#(( judging other people and not saying it outright but dressing it up in implication is her JOB
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She was put on this planet solely to pin her fins back in the middle-distance of someone else's conversation.
#Glory and Gore || IC#The rumor mill || Dash Commentary#Cursed words and treachery hissed between needle teeth || Discord Commentary#(( shes royalty. of course shes sassy.#(( judging other people and not saying it outright but dressing it up in implication is her JOB
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Ok, let's talk about Sanji.
I'm going to start by saying that the youtube channel MelonTeee has a fantastic video on this subject: The Tragedy of Sanji - YouTube Go check it out. I'm going to talk about some similar points.
(SPOILERS FOR ONE PIECE AHEAD)
I don't like Sanji.
Ok, that's a lie. "I didn't like Sanji" is probably more accurate, and the reasoning behind this is, I think, rather obvious. I thought his romantic tendencies weren't particularly funny (entirely personal opinion), so I was left with a guy who couldn't hold himself together when he was within ten miles of a woman (and I don't need to explain why the transphobia is an issue). I think Taz Skylar's more subtle take on this character is a lot easier to watch and enjoyable.
But Mr. Skylar isn't what sold me on this character. What sold me on Sanji, was a trait I picked up on during Arlong Park and that kept coming back up. Sanji, for all his faults (and again, there are many), repeatedly throws himself in mortal danger for others.
Now, this isn't an issue. This is a fairly generic heroic trait. But it is the regularity with which Sanji does this that caught my eye. It's his first response to any situation. He doesn't think things through, and he doesn't come to the conclusion that this is the only way to get out of a bind, he just steps into danger again and again.
Then, we get Thriller Bark and that one scene that everybody knows. In their video, MelonTeee highlights the line: "What good will come from your death? What will happen to your ambition?"
While MelonTeee goes into depth on the latter half of that, I'd like to quickly mention the former. There is an implication here, at least to me, that Sanji believes at least that his death will be a positive event and will keep the Strawhats going. Even in such a high-tension moment, that belief is heartbreaking.
I don't have time in a Tumblr post to give my entire thoughts on Cake Island, so I'm going to talk about one, small exchange. "Help me! Father!" "Why?"
To me, this single exchange is more impactful than the imprisonment and even the later confrontation, because it is more real. One piece is stylised to a fault, with fantastic action and people shouting over their own soundtracks and all that jazz. But there's none of that here. This is played entirely straight.
If you took away all of the fancy dress and the magic, this scene would hit just as hard. Not many people can empathise with being imprisoned for life, but a lot of people have experienced this. It's not outright physical abuse, not here, it's neglect. Neglect of a child Vinsmoke Judge brought into the world.
A frighteningly large amount of people have had a very similar exchange with one of their parents in their lifetime.
#one piece#rants#character analysis#sanji#vinsmoke sanji#one piece sanji#black leg sanji#meta#meta analysis
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"Big Bank!" - Hubby! Tommy Shelby x Reader
Warnings: Big Fluff, Old Money love story vibes.
Summary: Tommy decided to let his wife take care of his Gin. He comes to taste it for the first time after the Gin was met with great success.
A/N: We stand for a caring & trusting Thomas, sorry not sorry.
*Masterlist*
It was a windy day when Tommy entrusted you with his Gin distillery.
The sun was out, as your children were running around the garden, their giggling easing his mind. His head dropped backward on the garden chair as fingers of one of his hands were fidgeting with his cup or whiskey, as a cigarette was locked in between his lips.
Spring was early this year, much to your family’s pleasure. Spending time outside was something you loved to do, and knowing Tommy’s busy agenda, you made sure to make every family moment the best one.
No need to say time flew so fast, the days becoming months, becoming years.
Tommy and you was an evidence. From the day you bumped into each other in the London’s library his sister Ada used to work, you were inseparable. Thus you didn’t know each other for very long, but everything between you made this fact questionable.
You were acting as if you knew each other since children, a single look and you understood what the other thought. Not too many words were said, but not too many words were needed.
Although you weren’t Tommy’s first wife, you were “the perfect two”, making all the people you knew jealous and envious.
“My love,” you announced your presence when coming closer to the garden table as your husband was eyes closed. “I did some thinking.” You added, catching his attention.
Tommy straightened back his head and he was now facing you as you seated in front of him, glimpsing from afar of your three little boys.
“You know I don’t like your whiskey or any type of alcohol, truly.” You raised your brows, and he puffed on his cig, waiting for you to continue. “I want to make Shelby’s Gin.” You let out outright.
No need to turn around your wish, by the way he shifted position you already knew he was ready to hear anything, and you didn’t want to disturb him from his peace. You knew how he dearly appreciated those little moments in which he didn’t have to think about running a business or dealing with dirty gangsters and rude people.
“You want to do what?” He raised a brow not too sure he heard you well, but when he caught eyes of your lips curling at the corner of your mouth, he knew he had heard it well.
His family was his haven of peace and you would do anything to take off some weight off your Shelby’s shoulders. it was a regular task, a daily basis habit that you quickly took and that you’ll probably never lose.
“I already tried a mixture.” His deep voice accentuating your smile.
“It’s my turn now, you played enough with that, you need to focus on real business now. Put your mind elsewhere and let me fill my bottles.”
You couldn’t quite put your finger on what changed precisely, but you noticed a shifting in your husband’s expression along with the gleam animating his iris.
You thought it was worry.
You lost your father a few months ago due to lung disease and your mother died long ago when you were the age of your own children, and as an only child, you were now all alone without your parents.
Gracefully you had Tommy and the kids because if you hadn’t you didn’t know how you would’ve handled this loss.
As being a sensible cord, your husband didn’t bring it up, and he wasn’t the type of comforting people with words anyway, but he tried it his way, which means he bought you a ridiculous amount of new jewellery and books because he knew how much you liked to read and how you were a simp for big diamonds.
Incidentally, Tommy always found it funny how much time you spend with your nose in books while having a voracious appetite for jewellery. He would never miss an occasion to make fun of you when catching you reading as you had to wear glasses, and it was all funny and stuff till he too, had to wear glasses to read.
Now, in bed, you looked like two old people, instead, you were reading adventure and dramatic novels whereas he was stuck with political subjects.
“Okay.” He didn’t hesitate a single moment which made you smile.
“Okay?” you repeated, your smile growing as seconds passed. He straightened back, leaning over the table to you and his hands reached for yours.
You intertwined your fingers together with ease, sparkles spreading at the tips of each of it.
It was that way with every of his touches. He just had that power over you, which you were proud of as it was just love. It could never be anything else.
His deep blue eyes were anchored into your Y/C/E’s ones and you knew he was trying to bring you comfort. He knew what it felt like to lose people, and was ready to give you whatever if that meant to ease your pain.
You neared your faces and he ran his thumb over the end of your nose, down to your lips as cupping your cheek with his palm. Tommy’s head was slightly tilted to the side, his only purpose being to reach your soul with either his touch or his soul hidden behind his iris.
You leaned your head into his touch and closed your eyes for a second, enjoying that moment between the two of you as the breeze made its way to your neck under your mane.
Now, nearly five weeks later, all Birmingham was only speaking of the Shelby family as the people making “the good priced good gin” according to what you heard in the streets. From the fancy restaurant to the underground pubs, everyone in town had tasted of that oh so liked liquor.
Tommy first heard how good the gin was by his brother Arthur. He, who liked to get drunk all day long and all night long, was always keeping a bottle of it in his car or even on himself.
Then it was Ada, always offering him a drink of it whenever he would visit her.
(...)
It was 4 in the afternoon when Tommy walked through Charlie’s yard to join the Gin factory, when opening the door he was surprised to see you, seated at the old dusty desk filling paper and sipping on several cups.
Your husband frowned, “Y/N?”. He didn’t know if he should be worried or glad to see you working in such a place while drinking a lot knowing you’re not even a drinker in the first place.
You lifted your gaze to him and a huge smile instantly warmed up the atmosphere in the space, “Tommy!” You exclaimed as you got up. Being a bit dizzy you were strongly holding onto the table while getting up but you wanted to join him, and that’s when Tommy noticed your reddened cheek and little eyes.
“You’re drunk,” he stated, concerned. His expression shifted. He seemed a bit worried as he took one of your wrists to help you walk correctly.
You waved your free hand before you as to blow away his remark, “I was trying a new mixture for the Gin.” You informed him. You slid a hand into his rough one and stepped backwards, to the desk. “Here, choose one and tell me.” You proudly pointed to each of the cups. “This one on the left is spicy, the middle one a little too sweet for the Americans, this one to the right is the version that is out, and the last one is a bit strong. If the sadness hit too much.”
“The sadness?” Tommy asked while grabbing the third cup, being the gin that was already out. He was quite startled by how implicated his wife seemed to be, he didn’t actually think she would invest that much time and energy in this activity, but he was relieved she found a reason to get up every morning other than their beautiful family.
He knew how living a life without having or serving a purpose was meaningless and boring, even more, when being saddened by something you can’t control such as the death of a loved one.
The Shelby brother will sleep better now, knowing his other half found purpose somewhere, even if seeing her drunk was a sight he could never get used to…
At this moment, he felt the need to feel her skin under his touch before doing anything else, and that’s what he did, putting his hand at the end of her back, he pulled her closer, his thumb rubbing her skin over the fabric of her dress.
Tommy then drank from the cup and took his time judging the taste of it.
He opened his eyes and dropped the cup on the desk before turning to his wife, she was looking at him, impatience spreading all over her face. She seemed ready to hear Tommy’s opinion on her Gin... On their gin.
The blue-eyed man grabbed her face in his hands and pressed his forehead to Y/N’s. She closed her eyes a couple of seconds before opening them to a staring Tommy. He was fondling her cheeks with his thumbs before exhaling deeply, “I now understand why everyone’s talking about us, Shelbys, being fucking genius’, eh” He got distracted by her lips.
“This,” he pointed to the bottle standing at the corner of the table, and, once again, Tommy got distracted, he noticed words were present on the bottle down the name. “Distilled for the eradication of incurable sadness.” He read out loud.
A faint smile was found on his face before he agitated the bottle in his hand. He was proud.
He put down the bottle and directly sealed his lips to Y/N’s, the calling for love being too loud to resist.
That was exactly why it was her and no one else, she was always unpredictable and versatile. Who would have thought his bibliophile wife could be a real gem in the making of gin?
She put away, gasping for air before looking him in the eyes, “What? Did I never tell you the fact that my grandpa was making alcohol?” She teased his lips by speaking inches away from them, “I know one or two tricks. That’s why it’s selling well.” She concluded before pressing their lips together eagerly.
“This is a big bank, yea” He succeeded at saying in between two kisses.
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peaceful easy feeling ft. b.boeser | five
A/N: This is the last part of this mini series! I know this adventure was short but thank you all for coming along on the ride :) A quick reminder that I will be announcing my new fic, who it will feature, a small blurb, & a clue as to what to expect from it this Thursday at 7:30pm EST. Happy reading!
CONTENT WARNING: parents with disease/sickness (Parkinson’s); parent death; swearing; sex; alcohol use; lots of emotions.
* * * * *
“You look beautiful, baby,” Brock cooed as he adjusted his cufflinks – well, not really. He was looking at Grace, not really caring about his cufflinks. Seeing her stand there in her beautiful dress, her hair curled and pinned, and her delicate jewelry hanging off her ears, neck, and wrists…she was a vision. He was so lucky.
They were about to leave to attend the Parkinson’s Foundation of British Columbia Gala. Grace had planned virtually the whole thing, though she worked with the head of the foundation on most major decisions. She arranged the venue, catering, got major sponsors (okay…the biggest were her uncles, but there were a lot more), organized the silent auction, and arranged the entertainment for the evening. Everyone who attended their weekly meetings would be there. Brock knew the Aquilinis would be there. It was a party, yes, and a function to raise money, yes – but at the end of the day, it was a culmination of Grace’s strength after Hamish passed away.
“Thanks, babe,” she smiled over at him, taking one last look at herself in the mirror. “Are Petey and Svea ready to go?”
Brock nodded. “Petey’s been texting for fifteen minutes asking if we’re on our way yet,” he joked.
“You can blame it on me,” she winked. “Unless Petey takes a good look at your hair. Then he’ll know it was you.”
Brock laughed out loud, taking the few steps needed to stand right in front of her and wrap his arms around her. “Hey…before we go,” his voice was low and he looked down at Grace. “Your dad would be so proud of you for planning this.”
Grace nodded her head. She knew. It was a lot of work, and she completely went in head first with planning all of it and maybe, sort of taking over the entire operation, but it was worth it. She had planned something that would raise money that, hopefully, would fund research so that nobody would have to go through what she went through. She didn’t just want to be known as an heiress daughter of a billionaire; she wanted to be known as so much more. An heiress who used her money to fund research projects and arts centres; an heiress who donated her time and money to worthy causes. She once told Brock that she knew she wasn’t the smartest girl in the world, but that she thought she had a big heart. She hoped this was the start of others in her community, and in Vancouver, realizing that she had a big heart.
***
“Grace, this is amazing,” Svea couldn’t help but say astonishingly as she took yet another look around the giant room, decorated to the nines with flashing lights and impeccably dressed people chatting and drinking and dancing. Svea knew Grace would be busy throughout the night, so she wasn’t trying to hog her after their limousine ride together. But now that Svea got her alone, she had to verbalize it again, just like she did when she walked in. “Like, I don’t think you understand. It’s incredible.”
“Want to let me plan your wedding to Elias?” Grace winked, taking a sip of her drink.
“Oh shut up.”
“There she is!” the women both heart Elias yell. They turned around and saw him and Brock walking towards them, both with drinks in their hands. “Grace, this is so cool.”
“Thanks Petey. And thanks for donating your jersey.”
“Anything for you.”
Grace focused her attention on Brock. “Esther wants us to take a group photo with everyone before everyone leaves,” she said, and Brock nodded his head in agreement. She looked at Elias. “If I get everyone together right now, do you mind taking it?”
“Like I just said Grace, anything for you.”
***
Fatigued, physically and mentally exhausted, but still somehow feeling the adrenaline coursing through her veins, Grace climbed into the limousine with Brock, Elias, and Svea at the end of the gala so they could go home. They dropped off Elias and Svea first, naturally, and Elias had to wake Svea up as she slept on his shoulder throughout the ride. It left Brock and Grace alone in the limousine together, hands clasped together as the driver drove through the streets of Vancouver.
“You did amazing tonight,” Brock mumbled, his voice low and full of sleepiness but still so direct and meaningful. “I love you so much, Grace.”
“I love you too, Brock.”
“When we have kids, I’m gonna let them know this was the night I knew you’d become my wife.”
Grace stiffened at Brock’s words, but he was too tired to notice – the small smirk on his face not disappearing despite anxiety – not adrenaline – now coursing through Grace’s veins. She thought about the implications of his words, how he just outright admitted that she was the one for him. She thought about her feelings for him, and if she felt the same. She did. But was it possible to still be apprehensive? She loved Brock with her whole heart. She’d never met anybody like him, and likely would never meet anyone like him again. She loved him too, with everything she had.
But then she thought about her parents.
Her parents were young and in love once too. Her parents were once obsessed with each other and madly in love. Her parents had decided to get married and have a child. Her parents had decided what Brock was laying out on the proverbial table – what Brock was so willing to give her – and look what happened. Things didn’t work out. Love didn’t work out. Love was complicated. They separated. Grace went to live with Eliza but didn’t like it because she missed dad. She told Hamish who told his lawyers. His lawyers brought it to the judge. Divorce proceedings started. Grace went to live with Hamish. Eliza demanded alimony for her lifestyle, to maintain it, if not to exceed it. Eliza demanded child support. Eliza demanded nannies, a multi-million dollar house, and expensive cars. Hamish would tell Grace her mother was selfish. Eliza would tell Grace how stingy her father was. Eliza would tell Grace how her father only wanted custody so he didn’t have to pay child support. Hamish told Grace Eliza only wanted child support and alimony so she could hire babysitters and nannies while she went to spas. A pawn while she was at her mom’s in Shaughnessy; a pawn while she was at her dad’s in West Point Grey. A pawn when dropped off at school at Crofton House. A pawn at the dance studio, her happiest place.
What if she and Brock turned out the same way?
***
“You okay?” Brock asked Grace.
Grace wasn’t there. She was somewhere else, in her mind, thinking about events long passed. “Your father’s the cheapest man I’ve ever met,” she could hear her mom say in the kitchen as she waited for her cereal before school at seven years old. “Cheap cheap cheap cheap cheap! He’s always been so much work to be with, your father. He refuses to get you a Range Rover – did you know that? Your dad wants you driven around in some…in some…I don’t know, some Toyota.”
“Yeah, sorry,” Grace said absent-mindedly, giving her pasta a few more twirls to make it seem like she’d eat it. “Will I still be able to go to dance?”
“Who knows?! Your father may even take that away from you too! It scares me, the things he’s taking away from you.”
“But I love dance.”
“Well then maybe you should stay with me. Daddy will pay me to take you to dance.”
***
“Your mother is a piece of work, let me tell you,” Hamish mumbled as he slapped his cellphone down on the counter. “She was always so much work to be with. Always so much work. Now she wants $60,000 a month in alimony. Alimony!”
“What’s alimony?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Hamish said. “Have your teachers taught you yet what it means to be selfish?” he asked. Grace nodded her head. “Well your mother is selfish. One of the most selfish people in the world.”
“Grace? You coming to bed?” Brock’s voice was groggy as he stood in the doorway of the ensuite, his usually well-kept hair everywhere, his eyes sleepy.
“Yeah…yeah, sorry,” Grace apologized, getting up from her seated position on the toilet lid. “Sorry baby.”
“You okay?”
“Yeah. Yeah I’m fine,” she said, grabbing Brock’s hand and leading him back to bed.
“You’d tell me if it wasn’t right?” he asked softly as she cuddled up against him in bed.
“Of course,” she said, a nervous lump in her throat. “Of course.”
***
“Gracie…please tell me what’s wrong,” Brock said in a low voice as he tried to wrap his arms around her, only for her to flinch slightly and back away. That hurt him more than anything.
“Nothing’s wrong,” she said unconvincingly.
“Yes it is—”
“Can we just drop it,” she said, taking a sip of her coffee. “We’re supposed to be on a date.”
***
“What’s the matter with you?” Elias asked, sick of seeing Brock so gloomy and moody the past several weeks. He’d noticed a change in him, and though Brock was usually very open about what he was feeling with him, he wasn’t this time, and Elias was…skeptical. Well, not skeptical – worried. This time, Brock had a girlfriend and was moody, and Elias didn’t know what to expect. “What’s going on?”
“Something’s wrong with Grace,” Brock revealed to Elias.
“What’s wrong?”
Brock shook his head. “She won’t tell me. But she…she zones out a lot, like she’s thinking about something…and it’s so intense that she doesn’t even hear me calling her.”
“What’s she thinking about?”
Brock shrugged. “She doesn’t tell me. She’ll never tell me.”
“Well when did it start?”
Brock thought about it. He really thought about it. He liked to think he was in tune with changes in Grace. “The gala.”
“The Parkinson’s Gala?” Elias clarified. Brock nodded his head. “Well, could it be about her dad?”
“It’s something more,” Brock was adamant. He knew she would be sad and would never be the same after her dad died. That was a given. No-one was ever the same after the death of a parent, so he didn’t blame her for that. “It’s…it’s something more.”
***
“Is everything okay with you?” Svea asked delicately as she and Grace were shopping at Holt Renfrew. Well – Grace was shopping at Holt Renfrew. Svea was basically just following her around, because it wasn’t like she could afford anything.
“I’m fine,” Grace said unconvincingly.
“Are you sure? Because you know you can talk to me if things aren’t okay.”
Grace took a deep breath in, trying to compose herself. Knowing what she knew about Svea’s parents and their love story, she doubted that Svea would be able to provide any…critical insight, so to speak. But Grace tried anyway. “How d’you know a guy is your soulmate, Svea?” she asked.
Svea was taken aback. It was quite the loaded question to lead with. “I’d say it’s when you can picture the rest of your life with them. At least that’s one aspect to it.”
“Can you picture the rest of your life with Elias?”
“Yes,” Svea answered automatically, because she could. It was as friends, sure, but she still pictured the rest of her life with him. “Can you picture the rest of your life with Brock?”
Grace paused. Her response wasn’t as quick or forthcoming. “Yes.”
“But?”
“But what?”
“There was a pause there,” Svea said. “But what?”
“But what if, like, things change?” Grace asked. “What if the love doesn’t last? What if it breaks down?”
“You mean like your parents?”
Grace didn’t want to glare at Svea – she really didn’t, because Svea was one of the sweetest people alive – but she did. She glared at her. “No,” she said forcefully, trying to cover.
“Love always lasts. True love always lasts. Look at Elias and I – I mean, we’ve loved each other our whole lives—”
“You and Elias won’t even hold hands or kiss each other,” Grace said angrily, unable to control her emotions at this point. “You won’t even admit you love him romantically. How the hell is that love?”
Svea just stared at Grace, unable to formulate words. Tears welled in her eyes too, and when Grace saw them get red, she hated herself even more. She hated herself already for making Brock worry, for not telling him the truth, for hiding things from him; now, she hated herself even more for making Svea emotional. “I’ve gotta go,” she said, leaving quickly, unable to look back at Svea as she left her in the middle of Holt Renfrew alone.
***
“If you don’t tell me what’s wrong right now or I’m leaving,” Brock said sternly, his voice raised. Both of their voices had been for the last while now, since they were fighting. He looked at Grace as she stared back at him indignantly from across the kitchen. “We can’t have a relationship if we don’t communicate – if you don’t tell me what’s been bothering you.”
“There’s nothing wrong.”
“Is it something I did? Did I say something?”
“It’s not you.”
“Then what is it?”
“There’s nothing wr—”
“Tell me what’s wrong!”
Grace stayed silent. She could feel herself going red. She could feel the emotions in her bubble up. She knew she wouldn’t be able to hold it in much longer. “Leave.”
Brock furrowed his brows. “Excuse me?”
“Leave my apartment now.”
Brock stood stoic in spot. “You don’t mean that—”
“LEAVE!” Grace screamed at the top of her lungs, taking every ounce of strength left in her to not cry.
They were in a standoff. Brock stood stoic. Grace stood stoic. Staring at each other, waiting for the other to move. Neither did for a while, waiting it out to see who would crack first. She didn’t mean it, Brock kept thinking. She doesn’t mean it. She doesn’t mean it. But with every second that passed, with every heave of Grace’s chest, with every moment of silence signaling her refusal to budge…
Brock cracked.
He picked up his keys, gave Grace one last look, and walked out the door.
