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sasa-gay-yo · 4 years ago

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Just Us (Chapter Eleven: Break Up)

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“A little higher, yes, right there! Now to the left, put the nail right below that truss. Perfect! I’ll hand you the sign.” I reached down and picked up the newly polished piece of wood with the cafe’s name on it in a fresh coat of paint for the year-end opening.

Flynn’s

Jonas took it in his hands and hung it up on the new wooden post. This time, it would hang off over the street so that people could see where we were. Before, the sign was nailed next to the door and was now fading drastically. While I kept the old sign there for memories, the new sign was a fresh red color and had been sealed by the carpenter to make sure it lasted longer than the last one. It was something I had meant to do for years, but never got around to it. Now that I was just sitting and making bread for the refugees, I had time to design the shape and font I wanted. The sign was a light wooden rectangle with dark, red cursive lettering and had another small circular sign with a cup of tea attached to it, indicating we were a café.

“It looks nice, Eva. You picked a good wood to contrast the letters,” Ben marveled up at it as Jonas came down from his ladder. Whenever I had added or changed something about the café, I asked Ben his thoughts about it, seeing he was the only one, second to me, who cared the most about it. When I went to him saying I was buying a new sign, he rejoiced.

Jonas shoved his hands in his pockets and looked up at it too. He couldn’t grasp why this was such a monumental change to Ben and I who had to fight Mr. Flynn to even make a sign in the first place. There weren’t many visitors to Trost when he had built the café, but when we came along, things were changing and he hated it. The first time Catrin gave out fresh squeezed juice, he grumbled about it for weeks saying a café should just have bread and coffee. It was funny, but if we left Mr. Flynn alone with his precious café, he would have ran it into the ground.

“You think he hates it?” I looked up to Ben and he nodded and mirrored Jonas’s stance. There was almost some undertone of weirdness being friends with Jonas because when he hit puberty, he morphed into a younger version of Ben. It was also a bit awkward that the mirror image of my brother still had feelings for me. Maybe that was one of the reasons I didn’t see Jonas as someone other than my best friend or another brother. They looked too similar.

“Most definitely. The old man is rolling in his grave right now. I wouldn’t be surprised if a strong winter wind knocked it down.” We stood there for a few, marveling at the sign as the sun went down. Jonas was the first one to whine it was too cold and we took that as a sign to go back into the café. I still had to clean up and get ready for opening tomorrow. Ben and Jonas had promised to help me run the café tomorrow to hold off the rush of people coming.

When I took out an add in the paper to announce my holiday hours, people had flocked to my door, there to confirm if the newspaper was right. When I told them I was, in fact, opening back for year-end only, people were already trying to put in orders. I think the people of Trost wanted normal back, and my café would give them some of it.

“So the Garrison just dropped you like that? Without any warning?” Jonas swept some dirt into the dust pan.

“It wasn’t like, out of the blue. I knew it was coming. They have nothing to give me for pay and I demanded pay. I would have done it for a few more weeks as well, just for the refugee’s sake, but with the allotted flour for year-end, I just couldn’t continue without them giving me their stores. I wish they did it a little after year-end though so I could have brought pastries to the refugees. Maybe next year will be a better harvest.” Ben looked up from the book he was reading and moved his feet so Jonas could sweep under them. Jonas mumbled something under his breath about his father not doing anything, but he left it unnoticed.

“Could you just show up with some things? Maybe you could make enough to give the children?” Ben had also worked closely with the refugees, trying to help outsource jobs and employment opportunities for them when people still trusted them. By now, no one would take in refugees for work.

“No, they aren’t letting any outsiders into the stockyards now. That might be another reason I can’t make bread anymore. I have no idea why they’re doing that, and I hope it’s not another isolation policy because Trost citizens are complaining again. I even asked a person in the Garrison who likes me, and he said he couldn’t say.” Jonas, again, grumbled something under his breath, probably about the refugees, and I threw a rag at his head.

“Hey!”

“You are almost thirty years old and have no regard for other human lives. Tch!” He threw the rag back at me a little harder and glared. Ben just looked on, smirking at the two kids he was used to bickering back and forth. Ben had said the first day he introduced Jonas to me, he knew we’d be best friends and perfect enemies.

“Well, we always seem to forget that two refugees attacked you and that our food supply is little to none because we have to give half of it to them. It’s not just Trost either, Aunt Catrin told us that Stohess is also struggling with the weight of a whole district. We’ll be starved by next spring, the titans won’t even want to eat us!” I put down my rag and just sighed, glaring at him as he swept quickly, wanting to get out of the café. Jonas had broken up with his third girlfriend of the year and he wasn’t in the mood to have a heated argument session with the girl that was still pushing him away. That was the reason she had broken up with him: he still had feelings for me. I was afraid to bring up Levi to him because of this, but I wanted to tell him. Everyday, I would get more and more uncomfortable lying to him.

“I’m sure the titans don’t want to eat you anyways, Jonas.” He stopped sweeping, glaring at the ground. Uh oh.

“I guess no one wants me then.” It was Ben’s turn to widen his eyes at his son’s sadness. He had spent a few minutes lecturing Jonas about how long it took Ben to find Analee, but it didn’t help soothe his sadness. In all honesty, Analee was Ben’s first girlfriend and he got her pregnant before they were even married and both eighteen. He wasn’t the right person to give his son advice and neither was I. We both agreed to just forget Jonas said that and move on with whatever we were doing.

“Well, you two, I’m going to get back home. Your sister was adamant I help her build that new desk before tomorrow. I’ll be here tomorrow at opening, Eva, like old times. Don’t come back late Jonas, or you’ll wake up your mother.” I smiled up him, casting away the mood Jonas put me in, and waved to my brother. Ben and I were the closest, probably because of our locations too, and I always felt calm when he was around me. He was the most like Mr. Flynn. Jonas was such the opposite, and I’d always wondered how Ben had made him.

When he left and the bell stopped ringing above the door, Jonas and I just let the silence consume us. At this point, he wasn’t even sweeping up dirt, but he didn’t want to talk to me in the bad mood he was in. Did she really have to break up with him when I was about to spend every day of the next week with him? It had nothing to do with his feelings for me, but everything to do with the awful mood he’d be in. Last break up, I had to pull him from the bar at least three times, waste a pale of water to sober him up, and he fell asleep completely on top of me, cutting off my breathing. I had told Levi about this and he threatened to break off his fingers in letter form, even if it was back when we were eighteen. Levi gave Jonas no chances.

“How many people do you think will be here tomorrow?” He broke the silence first and I was glad he’d changed the subject. I could talk to a regulars Jonas.

“I couldn’t say. I’ve had at least thirty come to the café in the past week asking. I don’t think there will be a lot of people at the tables, but most will be coming in and out.” He nodded and set the broom down, sitting with it. He’d probably swept the floors twice, but I guess the extra cleaning won’t hurt.

“My dad’s been on my ass about learning how to work at the café. Something about character building…” Sounds like Ben. Well, sounds like Mr. Flynn, but same person.

“I wouldn’t mind the extra help. Elias can’t really count money reliably enough to let me bake while he runs orders. I let him just take things in and out of the oven and to customers. Sometimes, I’ll even let him use the mixer. Elias is getting that vital character development. I’ve also thought about giving him this job when he gets old enough so he doesn’t have to work under his father.” I jumped back up on the counter and forgot I had just cleaned it. I’ll do it more tomorrow.

“I hated this place as a kid. Grandpa always forced us to clean if we were staying with him and Duran tried to always beat me up for no reason. When I was old enough to get my own job, I was ready to leave it behind. Funny to think the kid likes it here. I guess since you’re basically his older sister, it’s probably a you and dad situation.” Jonas and his younger sister were forced to come help at the café since Mr. Flynn was getting older. Duran would always run off somewhere and I stayed and baked, so Mr. Flynn needed some others to do the dishes and lift heavy boxes. Jonas stayed because I stayed. The café work at least helped Jonas prepare for delivery work at Reeve’s.

“I loved this place, still do, but you know that already. It wouldn’t be mine if I didn’t like it.” He rolled his eyes, knowing how much I stupidly fell in love with the bakery at one point. It was during secondary school when Mr. Flynn’s lessons of life actually go through to me. I was finally getting out of the Underground depression and having a purpose fueled me. The bakery was something I did every day, almost every hour, and sometimes neglected my school work to do it. I had finally found something that was mine and I wasn’t going to let any amount of slacking take it away from me.

“Do you think you’ll stay here forever? I mean, like Grandpa did. Pass it on to your kids and what not.” I nodded, looking out at the hanging sign in a crack of the front window blind.

“There’s nowhere else I want to really go. I have everything I need here in Trost and I can go visit the other districts when I want. Plus, we’ve already lost four places I can go, so it’s slim pickings for retail locations. If I somehow don’t end up having kids and Elias takes my offer, I’ll give it to him probably. ” He hummed in agreement and leaned back in his chair, tilting the front legs of the floor. This reminded me of when we were in school and Mr. Flynn would make us close up for him when he wanted to sleep early. We’d clean and then sit here talking for hours about anything. I’d force Jonas to help me with math homework and sometimes pay him to do it. After Jonas got a job, it would be just me closing. It’s been a long time since this ex-tradition has occurred, so it was mildly comforting. We sat like that for a while, just staring somewhere in the café, probably thinking about when we were young.

Mr. Flynn acted like he hated us, but I knew a day never went by when he didn’t smile down at us and was thankful we were there. Jonas, Duran, and I were a lot to handle sometimes, but it was just the joys of youth. I would pay to go back them, too. Just to be able to tell myself that I needed to remember times like this, because when I was older, it would all change. I would be alone in the café.

“You know, Dad wants us to get together. He said it’s the thing that makes the most sense.” I sighed. There goes the comforting feeling that we’d just developed. Goddamn it, if he didn’t have to mention that, I would have had a great night, even a drink or two to celebrate opening. Now, his attitude changed and he suddenly wanted to talk about feelings. Didn’t you just get broken up with?

Ben had even taken me aside after Wall Maria fell and mentioned to me what he thought was right. Humanity’s time seemed to be fleeting and it wouldn’t be fun to die without a family. I fended him off, not telling him that I was not alone and very much in a relationship, but he would still leave hints here and there. Today was one of those days talking about keeping the café in the family and remembering the times when little kids ran around the tables. He’d even start telling us stories of how him and Analee would take care of the café as it’s first employees and how they fell in love. He was hoping the same thing would happen to Jonas, and that’s why he was forcing him to work here now. That was probably the only thing Ben and Jonas agreed on.

“He’s mentioned it to me a few times. I’ve always told him no, but I guess when he gets his mind set on something you can’t tell him to lay off of it.” I looked warily at Jonas, trying to gage where this conversation was going. Why does it always have to be around year-end when he tries to pull all of this stuff? Wasn’t he just crying about his girlfriend breaking up with him yesterday? Now he’s talking about how bad Ben wants us to get married?

“You know what I think about it. If you gave me a chance then may-” I cut him off before he could dig himself into a deeper hole. How could I tell him he wasn’t the one for me without telling him about Levi? While Levi and I weren’t nearly as serious as our time together would allow, his letters have shown me no reason to think we’d be ending our relationship soon. I was busy with bread and the café, he was busy with training, and at the end of the day we would sit down and write letters to each other, looking out at the same moon over Trost. It wasn’t the best situation, but it wasn’t one that was so hard I’d give into Jonas’s easy way.

“Jonas, you also know my opinion. You’re like my brother or my cousin. We were raised together and you look almost exactly like Ben. I don’t need to keep listing out reasons to hurt your feelings more.” He sighed, looking up at the ceiling.

“I know, but it’s just… Actually, I don’t know what it is. Never being able to advance your relationship with someone you have feelings for? Always getting into relationships you know will end because you don’t really like the girl? Maybe, I’m just tired of doing that.”

“You’ll find someone, Jonas. You just aren’t looking in the right places. What was the girl’s name? Nana? Nora? Whatever it was she was annoying and self-centered.” I laid back on the counter looking up at the ceiling. I wasn’t going to be able to cheer him up like this forever because it’s always at the expense of me not liking him. He makes me feel like all of these breakups are my fault.

“She wasn’t you.” There it is. The direction we were going to.

“You need to stop thinking about me, Jonas. What do you need me to say or do so that you move on from me?” I put my arm over my eyes, trying to stop the headache that I knew was about to come soon. I guess he was holding this in for a few months since he was dating that girl. It started with an N, I know that for a fact.

“No clue, Ev, but when I find it, I’ll tell you. If knowing that you’re in love with the Captain of the Scouts doesn’t deter me, I don’t know what will.” My eyes snapped open.

“If knowing what?!” What the hell does he know? There’s a very serious possibility that he was sneaking around and found the letters in my desk. Maybe he saw Erwin’s letter carrier handing me the envelope? It didn’t make sense that he would know from Levi and I’s actions because he was pretty cold to me when Jonas was around. We’d taken most of the precautions we needed to. It had to just be his hunch… but his hunch was right.

“I heard you that one night when he was bandaging you. There was just… something didn’t sit right with me when I was leaving. I sat there outside of the café listening to you two for what felt like hours. That confirmed it for me, but I still can’t believe it until it comes out of your own mouth. I guess I’m not good enough for you, Eva, but how could you fall for a Scout? I didn’t think you were that stupid.” The anger enveloped me as he said that, but I knew what he was saying was from deep down inside. If he knew this long, his heart beat with anger at every and any mention of the Scouts. His unexplained hatred for their presence in the last few months now made sense. Every time he saw a Scout he was reminded that even though they die young, are never around, and go on suicide missions, I’d rather pick that over him.

Laying there on that counter with Jonas’s eyes on me… it made me uncomfortable. Every layer of privacy and secrecy was shed in front of him now knowing that he knew for that long. That means he must have noticed the letters. Noticed how I always cleaned Levi’s table twice and had peppermint tea stocked even when the café was closed. He might have even heard me crying at night over how much I just wanted to see Levi again when he’d crashed on my couch… and every time I did that, he wanted it to be him.

I couldn’t deny our relationship and try to make him feel better about himself. He knew and had heard everything we had said to each other that night. I’d have to face this feeling head on and I didn’t want to. I just didn’t want to tell Jonas that it will never be him. It was better to have him in limbo and still have my friend then to break his heart completely and never see him again. Jonas was my first friend and is my best friend. He was there the first day I was above ground. He was there for me when Samias broke my heart. He knows almost everything about me, but here I was about to lose him over something I couldn’t control. I wasn’t going to give up Levi so that Jonas would feel better.

That probably hurt him even more though; me lying to him about Levi.

“How much are you going to hate me after I tell you everything?” I was hesitant to tell him anything. I know deep down he wanted to know all about Levi and I. He wanted to see where his shortcomings were and judge Levi’s actions and intent. He wanted to be able to reach deep down and find some string of hope in one of Levi’s downfalls. However, this emotion he’s had was pent up for months.

“I’m never going to hate you, Ev. That’s the problem.” I let the tears fall then and curled up into a ball on the counter top. This wasn’t the Jonas I liked talking to. This was the Jonas that made you feel every emotion he was going through too so that you gave him pity. You wanted to love Jonas because you didn’t want to see your best friend hurting like this. It was my fault that he was hurting and I couldn’t fix it. I couldn’t do what he wanted me to.

I knew he was in pain when he didn’t move to comfort me like he usually does. Whenever I would cry, he would always be next to me, a soothing hand on my back. I would never shy away from it before, but looking at the situation now, I wish I would have created that distance. It was good that he didn’t do that because it would have made the situation worse. We just sat there and I tried to mute my cries with my arm. It wasn’t working.

“One day he’s going to die, Eva. If he doesn’t leave you before that.” Now he was trying to hurt me directly. Maybe he thought if he broke me enough, I’d go to him and not Levi.

I didn’t answer him as I was too busy choking on my tears.

“He won’t marry you. He won’t give you kids. He can’t give you anything you want in the future if he knows someday he won’t have one.” I wanted to beg him to stop. He doesn’t think at night, when all I have are the thoughts to pull me out of loneliness, I don’t think about all of this? Will I be happy with just Levi or will I want more and he can’t provide that? Can I not be up to his standards? After Hange mentioned kids, I thought about how horrible it would be for them to live in a world like this. We’re fighting to stay alive and to eat, and their father would be gone for months on end. I didn’t want to think about the future and Jonas was forcing me to. All the negative emotions I tried to push back in these past months were coming to the surface with every word.

“Does he really like you or are you there just to fulfill his fantasy of a relationship? What man leaves the woman he loves alone for six months?” I clenched my jaw hard. His words started to stab too deep.

“Shut up.” It was soft and muffled by the sounds of my tears, but he heard it. He was waiting for my response. He wanted to see if I agreed or not; to see if he broke me enough.

“Eva, I know you know what I’m saying is the truth. It’s best to stop this game of pretend before it’s too late.”

Pretend.

I pull my hands into fists and shot up on the counter. I was angry again now. He didn’t get to call my relationship a game. Whatever feelings of loneliness or sadness that Jonas wanted to make me feel had left instantly as he mentioned playing pretend.

“You are the one who’s playing pretend! Pretending that I’ll come around and pick you. Jonas, if I wanted you, it wouldn’t have taken over ten years to realize it!” This time his face contorted into some type of negative emotion. His plan didn’t work. I didn’t cave like I normally do.

“You’re pressuring me into something that I don’t want to do all because you don’t like that Levi makes you feel inferior. He’s stronger, smarter, and now he’s taken your girl from you. You know why? Look at this,” I gestured to him with both of my hands, “Levi has never talked to me at me like this. He would never call me stupid or try and insult me enough to change my mind. You’re right, I haven’t seen him for six months, but in that time he’s written more sincere words than you have ever said to me. I don’t care what Levi does and doesn’t give me, and I know you won’t be able to give me what I want either. Not like this!” I threw my left hand to my side and took the silence to catch my breath.

“Eva.” It was angry and heavy. He wasn’t ready for me to come back at him like that. He never thought I could talk to him like he talks to me.

“I have supported you through everything you have done. The countless girlfriends, the times when you were kicked out of your house, when you didn’t have a job; I was the one who comforted you and took you in. Now, I make a decision that hurts your feelings and you can’t live with it? You have to degrade me for who I choose to date, only because it’s not you?!” He stood up too, the chair flying back and hitting the floor. He stood almost a foot above me, but I wasn't backing down.

“You will never understa-”

“You’re right, Jonas. I will never love you the way that you love me, and I will never understand how you treat someone you love like this.”

It was tonight. I had always thought about when this would end. When Jonas and I would stop playing pretend. When I would stop pretending not to see how he looks at me across the café. When I would stop pretending that my best friend didn’t only have feelings for me and wouldn’t choose anyone else. When I would stop pretending I didn’t have to hurt him like this one day. Tonight was the night this friendship ended because he couldn’t pretend we were just friends anymore.

“How long have you been with him?” The air had quieted and so did his voice. His face was now a mixture of anger and sadness, and he turned his eyes to look at the ground. I didn’t know what he wanted me to say when answering the question, but I was done hiding it from him. Even if it hurt him, he had to know. He had to stop playing pretend and be snapped into the reality he lived in.

“Around Spring Equinox till now.” His fist clenched harder.

“So you missed Spring Equinox with us to be with him?” I thought about this moment the day I didn’t show up. He never asked me where I was when he saw me and he must have assumed I just didn’t want to go out then. I’d even told Levi that I was going to be in a weird situation if Jonas asked me where I was and he helped me make a plan. A plan to lie to him. I guess that plan just flew out the window.

“He was injured and I was taking care of him. I wasn’t going to leave him,” I let the last line out, underlaid with some remorse. I was angry with what he was saying and how he was coming at me, but I was at fault too. I should have told him sooner or at least tried to distance myself.

“I don’t think I’m going to be in tomorrow, Eva.” He said, still not looking up at me. This was the softest he had even been. I think now he knew he couldn’t sway me towards him. He was giving up.

“Jonas-”

“No,” he held his hand up, finally looking at me with the faint gleam of tears in his eyes, “I’m going to be sick tomorrow and maybe the next day. So, don’t come looking for me.” He turned his back and I had to stop my hand from reaching out and touching his shoulder. I was angry at him, but unlike him I didn’t see this as a reason to end our friendship. It was coming, yes, but it didn’t have to end here. We’d change something. We’d adapt. He was acting like he’d completely given up that.

“Jonas, you’re still my best friend.” He stopped at the door and straightened up. He was stiff and lifeless when he answered. It was fake and he was hiding his true emotion. If he turned around, what expression would I see on his face?

“I know.”

The door opened and closed, the bells ringing twice above it. With the windows closed, I couldn’t see if we walked away and I didn’t go up to the door in fear of him just sitting on the stoop. I didn’t want to hear his tears. Jonas rarely cried and I didn’t want to know that I was the person who did it to him.

I turned to look at the clock at the back wall. It was nearly one.

Anger. At him. At myself. Sadness. For him. For losing my best friend in some shape or form. Regret. For not telling him any sooner. But, if I told him, wouldn’t the situation still end up like this? He would yell at me, I would cry, and he would tell me how irrational it was to love someone like Levi. A fantasy he called it. It set the seed of doubt in my head. Levi hadn’t loved or liked before as far as I knew, not to the capacity we’ve set up. Was he really just using this as a test run?

I put my towel down on the table and decided I didn’t want to be in the café anymore. I wanted to be in my bed, two blankets over me, thinking over and over again the conversation I had with Jonas. Where did I go wrong? When? I wouldn’t sleep tonight and I would be sluggish in the morning when Ben came. Ben was smart, too. He would probably connect the dots between Jonas’s absence and my attitude, but at least he never questioned.

Walking up the back stairs, I tried to listen to see if Jonas was still there. Maybe something would pull me to go back to him and try to talk it out. I don’t think this issue can be talked over though. It was going to be the way it was. As of now, it was Levi and I, not Jonas and I. It would take Jonas months to turn around or feel like talking to me. It may not go back to normal.

That thought stopped me on the last wooden step. What would I do if Jonas and I never went back to normal? He was a big part of my day and of my life. Every holiday, every arithmetic question I couldn’t answer, every broken heart; I was with him. It made so much sense to be with him permanently, but that’s not how life wanted it to be. If I was to be with Jonas, I was sure, it would have happened already. I would have feelings for him to the same degree he has for me.

Maybe we shouldn’t go back to normal as that normal was fake. Pretend. Would it hurt Jonas more to act that way, knowing that Levi was one step ahead of him in every regard? Or, would it be better for him to keep distance and ignore me so he won’t have to deal with the pain he feels every time he’s around me now?

I shook my head and walked in. This was for me to think about, slightly drunk, and in two hours.

“Here, for you.” Levi handed me a single flower as we sat in the meadow. He had found it on the ground next to where we were sitting and I laughed a little at the gesture before putting it on my ear. He looked at it too and smiled faintly, going back to look at the Scout HQ that was quite a distance away. No one would see us on our way back to Trost.

I told Levi that I wanted to stop and sit since it was such a nice day. The spring was bringing warm winds to our area, and the whole time I had been with him we were inside his dimly lit office. We were far away enough from Trost and the HQ to be alone and outside. I thought of Jonas and the Equinox today. Where would he be sitting out here?

“Thank you, Captain.” He laid back, still wincing a little at the pain in his ribs. The horse ride was a bit too much for him to handle, and we had to walk our horses out here to the open meadow. No doubt he would bear the pain to get me to the gates of Trost before we parted. Maybe I would convince him to walk so we had more time together.

“After this expedition, I would like to start.” I looked over to him, putting a piece of the Scout’s cracker ration in my mouth. Did he have some hobby?

“Start what?”

“Trying to be yours. I have no experience being in a relationship with someone, therefore, when I can give you my full attention, I will do that. I’ve never made you food. I will do that first.” It made my heart strangely warm, him always announcing his intentions. Maybe he felt that they needed to be approved. He was so apprehensive about anything, and he was not used to being wrong. In this uncharted territory, he needed to make sure he was right before he executed anything. So, I nodded.

“I’m not picky when it comes to food.” Once he got his confirmation, he went to stand up. I just looked up at him as he did it.

“Yes?” He put out his hand for me to take it. I just stared up at him again, smiling. I’d tease him a bit more because he was leaving soon.

“So does that mean we’re really dating?” He rolled his eyes and his hand dropped. The nice gesture went away.

“Did I not make it clear before? I said I required monogamy.” I shook my head, no.

“You have to ask me. You can’t just command me into a relationship with you.” He cocked up an eyebrow.

“Ask? Why do I need to ask you when you already know?” I rolled my eyes at him and took another bite of the cracker.

“We aren’t dating until you ask me to be your girlfriend.” He scoffed.

“Girlfriend is a word for teenagers. We are almost thirty.”

“Ask me.”

“No.”

“You have to.”

“No, I don’t.” I huffed and turned my head to the other side, faking anger. I knew he probably wasn’t going to do it anyways, and I didn’t really care, but it would be fun to hear.

“Ask me or I’ll just sit here all day,” I said, folding my arms. There was no protest, or huff of annoyance. He was probably standing there with the same pose I had, just waiting for me to get this idea out of my head.

Huff. Huff. Huff.

“Don’t tell me you-” I turned and screamed, scrambling to get away from what was to my right. It stood there, his body broken in it’s mouth. His eyes were stained with blood, and were looking at me, begging me to do something, anything.

The titan crunched down once more on Levi’s body, and only a puff of air came out of his mouth. Not a cry for help. His body went limp, eyes wide staring into my soul.

Help. Help. Help.

I shot up, holding my head. My body was shaking and I was afraid to open my eyes. The bustle of customers could be heard below and I knew I had fallen asleep late in the morning and overslept till now. Ben would be holding the customers down fine, and I needed the extra minutes to calm myself down.

Was that dream an omen? Was he dead?

It left a bad taste in my mouth that I couldn’t shake, so I got up to get water. I needed to get this taste out of my mouth. Once I drank the water, I leaned over the sink and it came right back up. The shaking of my body stopped after I’d thrown up, but the feeling in my stomach was still there. Maybe I was just hungover. I had a whole bottle of wine while thinking my life away last night. Usually I was fine, but the emotions tied to the amount of alcohol I had could be making my stomach twist and turn.

Setting the cup down, I quickly went to put on clothes and try to put something on my face to cover the dark circles. The clock was at ten, and I knew that soon Ben would hear my footsteps upstairs using his years of training his ears to identify the creaks of this building and yell up at me to come down. If Jonas really wasn’t here, he was having to remember how to make various coffee drinks himself.

One day he’s going to die, Eva.

I help my stomach again, trying to position myself over the bathroom sink and not get the face powder all over the floor. When nothing came up, I tried to push that thought out of my mind and finish covering the dark circles under my eyes. To a trained eye, aka Ben, you could easily see through the layer of powder. Hopefully, it will last all work day so I won’t get comments on my tiredness. Those were my least favorite.

