#I’ve got a few others I’m hoping to get to in a nebulous ~soon~

[autumnslance]

FFXIV Write 2023 Day 20: Hamper

(this one got away from me, and touches on an aspect of WoL's adventures dear to me. Also it's not a FFXIV Write anymore without nebulous future Iyna)

Outwardly, Sharlayan hadn’t changed much in the last hundred and fifty years or so. The buildings were still primarily the native white stone in rounded styles with columns, the tiles of the streets were still blue. Thaliak’s statue still watched over Scholar’s Harbor, and the Last Stand was still the best restaurant in the city, Debroye keeping it much the same as it always had been.

Thankfully for the city, other restaurants had cropped up in the intervening decades.

Iyna still preferred the original, though, and only in part because she had known the owner since the girl was a student during the harrowing Final Days. In part because of the sea breeze coming in with the view, far enough from the docks to not worry about the less pleasant underlying scents that would affect one’s appetite.

And in large part, the nostalgia; memories of old friends at the tables a pleasant one, whenever she visited. Iyna was getting sentimental as she grew older.

It was Debroye herself who served her now, setting a tantalizing lobster dish before Iyna. “I’m gaining weight just from the scents,” Iyna joked. “What have you done to improve even this classic?”

“I can’t give away all my secrets, now that I have real competition in this city,” Debroye said. “But I will say certain spices from Tural do help.”

“Gods, it’s been so long since I went West,” Iyna said idly. “Perhaps I should take a vacation, once done with this commission for the Forum.”

“I haven’t seen you take a vacation in over a century. I’d say you’re about due. Meanwhile,” Debroye looked around. “If you don’t mind, you might have company for your meal.”

“Oh?” Iyna raised a brow as she began to snap apart the crustacean.

“I’ve a history student at the counter with a few burning questions for someone who knew the Warrior of Light and the Scions of the Seventh Dawn. And being a good student, she recognized you by sight alone and is about to jitter off her seat.”

“General academia, or actual project work?”

“Project; she’s fifteen and working on her archon thesis.” At Iyna’s raised brow, Debroye nodded. “She almost beat the Leveilleur’s record for entering the Studium, only missing it due to when her nameday falls during registration—and all without the benefit of family wealth or connections as they had.”

“Not a Viera, I take it?”

“Highlander.”

“Always so impatient, Hyurs,” Iyna noted. “Needing to get so much done so soon, they miss what youth they have. By all means, send the girl over. If nothing else, we can set up a better time to meet for the in depth interview I’m sure she’ll want.”

Deboye nodded, thanking Iyna and returning to the counter. It took about two minutes for the Highlander girl to compose herself and take a seat at Iyna’s table, controlling her underlying giddiness. “Thank you for taking the time to speak to me.”

“Of course,” Iyna said. “What might I do for you, Miss…?”

“Alina Breck,” she said. She was a gangly young thing, not yet filled out to the usual height and broad build of her people. She was fair-skinned and freckled all over, with bushy red hair pulled back in a semblance of a ponytail, curly strands escaping. She had large round glasses over hazel eyes, and wore a simple gray dress, with a wide belt keeping pens, notebooks, and other needed tools on hand. “I was hoping to ask a few questions about your time with the Scions of the Seventh Dawn.”

“Very well; though I do have only so much time now. But we can get a start, and if needed, perhaps arrange a longer meeting?”

The girl beamed, the image of a serious wannabe adult scholar breaking for a moment. “Oh that would be great! Ahem. Thank you.” She comported herself again.

Iyna smiled, and let the girl ask her questions, answering in between bites of her meal, sometimes to think.

Also because one did not let a Last Stand Lobster go to waste.

As the hour drew close to when she had to leave to speak to her contacts on the Forum, Alina looked over the notes taken so far. “There are definitely things I want to ask more about, and some things I hadn’t even considered before this discussion, I’m embarrassed to say.”

Iyna shook her head. “Don’t be; there’s always more to discover, even in seemingly well-known topics. It’s why you came to me for this, isn’t it?”

Alina nodded. “I would like to meet again, for sure, and consider some of those questions, especially once I’ve had a chance to check some other sources, but…One last thing I noted…”

Iyna waited. 

“It seems like, well. There were a lot of times Aeryn was on her own, with no other comrades. And sometimes it almost seems by design.” Alina flipped through her notes, a little frown creasing her forehead.

“At times it was,” Iyna said. “I wasn’t there, but when the Crystal Braves betrayed the Scions, for instance, they ensured the group was separated. Particularly Aeryn, with the Sultana. They hoped by dividing the archons and the champion from the leadership, they might have a chance.” Iyna leaned back. “It wasn’t the last time, of course; one of the best ways to try to rein in the Warrior of Light was to separate her from her support; without the other Scions’ knowledge and skills, or those of other comrades and companions she worked with, such as the Garlond Ironworks, adventures could be much harder. Aeryn noted it herself a few times—especially when young adventurers would speak to her, eager for advice, wanting to be like her.

“She often had to remind them that the times she fought alone were the worst; that she was hamstrung without her friends to back her up. There were things she couldn’t do that they could, knowledge they had that she needed. And many of her victories came with help; from her allies, from the dragons, from Hydaelyn Herself. Being cut off from such support was the way to mitigate her strength. Or so her enemies thought.”

Alina tilted her head. “Because she was powerful enough on her own anyway?”

Iyna smiled. “Oh, she was often stronger than even she thought, that stubborn gremlin of a woman. But that strength came from love for those friends, and from them, even when apart.”

“That’s one of the things I’m looking for clarification on,” Alina said. “How she actually stopped the Final Days. Some say she fought only with an enemy at her side; others that the Scions were with her through it all.”

“Both are true,” Iyna said. “Like many others, the Endsinger thought she could deprive the champions of each others’ support, break their hopes, and leave the Warrior of Light without aid. But in that place of pure concept and dynamis, merely physically separating the Scions was not enough. Their hearts were ever aligned with hers.”

Alina wrote that down in her shorthand, thinking for a moment. “I see. I think.”

“Mull it over; we can meet again,” Iyna checked the calendar on her tomephone. Alina compared her own, and they came to an agreeable time, two days from now. “I’ll do some thinking too, and dig through some old notes. I have access to the Baldesion Archives, after all…and might be able to finagle permission for you. No promises, though!” she quickly said as the girl’s eyes lit up.

“Of course, I understand. Thank you, Miss Cauld!”

“Call me Iyna. And it’s been a pleasure, Miss Alina.”

Iyna nodded, paying for her meal—and Alina’s, as one of the constants in life aside from death and taxes is the minimum stipends of graduate students, even one as gifted as this girl—and headed for her meeting with the Forum, a few minutes behind schedule, but they likely would be as well, and would understand her reasons. Losing track of time in academic discussions was another thing that hadn’t changed in Sharlayan.

She thought back on all those old adventures, tapping reminders to herself into her tomephone idly as she went, recalling the times the Scions and companions had been separated, not by choice, from one another. How they had succeeded anyway, often by trusting that the others would do what they must, what they could.

Iyna made sure to note that, too. She smiled and put the tomephone away as she climbed the steps to the Rostra. She did not often dwell on those times in such detail, and it had been some time—she really would need to hit up the archives for writings and reminders of those days—but given the girl’s questions, and the focus on the Warrior of Light’s companions and how they helped her succeed, Iyna was quite willing to delve into those memories.

There was always, after all, more than one perspective to a story, and more than the popular myth. Aeryn had never wanted to be that, and to give due credit to her beloved friends and companions was a gift Iyna was more than willing to offer to her memory.

[jockvillagersonly]

3 and 17 for the "Fun meta asks for writers", if you like?

Hello my most lovely, treasured, precious anon. I love you. I love you for asking. Thank you. Let’s elope

(From this ask list)

I’ve technically already answered #3 (which is: are there any scenes you want to right but can’t be assed to do all the context?) HERE with a quick short bit of held-at-swordpoint Wu Xie, BUT what if I wrote EVEN MORE >:D

Ok so I have previously joked about doing a dumb fluffy professor AU, but I’m not sure I’ll ever actually write it? But I have this one scene in my head so I’ll use this as an excuse to write it out ;)

Su Wan wasn’t even sure why he had bothered to come to office hours.

Sure, yes, he was dangerously close to failing Professor Zhang’s class. And yes, they had a final coming up, and Su Wan had hoped a one-on-one setting would make it easier to wiggle some information (or, honestly, pity) from his impenetrable professor.

That plan was, to put it bluntly, crashing and burning harder than Li Cu playing Mario Kart. Su Wan glanced up at the clock. They were nearing 15 straight minutes of complete silence, and Professor Zhang hadn’t even blinked, hooded eyes focused on Su Wan like a particularly bored panther expecting more interesting prey.

(Su Wan was willing to admit that the only reason he hadn’t left yet was because he was, frankly, scared stiff with Professor Zhang’s attention on him. He refused to feel shame for what was a healthy dose of clearly appropriate fear.)

The door creaked open behind him, and Su Wan breathed out, shakily, vision going nearly blurry with relief. He shuffled a few loose documents (taken out more for show than anything concrete) into his bag and made to stand, ready to use the interloper’s entrance as a convenient excuse to flee.

But then he saw it.

Professor Zhang was...smiling?

Su Wan swore he heard something in his neck pop with how fast he whipped his head around, curiosity overriding his survival instinct as he sought out who, exactly, was capable of making the literal brick wall across from him look like that. Su Wan had never seen any part of Professor Zhang’s face show any emotion, and it was almost a sensory overload to take in his soft eyes and curved lips. Honestly, Su Wan was probably going to have nightmares about this expression. It was somehow so much scarier than the look Professor Zhang gave him when he passed back a particularly dismal essay score.

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting (A woman in an impeccably tailored suit and razor-sharp heels? A man in runway couture, cloaked in velvet and satin? Bigfoot, popping by for a hello?), but he knows that the person he sees is absolutely not it. Leaning halfway in the room, one hand wrapped around the door, is a man with fluffy, incorrigibly messy hair, bright eyes, and a tie that is so horrifically askew Su Wan nearly winces in sympathy.

The man at the door seemed to see something in their expressions that pleased him, because he smiled and laughed, his whole face beaming with it, and — oh. No wonder Professor Zhang looked the way he did. Su Wan was mostly (probably?) straight, and his stomach was flip-flopping so hard he could feel the reverberation behind his eyelids.

Which is of course when the intruder made to fully enter the room and tripped, sloshing coffee all over the floor and Professor Zhang’s bookshelf.

...so much for gentle smiles, Su Wan was about to become the accessory to a murder. He was going to have to find somewhere to hide the body, but he was pretty sure it wouldn’t fit in his backpack, so maybe he should text Hao-ge to see if he could borrow his car. Should he text in code? He should text in code.

Su Wan was already halfway to taking his phone out — except that Professor Zhang merely huffed, and rolled his eyes, and pulled a roll of paper towels that he clearly kept expressly for this purpose out from somewhere in his desk.

I don’t really have an ending or context for this, but the prompt said I didn’t have to! >:) anyway, this was fun to dash off! 😭 I haven’t written anything in awhile

———

And 17: Do you think readers perceive your work - or you - differently to you? What do you think would surprise your readers about your writing or your motivations?

Oh! This is interesting! It’s kind of hard to answer, because I don’t really know how people perceive me or my work?? Fun ask game: tell me an adjective or flowery figurative metaphor you would use to describe me and/or my writing 😂😂😂

In terms of perceiving me, I think (??) people on here see me as loud, and energetic, and maybe a bit flakey? Since I take a long time to respond to stuff? And I think that’s true 😭😭😂

In terms of my work or what would surprise people...hmmm. I wonder if people are surprised that I don’t write angst at all? Since I talk so much about Sha Hai and Mob Widow WX, people might expect that??? I could also see people being surprised that i write at all, since my first contributions to the fandom were all dmemebjs 😂 Ahahahah idk!!

[crispyjenkins]

Me again, hope you don’t mind... anyways could you do Cody and Obi wan First Meeting out of Cody’s POV and he slowly realizes that this isn’t you usual Jedi general but that Obi-Wan Kenobi is not only beautiful but also 1. Incredibly good at words 2. Actually cares about the Vode 3. For that reason dislikes fighting and casualties and actually shows his compassion to the Vode 4. Is an absolute badass and 5. Absolutely insane

(Obi-Wan defying the troopers' expectations is the reason i'm alive, and the vode being intimidated by this scary magic man only to find out he's a reckless dumbass who cares more about them than actually winning the war is just. yes. not actually sure how it happened in canon, my brain is being mean, but canon is nebulous and i do what i want. 

so here's Cody being surprised by Obi-Wan's endless love for absolutely everybody, and obi being surprised that Cody is surprised.)

  Cody is running on six hours of sleep in two days following General Rret So’s reassignment, and he isn’t even close to being finished cleaning up that... disaster. They’ve got a new batch of shinies to paint and name, bodies to bury, a new general to meet, and to be honest, Cody doesn’t have all too high hopes for their next one. It’s already kriffing clear that none of the Jedi have proper military training, and while Cody isn’t one for gossip, he’s also heard rumors that Kenobi hasn’t been in the field since Geonosis. And they want him to lead an attack battalion.

  But when Cody arrives in the hangar of their current outpost to make sure it’s in shape before Kenobi arrives, there’s a Jedi near the center of the room, sitting on the floor. Or sitting... a few inches above the floor, only one hand gently touching the durasteel below him, and Cody halts just inside the door.

  It doesn’t take much to guess his identity, what with the Jedi robe mostly pooled on the floor, whose edges drift in lazy swirls. The man has his eyes closed, several small stones levitating in equally lazy spins around him, but the casual show of power doesn’t put Cody on edge the way their Nautolan general had; the air around Rret felt like static when he meditated, but General Kenobi effuses warmth and calm, his expression as thoughtful as it is peaceful. 

  Cody skeptically takes in the armor under Kenobi’s robe, modified clone armour; General Rret never touched anything not sent directly from the Temple. And Kenobi is... smaller than Cody had expected of the famed Negotiator that had helped lead at the Battle of Geonosis, more lithe, more compact. His hair is longer than regulation (not that that has ever stopped Tup), just enough to pull back, with an endearing curl that’s escaped the elastic floating at his temple.

  Cody was created for problem solving, for analyzing patterns and information where his rank-and-file brothers could not, but all these little details just leave him confused.

  The stones gently and slowly settle back onto the ground, followed by the general as he inhales a deep breath, and that aura of tranquility does not leave when he opens his eyes. 

  And then he smiles at Cody.

  Cody snaps a salute, nerves jumping despite the general’s expression, and tries to raise his mental shields like Jango had taught them to. “General, sir,” he greets, keeping his gaze just below Kenobi’s eyes, which unfortunately has him pinned on his lips.

  “Commander Cody,” he returns warmly in High Coruscanti, rising in a fluid motion and holding out a hand. Cody stares at it for a moment before he realises General Kenobi means to shake his hand, and he almost thinks it’s a trap, but he hesitantly reaches out all the same. That smile grows as Kenobi then moves to grip Cody’s forearm like any proper Mando, tapping his other fist to the center of his chest. “It’s good to finally meet you, Commander: I’ve been assured that we will work quite well together.”

  Reeling, Cody almost forgets to respond. “Sir?”

  “I’ve heard nothing but compliments from your men, and from other battalions; Captain Rex in particular speaks very highly of you.”

  Does he know Cody was almost court martialed for arguing with General Rret? Does he know about the multiple complaints submitted by the Nautolan for insubordination? 

  The way Kenobi’s eyes crinkle at the corners doesn’t assure him that he had. “I like to get my information from multiple sources,” Kenobi explains, finally releasing Cody to tuck his arms behind his back almost at parade rest. “You’re here a bit early, aren’t you? Excellent, that gives us some time to chat before your men arrive.”

  It’s enough that General Kenobi went out of his way to learn his name, and then use it, leaving Cody absolutely helpless as Kenobi launches in questions about the cleanup from Rret’s departure.

-

  Kenobi growls like a stampeding reek as their next assault goes to kriffing shit. No sooner had Kenobi managed to greet Ghost Company, that the call to arms had blared through the outpost, a droid battalion approaching from the South. Which was something Rret had apparently anticipated but not felt the need to tell anyone, including the High Generals.

  And Kenobi had loaded up with the rest of them, speaking quickly with the pilot, and surely his general wasn’t planning on— on actually fighting with them? 

  But he had indeed leapt from the transport into the dense forest right alongside him, and Cody had realised, kriff, he has to try and keep this crazy Jedi alive long enough for him to ask what the kriff he’s thinking.

  And then things just keep going wrong, from misinformation about droid numbers, to being cornered in a ravine, to Cody having to step over a Shiny that hadn’t even been named yet. Kenobi whirls through the droids with his lightsaber, but the B1s seem to just keep coming, and Cody has almost resigned himself to dying here, because Rret would never let them change the plan this far in—

  “Commander!” Kenobi shouts, shoving a B2 droid off his ‘saber. “Full retreat! Evac is inbound, get your men to the top of the ridge!”

  “Sir?”

  Appearing at Cody’s side and handing him a fresh blaster, Kenobi’s serene expression is traded for troubled rage, but it’s by some miracle not aimed at the vode. “We’re not winning here today,” Kenobi says, jerking his chin towards the ridge as he tugs Cody behind a boulder. “We need to regroup, your medic is already overrun.”

  Which doesn’t quite compute. It’s not as if they haven’t lost entire squads in similar conditions, what does Kenobi hope to achieve by—

  “I’ll hold them off,” he says, making Cody choke on his spit. “As long as I can.”

  “General!” By the Force, he can’t honestly think that Cody will let him stay behind, that Cody will leave him here.

  “That’s an order, I’m not losing any more men today,” Kenobi says firmly. He checks around the boulder before spinning back to Cody. “I was told you were by the book, that you were a stellar soldier with his brothers’ best interest at heart. Are you going to make me a fool for believing that?”

  “General, I don’t think—”

  “I’ve given you an order, Commander. Retreat. I will meet you back at the outpost.”

  Swallowing down the urge to throw up, Cody nods and salutes, and prays to whatever deity listening that he’ll wake up tomorrow with absolutely no memory of today.

  Kenobi gives him a small smile, before reigniting his ‘saber and rushing back into the battle.

-

  Cody is just beginning to wonder if they’re going to have to get another��new general when Kenobi shows up in the last search party before they call it off for the night, stepping off the transport with several more injured brothers that hadn’t made it back with the first two evacs. A squad of shinies runs up to get the stretches to the medbay that is indeed overrun, but Cody doesn’t worr— can’t worry about that right now, marching up to Kenobi with a comm disk.

  “Sir, welcome back,” he greets, taking quick stock of the minor grazes on Kenobi’s face, how limp his hair has turned, but he otherwise seems fine, which is a miracle in it of itself. “High General Mundi—”

  “Later,” Kenobi cuts him off, not unkindly, but with an air of unspeakable exhaustion. “Master Rret So restationed your secondary medics, yes?”

  “Yes, sir, but what—?”

  Kenobi nods once and starts to follow the shinies, Cody matching pace with him even as he’s sure he’s broadcasting his confusion into the Force. Kenobi offers him a tiny smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Your brothers aren’t going to last the night if I don’t go help Wupi, and you’re horrendously undermanned as it is.”

  Another name casually thrown out, as if General Rret hadn’t even bothered to learn their numbers, and if Cody wasn’t already a whirlwind of emotions, he might have some feelings about that. Later. Everything later.

  A thought occurs to him. “Sir, General Rret said they were needed elsewhere. The secondary medics.”

  They arrive at the medbay that is in utter chaos, too small to house so many vode, already filled from their last skirmish and now completely overflowing. Kenobi looks around almost as if he’s going to cry, before he clenches his jaw and turns to Cody.

  “General Rret was mistaken. I hailed the 501st from the transport, they’ll be here tomorrow afternoon, but until then, it’s my duty to keep your men alive. Can you help me do that, Cody?”

  Cody simply nods, wondering if he had been concussed during the battle. “Yes, sir. What do you need.”

  “I need every sheet you can spare, and the emergency medkits from all the transports. I need you to hold off General Mundi until morning, I know he’s expecting a long conversation. And please, tell him in no uncertain terms that I plan to have very harsh words with his former padawan as soon as the 501st arrive.” Kenobi takes a deep breath, seeming to draw energy in from everywhere, and then puts a hand on the side of Cody’s neck for the briefest moment. Almost like static shock, Cody flinches, but suddenly doesn’t feel so exhausted, and he blinks down at Kenobi.

  “That should hold you over until morning, I trust you to handle the rest of the outpost?” He raises a single brow, but kriff if Cody is going to tell him no.

  “Yes, sir.” He salutes, feeling a green warmth brushing against his mind that certainly was not there before, but belongs there all the same. 

  That warmth stays with him long after the 501st arrives with aid, and Cody intends to hold onto it for as long as his cannon-fodder life allows. 

[maskeddevera]

I’m going to write a line by line analysis about the Fjord and Jester scene from last night. I had a bad day earlier this week, and the whole episode yesterday made me so happy, and this scene was beautiful, so I’m going to gush about it a bit. This whole episode really turned my week around (with the caveat that I went to bed so missed the final monster introduction.)

First of all, to set the scene, Jester has been struggling (but playing it off) ever since the spell stole a few years of her life earlier in the day. Fjord has been struggling because he realizes he didn’t even try to do anything to protect her, and the spell took a lot, and it could have been so much worse. He goes to her door, I think, mostly to confess that he feels badly that he wasn’t there for her and also vaguely aware that he might share his fear that they might not get that chance to deal with his baggage.

[Fjord knocks on her door.]

JESTER: Hello?

Jester is surprised. They often have heartfelt conversations, but Fjord doesn’t usually visit her room.

FJORD: Um, I was really worried about you...when you fell.

He just comes out with it...here’s the main thing, it was scary to see her fall.

JESTER:  Yeah...

It was also scary for her, too.

[heavy eye contact]

FJORD:  This suddenly feels far more serious than I thought it might be.

I’m not sure if here he is talking here about visiting the north or initiating this conversation -- but either way, he laughs. He’s nervous.

JESTER:  I know. I can’t get the image out of my head...it’s scary.

Fjord gives Jester space to share. Like he said he would, he will listen to her. By initiating this conversation, she feels safe telling him that the image of the city that is haunting her.

FJORD:  What do you think will happen?

An open-ended question for Jester. Again, letting her share her thoughts and fears...wanting to know what she thinks.