***
It was a few agonizing, excruciating, unbearably lonely few weeks later when Brock received a phone call in the middle of the night. 2:38am. His phone’s ring blaring throughout his empty apartment.
“Hello?” his voice was groggy, tired, exhausted.
Silence.
“Hello?” he asked once more, louder this time. If it was any one of his teammates he’d knock them dead the next time he saw them – Petey especially.
The voice was small and defeated when it finally did speak, asking Brock the question, “What if we end up like my parents?”
Brock was wide awake now. He got up in bed dramatically, holding his phone against his ear so tightly that he could hear the charger fall out of the electrical socket. “Gracie,” the shock was evident in his voice.
“Will you come over?” she asked.
Brock threw the covers off his body dramatically. “I’m on my way right now,” he said. He’d drive his car in his slippers if he needed to.
“Be careful.”
“I’m coming. I’ll be there soon.”
***
“C’mere,” Brock said the millisecond Grace let him in, wrapping his arms around her and engulfing her into a hug as she clung to him like he’d float away and wrapped every limb she had around him. He’d made it to her apartment in record time, speeding through the streets of Vancouver to get to her. It was probably dangerous, but it wasn’t like there were other cars on the road at 2:45 in the morning. “Talk to me Gracie. Talk to me,” he urged as he felt her tears against his skin.
“I’m so sorry,” she mumbled into the crook of his neck. “I’m so—Brock, I was so bad. So bad.”
“Shhhhh shhhh shhhh, don’t,” Brock cooed. “Just tell me what’s wrong. What’s going on in your head, Grace?”
“Brock…” she began, swallowing her tears before continuing. She pulled away slightly so she could look him in the eye, wiping her own red ones with the palms of her hands. She knew she looked awful, but she also knew Brock didn’t give a shit. “I just miss him so much.”
“Your dad.”
Grace nodded quickly. “Every part of me misses him. But then I started to think about how awful he and my mom were during the divorce,” she explained. And to Brock, that said everything. Grace told him about it ever since they met – the general, the specific, the nitty-gritty details – and it was awful. To have that whirling around in her mind would have definitely affected her. It all made sense to him now. It all made sense, knowing she never wanted to go back to that. “And I got scared…I got so scared. I just kept remembering how bad it was. So on the night of the gala when you said—”
“So it was something that I said—”
“Nonononononono,” she vehemently shook her head, bringing her finger up to his lips to silence him. “No no no no no. I—Brock—I love you with every part of me too. But…but what if we end up like my parents? What if we fall out of love? What if it—what if it ends badly? What if we ended up hating each other? They’d always say things like it was so hard to be with one another and—”
“Is it hard to be with me?” Brock asked, not wanting her to go any further and knowing that at this point, he needed to intervene.
“NO! Never!” she exclaimed. She never wanted Brock to think that ever. She cradled his face in her hands. “Being with you feels natural. It feels like it was always supposed to be this way. It’s so easy. It’s so peaceful.”
“Then that’s how it’ll always be, a peaceful easy feeling,” Brock whispered. “What’s there to be scared about, baby?”
Grace shook her head, tearing up again. “Nothing when I’m with you.”
“We won’t end up like your parents because we’re not your parents,” he said. His words were so simple but they hit Grace like a ton of bricks. “We’re different people. I love you more than anything, and the thought of hating you—Grace—I—it’s never, never crossed my mind. I never could. You give me everything. Do I give you everything?”
She nodded. “Everything.”
“Then I’m gonna keep giving you everything. And I’ll do it till the end of time, Gracie. Because I love you. I can’t picture myself with anyone else. I can’t…I can’t picture going through pain with anyone else besides you.”
Brock’s words were loaded – she knew that. “I can’t picture going through pain with anyone else besides you.” Grace nodded. The sentiment was so serious, but so right. When she really thought about it, would she have wanted to experience this pain with anyone else besides Brock? No. He meant the world to her. And that’s how it was always going to be. “I’m so dumb,” she shook her head at herself.
“You’re not dumb. For what you went through, it’s a legitimate worry,” he reassured her. “But I promise you, I promise you, I’ll love you with everything I have and you’ll love me with everything you have, and we won’t end up like your parents.”
Grace was overcome with emotion. “I love you so much, Brock.”
“I love you too,” he leaned in to kiss her, once, twice, then again and again. When they stopped, he wrapped his arms around her body and lay down on her couch, bringing her body down with him. He wiggled out of his hoodie. Then he pushed her body down slightly, and that’s when Grace knew exactly what he was doing. She lay her head on his bare chest, listening to his heartbeat.
“Can you feel it?” he asked softly.
Grace nodded.
#brock boeser#brock boeser imagine#brock boeser fic#brock boeser fan fic#vancouver canucks#vancouver canucks imagine#vancouver canucks fic#vancouver canucks fan fic#brock boeser blurb#vancouver canucks blurb#nhl#nhl imagine#nhl fic#nhl fan fic#nhl blurb#hockey#hockey imagine#hockey fic#hockey fan fic#hockey blurb#peaceful easy feeling series
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The Horror Genius of Five Nights At Freddy’s
I’ve been playing FNAF: Help Wanted VR on my Oculus Quest lately (a birthday present to myself -- I know I’m late to that party!) and it’s reignited in me my old love of this series. I know Scott Cawthon’s politics aren’t great, but I don’t think there’s any malice in his heart beyond usual Christian conservative nonsense -- and I think he stepped down as graciously and magnanimously as possible when confronted about it. Time will judge Scott Cawthon’s politics, and that’s not what I’m here to talk about. I want to talk about what makes these games so damn special, from a horror, design, and marketing perspective. I think there’s really SO MUCH to be learned from studying these games and the wider influence they’ve had as intellectual property.
What Is FNAF?
In case you’ve somehow been living under a rock for the last seven years, Five Nights At Freddy’s (hereafter, FNAF) is a horror franchise spanning 17 games (10 main games + some spinoffs and troll games, we’ll get to that), 27 books, a movie deal, and a couple live-action attractions.
But before it exploded into that kind of tremendous IP, it started out as a single indie pont-and-click game created entirely by one dude, Scott Cawthon. Cawthon had developed other games in the past without much fame or success, including some Christian children’s entertainment. He was working as a cashier at Dollar General and making games in his spare time -- and most of those games got panned.
So he tried making something different.
After being criticized that the characters in one of his children’s games looked like soulless, creepy animatronics, Cawthon had his lightbulb moment and created a horror game centered on....creepy animatronics!
The rest, as they say, is history.
The Genius of FNAF’s Horror Elements
In the first FNAF game, you play as a night security guard at Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza, a sort of ersatz Chuck-E-Cheese establishment. The animatronics are on free-roaming mode at night, but you don’t want to let them find you in your security room so you have to watch them move through the building on security camera monitors. If they get too close, you can slam your security room doors closed. But be careful, because this restaurant operates on a shoestring budget, and the power will go off if you keep the doors closed too long or flicker the lights too often. And once the lights go out, you’re helpless against the animatronics in the dark.
Guiding you through your gameplay is a fellow employee, Phone Guy, who calls you each night with some helpful advice. Phone Guy is voiced by Cawthon himself, and listening to his tapes gives you some hints of the game’s underlying story as well as telling you how to play. A few newspaper clippings and other bits of scrap material help to fill in more details of the story.
Over the next set of games, the story would be further developed, with each new game introducing new mechanics and variations on the theme -- in one, you don a mask to slip past the notice of animatronics; in another, you have to play sound cues to lure an animatronic away from you. By the fourth game, the setup was changed completely, now featuring a child with a flashlight hiding from the monsters outside his door -- nightmarish versions of the beloved child-friendly mascots. The mechanics change just enough between variations to keep things fresh while maintaining a consistent brand.
There are so many things these games do well from a storytelling and horror perspective:
Jump Scares: It’s easy to shrug these games off for relying heavily on jump scares, and they absolutely do have a lot of them. But they’re used strategically. In most games, the jump scares are a punishment (a controlled shock, if you will) -- if you play the game perfectly, you’ll never be jump-scared. This is an important design choice that a lot of other horror games don’t follow.
Atmospheric Dread: These games absolutely deliver horror and tension through every element of design -- some more than others, admittedly. But a combination of sound cues, the overall texture and aesthetic of the world, the “things move when you’re not looking at them” mechanic, all of it works together to create a feeling of unease and paranoia.
Paranoia: As in most survival horror games, you’re at a disadvantage. You can’t move or defend yourself, really -- all you can do is watch. And so watch you do. Except it’s a false sense of security, because flicking lights and checking cameras uses up precious resources, putting you at greater risk. So you have to balance your compulsive need to check, double-check, and make sure...with methodical resource conservation. The best way to survive these games is to remain calm and focused. It’s a brilliant design choice.
Visceral Horror: The monster design of the animatronics is absolutely delightful, and there’s a whole range of them to choose from. The sheer size and weight of the creatures, the way they move and position themselves, their grunginess, the deadness of their eyes, the quantity and prominence of their teeth. They are simultaneously adorable and horrifying.
Implicit Horror: One of the greatest strengths to FNAF as a franchise is that it never wears its story on its sleeve. Instead of outright telling you what’s going on, the story is delivered in bits and pieces that you have to put together yourself -- creating a puzzle for an engaged player to think about and theorize over and consider long after the game is done. But more than that, the nature of the horror itself is such that it becomes increasingly upsetting the more you think on it. The implications of what’s going on in the game world -- that there are decaying bodies tucked away inside mascots that continue to perform for children, that a man dressed in a costume is luring kids away into a private room to kill them, and so forth -- are the epitome of fridge horror.
The FNAF lore does admittedly start to become fairly ridiculous and convoluted as the franchise wears on. But even ret-conned material manages to be pretty interesting in its own right (and there is nothing in the world keeping you from playing the first four games, or even the first six, and pretending none of the rest exist).
Another thing I really appreciate about the FNAF franchise is that it’s quite funny, in a way that complements and underscores the horror rather than detracting from it. It’s something a lot of other properties utterly fail to do.
The Genius of Scott Cawthon’s Marketing
OK, so FNAF utilizes a multi-prong attack for creating horror and implements it well -- big deal. Why did it explode into a massive IP sensation when other indie horror games that are just as well-made barely made a blip on the radar?
Well! That’s where the real genius comes in. This game was built and marketed in a way to maximize its franchisability.
First, the story utilizes instantly identifiable, simple but effective character designs, and then generates more and more instantly identifiable unique characters with each iteration. Having a wealth of characters and clever, unique designs basically paves the way for merchandise and fan-works. (That they’re anthropomorphic animal designs also probably helped -- because that taps into the furry fandom as well without completely alienating non-furries).
Speaking of fan-work, Scott Cawthon has always been very supportive of fandom, only taking action when people would try to profit off knock-off games and that sort of thing -- basically bad-faith copies. But as far as I know he’s always been super chill with fan-created content, even going so far as to engage directly with the fandom. Which brings me to....
These games were practically designed for streaming, and he took care to deliver them into the hands of influential streamers. Because the games are heavy on jump-scares and scale in difficulty (even including extra-challenging modes after the core game is beaten) they are extremely fun to watch people play. They’re short enough to be easily finished over the duration of a long stream, and they’re episodic -- lending themselves perfectly to a YouTube Lets Play format. One Night = One Video, and now the streamer has weeks of content from your game (but viewers can jump in at any time without really missing much).
The games are kid-friendly but also genuinely frightening. Because the most disturbing parts of the game’s lore are hinted at rather than made explicit, younger players can easily engage with the game on a more basic surface level, and others can go as deep into the lore as they feel comfortable. There is no blood and gore and violence or even any explicitly stated death in the main game; all of the murder and death is portrayed obliquely by way of 8-bit mini games and tangential references. Making this game terrifying but accessible to youngsters, and then marketing it directly to younger viewers through popular streamers (and later, merchandising deals) is genius -- because it creates a very broad potential audience, and kids tend to spend 100% of their money (birthdays, allowances, etc.) and are most likely to tell their friends about this super scary game, etc. etc.
By creating a puzzle box of lore, and then interacting directly with the fandom -- dropping hints, trolling, essentially creating an ARG of his own lore through his website, in-game easter eggs, and tie-in materials -- Cawthon created a mystery for fandom to solve. And fans LOVE endlessly speculating over convoluted theories.
Cawthon released these games FAST. He dropped FNAF 2 within months of the first game’s release, and kept up a pace of 1-2 games a year ever since. This steady output ensured the games never dropped out of public consciousness -- and introducing new puzzle pieces for the lore-hungry fans to pore over helped keep the discussion going.
I think MatPat and The Game Theorists owe a tremendous amount of their own huge success to this game. I think Markiplier does, too, and other big streamers and YouTubers. It’s been fascinating watching the symbiotic relationship between these games and the people who make content about these games. Obviously that’s true for a lot of fandom -- but FNAF feels so special because it really did start so small. It’s a true rags-to-riches sleeper hit and luck absolutely played a role in its growth, but skill is a big part too.
Take-Aways For Creatives
I want to be very clear here: I do not think that every piece of media needs to be “IP,” franchisable, an extended universe, or a multimedia sensation. I think there is plenty to be said for creating art of all types, and sometimes that means a standalone story with a small audience.
But if you do want a chance at real break-out, run-away success and forging a media empire of your own, I think there are some take-aways to be learned from the success of FNAF:
Persistence. Scott Cawthon studied animation and game-design in the 1990s and released his first game in 2002. He released a bunch of stuff afterward. None of it stuck. It took 12 years to hit on the winning formula, and then another several years of incredibly hard work to push out more titles and stoke the fires before it really became a sensation. Wherever you’re at on your creative journey, don’t give up. You never know when your next thing will be The Thing that breaks you out.
If you want to sell a lot of something, you have to make it widely appealing to a bunch of people. This means keeping your concept simple to understand (”security guard wards off creepy killer animatronics at a pizza parlor”) and appealing to as wide a segment of the market as you can (ie, a horror story that appeals to both kids and adults). The more hyper-specific your audience, the harder it’s gonna be to find them and the fewer copies of your thing you’ll be selling.
Know your shit and put your best work out there. I think there’s an impulse to feel like “well, nobody reads this anyway, so why does it matter if it’s no good” (I certainly have fallen into that on multiple occasions) but that’s the wrong way to think about it. You never know when and where your break will come. Put your best work out there and keep on polishing your craft with better and better stuff because eventually one of those things you chuck out there is going to be The Thing.
Figure out where your target audience hangs out, and who influences them, and then get your thing in the hands of those influencers. Streaming and YouTube were the secret to FNAF’s success. Maybe yours will be BookTube, or Instagram, or a secret cabal of free librarians. I don’t know. But you should try your best to figure out who would like the thing that you’re making, and then figure out how to reach those people, and put all of your energy into that instead of shotgun-blasting your marketing all willy nilly.
You don’t have to put the whole story on the page. Audiences love puzzles. Fans love mysteries. You can actually leave a lot more unanswered than you think. There’s some value in keeping secrets and leaving things for others to fill in. Remember -- your art is only partly yours. The sandbox belongs to others to play in, too, and you have to let them do that.
If in doubt, appealing to furries never hurts.
Do I take all of this advice myself? Not by a long shot. But it’s definitely a lot to think about.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go beat The Curse of Dreadbear.
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Lev pretending to be innocent in front of the reader but is actually her stalker with those cat eyes. He asks help from her and they gradually get closer until he gets her all alone in her apartment under his care
Absolutely! Lev is prime stalker material 👀 poor reader
Lev Haiba x Reader
TW stalking, manipulation
Harmless
“Don’t you think he’s just a little… I don’t know, creepy?” your best friend murmurs in a pointed tone, stirring the sugar into her coffee.
You bite back a sigh - it’s a conversation you’ve had countless times before and it always ends the same way. You defend Lev, chastise your friend for her paranoia and distrustful nature and eventually she relents with an unconvincing ‘if you say so’.
“He’s harmless, honestly - Lev wouldn’t hurt a fly and he’s actually very sweet once you get to know him. I don’t know why you’re so against him. He’s a good friend.”
She huffs, taking a slow sip of her drink before she replies. “Well for one, he’s like an overgrown shadow. I swear, every time we’re out together we always seem to just magically run into him, all big and looming, and he’s always staring at you like he wants to gobble you up - just you by the way, he outright ignores the rest of us peasants - it’s like he’s obsessed with you or something, and-”
She keeps talking, but honestly you kind of zone out a little bit. You can’t judge her too harshly. She’s always been protective of you, ever since you guys were kids, you suppose it’s only natural for her to be wary of Lev.
And she’s not wrong per se. You do have the strangest habit of running into Lev around town, but it’s how you met, after all - quite literally running into the 6’5” giant as you were exiting the exact same coffee shop you were currently sitting in.
Spilling your piping hot coffee all over somebody else’s sweater doesn’t usually have the makings of a burgeoning friendship but Lev had been so sweet about the whole thing, blushing and bowing, shooting apology after apology (despite the fact that it was mostly your fault) that you couldn’t help but offer to buy his drink in compensation for ruining his morning - and more importantly his clothes.
Lev, grinning brightly, had agreed with a single condition - that you joined him. And really, after pouring hot coffee all over him, it was the least you could do.
“Hey, are you even paying attention to me?!”
You jerk a little, shaking yourself out of your reverie to find your friend glaring at you. It lacks any real heat though, and she just rolls her eyes and gives a long suffering sigh. “I’m worried about you, Y/N. Didn’t you say that some of your stuff has been going missing lately?”
An old picture of you and some friends on vacation, a necklace you used to wear religiously and you could swear that you’re missing one of your favourite bras and some panties, but… sometimes stuff like that just gets misplaced - it’s not like you’re exactly the tidiest person around.
Still, you can’t help the way that your brows furrow at her implication, “I said I misplaced some things. Are you honestly suggesting that Lev broke into my apartment to steal that stuff?” you ask with a snicker. The very idea of the silver haired giant sneaking around your tiny apartment is ridiculous!
Your friend’s pointed silence speaks volumes.
“Oh, come on! He’s just a friend - a little excitable maybe,” and very affectionate, always swallowing you up in tight hugs, fingers constantly seeking out yours - but somehow you don’t think that part will help your case, “but he’s just a big softie.”
She scoffs, folding her arms over her chest. She doesn’t speak for a long moment, but when she does, she reaches across the table to grab your hand in hers, squeezing it lightly. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m being a jealous, judgemental bitch because I don’t like the idea of anyone else coming to steal you away from me,” she smiles self deprecatingly, but there’s an real edge of worry in her eyes that makes your stomach twist, “but you’re the most important thing to me. I don’t want you getting hurt, and I get bad vibes from that guy.”
You open your mouth to retort, but she just shakes her head, “Just… just promise me you’ll be careful around him, alright?”
Wordlessly, you nod.
As much as you try and dismiss her concerns, as days pass you begin to wonder if maybe she isn’t wrong.
Not about Lev of course - he might be a little over exuberant but you know he doesn’t mean any harm by it - but you think, well… you’re starting to think that maybe somebody’s following you.
At first it’s just the tickling sensation on the back of your neck. When you run to the corner store on your lunch break to pick up a snack for the afternoon a shiver runs down your spine as you get the strangest feeling that somebody’s staring at you - you can feel the weight of their gaze burning into your back, but whenever you turn there’s nobody there.
There’s never anybody there.
But… didn’t you shut the door to your closet before you left for work that morning? You could have sworn that the window to your second storey bedroom was locked.
It comes to a head one night after work. You leave later than you normally would, having lost track of time trying to get some last minute emails off and by the time you actually get out the door it’s already dark outside and it’s pouring down with rain.
You’re halfway home when you get that prickling feeling on your skin, and your gut tightens uncomfortably. Tentatively you slow, shooting a furtive glance over your shoulder. The streets of the city are normally busy at this time of the night, but the rain’s driven people away - there’s not a soul in sight, including any wannabe stalkers.
The tight grip on your heart eases and you force yourself to relax. You’re imagining things now, you think with a shake of your head and a breathless laugh.
Nobody’s out to get you, you’re fine.
Except the prickling sensation on the back of your neck doesn’t go away, and with every step you take the discomfort in your gut becomes harder and harder to ignore. Fingers flit anxiously at your side, your grip tightening on the handle of your umbrella. The rain’s loud as it crashes around you, but as you turn down the music coming from your headphones you swear that you can hear heavy footfalls behind you.
All it would take is another quick glance to confirm your suspicions. It could just be another person out in the rain trying to make their way home, same as you. It could be all your head, paranoia brought about by your friend’s worries. But fear has clawed its way up your spine - it’s late and you’re tired and scared, rational thought has left the building and you don’t think about any of that before dropping your umbrella and taking off into a sprint.
You don’t look back.
You don’t stop until you're back in the safety of your apartment with the door locked, blinds shut and the deadbolt in place.
You’re still trembling twenty minutes later when there’s a knock at your front door.
Your heart leaps into your throat at the sound, your entire body tensing, and for a single moment you debate not answering the door, but… you let out a sigh, shaking your head. You’re being ridiculous.
A quick glance through the peephole sets your heart at ease. Standing in the hallway dressed in a slightly damp black overcoat, his silvery-grey hair dusted with rain, is Lev.
Relief floods through you as you quickly work at the locks, flicking open the deadbolt.
“Hey, Lev,” you murmur somewhat sheepishly, stepping back to let him come inside.
His green, catlike eyes light up at the sight of you, and he doesn’t waste a moment before leaning down and enveloping you in a tight hug - never mind his wet coat. You let yourself relax into the embrace - the comforting warmth as he wraps himself around you and strokes your back. “Y/N! I’m so glad you’re home! I know I’m kinda stopping by unannounced and all, but I was just on my way…” he trails off as he pulls back slightly, eyes narrowing as they flicker across your face.
“Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he murmurs, his hands still entwined around your waist.
You smile tightly, biting down on your bottom lip. Should you tell him? There’s still some part of you that thinks maybe it’s all in your head, that you’re working yourself up for no good reason, but what if you’re not? What if there is somebody who’s-
There’s an insistent tug at your waist and your eyes dart back up to find Lev’s frown deepening. “Something’s wrong, tell me.”
A blush finds its way to your cheeks as you carefully unwind yourself from his hold and make your way back further into your living room, “I- you’ll think I’m being stupid I guess, or paranoid, but…”
“But?” he prompts.
You take a deep breath, fingers twisting in front of you, “I think that somebody might be… following me?” you phrase it almost as a question, carefully watching his face for any sign that he might start laughing at you. But he doesn’t - Lev’s features are perfectly blank as he stares back at you, and you rush to fill the sudden heavy silence that falls between the two of you. “I know it sounds insane, but my friend got me worried the other day, and things have been going missing from my place and I’m almost positive that somebody followed me home tonight and-”
“Hey,” he says, quickly stepping forward to close the distance between you. He reaches for your hand with a soft smile and you let him take it, offering a shaking smile back when his thumb smooths over the back of your palm. “I believe you. You don’t need to be scared, I’m here for you.”
