#HE MEANS THE ABSOLUTE WORLD TO ME THIS IS SO DEEPLY SRS TO ME AND MY HOUSEHOLD | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

joezworld · 4 years ago

Note

📁

Specifically, any headcanons of the Sodor Engines interacting with the internet, or the internet in general?

For some reason, I’d imagine that podcasts and the like are popular among vehicles in general.

That is a question that I've been working on for some time - because I'm workshopping my own Tornado headcanon (and boy oh boy does she use the internet a lot) - but I have some ideas for the Sodor engines as well:

Henry is probably the most "plugged in" engine on the island, weirdly enough. One of his drivers gave him an iPod back in the early 2000s, and kindly preloaded it with a bunch of torrented music.

BTW, that works because all the engines are now equipped with automatic train warning systems, and the little on-board computer has a USB port - as a nice side effect it allows music players to work with the engines in the same way as bone-conducting headphones do. The computer also acts as some kind of computer interface, which I am not going to explain how that works because Jesus Christ I don’t know how it does either.

Henry has managed to upgrade his iPod a few times since thanks to hand-me-down units from NWR staff, so he eventually got his buffers on a wifi-enabled iPod Touch and now downloads new music from the station wifi. He does listen to podcasts, but as every other engine will tell you, you could show Henry ten thousand new and exciting songs from the best artists in the world, and his top ten played songs are still going to be Genesis, Phil Collins, and Yes. Bear considers it a win that he managed to convince Henry to regularly listen to Rush after a mere twenty years of convincing.

Mavis and Daisy listen to a very interesting program called The News, because as stated elsewhere, they invest a shitload of money and need to be on top of things. Thomas and Percy wish that Daisy would use headphones or something similar to that, instead of listening to Bloomberg TV at loud volumes in the middle of the night. Toby frankly doesn’t mind, as it’s very nice to be kept up-to-date on the outside world.

In a move that surprises no-one, Bill and Ben have a podcast where they talk about whatever they think about at that moment - usually horse-racing, investing, and clay mining. As such, they have a wide audience, almost none of whom know that they’re that Bill and Ben, as their podcast is audio-only.

In an also unsurprising move, Edward and BoCo have been made very much aware that Bill and Ben have a podcast, but are still unsure as to what the hell a podcast is, despite being frequent guests on it.

Of the main line diesels, only Bear has shown any real interest in the internet, and was immediately put in charge of the Amazon Alexa when a unit was installed in the diesel shed. He also has an iPod that he got for Christmas a few years back. (The NWR has a very good personal electronics recycling program called give it to Henry, he’ll make use it.)

Bear does listen to podcasts as well as music, but his choices are so insufferably boring that even Henry refuses to listen to them. (I don’t really listen to podcasts - despite making one - so insert the most boring podcast you can think of here.)

As for other internet uses...

Gordon is very up-to-date on the newest social media trends - somehow - but only really cares when he is involved. He won’t admit it, but he’s been trying to figure out how to work a camera/selfie stick for some time so he can start up his own Instagram account. So far he has been unsuccessful, but one day he will manage it.

James has had an ongoing feud with his own Wikipedia page for about a decade now. The article sourced most of its information about his construction off of some out-of-print book about the L&Y. The book in question is accurate about James’ class, but not James himself - as he was a prototype engine. There’s no other primary sources available, so the very dedicated Wikipedia mod who created the page won’t change it - no matter how much James complains that he was there! He knows what happened!

Every now and again a TTTE fan blog/tumblr will make a post about hypothetical “ships” of the Sodor engines. Most of the time it’s shipping the core characters like Gordon and Henry, much to Gordon’s bafflement and Henry’s amusement!

Only one blog (a ttte fan tumblr by the curious name of @mean-scarlet-deceiver ) has gotten it right. Henry actually reached out to congratulate this blogger, but was unfortunately mistaken for a very dedicated roleplay account.

James is very annoyed by these blogs, as they have never once correctly guessed who he is “shipped” with! He has tried several times to be seen in public with Delta, but these events have never gone as planned - the “best” instance is when Edward rolled by at exactly the wrong moment, leading to months of speculation that JamesxEdward was the ship to look out for!

Thomas, being a generally oblivious sort of engine, was totally unaware of the online fan community around the TV show until he started getting actively harassed by vloggers and Instagrammers in the early 2010s. He’s fine with it now, but it was a deeply unusual experience for most of 2012.

Toby has developed an unexpectedly popular following on social media following his collab with Stormzy. His official twitter is huge now, with over a million followers, even if he has no idea what to do with it. He posts rarely, but usually manages to make an incredible post when he does.

No-one is sure who told Oliver what a “fan-production” is, but if you manage to get ahold of him for any period of time and ask him nicely, he will lend his voice to your TTTE fan-project, so long as it isn’t about [INSERT TERRIBLE SOCIAL/POLITICAL VIEW(S) HERE]. This means that he has 100% voiced dramatic readings of NSFW Fanfics before, which is always an absolute riot to spring on people unannounced.

There is a series of slice-of-life TTTE fanfics on Ao3 that have been written with such accuracy and innate railway knowledge that people are sure it was written by a Sodor engine, but nobody knows which one.

The Culdee Fell Railway has very active Instagram, Twitter and YouTube accounts, with all of the engines and coaches showing up regularly. It’s about the closest any of the railways on Sodor have come to what those outside the UK would call “normal locomotive social media”.

The Skarloey Railway has social media accounts too, but they don’t really feature the engines in any meaningful way, instead being used as a normal service announcements page.

The SR is a real working railway that doesn’t rely on tourism money as much as the others do, so they get a bit of a pass here.

The Arlesdale Railway has Twitter and YouTube, which didn’t usually get a lot of hits until 2020, when Ivan and Amanda Farrier started badgering the staff to make some videos just to alleviate some boredom. So far the most popular videos on the channel are a front-mounted camera video of the entire line slow-tv style, Bert explaining how steam engines work, and a video of Mike complaining about Justin Bieber for a solid half-hour.

That’s about it as far as Sodor goes, but before we’re done, I want to take a moment to talk about Tornado, because I have some fun ideas for her...

First of all, we need to establish that Tornado is very young. Her construction only started in late 90′s, and she was steamed to life in 2000, putting her firmly into the “Zoomer” category. Add in the fact that she was built by a bunch of old men who didn’t really know how to treat a new engine, and she was raised much more like a human than a locomotive - I’ll get to this much more in the proper Tornado Headcanon post, but what this means here is that when social media started being a thing in the mid-to-late 2000′s, the people at the A1 Trust decided that they needed a young person to run things like Twitter, Facebook, and Myspace... and, well, Tornado was the youngest person in the trust by a large margin.

I should state here that in the rest of the world, locomotives are on the internet at roughly the same level as humans are, so there’s plenty of equipment to connect a phone/computer/camera to an engine - being English, the A1 Trust didn’t know how common it was, but they managed to get it up and running just the same.

So Tornado has very quickly become attuned to the internet, just like any other teenager would. (yes, let’s let that settle into our minds for a moment - Tornado is barely old enough to drink in the US!) Quite naturally that means that she knows social media inside and out, and is actually quite a proficient social media manager for the trust, managing all of their social pages. More than one person who has complained about the trust on twitter has unknowingly been complaining to Tornado herself!

“On the internet, nobody knows that you’re a dog Engine”.

Tornado has her own personal social media accounts too, but most/all of the time she gets mistaken for a very dedicated role-player, as the general perception of British Locomotives is that they don’t tweet. This has resulted in some amazing reactions from podcast hosts (because, as you might expect, Tornado is very knowledgeable about steam traction in the 21st century, and tweets about it often, so train podcasts want to talk to her) when she gets invited onto video calls, turns on her webcam, and is met with screams from people who suddenly realize that her profile picture is accurate.

By far the best instance of this is when she was invited onto a video call with a railfan podcast. She was at the NRM at the time and managed to convince them to let her use their Skype setup. A wide-angle lens was needed because she was on the turntable in the Great Hall, so that podcast quickly got sidetracked when her webcam was turned on and revealed Tornado, with Mallard, Evening Star, City of Truro, and Green Arrow visible behind her. Whatever the original topic was quickly got thrown out in favor of a 2-hour Q&A with some of the most famous engines in the UK.

#ask response #the internet #ttte thomas #ttte toby #ttte bill and ben #ttte gordon #ttte daisy #ttte mavis #ttte henry #ttte bear #ttte oliver #tornado #nrm #trains using the internet #ttte #sodor #sodor shenangians #the formatting on this one is super fucked up and i can't figure out how to fix it - sorry

99 notes · View notes

professorsnape394 · 4 years ago

Text

The Potions Master’s Apprentice

Chapter Sixteen: Halloween

A/N: This is the sixteenth part to my fanfiction ‘The Potions Master’s Apprentice (Severus Snape x OC)’. Chapters 1-16 can be found already uploaded on Wattpad under the same name. Feel free to leave requests in my inbox for anything Snape related you want me to write. Leave a comment below if you wish to be added to my tag list.

Pairing: Severus Snape x OC (Dumbledore’s Granddaughter)

Summary: A talented young witch is employed as an apprentice professor at Hogwarts, but who will she be working under? Severus Snape is not best pleased with his new responsibility of taking on an apprentice, however she is relentless to create a friendship between them. Will she be successful? Or might the friendship just go a little two far? With the eyes of her grandfather constantly watching over them, an attempt at a relationship might not be in the cards for Aria Dumbledore and Severus Snape.

Word Count: 5342

Warnings: mentions of sexual harassment, alcohol consumption.

Credits to Gif Creator

"Harry Potter." Dumbledore whispered, his lip almost trembling as he read the scrap of parchment that had just been spat out from the goblet.

The hall felt silence.

"Harry Potter." He spoke louder, looking furiously around the hall.

All eyes now searched for Harry.

"Harry Potter!" Albus yelled for a final time.

Aria felt her heart pound in her chest, surely this was a mistake, he wasn't even of age. She looked to her right, hoping Severus would provide some reassurance, though he too seemed just as shocked as she.

The young Gryffindor rose gingerly to his feet, being forced up by his friends and classmates. He seemed petrified, and just as confused as everyone else.

Students heckled him as he walked through the hall, assuming he had found some way to cheat the system. Neither Snape nor Aria believed this could be the case.

Aria Dumbledore stumbled slightly on her heels as she looked around desperately for someone to correct the situation. Without thinking she gripped her hand around the potions masters arm, clinging on for dear life. "Severus." She pleaded, her eyes wide with desperation, brow furrowed in frustration. "He's only fourteen."

Snape looked down at his apprentice, the look in her eyes paining him possibly more than the thought of the young boy competing in a deadly tournament. He opened his mouth to speak, almost about to place his own hand onto hers. But froze as Harry approached the Headmaster, and the parchment was thrust into his hand.

Severus broke away from Aria, turning his gaze outward as the boy came face to face with him.

Still completely shell shocked Harry made his way out of the room, earning a reassuring motherly tap from Minerva McGonagall on the way before disappearing along with the other Tri-Wizard champions.

Instantly the remaining students were dismissed back to their dormitories while a commotion broke out among the professors.

Both Headmaster Karkaroff and Madame Maxime outraged at the mere prospect of Hogwarts having two competing champions. The resident professors however, were far more concerned with Potter's safety than having a leg up in the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Dumbledore flew from the room, Severus following at his heels, and all the other teachers not far behind. Minerva faltered for a second, falling in line with Aria as they made their way from the room, clinging to each other desperately.

"Harry Potter, did you put your name in the goblet of fire?" Dumbledore asked calmly.

"No sir." The boy stuttered, his eyes darting between the crowd of professors.

"But of course, 'e is lying." Olympe accused, towering above even Hagrid.

"To hell he is." Mad- eye moody stepped forward. "The goblet of fire is an exceptionally powerful magical object, only an exceptionally powerful confundus charm could have hoodwinked it, magic way beyond the talents of a fourth year."

"You seem to have given this a fair bit of thought, Mad-eye." Karkaroff spat in return.

While the two men continued arguing, Aria broke arms with Minerva, once again working up the courage to approach Severus. Bringing his attention away from the chaos, she wrapped both hands around Snape's bicep, forcing herself closer to him. "Please." She begged.

Severus faltered. He saw the desperateness in her eyes, as well as in his friend Minerva's. He knew they both cared deeply about the boy. But what exactly was he meant to do?

"The rules are absolute." Barty Crouch sr. spoke. "The goblet of fire constitutes a binding magical contract. Mr. Potter has no choice, he is, as of tonight, a Tri-Wizard champion."

Severus locked eyes with Aria, wishing he could do more. Slowly Aria let her hands fall, she knew now he would not intervene.

Back in the potions classroom, Aria had almost become furious with Snape for not speaking up. Severus on the other hand, was getting sick of the woman going on at him about it, and was rather more concerned with why she chose to hold him in the way she did. A thought that hadn't let his mind since her fingers left his arm.

"I cannot believe you didn't stop them, Severus. Harry is not skilled enough to compete, not to mention the competition is renowned to be deadly. I can't believe it's actually still allowed to continue."

"And what exactly did you expect me to do Miss Dumbledore?" Snape questioned flicking his cloak behind him as he took a seat by his desk. "Barty said it himself. The rules are absolute, he is contractually bound. Nothing I could have said would have made any difference."

"But you could have tried." Aria whined, slamming her palms on the desk.

"And achieved what?" Snape shot up, his tone sharpening. "You overestimate my influence in this school, Miss Dumbledore. While your grandfather may rely on me for trivial duties, that is where my power stops." He snapped, getting annoyed at the woman for consistently guilting him.

"But you must know he didn't put his own name in, he couldn't have!" She persuaded, exasperated.

"Whether I believe he did or did not is irrelevant. He is competing and that's the end of it. That also goes for this conversation. I don't want to hear anymore of it." Snape warned, his eyes piercing into her. "Take the rest of the day off." He commanded.

Given that it was Saturday he had no right to keep her there anyway, though the witch had hoped she could spend the day with him, even if it meant giving themselves more work. Now that she had been banished from the classroom the prospects of her day were low and given that it was Halloween she suspected almost all of the students would be hauled up in their dorms throwing their own private parties. She had heard from Fred and George that it wasn't uncommon for the Gryffindor common room to be host to a number of events throughout the year, today certainly wouldn't be any exception.

Thinking of the students enjoying themselves sparked an idea for Aria. If they students were having party, why couldn't the professors?

Aria dedicated her day to doing her rounds of the school inviting every professor and member of staff she could think of to a party in the staff room that evening. It appeared the professors were just as in need of a night off as the students were, by the looks of it the party planning had gone quite successfully.

* Making her way briskly through the dimly lit dungeon corridor, Aria headed for the Hogwarts staff room, hoping not to cross paths with any suspicious looking rogue students on her way. As she passed by the old wooden door of Snape's office it occurred to Aria she had neglected to invite one crucial member of staff to this evenings event.

"Fuck." She groaned, running a hand through her sleekly styled hair.

Teetering on her heels Aria debated knocking on the door. Though it was highly unlikely Severus would even want to attend her party, she knew it would inevitably be better asking him at the eleventh hour than to not ask at all.

Braving the knock, she prepared herself for the ridiculing she was bound to receive.

A moment or two passed with no response, assuming Severus was located elsewhere, Aria chose to let herself in, just in case.

To her surprise Severus Snape was sat, hunched over his desk as he usually was. Only this time his desk was no longer cluttered with papers but displayed a singular framed photograph, which seemed to captivate Snape. He was evidently deaf to the world.

Coughing lightly to declare herself, Aria gently shut the door behind her.

"Professor Snape." She announced trying to get on his good side, though a hint of surprise and embarrassment remained.

Straightening his posture, Snape extended his arm slowly, slamming the picture face first into the desk, desperate to keep it hidden.

"Miss... Dumbledore." He droned, eyeing the woman up and down. A slight look of disgust forming on his face. "What are you doing here?"

"I... I erm... I've arranged a small get together in the staff room tonight; you know, some drinks and snacks and music, since it's Halloween and all. I was wondering if you wanted to come?"

"I think not, Miss Dumbledore." He said, instantly turning away, disinterested.

"Of course: I understand." She nodded her head nervously. "It's so last minute, I doubt many people will come anyway, to be honest with you." She shrugged, shuffling on her feet.

Snape looked up from his desk, watching the woman squirm, he almost pitied her.

"Professor Flitwick informed me of your little 'get together' earlier this afternoon Miss Dumbledore." His voice dropping with boredom. "It seems the whole faculty is excited by the prospect of a party. I wouldn't worry about attendance too much."

Aria's heart practically flew out of her mouth. It hadn't crossed her mind for one single moment that Severus would have interacted with anyone besides herself today, let alone been discussing social events.

"Fuck." Aria said again, under her breath. "I meant to tell you Severus, honestly. It slipped my mind, I didn't mean to leave you out. I feel so stupid. I'm so sorry." She rambled.

"Relax, Miss Dumbledore." He commanded. "Whether I knew about your party or not has no affect on my decision. I wouldn't have come either way, I assumed you would know better than to invite me, it's a waste of time and energy for the both of us."

"Oh, I, er... I thought maybe since it was me, you might have reconsidered." The words had come out of her mouth before she had even realised what she had said. What made her any different from any other Professor?

"Don't flatter yourself, just because I am forced to work with you everyday does not mean I am willing to change my entire personality for you." Snape scoffed.

"I just meant- oh what's the point, your right, this is a waste of time, I'll leave you alone."

The witch turned to leave, one hand reaching for the door, before she heard the voice of the potions master speak up again.

"Wait." He demanded. "I'm curious. What exactly are you supposed to be?" The potions masters eyes travelled up and down the girl, inspecting her outfit for any trace of a costume.

"Oh." She stopped in her tracks. "I'm a sexy devil." She grinned, showing herself off and brandishing a pair of cheap plastic horns and a pitchfork she had been anxiously twiddling behind her back.

"Of course you are." He scoffed, rolling his eyes in disgust.

"I got them from Zonko's, it was the best I could do at the last minute." She shrugged, shying away.

Reaching again for the door handle, Aria froze, spinning back on her heel.

"Who is she?" She asked abruptly.

"I'm sorry?" Snape retorted, baffled that she dare even ask.

"You got a question, now I do too. Who is she?" The Professor nodded to the toppled over picture frame.

"How do you-"

"I just do. Who is she?" Aria pressured once more.

"A friend." He answered simply.

"Do you love her?" Aria couldn't help but pry further, though she had no idea why she wanted to know.