JESTER:  I think if they bring it back, it will, um...it will absorb everything it can.

She sees the possibilities and how dangerous it could become.

JESTER [continued]: It felt like all of the people that lived there, like -- like they were part of the city now, like they could never escape. It felt like hell. It felt -- like torment.

She feels this so hard. It’s eating her up inside.

FJORD: And we have to stop it, right?

Fjord acknowledges that with that information they need to stop it--as a team, but you can see that he is still struggling with his concern for her.

JESTER:  Yeah.

FJORD: I -- I may have an, uh, a problem. Uh...

The problem is he loves Jester and is worried that he would lose her. The problem is he feels like he wasn’t there for her. The problem is he is so scared.

JESTER [softly]: What is it?

Suddenly Jester is focusing on him, worried about what Fjord’s problem might be.

FJORD [continued]: I saw you standing on that pillar, and -- it was the first time where I kept myself from trying to stop something that was happening to you, and I didn’t do anything, and it’s--it’s bothered me.

Fjord feels like he screwed up and let her down. He feels like he could have lost her because he hesitated. Like he could still lose her if he hesitates.

JESTER: You couldn’t have done anything, Fjord. It was in my head, you know?

Jester isn’t sure why he’s beating himself up about this one - he didn’t even know what was happening.

FJORD: Uh. Yes.

I just like how he whispers the “yes,” like he knows it isn’t rational, but he still feels it.

FJORD: I don’t want you to gamble with yourself. I--I know we were playing, and it didn’t seem like much, and--it seems to have exacted a pretty serious toll. All I’m saying is, I just--I want you to be careful as we do this--I don’t think we’ll be the spectators that we thought we might be.

Here it is. Why he truly came time. He doesn’t want her to endanger herself. It’s a constant of not wanting her to be hurt or worse. He is starting to realize that they are involved deeper than they thought that they would be.

JESTER: Okay.

She listens.

FJORD: I want to come out of this and be able to go back to the sea, and go back to Nicodranus, and go back to where it’s warm and not f*ckin’ freezing, and...

Here the dream is stated. The happy ending. The sea, Nicodranus...her home, he’s imagining them returning together. A happy ending for both of them.

JESTER: Me too.

She is nodding. Same page. They have talked about this before, being together in a calmer time and place...some day. He is encouraged by her agreement.

FJORD: I just don’t know if that’s--I don’t feel as optimistic now.

More fears laid on the table. Maybe they won’t get there.

JESTER: Me neither. But...I’ll try to be safe. And you should, too.

She worries about losing the happy ending as well. She worries about his safety as well. He smiles when she shows concern for him.

JESTER [continued]: But if it comes down to it, if -- if it means stopping that Thing...I want to stop That Thing.

This decision is so important for Jester, and I love this for her ongoing arc. I also just really like that both clerics have this quest now. #TeamClerics

FJORD: I told your mother I would look after you.

So what I love about this sentence is Fjord absolutely takes his promise to Marion Lavorre very seriously, but that’s not why he says this to Jester. Yes, I do think he sees it as a vow (I love all the meta takes I have seen floating around about this being one of Fjord’s first steps into paladin territory), but what he is really doing here is the Fjord thing in which he uses others as a proxy for his feelings. So when Jester says she might endanger herself for the greater good, and he implies that her mother would be devastated if he had to tell her that something had happened to Jester, mostly he is thinking about how he would be devastated if anything happened to Jester.

JESTER: We’ll be fine, Fjord. We always are.

Jester attempts to reassure him and re-establish how they are a team. You can tell he isn’t fully reassured. And then he says what he really meant when he said “I told your mother I would look after you...”

FJORD: I care very much for you.

His voice in this moment...so real. Notice he still doesn’t use the word love, a token bit of holding back, but love is what is coming from him, and she hears it.

JESTER:  Really?

Her trembling voice...all of the signs, and she thought maybe especially with recent events, but she wasn’t sure if she was reading into the gift and the eye contact and the pauses...she is so hopeful here. He nods, and takes a deep breath, and he just wants so badly to take the next step, but he is scared.

JESTER: Is it because I have chiseled cheekbones now?

She says this to break the moment because she feels his hesitation, and also because she’s self-conscious about what happened today. And it’s the best thing that can happen because when they are silly Fjord forgets to be all in his head and nervous.

FJORD: It’s the longer horns...

He’s joking, but also he always seems to find her strength to be the most attractive physical characteristic about her, so of course he picks the horns to compliment.

JESTER: Yeah, it really does it, doesn’t it?

FJORD: Yeah...gives you an intimidating look.

The truth is he was intimidated before the horns got longer. He wants to kiss her so much, so he pulls her in and asks...

FJORD [continued]:  Can I kiss you?

Jester is delighted. She thought even if she wasn’t imagining things that this wouldn’t come any time soon. She shyly nods her agreement, and they kiss. I like how he nods and smiles, too, before kissing her -- he’s so relieved that she said yes!

FJORD: I don’t-- I don’t know how this will go. But I can’t promise that I’m going to let you just throw yourself at this thing. I don’t think I can do that.

This confession--he has made it to her before in a different way. Fjord will support her up to the point in which she could get hurt or die, and no more. And I also like how he always frames this confession as somewhat selfish, although it isn’t, because part of the reasoning is that he needs her. Also I think he is holding her this whole time because he never says that he lets her go.

JESTER:  I don’t have an argument.

She is fine with him serving as her protector. She’s giddy. Maybe they kiss here quickly again? In any case...

JESTER: Kissing is a lot more fun when you’re not dying.

FJORD: Or, and, not when you’re underwater, drowning.

JESTER: Yeah, yeah...that’s what I mean.

FJORD: Umhmm.

After their first real kiss, they talk about their “other” first kiss - Fjord attempting to save her life. And we see here that while Jester previously wondered if it “counted” or not, it meant something to Fjord too and that he also saw it as a kiss, although it wasn’t the most ideal circumstance. And perhaps that is why they never spoke about it before, because it was easier to leave it in that nebulous area of maybe it meant something more.

JESTER: I don’t know what to do with myself anymore.

While this statement works for Jester, giddy and flustered, I think it also works for Laura who 100% was not expecting any of this to happen in this session.

FJORD: I’ve wanted to do it for a while...I’m kind of a big coward.

And now that it’s out there, now that she let him kiss him, he feels like he can tell her about how his fears held him back.

JESTER:  No, Fjord, you’re very brave.

Jester will always support Fjord and hype him up.

FJORD: I am very brave, aren’t I?

Being brave is facing your fears.

JESTER: Umhm.

FJORD:  I feel a bit...better.

This is what love is. Things can still be dark but your loved one lifts you up. He looks at her to gauge how she feels.

JESTER:  Me too.

[FJORD & JESTER overlapping voices as they teasingly discuss whether they really have to fight this city.]

FJORD:  We can get cats and just flee...

As mentioned in my other post, I think Fjord is discussing acquiring moorbounders, not attempting to abscond with Caleb’s fey cats. Again, this dream is the one about them leaving it all behind together.

JESTER:  We have to fight it.

FJORD: All right. I’ll see you in the morning.

JESTER: Okay.

FJORD:  Goodnight.

JESTER: Goodnight, Fjord.

[Jester goes to hold her little unicorn, falling asleep holding it. Fjord doesn’t sleep much.]

I just love this final image -- Jester now certain that the unicorn figurine means what she hoped it meant (and hopefully not breaking it in the night). Fjord keyed up and turned on and thinking about the conversation over and over, because he surprised himself with his choices but it went well, better than he ever expected.

[toaheadcanons]

General reaction time! Again, this will contain HEAVY SPOILERS FOR TALES OF ARCADIA AND RISE OF THE TITANS. SKIP THIS IF IT GOT THROUGH YOUR FILTER.

So, let's begin. Firstly, as beautifully visually executed as the movie was, I think we all could tell the full original team wasn't working on this part of the TOA project. Setting that aside for a moment though. Trust me on this.

I was SHOCKED at the animation quality this time around. TOA has almost always had pristine graphics, and a movie budget took things to a while new level. Well done, TOA animation team!! 🥰🥰🥰

The MagiScience Camelot. Can I live there? Also, do they live there?? It's sort of unclear, did everyone just decide after the end of Wizards to form their own little bubble or???

I'm curious as to whether the time loop could result in a sort of 'duplication glitch' for the Amulet. I'm putting my speculative stuff in yet another post, because WOW that ending gave my lil' brain a lot to work with

There were so many fantastic scenes intermixed with the not-so-great points. The Best Man scene. That whole sequence in which there's some Blaaarghy hinting sandwiched into the scene between the couples comforting each other. I just 🥺 I know there are a few dull points here, but that whole ten minute span is just so on point. I really wish that accuracy to the characterizations carried all the way through.

I really, REALLY need to know how much time passed between Wizards and ROTT. Really really. Like I know the kids were 15-16 at the start of season 1, and 16-17 by the end of season two, but from there time becomes quite nebulous. I'm speaking in age specifically for our human characters here, as we still have no idea about how the Akiridion, Wizard-Immortal and Trollish life cycles actually work. Like I get that now they're later teens to early adults in age, but considering some of the err, plot choices, I think it's important to know?

I'd love a series, a comic, hell a set of shorts even, where Steve gets some main character time. I really wasn't a fan of him being sidelined the whole time. Give me my Creepslayerz please, Mr. Netflix.

I've started to look at this less like a movie and more like Predacons Rising, a made-for-TV movie/special finale episode. Except, knowing DreamWorks, we also may be seeing the beginnig iteration of another "[name here] of Berk" style of different series, set in different points in time. ESPECIALLY with that ending.

Speaking of, I know a lot of folks were quite upset with the end. I was too for a while, but those braincells just keep on bouncing around, and I have an inkling that however they decide to show us the potential/alternate timeliness, we'll see them somehow.

I'm actually quite excited about the idea of Trollhunter!Toby. From the beginning, I always thought he'd turn out to unknowingly be half-Troll or a changeling or something. Boy has a natural inclination for stones and crystals, the teeth issues, his stature and body-shape, hell, he seems at home in the scenes in Trollmarket throughout the series.

Please, Mr. Netflix, show us what his armor looks like? 👉👈🥺

Okay, picking back up on this not being the original creative team. There were some significant missed opportunities here, not only to draw on previous character development [Steve is a knight, Toby could have used his hammer instead of the glowing sticky-magic, etc.] but also to draw on ideas from The Book that would have gone REALLY well here! Lol and here I was hoping for the "what counts as a bridge" scene. 🤡

For those who don't know, Trollhunters in its original form is a book that reads much like a movie. It features a much different Jim, a much different many characters in fact. There were actually a few references I did catch! If you haven't had a chance to read it and you'd like a palate cleanser, READ IT. Oh it's so good I so wish more people read the book-

Aaaaanyway, back to the topic. The reason I'm looking at this more like a special than a movie is because is feels like it should have been a special. Or a miniseries even, like Wizards. This was a bit much to pack into a <2h timeframe.

BUT, I also feel like they could have waited to spring a plot like this on us until they had a concrete "next steps" plan. If they had, say, separated the beginning of the loop from the film, and used it as the beginning of a Trollhunter!Toby [Insert media type here] teaser/trailer, I have a feeling I'd be more happy with it. Also, why replace Anton's voicework for the audition speech? That I am truly upset with. The loop itself is actually quite intriguing, though.

All in all, I'm honestly pretty satisfied with the film. It was brutal, don't get me wrong, and for future reference I'd like to know how much it cost Netflix to get it a Y7 rating. That said, the parts that were done well were done VERY well. Im interested to see, when the series crops back up, what the true plan is moving forward, but until then my name is my bond. I make TOA headcanons, and that's exactly what I'm going to do. Thank you all for getting on this roller coaster, it was one hell of a ride and I hope we get to do it again soon 😁

[manchasama]

I’m just going to put some thoughts out here yo.

I fall in and out of fandoms, and it’s not actually uncommon for me to enter a fandom without watching or playing the source material.  Some of my first fandoms were like this honestly.  So I’ve definitely been quietly lurking in Undertale not too long after it came out.  I just really enjoy the fan content and the AUs and the good stories.

I’ve wanted to write for it, but my lack of motivation to write at all coupled with my guilt that if I can write I should write for CC only, made any attempt short-lived and hard to do. 

I don’t have any big ideas for the fandom or anything.  Well, there’s one I could develop, but it’s also fine being a nebulous thought.  I just like Sans, and I like multi-shipping him.  I like the various ways to characterize him that still seem in character or plausible.  I like the AU variants and their stories.  They are more than just the Undertale characters with new skins, they’ve developed over the years to have their own unique personalities and stories. 

I like Catsitta’s 100 word series, both for content and because it seems like an achievable thing to do.  Well, maybe not daily for me, but small chunk stories.  I saw other authors attempt to follow the format of daily small updates, like PineconeTrinklebriar, and that’s just so impressive that they can keep it up like that.  I want to do that too, man.  :p

My mental health is all over the place on a good day, and has been pretty damn low lately.  When I finally started to feel better, I got a one-two whammy of GOD AWFUL stuff happen.  So I’m back on the edge of “I feel okay as long as I don’t think about it, until my brain doesn’t let me not think about it”.  But I did get some honestly great news, and hopefully by Sept/Oct I will be in a much better place.  *all fingers crossed*  I’ve always said once I was in my own place (or at least not living with my parents), I’d be able to improve my mental health back to a good place.  It’s not that they are terrible, I honestly love them a lot, but there are certainly points where we don’t agree with each other, and I’m just not comfortable or able to be myself.  I need to have my own space that is not just my room.

Anyway, back to Undertale thoughts, I want to try a soulmate series.  Not sure how long or short they are, or if I’ll be able to deliver, but I’m tired of feeling guilty.  CounterCrisis will come when my brain is better.  Because no, we’ve not dropped it.  But I LITERALLY think about it daily and how I’m not working on it, and it’s so draining.  I need to let myself do thing first, and I’ll be back for it soon.  Guilting over it certainly wasn’t getting it written anyways lol.

I grabbed a soulmate prompt off Koorii’s page months ago, and did some random selection for possible pairings with Sans.  Sort of like I did with 30 Cases, but without being connected this time.  (Another story I want to get back to damnit.)  So I’ll poke at it and see how it goes.  I know the content won’t be for everyone, so I do hope people pay attention to tags.

That said, I’m gonna post something I found.  Apparently past me had the same idea, as I’d started a few soulmate prompts back in 2019.  They were on a site I don’t go to anymore (and not on gdocs??  that’s unusual for me that I didn’t have a copy over there), so I stole them back.  Only one was finished, and I’m just gonna post it.

[betweenthetimeandsound]

Three Minutes to Eternity: My ESC 250 (250-241)

(Author's note: I intended to have the list ready by 1 September, but I was a bit lousy in compiling the final spots on there. As a result, they will seem a bit shoddy, but there will be good summaries, I promise! And there will be honorable mentions soon enough.)

#250: Harel Skaat -- Milim (Israel 2010)

“האור נרדם, דמעות של דם, שורפות לי בגרון, ידית שרוטה, תקרה שמוטה, כשאני שר לך את השיר האחרון” “The light fell asleep, tears of blood scorch my throat Scratched handle, sloping ceiling When I sing to you the last song” Curiously, I already knew of Harel Skaat before hearing of Eurovision: I listened to a few of his earlier tracks when I found him singing with another Israeli pop artist, Dor Daniel. I particularly liked משנו ממני and כמה עוד אפשר. Milim is a requiem for what was once lost—the presence of one whom the narrator really loves. The imagery used in this song adds to the melancholic feel—a classic ballad of sorts, with a lot of emotion. And the performance from Harel was very good, even though he butchered a note at the end. Maybe it was the pretty blue lights that really accompanied the mood of the song. Personal ranking: 7th/39 Actual ranking: 14th/25 GF (grand final) in Oslo

#249: Tina Karol -- Show Me Your Love (Ukraine 2006)

"You see it in my eyes, my heart is on fire Don’t hide your love away, don’t wait another day" As mentioned in the note, I had a hard time determining the last few spots on my list. I went through the results of both sorters and picked what I felt in the time. Show Me Your Love is a bit odd, but with the accordion intro striking right away, it deserves a place here! While an overly simple song with stilted lyrics, Show Me Your Love is still a bunch of fun. From the boppy beat to Tina's infectious presence on stage, one can't help but smile as this comes along. And there was a jump rope right in the middle of the performance--never change, Ukraine. :) Personal ranking: 5th/37 Actual ranking: 7th/24 GF in Athens

#248: Alan Sorrenti -- Non so che darei (Italy 1980)

“Non so che darei per fermare il tempo Per dormire al tuo fianco solo una notte Non so che darei per sentirti mia Per tenerti vicina solo una notte” “I don’t know what I can give to stop the time To sleep beside you only for one night I don’t know what I can give To take you close to me only for one night” Recently, I find myself humming to this a lot, because it's so calming and nice. I particularly like Alan’s vocals in this song! He really conveys the pain of losing (or on the verge of losing) the one he loves, expressed by the melancholic lyrics. Together, they form a song which is just as beautiful, if not more so than the winner of its year. Despite its 6th place, it became a continent-wide hit, which was quite deserved (just like a good number of Italian Eurovision songs over the years, haha)! Alongside that, Non so che darei also had the only black conductor at Eurovision while there was an orchestra, along with a couple of women playing fake guitars. For some reason, I imagined they were holding umbrellas instead, but I clearly remembered wrong... Personal ranking: 3rd/19 Actual ranking: 6th/19 in Den Haag

#247: Sanja Vucic ZAA -- Goodbye (Shelter) (Serbia 2016)

"I lick my wounds So that I can keep on fighting" Another last-minute choice, but this is an important song, both in 2016 and now, unfortunately. Despite the advances in women's rights over the decades, domestic violence still persists across the world. Goodbye (Shelter) tells the story through someone who's struggling to get out of a toxic relationship, and there's a mix of vulnerability and strength in the lyrics. Of course, lyrics don't make up the whole song; the music also conveys the story through a dramatic build and beautiful strings. Considering the 2016 contest, it does get a bit lost amongst the crowd, but it feels like a musical number in all the right ways. Also, the performance told the story well, and Sanja is a wonderful singer (she also sings a cover of one all-time favorite you will see towards the end, hehe). I even would shed a tear at points. Personal ranking: 8th/42 Actual ranking: 18th/26 GF in Stockholm

#246: Remedios Amaya--Quien Maneja Mi Barca? (Spain 1983)

“El verde de tus ojos verdes, mírame, Que mira que yo te mire, mírame, Que mira que yo te mire” “The green of your green eyes, look at me, Look at me, so I can look at you, look at me Look at me, so I can look at you” One of those songs that can be defined as an acquired taste--the people who love it enjoy its subversive status in the Eurovision canon for being unapologetically Spanish, while the people who hate it will dismiss it as just a bunch of noise. This is a song which is part of the “New Flamenco” genre popularized since the 1960s, which mixes up flamenco music with other genres, such as rock or electronic music. Quien Maneja mi Barca ‘s studio cut has nebulous lyrics combined with an electronic beat, which is alright at best. I found it quite hollow and quite forgettable there. I prefer it in its orchestral form, which fuses synths and concert instruments fantastically. It definitely amps up the drama with Remedios’ voice, and made me appreciate this very distinct entry. Personal ranking: 6th/20 Actual ranking: Joint last (with Turkey) in Munich

#245: Marianna Efstratiou - To diko sou asteri (Greece 1989)

"Μα στο βραδινό τον ουρανό το δικό σου αστέρι ψάξε βρες Γιατί οι σκιές στο πρώτο φως μοιάζουνε φοβίες παιδικές" "But in the evening sky, search and find your own star Because the shadows in the first light seem to be childish phobias" While To diko sou asteri sounds a bit safe in the grand scheme of things, I think its lack of pretension is what makes this little song shine. The lyrics encourage one to find their star and encourage the listener to pursue what they believe in without any fear. Marianna's vocals also add to this song in that they're quietly hopeful and sweet. Also, for some reason, I got some "True Colors" vibes while listening to it every time, despite there being some differences. Both have this relaxing, calm vibe to help the listener on their journey through life. Then again, True Colors doesn't have some nice flute flourishes throughout the song, haha. Personal ranking: 4th/22 Actual ranking: 9th/22 at Lausanne

#244: Dina -- Amor d'agua fresca (Portugal 1992)

"Peguei, trinquei e meti-te na cesta Ris e dás-me a volta à cabeça" "I picked you, bit into you and put you in the basket You laughed and made my head spin" 1992 is one of the most average years at Eurovision--after the chaos that was 1991, it seems like the songs and production sought something safer, and the whole thing felt really bland. Amor d'agua fresca is anything but dull--it's bubbly and sweet, with quite relaxed atmosphere. The combination of instruments--particular the guitar in the beginning and Dina's vocals-- really help with conveying a mood. But after that, we have the lustful lyrics, describing a romance through enjoying different fruits, which was quite different for me... But hey, different makes things quite a bit better in life! Personal ranking: 4th/23 Actual ranking: 17th/23 in Malmo

#243: Lucia -- Él (Spain 1982)

"Él me perdona porque es un pedazo de buen pan Y me trata con paciencia Sé que no debo ser cruel Que le debo confesar que él a mí, no me interesa" "He forgives me because he’s a scrap of good bread And he treats me with patience I know that I shouldn’t be cruel That I should tell him I’m not interested in him" One interesting thing about me is that I'm a sucker for tango music. There's a sense of drama when one listens to it, and even more so when people get on the dance floor. While I've only danced it a few times, when one does it right, the connection between two people is quite powerful, and you could fall right into a dream. El definitely amps up the drama--Lucia is in a conflicted relationship, but she plays the "player" role quite well. It's very flirty and seductive, and you could immerse yourself in the story. While the dancing was a bit too much for a stage as small as 1982's, it's still quite fun to see. Also, it was sent as a way of supporting Argentina in the Falkland Wars, which is quite interesting... Personal ranking: 4th/18 Actual ranking: 10th/18 in Harrogate

#242: Gabriela Gunčíková -- I Stand (Czech Republic 2016)

"I am thanking you, you made me You are my air, I’ll always care" For those who have an aversion to ballads, why is that? I find it annoying because there can be ones where they can touch you and tell a story. Life can't always be happy bops with heavy beats (or it's because they don't really inhabit my musical atmosphere most of the time...) I Stand sounds like a derivative ballad sonically, but it carries itself with such grace and grandeur. The instruments add to the drama of the song, which thanks a special person for their help in their life (though the lyrics above can come off as a bit co-dependent...or so I've heard) And Gabriela delivers this with the necessary composure and grace the song desires. It feels like a highlight track from a musical--one where two characters meet again and the narrator wants to recognize the latter's good deeds before they're gone forever. Thanks to that, the Czech Republic gets their first grand final appearance (though getting 0 televote points once there was harsh...) Personal ranking: 7th/42 Actual ranking: 25th/26 GF in Stockholm

#241: t.A.T.u -- Ne ver, ne boysia (Russia 2003)

“Кто-то понты а кто-то маньяк, Кто-то как ты, кто-то как я.” “Someone's a psycho and someone's a maniac, Someone like you, someone like me” If I’m right, I may have heard this song without knowing this was from Eurovision. It was because there was a period between middle school and high school where I love t.A.T.u’s music, and this was one of their singles. Ne Ver Ne Bosia is compelling and dark, with an interplay about the people around them using an old Soviet proverb as the title. It’s gripping and intense, and brings the listener into this crazy and mad world they're enveloped in. The performance, on the other hand, almost couldn't have been worse. The vocals were really ropey (especially from Lena, who would usually be trusted to help Yulia), and it didn't come over as a great listening experience. While I love it, t.A.T.u were really lucky they competed in the televote era, as they would've been struck down hard by the juries. (and the worst part: there will be a couple of poorly-performed entries which will be quite high on this list...) Personal ranking: 6th/26 Actual ranking: 3rd/26 in Riga

[mandelene]

PLEASE.... give us more asthmatic Matthew!!! I love seeing family dote over him ;^;

Okay, I’ve tortured Matthew some more. 😅  I HOPE YOU’RE ALL HAPPY NOW. Poor Matthew lmao. He didn’t deserve this. 