“Eva!” It was muffled by the floorboards, but with one quick look in the mirror, I went to walk to the door.

Does he really like you or are you there just to fulfill his fantasy of a relationship?

Stopping on the stairs, I leaned over the railing, hoping that if I did vomit again, it would be away from a window so the customers didn’t notice a projectile falling from the sky. I’d have to get another drink of water before I started or else this hangover was going to kill me.

I pushed the back door open, taking a look at the plastic one that separated me from the café. People were in there, sitting, talking, and buying pastries. I could hear them and it scared me. My first day open, and I’m in this condition? That wasn’t going to be the best look for business. I was also scared because this was the first customer rush I had in months. It was like my first day running the shop all over again.

This time my stomach bubbled up with nerves and before I could turn back outside, Ben opened the door peeking in at me. He definitely saw the condition I was in, and had to take a double take. Now, the dots started to connect in his head. Did Jonas look like this to when Ben tried to wake him up only to discover he was “sick”?

“There’s a line of people out here waiting to be served and to talk to you. I suggest you hurry out, yeah?” I just stared at him and nodded once, tying the matching apron around my middle.

“Yeah.” Even my voice was shaking. He closed the door again and I picked up a random cup, filling it with water from the sink, and downing it in a few seconds. I coughed once, hoping it would help my throat, and despite my stomach, I walked out into the main café.

“Eva!”

“Miss Eva, it’s been so long!” The crowd of people at the counter greeted with smiles, and I did my best to give one back. It was comforting, their words, but my stomach still felt like shit. So did my head. And my arms. And legs. Either way, I willed myself to the crowd that was blocking my view into the café. Ben had done a good job curbing them because he didn’t know how to make a latte.

“It’s a good thing you’re here, Eva. Ben’s a little rusty.” I smiled to the man who’s order I had memorized, but not his name, and took the personal cup he had in his hands. Ben tended the money while I turned my back to make the drinks.

“I’ll pass, you make, pass back?” I turned over my shoulder to nod at him and this new angle made me catch a view of the table. The Wings of Freedom were draped over the chair and he was leaning back with the new addition of a book in his hand. There was no cup in front of him, nor was he staring out at the window anymore.

Six months.

My stomach churned again and before I could answer Ben, I had to run into the back, past the plastic door, open the regular door, and throw up in front of the trash can where the stray dogs like to eat our scraps.

I’d have to pass it off and I took another big gulp of water before picking up some random milk jug to bring it up. I hoped I didn’t wipe off the face powder that took ten minutes to apply. When I walked back in, people seemed shocked I had run so fast into the back, but once they saw the milk jug, they settled back down. Ben didn’t let it get past him that I’d set the new milk jug next to a completely full one on the table and went to work.

We went back and forth for what felt like hours. He’d collect the money, write the order on a piece of paper, I’d make it, and he’d go set it down on their table or give it for them to go. We didn’t talk at all while I did it, and I only engaged with other customers. When I looked at him, he never looked back, just down at the book. When I looked at him… my stomach churned, but with a different feeling now that I was pretty sure all the alcohol was in my sink or by the trash in the back. I wanted him to look at me, or to come hug me, but he was Captain Levi right now.

My dream. What was my dream about? He was here and he was alive, so it couldn’t have been an omen. Was it triggered by my fight with Jonas? Levi dying? It was a simple memory, but it had morphed into something graphic and depressing. He’d asked me to be his girlfriend, reluctantly, but why didn’t my dream get to that part? Why did it cut it off there? I just tried to mock it up as another drunken dream, ones I used to have often, and maybe a few times in the past months, but something wouldn’t let me mark it as that.

“Eva!” I turned at the little boy’s call and saw all three of them at the counter. I was zoning out so much. Elias, June, and their father were there and I smiled at them, starting their orders. Elias and June: steamed apple juice. Their father: a cup of coffee, no cream, two sugars.

“Where’s the boy? I thought Jonas said he was working today.” I froze up at their father’s question and I saw Ben glance back at me before answering.

“He felt really sick this morning and could barely get out of bed when I tried to wake him up. He slept at our house last night and came back really late, so he might have been out and drank himself sick,” he tsk-ed his son, but I knew that his message was really meant for me, “Dark circles, a bad attitude, and his face was all red. I’m glad he didn’t show up today.” I turned to them, handing the two steamed apple juices. Before I could turn back around, they started a conversation with me. I could barely focus on it with Ben’s gaze boring holes into me.

“Eva, Mr. Chapel said I could start on my own books now! Isn’t that exciting?!” I smiled down at her and nodded. In the place in my brain that could still process a little emotion this afternoon, I was happy for her.

“That’s amazing, June. I have some books upstairs that need to be rebound.” Ben had given their father his coffee and he was now pulling the kids to go. He probably had some cult stuff to do and just wanted to stop by for his morning cup like he normally does.

“Eva, do you need help on year-end? Like last year? With Jonas?” Elias’s face begged up at me to say yes. He wanted to know if we would do something like last year. With no festival, it would be hard to entertain them… and with no Jonas…

“I don’t know about it his year, Elias.” His face dropped and he was pulled away by his father before he could ask why. I saw June looking disappointed as well as they walked out the door. When Ben turned to greet the next customer, I felt another pair of eyes on me. I looked up at him and felt my heart flip as we locked eyes. His were filled with concern and I knew he’d heard the exchange Elias and I just had. I had always taken the kids in for year-end, so why not now?

The day went like that. My stomach never settled down, and I could barely keep up the energy of the people coming in and out to talk. Ben would mostly fill that job, but whenever the customer wanted to talk to me directly, I stared at the back wall, mustering a smile, and turned to act. I was glad that I’d decided to close earlier than usual so I wouldn’t have to go through a dinner rush either. My mind was tired from thinking over and over again about last night and the dream I had, that I could barely handle any more stimulus.

Levi had sat there all day, reading through the book at least twice. I could feel his eyes on me throughout the day, but if I looked back into his eyes, my dream would play over again and my stomach would fight with me. He must have noticed, but he never approached me. Ben and the wave of people coming in and out must have stopped him, or he was waiting for me to go over and serve him tea. It was sitting right on top of the coffee filter box, ready to be made, but I could never pull myself to do it. I wanted to go over and talk to him, but with the amount of people here, I would be talking to Captain Levi. I decided to wait until close, knowing he would stay, so I could talk to the real him after months of waiting. The dream made my stomach feel awful, but the idea of having Levi back to me again made the butterflies stir too.

“Alright, what’s up with the two of you?” Ben put the small bag of flour back up on the stock rack as I mopped the flour on the back room’s floor. It was closing, and I insisted that he could leave the cleaning to me, but I knew from the second I walked in to the café, he was ready to corner me and ask questions. I still feigned innocence.

“Two of whom?” He huffed and wiped off excess flour on the apron I left him. It didn’t help my case that I couldn’t look him in the eyes when I answered. I didn’t want to stare into Jonas’s eyes.

“Jonas comes to our house drunk, red face, and mumbling things under his breath. He almost broke Analee’s favorite vase trying to take his shoes off. I thought it was a bit weird because he’d have to come back from your place, but maybe you two decided to do something. I didn’t care. Then, I drag his dead body weight onto the couch and he tells me he can’t come to the café tomorrow and starts crying. I mark it up to him being drunk off his ass. Come today, and you’re not up early like you usually are. I guess I thought you’d be as drunk as Jonas, and gave you a few hours. You come down here, looking pale as a ghost, go throw up outside by the trash can,” He pointed his thumb to the back door, “and anytime someone mentions Jonas, your face goes pale over and over again. You probably drank at least thirty glasses of water today… I really don't want you to answer this question, but I have to ask it. He’s my son, sure, but you’re also my little sister… also weird to say, but you know what I’m trying to get to…” Ben didn’t want to have to finish his statement and trailed off, trying to get me to fill in the blank. Did he think we… ? I pulled my face into a look of disgust, but still didn’t look at his face.

“Are you trying to ask if he and I had-” He frantically waved his hands at me.

“Please, please, please. Spare me. I realized I don’t want the answer to that question anymore right as it came out of you mou-” I stopped him there.

“We fought. That’s what happened.” He dropped his hands and let out a big sigh of relief. He was happy we only fought, because he could deal with that. He’d been dealing with that for years already. Mediator Ben was about to come out.

“Thank gods. What did you fight about this time? Both of you look very upset.” He leaned against a random table, and I had stopped sweeping at this point. I didn’t want to tell Ben, but there was just something about him that made the words flow out. He’s always been like that, regardless of the situation. Comfortable to talk to about any and everything. When I first got my monthly cycle, I went to him and not Catrin, who was the obvious choice. Then later in life, Jonas started to take the same position in my life that Ben had. That made me feel worse again, losing him over something I had to be selfish with. If Jonas felt he couldn’t let go of whatever it was, I would permanently lose him.

“I think this is the final time, Ben.” He sighed, probably not knowing what that meant. If I told him what the fight was really about, he would have to learn about Levi and I. I shifted my gaze to the plastic door separating us from the main café. Was he still sitting in his chair, waiting for us to kick him out? Waiting for me to lead him up the stairs to my apartment?

“Did he bring up marriage again? When we were walking to meet up with you, I had mentioned something about it and he seemed to get quiet. Usually, he denies anything like that would happen.” So it was mentioned previously, that’s why it was on his mind. When Ben mentioned it to him, did his mind go to Levi and I?

“Yes,” I whispered, and set the mop against the wall. I was ready to spill all of my feelings to Ben like I always do.

“Then, is it that man out there?” He pointed at the door and this time I looked him in the eyes. It was like admitting everything to Jonas all over again and it made my stomach twist and turn. I knew Ben’s opinions on the matter, too, so it was worse having to go against his wishes.

“Yes,” I whispered again, waiting to see a streak of disappointment in his eyes that never came. He just sighed again and walked over to me, putting a hand on my back.

“He was the first customer today and seemed annoyed that I was standing there instead of you. I was the one who gave him the book. I told him he’d have to wait a few hours to see you, and then another few to get to talk to you after lunch. I’m not going to pretend I didn’t see the way he kept looking at you either.” I clasped my hands together, looking at them. It made me a little less sad that he could see Levi’s emotions as well. Ben didn’t think it was fake like Jonas did.

“I had a bad dream last night, too… and a few too many drinks. I’m just so… I don’t want to lose Jonas. This felt like it was it, Ben.” I put a hand over my heart and rubbed my collar bone with one finger. Ben shook his head ‘no’ and patted my back.

“The kid can be moody, but he’ll come around. It may take him a bit longer than usual, but you two are best friends. He’ll just have to deal with the fact that it’s going to really stay like that now. I guess I didn’t help either, talking about you two the way I did.” I shook my head, making sure Ben didn’t take the blame away from me.

“No, I did this. I didn’t tell him about… I didn’t distance myself from him and-”

“Do you really think that if you tried to distance yourself from Jo, it would’ve worked? He once came home from secondary begging me to ask the teacher to transfer him to your class. He can’t be away from you for too long, no matter what emotions he has tied to it.” I laughed once at that comment, remembering the day Jonas randomly showed up at a desk next to mine. I reached up to wipe a tear off of my cheek.

“I still feel awful. It’s my fault I made him feel like this.” Ben rolled his eyes.

“I’m going to go home and he’s going to have this same conversation with me. You both fight like cats and dogs, and then feel bad that you said anything in the first place. He could have broken your arm and you’d still feel like it was your fault.”

“Yeah.” Ben did make me feel a little better, but I still couldn’t shake the feeling of regret. We sat for a few more minutes as I calmed down and my stomach hurt a little less.

“Now, that boy out there. He’s the Captain of the Scouts, but I have to threaten him. I know he’s still sitting out there, if you just let me-”

“Ben.”

“I’m serious. I was close to going over and telling him to stop looking at you. It’s annoying. Like that one kid you dated in the past.” It was my turn to roll my eyes at him.

“Ben, I’m twenty seven.” Before I could protest more, he lunged at the door to open it.

“Hey, you.” I quickly raced out of the back room, watching Ben walk his way over to Levi who had grabbed a rag and was cleaning the tops of the tables.

“Ben-” Levi turned to give me a confused look as to why the giant man was walking towards him. They’ve probably only spoken two sentences to each other and now Levi was going to get reprimanded by Ben.

“You’re dating my sister, correct?” Levi’s eyes widened a little bit, not expecting Ben to come right out with it. He probably also didn’t expect Ben to know anything, but with how obvious Levi had acted today, it wasn’t a surprise. Ben picked up on things probably to the same degree Levi did.

“U-u-uh, we are?” He did the same thing I’d done to Erwin, and when he looked over at me again, confusion painting his face, I just nodded once, “Y-yes. We are…” A faint tint of blush painted his pale face. Mine was probably the same way. This was the first time he had admitted that out loud to someone from my world.

“If you hurt her, I’ll beat you up. Her last boyfriend, he couldn’t walk for two days after Jonas and I jumped him.” He pointed his finger at Levi who didn’t seem that concerned about the threat. Ben was also lying, because he wouldn’t lay a hand on anyone. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Ben swat at a fly, let alone a human.

“My intentions are not to hurt her.” Ben took off his apron and slammed it down on the table Levi had just finished cleaning. Flour dust went everywhere. This was quite the show he was putting on. Levi, however, didn’t know he was playing with him. He was trying to keep his face as neutral as possible, because he didn’t want to, in some way, offend Ben and make him angrier, but he was also getting annoyed with the man’s display. If Ben was to come at him, would he be permitted to slam him on the ground, or would that just make this whole situation worse? Levi didn’t want to beat up my brother, which was nice.

“What are your intentions then?” Levi was not going to like expressing his feelings aloud to a stranger, so I saved him from Ben who I knew was trying his hardest not to laugh.

“Ben, just let him go. I have to clean more and you’re keeping me from dinner.” I think Ben was also glad I gave him an out because I heard that Analee was making porridge for dinner and that was Ben’s favorite.

Ben walked a bit forward, using his height to tower over Levi. This time, Levi’s face hardened. If I did get Ben away from Levi, Ben might end up on the ground.

“Next time, Captain.” Ben retreated back and grabbed his jacket, turning to me with a smile.

“Have a nice night, Ev! I assume I won’t need to come tomorrow?” He glanced over at Levi who was now extremely confused at Ben’s 180 degree flip.

“No, I think I can handle myself tomorrow. Thanks Ben!” He raised his hand up and waved once, exiting the café. There was a moment of silence as the ringing of the door bells finally stopped and Levi turned to me, that expression still on his face.

“W-wha..?” I smiled at the door, not disregarding the butterflies that came to my stomach now that I was finally alone with Levi for the first time in six months.

“That’s Ben, my brother.” His face dropped to his regular look and nodded.

“I can tell.” I huffed and grabbed Ben’s apron, hanging it up behind the counter. I decided to clean the counter and wait to see what Levi was going to do. Heaven knew I wanted to run up into his arms, but again, the vow I took held me back.

To my surprise, he moved to behind the counter after cleaning the flour from the last table. He put the rag down on the back table and stood there, staring at me for a bit. I just disregarded his stare and kept cleaning the counter and glass case which was ridden with Ben’s handprints from the amount of times he leaned on it.

“I’m going to hug you.” I left out a huff of laughter and didn’t move, signaling that he could do what he wanted.

“I told you, you don’t have to say it alo-” His arms went around my waist, chest touching my back, and his head nuzzled into my neck. I also melted right there and then. Who taught him how to hug like this? I used my free hand to reach up and play with his hair, leaning my cheek onto the top of his head.

“Hi,” I said, breathing in his scent. It’s been so long, the shirt he gave me had lost its smell, so it was nice to have it back. It was also nice that he had given me such an intimate display of affection after how long he’d been away. It told me that he missed me as much as his letters would insinuate. Maybe even equal as much as I missed him.

He lifted himself up, leaving one arm wrapped around my waist.

“I thought I’d personally deliver this letter to you,” he handed me the envelope with my name written on it.

“Do you come with the letter?” I turned to face him and blushed at our closeness. He looked down at me slightly, examining my face. I’d cried the face powder off in the back, so my dark circles were at full force.

“You haven’t been taking care of yourself again.” It was low and had a tinge of disappointment in it. I looked up at him, examining his face. Tired. Large dark circles. Nothing out of the ordinary, but I could still yell at him for it.

“I can say the same for you, Captain.” I reached up and put my hand on his cheek like the last night we had together. I figured that wouldn’t be off limits and I felt his face heat up a little before pulling back to lean against the back table across from me. He had hit his daily cap for affection and needed to cool off.

“Erwin gave me the rest of the month off. So, I guessed that the best place to stay was here. He also told me to go see you after my work was done, and then proceeded to give me one more month’s worth of work.” He crossed his arms, his face pulling into one of annoyance for Erwin’s actions.

“I did ask him to give you more breaks, but he didn’t promise me anything.” His eyes narrowed at the mention of our meeting.

“Don’t think you three can keep it a secret about what you talked about. I told them I’d get you to tell me.” I smirked back up at him.

“They aren’t telling you what we said?”

“No details. I just know they asked you about us and to support the Scouts, and you accepted. I know that they left out everything important and Hange always laughs when I try to get her to tell me.” I guess I’d have to keep up this secret promise with Hange and Erwin.

“Well, if they aren’t telling you, then I guess I can’t either, Levi. It was a confidential meeting, you know how that goes.” He shot off the table, pushing my stomach into the one I was cleaning. His arms were on either side of me, trapping me against the wood. My heart beat shot up at this sudden, aggressive touch, and I almost jumped as I felt his breath on the right side on my neck. This was the first time he had done something like this. Intimidating, aggressive, and very exciting. My heart wasn’t the only thing that fluttered when he whispered into my ear.

“I have ways of getting you to tell me, Eva.” He lingered there for a few moments before pushing away and going back to rest on the table. I had to take at least ten breaths to calm myself down, and my face was still definitely the color of a cherry. That was the first time Levi had done something so… hot. One moment, he was pushing back because he was getting uncomfortable with the affection, and another he was shoving me up against the counter, making my brain race a million miles a second with the things I was imagining. The ways to get me to talk. Levi wasn’t like that was he? Did he have experience with that? He did live in the Underground and was extremely good looking, I’m sure he had girls at his feet at some point. It made me curious about his life in the Underground again… and what or who he did there.

“I-I’m… done cleaning. We can go up to the up, upstairs.” He didn’t even hesitate and slung his cape around his shoulders, following me to the front to lock the café.

We walked upstairs without saying anything, Levi walking a few steps behind me. He had retrieved a bag from the side of the alleyway and my eyes widened. I didn’t think he’d be staying here the whole rest of the month. That was almost three weeks. I remembered how dirty I had left it this morning and the empty bottle of wine next to my bed.

Once we got inside, he set his bag on the couch and took off his boots and cape, hanging it up. I was a bit upset he didn’t take off the ODM gear straps, because now that he had done that little act downstairs, my mind was thinking about them. I had felt the buckle of the one on his chest dig into my back ever so lightly.

“Did you really forget what I looked like? Stop staring at me.” He mumbled it, but it made me blush a bit and stare at the ground. Did he know what I was thinking about him? How did he get so bold in the last few minutes?

“Can I shower? The ride here was long, and I sat in the back of the cart on some dirty hay.”

“O-oh. Yes, you can. It’s that door right there, but you knew that already didn’t you. Sorry.” He smiled and laughed once, digging through his bag for his shower supplies. I just watched him as he did it, staring at the mundane task and letting my mind run wild. I don’t think he’s ever taken a shower here before.

Without saying anything else, he walked into the bathroom and closed the door. I instantly let out a breath of frustration, but the room did cool down after he left.

“He’s bold when being like that, but he’s still afraid of sleeping next to me?” I shook those thoughts out of my head and blinked when the bathroom door opened a little bit, the light shining through my dark apartment.

“I forgot soap for my body, do you have any?” He yelled out.

“Uh, there should be some in the cabinet below the sink. It’s Jonas’s.” I heard the cabinet open, along with a little grumble about ‘Why is he in your shower?’ before I heard them close again.

“I don’t see it.” I did not want to go into that tiny bathroom and show him, but I knew that’s where this was going to end if I sent him on a hunt. I’d just let him use mine.

“There’s a bottle in the shower. It’s glass and has pink liquid in it? You can use mine. I hope you don’t mind rose.” I heard the shower curtain rip back and a tiny laugh.

“There’s about twelve bottles with pink liquid in them, Eva.” That was simply false. All of my shampoos, conditioners, and soaps were different colors. He wanted me to come in there and show him. I started walking slowly to the door.

“It should be on the second shelf.”

“Just come here and show me, I don’t have the patience.” There it was, and I was already halfway to the bathroom anyways. Ignoring my heart, I opened the door.

“It should be in…” My eyes widened as he leaned against the sink, giving me access to walk to the shower as the room was only meant for one person at a time. My eyes widened as he leaned against the sink shirtless. I instantly flushed and something churned in the pit of my stomach. I glanced for one more second, and pushed on after seeing his smirk. I shoved myself up against the other wall, so there was no way for me to touch him as I walked past to the open shower. There the soap was and it was even labeled. I gripped hard around the bottle, turning to shove it into his hands. I tried so, so hard to only look at his face. When I glanced down at his chest again and back up, his smirk got deeper. It made me angry, but it also made me want to look even more.

His body was completely toned and looked like it had no ounce fat on it. He was completely lean like I predicted in our last encounter in a bathroom. Every single possible muscle was defined in a sleek way that was easy for him to hide this… this Adonis of a figure beneath a regular shirt. His waist was probably smaller than mine and shoulders broad from carrying the heavy ODM gear on them for years, but I didn’t try to get another look at it as I walked past him, pressing up against the wall again.

“I told you I’d let you see it when I got back,” he said jokingly as he set the bottle down on the sink. My face was burning and I didn’t dare turn around to look at him again as much as I wanted to. I had a free pass to look at him all I wanted if I took it, but I was too embarrassed right now. This combined with what happened downstairs wanted to make me scream. How long had he thought of doing this? The first time he’s seen me in six months and this is what he planned.

“I-I’ll make food!” I half yelled, getting out of the small bathroom that was heating up to a hundred degrees. I could hear him laugh a little bit before closing the door behind me. The air outside was so much cooler, it gave me goosebumps and I stood out there for a bit, waiting to hear the shower turn on. When it did, I went to the kitchen and instantly sat in front of the open ice box trying to cool down my face.

“Why are you like this, Eva? It’s not like you haven’t seen a shirtless man before. You’ve seen more than one and you’re never like this.” I hit my cheeks over and over again, trying to get them to cool down. No man I’ve been with before could go from sulky and hesitant one minute to making a heat pool in the depths of my stomach in thirty seconds.

The shower stopped and I closed the fridge quickly, taking out eggs to act like I was using them. I had no clue what I was going to make to eat and I’d spent ten minutes staring at an open fridge.

When he walked out, I almost broke the egg in my hand. He walked over to his bag on the couch, searching for clothes. The heat that I’d gotten rid of came back, and I finally turned away from the indecent sight. Just a towel?!

“Sorry, I forgot to grab another pair of clothes.”

Chapter Twelve →

Chapter Masterlist

#levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x oc #levi x reader #levi x oc #shingeki no kyoujin levi #levi attack on titan #aot #aot levi #snk #snk levi #captain levi #levi heichou #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #original character

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thr-333 · 4 years ago

Text

Mismatch- Part 24

Bio dad Bruce Wayne Month 2020

Oh dear, oh dear Lila what a shame this is

First< Previous > Next

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The next couple of days are... awkward. Dick keeps calling which is nice, they even go for dinner one day dragging Tim along. Tim seems fine, tired but that's hardly unusual. Jason had just straight up disappeared, but Dick had assured them he would be coming to the Wayne Gala that weekend. Speaking of which they had been invited, well they were already going because of MDC stuff but now they were also invited as civilians. The news would have been happy if Damian hadn't stormed out the room when it was mentioned. The next day and the day after that hadn’t improved anything, Damian was completely ignoring them and they weren't the only ones to notice.

“What did you do to upset Dami so much?!” Lila announces rather loudly to the entire cafeteria, “I told you, you were going too far,”

“Lila, and I mean this sincerely, fuck off,” Marion says flatly, he hears Marinette cover a laugh despite swatting at him lightly.

“How dare you?! I’m just trying to look out for him,” Lila sniffles, basking under the attention of her large audience, looking between the girl and Damian. Marion catches Damian's eye, raising a brow basically saying you’re going to let this slide? Apparently he was as Damian looks away from them, and if anything was going to give Lila more believability it’s that.

“Marion are you alright?” Rose asks gently, having tiptoed after Lila with the rest of the class. Had he been looking so downcast she actually noticed?

“I’m fi-” Whatever assurance he was about to give is mute as he feels tears sliding down his cheeks, “Fuck-I just-”

He tries to wipe away the tears, very aware of everyone watching him. It’s starting to get hard to breath when he feels gentle arms wrap around him. It’s Rose. Rose is actually hugging him! It’s been so long he forgot what her hugs felt like. Well if she was trying to stop him from crying that certainly didn’t help matters. He tries to take a calming breath but it comes out more like a sob and soon enough he can’t hold it back anymore. A fine place to break down Mari, really, truly a testament to your skill.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this here,” Lila scoffs, Marion can feel the arms around him tighten, “After all the work I put in for this trip-”

“LILA WOULD YOU JUST STOP!” Alya’s scream makes them all jump back, Marion turning to face the absolutely seething girl, “This is the first time in YEARS we’ve been allowed to feel emotions! So just leave it alone, they’re allowed to be sad!”

“Well-I-its-they-” Lila splutters looking completely blindsided that one of her puppets broke off its strings, clearly she hasn't been paying attention the last few weeks, funny when you save someone's life they tend to listen and care about what you say a bit more. And if that leads to noticing a few more jibes in their direction... well that's just a happy coincidence.

“What is your problem!? You’ve been nothing but nasty to them since we got here!” Well a bit longer than that but good on you for noticing Alya.

“Oh, it’s just been so hard for me!” Lila exclaims, crocodile tears coming in as Marion still tries to wipe off his own, the genuine article at that, “If you had heard some of the things they’ve said to me-”

Lila jumps as Damian appears next to her. He doesn't look at or acknowledge the twins. In fact, he still looks rather pissed but at least some of its directed at Lila this time. He silently hands his phone over to Alya with some hesitation, Lila's eyes go wide. As quickly as he had come he’s gone, disappearing into the crowd that had formed around them.

“What’s-”

“Give it!” Lila screeches, lunging for the phone. Alya jerks back in surprise, Lila’s nails tearing down her arm. Ugly red marks that had broken the skin and gone in deep.

