in this series, and I appreciated that, and that Rob is incredibly intelligent and keeps Diane Ruggiero, our female head writer, very close. And Diane is a little bit Veronica herself. She’s whip-smart, she’s not afraid of her sexuality. She’s just a dynamite human being. The fact is that this is a more rated-R series, we’re not shying away from the fact that Veronica is an adult woman.” Plus, Bell adds with a laugh, “I’m hoping that the audience can deduce that since I have two children, I’ve had sex in my life, minimally, two times. So it isn’t a new, or uncomfortable, experience for Veronica. It’s something she very much enjoys, and I want people to feel free to watch it and feel all the feelings.”

Even before these eight episodes have aired, everyone is ready to sign up for more as schedules allow.

“The thing that we know is that creatively, Hulu was very happy with how this turned out,” says Thomas. “So, I think if we do well — and I have no idea how streaming judges these things, that remains a mystery to me — that everyone would be game for seeing when we can slot in the next eight episodes.”

“I am wholeheartedly committed to playing this character until the fans don’t want me to anymore,” says Bell, who envisions a scenario in which she returns intermittently until Veronica needs bifocals to see through her binoculars. “I would play it till she hits ‘Murder She Wrote,’ and everyone in Neptune is dead. Because it feels that good to play her. It feels good to fight for what’s right and just, and also maintain a sense of vulnerability while possessing porcupine quills.” And, a taser, just in case.

#veronica mars #vm spoilers #veronica mars S4 #veronica mars S4 reviews

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thesickpanda · 5 years

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What Do You Do When A Loved One Changes For the Worse?

For the past couple of weeks I have been having constant nightmares about a particular friend. He is on a self-destructive path and his harmful behaviours are affecting me and those around him.

My partner has insisted that I write this all down as a way to expunge it. It's going to be a while before I see my psychologist, so I guess a diary entry will have to do in the meantime.

Long story short, in the past 10 months, I have made some huge changes to how I relate to others. The extremely abridged version is that I was a doormat most of my life and came from a family of emotional bullies. They set the baseline for what was my normal and so I tended to find myself in very toxic friendships throughout my adult life. I put up with shit from other people that literally no one else would (I was often the only friend of these toxic people) and those relationships always ended horribly with me feeling like I was somehow the bad guy when I was the victim. It took many years of therapy and a lot of introspection to realise that. I acknowledged my own shortcomings and flaws and where I had contributed to the downfall of certain relationships. But equally, I let go of the guilt of ending relationships that were exploitative, manipulative and cruel. I finally understood that having personal boundaries was not only beneficial to me but also to those who would either intentionally or accidentally exploit me and my giving nature. The ultimate test came toward the end of last year when had to lay down some very firm boundaries with a close relative. We are still in communication, but now I decide when we talk and what we talk about. I've had to do this in order to protect us both. Interestingly, limiting exposure to her has been the best thing for the relationship, as we are now getting along better on the whole. I now know firsthand how important boundary setting is for the longevity of any relationship, especially the complicated ones.

I mention all this, because it started a process for me. I really took on board the advice of a Buddhist monk who told me to surround myself with wise people. I realised that some people in life were wholly negative influences. I'm talking about help rejecting complainers, emotional leeches and hapless drifters daydreaming through their own lives with nothing to give.

I have put up with so much shit from people over the years, it is not funny. I am now purging one-sided relationships that no longer serve me in any way. I'm perfectly willing and able to forgive people their flaws and faults if they are also counterbalanced with good traits. But so often I seem to have attracted people who are mean-spirited or haughty or completely unaware of their own crap and I just don't have the spoons to deal with those individuals anymore.

And herein lies the rub. It has, until recently, been an overwhelmingly positive experience for me to learn how to set my own boundaries and choose my friends more carefully. My last birthday celebration was a testament to that. I felt truly loved by the people who came to my little party and I felt seen and appreciated for who I really was. I want to be forging closer relationships with my true friends, those who have stuck by me and given back as much as I have given them. I'm fortunate to have good people in my life, but I haven't had as much time to dedicate to them because I was so busy pouring love into those aforementioned toxic relationships (which are often all-consuming). I'm changing that now, and it feels good.