Breathtaking  Word count: 1504

Gym class is the bane of his existence and always has been. For years, Matthew has been suffering through "physical education," and he doesn't feel as though he's learned anything in all of that time except how to despise his gym teachers. He has track this marking period, which means non-stop running for thirty-minutes with the rest of his class. Although he has presented his teacher with a doctor’s note stating he has asthma and needs to be given breaks when needed, his teacher this term isn’t too keen on giving him those breaks. Ms. Johnson seems to be convinced that Matthew’s exaggerating and told him during last class she has “plenty of other students who have asthma and they’re all fine with running.” 

He’s tried to get out of gym class entirely, but Dad has repeatedly told him no. “Just try your best, love, and rest when you need to. It’s important that you still try to exercise with your classmates.” 

And so, Matthew suffers in silence because he doesn’t want his teacher to give him a bad grade if he stops too many times — it would ruin his GPA. Even when his lungs burn and he can feel himself wheezing, he pushes onward. Ms. Johnson insists that asthma isn’t an excuse and that he must finish his laps even if he has to stop to use his inhaler. Even if the rest of the class has already finished long before him, Ms. Johnson will wait for him to walk his laps before she lets up and he can go to his next class.

Twice already, Matthew has shown up to his history class in tears, exhausted from running on the track. Alfred tells him he should go to Dad or Papa because Ms. Johnson is being too strict, but Matthew doesn’t want his parents to worry. He doesn’t want them going out of their way and taking time out of their busy schedules to talk to Ms. Johnson. He’s also afraid that if his parents say something to her (as they most certainly would) that she’ll use it as fuel to pick on him even more. 

But one Monday, everything comes crashing down.

He’s having an off day — his allergies were bothering him this morning, so his lungs are already irritated. He starts the run with the rest of the class, but by the fourth lap, he feels himself gasping for breath and mucus starts filling his chest and throat. He stops for just a second to take his inhaler and keeps going, but then, the wheezing starts. He tries to continue at a gentle jog, but his chest tightens mercilessly, and he feels as though he’s going to faint.  

And then, he falls to his knees.

“Mattie!” Alfred shouts, breaking away from the rest of the class and bolting over to him. “You okay, dude?”

“N-No,” Matthew mumbles back, and he can’t stop the sob that escapes his throat. He’s fourteen — that’s too old to be crying over an asthma attack, but he can’t help it. Everything hurts, and he can feel the stares of all of his classmates on his back. It’s humiliating. He wants to disappear. 

Ms. Johnson comes over as well, and Matthew really wants to disappear. She puts a hand on his shoulder, looks at Alfred, and says, “Take him to the nurse’s office.” 

Alfred doesn’t need to be told twice. He helps Matthew up and walks him away from the track and back into the school building. “It’s gonna be okay, Mattie. You’ve got your inhaler with you, right…? Good.” 

Tears rush freely down Matthew’s face now, and Alfred does his best to try to cheer him up as they walk down the hallway.

“I guess you could say this was a real breathtaking experience, huh?” his brother tries to joke. 

“N-Not helping.” 

“Sorry. You wanna take some more puffs of your inhaler? You’re still breathing weird.” 

Matthew coughs against the thick mucus now lining his airways and whispers, “I hate myself.” 

“Don’t say that. Papa or Dad will come to pick you up and you’ll feel a lot better. Come on, almost there,” Alfred says before stepping ahead of him to open the door to the nurse’s office. “This is your stop, bro. Nurse Cathy’s real nice. She helped me when I started puking after drinking some bad cafeteria milk.” 

“Gross.” 

Nurse Cathy has him sit in a chair and takes his vitals. As Alfred suspected, she says she’s going to call his parents, and then, she sends Alfred back to class, much to his brother’s chagrin.

Papa is the one who arrives, and he immediately strokes a hand through Matthew’s hair and looks him over, visibly shaken. “My poor cher. I’ll take you straight to your father’s office so he can have a look at you, okay? I’ve already called him — he’s very concerned.” 

Oh, no. That’s exactly what he didn’t want.

But there’s no sense in arguing now because Matthew has clearly already lost this battle. Papa signs him out, escorts him to the car, and rushes him downtown. It’s not that serious. He’s pretty sure he’ll be fine, but that doesn’t stop Papa from fretting and saying things like, “My heart just about stopped when I heard you collapsed during class!” 

“I didn’t collapse —” Matthew tries to explain. His knees buckled beneath him but he didn’t fully pass out and lose consciousness, so it doesn’t count.

Having a doctor for a dad has its pros and cons. One of the massive cons is being fussed over like he’s dying as soon as something’s wrong with him. The minute the receptionist at the front desk sees him, she tells him which exam room to go to, and he walks in with Papa on his heels.

He sits himself on the exam table, and barely five minutes go by before Dad invites himself in and says in a hurried breath, “Matthew, what happened?” 

“I was running in gym class and had an asthma attack.” 

“I heard you collapsed.” 

“I didn’t. Not really. I fell to my knees but —” 

“My goodness,” Dad remarks before putting on his stethoscope and placing the cold diaphragm on Matthew’s chest with one hand and bracing his back with the other. “Breathe deeply.”

“I’m feeling better now…” 

“Shh.”

Matthew sighs, and Dad moves his stethoscope to his back, still listening. It isn’t worth all of this fussing! Sure, he had a minor incident and was upset, but now that he’s had some time to sit and rest and he took his inhaler, he’s okay, and he doesn’t want everyone to make such a scene. Dad should go back and tend to people who actually need his help.

“You’re wheezing a little. I’ll give you a nebulizer treatment. I also want to check your blood pressure since you collapsed. Then, we’ll do a spirometry test.”

“I didn’t collapse,” Matthew weakly protests again, but no one is listening to him anymore.

Dad puts some albuterol into a nebulizer, puts a mask over Matthew’s nose and mouth, and turns the nebulizer on. “I’ll be back in a few minutes, okay?” 

“I’m fine,” he replies, voice muffled. 

“Yes, yes, you’re always fine,” Dad huffs before squeezing his shoulder reassuringly and pressing a worried kiss against his forehead. “I’m going to have a word with this gym teacher of yours — this is absolutely unacceptable. My child shouldn’t be collapsing!” 

“I didn’t colla —”

“Did you ask for a break?” Papa cuts in. 

“Well, no…I don’t like asking for breaks because the teacher…She tells me to stop exaggerating…” 

“Exaggerating?” Dad asks in disbelief. “Why didn’t you say anything sooner? Oh, now I’m going to have to speak to her in person to have this sorted.” 

“Dad, no…” 

“I’ll handle this. Don’t you worry about a thing. She’s never going to give you a hard time again,” Dad vows before stepping out of the exam room for a moment.

Matthew hunches his shoulders and wearily breathes in the vapor from the nebulizer. He appreciates that his parents care so much, but he also hates making them go out of their way for him. This is not his first asthma attack, and it definitely won’t be his last. He knows how to care for himself.

“When we get home, I’ll give you some of the tarte Tatin I baked today — dessert can cure just about anything,” Papa says with a wink.

Matthew’s pretty sure that isn’t true, nor is it evidence-based practice, but he simply nods his head and goes along with it.

And when Dad returns a couple of minutes later, fusses over him some more, and deems him okay to continue about his day, Matthew accepts the hug he gives him and manages his first genuine smile of the day, finally giving in to their hysterics. They’re too good to him. 

“Thanks, guys. I love you.”  “We love you more,” Papa and Dad say in unison.

[manjuhitorie]

HITORI-ESCAPE 2020 : Hitorie’s Free Concert Live Stream - December 7th 2020

In celebration of their newest single, curved edge, Hitorie streamed a full length concert! Setlist: Polaris Senseless Wonder Namid[A]me Garandou Mae Zero Banchi SLEEPWALK Loveless Gekijougai Talkie Dance Unknown Mother Goose Karanowaremono Ao curved edge In it they announced the release of a new album! Named... REAMP! Febuary 17th can’t come soon enough!!! It will even include songs written by not only Shinoda, but Yumao and ygarshy each as well! Concert report below:

Initial Impressions: ＊ SND’s shirt has Andy Warhol’s Marilyn Monroe printed on it. ＊ He has a stageprompter to assist with lyrics as well. He struggles to hit the high notes but he nails the high octane power chords. wowaka used to wing when his would sing, so he would slip on his lyrics, and make silly faces, every other song live. I see SND is playing it safe, now that he’s the one in charge of the crazy lyrics!!! Prelude leading into... Polaris ＊SND gets riled up and turned thhe「誰も知らぬ明日へ行け　誰も止められやしないよ」lyric into a rowdy 「止められやしねえよ」 . Equivalent to “No one can stop us” being turned into “No once can fucking stop us” or so. Shinoda “We’re Hitorie, enjoy the show.” (This ‘Hitorie desu, yoroshiku douzo’ was always wowaka’s stock concert phase.) Senseless Wonder ＊”Woo-hoo”’s or unintelligible noises made in the riff music breaks. ＊Yumao sings the backup vocals.  ＊SND wiggles his foot on his Wah pedal to make the wonky sounds.

Intermissional MC

Shinoda “This marks the beginning of Hitori-Escape. We are called Hitorie. Everyone please stick with us.“Heavy breathing “Hold up. I jumping around too much right off the bat.. I jumped around too much... All I did was hip and hop around a little bit... Haah. I’m gonna drink some water, drink some water!” SND walks over to the amp where bottles lie atop then proceeds to take a big sip. Yumao also follows along with a drink. Yu and SND can be seen conversing, but only SND’s “You got that right.” can be heard. SND returns to the mic “Take a gander, everyone. Even Yumao-kun is already sweating as well. This sparkly sweat of ours.. We will try to deliver you guys our sweat at the highest quality we can offer, deliver it as much as possible.” While SND is talking Yumao makes signs, such as 2 fingers up, towards the staff. “Well then, let’s chug along. Enjoy the show everyone.” Namid[A]me ＊There’s bubble popping sound effects in the intro now! Yumao is in charge of this, see his MacBook + mixer (+ a handy setlist printout) setup on the table beside him. All with a music program open primed and ready... Right before the song you can even see Yumao click his computer as well! 

＊ Yumao sings backup vocals, the whole chorus has his deep voice echoing. The small amount of notes are so concise and moody live... ＊ SND tops the outro off with a “Wasshoi!” Garandou Mae Zero Banchi ＊ Melodramatic piano bit added before the intro. I wonder where this was sampled from... It sounds like SND uses his stereo chorus pedal for his part as well. Shinoda “Thank you.”

Intermissional MC

Shinoda “Uhm.. At the end of our previous live stream I had said ‘Next time we meet will be at the concert hall.’. Sorry, that was a lie... We’re meeting at a live stream yet again. We’re Hitorie, enjoy the show.” Yumao taps his cymbals gently to create the classic concert mood starter sound. SND “That, that’s good! That’s the stuff! That’s the stuff. Without that stuff I feel the silence responding to me.” He motions at the empty auditorium. “That stuff’s nice, nice. I guess ‘cause, y’know. ‘Cause you two have already been y’know. Performing in front of people.” Yumao, hits his cymbal, cue a “Bwaa~n” sound. SND “You can fool me with that shit. No ‘Bwaa~n’ will work on me. You had 2 whole opportunities in a row, yesterday and the day before.” (Referring to Yumao’s appearance in Touyama Nao’s anniversary concerts.) Yumao hits his cymbal yet again, cue a “Shwaaan” noise. SND scoffs “What a kind and swe~et reaction.” SND “I’m the only one. The only one here who hasn’t stood up in front of people. My only upcoming chance will be at ‘Countdown Japan’, at the end of the year. Then in January I’ll be doing our limited fan club concert at Shibuya WWX. Back to back. What the hell is up with this year? What the hell, huh? Huh!!!” SND playfully pounces in Yumao’s direction. Yumao hits his cymbal again. “You’re saving my butt with that. Thanks, truly. Alright. From here on I’m to bring you a few songs without a guitar, only a mic in my hands.” Yumao “1, 2, 3, 4” SLEEPWALK ＊ SND gets on his knees and wiggles to walk on the floor during music breaks, is he imitating a sleepwalker.. ＊ Ygarshy presses a pedal right after every song ends, presumably his tuner, to mute and prevent static. He strums and slaps with his fingers, no pick, for every song. SND “2020 is slowly nearing its end, but, what’s everyone’s opinion on love?” Loveless ＊BONK 

＊ Includes Shinoda flopping around on the floor, squatting like a yakuza, and an outro with SND and yg having a mini string instrument battle! They huddle together! Yumao pounds away! Gekijougai ＊ Additional nebulous intro.  ＊ Yumao is really worked to the bone in this banger! Featuring yet another more intense battle between yg and SND. SND “Alrighty! Ah. Where are y’all now? Where are y’all right now? It doesn’t matter where you are, just dance along to Talkie Dance!” Talkie Dance ＊ During the riff breaks SND chants  Soi! Yoisa! Soi! Hoisa!” Like wasshoi, these are traditional shouts primarily used by O-mikoshi carriers in JP festivals! SND really seems to enjoy using old-fashioned words in a stylish way. SND “Upon this ending year, this one is with love from wowaka!” Unknown Mother Goose “Sing along with me!” ＊ Per usual, Yumao and ygarshy both pitch in for the ‘Oh oh oh’ harmonies. “Sing, please!” ＊ The background vocals in the Unknown Mother Goose are also confirmed by the man himself to be “Give me love”. He had responded to someone with “Oh! You’re sharp!” when asked about it!

Intermissional MC

“Are y’all having fun? Me, I can’t stop sweating. Help me. I can’t stop sweaaating.” SND changes to a high tone voice, “Ah~ This is awesomeee. Methinks this is awesome but, but I gotta say, I’m the only one here who hasn’t had a chance to perform in front of people, no kap.” He returns to his normal tone. “I hold a grudge. I’m always the only one being fucking left outtt. I can't let go of my grudge.

At least look me in the eyes, guys. Ah, whatever. On New Year's Eve I’m gonna appear in Countdown Japan, I’m gonna! ...What does it feel like anyway, performing in front of people? What does it feel like, may I ask you fine young gentleman?” SND’s voice turns to demonic. “Oiiii. Don’t just fucking nod at me. Don’t make up some new common language. You’re over there using no words, bitch.” His voice returns to normal. “Well, whatever. Enough of that. It’s no use staying jealous forever.” Yumao taps his cymbals... “Don’t just fucking ‘clang clang’ either!” Yumao laughs. “You laughed, you laughed! You laugh: you lose, you!”, they all smile. “Uhm... On December 31st, New Year's Eve, we’ll be at Countdown Japan. Please come if you can, hope to see you there. Now then! Next year, I’m talking about next year, it will be the 7th year anniversary of our major debut. In celebration, and to kick off the new year, we have booked Roppongi’s EX Theater for two days, January 21st and 22nd,. This is all I can say for now. Details will be announced later. ...Now let me drink some water.” ygarshy is all done tuning and at attention. Yumao keeps making cymbal sounds to fill the empty space. “I... Today, here, is uhm, Yokohama’s Bay Hall. It’s the place where ‘Swallowtail’ was filmed. When we arrived this afternoon I saw the windows and practically screamed. It’s Yen Town Band! It’s where Glico sang ‘My Way’! I alone was freaking out. Noone was on board with me.. I’m all alone, yet again.... The camera zooms in on Yumao, “Don’t just smile! Don't just smile at me With that said. Our 7th anniversary hits next year! So, here is our very first song, which represents our beginning....” Karanowaremono Ao ＊ Many emotional spotlights.

Intermissional MC

SND “At long last, this time has come. Huh! Mister Yumao-san!” SND glares at him. “Perhaps I may revel in a sip of water as well. A sip of water!! ... By the way what time is it? Yumao, in reporter voice “It is currently eight thirty seven.” SND “I see, it’s eight thirty seven. That's crazy. So today, our new song released, as you folks may know. Our new song called curved edge was released. Did you give it a listen? If you haven’t then please do, but also, the music video for the song will be public today at 22 o’ clock, please enjoy it. That’s the immediate future. But let’s talk about the faaar future.... On February 17th will a new album be released. We made an album. curved edge is a song written by me, and naturally it will be included in the album as well but, that’s not all.” He wags his finger towards the others, “This wiggly windy head of brown-colored hair and, this other wiggly windy head of black-colored hair have even each written a song for it as well. The title is R-E-A-M-P, REAMP. To be released on February 17th. Keep your eyes peeled.” he tapped his temple as he said this, “Please!” Ygarshy bows. “Ahhh, we made it!” Shinoda starts coughing, “Excuse me. Coughing without covering my mouth is not good. I'll be careful. Ah, I’m so nervous. I’ve grown nervous this far in. Alright, this next one will be the final song. Thank you so much for bearing with us. We are Hitorie. As farewell, here is our new song. curved edge.

Text:

I have also written up the original Japanese quotes! Thank you Tamagotoji for the huge help! ORZ For those looking to follow along with the concert, or learn new words from them, or enjoy!! Please enjoy! 

https://www.evernote.com/l/AolVRKvLGRpFN6l0MApPe5xuRXQOI4kFeTg

Bonus tech lore

Disclaimer: Only old photos exist of their pedalboards exist, as the cameramen did a fine job of concealing them. Since there’s no new evidence of change, I’ll assume these old findings will serve as foundation for their current setups as well!

[shinygoku]

Liar Revealed! A Bug’s Life Essay

A Bug’s Life is my favourite Pixar movie and thus, it turns out I have a lot of thoughts about it. In this case, what was originally my interpretation soley in response to points I’ve seen raised on YouTube and TV Tropes has spun off into this mega essay.... all focused on a single scene.

But hey, it works with one of the film’s main messages; that something big grows out of a small idea!

The scene is the most notorious in the movie, at least from what I’ve seen, and I’m inclined to agree it’s the weakest part of this giant clock. But why is it like that and how could it have been handled better?

As I’ve said, this is actually my favourite (albeit not what I consider their very best) of Pixar’s output, and I wouldn’t have been able to go into such depth without a huge amount of love for the finished product, flawed as it may be.

It’s also possible I’ll write a more generalised thing on what I love about the film in the future, but I won’t promise anything o7;; 🐜

The Lie is ...laid

Actually, I should talk about two scenes. First is where the Lie is established:

After the humourous mutual misunderstanding between the Circus Bugs and Flik, the former are quite horrified to discover they’re expected to fight the Grasshoppers off themselves instead of putting on a show. Ahh, that old classic~

But no, they want out and Flik, who has just been informed by them during the welcoming shindig, is understandably rattled and despairing over this addition to his list of failures. He says the fallout will not only brand him, but his hypothetical grandchildren as a Terrible Loser and even says he’s as good as dead as soon as the other ants find out. Owch.

Before things get too heavy, the focus shifts around until The Bird becomes the main immediate threat. The whole Bird scene leads the ants to become convinced the Circus Bugs are really amazing warriors and, as this is the first time in what could be years that they have a crowd cheering for them it’s the success and Flik’s later idea to make a Giant Mech in the shape of a Bird instead of planning any actual combat that convinces them to play along.

So, that’s the lie set up and solidified. Now for the eventual fallout:

During a fun party after the Bird has been built, an ominous force arrives... PT Flea, the Jerkass ringmaster who had fired the Circus Bugs. This local bug promptly ruins everything by literally shining a light on the Circus Bugs and their nature as such, and then Flik is accidentally outed as the Guy Who Thought Up The Bird.

The Liar Revealed Trope

I would link the TV Tropes article here, but as tungle doesn’t like external sites I’ll just quote the more relevant parts from it:

“Liar Revealed in the Internal Reveal of The Lie, the facade maintained by a protagonist which provides the primary dramatic tension for the plot. This usually sets up the third act where the protagonists are forced to deal with the consequences of the lie on top of any external threats.

There are a few usual ways this ends up. If the lie was for selfish reasons, the protagonist will doubtless face the wrath of those he lied to, but along the way end up having a change of conscience, and try to redeem themselves through good acts and An Aesop about "what really matters". If the lie was well-intentioned, the protagonist may still find that others turn their backs on him, but go on to carry through with what they said they'd do anyway, proving themselves a hero after all.

It's worth noting that this trope is particularly easy and common to misuse, either in the tendency of the protagonist to Maintain the Lie for reasons that make no sense except for dramatic tension or of the deceived to turn against the protagonist for the deception in spite of other considerations that should by all rights absolve him.”

And in the folder there’s a specific entry for this film:

A Bug's Life has Flik supposedly finding "warrior bugs" to save his colony after misconstruing a situation. When he realizes his mistake (that they're circus performers rather than trained warriors), he's forced to keep the lie going in order to not cause panic among the other ants. Once the colony finds out, it inevitably results in one of the most painfully Played Straight examples of this trope in animation history... 