“What the hell!” Alya shouts through tears, clutching her bloody arm as the class crowd around her.

Instead of apologizing Lila tries to snatch the phone in the moment of distraction, but Alix is a hair quicker. She presses play despite Lila shouting threats that made the rest of the class go pale. The recording plays everyone is glued to it. The class becoming increasingly more hysterical. Marinette doesn't wait for it to finish, she gently guides Marion out of the room slipping through the crowd. They hide in an empty classroom, far enough away they can’t hear the outcry that follows.

“Do you think that’s really it, it’s done?” Marion whispers, Marinette is wiping his face with a handkerchief he had always made fun of her for carrying.

“Maybe, I honestly can’t bring myself to care anymore,” Marinette rests her forehead against his, her standing as he sits on a desk, “I thought I’d feel more…”

“Victorious?”

“Yeah,”

“I don’t think there are any winners here,” He can hear someone shouting their names down the hall, voice wobbly with tears, he doesn't care about any apology the can muster, “How lame did I look crying?”

“In front of the whole school like that?”

“Yeah,”

“I’d say it was pretty brave,” She pulls him into a hug, squeezing tight.

“He was just ignoring us,” Marion admits quietly, Lila hadn’t made him cry in a long time, but Damian? Damian did.

“I know,” Marinette pats his head, the same way she would tease him as Chat Noir, “But he did something in the end didn’t he?”

“Oh, gee look at this lame-ass, better make him stop before people associate him with me’,” Marion does an impression not remotely close to Damian, Marinette pinches him.

“That’s not what he was thinking and you know it,”

“Yeah,” Marion sighs, he can hear doors opening and closing now, apologies cast out through the school in hopes they’ll hear them, “What do we do now?”

“Jump out the window?”

So they did end up jumping out the window. Something Alfred had somehow known they were planning because he was waiting right there to pick them up. The debated on actually going to the manor, but their phones were lighting up with messages and the hotel was not an option. The Manor was silent when they arrived. And it remained silent for most of their stay.

Dick had apparently set himself a mission of making them feel at home, whatever that meant, and was nowhere to be seen. He seemed like the only one actually happy to have them join the ragtag family so without him it was likely the others were just avoiding them. That was fine, really, Alfred set them up with a movie and ice cream that they used to ignore everything else.

Dick was their saving grace and the bane of their existence. When he came back he had apparently made the decision they would be staying at the manor for the rest of the trip, despite it only meant to be a few more days(it wasn't for them but he didn’t know that yet). Alfred had apparently told him what happened and he had brought it upon himself to bring their friends, actual friends not classmates to the manor. This was a blessing and a curse as all they seemed to want to do was fill them in on what had happened.

They listened and ate ice cream together. And yeah Marion kind of wished he could have seen Lila as every lie was torn down but Chloe rejoiced in relaying her reactions with great detail. She had of course tried to lie and turn it all on the twins, them trying to frame her. However, with blood running down Alya's arm that warranted a trip to the hospital it was met with a cold shoulder. Their talk eventually morphed into laughing at all her outlandish lies, which Chloe gladly compiled into a list to share with the rest of the class, ranking them in order of their stupidity. She planned to go through the whole list on the plane ride back where there would be no escape for anyone. It was fun in a way, and if Marion noticed more than one pair of eyes spying in on the conversation he wasn’t going to point it out. Lila was yet to face her dues.

When their friends had to go back to the hotel they promised not to give anything away. Alfred gratefully let them skip over dinner and Dick was overjoyed to show them to their rooms. Marion kind of wanted to laugh when he was shown his, wondering how much of it was Dick, how much was Bruce, and what was Alfred.

There were cat plushies everywhere which he had to guess was Bruce latching onto the detail from the fair and indeed Dough boy is sitting front and center on his bed. Then again wherever he was over he did spend a lot of time with Catfred. It could also be Dick taking note of that because really everything has cats on it. There's blankets, pillows, a rug with kittens over it. There was an armchair shaped like a cat head, and where had they even found that? It only got worse the further he went into the room noticing that the curtains had been replaced to have cats on them and there were pictures of cats hanging on the wall, the lamps in the room even cast shadows of cats. The only thing he could find that wasn't cat-related was a picture of them with Bruce at the fair, each sporting a plushie with Bruce holding a cutesy Batman plush between the grinning twins.

“Nette my defining trait isn’t cats is it?” He walks into her room through the joining door he was willing to bet didn’t exist a week ago. His side, of course, had a cat painted on it, he closes it just so he has less exposure to all the cats.

“Course not,” Marinette grins from her sewing machine.

She had a more, let's say subdued room. Oh sure Bruce had apparently found her all the Ladybug plushies he could but they apparently didn't have the same abundance as cats. Instead, he seemed to have focused on her sewing kit. Mannequins littered about her room that Marinette had already started pinning fabric to. Half of her walk-in closet was dedicated to spools of fabric, the other stocked with clothes. Marion didn’t dare brave his own knowing he would find only cats .

“Did you notice the dollhouse?” Marinette asks as Marion flops onto her bed, at least you could actually see her bed and it wasn't hidden by a pile of cats.

“Yeah mine was stocked with camembert and sugar cubes,” and it had personalized rooms for both Kaalki and Plagg that they were happily exploring.

“Mine cookies,” Marinette hums, more concerned with her design than the topic at hand, “Think we got found out,”

“Probably, whoever it is hasn't said anything tho,” Marion looks over at the large dollhouse in Marinette's room, Tikki waved at him from a window and he waved back.

“Probably Alfred,”

“Probably, that mans a witch,”

“A Witch?”

“I know what I said,” Marion sighs, sealing himself to go back into the cat infestation. How do you politely say ‘thank you so much but what the fuck?’

He knew he had to brave the closet sometime as someone had been so kind as to put away his clothes. Sure enough, it was as bad as he had imagined. Everything from t-shirts with cartoon cats to clothes carefully crafted to have cat ears. I was actually kind of amazing at this point. Giving up his conquest to find his actual pj’s he buttons up a two-piece that is, naturally, covered with cats.

On his way out he notices a bit of black at the very front of the closet not fitting in with the color-coded organization. He pulls it out to find a gorgeous leather jacket that was completely devoid of cats! Huzzah! There was a note hanging from the sleeve which Marion unfolded.

Knew Bruce and Dick would be idiots so I got you something actually decent

I saw the room and yeah it's a fucken mess

If you ever need it gone or I don’t know accidentally set on fire give me a call

Marion chuckles knowing it could be no one else but Jason he tucks the note into the jacket, pulling it on to find a perfect fit. He keeps it on as a shield, something solidly not-cat is comforting at this point. He pushes the piles of cat toys onto the floor and seriously he was going to have to have a talk with Bruce about moderation and interior decorating. He lies down looking up at the ceiling, then immediately getting up and storming into Nette’s room. He was not going to sleep under a mural of cats! Nope not tonight! Not ever!

Marinette doesn't even look up from where she’s hunched over her desk as he flops onto her bed. Can someone be over the moon to be surrounded by ladybugs? Yes provided they have had an overexposure to cats first.

“I know we don’t want to go to school tomorrow but I can not stand a second more in that room,”

“Schools over Mari, it’s the concert tomorrow remember?”

“Goddammit,”

“Jasons having a bad influence on you,”

“Can’t we have just one day of rest?”

“No, now go to sleep,”

“You first,” Marion shoots, back despite curling up under the blankets.

“If you want to wear that jacket tomorrow you better take it off before it gets ruined,”

“I can wear it for the concert?” He shoots back up, excited but takes her advice anyway.

“ No I did not spend weeks designing a new jacket for you to wear that,” Besides it doesn't even have bats on the back,”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Marion yawns, sinking back into the bed, and wow it’s really soft, “What if we changed them to Robins?”

“... you really don’t want me to sleep tonight do you?”

“Means I get the whole bed to myself, a master plan if I do say so myself,” Marion doesn't even stir as the pillow hits him square in the face.

----------------------

Taglist:

@technicallyburninggarden @fusser90 @misslenamooney @superbwhispersconnoisseur @biodad-bruce-month @nalu-ismyjam @the-one-woman-army @rosesandsailboats @blackmagicforever @zeneralla @ivymala07 @tired-butterfly @Ranger-gothamite @A-star-with-a-human-name @enchanted-nerd @trippingovermyfeet

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littleabriel-blog · 3 years ago

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My Problem with Loki

Loki is a character beloved by many people. He has been for a decade now, although some people who read comics before the Marvel Cinematic Universe was a thing were fans of him long before the first Thor came out. Over the years since his appearance in that movie the character has gone through a lot of changes, evolving from a villain to an anti-hero both in the MCU and in the comics, the latter even killing off his original incarnation to reincarnate him in a younger body resembling Tom Hiddleston in the hopes that the comics could capitalize on his popularity in order to sell more books. That move, unfortunately, did not bear fruit, with Loki’s solo series being canceled after only five issues. However, Loki remained popular in the movies, so much so that when he was killed off in Infinity War, people were pissed.

As a result of his enduring popularity, Kevin Feige and company decided to give Loki his own solo series on Disney+ when the decision was made to create a string of MCU tie-in shows to supplement the movies, and boost subscription numbers to Disney’s new streaming service. Fans of the character rejoiced. Finally, our favorite character was going to be in the spotlight, and not be merely a supporting character for Thor and hopefully not a butt monkey for the Avengers like he was in the third act of the movie of the same name. WandaVision and The Falcon and The Winter Soldier had previously had well-received and successful debuts on that same platform, and it was hoped that Loki would do the same. Loki turned out to be the most successful of the Disney+ MCU shows that have come out so far, scoring highest in the ratings. As of this writing, it holds a 93% fresh rating on Rotten Tomatoes and an 8.5 on IMDb.

Those numbers, however, don’t reflect the entire audience and there were a lot of people who were not altogether happy with the product we received. Many people who had been hardcore fans of Loki since Tom Hiddleston first put on the horned helmet were not pleased, myself included.

The show wasn’t all bad. It did set up the multiverse, introduced Kang, introduced Mobius. The special effects were outstanding, a lot of the gags were hilarious, and we did get some character development from Loki before the spotlight fell away from him and he became all about panting after the real main character...more on that in a few.

So many things, however, were wrong.

If you liked the show, thought it was perfect, and were a fan of the romance, that’s perfectly fine. There is no such thing as a wrong opinion on a work of fiction. Everyone has their interpretations, everyone has their likes and dislikes, and there is nothing wrong with liking the show. There is also nothing wrong with not liking the show. This is a concept that people on both sides of the debate fail to understand, and I have witnessed flame wars, harassment from individuals on both sides, harassment of creators on social media from both sides, and various bits of biphobia, homophobia, transphobia, and other assorted types of phobias on display. I have seen people accuse people who have different opinions on the show than them of “not being a true Loki fan” and stating that people who have certain interpretations of the character don’t “truly know Loki”.

I’m not here to do that, and I assure you, if you liked the show, that’s fine. You’re allowed to. I’m allowed to not like it, and I’m allowed to explained why I didn’t like it just as you’re allowed to explain why you did. As long as both of us are being respectful, expressing an opinion is good. There is expressing an opinion and offering constructive criticism, however, and then there is namecalling, trolling, and having a tantrum and accusing someone of being “aggressive” when they don’t share the same opinion you do.

There is a huge difference between saying “I find the character of Sylvie to be problematic, and here is why” and “I think fans of Sylvie are sick and need therapy”, and people need to learn the difference between the two. Unfortunately, you have people who have become very protective of their favorite characters and tend to take any criticism leveled at said characters personally. It’s basically “You don’t like them? Well then you don’t like me, and since you don’t like me, I don’t like you.” Which is, frankly, a dangerous mentality to have. We are talking about fictional characters, not real people, and there is no need to jump to the defense of someone who does not exist. It is those people who tend to demonstrate that they have unstable personalities and immaturity, and they are the ones I have started blocking on Twitter because, being an adult woman, I don’t have the patience to deal with immature nonsense like that.

So, if you read this and then decide you want to hunt me down to give me a piece of your mind, tell me that I’m not a “true” fan of Loki, and accuse me of whatever, don’t bother. This piece isn’t here for that. It’s here because I wanted to compile my thoughts and feelings in a way that would better for me to articulate. It’s more or less a venting mechanism, purely for my benefit. If someone else gets something out of it, fine. If the creators of the show happen to see it, which is very unlikely because A) I’m not exactly going to push it onto them on their social media to get them to read it and B) they already get bombarded with tons of opinions on the show on a daily basis and aren’t going to care about one more voice added to the mix, even one who has basically compiled a novel, then alright.

And it is a novel, because I have a lot to say about Loki. I have been a huge fan of the character since long before Tom Hiddleston began playing him. My first encounter with Marvel’s Loki came in the form of the X-Men comics, specifically The Asgardian Wars run. It’s available in trade, and you should check it out. I read that run when I was around 10 years old, and I enjoyed Loki as the bad guy in the two stories that make up the collection. The first has him creating a special wish fountain that has a monkey’s paw effect in that it imbues mortals with special gifts and powers, and has the potential to make Earth a better place, but at the cost of killing every magical person and being on Earth. The X-Men and Alpha Flight find out about this after a plane piloted by the wife of one of the X-Men happens to crash in the general location the fountain is located. The two teams go to investigate, Shaman and Snowbird who are both magical beings begin dying, it’s discovered Loki created the fountain in order to score brownie points with The Ones Who Sit Above In Shadow (a pantheon of deities who are basically the Gods to the Asgardians), and after a lengthy battle Loki is defeated, he shuts down the fountain under pressure from The Ones, and slinks back to Asgard with tail between his legs.

In the second story, set after the heroes of Earth had helped Asgard defeat Surtur, Loki’s attention is caught by Storm, who at the time was depowered. He kidnaps her and brings her to Asgard intending to use her to replace Thor as the Goddess of the Storm, and use her as a pawn to, what else, conquer Asgard and seize the throne.

I really enjoyed Loki then, and felt sorry that he never appeared in any other X-Men story, not even in an issue of the New Mutants, and that team boasted an actual Valkyrie (Danielle Moonstar) as one of its members. I was a kid at the time and read pretty much exclusively X-Men since those were the books my father purchased for me. I never felt right about asking him for other books since we were a family with money struggles and I didn’t want to be more of a burden by requesting Thor or Avengers comics--that, and I just didn’t find Thor or the Avengers all that interesting at the time, a sentiment shared by a lot of people until the first Iron Man made us actually care about Tony Stark. I wouldn’t have an opportunity to start reading more comics featuring Loki until I was an adult and able to visit comic book stores on my own. I read several runs that featured him as a character, including Ragnarok, the Broxton, OK run where Loki first appeared as a woman, Dark Reign, and finally Siege. I also went back and read Walt Simonson’s legendary run on The Mighty Thor, which I highly recommend.

Suffice it to say, I’ve been a fan of the character for a long time, and in fact when Tom Hiddleston was cast in the role for Thor, I remember thinking that he was too young. But then I figured it was Hollywood, of course they’re going to deage Loki so that he appears closer in age to his adopted brother in contrast to the comics pre-Siege where Loki was often drawn to look like he was as old as Odin and therefore could be Thor’s uncle or even father as opposed to brother.

Over the years I grew to enjoy the MCU’s version of the character, enjoy Tom Hiddleston in the role, and like most other people was greatly saddened by his death in Infinity War. Like other fans, I looked forward to his solo series and had high hopes for it. Hopes that were, unfortunately, dashed.

It Was Rushed

In the MCU, it took Loki years to go from troubled young god, to villain, to ambivalent ally, to anti-hero, to hero. Literally, years. Months had passed between the end of Thor and the beginning of Avengers during which Loki endured who-knows-what at the hands of Thanos. We don’t know exactly what still. The Loki series didn’t answer that, I guess because they didn’t want to devote precious screentime to an interesting backstory for what was supposed to be the main character when they could focus on something else instead. That something else will be elaborated on.

In Episode 1, Loki is still the villain from Avengers, something he would have remained as into The Dark World. It would take him being in Asgard’s prisons for a year and then him accidentally getting his adopted mother Frigga killed in order for him to begin to do a heel-face turn. From this, we can clearly see that a transition from ax-crazy bad guy to anti-hero is not going to happen overnight. For this person I shall call Ragnarok Loki, it was a process that took time. He suffered a complete mental breakdown while in Asgard’s prison, a fragile emotional state that was compounded by the anger and massive guilt he felt at Frigga’s death.

Even after that, he still hadn’t completely abandoned his villainous ways. At the end of The Dark World we find out that after faking his supposed death earlier in the movie, Loki has assumed Odin’s form and taken his place on Asgard’s throne. In Ragnarok, Loki is still sitting on the throne in Odin’s form, and shows no indication at all that he feels any remorse for giving his adopted father amnesia, stripping away his magic, and abandoning him on Earth to whatever fate he might meet. Loki remains a selfish bastard throughout Ragnarok until the third act, after Thor had treated him to a taste of his own medicine by sticking a taser on him and then giving him a speech about becoming predictable and complacent.

Loki’s arc was one that spanned four movies and six years, since in-universe there were a couple of years between The Dark World and Ragnarok. That meant that his character development took actual time and was realistic. It was one of the things that drew people to the character, the fact that he had a very relatable and believable redemption arc.

Compare that to Episode 1. In less than a day he goes from being the Loki that we saw in Avengers, batshit crazy, selfish, callous, and untrusting, to making personal confessions to a man he had just met only a couple hours previously and agreeing to help the organization that had arrested, stripped, imprisoned, tried, and almost executed him.

What?

I will give the show this: In Episode 2, he shows that he’s still up to his old tricks when he feeds Mobius and the agents all that horsecrap about how a Loki works in the Ren Faire tent, and then revealing that he plans to take over the TVA when he confronts his variant in the futuristic Wal-Mart. The weeping confession to Mobius, that I can’t really get over. How do you go from haughty, arrogant, and “trust is for children and dogs”, to “I don’t enjoy hurting people” in just a couple of hours? The show never indicated that it was a manipulation tactic on Loki’s part. Instead, we were basically told to believe that they became friends just that fast. That emotionally stunted and closed-off Loki made a connection with another person in a matter of hours. Makes sense. Don’t get me wrong, I like Mobius and feel he makes a good foil for Loki. I hope to see more of him in the future. I just have a tough time finding their friendship all that believable.

This would not be the only relationship in the show that happened too fast that we were forced to just buy, which leads me to Sylvie.

She’s the variant that the TVA had been hunting, that Mobius recruited Loki to help capture. And while I normally hate it when people ascribe a certain label onto a new female character because reasons (ones that are usually misogynistic), I think it fits rather well in Sylvie’s case.

Enter The Mary Sue

Mary Sue is a term that gets thrown around a lot. To sum up the meaning in very simple terms, it refers to a character who is too perfect to be believable. Mary Sues are often author-self inserts in fiction, they’re usually the love interest for at least one male hero and it’s usually the male hero the author will admit to having a crush on, their scenes usually are presented much more descriptively than those of the other characters, the story will revolve around them often at the expense of the development and plots for the other characters of the story, and they’re presented as beautiful, powerful, intelligent, beautiful, special, strong, beautiful, and desirable. Yes, beautiful is on the list more than once, and it’s deliberate.

The term comes from an old Star Trek parody fanfic, and while it is usually applied to original characters in fan fiction, the term has been used to describe characters in canon media as well. Some examples of characters who have been described as Mary Sues would include Bella from the Twilight books, Felicity from the show Arrow, Jaenelle Angelline from Anne Bishop’s The Black Jewel novels, Sookie Stackhouse from True Blood, Rey from the last Star Wars trilogy, and Jean Grey from the X-Men comics. Note I do not necessarily agree that those characters are Mary Sues, I have merely heard these characters referred to as Mary Sues, and when I look at them objectively I can kind of see where the accusations come from. Some other terms that can apply are Creator’s Pet and of course Author Self-Insert. Not all Mary Sues are Author Self-Inserts, but a lot of them are. Also, not all characters who can be labeled Mary Sues are female, though they often are. The male version of a Mary Sue is called a Marty Stu, and a couple of characters I’ve seen get ascribed that label include Harry Potter, Daemon Sadi from Anne Bishop’s The Black Jewel novels, Edward from Twilight, and Red Hulk from Marvel Comics. Even Batman and Wolverine haven’t been immune from the Marty Stu stamp, although you can argue that it does apply in their cases especially depending on who’s writing them. Sometimes it is painfully obvious they are author self-inserts...the aforementioned Bella is a good example. Others, you can only speculate on. And while there are theories going around that Sylvie is someone’s self-insert, we don’t have definitive proof of that.

There are good arguments, however, for her being labeled a Mary Sue and Creator’s Pet.

First are her powers. In the show we are told that Sylvie taught herself magic, especially her ability to “enchant”, the power to get into the minds of others and manipulate them. The fact that she taught herself would indicate that her education and skill in using magic should be lacking, right? She should not be as good as, say, someone who learned magic from his foster mother who herself was taught by Asgardian witches?

Yet in the show, Sylvie not only runs circles around Loki magically wise, she even teaches him a few tricks. This is startlingly in contrast to the comics. Loki’s Sylvie is partially based on the character Sylvie Lushton from the Young Avengers, a bad guy who was once a normal girl whom Loki imbued with powers before his death at the hands of the Sentry during the events of 2010’s Siege storyline. In the comics, Loki not only gave Sylvie her powers, but he was the one who taught her how to use them. Now, of course things in the MCU are not going to follow the way things are in the comics. MCU Loki is nowhere near as old as comics Loki and has so far not demonstrated the ability to give other beings powers. And MCU Sylvie is a composite of Sylvie Lushton and Lady Loki, which is also problematic, but we’ll get to that.

But the point is that Sylvie had no training. Her magic is some improvised slapped-together stuff that at best she picked up here and there and at worst she just pulled out of her ass. Now, knowing that, we’re supposed to buy that she can mop the floor magically wise with someone who was formally trained by a sorceress? And that furthermore, she can school him as well?

To make up for her lack of experience and knowledge, Loki is nerfed. Power wise and intellectually wise, he is nerfed. In Thor and Avengers Loki is smart, well-spoken, and a master manipulator. At one point he is able to turn all of the Avengers against one another, and while his magic has never been anywhere near the level it was at in the comics pre-Siege (after his resurrection, he was powered down and is currently nowhere near the powerhouse he had been prior to 2011) he was able to pull off some impressive displays of skill nonetheless. Shape shifting, illusion casting, it was a good repertoire.

In Episode 3, however...well, he does use teleportation to some impressive affect during his fight with Sylvie, but he still doesn’t get the upperhand. And he should. Loki is a better trained fighter, better trained in sorcery, and realistically should have at the least managed to incapacitate his variant. He doesn’t however, because the moment he meets Sylvie his IQ drops about 20 points. He falls easily for her tricks, makes laughable plans, gets drunk and draws too much attention when he knows that is a bad idea, and manages to get them both stuck on a moon that will soon be dust courtesy of the rogue planet about to crash into it. Loki has made some blunders in the various MCU movies he’s been in, mostly due to his own arrogance and tendency to underestimate his foes, but he’s not that stupid. In fact, in The Dark World he screams at Thor and calls him an idiot for drawing attention to themselves by hijacking an elven ship and crashing into every column and statue within a fifty-foot radius.

Where exactly is that smart, calculating, more careful Loki we know from the films? He’s been transformed and dumbed down, in an attempt to prop Sylvie up. It’s a tired trope, making the male character a dumbass in order to make the female character look good. Well, I should say male-presenting and female-presenting characters in this case, but their supposed gender fluidity really is not represented well and it’s completely contradicted later on, but we’ll get to that.

Anyway, making the male character stupid in order to make the female character look better by comparison is not empowering. It’s insulting. It implies that women are not smart or capable enough to meet men on equal footing, that the only way we can shine is not by virtue of our own strengths, but merely by making us look better than the men.

She doesn’t just outshine Loki intellectually and power wise, she outshines him period. The show from Episode 3 on becomes about Sylvie. She is the show’s main focus, and Loki? He’s relegated to the role of supporting character in the series that’s named after him. Supporting character, and love interest. From Episode 3 on, the show might as well be called Sylvie.

Now, some people will say that since Sylvie is a Loki, the show was indeed focusing on Loki. The problem is, the show is very inconsistent as to whether or not Sylvie really is a Loki or a different person entirely. I will explain more later, but the writers seem to change Sylvie’s identity to suit whatever narrative they want to present to the audience, including the pre-Pixar Disney romance they foist upon us.

The Romance, and why some find it gross

One major characteristic of the Mary Sue is that she always draws the romantic and sexual interest of the main male character, who may or may not be a Marty Stu himself. Oftentimes he’s not, and Loki does not fit the criteria of a Marty Stu by any stretch of the imagination. These romances always happen fast with little to no buildup. There is no what writers of romance call “slow burn”, it’s just throw Mary at the male character, hook them up, and get the audience to buy it. Basically, it’s reminiscent of the romance stories in the Classical Era Disney animated films. Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, and Cinderella all fall madly in love with their princes within minutes of meeting them. There’s no getting to know each other, there is no preamble, there is no slow courtship, no real drama to speak of. It’s basically Love At First Sight or True Love. This trend continues even into the Disney Renaissance. In The Little Mermaid, Ariel is willing to make a deal with a witch to give up her fins for a prince she hasn’t even spoken to yet. He doesn’t even know she exists, and she leaves her home and family behind, gives up her voice, all for a mere shot at hooking up with him.

That’s not love, that’s lust. That’s hormones overruling your brain, and it’s an insulting trope, one that feminists have railed against for years. Disney has made a little progress. The movie Frozen took the mickey out of the Love At First Sight/True Love trope with the song “Love Is An Open Door” and the prince Anna wanting to marry turning out to be a major sleazebag who just wants to use her, but we still only have three Disney princesses (Elsa, Moana, and Merida) who have never had love interests and two (Anna and Rapunzel) whose love stories come close to being slow burns, out of 12 official Princesses. There’s still a long way to go, and boy is there a major step backwards in Loki.

In Episode 3, Loki fights Sylvie and they end up on Lamentis 1. Sylvie spends a good portion of the time insulting and trying to kill Loki, and Loki finds himself having to defend himself from her. That changes once they get on the train going to the Arc. After sneaking aboard the train using a disguise and a flimsy story, the two Lokis sit in a booth, where Loki proceeds to drink champagne. It is then that, out of nowhere, the conversation shifts from how Sylvie learned her powers to the topic of love.

Why? Why would you bring that up in conversation with someone who was doing her best to kill you a couple hours prior?

Then Loki makes things worse by asking Sylvie if she has a beau waiting for her. Why? It doesn’t make sense. The two of you are at each other’s throats, she’s done her best to kill you, neither of you trusts the other, and, completely out of left field, you decide to basically ask “So...are you single?”