But recently, it forced me to acknowledge something I have been steadfastly refusing to face up to. I have a friend in my life who I have known for well over a decade who has been troubling me a great deal over the past couple of years. I want to clarify that this friend is not a bad person. They are not toxic toward me in the way that other people have been. They are not deliberately trying to torment me, manipulate or exploit me. In fact, he has at times been exceptionally generous. He has trouble with expressing emotion so most of that generosity comes out in financial gestures, which complicates things. I'm disabled and unemployed and so I don't have any disposable income of my own. This friend knows that and has spoilt me with some really nice gifts over the years, as well bailing me out of financial hardship at critical times. In that regard, I owe him a lot. And that, in large part, has been why I have remained friends with him. I feel indebted. I've also stayed on in the relationship because I remember who they used to be. When we first met he was bright, switched on, optimistic and ambitious. He had goals and was brave and interested in the world around him. He came from a community of kind, loving people, many of whom I still call friends to this day. He surrounded himself with these people and even flew across oceans to International gatherings to be there with them. I saw so much potential and love in this person and I fell head over heels for him. I fall in love with people all the time. I see the best in them and want the best for them. Sometimes it means I come on a bit strong and intense and I have tried my best to reel that back. (It can be a bit overbearing and intimidating for people). But ultimately, I just love people with my whole heart and want to see them thrive. This friend and I connected very deeply on that level and I honestly thought we’d be best buds for life.

The problem is that we have both changed a great deal since those early years. I have done a tremendous amount of work on myself. I have seen numerous therapists, completed mindfulness courses, read self-help books, joined support groups, participated in countless programs for people with chronic pain, and just generally tried to work on my shit. I know that sounds crass, but it's something we all need to do in order to grow. We need to recognise our own issues and bullshit and do our best to address it. No one is ever going to be perfect and we shouldn't strive to be; however, if we have character flaws that are outwardly hurting others, we need to acknowledge and work on those. We also need to stop being self-destructive. I have never been one to run away from a personal challenge. I dealt with my grief after losing my dad; I faced my fears head on when my anxiety reached fever pitch, and overcame them. I took big risks when I moved country twice. I have been brave every day of my life when I wake up with three chronic illnesses and a mental illness and somehow get through the day. I have been productive and have given back to the community as much as I possibly can. I am driven toward self-improvement and self-love as much as I am committed to making the world a better place. Even though I intend to hang up my feminist activist hat at the end of this year, I still want to be involved in community activism, primarily environmental, in the years to follow. I can never not to do something for the betterment of others. It's in my nature and it gives my life meaning and purpose. I also want to pursue creative exploits, do more travel and see what else the world has to offer.

My friend, on the other hand, has resolutely given up on all of that. He too had dreams, goals and ambitions, and he hasn’t realised any of them, nor put any serious effort towards them, either.

I can remember when it happened.

A few months after I moved to Australia to be with my partner, I visited my friend. I was so excited to see him as it had been a while. But he was angry and bitter the entire time I was there. He lashed out at his mother, his best friend and at me. In quiet moments I tried to understand why he was so upset and he finally blurted that he wanted what his siblings had: a family. He wanted a loving, committed relationship, a career and children. But he was still working at the same grocery shop he’d been at since he was 15. He had dropped out of his degree. He put absolutely no effort into dating, or working on his appalling personal hygiene or appearance. I told him that if he wanted those things, he would have to work for them, just like everyone else. He threw up his hands in a fit and said he didn't want to. He just wanted them to fall from the sky. We got into big arguments over it because this friend of mine was so spoilt and so privileged. He was still living at home with his parents who gave him everything he needed. He was able bodied and, despite punishing his body with a terrible diet, reasonably well. He could hoard his money and then spend it on conventions and video games, because he didn't have to pay any rent or any bills. His parents put up with some pretty nasty behaviour from him, including his refusal to do housework. I hate to say it, but he was acting like the entitled millennial male we feminists get so frustrated over: expecting the beautiful wife, house and job to fall into his lap without having to do any work towards it. We nearly broke up during that trip. Indeed, I needed a few months away from him before I could recover from what was quite a shock. I felt resented. And it wasn't just me; he was resenting everyone else too. His mother was devastated when I left early, because at the time I was 50% of his friendship base. I adore his mother and sympathized with her position, but I told her she needed to stop enabling her son and give him a kick up the butt he needed. She refused.

After that, he simmered down a bit. He didn't bring it up anymore. He wasn't angry and he didn't lash out. He just went numb. I managed to talk him into doing a degree in creative writing, which he was once passionate about. (He completed that degree, but has done absolutely nothing with it since.) Oh, he sometimes came along to things his best friend, my partner and I went to, although he never expressed much interest in those activities. He made silly jokes and he was still fairly personable, but he never wanted to address the elephant in the room. Anytime I tried to bring it up he shut down, became silent and grumpy and otherwise sulked. He never had anything to say about it. He just went quiet and looked miserable. "But you told me that you had life goals! That you certainly didn't want to still be working at the same shop by the time you turned 30. You said that you wanted love in your life! What are you doing about it?" His reply was to grumble or make grunting noises. He just looked like he was suffering through a lecture waiting for it to be over then acting like nothing had ever happened. But I still remembered who he used to be and what he wanted from life. He had just given up on that and on himself. He put it all in the too hard basket. It took a number of years for me to realise that he wasn't interested in having any semblance of a life outside of that shop he worked at four hours a day, five days a week. He frequented the same fast food place every day and spent all the rest of his free time sleeping or on the computer, mostly on Reddit/gaming forums, porn sites and otherwise very toxic environments totally unlike the one we had found each other in. He would spend days composing SJW posts defending issues to Internet trolls, issues he did not champion nor put any work towards supporting in real life. He would then relish in telling me how he had trolled other people. He stopped writing science fiction short stories and started writing porn. He stopped reading books. He stopped watching shows. The only interests he still had were anime and a few PC games. He wasn’t even interested in the fandom we had originally met through. It became increasingly difficult to find things to talk about.