As you can see there, the dislike for this scene has seeped into the entry. Of course, TV Tropes is pretty informal and I like that, but it’s telling that this is a general perception.

Continue reading below the Cut! ✂

What I don’t like

So, I think my main issue with the scene boils down to... it’s very nebulous and unclear as to what’s so bad about Flik lying. Between the Council, the Queen and Atta, there seems to be a jumbled, confusing motive traffic jam that somehow results in what TV Tropes refers to the Liar Reveal Trope being played “Painfully Straight”.

But uhh, what’s the problem? Yes, Flik lied, but we know that wasn’t something he’d planned on doing, it was his attempt at damage control. The other ants don’t know that part, but still, what are they objecting to, specifically? That the Circus bugs are Circus bugs? That the Bird Plan was Flik’s? That.... lying is treated at an absolute moral failing regardless of the circumstances??

The council dudes are like: “OH WHAAAAT, the defence plan was by Clowns??” [No, it was Flik] “OH WHAAAT, we don’t have our mafia money prepared what if Hopper finds out we nearly sicced a fake bird on him!?”

The part about objecting to Clowns drafting the defence plans is actually the more reasonable explanation, but I guess they presumed warriors habitually made Decoy Bird plans instead of fighting themselves? There’s already a hole in their objections but it only gets worse.

The Queen is like: “Wow Flik evidently you’re a self serving prick. Anyway the best thing to do is pretend this never happened and no we’re not going to tell Hopper.”

Why the fuck would that happen? ‘Oh sorry Hopper we got sidetracked doing a ...thing... so we’re still picking your food no please don’t break my legs’

But also, why THE FUCK is this the plan? Some ruler you are, you old prune. ‘We have the bird all made and ready to go but oops the idea came from a DIRTY LIAR so we’re going to return to the doomed harvesting racket even though we’ve been set an outrageous amount and we can’t possibly hope to catch up and even if we had been picking the food the entire time it was established earlier on we won’t have time for our supplies on top of all that.’

Fucking.... astonishing lack of logic. YOU MORONS HAVE NOTHING LEFT TO LOSE, GO WITH THE BIRD! Flik himself says something to a similar effect lol

But noooooo, his arguably selfish lie [which is more Omitting the truth once he knew it, really] has forever doomed everything, apparently. Honestly it comes across more like they just hate Flik and see anything he invents as doomed to fail, so the second the truth emerges that he spearheaded the Mech Bird they dismiss it as a lost cause. Even though everyone worked together to build it, and Flik’s inventions weren’t the issue but him being awkward and clumsy. But seeing how Flik’s mere presence in his first scene seemed to drive the Council members into a quivering fury, it really does feel like their objections are from them refusing to give him a chance.

And then there’s Princess Atta. Hoo Boy.

In this scene, she comes off as being ridiculously vindictive, petty and hypocritical. This applies to the Council too, but it’s more galling coming from Atta as by now she’s realised that Flik gets a lot of flak [yay wordplay] from the others and she had resolved to give him more credit. BUT OOPS, that didn’t last!

She takes the Lying thing so personally, acting like he was cheating on her or something. “You lied to MeEeEee” well golly gee whiz, was there any particular reason why he would tell you the truth? Other than his rather obvious crush on you, that is? Cause that would still be a weird reason, seeing how the ‘lie’ was after he’d finally got a bit of decent treatment from the others, why would he wanna upset the apple cart?

He probably feared coming out and confessing to Atta [or anyone else] that they’d lose all faith in him and scrap a valid plan that was the only way out of the grasshopper racket mess. Which would be a bit silly and probably the result of someone with low self esteem and confidence issues overthinking the situation but it’s Exactly what actually happens!

It wasn’t a personal slight against you, Princess! To quote Helen Parr: THIS IS NOT! ABOUT! YOU!!

And wooow, you must be awfully chilly up there on your high horse, Miss “Lied to Flik to get rid of him earlier in the film”! Did you ever feel like fessing up? Like ‘hmm I’ve grown much fonder of this doofus, maybe I should be honest with him before engaging with some more light flirting’ ? Maybe if you had, he woulda been honest in return!

I don’t even see why she and the Council bothered lying about their Snipe Hunt ploy, seeing how now they act like he crossed a moral event horizon. Why even bother making a phoney baloney decoy idea to get him away, when they clearly dislike him enough to play the Brutally Honest card without fretting over his feelings. They coulda just ordered him to stay in a corner away from interfering but instead they’re willing to risk his life on a wild goose chase.

...And she then Banishes him! For what?? Lying? About what, the circus bugs or the bird plan? Both?? It really feels like her taking undue personal offence and the Council hating him and the Queen being old and senile.

So yeah, wow, this scene has what I think is the Unintended side effect of making me hate the stupid jerkface Ant colony as every named ant in it except for Dot fucking suck and throw Flik under a bus the second they deem him to be untrustworthy. In spite of, like, that the plan itself was solid and that the Circus Bugs have all been proven to be Good Eggs. They don’t give him a chance to explain and made their own bed to lie in, so I feel dark joy and satisfaction when the grasshoppers do arrive and kick them around some more.

Wow gee, if only you dumb ass ants had some sort of already made contraption to fall back on?

Why is it like this?

I can only make guesses here, be warned!

From what I’ve gathered of an older version of the story, mostly via Wikipedia, I kinda feel like the exposing would have fit that take better. In the beta version of the story, instead of Flik the lead would have been “Red”, who was a red ant and circus bug from the start. The first draft Circus lot woulda been out to scam the ants initially and I guess would have grown genuine fondness with time. The idea of an outsider flim flamming his way into the good books and later being exposed makes the overblown outrage a lot more understandable. But that’s my hypothesis for the direction they ultimately didn’t go in. Also look at how Red looks like a fuckboi here:

But in the final version, Red doesn’t exist! Flik is a part of the colony from the get go, but also apart from it cause no one likes him as, again, his ideas were good but poorly executed and he seemed to be a hindrance. But the ants should at least see that Flik is genuine in his attempts, that he’s trying his best and they should maybe cut him some slack.

The way the ants have their knickers in a twist doesn’t gel so well with the “Well meaning screwup” angle, especially compared to a possible “Opportunistic so-and-so who doesn’t have real attachments to the colony” route.

Also it may be worth noting up there where I put a TV Tropes excerpt, I bolded the relevant half of the run down, but it seems the other half applies much more to this first draft. Interesting...

So I don’t know, but I got the idea that the scene in the movie is basically a holdover from earlier that didn’t get sufficiently updated. The Liar Revealed Scene is the first thing I’d change if I were rewriting the script, and I might go back and change it again after other parts had been redone too, cause the story needs to flow from point A to point B etc. smoothly or else viewers will get annoyed and point it out in Youtube videos or overly long tumblr text posts.

How could it be fixed?

I’m not saying I’m sitting on the perfect idea of a rewrite. But the main thing is what I already touched on, the jarring disconnect between what happens and how the stupid ants respond.

Like, Atta’s sudden grabbing of the Jerkass and Idiot Balls in this scene. Wouldn’t it have been better if she was instead unsure and conflicted? She had lied to Flik earlier and, unlike the Council, was shown to actually realise Flik Has Feelings Too and apologised for the general lack of faith. She didn’t come clean about the Snipe Hunt Lie, so that could be weighing on her during this scene, maybe she would have been the only Council member to Not want to kick him out but felt pressured into it and hasn’t got into the groove of being the Future Queen enough to pull rank and talk them down from being hate filled twats. Maybe someone will mention the flirting that had been happening as muddying her judgement?

That’s my main idea, compare that with her barging in and taking undue personal offence and shooing him off. She’s supposed to feel like she’s doomed to fail too, so her facing a moral dilemma and falling on the wrong side of the fence could tie into that! (To be honest, her arc is kinda undercooked so hey, I’m killing two birds with one stone here!)

Flik being banished at all is a casualty of The Narrative, that he and the Circus Bugs have gotta go away temporarily for the finale to be cooler and more exciting. It’s a Necessary Weasel of writing and you’ll find them in every story ever made. Sometimes things have gotta happen cause Story Structure. The trick is having them more organic and concealed.

So yeah, have the Old Fogeys be in the wrong [which is so far unchanged] but also the majority of the ‘voting’. Make it difficult for Atta to choose between loyalty to the colony as a whole and her sense of duty versus trusting in Flik, who she now knows to always have his heart in the right place. She comes close to standing up for him and herself, but ultimately falters and gets pressured into the call made in the movie. She’s still ultimately responsible as leaders are, but in a much more sympathetic way.

Summation

This got way longer than I had initially imagined, and that’s even after I cut stuff in the editing process! Let’s quickly review the three main points I’m trying to make.

The Issue with the scene - A big song and dance is made over The Lie, but no reason why it’s such a terrible thing is offered. A perfectly sound plan is dismissed nonsensically.

Suspected reasoning for the writing - The tone matches a potential alternate story much better, where someone would have lied for self serving purposes instead of for the greater good.

A suggestion for a rewrite - Make it much more nuanced and fitting the character arcs. Give the characters a reason to react the way they do and have different responses per person. If the ants are going to drop the Bird plan, at least offer a more viable alternate route than going back to what wasn’t working before.

Does it really matter?

Well, I don’t expect a 22 year old film to suddenly get a rewrite, no. And I maintain that it’s a real gem which deserves much higher praise with the other Good Pixars instead of being so constantly overlooked.

Part of what spurred me to think about the scene and what I’d alter is seeing it referred to as ‘Kinda Bad’ in a youtube video that was talking about another Liar Reveal scene in another movie, and that is a bad take, but the point about how clunky this part is isn’t wrong. I don’t want people to dismiss the whole, beautiful image cause one section of it doesn’t vibe!

It doesn’t ruin the picture, but when people have something negative to say it’s this which is the magnet. And I’m kinda guilty of doing the same thing here, haha. But I wanted to really dissect and examine it, to figure out why it’s like that and to guess how simple it may be to rework. It’s bittersweet, but there ain’t such a thing as a perfect movie.

This has been fun for me to go into though, and it’s nice to get thoughts out from just swirling around inside my head, so even if barely anyone sees and makes it through this whole dissertation, I’m glad I wrote it out. It’s a funny way to derive enjoyment from the bumpy part of a beloved movie, but hey, I’ll take it~

[justgeorgeharrisonfic]

An Adventure In Ireland

AN ADVENTURE IN IRELAND

Thursday 26th March 1964

 “Hello?”

“Pattie.”

“George!” Her voice was a squeak. She knew this once she’d spoken but there was nothing she could do about it. “Hello!”

“Pattie, we’re going away.”

Pattie’s heart sank. “Oh,” she said, forlorn. “When are you going?”

“What? No, I mean we’re going away. Us.”

“Wha…? Who? What? When…?” What on earth…?

“Pattie!” George’s voice was firm, as though he wanted to take control over all the spluttering. “We, you and me, are going away, to Ireland, for an Easter break.”

“Oh, are we? That’s nice. When?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” It was another squeak, but this time she felt it was justified. “What…? But…”

“Pattie!!” This time it was almost a shout. “Brian has booked us into a castle, in Ireland, for Easter.”

“But tomorrow? That’s… tomorrow.” God but that was a stupid thing to say. But he seemed to know what she was getting at, thank goodness.

“Yeah, but that’s when Easter is. We can’t move it. Not even Brian can do that.”

“No I know, but…”

“But what? Don’t you want to go?”

“Of course I do! It’s just… soon.”

“Yeah. Like, tomorrow.”

George surprised her sometimes. Like when a dry sarcasm broke through the sweet young persona. Like, just then. “Well yes! I do want to go. We’re going to… a castle?” Images of cold stone steps and dungeons; Pattie frowned. But of course he couldn’t see that.

“It’s called that. It’s a posh hotel really. President Kennedy stayed there.”

“Oh.” The cold stone and dungeons disappeared. “It sounds lovely. And he’s booked a holiday, just for us!”

“Well…” Had a note of diffidence crept into his voice?

“What?” She paused, and then remembered, their first date. “Oh don’t tell me he’s coming too!”

“No!” George broke in quickly. ”No. He isn’t.”

Pattie didn’t like the emphasis on the work ‘he’. “So, is there someone else coming too?”

The briefest of pauses; but not so brief that Pattie didn’t have time to start to feel anxious. “Ah, yeah,” said George. “We’re going with John and Cynthia.”

There fell a silence.

“Pattie? Is that…? Ah… that’ll be alright, won’t it? I mean…”

“Yes.” This wasn’t a squeak, more like a husk, but at least she had found her voice. “Of course, that’s fine…”

“But?”

Another pause. “John’s…”

“I know what he is,” George broke in. “But he likes you.”

“How do you know?”

“He said so.”

“Oh? When?”

“Lots of times.” Pattie didn’t want to think too closely about that last bit. “So that’s fine, isn’t it.” But Pattie’s mind was still snagged up on doubts, which she found it hard to articulate. “Pattie! What is it? Don’t you want to go?”

“Yes! I do!” And she did; then the doubts crystallised and she blurted out before she could change her mind, “Will Cynthia like me?”

“Cynthia?” George sounded completely astonished. “Why the hell shouldn’t she?”

“I don’t know. I just… she’s just…”

“Pattie, she’s really nice, it’s be fine! They both like you. I like you. And I love you. Will you come?”

Somehow the airing of her nebulous fears made her feel better. She laughed, a genuine laugh. “Yes. Of course I will. Ah, George?”

“What?” There was no doubt; the words ‘what now?’ hovered unspoken over the phone line. Pattie hastened to reassure him.

“I just wondered – why have you only just told me?”

“He’s only just told us.” Obviously, rang another unspoken word. Pattie reflected, not for the first time, that there was a lot to get used to in going out with a Beatle.

“Oh, right. Well… what do I do? When are we going?” And then, “What do I pack??”

“I don’t know.” George was dismissive that that last question. “He’s got a car coming for you tomorrow at 10.00”

“And will it take me to you?” Pattie asked hopefully.

“No.”

“No? So where…?”

“I’ll be in the car!”

“Oh George!” She wished he didn’t do things like that. “When…?

“Pattie, I’ve got to go, we’re on again. I’ll see you tomorrow morning. Love you!”

He was gone. Pattie stared uselessly at the phone receiver in her hand, and then replaced it carefully. Her mind was already buzzing; packing, clothes, Cynthia, clothes, John, aaarrrgh! She turned and headed into her bedroom and pulled the suitcase down from the wardrobe. This was crazy. But, she was reflecting yet again in the space of a few minutes, there was a lot to get used to in being with a Beatle.

The weekend would only start to show her just how much.

 Friday 27th March 1964, morning.

 Pattie scampered after George as he picked up her case and walked with it to the rear of the car. “God, what’ve you got in here?” he muttered as he opened the boot and hefted her case in next to his. Pattie watched; couldn’t help noticing his much smaller case next to hers.

“You haven’t brought much, have you,” she said, a little anxiously. George straightened and turned to her with a grin.

“I don’t need much, do I, for three nights.”

“Well…”

“I decided to leave my make-up at home, and five pairs of shoes. I’ve only brought…”

Pattie hit him playfully on the arm to bring a halt to the derisory comments. “Well, I don’t know, do I. I don’t know what you’re supposed to bring, or what the others are bringing…”

George guided her round to the car door and opened it for her and gestured for her to get in. “I don’t think there’s anything you’re ‘supposed’ to bring,” he said, climbing in after her.

“You know what I mean,” she said, and then looked into his face. “Actually, you probably don’t,” she concluded, and he shook his head in agreement.

“Nope,” he answered cheerfully, and then reached out to circle her shoulders with his arm and draw her close to him. She snuggled against him as the car set off and joined the traffic. She was becoming aware of a low level of anxiety starting to tighten in her stomach, and it was increasing as the car gathered speed and headed towards their next stop. She said nothing, but something of her worry must have communicated itself to George, who twisted his head to look down at her. “You okay?” he said.

“I’m fine.”

That certainly didn’t work, as her voice sounded unconvincing even to her own ears. George straightened up so that he could move away from her slightly and look at her more directly.

“You’re fine.”

She looked up at him, and blinked.

“You do want to go?”

“Oh yes!” That was a bit better, having the advantage of being true. However, even though the two had only been together for about two weeks he knew her well enough to pick up when something was amiss. George thought some more, and then recalled their phone conversation the evening before. He tightened his arm around her again.

“Which one are you more worried about?” He tilted his head slightly as he looked carefully into her eyes. “John or Cyn?”

Pattie looked down at her lap. “I know I’m being silly…” she began, but George stopped her with a shake of his head.

“It’ll be fine,” he said, and gave her a light kiss on the mouth. “They’ll be fine. You’ll be fine.”

“Oh, you mean it’ll be fine!” Pattie smiled, and he hugged her again.

“You’ll see. Oh, we’re there.” And her anxiety roared back into place. She concentrated on quelling her nerves as the driver got out and went over to the door to ring up to the flat. He waited at the door; George lit a cigarette after offering one to Pattie, and she took it thankfully. Her hands weren’t shaking at all…

“Cyn, you get in the back. Bloody hell, how much have you got in here?”

“Well, you never know what you’ll need,” said Cynthia Lennon as she opened the other door and slid into the seat next to Pattie. Pattie turned to George with a smirk of triumph. His only answer was to take another drag of his cigarette and roll his eyes.

“It’s Brigitte Bardot!” John shouted as he got into the front seat.

“Shut up John.” George sounded weary; Pattie deduced, correctly, that this was a favourite joke of John’s, one George hadn’t got round to telling her about. “Cyn,” he said over Pattie’s head, “This is Pattie.”

“I guessed.” The smile she gave Pattie was so warm and friendly that the new girl instantly began to feel better. George’ arm was still around her, safely, reassuringly. John was still nattering nonsense from the front seat, and reached back over his head to offer a cigarette to his patient wife.

The car moved off, and headed west towards Heathrow airport.

…

“Where are we going?” Pattie was puzzled. They weren’t, as she’d expected, dropped off at the front at the main entrance. Instead the smart black car glided along small side roads within the huge Heathrow complex, past storage containers and parked cars and things you didn’t usually see at the airport. “What’s…?”

“We’re going to our plane,” George explained briefly.

“You’ve got a plane??”

“No!” He turned to her with a smile. “We’ve booked one.”

“There it is,” said Cynthia, and Pattie looked out and saw what looked like a toy plane, standing on its own with a man standing next to it.

“That??”

“That,” said John.

The car drove nearer and then pulled up alongside. The man, whoever he was, raised an arm in some sort of greeting as their driver flipped the boot lid and got out of the car to get the luggage. Pattie, seated in the middle of the back seat, had to wait until someone else moved, and she was surprised that it was Cynthia who slithered out first. George sat, motionless, apparently staring at the plane where the door had now opened and steps had rolled down. “George?”

George turned to her and nodded acknowledgement, and then, very slowly, opened his door and stepped out of and away from the car. Pattie followed him out and stood where she was. She saw him lick his lips.

“He’s the worst,” said a voice at her ear, and she turned to see Cynthia standing next to her. “But John’s not far behind.”

Pattie frowned at her, as she raised her hand to hold back her hair which was being tossed and blown by the wind. “What do you mean?” She hoped she didn’t sound too stupid, but she really had no idea what Cynthia was referring to.

“They’re terrified of flying,” said Cynthia simply. “And, in that thing…” She gestured towards the toy plane before she too had to smooth her own hair back from her face. She smiled at Pattie. “Oh dear!”

Pattie looked over at George, who chose that moment to look back at her, and Pattie couldn’t help but notice that his face was pale. It was almost grey. She looked across at John, who looked more subdued than she’d ever seen him. Then she turned back to Cynthia. She found herself grinning broadly. “Oh dear!” she agreed.

“Shall we get in?” Cynthia hoisted her bag over her shoulder and started to walk towards the toy plane. Pattie began to follow, but then thought better of it and decided to go and collect George first, who was still rooted to the spot. She turned back to Cynthia and hissed, “Does it go?”

“Course it does,” Cynthia declared. “They’re Beatles. They’re important.” With this, Pattie reflected, utterly extraordinary remark, she strolled across the blustery tarmac towards the waiting plane. Pattie crossed to George and looped her arm through his.

“Come on then. Let’s get in.”

He took a deep breath and swallowed hard.

“It’ll be alright, really.”

George clearly felt too nervous to even try to reply, and he simply let himself be led by the arm towards the toy plane. Even Pattie allowed herself a moment’s apprehension, as she took in the cramped interior and six not very comfortable seats, but the pilot looked and sounded much more grown up and reassuring than she’d have expected for a toy plane and she decided that she would look on it as an adventure. “Where do you want to sit?” she asked George brightly. He looked at her mournfully. “Window?”

He shuddered and shook his head and so Pattie took the window seat nearest her and George slid in next to her. She looked around at the others and was amused to see that Cynthia had similarly taken charge and deposited John in one of the other seats.

Pattie thought it was hilarious.

She didn’t think that it was all quite so funny once the plane was airborne. She’d been fine whilst they taxied to take off. And she had tried to ignore George’s hands gripping the arm rests so tightly that his knuckles were white, as though he thought that this would help get the plane safely into the air. But, once up and flying, the pressure in her ears built and built and became so painful that she was seriously worried she was going to go deaf for the rest of her life. It was a miserable flight and when the plane touched down at Shannon Airport she sank forward with her head in her hands almost gasping with relief.

“That was good, wasn’t it.”

She looked up at George. His colour had returned. His eyes had softened from the flinty terror of take-off and there was a slight smile hovering on his lips. She burst out laughing, in emotional and physical relief, and leaned over to plant a kiss on his mouth. “Wonderful,” she said, and squeezed his hand.

 Friday 27th March 1964, early afternoon.

The car swept through the gates and along the curving immaculately maintained drive towards the castle. It was a castle, it really was, although it managed not to look forbidding or scary. The car moved gracefully towards the main door and came to a halt, and a besuited man and several uniformed flunkies rushed down the steps and approached the car.

“Doesn’t look like I’ll have to carry your case again,” remarked John. “Thank Christ for that.”

“Wimp,” Cynthia retorted as she slid sideways along the rear seat and climbed out of the car.

Within moments all the cases were out of the car, and two Beatles and their women stood looking up at the imposing frontage of Dromoland Castle.