Now, enemies to lovers is a trope that can work when done right. Typically, it’s a very subtle, slow progression that the audience witnesses over time in a novel, movie or television series. Weeks and even months will go by in the narrative during which the two people go from wanting each other dead to developing feelings for one another. There’s usually a “will they, won’t they period” that lasts for some time that’s full of teases and flirting before the couple does hook up and gives the audience the resolution. Done in this way, enemies to lovers can work.

This...this is not the right way to do enemies to lovers. Within a couple of hours Loki and Sylvie go from hatred and doing their damnedest to stabbing one another in the backs, to having a connection that causes a nexus event?

By the way, that nexus event makes no sense. In Episode 2, it is established that it is impossible to create a nexus event in an apocalypse. It is why Sylvie was able to avoid capture by the TVA for so long. In fact, just minutes prior to the two of them almost dying in Episode 4, Sylvie flat-out says that she figured out that she needed to hide in apocalypses because she discovered she didn’t create a nexus event when she hid in them.

Now the two of them are able to create a nexus event in the midst of an apocalypse? Why? Their “connection” isn’t going to lead to any consequences...they were about to die. No one else need never have known about the “moment” the two of them shared. It’s very confusing and the only purpose it really serves is to paint Loki and Sylvie as soulmates, which doesn’t make sense in the context of the show. The concept of soulmates is that for every person, there is someone out there they are predestined to be with. Loki is a show that, at the core of it, is about rejecting predestination and embracing free will. In that context, the idea of soulmates is ludicrous and contradictory to the message that we make our own destiny. This is why True Love is unrealistic, and I hate to break it to you romantics out there, but Love At First sight does not exist.

Infatuation At First Sight exists, but that is not Love, no matter what your hormones are telling you. Love takes time to evolve, and it takes work to maintain. It sure as hell doesn’t happen after less than 12 hours of knowing each other, during which a huge chunk of time was devoted to trying to manipulate, outsmart, and murder the person you’re supposedly in love with. No one falls in love in less than 12 hours, period, unless it’s a Classical Era Disney animated movie. They basically turned Loki into a big Disney Romance trope. I have a very hard time buying that Loki, who we have established is emotionally stunted and closed off, would form a love connection in just a few hours, especially with someone who was doing her best to murder him in that timespan.

That is not the only reason this relationship is problematic. The term “Selfcest” has been thrown around, and a lot of defenders of this particular ship claim that the term was very recently made up in social media for the sole purpose of badmouthing this particular romance. That is not the case. Selfcest is a term that has existed among fiction writers for years, it’s just that more people have recently become aware of it thanks to this show. The trope has been used and referred to in various works of fiction, especially in fantasy and science fiction where cloning, alternative universes, and magic occur. A lot of the insults I get from people who can’t stand that I don’t like the romance basically go along the lines of saying selfcest doesn’t exist. No, it doesn’t...in reality. But this isn’t reality, is it? It’s fiction. It’s a fictional world where such a thing could be possible, and even in works where it’s not possible it’s often alluded to.

In A Song Of Ice And Fire, we have the infamous twincest relationship going on between Cersei and Jamie Lannister, and it is heavily implied that sleeping with her brother is the closest that Cersei can get to banging herself and that is why she does it. Jamie is basically everything she feels she should have been and was denied due to being born a woman. In fact, in later books when he reunites with her after having been away from King’s Landing for over a year, during which time he’s grown a beard and shaved his head, Cersei no longer finds him as attractive since they no longer look as much alike.

And with advances in cloning, selfcest might be possible in the future. We already have sex robots, and people with money are capable of making those robots look like themselves. There is nothing stopping them from doing it.

Knowing all of this, the argument of “selfcest doesn’t exist!” falls flat. And it especially falls flat when you’re referring to a fictional universe where a large purple man once killed off half the population of said universe with a snap of his fingers, where scientists turn into giant green monsters, the Norse gods not only exist but regularly interact with people on Earth, and there’s such a thing as a Sorcerer Supreme.

As I have said, the show has been rather inconsistent in stating what exactly Sylvie’s identity is. One moment, we are told Sylvie is a Loki and that she and Loki are the same person. Mobius says it, Kang says it multiple times, Judge Renslayer says it, the director and the writers state it in interviews. But then in the next breath, they contradict it by saying that she’s not a Loki, she’s Sylvie and a different person.

You can’t have it both ways. Which is it? Either she’s a Loki, or she’s not. The narrative is very confusing and it changes depending on how they want us to see Sylvie, especially in relation to her romance with Loki. It’s so much easier to avoid the selfcest/incest accusations when you can say they are different people. But then they say they’re the same person. Make up your minds!

Since the show first established that Sylvie is a Loki, I’m going with that. Especially since we saw a bit of her backstory. She grew up in Asgard as a member of the royal family, which means she had Odin as a father, Frigga as mother, and Thor as brother. She may or may not have the same DNA as Loki. We never got confirmation either way, and there are people who argue that they don’t to which I have to ask: How do you know? The show never tells us! “Oh, well, there’s Alligator Loki, are you going to say he has the same DNA as well?” Well, we are never told how exactly Alligator Loki came to be. Is he actually an alligator, or is he Loki who somehow got permanently stuck when he shapeshifted? People tend to forget that he can do that. Ragnarok established that he can turn into a snake, and a deleted scene actually had the childhood story go that Loki turned into a rug to cover a hole in the ground and then dumped Thor into it. There is the scene where Doctor Strange drops Loki through a portal, and Thor is left poking at a business card, and it is clear that for a moment he thinks that Loki turned into that. We know Loki can shapeshift, so Alligator Loki can very well have the same DNA. We just don’t know, because the show never explains it for the same reason the show cut out the scenes with Throg fighting Loki...to devote more screentime to Sylki.

Even if they don’t have the same DNA, it’s still established that they are the same person, they have the same family, they’re both the God/dess of Mischief, and even Sylvie herself acknowledges that she is a Loki despite the fact that she changed her name. So selfcest very much applies here, and a good argument can be made that selfcest is the ultimate in incest...after all, there isn’t anyone else you’re more related to than yourself. It is very understandable, therefore, that a lot of people would be very, very uncomfortable with such a relationship. Having the same DNA would merely be the icing on the very gross cake.

Furthermore, just because selfcest does not exist in reality does not mean someone can’t find the concept distasteful. “It’s not real!” “It’s just fiction!” Yes, and people are allowed to have their own feelings and opinions on fiction. If they find the idea of selfcest hard to stomach, that’s their prerogative and you really have no right to tell them they are wrong for feeling that way. They should not have to justify to anyone why they feel that way either. No one owes you an explanation for why they find real world incest or cannibalism distasteful, so they don’t owe you an explanation for this.

“Well, of course Loki would fall for himself...he’s a narcissist!” Is he though? Is he really? Having dealt with my fair share of narcissists in my life, I have to wonder if the fans who say that, along with the writers, know what a narcissist really is.

Is Loki a narcissist?

Bringing up Cersei Lannister again, the novels she appears in establishes that she is an extreme narcissist. She sleeps with her twin brother because it’s the closest she can come to sleeping with herself, and she desires to do that because she is a narcissist. A narcissist is someone whose personality is defined by an inflated sense of self-importance, troubled relationships, lack of empathy for others, and an excessive deep-seated need for attention and admiration. It’s a very simplistic definition, and there are plenty of YouTube videos devoted to delving into narcissists into more depth, as well as videos on how to cope with the aftermath of abuse at the hands of narcissists. Narcissists are so devoted to themselves that they ignore the needs and the feelings of those in their lives, which often results in abusive behavior. There are entire support groups that exist for victims of narcissists.

At first glance, one can see why some might consider Loki a narcissist. He does engage in some pretty selfish behavior, he goes to great lengths to get attention, his relationships to his family are indeed fraught with drama, and he seems to have a pretty overinflated ego. He even goes so far as to write a play featuring himself as the central character, and build a giant golden statue of himself after taking over Asgard in the guise of Odin. But really, is his ego truly that big? Or he is overcompensating for his self-hatred and self-disgust?

Loki suffered quite the emotional blow when he found out his true heritage, a revelation that shook him to his very core. Of course, his relationship with his father suffered as a result...the man lied to him for his entire life. Their relationship really was not that great even before that since Odin found it easier to relate to Thor, who was more like him in personality, than to Loki, who was more cerebral and quieter. Loki’s relationship to Frigga fared much better. He’s quick to forgive her involvement in covering up the truth about his parentage, and it is obvious that they are close. Even his relationship with Thor prior to the events of the movie is not all that bad, the two brothers are affectionate and playful, and when Loki interrupts Thor’s coronation, it’s not just for the sake of creating trouble, but to postpone Thor taking the crown for another little while because he is not fit to rule. At the time Thor had yet to go through his character development arc on Earth and he was still an overly arrogant, bloodthirsty, elitist douchebag, so Loki really had a good point.

A true narcissist would have done what Loki did just for the sake of making life difficult for Thor. Also, he would have done it because he wanted the throne. Loki states repeatedly that he never wanted to rule. A true narcissist would have been all smiles about taking the throne instead of being reluctant about it as Loki was when Frigga handed him Gungnir.

Throughout the films, and in the first episode of the series, we see that Loki does indeed love his family and is capable of feeling guilt over the things that he does to them, intentionally or not. Narcissists typically don’t feel remorse. As far as they are concerned, they are perfect and can do no wrong, so they have nothing to feel bad about. If they hurt you, it’s because you deserved it. You shouldn’t have provoked their ire.

Loki feels bad for getting Frigga killed, and then later on Odin. Then he is in tears when Odin dies, and later at the mere thought of never seeing Thor again when the two brothers talk in an elevator on Sakaar. Those are not the actions of someone who is incapable of loving anyone but himself, as I’ve seen so many people claim about him. And the fact that he sacrificed himself to save his brother also kind of kills the whole “narcissist” narrative.

In Episode 1, Loki breaks down and confesses to Mobius that he doesn’t like hurting people. He does it because it’s part of the façade, and admits that he sees himself as weak. A few episodes later, he admits to a memory illusion Sif that he craves attention “because I’m a narcissist” and admits to being afraid of being alone. That is far more self-reflection than a typical narcissist is capable of in my experience. As I said, narcissists tend to think they are perfect. A true narcissist would never admit to having any flaws, and sure as hell would never admit that they are a narcissist. As far as the true narcissist is concerned, if you find them flawed in any way, that’s on you. The narcissist has no need for self-reflection because they honestly see nothing wrong with themselves, and believe that they don’t need to change...it’s everyone else who does.

A good real-life example from my past is a former friend I’ll call D. D was a self-proclaimed brat who was quite proud of the fact that she could be difficult to be in a relationship with and tended to go through men like tissue paper. She was demanding, self-centered, extremely jealous, manipulative, and prone to wild mood swings. She could and did go from zero to insane at the drop of a hat. In the time I knew her, she left a string of burnt guys behind, and according to her it was because they just weren’t man enough to handle her. She also left behind a string of broken former friends, to the point where there really needed to be a support group for former friends of D who suddenly had her turn them into Public Enemy Number 1 when they either started taking attention away from D, or...well, that was it really. As I said, she was a very jealous person and had a chronic need to be the center of attention, especially if there were men around. Anyway, instead of working on herself to become less self-involved, self-absorbed, and more empathetic, she double downed on her abrasiveness and constant need for attention until she finally wore the poor man down and he either ghosted her or outright dumped her. She never broke up with them, preferring to keep them around for as long as they were willing in order to toy with them as a cat does with a mouse. I tried to talk to her about her horrible behavior, but instead of taking my constructive criticism and maybe using it to make some needed changes, she completely turned on me and did her best to make my life hell until I finally cut her out of it. I learned two things: Narcissists don’t want help because they don’t feel they need it and they are never going to change as a result, and never, ever try to confront a narcissist. It’ll only end badly.

A more famous example? Former US President Donald Trump. I won’t get into that, because really all you need to do is perform a quick Google search to see what all he’s done and witness his narcissism on full display. But really, place him side by side with Loki. Do you see any similarities at all? Maybe on the surface, but when you go deeper...no. Loki is not a narcissist. He’s capable of deep self-reflection, owns his faults, is capable of loving others, and feels remorse. I would argue that anyone who says he is a narcissist, either does not know the character, or hasn’t ever actually dealt with a narcissist in real life, to which I can only say: Lucky you.

I honestly would argue that calling Loki a narcissist is actually doing a disservice to victims of abuse from actual narcissists.

What about Sylvie? Well, in contrast to Loki who does show remorse while Mobius is playing that “This Is Your Life” reel for him, Sylvie shows no remorse or regret. She knows that the TVA agents she kills are as much victims as she is. They are innocent variants who were kidnapped from Earth and forced to work for the TVA after having their memories wiped. She knows this, yet the first time we see her she burns a bunch of TVA agents alive, and she just stands there watching as they scream in agony. In the next episode she says right out that she’s “having some fun” while possessing the body of C-90 and murdering more agents. She is not at all sorry about doing what she did, and we’re supposed to be understanding since she was kidnapped as a child. Okay, but the entire TVA didn’t do that. The agents she kills didn’t personally kidnap her. The only one we see who was directly involved in that is Renslayer. Sylvie “did what she had to do”, fine. But she doesn’t feel bad about it, at all. The flashback to her as a child takes great pains to try to show us what a good person she is when she cries out “Help him!” as another prisoner is being beaten, but I guess she grew out of it.

We don’t know if Sylvie has any other narcissistic traits besides lack of remorse because, well, the show really doesn’t do much to show her personality. Other than killing people, trying to kill Loki, and then flirting with Loki, we just don’t really see much to her. It’s another trait of a Mary Sue. Mary Sues often have bland, one-dimensional personalities. After all, their only purpose is usually to serve as love interests for one or more male characters. Mary Sues break the “show, don’t tell” rule by having the other characters verbally inform us about their traits, usually while singing their praises, but we don’t actually see those traits in the Mary Sue herself.

Loki calls Sylvie “amazing”, but how amazing is she, really? She kills people she knows are victims, she endangers the timeline just to sneak into the TVA, and then she kills Kang despite knowing that there is a very good chance that doing so could unleash something far, far worse than him. Then again, it doesn’t have to make sense when you’re pushing an unwanted and unasked for romance on an audience who was expecting a scifi show, not a romance.

I have spoken in a few places about this. Romance is fine, but in a show that blatantly places itself in the scifi genre, it really should only be the background, not center stage. When I expressed this opinion, I got accused of being dismissive of an essential part of the human experience. Well, first of all, congratulations: You just invalidated the existence of people on the asexual and aromantic spectrums, not to mention people who are celibate by choice. Second, that is why we have the romance genre. To tell stories centered around romance. I like romance, I read romance novels, and I sometimes write romantic fiction. But there are some places where it just is not appropriate.

There are people who say that adding romance makes things more interesting. Nope, in those cases it’s just a smokescreen, something used to hide plot holes and distract us from just how empty the story really is. Writers like to say that if you need a romance to make things more interesting, then you really don’t have much of a story in the first place. And sadly, Loki does have some plot holes. The nexus event on Lamentis is a good example, and the romance is definitely used to distract us from that. People were so focused on “oh wow, they’re having a moment, they’re soulmates!” that they didn’t think “waitaminute...didn’t they say that nexus events can’t occur in apocalypses?”

We really did not need a romance in Loki. Period. It was unnecessary, it was distracting, a lot of people found it disturbing, and it actively hurt a marginalized group.

Loki Is A Queer Icon!...maybe

I am not going to say that the relationship between Loki and Sylvie is not a bisexual one. A bisexual relationship is a bisexual relationship regardless of whether or not the person the bisexual person is with is the opposite sex. Saying otherwise is biphobic. Biphobic people in both the straight and the queer communities have been excluding bisexual people who happen to be in opposite sex relationships for years because apparently one stops being bisexual once they get into a relationship with someone of the opposite sex. This is horseshit. I’ve been in relationships with CIS men, did I stop being attracted to other men, women, nonbinary, genderfluid, agender, and other genderqueer people? No. No, I didn’t, because while I was entangled, I was not dead. Heterosexual people don’t stop being attracted to other members of the opposite sex when they are in relationships, it’s no different with queer people.

So, stop saying that Loki and Sylvie are not a bisexual relationship. You’re not doing us any favors at all, and in fact you’re only helping the biphobes who want to kick us out of Pride and other queer spaces for daring to date members of the opposite sex.

I will address the “Bit of both” line however. In Episode 3, Loki has that response to Sylvie’s questioning about whether there had been any would-be princesses or princes in his life. Again, a conversation that comes out of nowhere. She stated outright that she didn’t trust him, clearly wanted him dead, and now she’s asking if he’s single. Whatever.

Anyway, people went nuts when Loki answered “A bit of both”. It was confirmation that Loki was bisexual, it was celebrated on social media...and it is really biphobic and Kate Herron, who is bisexual herself, really should have known better.

Biphobic people have long tried to sow division between the bi and trans communities (unsurprisingly, biphobia and transphobia tend to go hand-in-hand) by saying that the concept of being bisexual is transphobic. “Bi” means two, ergo bisexual people are only attracted to two genders, specifically CIS men and CIS women. It never occurs to anyone that the “two genders” a bisexual person could be attracted to could be, say, women (and yes, I include trans women in that, since they are in fact women, get over it) and non-binary people, or agender and gender-fluid people, it’s always CIS men and CIS women. This despite the fact that the definition of bisexual has been “attraction to more than one gender” since long before the Bisexual Manifesto was put out in 1990.

Some people have tried to remedy this by adopting the moniker of “pansexual” instead, which A) is basically reinforcing what biphobes are saying about bisexuals and creating even more division and B) doesn’t just mean “attraction to trans people as well, I’m not transphobic, I promise!” “Pansexual” is not interchangeable with “bisexual”. Pansexual is attraction to all genders. Bisexual means attraction to more than one gender, but not necessarily to all genders. You can have a bisexual person, for instance, who is attracted to all genders except for men. If you are attracted to more than one gender, but not to all genders, you are bisexual, and labeling yourself pansexual is lying and basically caving in to the biphobes.

I’m not trying to police what people call themselves...if you want to use the two terms interchangeably, if you want to call yourself bisexual, or pansexual, it’s fine. But just evaluate the reasons why. Are you calling yourself pansexual because you really think you can be, or are you just calling yourself that out of fear of being labeled transphobic? The latter, in my opinion, is not a really good reason, and it only helps deliver the biphobic message that bisexual people are transphobic.

So, by saying “a bit of both”, Loki is really helping to reinforce that biphobic assertion that bisexual people are attracted just to CIS men and CIS women. It’s disappointing, but it is Disney so I suppose that is the best we can expect for now. It just shows that Disney really has a long way to go.

What’s more problematic is the supposed genderfluid representation. Now, I am a CIS woman. As such, I feel unqualified to really say that the representation is shitty and fluidphobic. However, if I’m not qualified to say that it is, then Kate Herron and the writers are unqualified to say that it isn’t. Rule of thumb: If members of a marginalized group are telling you that you did a poor job of representing them and that you are being transphobic or fluidphobic, instead of ignoring and dismissing their concerns like a good portion of the population already does, it’s a really good idea to listen to what they are saying and learn how you can do better.

There have been some genderfluid and trans people who expressed that they liked the show, and good for them. But I have seen a lot of very valid criticisms and concerns from genderfluid and trans people about the representation on the show, and I think they really should be listened to. Kate, you and I are queer, but we are still CIS women. Ergo, we have no say in whether or not the way you attempted to present Loki’s gender fluidity is transphobic. If genderfluid people say it’s fluidphobic or trans people say it’s transphobic, then it is indeed fluidphobic/transphobic. To say otherwise is gaslighting a marginalized community who already faces gaslighting on a daily basis.

I will touch on a couple of things.

First, in Episode 5, Loki asks a bunch of his variants if they have ever encountered a female version of themselves, a question that is met with varying levels of incredulousness and even disgust. If Loki was truly genderfluid, this question wouldn’t have been asked. Genderfluid means the person shifts genders along the spectrum. Loki does this in the comics. Comicbook Loki switches between masculine and feminine presenting on the drop of a dime, especially in his current incarnation. Loki in the MCU we are told is also genderfluid, and should also be able to hop along the gender spectrum on a whim. There should not be a “female variant” therefore, since they are all the same gender. There could be a female presenting variant, but that is not the same thing. They would still be all genderfluid in that case. Also, Sylvie’s nexus event would not have been “being born the Goddess of Mischief”. Okay, the show never actually says that is the nexus event that led to her being arrested, but it heavily implies it. If Sylvie is a Loki, and as a Loki is genderfluid, her being the “Goddess” of Mischief should never have been an issue since they can change genders anyway.

Second, making Lady Loki a separate person is problematic. A lot of genderfluid people felt that this move invalidated their identity by basically showing that the same person cannot indeed be different genders along the spectrum. I don’t feel I’m totally qualified to really get into this. I will just say that if you’re going to write a genderfluid character, maybe at least get an actual genderfluid person to advise in the writing room.

Third, there is a transphobic movement called trans exclusionary radical feminism. You might have heard of it. Unfortunately, it is a very widespread movement that has done a lot of harm to the trans community, successfully blocking funding to organizations that help trans people, blocking laws that would benefit trans people, and the movement includes celebrities like Graham Linehan and JK Rowling.

One of the weapons they like to use against trans women is the concept of “autogynephilia”. It is basically the sexual fetish of becoming aroused from thinking of oneself as a woman. Many, many of these transphobic “feminists” love to say that trans women are merely men who have this particular sexual fetish.

It’s bullshit of course. Maybe there is a small segment of the male population that has that fetish, but trans women are not included in that. For trans women, things like dressing as women, changing their names, having state and federal issued IDs that say they are female, and being able to use the restrooms and change rooms that match the gender they actually are as opposed to the one they were assigned at birth is not a matter of sexual arousal. It’s a matter of making their external realities match their internal ones. It’s a matter of validation of their identities as women. Sexual gratification has nothing to do with it.

Now, Loki is not trans, but genderfluid people do tend to fall under the trans umbrella. We have Loki, a supposedly genderfluid individual and masculine presenting, falling head over heels in love with a feminine presenting version of himself. Maybe it’s just me, but it just seems like a form of autogynephilia to me.

Way to go, Kate...you just gave the TERFs more ammo.

One more note: At one point, Kate tweeted a list of the different Loki emojis, and “jokingly” included #FiretruckLoki with an emoji of a firetruck. Kate, you do realize that a “joke” transphobes love to harp on is that they can identify as an attack helicopter, right?

It’s his way of learning self-love!

That is not how you learn self-love.

First, the people who are making this argument often contradict themselves by then saying that Sylvie is a different person. Again, make up your minds. Either Sylvie is the same person as Loki, or she’s not. You can’t have it both ways, and you can’t continue to change the narrative to fit whatever it is you want to shove down the audience’s throats.

Second, romantic love and self-love are two different things entirely. Loki isn’t feeling self-love with Sylvie, he’s feeling romantic love. That’s not learning self-love. That's narcissism, and it’s character regression in his case. He’s supposed to be evolving past being a self-centered, egotistical shitweasel, and falling in love with a variant of himself makes him, as Mobius put it, “a seismic narcissist”. It’s not character development.

Third, this argument tends to come in the same breath as saying that Loki is a narcissist so of course he would fall for a variant of himself. If Loki is a narcissist though, why would he need to learn self-love? Narcissists already love themselves, that is the very definition of the word. If Loki needs to learn self-love, that would imply that he actually hates himself, which is the opposite of narcissism. Again, the writers and the fans who make these arguments when they feel the need to defend this relationship need to make up their minds. Either he’s a narcissist and therefore already loves himself too much, or he hates himself and needs to learn to love himself. It’s once again changing the narrative to fill a plothole.

Fourth, the whole learning self-love and trust narrative is completely thrown out the window in Episode 6 when Sylvie decides to toy with Loki’s emotions, using his feelings for her against him by kissing him as a distraction so she could grab Kang’s temp pad and toss Loki back to the TVA. To Sylvie, her revenge was more important than the bond she had with him. The move basically set Loki’s progress back several steps. What little progress he made anyway.

TL:DR, is there hope for Season 2?

Whew, this went on for a while, didn’t it? Told you I had a lot to say.

As I have said, if you liked the first season of Loki and think I am completely full of shit, that’s fine and it’s your prerogative. More power to you.

But, and this is a huge but, that does not give you the right to harass and bully people who did not like it.

I have witnessed horrible things from both sides of the now split Loki fandom on social media. Harassment and even death threats towards the creators. Telling people who don’t like the Loki and Sylvie relationship that they need to drink bleach. Homophobic attacks. Gatekeeping.

There’s constructive criticism and sharing your opinions, and then there is...this.

Both sides need to chill.

Anyway.

Even though Kate Herron has left the show, Michael Waldron is still the showrunner and as such I am not altogether optimistic for Season 2. I would like to see more emphasis on Loki himself for that season. Yes, it’s a novel thought, wanting a show that is called Loki to actually be about Loki, but here we are.

I would like to see actual character development in Loki rather than the old “true love transforms bad boy and conquers all” trope. There is a reason Disney has started to abandon that trope in their animated movies. They’ve been getting dragged about it for decades.

If Sylvie must return, there needs to be some actual consistency surrounding her character. The show needs to decide if she is a Loki or not and stick with whichever one they decide. And seriously, no more romance. Frankly, after what she pulled in Episode 6, I will be severely disappointed if the writers have Loki crawling back to her. That would make him pathetic, and Loki deserves better.

Really, Loki does not need a romance, period. He’s too emotionally immature, he has a lot of character growth to go through, and a romance would do nothing but be a distraction and an impediment to that growth. Anyone who got married too young can confirm that it is important to learn more about yourself and figure yourself out before you even think of getting involved with another person, who should not be your whole world. The Loki and Sylvie romance was reminding me of Classic Disney in another not-good way in that the two of them, especially on Loki’s side, were starting to revolve around one another and that does not make for a healthy relationship. Again, turning Loki into a Disney Prince (or, seeing as how he’s supposed to be genderfluid, Princess). Stop it.

Again, the romance was a smokescreen. It was a distraction from just how thin the plot was. Please, for the love of G-d, give more focus to the actual plot.

Do some research and talk to some psychologists for healthy ways Loki can “learn self-love" and develop as a character. If Ragnarok Loki can do it without relying on a romance with a variant with himself, then surely TVA Loki can pull it off.

Speaking of talking to people, listen to the concerns of the trans and genderfluid fans. Listen, talk to them, maybe get a couple in the writer’s room. CIS people should not write genderfluid people, and this season is a good example of why.

Please remember that Loki is not an idiot. Yes, he has pulled some fast ones and hasn’t been the greatest planner, but he is not downright stupid like he was in season 1.