You nod, swallowing down your nerves once more.
“Do you… do you want me to stay tonight? Or at least for a few hours, you just look so fragile and frightened, I hate the thought of leaving you like this.”
Lev’s eyes show nothing but earnest concern as he studies you with a pout, and this time when your lips curl into a smile it's with genuine gratitude for your friend.
You should say no - it’s hardly fair for you to impose on him over something you’re not even sure is real, but… “Actually, that sounds good, if you don’t have plans of course - I don’t want to spoil your night or anything,” you mutter with a blush.
Lev just shakes his head with a soft laugh, “Of course not. You’re my only concern tonight, angel.”
You try not to let the relief show on your face too much. You’ll feel better knowing he’s there with you, and if nothing else you know he’ll take your mind off of things. It’s just what you need tonight - a friend. “Thank you,” you say warmly, dropping his hand so you can make your way back into the kitchen. “I was actually just about to start dinner, have you eaten yet? I was thinking pasta, but let me know if you feel like something else.”
He watches you for a moment as you open the fridge and bend over to rummage inside. “Pasta sounds great,” he calls back, shedding his damp jacket and making his way over to hang it off the coat rack by the front door.
Busy in the kitchen, you’re none the wiser to the soft click of locks turning, the deadbolt sliding back into place.
#yandere haikyuu#yandere lev#yandere lev x reader#yandere lev haiba#yandere lev haiba x reader#lev haiba#yandere hq#yandere imagines#lev haiba x reader#request#tw stalking#my writing
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Rabbit Dad Theory: A Weapon to Surpass Dad for One
okay so. I know that the theory about local big bad of the series being the protagonist’s father , but I’m pretty sure the real reason that midoriya’s dad hasn’t shown up in the plot is because he’s a rabbit
no really
[ WARNING: LONG post under the cut ]
Part 1: Rabbit Motifs
To get this party started properly, let’s begin with a bunch of the rabbit symbolism regarding Midoriya himself.
The most notable of which being that his hero costume is literally him dressing up as a rabbit
His freckles are even stylized to look like little rabbit whiskers. fuckin naruto kinnie
It bleeds into his fighting style too
Two big innovations he has that aren’t based on previous users of one for all
are hopping from place to place
and his big, rabbit-like kicks.
(which would also go a ways to explain why the plot thought Midoriya having legs was a big deal)
A lot of this goes into his characterization as well. The most notable bit being how much the first chapter of bnha parallels the story of the moon rabbit.
(Sometimes referred to as the jade rabbit which. Green)
Anyway, the story goes that a rabbit, along with a bunch of other animals (it varies depending on region) decided to gather food for the full moon as an offering, believing that the best one will bring a reward from the gods.
All of the animals bring plentiful amounts of food, sans the rabbit, who brings only grass.
Eventually, a starving old man comes along.
The other animals have food to give him, but refuse to do so to meet their own ends.
The rabbit, sympathizing with the old man,throws itself into a fire he was kindling so that he can be fed.
The old man, touched by the rabbit’s actions, reveals himself to be a god and saves it.
In honor of the rabbits deeds, the god imprints his image on the moon, bestowing special gifts to him.
Along with this there are a number of other mild rabbity traits tho.
Such as his skittishness.
Not to mention his general resourcefulness.
The show regularly conflates Midoriya being himself with him looking and acting more and more like a rabbit. This isn’t too hard to understand from a Doylist perspective; Horikoshi blatantly just likes bunnies. (I mean just look at Miruko)
What’s interesting here is that we’ve never been given an in-universe explanation for why midoriya himself identifies this way. In a series that is otherwise really invested in dissecting the ideal versions of themselves that characters want to live up to, the show doesn’t provide any justification for a character motif Midoriya has that is almost as present as all might himself.
Judging from the title of this post, you can probably guess what my reasoning for this choice is.
**Part 2: Hisashi’s Quirk **
“But snake,” you may be asking yourself, “We already know what Hisashi Midoriya’s quirk is. He breathes fire.”
This is true. he probably does. Consider what we know in-universe, though.
Characters with heteromorphic quirks don’t have their physical attributes listed as a part of their quirks if they have a secondary characteristic.
Tokoyami is the most obvious example. He’s a bird person, but his quirk is dark shadow. The fact that he’s a bird man goes unmentioned because as far as anyone is concerned, the shadow monster is his power.
Characters like Spinner have their animal attributes listed as quirks, but that’s only because he can’t do anything a gecko wouldn’t. If he didn’t make his lizard powers his quirk he’d have nothing to put.
If Midoriya’s dad happened to be, say, a rabbit that could breathe fire, the fire quirk would be listed while the rabbit bit went unstated. In fact, in a roundabout way, the fire quirk makes rabbit dad even more plausible.
You see, most of the animal character designs in bnha are actually recycled from an old series horikoshi did called oumagadoki zoo. Mind you this isn’t a knock at horikoshi or anything. A lot of mangaka do this sort of thing. I’m mostly bringing it up because one of the main characters is a rabbit called Shiina
and one of the early gags in the series is him smoking a carrot like a cigar.
This would be very easy to translate to my hero academia’s setting if said character happened to breathe fire.
I should also say for those keeping score at home that I don’t necessarily think Hizashi is a Shiina expy specifically (tbh I kinda imagine him being more like a fluffy spike spiegel). At most I think it’s probably just some design motifs and some VERY loose plot points.
There is also the somewhat mild rebuttal of Midoriya never attempting to do anything rabbit-like while trying to see if he had a quirk, but I think that’s self explanatory. If Izuku was a rabbit he’d notice right away, so of course he didn’t bother checking.
**Part 3: Why He’s Absent **
Of course, another big question that might be on your mind is why he’s not present if that’s the simple truth of his identity. Why have him fail to show himself for what has now been 300 chapters?
I can think of two simple reasons:
1) It’s really funny
Just fuckin. The Mystique of it all. You can’t tell fans a character is going to show up eventually and fail to have them appear without piquing someone’s interest. It’s bound to make fans speculate, especially with the canon dabi twist hanging in the air. Years to imagine what his presence might entail if it was something big enough to be worth planning ahead for.
And then. Boom. Bunny.
Fucking. Hysterical.
2) The themes. Oh god the themes
You might have noticed by now but Horikoshi has a tendency of making like. The Shounen Jump equivalent to that rpg character you make as a joke that then has like. an undeniably tragic life when you’re actually forced to tackle with the implications of your own character building.
I would not be surprised if the Midoriyas ended up falling into that category.
So let’s get into that.
One of the big things that my hero academia attempts to tackle is the concept of normalcy.
Mostly how it’s kinda bullshit and, in many cases, outright harmful.
What makes this bit interesting within the context of Midoriya family is Izuku’s sort of. Artificial Plainness.
He is a character deliberately designed to look as normal as possible. The key word there is look. Basically anyone who’s been following the series long enough to be reading this post knows that the kid often struggles to keep his head down
which also makes it interesting that the only two scenes where Midoriya wears his rabbit cowl are scenes where he is actively questioning the status quo.
Methinks there is some symbolism here.
Which I guess brings us back to square one.
At the end of the day, the concept of Midoriya’s dad being a rabbit is funny because it’s so unexpected. Without him around, the Midoriyas look like a normal family.
But that’s also the kicker.
Without him around, the Midoriyas look like a normal family.
A lot of people are quick to call Izuku’s dad an absentee father, but technically speaking, we don’t quite know that yet. We’ve only been in a position where we don’t see him as the audience.
And, well, when your kid is being bullied for something as banal as being quirkless, you might not want to give society more ammunition to use against him.
It wouldn’t strike me as strange if he just avoided being seen in public with his son to keep him safe in his own way.
They say that the nail that sticks out gets hammered down the most. Under those circumstances, it’s not too hard to understand why the loosest nail might just feel safer wriggling out of the wood altogether.
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A Little Charismatic
A Little Charismatic Fandom: My Hero Academia Pairing: FuyuPress Summary: FuyuPress Week 2021 Day 1 Prompt Fill: Life Swap - Never said who had to swap lives and I’m running on too little sleep and too much caffeine to stay in the lines. Standard Disclaimer: If you read and enjoy this, please give it a like/ reblog so I know if I should write more.
Sako Atsuhiro liked to consider himself an observant fellow, if not also a bit of a creature of habit. He had a handful of places that he enjoyed frequenting, where he knew his face was safe. He could walk about in his usual work garb, with or without his mask and hat, and none of the other patrons would bat an eye. It wasn’t because the company he found in these places was particularly trustworthy or noble sorts, however; oh, no, they were far from that. He had just taken the time to establish that, despite his seemingly frail physique, he was not a force to be tested. He was always watching, always vigilant, watching to make sure that men conducted themselves like proper gents in the company of potential romantic partners. And if not? Well, he may have done a sleight of hand trick to remove a wandering hand or two.
It wasn’t often that there were new faces wandering around his usual haunts, so when there were, he noticed. That night was one such example.
She’d been settled at the bar when he walked in, another bar patron already trying to get cuddly with her. Judging by the glower in those bright baby blues, she was less than impressed. She was an odd one to place as Atsuhiro moved past them, her eyes straying from her suitor to chase him instead. Ah, that was unsurprising. Many a woman’s eyes had wandered over him, taking his attire to mean he must be some brand of wealthy and useful. They’d come over and start up with the fluttering lashes and slow, playful touches while asking for a drink.
It was always entertaining to watch how their expressions shifted when he insisted they have separate tabs.
It took her a full ten minutes to shake the guy she was dealing with at the bar, but once she’d gotten him off, she approached. “This seat taken?” she asked, her hands laced behind her back and head tilted to one side. He chuckled as he sized her up, taking in the leather jacket tossed over a halter dress and combat boots. The damn thing was incredibly low cut and he was quick to avert his eyes, instead taking a sip of the beer in his hands.
“Not at all,” he hummed, indicating the booth seat across from him with the wave of a hand.
She offered him a polite bow before settling into the seat, a nice change of pace. Usually the women that approached would slide in beside him first go, but she seemed to have some iota of manners, at least. “You are a difficult man to track, you know,” she mused slowly, “Mr. Compress.” He froze mid-sip to stare at her, doing his best to keep the shock from showing on his face. Very few knew of his moniker, even when he was out and about in his full regalia, so for her to address him so matter-of-factly… She was a threat and would need to be disposed of. As if sensing the bleak thoughts running through his head, she held her hands up in a placating manner to him. “Don’t worry, I’m not a narc. Or affiliated with one. I don’t think many of the people around here are, in fact.”
“Whatever it is you are trying to play at, dear, you are wasting your time,” he quipped, turning his attention away from her to the bar keep. He seemed to be more focused on a loud, clearly drunk man arguing the merits of his tab, thankfully.
He kept her in his peripheral view, though. Just in case.
She blinked before her face morphed to show hurt. “So quick to disregard me… Ah, that seems to be a trend with men in my life,” she lamented with a long-suffering sigh. He got the distinct impression that most of her behavior was an act. One of her legs shifted out to prod at the side of his calf gently, trying to coax him to look at her again. “Won’t you at least hear me out?”
He scoffed but did return his attention to her. It was the least he could do and might yet yield some further information to help him discern her authentic intentions. “There is no reason to do so outside of wasting both our time,”
“What about a game, then? You seem like a man who fancies a fun game,” she suggested.
A game? Well… He couldn’t help but be intrigued by the hand she was laying down. “Depending on what the wager is, I may be inclined to humor you,”
“Here,” she shifted to rummage through her jacket pockets. After a moment, she dropped three items onto the tabletop between them; a lighter, a small vial of some kind of liquid, and a yarn and bead bracelet. With the items spread out, she picked up the bracelet and dangled it off her index finger, before indicating the other two items with her free hand. “Use your Quirk to put these three items away. Only one of them - this one here - is of any value to me. If I can get this one back from you, you’ll agree to comply with the request I have for you.” When she spoke, she waggled her index finger to attract his attention to the bracelet briefly, before dropping her chin into her other hand.
He blinked owlishly, contemplating her game. It was in his favor, yes, but then it became a question of what she could offer him in return. “And if you are unsuccessful?”
“I’ll comply with a request of yours. No limits,” she drawled the last two words out in a leading way, her fingers lightly drumming away along her own jawline. He wrinkled his nose a bit at her implication, but found it could be a rather useful trap. After all, there would be no indication as to which marble held what once he used his Quick to compress them. Only he would be able to say for certain, and it wasn’t as if he couldn’t easily swap them around if she picked the right one. There was much more to gain in this than he had to lose. “So, what do you say?” She stuck her hand out towards him, beaded bracelet still hanging on.
“Very well,” he said, taking her hand for a brief shake before sliding the bracelet off. Judging by the yarn on it, the thing was old and may be in dire need of some new yarn or replacing outright. He waved the thought off as he compressed it and then set to doing the same to the other two items. Under the table, he was sure to shuffle them around, placing the marble with her bracelet in the back pocket of his pants. He waited until she stepped away to get a drink to make that adjustment, sly grin on his lips. There was no way she’d be able to determine it was there as he wouldn't present it as an option, and then he could easily be rid of her. “There we are now. Just be aware, however, that I am very wise to the tricks a young minx like you is prone to attempting.”
“Is that so?” she hummed.
From there, they started up a fun little back and forth. He tried to get more answers to why, exactly, she knew his street moniker and why she’d been looking for him, but she flitted about the subjects using redirection. It was Take-aPenny, Leave-a-Penny logic she was trying to enact and he couldn’t help but find it amusing. It was clear she had some kind of experience with this kind of situation, with having to negotiate ones hand without tipping it too much. A flurry of questions came to his mind at the thought. She was such a young, demure young lady once she was engaged in a conversation. Something about those mannerisms and the idea of her living her whole life on the streets simply didn’t add up quite right to him.
It did, however, give him a fun little mystery to chase around.
After a good while she shifted to sit more upright, hands folded neatly in front of her. Her eyes were alight with mirth as she repositioned herself. “Well, I think that’s enough of that. I came here to accomplish a goal, not play footsie all night,” She stretched languidly and her gaze shifted from his face down lower, giggling a bit at what she saw.
He blinked twice before glancing downward himself and uttering a small short curse.
His eyes widened as he suddenly registered what, exactly, she’d been playing at all along. A glance downwards revealed a layer of ice sticking to the outer traces of his body, over his legs, hips and wrists specifically. Given that he was wearing his full gear minus his mask, of course he hadn’t noticed the change in temperature! She must have been assessing him during their conversation, skirting about with her verbal distraction while leaking small traces of her Quirk to gauge his reaction...
A clever ruse that he’d fallen into with regrettable ease.
“What in the devil did you do?” he spat, keeping his voice low as his eyes scanned the bar. No one else had noticed their exchange, thankfully. The last thing he needed was other hooligans taking advantage of this situation.
She tilted her head with a feigned innocence. “Hmm? What’s wrong? Don’t like that I used my Quirk too?” The faux concern melted into a mischievous grin of delight as she moved from her perch across from him to sit beside him. She nudged the chunk of ice pinning his legs down with the toe of her boot as she settled in nice and close. “I never said that it was against the rules, you know. And it’s only fair that if you got to use yours, I get to use mine. Wouldn’t that be the gentleman’s viewpoint on this matter?” Her tone was light and playful, but he could cast the mocking wisps underlying her words. Without further preamble, she reached over to rummage through his coat pockets as well as the pockets of his slacks, humming to herself as she ignored his quiet snarls to cease her actions. She leaned back just a bit once she gathered seven marbles in total, swirling one in a circle in her palm. “Ah, there’s more in these pockets of yours than just what’s mine. How uncouth! Scandalous even!”
He tried to twist himself free but the ice pinned up along his wrists and hips didn’t budge an inch. Not even a thin crack was visible, to his uncensored chagrin. “What game are you playing at, wretch?”
“Just the game we agreed to,” she hummed. She peered at his marbles with an appraising eye before stuffing them into the pocket of her tattered denim shorts instead. “Since I’m the obvious winner here, I guess that means you have no choice but to abide by my rule, hm?”
“Name your damn price, then,” he growled lowly.
She giggled and leaned closer, walking two fingers up along his chest to his face. “You’re going to come with me to have a meeting. With. My. Boss,” Each of her final few words was followed by a mocking tap to the tip of his nose. If he could move his hands, he would have firmly shoved her from his personal space, but instead settled for jerking his head to the side. It only made her Cheshire grin grow wider. He could almost see a feline tail swaying in delight behind her, he swore. “He has a very… prosperous job opportunity for you. One that I think you’ll be very much inclined to take.”
This young woman was dangerous, and he was unclear if that was unappealing to him or not.
#My Hero Academia#FuyuPress#Mr. Compress#Sako Atsuhiro#Todoroki Fuyumi#FuyuPress Week 2021#my fics#I am surprisingly pleased with this one#All things considered
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May I have this dance
So! This little ditty was inspired by This song, which I highly recommend. I adore the song, so I kinda took some inspiration for some writing. I hope you enjoy~ Every monster hunter had that one type of creature they hated hunting, it came with the job. For example, with Senku, Xeno's mentee, that creature was the Nymph, they were usually peaceful, but every once in a while they'd lash out at people for disturbing their territory or them when they were trees or whatever form they took, and Senku hated having to find which tree they were. For Xeno, he absolutely despised hunting vampires. Vampires were a hassle for the grumpy man to deal with. They were commonly hard to find in the populace, and even harder to lure out without drawing his blood and hoping the creature wasn't too wary. On top of that, Vampires commonly had some form of inhuman strength, which put the already somewhat weak hunter at a major disadvantage. That wasn’t even mentioning their ability to heal. Nevertheless, when he got called out on jobs to deal with his least favorite monster, he went out and dealt with them in some way and that was the extent of his confrontations with them. However, that pattern was broken one night when he wasn't even on a hunt for a blood sucker. In fact, the hunter wasn't even out on a hunt. He was simply walking home from the store one day while his apprentice was out on a solo job, he was carrying bags of food and drinks, not his usual backpack full of monster hunting equipment. That wasn't to say Xeno had nothing on him, he always had at least a stake on him to ward off any ballsy creatures wanting to take any sort of nibble, but he was in some sweatpants and a t-shirt, not even out of his hard-bottomed-slippers, he obviously wasn't out looking for any inhuman troublemakers. That didn't stop the nagging feeling of being watched from washing over the casually dressed man while he walked down the quiet, street, "Whoever or whatever you are, give it up, I know you're there." he called, turning his head to look over his shoulder at the increasingly dark sidewalk behind him, but no one was there that he could see, but he could still feel their eyes on him, "I'll only warn you once, I'm a trained monster hunter, so if you think you can just convince me you aren't there and surprise me, you're gonna fail." He warned, once again to no reply. The snowy haired man simply rolled his dark eyes and turned back to continue down the sidewalk, but almost as soon as he did, he almost ran right into someone, making him stumble back briefly before looking up at the new person with a glare. The new person on the street was a tall man, somewhat broad and well-built, with fair skin and pale, nearly white, blonde hair. However, what caught his attention most, was the man's captivating, winter-blue eyes. They were honestly gorgeous, a captivating blue that made Xeno's head swim so much that it took him a moment to realize the man had spoken, "Excuse me?" he asked, blinking rapidly for a moment to snap himself out of the spell and focus his thoughts, "I asked why you were out here, doll." The man asked with a coy smirk on his dark-red-painted lips, where a currently-unlit-cigarette hung casually, but the hunter tried to not focus on the stranger's lips, instead, just crossing his arms to draw attention to the rustling plastic bag on his wrist. The stranger saw his shopping and snorted, "Ah, out buying dinner? How ironic, so am I," The man's suggestive, almost predatory purr sent a bolt of energy through the white haired hunter, but he repressed a shudder or anything that would give away the effect the tall, handsome man had on him, opting instead for eyeing the off stranger. "That's pretty funny, well, the shop is down the street and around the corner," he informed him, not outright confronting him about his mortality status, but both of them knew the answer. Could be a sex demon, judging from the heightened attractiveness and trance I was just under. He mused, but he saw none of the tell-tale signs that the man was a legitimate demon of any sort, more likely he's a damned vampire though. Which WOULD just be my luck. The thought annoyed him, but he didn't say anything more to the oddball, just stepping around the tall monster to continue down the eerie sidewalk towards home. He got a few steps away when he smelled smoke and his ears picked up on the sound of boots hitting pavement, but not fading into the distance, instead they followed him until he finally stopped again and turned to glare at the stranger still following him. "Alright, this little game or whatever you're doing has lost all humor. Fuck off, before I am forced to defend myself." he threatened, his free hand going to his pocket for the extendable metal stake he kept on him at all times, but all his warning seemed to do was amuse the smoking monster. "Defend yourself? That's a new one for me," he hummed nonchalantly, breathing out another puff of smoke from his cigarette before continuing with blatant interest, "Most of my dinners aren't this aggressive," That set the hunter's teeth on edge for a moment, making him snarl at the monster, "I'm not your fucking dinner," he spat, "And what exactly did you expect me to do? Cower and run?" The vampire shrugged at his question, "Usually, my food does tend to cower and run, so I am used to that," he hummed, but his nonchalance was broken when the small man lunged at him and stabbed his metal stake into his side. After his attack, Xeno jumped back to where he'd dropped his shopping, scooping it up and standing up properly while his companion hissed and laughed tightly, "Oh you really are a feisty one!" the vampire hummed, pulling out the stake and grinning wolfishly, seeming to get some sort of sick enjoyment out of Xeno fighting against him so much or the pain of his slowly healing stab wound. It honestly unnerved the hunter, but he hid it, simply preparing to grab a second stake while keeping his eyes glued to the creature in front of him, who simply tapped the ashes from his cigarette and staunched the bleeding until he’d mended enough to leave it be while he looked Xeno over and thought, "y'know what? Maybe we got off on the wrong foot. I'll admit, I was being a bit aggressive, you were a bit aggressive in return. We're even now, so let's move past that and start over. Hi, my name is Stan, what's yours?" They stood there for a long, tense moment. The handsome stranger, Stan, watching Xeno with intrigue in his icy eyes, while the human scanned his expression for any hint of malicious intent or danger behind his words, but if he had any, it was well masked. Nevertheless, he stayed on edge, muscles tensed to dodge or attack if needed, using all of the possibly helpful knowledge he'd gotten from his time at college to attempt to not only sniff out any of the predator's plots, but also formulate an escape plan of his own. If he got attacked, he only had one weapon left to defend himself with, and he was no real match for the taller, stronger, inhuman blonde that looked down at him with a growing grin and a small stream of smoke spilling out of his lipstick'd lips every once in a while. "No answer, huh? All out of vitriol, doll?" Xeno knew he shouldn't respond to the blood sucker, but the nickname hit a confusing cord, some humiliating mix of childish assumptions and contrasting offense, and the thought of Stan ramping up the embarrassing nicknames out of some sadistic enjoyment of messing with his food honestly scared the hunter more than the thought of letting out personal information in the moment. "Quit callin' me fuckin' doll!" He snapped, barring his blunt teeth at the taller male, "Well, I don't have any other name for you!" was the other's retort, "If you don't like my pet names, tell me yours." he continued, and the gleam in his eyes told Xeno that he already knew he had him trapped by the pride, so he just gave in and played along, "My name's Xeno, now quit calling me doll," "Alright, sweetheart," Stan laughed as the college graduate reached for his second stake again, glaring daggers at the tall vampire until he put his hands up in mock-surrender, "Okay! Fine, fine, how about one last compromise? To end this little squabble and get some mutual fun out if." The only reply he got was narrowed eyes and a long stretch of silence. "Fine. I'll compromise." The hunter finally relented after a long moment of debate, "But only because I fucking hate having to fight vampires." he clarified swiftly, getting an eye roll, "Just admit you're curious, doll,” "just state the fucking compromise." Xeno snapped, feeling his pale cheeks begin to burn slightly, inwardly grateful for the darkness while Stan rolled his eyes again, "Look, we've got a small conflict of interest." He stated, "You don't want to be my dinner, but I'm now far too interested in you to just turn my back on this chance to feed on a cute, and as you said, trained monster hunter. So! I want to offer a fun little game," The dark-eyed hunter relaxed only a little at the mention of a game, but he didn't give him much leeway, so Stan continued, "It's simply tag. With the simple twist that if I catch you, I get to do whatever I want with you," Xeno narrowed his eyes and felt his cheeks begin to burn again, the pretty vampire was not trying to hide the flirtatious implication in his words, but asking about the wording felt like he was revealing information unnecessarily. "I'm guessing that if I get home before you catch me, my prize is that i'm not eaten?" The predator nodded, making the smaller male huff, watching him crush out his cigarette for a fresh one while he mulled his 'compromise' over. This is a really dumb idea, he told himself, but then, that morbidly curious voice that loved to rear its ugly head to give him stupid ideas and questions to obsess over for days at a time spoke, but it would be a wonderful chance to get a glimpse into the instincts, abilities, and hunting method of a vampire. It could undoubtedly give vital information for later. That was all it took, Xeno knew he was doomed to yet another bad life choice, so he at least lessened the blow by whipping up some on-the-fly math and plotting. "Fine. Only if I get a five minute head start though." Once he got an approving nod from the vampire, the monster hunter turned on his heel and took off, his shopping abandoned to either make it home or be torn from the bag, he didn't care. Knowing his stamina wasn't the best, Xeno focused on pacing himself and trying to get as far away from his pursuer as he could in his small window of time, Judging by his playful attitude so far, he might not jump right to catching me. He's likely to toy with me like a cat would, give chase and tire me out before pouncing, He reasoned as he turned the corner onto a street just a medium sprint away from his home, That, paired with the fact that my earlier attack's wound won't heal for another seven minutes after this head start, should buy me just enough time to make it home. So long as I don't trip, I can get away from him. He told himself, using his logic and reasoning to keep himself calm when he finally heard Stanley giving chase. His five minutes were up. He couldn't exactly hear the vampire as much as he could sense him. Relying almost solely on his years of experience in killing and confronting his kind, the college graduate could estimate where the blood sucker would be and how far behind he'd stay. For the moment. And while it was helpful that his assumption seemed to be right, the monster would play with him first, the simple fact that he was being hunted messed with his nerves a bit. Nonetheless, he pressed on. Just as his fence-less backyard was in view though, he felt his pursuer finally closing in. At that point he couldn't hear Stan's foot steps even slightly over his thundering heart beat drowning other noises out. But, Xeno knew he had another three minutes of running in himself, and the blood sucker was sure to recognize the signs of that. So, the snow-haired man had to turn to his first drastic plan. See, if he fully sprinted and took off on the last of his stamina and pure prey-instincts, he could make it home in four minutes, which was still a bit too far, but he didn't have much other choice to avoid being eaten. so, before anymore of his energy was burned, the hunter tapped into his reserves and took off in a full sprint. On the grace of the vampire's surprise and his years of outrunning high school bullies, Xeno managed to make it to his yard. However, Stan was right behind him. So, without thinking of anything but survival, Xeno made one final drastic move and launched himself through the sliding glass door of his back patio. He crumpled bonelessly to his kitchen floor as soon as his feet hit the tile, but he didn't stop himself. Not even when the shards of glass he landed on and slid across slashed at his skin and clothes, because he knew that without verbal permission, his predator couldn't enter the house. So, Xeno let himself smile at the glowing ice-colored eyes of said predator as he loomed in his doorway, forbidden from even reaching out to grab the tantalizingly close piece of prey "Looks like you lose, Stanley," Xeno taunted after catching his breath a bit, but all the blonde did was smile, his eyes alight with the thrill of the chase and an unnerving giddiness, "I never said when the game would end, Xeno."