“Welcome to Dromoland,” oozed the man in the posh suit. “Please come in – a few formalities to check in and I’ll have the pleasure of showing you to your suite.”

George and John cut glances; Pattie noticed, and wondered what was going on there. It often seemed to happen, that there would be glances or words between Beatles and she realised that she hadn’t a clue what they were saying or thinking. Something she’d have to get to understand…

They were moving in. George and John walked in step, together, George clutching Pattie’s hand and Cynthia walking behind them. They passed through the doors and into an echoing and deliberately impressive entrance hall and across to the reception desk. Forms were completed, staff grovelled and the group were finally guided across the unnecessary acres of space in the reception hall to the lifts and then up to their suite.

“Gosh”

“Oooh”

“Yeah.”

“This is us.” John speedily identified the double room and headed straight in, followed by Cynthia. Pattie peered into one of the single rooms and George did the same with the other.

“Which one?”

“I don’t care. You pick.”

So Pattie made the choice between two very similar rooms and George followed her in.  “It’s lovely!” she said, and meant it. After only two weeks in Beatle circles she was still wide-eyed, unused to extreme luxury. “But why did Brian book two…”

“He said he had to. You know.”

She shrugged at him. “I suppose so.”

“Sir?” came a deferentially couched question. The porter wanted to know which case belonged in which room. George pointed to Pattie’s and gestured with his head towards the room they, or rather she, had selected.

“Ta,” he said as the case was placed in the middle of the room. He’d already grabbed his own and put it down next to hers. He nodded at the porter to indicate that his use there was concluded, and the immaculately uniformed flunky backed out of the bedroom.

“D’ya know when lunch is?” John called from the other room, and the flunky was able to oblige.

“Lunch will be served in the blue dining room at one o’clock, sir,” he uttered.

“Good thing it’s the blue one, eh?”

The flunky looked puzzled, and George rolled his eyes. “Thanks! Bye!” George smiled and nodded at the confused porter and managed without being too rude to gesture towards the main doors of the suite. The man left, probably in some relief. George looked at his watch. “See you in half an hour then,” he called out to his fellow guests.

“Okay.” It was Cynthia who confirmed, and George retreated into his own room and shut the door. He quickly crossed the room to Pattie, who had opened the wardrobe door. He moved close behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist and squeezed.

“George!!”

His only answer was to plant a kiss on the back of her neck.

“George, I need to unpack!” She turned around to face him, smiling, and kissed him quickly on the mouth before wriggling away. “My stuff will be creased to smithereens.”

He pecked her quickly on the lips and moved away. “Okay.” He picked up his own bag and hoisted it onto the bed and unzipped it, and began to hunt among the clothes. He paused. He hunted again. He stood. “Shit,” he said, quietly. Pattie turned around with a hanger in her hand.

“What’s wrong?”

George was frowning .He looked up at her and shook his head. “I’ve forgotten my washbag.”

Pattie too frowned, and came over to where he was standing looking rather uselessly into his own case. “You couldn’t have done.”

“I have. Fuck.”

Pattie found a smile creeping across her face. “No toothbrush?”

“No anything.” He looked up at her. “And it’s not funny!”

The smile had become a fairly broad grin. “Well,” she ventured, “maybe that’s why you could bring such a small case? Maybe it’s not just all my make-up and five pairs of shoes…”

“Ha ha,” he interrupted the gloating and she managed to subdue the grin somewhat. “I’ll need to ask at the desk.”

“For a toothbrush? George!!” He was exacting his revenge for her justifiable triumph with a sudden attack of tickling, and the two struggled and yelped and fell on to the bed.

Pattie’s clothes did not get unpacked before lunch.

 Friday 27th March 1964, late afternoon.

Lunch was an extended, relaxed and happy affair. Wine flowed, and the injection into the previously close knit and familiar group of a new face was effected smoothly and seamlessly. Pattie’s nerves gradually evaporated with each course and with each generously poured glass, and the stress of the unpleasant journey lifted. And, John was funny. Pattie had not anticipated this. Not caustic funny, not risqué funny, not scary funny, but just funny. The Lennon persona seemed to soften with each imperiously summoned bottle; Pattie observed this with relief and the other two with astonishment. As Pattie leaned back in her chair howling with laughter at John’s account a recent escape from a theatre George cut glances with Cynthia at the same time as reaching for Pattie’s hand under the table and squeezing.

John didn’t even call her Brigitte Bardot. Not during this lunch anyway.

After lunch they wandered in a mildly intoxicated haze through the Blue Room’s broad French windows and down towards the lake. They explored, played, hunted, sat and chatted. Cynthia bemoaned the fact that she’d left her black comfy shoes behind, Pattie poked George meaningfully, George affected indifference. John asked Pattie whether this place was like her family home where she grew up, Pattie told him not to be an idiot, but then walked with him along the lakeside for a while and told him something of her home in Kenya and he listened with genuine interest and asked if she’d been sad to leave it and she said yes. The evening was approaching, the temperature was dropping and they decided it was time to turn around and go back to the castle. The four strolled back across the neatly kept lawns and, rather than cut back into the blue Blue Room, they skirted around the huge building and went back in through the main reception doors. There they were met by chief flunky, who approached them with the unmistakable air of someone who was going to issue bad news.

“They’re chucking us out,” muttered John.

“I didn’t tell them about you,” said George, equally sotto voce.

“No, it was me. I couldn’t help meself.” John then smiled his beaming most deliberately artificial smile and closed the gap between himself and the hotel manager. Pattie was so fascinated to witness the mercurial speed of the change that she didn’t focus on what was said; but a minute later found herself jolted out of her happy post lunch haze by the strength of the two Beatles’ reactions to the manager’s news.

“Oh fuck no!”

“Fuckin’ ‘ell!”

“John,” Cynthia remonstrated mildly at her husband’s public obscenities. She left George’s unchecked. It was none of her business what George said…

“What’s happened?” Pattie queried in alarm. George turned to her, his face a picture of combined disappointment and anger.

“They’ve found us!”

“Who have??”

“Press!” He spat the word as though it was another obscenity, which at that moment, only hours into their rare and precious private time, it was. “They’re here.”

Pattie looked around as though expecting to see a ring of men with cameras surrounding them. “Where?”

“Some Daily Mirror fuckers have booked in,” said John. “That’s it. It’s blown.”

“Not necessarily,” Cynthia ventured but John was having none of her attempt to lighten the blow.

“They’ll be all around us at dinner…”

“Well, we don’t have to go to dinner.” Cynthia forestalled his interruption and continued with her idea. “We can have it in our suite. Plenty of room. We can have a picnic! They can’t get in there.”

There then fell a pause as the two men digested this idea. It was crystal clear to Pattie that theirs were the opinions which would count; she didn’t consciously formulate the thought, she simply knew. Pattie, Cynthia and the vastly intrigued hotel manager waited to hear the verdict.

Again, George and John glanced at each other. Clearly, that glance had signified assent, though Pattie had no idea how. John turned to the manager. “Will you fix that?”

The manager almost bowed, such was the level of his spirit of cooperation. “Certainly sir. Ah… would you like to take this evening’s menu with you, and you can phone down your orders.”

George and John beamed. Cynthia looked relieved. George reached out and took Pattie’s hand and, when the menu and wine list had been duly presented, the four surged up to their suite, as excited at the idea of a huge picnic as any children on their holidays.

Which in a way they were.

 Friday 27th March 1964, evening.

A blanket was spread on the carpet. A double size blanket from John and Cynthia’s room. In the centre of the blanket was an ice bucket in which chilled a bottle of white wine, and two bottles of red stood nearby. Two more bottles of white stood in the bath in cold water. All around the bottles were dishes of food, all the courses together, as the group had decided that they didn’t want people knocking at the doors all the time to take courses away and bring new ones. The order to bring the entire three courses all at once apparently required repeating to the chief flunky on the phone, who seemed to be a little slow in understanding, but the message was got across in the end and the meal was served as required. It was quite exciting really; the dish of beef bourguignon was next to the sticky toffee pudding and the vegetables were right across the blanket next to the cheese board. You never knew what you were going to come across. The temptation to mix was irresistible. With enough wine it worked very well.

The four were having a delightful time.

Pattie sat cross legged, her plate held underneath her chin so as to avoid custard spills, and George crouched next to her working his way through some tender meat and gravy. The difficulties involved in eating such a meal neatly only added to the hilarity from the word games they were all playing together; they had just finished one where you had to think of a word within a category within ten seconds or you were out, and they were just beginning the one where you had to think of a word that had nothing to do with the word someone had just said. Cynthia proved extremely quick at challenging and finding associations between words, and John managed to make everything obscene but in the context of a private and drunken picnic it didn’t matter to anyone. Pattie was wiping a dribble of custard from her chin as she waited her turn to come round again, John was leaning forward on hands and knees to grab the dish of peas, George was arguing that fireplace had nothing to do with cylinder and…

CRASH.

Something, something that sounded very large, had crashed against one of the windows of their suite, just across the room from where they sprawled with their picnic.

Pattie shrieked in terror; Cynthia’s hands were clamped over her mouth. Both John and George were on their feet, reflexively ready, fists clenched, John already halfway towards the window. George raced ahead of him and wrenched the floor-length curtain aside. There, on the ledge outside, was a man, who looked very cold and very frightened and very alarmed. He stared in, wide eyed.

“Who the fuck…?” was all George could manage.

John continued the question, at closer quarters. He had run to the window and now flung it open. “Who the fuck are you?” he yelled.

If the man had looked frightened before, faced now with a furious and alarmed Lennon in full spate he progressed into full rabbit-in-headlights freeze. “I… I… I…”

“Come on!!”

The frozen invader rallied somewhat, enough to be able to utter more than one word.  “I’m sorry… I didn’t…” He paused, and swallowed. “I nearly fell off.”

“I don’t give a fuck what you nearly did – who are you?”

“And could we close the window? It’s getting really cold.” This calm request was from Cynthia; John turned back to her, looked again at the man and made a decision.

“Who are you? And come in so we can close the window.”

The man nodded, and carefully clambered over the window ledge and dropped down onto the floor. “I’m so sorry…”

“Listen mate,” George’s calm voice joined in as John closed the window behind the intruder. “If you don’t just tell us who you are, and right now, I’ll kill you.”

The intruder’s head whirled round to face George, who, its owner felt, looked every bit as intimidating as John. He swallowed again. “I’m Nigel Bradbury. I’m with the Daily Mirror.”

“A fucking journalist.” John’s voice dripped disgust.

“But what are you doing at the window?” asked Cynthia.

“We’re two floors up,” Pattie pointed out, probably unnecessarily as the unhappy journalist was still shaking with fright. Eight eyes fixed upon the man, and a full explanation was clearly called for.

“I’m sorry…” George took a menacing step towards the man, who hastily continued. “I’d heard that George had a new girlfriend. I wanted to be the first one to see her.”

He paused, and swallowed with nerves. John gestured with mock gallantry with one arm towards Pattie, who had by this time put down her custard and stood up. “And here she is!” Pattie raised one hand and wiggled her fingers in greeting. “Do go on,” said John to the journalist, in a tone which managed to sound both faux polite and very threatening at the same time.

“So I went around every window to see if I could see her. And you.”

“From the outside?” George’s aggression had morphed into incredulity.  Bradbury turned to him.

“Yes. I started at the ground floor and worked up. All the floors have ledges.” There fell a silence, which Bradbury filled with further explanation. “When I got to yours I missed my footing. I nearly fell off but I grabbed the handle and saved myself but crashed into your window. But luckily, it was yours.”

Another silence. And then, “Luckily,” George commented dryly.

John was staring at the man. An unmistakable gleam was replacing the flint of anger; he was beginning to grin. “You’re fucking crazy.”

Bradbury looked at him. “I know,” he replied, ruefully.

“Are you alright?” Cynthia enquired, and he nodded his head.

“Just scared out of my life. I thought I was a goner.”

John was still thinking; cogs were turning, and then he spoke. “Well, yer’d better have a drink then, hadn’t yer.”

It would have taken a full column’s length in Bradbury’s newspaper to properly describe and sum up the changing emotions that crossed the journalist’s face at that moment. Incomprehension at first, relief, joy, suspicion (was it a trap?); and at the end, something bordering on elation. He nodded. “Oh, yes please,” he said, fervently.

“Would you like to sit down?” Pattie indicated a space on the carpet. He sat himself down, wordlessly.

“What would you like?” asked George. “We’ve got scotch, or scotch.”

“Scotch would be lovely, thank you.” Overwhelming astonishment had not made him forget his manners. George poured him a drink and brought it over.

“I figured since you nearly fell to your death you’d want it neat.”

Bradbury nodded and smiled, absurdly grateful. They all noticed that when he reached out for the glass his hand was shaking slightly. “Thank you. Very much.” He glanced around at the group, who watched him with interest, and then raised his glass to his lips.

The drink went down in one. George wordlessly held out his hand for the glass and refilled it. This one disappeared more slowly. Nigel Bradbury sat on the carpet, with the Beatles, and their women, and looked around the group and smiled. “I really am sorry,” he said, and this time George allowed the apology.

“What were you going to do? Before you nearly fell off?”

“When I found you?” John nodded. “I was just going to try and take photos.”

There fell another pause. “That isn’t very nice though, is it.”

Bradbury drained his glass, and met John’s gaze head on. “No,” he said. “I know. It’s horrible. And intrusive.” He looked down into the empty glass and then back at John. “I’m surprised you didn’t just push me back out of the window.”

“Thought about it.”

“Yes.”

“Still could.”

“But not quite so easily?”

“There’s two of us.”

“Four,” Pattie joined in, and George looked at her in surprise.

“I don’t know how you all stand it,” said Bradbury.

“We don’t have much choice.” George’s voice was acid.

“But this was a choice. And you’re being so kind.” Bradbury raised the empty glass in salute. “Thank you. Very much.”

George refilled the glass again. Pattie smiled at the visitor. “Would you like something to eat?”

“All that scotch,” put in Cynthia, wisely.

Bradbury, sitting cross legged on the floor next to two of the most famous men in the world, covered his face with his hand for a moment in a moment of overwhelming gratitude to whatever gods were looking over him at that moment. It could have all gone so horribly wrong…

“We’ve got sticky toffee pudding,” Pattie continued placidly, and Bradbury reflected from the depths of his slightly drunken stupefaction that she just might be the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. No wonder George Harrison…

“Or just cheese and biscuits.”

He laughed weakly. “Cheese and biscuits would be really good.”

“And then you’d better toddle off to your other snoopy friends,” said John. Bradbury nodded as he cut a piece of cheese from the board that had been passed to him by Cynthia Lennon –was this really happening to him?? – “But,” John was continuing, “if you say anything about where we are…”

“I won’t!” Bradbury replied fervently, his mouth full of cheese and cracker. “I promise.” He nodded, emphatically. He looked across at George, who regarded him from below thick dark eyebrows. George, surprisingly, smiled warmly and the smile lit his face.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” he remarked, kindly.

As Bradbury, a little later, shook hands with each one of the party and left the room via the more orthodox route of the door, he decided that never had a truer word been spoken.

 Saturday 27th March 1964, morning.

Pattie woke, disorientated for a while, gradually absorbing the facts of her presence in an Irish castle, remembering bit by bit the events of the day before. She saw that the sun was trying to shine in through the thick floor length curtains, so she wondered what time it was. Her watch was on the night table, but the night table was on the other side of the bed and George was in the way, still fast asleep with his left arm slung across her waist and his hair across his face.

She turned towards him and looked at him for a while; this for her was always a pleasurable way to spend her time, but she did want to know the time and she did really want to start her day on her holiday. She twisted around a little more towards him and reached over him to grab her watch.

“Hmmmph. Wha…”

The watch said 10.15; an intelligible message compared to George’s utterance. Pattie was very aware that, for Beatles, activity before noon was unheard of, but now that she was properly awake she wanted to get going and do something, anything, to take advantage of the lovely place they were staying in. She wriggled away and nearer to the edge of the bed, and George’s arm slid off her. She swung her legs off the bed and sat.

“Whatchadoin?” The voice managed to sound peevish as well as tired. She ignored the peevishness.

“I just want to see out, see what the weather’s doing, have a look at the view. You can stay there.”

“I’m going to.” Still peevish but more awake now, George ran his fingers back through his hair and then rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand. He looked almost conscious. Pattie got to her feet and padded across the carpet to the window. She reached up to grasp the edge of the curtain. At the last minute, a pretty alarming scenario flashed through the still sleep-deadened mind of the Beatle and he called out his warning. “Pattie, put something on…!!”

Too slow. Too late. Pattie had whisked the tall curtains aside. She stood in the window, naked as the day she was born, to be greeted by a roar of questions and shouts and directives from what seemed like every journalist in the whole world and the accumulated sound of what seemed like a thousand cameras clicking at once.

Sometimes ones reaction to shock is to freeze. It is fortunate that this was not Pattie’s reaction at that moment. Within a nanosecond of the start of the noise she had whirled around and crouched herself into a ball below the level of the window, hunched, trembling, blue eyes larger than ever before as she looked back at George in complete horror.

He knew that it wasn’t kind. He actually did sympathise. Nevertheless, he couldn’t help it – the expression on her face was truly the funniest thing he could remember seeing and he laughed so much that his stomach hurt.

…

Pattie was sitting curled up on the sofa in the main suite with a cup of coffee clasped between her hands. Cynthia was sitting next to her, attempting, quite successfully, to project sympathy to the traumatised girl. George and John were pacing around the room, George at a safe distance from Pattie. John was making a commendable effort to keep the twitches of amusement from his face. When George and Pattie had first told their friends what had happened John had let out a raucous hoot of laughter, and Cynthia had hit him. Cynthia had then given Pattie a hug and Pattie had wept for a moment or two. George phoned down for tea and coffee and “breakfast stuff” as he put it. The hotel must have been accustomed to unspecific food orders, as a delicious spread soon appeared. They ate, they drank, and now George and John paced, as they considered their current dilemma. Now and then George looked across the large room at Pattie, but thus far she was still maintaining a frosty carapace. It wasn’t that she was staying chilly in order to punish him, she was in fact still very upset and knew that it would take a while to get over it. Meanwhile, she and Cynthia were doing what Pattie realised was what Beatle women do; they were leaving it to their menfolk to decide what to do.

“It’s over anyway,” said John. George nodded. “No point trying to have a holiday now.” George shook his head. “But how do we get out of this?”

George sighed heavily. “We’re going to have to phone Brian.”

“Oh God.”

“I know, but he’ll have to get the office to book the plane back and all that.”

“How the fuck did it get out?”

“Same as it always does.”

“And how’s that?” Pattie spoke up for the first time; George tried to quell a leap of optimism in his heart.

“Fairies,” said John.

“What?”

“We don’t know,” translated Cynthia. “We never know. It just does.”

“You’d better call Brian,” said George.

“Why me? You do it.”

“He’s scared of you. We’ll get it done quicker with you.”

John sadly acknowledged the truth of this, and picked up the phone and spoke to the receptionist. “We need an outside line.”

John hunched himself down on the small padded chair next to the phone table. George, deprived of his pacing partner, turned reluctantly towards the sofa on which sat the two women. Dark eyes were large and pleading. “Pattie,” he said in a small voice, “I’m really sorry. I really am.”

“I know you are,” she said, voice just as small. Cynthia found it politic to get up and pour herself another cup of tea, and George came and took her place on the sofa. “It was horrible,” she said, unnecessarily.

“The people or me?”

“Both.”

George chewed at his lower lip, and then turned to her and held out his arms. Pattie slid sideways across the sofa and wriggled into his embrace, and George enfolded her tightly. Cynthia found another chair and sat down with her tea.

John replaced the phone. “He can’t send the car until late, around five. The plane will be at Shannon for us.”

“What can we do until then?” asked Pattie from deep within George’s arms.

“Bugger all,” was John’s terse reply.

“Now they’re here we won’t really be able to go out.” Cynthia once again translated her husband’s laconic reply. “They’d follow us everywhere.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. He looked over at George and Pattie. “She’s forgiven you then.”

“Fuck off,” replied George mildly.

“So what do we do?” Pattie was aware that all her questions sounded grossly naïve and possibly irritating, but she found it almost impossible to comprehend that they were at the mercy of a huge crowd of uninvited journalists. It just wasn’t fair!

John planted himself in the centre of the room and addressed the others. “Brian said we have to give them something.”

“Blood?” came George’s sardonic enquiry as he nuzzled at Pattie’s hair.

“Some kind of photo shoot.”

“Oh shit!”

John nodded lugubriously.

“A fucking press conference.” But George saw that John was clearly mulling over an idea. ”What?”

“There were some suits of armour down in the reception.”

“Oh yeah,” said George. “Let’s all dress up in suits of armour and go and stand outside in front of them and clank.”

“No!” John was grinning. “There were swords! We can have a sword fight!”

There was a pause as the other three took in this suggestion. And then -

“Yeah, that’s fab!”

“Are they real?”

“Will you kill each other?” The latter two questions were from Pattie and Cynthia respectively; as they expected, they were completely ignored.

“Let’s go and get the swords!” George jumped to his feet.

“Brian will want you in suits.”

“Eh?” John paused in his rush to the door and turned back to his wife.

“You know he will. You always have to be in suits for anything public. And this is.” She paused. “Even if you do end up killing each other.” Cynthia did not sound amused.

George and John looked at each other briefly, and then disappeared back into their rooms to get changed, before running down the stairs excitedly to tell the chief flunky that they wanted his swords.

 Saturday 27th March 1964, late morning.

 Pattie and Cynthia were stretched out on respective sofas in their suite. A television was on but they weren’t watching it. They were spending the time chatting, an ostensibly casual natter which for Pattie was invaluable as it added more and more detail about the life of a Beatle girl, “If that’s what you want,” Cynthia had added. It sounded ominous.

“Yes, I do.” Pattie had felt alarmed and defensive in equal measure.

Cynthia was reassuring. She wasn’t challenging the other girl, or trying to test her out. “But this will be a lot of it.”

“What will?”

“This,” explained Cynthia, waving an arm in the general direction of the room. “Sitting around in posh places waiting.”

“Pattie nodded. She was beginning to see. “So, this is usual?”

“Oh yes. Wherever you are, whatever you’re doing, the press or the fans, or both, will find out and you’ll be surrounded.” She paused to take another drag at her cigarette. “You just have to accept that it’s going to happen.”

“But you were surprised they found us here.”

“Yes. But I shouldn’t have been!”