Severus simply looked up from his desk, his eyes connecting with Aria's. They shared a knowing look, neither of them needing to verbalise it.

"Oh." She responded, pressing her glossy scarlet lips together. "I guess you're not as heartless as you pretend you are after all." She smirked, finally leaving the room.

"Severus couldn't make it then?" A feline-esq Mcgonagall asked, joining Aria next to the drinks table.

"No." Aria replied. "He was busy. I shouldn't have expected him to anyway, this isn't exactly his sort of thing is it?" She said looking around at the crowd of professors disguised as pirates, superheroes and zombies, casually chatting and swaying away to the music.

"I shouldn't think it is." Minerva agreed, taking off her pair of false cat ears, giving her head a moments release. Aria couldn't help but laugh at her choice of costume, which I'm sure was professors desired reaction.

Pouring yet another drink Aria felt herself swaying back and forth in her heels, the alcohol was finally beginning to take its toll.

"Pace yourself, my dear, the night is still young." Minerva chuckled, taking a sip of wine.

"Sorry." Aria chuckled, gulping down the rest of her cocktail, completely ignoring the advice from her friend. "It's just been a while since I've allowed myself to get drunk, ya know, the side effects don't agree with me much."

"Well your still young I suppose, people your age often are out partying every weekend. I think you should allow yourself the luxury just this once, eh. The side effects are tomorrow's problem." The older woman winked.

"God, I hope not." Aria whispered, but continued pouring drinks nonetheless.

"Join me?" Aria said, clumsily pouring two very large shots, for the pair to down. "Let's get a bit more life into this party, shall we?" She announced, turning up the music and began filling a tray of shot glasses up, passing them around the room.

"Everyone gather around and let's make this interesting." The young woman mischievously announced.

Lining up numerous shots glasses and filling them with various miscellaneous liquors, Aria waited for the staff to gather round the table.

"Truth or dare. Alcohol edition. If this doesn't get us all absolutely hammered by the end of the night, nothing will." She laughed, hoping that getting these witches and wizards drunk and spilling some secrets would be a bit more fun that just standing around talking.

"And on that note, I feel this may be my cue to retire for the night." Dumbledore informed, taking Aria by the hand, giving her a reassuring squeeze. "You lot have fun." He smiled, chuckling to himself as he walked away.

One hour, two bottles of tequila and several very very drunk professors later Aria Dumbledore was satisfied with her attempts at spicing things up. The game had begun to wind to an end, with a couple of teachers tapping out, a few more passed out, and, in the case of Hagrid and Olympe Maxine, making out.

"Your turn again Aria; truth, dare or drink." Aurora Sinistra enquired. The small crowd buzzed, hyping her up as she carefully considered her decision.

"Truth!" She shouted, chickening out of yet another dare, and she truly did not think she could handle one more shot.

"I have one for you." Igor Karkaroff confessed, seemingly appearing from out of nowhere and plopping himself down in the empty space next to Aria.

"Then go ahead." She allowed, gathering her legs in a basket and turning to face him.

"How do you really feel about Severus Snape?" He breathed, his face inching closer to hers the longer she paused to think. The few invested professors fell silent eagerly anticipating her response.

"How do I feel about Snape?" She slurred, letting out a small amused laugh, as her body continued to sway towards Igor unknowingly.

"He's... curious." She began, finding her words amidst a sea of drunken thoughts. "He has the capacity for love and friendship just like the rest of us, yet he chooses to be mean-spirited. And for what? No apparent reason but his own satisfaction. He can be rude and arrogant and cruel. And despite it all I try my best try to show him kindness, but where does that get me? He calls me out in front of practically the whole school? That was so fucking humiliating, and I'm just supposed to forgive him? I think it's safe to do say I'd live a happy life, if I were to never see that man again."

"It's seems you've had a bit of time to think about this? I assumed you and Severus were friends." Madam Pomfrey commented, as the room fell silent.

"Can anyone really be friends with that man." Aria scoffed, beginning to feel uncomfortable, as it became clear to her that others did not share the same opinion.

"Admittedly Severus can be a hard man to get along with. But really he's not so bad once you get to know him." Minerva informed. "While he may not show it, he does care. Give him another chance, Aria, it takes a while to warm up to him."

Aria gave a small nod, thinking now might be a good time to wrap things up. She felt guilty for saying such bad things about Severus but it had also been some what of a release to get it all out there before she was truly able to forgive him for all the horrible things he said.

Picking up her scattered heels she had abandoned some time ago, Aria decided to call it a night.

Severus Snape had barely moved from the moment Aria Dumbledore had left his office. He sat frozen in time, simply staring at the picture of her. It had become routine for him at this point, every year, on Halloween, he would mourn the life of the woman he had once called best friend. He thought back to that night when he found her, murdered by the man he had put his faith in, the man he believed would spare her life, the man he vowed from that point onwards, he would help put an end to. It was on this day every year, he reminisced on his life full of regrets.

It was then he heard a small amount of commotion and scuffling echoing through the dungeon corridor. Assuming it would be a couple of excitable teenagers Snape made his way out, ready to deduct a couple of house points for disrupting his evening.

Unable to distinguish any facial features in the dark, Snape listened carefully to the drunken mumbles from down the hall. As he closed in on the pair it became clear to him that what he once assumed to be a playful make out session, was in reality an act of unwanted attention. The female was clearly drunk and struggling to dissuade the man's advances.

Illuminating the tip of his wand, Severus ripped the man away from the woman, thrusting him into the light. "Karkaroff?" Snape winced, releasing his tight grip on the headmasters collar. Slowly coming to terms with the reality before him, Snape's eyes darted towards the woman, who, seconds ago, had been pinned to the cold stone wall. Pealing away the curtain of hair from her face, Aria timidly revealed herself.

"What the fuck are you doing Snape?" Karkaroff grumbled, stumbling backwards, struggling to keep his balance.

"I could ask you the very same question, Igor." Severus seethed, pressing the tip of his wand firmly into Igor's neck.

"No need to get so defensive." Karkaroff chuckled. "Do not believe this innocent act, she wants this just as much as me. She's gagging for it, Severus, you should know that more than anyone." He burped grotesquely, making a move in Aria's direction.

Instantly forcing himself between the ex-deatheater and his assistant. Severus dug his wand deeper into the man's skin. "Do not come any closer, Igor. I suggest you leave now and hope to God that Dumbledore doesn't hear of this."

Karkaroff paused for a second, running his tongue along his bottom lip in contemplation. Slowly closing the gap between himself and he potions master, Igor Karkaroff whispered into his colleagues ear. "I can wipe her memory straight after, no one needs to know. Go back into your chambers and forget you ever saw anything. I wouldn't blame you if you did the same."

"You disgust me." Snape spat, shoving the man away from him.

Karkaroff laughed sinisterly once again, seeing no real severity of his actions. That was the last straw for Severus. Swiping his wand across his face, a small but painful cut began to appear on Igor's cheek, a tiny pool of blood quickly forming and spilling down his face.

"Go. Now. Before I regret letting you off so lightly." The potions master commanded.

Having silently witnessed the whole exchange, Aria felt her pulse racing, feeling utterly helpless in her drunken state. Half expecting Severus to simply turn and leave, Aria begun to fiddle with the hem of her dress, not wanting to see him walk away. To her surprise a warm hand rested itself on her bicep, defrosting her body from the outside in.

"Are you okay?" Severus asked sincerely concerned.

Aria nodded her head repeatedly, but refused to meet her mentors gaze. "He didn't really do anything. He... he just wanted to come in for a nightcap." She tried to convince herself.

"I think we both know what his intentions were." Snape droned, agitated by her stupidity.

"Thank you." She said solemnly, her eyes finally meeting his.

Acknowledging her appreciation, Snape turned on his heel ready to finally retire for the night.

"Wait, Severus." She spoke up, finding her voice again. "I could use some company tonight. Do you mind if I join you?"

"It's been a long day, Miss Dumbledore. I was planning on getting at least some sleep tonight."

"I understand." She hung her head, embarrassed for even asking.

Looking down at the disappointed look on the young woman's face, he did not have the heart to leave her after what had just happened. Letting out a hefty sigh, Snape made his way to his office, throwing open the old oak door, waiting patiently.

"Come on then." He offered, motioning to the empty room.

"Do you mind if I...?" Aria gestured to a rogue bottle of FireWhiskey. "For the nerves."

"Go ahead." Snape permitted, settling back down behind his desk, while Aria made herself at home in his office.

Truthfully Aria had found herself becoming rapidly more sober by the second and she was desperate to put an end to that feeling as soon as possible. She was already embarrassed enough without the risk of Snape asking anymore questions.

"How was your little party." Severus pondered, having nothing else to occupy him.

"Not bad. Would have been better with you there though." Aria confessed, taking a seat on the edge of Severus' desk, gulping down her glass of FireWhiskey.

"I doubt that that is true." He droned, rolling his eyes, unconvinced.

"Of course its true, you're my friend Severus. Why do you find it so hard to believe that someone could enjoy your company." She raised an eyebrow at the potions master.

"There is not much to like about a man like me, Miss Dumbledore. I simply do not see the appeal." Leaning forward in his chair, Snape averted his gaze.

"Well I do." Aria assured firmly, refusing to take her eyes off the man in front of her. "And clearly you were open to friends in the past. You speak of this woman for instance, the two of you were friends." She tried to get him to open up.

"For a while." He replied simply.

"See."

"When we were children." He elaborated, once again meeting her eyes. "And that brief phenomenon ended when the prospect of a better opportunity arose for her." Snape added bitterly.

"That cannot possibly be true." Aria scoffed, unconvinced he was telling her the whole truth.

"That, coupled with my less than amiable personality, and a few harsh words drove her away for good. And with final nail in the coffin being just that, there is no hope for a reunion any time soon." He finalised, his tone harsher and more agitated than before.

"Is that a habit of yours then?"

"Is what a habit of mine?"

"Attempting to drive away your friends by insulting them." She said it only to be playful, hoping to coax a small smirk from him, but clearly that night was still a sore spot for him, even more so than it was for her. "Why don't you allow yourself the simplest bit of happiness, Severus. I know for a fact there are many Professors who think very highly of you, if you only let yourself be liked, you would have a great number of friends."

"What makes you think I want friends, Miss Dumbledore." Snape relaxed in his chair, finally turning his full focus to the young woman. "Has it ever occurred to you I am like this for a reason. That I like to be alone. That I drive people away simply because I do not want them in my life."

"I don't believe that for one second."

"Why?" He challenged. His temper beginning to boil at the woman's unyielding persistence.

"Because you loved her, Severus." Aria Dumbledore blurted. A moment of silence filled the room, the pair both slightly in shock that she dare speak the words, that Severus Snape was capable of love, aloud. Nevertheless she chose to continue, seeing no harm in speaking her mind now. "She was your friend and you loved her. I know it broke your heart when she died. And I know your trying to protect yourself from getting hurt again. But you must let yourself be vulnerable, or else what is the point in living? I am determined to be your friend, Severus Snape. And while I know that probably terrifies you, you really do not have any say in the matter. If you truly liked being alone, you would have left me out in that corridor tonight." She finished with a sigh.

Hoping off the desk to pour another drink, Aria's mind hummed away. Something felt different between her and Severus tonight. Despite at first being thrown off, and admittedly, slightly jealous of the woman in the picture, it had given her hope. Not fully understanding what she was feeling, she decided to blame it on the booze. Whatever it was, was tomorrow's problem.

Intending to join Aria for a drink, Severus ventured out from behind his desk, meeting Aria in the center of the room. Having practically read his mind, she presented her friend with a very large glass of Firewhiskey, and began to make a start on her own. As the cold glass balanced on the edge of her lip, Aria suddenly became hyperaware of how close her and Severus' bodies were. His fingertips grazed her own as he made to take the glass from her, clearly lingering for much longer than necessary. Aria darted her eyes in his direction, wondering if he too noticed their closeness, she found him staring right back at her. With no sign of uncomfort or anxiety visible in his face, Aria felt her heart begin to beat faster than ever, and her palms became instantly sweaty. Gulping down the remainder of her drink, she slammed her glass down on the desk, turning to the door.

"I think I should go." Aria swallowed nervously, refusing to meet Severus' gaze. "Let you get some rest, finally. It's already so late."

She was panicking and rambling. It was obvious to both her and Severus. But the way he looked at her. She had never seen him look at anyone that way, he didn't look as harsh or mean or unimpressed as he usually did, and that terrified her. Though it wasn't how he looked at her that scared her, it was how it made her feel. Butterflies inhabited her stomach, her heart pounded in her chest, and her throat scratched when she spoke it had become so dry. She knew she had to get out of there before she done something she might regret.

"Aria, wait." Severus called out, placing his glass next to it's twin, though his remained untouched.

It was the first time he had called her by her first name. It felt so... intimate. She loved the way it sounded coming from him. His velvet monotone made her name sound so smooth and delicate. She could listen to him speak forever, she thought to herself. Shaking herself back into reality, Aria forced herself to turn and face Severus.

Without missing a beat Snape closed the gap between them, pulling her body close to his; one hand resting on her waist, the other cupping the back of her head. Before either of them knew what had happened the pair found themselves lost in a chaste, but passionate kiss.

Seemingly coming to his senses Severus Snape forced himself off of Aria, his face instantly flushing with colour. Averting his gaze, it was clear he was starting to regret what he had just done.

"I apologise, that was... I shouldn't have-"

To his surprise Aria cut him off, resting a cold hand on his newly warmed face. Their eyes met for a single moment, both knowing that this was what the other wanted. Standing slightly on her toes for height, Aria thrust her lips onto his, pulling him closer and tighter than before. Deepening the kiss Severus quickly regained control, letting himself lose himself in the moment. The couple found themselves drifting towards the door, using it as a support, allowing them Severus to be as forceful as he wanted. While Aria's hands roamed the whole of Severus' body, squeezing and grabbing anywhere she possibly could, Severus on the other hand, remained the perfect gentleman, keeping his hands strictly to her waist and face, and eventually settling on either side of her head, leaning against the firm wooden door.

Breaking away for a moment of air, Aria let out a satisfied groan, biting on her bottom lip seductively. Severus could not take his eyes of her, watching her every move hungrily, struggling to catch his breath.

"Wow." She finally exhaled, but instantly Aria pulled him in once more.

As the kiss continued and another second passed, the pair became hungrier for one another, and so the more passionate the kiss became. Getting almost too caught up in the moment, Aria made a move for Severus' belt buckle, hurriedly unclasping it, ready to undo his zipper.

"Stop." Severus panted, grabbing her wrist, before she went any further.

Coming to her senses Aria retracted from the situation, a wave of humiliation washing over her as she watched Severus re-buckle his belt.. Hiding her face in her hands, she moved out from between Snape and the door.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"No, It's not your fault." Snape tried to reassure. "I just... I wouldn't want to take advantage."

"You wouldn't be taking advantage, I was the one who wanted to-"

"I just think we need to end things here." Snape said firmly, once again cutting the woman off.

Accepting defeat Aria nodded to herself, knowing he was right. She had never felt so embarrassed in her whole life, she knew she would regret allowing herself to drink tonight, it never ended well.

"I should go." She whispered to Snape, refusing to look any higher than the man's shoes.

"Aria." He breathed, his voice full of sadness, knowing she was beginning to regret kissing him in the first place. He wanted to asked her to stay, but he knew it didn't matter what he said now to make up for stopping her, the moment was gone and so too was she about to be.

"Goodnight... Professor Snape." The witch sighed, reverting back to professionalisms and clicking the door shut behind her.

Taglist:

@ayamenimthiriel @lizlil

109 notes · View notes

aricazorel · 3 years ago

Text

Day 7 "Free Space"-> "Tech Boy"

Kaidan Alenko, Kori Reese, Katelyn Alenko

ME1, post-Therum (first mission completed)

“Mom, I only send my stuff there because I know its secure,” Lt. Kaidan Alenko explained over the vid chat with his mother. “I know it won’t walk off with someone that way.”

“Sweetie, you know I love you, but who in the world would walk off with tech that is this old?” Katelyn Alenko asked with a pointed stare.

The L2 biotic shrugged from his seat on his bunk. The crew quarters were empty at the moment; most either on duty or attending Joker’s movie night. It was a spoof of one of the Blasto movies. The sentinel had absolutely no desire to see it and had opted to call home. Due to the sensitive nature of their current mission, most of his correspondence had been via email. Now was one of the rare times he could actually call home.

“That’s not the point,” he insisted as he looked over at a box of odds and ends that he had pulled out of the drawer under his bunk. “Someone might take the package without knowing what’s in it simply hoping its worth a lot.”

“This,” the elder Alenko said holding up a CD player to the monitor, “is not worth anything except to a few special individuals like you.”

“Hey,” Kaidan replied defensively, “You are the one who got me started on all this retro stuff.”

Katelyn eyed her son sternly. “That was music and movies, Kaidan. And a few video games. All of which you can access with modern technology. I have no idea where this need for old tech came from.”

“You and Dad have always told me its important to know where we came from and to understand something’s history to help understand it’s intent. This hobby does that.”

“I didn’t tell you to collect junk,” Kaidan’s father’s voice came from somewhere in the background.

“It’s not junk. It’s history,” the Lt. insisted, knowing his parents were teasing him but still feeling defensive of the hobby that had helped him through some of the darker times in his life.

“Historical junk is still junk, Kaidan,” his father answered back off screen.

Before the L2 could reply, Katelyn said, “Okay, that enough you two.”

He heard his dad laugh in the background as she turned her attention back to him. “I’ll send the invoice to you, so you can double check it’s what you ordered. I know you must have a project there you are working on, don’t you?”

He nodded. His mom knew him well. “Yeah.”

She smiled. “I thought so…Well, I know you must be busy and there’s the time difference so I will let you go. Thank you for keeping in touch the best you can, and I hope you can call again soon.”

“I’ll try, Mom,” he promised as he gave her a smile. “Scout’s honor.”

“Bye, sweetie,” she said return his grin with a nod. “Until we talk again.”

“Until then,” he replied. “Love you.”

“Love you too.” With that the screen faded to black as his mom ended the transmission.