#stano#dr stone#drst#monster au#inspired by a song#vampire!Stan#monster hunter!Xeno#seriously#the song is so good
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People ask about pet peeves/characterization flaws a lot, but... for each character you’ve written for of Ben’s, what are some essential character traits you go for?
Oh, this is a good one Dani. Under a cut because they got very long.
Logan:
All of my Logans feature the essential characteristics that we see in the show - he loves decadence, doesn’t shy away from the fact that he has money, or that he’s in the public eye. To an extent, people play with his honesty - but I think that that’s actually something that a lot of writers ignore, so I definitely don’t.
But three of the core Logan characteristics that have nothing to do with those things are:
1. Logan’s never going to make someone feel like shit for being “beneath” him in status, because I truly don’t think that bothers him. There’s no way that all of the people he hooked up with were of the same social class or status as him, and I think it’s really demeaning when people make him out to be a super materialistic asshole. So he won’t shy away from bringing up the finances or living situations of other people, but he won’t ever demean them for it.
2. We see Logan as someone that’s always over the top, but all of my Logans are very reserved when they don’t have to be “on”. I don’t mean boring, but I mean that there’s a very different Logan present when he doesn’t have people’s eyes on him/have to lead the way.
3. As a part of his honesty, my Logans always admit their faults. It’s not easy for them to do so, but he knows that there’s only so much you can hide - and when he cares about someone (Reader, Juliet, Em, Mark) he doesn’t want to have to put on a show - so he doesn’t. He doesn’t offer this information freely in many cases, but if you ask, he’ll talk about it.
4. Bonus - I think that Logan is always going to find a way to keep himself entertained, and sometimes it has nothing to do with the physical presence of anyone else. I think that he’s very careful and purposeful with what he says - at all times, and will speak to people in certain ways to make every conversation worth his time, even if it’s a meaningless interaction..
Ryan
People are quick to judge Ryan based on his appearance and his lifestyle, but when I write Ryan, I write him as going into every situation knowing that this is going to happen. He’s prepared for it, so it doesn’t shock him. What does shock him is when people don’t do this - like you, in Vegas.
Ryan cares about authenticity in everything he does, but I think that comes down to the way he treats and asses people, too. He’ll fib and stretch the truth, but he’s not afraid to be honest with people, even when he knows it’s going to hurt them.
For me, Ryan’s not as cut and dry as he seems to be. I think people misjudge him a lot, and I try to write him with that duality just below the surface, because he’s so much more than people assume.
Benjamin
We see Benjamin’s anxiety, and we see it often, but for me, that anxiety was WORSENED by Julia - and so the more time he spends away from her, the better he’ll get and the less it will impact him. He knows how to control it - and would have HAD to in order to survive, so he just needs that confidence back to really be himself.
My Benjamin has a lot more confidence than he lets on - and when he decides something, he sticks to it (like the attraction he felt to Reader in TP wasn’t something he was going to ignore or deny after he realized it, but he was content to let it simmer, because he didn’t want to make waves). He trusts himself, especially now. Benjamin might be British, but he’s not a proper British snob by any means. He doesn’t mind being in situations where things are a little extravagant, but he prefers simple and laid back. He doesn’t speak formally, doesn’t dress formally, even though he’s a little more put together than a lot of other men his age. He’s smart, but he never tries to shove it in people’s faces purposely; it might come out in tiny little pieces - him talking a LOT about a topic he likes, having some obscure piece of knowledge - but he doesn’t do it on purpose.
Billy
For me, it really pains me when people say that Billy has no capacity for love - and doesn’t feel it. We see Billy’s emotions throughout, so when I write him, I angle it as for the majority of his life, there were times when he felt love and acceptance and all of those emotions - but didn’t know how to process them or adequately return them. He still isn’t the best at reciprocating emotion, but that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t feel it - and understand the implications of it.
Billy might not have had a formal education beyond high school, but that doesn’t make him an idiot. I think his real world experience was a lot more important to him than going to college would have been. He’s street smart and really perceptive, even if not academic. I think he was an overly bright student, and someone that really absorbed knowledge. I always write Billy as very perceptive.
I will NEVER write Billy as someone that’s going to go out of his way to spoil people that he barely knows, or even the ones he’s actually with. Yes, he’s got money and he’s going to flaunt it - but he didn’t earn it for other people, he earned it for himself. He’s not going to shy away from buying people presents, but it’s not going to be super expensive all the time - Billy sacrificed for that money, he’s not going to give it away. Anyone that’s WITH Billy that knows his history, too, would accept that. He’ll never skimp out on the things that are important to him (a place to live, bedding, his Rolls, etc) but I’m sorry, for me, Billy isn’t going to buy you a ton of expensive jewelry or flowers once a week or shower you with gifts. That’s fundamentally not who Billy russo is.
Caspian
Caspian wants to learn and experience things 24/7/365. He likes downtime because it gives him a chance to breathe, but he’s still learning and growing. Caspian learned firsthand how important it is to always be willing and open to suggestions and help and advice from others - and that hasn’t changed since he became King of Narnia.
Caspian is very trusting - almost to a fault. He still tries to see the good in people even after they don’t deserve it, but when it gets to the point where that trust is gone? You can’t earn it back.
Sam Adams
Sam’s always going to be a little bit of a rebel with a wild streak in him. No amount of pressed clothes or fancy parties or responsibilities are going to dim that spirit. He’s fought through too much, lost too much, cared too much to turn his back completely on the personality and drive that allowed him to get to where he is. He understands responsibility and that he needs to set an example, but you’re only gonna (at most) get like 90% seriousness from him, and that’s on a good day. This goes with the other one, but Sam is insanely stubborn, and it’s one of his best qualities. He believes in what he does and says, and it takes a lot to get him to change his mind. In some cases, that’s a good thing, because it strengthens his resolve, but in other situations, it makes your life very difficult.
Sam has no problem lying and being sneaky to get what he wants or needs - but he won’t ever outright lie to his wife about important things. Tricks, yes. Sneaky secrets and surprises, of course. But about important or dangerous things? Never.
#ask something-tofightfor#character traits#character headcanons#ryan brenner#billy russo#benjamin greene#logan delos#king caspian#samuel adams imagine#thank you for asking!!#suchatinyinfinity
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Review: The Wedding Date
(Or: Maybe I should only read the first half of romance novels from now on?)
Book two of my year of romance was Jasmine Guillory’s The Wedding Date! I was excited about this one, since I had actually heard of it before I started reading romance, and also it has fake dating which is always gold. And I did enjoy it...up to a point. More on that below. :)
First, a summary: Alexa is chief of staff to the mayor of Berkeley. Drew is a pediatric surgeon in L.A. They get stuck in an elevator together when Drew is in San Francisco for his ex-girlfriend’s wedding to his med school classmate. Drew was supposed to have a date for the wedding, but she cancelled, and on a whim he asks Alexa to go with him instead as his pretend new girlfriend. She says yes, and they have a great time at the wedding and fall in bed afterward and have great sex. Drew secretly changes his flight to leave later in the day on Sunday, and they spend the day together. They’re both hesitant because they know the other person isn’t looking for anything real here—Alexa in particular knows Drew doesn’t do relationships—but they keep reaching out to each other, and Alexa goes down to L.A. to stay with Drew the next weekend. There’s a brief blip where she texts him to ask if he’s sleeping with other people and he makes a joke instead of answering seriously and she cancels their next weekend together; then he runs into her (very conveniently) when he’s back in SF for a conference and they fall into bed again. Then there’s a more serious blip where she meets a bunch of his exes who let it slip that he broke up with each of them around the two-month mark when it seemed to be going really well. Alexa gets upset, refuses to let Drew say anything about his intentions because she doesn’t want to be hurt, and sneaks out of his apartment in the middle of the night to fly home early. Drew realizes how much she means to him and flies up to L.A. to support her at a hearing for the at-risk-youth arts initiative she’s pushing for, and the two of them happily reconcile (and the initiative passes). He shows her the job offer he got from his mentor at a San Francisco hospital, and she tells him yes, she wants him to move here. There’s an epilogue a year later where he takes her back to the elevator where they met and proposes.
I feel like I spent my last review talking entirely about why the book fell apart in the middle for me. This book also fell apart in the middle, but I’m going to start with some things I liked/noted about it, so as to not spend ALL my time complaining about shortcomings. :)
Things I really liked:
Chemistry. Alexa and Drew are both super charming. Their back-and-forth was really enjoyable to read. It was a big part of what got me into the book: I wanted to see these two charming people grow to like each other. All the thing where they’re at the rehearsal dinner and wedding and enjoy touching each other were really nice to read.
Tropes. This one had such good tropes! Stuck in an elevator together! Fake dating! Anything with plausible deniability, where they’re acting like they really like each other but each one thinks it might not denote real interest, is just the most fun. This one gave up the plausible deniability aspect way sooner than I would have expected, but still: great tropes.
Race. Alexa is black and Drew is white. I am also white, so my perspective here is not informed by personal experience, but I really liked how this was handled. Alexa does experience some microaggressions and outright racism—not from Drew—in ways that felt realistic to me. Drew doesn’t try to explain away any of the racism, which made him seem like a good potential partner to her. There was also a thing where he failed to understand a thing in her past that was impacted by race, and when she explained it he listened and accepted his ignorance. She was still concerned that he’d like her less for having made him aware of his privilege, which felt like a very sad and real fear. Overall, it felt like racial dynamics were allowed to come into the text in nuanced and organic ways that kept Alexa from being a token POC. (Jasmine Guillory is a POC herself, so I’m not surprised that this is handled well, and there are probably other things about it that I as a white person didn’t even pick up.)
Body type. Alexa is curvy! She’s embarrassed about it! But Drew loves it! As someone who fills out the top of a cocktail dress pretty well myself, I really appreciated both sides of this: the realistic body issues from someone raised in a society that valorizes thinness, and the way the text kept affirming Drew’s attraction to her. There’s a racial component to this as well—lots of skinny blond girls in this book—but it was something I was able to identify with even from my different societal context.
Things I noted/was surprised by:
How soon they had sex. At some point I’ll stop being surprised by this in romance novels. I’ve read a lot of fake dating stories, and written some, and I would have expected the charade to go on a lot longer before they had actual sex that couldn’t at all be explained away by the fake dating scenario. The purported fakeness of it is the fun part! They both think the other one isn’t interested for real, while their own feelings continue to grow! Why would you cut that part short?? As soon as they kissed and admitted to each other that they wanted it for real, the tension dropped from a ten to about a two. This book got a decent amount of mileage out of that lower level of tension—more on that below—but it’s so surprising to me that it didn’t keep the much more interesting and trope-y tension going longer.
Consent and power dynamics. This book was super good about consent: Drew made sure to check in about what Alexa wanted, and it was played for sexual intensity, where he clearly got a kick out of hearing her say it. But it was very, very one-sided. There was no implication that Alexa needed to check in with Drew on what he wanted. This wasn’t a surprise, exactly, but it did stand out to me, since I don’t read a lot of het (and honestly this is a big part of why—I don’t want to encounter gendered power dynamics in my leisure reading). Consent felt like a thing the woman had to give the man. I’m not saying this is a problem, necessarily; just something I noticed.
Sex scenes. The sex scenes almost faded to black but not quite. Maybe they faded to gray? I felt like I knew pretty much what sex act they were doing and when, but they weren’t described in any real detail. It was an interesting compromise, like the book was trying to give us a clear sense of their sexual relationship without any real titillation. I wonder if this is a genre thing—I’m not sure this book was published strictly as romance—or if it’s just Guillory’s style.
Romcom careers. They’re chief of staff to the mayor of Berkeley and a pediatric surgeon. Those have GOT to be two squares on the romcom career bingo card. I’m teasing a little, but I think this kind of character background serves an important role: we have to know that they’re accomplished, valuable people, so that when they feel rejected or insecure we can revel in it—look, they feel like I once felt! But it’s unjustified and they’ll end up happy!—instead of actually questioning the characters’ worth. Fanfiction usually gets over this hurdle by writing about characters the readers already know and respect and love, or, in the case of RPF, writing about people who are for-real successful and famous. Romance novels have to introduce us to brand-new characters, and one of the easiest ways to make us feel sure that these characters are worthy of our respect and of the other character’s love is to give them prestigious and intellectually or creatively rigorous careers. I’ll be interested to see how many other instances of this I run across.
Two points of view. It strikes again! Do all romance novels include both points of view? I don’t hate it, necessarily—but it does decrease the overall tension. You don’t get caught up in one character’s desires as strongly when you’re seeing both POVs.
Immediate attraction. Another thing I should probably stop being surprised by. Both Alexa and Drew are very physically into each other as soon as they meet; he has trouble not looking at her breasts, and there are so many narrative references to her wanting his touch, wanting to move closer to him, etc. To be fair, I think I’m pretty far toward the “not attracted to complete strangers” side of the spectrum, so I might not be the best judge of this, but it did feel a little over the top. I suspect this was an attempt to make us really want these two to be together. I think it was trying too hard—a more genuine reserve would have been more compelling to me, where they like each other but don’t immediately want to jump each other. Also, they’re going to a wedding together as fake dates! You don’t have to try that hard to make us interested!
Food as comfort. This was such a strong recurring thread in this novel. Alexa has a sweet tooth, and Drew is always getting her doughnuts; they get a lot of very satisfying takeout. It gelled for me with the thing where a lot of the satisfaction in the novel came from the comfort of “oh, this person is touching me; oh, they like me back.” Comfort instead of angst.
Subplots. One of my questions in approaching this genre was whether romance novels needed to be more novel-like than fic—i.e. whether they needed to engage with a plot beyond the romance. This does have a very slight B plot (Alexa’s youth initiative, which is connected to her difficult relationship with her sister) but it’s VERY slight. The book has an even less prominent subplot about one of Drew’s patients who develops cancer. Alexa’s subplot resolves, whereas Drew’s is only backdrop. Drew’s in particular is used the way I’d use a subplot in fic: it’s included to provide an excuse for scenes with or about Alexa, or to affect Drew’s mood in ways that reflect or influence the romance plot. It serves the romance instead of being an independent plot in its own right.
Okay, so those are my observations. Time to dig into the thing where this book lost me in the middle—much like the last book I reviewed, but for entirely different reasons.
I’ve already talked about the drastic drop-off in tension after they slept together. That actually was not what lost me this time. This novel managed to build enough of a rapport between the two characters that I was invested in their relationship becoming real. To be clear, I would have preferred that the fake dating trope go on longer and create opportunities for actual longing. But this novel wasn’t so much about longing; it was about that delightful feeling when you like someone and you reach out tentatively and they meet you in the middle. It was the very, very gentle tension of, “Maybe we could hang out today?” “Sure!” over and over, as a relationship builds. It was fluff-adjacent tension. Super enjoyable, the way a warm bath is enjoyable. I wasn’t dying to get to the end or anything, but it was nice.
I did wonder, about halfway through, how the heck this book could possibly keep going like that. And it turned out it couldn’t. That was when it introduced: the Misunderstanding Plot.
Don’t get me wrong. I love a good misunderstanding plot. But they are hard to do well. They work best when they feel unforced and genuine, and don’t make either of the characters carry the idiot ball. Like, say, if Drew and Alexa hadn’t had enthusiastic sex where they talked about how much they wanted each other, and they were still under the impression that it was a fake relationship, it would be very easy to have the other character accidentally confirm that and drive a wedge between the two of them. Or if one of them was starting to think it WAS real, and then they overheard the other person confessing to someone else that it was totally fake. (Don’t mind me; just thinking about ways I might write it.)
The problem with this one was that they were basically just dating at this point, so in order for drama to arise, the characters had to act badly in ways that felt forced and off-putting. They’d known each other for a week and a half; things had been happy and a little giddy and chill between them so far. Then Alexa texts in the middle of the workday to ask if Drew is sleeping with anyone else. (Because that is the perfect way to initiate an important relationship conversation, obviously.) He makes a joke, because he is clearly also very good at this, and they don’t speak to each other for a week and a half.
Guess which one of them this makes me like more? That’s right! Neither!!
Look. I like characters who are stupid about their own feelings and blind to other people’s. But I also like characters who, when they know about the other person’s feelings, are very, very considerate of them. Drew was not—and Alexa compounded the problem by being confrontational with the question and then abruptly pulling back as soon as she didn’t get the magical easy answer. In short, it made me think that they were bad for each other.
They recover from the texting thing when they just so happen to run into each other (I mean, I can’t throw stones, I’ll buy the coincidence) and are happy to see each other, and apologize, and everything’s fine. But by this point the novel had lost me. I had been enjoying the happy dance of “Does s/he like me? Ooh, s/he does!” but only so long as it lasted. They didn’t have a strong enough core after a week and a half to get through the badness of those texts. They were happy again, but I wasn’t invested. I was mostly reading so I could write this review.
Then, fascinatingly, the book won me back.
It was a very specific passage that did it. On page 190 of the paperback, Alexa talks in the narration about how she wouldn’t admit this to anyone other than herself, but ever since that first weekend with Drew, she’d imagined him in bed with her every night as she fell asleep. And I was sold. I mean, it was still very gentle tension. But! A thing the character wanted that she wasn’t getting! I could be into this again!
And then...well, this is already super long, so I won’t go into all the details of the misunderstanding that ended the book. It had a lot in common with the text message fiasco: Alexa felt insecure, got upset that Drew might not be into her, and refused to engage with him about whether that was true. (Okay, it was actually more egregious than the texts, in that she wouldn’t let him speak.) Her getting upset made sense, but her refusing to let him speak when he was clearly trying to felt SO forced.