And...really that’s all I have. As I have said, this thesis really wasn’t about making suggestions to the creators because I seriously doubt they will ever even see this. This was more less me screaming into the void, venting because I was that upset about what I saw as character assassination happening to one of my favorite characters. Keeping all of this in was proving to be bad for my blood pressure.

I am attached to the character, have been for years. Loki is just one character in the MCU who I love, who I want to see done right. I had been looking forward to his solo series for a very long time, and the disappointment I felt was something that I just couldn’t keep in. I kept my mouth shut when they killed off Tony Stark for no reason other than that Ronnie Downey, Jr. didn't want to renew his contract. I didn’t say anything at the Russo Brothers’ “happy ending” for Steve Rogers, even though I feel it made no sense and is a massive plot hole.

What they did to Loki, however...I couldn’t keep silent.

#loki series negativity #anti sylki

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edettethegreat · 4 years ago

Text

How to stage King Lear so that Edmund’s 100% more sympathetic and Gloucester’s 100% more of a jerk

( the prequel )

( the sequel )

(This is 100% about Edmund. If you wanna read stuff about other characters then this isn’t the post for you)

(Seriously this isn’t about anyone other than Edmund)

(This is your final warning- enjoy!)

(Or don’t I don’t care I’m really tired and I have midterms to study for)

General Staging

-every time Edmund and Gloucester are on stage together, they gravitate away from each other. Kinda like what happens when you try to push two magnets together. If one takes a step towards the other, the other moves away.

-Gloucester rarely ever looks at Edmund. He often walks in front of him when both are walking together. In scenes where a three way conversation is taking place between himself, Edmund, and someone else, he looks at the other person the whole time.

-Edmund faces away from people when he’s lying to them. Often by standing in front of them (but like, across the stage from them so the audience can see them both) (like this—->)

(I deleted the picture accidentally this is not ok now I have to draw it again)

Casting/ Costumes

-(I’m only gonna be talking about the characters that I actually care about how they’re cast)

-Edmund: someone of average height, yet shorter than Gloucester, Edgar, and Cornwall. Around the same height as Albany and Goneril. Taller than Regan. Is attractive (obviously. That’s one of the first things we’re told about him), but leaning more towards cute than hot (as per my analysis in a previous post). Wears shades of grey- all of his costumes make it clear that he’s upper class, but they’re not overly flashy.

-Gloucester: If I get even one Santa Claus vibe, I’m gonna punch a wall. He should have zero resemblance to Santa. I just saw a production of Lear where he may as well have been a mall Santa. I wanted to scream. Anyway. Onto what he should look like. I honestly don’t care, as long as i can’t mistake him for Santa. It’s the vibe that counts. ANYWAY. His costume is obnoxiously ostentatious, but it gets gradually more normal as the overall stress level increases.

-Edgar: taller than Edmund, and physically more muscular, but in like “Disney channel movie football player side character who’s no one’s primary love interest and is kinda dumb” sort of way. (Future Edette Editing: What I meant was “he’s a himbo”) He’s not ultra hot, but he’s not exactly ugly either. He’s pretty average looking. He wears shades of brown, because I feel like that suits him.

-Cornwall: tall but doesn’t give off Tall Person Vibes. Preferably with dark brown or black hair, but other colors can work as well. I cannot imagine him wearing anything other than suits that are mostly black with some shades of red somewhere- I don’t care how you incorporate the shades of red into his costume, as long as they’re there.

-Albany: has a dark shade of blond hair, or a medium shade of brown hair. Any other hair color just doesn’t work. (Future Edette Editing: any color hair other than black is fine for Albany). Dresses sensibly and wears really boring costumes.

-Goneril, Regan, and Cordelia have at least a little bit of a family resemblance. Please. Their costumes are similar as well- all wear standard types of clothes you’d expect the princesses of England to wear.

ACT 1 SCENE 1

- Gloucester and Kent enter the stage with Edmund trailing behind them. They’re entering the palace from outside. Idk how England’s weather works, but I decided that the whole play takes place in the fall. I’m not wrong. It does. It doesn’t feel like the sort of play to take place in any other season. You can all fight me on this in the comments, I have no evidence to back up this claim. Anyway, they’re all wear jackets. Because it’s fall.

-As Kent and Gloucester say their first lines, they take their jackets off. It’s hot inside the palace. Edmund leaves his jacket on. It’s not a heavy jacket. He’ll be fine.

-As Gloucester finishes up his first line “...can make choice of either’s moiety” he hands his jacket to Edmund. He does this in a very natural way- it’s clear this is something he does instinctively, without thinking about it. Edmund takes it. He takes it instinctively as well, without thinking about it.

-Kent, watching this says the line “Is not this your son, my lord?”. As in “hey dude. Isn’t he your kid? Why are you treating him like a servant or a coatrack?”

-at “His breeding, sir, hath been at my charge”, Gloucester puts a hand on Edmund’s shoulder in a “yes this is my son” sort of way. He does that a bit too roughly- not in any attempt to hurt Edmund, but definitely showing that he’s doing it for show and not in genuine fatherly affection.

-While Gloucester talks about Edmund, a waiter goes around with champagne glasses. Maybe they have actual liquid (ie water) in them, maybe not. I don’t care. Anyway, both Gloucester and Edmund take one.

-As Gloucester continues talking, he slowly sips whatever alcoholic beverage is in the champagne glass. (Probably champagne, but hey, I’m no expert on alcohol). NO, this isn’t to imply that he’s only speaking Like That (TM) because he’s drunk. He is not drunk.

-meanwhile Edmund downs the whole glass, in the standard theatre way of “I don’t wanna be here and I don’t wanna deal with this”

-Gloucester hands his empty glass to Edmund. He seems to suddenly remember that Edmund is, in fact, there. He says him line “Do you know this noble gentleman, Edmund?”

-At “my services to your lordship” he would bow or something (I don’t know English nobility etiquette, sorry), but he’s currently holding two glasses and a jacket, so he partially bows to the best of his ability.

ACT 1 SCENE 2

- A main set piece for this play would be a door or two on wheels that can be moved around. People really like entering and exiting buildings.

-ANYWAY. Edmund comes in through said door, currently located at the back of the stage. Gloucester house have a portrait of Gloucester family in huge on the wall. Gloucester’s in the middle, with Edgar on one said and Edmund on the other. At this point this should go without saying, but the gap between Gloucester and Edmund is much larger than the gap between Gloucester and Edgar. There’s also a desk and chair somewhere on stage.

-As he starts his first soliloquy, he takes off his jacket that he was wearing in scene 1 and drapes it over the back of the chair

-at “legitimate Edgar, I must have your land”, he turns towards the portrait and looks at Edgar. Then there’s a pause in the soliloquy as he goes over to the desk and writes The Letter (TM). Then he continues the soliloquy with “Our father’s love is to the bastard Edmund..”

-Gloucester enters. He doesn’t notice Edmund.

-As Gloucester asks Edmund for the letter, he and Edmund slowly circle around the stage, the way you’d see animals circling when they’re preparing to fight each other. They’re not going to fight. Not directly at least.

-Gloucester doesn’t make direct eye contact with Edmund for most of this scene

-Until he does, at the line “Give me the letter, sir.”. The line itself is said very forcefully. Both Gloucester and Edmund have stopped circling each other. They stand at opposite ends of the stage. There is a pause, and then Edmund takes the letter back out of his pocket and gives it as he continues saying his lines.

-Gloucester spends the remainder of the scene looking at the letter instead of at Edmund.

-“Edmund, seek him out..” is said very offhandedly, like he’s giving an order to a servant, rather than talking to his own son

-Gloucester leaves, Edmund sinks into the chair at the desk. He puts his head down on the desk and leaves it there for a solid second. He starts his soliloquy with his head still down. (Future Edette Editing: I still want something here to show that Edmund doesn’t get any enjoyment from this- he’s doing it out of anger, or as revenge, or to gain what should have been his, had things been slightly different, or possibly as a means of survival. Basically, he’s not doing this to have a fun time at deceiving anyone) He’s not enjoying what he’s doing- he’s not rejoicing at what is seemingly his success- he sees that it doesn’t make a difference. Gloucester would rather have no sons than only have him.

-Edgar enters. Edgar enters in a great mood. His optimism is turned up to a solid 100%.

-“How now, brother Edmund!” He speed-walks over to Edmund, who’s standing near the middle of the stage at this point. He does something brotherly- I don’t know what that would even mean, given that I am a girl with no brothers. He puts his arm around his shoulder or ruffles his hair or something. That’s the vibe I’m going for. The “haha yeah we’re siblings and we totally get along” vibe. Edmund is, however, not vibing.

(-if the second option is what we’re going with, Edmund takes a moment to fix his hair. A very short moment, but a moment none the less)

-Edgar notices that Edmund does not seem to be vibing, and that’s when he continues with his line “what serious contemplation are you in?”

- at “..go armed”, Edmund hands Edgar his own sword. This is the sword Edgar will later use to kill him.

ACT 2 SCENE 1

- On Edmund’s conversation with Curan: This is the first conversation Edmund’s having with someone without there being any uncomfortable tension between them. They talk in a casual way, and it’s clear that outside of the play they would be friends, regardless of status. Why would they be friends? Because I decided they should be.

-Edgar is doubly armed- with Edmund’s sword and with his own. He was planning on returning Edmund’s sword. When they “fight” Edgar uses Edmund’s sword and Edmund uses Edgar’s. They have different types of swords- Edmund’s- which is now Edgar’s- is slightly shorter and lighter. Edgar’s- which is now Edmund’s- is a two handed sword. These details are slightly irrelevant, but I feel like their weapon of choice (even though they’re using each other’s weapons (ie not their weapons of choice)) should match their personalities.

- Edgar just. Has NO idea what’s up with Edmund’s “hey we gotta sword fight now” thing. It should be clear to the audience that he’s ONLY going along with it because he trusts Edmund entirely.

-during the fight, Edmund slashes the family portrait with his sword, cutting a line between Edgar and Gloucester. Is this cliche? Yes. Must it happen anyway, because ��symbolism✨? Yes.

-Edgar leaves through The Door I keep talking about

- Edmund stabs his non-dominant arm. This is relevant and important.

- “But where is he?” Gloucester hasn’t even noticed at this point that Edmund was injured in the “fight”. “Look, sir, I bleed!” Is Edmund’s attempt to get Gloucester’s attention. It’s his way of saying “I got injured for YOUR sake. THAT’S how good of a son I am!!”

- “where is the villain, Edmund?” The word “villain”, not the word “Edmund” is emphasized. While his seemingly innocent a son is standing there with his arm stabbed and bleeding, he’s more concerned with the son who supposedly plotted against him, but is currently running away now and is of no threat to him.

- (this is the point where I get really into @suits-of-woe’s Cornwall theory, because while I had never thought of it before, as soon as I read it I agreed with it completely. Please go read the theory if you haven’t already.)

- While Gloucester rarely looks at Edmund, Cornwall’s eyes go straight to Edmund as soon as he enters the room. Edmund doesn’t notice- he’s too busy trying to support his stabbed arm in a functional way without bleeding everywhere

-while Gloucester and Regan are talking, Cornwall calls a servant aside and whispers to him. The servant leaves. He asked the servant to get Edmund bandages because his arm has LITERALLY been STABBED and no one’s doing anything about it.

- Edmund’s focused on his arm until Cornwall’s line of “Edmund, I hear that you have shown your father a very child-like office”. Finally, someone appreciates him! At “It was my duty, sir”, it’s clear that there’s some sort of understanding between them. They somewhat get that they’re on the same side. There is a short pause.

- “...and received this hurt you see” Gloucester, being Gloucester, grabs Edmund’s injured arm to “show it off” to Regan and Cornwall. Edmund, master of hiding his emotions and such, winces for a millisecond but then goes back to “ah yes everything is ok and I am totally not condensed rage in human form”.

(Future Edette Editing: I am *so glad* I’m editing this because I really don’t like some of the stuff I shoved in here to try to cater this to a larger audience)

-after “..how in my strength you please”, that servant Cornwall called returns. As he says “For you, Edmund, whose virtue and obedience..” until the end of that paragraph Cornwall takes the bandage and bandages Edmund’s arm- I mean no one else is gonna do it. That, combined with the content of what Cornwall says in the paragraph, lead Edmund to be like “wait. Is this?? A father figure???” “a father figure? For ME???”

(-Hence the Cornwall theory I mentioned earlier)

- “I shall serve you, sir, truly, however else” this is the first line he’ll say in a way that it’s clear to everyone (mainly the audience) that he’s 100% sincere. He’s not trying to be deceptive. He’s not trying to trick anyone. He says it softly and truly means it.

-Edmund’s arm remains bandaged for the remainder of the play. (It’s not heavily bandaged or anything)

ACT 2 SCENE 2

- At “How now! What’s the matter?..” Edmund comes out holding Edgar’s- which is now his, I guess- sword. He’s holding it well enough, considering it’s a two handed sword and he just stabbed himself in the arm, but it’s pretty clear that he won’t be able to win a fight with it. Don’t worry, he’ll get a new sword before his final duel.

-at “no more, perchance, does mine, nor his, nor hers” “his” is referring to Gloucester, not Edmund. This isn’t because Cornwall is ignoring Edmund, it’s because that’s just the order they’re standing in. Edmund entered this scene first out of the four of them, so while Kent and Oswald are on one side of the stage, Edmund stands towards the middle, and Cornwall, Gloucester, and Regan stand at the other side.

ACT 3 SCENE 3

-Gloucester is angry in this scene. Why is he angry? Because I say so. He says all his lines in an angry and bitter way. Which may be counterproductive- having Gloucester be angry about how Lear is treated may make him more likable, which isn’t my goal. But I don’t care.

-Edmund says his paragraph at the end in a bitter and angry way too. Because ✨ parallels ✨

ACT 3 SCENE 5

-Cornwall is Gloucester’s opposite when it comes to how they react to/ treat Edmund. While Gloucester rarely looks at him and has an anti-magnetic effect, Cornwall stands near Edmund on the stage and looks at him both when he’s speaking to him and when Edmund’s replying. And not in a “good eye contact is important” sort of way, because Edmund faces away from people when he lies to them. Just for staging reasons, not because he can’t lie when facing people.

-Cornwall knows Edmund’s lying- he shows this by constantly moving so that he’s nearly always standing beside him instead of behind him (not actually directly behind him; scroll up for General Staging, where I explained this.)

-At “go with me to the duchess” Cornwall puts a hand on Edmund’s shoulder, directly paralleling Gloucester in Act 1 Scene 1. Because I really like ✨parallels✨. Except Cornwall, the same guy who said “thou shalt find a dearer father in my love”, does this in a much more- fatherly, I guess?- way than Gloucester did.

-At “if the matter of this paper be certain...” Edmund does what he does when he lies; ie tries to turn away and takes maybe half a step back. He pretty much trusts Cornwall enough to not walk halfway across the stage when he lies, but not enough for him to either lie directly to his face (or just tell the truth, I guess- but that’s because the whole point of this is to stick to the original script and use only stage directions to make Edmund more sympathetic).

-At “True or false, it has made thee earl of Gloucester...” Cornwall puts his other hand on Edmund’s other shoulder (wow I’m bad at describing things)

Here are some stock photos to help ya visualize this-

THIS is putting one hand on a shoulder. Note that the two people aren’t necessarily facing each other.

AND THIS is putting both hands on shoulders-

(So imagine that, but minus how aggressive that looks, and minus one of the people’s arms. Also a whole lot less tense/intense.) (Anyway. Moving on.)

-at “thou shalt find a dearer father in my love” (...cue me googling “how on earth do fathers show affection?” Because I really want to get the point across that edmund’s like “a father figure??? For me???” And Cornwall’s like “👍. A father figure. For you.”) HECK I GOT IT. Hear me out. Cornwall pats Edmund on the head (in like, a fatherly way), and with the other hand hold The Letter (TM) (even though this is a different “the letter”) and looks it over. This is the first time he looked away from Edmund since this conversation started. In a way that portrays “yes you are my son now I have claimed you as my own” but also “you are not necessarily my top priority- I can give you the fatherly love and affection you desire, but it’s not exactly unconditional. You did well today, good job! You keep up the good work and I’ll keep up my end of this; ie providing you with the fatherly love you never received in your childhood” ( @suits-of-woe I am trying here. I am struggling. I’m so sorry for ruining the Cornwall Theory like this- I’m trying my best to convey it via my amazing stage directions, but I can see pretty clearly that I’m epically failing at this).

ACT 3 SCENE 7

-Cornwall walks onto the stage first, followed by Goneril and Regan close behind them, and Edmund last.

-at “Farewell, sweet lord, and sister”, Cornwall nods at Goneril in response (this has nothing to do with Edmund, I always just thought it was weird that he doesn’t respond)

- at “Edmund,.. farewell” Goneril had already left the stage, Regan is standing next to Cornwall at the opposite end of the stage. Edmund’s about to exit when Cornwall says “Edmund”. He turns around- expecting Cornwall to say something more to him or something. There’s a pause. Cornwall doesn’t have anything else to say. He just says “Farewell”. Edmund nods and leaves the stage.

ACT 4 SCENE 2

-oh heck I gotta stage an Edmund and Goneril scene now

-I don’t wanna?

(Future Edette Editing: and so I won’t!! I don’t normally describe things as cringe, but that’s what this was. I only put this in because I felt obligated to talk about every scene. Oh well- I guess 4.2 isn’t getting stage directions from me)

ACT 5 SCENE 1

-Edmund enters first, dressed in some sort of military commander uniform. Because. Like. There’s a war going on. His sleeves are rolled up/cuffed up to elbow length, and his arm is still bandaged from when he stabbed it.

-there is a tent with a desk in it on stage. Hold on let me illustrate this:

(Future Edette Editing: yeah there was an illustration here, but I’m changing some stuff so I deleted it)

It’s all on wheels so it can be moved around the stage- whichever piece is the most important to the scene will be more up front.

-Edmund stands at the desk which has some military plans of some sort on it.

-Edmund is armed with a brand new sword (Cornwall’s sword? Maybe? Who knows?) (UPDATE: yeah hi future Edette here- I decided that it is, in fact, Cornwall’s sword)

-With Regan, Edmund also doesn’t get that she’s flirting with him right away.

-and then. Then he’s like “OH WAIT” “WAIT SHE’S FLIRTING” “WAIT SO I GOT 2 GIRLFRIENDS??” “OH WOW THIS IS FANTASTIC” “THIS IS LITERALLY THE BEST WEEK OF MY LIFE” (lol Edmund it’s also the last week of your life)

-he 100% realized at “No, by mine honor, madam”.

-Albany stands at the opposite end of the desk. He never moves any closer or further from Edmund than the opposite end of the desk. Goneril would have moved closer but Albany is blocking her.

-as Edmund leaves he puts on his military commander hat of some sort and adjusts it while looking in a mirror or some other reflective surface. Just to show he’s still the same Edmund from act one- he still cares about his appearance to an extent.

-at “the enemy’s in view, draw up your powers.” Edmund half-jogs in back onto the stage- showing that he wasn’t just commanding the soldiers ( if he was he’d have been walking at a moderate pace), but he was actually with them, to some extent, fighting along side them on the battlefield.

- (Future Edette Editing here: yeah so I deleted the notes on the soliloquy here. I didn’t like them. Oh well.)

ACT 5 SCENE 3

-wow it’s hard to make this Edmund guy redeemable/sympathetic when he kills off Cordelia. Like. He really didn’t need to do that

-why, Edmund. Why must you do this.

-you’re making my job here (ie to make you sympathetic) very difficult.

-ANYWAY. I’ll do what I can for this scene

-The captain here? Yeah, he’s Curan from earlier. Edmund made him a captain. There you have it, Edmund’s one semi-redeeming factor for this scene

-I really don’t know how to have this part play out in a way that makes the audience sympathize with Edmund. This is the best I can do.

(Future Edette Editing: yeah so honestly killing off Cordelia and Lear was a logical and strategic move to make, tbh. ((Not morally fantastic. But logical.)) Because yeah Albany would have left them alive and then what? They’d get the throne? Let’s be real here- the country’s already collapsing- the last thing you need is Lear or Cordelia on the throne. Even *Albany* would do a better job than either of them. And he wouldn’t do anything at all. So. Yeah.)

-I’m so burnt out right now I know this isn’t the quality content you came here for but I don’t know how to get this back on track either. ANYWAY I am dedicated to finishing this. Let’s go! There isn’t much left to the play! I’m almost done!

-at “Sir, by your patience, I hold you but a subject of war..” Albany speaks in a very harsh tone- talking to Edmund as if he were a child who interrupted class for like the eighth time that day. Albany’s just salty that his wife likes Edmund more than him.

(Future Edette Editing: Sorry if this doesn’t flow well here anymore- I deleted a bunch of stuff)

-as the argument continues, Regan and Goneril get more frantic because they see they’re not winning.

-Albany gets louder and angrier because he’s frustrated that his wife likes Edmund more than she likes him. Also because at this point, he pretty much hates Edmund.

-Edmund, however, is the quietest out of all the yelling people around him. He doesn’t like arguments- or rather, he doesn’t like when he’s the one the argument is directed towards. He tries to stay calm and talk in a level voice. As everyone around him argues he tries to step in between them and silently play the role of peacekeeper.

-at “Nor in thine, my lord” Edmund is still calm./ not yelling at him. He says it like he’s stating a fact, not contributing to the argument.

-at “half blooded fellow, yes!” My book’s translation to modern english say “Bastard, it is!”. And like. No one’s called him a bastard for like 4 whole acts now. All I have to say to this is Big Oof. (Is that a dead meme? Yeah. Probably.) Edmund is surprised at first- then glares at him- in a way saying “oh? You want to go there? We can go there. I’ll gladly fight you with my own two hands.”

-at “I will mainly my truth and honor” he draws his sword, which I have now decided definitely is Cornwall’s sword. Why does he have it? Idk, Regan probably gave it to him.

-As Edgar and Albany talk before the fight, Edmund swings his sword at nothing in particular- the way you’d see people warming up for a fight. This sword is not a two handed sword, so he’ll be fine even with his stabbed arm. As I mentioned earlier, he stabbed his non-dominant arm, so his sword arm is fine.

-at “In wisdom I should ask thy name..” he does something to indicate that he might know it’s Edgar. What does he do? I don’t know. Something with a whole lot of ✨symbolism✨. I’ll figure it out before posting this. Or maybe I won’t. (Future Edette Editing: Yeah so I figured out what to do here slightly after, and I have a whole post about it- but to sum it up, he looks at the *mysterious masked man*’s sword (which as you may recall was his). And he’s like “oh. Oh. Ok then.”)

-they fight. Edgar (as I previously mentioned) is using the sword Edmund gave him at the beginning. Edmund is using Cornwall’s sword.

-As they fight it’s clear that they’re pretty evenly matched. (I mean. Then again, Edmund was just helping in battle like two seconds ago while Edgar was just chilling with his half dead/dead father. So. Edmund’s trying to win a duel after just doing a bunch of exhausting physical activity while Edgar is not.) (Edmund would win if they were fighting when they were both at their strongest)

-(I’ve mentioned this in a previous post, but I’m gonna restate it so that you don’t mess up on how you imagine the fight going down. There’s only one valid interpretation of it, and it’s my own interpretation. That has literally never been used in any production. Yup. That’s the only valid way to imagine the duel.) ANYWAY. As they fight, Edmund seems to be about to win, when Edgar hits his already stabbed arm. Edmund loses focus in that one moment, because. Like. That’s painful. (I was gonna say he drops his sword, but does he? Does that work? I don’t know. If he does or doesn’t, it’s valid either way). Then Edgar stabs him. With is kinda even more painful, and somewhat fatal.

-After he’s stabbed, some random soldier brings him to the tent toward the back of the stage, where he stays until he’s brought off stage

Here’s an illustration to help you picture this:

-Edmund is more focused on his wound than the conversation. His tone and body language for the rest of the play conveys “You won! I lost! I’m sorry! Can I get medical attention now??”

-Headcanon that Edmund would have lived if he would have gotten some medical attention sooner

-at “yet Edmund was beloved” he does a little sarcastic laugh (not like a laugh laugh, more like a cynical nose exhale?)- he sees the irony of how all three of them trying to take their rightful power, and all dying at the same time as a result of it.

-while Edmund tells them they still have time to save Cordelia, he sinks down/lies down. He already accepted the fact that he’s going to die.

-while he’s delivering this news, Edgar and Albany look at him in shock and then at each other. From there to the rest of the scene, no one looks at Edmund again. Not because they don’t like him, just because they find him irrelevant now (which Albany outright states a few lines from here).

-When Albany tells the soldiers to take Edmund off the satge/away from there, he doesn’t look at Edmund, he just vaguely motions to him.

-At “Edmund is dead, my lord” “That’s but a trifle here”, Albany barely turns to look at the messenger. He doesn’t care that Edmund is dead. No one does. The wheel has come full circle. No one cared about Edmund at the start, and he’s just as irrelevant now. Edmund wanted to be something to people. He would have wanted them to react to his death. If they had celebrated it, he would have been happier than if they ignored it. He doesn’t even get that much.

-The Curtains Close. The Play Is Over-

#king lear #shakespeare #Do you know how many HOURS went into this??#...because I don’t #I genuinely have no idea how many hours went into this #I was studying for midterms at the same time as writing this #so the hours spent on this and this alone were probably around 5?#5 hours sounds legit

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ziawhiffs · 3 years ago

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The Hunt.

The moon casted an eerie glow around the hellspawn as she seemingly emerged from under the sand, the darkness of her body absorbing whatever moonlight touched it. Silently, she turned her path to the north, leaving behind no trace except perhaps a brief flash of red as she glided over the sand dunes. If a mortal were to see her now, they would do well to cower and stay out of her path; in her hellion form, the hellcat was easily as large as a panther with smoke rippling where fur would be; a smoky outline of a cat’s skull for a head; and an orb of blood red filling the hollow of her skull, spilling out of her eye sockets in a menacing glare. Zia’s first memory was of blood filling her mouth, the hot, sticky liquid searing her throat as her fangs sank into her first kill. Two thousand years was a long time for any being of her tier to be around (much less to remember anything that specific), but Zia enjoyed keeping that moment close to heart. It was like how she liked to keep mementos of her first love, her first fuck, her first best friend, and even her first venture into the human world. The other hellhunters called her sentimental behind her back, but she thought that was what made her an especially good hunter and killer: she was able to understand her prey, and her kills were merciful and effective— depending on the day, of course. Today was not one of those mercy days. Zia was hungry, sleepy, and horny— basically almost all of her regular moods rolled into one moment. She wanted to go to her mortal home in her mortal form, relax in a bathtub, drink some whiskey, and rest, but instead, she was stuck out in a Satan-forsaken desert chasing down some dumb corporate asshole who thought he could cheat his contract with the devil by holing up in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere. Dumbass. Soon, a gleaming white fortress of marble emerged in the distance. The hellcat made short work of the remaining distance, ghosting over the sand before she sank back into the underworld for a brief moment. One second had barely passed before she emerged back into the mortal world and the bedroom of one very terrified human. Eye sockets gleaming in the dark, Zia stalked forward, savoring the tears on the human’s face and the pathetic stench of piss in the air. Her first kill had been a little different; the old crone had tried to run, so Zia’s claws had latched onto her back a moment before her fangs sank into the human’s neck. Zia actually preferred it when the prey could see her-- at least they knew who was killing them. Kill. A being crafted from Satan’s own hands, Zia’s body didn’t quite follow the laws of earthly physics. Though her claws and fangs were but shadowy outlines, the hellcat had no trouble sinking them into the human. In fact, she barely felt it when she did. What she did feel when she pounced on this human, however, was the pure waves of fear, hopelessness, pain, and regret that pulsed from him.