Kaidan sighed as he leaned back against the wall of his bunk. He closed his eyes, resting his head against the smooth surface. His parents meant well and had always supported him even when it was difficult. He knew the fact he had been born a biotic had made things more complicated, but they had never shied away from the increased difficulties. He was grateful to have been born to parents like them but sometimes…

Sometimes their sense of humor was…well, annoying. Especially when it concerned something that had come to mean a lot to him. Old, retro tech was an interest he had developed after BAaT and something he had nurtured during his time between that period of his life and his enlistment in the Alliance. It was deeply personal to him and something he had yet to be able to share with someone who was of like mind about it.

The small box below his bunk contained the components for an older device called a Blu-ray player. He had been piecing it together for a few months now, having started it before his assignment to the SR-1. Of course, some of the parts he needed he had sent to his parents’ place on Earth. And because of that he wouldn’t be able to finish it until after his current assignment was over. Whenever that would be…

“You like old stuff, don’t you?” a familiar voice called from the foot of the bunk.

His eyes shot opened to see Lt. Kora Reese leaning against his bunk with a smile. “I—uh—that is I do collect certain things…”

“Is that stuff from the 20th?” she asked as she motioned to the box in the floor.

He glanced down and then back at her. “Ummm, yeah…How did you know that?”

“I…I know a little. My dad was into old tech. He never collected it or built it, but he had a lot of history books on it,” she explained as grey eyes glanced over at her bunk. “He said he got some his ideas from reading about old stuff. It kinda inspired him I guess.”

“Your parents were terraformers, right?” he asked.

“Yeah. They did a lot of research about using nanotech to help terraform planets. My colony was an experiment, and it would have worked if…” She trailed off, not wanting to mention the involvement of what she believed to be a Cerberus cell or the eezo accident itself that had made her a L3 biotic.

“So…do you know what this might be?” Kaidan asked deciding to change the subject. Maybe she knew a thing or two…

She moved to squat in front of the box. Not touching any of it, she inspected it for a few moments and then guessed, “A DVD player?”

“Close,” he replied with a grin. “It’s a close cousin. Came out after the DVD player. It’s a Blu-ray player. It uses different encoding and stuff.”

“And stuff?” Reese asked with a grin as she looked up at him. “It that the technical term?”

“I don’t want to get too technical,” he admitted, knowing most people weren’t into the technobabble he could throw out when he was excited. “Most people don’t care about this tech because we can play all of it on modern devices…I just like it because it gave me something to do when I was trying to figure out some things.”

“So, you like new tech and old tech?” she asked as she stood up.

Kaidan followed her with his eyes as he answered, “Yeah. I’m a nerd according to some.”

“You are a nerd,” she pointed out with a grin. “But so am I.”

He arched an eyebrow as he tilted his head, her admission piquing his interest. “Is that so?”

“Ummm-hmmm,” she hummed as she studied him.

“What?”

“I think skipping Joker’s movie was a good idea,” she replied matter-of -factly. “Learning this about you is much more interesting.”

“Really?” he said uncertainly. Not many people described him with that word. “I’m interesting?”

“Yeah, it’s interesting to learn you’re a tech boy,” Reese teased as she sat across from him on her bunk.

He made a face. “Tech boy?”

“What? You don’t like moniker?”

“I’ve…never been called anything like that.”

The dark haired woman laughed. “Well, you have now…tech boy.”

Kaidan rolled his eyes but privately a small part of him liked the nickname. Either way, the two techs spent the rest of what was supposed to have been a movie night discussing old tech and pop culture. While she wasn’t as knowledgeable as he, Alenko appreciated the fact she was opening up to him. It was nice to have someone to talk to about something that meant so much to him even if there was a bit of a learning curve.

Maybe being a tech boy wouldn’t be so bad. Especially if Reese were involved. Only time would tell.

#illusive #mass effect #kaidan alenko #kori reese #happy n7 day!

7 notes · View notes

kittykatknits · 7 years ago

Note

What are some positive commonalities b/w Sansa and Ned? (I am kind of sick of seeing only negative traits of Sansa in character parallels meta/gifsets) Thanks!

Hmm…dunno that I’ve ever seen gifsets comparing the two now that I think about it. Went looking but couldn’t find them. My tumblr skills are awful so this isn’t a surprise tho…

I wrote this post about the two of them in GoT which helps set up why their similarities are so often missed. The two have the same story and make many of the same decisions, but Sansa is introduced into the narrative in a much more negative way. I mean, Ned is set up as the One True Hero in the first book. The result is that Sansa kinda ends up being Ned’s “fall guy” for lack of a better term. Sometimes, I think this conditions the reader to not notice their similarities.

I’d also add that some of what is perceived as “negative” by the fandom, isn’t. At least not always, it depends on context and framing.

So, here is a partial, but by no means exhaustive or complete list of similarities between the two of them.

They both share the same philosophy about lying:

A lie is not so bad if it is kindly meant.

-Sansa I, aFfC.

That’s Sansa thinking of what LF is feeding her but she later employs this same thought with SR. They share the same belief that a lie is OK if it brings comfort to others. It’s something they both do and it comes from their shared empathy for other people. It’s why Ned tells his sister that Robert would be a good man and true. He’s trying to comfort her. He does the same with Robert at the end, he gives a lie of omission about his “children” and then gives another variant of a lie:

For a moment he was at a loss. He could not bring himself to lie. Then he remembered the bastards: little Barra at her mother’s breast, Mya in the Vale, Gendry at his forge, and all the others. “I shall … guard your children as if they were my own,” he said slowly

-Edward XIII, GoT

Both are trying to comfort and help someone else. That’s not necessarily a bad thing.

They employ the same coping mechanisms when it comes to trauma. Both of them avoid dealing with it and the accompanying painful memories. They will both also rewrite their memories. Most famously, we have the unkiss, followed by Sansa’s transfer of responsibility for the Trident onto Arya/Mycah. However, this is one of those characteristics that isn’t necessarily a bad thing.

First, it’s very clear that Ned is still dealing with a lot of pain and is still heavily traumatized by RR and surrounding events. He lost his brother, father, and sister in a short period of time with Benjen going off to the wall. He saw the bodies of dead children placed by the throne, had his life threatened, and would have seen the aftermath of the sack of KL. It’s very clear all of it still haunts him, even so many years later. The way Lyanna creeps into his thoughts is very similar to the way Sansa’s family does in hers. It’s there but it is so painful, Ned actively tries not to think on it.

It’s a coping mechanism and it’s one Sansa desperately needs at several points in the story. Her chapters, especially in aCoK and SoS, have a very “in the moment” feel to them. She’s very centered in the present and devotes large amounts of mental energy to planning what to say, how to respond, anticipating the words/actions of others, and so on. It means she doesn’t let her thoughts linger on anything too painful.

They both rewrote the Trident incident as well. Ned transferred all of the responsibility for it it on to Cersei, even though it was Robert that ultimately gave the order for Lady to be killed.

The thing is, Sansa’s ability to do this is what helped her to survive. Long term, she will need to confront much of what she saw/witnessed. While a captive, not necessarily so and not always and not right away. The context on when she employs it matters. Ned never confronted any of this while Sansa still has the opportunity to do so. She did it with Joffrey but we are still waiting on LF.

Sansa’s courtesy armor is really only a different flavor of Ned’s lords face. The lords face is the persona Ned wears in his professional capacity. It’s the public version of Ned but inside his head we see the real him. He’s a very kind and emphatic man who feels deeply. Outside, he can come off as cold and reserved. Sansa explicitly tells us courtesy is a lady’s armor. She hides behind it and uses this armor in public, to protect herself and navigate the world around her. We get in her head and, like Ned, it’s very different than what she shows everyone else.

Their wants and desires are the same. Ned is a LP and Sansa is expecting she will be a queen. However, Ned was the second son and never expected to have any of it. Sansa’s desire to be queen isn’t about power, it’s about family and a husband who loves her. Ned really leaves us with the sense he would be perfectly content to spend the rest of his life inside the walls of WF, with his children around him, and Cat in his arms every night. That’s Sansa’s dream too. Compare that to Bran who wants to be a knight and a member of the KG or Arya.

Both are deeply emphatic. Let’s look at Sansa’s behavior and understanding of the Hound. After he tells her about his burns, she responds that his brother was no true knight. He’s pretty awful to her at multiple points but she continuously looks for the best in him and understands what drives much of his actions. Compare her relationship to Sandor with Arya’s, for example. It’s the same with Ned and Cersei. Ned isn’t angry with her, rather he puts himself in her place and tries to understand.

Both are internal and can refuse to act until absolutely needed. Compare Ned after Robert’s death. LF and Renly both came to him and said to act but he waited until Cersei summoned him. Sansa tends to do the same thing.

They are both idealistic and look for the good in people. Sometimes, I see them called naive which is kinda an incomplete way of looking at things. Yes, Sansa starts out as naive in the first book, but considering her life experiences at that point, it is to be expected. Ned does place his trust in the wrong people (LF and Cersei) but he also makes a point to know his people and looks for the good in them. It’s part of what inspires the loyalty in people back north. Also, remember Davos’ visit to the Sisters? I love this story:

That was when Stark said, ‘In this world only winter is certain. We may lose our heads, it’s true … but what if we prevail?’ My father sent him on his way with his head still on his shoulders. 'If you lose,’ he told Lord Eddard, 'you were never here.’ “

- Davos I, aDwD.

Here, Ned put his trust in Lord Godric’s father and chose to see the best. It payed off for him. Sansa does the same, she sees the best in people, she sees the world as it should be (to borrow from Cinderella). So, in Westeros, with years of war and the ice apocalypse coming, it seems to me that a person who sees the best and who sees what is possible is ideally suited to be in a leadership position afterwards. Sansa is not only the type of person who can rebuild, she can make it better.

Lastly, we have one of Sansa’s best lines in the entire series:

"I will remember, Your Grace,” said Sansa, though she had always heard that love was a surer route to the people’s loyalty than fear. If I am ever a queen, I’ll make them love me.

- Sansa IV, aCoK

Where do we think that came from? That’s Ned and his approach to ruling right there. Ned, who inspired love and loyalty from his people because he gave it back. He invited someone different to sit with him at supper every night. He took the time to visit the mountain clans. He dispensed his own justice. He made his people fight for “The Ned’s little girl.” Sansa adopts that same approach during the Blackwater with the ladies she tries to comfort. It’s the same approach to ruling we see her starting to use in the Vale. Look at the servants in the Eyrie.

And here is one thing that really stands out with this style of governance. Robb and Jon both think on Ned’s teaching and try to adopt them. Sansa never does, it’s all unconscious.

Hopefully this answered your question some anon!! Thank you for the ask!!!

#Sansa Stark #sansa stark meta #Ned Stark #ned stark meta #asoiaf meta #asoiaf #asoiaf character analysis #my meta #anon asks #feel free to ask #feel free to ignore

217 notes · View notes

chilly-territory · 7 years ago

Text

K Case Files of Blue 2, chapter 2 (part 2 out of 2)

The next part of the novel, featuring Munakata’s family.

Case Files of Blue 2 by Miyazawa Tatsuki

Chapter 2 (part 2/2) (volume 2, pages 80-111)

†

On that day, Munakata Reishi had done a nearly unimaginable amount of work with utmost efficiency and maximum energy and, after sowing some hope among his men, left Scepter 4. Munakata, always having an air of composure about him even when he went to visit the ruler of all things on the ground, Kokujouji Daikaku, was now walking with a hurried gait, glancing at his wristwatch worriedly and painting the picture of a terribly busy man.

For he had an appointment he absolutely could not be late to.

"Well now. I hope she will like it."

Nearby, there was a present he bought in a short break between his demanding work - an adorable plush teddy bear wrapped in pink wrapping paper. It was Munakata Ume's birthday, and as her uncle, Munakata Reishi was invited to her birthday party. Last year, due to an emergency matter coming up, Munakata wasn't able to make it to his niece's birthday party which had hurt her feelings deeply. So half a year ago he had promised her that this year he would be there without fail. As far as Munakata was concerned, he wanted to keep his promise no matter what.

Strangely enough, for him, the little girl's birthday party and the Great Cause of protecting the country had about equal weight. Neither was less important than the other. That's why he chose to head home even at the time of what could very well be called a crisis.

The moment the door opened, he was ardently welcomed.

"Uncle, you really came!" Umi was overjoyed as she popped up first.

Umi's younger brother, Kai, approached Munakata timidly and clutched at his sleeve. Although later, next Munakata's mother, then his father and finally his older brother Taishi with his sister-in-law appeared and gave Munakata Reishi a warm welcome as well.

In this house, he was neither a shrewd government official nor the Blue King chosen by the Dresden Slate and possessing supernatural powers. He was just a person, Munakata Reishi, a second son of the Munakata family.

"Sorry I'm late."

Hurriedly done with his greetings, he was pulled into the house where they all sat down around the tea table, and the feast began. The table was tightly packed with croquettes and meat and potato stew that Mrs Munakata whipped up, roast beef and minestrone that Taishi's wife made, beer and authentic Japanese sake that Taishi bought, a chocolate cake that the children had picked and sashimi out of mackerel that Munakata Sr caught - a popular commoners' menu, maybe lacking in class and consistence, but overflowing with warmth.

"Congratulations, Umi!" the present toasted, the adults with beer and sake, the children with juice.

They talked about everything that happened to Umi at her school, about the swimming pool Kai had recently started attending, Taishi brought up a professional baseball discussion, his wife demonstrated embroidery she was into lately, and the senior Munakatas brought a pamphlet about Izu where they planned to go for their end-of-year trip.

When they were done eating, games started - Othello, cards and other typical party games. All the members of the Munakata family were spirited and doing well. After that, they sang the birthday song, cut the cake, and the children ate the cake in utter happiness, smearing their faces in the process.

Full and happy, the children started nodding off, and the older brother's wife took them to take a bath. With them gone, the living room suddenly became very quiet. Quiet clicking of tableware as Mrs Munakata washed it and the rustling of running water were the only sounds filling the room.

Munakata Sr, taciturn by nature, took out the shogi board and, holding a book in one hand, began solving shogi problems. On the TV, its volume muted to be only background noise, a news story about a large-scale typhoon closing in on Japan ran. Taishi was idly lying on the tatami with his hands behind his head.

"What a feast we had today!" He looked up at the ceiling happily.

Munakata sat in seiza, quietly sipping tea.

"Gotta thank you" Taishi suddenly added, "for coming, despite being busy."

Munakata shook his head to that. "Oh, there is no need. I had fun, too. And I'm glad the birthday girl seemed to like my present." "Haha," Taishi chuckled. "You should make kids of your own, y'know. Kids are cute." "Indeed. I shall see what I can do."

The wandering conversation continued, with Taishi mostly being the one to do the talking and Munakata only replying from time to time. But it wasn't like Munakata was being reserved or something of the sort. Time flowed slowly and relaxedly.

It was a curious relationship, to say the least. Munakata Taishi made a living with landscape gardening, had a family of his own, spent his free time watching TV and sometimes going to pachinko, took his children to the local park to play on Sundays, and liked fishing as a hobby. Once a month, he played grass-lot baseball with his old friends. He was much better at manual labor than at mental work, he hardly read any books and wasn't really interested in what was going on in the world around, being the type of wholesome man who could smile, showing his pearly whites, when his close people were healthy and smiled themselves.

Munakata Reishi, on the other hand, was completely and utterly different - not just from Taishi but from anyone else in the Munakata family. From his father, his mother, his brother, his brother's wife, his niece and his nephew. None of the family had ever written a report on Confucius and Spinoza as a grade schooler, taken the first place in mock exams countrywide for many years in a row or served as the student council president from starting elementary school to graduating from university.

Munakata Reishi was a superior being from the day he was born. He outstripped those around in intelligence, physical ability, character and culture. Everyone who he ever came across were under the impression that he had to be a son of a very distinguished family. And when they learned about the actual environment he was raised in, they all couldn't help but being puzzled and amazed how someone like him could be born to an ordinary family like that.

His father was a taciturn man taking pride in his work, with shogi and occasional fishing trip being his hobbies. His mother and sister-in-law, although both women of virtue and good cooks, didn't go in any area past what is considered ordinary and average, and the children they produced, although were quite cute, for now displayed absolutely no ability out of common.

In the Munakata family, only Munakata Reishi was an exception. A child, who insisted on not speaking casually even with his parents and brother, was much too out of place for the family of a mediocre craftsman from the low-lying part of Tokyo.

Truth be told, Munakata's parents must have had quite a bit of trouble deciding how to treat a child prodigy so unlike the rest of them. But it was somewhat different for Munakata's older brother Taishi.

Being unruffled and unfussy about the small stuff, from their childhood years on, he kept treating Munakata Reishi in a way that could be seen either as largehearted or insensitive. While their personalities and nature couldn't have been more different, the two always remained siblings that got along just fine. Munakata held respect for his cheerful and honest brother who had not a prodigious bone in his body.

"Ah, speaking of," Taishi asked, following the flow of the conversation, "how's your work lately?"

Taishi only knew that his little brother was the 'boss' of 'a place that was something like the police'. Being content with only the roughest and broadest idea of things was something that was in Taishi's nature.

Munakata took a pause to ponder before answering, "Well, not very well, I have to say." "Oh?" Taishi let out a surprised noise. "You don't hear something like that coming from you every day, Reishi." Munakata let out a chuckle. "Indeed. I'm afraid I made an enemy of a troublesome person. He is even more resourceful than myself, so I'm having a little bit of a hard time."

Taishi abruptly got up and took a seated position, crossing his legs. "For real? You mean to say someone smarter than you actually exists?" he asked bluntly. Munakata flashed a little wry smile. "Yes, they do, in spades." "So what? Are you being cornered?"

Munakata simply nodded, without pretense, embarrassment, self-derision or eagerness.

"Whooa~," Taishi elongated, stunned. "That gotta be a first, eh," he remarked, seemingly very impressed. "At least the first from what I know." "No." A shogi piece touched the board with a nostalgic click. "It's not," the two's father, Munakata Jirou, murmured quietly. This time, it wasn't just Taishi who was surprised by their usually taciturn father's remark, but Reishi as well as he gazed at Jirou.

For a while, Jirou only stared down at the shogi board, his back to his sons and seemingly oblivious to the gazes they fixed him with.

"You know, with that substitute teacher that was in charge of Reishi's class for a short while back in 5th grade when their homeroom teacher got injured in a traffic accident."Not changing his cross-legged position, he turned his head to the brothers. "What was his name, again?" "...Mnn..." Of course, Taishi, being as uncaring about details as he was, could only cock his head in puzzlement. "...Right." Munakata recalled immediately. "It was Kasuga-sensei." "Oh, right, that's right." Jirou's eyes narrowed. "The only teacher Reishi couldn't get 100 points from on tests."