The funny thing is, there was actually a seed of potential real conflict there: Drew hadn’t really admitted to himself that he wanted a long-term thing with her. He could have told her that. He could have done anything, really, to indicate that and create a real conflict. (Also tricky to handle without him coming off as not actually interested—but doable, I think.) As it was, he didn’t call her his girlfriend at a party—which, it had been like a month, and they hadn’t discussed it privately, so it’s totally appropriate not to throw the term around in public yet!—and...that’s it. Everything else was just her fears, and the very cowardly way she handled them. I guess that’s relatable? But it felt so engineered. It didn’t so much make me dislike her as make me annoyed with the text for twisting her response so that they couldn’t have the very short conversation that would have cleared everything up.
In fairness to Guillory, a friend who’s read the whole series tells me she does better with misunderstanding plots later. But I’m really, really excited to read a romance plot that doesn’t lose me halfway through.
Next up is Red, White, and Royal Blue. I’ve been told this was basically written for me, so I’m hopeful. Fingers crossed it sticks the landing!
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Photocopy plural
The first defendant: Rameshwari Photocopy Services has a shop licensed to it within the precincts of the Delhi School of Economics (University of Delhi). (iv) Taylor & Francis Group, U.K and (v) Taylor & Francis Books India Pvt. The dispute before the learned Single Judge concerned photocopying of pages from the copyrighted publications of the plaintiffs namely (i) Oxford University Press (ii) Cambridge University Press, United Kingdom (iii) Cambridge University Press India Pvt. Send us feedback.Pradeep Nandrajog, J.:- We shall be referring to the parties by their nomenclature in the suit. These example sentences are selected automatically from various online news sources to reflect current usage of the word 'copy.' Views expressed in the examples do not represent the opinion of Merriam-Webster or its editors. 2022 Take advantage of this rare Taylor Swift sighting and copy her summer look by shopping more patchwork dresses below.Ĭlaire Harmeyer,, 25 July 2022 Find a Tumblr/subreddit/photo blog that posts erotic male photography, and then copy your favorite poses/angles/lighting.Īnna Pulley, Chicago Tribune, 5 July 2022 For much of its existence, the company that Visentin led has been known as a print and copy machine manufacturer. 2022 Election experts have been sounding the alarm for months about efforts around the country by Trump allies to examine or copy tightly guarded voting equipment to search for evidence of fraud in the 2020 election. 2021 The scene then cuts to the septet sitting at desks - with barricades so no one can copy responses - answering questions in a telepathy test. 2022 The 5th Circuit’s ruling on SB 8 could have national implications beyond Texas, as lawmakers in a number of other states have expressed their intention to pass laws that copy SB 8 because of the likelihood they won’t be overturned.Īlison Durkee, Forbes, 15 Oct. Verb Responses to his tweet decried Instagram for trying to copy TikTok and focusing on videos that its users don't want.īrett Molina, USA TODAY, 29 July 2022 And that's to say nothing of games that copy Tetris' gameplay and presentation outright, showing there is a level of direct game cloning that a court won't tolerate. Louis Casiano, Fox News, 30 July 2022 That’s according to a copy of the report obtained by The Oregonian/OregonLive through a public records request. 2022 His last day was Friday, according to a copy of the letter obtained by Fox News. 2022 According to a copy of the statement obtained by the Globe, the 27-year-old woman described being haunted by a dark shadow, striving to take up as little space in the world as possible, while juggling anger, exhaustion, fear, and panic. 2022 On Monday, the Minnesota First Judicial District issued an order that splits the cash in Prince's estate evenly between two legal entities, Prince Legacy LLC and Prince Oat Holdings LLC, according to a copy of the order obtained by PEOPLE. 2022 The May 28 crash occurred in California’s wine country, near state Route 29 and Oakville Cross Road, according to a copy of the complaint obtained by Fox News. 2022 Cosgrove was fired in January 2021 for use of deadly force for firing 16 rounds into Taylor’s home and failing to activate his body camera, according to a copy of his termination letter. 2022 The indictment comes after a June 30 encounter between the woman and Memeti at his Highland Heights home, according to a copy of a police report.Ĭory Shaffer, cleveland, 11 Aug. Noun According to a copy of the arrest report obtained by Billboard, Branch was arrested for misdemeanor domestic assault and released on $1,000 bond.
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The Good Lord Bird Episode 2 Review: The Wicked Plot
https://ift.tt/eA8V8J
This The Good Lord Bird review contains spoilers.
The Good Lord Bird Episode 2
During several moments of tonight’s The Good Lord Bird, my mind was whisked back to thoughts of My Fair Lady—or at least George Bernard Shaw’s Pygmalion. In those texts, two confirmed old bachelors in Edwardian England think it is their privilege, if not duty, to remake a poor flower girl into their perfect image. It’s a tale of possessive manipulation and outright obliviousness. And it’s given a distinctly American flavor in the first few hours of Ethan Hawke’s Good Lord Bird.
Like those earlier plays, here is a story where privileged white men, even well-intentioned Old John Brown, think it their right to remake Onion into the type of lady they see fit, all too blind by even their rosy colored racism to ask “her” opinion, or realize that she’s actually a boy. The element was pervasive last week when Onion was under Brown’s alleged care, and it’s even more apparent this week when he is absent from it. For like Eliza Doolittle, Onion can only realize a sense of self without the overbearing male presence in “her” life. But the problem is that as soon as John’s gone, another white man seeks to take his place for even more racially uncomfortable implications.
Thus how we meet Steve Zahn’s Chase. Played by the ever welcome character actor, Zahn brings his typical good humor to this redshirted Kansas shit-kicker. However, there’s an obvious menace when he prances into the episode riding a pony with a leering gaze at the self-claimed mulatto young woman by Bob’s side.
See, when the Brown boys left them alone, Bob had the clarity of mind to try to high tail it to Lawrence where they might be treated as actually free, as opposed to indentured appendages to John Brown’s overinflated sense of virtue. As Bob deduces, Brown’s sons are on “white man’s business,” and it won’t directly benefit these two Black men’s well-being. Unfortunately, the dress draws the scuzzy attention of Chase, a man who proudly will wear the uniform of Pro-Slavery Bushwhacker, even if I doubt he’s ever actually fought their battles. After all, his biggest boasted accomplishments are lies about having gunned down Old John Brown.
Yet despite being a proponent of slavery, or perhaps because of it, he lusts for Onion as another lighter skinned, apparent young woman he can immediately slide into the physical ownership of. She presents herself as another’s property, but Black women’s bodies are viewed as virgin territory for many a white racist to claim.
Chase attempts this, even as he spins tales to Onion about how he also one day might marry the Black prostitute with a supposed heart of gold named Pie. A white racist—or almost any 19th century white American, really—marrying a Woman of Color is as dishonest as the picture Chase paints of Pie.
Played intelligently by Natasha Marc as the sweet mistress of Pikesville, Pie is a Black woman who has survived as well as she has in part because of luck of her beauty and also because of her utilitarian cunning. Literally named after her sexual appeal in the small town, Pie understands how white men view her and she uses that against them—and those she deems untrustworthy around her.
When we first meet her, it’s in a vignette of The Good Lord Bird’s unique blend of folksy and deconstructive humor. There is an irony to Jacob, the real lad beneath Onion’s bonnet, being forced to apprentice at a brothel with the first woman he fancies. But there’s also a knowing eye roll that Pie is the first person to figure out inside of five minutes with Onion that she is not what she appears. Pie seems to take Onion under her wing in return for tutelage—all the better for him since, as she points out, white devils like Chase would castrate him before a lynching due to his lying about his gender, and thereby seeing white women in various states of undress, as well as white men as fools. But as Pie’s first inclination was betrayal, Onion’s initial smittenness, and our amusement at the comedy of manners unspooling inside that brothel, shouldn’t blind any to what was really going on.
Last week Onion was asked to figure out how to survive in a precarious situation by going along with white people and playing whatever role they imagined for him; this week among other People of Color, and slaves at that, Onion is asked to find his own voice and be more forthright in the choices he makes.
As just a child, he understandably fails miserably when he’s asked to use his letter-writing ability to help Sibonia (Crystal Lee Brown), a slave itching to start a revolution; it also brings him to unthinkingly reveal her planning to Pie, who in turn sells Sibonia out to the white clients of Pikesville. And why not? From her vantage, Pie can continue to use the nominal power her namesake provides her to live in a boudoir, as opposed to a cage outside. But it is also condemning others to be free.
The ambiguity The Good Lord Bird so comfortably flirts with is refreshing in the age of black and white morality in our television and pop culture. While the morality of slavery is urgently black and white, which is to say good and evil, the decisions and inner-motivations of individuals is messy, sometimes contradictory, and often ruefully shortsighted. The murkiness of human nature cannot be reduced to a tweet, a third act good deed, or in the case of Onion one naively bad mistake.
In the best scene of the episode, Sibonia is interrogated by the local judge who offers his jurisprudence by threatening to have her teeth pulled out one by one if she doesn’t implicate more names than the already nine Black faces they’ve gathered up for the slaughter. Brown’s acting against that malevolence is good, but what she brings next to the local milquetoast preacher (Alex Sharp), who asks why she would raise a hand against him and his wife when they were so good to her, is extraordinary.
Her delivery of Sibonia’s cold assessment that she’d kill Sharp’s minister first, if for no other reason than to encourage others to be merciless with far more explicitly cruel members of this Pro-slavery community, is poignant and, if from my own white vantage, initially unsettling. But it can’t be judged; not when the good minister acknowledges the wickedness of slavery, if only tacitly, yet sits by in a community that would sell her husband and children, one by one, and would see her hanged for wanting to be free. The ambiguity in her choices, perhaps even a little bit like Old John Brown’s, do not have an easy moral reading. But they ring true when she asserts, “Sometimes a sparrow got to fly wild for it to be set free.”
In this context, Onion learns some hard lessons the way Huck Finn might’ve when he came across the feuding Grangerfords and Shepardsons. In the previous episode, I worried we didn’t really get to know Onion, just what he’d do to survive. This week we met the boy, who still is forced to play the games of white folk like Chase, but also as the even less surefooted lad who might know his letters, but not how to be honest with Black folks who want to use them. His indecisiveness leads to Pie having the ability to betray Sibonia; but also gives him the temperament to go back and save Bob when the shooting starts.
The actual climax of the episode is arguably when Sibonia and her failed conspirators are hanged. The scene certainly pauses long enough for Onion to consider all the faces around him, those laughing and jeering, and those maybe guilty or regretful, like weak mealy-mouthed Chase. But the ones that matter are those up on the gallows with their leader, about to follow her up one last hill.
It makes the actual denouement where Ethan Hawke’s swaggering John Brown finally returns to the screen guns-blazing oh, so satisfying. Like an immense wave of giddy relief, we have Hawke’s sweltering performance once again take center stage. It was the highlight of last week, but its absence gave needed dimensionality to Onion, and depth to The Good Lord Bird. So its late return at the eleventh hour plays almost like a just dessert: Here’s wacky and wild Hawke stopping to interrogate Onion on whether she’s been violated, or sold her virginity to a devil of a man.
How happy it is to hear him debate scripture while firing off bullets, and driving even a coward like Chase crazy enough to run headlong into Old John Brown’s cannon.
“In that moment, just like the rest of the country, Chase was the body in half,” muses Onion’s devastating voiceover narration. That it was, Onion. That it was. And that type of precise use of sardonic dialogue and line-delivery, as well as the grace of looking beneath America’s Better Angels in this crazy moment in history, is what made “The Wicked Plot” a wicked delight.
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Missing The Point Entirely
http://dudeblade.tumblr.com/post/163837445715/chibi-review-10-12
(Points at a rock on the ground) this is your head (Points up at a cloud) That’s the point.
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Cool Uncle.
Oh hey! Another way to make Qrow “I drink because EDGE, and I break rules all the time†Branwen seem ‘cool.’ Because that is totally something to teach to kids in you KID-FRIENDLY SPIN-OFF SHOW! - This was weak, and was actually kinda painful to sit through. Can’t wait to see how the fans try to use this skit as “proof†that Qrow is actually Ruby’s dad, though. - Maybe that will be fun.
Wow, I have never seen someone miss the point so entirely: The show is portraying Qrow as IRRESPONSIBLE for all of this, using Taiyang as a straight man and Butt Monkey in the joke. Seriously, you act like Taiyang wasn’t even there when his reactions ARE THE PUNCHLINE. No wonder you found it weak: You completely glossed over the funniest part of the skit. In fact, you don’t even MENTION Taiyang at all despite being integral to the skit. Jesus chirst: How do you fail at this level of not getting a joke? Oh right, you don’t understand that misery is important to comedy.
Clean Behind the Ears.
Whe… Where was the joke? Was the joke that Michael Sun decided to wake up Kerry Neptune JUST to tell him that he was going to the shower? - Is this an inside joke or something?
... And once again: the like completely flies over your head. THe joke is the upcoming misery of the Geist Grimm (Who I think was an excellent addition to the series but rather unutilized) . If you had added in SOMETHING about the Grimm then this could have been a valid critique. But since you completely disregard the punchline AGAIN, you just come across as bitching.
Cool Dad.
This was also painful. Mostly because the things that Qrow was saying made no sense. Also what he was doing. Is it normal for his nieces to watch him do some dives? - And does he wear that cape EVERYWHERE? - Though, personally, I think it would have been funnier if Coco had called Tai weird - If only for the gag of the voice actors.
... Okay, you judge an entire skit with several jokes in it... on the end...right after an iconic moment in RWBY Chibi...
Dudeblade, you suck at reviewing comedy. You ignore jokes entirely, ignore the punchline, cherry pick what is going on, are completely oblivious to how comedy is setup and focus on only the most miniute details: You are failing at these reviews. S either get good or shut up.
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Movie Night.
Okay, yeah. This got a laugh out of me. It’s enjoyable to poke fun at movies. Superhero movies are always about origin stories, romance stories typically have an idiot, etc, and etc. And then all the rest. Also, this is the reason why when I go out to a movie with my friend, we already know in advance what we’re going to watch.
Are you not gonna comment on how the movies they suggest are reflective of who they are (Pyrrha wants to see a romance with Jaune, Sun wants to see a cop movie ect.) or what about the subversions/parodies in the movies (like how when Jaune tries to “save” Pyrrha, he ends up failing completely or how about when Neptune lampshades the “wlaking away as something explodes” cliché and acts like a normal person when it happens: freaked the fuck out ect?) These are all jokes too and they are a part of the skit: Ergo, you need to review them. Once again: You fail, except you fail at being POSITIVE as well. Especially since you DIDN’T address everything so they don’t know if the parodies/character interactions where good or not.
2.
Wore it better.
… Oh I get it. Neo was inspired by a female Roman cosplayer, and here, Neo is the one cosplaying… I hope that that’s the joke, otherwise I’m just looking like an intellectual. And who wants that when you watch a comedy show that’s the spinoff of a serial show that makes fun of men in dresses?
No, no you don’t. You don’t look like an intellectual because you have been constantly failing at the very definition of reviewing seeing as you completely forget to mention Roman is there as his lines are the build up as well as separate jokes (Weiss is seen as a spoiled brat, Roman has an irrational hatred of Ruby) as well as the punchline being his silent response in Neo’s own way of talking to how she wears HIS uniform. And yeah, she does wear it better. Who knew you could make a trenchcoat and boulderhat cute?
Evil Genius.
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Yes Ozpin. You should feel guilty for doing stuff like this. You are basically making CHILD SOLDIERS to fight a war with Salem that YOU probably started… At least Jaune got hurt. I enjoy it when Jaune is the victim of slapstick. I like to think that it’s karma for not respecting Weiss’ refusal to go out with him.
...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IQBqSt15Vi0
Okay... There is so much wrong with this... “review” that I dunno wher eto begin.
At the beginning I suppose: It was NEVER once hinted at that Ozpin STARTED the war except by Salem...WHO IS THE BIG BAD. In fact, the only reason you say this is because you have a hate boner against the male characters and automatically think all males are default the bad guys (https://knightofbalance-13.tumblr.com/post/163808997355/what-you-see-in-the-mirror) and that you were whiteknighting Salem (http://dudeblade.tumblr.com/post/160955995697/rwby-theory-ozpin-is-a-fraud) ... USING A NON-CANONICAL SOURCE OF INFO.
You also ignore the fact that Ren and Ruby where getting hurt as well. And the fact that Ozpin was sending them to find random stuff like how he just sort of launched them into the woods to find chess pieces in Volume 1 and how Ruby and Ren caught onto what Ozpin was doing but Jaune didn’t. AKA you failed to review the FULL skit.
And by this logic, Pyrrha getting shot was karma too because she did the exact same stuff as Jaune...but WORSE in a lot of cases. Look at how much of an asshole you look like now.
2.
Uh… is the joke here the fact that Jaune’s weapon is so simple and straightforward that maintenance isn’t something needed- Waitaminute! Why doesn’t he sharpen it? Isn’t that basic sword maintenance 101? - Ugh, incompetent Jaune is incompetent.
The joke was that everyone else was being professionals at doing weapon mantinece but the one person who was never trained as a Huntsman fails in such a ridiculous way that you have to face palm. Like Port whom you completely ignored AGAIN.
3.
The what-glove? … Eh, I’m just going to assume that Ruby saw that Roman was having a bad day, and decided to sheer him up with that slapstick. That feels better, and doesn’t make Ruby out to be more incompetent than Jaune… Also, what is evil about Wi-Fi? If Wi-Fi is evil, doesn’t that make any company that uses the internet evil? I mean, by that same stretch of logic, RoosterTeeth is evil because it uses Wi-Fi… If you are one of those Critical Fans, go nuts with this logic.
Once again, you completely overlook Neo whose reactions are a PART of the joke, the OTHER evil inventions while lampooning how they always malfunction, and that the Froyo stopped Ruby while all of Roman’s complex inventions. AKA the complex plans fail while the simple accident WORKS.
Except this is has even MORE problems. Like the implication that Ruby can’t be incompetent, like she has to always be good at everything or she can’t have isolated instances or slip ups. AKA he’s literally criticizing Ruby for not being a Mary Sue when in the past he criticized for Jaune being a Mary Sue in his eyes.
And the part about the Wi-Fi is pathetic because the Wi-Fi was added on after the “embodiment of evil!” comment, meaning that by the way English is structured, Wi-Fi would logically not be included in the “evil” category. And then he ends by encouraging Insane Troll Logic in order to bash Rooster Teeth.
So to recap: Dudeblade does not understand comedy in the slightest, completely ignores certain aspects of skits (read: most of the skits), has a severe bias against male characters that seeping into his reviews meaning pretty much every review involving a male character is gonnq be shitty, whiteknights females and acts like they can do no wrong and SHOULD do no wrong and outright encourages people attacking Rooster Teeth for stupid reasons.
TL;Dr: Dudeblade should be doing anything critical. He does not have the capacity for it.
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Chapter 5
Paladin Training 101
Chapter 4 - Chapter 6
It was at the eighth time he found himself staring up at the moss-green ceiling that Koji had to stifle an irritated groan; that was probably as much sleep as he was going to get for that night. Then again, he wasn’t typically asleep at that time to begin with.
At least, that’s what it felt like, since he wasn’t sure how Arus-time matched up to Alwas-time. Or even Earth-time, for that matter. The symbols on the clock weren’t anything Koji could make sense of either, so he didn’t even know if it was still nighttime or not.
It was morning—and that thought/confirmation was so out-of-nowhere that the technician physically jumped a bit, garnering a chorus of chirps from the purloined security drone that was floating in the room’s corner that sounded almost questioning.
The fact that the same apparent-source of the confirmation was now vaguely conveying amusement cemented what it was. Koji wasn’t even near the Green Lion, so how was it (she) still communicating with him like that? After thinking it over while getting dressed, he mentally shrugged and decided to ask—and got a mental shrug in response. Or at least what felt like one?
“Okay, then…what are you?” he asked aloud.
At that, the Green Lion seemed to hesitate, like she was mulling it over, but when she finally did answer, it was in a nonsensical jumble of concepts and vague impressions that only succeeded in making Koji feel momentarily nauseous.
The Lion pulled back at noticing that, apologetic—whatever the answer was, it wasn’t something that translated into anything a human mind could understand. Figures it’s something right out of a fantasy book, Koji thought, wincing.
Whether or not it came from not getting enough sleep, or from trying to make sense of what the Lion was trying to convey, he now felt like he’d been hit in the head by a wrench.
So it only made a perfect amount of sense that an alarm started going off then, eliciting three startled screams from the adjacent rooms.
Stan was already in the hallway, looking like he’d gotten about as much sleep that Koji had. Molly and Jordan were both out there as well not even a minute later, both clearly having just thrown whatever clothes were grabbed first on. “What the heck’s going on?” the latter asked, wide-eyed.
“I don’t know!” Koji replied, starting to feel panicked, before they all started toward the bridge at a run. Unexpectedly, Shiro was there already, as were the Alteans, one of whom looked distinctively annoyed upon seeing the rest of them filing into the room.
“I’m guessing this isn’t an actual attack,” Shiro was saying.
“And it’s a good thing it wasn’t,” was Allura’s icy-toned response as the alarm cut off. “Because it took you—Coran?”
“Seventy-five degrees!”
There was complete silence for about three seconds before a flat “Huh?” from Molly broke it. To the side, both Jordan and Stan had expressions of confused exasperation. The upside was that Allura looked about as baffled as Koji himself was feeling.
Coran himself seemed to notice something, glancing at the handheld device again, before looking appropriately sheepish. “Oh wait, sorry, this is a meat thermometer.”
There was a short, irritated sigh before the princess went on from where she left off: “However long it took, it was too long. Coran and I have been up for vargas now, working on repairs to the castle, and we had to test the alarm systems. We decided to test you while we were at it.” The scowl deepened. “Guess which one failed.”
“We were sleeping!” Molly countered irritably. “A little warning would’ve been nice!”
“You think Zarkon is going to give us a warning when he launches another attack? Only Shiro is in uniform—the rest of you don’t even have your bayards!
“Judging by the amount of distress beacons the castle has picked up over the last ten-thousand years, it’s safe to assume that Zarkon is in control of most of the known universe,” Allura went on. “It’s very likely that the only reason your galaxy is still relatively safe from the Galra is because of the Avatar’s presence there!”
“Sure as hell didn’t stop them from wrecking everything on Alwas,” Stan said, tone sour, crossing his arms. “Isn’t preventing that kind of stuff his job?”
“Not necessarily,” Coran said. “From what we know, the Avatar is more of a neutral presence than anything else, and—”
“And you five should be getting started on your training,” Allura interrupted, eyes narrow.