Exquisite. It made her so, very thirsty.

When Zia finally stepped back from her bloodlust, the man’s body was almost unrecognizable. The only indicator that the carcass had once been human was the silk robe that lay in tatters around it, the rivers of blood that flowed from the fresh gashes that littered his body, and the stench of newly exposed tissue.

Silently, Zia turned away. There was no rejoicing, no celebrating— the hunt had been straightforward, easy, and, as always, a bit messy. Tomorrow, she would be back doing the same thing, putting her nose to the ground and ripping some new poor and dumb soul to shreds.

For now though, Zia needed that bath— and maybe about twenty minutes to herself.

#shortstory #prose #lore #ziavtlore

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imasimpforstevengrant · 5 years ago

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Why do we like this clown so much?

Change the "we" for "I" and you get an usual tag I use whenever I post my content in Tumblr. And it sounds funny at first but whenever you start diving into that phrase, the deeper it becomes. So, I finally have decided to share my thoughts about this strange but wholesome attraction to this deeply flawed character. It's not something I usually do since I don't know how to write down my feelings properly and also in english so please forgive any typos (I'm from Chile so don't be surprised lol).

So...Why do we like this clown so much?

Why was it that a character precisely designed to scare and to disgust the fuck out of us ended up unchaining a series of feelings that shouldn't have taken place in a beginning?

Let's take a look at the background: Joaquin Phoenix was cast as Arthur Fleck/Joker in 2018. The first image of him as the aforementioned character revealed a deeply disturbed man. We knew the plot. A man driven to insanity after a brutal history of abuse, creating concern in people if the upcoming film would inspire real life violence. Incel violence and mass shootings, more specifically.

(the image in question)

As 2019 arrives, the two trailers generated so much hype that media needed to fuel its concern about it. Since it wasn't your typical comic book film, media basically bombed our minds making us believe this film was going to be a total disaster, an excuse to cause harm to others among other nonsense, as if the film would justify everything Arthur would do in the film, eventually. As the release date is closer, the film receives thunderous applause and unanimous praise from critics. At this, fans rejoiced and expressed impatience to watch the film.

October 5th.

People left the theaters amazed, shocked and genuinely moved by the inhuman treatment Arthur received in the film. The fear media tried so desperately to infuse in us with all the incel bullshit and such turned out to awake one of the most positive, best feelings in humans:

E M P A T H Y

The word that so gloriously cleared away any dark thoughts or actions not only proves media was wrong but it turned out to ridicule it in way nobody will forget: Hundreds of people advocating for mental illness, calling out to the kindness that could change a person's bad day and questioning how politicians and rich people are indifferent to social problems proved how much as a society we have changed in comparison with the one shown in the film.

However, since we are on Tumblr, I'll get straight to the point and try to explain why the fuck does this clown has us dying out of love and compassion (and lust).

I. Background.

As nurturing as we women are for a biological matter, we see a man deprived of a good job, is on seven different medications, working like a slave to sustain his ill mother, putting aside his own health and well-being to look for her, struggling to make his dream of being a comedian despite everyone stepping on him, underpaid and treated like a freak for a disorder he did not ask to suffer, which makes it impossible to be indifferent to all the horrible ordeal that eventually will reach the limit of what he can tolerate without going insane. It is impossible to not say or think, at least, that someone (even if it's just one person) should stand for him just as it is impossible not to feel the need to throw ourselves at him to shield him from people who hurt him or simply offer him our shoulder whenever he has had a bad day, specially when he learns he was sexually assaulted by his step father.

This horrid behaviour terrifies newer generations because they get a taste of what being a social outcast was like more than thirty years ago in comparison with today, where there's more acceptance and treatment for mentally ill people like Arthur. We see in him someone who could have been saved with a proper education and emotional support instead of descending into madness as a criminal. Others simply saw themselves being treated like him at some point in their lives and couldn't help but put themselves in his shoes.

II. Personality.

TRUTH BE TOLD:

There's something called "attraction by proximity". It is the explanation to the eventual love you feel whenever someone doesn't catch your eye at first terms of physical attraction but his/her personality does attract you. This happens to be the base of this situation. His shyness, introverted nature, tenderness and innocent desire to make people laugh and put on a happy face awake some kind of tenderness we cannot resist. This combined with the gloomy background increases our understanding (but not justifying) of the bad decisions he'll eventually take during the course of the film. This traces a line of harsh, almost hurtful contrast of the violence he shows later on the film. Once again, it is not justified in any way but it is certainly understandable.

III. Appearance.

Arthur Fleck is unconventionally attractive.

This happens to be a plus for most women. He is out of the male beauty standards (no abs, not too muscly or particularly tall), which makes him even more unique. It is precisely the fact that he's not a model one of the reasons women love him. He could easily be your man next door or your colleague or the guy you always see but never dare to talk for fear to bother him Because it's about proximity. Arthur looks like your common neighbour. He's not meant to be your typical desirable male protagonist at all.

... And yet.

Jesus Christ, he's so fucking hot I can't even---

It's not about how beautiful his green eyes are, his long slender fingers, his hair or his smile only. It's the charm behind it.

Another "magnet point" is the way he dresses. I know he's impoverished and his wardrobe tend to be repetitive but it is so unpretentious, so simple that is hard to not fall for. The modesty of the shirts, ironed trousers reminds us of a mature man deeply withdrawn into himself, love starved and longing to be seen and loved by others, like a war veteran who still fights the most important war: with himself. Is someone who needs to be listened and understood.

AND OF COURSE WHAT'S NOT TO LIKE ABOUT IT?

He's also brought back the old gentleman outfit, white shirts, red/yellow vest, red suit and elegant dancing moves and the retro style of the film boosts this attractiveness.

People keep comparing him with the previous interpretation of Joker (Leto's) whose costume appealed to young women with a tattooed, gangster, mumble rapper crazy-guy wannabe which didn't connect with the audiences (young people in general). This supposedly was to match or even have a sexy, tormented and desirable villain like Marvel's Loki. We all know how that story ended but it's the link for the next point below.

IV. Transformation

This is a particularly strong point considering how much we loved to watch the process of this weak, powerless, forgotten caterpillar into a beautiful and visible butterfly that will gracefully stir its wings for everyone to see its colours.

When Arthur transitions to the Joker, it's so cathartic to see taking revenge on those who wronged him (even when we're not supposed to root for him) like seeing his shyness fading away into a vivid confidence when dancing half naked in the bathroom, or witnessing him making way to make his name known to people in Murray Franklin's Show:

Adding to this newly gained confidence, there's another turn on: the way he walks.

At the beginning, his pace is hunched and limping, displaying his submission to violence, which makes the viewer more satisfied to see his broken yet beautiful soul turning the past pain of his existence into art: he lets music guide his moves as a way to tell the world he's a new man by cutting most of the sick, evil roots that harmed him, that he's invincible, that no one can stop him. Watching this cathartic display of euphoria was the most iconic scene in the film, following his speech at the TV and the inevitable meltdown that caused Murray's death.

Going to further appreciation, even his clown make up is beautiful. Why? Simple. The combination of colours, shapes and the intimidating glare just embellishes even more the character.

The dark blue triangles in his expressive eyes makes the light green colour to highlight, specially in dark backgrounds, giving the impression he's piercing your soul whenever he stares directly at the camera. Same can be said about the red smile and emerald green hair. They boost an already intimidating look.

The cold and warm colours paint a picture of a man full of intense emotions, mirroring it in a simple yet masterful artistic way.

Another interesting point is the way Joker dresses. Usually we had almost every single live adaption of this character in purple coat, hat, etc. But this particular version is not following any comic, which gives more freedom to creativity and once again, out of the standards of what we could have expected.

Red is a colour related to passion, action, love, strength, motivation and excitement. As for yellow, it indicates freshness, happiness and enlightenment and finally, green. Green is renewal, growth and regeneration. Colours that represent a new stage in his life, a mirthful chapter at last. We finally get to see our battered, always humiliated protagonist (or hero) descending into madness, but finally free from his repressed man who held his soul captive like a bird to fly away, to never come back. An insanity that despite being his downfall, turned out to be his ticket to freedom as he walks to the light in Arkham Asylum dancing at the end.

Ladies and gentlemen: behold the film nobody asked... But the film we fucking deserved.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk

❤️💚💛

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grandducktale · 4 years ago

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“All Yet Seems Well” - Game of Thrones, Dexter, YGO, and the legitimately troubling trend and implication of “the problem play’s” re-emergence in pop culture

So first off, spoilers, naturally. Gonna be talking tragedy here. Also, cringe warning. I’m going to use mostly anime here. Kid cartoons, even. But there’s a point to all this. If you were fans of Dexter or the television series “Game of Thrones”, any show that had more than anything an “unsatisfying finale” you might be able to pick up what I’m putting down.

What is a tragedy? The definitions vary, but it is a troubling or melancholic story with an unhappy ending.

A Tragic Hero is easy enough to define. Hamlet from Hamlet, and Spike Spiegel from Cowboy Bebop. These two men are tragic because they pass away, and are unable to fully protect what they hold dear. But... I wouldn’t say they’re truly tragic. Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t want to be either of them, but Spike Spiegal and Hamlet do to an extent accomplish some of their goals, and go out in a blaze of glory, score a moral victory, something.

(Pictured Above: Spike saying “Bang” as he bleeds out after killing his nemesis and destroying half a criminal empire in a wild one man blaze of glory)

This post is not about those characters. This post is not even about tragedy, necessary. This post is about problems. Problem plots, problem characters, and problematic implications. The title of this post is “All Yet Seems Well”, because the shows and the characters I am about to discuss are highly reminiscient of Shakespeare’s “Problem Plays.”

To start, let me bring up the character of Shouzu Hiiragi from Yu-Gi-Oh Arc-V(a cartoon about children playing competitive card games Konami makes to sell trading cards). Arc-V is basically the “problem play” of YGO, if said play had a caged gorilla break out and steal the spotlight for the last third of the performance. “Problem Play” is a vernacular used to refer to three of Shakespeare’s plays that couldn’t quite be pegged into tragedy or comedy, that provoked discussion either about the plot’s structure, the means used to resolve the problem, or both. For those not even slightly into Shakespeare, I’ve always viewed the operetta The Yeomen of the Guard as Gilbert and Sullivan’s “Problem Play”, so to speak, though Yeomen might as well be a straight up tragedy relative to Gilbert and Sullivan’s other works.

But what makes a “Problem Play” a “problem play”, precisely? Well, since we’re talking about YGO Arc-V, lets go to Act V of one of Shakespeare’s “Problem Plays”, All’s Well That Ends Well. Act V, scene three, to be precise.

King: Let us from point to point this story know, To make the even truth in pleasure flow: If thou beest yet a fresh uncropped flower, Choose thou thy husband, and Ile pay thy dower. For I can guesse, that by thy honest ayde, Thou keptst a wife her selfe, thy selfe a Maide. Of that and all the progresse more and lesse, Resoluedly more leasure shall expresse: All yet seemes well, and if it end so meete, The bitter past, more welcome is the sweet.

So to understand the “problem” with the above(besides finding a more contemporary translation and supplementing that with sparknotes, tvtropes, and google), one must understand the gist of the plot of “All’s Well That Ends Well.”

Basically, the protagonist of the play, a common girl by the name of Helena, has just prevailed in her desire to marry the love of her life, the highborne Ward of France, Bertram. The audience and the reader should in theory rejoice in such a moment. Helena was given the ability to choose her husband as a reward for saving the ill King, and though she picked Bertram and stipulated that he did not have to marry her, and though Bertram did not directly reject her but instead provided her with two nigh impossible tasks that required guile, intelligence, and strength to prevail, something just seems off. (Perhaps this is why the King says “All Yet Seems Well)

What is it that is off? Is it that Helena was for whatever reason the only one in France capable of curing the King? Is it that for someone as skilled and cunning as Helena, telling Bertram he doesn’t have to marry her is pointless? Is it Bertram’s own psychological manipulation, to the point that even if these two people married and truly did love each other, that their happiness is a righteous person’s misery? That doubt, that uncertainty, the vague feeling that runs contrary to the overt, happy plot is what makes up a “Problem Play.”

Shozu Hiiragi is tragic not because of a vague sense of malice or villainy inherent in his character like Helena. No, in fact, he is an authentic version of the “Noble Commoner” facade that makes Helena so problematic. YGO Arc-V is about a kid named Yuya trying to make it as an entertainer after his father left him at a very young age, vanishing into thin air. Yuya was bullied severely, and his father was supportive and this larger than life figure. Naturally, his abrupt disappearance was a traumatic event for Yuya.

Yuya compensates for this disappearance and his past by playing Pagliacci, a sad clown. The Pagliacci thing aside, the show makes it quite clear in the first three episodes that Yuya holds on so tightly to his identity as an entertainer because of the absence created by his father’s disappearance

Now before I get to Shouzu Hiiragi, I have to talk about Yuzu. Yuya’s childhood friend and sweetheart is a girl named Yuzu Hiiragi.

Shouzou Hiiragi is a lifetime friend and operator of Yushou’s entertainer school. To summarize without being too spoilery, the audience eventually finds out that both Yuya and Yuzu are alot more important than they seem, and that they sort of just... appeared one day as babies. This is where Shouzu starts to become tragic, since we learn that not only did he raise a child that wasn’t his, he did so as a single father

So Shouzu was second banana to Yushou, but he was an entertainer of some renown. He gave it up so he could raise his adopted child, and later on, act as the operator of “You-Show Duel School”, a school named after Yusho but ran by Shouzu since Yushou disappeared.

Now there’s a lot of issues with Arc-V. A lot, a lot, a lot, a lot. I am focusing on Shouzu but there’s so much to talk about with how this series has a lot of problems that its tone clashes far too hard with. But I’ll show a meme image out of context for the heck of it.

I focus on Shouzu because he is the legitimate avenue towards Yuya and the show’s main conflict of balancing entertainment with legitimate hurt, dangerous conflict, and immense suffering and pain. He is a man who does good and puts his ambition aside out of alturism to start, but more than that, he is a genuine father figure to Yuya despite all that is on his plate.

Like his costume of flame suggests, Shouzu is hot-blooded and passionate. As the plot progresses, Yuya struggles with doing what is right, being a good entertainer, preserving his father’s legacy, and a whole bunch of things. The advice of his father, Yusho, and the advice of his mother, Yoko, is to “smile when he feels like crying”

This advice isn’t bad, but it is a crutch and a mantra for Yuya, one the direction of the show itself portrays as unhealthy and stunted. (When Yuya cries, he tends to wear his goggles so as to not let it show). So let’s analyze a sequence near the beginning of Arc-V’s 140+ episode. Yuya had obtained a special power like any Campbell Hero, but his rival, Reiji Akaba managed to copy said power in a duel against him(Which Yuya won, anyways albeit due to Reiji having bigger things to deal with)

Being bullied and having a traumatic past, then obtaining a special power unique to him that allows him to win duels, and then LOSING that special power, gets to Yuya a lot, even if he is plenty competent as a duelist.

So he runs away in tears.

Shozou hits Yuya with some facts about how naturally, if a technique or special ability in a game was discovered that gave someone an edge, it would only be a matter of time before other competitors used it too. But Shouzou then challenges Yuya to a duel, and instead of telling him to smile instead of cry, instead re-frames Yuya’s situation of losing his unique ability in a postive and constructive manner

A lot goes on in Arc-V, but the pendulum that Yuya swings back and forth on is the legacy of his father and becoming his own person. Shozou, who is Yuya’s de facto father, provides a path towards the latter.

But... to make a long story short, Shozou is forgotten about. Yuya keeps chasing after his father, and the lesson he learned from Shozou is forgotten. Arc-V, which if you haven’t been able to tell from my essay on the main character’s girlfriend’s dad has an amazing ensemble cast, and spends 50 episodes developing these great ensemble characters.

But in the next 50 episodes, the ensemble characters fade into the background, and Yuya takes center stage only to repeatedly just smile and want to be like his father.

And in the last 50 episodes, the show gets downright mean spirited. A likable ninja character that has the design of a generic henchmen is killed off unceremoniously, an unlikable legacy character manages to shrug off that fate with ease.

All the while, the show keeps this upbeat tone of optimism and Yuya triumphing.

And Yuya does triumph, he does save the day, but it’s all wrong.

I am only skimming the surface here, but the reaction I saw and was invoked in me about Arc-V’s ending was the same reaction I saw with Game of Thrones’s ending.

Something along the lines of “I don’t mind a bad ending, so long as it is tonally consistent and not a confused mess!”

Were this sentiment unique to Arc-V that’d be it. But it is applies to the end of Game of Thrones, Dexter, Netflix’s Watchmen, damn near EVERYTHING that was popular this past decade. This trend of something having a strong beginning and then fading into tonal nonsense, to the point that the viewers either speculate on finding the “true” “hidden” meaning of a piece

, or worse yet, an active desire for a bad or evil ending, so long as that evil at least makes sense

So I have a bad feeling about all of this. Not just because a series I liked went down the toilet, but because, well, remove all these other mainstream series with promising beginnings that nosedove into the ground and crashed and burned, and what’s the most recent universally acclaimed show left?

That’s it. Breaking Bad. A nihilistic story of personal triumph at the destruction of everything else. Which has its place. But with Arc-V, with Game of Thrones, with all these shows, I see a trend of the absurd entering and ruining a show, which leaves people craving order, even if that order is horrible.

I mentioned Gilbert and Sullivan before, so I’ll end this rambling essay with a quote from a song from the Mikado that was allegedly almost cut from it.

“ My object all sublime I shall achieve in time — To let the punishment fit the crime — The punishment fit the crime; And make each prisoner pent Unwillingly represent A source of innocent merriment! Of innocent merriment!”

The Mikado is a tale about the absurd and chaotic, the same absurdity that seems to be turning audiences to darker, more orderly, things. But the Mikado showcases both the trouble of the absurd, and the genuine opportunity and chance for grace the absurd provides.

In my opinion, Problem Play Plots are actually tragedies more tragic than regular tragedies. Borderline horror, even. They bring up problems, and the easiest solution to those problems seems to be that of tragic selfish scheming. But perhaps that needn’t actually be the case. That a benevolent and convincing solution to these problem plots exist - one people can accept, and be inspired by, in a good way.

And if that can’t be done, if the trauma and chaos of these shows serves no point, then the Gordian Knot of problem play plots must be cut. The damage they have done must be acknowledged, the mystery boxes resolved or done away with entirely.

#spoilers #Game of Thrones #Yu-Gi-Oh! Arc-V #Arc-V #Dexter #Breaking Bad #Shakespeare

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moonlightheretic · 4 years ago

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Chapter still unknown FULL (or is it?) WIP NSFW (it gets dark ya’ll)

“Where are we?” I struggled to find my bearings in this dark tunnel. The ground seemed unstable, pebbles shifting underfoot. My hands reached out in a blind haste for something solid to guide me through the dark. The walls practically disintegrated at my touch and nearly caved inwards. I did not feel safe. This place was one wrong step away from total collapse. I stumbled, my feet slipping into the rock ridden path, his hand caught my arm.

“You do not need to know.” He answered simply, pulling me to my feet.

It was becoming his go-to reply for everything I asked. I wasn’t satisfied with it. He watched my struggle and called flame to his hand, the hollowed cave’s secrets scattered into the shadows cast by the wiggling ignition. “You have stripped me of my weapons and most of my dignity. Do you mean to strip me of basic information as well? Am I so scary to you, Dread Wolf?” I challenged. Bitterness chewing through my words.

“They elected you as Inquisitor, not for your skill in battle alone. You are formidable. In any case, there is no benefit in informing you, it will make little difference. You will activate this one, as done previously.” His voice dipped into the octaves of an order.

“Where are we?” I pressed. “I want to know what you will destroy.” I stood firm, shoulders squared, refusing to tread further. He turned to face me, the blaze in his hand distorting the shadows across the planes of his face.

“When has any truth of my plans comforted you? Or perhaps, any truth at all? You live, stuck in a halcyon that never existed and you yearn for its return.”

“And who painted that pretty picture for me? This impressive hiraeth? A lie built on lies, a tower, and then brick by brick, a rotunda, and finally, a castle! What a beautiful empire you raised. Such an artist as you perhaps, should have erected that on Skyhold’s walls.”

We dove into a thick silence, neither of us giving in. I could almost see him biting his tongue, any remark quelled by fledgling self-control. He took a breath and smiled.

“You evade blame almost as skillfully as you evaded me, ah, but then again, where are you now?” He tilted his head, his left brow raised. “I wonder, what more dances have you that I not discovered yet?”

“I believe it was you who taught me to dance, Solas. I cannot take credit for my skills, when I have the master in front of me.” I gestured to him.

A muscle in his neck twitched and the fire cradled in his fingers strengthened significantly, staining his skin red.

“There is work to be done. Enough.” Even though the fire was causing us both to sweat in this enclosed space, his words were of pure ice.

We advanced upon this hovel, a crumbling crooked crevice of rock and stalagmites, dripping with Maker knows what. His steps were full of confidence and prior knowledge, muscle attuned with memory. He maneuvered past the tight angles with experience. He had been here before, perhaps?

“Whose bright idea was to locate an artifact in this dreadful place?” I snapped, as I was compelled to duck when a bat screeched by my head. Ah, but if a bat made its home here, surely there was an additional entrance to this hollowed nightmare.

He answered me with a chuckle and then reassured, “It isn’t far. Have patience, Inquisitor.” Ah, so he was no longer angered by my words, or had he folded the displeasure up and saved it for later?

I grabbed his illuminated jaw and snapped his head towards me. “Patience? I waited for you! With each year passing no more than a decade of drought! I have been patient, Solas.” I wasn’t expecting a simple comment to provoke such raw emotion into my words, but there I was, fingers digging into the flesh of his jaw.

Solas’s eyes crept over my face, tracing every detail with his heavy gaze. “And so you have me.” He remarked gruffly and shrugged me off. A small draft tingled against my skin, the blooming flame flickered and listed, perhaps a vein in this stone body led to freedom, after all. But, I could only see what his flaming palm afforded me.

I felt it before I saw it. The anchor reacted, fizzling, smoke-like, and churning the air around it a greenish hue. My first reaction was to recoil and hide it within my cloak. Solas’s armored arm slithered into the fold of my cloak, the fabric hissing against his metal arm guards. He held onto my throbbing hand, pulling it from its hiding place, cool fingers calming my shivering ones, he presented it to the artifact before us. Mist entrapped light uncoiled around the artifact, as if we had woken it from a long slumber, its light stretched and billowed in flight, like a flag caught in the wind and it rippled and convulsed, as if it was rejoicing. A warm welcome, indeed. A statue loomed behind, a winged and headless figure of a woman. Mythal. She was immured in this foul place, a feeling of sorrow washed over me.

“We are within the Vimmark Mountains.” He informed, sullen and remorseful, his eyes lingering on the statue.

A mountain chain, opportunity screamed into my mind. Then we could be in the vicinity of Kirkwall or even Ostwick, or rather, it was also possible we were somewhere in between. What mattered the most was the very fact that we were under a mountain.

“Surely, this place has significance.” I argued, playing along, with my eyes following his.

“Indeed.” He whispered.

Solas closed his palm and in doing so, snuffed out his flame. We were bathed in a greenish and golden light, I stole a glance, his mouth set in a hard line, eyes devoid of emotion, and in doing so, he gave me nothing. Unreadable. He was skilled not only in magic, but also, in masking his intentions. He was undeniably powerful, but so was I.

My heart hammered in my chest, possibly my only chance at stopping the Dread Wolf lay within these simple and faulty rock walls, carved out by water. Maybe, I did not need my little dagger, for it, could not compare with a mountain.

The next set of actions were to be done without instruction, as they were no different than the times prior. But this time, everything would be different. Hesitation would no longer best me.

I neared the artifact, Solas stepped behind me and observed. I lifted my hand and waited, the artifact pulsated with green waves of light surging upwards, and revealing thousands of tiny eyes glaring back at us in this aphotic sanctuary. Fucking bats.

I felt my release and I moved closer to it, the lights brightened in response, and I wondered, could I not only activate the artifact with the anchor, but also destroy it? Hell, I could bring this entire cave down and trap him in, weaponize our very surroundings…and so I did. I had only used the anchor’s power as much as I required of it, in the past, I was too careful to abuse it. That some calamity might befall myself and others if I used it for anything but its intended purpose, but what I needed most was in fact, calamity, itself.

I opened a rift right into the very center of the artifact. In less than a blink of an eye, it exploded into a shower of glass and stone, its ancient powers reveling in the new found freedom. In an instant, the small pocket of this mountain, shuddered and began to collapse, as the rift twisted it into its own shape, pulling and knotting, then thrusting and flailing. The bats flew to an escape as dust, stalagmites and murky water rained down, then chunks of rock plummeted downwards until the very ceiling threatened to fold in like a deck of cards. I tried to avoid the falling debris as the area shook, thunderous and vengeful. I could hear the bats, screeching in terror and I made my way to follow them.

“Moon’Hwa!” Solas roared. Eyes lit, his hands invoked a barrier, though as the mountain piled high, he was struggling to hold it. He gritted his teeth and grunted under the weight, too preoccupied to stop me, for if he let go, we would surely be buried. So this was his limit. I crawled along the ground, my back was pelted with rocks and earth. I covered my head with one hand and dug through debris with the other. He fell to his knee behind me, his gaze burning a hole in my back. The consequences of my actions stopped ricocheting from my body, I peered upwards to realize that his barrier was stretching, enveloping me within its safety.