Inside Munakata, a spark suddenly flew, and his eyes glinted mysteriously behind his glasses. In a voice, that had the slightest of quivers in it, he asked as he got up, "Father, brother, would it be alright with you if I went to my room for a while? An idea regarding my work has struck me."

Slight surprise crossed the features of Munakata Sr, but he simply nodded, "Mn-hm," and turned to his shogi board without saying anything else.

Taishi lied back down on the tatami, asking with interest, "What, Reishi, something about that guy you mentioned?" "Yes, correct. I just might have the chance to kick his behind," Munakata provided an explanation for his brother, using the simplest and most understandable words he could find.

Taishi burst out laughing. "Good to hear," was his reply.

†

"What I'm doing is actually very simple," Kounomura said after they had finished the driving the advertising van job and relocated to a members-only bar in Nanakamado.

They were in a deluxe room where only a handful of VIPs from even among the members of this closed establishment were allowed to enter. The sofas, the tables and all the other furnishings were stunningly extravagant and posh, but what drew the eye was the masterpiece works of a certain famous maestro. If they were put up for auction, there was no way the price offered would drop lower than a hundred million at worst. In this room, there were 2 such gems that by all rights should have been in possession of an art museum.

Like the regular customer he was, Kounomura came in front of the glass case where expensive Western liquors were on display, and casually took out a bottle of aged whiskey, pouring it into glasses - for himself and for Gouoku. He took a sip, held it in his mouth, then lied down on the floor on the fur spread on it.

'As usual, this man looks so out of place in this kind of furnishings,' Nakamura Gouoku thought. 'Just the other day he was sprawling on mats by the riverbed, slurping up some cheap plum shochu, and frankly, that place fit him perfectly, and certainly a lot more than this one. Though the same could be said about me.'

A penguin-like shortie of a man and a balded giant in a place where only the cream of the crop could enter certainly was a sight to behold. What's more, Gouoku was in his priest's garb while Kounomura had yet to change out of the fatigues he drove the van in just a short while ago. It was pretty amazing how none of the reception staff so much as batted an eye as they took the two such guests to the back rooms.

Gouoku took a gulp of straight liquor out of his whiskey glass - his palm easily wrapping around the thing in its entirety - and chuckled a little. The fact that both of them were completely out of place here still stood unchanged though. If anything, it was probably Munakata Reishi, with his gorgeous looks and commanding presence, who would fit right in.

"Mn? What's wrong?" Kounomura asked. "Ah no, nothing," Gouoku shook his head. "Go on with what you were talking about." "Erm? What was it I was saying, again?" Kounomura asked back slowly and drowsily. "You talked about Munakata Reishi," Gouoku reminded him. "Actually, there's something I wanted to ask you for ages," he continued, his interest in the topic apparent. "You may have incredibly exceptional brains, but that Munakata Reishi guy is one hell of a sharp fella himself. So there has to be a reason why your clash is so one-sided so far and you're messing with him however you like, y'know?" "..." "That's something I want to know. Just what kind of witchcraft did you use to achieve this?" "Ah well, it's actually pretty simple. You could say it's 'love', I guess? It penetrates the perception gap between the sense of self, of others and of the world. Umm~m."

Gouoku patiently waited. If he kept waiting, his prodigious friend would eventually give him an explanation in words simple enough even for him to understand.

"Well, let's see. The reason why Munakata-kun is so confused this time is because in a sense he's too smart for his own good." "Meaning?" "Gouoku. When you're so smart that you have no equal, you end up seeing through everything like an open book and forgetting that you yourself, too, are part of this world, as well an influence on it. Well, maybe not exactly forgetting but never even realizing it. Perhaps, picturing yourself on top of a big mountain would be an adequate epithet."

Kounomura slowly rose and put the bottle on the table.

"Munakata-kun is currently here." He indicated the top of the bottle. "And those around him, people and circumstances alike, are this."

He placed a glass next to the bottle.

"In his case, he basically has a bird-eye view of all kinds of life's problems, and he can easily solve any problem by moving it in whatever direction is required or switching something with something else."

The glass was placed in different spots in sequence.

"As it keeps on going, curiously enough, a gap born between himself and his surroundings comes into existence," Kounomura went on, his voice having notes of sadness in it. "Misunderstanding becomes commonplace, leading to creation of an idol molded to people's wishes and expectations without his consent. Those around start to assume things, abandoning all attempts to actually understand and starting to pretty much deificate him instead. All because he is much too capable and outstanding. And yes, he is capable, but there is not a single soul who understands him, and it doesn't cross anyone's mind to even attempt to anymore. Munakata Reishi is a genius beyond anyone's reach. This conviction prevents people from thinking on the matter further." "So they just label him Ubermesch and leave it at that, huh? Just like they do you." "No, no." Kounomura flashed his pearly whites. "I can't hold a candle to Munakata-kun. He's the real authentic elite here. I'm just barely keeping up with him in this competition by making use of all the years I've lived, nothing more."

Kounomura took out another bottle out of the glass case and placed it next to the one that was already on the table. The two were of about the same height.

"That said, it's still probably a first to him, chancing upon someone of his own class who is actually trying to analyze him. And it's due to that unfamiliar experience that the thinking processes of even a genius like Munakata-kun automatically slow down, like a heated swimming pool becoming lukewarm, and the boundary line between himself and those around him becomes blurred. So what I'm doing is simply preventing him from doing his best. Simple as that." "You're sure being some nasty life senpai to him, eh. So basically you turned the supposed-to-be intelligence battle into psychological warfare, is that it?" "It can't be helped, Gouoku," Kounomura laughed at Gouoku's teasing. "I wouldn't stand a chance if I fought a person like that fair and square." "So, in short, it's because Munakata never met his equal that he's now falling for your tricks, or something?"

Kounomura shook his head.

"Not quite. Like I said earlier, the point here is that Munakata-kun is too smart for his own good. Let's use the chess analogy, shall we? He's an impossibly excellent player. He can win in virtually any position, at any point of the game, just after one look at the board, and that's precisely what he's been doing repeatedly. That's why he's accidentally forgotten that he, too, is one of the factors composing the world, one of the elements that determine strategy and tactics. One of the pawns on the board called fate." "Hmmm." "Putting this into even simpler terms, until now he was a chess player who never moved the pawn that he himself is. No one ever presented enough threat for him to, so he naturally leaves himself out of his calculations and predictions. ...No, it's not quite that he leaves himself out, he's just lacking in self-awareness a little, I guess." He grinned. "But that's enough for me."

Kounomura really was a terrifying man, Gouoku reaffirmed once again.

Said Kounomura yawned. "Everyone stopped trying to seriously figure him out. They don't see Munakata-kun's typical thinking patterns, habits and tendencies even though everyone naturally has them, no exceptions. But I..." "But you're seeing through them." "That's right. Because I have 'love' for him. I didn't treat Munakata-kun as an unreachable genius or a monster, I simply tried my absolute best to get to know him thoroughly. And then I made use of the tiny chinks in his armor that I had painstakingly searched for and found. That's all there is to it," Kounomura simply said, but even Gouoku was well aware just how uncommon and outstanding the ability to do that was. Yes, it really was Munakata's disastrous misfortune to become possessed by this man.

Under Gouoku's gaze, Kounomura let out another small yawn and sprawled listlessly on the fur of Russian sable.

"So how is it? Do you feel you can usurp the throne of the Blue King with this plan of yours?" Gouoku changed his question.

Kounomura was silent for a while.

"Hmmm. Dunno. Like I've told you many times before, the nature of the Dresden Slate is too mysterious. After all, even the brilliant Gold King, ruling all things on the ground, Kokujouji Daikaku spent half a century on researching that thing and is still hardly even closer to figuring it out than he was in the beginning." "Speaking of, I wonder what said Gold King wants to achieve through this affair." "Beats me. Maybe he regards us as nothing more than an experiment to advance his research of the Slate. Or maybe it's his way of testing Munakata-kun. Or..." Kounomura paused. "The fact that you became a strain proves that the Slate is responsive to human will to a certain extent. But beyond that, I have no idea." "So even you can't figure out the inhuman Slate, although you could the human Munakata Reishi, huh."

Kounomura didn't reply. He lay curled in on himself.

Gouoku's shoulders shook with laughter. Now he could see clearly the reason why Kounomura was so unmotivated.

"You're such a greedy man, as always. You're gunning for the throne of the Blue King, yet get dejected when the Blue King's not resisting your ususrpation attempt hard enough," he accused in a teasing manner. "You're mistaken," Kounomura denied Gouoku's words, but not hard enough for it to sound convincing.

"Hey, Zen'ichi. Tell me something. What exactly Munakata Reishi can do to turn the tables on us in the current situation?" "Well," Kounomura replied in a quiet sleepy voice. "Since we're striking at the structural flaw that we found in Munakata Reishi as a human being here, he could just remember his own existence - recall who exactly he is. Or..."

But that what all Kounomura said, a peaceful sleeper's breathing being the only sound escaping him anymore.

Gouoku chuckled and took another gulp of his drink. He wouldn't mind drinking in the company of the man named Munakata Reishi together with Kounomura Zen'ichi someday, he thought.

†

It felt like he was drunk, or maybe delirious with fever. But Munakata pushed forward, shivering only slightly.

Ascending the wooden stairs, he headed to the room he used to use as his own. After Munakata became independent and left, his parents kept the room as it was, so he could use it to stay at on the extremely rare occasions when he came to visit them.

It was a straw-matted room, of the size about 6 tatami mats. Out of furniture, it only had a bed, a desk and bookcases. The massive amounts of books from when Munakata was indiscriminately reading during his being a student were mostly gone, but certain materials and albums were still lined up in a strict orderly fashion on the shelves.

Out of them, Munakata took out his grade school graduation album and opened it.

The memories revived with ease.

"Kasuga-sensei."

Munakata's brain was fast pursuing several concurrent trains of thought at once. If the process inside his cranium was to be visualized, it would probably look like a multitude of multicolored lights flashing all the time. The past data stored in the memory field were retrieved, assigned meaning through reasoning and interpretation, linked with the next piece of information and given the unity of a whole.

At the moment, Munakata was engaged in ultra-fast computing of frightening speed magnitudes. That influenced the part of his brain that controlled his body, so he was currently reeling. Or, putting it in layman's terms, he could also be said to be concentrating extremely hard.

'You are an exceedingly capable child, Reishi-kun. No, maybe I should call you too capable for your own good?' his teacher, about to retire, said once with a wide smile.

Munakata's brain reconstructed the details of the appearance of the teacher in question without any problem. His features were like a visual illusion picture meant to form a human face even when turned upside down. He wasn't particularly fat, but the vertex part was prominently rising, some straight completely white hair looking like fuzz still left on his head above his ears. His nose was bulbous, and behind the Lloyd glasses, his eyes smiled with kindness. Like a professor from an old school manga, as one of Munakata's classmates described him once.

Next, Munakata recalled the teacher's personal background. From the scrapes of rumors, Munakata's own investigation and what Kasuga-sensei told them about himself, it was a rather eccentric history for a grade school teacher. From it, it followed that Kasuga-sensei earned a PhD in political science in the USA, got a job with the UN as a member of an arbitration committee for disputed territories and worked there for almost 10 years until suffering severe injuries to his right leg. Reluctantly, he had to resign. He had job offers from several business corporations and research institutes, but he declined them all, becoming a teacher for a public elementary school instead.

"I'm sure where life is concerned, you won't get anything less than 100 points, now or in the future," Kasuga-sensei predicted with the same wide smile.

He really was a strange teacher who would cut a lesson short and take the kids to go watch bugs and flowers outside or would recite poetry non-stop for an hour. But it was during that teacher's tenure that Munakata had received anything less than full marks twice: 95 the first time and 98 the second.

To Munakata, that was completely outside his expectations.

Perfection. That was the undeniable nature inherent of the human named Munakata Reishi, even if he was only alive for a little more than 10 years at the time. On the day when their regular homeroom teacher came back, which simultaneously meant the end of Kasuga-sensei's short substitution, Munakata Reishi, whose features were still those of a young child, knocked on the door of the faculty office with the intention to directly ask Kasuga-sensei the question that needed to be asked, in the boy's opinion.

Kasuga-sensei welcomed him with a smile on his face. Munakata's question was straightforward and clear.

'Sensei, please explain why I did not get the full marks on your test?'

Let's just say that in addition to the question not at all being what a young child would ask, it was also somewhat arrogant and warranting the need for some guidance, from the educational perspective. An ordinary teacher would get angry at that. But Kasuga-sensei only burst out laughing, looking like he really did find it very funny.

'It's only natural that you would come throw this question at me. I'm happy you did, Reishi-kun. But it's only just as natural in a sense that you could not get full marks on that test.' He giggled like a prankster kid. 'After all, I designed that test specifically for you. Through observing you, I drew up all the questions in a way designed to lead you astray and guide you to make a mistake. All of them were a trap custom-made specially for you, Reishi-kun.'

He was not shy about what he'd done in the least.

At the time, Munakata was lost and bewildered.

'But sensei, is that not an inappropriate manner of conduct for an educator?' Clearly, this man's attitude as a teacher was supposed to be the opposite. 'Even if you managed to stike me down, in essence the test would lose its meaning as an educational testing tool, would it not?' 'Hahahaha!' In response to that reproving statement, Kasuga-sensei laughed loudly. 'This too is an educational method, Reishi-kun. Make sure you remember it,' he said and patted Munakata's head.

In all honesty, at that point of time what his teacher was talking about was beyond comprehension even to the prodigious Munakata Reishi. Only, Munakata Reishi still made sure to store those words in the innermost depths of his heart.

Because he had a hunch he should. Because he felt what his teacher taught him might change something in him unnoticed.

'I love you very much, you know.'

The instance those words of Kasuga-sensei's came to mind, a spark flashed in Munakata's brain. Pieces connected, instantly falling in place and unraveling the mystery of the events that until then seemed inexplicable. The riddle stopped being a riddle, becoming nothing more than its real structure instead.

At the same time, the exceedingly simple swindling scheme Kounomura Zen'ichi was running was laid bare before Munakata in pretty much its entirety. It only took mere 20 seconds for all of the above to happen.

But even Munakata Reishi ended up dizzy and unsteady from concentrating and thinking as hard as was humanly possible. Beads of sweat dripped from his brow, and his breathing was rough. That's how intense a thinking process was required.

In addition, at mostly the same instance, Munakata noticed the key that could break down his current predicament. He had understood that for besting Kounomura he absolutely needed to recall who he, himself, was. And once he realized that necessity, coming up with a solution was easy.

Munakata Reishi's obvious reason d'etre.

He got up, straightened his back and said a single phrase then. "I see. I remember now."

Pushing up at the bridge of his glasses with a finger, he whispered with grace and elegance, "That's right. I'm a king."

A flash of a smile that tugged at his lips was that of the Guardian of Order, of the Fourth and the Blue King Munakata Reishi, most clever and most young.

†

Driving his car at high speed, Munakata Reishi hurried back to the HQ. He didn't plan to stay overnight at his parents' house, but even with that taken into account, he left the family gathering a little earlier than expected.

He stayed just long enough to say good night to his niece and nephew before they went to bed.

"Uncle, will you visit again?" the two children asked, rubbing their eyes sleepily. "Of course I will," Munakata smiled and placed a gentle hand on the two's heads.

His brother who came out to see him off wrapped a hand around Munakata's shoulders as he grinned, "Say, Reishi. I made a baseball team with friends, but we don't have enough people. So... are you free next Sunday?" Munakata had to think a little. "Let's see. If I'm finished with my current matter, I might be available." "Great, I'm counting on you then. Let's form a sibling battery while we're at it, 'kay? You'll be the pitcher, and I'll be the catcher. The other way is fine, too. Yeah, now I can't wait!"

Taishi remained Taishi no matter what.

Unusually enough, Munakata Sr appeared in the entranceway to see his younger son off, too. It was anyone's guess what exactly the taciturn craftsman Jirou figured, but he clapped the younger Munakata on the arm and said, "Nm. Do your best." With that he slowly returned to the hallway.

Munakata bowed deeply to his father's back.

He sensed that his father constantly lived with the feeling of confusion when it came to him. And if he was honest, he knew that neither his parents nor his brother could ever gain a thorough understanding of who and what he was. He wasn't disappointed by it or resigned to it, he simply acknowledged it as a fact. At the same time, never once had he doubted the love they offered him.

'A kite has bred a hawk,' was what those around kept saying, and both Munakata's father and mother thought so too.

But still, the kite loved the hawk.

And they did too, in their own clumsy way, but sincerely and unhesitatingly. That's why Munakata could always return to their household as their second son Reishi, without the need to be cautious or anxious.

Before awakening as a king, Munakata Reishi lived his life without truly knowing who he was. His overly superior intelligence, his insight allowing him to foresee every manner of matter, his prodigious physical capabilities and talents... no matter what he did, he did it so well that he ended up eclipsing others as if it was only natural. What was a challenge to ordinary people, to Munakata was like walking a straight flat road, coming as natural as breathing. Not even an obstacle preventing him from seeing dozens of meters ahead. He was someone who surpassed in a heartbeat others' long and painstaking hard work with just his natural talent.

What would it even lead to if someone so superior and reality-defying tried to lead a school life among your average people?

The answer was, exclusion from the collective under the guise of admiration, and alienation from the mass with no even feeling of jealousy involved.

Because Munakata-kun was special. Because Munakata-kun was not normal.

How many times did he have those words, full of understanding on the surface but essentially ruthless and intolerant if you dug deeper, thrown at him?

His superior intelligence let him see through the pretense of respect veiling people's wish to distance themselves from him, and the Munakata Reishi of the past allowed it, resulting in his all-encompassing loneliness.

No matter how much he wished it, no one could stand equal to him. No one could see what he saw even if they looked at the same thing.

Before becoming king, Munakata Reishi was always lonely.

Munakata operated his PDA via voice input as he drove.

During his intense brain storming earlier, he exposed most of Kounomura's scheme, but there still remained a few unclear points. To figure them out, he absolutely needed capable people who could conduct field operation in his stead.

The line connected. Using a hands-free set, Munakata inquired, "Ah, Fushimi-kun?"

As he said the name of the person he was calling, a thought flashed in his head that maybe he head-hunted this person for his organization because he projected parts of his own past on the way the young man lived at the time. Needless to say, their personalities and environment was nothing alike, and unlike himself, Fushimi had a friend he could confide in, but still, the way the two of them felt out of place and alienated by those around them due to how outstandingly capable they were was very similar.