Today was going to be one of those days, apparently. And that was the other thing that had been bothering Koji since yesterday. No one had said anything outright yet, but what Shiro had said before they’d dealt with Sendak’s ship had an implication he didn’t like at all.
“Wha’—we just woke up!” Jordan shouted irately.
“Consider it practice for when we’re under attack in the middle of a sleep-cycle, then. Now get to your Lions!”
Jordan grumbled something under his breath, though he went quiet when Shiro gave him a sharp look. “We’ll start with some basic flying drills, and then come back in for breakfast in about thirty minutes,” the space-pilot said. “Sound fair?”
There was some muttered assent after a short pause, and they turned to start down the hall, but a light flicker of something that wasn’t exactly a physical sensation coming from Green’s presence stopped Koji mid-step, and he turned to look at the narrow doorways set throughout the room.
At the same time, Coran said “You could make use of the lifts here on the bridge, unless you’d prefer to get suited up first.”
He really didn't feel like walking all the way to the Green Lion’s hangar right now anyways. There was some hesitation before the others—barring Shiro who once again had the unique one, and including Koji himself—each went to a specific door.
Koji paused to look back at the drone, which was still following him, and made a point of telling it to stay put. Which it did, thankfully. Part of him offhandedly wondered if he’d be able to program a better AI for it.
The lift went down quickly, taking roughly ten seconds to reach the bottom of the shaft, and then it just stopped. The passageway was highlighted green, not bright enough to be overly painful, but still enough to make his eyes sting a bit, and there didn't seem to be any second platform or anything on the floor. Then he noticed the handle set into a rail on the ceiling. It was a zip-line.
A zip-line.
It took a few attempts for him get a hold onto the pulley, which started moving immediately. While Koji had better reflexes than most people tended to expect, he was exactly as strong as most people assumed, on top of him still being sore from yesterday.
In other words, it wasn’t long until he lost his grip on the handle and ended up tumbling down the remainder of the slope head-over-heels. He stayed on the floor for a few seconds, stunned, before picking himself up and walking the short distance to…what seemed to be at least a twelve-foot drop.
At this rate, he’d be lucky if the headache went away by itself.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“Should someone go in to check on him?” Jordan asked.
“Give him another minute or two,” Stan replied. He had an idea on why Koji was taking so long—Stan himself was just wondering who thought a zip-line was a good shortcut, even though it technically was a quick one, and was admittedly kind of fun.
As it turned out, it didn’t take another minute, as the Green Lion emerged from its tower moments later. “Lemme guess, the zip-line?”
“Who even designed that system?” was the frustrated-sounding response.
Shiro sighed near-inaudibly over the comm. “All right—Molly, I know you were the Arrow’s pilot for part of the competition on Alwas, but have you taken any lessons before that?”
“No,” was her initial response, and her face faltered over the monitor screen before she added, “I mean, Rick taught me a few things, but that was during the race.”
That was one of the things that had made it hard to sleep. Yeah, Stan did not care for how Don tended to treat them (Molly and Jordan specifically, though Molly in particular had often been at odds with him) on Alwas, but at the same time he couldn’t help but feel worried for both him and Rick.
Stan jolted when there was the mental equivalent of a hard poke from the Yellow Lion, and he barely managed to catch the end of what Shiro was saying. He looked at the Lion’s steering handles for a few seconds before replying with, “Well, I did test-fly the Arrow I, but it was only in a straight line for a few meters.”
“Okay—Jordan?” The silence that followed Shiro’s abridged question was an awkward one. “Right…well, let’s start with flying in formation.”
“Which one?” Jordan asked resignedly.
It wasn’t Shiro that replied. Rather, it was the Lions themselves providing an answer by lining themselves up on the stone bridge where they’d been waiting—Yellow was on one end, with the others to the right in the order of Green, Black, Red, and Blue. “This one, I guess,” Shiro said after a bit, with a shrug in his voice. “Jordan, just hold the controls steady. Alright?”
“Got it.” He sounded nervous, and honestly, Stan was feeling nervous too; Yellow sent over a feeling that could be described as chiding.
Now that it was more of a casual situation, Stan was able to better assess the currently-impossible-to-ignore feeling that was the secondary presence in his head. Yellow was…warm, in a sense that was like a direct ray of sunlight, or sand that had been out in the sun all day, but not overly so.
It was also pushing the idea of trusting his teammates. Well, I’m on the opposite side anyways.
So commenced a time of just flying in a straight line with occasional curves to turn—and to Stan’s surprise, it wasn’t nearly as terrible as Jordan’s attempt at flying the Arrow had been. The Blue Lion only wobbled now and then, although the detail of the Lions being thought-driven to a degree probably had something to do with it.
Either way, he also saw that Molly was giving the Blue Lion plenty of room.
A flash of light to one side broke him out of his thoughts, and he saw that the castle’s particle-barrier (which was another thing he wanted to take a look at eventually) was active.
“Wait, why’s the barrier up?” Molly asked uncertainly.
“I have to run a diagnostic tests on the castle’s defenses,” Allura replied; a monitor appeared, showing her facing an arc of holoscreens to the side on the bridge.
Several seconds later, the ground in front of the Yellow Lion was blasted apart by a cyan-hued laser, which Stan just barely managed to get out of the way of it in time. “Allura, what are you doing?!”
“Running a diagnostic.” Her tone was unnervingly cheery. “And I’m inspiring you in the meantime!”
“Inspiring us for what?!” Jordan shouted, panicked. Ahead, the Blue Lion swerved to one side, just barely avoiding the Black Lion, if only because Shiro had her jump out of the way.
“Your predecessors first formed Voltron in the heat of battle, which you five are going to have to learn how to do if we’re to have any hope of freeing other planets from Zarkon’s control. This should help!”
Over the screen, Stan saw Allura tap a key on one of the holoscreens, and the computer then intoned “Auto lock-on engaged.” And then she walked away.
Was she trying to kill them?
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
After what felt like a few hours had gone by, Stan was really starting to think yes. At that point there were several different alarms blaring in the Yellow Lion, and multiple monitors were blinking red.
Which meant now the Lions were going to need to get some repairs, too—which was just wonderful, because he had no idea on how he’d even start on that.
He pulled back on the handles, and Yellow pivoted in place, but not fast enough for him to avoid getting clipped; he was promptly sent careening into the Red Lion, sending the smaller craft tumbling to the side.
“Stan, watch where you’re going!” Molly snapped.
It took every bit of remaining willpower Stan had to not snap back at her, seeing as he was equally stressed-out at this point. Just when he was starting to think that would be a losing battle, the lasers stopped, and the castle’s barrier flickered before vanishing.
“What just happened?” Jordan asked.
“I don’t know, but I’m not waiting for it to come back!” Molly replied, with the Red Lion turning sharply toward the castle. The rest of them followed quickly.
No sooner was the Yellow Lion back in his designated hangar did Stan notice that the blinking monitors had actually stopped blinking, having returned to their usual gold hue. He looked over the monitors—not that it really helped, because he couldn’t read any of the information on them, but the displays alone were giving an impression that was a baffling prospect to consider.
“It’s almost like you’re fixing yourself,” he mused aloud. The Lion then pulled off an air of being amused. No way. “Are you fixing yourself?”
The amusement turned into a smug feeling, and that had him sitting down again and staying there for a minute. Sentient, telepathic, thought-piloted, and self-repairing. What next, being able to materialize things out of nowhere?
…that the smug feeling just got more noticeable had an implication that Stan decided could be thought about later.
He found Molly, Jordan, and Koji in the same room that Coran had them wait in yesterday after they’d first met. Sitting on a center table were a few plates of that synthetic stuff they’d had for dinner the night before.
The others glanced up at noticing him, but aside from that, it was quiet for a short time, save for the lime-colored substance gradually vanishing. At least, until Jordan said, “Well that was horrible.”
“Understatement,” Molly agreed in a low tone.
Koji nodded. “At least we don’t have to worry about fixing the Lions,” he muttered, and Jordan fervently nodded in agreement.
“You saw that too?” Stan asked—he thought he’d seen the eyes of both the Green and Blue Lions flickering, and he knew he’d seen both of them take a few hits earlier.
“Uh-huh.”
Stan waited for a few seconds, but Koji stayed quiet. He definitely hadn’t slept much either last night—both of them were typically up all night and then crashed around noon for a few hours.
After a few minutes had gone by, Stan was pretty sure that all of them (himself included) were more than halfway to dozing before the sound of the door opening brought them all back to attention.
“Has the fifth power condenser finished charging yet?” Allura was asking Coran.
“No, it’s still at eighty-four percent,” he replied, and they both paused when they saw the four of them.
Allura looked confused in an angry sense moments later. “How in the world did you get inside?” she demanded.
“The barrier went down, so we flew back in,” Molly replied, a huff audible in her voice.
“What.”
And with that, Stan was beginning to suspect that they were still going to have to deal with an overbearing manager of a sort.
Coran coughed forcibly, looking sheepish. “Uh, right. Sorry, princess—testing the fire suppressers in the aft guest wing caused the defenses to shut down. That, uh, never had the chance to be fixed.”
Footsteps from the other end of the room preceded Shiro entering the room. “What’re you guys doing in here? We’re not taking a break.”
Jordan fixed him with a betrayed look before saying “Et tu, Shiro?”
Stan hissed out a breath. Now we have two overbearing managers. Great.
“Not taking a—“ Molly sputtered a bit before exclaiming “We barely got any sleep last night, and we just got shot at for—for hours!”
Allura was glowering at her at this point, but Coran cut in before she could say anything. “Perhaps we should move onto something easier. You’re not going to be in the Lions all the time, after all.”
“What do you mean by that?” Stan asked, wary, while Molly resorted to seething quietly.
“You’ll need to be functional as a real team to have any chance of forming Voltron and going up against Zarkon,” the Altean man specified calmly. “Best place to work on that would be the training deck.”
“What training deck?” Jordan asked suspiciously.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Coran chivvied them down to the so-called training deck after having the four of them (barring Shiro, who had his on to begin with) get their flight-suits on and make sure their bayards were stored in the uniforms. Jordan had to admit that the outfits were actually pretty comfortable, but the other three looked awkward for the first few minutes. “Testing, testing,” the Altean said over the comm. “You all hear me, yes?”
“We hear you,” Shiro replied.
“Right then!” Coran’s tone brightened considerably—he probably expected it to have been not working. “Now, if the five of you could arrange yourself in the center of the room so we could get started…” After they did as such, his tone turned more business-like. “The Paladin Code demands that you put the safety of your teammates above your own, and this exercise will test that. Now, a swarm of drones is about to attack, and your objective is to do whatever you can to protect each other!”
As if prompted by the words, a number of small white robots emerged from gaps that opened up in the walls, simultaneous with everyone’s left gauntlets producing a translucent blue shield that, despite appearing unwieldy, weighed absolutely nothing.
Jordan was forced to stop wondering about it when the drones started firing with plasma rounds that he was hoping were set to non-lethal.
It went well for about ten seconds, before Jordan felt something hit him in the back that produced a static-y feeling, which was followed by the floor promptly opened up under him. It was a two-foot drop onto a different floor that, despite being padded, still smarted and knocked the breath out of him.
Five seconds later, Molly was down there too, landing flat on her back. She stared at the ceiling for a few seconds, before groaning, putting her hands to her face.
“Uh, what just happened?” Jordan asked.
“I ducked,” was the muttered response. Which was probably why they were both down there—they’d both been hit.
“Hey, don’t worry about it. I probably would’ve done the same thing.”
Molly didn’t reply, instead sitting up and looking around. “Where’s the way out of here?”
Jordan copied her action, and soon picked out a door on one wall. It refused to open for another minute or so, but when it did, it revealed a stairway (two, actually; one went further up) that opened out onto the main deck. Shiro, Stan, and Koji all looked winded, though Stan was quick to ask if they were both okay.
“Yeah,” Jordan replied. “It wasn’t a big fall.”
Molly wasted no time in glaring up at the observation deck where Coran was. “How was that supposed to be easy?”
“Er…well, perhaps I could’ve given you more of an in-depth explanation. Either way, this next one should be a breeze! Koji, you stay down there—the rest of you, come up here.” Koji looked uncertain, but stayed put while the rest of them headed up the second stairway, which led up to the observation deck.
Molly took the opportunity to aim a more pointed glare at Coran, who cleared his throat in an awkward-sounding way before turning to press a few keys on a holoscreen.
Below, translucent walls flickered into existence, before vanishing. The suddenness of it made Koji jump a bit. “This one here is one of my favorites,” Coran started, and then added with a flourish, “The invisible maze! If the five of you are to form Voltron, you’ll need to have complete trust in each other. We can see the layout of the maze from up here, but whoever’s on the floor can’t. A word of caution: touching the walls will give you a slight shock!”
“So who’s giving me directions?” Koji asked. In response, Coran motioned to Stan, who stepped up to look at the monitor, and Jordan let himself relax. Those two were the epitome of teamwork already.
“Alright, so turn left and take three steps forward, turn right, and then take two steps that way,” Stan said after studying the screen for a few seconds.
Below, Koji did as such, and promptly stumbled back, simultaneously with a blue flash of light and a sharp crackling sound. He stared at where he’d tried walking for a bit, before whirling around to look up at them. “Stan, what was that for?”
Stan visibly tensed, and took a deep breath before saying “I meant my left.”
Below, Koji stepped left, only to get shocked again. “Stan!”
“No, it’s behind you now—Koji, you’re not listening!”
“And you’re not being specific enough!”
No way… Jordan stared in dismayed incredulity at the spectacle that was the team’s mechanics, who’d never even had a disagreement as far as he knew, going at each other in what was rapidly devolving into a full-blown argument revolving around how well the other listened.
To the side, Shiro made a face when Koji started throwing in words that Jordan didn’t understand—and if the expression Stan had then was any indicator, things were close to getting ugly.
Thankfully Coran intervened, pushing Stan away from the console and hitting a key on the screen, which was followed by a buzzing sound from the deck below.
“Okay, okay!” the Altean blurted, looking back and forth between them. Both had broken off mid-word and were more than a little red-faced, glaring at each another. “Let’s…let’s try something else with the Lions now, shall we?”
“They can argue with each other?” Molly whispered, stunned.
“I guess so,” he whispered back, feeling unsettled. Either way, Stan and Koji refused to even look at each other before they’d all split off in the direction of the Lions’ hangars.
Shiro stopped both Jordan and Molly before they could get too far. He seemed to hesitate before asking, “Does that happen often, or…?”
“No,” Molly answered. “We’ve never seen those two fight over anything before.”
“I mean, they look more worn-out than when they had to put the Arrow back together after it got cut in half, so that might have to do with it,” Jordan put in, before quickly adding, “And I don’t think leaving them alone would be a good idea right now.” Shiro looked troubled for a moment, before nodding in agreement.
Jordan still found himself feeling momentarily panicked when the Blue Lion’s display monitors came up, but Blue herself was a calming presence just at the edge of his awareness before he could really start freaking out.
Blue was going to be handling the flying until further notice, though. Yeah, sure, Jordan had done…a bit of steering earlier, which had felt awesome, but still.
The Lion looked a lot more complicated than the Arrow, but it was almost like he had some kind of instinctive vague idea about her controls worked. Alien tech it might be, it was actually useful.
The Lions all flew out of their hangars, arcing upwards for some time before they levelled out, which suggested that maybe Yellow and Green had agreed on the detail of their pilots (still a weird thing to consider) needing some space from each other right now.
Jordan had no idea how high up they were, but if the fact that he could only make out sparse details about the ground below was anything to go on, it might have been standard airplane height. It also looked like it was late-afternoon now, which meant breakfast was more like lunch.
With the blue sky and white clouds, Arus looked almost like both of the other planets they’d already been on, save for the sun here being more orange in color, and the grass having a teal hue to it.
“An important part of being a Paladin is having complete trust in your Lion,” Coran said over the comm. Again with the “trust” thing.
“I think that’s a given at this point,” Koji remarked snippily.
It was obvious that the statement had been referring to Jordan himself, but he settled for biting his tongue instead of returning fire. Not after that spectacle on the training deck.
“Perfect!” was the cheery response from Coran, apparently having missed the real intent of the words. “You should all be able to pull this off with little issue, then. Now put your Lions into a nosedive!”
Blue seemed puzzled as she did as such, and Jordan felt a prick of anxiety for himself when the ground started slowly becoming more detailed. “So uh, what’s this one supposed to be?” he asked.
“Trigel’s Dive,” was the response, and Blue’s confusion immediately turned into alarmed disbelief. “It’s—well, it’s actually an advanced technique that really none of you should be attempting until you’ve had a few years of Lion-flying experience, but we’re in a bit of a rush here.”
Advanced? Oh no, Jordan did not like the sound of that at all.
“Really? This doesn’t seem so bad,” Molly remarked over the comm. Then everything went dark, and there were panicked exclamations from her and the others. “Uh, I take that back—why can’t I see anything?!”
“The goal is to see through your Lion’s eyes,” Coran replied. “And pull up at the last second!”
Jordan gave himself a few seconds to make sure he didn’t mishear that—and the thought that went through his head when it hit him that Coran wasn’t joking was Well screw that!
He tensed, getting ready to pull back on the handles (that was pulling up, right?) but a mental prod from Blue stopped him before he could.
Blue was flying, Jordan was shooting.
That was a pretty big trust thing, now that he was thinking about it, so…maybe he could at least try.
“C’mon Jordan,” he muttered to himself, tightening his hold on the handles. “S-So what if it’s a weird alien thing?” He was flying a magic space lion! This kind of stuff should be a breeze!
…emphasis on should, because it sounded like even Molly was borderline panicking about this, and that alone was making Jordan want to panic right along with her.
Blue gave him another psychic poke. Right, trust the Lion. Deep breaths. Shiro sounds calm.
Blue’s little metaphorical camping spot was usually something like a patch of frost on the back of his head, in a weird sort of way, unless he actually focused on her. Then she was more like a whole, icy ocean that was somehow intimidating and reassuring at the same time.
For one brief, extremely surreal moment, Jordan could have sworn he saw the ground below flicker back into view, but a loud crashing sound followed by a startled cry from Molly spooked him into yanking the handles back. Blue’s thrusters fired off instantly, whereas Red slammed heavily into the ground.
“Molly, Jordan, you both nearly had it there.” Coran’s tone was an encouraging one, and the words were followed by Jordan’s visor going back to normal. “We’ll have to give it another go some other time.”
Blue was hovering just above the ground, pulling off an impression that Jordan was hesitantly translating as agreeing with Coran, and Red was on the ground, just standing up now.
Both Yellow and Green were stuck halfway in the ground in front of them, which was more than likely where the crashing sounds came from.
From the mesa they were on, Jordan could see the Black Lion weaving between rock spires in the valley below, like Shiro could actually see where he’s going. He sighed subconsciously at seeing that. Figures.
Then again, Shiro was the guy that had smashed every single record the Garrison as a whole had to offer in terms of piloting, so it did make sense that he’d get the advanced flying technique right away…which Jordan himself may or may not have come close to also getting along with Molly…
Speaking of Molly. “You guys okay?” he asked, and three monitors came up. Molly looked dazed, nodding jerkily. Stan and Koji looked somewhere between irritable and mortified while their Lions pried themselves out of the ground.
Stan was muttering something darkly, and though Koji stayed quiet, the scowl on his face was enough of an answer in itself. Maybe they were trying to prove a point to each other or something.
Seeing those two angry at each other was kind of scary.
“Okay, this next one is going to be more relaxing,” Coran was saying now. Jordan wasn’t really trusting him right now, even if he was starting to sound as weary as Jordan was feeling. “Meet me back on the training deck.”
“I’ll believe that when I see it,” Molly muttered over the comm as the Lions turned toward the castle.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The first impression Jordan got of the next thing, once they were all there and sitting in a loose circle, was stiff plastic headset which was mildly uncomfortable to have on.
“This technique will be essential in forming Voltron,” Coran said over the comm. “The five of you have to learn to lower your barriers, and keep them down. Focus on your Lion, and nothing else!”
That actually did sound easy. But of course, Jordan jinxed himself yet again with that thought, because something sidetracked him almost as soon as that it was through his head.
Beyond Blue’s chill, there was…something else. Three of them, actually, all being a jumbled swirl of ideas and emotions held at a distance, only partially-glimpsed like a silhouette behind an opaque curtain.
Across from him, Jordan saw one of Stan’s eyes twitch, before he growled “Mind your own business, Koji.” Jordan started when there was a prick of frustration from one of those other presences, coinciding with the low-toned words.
“I’m not doing anything!” was the immediate retort, and a flare of annoyance from a second point coincided with that, too. There was also an indistinct sensation that was borderline unpleasant there too, like a headache.
“Knock it off, you two,” Shiro said sharply, a stern feeling coming across from the third one as he gave the mechanics a look that Jordan had seen his uncle pull on his cousins a few times—and that was when it hit Jordan.
Holy shit, he was being literal. Coran had called this a “mind-meld” exercise, and Jordan was now pretty sure that those other three are Shiro, Stan, and Koji…but shouldn’t there be four?
Jordan glanced sideways at where Molly was sitting. She had her eyes shut tight, and looked like she was trying to focus—on the Red Lion, probably. Now that he had his attention on her, he was barely aware of a fourth other presence, almost completely in the background: it was a small, prickly-seeming spark of heat, and he could just pick up a creeping unease from her.
Moments later, Molly opened one eye slightly and glanced back at him, and the unease became more noticeable. “Focus, everyone!” Coran reminded, startling all five of them.
Blue, Jordan told himself firmly in his head, brow furrowing in concentration. Think of Blue. He saw a small hologram of the Blue Lion appear a few inches away from his forehead. “That’s it. Now, bring your Lions together!”
“Is this really necessary?” Koji asked. The small hologram of the Green Lion halfway to the center of the room stopped, flickering, and the sense of foreign irritation was a lot more noticeable now.
“Yes, it is,” Coran affirmed. “You have to be able to coordinate your thoughts, and there can’t be any walls or secrets between you.”
The unease dropped into a sort of numb shock, and Molly’s face went slack, coinciding with Red’s barely-there hologram winking out of existence entirely.
To the side, Jordan saw Shiro frown, and the Black Lion’s hologram paused where it was floating. “Molly, is something—?”
He stopped mid-word, simultaneously with Jordan feeling the mental equivalent to having a window being slammed shut on his fingers. Judging by the others’ breathing hitching, they all had felt it too.
It corresponded with Molly ripping the headset off, throwing it across the room, and bolting out. “Wha’—Molly?!” Jordan scrambled to his feet and moved to start after her, but before he could make it to the door Allura came into the room from the opposite door, face stormy.