Pattie lit a cigarette of her own, and the two lapsed into a comfortable silence. As boring as it might have been for Cynthia, for Pattie this was a heaven-sent opportunity to find out more about the life she was joining and about the people in it. She’d forgotten, for example, that she’d been nervous of meeting Cyn, who couldn’t have been nicer, especially after the trauma of literally exposing herself to the world’s press and George’s ensuing hysterics. She was realising more and more that there was a great deal to learn about being George Harrison’s girlfriend, little of which had anything to do with George himself and even less of which George could help her with or even tell her about. He was in the middle of it, he was living it, and as such he couldn’t possibly know what it was like for a newcomer to join in on the periphery of the whirlwind.

When Pattie had wandered too near the window, Cynthia called to her to step back. “They’ll see you.” Cynthia had described her trip to America when the Beatles had performed on the Ed Sullivan show; if it hadn’t been for this morning’s mishap, Pattie might have thought that she was exaggerating. The truth was beginning to dawn.

“It’s a different world,” she said.

Cynthia nodded.

John and George had been emphatic that neither girl would accompany their menfolk to see the swordfight. George in particular had been positively fierce in his insistence that Pattie remain hidden away. “They’ll get you,” he’d said. “You don’t want it.” So they had clattered off excitedly with their weapons and Pattie and Cynthia had hunkered down in their comfortable prison and waited.

The door to the suite burst open. John and George burst in, grinning, excited; very messy. Clearly swordfighting was a highly physical business. They were, surprisingly, followed by the head flunky himself, who walked in with his usual restrained and dignified demeanour, and both girls found themselves automatically taking their feet off the furniture and sitting more upright. Cynthia confessed later that her first thought was, “Oh no, what’s he done now?” However, flunky was not there to return two miscreants to their minders. “He’s had an idea!” proclaimed John, plonking himself on the sofa next to his wife. Cynthia blinked, puzzled.

“What about?”

“How to get you out!”

Pattie frowned. “What do you mean? We can…”

“No,” broke in George, also sitting down. “They’ll go mad when they see you.” He was looking directly at Pattie, who was even more puzzled and looked across at Cyn. George hastened to explain. “They know about Cyn. They’ve seen her. You’re the new story, they want to get at you.”

“Listen!” John demanded. “This is good. He’s the manager, by the way.”

“Oh,” said Pattie, and smiled politely. “I’m sorry, I don’t know your name…”

“Er… Nolan, Miss… ah… Boyd.” Pattie inclined her head graciously. John was visibly impatient with the pleasantries.

“Tell them your idea,” he said. “No, don’t worry, I will.” Mr Nolan, who had opened his mouth to speak, obediently closed it again. “Me and George will walk out the front. You two,” he paused, and looked around at his audience with a grin, “will dress up as hotel maids and get into some laundry baskets and they’ll put the baskets in a van and drive it away!”

There fell a heavy silence. Cynthia broke the silence.

“That’s a joke.”

Mr Nolan uttered a polite cough, and all eyes turned to him. “If I may,” he ventured. He correctly took the ensuing silence as assent. “There will be so much attention on the two gentlemen leaving the hotel,” George chuckled at he and John being referred to as gentlemen, “that even if they see two chambermaids with laundry no-one will pay any attention. The ladies will get out of the grounds, and the van can stop somewhere and let them out of the baskets.”

Another deep silence fell. All eyes were on Cynthia and Pattie, the former suspicious and the latter astounded.

“This really isn’t a joke?” insisted Cynthia.

“Will we fit, in the baskets?” Pattie’s query was practical.

“It isn’t, and you will.” Mr Nolan, the erstwhile head flunky, seemed pleased with himself. The girls looked at each other.

“Well, ok,” Cynthia caved in, and Pattie nodded. There really wasn’t anything else she could do.

“Have you got the uniforms?” she said. Mr Nolan almost smiled.

“I took the liberty…” he said, and stepped outside the room and retrieved two folded chambermaid uniforms and brought them in. “You can try them for size…?”

Pattie burst out laughing. And reflected to herself that, when George had asked her out on the film set and she had said yes, this was not exactly what she had envisaged.

Mr Nolan carefully placed the uniforms on a side table and moved towards the door. “I’ll go and make the arrangements.” George smiled and nodded. The manager paused just as he got back to the door. “Er…”All four guests looked at him questioningly. “I… er.. wonder if I might have your autographs? For my daughter, you understand…” He produced from the depths of his suit a hotel brochure and a pen.

George and John cut glances with each other again, and both stepped forward to oblige.

 Saturday 27th March 1964, early afternoon.

Pattie and Cynthia were by now laughing so hard that they could hardly stand up. On Cynthia the starched dress stood up on her as if it had a will of its own. On Pattie the little apron had to be wound four times around her waist before it could be tied. Cynthia wiped the tears of laughter from her eyes. “Whacha doin’ in there?” bellowed John from the outer room. The two girls looked at each other, stood straighter, and opened the door and marched out of the bed room into which they’d retreated to change into the uniforms.

They were met by a stunned silence.

“Don’t you think I look wonderful?” asked Cynthia, striking a pose. Pattie tried to stifle a snort of laughter. George’s eyes grew wide.

“That’s not bad,” he said. His customary drawled tone was distinctly lascivious. Pattie glared at him. “Can you keep the clothes?”

“Don’t be silly, George,” snapped Pattie. “And anyway,” she went on in a calmer tone, “we’ll have to keep them. We can’t bring them back.”

John’s grin was evil. “John!” Cynthia’s warning tone was identical to Pattie’s.

There came a knock at the door. Even when banging his knuckles against wood the chief flunky, Mr Nolan himself, managed to sound deferential. “Yeah?” called George.

Mr Nolan entered. “Ah… are the ladies ready?”

“I think so.” Pattie realised she was starting to feel very nervous about this plan, which had for a short while sounded fun. She looked across the room at George, who came over and put his arm around her waist.

“Is everyone packed?” The guests all nodded, and Mr Nolan, who seemed to have come into his own in his role as the chief organiser of a giant prank, took control with vigorous efficiency. “Right,” he barked.

“Were you in the army, mister?” enquired John. Cynthia jabbed him with her elbow. Mr Nolan ignored him.

“We will have your car brought round to the front,” he directed. “As soon as it arrives we will have all the cases loaded in. All the journalists will by then be surrounding the car. Once we are sure that their attention is on the car, the ladies will be conducted by our chief housekeeper to the laundry room and will be given the baskets they are to carry to the laundry van. The gentlemen” George giggled again “will leave the hotel via the front entrance. As you, sirs, speak to the journalists to explain that the ladies will be leaving a little later, the ladies themselves will be entering the laundry van and hiding in the basket. The van will set off, leaving the castle grounds through the tradesmen’s entrance. The gentlemen will be driven out through the main gate.” Mr Nolan paused and looked around the group. “Are there any questions?”

Pattie wondered, after that dazzling display of strategic efficiency, whether they would dare voice any questions even if they had any. But Cynthia voiced the query that she herself had thought of. “Where will we meet the car and get out of the van?” she asked, and Pattie nodded.

“And when do they get out of the basket?” Pattie inwardly blessed George for asking the next one of her list of worries.

“Once the van doors are closed the driver will open the basket and let them out,” assured Mr Nolan. “The laundry van will rendezvous with the car at Shannon Airport.”

“At seventeen hundred hours,” John supplied in his best sergeant major accent, and Cynthia jabbed him again.

“Are there any further questions?”

The four looked at each other, and the four all shook their heads. Mr Nolan looked at his watch. “Synchronise…” John began and this time Cynthia slapped him on the head. The hotel manager looked at his watch again, and his expression dared the guests to make fun of him.

“I’ll give the instruction for the car to be brought round,” he said and, with a sharp nod, he turned smartly and left the room.

Pattie wound both arms around George’s waist and leaned her head against his shoulder. She suddenly felt very very anxious.

 Saturday 27th March 1964, late afternoon.

 Shannon Airport was very small, but the staff there still kindly managed to locate a small though unglamorous private room for the four to sit in until their toy plane was ready for take-off. Privacy was essential. Not merely because they were two Beatles and women and therefore phenomenally famous, but also because the women in question could not have contemplated any degree of public viewing from others. Not yet.

John still, now and then, allowed a giggle to erupt, though each one was swiftly stifled. He and Cynthia had been together a long time. And were married. George and Pattie were newly in love and George, despite his youth and despite his inexperience of serious relationships, had become quickly and urgently aware that laughing was not politic and now clamped down ruthlessly on any mirth which struggled to escape. Pattie was hunched in a not very comfortable chair and was dabbing at tear drops which still trickled prettily from her eyes despite her efforts to stop crying. She didn’t even know why she was crying, as she kept saying. It was maybe just the shock. Cynthia was dragging a brush through her long thick hair, every brush stoke leaving the menfolk in no doubt of her anger at her husband’s response. She glared at her husband. “It is not funny,” she said, implacably.

She was met with a silence; there was little more that could be said. The problem had been a simple one. The van driver had forgotten, in his enthusiasm to effect his dare-devil get away, to let the girls out of the laundry basket. Carried away by the drama of the situation, which was without doubt the highlight of his employment at the hotel, he had put his foot down and hurled the van around sharp bends, up and down hills, slamming to a halt at traffic lights and shooting off again when the lights changed, driving like the getaway driver he fancied himself to be, all the way from the castle to the airport. Only when he drove into the airport and saw the limo waiting for him and his cargo did he remember just what he had been supposed to do.

After slithering out of his driver’s seat into the back of the van and undoing the lids of the baskets, he made sure to make himself very, very scarce.

And, in the meantime, during that journey from the hotel to the airport, all eight and a half miles of it, the basket in which Pattie Boyd and Cynthia Lennon had been hidden had thudded from one side of the van to the other, smashing into the sides of the van and ricocheting back to the other side again. In vain had the girls shrieked and yelled to be let out of the basket, as had been the plan. Locked in the van and buried in laundry they went unheard and eventually they gave up shouting. All they could do was try to brace themselves so as not to smash into each other and, occasionally, they succeeded. Most of the time they didn’t. During times when the van was following a straight road they straightened themselves out, moved as far from each other as they could, gripped with their feet at the base of the basket. But, unlike when you’re in the passenger seat and can see what’s happening, they had no warning of the next hairpin bend in this remote and rural area, and they were yet again tossed here, there and all over each other. They were in pain from where there collided with each other; Pattie’s forehead had smashed against Cynthia’s and the sharp pain made her feel sick. As did the rocking to and fro. As did the fear.

The girls were both terrified. There was certainly no opportunity to speak coherently to each other during that nightmare ride, but afterwards they found that both had feared the baskets tipping over altogether and bodies being flung and necks being snapped…

Cynthia’s hairbrush drew crackling static as she brushed and brushed and glared. Pattie’s paper handkerchief was scrunched smaller and smaller in her hand and she sniffed at intervals. George made a judgement call, and pulled up a chair to sit next to her and drew her close into his arms. It turned out to be the correct call; she pressed close to him and buried her face in his shoulder. She didn’t want to cry any more. She’d had enough of that. It was just the shock, she said again…

“Ah, ladies and gentlemen?” came a hesitant voice from the door. “Your flight is ready for boarding.”

Pattie pushed herself upright and looked at George. She remembered that hideous pressure in her ears. He remembered his complete lack of faith that the toy plane was capable of flight. His dark eyes met her tearful blue ones.

“Oh fuck,” he remarked sadly.

 Sunday 28th March 1964, mid morning

 George reached out towards the cup of tea, but Pattie shook her head and put it down on the night table beside the bed. “It’s hot,” she said, and scampered round to her side of the bed with her own cup in her hand, which she carefully put down before clambering into bed herself. Once comfortably in, she retrieved the cup and took a sip. “Mmmm.”

“Ta,” said George.

“S’alright.”

George pushed himself back in the bed so that he was supported by the headboard and pillows and then he too picked up his tea. The couple sat in comfortable silence for a while, drinking, waking up.

After a while, Pattie became aware that the silence was becoming less comfortable. She sipped her tea and tried to work out whether or not it was her imagination, but concluded that it was not. She then, once she’d definitely concluded that there was something not quite right, began to feel worried. She knew she had to ask him about it, to ask if there was anything wrong; but she also wondered whether she actually wanted to know.

If there had been a test which had to be passed during those extraordinary couple of days – had she passed it? Had she failed it? Had she fitted into that uniquely close-knit group, or was she outside? Not right. Not wanted.

Was he…?

“Pattie.” George’s tone was abrupt, almost harsh.

That’s it then. This was it. They’d tried it out, he’d invited her along, but it hadn’t worked out, and John and Cyn had spoken to him and…

“Pattie!”

She turned to him. Feeling slightly sick with anxiety but knowing she had to be adult about it, brave…

“Pattie!! Why aren’t you talking to me?”

She went to take a deep breath to speak, but found that she was already holding her breath and would have been asphyxiated. “I…” she began. She swallowed. “I am talking to you.” She dared look up into his eyes, and was astonished at the expression she found there. Anxious, longing – every bit as worried as she herself felt. “George, what is it?”

He was chewing his lip.

“George!” It was her turn to sound abrupt, and almost harsh.

George looked down at the bedclothes over his lap, and then straight back at her and visibly gathered himself to speak. Pattie braced herself for the blackness, the grief…

“Did it put you off?” he barked at her.

Pattie’s eyes widened in surprise, and she frowned, unable to process what he’d asked. “Did it…?” She trailed off.

“Did all that,” George almost spat out the last word, “put you off? Put you off being with me. Going out with me.” By now he had turned to her, his brown eyes searching hers. Pleading. And, as she gradually began to absorb what was going on here, a massive weight of fear rolled off her and evaporated away. She felt the corner of her mouth begin to twitch into a smile, and the smile broadened into a beam of relief.

“No!” she exclaimed. She twisted around to face him and found that her hands had made their way to cup his face, gently, tenderly. “No! Of course it didn’t!”

“It’s not of course,” he countered gruffly but quite reasonably. “You nearly got killed cos of it.”

Pattie found herself laughing; the memory was still awful but the relief that she wasn’t being unceremoniously dumped overruled it. “No I didn’t.”

“You did.”

“Well, okay, never mind, I don’t care, it hasn’t put me off, nothing would. Please don’t…” She stopped, not even sure what she was going to say. But George picked it up.

“Don’t what?”

Another deep breath, this time it was possible, and she knew she had to be honest. “I was worried you wouldn’t think it worked out. The weekend. All of you.”

“Eh?” It was George’s turn to frown in confusion. “What…? What didn’t work?”

“I thought maybe you and the others wouldn’t think I fitted in. To the group.” She paused, and searched his face again for response. She didn’t have to wait very long. At last, that wonderful toothy grin made its appearance.

“It was great!” he proclaimed, and he reached out and pulled her into his arms. Pattie lay squashed against him as he squeezed her tightly and she felt his chuckle against her cheek. “You were great. You were perfect. And John and Cyn loved you!”

“Did they?” came her muffled plea for extra reassurance.

“Yeah, they did! And Brian said we could have another holiday in May cos we’ve got time off and they want you to come too. But I didn’t know if you’d want to, I didn’t know if you were put off with all the press, and the hiding - and the fucking laundry baskets.”

Pattie wriggled out of his almost frantic clasp and pushed herself upright so that she could properly face him. “George,” she declared. “I don’t care how many laundry baskets I have to travel in, I want to be with you.” She leaned forward and kissed him on the nose. “Always,” she concluded.

George reached for her again, and kissed her lovingly and deeply and endlessly. And at the end they snuggled down together into the bed clothes and wrapped their arms and legs around each other. “Where are we going on holiday?” she asked, dreamily.

“China.”

“China?? Are you sure that’s safe?”

George nuzzled his face against her hair. “They’ve got some good laundries there,” he said.

“You bastard…!!” But he silenced her with another kiss, and not much more was said between them for some time.

  END

[medicinemane]

Anyway, sorry about all this. I’m just... I’m overwhelmed on a lot of fronts. Everything’s always a fight to get people to listen. It’s not that I don’t take input, this whole house was her suggestion. I was saying “guess we’ve gotta move to Kentucky or something”, and she’s like “what about this middle of nowhere place in state?”

I listen, I’m not totally imperious, even though my plans usually pan out best, I take what other people think and need into account. I change my plans when I get good input

Instantly trying to spend every cent you get is not good input

Plus I just... you know, this bit’s going after a cut. It’s nothing like... remotely disturbing or likely to be upsetting, I just feel like being that tiny bit more private with it and cutting down who sees it to the people who for whatever reason choose to click on it

So I’ve been letting someone live here since end of last May. I don’t like talking about this kind of stuff cause I’m not doing it for brownie points and I don’t want it coming off like that. So that’s what the cut was about

This person got kicked out of their house during the middle of a pandemic and... you know, I had room so why not?

Lets start this off by saying, it’s not that I dislike them, I just... I like my space and I only a very select few people am I going to get along well with. Pretty much all of them are the people I’m super close to on here

So here’s the thing, I could probably put up with this person indefinably, but there’s someone I really really like who I want to offer the chance to visit and if we get along invite to move in (who might read this, but I don’t think will see it, but if so I’ve already kind of mentioned my thoughts on this to you). This also isn’t a total whim, I really think they need a chance to get away from their parents and just have some self determination

Can’t do that while this person is here. It’s already bad enough that this friend will have to deal with my mom, I don’t need another person in the mix. I want to see if me and my friend get along in person, not if they also get along with someone I don’t... like I said, I like them well enough... if they weren’t in the same house

Plus there’s stuff like... I didn’t realize they had let their license expire by a number of years (why would you agree to drive across state lines in that situation!?), there’s stuff like that I might have declined letting them stay if I knew

So here’s the real heart of it, we’ve arranged for them to go to the DMV in March (my mom made the appointment, not them, which... eh... why is there more work on my plate?). Once they get it, they can theoretically apply for housing assistance (they can’t work cause of health problems)

I want to let them stay as long as it takes to get housing, but at the same time I’m worried that could take a nebulous amount of time that might end up being years. I... I don’t know if I can do that. I want to invite my friend out this summer cause I really just... I’m sick of my friend dealing with their parent’s childish behavior. I want to give my friend a stepping stone forward and I want to do it soon

I could wait till like, even December if I have a concrete date from some kind of housing authority, but I can’t just have it be indefinite. You know, I gotta... I gotta do stuff for me too sometimes, and on top of really wanting to help this friend I want to see them and hang out too. I haven’t... you know, I’ve been living the same way for so long this pandemic thing didn’t change my life up at all. So take that into account for why I might want some company

And I mean, there’s a lot of factors, there’s like... would rather my friend be able to get a vaccine before I ask them to travel, stuff like that but... it just sucks

After the person staying with me gets their license, I’m probably going to have to lay all these facts on the line. Which sucks. I hate it. I hate that being honest is the only responsible thing to do because it sucks

I don’t want to fail to get this person into a place, but at the same time... there’s only so much I can do and apart from having to I want to look out for my own first, that’s what will make me happy

So yeah, basically I’m annoyed with both people living with me, and I have this whole situation and... I’ll deal with it, always do, but every day is just so... it sucks so much not being able to do more for my friend who I care a lot about

Hell, I got this house specifically to help them out. I got it for me for sure, but the reason I was looking so hard and was so determined is I wanted to some day be able to offer this. I found this house in May of 2019, I didn’t own it till September-ish, and you can see there’s been a long time between now and then and I’ve been pretty much wanting to offer this every single day that whole time

Whole reason I’m bothering with all this cleaning, gotta have a decent space for my friend. Whole reason I need to sharpen my hatchet to make furniture, need to be able to offer my friend a good place to sit and the promise that what I lack I can slowly make over time. All of this is obviously stuff I want anyway too, but my friend is a huge driving force that motivates me

(Plus I’m stressed and worried I’ll fail to get this done like everything else. Truthfully it feels like I fail at everything I do, but I really want to get all the preparations done in time to invite my friend)

So yeah, that’s what’s eating me. Also that give you the added context that I’d like to have this cleaning and furniture making and stuff done by like end of April to be safe, and my mom isn’t doing shit to help)

Really wonder if anyone is crazy enough to read all this junk. Anyway, hopefully the person I’m letting stay here doesn’t find this since they do have a tumblr, though I don’t think they use it anymore. I don’t think I said anything too bad, and it’s all stuff I’m more or less planning to say anyway, just wouldn’t want this to be how it was found out. Also always every single day hoping my mom doesn’t somehow find my tumblr since she has one and it’s like... you’re in your 50′s, why are you getting involved in tumblr drama and supernatural shipping wars lady?

...so there’s all that. Hope you’re having a good day if you see this. I’m alright, just stressed, but I was stressed when I got the pantry and stuff done too, so it’s fine

[murasaki-murasame]

Good news is, Ao no Flag chapter 51 is out, and it’s really good :)

Bad news is, it’s good in the sense that it’s really emotionally painful, and also the series is ending Soon [tm].

Anyway, thoughts under the cut.

Right off the bat, I got my JP copy of volume 7 a few days ago, and I can confirm that that volume goes up to chapter 48, so since each volume has about seven chapters in it, and we already know that the series is about to end soon, I think it’ll probably end around chapter 55. So we might only have about four chapters left, give or take. Since the series is monthly now I don’t think they’d extend it out for another volume after that, when they’ve already announced that it’s approaching the ending. But we’ll see.

Anyway, the chapter itself was great, and we’re finally starting to get a look into Taichi’s POV on things, which we’ve been really missing out on. It’s all still kind of vague and messy, but the story’s focusing more on it now, and the with how this chapter ended I think we’ll get some more concrete insight into how he feels very soon.

I’m happy that it looks like they’re finally going to address the charm that Touma made for Taichi, since that’s been bugging me for ages now, lol. At this point my best guess is that it’s going to be some sort of small, personal memento of sorts that will remind Taichi of his history with Touma, and hopefully help trigger some sort of emotional revelation or decision. I don’t think that whatever’s inside the charm in and of itself will be super shocking or anything, but I think it’ll just be a big deal for Taichi personally.

I still don’t want to get my hopes up or anything, but I’m gonna be a bit let down if this just ends with Taichi officially rejecting Touma and continuing to date Futaba. Especially if things also end with Masumi staying single. That’d just be kinda lame.