'---What is it?' The voice on the other end of the line was openly annoyed despite its owner talking to his direct superior.

Munakata's lips curved up in a smile.

"I have something to ask of you."

He then explained the contents of his request, keeping it short. Since the order was almost too concise, a normal person would likely fail to see what exactly Munakata wanted to achieve by giving it.

But Fushimi was not normal.

'---Understood,' he answered back after a 2 second silence, sounding like he had grasped Munakata's goal behind the directive in full.

The line went dead almost immediately after.

'He really is capable, extraordinarily so,' Munakata thought to himself from the bottom of his heart.

Afterwards, until arriving to the HQ, as he was driving, Munakata mulled over the topic of the grass-lot baseball game his brother invited him to. He was even humming to himself, an occurrence almost unheard-of for him.

Munakata knew he was in an uplifted mood. His drive and motivation were back.

#k project #project k #k translation #k case files of blue

190 notes · View notes

lethesomething · 8 years ago

Text

BnHA Profile: Aizawa Shouta

Aizawa is one of the cleverest, most underrated characters in BnHA, and I'm not just saying that because he's voiced by Suwabe and therefore immediately on Lethey's Love List. This is a guy that sort of drags himself through life, doing good deeds without seemingly getting a lot of satisfaction from it. He's almost an anti-hero even though he's more pure than several of the other characters in the series. So let's break him down.

Out of the Limelight

Aizawa is an 'underground' hero. He avoids the media, he stays out of all the flashy stuff and really, the only reason people like Izuku know his name is because, well, Izuku is a massive nerd. As a hero, but also personality-wise, Aizawa is a clear foil for All Might. One is always smiling, embracing fame to become a symbol of peace that stops villains everywhere from even wanting to start shit. He's super flashy, cares deeply about appearance and also he's just… huge and muscular. Eraserhead, meanwhile, has a resting bitch face, looks like he hasn't showered in days, wears basic black pyjamas wherever he goes and he shrinks back from attention like a vampire seeing the first rays of the sun. This contrast extends to their fighting style. All Might is all about power and speed. He's an all-rounder that overwhelms his opponents with a super-quirk. Meanwhile, Aizawa is an incredibly specialised hero that needs a clear strategy and an extensive knowledge of martial arts to even stand a chance. In many ways All Might is to Aizawa what Izuku is to Shinsou, someone blessed with overwhelming power and therefore hard to deal with. It's not really that difficult to see why they don't get along very well.

(spoilers from the manga under the cut) (also this stuff is just really long ok) (I have many feels)(and many opinions)

Fundamentally, though, Aizawa looks the way he does because he gives absolutely zero fucks about how he comes across. You see this when he decides to (or was forced to) make an effort after the forest camp. He's totally capable of looking less villainous. Put him in a suit and he may not look like a full blown superhero, but he's at least passable as a Japanese salaryman.

When given free reign, however, he cares not. He's basically introduced to us as the apathetic, possibly even cruel teacher who cares little for his students. Superhero Snape. He's grumpy, he makes them go through gruelling tests and he threatens to expel them at a moment's notice. This turns out, of course, to be a logical ruse (he also has a really awful sense of humor).

The workaholic

What's interesting about him as a character, is that as you start reading BnHA, it becomes clear that this initial idea is almost completely wrong. For one: he carries a sleeping bag around and catches a nap at any opportunity given to him. Not because he's lazy. But because he's extremely sleep deprived. Because this idiot never stops working. Aizawa appears to have very little life outside his work. We know that his room is bare, he teaches during the day and he does most of his hero-ing at night. He doesn't appear to have much of an off switch.

That scene is a rather nice one from the later chapters. Everyone's being called up and it's the middle of the friggin night. Nedjire is half asleep, at the same time we see the others in their jammies. What is Aizawa doing at this ungodly hour? Working. Multitasking, even. On two devices. Probably planning shit. This is the reason that man teaches from a sleeping bag. He's trying to fit too many hours of work into a single day, and tries to somehow fit the necessary sleep in by multitasking. How very Japanese of him. But also. Can we please talk about this?

Why the hell is a fully bandaged up, injured man, at work? Dude got nearly killed on school premises. By any insurance policy in the modernized world, he should be on sick leave, watching the whole thing on tv, with a nice cup of tea and maybe some grapes or something by his side. You can't tell me UA has that bad of a health policy, the damn school probably has the most expensive insurance in the world. But nope, he sitting in a booth commentating. Because Yamada asked him. Please note that several of the teachers are just up in the crowd, watching the games. They could have gotten Blood Baron or Nedzu to do it. But no, get the workaholic who can't even lie in bed for a day when all his bones are broken.

The teacher

When I first started reading BnHA, I heartily wondered why the hell they'd put someone like that in front of a class. But again, once you get to know him, it turns out this man is a really good teacher. I certainly never had anyone pay that much attention to me and my well-being when I was in school. He understands a bunch of his kids better than they do. See exhibit A: Bakugou.

Aizawa's teaching style is very much a 'hands off' kind of thing. He doles out advice, he makes them run themselves ragged, but in a very specific sense, he also Trusts them. Even the explodey one. He has implicit faith in them, because he's observed them.

He can almost predict them. See exhibit B: Izuku.

He knows Izuku enough to know, for instance, that he *cannot* stop himself from being a hero. He can't. He waded into the sludge monster to save Kacchan. He chose saving Uraraka over getting a shot at the entry exam. The forest, the kidnapping, all of it. He will choose the saving option every time. That's why this is such a lovely scene. It really shows how well Aizawa knows his pupils. He knows he can’t stop Izuku so he’s just kinda... going along with it. He knows there's no point in telling Izuku not to go. So he decides to let him, if only so he can keep an eye on him.

I mean.. Especially when it comes to these two, Aizawa is a bit of a softy? I'm sure he'd prefer the term 'realist' but come one. Softie.

The Reluctant Dad

Speaking of softies. BnHA has a surprisingly large amount of father figures. Maybe it's because Izuku's dad is absent, but the theme sort of runs through the whole thing. The dads in this series range from the loving, supportive examples like All Might, or Bakugou's and Jirou's perfectly normal dads, to more tough loving guys like Gran Torino. They go all the way into the utter shit and abusive section, with Todoroki Sr. The Big Bad is, in a rather premeditated way, a father figure to Shigaraki. Even All Might and Shigaraki himself have a rather messed up bond that mirrors some father-son elements. But out of all of these, the most grumpy dad is doubtlessly Aizawa. This is a guy who's been given twenty highly rambunctious kids and who Cares Deeply about them, despite his vocal assurances that he would rather be sleeping. He then goes and adopts another one in the form of Shinsou (sort of, that might just be my wishful thinking).

It's interesting to note that Aizawa is very much a dad of the 'papa wolf' variety. He will protect the shit out of these kids. This is a guy who, as mentioned, has a very specialised fighting style that works best against small groups, for small periods of time. So obviously he jumps in the middle of a veritable army of villains to give his students a chance to escape , papa wolf style. That bit up there where he saves Tsuyu? Despite being very nearly dead? Yeah. He will also protect their Honour, like when he calls out the crowd on their (wrongful) estimation of Bakugou in the Uraraka fight. He will even, in a way, protect them from themselves.

I'm personally really in love with the fact that he's aware of his role, as a teacher, an adult, a substitute father figure, but that he doesn't particularly want it? Like he knows he's a teacher, and teachers/adults behave in a certain way. You see it a little here, when he brings Kouta back to relative safety. A big part of Aizawa, you see, admires the hell out of Izuku. This is the kid that surprised him. The kid that wants to be a hero so badly that he's willing to break himself over and over again, to save people. He gets that. But at the same time he knows that he has to try and keep Izuku in line.

And keeping Izuku in line is one hell of a job. Definitely the part of the job that he doesn’t particularly enjoy. Even when he's legitimately angry. Even when he has to play the strict one to All Might's entirely too soft heart.

The repentant

Diving straight into headcanons now. Be warned.

I've already talked about how Aizawa understands Shinsou in a way that Yamada, or All Might, or people like Todoroki or Bakugou could never understand. He knows what it's like to, in a way, be weak. To be specialised. In order for him to be a hero, he has to not only be strong, he has to be smart. I think part of the reason he appreciates Bakugou like that, is because he's Both.

But back to the headcanons. We know nothing of Aizawa's past (as of now, chapter 143, when I write this) but doesn't it sort of seem like there's some big dark secret in there? He certainly acts like he has some kind of regret.

He had to go through a particularly gruelling time to become the hero he is today. And he doesn't even get to be the good kind of hero. He does not get shampoo commercials and adoring crowds. He gets long nights of sneaking around and being beat up, and a day job as a teacher.

What the hell for?

Thing is, he did expel a whole class. And while we're first assuming he did it because he's a jerk, in a way he does it to save them from what he believes is cruelty. It turns out he cares, you see, he cares an awful lot about his students.

Doesn't that suggest some kind of deep seated issue?

We know little of Aizawa's past, other than that he went to UA with Yamada, but his actions and his words suggest that he definitely has seen some pain. Maybe one of his hero friends died. Maybe he saw classmates fail to fulfil their dreams. Maybe one of his ex-students got hurt and he saw it as a personal fault of his. Personally, I think his motivations might lie closer to Tenya's, with some sibling he looked up to, who failed and became his main motivation to succeed. But that's just a theory. Either way, he's seen failure. Maybe he's lived it. He's seen what it can do to a person, especially in a high stakes environment like the hero business and he appears to have made it his personal mission to stop this from happening by being the most nurturing, supportive person a grump like him could be.

I’m starting to rack up a lot of BNHA theories lately.

#aizawa shouta #character theory #character profiles #bnha #boku no hero academia #meta #manga spoilers #ok i may have a thing for aizawa #just about willing to admit it

1K notes · View notes

mermaidsirennikita · 7 years ago

Note

Have you seen the movie Jackie? What did you think of it?

This is about to get REAL nerdy up in here anon. I had such a painfully obvious boner for Kennedy!history and legends for like... my last year of high school and most of freshman year of college that my mom gifted me with a first edition copy of Profiles in Courage by (but not rlly, he was too busy politicking to write a whole book) JFK for my birthday. And like, that wasn’t even the only Kennedy-related birthday present I got that year.

I have seen it! I think it could have been better as a story about Jackie and a Kennedy-oriented history fan (I hate myself for identifying with that) but as a movie it is a Work, imo. And I mean that in a good way, there were bits of the movie where I was like yeah I’m watching something really intentionally artistic here and it’s pulling it off.

The thing is that while the movie is OVERALL accurate (I’ll expand on my criticisms of accuracy later lol) the history isn’t the point, aside from when it relates directly to our perception of Jackie vs. the Real Jackie, and though obviously I don’t know the woman and I wouldn’t say this movie covers her entire personality (it spans over just a few days, it can’t) it nails certain aspects of her that we don’t discuss often, imo.

Jackie is as iconic as Marilyn Monroe, exactly because she was the antithesis, or so it seemed, of Marilyn. Marilyn was sex; Jackie was love (romantic love, maternal love, patriotic love). Marilyn was dirty, but in a touchable way that made you want to touch her; Jackie was clean, but in a way that made you want to put her behind a pedestal and maybe never even get to know her because that might ruin the image you have in your head. You don’t want her to be human. You don’t want to fuck her. You want to love her.

The thing is that just as with Marilyn, the image was really, mostly, a lie. Jackie actually had a lot in common with Marilyn--she probably wasn’t faithful to Jack, though he started it, I’m sure. She struggled with loving a man who could never really open himself fully to her (Marilyn chased these types like craaaazy). Hell, they both even had fertility issues (Jackie had multiple miscarriages and actually lost a two-day-old son less than a year before Jack died). She was saddled with legacy, and like Marilyn she really couldn’t be herself. Even their interviews, ESPECIALLY if you listen to them (as a MASSIVE DORK I really recommend listening to those, like, 18 hours of interviews with Jackie done after Jack died, which this movie definitely pulls from). She was never as raw, imo, as she even is to the interviewer in the movie. More vulnerable than usual, maybe, but never Raw. Like, the movie has her saw really honest shit and it’s probably what she was thinking but then she’s like--strike that from the record. Imo, the real Jackie slipped up and struck things from the record, but she never slipped up and was as honest with a reporter as she is in the movie.

Listen, I’ve got issues with Natalie Portman, but she NAILS those aspects of Jackie Kennedy that the movie is interested in, and I don’t like her as a person but she was robbed of a second oscar tbh. She wiped the floor with Emma Stone. There is more nuance to a single scene of her in this movie (the one where she’s sort of drunkenly dancing about the white house, as one example) than Emma conveys in all of La La Land, case closed.

The Jackie in this movie is an inner part of Jackie that I am certain existed. She’s constructing a legacy for Jack as soon as he dies, because he never got a chance to make that legacy for herself. She understand the myth of this family, of her, and she’s making sure that the myth lives on because that’s all they’ll have. He’ll never get to his second term, which some historians opine would have been much more groundbreaking than the first, as is often the case (first term presidents don’t want to offend because they’re thinking about reelection; second term presidents can lay it all out on the table). She’s been indoctrinated into this myth of this family (and the movie never covers this, but she was apparently Joseph Kennedy Senior’s favorite daughter-in-law, and maybe he was just being a creep and thought she was hot but I think he recognized in her a similar ability to go along and play for the cameras that his wife possessed, except better--she elevated the family, the Bouvier blood was much bluer than that of the Kennedys at that time) but she’s also making it what she wants it to be, because this is her greatest act as First Lady. As much as Jack and Joe Sr. and Bobby and Ted adored Jackie, she didn’t get along with the women of the family because I think tbh there was some intimidation going on within both sides and she never fit in, but damn, in this moment, she gets to MAKE the family.

The movie also both embraces and shies away from Sentimental Jackie, which we so often see. Jackie is usually either a bitch who didn’t really love her husband but is annoyed with his embarrassing infidelities and is in it for the glory, or a weepy messy who’s always on prescription drugs to dull the pain and going “Jaaaaaaack” whenever he comes home after fucking some lady. This Jackie is ABSOLUTELY played as deeply in love with her husband, and in some ways more sure of his love for her than I think most fictionalized Jackies are, in a very period-appropriate way. Sure, her husband has mistresses. But he’s also a brilliant man in her opinion, and he puts her on a pedestal and she’s the one he comes home to, she’s the First Lady, she’s the mother of his children, so... The infidelities are painful, but not the end of the world. There’s a line she says to a priest in possibly my favorite part of the movie where he sort of broaches another part of her pain they’ve only alluded to--the affairs. And she fucking SNAPS, it’s one of the only times she really loses control, being like “I was the goddamn First Lady of the United States, don’t you dare pity me” and it’s GREAT.

Now. If you’re looking for a biopic, this isn’t it. It’s a study in grief (grief for a beloved husband, trauma over how he died which is very graphically portrayed, grief for everything that will never be) and a character study of Jackie. The entire Kennedy story isn’t as delved into as it should have been. And to be honest, the biggest gap here is Bobby Kennedy. If you’re going to tell a story of Jackie Kennedy’s grief, you gotta feature more Bobby. I mean lbr I’m fascinated with the relationship anyway, but they completely turned to each other immediately after Jack died. Literally nobody else understood how they were feeling. Jackie devoted her life to this man, giving up so much to make his dreams come true... and so did Bobby. Shit, Bobby and Jackie could finish each other’s sentences, and both professionally and personally they were hugely codependent in the last years of Jack’s life. And Bobby, like I said before, worshiped Jackie at one point in his life. They were both into literature and poems (especially after Jack died, she got him into poetry to help him grieve) and they’d visit the graveside just them two. Bobby’s first concern after Jack died was Jackie; he immediately took up a more paternal role with Caroline and JFK Jr. But this wasn’t just because Jack died, they were genuinely best friends--when JFK was away on a yacht or something after Jackie’s first miscarriage, Bobby was in the hospital with her. Whether they ever crossed that line is irrelevant; if you’re doing a good “Jackie grieves Jack” moment you have to have a good Bobby and vice versa. This guy... has none of the literally insane grief Bobby had (people thought he was gonna lose it for real, including Jackie). He isn’t as acquiescing to Jackie as he reportedly was irl after the shooting, and yes he did resist the massive funeral she wanted from what I’ve read, but this is played a bit less like Bobby Is Going Into Guilt-Driven Paranoia and Is Worried His Niece And Nephew Are Gonna Be Assassinated and more like... ooh, this man is trying to put Jackie down, but she’s gonna have a Feminist Moment and fight him on it.

It’s the one big weak point of the movie, ESPECIALLY SINCE HE ISN’T DOING THE ACCENT AAAAAGH THE ACCENT EMBODIES THE FAMILY LINGUISTS HAVE STUDIED IT AND IT’S SO INDIVIDUALIZED THAT NOBODY ELSE REALLY EVER HAD IT THAT’S HOW RICH AND “YOU CAN’T SIT WITH US” THEY WERE. This is especially glaring because JFK doesn’t have an accent for his little speaking role either which could be fine bc he’s barely alive in the movie but theeeeeen Natalie is WRECKING the Jackie voice, she got it just right. Like fuck, I know this is a Portman Project but you’d think someone would want to not phone it in and maybe get some best supporting actor noms because Bobby Kennedy is a meaty role. Look at Barry Pepper, he was in a legit not great at all miniseries but he killed the role of Bobby and did the accent so well (and I admit Bobby’s is apparently harder to do bc his voice was also super distinct without the accent) and the awards just came rushing in.

Basically: this is a very, very good movie that should have won Natalie Portman an oscar, I think it got so much right about Jackie but it wasn’t quiiiiiite as fucking nerdy as I’d like. Also, I say this as someone whose favorite Kennedy is very obviously RFK (he was shady AF like all of them but he had good ideas and was viciously effective when he wanted to be, tbh his assassination is one of the great “what could have beens” of American history imo). But yeah, I think this is a really impressive, well-directed movie if not necessarily the movie I would have made about the family.

#jackie kennedy #i will... affectionately call her jackie o sometimes but aristotle was a waaaay bigger jerk than jfk by all accounts #so i think of her as a kennedy #Anonymous

18 notes · View notes

torestoreamends · 7 years ago

Text

Covers of Cursed Child 2017/18

The thing that makes this cast so outstanding is the way that every single person on the stage is so deeply invested in the story and in the characters. There's an astounding level of care and attention that, when combined with the level of talent, makes for a pretty incredible show.