“And where do you think you’re going?” she asked icily. Jordan’s eyes narrowed in response. “Clearly, you’re all worse off than I initially thought. Coran, ready the Gladiator!”
Gladiator?
“Uh, yes Princess. Everyone, put the headsets aside, and have your bayards ready. In order to defeat the Gladiator, five Paladins must fight as one…or, well, four works too, I suppose.” His voice quieted toward the end, and he sounded hesitant for the entire explanation.
“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Jordan heard Stan mutter as they left the headsets on a stand to one side of the room, which was retracted into the wall. Allura had gone up to the observation deck in the meantime.
The four of them meandered over to the center of the room, bayards soon in hand for the three the direction applied to, and Jordan looked around. I don’t see anything…
He stiffened when he heard a thud behind him, and he turned around in time to see Koji get sent sprawling, the green bayard spiraling across the floor. Jordan’s military intuition had been correct—it was a combat simulator, by means of a training robot.
It was also apparent not even three seconds later that, even when they were pissed at each other, one rule always applied between the team’s mechanics: hurting one in front of the other resulted in all safeties going off.
Stan forwent his bayard entirely, rushing at the robot, but that didn’t end well for him, with the robot swinging its staff around and hitting in the side of the head. Them having their helmets made a lot of sense now.
A low-pitched droning sound preceded Shiro’s prosthetic lighting up, and the robot turned to charge at him…and then Shiro froze.
Jordan quickly intercepted it by firing on it with his bayard (the laser rounds were cerulean instead of the standard yellow of standard firearm from Earth) and while that did get its attention, it deflected every single round with its staff, and Jordan found his feet being swept out from under him seconds later.
He was promptly sent flying into Shiro, who hadn’t moved—he’d gone wide-eyed and pale-faced the moment the Gladiator had started toward him.
Thankfully, the robot’s cyan highlights dimmed in a way that signified it was done, what with them all being on the floor.
Allura, on the other hand, was far from done: “What was that?” she hissed, marching over to them.
“That was you trying to kill us,” Stan replied angrily, picking himself up off the floor and returning the glare.
“That simulator was set at a level fit for a child! And where did Molly run off to, anyways? She’s not exempt from this!”
“Beats me,” Jordan muttered. “She’ll come back when she wants to.” He wasn’t going to admit it out loud right now, but he was wondering that too.
Coran cleared his throat, having followed Allura down. “Perhaps we should call it a day, princess? It is only day-one, after all.”
Jordan was slightly appeased to know that they weren’t the only ones who would ever be on the receiving end of Allura’s ire. The look she was giving Coran was implying that she was considering ripping the mustache right off his face, but he didn’t even flinch.
It was a stalemate for a few long moments, until she sighed, grumbling “I suppose you’re right,” before turning and leaving the room. Coran still had some points of merit left thanks to that; he went after her, but to what ends, Jordan had no idea.
He heard the door on the opposite side of the room open and close, and looked over his shoulder to see that both Stan had left the room as well. Koji was also heading that way, muttering something under his breath about going to take a nap. A smaller detail of the weirdness the headsets had brought came back to Jordan; maybe Koji really did have a headache. That might why he snapped at Stan so fast earlier.
Shiro sighed next to him, putting a hand up to his face, before seeming to think of something. “You wouldn’t happen to know why Molly ran out like that, would you?”
“No,” Jordan replied curtly, and paused. “Are you okay?” Something about the way Shiro had frozen like that there didn’t sit right with him.
Shiro hesitated for just a moment before smiling a bit. “Don’t worry about me. Why don’t you go relax for a while?”
In most cases like this, Jordan would have let go of it then and there—he was just beat right now—and if Shiro said he was okay, he probably was.
This time, though, he had a nagging feeling that right now wasn’t the time for that choice, and Blue rumbled her assent in the back of his head. “I think we should go try to find her.” Before Shiro could say anything else, Jordan added, “Bad stuff usually happens when she runs off.”
Grooor’s tantrum in the tavern, the near-disaster that was the race against Ceres, and the actual disaster that was the race against the Nourasian were all good examples of that.
Truthfully, Jordan wasn’t sure Molly had completely forgiven him for that last one yet, or Stan and Koji considering their part in it; when Don had tried getting them to convince her to come out of her room, she'd thrown various hard objects at them as soon as the door had opened.
“Alright,” Shiro conceded after a moment. “Where should we start?”
“Uh…good question.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Stan was quickly faced with the reminder that, unless there was some equipment lying around somewhere that would work with the Arrow, they had no way of even looking at the full extent of the damage taken that night on Alwas. Maybe I’ll ask Coran later, he thought, before glancing over his shoulder at one of the shuttles.
They weren’t too different from Earth ships, apparently—but they were still made from alien tech that was leagues ahead of anything they had back home. It was worth trying to at least look at it.
Granted, it took a while to even get the panel open, considering that he had to go look for the right tool to open it up with.
The shuttle was definitely…different than what he was used to looking at, having an assortment of wires connected to several rhombus-shaped blue-glowing crystals. He could make out one larger crystal further in, but Stan could not for the life of him see anything that even remotely looked like a fuel tank.
What does this thing run on then, sunlight? It wasn’t likely, since he couldn’t see anything resembling solar panels either. The Yellow Lion’s presence was starting to feel like something between amused and exasperated, giving an impression of the word guess when Stan tried asking him.
The sound of the door opening got him to glance over his shoulder. Koji stopped when he noticed, and there was three seconds’ worth of awkward silence before he ducked his head and walked over to the Arrow.
During that hour, it had occurred to Stan that the headache-like feeling he’d had while they’d all had those headsets on might’ve been one of the others actually having a headache—and with everything else that had been going on, he hadn’t noticed the telltale signs that it was the case with Koji earlier.
So he’d started feeling pretty guilty about ten minutes ago. Better to get it over with now, he thought, before saying “Sorry for snapping at you earlier.”
There was no response for roughly half a minute. Just as Stan was beginning to think it was too soon, he heard Koji reply quietly with “I’m the one that should be saying that. You were right—I wasn’t listening.”
“I still shouldn’t have gone off on you like that. You feeling okay now?”
Koji nodded, before wincing. “That was kind of my own fault, I think. I tried asking the Green Lion something earlier, and…well…”
“Asking her what?”
“Just—what they were.” Koji shrugged his shoulders a bit before adding “Whatever the answer is, I guess it’s not something a human brain can translate.”
Stan snorted a bit. “Of course not.” Then he noticed the drone. “And we should name that thing or something.”
Koji looked back at it too. “I guess you have a point. Got any ideas?”
How did one name a robot? It was silver in color, but that would be too plain of a name.
Cultural references would just get Jordan to tease them both about it if he recognized it, and he recognized practically everything. Even the stuff from the early 2000’s would be connected to a name after a few minutes.
Stan gave up after mulling it over for a few minutes. “I don’t know, Rover?”
“Well, that’s better than nothing,” Koji agreed. “I’m wondering if I could program some new functions onto it.” A pause. “After we fix what we can on the Arrow, anyways.”
“Yeah…”
Fix what they could, with only a wrench and a screwdriver for equipment. Yeah, right.
The door sounded again, followed by a “So this is where you two went!” from Coran, who jogged over to them. “Working on your ship?” The Altean paused, taking note of the open panel on the shuttle, and took on a dubious tone. “Or on one of the shuttles?”
“We can’t actually fix anything right now,” Koji replied to the first question, adjusting his glasses.
“I was just looking at this thing.” Stan gestured to the shuttle. “Where’s the fuel tank on it?”
“There isn’t one.” Coran made a show of pointing out the larger crystal further in. “That there is the power source.”
“The crystal?” Stan didn’t need to look at Koji to guess what his current expression was. “How does that work?”
“The crystals are infused with a fair amount of quintessence,” was the response given. “One crystal can keep a shuttle going for decaphoebs, hence why they’re still operable to begin with!”
While Stan still wasn’t entirely sure what the word decaphoeb meant, the context Coran used it with, along with Allura’s usage of the word the day before, implied that it might be the Altean equivalent of a year. He wasn’t sure what “quintessence” was either—some kind of power source probably.
Coran’s attention wandered to the Arrow. “Now, this is the first Earth ship I’ve seen. Do they all look like this?”
“It’s what a star-racer usually looks like,” Stan replied guardedly.
“Aha, so it’s a specialized ship, then!” Coran nodded like he’s just had something confirmed. “How does it work?”
Stan made use of the crate that was left form this morning to get onto the left reactor. “The short version is that she’s got two magnetic-field generators, one for each reactor. Most vehicles on Earth have at least one, and really old ones don’t have any.”
Coran looked both intrigued and skeptical, but not lost. “Magnetism, eh? Well, that definitely wouldn’t work very well on Ekkunar…but I know there’s a repair-drone lying around here somewhere that should have some tools that’ll work on your, ah, star-racer.” He chuckled before adding “This brings me back to the time Queen Melenor dragged us all out to the interplanetary racing competition in the Valentia Quadrant—now that was some cutthroat competition! Of course, it was right after some loopholes in the rules became known but hadn’t gotten around to being written out, so all the teams were running around procuring all sorts of upgrades for their ships…”
Upgrades. Suddenly, a few half-forgotten plans came racing back to mind. “Koji, the upgrade plans!”
Koji looked lost for a few seconds. “The upgrade plans? What about the—oh!”
They hadn’t had the time to even think about the upgrade plans on Alwas, but now they did have time; why just repair the Arrow when they could also improve her at the same time?
Coran paused, tilting his head slightly to one side in a manner that indicated they’d lost him, but before Stan could say anything the door sounded for the third time, this time preceding both Jordan and Shiro coming in. “So this is where the hangar is,” the former muttered.
The latter caught sight of them first. “Have any of you seen Molly?”
“No,” Koji replied, enthusiasm fading into concern. “Why?”
“I think we might’ve just gone through maybe half of this place trying to find her,” Jordan replied, brow furrowed. Then he asked “Hey, uh, is her rocket-seat in the Arrow?”
Stan looked over the remains of the cockpit’s glass covering (that had to get replaced too) before answering “No, it’s not. So she’s probably not even in here.”
“Coran, do these suits have any sort of tracking beacon?” Shiro asked.
“They do, but I’m not sure if the castle’s functional enough to make use of them. A full system reboot can take up to twenty vargas, barring any hiccups. We’ll have to go check.” He glanced back at Stan and Koji. “Good conversation boys, and I’m glad to see you’ve settled your dispute. You’ll have to tell me more about your Earth ships some other time!”
Both he and Shiro were gone from the hangar shortly after, leaving the three others standing there quietly for a short time. “He seems okay,” Stan said finally, scratching at the back of his head. Koji nodded, whereas Jordan made a neutral sound.
“He’s better than Miss High-and-Mighty, at least,” the gunner mumbled. Chances were that he was referring to Allura.
Koji looked sideways at him. “You know she and Coran woke up from a stasis yesterday to find out that their whole planet got destroyed a long time ago, right?”
Jordan looked back at him, and then at the floor. For a few seconds, one of his eyebrows twitched a bit, before he hissed in a breath and blurted “Well I guess anyone would act like a jerk after that.”
Koji really did have a point in saying that, now that Stan was thinking about it too. Jordan looked between the two of them then uncertainly, before asking, “You guys okay now?”
“Yeah,” Stan replied, after glancing down at Koji. “Just an off-day, I guess.” Koji muttered something that Stan didn’t catch completely, but it sounded like an agreement.
Stan looked back at the empty cockpit. Maybe we should just put a new steering column in while we’re at it. One with an adjustable seat. And now that his thoughts were more on Molly, Stan found himself wondering just what made her run off like that, too.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“Princess?” Coran’s voice broke Allura out of her focus on the castle’s systems; she started slightly before turning to face him. “I was wondering if the castle can get a read on Molly’s location.”
“She’s not inside?”
“Not from what Jordan and I could find, no,” Shiro replied; he’d been standing a ways behind Coran, so Allura hadn’t noticed him until he’d spoken up.
Frowning, she turned to the display screens, bringing up the necessary one. “It looks like she’s on the nearby shoreline. There’s a path down the cliff leading to it, so you shouldn’t need the Black Lion.” He picked up on the silent request, nodding and turning to leave.
For a few doboshes after that, the only sounds heard were those from the consoles, before Coran cleared his throat quietly. “While we’re on the subject of the paladins, princess—I think Shiro and Jordan might be the only ones who understand the situation at least halfway.”
Allura looked at him again for a few long ticks, and then back at the screens. The various progress bars were moving at an infuriatingly-slow pace. “You think I was too harsh on them today.”
“Well, I wouldn’t say harsh, but, uh…maybe a little.”
She sighed, glancing over her shoulder at him again. “Coran, Zarkon’s had ten-thousand decaphoebs to prepare for us. We can’t afford to go easy on them. They still haven’t managed to form Voltron!” Even with just the one battlecruiser, it was worryingly obvious how far the Galra had advanced in terms of technology.
They just didn’t have the time to go easy on them.
Coran winced slightly. “You’re not entirely wrong about that…” “But?” Allura could sense that word hanging unsaid.
“But they aren’t the paladins of old,” the adviser reminded gently. “Their predecessors had years of experience before the Lions were even built. These five don’t.”
Allura bit her lip. Coran was right—Shiro must have had some experience, with how he’d handled the prior quintant’s situation, but the rest of them had just been following his orders. “What are we supposed to do, then?”
“I’m sure we’ll all work something out along the way,” Coran said optimistically. “Like my pop-pop always said, there’s more than one way to convince a duflax to fly!” Despite the tension, Allura heard herself chuckle at that.
She knew Jordan’s primary issue already—he was terrified of piloting the Blue Lion. True, he’d gotten into the cockpit somewhat willingly that morning, but he had a long road ahead of him.
It was clear at first glance that Koji wasn’t one for physical exertion, given his slim build, but it was also apparent that he had both a keen mind and an aptitude for learning new things. The Green Lion had stepped in and sheepishly excused his disappearance earlier in the day with some guilt on her end, with a question having an answer no one but the Lions themselves could understand. (Allura vaguely recalled her father having attempted to ask that same question to the Lions, earning a similar result.)
Stan, she couldn’t be too sure of yet. He seemed almost laidback in how he was accepting the changes, though there seemed to be some level of belligerence present.
The Yellow Lion was very much the same way at the time, at least in relation to Allura. From what she could tell with the rudimentary link she had to him, he was still doing something not unlike testing the waters, and that left her feeling uneasy. Training would get absolutely nowhere if a bond with the Lion wasn’t present.
And Molly…from what Allura had seen of her so far, she was an amazing pilot, even at her young age—and her age was still a sore subject. King Alfor had been centuries older, and he hadn’t been able to stand against Zarkon, so how could a child?
She felt a hand on her shoulder, before Coran said “Things will work out in the end, princess. Just have faith in the new paladins. They’ll get there eventually.”
Allura nodded slowly. “I’ll…I’ll try. Thank you, Coran.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Either the day seemed to have passed faster than they usually did, or Arusian days were just shorter. Either way, the sky was bright orange by the time he made it to the end of the crude road that had been hewn along the bluff that the castle was set on, leading all the way down to the shoreline.
The rock hadn’t even fully transitioned to sand before he was able to hear music, more likely from Molly’s discman. She didn’t seem to notice him approaching, so he stopped a few feet away and waited for the song to end. Surprisingly, the mice were with her—three of them were sitting on the sand looking up at her, while the fourth one was on her shoulder.
The sound faded out after a bit, with Molly moving to hit a button on the device before asking “Did you guys like it?” A series of squeaks came in response that Shiro vaguely interpreted as agreements. Then Molly looked up a bit more, and started fiercely. “Shiro? Wh-What are you doing out here?”
“Looking for you,” he replied calmly, before frowning a bit. “Jordan was worried about you.”
“I…oh.” She looked confused for a few seconds, as though she’d expected a harsher response, before standing up. “Wait, how long was I out here?”
“At least an hour. We should probably get back to the castle.”
Molly didn’t say anything, instead starting toward the path after picking up the other three mice. The walk was silent, at least until roughly the halfway point; Shiro decided to take a shot in the dark, asking “Is everything alright?”
She paused mid-step. “I’m fine. I just needed some space.”
Evasiveness at its finest, and Shiro momentarily found himself thinking of Keith. I wonder how he’s doing.
Probably not well, if the Kerberos Mission had been reported as a complete failure with the entire team being lost, and that thought sent an unpleasant feeling through Shiro. (No, Keith would not have taken that well at all.)
Either way, it was likely that Molly wouldn’t talk about it until she was ready to. Shiro just hoped they had the time necessary.
The others were already in the dining hall when they got there, after making a detour to the hangar so Molly could leave the rocket-seat by the Arrow, and Jordan stood up when he noticed them. “Molly, uh—about earlier…”
She tensed, and he stopped at noticing that, instead opting for sitting down again. Stan and Koji remained quiet, although they exchanged a quick glance. Overlooking the dispute of earlier, the mechanics worked fantastically well together, and Molly and Jordan appeared to be fairly familiar with one another.
But aside from that? Shiro hadn’t seen much even in terms of interaction outside of that divide, which indicated that Coran’s insistence on team-bonding exercises, as unorthodox as they were, might be sorely needed.
Coran himself had observed the exchange quietly from where he’d been sitting, and once dinner was over with, he ushered them all up to the bridge. Allura glanced over her shoulder at them from where she was working on something before turning to face them fully, clearing her throat, standing up straighter and holding her arms firmly at her sides.
“I owe you all an apology,” she started, voice even. “I was overly harsh on the five of you today. The Lions may have chosen you all to be their Paladins, but you’ve also had a lot thrust upon you in a very short amount of time, and have found yourselves very, very far from home.”
“I think all of us understand that, Princess,” Shiro said, glancing sideways at the others. Stan and Koji turned their attention to the floor, and Molly mumbled something under her breath. Jordan remained stubbornly silent, glaring to the side.
“But you must understand the severity of our situation,” Allura went on, and the starmap flickered into view as the windows blacked out. Judging by the amounts of swirled and elliptical shapes Shiro could see, it was the entire thing.
She hit another key, and a vast majority of the map changed in color from blue to an orange-red color.
The change of atmosphere in the room was instant. “Those the distress signals you were talking about this morning?” Stan asked uneasily.
“I’m afraid so,” Allura confirmed solemnly. Jordan cursed quietly, face slackening in dismay, and Koji paled. Shiro felt a prick of subdued anger from Black in the back of his mind. “Our goal is to free all of those planets and systems from Zarkon’s control—which means we have a lot of work ahead of us.”
Coran cleared his throat to get their attention, and offered a small, silver medicinal capsule to each of them. “You all looked ready to fall asleep on your feet earlier, so I’m going to assume last night wasn’t very restful,” he said upon seeing their bemused looks. “Just don’t take them until you’re fully prepared to go to sleep, because you’ll be out faster than an angry eakhyst can sprint!”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
It was almost too much of a relief to finally flop down onto the bed, because today had been exhausting in more ways than one. Physically, it was because she’d woken up so many times the night before she had lost count, and then had to fight through the gauntlet that was today.
Mentally, it was a different story altogether. It hadn’t seemed like anyone had picked up on anything important earlier, which was a huge relief.
Them having to figure out how to “coordinate their thoughts” had an alarming implication to begin with—but it wasn’t just an implication. The whole “mind-meld” thing was a constant affliction, and that was right up there with Eva not knowing what happened to her dad or to Rick, if not higher than that.
Never mind the fact that there were maybe at least a thousand lightyears between them now. She bit her lip, pushing the thought from her mind. So us being a family again has to wait a while longer. That—I can deal with that. I dealt with ten years already.
Then there was what Allura had showed them. Something about seeing most of the map light up orange like that had been frightening, somehow, but Eva wasn’t exactly sure why.
At the same time, the fact that all that orange represented which parts of space were inhabited by extremely-hostile aliens that might even have the Crogs outgunned might’ve been part of it.
She wasn’t sure how long she ended up staring at the ceiling, but she was brought back to the present by a mental poke from Red—and the next thing she knew, she was reliving something. Specifically, when she had first made use of her “Molly” alias.
Which she had not told Red about.
“H-Hey, I never said you could pick through my head!” Eva protested aloud, glaring at the ceiling now, even though it was really aimed at the Lion. Red replied with a wearily-exasperated feeling.
It made an unfortunate amount of sense that it would be next to impossible to keep something secret from a sentient robotic lion that was sharing headspace with her, and Eva stifled a groan when that hit her.
Red then threw a few rapid-fire images at her: Jordan, Stan, Koji, Shiro, Allura, Coran, and the view of the castle they’d had when returning to Arus after getting the Yellow Lion. It was followed by another disconcertingly-realistic flashback.
“The name’s Ev—it’s Molly, got it Gunner Boy?”
Eva sat up. “What’re you trying to say?” She actually did have an idea on what the Lion was getting at, but she didn’t like it one bit.
Red psychically rolled his nonexistent eyes, before the first two-and-a-half words were repeated, followed by Coran’s words of “There can’t be any secrets between you.”
Eva’s following act of defiance was to down the capsule Coran had provided them each with, because Red couldn’t bother her about this if she was asleep. The spike of annoyance from the Lion when he realized what she did was all too noticeable.
The first thing she noted about it was that it had a flavoring akin to a bizarre cross between peaches and overcooked spinach.
The second thing was that an angry eakhyst was extremely fast.
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Finding Kurt Hummel: The Break-Up
Masterpost
4x04: The Break-Up
Alright - time to rip off the Band-Aid. It’s been four and a half years, and I think that’s been ample enough time to revisit this episode with a clear head and an open mind.
This episode, though, man. It split an already fracturing fandom in half, and it really never recovered. And I think stories about fandom and what went on at the time really out does the story here itself.
I will say, though as an aside, that season 4 was meant to be a new and fresh series -- the introduction of the Newbies symbolizes that. The whole idea of makeovers symbolizes that. And hitting the self-destruct button on all the popular couples was a symbol of that. From what I can tell, the writers wanted a fresh start with season 4.
And while I like season 4 (more than season 3), and while I think that Klaine needed some actual story, I don’t think the mentality that the show needed to start over was the best one for the longevity of the show. However, there’s another time and place for that discussion. I’m mainly focusing on the story itself here.
Anyway, it’s funny to me -- that there really isn’t /that/ much Klaine in this episode. Just enough to do the damage it did, and shake up the the couple -- who never really fully come back together until the end of the series. It’s a fascinating and frustrating arc - and here we go.....
Some Introductory Notes
Before we get into the Kurt stuff -- something I need to add.