My heart clenched and I dared to look back at his face. The barrier wavered and he gasped, rocks shimmied through, bouncing off of his pauldrons. His eyes squinting, and I thought I saw the shimmer of tears catching on his lashes, the veins under the skin of his neck and face enlarged as he strained to keep the barrier solid. A stalagmite jabbed into his cheek, drawing a bloody trail down his face. I comforted myself as guilt pulled at my sleeve. I needed to be ruthless, the world depended on it. He saw me as an asset. An important one, if not for the anchor, would he not let me drown in stone and earth? I steeled myself within this resolve. Thus, I needed to get the anchor as far away from him as possible. I pushed onwards and the barrier flickered as it followed me, or rather, it kept one step ahead, an encouragement to go further. Guilt sent its timely reminder and I bit into my lip to keep from turning back. You are leaving him to die. An enormous section of rock slammed into the barrier, it blocked where the humble draft of air whistled through. That meant, the only way out was the Eluvian. I gulped hard, facing disappointment. It would have to do. Dal’nim will lose her father.

“Be quiet!” I seethed, shaking my head in an attempt to be rid of its voice.

It was becoming hard to breathe, the same air I breathed before filtered into my lungs and I quickened to the eluvian, a beacon in this turbulent darkness. Bats dropped to the barrier, sliding around me in a freefalling current of death. I inched closer, my fingers breaching its fluid reflection, the barrier wavered and as I pulled myself in, the tiny collapsing cavern was blasted with blinding blue light. The noise was…indescribable. My ears rang and ached as I was pushed into the eluvian by the blast, flying head first into the sanctum. I was followed by pieces of rubble, stalagmites, and a multitude of dead bats. The eluvian grumbled and screeched against the green tile as it too was shoved forward, denting it in the process.

I scrambled to stand, collecting my wobbly legs and propelling them to move, I clutched onto the eluvian, and with all my strength I heaved my weight into it, I screamed as the heavy golden oculus resisted my nefarious machinations. With one last heave, I pushed it into the bat littered floor and it shattered as if it were glass. The pieces flung everywhere, slicing my face and hands, the twinkling shards then seemed to dissolve, pooling into a clear and shimmering liquid at my feet. I did not wait around to discover what would happen next. My feet pummeled against the same elaborate green tile, I did not know where I was going, and I only knew that in this matter, distance was a friend. It was blur of gold and green, this place, I threw myself into eluvian after eluvian, until I could find something with the semblance of familiarity. I needed to find Dal’nim. She and I could be free of this place. I could contact Iron Bull, we could go to Rivain. The anchor will kill you. A sobering reminder. All hope gained, was lost in an instant. I…could cut it off, but, my eyes glow with its power, its infection could be septic? Oh, what was I going to do? There was so little I knew. My left fizzled and sparked emerald, free of Solas’s control.

I picked eluvians randomly, changing directions at will, his agents stopped and stared, I charged into them, not caring who I knocked over. It seemed that they simply did not know what to do with me. Perhaps, I had even been veiled as a secret from them. In any case their reaction time was cut short, because once I was within eyesight, I was already gone. I stopped to catch my breath, my chest heaving. This labyrinth was endless, eternal even. My palms stuck to my knees as sweat dripped from my face, not only sweat, no, but tears. They poured from my eyes, a deep mournful cry belted from my stomach. My fists clenched into the fabric of my trousers. I had more than likely killed him. No! I couldn’t stop to grieve. I had to leave! I needed to find Dal’nim! Priority reminded me. I stood straight and stepped forward, I nearly tripped as my foot caught the edge of sunken tile.

The tile beneath my feet waned, breaking off and splintering into the damp soil. A large gust nearly wiped me from my feet and howled in my ears, I held on to the fragment of a statue to my right for dear life and my hands slipped against its wet surface. Cool droplets coated my face and hair and I turned to see what commanded such a force. A siege of water surfed upon the wind, upwards, over the edge of the cliff side before me, like a waterfall in reverse. A perpetual haze clung to the air, broken pillars and archways framed this place, half shrouded by the mist. This area felt wrong, like I wasn’t supposed to be here, let alone know of it. Old Oaks careened off the cliff, hanging by their roots, as if they, themselves, wished to be elsewhere. Otherwise, this space was devoid of life, but it did not feel empty. This island in the sky, a mere token of a once larger chain, wasn’t particularly large, its counterparts were scattered elsewhere, dipping into the horizon as black dots. Perhaps it was meant to be forgotten? My eyes completed a wide sweep of the island. There was no other eluvian than the one I emerged from. Was this a dead end? My only hope was in the distance, an area still mysterious, as it was outstanding in comparison to everything else this place offered.

A crypt nearly swallowed by erosion and mist, dwelled behind archways and pillars. My steps were chosen carefully, and I swapped from pillar to pillar leading into it, hanging on with all my might when the windy tsunami blew into me. Perhaps there was an eluvian lurking inside? I looked behind me before entering into this forbidden dwelling of the dead, a chill slithered into my bones, every muscle screaming I turn around, flee from this miserable place. But my desire to escape compelled me to ignore those sensations. Torches blazed upon my entry and I nearly jumped out of my skin, bravery almost forgotten. The braziers illuminated the stairway that descended into the depths of the unknown. My only companions were the buoyant echoes that bounced from my steps. My palms sliding flat along the golden walls, a steady reminder of what surrounded me, solid and strong, I could lean my weight into them without worry.

The braziers ignited as I passed by, this place was slowly drawn back to life. With each step taken, a noise loudened just a bit more, a wailing. Though, it did not originate as the result of the wind that labored against the crypt’s exterior. Odd. The landing of the stairs opened into a single room, it was unremarkable, except for the eluvian placed in the center and an exquisite golden recurve bow and full quiver leaning against it. But this reflection, this swirling picture it painted was not of me, nor was it of the room that sheltered it. I approached it, curiosity luring me in no different than a moth to flame. My fingers brushed its liquid like appearance, causing it to ripple, its image stayed the same. A thrashing figure, whom appeared to be female was tied to a massive tree, yet her head was…distorted. As if she wore some type of gargantuan crown that all but consumed her head. Her screams reached me and a gasp erupted from my throat when realization slammed into me.

Those were arrows. Countless arrows driven into her skull. She seemed to be trapped in unfathomable agony. I could not even see her face, for there were so many. How she managed to still live was …disturbing more than it was remarkable. She was a living pin cushion. She squirmed, her legs twisting in the grass, her head rolled from side to side, searching for a release from the pain and she wailed into the void, a haunting noise that echoed throughout the room. She should die. She deserves to die. It was like watching my mother all over again. I felt sick, what was this horrifying depiction? I was entranced, empathy surging like a rapid. I pulled my dagger from my boot and stepped in, gooseflesh punctuated my skin and my hair stood tall. Wait—

Blue light engulfed the humble room, and the taste of blood pricked at my tongue. I was thrown, a force splitting me from the suffering sight before me and I landed in a heap, limbs locked in place, I was physically held to the floor by an unseen force. The air knocked from my lungs, I found it challenging to breathe, and I stained against the invisible chokehold. The anchor’s light vanished as it was sealed.

“S-Solas!” I winced, air pushing out of my lips with a wheeze.

“Inquisitor, I must thank you.” His voice rang overly cheerful, pulsing with falsehood, his expression read differently. Eyes alit, sharp and unashamedly bright, the blue light trailed him as he turned to face me.

“You were most forthcoming with your intentions for me. I gave you the floor and your performance was…inspiring.” He shook his head, his face embellished with drying blood and dirt. “If my hands weren’t preoccupied with saving you, I would have clapped. A pity that your plan ultimately failed.” His words ending with the cold tone of finality.

I faced my defeat with a retort and growled despite my predicament, “How did it feel to have a mountain fall on you, Solas?” My emotions swirling in an unending whirlpool of despair for my failure and…relief, shameful relief.

“How did it feel? Ask the mountain. Although, you would face a difficult time finding it. I believe as of now, it stands below sea level.” He smirked and faced the eluvian.

He picked up the ostentatious bow and a single arrow from the quiver ruled in shadow, there was a slight shake to his hands, besides his haggard dirt/blood stained face and rock pelted armor, it was the only evidence that hinted at the event that befell him earlier.

“You left me to die when Corypheus besieged Haven! I was YOUR scapegoat! You are nothing but a coward.” The memory, along with rage found me, my mind fumbling with excuses.

“You’ve sacrificed more for the greater good of your cause, have you not? Your rage is misplaced, Vhenan. At one time, you were gladly complicit!" Solas argued, "As I am sure you are starting to remember." "Yes, at one time, I was gladly stupid." I retorted. "I thrived off of your praise alone, the Inquisition taught me I didn't need it."

“Yes, the same Inquisition that now terrorizes Ferelden and the Free Marches, searching for you. How wonderful of a teacher.”

“As were you, if my memory serves me right.” I seethed. “Though, I cannot claim to know what is real anymore.”

His left arm held the bow aloft and he seemed to ignore me, the light from his eyes illuminating its exquisite carvings and jeweled features, I had honestly never seen a bow so beautiful. It looked like it didn’t belong here, like it didn’t belong to this time. Solas nocked an arrow onto it, then to my horror, he took aim at the tortured woman, his right eye closing as he concentrated. He pulled back, deliberate and graceful. The arrow took flight, into the eluvian. I gasped when I heard the impact, I wished I could have covered my ears when her cries of agony hit me. I couldn’t understand how the poor female had any available space left on her head.

“Inquisitor, I must warn you not to wander in this place, for there are areas you may not return from, much like these arrows." He instructed.

“Who is she? What did she do?” I asked panicking, dismissing his warning.

“She numbers among they who killed Mythal. A crime for which an eternity of torment is the only fitting punishment.” He reached for another arrow. “They? Have you more prisoners? Why not kill them?” I reasoned.

“The first of my people do not die so easily, as you can see.” Another arrow flew coupled with another cry of agony. He navigated around my question, I knew not to ask more on the subject. This man had more walls than a gated palace.

“I assume that applies to you as well.” I pried, agitation digging in.

His smirk returned for the briefest of moments, before a deep melancholy was ushered in by his dipped brows and frown. He observed the bow in his hand, his fingers gripping it until his knuckles nearly turned white. “Andruil killed her with this bow. A fine gift, bestowed upon her by Mythal, herself. Yet, it ended in an act of greed, further sullied by lust for blood and power.” His head shook gently and he set the bow down, leaning it against the eluvian.

“When the veil is torn down…wont the Old Gods be freed?” Panic rose in my throat like bile.

“I have plans.” He pulled his hands behind his back and watched the suffering Andruil before him, eyes glassy and reflecting the writhing figure in his view.

“I-I didn’t think you were…I never thought you were capable of-“ I stuttered, the weight of his words plunging me into a deep ocean of fear. Did he imprison the other Old Gods in their own chambers of agony? Just who was Fen’Harel?

Andruils anguished cries bled through the eluvian, and staring into it was a God in the figure of a man whose eyes were gleaming with pride.

Last line credit goes to my friend AYSIA

Yeah I realize its not done. Like there needs to be a flashback for the opening yada yada.

#solas dragon age #solas romance #solas x lavellan #solavellan #dragon age fanfic #solas fanfic #angst #solas angst #torture #moon'hwa lavellan #the heretic #post trespasser

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muthaz-rapapa · 4 years ago

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Happiness Charge was unpopular in Japan because at the time, Frozen was the it franchise for young girls there so it suffered poor toy sales, continuing on with Go Princess' toys. It didn't help even more that New Stage 3 was released in theaters the same day as Frozen.

Ah, that’s right. Frozen. I usually don’t correlate Precure with other franchises but can’t say it wasn’t inevitable that its toy sales would suffer when the Frozen craze hit. Especially so in Japan because Disney has a huge market there.

But please don’t imply that Frozen is the only or major reason why HaCha as a whole didn’t do well because it isn’t. Those two things are not exclusive of one another.

HaCha is not as favored simply because it wasn’t a strong Precure season. Its story wasn’t all that engaging despite the fact it was supposed to be the 10th anniversary season. Reception of the main cast is still rather mixed and how satisfactory their character arcs were handled remains in debate (Yuko didn’t even get one). The pacing was slow at the beginning, it had no concrete theme to work with, the concept of international Cures never reached its full potential. In short, HaCha didn’t live up to the hype assigned to it and had a lot of flaws that pulled it down.

And I’m just talking about what I know of the Precure fandom’s feedback, ok? Nothing else from what’s outside it. I still recall how everyone rejoiced when Go!Pri’s first episode came out, some even commenting that Go!Pri should’ve been the anniversary season instead. While Go!Pri certainly wasn’t perfect, you could already tell back then that it was going fare a lot better than HaCha did. Why? Because the writing for Go!Pri was better. That’s why a lot of fans loved it.

Now, I’m well aware that everybody knows Precure is just one giant commercial for the toys Bandai churns out every year. I’m no marketing expert nor do I have that much interest in the money-making kiddie aspects of the franchise…but it just makes sense to me that you’re more likely to buy stuff of something you really like, y’know? In other words, if a company wants their products to sell, their ad (the TV series) has to be good enough to convince their customers to buy them.

So if you were to ask me why I’m not interested in HaCha merchandise, my response would be because I didn’t like HaCha enough. If you were to ask me why didn’t I like HaCha, I wouldn’t say “it’s because I like Frozen better” because Frozen has nothing to do with what I liked or didn’t like about HaCha. I’d say because HaCha failed to generate any love from me as a viewer.

Of course, I’m not a kid. I’m an older anime fan with my own purchasing power and sometimes unnecessarily complicated thought processes. There’s a big difference there. But I think the same basic logic would apply to children anyway. If they’re not interested, they won’t want it. Even if Frozen wasn’t a factor in this case, sales would still suffer if HaCha couldn’t win over its audience. Probably not as severely without Frozen in the picture…but yea. The TV series is largely responsible for the success of its toys, too.

Finally, figure collecting. (if this is not relevant to your ask, feel free to ignore the rest under the cut. I’m gonna talk about it though cuz it’s the whole reason I have merchandise posts to begin with)

It’s like toy collecting except hellishly more expensive and soul-consuming (so don’t do it).

Unlike toys, however, which will always be made to accompany the broadcasting season, figures are a niche in the otaku community and their releases are largely dependent on how many fans are invested in a series.

Take a very recent example: Kimetsu no Yaiba. There is a truckton of new goods being announced every single month/week ever since the anime adaptation became a massive hit. More love from fans = more demand. So of course, the figure companies would want to jump in on that. It’d be dumb not to.

But then let’s put this in the mahou shoujo genre perspective. Unlike classic juggernauts like Sailor Moon and CCS or a series that was popular enough to bump it up into the mainstream crowd like Nanoha and Madoka Magica, chances for a magical girl series to get the PVC treatment are very slim because they don’t draw as much demand as say the shounen titles do. Yea, I guess we can call Precure “mainstream” at least in the mahou shoujo category because it seems like a lot of people who watch anime in general are aware of its existence (Yukari Tamura’s mom watched it so no more needs to be said there). Even so, that’s still not enough. With Precure being a children’s show and its main target are kids who would probably want the toys more than they want figures, Precure isn’t a sure fire brand that a lot of figure companies are willing to stake it out for. It’s not that there’s a lack of older fans in the Precure fandom (as pixiv can prove to you, oh lord). It’s because there’s less certainty that the majority of these older fans will absolutely buy Precure figures if they were to be released. Especially now with the increased pricing everywhere.

That’s probably why Bandai often skips over old seasons to focus on the newer, popular ones for the S.H. Figuarts. They will only make figures for a particular season that has a good profitable percentage. More recent and favorable ones like KiraPre and Hugtto would sell so those Cures will be prioritized. Older and less popular ones like HaCha and MahoPre are stuck on the waiting list because there’s no way to know how many of their figures can even sell.

And then the figures that didn’t do well at all regardless of which season (Sekai Seifuku Sakusen), those are dropped completely, never to be heard of again.

That’s just the sad reality of it. :(

Again, do keep in mind that I’m just humble collector and these are mostly speculations at best. I’m not an expert on this topic so my words should be taken with several grains of salts.

But overall, I don’t think my reasoning is far off. I mean, it’s just plain common sense. You make things that you can definitely sell. That’s all there is to it.

Why do you think Disney hasn’t stopped throwing Frozen in our faces?

EDIT: I forgot to add that since it seems Bandai still holds the license for producing Sailor Moon figures, then it’s highly likely they’re holding the license for Precure as well. This means that even if other figure companies with better reputations (ex. Good Smile Company, Alter) wanted to make Sailor Moon or Precure figures, they can’t because only Bandai has the rights to distribute products of those brands. That’s why there’s a lack of variety for these two series. Add that to the extremely slow pace Bandai takes in getting their so-so quality figures released, you can clearly see why Precure has such a hard time being relevant in the figure community even though it’s a well-known franchise that has been airing practically non-stop for almost 20 years.

#*sprays disclaimer EVERYWHERE*#replies #merchandise

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littletayyswriting · 5 years ago

Text

Title: let me whisper sweet, softly, ‘til you see no more (3/4)

Author: LittleTayy

Rating: Mature

Characters: Marisa Coulter, Lord Asriel, Edward Coulter

Summary: The plan had sounded grotesque, even as she’d come up with it. Asriel had thought only as a man, wanting to whisk her away and escape to somewhere abroad before the child was born. Marisa however knew that only carefully crafted lies and deceit would get them away.

Or, Marisa and Asriel plan to be together and Edward doesn’t find out about Lyra.

AN: A slight canon divergence wherein, Edward doesn’t find out about Lyra and Asriel doesn’t kill him to defend his child and home. I’ve been wondering whether they’d had a plan to pass Lyra off as Edward’s child or if they’d had a plan to run away together. This is my short attempt at sorting that out.

Warning: This chapter contains mentions of infant death and implications of domestic violence. If this may be triggering or uncomfortable for you, please do not continue ready.

Read On: AO3

Chapter Three

Sitting down at her vanity, Marisa looked at herself carefully in the mirror, examining her features. There was a slight bruise low on her cheek and the split lip looked angry, red and raw. She poked at it lightly with her fingertips, her Monkey sitting on the vanity and watching her intensely. From the corner of her eye, she could see Edward making his way back into their bedroom; stopping at the sight of her in the mirror.

She looked at him through the reflection of the mirror, watching as his eyes traced over her features, almost smirking when she sees him cringe as he lingers on the split lip. Guilt is plain on his face and he looks away quickly, adjusting his suit and Marisa decides she can’t let him get away that easily. So she turns on the velvet stool, hair not yet done and pooling around her face and shoulders, framing her features beautifully as she looks up at him.

“Edward,” she calls out to him, low and soft, a tone of hesitance in her voice.

She watches Edward tense with a thrill before he turns to look at her. Her eyes are wide and her head is tilted slightly, her Monkey sitting mildly behind her, head cast down. She knows she looks the picture of an innocent, soft wife putting herself below her husband. It is not a position she is used to taking with Edward but it is necessary. She’d slipped the night before and she’d seen the realisation in Edward’s eyes; she needed to draw him back in, lull him back into a false sense of security.

“Yes?” Edward replied evenly, looking at the mirror behind her. The fact he could not look her in the eye pleased her beyond belief. He was feeling guilty, his action the previous night was haunting him and Marisa couldn’t believe how perfectly everything had happened. It had taken all her restraint not to rejoice.

Her hands came together on her lap, clasping together gently, fingers fiddling with her wedding bands. She took a breath, glancing up at him through her lashes as she finally spoke.

“I’m sorry about last night,” Marisa told him sedately, “I should never have spoken to you that way,” she continued, letting out a sigh. Her eyes were on his face and she could see the conflict he was having; it had always been far too easy to manipulate Edward.

Edward huffed uncomfortably. Apparently, his wife apologising after he’d struck her, was not sitting well with him. Marisa had predicted as much, which was exactly why she was doing it. If he was going to strike her, she was going to summon every ounce of guilt out of him that she could.

“Don’t, Marisa,” Edward replied carefully, taking a few steps closer to her, his eyes widening in alarm as Marisa deliberately tensed at his physical presence.

Visalia squawked, fluttering around to perch on the opposite side of the room. Her Monkey’s beady black eyes watched intensely, teeth baring slightly as Edward moved closer.

“Please, don’t apologise. It...it was a tough day yesterday. I never should’ve acted the way I did either,” he murmured, moving to sit down on the stool beside her.

Marisa pressed her lips together, looking away from him as he sat, brows furrowing a little, wondering what he’d do. She was surprised when his hand came up to gently cup her cheek, thumb smoothing lightly over the cut on her bottom lip. The touch almost made her jump, her eyes finding his with curiosity, wondering just what he thought he was doing.

“I am sorry, Marisa,” he whispered to her, his eyes finding hers for the first time since he’d walked into their bedroom. Although, what he was sorry for he dared not say out loud.

A deliberate sigh left her, a hand coming up to wrap around his, still holding her cheek. “It’s okay,” she whispered, voice velvety smooth as she leant into him, pressing her lips to his in a lingering kiss. “I forgive you,” she murmured as she pulled back, a single finger stroking down his cheek gently.

She ignored the sneer on the Golden Monkey’s face as she pulled away from Edward and turned back towards the mirror. In her peripheral, she saw him stand up and smooth out his suit, moving towards their closet, no doubt in search of a tie. She turned her head, to glance over her shoulder at him as she spoke.

“It is lucky I have no engagements today,” she calls to him, voice sweet and musical, as if they were talking about something trivial. “Don't you think?”

Edward freezes for only a moment in the threshold of the walk-in wardrobe and Marisa grins wildly at his back. He exhales and continues on, ignoring Marisa. It is all amusing to Marisa and she has to remind herself that she couldn't get swept up in the pleasure of playing these games with Edward.

If she got reckless or careless, it would be the end of her.

Marisa spent the morning going over her research notes, thankful that Edward was back to work. She’d spent the days between giving birth and attending the funeral doing basically nothing. It had been the hardest few days of her life; she was never not doing something and even more so when she’d felt she was so close to a break in her research. If only she had access to Asriel’s books and notes. She sighed, pushing the thought away. She couldn’t think about Asriel, it would only lead to her longing to see her lover and their child.

Her mind had also been on how she could use Edward’s act against him. He’d given her an almost perfect gift to destroy his reputation and standing with; her only problem was how to make it known. She supposed she could go out but that felt like an almost too deliberate act.

She sighed, sipping her chocolatl when an idea dawned on her and for once, her Monkey seemed as on board with the idea as she was. With a grin, she sent off a telegram, inviting Mrs. Sharpton to afternoon tea, that very afternoon.

The door bell rings and Marisa takes a breath, arranging her hair around her face just so, exhaling before smiling gently. She turns and heads towards the front door, pulling it open slowly, head turned to the side to apparently hide her split lip. The Golden Monkey is sitting sedately by her feet, looking curiously at Mrs. Sharpton’s daemon.

“Mrs. Sharpton, hello,” Marisa greets gently, looking at the other woman for only a moment before glancing down again and stepping aside, to let her guest in.

“Marisa, dear. Thank you for the invitation. I wasn’t sure if you would be seeing people but I’m glad to be able to check up on you after yesterday,” Mrs. Sharpton replied thoughtfully, she and her daemon stepping inside.

Marisa closed the door behind her before turning to face her properly, lips pressed together as the older woman turns to look at her fully. She bites the inside of her lip as she see’s Mrs. Sharpton’s eyes go wide, no doubt noticing her lip for the first time. She prepares herself for a barrage of questions as she takes the other woman’s coat and hangs it up but is surprised when the other politician’s wife, says nothing.

“Shall we have some tea?” Marisa suggests softly, leading the other woman into the sitting room where the tea is already set up. “I wanted to say thank you for yesterday. You were...so kind,” Marisa tells her, giving her a sweet smile. “It was a terribly hard day. For the both of us.”

She picks up the teapot and pours out both their drinks, three sugars in her own and milk in Mrs. Sharpton’s. She hands it over delicately as she sits down on the same couch as Mrs. Sharpton, her Golden Monkey curled around her feet, almost as if he’s hiding from the other woman. Marisa resists the urge to smirk at how perfectly he is playing it.

“I can’t even imagine,” Mrs. Sharpton replies after taking a sip of her tea. “And at such a young age… But, you have many more child bearing years ahead of you,” she continued and Marisa nodded, smiling as if she was grateful for the words.

She took a sip of her tea, wincing a little as the hot water stung at her lip, something she hadn’t planned. She swallowed, then placed the tea down; she could sense Mrs. Sharpton watching her.

“What happened dear?” Mrs. Sharpton asked softly, after a moment. Her own tea was placed down on the table and she was watching Marisa hawkishly. It was clear the other woman was talking about her lip and Marisa turned to her, giving her a small smile, shaking her head.

“Like I said, it was a hard day for us,” Marisa told her, fingers spinning her wedding bands as she looked away from Mrs. Sharpton, letting the older woman draw her own conclusions. She heard a sharp intake of breath from the other woman and knew immediately that she’d hooked her.

“Marisa, dear. Did...Edward do that to you?” Mrs. Sharpton asked carefully, curiously.

Marisa took a moment, as if she was thinking about it, before turning to look at Mrs. Sharpton properly. Her eyes found the other woman’s, grateful for her ability to cry on cue as tears pooled in her eyes. She nodded slowly, as if she was ashamed by the whole debacle.

“Yes,” Marisa whispered, hands pressing together as if in worry. The most perfect thing about it, was that she wasn’t even lying. She shook her head then, as she looked back up at Mrs. Sharpton. “But...it wasn’t really his fault. The stress and grief-” she started, but her guest cut her off.

“Nonsense, Marisa. That is no excuse,” Mrs. Sharpton insisted, her brows furrowed and her cheeks ruddy as she reached a hand out to take Marisa’s, giving it a squeeze. “You are grieving too! You just buried your baby…”

“I know. But he apologised, Mrs. Sharpton. I know he didn’t want to hurt me,” Marisa told her, voice light and high, trying to sound as innocent as she could.

“Has he done this before, dear?” Mrs. Sharpton asked, frowning as she kept a hold of Marisa’s hand, as some sort of gesture of comfort.

“Well…” Marisa glanced away, lips pressed together for only a moment before letting out a slight chuckle. She glanced back over at Mrs. Sharpton, the tears she’d conjured spilling only a few at a time. “I was married so young, you know? I suppose I didn’t know any better,” Marisa murmured to the other woman, all but saying what she wanted to hear, the implication clear; though it was a lie.

“Oh, dear,” Mrs. Sharpton exclaimed lowly, shaking her head and pulling Marisa into a hug. She tensed at first, not used to someone else initiating such contact, but relaxed into it. She knew Mrs. Sharpton had been the perfect person to reveal this to. She had no doubt that by the end of the week, this little bit of gossip would be all over London society.

A person’s reputation in this world was the only thing they had and Edward’s was about to be in shambles.