All this is true not just for the main cast, but also for the covers. This show has always had brilliant covers, they have always been excellent actors, but in this cast the covers have a level of understanding of the characters that makes every single one of them a complete joy to watch. There are some characters that matter so much to me, and when I started seeing the covers for this cast there was a sense of fear that someone who wasn't playing them full time might not have had time to fully understand them, but with this cast there is no any danger of this. There isn't a single weak link. Every single cast board seems to be 'the best cast board ever', and I love that.

So here are some quick summaries of all the covers I've seen (at least one actor for all the roles apart from Ron, Dumbledore, Craig, Bane, and the Station Master). I hope this is useful for anyone who hasn't seen them and wants to know what they're like! And I can't wait to see some of these people take over full time next year.

Rayxia

Rayxia's Rose feels a lot older than Albus (and that was especially true in the first show I saw with her), but she clearly loves him a lot. There were times when it feels as though Rose is pining for her cousin's lost friendship. I've never had my heart broken by Rose before, but I did in some of Rayxia's shows, and I've been really enjoying watching her take command of Rose over the course of the performances she's in. She makes Rose sweet and a little vulnerable at times, and it's a beautiful take on the character. Very different from Helen (especially in her reactions after listening outside McGonagall's Office in Act Three), but just as wonderful in her own way.

Leah

I've seen Leah cover both Nicola's track, and play Polly multiple times (she's one of those super swings who seems to be everyone). As 'Nicola' she seemed so young, especially in the library scene where she had to tell the boys off. She was still wearing the student robes, rather than teachers' robes, so she looked like a prefect telling the boys off. I'm sure she's had to put up with all sorts of rubbish from the boys over the years. They deserve a telling off.

And as Polly she's mature, grounded, a tiny touch flirtatious, but not over the top. She seems very confident and sure of herself, and weirdly she feels older as Polly than she did as 'Nicola'. Also, it cannot be understated how beautiful she looked, with long, black, gently curled hair. Polly has never been more gorgeous (she is a notorious beauty after all).

I particularly love what Leah does in the Voldemort timeline actually. She handles the scene on the stairs with Scorpius brilliantly. I guess she's used to Scorpius being overconfident and flirtatious and probably a bit of an asshole, because she seems genuinely confused by him in that scene, especially when he isn't enthusiastic about her advances. She's clearly prepared her speech and is determined to go through with it, so by the end she has to compose herself and make herself strong and assertive for the 'for Voldemort and Valour' because by that point she's understood that she's getting no help from Scorpius. But clearly this is important to her -- being with Scorpius is a way of assuring her position in the world, and she needs to do it. I wonder how long she's been working on asking him out?

Josh

The other super swing (as you all probably already know). I've actually only seen him as Karl in this cast, although I think he's also been on as Craig, and possibly Yann too? I love watching his ensemble antics (especially those involving Mackley) so much, and he's one of a handful of four of five people who I'm pretty sure the show would fall apart without (maybe not anymore, but certainly back in May).

My favourite memory of him in Mackley's track was when he was playing Dudley. Both Mackley and Josh get up to some ridiculous shenanigans when they're hidden away beneath the stairs with the other Dursleys, but Josh's was the best. He was so scared of Hagrid that he actually shoved his whole head under Aunt Petunia's dressing gown to hide.

Josh is basically a hero. He can and does play anyone. I don't really know what else needs to be said about him.

Jordan

I totally love Jordan as Yann. I think he's great. I don't know what it is about him but I really trust him on stage, and he's another where I get really happy when he's on. I especially love him as Krum. He has the perfect look, and the movement he does is really natural.

I have now also seen Jordan as the Jameses/Cedric, and basically I think I just really love Jordan? As with seeing any cover for the first time, I didn't really get used to him being on stage in the first scene, so I definitely need to see him again to give a proper assessment of him as James Jr, but I absolutely adored his Cedric.

Because he's a bit bigger than Rupert and has an older face, he felt a bit more intimidating. He felt like a seventh year Triwizard Champion compared to the boys for sure. The scene in the maze was played a little more similarly to how Milligan used to do it, with outright confusion that got a couple of laughs from the audience, but it was still a very beautiful and moving scene.

In the glasses, with his really dark hair, he made a great James Potter Sr, and the death scene was really amazing.

Sarah

The first time I saw Sarah she stole Part One with her rendition of Myrtle (which is quite a feat when you're following a library scene like the one she had to follow). She was wildly over the top in a perfectly Myrtle way, and there were so many moments when Myrtle was all of us. The way she looked Albus up and down when she mentioned the girls 'and boys' doing love incantations in her bathroom in particular. It was a hysterically funny rendition. I think she's only getting more over the top as she gets more comfortable with the role, which is really fun to see.

Ged

I was actually quite nervous about seeing Ged as the Sorting Hat. I love Mark so much that I was worried about how someone else might compare, but honestly what Ged did with the role was pretty breathtaking. He's a very calm, softly spoken, detached sort of Sorting Hat. You really do get the feeling of him being a thing of magic, and standing apart from the world. His version of the pumpkin transition into Godric's Hollow was so joyous that it took my breath away.

I adored him as Hagrid too. His accent may have been a teeny bit suspect at times, but his skill at walking down the stairs in Hagrid's shoes was genuinely impressive, and more than enough to make up for that. The way he told Harry he was a wizard was gorgeous, and then Hagrid's final scene, especially when he heard Harry crying and went looking for him, was really beautiful.

I have also seen Ged as Snape/Voldemort on multiple occasions while David was off in August. In the costumes (especially as Vernon) he looks so much like David that it's difficult to tell who's on, but by the time you get to Snape you can tell. I definitely warmed to his Snape over the month, and I think that was probably because he was getting more comfortable with it, and my favourite rendition was definitely on the 1st of September, when absolutely everyone was on fire.

I don't remember much about him as Voldemort, except that I thought he was great. Although, in a hilarious contrast to him as Hagrid, he took the stairs into the auditorium very very carefully indeed; in fact there was one point in his first show where I thought he might not walk down them at all!

Morag

Morag as McGonagall has a truly special place in my heart and always will do. I get so excited and happy when I see her name on the cast board. (I think she was part of that legendary first cover show with James Howard back on the 31st of August 2016, and I thought she was a bit too softly spoken then, but my opinion of her has transformed over this year.)

Her scene in the office after the boys come out of the lake is truly beautiful. She gets so emotional about the world and about the sacrifices of the war and about protecting the boys. She's everything McGonagall should be. McGonagall is a character who cares desperately about her students and her school and about the state of the world around it. She's a beautiful, powerful character, and her emotion means so much because it comes out so rarely. Morag might be my perfect McGonagall; she's certainly given me a deeper appreciation for the character, and I really never want to lose her.

Also, I noticed recently that she looks so shocked and concerned when Albus is sorted, not just about the Sorting itself, but by the reactions of the other students. I need to pay more attention to her reactions in that entire scene (and to Sandy's reactions) because I bet they're fantastic.

Nicola

Nicola is my favourite Hermione. It was strange seeing her after a run of Rakie performances, because she's very different. Back in the days when Noma was the main Hermione, Nicola always felt brutal and menacing, and especially in edge in the second and third timelines, but now, compared to Rakie, she almost seems tame, but I mean that in a good way. She's the perfect halfway between the two, beautifully balanced. She brings a supreme calm and clarity and thoughtfulness to Hermione, and her chemistry with Tom is electric. She also works beautifully with Jamie, and I loved her with both Rayxia and Helen. It was wonderful to see her again after so long.

My favourite thing that Nicola does is in the polyjuice scene. When Delphi transforms, she's so fascinated by herself, and by the two boys. Nicola will check out her hair, and then she'll go across and poke Jamie in the back of the head while Scorpius is talking to Albus, or sometimes she'll poke him in the shoulder instead. It's like she's testing how sturdy the new forms are, and it's such a sweet little thing to do.

Also, I continue to be grateful for how good she is at hooking herself up to the Dementors. She's the only person I never have to stress about, because she nails it every single time. I don't know how she does it, but I think it must be a genuine talent.

Lowri

I had never seen Lowri as Ginny before! I had a clean sweep of seeing Poppy, and I'm glad I did, because I feel like as a cover of Poppy, Lowri's Ginny would have been a shock to the system. However, as a cover of Emma she was perfect, because she's on the sharper, stronger side, where her top priority is Albus. She's a touch less oppositional with Harry than Emma is (Emma's Ginny really gets angry at Harry in Act Three), but in the opening scene I almost forgot she wasn't Emma until I looked at her.

She makes a very young Ginny, but she was really sweet with Albus, and I absolutely adored her exploding snap scene with all my heart. I would certainly not be disappointed to see her again, and I'm actually a bit sad it took me so long to finally see her.

Gideon

To start with the appearance – he looks just like Theo, especially in the dorm scene when they're sitting side by side on the suitcase. You truly believe that Theo is his son. He looks slightly younger than Jamie, which is a tiny bit odd with Emma, but that doesn't matter at all when he's so good. I think the best description of him is 'hot dad Harry'.

I was really nervous about seeing another cover Harry, because Harry is such an important part, and he links so much of the show together that when Harry is weak, it leaves half of the scenes feeling empty and detached from the rest of the show. However, that is a not a problem we're going to have this year. His acting was exceptional. He, like so many of this cast's covers, walks the perfect middle line between the original and second cast principals. There were moments where his portrayal was just like Jamie G's, but then there were moments of explosive anger and rebelliousness that were just like Jamie P.

He put his feet on the desk in the scene with Hermione after Harry's found the Time-Turner, he got angry and fired up to the point of shouting at so many points, and he cried in the scene with Dumbledore. It was a painfully nostalgic experience to see him, but it was wonderful. Also, one of my favourite things I've ever seen in the show happened with him.

The final scene was beautiful, but because he was a cover I wasn't sure if he would stick with the Jamie G tradition and hug Albus as the lights went down. I get really nervous about losing my favourite details like that when covers go on. But thankfully he did hug Albus, and then Albus hugged him back, which I don't think had ever happened before, and it was stunning. Harry and Albus hugging each other as the auditorium goes dark. I never thought I'd see that, but it happened and I was overjoyed.

Other things I loved were that in the blanket scene he felt like he was convinced the blanket was the coolest gift ever, and slowly got crushed by Albus's anger. I also adored how whenever he was interacting with Albus his hands would shake. It was like he was so afraid of communicating with his son, and so desperate to get it right, that he would start trembling with anxiety.

I know that some people have already started campaigning for Gideon to take over full time next year, and I can honestly say that I would be really happy if that happened. He's brilliant. I can't wait to see him after he's been on a few times and is taking full ownership of the role.

April

I could watch April as Delphi every single performance and be perfectly happy. She's brilliant.

In Part One she feels young and girlish. It helps that she's so small. The voice she uses isn't vulnerable as such, but it doesn't project power and influence. She's actually sort of adorable. Her Delphi feels a bit lost, someone who's searching for something, which of course she is, she wants her father, and I love that interpretation.

In Part Two she absolutely transforms into a sadistic, evil witch. She pushes Delphi to the boundaries, making her terrifying and downright creepy, and I know for a fact that she'd go further if she could (she told me at stage door that she wishes she could lick Albus, but that she thought that might be going too far since there are kids in the audience).

The biggest impact moment of her performance comes in the torture scene. I've heard that when Annabel was busy with the original cast, she would rehearse with Theo and Sam, and you can really tell because they take this scene to a whole new place.

Delphi is so quick and violent with the torture that at one point Albus ends up throwing himself across the ground to try and block her spell from reaching Scorpius, and he lies there in hell watching his friend's pain. She also crouches down behind Albus at one point and holds him in her lap, one hand grabbing his chin, the other pointing her wand at Scorpius. She makes Albus look at Scorpius as she taunts him about not being able to save his friend, and her wand is in such a position that Albus must feel as though he's the one casting the awful curses at Scorpius. Albus always ends up burying his face in his knees and sobbing uncontrollably when she does this, and it's horrific.

April's Delphi is pure evil, I don't think there's another way of saying it. Pure, magnificent evil. She's another one who I'd love to see take over full time next year.

I have written a full recap of Ed's Draco here and here but I don't want to miss him out of these summaries. I've actually seen him again since I wrote those recaps, and even though it's only been three shows between those recaps and this, I think his Draco has changed a bit.

He seems a little older now and less petty. I've been talking to a lot of people who describe him as an older version of book Draco, and I totally agree with that. There's a spitefulness to him at times, and he seems constantly on the offensive, his thoughts and feelings just spilling out of him. Ed's pacing is fascinating, because his dialogue is so fast but he takes such long pauses that overall the scenes last the same amount of time. Those long pauses don't let his Draco collect his thoughts and feelings together; his feelings and thoughts keep boiling away during them, and he never seems to cool down. Also, he seems constantly on the verge of tears. In the first EGM when he talks about Scorpius and the rumours, he almost breaks.

His reactions to Ron are brilliant. In fact, his reactions to everything are brilliant. He plays things a bit differently to James, and actually makes Draco seem a bit more confident as a character. There's a very Dracoish air of entitlement to him, and he doesn't do things like shy away from Myrtle or look delighted when Ron compliments him. He holds his ground, responds with disgust, and generally seems above the rest of the world.

I think Ed's Draco is wonderful. Silky smooth. A really good, caring father (that hug with him is gorgeous; Scorpius throws himself into it and almost knocks him over). Spiky and defensive. Emotionally vulnerable. And, of course, very handsome. I can't wait to see him again.

Mackley

I saw Mackley twice with Anthony, and only once from a good seat, but that was still in the dress circle. I was desperate to see him from the stalls, and I finally got my wish on Sunday the 17th of September.

With Anthony, I remember loving absolutely everything that Mackley did (apart from one line, which I'll mention later). He really shone opposite Anthony, to the point where during one of the shows I only noticed that Anthony was there about halfway through Act Four. He's always been most compelling in the interactions with Harry, and I still think that's true.

Mackley has changed a lot for the new cast, and it's really interesting to see. At the start of the show, when Albus is 11, he puts on a very young voice, which threw me off a bit as I hadn't been forewarned about it. I think that's the sort of thing that's only weird if you're really familiar with an actor, but it was really weird for me.

I loved his blanket scene with all my heart and soul. It's so fiery and perfectly Albus. There's so much fight in there. His yelling is extraordinary, and I finally felt with Mackley like I'd seen a blanket scene from this cast that I was really really happy with (although I've seen some since that have been incredible).

The balance between Albus and Scorpius with Mackley was probably the biggest change from the original cast. Whereas with Anthony, Mackley outshone him and stole the limelight for the whole show, with Samuel there was a lot more give and take. In Part One Albus definitely overrode Scorpius, but in Part Two, Scorpius was the confident, powerful one, and by the time of Godric's Hollow both Samuel and Mackley had given up on being sensible (it was Mackley's last show as Albus for a while and Samuel's last before his holiday) and were just having a wild amount of fun together. It was genuinely beautiful to watch. There was so much joy in their collaboration; it was everything I'd been wanting from their partnership since the 24th of May when Samuel said his first line as Scorpius.

The one downside to Mackley's Albus was the torture scene. This never used to be the cast with the original cast, but this time I was actually very disappointed. The acting wasn't bad; Mackley is incredible, a genuine star, but the decisions he made were just not Albus and I'd really love to know what he was thinking.

Albus completely collapsed in the torture scene, to the point where when Delphi said 'you will do as you're told' he started nodding desperately. It was that nodding that turned me off entirely. Albus in that scene would never give in. He knows he has to save Scorpius, but he also knows he has to stop Delphi, and because he's Albus Severus Potter he's going to find a different way, because that's what he does. I think that's essential to having a believable Albus. (Honestly, the portrayal in that scene was everything I was afraid Theo's Albus might be before I saw him do that scene.)

Having said all that, I'm a huge Mackley fan and I will be more than happy to see him again, but I'd love to see him rethink some of the character choices. I think he could be one of my favourite Albus's ever if he tweaked the torture scene and rethought Albus's trajectory through the story. It might be a lot to ask, but a girl can dream.

Henry

Henry plays a very sweet Scorpius. There was nothing about him that I didn't like. He had great chemistry with Theo and, most importantly for me, with James. The blond wig really suits him, and he has such a similar profile to Samuel that I actually thought for a second in the opening scene that the cast board was wrong and that Samuel was back from his holiday early.

There were a lot of things I love from Samuel's performance that I was expecting to see Henry not do, but I was pleasantly surprised when Henry did those things but even more over the top. The goo-oo-oo-oo-ood that Samuel does at the end of Act One was preserved in all its glory, but Henry varied the pitch, making it even more over the top and adorable. He sang the line 'palace of love' opera style. When Ron drew his wand the wrong way round, he wiggled his fingers to tell Ron to turn it round. He was essentially an adorable nerd, and it was so lovely.

The sweetness and comedy of his performance was probably my favourite thing about it, but he still delivered on the emotional parts of the story, and his library scene was great. The only thing I missed with him was the dynamic range of Samuel's performance. He never got really really quiet or left long gaps of silence, but other than that he was perfect.

My absolute favourite part of his performance was probably the scene with Snape at the edge of the lake. There was something so emotional and beautiful about it, especially his delivery of the line "thank you for being my light in the darkness". He seemed to say it so slowly and it was almost broken-sounding, but there was so much strength and resolve and clarity in it. He paused after the word thank you, like he was trying to find the right words, and when he found them it was stunning.

There were a lot of lines in his performance that were approximated, and Elizabeth did a fabulous prompt in the scene at the end of Act Two (he forgot 'I'm looking for my friend, miss' and just knelt on the ground, hyperventilating with what was probably genuine fear, until she asked if he was looking for someone), but that didn't really impact on anything, and you'd only know if you knew the script off by heart.

In general he was just really lovely, fun to watch, and a great performance. I think Henry is a great actor, and I'm excited to see him again in a few months when he's played Scorpius more. It'll certainly be a hilarious, exuberant performance, no matter what happens.