While I was off becoming a passionate feminist activist, he was digitally surrounding himself with the same sorts of people who sent us rape threats. He started using misogynistic slurs and watching harem anime, some of which he showed me honestly thinking I’d like it! (Occasionally he got it right and found an anime that we both really liked and bonded over, but that has become less frequent over the years. He doesn’t like to watch anyone else’s suggestions and wants to always be the one showing you something he has previously seen. It is vexing.) Before long, I couldn't hold regular conversations with him. He didn't follow the news, wasn't engaged in the outside world, and did not have any real passions. Outside of a limited range of anime (i.e. not horribly offensive, racist and sexist anime), the only other thing we had in common were a few videogames that we played together. And even then, he would occasionally get angry at losing and use sexist or foul language that I found very upsetting. Most of the time, when I called him out on it, he would apologise and stop… But soon enough it would creep back in.

Basically if I had met this person today, I would not be interested in pursuing a friendship with him. He is the type of individual who is going nowhere, unable or unwilling to recognize his own bullshit.

He can be very generous to his friends, especially in terms of money, which he has a comfortable amount of. But in other ways, he is intensely selfish. He never helped his parents at the family home. Appalingly, he didn't even lift a finger to help his father when he was sick with cancer. He was utterly disinterested and I needed to call his mom to found out how his dad was doing, even though he visited them for dinner weekly!). A few years ago he finally moved into a house he rents with his best friend. The house belongs to his sister, is being let out at a very cheap rate despite being a stunning home, and she is trusting him to take care of it. But most of that work falls to his best friend. He frequently skips his share of chores, leaves a mess and otherwise exhausts his poor friend who works 60 hour work weeks and is in part time study. My friend works 20 hours a week but claims he has “no time” to do basic household maintenance. He’s a self-professed “lazy bastard”. (He doesn’t see this as a problem…). I’ve lost count of the amount of arguments they have had over it. I do not mean this to sound funny, but his best friend is more like a beleaguered, 1950’s housewife, and he takes him horribly for granted and can be outright terrible to him. He puts him down and is frankly abusive towards him. I have long wanted his best friend to move out, because he is a good person and I Iove him too, but he is enmeshed in the relationship with my friend and cannot see what a bad influence he is. It’s awful to watch. I know he’s capable of keeping the place clean, because many years ago we lived together, and after one argument about his messy habits, he cleaned and tidied up just fine. He just could not be bothered to do it for anyone anymore.

In short, he's not the man I fell in love with... and I don't know what to do.

This all reached a boiling point in the last couple of weeks. I have been trying to get off a drug called Lyrica which has some very awful withdrawal effects. My friend is well aware of this because I have told him all about it and he has been supportive of my getting off them. However, my partner needs to take time off work each time I make a dose drop to ensure that I don't self-harm or get too terrified by the psychological symptoms (such as time loss and suicidal ideation). Unfortunately, he did not have enough leave saved up to do that this time, so we invited my friend to come stay with me and be there for me during what was going to be a very difficult experience. We trusted that he would be able to see me through the next 10 days.

I'm well aware that it's quite a big ask of anyone to help someone through a drug withdrawal process. It is not pleasant and if you don't have any experience in it it can be quite daunting. That said, the way things played out forced me to fully acknowledge the breathtaking emotional immaturity of my friend. Because he has locked himself away from life and avoided any and all hardships, he doesn't know what to do when faced with any sort of adversity. I was very anxious and a bit intense during the withdrawals, but I didn't try to kill myself or do anything self-destructive. I did experience time loss, which frightened me, and depression. That alone seemed to stun him. He just didn't know what to do. And I can forgive that. The problem was that his own behaviour triggered me at an especially raw time. For example, while I was silently battling dark voices in my mind telling me that I was a waste of space and life wasn't worth living, he would say things like "just die", "Die in a fire", "I hope you go to hell" and other callous remarks made “in jest”. We have always playfully bantered, but his responses to that banter have become increasingly malicious over the years. It's because of the community he surrounds himself with. Those are the sorts of things 15-year-old boys say to each other. And in terms of emotional growth, he has actually regressed to that age. He was never this mean-spirited when I met him in his early 20s. My partner took him aside one evening and politely explained to him that saying things like that to a person who is battling suicidal thoughts is not a good idea. He understood that but was unable to censor himself. He just kept doing it. He showed me anime that was so male gazey it put me off. Knowing that anime was one of the only things we could bond over, I actually looked up a recommended list of feminist anime with good storylines that we could both enjoy. But because he doesn't like to watch things he hasn't himself chosen, it was difficult. He indulged me a little but then wanted to go back to watching an anime he had already seen. He didn't seem to understand that many of his choices in recent years have been offensive and upsetting to me, and I was already a raw nerve. I kept trying to explain this to him without hurting his feelings but he seemed mystified all the same. Going for walks was one of the best ways to combat the mental struggle I was going through, and he did indulge me in a few of those, but nowhere near as many as I needed. He hates exercise.