The next two weeks of Marisa’s life seemed to move along as if in a blur. Edward’s indiscretion spread through their circle of friends quickly, Anthony Sharpton and his wife taking full advantage of her supposed situation, just as she expected they would. The King’s Advisor was supposed to be a man of impeccable morals and values; murmurs of him being violent and possessive were damaging in the most delicious of ways.

The tension had sky-rocketed in the Coulter home and Marisa had never felt more in control. Even more so with what she’d just set in motion.

“Marisa! What have you done?!” Edward bellowed as he strode through their home, heading straight for the parlour where he assumed she would be.

As he turned into the parlour, Marisa could see that he was angry but his anger quickly dissipated to shock and Marisa had to hide her smirk. Beside her, Mr. and Mrs. Sharpton and on the other side, a Magisterium Inquisitor and Father MacPhail. She turned her eyes downward, inhaling sharply as she pressed her hands together, putting on a show for their four guests.

Mrs. Sharpton reached out to settle a hand on her back, rubbing encouragingly and Marisa sighed before lifting her head, to finally look her husband in the eyes. He looked furious but confused, though he was trying his best to calm himself. It delighted Marisa that Edward had helped bury himself so wonderfully, she had never expected him to actually hit her. The whole thing had fallen perfectly into place; it was almost too good to be true.

It was clear that their guests were for a very specific reason and Edward felt sick at the knowledge that they thought he harmed his wife; that he wasn’t fit for his position. Though it may have been the wrong thing to think of, in the moment, the thought of losing his position as King’s Advisor worried him more than anything else. Marisa and his marriage were merely beyond saving, he could see that now.

“Edward,” Marisa started, her voice light and sweet. Her eyes met his and she kept her expression worried and cautious. “I haven’t done anything,” she told him, shaking her head a little. She pressed her lips together in a picture of nervousness and turned to glance at the Sharpton’s, who looked at her encouragingly. She had to admire their willingness to manipulate marital discord for their own purposes. If she weren’t manipulating them right back, she might’ve courted with the idea of befriending them for real.

“Edward, I think it’s best you sit down,” Mr. Anthony Sharpton suggested, taking a step forward and engaging with Edward as if he was an old friend, simply there to help.

A thunderous expression crossed her husband’s features and she held her breath, wondering if her husband would do something stupid. She hoped he would, if only to make her case against him stronger. But, Edward was smart, it was one of the reasons he had appealed to her so much. Unfortunately, he nodded stoically and with a quiet huff, sat down on the armchair opposite Marisa.

“What is going on?” He asked, flicking his gaze around the people in the room before settling on Marisa, his brows furrowed as he tried to figure out what she was playing at.

Instead of Marisa answering however, it was Father MacPhail that spoke. He looked considerably unimpressed by being there and by the whole situation. Marisa wasn’t sure if he always looked that way or if it was just being there, in their home.

“It has come to the Magisterium’s attention, that an incidence of violence has occurred, within the home,” MacPhail spoke stolidly, keeping his expression unmoved. “Considering your position, we thought it best to undertake this as quietly as possible.”

Marisa ducked her head once again, her hands in her lap and her fingers twisting her wedding bands in a nervous gesture that everyone in the room could see. Mrs. Sharpton’s hand fell to her forearm then, giving a gentle squeeze that Marisa knew was supposed to be reassuring. Her Golden Monkey sat on the back of the couch, as if hiding away, peaking out over her shoulder in a faux pose of nervousness.

Edward shook his head. “That’s not what happened,” Edward insisted, brows furrowed and a spark of panic in his eyes.

“Well,” Marisa interrupted, before he could say anything else. “That’s not exactly true Edward,” she continued, sounding almost indignant as her voice wobbled only slightly.

“Marisa,” Edward breathed, shifting in his seat, angry and uncomfortable. Being questioned in his own home did not sit well with him, especially when his viper of a wife was at the centre of it.

“Don’t lie, Edward. You did hit me,” Marisa insisted, her voice swelling with emotion. She glanced at Mrs. Sharpton for a moment before turning back towards Edward. “I had the mark of it for days,” she continued, lifting her hand up and fingers lightly ghosting over her bottom lip. It was almost completely healed now, if a little tender still.

Tears pooled in her eyes, her lips trembled slightly, her breathing was deliberately fast.

Marisa was a picture of upset and Edward didn’t know what to do. His gaze moved around the room, shame overcoming him as he looked towards Mr. and Mrs. Sharpton and worry engulfing him as he looked towards Father MacPhail and the Magisterium officer. The feeling of dread that had settled in the pit of his stomach from the moment Marisa had turned to him after he’d hit her, had come back full force.

“Marisa...you know how sorry I am,” Edward told her, wanting to save some kind of face. It didn’t occur to him that he’d just admitted his guilt. “We had just buried our child! I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

But Marisa simply shook her head, lips pressing together for a moment to hide the smile that threatened to bloom across her features. She glanced over at Father MacPhail then, who still looked undeterred and expressionless. Though, he noticed, MacPhail did sigh.

“Mr. Coulter, grief is a powerful thing we understand. However, this accusation is very serious and the Magisterium takes these matters very seriously too. Which is why we will be conducting this...investigation for your wife’s petition thoroughly,” MacPhail told him seriously, what seemed to be disappointment and disapproval in his eyes.

Edward frowned, glancing between MacPhail and Marisa. “Petition?” He asked, his body suddenly tense.

Marisa nodded hesitantly, inhaling then exhaling as she found his eyes again, her expression one of upset. “Yes. I’ve petitioned the Church for a divorce,” Marisa told him softly, as if she were worried and scared about what he’d do.

This hadn’t been her original plan but his anger had presented an even better opportunity to rid herself of him. One that she wasn’t going to squander. Her new life with Asriel and Lyra were waiting for her and she was almost giddy with the anticipation. Soon, Edward would be out of her life forever and he wouldn’t have the power anymore to do anything about it.

#marisa coulter #edward coulter #his dark materials #hdm fanfiction #his dark materials fanfiction

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sohannabarberaesque · 5 years ago

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“Underwater America with Peter Potamus” (episode 17: Grand Lake O’ the Cherokees, Oklahoma)

[In opening this particular episode, we go, as usual, for the aerial view of the milieu for this week’s diving misadventure with our intrepid crew--as in no less than Oklahoma’s Grand Lake O’ the Cherokees, with due attention given to its sourcing, the Pensacola Dam of the Grand River Dam Authority ...]

PETER POTAMUS, in a bit of a stunner: Who could admit that you had a potentially interesting dive spot in as unlikely a place as the northeast corner of Oklahoma, almost on the fringes of the Ozarks, as in the Hillbilly Bears and Punkin Puss and Mushmouse? In any case, this is Grand Lake O’ the Cherokees for you ... no Lake of the Ozarks by any stretch, but nonetheless, by any stretch of the imagination, something of an unlikely diving spot for our company.

[Cue to a shot of the crew on the walkway atop the Pensacola Dam, with the lake proper in the background]

We are standing on what wrought the lake to begin with: Pensacola Dam on the Neosho River, sometimes known as the Grand River ... and in any event, Grand Lake O’ the Cherokees extends out some 40 miles northeast of this dam. Which, as can be expected, is a major hydroelectric power source for this region.

[An excerpt of the tour taken through the power station; we can hear the guide explaining over the roaring turbines and dynamos something about the generating potential of Pensacola Dam ... followed by a fade in to some docks near the somewhat-unlikely-named Disney, Oklahoma. Over which ...]

MAGILLA GORILLA, in some disbelief: And you have to imagine why they couldn’t have built Disney World in an approriately-named town like Disney, to begin with!

HOKEY WOLF, getting in his share: But for someplace otherwise seen as desolate and unbecoming as Oklahoma, mind you, this can get to be a rather unlikely resort spot!

WALLY GATOR: And a diving spot, don’t you know!

PETER POTAMUS, getting into the swing of things for that particular area: It may seem odd to picture a village named Tia Juana here in Oklahoma ... let alone a dive spot going by the name of Dripping Springs, which is just past Raper Hollow. [On the pontoon in the morning’s light by this time, getting everything fitted and checked out, reviewing the safety procedures for this particular neck of the lake, and then--the dive in, all backwards, as is expected in SCUBA. The inevitably cheesy stock music figures in prominently here ...]

SQUIDDLY DIDDLY, sensing things from the cameraman’s perspective: To just picture a group dive-in all at once from the same boat--especially in fresh waters such as Grand Lake O’ the Cherokees--and to be safe about it just so you don’t accidentally stumble upon a fellow diver just getting his bearings after falling in backward! [We can see Peter Potamus approaching Squiddly and giving him a pat of appreciation for the camera work, which, as ever, is to be commended.]

LOOPY De LOOP, over the setting to hand, and sensing something a little fishy (and then some): I was going to say something as is a common vulgarism back in Quebec, but am reserving the judgment somewhat ... particularly when you consider so much bass around these waters, and lacking proper vegetation besides ... even for an artifical lake founded on artificial waters!

HARDY HAR-HAR, likewise stunned by the want of underwater vegetation: And you thought there were bound to be tree stumps left over from when the dam was constructed and the lake filled in, to begin with ... only to find a mostly sand bottom!

LIPPY THE LION, as Hardy’s companion: But just imagine the fishing!

[The action switches to a sailboat in the middle of the lake somewhere between Duck Creek Arm and Drowning Creek Arm, with a modest little breeze helping things along....]

PETER POTAMUS: It’s been pointed out that Grand Lake O’ the Cherokees is exceptionally well-suited to the sailboat community, a credit to especially favourable winds from time to time--not bad for an inland lake....

[As if that weren’t interesting enow, a powerboat from the Dam Authority’s Water Patrol pulls along to the side, and out approaches--]

RICOCHET RABBIT: None other than--bling! bling! bling!--RICOCHET RABBIT “himself,” Water Patrol Officer, Grand River Dam Authority!

PETER POTAMUS, somewhat stunned: is there anything wrong with our boat you wanted to talk to us about?

RICOCHET RABBIT: Just doing a courtesy check on vessels in these waters ... and is it true you’re doing some diving in these waters?

PETER POTAMUS: None other than ... in fact, we were diving the Dripping Springs Arm just the other day, and we couldn’t help but be surprised that the lake bottom is ... somewhat dull!

RICOCHET RABBIT: You mean lacking vegetation?

SQUIDDLY DIDDLY, chiming in: As the underwater cameraman, such was the case ... but on the other hand, you couldn’t resist seeing plenty of fish about! And I have to wonder how such can be possible!

RICOCHET RABBIT: (Chuckling) Well ... enjoy your diving here, and just be careful out there! [Whereupon his Water Patrol craft pulls away, followed by a fade in of the sailing vessel pulling in to a section known as the Drowning Creek Arm]

PETER POTAMUS, narrating over the ensuing scene of the sailboat dropping anchor and some general rejoicing: Admittedly, our rental sailboat is no Windjammer, but for such an unlikely place as Grand Lake O’ the Cherokees, such can get to be a rather interesting diver’s quarters. Especially with the temperature close to the 90′s, plenty of humidity to match--and an opportunity to just kick back and cool off in such an unlikely-named part of the lake as Drowning Creek Arm! [Plenty of the cast swimming and lazing about in the shallows here]

MILDEW WOLF, getting in his share of snark: And you wonder why this was called Drowning Creek to begin with ... still, the snorkelling isn’t half bad!

[We find the sailboat under sail again on this aquatic curiosity, approaching a peninsula thereof popularly known as Monkey Island for some reason]

PETER POTAMUS: It’s understood that Monkey Island isn’t quite a true island as the dictionary defines it ... more like a peninsula, when you consider that a popular boating area known as the Horse Creek Arm is close to it. Which, at any event, is probably one of the deeper parts of Grand Lake ... and which calls for something of a serious SCUBA dive!

[Basically a beehive of activity, as we find Breezly Bruin hoisting the “diver down” signal flag, equipment getting checked over and fitted, harnesses adjusted, some limbering-up exercises, even the pre-dive safety review and a pop quiz on diving procedure, Boyle’s Law and avoiding that dread of SCUBA divers everywhere, “the bends.” And then--what a dive, sensing somewhat bluish-green waters heading to such a depth as 100 feet or so (the deepest point in Grand Lake O’ the Cherokees is 164 feet below surface, whereas 36 feet is the average depth), not to mention sunlight being inherent and obvious ...]

WALLY GATOR, observing things afterwards: Being the sort as grew up on diving for the most part, don’t you know, I have to admit there’s nothing like the diving experience to relax. I admit diving through a lot of water and a lot of conditions, even low or murky visibilities ... and there’s nothing better, by my own admission, to relax with than a long, wonderful alligator-fashion dive.

LIPPY THE LION, again narrating over: Is there a more interesting perspective to be had of the life experience than diving underwater, to begin with? Even if there get to be times when you can just imagine catching “that big one which got away” otherwise with bare hands; I admit to having tried it a few times, yet I understand the game wardens disapprove!

[Once close to the bottom, we find Peter Potamus signalling all to gather for what you might call an underwater “group hug,” arms clasped around each other’s shoulders to show friendship before surfacing]

PETER POTAMUS, with some final thoughts: I just have to admit that our "group hug” underwater just before the break is our way of sharing the friendship we have as diving buddies ... and as has been obvious, showing diving’s potential as a tool of friendship and good-natured fun is the object of this series all along. Make no mistake about it ... even as we prepare for our next diving misadventures, to be had next week on this same channel!

@joey-gatorman @warnerarchive

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steve0discusses · 6 years ago

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Yugioh S3 Ep20-21: Everyone's Gonna Die For Like the 3rd Time

So a few days ago I kinda tossed my phone at my bro and I was like “listen, it’s dead, don’t ask why this has happened, but I can’t get it to boot. I don’t even want to deal with it right now. I’m so over it. You fix it.” And so he fixes it by doing a factory reset and was like “so...what happened?” and I was like “I can’t say right now, it is too embarrassing.”

So, keep that story in the back of your mind as we go into this episode.

It’s a Final Threat like a Final Fantasy sort of meaning of the word Final, I see.

Anyways, a review:

Anyways, Noah has a superpower now that uses these pink balls of power. There’s only 6 of them, so it’s not quite Dragonball, unfortunately. They have some writing on them but I don’t know enough Duolingo to tell you what it is right now.

Especially since I kind of stopped using Duolingo a few months back, so now all of my limited Hiragana and few scattered kanji are gone forever. Thanks brain, glad I spent like a year trying to learn that. Domo. What I tried to go and do in order to read half my twitter feed.

YEP. THAT’S RIGHT.

Yugioh broke my freakin phone.

So anyways, I tried doing a reverse image search on my PC, which is how I got Calligraphy up there. Which I realllllly don’t think is uh...the word. Then, by using a handwriting reading website I got “to fight”, but because I have pretty BAD handwriting in English even, and because I don’t know the order of strokes for really any kanji at all, that was the only one I could find.

If y’all know Japanese, I’d be very curious as to what these are. It’s probably related to something vaguely religious as that’s been Noah’s MO this whole game.

And yes, now that my phone works again, I could just try and re download Google Translate, and give it another go, but this image might actually be cursed, as is Yugioh tradition.

(read more under the cut)

But before we do anything in this upcoming duel, Pharaoh wants to make sure to immediately tell Noah he’s a freakin weirdo as quickly as possible.

Noah is not that surprised. I mean Noah is a computer brain that’s been isolated for 6 years before going cray, he does not care if Yugi thought he were the king of England. Which Yugi was once in a spinoff game, the King of England.

We get a little explanation as to why Noah has such a God Complex (without playing a single God card, ironically) in that he likes to play this rare deck that Pegasus made that I guess Kaiba and Yugi sort of forgot about? I don’t blame them, I would also try to forget about this deck.

I like that no matter where Pegasus travels, he puts on that same Banana Republic khaki white-person uniform and just marches out there. The same outfit he wears digging in Egypt is the same outfit he wears visiting Indonesia or India or Canada wherever this is.

This is probably somewhere famous, but I don’t recall it off the top of my head, forgive me. There are a lot of massive relief sculptures in Asia.

Anyways, after that one travel through the vaguely East/South East, Pegasus had a *phase.*

Now listen, I don’t really think it’s my job as a reviewer to say if shoving vaguely religious/mythical/cultural iconography into playing cards is a good idea or a bad idea, because that’s been talked to death in a million other articles you can just go and read. Every art piece has it’s own reason to exist, and every artist is their own person with their own unique life experience. I have had to sit through so much weird ass installation art and avante garde performance art, that I have learned solely one thing about art critique. I am not art Jesus. I cannot save a piece, I cannot condemn a piece. So, I will not throw down, and I will not prop up--unless of course it is weird little shorts on your main villain matched with long black golfing socks--but I am allowed to say--

...huh?...

Remember how about ten or so episodes ago I was like, low key a little confused that it appeared like Yugioh was waltzing casually into religion territory? Remember how I was like “dude do they realize this is a reference to Lazarus? Like, they’re saying Kaiba could have been THE Lazarus?” Remember when I thought that was a big deal?

Well, Yugioh turned to itself and was like “hold my beer” and then just straight up outdid itself in so many weird ways. And don’t get me wrong, most of these cards are overall fine, nothing really all that shocking, but still like...

...OK, kid’s show. I’m sure all the children in the audience understood the references in this 100%.

Also, the fact that Noah is like “I turned to somewhat religious deities from antiquity to fight your ass” is kind of funny when you recognize he’s fighting a literal Pharaoh who has like 2000 of them of them under his belt already (counting himself). Like, nice job, Noah, you got like...12 in that deck? Congrats.

Anyway, Noah and his slightly problematic deck gets thrown by a bunch of Yugi’s cards and then Noah just plops right out of this giant dude. Or dudette. I didn’t really catch the gender on the Seraphim that is actually a fairy card. But, it was like Noah was being birthed for a second time. Well, third time, if you count when he was reborn as a robot.

So long story short, now he’s a boy again.

Noah had the foresight to put his clothes back on before he fell out of this gigantic robot god thing who’s name I’ve forgotten. A shame, it would’ve been a good gag to just see how long it takes Noah to realize he��s ass naked when he’s a robot who has no sense of touch. Or...body.

Anyways, Yugi’s friends immediately start doing what they do best, which is to trashtalk the other team so badly that it would get you tossed out of most sporting events. It backfires on them not just once but...several times, and I’m telling you, it is surprising that they never actually learned in this entire episode that all they ever had to do was shut their mouth and stop backseating.

But apparently, it’s courageous to catcall your opponent. Its a sign of undying friendship as per Yugioh law.

Anyways, we’re gonna get death 169 this episode, so stop scrolling right now and then think to yourself--who’s it gonna be. Who’s gonna be death 169?

Some of you (all of you) might know this show by heart but for those who haven’t (none of you), this’ll be our little interactive portion.

OK, here we go.

YESSSSS HE FINALLY DIED.

I knew that if I kept saying “Duke will die next” that eventually the dice fall in my favor. It took like 5 or 6 deaths before this actually happened, but can I say “called it?” Is that allowed? I’m gonna say “called it” and pretend that I called this.

Although, unfortunately, I did not call everything.

Wow, Tristan won the shipping wars! All of them! He’s death 169! So NICE!

I did not predict that at all, I honestly thought that 169 would be Duke, and Bro thought it would be Kaiba. We were both so wrong.

It makes sense though. Like he is the littlest horny monkey here. He deserves 169.

Anyway, then the sad stuff starts piling up. Just like so much sadness at once. Yugioh does not pace sadness like, at all, so you never get a chance to grieve since so many deaths are back to back in this show. And by back to back I mean, they play only one round of cards in between each death.

The writing team was so excited to kill everyone off, that it was the fastest rounds of cards I’ve ever seen this show play. We should tempt them with killing off their core cast more often.

So, seeing that half of his friends have been cursed with an eternity of being brain dead and living out their existence half alive in this weird digital universe, Pharaoh starts to doubt everything about his own abilities.

How weird is it to solve your ghost’s existential crisis when you’re trapped in some VR world he shouldn’t be able to exist in anyway?

But youknow, Pharaoh does this sometimes. Sometimes Pharaoh just gets really anxious if not enough people are telling him “It’s OK, Pharaoh, you’re basically a God. You already died once even so how could it possibly be worse? You’ll probably be OK!”

It’s the typical Yugi meltdown that accompanies every Yugi duel, except Pharaoh style, so it’s lower pitched and his hair is a little bit taller.

Noah tries to take advantage of this lapse of confidence, but Pharaoh’s melt down isn’t quite enough to make him quit a game.

Again, Noah seems constantly shocked that all of Kaiba’s friends and Kaiba himself are just incapable of putting cards down and walking away. This is like the 4th time he’s begged these kids to just stop and they just kept going.

And then, it’s time for the romance of the ages that we completely forgot existed. That’s right, shippers rejoice, YugixTea is back on the table, and it’s entirely because everyone else is dead.

Show, can you even be bothered? Like I feel so bad for y’all who shipped the canon ship because they just...forgot about y’all like...a lot.

But don’t worry, it’s still very vague, and instead of giving any sort of sentimental dialogue, Tea is just going to tear into Noah like a yummy sandwich.

Also, Tea thinks that Pharaoh has control over turning people to stone, that’s a weird thing she thinks now.

I mean for all I know, he can totally do this. Why the hell not? Go ahead, Yugioh. Surprise me.

And then...Noah just kept her alive a little longer?

I know that he was turning people into stone every turn but did I hear that wrong or did he seriously take a turn longer to freeze Tea, just to spite her?

What is it with the Kaiba’s and Tea? I make jokes that she’s the Mom of this mess of a family, but even Noah let her live way longer than anyone else here.

He got over it, though.

And then Pharaoh decided to die.

Like he wasn’t actually dead, he was just low on lifepoints, and was like....that’s it. I’m done. Goodbye world. It was a good couple of years that I haunted the Hell out of everybody through this weird, very strange child. See you next Millennium.

And then he just kind of took a nap.

Like canonically, Pharaoh just took a nap in the middle of this duel. He is out for like...kind of a while.

Pharaoh melt-downs are kind of the worst because they do seem to involve him completely shutting down. At least in this game, he isn’t lying completely flat on his face, as I have seen him do in a duel before.

PS How does this work?

I know I’m not supposed to think about it, and I’ve held back on talking about it for 20 episodes but like...Noah uploaded the mind of Yugi. Not Pharaoh.

Pharaoh’s mind is attached to Yugi through the puzzle...but the puzzle is not attached to the computer in any way. While Yugi’s brain now has a labyrinth problem, that doesn’t mean that Pharaoh would even be here. He is a magical ghost attached to Yugi’s body which is Not Actually Here.

So like...how is this happening?

Can you seriously trap Pharaoh here in this realm? You can’t, right? Like it isn’t possible, he’s the only one who’s not ever actually here in the first place.

Like...Pharaoh should be able to just wake up in the pod, open the door, and walk right out of there, just like he did with Bakura in Season 1 when Yugi got turned into a playing card. Mind you, in Season 1, Yugi’s soul was dislodged and not his brain, but this just seems like a little bit of a retcon.

I have already thought about this more than the people who made this kid’s show, so I’ll let it go, but this is one of those things I have to try real hard not to think about because...

...if Noah has full control of all their brain functions and projects images on to their brain via hallucinations, then how can they hallucinate anything else? How can you pass out and have dreams?

Which doesn’t matter of course--this doesn’t matter to the plot really, as this is a kid’s show and so just go with it--but I have been thinking about this in the background for 20 episodes and this is where I kind of couldn’t ignore it anymore because we’re gonna dive into some hella weird territory, get ready.

So anyways, Yugi comes down like some sort of cherubic angel and it was very hammy and legit pretty funny I mean look at this.

If this were Sailor Moon, Yugi would be ass naked and have huge, beautiful fairy wings covered in holographic glitter and cherry blossoms.

I’d normally just put in a picture of the infamous last episode of Sailor Moon I’m referring to in order to make this joke complete, but knowing Tumblr I’d be flagged in like two milla-seconds because this blog gets flagged KIND OF A LOT FOR A RECAP BLOG OF A KID’S SHOW, but just google it for yourself and bear with me here cuz like,

These two?

Same energy.

I see this image and I can immediately hear that woodwind just bounce off the back of my brain. It’s like conditioned in me although I allllways skip the intro.

So in this dream/literal brain world reality that they’re walking through, despite being in a digital world, Yugi has stuffed some hand selected hallucinations that seem to have like...a personality embedded into each.

So...Yugi can just create clones in his head that act like he remembers his friends act.

Really interesting superpower there.

And yes, this does mean that Pharaoh not only has no long term memories, he flat out refuses to check on his short term data as well. He is just acting purely on a margarita mix of impulse and anxiety. He is such a freakin mess.

I can’t believe this guy went on a date once.

And like, of course this is all a metaphor for how even if your friends can’t be with you physically, their memory is enough to push you forward when you’re feeling all alone. It’s a nice moral of the story, it’s just that it’s a little spooky when it’s literal.

So yeah, Yugi has a fake Kaiba at all times just flinging insults at him from within his own mind. It’s one thing to say you got the voice of all your rivals, friends, and parents pressuring you in the back of your mind, but to literally have them always stowed there, trapped together in the back of your mind is...that’s very Yugi.

This kid needs so much help.

PS nice little frosting on the cake that that he does not store any family members in the short term memory zoo exhibit. Sorry Gramps, you were uninvited from this show in S2 when Bakura knocked you unconscious and you fell off screen and then we just...forgot to ever check up on you ever again.

I’m sure Gramps is probably fine.

DON’T THINK ABOUT IT, GUYS.

I keep thinking about it and it never comes full circle. Just--the hearts of our dead friends are in these cards, although the friends we were just talking to were absolutely fake people that Yugi has copy-pasted into his clip board in his brain hut. Also, these cards were drawn before they would have given him these cards so they didn’t...actually give him cards. They just...lodged their hearts in there real good.

Although their minds are trapped in a weird rock state and their bodies are trapped in some pods...their hearts are good to go wherever.

It doesn’t matter, in the end, Yugi played a bunch of different moves--I want to say like all six cards in the longest and most complicated Yugioh turn in the history of the Earth--in order to finally end Noah.

I can’t have nice things.

Speaking of, I forgot to mention the most tragic death of this episode.

He may have been resurrected, but his soul was deffo disconnected with his body, or at least my PAD data (during Monster Hunter fest even) and all of my pictures and videos are gone. My auto correcting is also really effed up now, and it’s been auto correcting in kind of...really offensive ways...and I have no idea why because it’s only been rebooted for like...2 days. So it’s almost like my phone got resurrected as an evil person or something like it got Marik’d or something. Either way, I had a fun time explaining some texts at work that my dumbass phone decided were a cool idea.

The things I do for this side blog.

Anyway, if you just got here, this is a link where you can read these from the start in chrono order.

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