#Harry Potter and the Cursed Child #Cursed Child #Notes from the show #cursed child cast #cursed child recap #Keep The Secrets #idk how to tag anymore #and there are soooo many people in here I can't tag them all #But anyway I basically love all these people with my heart and soul #there's no a weak link in the cast and that is an incredible thing #they're sensational #this show is sensational #and I'm constantly proud to be a fan of this show and this cast

28 notes · View notes

rebaobsessivelywrites · 7 years ago

Text

A Story of Shadows (ch 3)

You can find this entire fic here on AO3. (and fanfiction.net here)

Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV) and Percy Jackson and the Olympians (Books)

Entire Fic Description:

Nico flees the Camp Half-blood infirmary and into a shadow. He's aiming for San Francisco (specifically his sister in Camp Jupiter), but ends up in Los Angeles. In a warehouse. Filled with vampires. Like, honest to goodness VAMPIRES-- not empousai. And who in Hades is this "Angel" guy?

Aka: Nico stumbles into a world radically different, but just as dangerous as his own.

Entire Fic Warnings: cannon-typical violence, uh… not much. I’ll add as I go…

Chapter word count: 1,511

Chapter warnings: cannon typical violence, let me know if there’s more

Summary: A few facts come to light, and Cordelia is very much in denial.

Please read the fic! First chapter, previous chapter, next chapter, master list. And let me know if you want to be tagged.

Cordelia felt found herself gaping at the strange kid in front of her. While he looked like an ordinary teenager, dressed in dark goth-like jeans and t-shirt, he was very much not one. He didn’t make any sense. He had turned an obscene number of vampires to dust—wielding that mysterious black sword like it was a part of him—only to promptly… fade? And what the hell was up with that? Bodies did not do that. Period. And then there was also the worrying fact that he kept… zoning out. He just stood there like some kind of ghost when Wesley was helping Gunn, and then it was like he was in some sort of slow-motion time warp digging around in that bag of his when Cordelia was ripping Angel a new one. He was so out of touch with the world, and whenever he did display some semblance of awareness it was to glare at someone (usually whoever was the closest).

Alright, maybe she was being a little unfair. Mr Mini-Dark-and-Mysterious did seem a little better now that he’d eaten that weird sugar cube thing. His hand was still gone though. And he had graduated to muttering strange things under his breath. A large portion of which was definitely not English.

After the boy’s dramatic declaration of not being lost, but having missed, Cordelia was temporarily dumbstruck. This gave Fred the opportunity to lean forward, from where she still knelt next to the boy and his pack, and ask gently, “What do you mean you missed?”

“I’m not human,” he shrugged as though that was a suitable explanation, even though they’d already established that little tidbit. (That was another big thing about this strange boy that Cordelia was decidedly not ok with, but she was ignoring that for now. Along with the fact that he somehow knew Mr Dark-and-Mysterious Sr was dead.)

Fred seemed as taken aback as Cordelia because she simply looked over her shoulder at Angel with a lost expression on her face.

Angel frowned and took a small step closer to the boy, “So you have… magic, then?”

The boy snorted, “That’s one way to put it.”

“What’s the other way?” Gunn asked curiously from somewhere behind Cordelia.

The boy hesitated and looked down at his hands—rather, his hand holding his flask and the arm that would normally be attached to his other hand. After a moment he shrugged, as though going ‘what the hell’. He looked up at the motley group that surrounded him and gave them a strange smile that was a cross between a nervous flash of teeth and a mischievous smirk, “I’m the son of Hades, Lord of the Underworld, and I’ve inherited a fair number of his powers.” Something primal and terrifying lit up in the boy’s eyes, and for a moment Cordelia forgot that he was fading from existence. “They call me the King of Ghosts.”

“That’s a, uh,” Wesley’s voice took a step up in pitch, “interesting title.”

The kid shrugged and took another swig from his flask. He seemed absolutely unconcerned.

“How’d you get it?” Fred asked curiously.

He gave her a very unimpressed look, “How do you think?”

“But,” Cordelia ventured, “Wouldn’t, um, Hades be the King of Ghosts?”

“No,” he snorted, “My dad is the King of the Underworld.”

For a moment, they all stared in silence as the strange boy drank from his flask. Cordelia, for one, was absolutely befuddled and was still trying to process everything she’d heard so far. Just… what? He was the son of a god? How was that possible? A god??

The only person who didn’t seem to be affected was Angel. Because, you know, it was Angel. Said vampire was the one to break the silence, “Alright, kid. I’m still not sure how or why you’re here but you clearly need help and we can’t stay here. I’m Angel,” the vampire started gesturing to each occupant of the warehouse, “This is my team; Gunn, Wes—“

“Wesley, Cordelia, and Fred,” the boy finished a little impatiently, gesturing just like Angel had. “I’m perfectly capable of listening, even when I’m fading from existence,” he snarked, “But since you’re finally sharing, maybe you can tell me what in the name of Hades those,” he gestured to the piles of dust, “things are. Because, whatever they were, they were like you, Angel. Dead, but… not like one of my zombies. And they… they felt empty. You feel more complete, like an actual ghost.”

Cordelia was speechless. She noticed Fred’s jaw was hanging a little loose and Wesley looked like someone had slapped him. Gunn looked suspicious. Angel himself, however, looked taken aback… and rather intrigued as well. “You’ve never seen a vampire before?”

“Vampires?” he nearly hissed, “Seriously? I was sure I was mistaken…”

“Nope,” Cordelia jumped in, popping the ‘p’, “They were your average, soulless, bloodsucking undead. Angel here, though, he’s fully ensouled. Still quite dead, but at least he has a conscience.”

“I’ve only ever seen empousai before…” the boy murmured, “I’m going to have to swear on the Styx to get everyone to believe me.”

“What are empousai?” Fred forgot her shock in favor of curiousity.

The boy shrugged, “They’re daughters of Hecate, and are hybrids of a sort. Human, donkey, and mechanics. They drink the blood of men they seduce. ”

“Donkey?” Wesley asked incredulously.

Gunn, however, shook his head at his friend, “No… that I can get… but mechanics? What does that even mean?”

“They only have one leg, a donkey’s leg, so they’re given a celestial bronze prosthetic. I’ve heard that they’re melded together with black magic.”

“Celestial bronze,” Wesley murmured quietly, but Cordelia was fairly certain that only she had heard it.

Gunn frowned deeply, “And you mistook them for vampires?” Unlike Wesley’s musing, his incredulous question was heard by everyone.

The son of Hades (and Cordelia was still very much not ok with that) gave the experienced demon hunter a murderous look, “They basically are vampires—they drink blood! I’m sorry that I’ve never seen your type of vampire before.”

Gunn scowled back at the feisty not-quite-human, and opened his mouth to say something that would no doubt inflame the situation. The boy obviously knew this too, because his expression was darkening rapidly and he hadn’t even heard what Gunn was about to say.

Cordelia felt obligated to jump in before anyone exchanged blows, “Whoa there, cowboys. Take it easy. We already know the world is a big scary place; so what if it’s a little scarier?” Once both boys redirected their glares to her she addressed the kid, “You know ours’, bucko, so what’s your name?”

His glare subsided to a heavy smolder, and he looked down at his hands. Well, hand-with-flask and arm-without-hand. (Another thing Cordelia was still very much not ok with.) “Nico,” he muttered reluctantly.

“Alright, Nico,” Cordelia continued, “Like Angel said, we can’t stay here. Why don’t we relocate to our command center, and then you can tell us how exactly we can help you.”

Around her, Cordelia’s teammates murmured agreement and began to efficiently gather weapons and medical supplies and pack them away. The boy—Nico—watched for a moment before giving a disgusted huff and shoving his own supplies back into his pack (one-handed).

“You could help by getting me to San Francisco,” he muttered, swinging his pack over his shoulders and sliding his sword into its sheaf, still seated. He took a deep breath and braced his working hand against the floor. Cordelia had a flash of anxiety a moment before the son of Hades heaved himself to his feet. For a precarious moment, he swayed forward, and everyone started towards him but Fred, who was still the closest, reached out hurriedly to steady him. He, in return, glared at her and continued his griping, “I would’ve thought that’d be obvious since I said I was headed there.”

It took Cordelia a long moment to remember what he had been talking about. As such, Angel beat her to the punch.

“You’re not going anywhere until you can walk straight,” Dark-and-Mysterious (original trademarked edition) scolded the teenager severely.

“And your hand stops pulling a Houdini on us,” Cordelia added, mimicking Angel’s ‘I-am-not-kidding’ face perfectly.

Nico huffed at them, “You know, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself.” They all gave him incredulous looks, so he scowled and murmured, probably to himself, “It’s not like I saved the world, or survived Tartarus, or visit the Underworld for kicks or anything. No… I’m obviously completely helpless. That horde of vampires nearly massacred me.”

“Try not to drown us in your sarcasm,” Wesley told Nico wisely as he passed him, still supported by Fred. “You wouldn’t want to kill the kind souls that are trying to help you.”

Hanging back as everyone filed out of the dank warehouse towards the cars, Cordelia rolled her eyes. This was going to be a very very long day. And that wasn’t even counting the nest of vampires they’d just killed!

#reba's fanfic #story of shadows #tag more later

0 notes

nofomoartworld · 8 years ago

Text

Hyperallergic: Unpacking the Relationship Between Images and Social Justice

Sarah E. Lewis teaching her first “Vision & Justice” class at the Brooklyn Public Library on March 24 (all photos by Gregg Richards, courtesy the Brooklyn Public Library)

Last May, the relationship between ethics and photographs was made intensely vivid to me when Harvard professor and author Sarah Elizabeth Lewis guest-edited a special issue of Aperture magazine titled “Vision & Justice.” Through deeply insightful essays and arresting images, that publication demonstrated that seeing is very much racially informed and that the images we make and share are tools that can be recruited in the struggle for social justice.

In the fall, Lewis began teaching a class at Harvard on parsing how race, justice, visual literacy, and citizenship are interrelated. So when I heard that she was bringing a condensed version to the Brooklyn Public Library (BPL) for three weekend sessions this March and April, I was enthusiastic to attend. Lewis led me and the other students through a series of focused, historicized readings of images that made their meanings unspool. For example, I came to realize that the photos of Frederick Douglass I had grown up with and largely taken for granted were actually ordnance marshaled in a pitched and ongoing battle for recognition of the worth of black people in the US. After it was over, I got in touch with Lewis to gain further insight into some pressing questions raised in and by the course — questions about visual literacy, civic society, and what it means to look at how we look.

* * *

Seph Rodney: How did the “Vision and Justice” course that you ran at the Brooklyn Public Library grow out of your class at Harvard? Can flesh that out a bit more?

Sarah E. Lewis: Sure. [At BPL] I taught three courses, starting at the end of March, running through the end of April. They were two weeks apart. I condensed my 24 lectures for the Harvard “Vision and Justice” course and also created the same assignment that I gave my Harvard students for the Brooklyn Public Library. The assignments [were] truly powerful: the level of rigor, care, looking at how images have liberated our notion of citizenship. Students chose images related to Brown vs. Board of Education, related to the Supreme Court case connected to Japanese internment, the Korematsu case. They chose extraordinary images that demonstrated the persuasive efficacy of photographs that go, often times, far beyond verbal argument alone.

Russell Lee, “Los Angeles, California. Japanese-American evacuation from West Coast areas under U.S. Army war emergency order. Japanese-American child who will go with his parents to Owens Valley” (1942). This image was used by student Taiyo Ebato in her essay submitted for the “Vision and Justice” course. (image via the Library of Congress)

SR: From what I understand, Jakab Orsós, BPL’s vice president of arts and culture, essentially offered you an invitation to condense a course that you were already teaching and reach a different kind of audience — an audience that both you and he seemed to agree needed, or would benefit from, this kind of course.

SEL: I accepted the invitation not only because it was civic course, but because of the Brooklyn connection, a borough with profound significance for what has animated my work. My grandfather went to high school in Brooklyn and was expelled in 1926, in the 11th grade, for asking his teacher why the textbooks didn’t include many of the achievements of Asian Americans, Latinos, and African Americans. He didn’t accept his teacher’s answer that, in particular, African Americans had done nothing to merit inclusion. He was expelled for his so-called impertinence. His pride was so wounded that he never went back to high school and became an artist and jazz musician. To come back to Brooklyn as a professor at Harvard teaching on the nexus of images, race, citizenship, and power — namely, representational justice, the very topic he was expelled for asking about — felt like a form of redemption.

SR: Following on that, what’s your sense of why this course was needed at BPL? I understand that Harvard students would sign up for it partly to fulfill their requirements, but for people who are coming to the library, they’re not required to take it. Why do you think they were attracted to it?

SEL: It’s a great question. I truly am still pondering the answer, because I hope the thing you make vivid for your readers is just how unusual the setup, the course, the event, truly was. Right? It’s one thing to come out on a Friday night for someone whom you want to hear speak. It’s another to sign up voluntarily for a course on a Friday night. You actually have to work. You have to do some reading. You gotta write. And we didn’t have any attrition.

What are we realizing? That citizens, that civic society understands we need to a) create community b) learn a bit more, and c) with some urgency. I think we understand that we are in a moment in which not having visual literacy to understand the narratives that are being placed on various racial groups can have extreme, cauterizing consequences for lived realities, for policy decisions, for how it is that we come together as a society. [So] people are willing to spend their time, instead of leisurely ending their week on a Friday night any other way.

You know, the global photography archive has just become massive, and coupled with that exponential growth in photographic use is the way we are increasingly living in silos. I think part of the reason why people are there on a Friday night is because we’re now seeing that pictures, media are ultimately the ways in which we bridge the gulfs that are being created between us.

A packed house for the course at the Brooklyn Public Library

SR: I’m going to push back on that a little bit, because, given my own experience as an image maker and art critic, I’ve had occasion to look at a lot of images. And I suspect that sometimes images merely reinforce ideas, prejudices, assumptions that the viewer already has coming in. Just because one is exposed to images one hasn’t seen before doesn’t necessarily mean that new knowledge comes along with that experience.

SEL: Right, but that wasn’t the point of the course. So I agree with you, and I think the data — there are lots of studies that show there is a hardening of belief that occurs when you use, say, videos in court cases that have to do with racial violence. You would think showing an event like the Eric Garner case would have resulted in different outcomes. Typically they do not. Typically they just harden people’s beliefs. But I don’t think, in fact, that the goal of the course was to show the transformative role of pictures, necessarily. It was to ask a central question and allow time for us to consider it: How have images both limited and liberated our definition of citizenship? This isn’t a course about how to use images as a mode of activism. This is a course that’s looking at the way in which pictures have constructed our notion of citizenship.

And that was the work of the first class. It was looking at that construction process, of looking at enslaved African, African-born, and American-born slaves and showing how pictures were being used to somehow legitimize the subjugation of slaves. It’s looking at these in a case-study method, how, historically, we have liberated and limited our notion of citizenship through pictures.

SR: Right. So the question I was going to pose was: why run this as a college course? But I think you’ve answered that: in order to get at this deeper relationship between citizenship and visual literacy, it would make sense to have an interaction where you have people forwarding answers to questions and being able to rub up against answers from their peers, have a kind of back and forth where there’s winnowing of ideas and their articulation.

SEL: Absolutely well-said, and that’s exactly right. I would just add: Part of the reason why it’s a course and not, say, a set of articles that I’m publishing about visual literacy and citizenship (which I might as a book, just to go along with the course), is the course allows the students who take it to understand how constructed sight has transformed policy decisions [and] citizenship. Sorry, not constructed, conditioned sight. The way in which we have been trained to see one another, it is a process that one has to learn. The narratives that we place on other subjects have been largely done through pictures, and so, when you’re able to process that in a classroom, you see the way in which this is actually a skill. You know?

I don’t just want it to be a college course. My hope is that I can create a civic, even a K–12 curriculum around it. Because it’s great to get people at the age of 18 and upward, but really the middle school age, the high school age, that’s when it might be most beneficial for our young citizens to understand these ideas.

SR: I think, by the time you’re an adult in this country, you’ve already internalized many assumptions and your ways of looking at the world have started to become rigid. And I think this is actually the underlying premise of your course: you want people to look at the way they look.

SEL: But you’re reminding me, when I was in graduate school, I came across Olafur Eliasson’s work and this term he had, “seeing yourself seeing.” And that did ignite some of this inquiry to interrogate the act of sight as it relates to race and citizenship.

A participant answers a question from Lewis during a class at BPL

SR: In terms of public policy or cultural notions that might be linked to vision, why connect these with citizenship?

SEL: Well, I should say I really do connect them with justice equally. It’s justice as the first part of the title for a reason, I think. Why focus on justice first? Well, in part because the pathway through which we are able to arrive at a point of justice comes through a process of collective correction, right? The acknowledgement of failure is at the heart of justice. But why citizenship? It relates to justice. We, I think, take the expanded category of citizenship for granted. When you look at it with a historical perspective, you begin at 1790 with the Naturalization Act, and you understand that it was a term limited to those who were white and able to hold property. You then have to start to ask yourself: Well, how do we arrive at a more liberated notion of citizenship? And is that narrative largely a legal one? What role have the arts played in expanding our notion of who counts in society?

What I hope my students take away, I hope they’re able to see that culture, the arts, do not merely reflect these larger narratives [or] offer us a way to gauge what happened in a historical moment, but actually have created these historical moments.

“Vision & Justice: Photography, Race, and Power” was taught by Sarah E. Lewis at the Brooklyn Public Library (Central Library, 10 Grand Army Plaza, Prospect Heights) on March 24, April 7, and April 21.

The post Unpacking the Relationship Between Images and Social Justice appeared first on Hyperallergic.

from Hyperallergic http://ift.tt/2rBpIAW via IFTTT

#IFTTT #Hyperallergic

0 notes

its-just-like-the-movies · 8 years ago

Text

Long Day’s Journey Into Night (62, A)

It feels a little cheap saying that I’ve had a hard time even figuring out where to start with my review of Long Day’s Journey Into Night. Forgive me though, because talking about Long Day’s Journey is so stymying in that particular kind of way where a film is so unbelievably fantastic that you can only start by praising the whole, where saying everything about it is absolutely perfect sums it up pretty fucking well, thank you very much, and after that you can get to the specifics. Sure, there’s a favorite part or a conversation it particularly inspires in you, something you see in this you don’t see in most or any other movies made now or contemporaneously. I walked into this with a little bit of borrowed goodwill: I’d read the play, as had my sister, who says it’s the best play she’s ever read; the praise of a specific film critic who’d called this Katharine Hepburn’s best performance; and my own allegiance to the few Kate performances that I’d seen walking into the picture - The Lion in Winter, The Philadelphia Story, and Suddenly, Last Summer - finding her absolutely brilliant in all three and tremendous again here, in a way distinct from those previous performances and in ways I can only hope to find even more valuable as I watch her in Alice Adams, Stage Door, Adam’s Rib, and all her other nominated and/or treasured performances. Director Sidney Lumet, who I’d loved for his work on The Verdict, liked with Equus, and cannot believe I still haven’t seen Network and Dog Day Afternoon at the time of writing, creates an even more remarkable triumph in realizing Eugene O’Neill’s play without changing a single word of his prose. Dynamics in conversations change on a dime, and Lumet finds the perfect angles and shots to let the actors share the space and do their work while nevertheless shaping the performances and the relationships of the characters within heroically long shots, cutting sparsely and using cinematic language to bring the story to full force. Lumet’s touch and Ralph Rosenblum’s editing finds the right tone to make the film the most brisk 174 minute picture that I’ve ever seen, digging into every theme and character to bring out the fullest potential of the source material. “Just doing the play” is a phrase that’s mainly used today as a dig against theatre adaptations that seem uncomfortably lodged between cinema and stage in their own films, but Long Day’s Journey Into Night manages to find the perfect balance between cinematic techniques and theatrical accents in the whole project to make the film as potent to watch as it is to read, becoming the best version of itself while gracefully hopping pitfalls that modern adaptations seem to find insurmountable.