His horrible hygiene and bad habits were also triggering my very real OCD. OCD plagues me when my anxiety is high and so it took tremendous restraint not to blow a fuse over the copious amounts of Coca-Cola cans collecting around the house, disgusting farts he dropped (and then laughed about for literally 10 minutes each time), his wearing the same pair of trousers for two weeks and the underwear he reused. He stank. I was in an enclosed space with someone who was putting no effort into making my experience more comfortable when that experience was very literally life-threatening. In the end, I had to do emotional labour to hide just how much I was suffering from him, because it made him uncomfortable or brought out some of his worst behaviours. He physically poked, prodded and elbowed me when I begged him not to. He said it was how he expressed affection. I told him it set off my anxiety. He didn't stop. It was only when my partner came home, in the late hours of the evening, when I could in whispers express my frustration. He was concerned because he too had expected my friend to rise to the challenge much better than he had. We were both disappointed. My partner and my friend get along really well and have never had any conflict in their relationship, but my partner was annoyed at the way he was acting.

I had struggled with anxiety and depression in the early years of our friendship and even though he sometimes floundered then, he still did a damn sight better than he seems capable of doing now. I cannot overstate this. The man has emotionally regressed to a teenager. He is less mature and less kind and less switched on than he was in his early 20s. He is in his mid-30s now but he does not act his age in any sense. By the time he left, I was both relieved and distraught. I felt like I'd been hit by a truck. The realisation was dawning on me that I could no longer have a meaningful relationship with him. He had made that impossible. He was not someone I could rely on emotionally in any capacity, or talk to in any depth. I was going to have to treat him as a fair weather friend. He had rendered himself incapable of being anything more.

So that is why I have been having nightmares. During his time here and in the weeks following, I have dreamt about being trapped with him and trying to get him to either leave me alone or behave better, to my great vexation. I wake from the dreams emotionally exhausted and tired. We have communicated a couple of times since then on our regular gaming nights. The last one left me cold. He was losing to one of the female characters and called her a fucking bitch. It made me flinch and then it made me anxious. I left after that game and went to bed and had more nightmares.

I have tried to address a lot of this crap in him. He doesn't want to talk about it. He makes some attempt to censor his behaviour around me, but really, he shouldn't have to. His behaviour just shouldn't be this bad. And I have found myself swallowing down so much stuff that in every other sphere of my life I would not tolerate. As a feminist, it has given me a level of cognitive dissonance I can’t even begin to explain.

Look, I don't think it is wise for people to put themselves in a complete bubble with only like-minded individuals. Echo chambers can be dangerous. But I do think you need some things in common and a base level of respect. And I have learned that it is often hard to get respect from people who do not respect themselves.

I'm not sure what to do from here. I do still love him, despite all of this, and I don't want to lose him. But I'm not sure how to make this friendship sustainable. My partner has suggested that Friend and I should no longer spend one-on-one time with each other, and I strongly agree with that. Instead, when we go to visit him in his city or he comes to visit us, we should only ever be together as a group. My partner is really good at moderating this friend of mine. They have an easy-going relationship and when there’s a group dynamic he tends to behave a little better. But I can't help but feel a great sense of loss. I feel like the person I connected with all those years ago is gone. I feel like I'm keeping something going out of respect for that person, not because it is something that especially benefits me, at least on an emotional level. While I can never repay him for all the monetary gestures and support over the years, I have given him all the love I could possibly give. And honestly, you can’t put a dollar value on that. I'm just going to have to reel that back, because I can't get entangled with someone hell bent on self-destruction. I've been close to people like that, including family members, all my life and it has only brought me heart ache. I need to protect myself. I'm just figuring out the best way to do that, and it's really hard…

#confessional post #toxic relationships #toxic friendships #heartbreak #chronic illness #self destructive friends #emotional labour #sad

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