The paralleling of Finchel. One thing that does outright frustrate me is that Klaine doesn’t get to be their own story. No, Finchel and Klaine have very different things going on within their relationships, I get that. But the thing is -- Finchel gets meatier things to do. I understand that they’re the A-Couple, and that the show wants to do more with them, therefore they get better development. But selfishly, as a Klainer, throughout the season it’s difficult seeing Finn and Rachel get developed conversations while Kurt and Blaine get a watered down version of a similar thing. But more than that -- this is one time I wish Glee wasn’t so hell bent on paralleling all their stories -- because everyone’s stories work better on their own, not being tied to someone else’s.
I would say Brittana had it easier being a more individual story, but they were neglected for a long, long time after this, so you know, issues everywhere, lol.
Brunch
Before we jump to Kurt -- Blaine and Brittany are lamenting about their relationships in the opening sequence. Blaine talks about remembering when every day felt like Valentine’s Day. And that’s where I think that both Kurt and Blaine fail a little bit. Relationships are not always going to feel like Valentine’s Day. Sometimes they’ll be hard. A lot of times not. But sometimes yes. And this reliance on how everything is perfect -- how everything is their storybook romance -- is what does them both in. It doesn’t allow for either of them to make mistakes.
We open Kurt’s story with him cooking breakfast -- and is in a relatively good mood. Oh, bb, the fact that you are so unaware of what’s going to happen in the next few days makes this even more heartbreaking.
I need to note that Kurt wore earplugs to bed -- as he did probably did in high school cause he did not want or need to hear any of /that/.
But anyway -- Kurt senses there’s some major drama about to happen in Finchel land, and he has no desire to be any part of that. He’s gonna go sneak off to the park and watch drug deals, lol.
BTW - during the next Brittana scene, there’s some Kurt shade, as Santana talks about how improbable it was for Kurt to get the internship. The show knows, sometimes, when it’s being ridiculous. And as I said in the previous episode, it’s not about realism. It’s about the character story.
Call Waiting
While Kurt’s gonna somewhat fuck this moment up -- I’d like to point out that he’s the one who called Blaine. Also - Blaine’s pic of Kurt is Kurt’s student election campaign poster.
Alright - so this one little scene has a lot packed into it.
First of all -- you can tell they’re at least trying. They have phone dates, that I assume they both set up. But I’m guessing that Kurt -- being caught up with this crazy new job, and having to take care of phones for Vogue.com, probably is keeping him understandably busy.
Yes. This scene points out that going out in the real world after high school is different. You have more responsibilities. And things that were important in high school seem smaller when you go off to college.
Blaine, however, is still a year behind, and still in that world that Kurt left. And Blaine is not handling things well on his own. As he says often -- he’s a bit lost, and unsure what to do on his own. But this is also where the fear of losing Kurt comes to head. Blaine’s insecurities and self-doubt are all rolled into one, and couple that with Kurt being carried away with this new life brings Blaine to the (incorrect) conclusion that Kurt doesn’t need (or want) him anymore. And that his relationship is done.
Kurt misses Blaine. There’s a lot in his facial expressions that show he really does. When Blaine lists off all the things he misses doing with Kurt (note - the implication that they both miss the emotional and physical parts of their relationship (my god, they’re allowed to mention they have sex)) Kurt is right there with him, frustrated by the situation, too.
But I think the thing that is somewhat missed during these break-up discussions is that Kurt isn’t exactly handling all of this well either. Kurt trying to express to Blaine that with the absence of NYADA he has to find some direction, and Vogue.com might be that opportunity that he shouldn’t miss, isn’t exactly the easiest conversation. (Not to mention that Kurt doesn’t seem to do well in general when Blaine gets overly clingy.)
Also - Blaine’s looking for some kind of comfort, and instead Kurt’s hanging up on him to get the latest gossip from Joan Didion. Not cool, Kurt.
But -- as I’m sure I’m being a broken record -- neither is dealing with this long distance stress well. Blaine is under the impression that the worst has happened, Kurt has forgotten about him, and his relationship is over. Meanwhile, Kurt is ignoring the issues as much as possible, believing these things will all magically work out. Nope to both.
Also - Blaine’s ILU as Kurt hangs up. Ouch.
Haunted
Alright - so this is the part that’s hard for me to untangle because we’re in Blaine’s brain here -- and I’m not always the best a figuring his head out.
Blaine’s singing this duet with Finn -- and it’s about the two of them feeling out of place and out of sync with their significant other. And Blaine’s haunted by the Kurt he sees in his head - this vision of Kurt from when they first met (Vision Kurt is wearing the same outfit from Never Been Kissed). There was a time, in Blaine’s head, when everything was perfect and man he’d like to go back to that time so he can feel okay.
But interestingly, Vision Kurt is season 4 Kurt, too. A Kurt who has changed, and is not the same person that Blaine used to know. He’s almost this foreign entity that seems like he’s judging Blaine.
So, here’s my interpretation (which Blaine stans can correct me on if I’m totally off). Through the circumstances of his life and his type of personality, Blaine craves emotional validation and is the type of person who needs to be told (and told again) that he’s valuable and needed and wanted and worth being with, etc. And Kurt used to feed that emotional neediness on a regular basis when it was the two of them and they did everything together.
Now that Kurt’s gone, Blaine is not getting that reassurance on a regular basis and because of that he feels lost. He tries reach out to Kurt (as shown at the beginning of the sequence) but Kurt’s not there. So Blaine decides to take the easy path (the dark side!!) and find someone who will quickly fill that validation. And this is where Eli C and the cheating comes in. Maybe if he can find that intimacy with someone else he’ll be able to feel better -- and it will help take away the sting of feeling left behind by Kurt.
It’s also a rash decision, btw, one where Blaine clearly didn’t think it all the way through. Because it’s really going to blow up in his face. But -- here’s my thing, there are a lot of things that go into this, and it’s even more complicated, I think, than I’m giving it credit for. But I’m going to move on and get back to Kurt, since it is my Kurt meta. I’m hoping that when I do the podcast, lots of smart Blaine fans will help me untangle this further.
Callbacks
So, I guess Kurt decided it was fine to go play third wheel with Finn and Rachel, lol? But anyway - Kurt’s getting all dressed up to go sing at a bar. I don’t know much about clothing meta, but I’m sure someone can discuss the purpose of black and red in the wardrobe. Not to mention, I read something about the usage of mirrors in this episode, but I don’t remember what.
I will say -- I never thought about the name Callbacks before, but I think it’s intentional - not just because of the connotation to the theater world, but because this is a callback to the good ole days for Finchel and Klaine. And yet, it’s not the good ole days anymore.
This is totally the face of someone who is unhappy their boyfriend showed up unexpectedly. (Actually - the longer I stare at it, the creepier it gets, lol)
Also - remember that meme of people who bring foliage to the loft means bad things? Blaine brings roses -- this is not going to be good.
I don’t know what’s with me and taking ridiculous screencaps. But I love Kurt hiding behind his flowers. (He’s actually smelling them.)
But man - I mean, best night ever, right? His boyfriend is there unexpectedly. (And they share a kiss -- why does stupid Rachel have to interrupt that?) His brother is there. They’re gonna go singing. Best night ever, right?
They go to Callbacks, which is so, so pretty. I love all the Christmas lights.
And, oh Kurt. He really just doesn’t get it. He’s happy Blaine’s there and they can start making their New York memories. He does see that Blaine’s sad -- he’s obviously but not blind. But he has no idea that Blaine’s been struggling to the extent that he’s been struggling. Kind of like in Dance With Somebody. Kurt sometimes doesn’t get it until Blaine spells it out for him.
And I would like to state right here that while I do think its both of their issues that lead to this break up, while I do think Kurt was (unintentionally) being neglectful of his relationship -- as Blaine says himself in DWS -- ‘talk to me, tell me you’re unhappy, but don’t cheat on me.’ And I didn’t bring that up to throw back in Blaine’s face (I kind of hated that when people did that) - it’s more of -- this is a lot more difficult when you’re on the other side of the fence.
And these two have always had issues with communication. Tell each other your feelings you stupid boys!!!
Oh Kurt -- you’re just in such a happy place before all this goes down.
Blaine, as he sits down at the piano, says he’s going to sing a song -- the same song he sang when he first met the love of his life. A song that has become very much their song, and is representative of this fairy tale romance they have going. And look at Kurt’s face -- he’s over-joyous that Blaine’s singing this song. He loves this. He loves that it’s supposed to be a romantic overture yet again.
There’s a lot of love and reflection on Kurt’s face as Blaine starts singing.
And this might be a good place to talk about a misstep Kurt has within his relationship. Blaine has been all these wonderful things for Kurt. His prince, his knight, his first kiss, his first love. They’ve shared so, so many intimate moments together. But -- Kurt sometimes has trouble seeing Blaine as a real boy -- one who isn’t perfect, who won’t just wait around for him when Kurt needs him, who has troubles and issues and is going through something a bit bigger than Kurt understands.
But this song -- this break down that Blaine has is the first time Kurt really, really gets to see first hand that his relationship is not fairy tale perfect. The illusion is coming apart.
This scene, this rendition of Teenage Dream, is one of the most powerful and heartbreaking scenes in the entire show. (I mean, Kudos to Darren Criss for this -- I think it’s one of his best acted scenes in the show.) It’s ironic in so many ways, as the performance just goes off the rails. It’s fascinating how Blaine just breaks down -- he is no Disney prince here. He’s a slobbering mess, rushing through the whole thing because it’s all too painful. And man, how many of these lines are just plain ironic now?
And the longer it goes on, the more Kurt knows that things are wrong, that something is terribly, utterly wrong, though there’s confusion in his expressions as well. What the fuck happened? He doesn’t know. But this isn’t the Blaine he’s used to. And he doesn’t really know what is going on.
Not Really a Walk in the Park
You guys remember when this scene was filmed, and there were people who witnessed it first hand (why did they shoot this in public?) and that was a sucky night for fandom? At least Chris and Darren seemed to have fun, lol.
Anyway -- I need to bring up American Horror Story for a second. Why? Because at the time Ryan Murphy was writing the first season of that. And in that season, at the beginning, the husband cheats on the wife, and the scene where the wife confronts the husband is almost exactly verbatim this next Klaine scene. It, like, freaked me out when I watched it -- and then I checked the dates and that AHS episode was written before this.
This whole cheating thing is a trope that Ryan Murphy goes back to again, and again. I don’t know why. But I feel like that framework should be kept in mind when discussing RM’s projects. I can’t not look at it in that light. And while we can talk about legit reasons as to why Blaine decided to cheat -- I feel like it can’t be stressed enough that this is also a trope that’s indicative of Ryan Murphy -- and that he has a tendency to write all his couples this way. And that cheating in RM’s world is somewhat a different thing than cheating in the real world.
But on the bright side, that AHS couple worked it out in the end. And so will Klaine.
Getting back to the scene....
When we start out, there’s a physical distance between the two of them. They’re not holding hands, Blaine has his hands in his pockets. Kurt’s unsure how to act. I’m guessing this relationship has never felt this awkward for either of them. And Kurt can’t avoid the inevitable forever -- so addresses the subject straight on.
Kurt’s so nervous as he asks Blaine what’s going on. He can feel it, feel that this is not going to be a fun conversation.
And then Blaine says he was with someone - and the bottom just drops out completely. Because out of all the things he was worried about -- Kurt probably never thought that Blaine would say that.
Oh man, do these two know how to hurt each other in the worst ways.
To Blaine, removing the emotional intimacy has been the worst. But to Kurt -- removing physical intimacy has always brought about his insecurities. As we’ve often talked about, touch is a huge thing to Kurt. He doesn’t let anyone in, he doesn’t let just anyone touch him. And here’s this boy who Kurt’s let in, and having that connection, not just that emotional connection but the physical connection - where sex and love are intertwined and where Blaine being close to him was not only Kurt’s way of knowing he was valuable but Kurt showing how vulnerable he can be, of letting Blaine into his heart, is incredibly important.
And here Blaine says that no only has he had that physical intimacy with someone else, but he shared something Kurt considers sacred with a person who doesn’t really matter. (Kurt is first fearful that it was Sebastian -- someone who has always brought about Kurt’s insecurities. But having it be someone faceless. Someone who doesn’t ultimately matter is almost worse.)
And this just shatters Kurt. The person he thought he loved and knew more than anyone else in the world, he doesn’t know any more. Because never in a million years did he ever think Blaine could hurt him so deeply.
The temptations line by Kurt is really interesting here. Did have Kurt have other people hitting on him? Maybe? Maybe not. But this goes to Kurt believing that his relationship would be fine without tending to it. Kurt’s fine with commitment. There could be one guy, there could be fifty. He loves Blaine, he’s with Blaine, that’s all that matters. And he’s secure with that. But, love and relationships are more than just believing everything’s going to be okay as Kurt finds out here.
I’ve seen this comment floating around, and I agree with the assessment -- usually the show lets Kurt pretty cry. Kurt’s break down here is not pretty. It’s downright ugly crying. (And this is where I give Chris kudos for his acting. Damn, I can’t imagine going to that place take after take.)
Anyway - it’s fascinating that everything changes from this moment forward. No more fairy tale romance. Welcome to the adult world kiddos.
So -- instead of extending the argument -- we move into the song Don’t Speak. Which was, apparently, Darren Criss’s suggestion. Thanks Darren. Lol.
It works well for this group of singers -- it’s heart-wrenching and works well for both of these couples. It’s not a personal favorite, because this song depresses me to no end, but it works.
Breaking it down a little --
Blaine sings:
I really feel That I'm losing my best friend I can't believe this could be The end
That stands out to Blaine’s headspace. It’s not just about the romantic relationship -- it’s the fact that the friendship isn’t intact as it once was either. And I think that’s a huge element that they both miss throughout this break up.
Kurt (with Rachel):
It looks as though you're letting go And if it's real, well, I don't want to know
It’s interesting -- because Kurt, when things get emotionally difficult, had a tendency to not deal with them head on. Not until he’s forced to, really.
Kurt and Blaine:
Don't speak I know what you're thinking I don't need your reasons Don't tell me, cause it hurts
This is the chorus and the main point of the song. Neither of them really want to deal with it because it sucks. It’s literally the worse. And yet -- you have to eventually deal with it anyway.
Kurt (with Finn):
Our memories, well, they can be inviting But some are altogether mighty frightening
This is interesting -- I think it’s that the memories aren’t as comforting as they once were. For Kurt -- everything he once believed was true and good is now tainted, and how do you look back on that fondly? Right now he can’t.
Blaine (with Rachel):
As we die, both you and I With my head in my hands, I sit and cry
Oh, Blaine -- this speaks to his helplessness at this point.
Hey - remember when we wanted Klaine in bed together and they gave us this? FU RIB!
I actually really like the cinematography out in the park. That shot with Blaine and Kurt lined up but not actually facing each other is pretty powerful - as it shows where they are now in relation to each other. The stuff in the beds, eh, not a fan of the split screen stuff. Plus, oy, Finchel-ness.
I can’t really imagine how the rest of the night went, tbh. I’m shocked Kurt didn’t kick Blaine to the couch. But I can only imagine there was a lot of crying, and a lot of not facing each other, and little to no sleep. And then Kurt left and went into the other room to think....
In Mourning
I’m guessing Kurt’s been in that chair for a long time. He tells Finn that he feels like he’s going to die. And that six months ago, he would have never guessed this would have happened. Well no -- you never thought this was going to happen at all. It’s called life, and life is throwing curveballs.
Kurt’s waiting up for Blaine -- but later Blaine will say that he left without Kurt talking to him. What gives? Well -- Kurt’s so hurt, and so shattered, and it’s a lot to process and take in and I can imagine that even though I think Kurt wants to yell and scream and fight, he’s also emotionally exhausted. What does he really have to say in right this second? You can’t undo things that have already happened, nothing is going to magically make it all feel better. So yeah -- I can see Kurt wanting to say so many things, but in the end, it’s easier to just let Blaine go.
I read some great meta once, and I wish I had a source to back it up, that Kurt doesn’t feel like Kurt here. And someone wrote about why. Because Chris usually plays Kurt as poised and controlled in his actions. And none of that is here. But this is a Kurt who is emotionally raw and defeated. He’s just kind of in a state of existing. His heart is broken, his world doesn’t make sense anymore -- he’s just there. (Man -- I’ll have to see if I can find it -- cause whoever wrote it, wrote a much more eloquent analysis than I ever could.)
If this episode wasn’t already depressing enough -- consider this.... This is the last time Finn and Kurt have a scene together. And it’s a little chilling when you think that Kurt’s wearing black, and telling Finn goodbye as he leaves the loft quietly. Obvious, I’m texturing this on in hindsight. But it’s already a bittersweet moment. It’s heartbreaking when looking back.
I always wished they did a little more with Kurt and Finn as brothers than what they did. But I’m, weirdly, glad they had this little moment as their last scene.
///
I have to mention here that we go back to McKinley for a while because Newbie/Jarley drama. And here’s my thing -- this feels so, so jarring compared to the rest of the episode. Glee season 4, when not talking about the newbies, kind of goes back to that season 1 adult grittiness. And all the emotions and break up stuff feels like it’s apart of that. Stopping midway to do a story about high school students most of us don’t care for yet (or ever) is frustrating -- and really highlights the disconnect between these two different kind of stories.
Also a note about the Left Behind thing. I get that this is supposed to be a realization of the theme -- being left behind by someone, as Finn, Blaine, and Brittany are all feeling that. But did we have to waste so much time with it being a literal thing?
Also, meanwhile there’s mild trouble with Wemma. So they get in an argument. While I’m glad they didn’t break up, yet again, it’s obvious they just wanted to stick them into the final group number. We could have done without the newbie stuff and had Wemma get an actual story for it to make more sense.
A Metaphor
Well -- by the time Kurt gets back to work, he’s his composed self again. Something small that fascinates me -- Kurt’s staring deeply at this note from Blaine, and when his coworker Chase comes in, Kurt jumps a little, startled that his thoughts have been interrupted. And then Kurt closes off. He doesn’t give Chase details about what happened, he doesn’t even make eye contact. Kurt goes inward while he hurts, and takes pain on his own.
He tells Chase:
Kurt: I’m okay. I’ll be okay.
He’s already entering this defiant mode. He wants to be fine -- he wants all the pain to stop and not to be able to think about it. Of course, he’s not. As much as he wants it to, the pain of this break up is deep, and isn’t going to magically go away. It’s going to take a lot of time and a lot of healing before Kurt really is fine. But meanwhile, he’s going to try his damnedest to present himself as fine.
Kurt trying to be fine while trying not to break down crying. Oh, bb.
Also this exchange:
Chase: Is he cute? Kurt: The cutest.
You don’t magically fall out of love with someone when these things happen. (Not that I wanted Kurt to do that -- but I’m just trying to show the complexity of the situation here.) Yes, Blaine hurt Kurt very deeply. But Blaine also loved Kurt very deeply, and Kurt loved him very deeply, and those feelings are very intertwined. And I feel like that’s an important comment to make -- cause it’ll come back later. But also because, Kurt can claim he’s fine all he wants, that doesn’t make him actually feel fine.
So someone might yell at me if I don’t mention the flowers. Yes, yes, they’re a call back to Asian F -- when Kurt gave Blaine flowers. Red and Yellow mean friendship and love and a deep connection. Oh, a stab in the heart for sure.
But -- there are two other big things (that irk me a little) that I need to point out before we leave this scene.
First of all, Blaine’s note. I kind of hate it -- because it feels juvenile and belittling of the severity of what Blaine did. The note doesn’t feel like Blaine, and I just don’t like it.
Secondly -- it took me forever to figure this out, but Kurt throwing the note away is a metaphor for Kurt dumping Blaine. That’s when the Klaine v.1 ends. With a metaphor. And it bugs me. Because both Brittana and Finchel get dialogue -- actual scenes that show that their relationships are over. And Klaine gets a metaphor.
And no, I don’t know what I would have wanted instead. And in some ways, Klaine gets better things. Their story is the one that gets the most development in season 4. They’re the first ones back to each other. They get way more focus than Brittana will ever get, and more interaction than Finchel. Their relationship is the least dead? But I suppose there’s that lingering feeling, that I suppose isn’t that fair to say, like the Tongue Tied montage -- I wanted Klaine to have just a little something more.
////
Kurt isn’t in the episode again until the end. But before I get there, a couple of points.
1. When Blaine returns to McKinley he chats a little with Finn -- and Finn (understandably, I may add) berates him for hurting Kurt. But my heart breaks for Blaine. Because Finn has come back home too, but he has a support system -- he has his parents, and Will and all the kids look happy to see him. Blaine is alone. Really alone. Oh, bb. I’m glad you get Sam soon.
2. Brittana -- I like the scene that they get at the end. It’s funny, as much as they leave it open ended (this isn’t an official break up) I always felt like it was the most definitive break up of the three. In fact, until they actually got back together in season 5, I thought maybe the show was done with Brittana for good. (I have to wonder how much fan involvement had something to do with them getting back together.)
3. Finchel -- I have many thoughts about Finchel. Idk - if you guys are interested, I’ll write up a post. Long story short - I like their conversation (minus a couple small things) at the end and they were definitely /done/ for a long time. (The weren’t supposed to get back together until the end of the series.)
Back to the Start
The ending group number is The Scientist. And, well, damn, if this isn’t the perfect ending song for this episode -- as it really does well to encompass all of the issues among these couples. (I suppose, though, it helps when the show purposely gives these couples similar issues and themes to work through.) It’s an incredibly heart-wrenching and effective performance.
This song is a reflection of better days and how easy it can be in the beginning and harder as it goes along. (It’s about a lot of things, I’m simplifying)
But Kurt’s verse:
I was just guessing At numbers and figures Pulling the puzzles apart
Well, FU again RIB -- as obviously this is a nod to the line in Teenage Dream about being each other’s missing puzzle pieces.
I should also mention the flashbacks, as there was an uproar about this -- which I don’t believe was unjust. Finchel and Wemma (who don’t really even have a big conflict in this episode) get a flashback to their first kiss, while Klaine and Brittana noticeably don’t get kisses but other moments. And with Klaine I sorta by, since that was back to their start. But still -- if you’re gonna show couples kissing, show them all. C’mon, Glee. Don’t piss us off even further. Klaine’s first kiss would have worked just fine here.
But anywya... But man, if there isn’t some juicy Kurt-related stuff to sink my teeth into. Because this is just ‘the incident’ -- and now we have all the repercussions.
No one ever said it would be this hard Oh, take me back to the start
And thus, the show has officially hit the reset button. Welcome to a new world, guys. It’s not gonna be easy.
#finding kh#kurt hummel#Did I miss anything?#Probably#I'm emotionally exhausted after doing this for five hours#I'm gonna go bake a cake now
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