Especially after seeing how wound up Taichi was throughout this entire chapter, it still kinda feels like there’s more going on than him just not knowing what to do with the fact that Touma’s gay and has a crush on him. With how the start of the chapter in particular highlighted how Taichi seems to specifically be struggling with some kind of nebulous, anxious fear related to having to ‘choose’ between the two of them, it feels a bit more like he might actually be bi and he’s having a bit of a meltdown as he faces the fact that it’s an actual choice he has to make, and he can’t just go ‘I’m not into guys so sorry but I have to turn you down’, or whatever. Maybe I’m just biased but it feels hard to buy the idea that a straight dude would actually get THIS messed up about it, or that he’d actually be struggling with some sort of peer pressure to accept Touma’s confession when he already has a girlfriend. But who even knows. With how close we seem to be to the ending, though, hopefully we’ll know one way or another before long.

Before I forget, we got a bit of a casual reveal that apparently at the festival a while back when Taichi and Futaba started dating, she outright told him that the sort of love she feels toward Touma isn’t the kind where she wants to have a relationship with him. Which is a pretty interesting detail to suddenly reveal.

Aside from that, we also got some explanations for what had been going on with Masumi behind the scenes early in the series, and before everything started, which I’m really glad they covered since I’ve been wondering about it for a while. Turns out that Futaba had told Masumi before the story started about her crush on Touma, which lead to Masumi observing Touma to get a feel for his personality and eventually her figuring out that he has a crush on Taichi, which then lead to her telling Futaba that she can’t support her crush on Touma. Which really goes a long way to explain how everything got kicked off, and how Masumi knew about Touma’s crush on Taichi from the start, and why she feels a sort of personal attachment and guilt toward everything that’s gone on since then. It makes sense that she’d feel guilty about indirectly making Futaba seek out someone else’s help about her crush on Touma which kicked off this whole situation, even though it’s not exactly her fault that all of this happened.

I’m almost surprised that we got such a short and simple explanation for how Masumi figured out that Touma’s gay, lol. But it makes a lot of sense and I don’t really think anything else would have made sense. It’s also kinda cute how it all tied into her trying to be a good friend for Futaba.

And on the note of Masumi in general, I think her attitude in this whole chapter makes sense for her as a character, but I still don’t entirely agree with her perspective, and I think her own emotional baggage is making her kinda harsh in how she views Touma’s actions in all this. It’s not his fault that any of this happened either. He did directly confess to Taichi, but only after he got outed to the entire school against his will.

I still really hope things end well for her. She has her own stuff going on, but unlike with Touma she’s still keeping things tightly wrapped up and basically nobody except, like, Akiko, has much of an idea what she’s going through. But it’s hard to see how things could get much better for her when it seems like all the drama going on with Touma recently has basically, from her perspective, validated her feelings about distancing herself from people and ignoring her own feelings. On the one hand she’s right about how everyone still needs to focus on academics, but it kinda feels like she’s using it as an excuse to avoid confronting her own problems. Which is, as they say, a whole ass mood.

We didn’t get a whole lot of Touma in this chapter, but we found out that apparently he’s stopped coming to school because he’s found some sort of job that he’s focusing on. Which is kinda worrying, given the timing of everything, and how he and Taichi haven’t properly opened up to each other and made up. It’s not like I can blame him with all the shit he’s been dealing with lately, but it feels like he’s also trying to just escape this whole situation, which I don’t think will really help him in the long run.

Either way I have absolutely no idea how this is all going to wrap up, but it definitely does feel like we’re in the final volume. I’m glad that it looks like it won’t drag on past the natural stopping point that’s been set up since the story began, but it’ll still be sad to see it end, and I’m gonna be disappointed if the ending is super bittersweet or just outright depressing, at least when it comes to Touma and Masumi. 

I’m still hoping this series gets an anime adaptation down the road but that’s probably a pipe dream, lol

Anyway, this is your monthly reminder that Viz Media is gonna start releasing the series physically in April next year :)

[aahsoka]

So having been on tiktok for a bit I wanna talk a little about it.

What I like

It’s actually rather entertaining to scroll through up to 30 second videos one after the other. Sometimes the humor falls flat or it’s not your taste, but the algorithim is quite good at recommending the kind of content you will like.

I joined right when there was a big trend going around about sharing your culture, and soon after a Blackout trend where non-Black creators stopped posting for a day & spread/supported videos by Black creators. So I ended up with a fairly diverse fyp or “for you page”. It also quickly gathered that I am bisexual, so I get plenty of lgbt+ content. There’s some art mixed in there, some cosplay, some historical costuming/seamstresses, lots of avatar jokes lately, musical theatre content, fashion, girls in bikinis on rollerskates (in outer space), commentary on political issues, body positivity, all the kinds of stuff I like. To get a feed that caters to your interests you just have to watch & like videos you’re interested in & eventually it gets a feel for what you’ll watch and what you won’t.

Theres a trend where people say which ‘side’ of tiktok they’re on and I get ‘science side of tumblr’ flashbacks but I’ve mostly avoided the “straight” and conservative sides of tiktok. I would be considered a part of “woke”, “alt” (as in alternative) and lgbt+ tiktok (there are separate ones for each letter of the acronym). Possibly also “theatre” and “cosplay” tiktok. These categories are nebulous and you’re usually part of multiple communities; its just as arbitray as ‘science side of tumblr’ was.

The format reminds me of snapchat a little, and I love to talk to myself on video & post dumb thirst traps for my friends (none of which I’m attracted to so idk what my goal is there) and make stupid jokes. So this app is kinda perfect for my attention seeking side & hyperactive tendencies. Its very easy to consume on a short attention span, though not as easy as vine was.

Being in quarantine, its a way for a lot of people to engage in hobbies that involve community. Cosplay is pretty popular, as its a fun way to show off a costume & dress up & have fun without having to attend a convention. I enjoy the way lip synced audios can be used to emulate the character someone is dressed as; that’s something you couldn’t really do unless you were really good at impressions. Its a nice succinct way to show the process of creating a cosplay as well.

Those who enjoy theatre, but cannot perform in shows at this time, are able to create mini-monologues & sketches as well as sing parts of their favorite songs. Its an avenue through which to perform without putting anyone at risk of the virus. It’s also an easy way to show off your talents without having to go through the audition process & actually get cast in a show as a prominent enough role that someone will notice it.

It’s a convenient format for discourse and educational videos. Nice, short, easily digestible tidbits that stay in your mind. This extremely catchy song, for example: “Black neighborhoods are overpoliced, so of course they have higher rates of crime, and white perpetrators are undercharged, so of course they have lower rates of crime. And all of those stupid stats you keep using are operating off a small sample size. So, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up”.

As well as other videos where people take the time to explain historical events, satirize racist arguments to demonstrate why they are wrong, talk about prevalent tropes in movies, teach a few signs in ASL, share facts about their culture, etc, etc. I have found there are quite a lot of people there from unique and fairly unknown cultures and backgrounds- and this is a place where they’re able to share their culture & existence with people all over the world. There are a thousand different viewpoints. Their videos are doing far more for diverse representation than any other platform, I’d argue, as everyone is extremely visible on the app. (‘Their’ as in the creators, not the app itself).

I also have enjoyed coming across new artists on the app. It’s really fun to watch the process they go through, as most art videos deal with the whole creation of a piece. It’s inspiring. I have also come across a painter who’s work I’m in love with, and a woman who makes and sells the CUTEST ceramic mugs, and I need to purchase some stuff from them both.

Now onto the bad:

Unfortunately, the app doesn’t have much in the way of a filtering or warning system. I talked about that tiktok of the kids coming across human remains? That was just on people’s fyp. Just popped up. No warning. No reason for it to still be up. Traumatizing.

You can click on a video and say ‘not interested’ (I do this to literally every video I get where some girl is thirsting after kylo ren 🤮..... like I want the star wars videos just not THOSE videos). However, it doesn’t seem to know exactly why you weren’t interested, because I still get those videos from time to time. There’s no content filter where I can blacklist the kylo ren or any other hashtag.

There’s some very shitty content. There are racist conservatives. Misogynistic teen white boys. Really weird thirst traps. Videos where people lip sync to something with a straight face and tag it with #acting. Harmful body image trends. I thankfully stay very clear of this, but this kind of content makes me worry for the minors on the app. The one’s who don’t have enough of a concept of self yet to realize they don’t need to be able to do the newest pointless beauty trend to be beautiful, to realize it’s ok for them to be gay, to realize how predatory some adults can be, etc etc.

It is extremely easy to come across minors on the app who don’t look like teens. One time I went to a girl’s page and it said she was FIFTEEN. I’m usually good at guessing ages but something about this app messes that up. I wish there was a way to separate people under 18 and adults. Where I don’t have minor’s thirst traps popping up on my fyp. Where pedophiles don’t get a chance to curate that fyp intentionally. If anyone reading this has kids, I highly recommend they make their tiktok private or only viewable to friends.

Just like any site, there are plenty of bigots. Lots of racist comments. Plenty of transphobia. Any hatred you’ve seen elsewhere, of course it exists on tiktok. I have actually zero clue if you can report people & if it works. Most people seem to send a video commentary to their haters or duet a video of a racist pointing out their racism. I’ve heard of creators blocking people, however. I remember a tiktok of a Black woman who’s video somehow went fairly viral in Poland and now she gets a lot of racist comments from this large group of random racisf Polish followers she has and its extremely time consuming to block them all, as there’s no mass block feature.

The rumors about what works with the algorithm and doesn’t abound. I’ve heard well lit videos get more views. Many people suspect they have been shadowbanned for speaking out about current events. TikTok will remove the audio from videos sometimes if they deem it controversial enough. Most of us know they were criticized recently for intentionally keeping Black creator’s videos from being seen (a catalyst for the Blackout, actually). Or you may also recall when it was criticized for widely removing lgbt+ content. Those creators are fighting to be seen the same amount as straight cis white creators are allowed to be seen with no effort.

The effects some trends could have on teen girls. So many of them are already so uncomfortable in their own skin simply because of societal standards, but the absolutely meaningless challenges people come up with on tiktok make it so much worse. One trend was based around whether your finger touched your lips when you put it in your nose. Or if you could get your clasped hands around the back of your legs and over your butt (if they get passed, you have a flat ass, if they get stuck, its big). These completely arbitrary signifiers of the things you need to have in order to be pretty, are far more ridiculous that anything I have seen yet in my life. I worry about little girls taking these ideas to heart. There is a very kind body positive community on the app & I hope more people can find that.

There’s also that thing where they steal your data. Like most apps. But apparently they got a lot more invasive than usual, so I would look into it before making an account; if you want to do that.

I think the apps users can be great & its a pretty intuitive set up. It certainly deserves its popularity solely as a creative form of social media. That being said, its owners are so so insidious & do the worst things. Just like all other social media, its controlled by the worst kind of people. Who can never figure out how to effectively get rid of nazis or keep kids safe from adult content.

These are my less serious gripes with the app:

1) Lip syncing

When people lip sync and don’t do any kind of skit, joke, etc, just look as if they’re saying what someone else said; I hate that. I have to go back and find the original tiktok so I can like it instead. You literally did nothing interesting by ripping off someones audio and moving your lips along to it. So many people on this app are creative and so many others lack any semblance of creativity.

Also people are too easily impressed by lip syncing to kinda-fast songs. I lip synced to like....10 seconds of the devil went down to georgia and two people praised my lip syncing abilities. Like, I can also sing and talk fast, out loud, isn’t that more impressive? more skillful? The fiddle playing in that song is impressive, not the fact I can lip sync ‘the devil went down to georgia, he was lookin for a soul to steal, he was in a bind, cause he was way behind.’ Have you ever seen someone play Johnny’s fiddle solo????? It’s insane!!!

Rather than see someone lip sync to the verse in Stressed Out 2x faster than normal (which is, extremely simple and the song was overplayed and ingrained into our collective consciousness) and go WOW what about someone.....doing the verse out loud. You can litterally just mouth random words and look like you’re saying the right ones. It’s driving me crazy lmao. I’m set to become a God of tiktok because I have a repertoire of fast songs and rap verses memorized. It’s not even an uncommon skill to speak or sing quickly, people literally make rap music for a living! Listen to it maybe.

2) “Acting”

I am begging you to stop making me sit through those horrible POVs. I cannot take another girl not quite fake crying towards the camera as she lip syncs the words from a song that apply to the random situation she decided she was in. I cannot take another boy who thinks its sexy to stare into a camera and smirk in every single situation he creates.

Back to lip syncing, making facial expressions along to words isn’t really acting. Try saying the words out loud perhaps? The inflection you use with your lines is a pretty big part of acting. Like you can lip sync all you want, just stop tagging it with #acting.

3) Comedic timing, or lack thereof

You don’t need the entire intro to sit there looking at the camera waiting until the first line starts and you can lip sync to the part that’s the joke. You could cut off at least 15 seconds. Brevity is the soul of wit.

When your joke involves both reading text on screen and listening to the song for the punchline, if it isn’t done prefectly, its so difficult to follow. I can’t read a paragraph in 5 seconds. Paraphrase.

4) self deprecating artist audio

the audio thats like ‘this wont get views’ ‘I suck’ ‘you probably won’t see this anyway’ LOVE YOURSELF

It sucks when people dont enagage with your art but it sucks worse when your value in yourself and you art is based solely on receiving that validation. Please find a healthy medium.

Also you’re asking for pity, and you don’t want that. You want people who genuinely love your art for what it is.

5) editing videos is really hard how do you make such cool & smooth transitions????

please help me I don’t understand

Finally

here’s my account if you’re interested

[chubbyooo]

Blurred Lines: Cursed Past Chapter 71: Risha

hey all we made it all the way here it took 71 chapters but we’re here :D

Gacen and Ash follow the ranger hoping to find someone long missed

Gacen felt tremors through his hand as he piloted the ship into the nebulous space, Ash was confident this was it this was where Risha was all the searching leading here to this moment. Did he even know if he wanted to see her? what if she didn’t want to see him? he felt a tightness in his throat as he gripped the controls tight he thought he’d put these worries to bed. He thought he’d come to a good conclusion that it was better to find out than worry like this but now that it was happening he wasn’t so sure. Had he made a mistake? Should they just have stayed doing small time jobs what if he messed this all up again he couldn’t let her down twice not again what would he do, this was a mistake it had to be it was just a…

He heard a voice shouting at him and he snapped back to reality “hey hey Gacen snap out of it it’s gonna be fine” he exhaled coming out of the panic to see Ash staring at him

He turned to Ash “sorry I uh I got inside my own head, what were you saying?” Ash looked at him concerned but didn’t press him

Ash pointed to the console “look the tracker has stopped that’s where we need to go” Gacen nodded adjusting his course to head towards the planet “I’m turning shields to the front just in case” Gacen nodded it was a given Risha would be paranoid it’s just how paranoid

Gacen plotted a course “alright here we come Gabredor prime” he smiled deciding to just ignore and push through the nervousness until it was done

Ash narrowed her eyes “prime is so pretentious it’s just Gabredor I” Gacen chuckled pretentiousness was best 

Gacen snickered “well when your wife discovers a secret planet you can call it what you want” Ash’s eyebrows raised “potentially”

Ash folded her arms “I mean your wife would certainly go for the pretentious option” Gacen did a comically over the top gasp

Gacen joked “how dare you we may be upper class pompous criminals but we’re anything but pretentious we were like the fashionable criminals” Ash just scoffed at him hiding a smile

Soon the gas of the nebula began to dissipate and a green jungle planet came into view, Ash used the console to do a quick scan “wow that’s fascinating it’s atmosphere has a layer of chemicals that convert all this noxious gas into harmless oxygen” Gacen had no idea what she was talking about

Gacen nodded “oh yes of course that old thing” Ash turned to him his lie clearly not convincing

Ash sighed dumbing down her explanation “the planet makes the gas breathable like a shield deflecting bolts of energy” Gacen’s eyes widened as he thought about it “you got it now?” 

Gacen held his chin “totally lost” Ash just sighed and turned the scanner off, Gacen tried his best to stealthily land the ship. As they entered the atmosphere they saw the thick canopy covering most of the planet and Gacen landed in the first clearing he could find, Ash scanned for life signs.

“Ok so there is a ton of life on this planet but only two sentient life signs” Ash smiled as she spoke clearly pleased their detective work had paid off

Gacen swallowed hard “so you think they’re?” he trailed off

Ash frowned “of course I think it’s them Gacen it doesn’t take a genius to work that out dummy” Gacen nodded grabbing the sides of his chair hard

Gacen took a deep breath “it’s gonna be fine it’s gonna…” Ash got up and waited for him to follow

Ash raised her eyebrow “buddy it’s too late to go back now either you follow me or I’m carrying you over there and you know I can” Gacen let out a slight chuckle conceding and getting up

He gritted his teeth and exhaled “alright we can do this I’m ready” Ash nodded and made her way to out the ship, they got to the bottom of the ramp and Gacen felt a sharp nervous feeling and leaned up against the landing ramp “I can’t do this” he gripped his stomach tight and slid down to the floor as his breathing became heavier and his thoughts became overwhelming.

Ash turned around and sighed sitting down next to him “so uh what now we wait here?” Gacen felt tears well up in his eyes but he kept them at bay 

Gacen gritted his teeth “I’m sorry I know I just need a minute just a… just…” he tried to finish the sentence but his breathing was too rapid

Ash took his hand “well I’ll be right here I promise” Gacen nodded trying his best to find his composure

He took a deep breath “alright I’m as good as I’m going to be you need to push me to do this” Ash nodded lifting him up by his hand

She led him away from the ship and into the jungle and after about 5 minutes he was walking on his own again “I’m uh sorry about that it’s just…” Ash interrupted before he could finish

 Ash smiled “it’s fine you don’t need to explain to me” Gacen smiled before he pulled Ash into a surprise hug “woah woah what the heck is this, why?” she struggled awkwardly clearly not a hugger

Gacen took a deep breath “just a thanks, thanks for being here whenever I was having trouble you never left you always were here for me you’re the best friend a person could ask for” he couldn’t see Ash’s face but he could tell she was smiling

She stopped struggling “well uh I just wanted to help you know” Gacen nodded releasing her from the hug

Gacen smiled “now let’s stop being so sappy by the force I feel like a fucking jedi” Ash smiled as they continued to walk

“Yeah I mean jeez what dweebs” they laughed and continued forward. 

They followed the life signatures for about an hour before they came upon a reservoir with a rather well constructed wooden bridge on it. Gacen frowned “well that is certainly is the first man made thing we’ve seen” he paused “or maybe droid made” Ash nodded gesturing to proceed with caution

They made their way forward up to the start of the bridge but as they did something jumped out of the trees, suddenly they saw the familiar form of the ranger roll in front of them. Now in view Gacne could see what seemed to be a modified protocol droid with rather advanced modifications at that, they spoke in a robotic but still gruff voice “Identify yerself now” they held an impressive blaster pistol, Gacen thought better of starting a fight and put his hands up

Gacen responded “hello um we mean no harm this is Ash’shen’tor an…” the ranger interrupted them

They shook their head “not to me idiot to him” he gestured to a hooded figure who walked out of the bushes, Gacen frowned, the head was rather large that didn’t seem normal.

The figure began to speak “leave this place traveler ther…” Gacen interrupted him come on that wasn’t even subtle

Gacen chuckled “Guss? Is that you” the figure stammered confused before removing the hood to reveal the mon cal Guss Tuno

Guss blinked quickly “Gacen? Gacen is that you? I uh I couldn’t see you under the hood” he quickly ran to him and pulled him into a tight hug “oh Gacen I’ve missed you so much have you missed me???”

Gacen chuckled always the cheerful one “uh yeah sure” the ranger looked between them confused

The rangers tone changed completely to a more common protocol droid voice “master Tuno I’m confused should I stop the facade

Guss looked to him “oh yes Mask you can stop this is my old captain Gacen Zandar” Gacen did his best to wave while still tightly in Guss’ grip

Mask nodded “ah I see the one married to Mistress Drayen? My name is M4-SK I was an actor until Mistress Drayen recruited me for the ultimate role” Gacen nodded an actor droid what next

Gacen focussed turning to Guss “wait Drayen? Is Risha here?” Guss seemed to come out a daze

He let Gacen go finally “oh yes of course she’ll be thrilled to see you surely, she’s just over the bridge in our base” Gacen couldn’t help but smile but that smile was accompanied by a nervous pit in his stomach

Ash pushed him forward “let’s so see her then” Gacen appreciated the push he would just have stopped without the push

Guss folded his arms “I’m Guss, Gacen’s Best Friend, who may you be?” he shook Ash’s hand very vigorously

Ash looked at him confused “Ash, we’ve actually met before I’m the former leader of havoc squad” Guss’ eyes widened as he realised

He nodded “my apologies it’s been a long time since I’ve seen others, anyway why were you traveling with my Best Friend Gacen” Ash didn’t seem to appreciate the third degree Gacen should save her from Guss’ best friend jealousy

Gacen spoke up “well Guss you should probably notify Risha of our arrival right???” Guss gasped and then immediately fumbled for a comlink

Guss held it to his ear? Gacen assumed that’s what it was “hello boss? Yes I know sorry I got a little caught up we have some guests” paranoia was definitely present on that call “Yes I know you said no guests but you’ll like these guests. No I promise you will, I know I know what you said but I followed all your protocols it’s no one bad I promise, ok ok fine” Guss looked to each of them a little flustered “there’s like a 70% chance she may have a gun when you arrive” Gacen couldn’t help but laugh 

Gacen joked “well it wouldn’t be the first time she’d shot me” Guss laughed awkwardly clearly remembering the occasion

They began walking towards whatever base they had setup, Guss was his chatty self as always “so how did you get here we were so careful” Gacen smiled he’d missed Guss’ constant questions

Gacen explained “well those Dubrillion thugs were like ‘help us we’re a bunch of jags’ and we were like ‘you can shove it dickweed’ but they did give us a lead on a bounty hunter who knew your last location. From there it was actually because of you due to a few little clues around the far more memorable mon cal former jedi than human woman and that led me to more and more clues and eventually we ended up here” Guss nodded listening intently 

Guss looked away “can you uh leave the part out about me being the clues to Risha” Gacen chuckled Guss always wanted to please people

Gacen nodded “sure thing bud but the big question is what the heck is all this about” Guss held his chin clearly trying to put it all together

Guss took a deep breath “well I know some of it, uh after we gave up looking for you, sorry but we really looked everywhere I promise” Gacen nodded that was fine they were pretty well hidden “well Risha wanted to take a crack at Dubrillion and they just kept sending assassins and trying to impede our progress, that Actavarus would destroy cities just to stop us.” Gacen hated that bald cockmuncher “so Risha said we needed to be more subtle and work from the shadows, so uh we found this place near Dubrillion and built a base using droids and Mask for supplies” Guss looked around “that’s the really short version Risha knows all the details” Gacen smiled he knew Risha would never give up on Dubrillion

Ash cut in “well I mean you certainly were well hidden we’ve been searching for a long time” Guss smiled clearly proud he hadn’t given too much away

Gacen nodded “well Rish was always thorough” they reached the end of the bridge now and the base began to come into view, a large red base came into view looking more like a holiday home than a base of operations, Gacen chuckled even when Risha was hiding out she was doing it in style. He noticed the colours kinda matched his style, he smiled maybe Risha was more sentimental than he thought.