I don’t mean this to inherently dig on modern Broadway-to-film transfers as whole, but that perfect balance of a powerful director, a sterling cast, and basically leaving the script well the fuck alone feels surprisingly hard to come by nowadays. The Meryl Streep helmed trifecta of Doubt, August: Osage County, and Into the Woods all illustrate how difficult it is, each one buckling under mediocre to outright poor direction, the dulling of the material’s riskiest and most thematically relevant or singular edges to shorten the runtime and make it more audience friendly, and the inconsistency of their ensemble casts in rising above those obstacles. Fences would probably have fulfilled this trio had Denzel Washington shaped the material more as a director before the final third rather than planting his camera in front of that titanic, stage-supplanted ensemble and just letting them nail it. I’m more than open to any recommendations from the last thirty or so years that could prove me wrong, but I haven’t found or heard much to suggest that there’s a modern miracle I’m missing out on.

If we take the immaculate quality of O’Neill’s story of the Tyrone family as a given - I’m not saying it’s absolutely flawless, but any particular slights against it are just no match for everything it gets so immeasurably right - it’d be almost too easy to imagine a director simply letting the strength of the prose and the actors quite literally speak for themselves without bothering to do all that much with or to the material, hopping from close-up to close-up. For sure that’s as much a symptom of modern storytelling techniques as much as anything else, and giving Lumet credit for letting the actors interact with each other within the frame is more or less the way movies were made back in the 60’s. But what’s for sure distinct about it is Lumet filming these sequences in incredibly long takes, moving side by side with the characters, letting them breathe each other’s air and interact so fully that it matters when we cannot see the face or the body of the person they’re speaking to. The entire third act, a long conversation between Mary Tyrone and her maid Catherine, gives itself over to Mary once she becomes fully lost in her own memories, making the cuts back to Catherine almost a shock to the system as we and Mary remember she’s even in the room. The self-serving nature of some conversations, often admissions of wrongdoing or reveries about the past, are conveyed by the infrequency of how often we are allowed to see the reactions of the person they’re ostensibly talking to, allowing the actors to stand by their characters even as Lumet refused to let them go unquestioned.

The other characters do plenty of questioning themselves, though. Their constant pacifications of each other are a much a sign of discovery as they are of genuine apology to hitting a raw nerve, and we learn as much about them through what makes them angry as we do through their apologies or excuses for asking those questions, or how they respond to them. James Tyrone Sr.’s pushing of responsibility on the person he’s talking to is as notable as Edmund’s desire to share the blame and put the thing to bed, or Jamie’s constant brushing it off based on how natural it was for him to ask what he had asked or respond the way he responded, or Mary putting it on herself in hopes of letting it drop. Even more noticeable is Mary’s anxiety at these small confrontations, trying to gauge if her boys have lost faith in her, why they’re staring at her, if she’s hiding her addiction well enough even as she’s visibly slipping back into old mannerisms. Even if Catherine belongs in the hall of fame for thankless theatre roles, Jeanne Barr’s reactions to Mary’s increasingly lost reflections show a dim but terrified awareness of how far off the deep end her mistress has gone. James, Edmund and Jamie’s responses to the non-question of Mary sliding back into bad habits is as complicated as the play ever gets, as is the whole family’s response to the very likely possibility that Edmund’s illness is worse than it looks, and must force him to go to a sanitarium for six months in the hopes of getting cured. Ideas and reminiscences are humored because it’s better than talking about anything else, because keeping someone here to talk about their father keeps them from running off to have a drink or get high or hire a prostitute, because talking like a family is the only thing that’s able to hide how badly this family is splintering off from itself and retreating into their own world.

But if the assets of the characters seem like they’re baked into the script rather than the specific triumphs of this cast and crew, then let’s get down to it. Ralph Richardson, Jason Robards, and Dean Stockwell all do nuanced takes on James, Jamie, and Edmund Tyrone, navigating their characters with the same kind of tone as Lumet’s direction, approaching this heavy material with the right balance of pathos and lightness of touch to make the whole thing land without belaboring the point. All three do great work at specifying their characters and providing rich backstory to all their conversations, making their relationships lived-in in a way that shows just how much new and old ground is being sewn with every conversation on new and old topics. The way they dote on and worry over Mary, swap between haranguing Edmund and fretting for his life, scorning James’s misery tendencies that overpower his best impulses as a father and husband, and trying to find the good in Jamie in spite of his active black sheep status, are present in how every character relates to themselves and each other, with every actor putting over these complicated relationships in their own ways that still feel deeply rooted in long-standing family behaviors and idioms. Each one brings a distinct energy that lets the narrative flow just fine with or without them. Time doesn’t stop at any one of their discussions or accusations or speeches, and they’re as instrumental as Rosenblum’s editing, Lumet’s direction, and Boris Kaufman’s cinematography. The sharing of the Best Actor prize at Cannes between the three of them is as richly deserved as Katharine Hepburn’s Best Actress win that same festival, and it’s mystifying that she was the film’s sole representation at the 1962 Academy Awards.

That being said, hers is a genius performance that manages to uphold almost everything I’ve ascribed to the men on a much higher wire, in a completely different key, and with a far more pronounced and transformative arc to manage. Hepburn manages to play in a more heightened register than her co-stars while being able to flow in and out the narrative as well as everyone else, even if hers is the character haunting the whole picture. She also inspires some of Kaufman’s most visually interesting images and spectacles: trying to get up off the floor after talking to Catherine, the way she clutches her chest and hangs off the wall after hearing she may be alone in this dreadful house, even the way her presence is invoked in how the banister staircase up to her room and the spare room. Her relationships to the men are just as felt, even as her presence in the present becomes increasingly tenuous. In her first scene, talking to her husband, Mary is the most there she’s ever going to be but already floating away just a little bit. Hepburn sets the stage for a woman as caught up in present events as everyone else but, as she becomes more and more influenced by her vices, is increasingly disconnected as she sinks further and further into the past. She’s living in the moment, but that moment is actually decades ago, physically in but psychologically out of time in way that’s scary and sad all at the same time. And it’s also, in its own way, gloriously against type for Hepburn, albeit based on the small sampling of her films I’ve seen. In the previous performances I’ve seen - hell, her own persona and personality was built around this - Hepburn’s characters always come across as women of strong presence, self-awareness, and remarkable intelligence. Mary Tyrone, by contrast, is a palpably emptier woman than any of those characters, nervous and unsure of herself even when she’s putting on her best face. Her long walk to the table at the end, isolated from the rest of the family by blocking and extreme, dream-like lighting, shows not just how far she’s gone but how similarly trapped by their own delusions and vices the rest of her family is. It’s a harrowing performance of one of the most difficult characters ever written for the theatre, and Hepburn realizes her Mary Tyrone with uncommon skill and a performance style so unlike what she’s best known for.

None of these triumphs would be possible without Lumet’s shaping of the material. He firmly stands with the Tyrones even as he undermines their speeches and refuses to pull any of the punches O’Neill inflicts on this family. He finds the right mood of precariously built family comfort to set the stage for the upcoming tragedy and finds the right kind of dread to seep into it and accrue over the course of the film, a culmination of so many internal and external squabbles in itself. The vices of the Tyrone men are taken as much for granted as Mary’s is painfully, horrifically obvious, and all of their foibles are given equal attention by Lumet as their narratives float in and out of centrality to the story and topic of conversation. He’s as much to credit for the power of the actors, the fluidity and magnetism of the editing, and the poetry of the camera in its heroically long takes. All four of the contemporary pictures I listed at the start of this review all lost out the most because of their directors, all of them ranging from the simply serviceable to the outright terrible. We simply wouldn’t be getting the Long Day’s Journey Into Night we were getting if he was gone, even if everyone else stuck around to do their thing.

Usually my final paragraph is some indicator of is the film I’ve just been talking about would be a worthwhile thing to see, simply a drawn-out version of Nick Davis’ V.O.R. rating system, rather than doing what concluding paragraphs are usually meant to do. I think I’ve made it very, very obvious how much I think this movie deserves to be seen, but I wonder if its might is something that would be even richer after digging deeper into the filmographies of Hepburn and Lumet in particular. This, of course, applies to most great projects made by people with sterling careers, but perhaps all the points I’ve made about how against-type this is for Hepburn would be made more powerful if you go into it having seen more of her films. Lumet feels like a similar story, but one I’m in no place to really ask of anyone since I walked into this not having seen the two 70’s gems I listed above, which seem bigger in all kinds of ways from Long Day’s Journey Into Night. I’m certainly looking forward to seeing this again once I find more pictures of the Tyrone men, having only walked into this seeing Jason Robards’ back-to-back Oscar winning performances. Then again, why not start here and let the ways this is and isn’t a typical Katharine Hepburn performance, or a typical anything else becomes obvious in retrospect? That they’ve kept the same script seems to nullify the urgency to read the play beforehand, but why not? I know I need to read more, and it’s exciting to read something and see how it matched up against your own interpretations of those parts in your head, choices you would’ve expected or have assumed to have been made, and how well they were realized on screen. Whatever your interpretation of the prose, or anyone else’s - and by that I mean the recent Broadway adaptation where Jessica Lange thanked Todd Haynes on live TV - the choices made here are completely unimpeachable, not just as a legitimate interpretation of the play but as vividly lived-in and fully realized choices made by this specific cast and this specific production crew under the guide of this specific director. It’s as rare as a four-leaf clover to see work like this that’s so astounding, becoming the best possible version of itself without seeming to strain for any kind of import or tripping over itself in an effort to make the daunting challenge of its source text easier to digest, in this or any day in age, and if you’ve ever got three hours to spare, and aren’t sure what to do with the time, I promise you, you’re only limiting yourself by not accepting the challenge that these artists bring before you to the screen. Long Day’s Journey Into Night is a masterpiece by any standard of artistic merit, as powerful as force to reckon with as it must have been over six decades ago, and any impulse to watch it should be jumped on at once. For if we are all to live in the past eventually, there are surely worse things to let your mind wander over than a work of art as challenging and rewarding as this.

#my posts #my reviews #1962 #long day's journey into night

1 note · View note

darkot · 8 years ago

Text

You know what’s something that I think about a lot? That if there was a zombie apocalypse, artists would be the first ones left behind.

You’ve got doctors who can treat wounds and keep you healthy. You’ve got police officers and hunters who can defend you and get you food. There are mechanics who can keep your vehicles running. Fishermen can bring fish to the table. Farmers can grow crops.

What the fuck is an artist going to be able to contribute in a zombie apocalypse?

The Walking Dead put it nicely. “Art isn’t about survival. It’s transcendence. Being more than animals. Rising above.” That really stuck with me. While you can interpret many things from that quote, one thing that I derived from it is that, art is only useful in a peaceful society. In this age we live in, art serves to educate and entertain. It gives us reprieve from the mundanity of daily, modern life. It paves the way for more profound thought--for societal change. But when there is a lack of society, what place is there for it? Who will value that skill, and the life of the person in possession of it, over somebody who knows how to scavenge, shoot, or heal? You could argue that an academic artist could act the part of an architect. They could oversee the construction of buildings to keep people safe. But even then, they would not be valued until the re-establishment of society began.

An artists’ vision today helps the blind see and the numb feel. They help shape a more civilized civilization, by lessening our ignorance, so that the world produces less bad people.

An artists’ vision in this hypothetical zombie world would help rebuild society. They could create plans for houses and cities to keep us safe, and keep the bad people (and zombies) out.

In both scenarios, artists help defend us from monsters. The difference being that one monster wants you to hate and hurt, while the other monster wants to eat your face.

It can be argued that artists are simultaneously the most valuable and most easily disposable members of society. The world needs them. But they are the first to be sacrificed.

...

So, that’s a little insight into the weird shit my introverted brain thinks of.

I have been thinking too much lately though, as I always do. As much as I try to work on getting out of my own head, I somehow only end up digging deeper and deeper into it.

Er.. I should probably clarify that all that zombie apocalypse stuff isn’t what I’ve been thinking so deeply on. I mean yes, I thought about it, but that’s not what is really on my mind primarily.

I just.. I’m having trouble moving forward. it’s frightening. I have no trouble admitting that I’m terrified of what’s to come, because the further I go ahead, the more responsibility I take.

I’ve spent all these years hurting and healing.. Now that I’m fully recovered, I’m at a loss as to how to proceed. I’m having trouble believing in myself, and that’s holding me back from becoming who I need to become.

I have a test coming up and.. I don’t know. I’m paralyzed with fear, for some reason. Subconsciously, I’m playing out how it’s going to go over and over, and.. I just can’t have faith in myself to do well. Which is weird, because I’ve only gotten graded at above 90% for all of my assignments in this course. I know the material, so I’m fairly certain that this is just about not wanting things to change as I move on from where I’m at now.

Ughh.. fell asleep halfway through writing this.

Anyways, Overwatch season 3 ended yesterday. I ended the season at 3070, with a season high of 3348. I completed my original goal of making it to diamond near the beginning of the season, where I started off in platinum. However, my goal shifted to getting to master when I saw the very real possibility of that happening. I made it more than halfway there--accumulating 348/500 of the points necessary to rank up. But alas, t’was not meant to be this season. I’m okay with that now, upon reflection, and once I realized that I met my original goal. However, along the way it was extremely frustrating. Just in the past week, I ran into a troll on my team who just kept throwing themselves off the map the entire game, a blatant aimbotter on the other team, and had internet issues that d/c’d me from two games. Between all of those things, I lost about 200 SR (I was already down to 3100-ish at this point. I started climbing again, but these were the last nails in the coffin marked “you are not getting master this season.”)

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about this. Well, that may go without saying, since I do a lot of thinking about everything. But.. I don’t know. Overwatch is an amazing game. I love it to death. It is by far the best FPS that I have ever played. However, I can’t help but feel like I’m developing a useless skill here. More useless than art in a zombie apocalypse.

I had made a silent vow to myself that I was going to slow down on playing the game once I hit diamond, but I didn’t follow through with that. I really want to make it to master. I honestly believe that I play at a master level, when going back and analyzing my game play, and I’ve shown definite potential to climb to that rank in this season.

As much as I enjoy playing this game, the grind is a real bitch. It’s got me thinking about what really matters, and as much as I’d like this achievement.. in the grand scheme of things, it really doesn’t do me any good. I told myself that I’d NEVER get into professional gaming (not that this is professional gaming, but it’s getting into that far more serious realm), because the time commitment is too large for the amount of earnings, and it is too repetitive of a thing for me to stay interested in it. I’d have to constantly sink hundreds upon hundreds of hours into a game “gittin’ gud” at it, in order to keep my skills sharp and better than my competition. If there is any game I’d be willing to do that for, it is Overwatch (or maybe Smash Bros.), because of its immense depth and variety of characters. But even with Overwatch, I would get bored of that so insanely quickly. I’ve played less than 100 hours this season, and I got burnt out at a point or two.

To put things in perspective, who are the real “losers” in this situation? The pros, who get to play this game all day and be the best, but only make a moderate amount? Or the devs who don’t get to play their own game very much, and aren’t the best at it, but make infinitely more money? A pro can say to a dev that he’s better at the game than him, but the dev can say to the pro that he can’t hear him from the third floor of his mansion.

That’s more or less how I’m looking at things at this point. I could lifelessly devote all of my time to this game and become one of the best players of it. I could have that achievement of saying that I’m in the top 10,000 players in the Americas. But, my time would be much better spent honing a skill for my career. I could make a game of my own and be further off than if I made it to the top of the leaderboards in this game.

I’m still going to play it because of how much I enjoy it. But I don’t think I’ll continue to take it quite as seriously. I had started connecting part of my self worth onto wether I made it to master or not. I wanted to prove to myself that I could get there if I really tried. I have more important things to take care of, though.

An artist that I follow made a post on here of them hitting master, and saying that they were glad that they could put down this, as they put it, “time vampire.” And it’s true. That would essentially be what I’d do if I made it there. I’d have gotten that achievement under my belt, and wouldn’t devote nearly as much of my time to the game after that. If I get to master next season playing semi-casually, then cool. If not, that’s fine too. I’ve already made it to the highest rank that I can get to, where I can’t fall out of it. I'll always be diamond, but I could lose my master title very easily. Just takes one bad game after making it there to lose it, and a few more to get you far enough away from it that you really have to fight for it again.

At the very least, master or not, I have absolutely ZERO intention of trying to reach grandmaster. Fuck. That. As much as I think I’d enjoy that level of play, where everyone is coordinated and knows what they’re doing, the grind to get there would literally drive me insane (plus, I don’t think my own gameplay is at a grandmaster level to be honest). If I ever go back on that and start making my way to GM, I want someone to take a screenshot of this, print it out, roll the paper up, and slap me in the face with it.

There’s more to talk about. I started playing Fire Emblem: Heroes the other day. Watched Stranger Things finally. The Dragons of Ashfall release comes out for AQ3D tomorrow. But, I don’t feel like typing all of that up right now. Maybe tomorrow.

I’m really not sure what to do right now, though. It’s 3:30am. I guess I’ll try going back to sleep, but since I woke up not too long ago, I don’t know if I’ll be able to?

OH GOD, WHAT IF I CAN NEVER SLEEP AGAIN!?

Guess we’ll find out, haha.

#personal #ramble ramble ramble #masterfully artistic zombies or something like that?#I don't know man

0 notes