Guss was fidgeting with excitement “Oh this is going to be great I love reunions I’ve missed us three so much, Gacen I just I can’t it’s bee…” Ash grabbed the mon cal covering his mouth and moved him back.

Gacen appreciated that he was beyond nervous, he took a long deep breath and walked up to the door, there was no knocker so he went to knock on the metal but as he did the door sprung open and he saw the familiar form of Risha in the doorway holding a blaster carbine ready. She hadn’t aged a day, her eyes still dark and beautiful wearing the exact same pale jacket she always did, but her hair was much longer going down to her shoulders and curled at the end Gacen really liked it.

Gacen smiled trying to keep his composure as she met his gaze she dropped the carbine to the ground “hey Rish long time” her mouth was agape overwhelmed in surprise

Risha smiled “Gacen? Is that?” she walked up to him putting her hand on his face, it was weird suddenly all his worries were gone now he was here.

Still Gacen was so overwhelmed he didn’t know what to say “I uh I like your hair” Risha smiled averting her gaze

She played with the end of her hair “thanks I uh wanted to be as conspicuous as possible so hair change is less identifiable” she mumbled, Gacen nodded putting his hand on hers

Gacen chuckled “it looks good it builds character” Risha frowned at him he probably hadn’t used that correctly oh well.

Risha’s face softened “I like yours too” she chuckled “it’s exactly the same” Gacen raised his eyebrows at her with a grin

He smiled “of course you can’t mess with the hawk” Risha chuckled grinning like he’d never seen, she pulled him into a tender embrace kissing him for a long second but what at first seemed to be just a kiss quickly turned more and more passionate as they began making out stumbling back into the house, the door closing behind them leaving Guss and Ash outside

Guss looked around “we may wanna give them an hour” he paused “or five”...

[mamabearcat]

Into the Woods - Part 4

Are you ready?  Tagging my two main cheerleaders for this @clearwillow and @keichanz and also @redflamesofpassion​ @xxracheyxx @mcornilliac @inuyashasnook @cstorm86 @xfangheartx @wenchster

And thank you so very much for all the lovely feedback I’ve been getting for this story, and for the kofi support. It means a lot - I read every keysmash and comment, and if I’m feeling low on inspiration, I go back and read them again. They really keep me going!

Part One  Part Two  Part Three

Today’s installment inspired by Imagine Dragons, Whatever it Takes

Falling too fast to prepare for this Tripping in the world could be dangerous Everybody circling, it's vulturous Negative, nepotist

Everybody waiting for the fall of man Everybody praying for the end of times Everybody hoping they could be the one I was born to run, I was born for this

Whip, whip Run me like a racehorse Pull me like a ripcord Break me down and build me up I wanna be the slip, slip Word upon your lip, lip Letter that you rip, rip Break me down and build me up

Whatever it takes 'Cause I love the adrenaline in my veins I do whatever it takes 'Cause I love how it feels when I break the chains Whatever it takes You take me to the top I'm ready for Whatever it takes 'Cause I love the adrenaline in my veins I do what it takes

Inuyasha watched Kagome shuffle back to kneel on her cushion, her fists clenching tightly in her lap. His own heart was still beating rather fast, and he tried to calm himself, taking deep breaths. He had felt it, the moment that she had accepted his protection, accepted him. They had clicked, like two pieces of puzzle accidentally left in separate boxes, finally reunited to complete a picture. For the first time in forever he felt like it hadn’t been a mistake that he had been chosen.

He knew they didn’t have too much time up their sleeve - they needed to get Naraku’s nebulous form out of Kagome’s grandfather and safely back behind the barrier. But they couldn’t just go up there without working out some sort of plan first, despite the danger increasing the longer Naraku was left to his own devices. He didn’t even know if Kagome understood anything about the power she possessed. And for her to have any hope of coaxing out that power and using it, he needed to calm her down first.

“Would ya like some tea?” he blurted, kicking himself mentally when she startled a little at his abrupt tone. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a guest here at the house; he’d been alone here for so long, he’d forgotten any manners drilled into him by his mother. “Uh, sorry, I don’t get many visitors; guess I’m not bein’ a very good host.”

A small smile ticked up at the corner of Kagome’s mouth. “I didn’t imagine you would be.” When he chuckled at her response, her eyes widened in dismay, and she waved her hands in front of her in consternation. “No sorry, that came out wrong – I meant with everything that’s happened, I wasn’t thinking about you needing to be polite. I mean, I met you and my expectations…”

“…were low?” he grinned, leaning forward over his crossed legs and rising to his feet in a fluid motion. He walked over to a small wooden cabinet to retrieve a tray holding a teapot, cups and a tea caddy, and sat back down again, obviously amused at Kagome’s embarrassment.

“Yes. I mean, no! Will you stop twisting my words!” she huffed, crossing her arms.

“Don’t worry about it woman, I knew what ya meant. Although”, he grinned as he spooned tea leaves into the pale green tea pot and added hot water from the kettle,” I am a hanyou bastard with no manners, so you would a been right either way.”

“You’re a half-youkai?” asked Kagome interestedly.

“Yeah”, replied slowly, turning the teapot to swish the tea leaves. “Got a problem with that?” The cheerful grin dropped from his face, replaced with a carefully blank expression.

Kagome shook her head, frowning. “No. Why should I? I mean, I’ve only met one half-youkai before, my friend Jinenji, but what does you being a hanyou have to do with anything?”

“It matters to some people”, replied Inuyasha shortly. He poured the tea into two matching teacups decorated with delicately painted plum blossoms, and passed one to Kagome. “Careful, it’s hot.” Her pale slim fingers brushed gently across his much larger ones, squeezing as they held the teacup together.

“Well, I’m not one of those people, okay?” said Kagome softly, looking directly into his eyes.

He examined her carefully. There was no lie in her eyes or her scent; she truly believed her statement. He nodded at her, releasing the cup into her hand to pick up his own, and felt a sense of relief spread through his chest, a warm balm soothing over previous hurts. Ichiro had often complained that he had been ‘saddled’ with a half demon and even though he’d learned to tune out the almost constant digs and insults, they had always rankled.

Inuyasha watched as Kagome carefully sipped the hot green tea, her grey eyes still wide, flicking around the dark corners of the room uneasily. Her fingers were wrapped around the pale green porcelain so tightly he wouldn’t be surprised if the cup shattered in her hand. He took another sip of hot tea, stalling as he gathered his scattered thoughts. He was the one that had more knowledge about what was going on, so he needed to focus. But he was having a tough time of it. How the fuck was he gonna get himself and Kagome ready for a confrontation with Naraku as soon as possible when they had never worked together before, and as far as he knew, she had no idea what her abilities were?

“Alright”, he said carefully, putting down his teacup and trying to ease into a difficult conversation, “what do you know about being a miko?”

“All the superficial stuff, I guess”, replied Kagome hesitantly. “I was really interested in the stories about travelling miko when I was younger.” She shrugged. “I know how to dance the Kagura. And I did kyūdō in high school for sport.”

Inuyasha’s ears perked up. “Really? You can shoot a bow? Were you any good?”

A pink flush heated Kagome’s cheeks, and she looked down at the half empty cup still clenched in her hands. “Maybe. I guess so – I represented the school in a few national tournaments. But that was a few years ago now” she clarified quickly, “I haven’t practised for quite a while.”

Inuyasha breathed out a sigh of relief. The thought of her getting close to Naraku after he’d frightened her so badly was tearing at him, but he hadn’t thought there would be any way around it. But if she could do it from a distance, using an arrow… perhaps they really could do this, and both come out of it relatively unscathed.

“What do you know about your powers? Have you ever used them before, like you did with the frypan?”

Kagome shook her head violently. “I… I don’t know how I did that. I was so frightened; I was just trying to get away.”

“Alright.” Inuyasha rubbed the back of his neck, his thoughts swirling. “Fuck, how am I gonna explain this?” he muttered, looking down at his empty teacup as he thought aloud. “We don’t have time for you to go through all the crap they made me read. And I sorta rushed through all the information to do with your family, cause I had enough trouble getting through my own stuff.” He sighed heavily, putting down his cup and looking back to Kagome. “Lemme try and sum up all the technical stuff fast, so we can get to actually doin’ shit. Is that okay?”

Kagome nodded jerkily.

His eyes narrowed. “Are you okay?”

“Mm hmm”, she said, nodding her head again. But her lips were compressed tightly together, the corners of her mouth turned down, and her fingers were trembling. In fact her whole body was trembling slightly, like a leaf in the breeze, and he could hear her heartbeat escalating, her breaths becoming quicker and shallow.

“No you’re not. C’mere you.”

Inuyasha took the teacup out of her hands and hooked one arm around her waist, dragging her off her cushion and over to sit in the hollow of his crossed legs, ignoring her indignant squawk. He pulled her backwards, so her back was to his chest, and her small hands were resting in each of his much larger ones with her palms down. He plonked his chin on her shoulder, so their cheeks were close together, and rubbed his thumbs in slow circles on the backs of her hands.

“My role is to protect you, even from yourself”, he said gently. “What were you thinkin’ about to work yourself up like that Kagome?” He could feel her panicked heartbeat thudding against him, and his protective instincts kicked in. Not understanding exactly why, he rumbled a subsonic purr through his chest, cocooning her tightly within his strong arms.

“I should have listened”, she said shakily. “Maybe if I’d listened to the voice, I would have been able to save Grandpa. The voice warned me there was danger, but I ignored it.”

“Why did you ignore it Kagome?” he asked softly, his mouth close to the pink shell of her ear.

“Because… because I’ve always been frightened of it”, she whispered. “The first time I heard it, it warned me about my father’s death, just before the police came to tell us he’d been killed in a car crash.” Inuyasha’s rumbling purr increased as he smelt the salt tears forming in Kagome’s eyes. “It warned me when Souta got injured at school.” Her voice cracked, and she drew in a rasping breath. “Every time something bad happened, that voice was there, whispering in my head.”

She swallowed, her shaking fingers clenching tightly around Inuyasha’s much larger hands. “And I began to think, wh-what if it was me? What if it was me causing all these things to happen?” Her voice shook. “I’d always been weird, different. I knew things other people didn’t know, could sense things. And no matter how much I tried to bury it, tried to ignore it, that voice was there.”

Inuyasha’s rumbling purr became an angry growl, and he squeezed her fingers tightly. “Listen to me Kagome. You are not weird. You are extraordinary. Hardly any of the shrine guardians actually hear Midoriko’s voice. You didn’t make anything happen, Midoriko was just tryin’ to warn ya. I’ve read some of the shrine history scrolls, and she’s done that before.”

He tried to keep his voice steady and calm, but internally, Inuyasha was seething. Ichiro had a lot to answer for, sitting up there in the shrine with his holier than thou attitude, brushing aside Inuyasha’s questions about finding the next guardian. He was pretty sure now that Ichiro had just wanted to hang on to his privileged position in the shrine for as long as he could, because the Higurashi family provided everything he needed. Meanwhile Kagome had been suffering, not knowing what was going on, thinking there was something wrong with her.

Kagome hiccupped a shaky laugh. “I don’t feel very extraordinary at the moment.”

“But that’s where you’re very wrong Kagome”, he said, squeezing his strong arms around her, trying to calm her. “If you’d grown up here, and been taught about your family heritage, you would understand how truly amazing you are.”

He could feel her pulse and breathing slowing down – she was responding to his words, his comfort, and an unfamiliar feeling of pride swelled in his chest. He chuckled “I could sense it, ya know, the first time I saw you on the path this afternoon. The pink crackle in your aura. I think your powers were trying to protect you from the miasma on the mountain. Either that, or I pissed ya off so much you were ready to purify me.”

He grinned at her shaky giggle. “And even if you’d listened this afternoon, I don’t think ya would a been able to do much by yourself. I’m pretty sure your Grandpa’s been possessed for a while, judging by the dark haze on the mountain. I’ve been tryin’ to get up there for days, but kept getting pushed back. He’s probably been tryin’ to fight it himself by the sounds of it, but because he doesn’t have much spiritual power of his own, he wasn’t able to.”

Kagome made a small noise of distress at the mention of her Grandpa and he almost whined in response. He could still smell her tears, and his instincts were rushing to the surface, but until they were ready to go after Naraku there was nothing to hit, no-one to punish, and his sense of frustration was building. He needed to move, and just talking wasn’t going to get them anywhere, it was just going to make Kagome more and more nervous about their whole situation.

“Alright, change of plan”, he announced abruptly. “Let’s see how much you remember about shooting a bow.” He grinned at the surprised ‘eep’ Kagome made as he pushed himself to his feet, taking her with him. Grasping her hand, he pulled her over towards the front door to grab his axe, then down to the wooden farmhouse doors at the end of the room, sliding them aside.

Kagome dug her heels in, tugging on his hand. “Wait, wait, wait! I haven’t even got a bow! And it’s dark outside. You might be able to see in the dark, but I can’t!”

“Who said we were goin’ outside?” he grinned, pulling her through the doorway. Inuyasha guided her through a bath house with a washing area and a small hot spring encircled by stones, and off to the right, tugging her down a dark passageway.

“Just how big is this place?” she exclaimed. “Are we under the hill now?”

“Yup. Mostly storage space for family records and provisions, but there’s a small dojo here too, and I’m pretty sure there’s a hankyu bow in there somewhere.” His other arm shot out to steady Kagome as she tripped. “Sorry about the dark. It’s usually only youkai and half-youkai like me that come back here, so we don’t need to light up the hallway.” He shouldered open a doorway and then pulled Kagome inside, letting go of her hand.

The room was completely dark to Kagome; she couldn’t even see her hand in front of her face. “Inuyasha?” she said uncertainly.

“Stay put, I’m gonna turn on the lights. Maybe shut your eyes.”

Kagome eyes shut, squinting in readiness for a sudden burst of electrical light from above. She didn’t expect a faint ‘whuff’ sound and a dull blue glow which seemed to be coming from the walls. She carefully opened one eye.

“Kitsunebi!” she exclaimed in surprise.

The small glowing blue orbs of fox fire floated in a long chain around the perimeter of the dojo, illuminating the thin rectangular room. It was mostly bare, apart from a jumble of different weapons stacked and hanging on the wall near the doorway that they’d just come through. Inuyasha was currently sorting through them.

“Aha, knew we had one!” he said triumphantly, holding a red half size bow, along with a quiver of arrows. He carried them over to her.

Kagome slung the quiver over her shoulder. “What am I meant to be shooting at?” she asked, hefting the bow in her hand experimentally, “you?” she said with a small smile.

“Aw, don’t be like that”, Inuyasha grinned. “At least give me a chance to win you over with my charming personality first.” Digging around in amongst the other weapons, he found a canvas target, and jogged down to the far end of the dojo pinning the target to the wall with a couple of daggers. He jogged back to stand behind Kagome. “All right, show me what ya got.”

Inuyasha watched as Kagome planted her feet wide. Taking a deep breath, she raised the bow and arrow high above her head, gradually drawing back the string. Then she lowered the bow, slowly taking aim, and loosed the arrow, throwing her arm back in a graceful arc. The arrow hit the target with a loud thwack, dead centre. She was poised, beautiful, elegant… and entirely too slow. If she shot like that when they went up against Naraku, she wouldn’t last two minutes. Fuck.

“Uh, that was really good”, he said, rubbing the side of his nose, trying to be diplomatic. The last thing he wanted to do was crush her confidence. “But, do ya think you could maybe, aim a little faster?”

“Faster?” said Kagome with a puzzled expression.

Inuyasha gulped a little. Maybe this wasn’t going to work. “Yeah. Just a bit.”

“Oh, you mean like this?” And she fired another five arrows in quick succession, all close to the centre of the target, the last one knocking the first arrow out of the target, sending it clattering to the floor. Then she turned and winked at him, twirling the bow to her other hand.

“Holy fucking shit balls you’re amazing”, gasped Inuyasha. Her sudden loud peal of laughter had him beaming. “Okay woman, I guess we’ve established that you’re pretty damn good at this. Now you’ve gotta try and load them with your spiritual power.” Kagome’s laughter died away.

“I honestly don’t know how I did that before”, she sighed. “Can you do it?”

“Yeah”, he said, “but I can’t show you properly in here, I’ll bring the place down.”

He flipped his axe around his hand in a figure eight pattern, and it glowed yellow for a brief moment, before transforming into a gigantic battle axe. The axe head was huge, the sharpened blade a semi-circular arc that glinted pale blue in the light of the kitsunebi. It was covered in scrolled carving, with a heart shaped cut out near the handle. A red braided rope hung from the blade, in a loop that wrapped around the long metal handle. The whole thing was almost as tall as Kagome.

“How… how…?” stuttered Kagome.

“It’s a youkai weapon”, explained Inuyasha, spinning the axe hand over hand so it looked like a silver blur with a thin streak of red. “When I pour some of my youki into it, it shows it’s true form.” He tossed it behind his back and up over his shoulder, snatching it out of the air and holding it out in front of him horizontal to the ground. “Besides, it’d look pretty weird if I carried this around with me everywhere.” He squeezed the handle tightly, shrinking the weapon back down to regular axe size, and tucking it into the holster behind his back.

“I guess so”, she said faintly. “What do you mean when you say you pour youki?”

“I dunno, I just do”, he shrugged.

“Not helpful”, sniped Kagome.

“Well, I don’t know”, grunted Inuyasha defensively. “It’s instinctive. There’s like a warm feeling in my gut, and I yank on it, and it’s just there! Besides”, he shrugged, “you don’t have youki, you’d have reiki, and I don’t know if that’s the same.”

“A warm feeling in my gut, huh?” muttered Kagome. Closing her eyes she drew another arrow, trying to sense anything that might be some hidden power. But there was nothing. Grabbing at straws she muttered, “Okay Midoriko, or whatever your name is, it seems I might have misjudged you. A little inspiration might be helpful right now.”

‘Hit the mark’, whispered the small soft voice, and a warm feeling glowed in the region of Kagome’s heart. She flinched, so surprised she nearly dropped the bow. Tightening her grip, she pictured trying to pull on the power with her hands as Inuyasha had described, but it didn’t budge. Okay, so maybe it was different. She imagined the power expanding, pushing forward into her hands. The warm feeling travelled up through her shoulder and into the arm drawing back the bow.

“Hit the mark”, she whispered, and loosed the arrow. Opening her eyes, she watched as a pink tinged arrow sped towards the target, trailing light behind it like the tail of a phoenix. It hit the target with a bright flash of light, and Kagome and Inuyasha were pushed backwards by a silent concussion that obliterated the target and half the wall behind it.

Kagome blinked from her spreadeagled position against the wall near the doorway, about ten feet away from where she’d been a few moments ago. An anxious face with amber eyes and silver hair appeared in front of hers, the mouth moving, but without sound. She blinked again.  

“… to me. Are ya hurt? Kagome!”

She shook her head and sat up and Inuyasha pulled her into a tight hug. “You’re okay aren’t ya? You didn’t hurt yourself anywhere?”

“I don’t think so.”

She shrieked as Inuyasha picked her up and whirled her around in a circle, laughing crazily. “Ya did it Kagome! That bastard Ichiro never did anything like that. Look at the wall! Holy fucking shit balls!”

Kagome glanced over his shoulder at the mess of broken stone and rubble, and the dirt still spilling into the gaping hole.

“Inuyasha, I’m so sorry!” she squeaked, ducking her head into his shoulder.

“Don’t apologise woman!” he crowed. “You’re amazing! Kagome, we can win this!” He stopped spinning her and gently put her onto her feet, hands on her shoulders to steady her.

“I did do it, didn’t I?” she whispered, smiling. A sudden realisation brought tears to her eyes. “Inuyasha, I’m meant to be this way.” She giggled a little. “I’ve finally found out why I never fit in, why I’m so weird!”

“Not weird”, he corrected, wiping away a tear that escaped down her cheek. “We discussed this. I think the word you’re looking for is extraordinary. Do ya think you’re ready to go kick some Naraku butt?”

She gave him a shaky grin. “Not really, but let’s do it anyway. Do we have a plan?”

“Sorta. You shoot an arrow to clear away the miasma. I keep him busy with my axe. We push him outta your Grandpa and back behind Midoriko’s barrier and seal it tight.”

“How do we push him out?”

“Eh, that bit’s a bit fuzzy. We’ll have ta wing it”, he shrugged. “But the longer we leave it, the stronger he’ll get.”

Kagome took in a deep breath, and fixed him with a serious gaze. “Do you have any eggs in your fridge?”

Inuyasha cocked an eyebrow at her. “Nope. Don’t even have a fridge.”

“I think I saw eggs in Grandpa’s fridge”, she muttered, then smiled. “I’ve got an addition for your plan. Kick Naraku’s butt, put him behind the barrier, then go to the shrine for breakfast, where I make you pancakes.”

“Will there be bacon?” he asked, beaming at her. “You don’t know what I’m capable of if there’s an offering of bacon on the table.”

She shrugged and smiled. “I’m not sure; you’ll just have to turn up and find out.”

“Butt kicking, then bacon – sounds like the kinda plan I can get behind”, he grinned. He watched Kagome’s smile waver a little. Inuyasha ran his palms down from her shoulders to squeeze her hands in his. “We can do this Kagome. I know we can. And we’ll do everything we can to save your Grandpa. You just gotta trust me. Trust Midoriko. And most importantly, you need to trust yourself.”

Kagome smiled at him shakily, tugging him towards the door and back out into the darkened hallway. “Inuyasha, despite my better judgement, I think you’re doing it you know.”

“Huh?”

“Winning me over with your charming personality.”

“Keh.”

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PART FIVE