#because it also serves as a way to quickly misinterpret and make a joke out of really complex characters

[tellerluna-stories]

ii. rex lapis

The sands of time shifted once more, and now Rex Lapis ruled over Liyue. His land overflowed with wealth, and all who passed through Liyue saw their businesses prosper. The people who now walked the paved streets of Liyue had happily never known the tragedies of war, and they lived out their lives in blissful ignorance.

Within the Golden House, Rex Lapis paced around restlessly. His horns and claws were nowhere to be seen, as Liyue had no need for such instruments of war. The simple white robes he had donned for battle had been replaced with layers of multicoloured ceremonial robes and intricate headdresses that only the finest artisans could craft.

With these robes came great honour and responsibility, a reminder that the fate of Liyue rested solely upon the shoulders of Rex Lapis. Though they were made of mere fabric, at times Rex Lapis felt that they weighed heavier than chains of pure gold.

He sighed and fiddled with his sleeves— though he was, in fact, the reason mora existed in the very first place, he had to admit he was tired of seeing the same golden shimmer that surrounded him everywhere he looked.

“My lord.”

Without even turning around, he replied, “I told you not to be so formal with me.”

“Alright, alright.” You smiled and spread your hands disarmingly. “Thousands of years, but you’re still as legalistic as ever.”

Unlike Rex Lapis, you had not chosen to change too much about yourself in the years following the Archon War, whether in appearance or personality. It somewhat brought him comfort knowing that in a world that was constantly changing too fast for him to keep up, there was still one person who could keep him anchored; no matter what era you were in, you could always quickly adjust to the practices and customs around you without forcing yourself to mold to them.

“Thousands of years, and I still need to remind you that titles are unnecessary, my friend.”

“Ah, but the question is: am I genuinely forgetting to drop them, or do I keep using them just to irk you?”

He turned around, face carefully devoid of any emotion. “My friend, do you happen to fear the wrath of the Rock?”

He watched in satisfaction as the smug look on your face quickly morphed into one of fearful respect. “As a matter of fact I do, so let’s change the topic. Your robes are simply majestic, my— I mean, Rex Lapis!”

“Do you not have one just like this?” Rex Lapis looked down at his embellished sleeves— the people of Liyue had gifted both of you with ceremonial robes, but he had yet to see you wear them. “If I recall, yours had the phoenix embroidered on the front.”

“Oh yes, I still have it with me.” You bent over and inspected the nearest pile of mora, brushing the golden coins with your fingertips. “I don’t wear it much since it restricts my movements, but maybe I will if there’s a special occasion.”

“I would like to see you wear it someday, if you choose to. You’d look absolutely stunning.”

He waited for some witty comeback, the usual jokes you’d make in response to his compliments�� but you remained oddly silent, hunched over the little pile of mora like a bird guarding its nest.

“My friend...?”

Gently, he placed a hand on your shoulder, unknowingly sending an electric current running through your veins.

“Ah, yes, yes! I was just, uh—“ Hurriedly, you jumped to your feet and dusted your hands off on your clothes. “I was just trying to remember where my robe was, that’s all. I stored it away but I don’t exactly remember where— you know how it is, right?”

Yes, you had just forgotten where you had last put that phoenix robe, as though you still didn’t clean it and carefully air it out at least once a month. That robe was one of the few things you treasured dearly, as it was a gift from the people you watched over... and perhaps also because it was a gift that matched with his.

The heat rushing to your face and the quickening of your heartbeat upon hearing him say you’d look stunning— that was out of pure embarrassment, nothing more. He only meant it out of kindness, now, don’t misinterpret his words.

Clearing your throat hastily, you tried to change the subject. “Did you know that there’s a full moon tonight?”

“Is there, now?” He tilted his head to the side; a somewhat endearing habit of his, left over from when he had horns. “I have not left this place in quite some time; the people of Liyue are a little too concerned for my safety to let me venture outside often.”

“They haven’t....?”

But Rex Lapis merely smiled in reply, dismissing the matter with a wave of his hand. “It’s only natural for young people to be overprotective of the ones who take care of them. I’m sure they would do the same for you if you just let them, my friend.”

“You sounded very old when you said that, my lord.”

“Pardon?”

“I said your words shone like gold when you said that, my lord.”

He narrowed his eyes skeptically, but you only returned his gaze with a look of pure, angelic innocence. There was no way he could say anything against you, especially not with that look on your face.

“My lord,” You said, with that innocent look still plastered on your face. “Given that you haven’t gone outside in a while, what say you to accompanying one such as myself on an outing this fine evening?”

“An outing, you say?” He put a hand to his chin and pretended to contemplate the idea, silently observing as your eyes lit up with poorly-hidden anticipation. “Where would one go at this hour? It would cause quite a stir if Rex Lapis were to suddenly disappear from his position, with no reasonable explanation.”

To that you raised a finger upwards in reply, pointing to the cavernous roof of the Golden House.

“Technically, you wouldn’t be leaving.” Holding out your hand to him, you smiled and said, “Shall we watch the stars together, then?”

———

“This is incredibly reckless.”

“It’s also incredibly exciting, don’t you think?”

Barely-suppressed laughter bubbled up into your throat as you looked at the great Rex Lapis, who had awkwardly bunched up his robes around his knees. There was no way he could climb to the top of the roof without either damaging his (very costly, one-of-a-kind) robe, or getting him tangled into a mummy wrapping of fine silk.

“Your laughter does not go unnoticed, by the way.” He said, glowing amber eyes trained on the vast ascent of roof tiles before him. “Since this was your idea, how about you think of a solution to this problem?”

The cool night breeze whistled in your ears like a distant flute, and he shivered slightly; it was best to think of a solution quickly, lest Liyue be in uproar over the dignified Rex Lapis catching a mere cold.

You squinted at the rooftop, trying to analyse the best way to scale it with as little collateral damage to your superior as possible. It was certainly possible, especially with your talents as an adeptus (and also because your position did not require such cumbersome clothing), but there would have to be some rather... unusual measures taken.

“Do you trust me?”

He blinked in confusion. “What strange sort of question is—“

Before he could finish, you lifted him off the ground as though you were carrying a princess.

“Hold on tight, my lord.” You whispered, your lips only a few breaths away from his ear. “It may be a little bit unstable.”

He barely had time to wrap his arms around your neck as you leapt into the air, nimbly bounding off the golden tiles like a deer.

What exactly was this situation he was in? Moreover, what was this odd sensation swelling in his heart?

“Mind your sleeves, Rex- I mean, my lord!” You huffed. “I can’t see where I’m stepping if you decide to obscure my sight, which isn’t exactly the best choice for you right now.”

With one final jump, you landed safely on the topmost roof of the Golden House. He could only stare at you blankly as he tried to process what had just happened in the past few minutes— however, you caught onto his stare too easily.

“What, are you surprised that I was able to pull that off?” Shaking your head vigorously to remove the flyaway hair from your eyes, you frowned at him in a jesting manner. “Don’t tell me you’ve been underestimating my abilities this whole time, my lord.”

“No.” He replied immediately. “I would never.”

“That’s what I thought.” With a nod of satisfaction, you gently set him down onto the roof. “Here is the moon and stars for you, as promised.”

Rex Lapis raised his eyes to the sky that he had not seen in some time, and the heavens did not disappoint.

Overhead, the galaxy stretched out in a rich tapestry of hues, stars interwoven in between the threads like beads of precious stones. A full moon hung in the sky, a pearl of great price that took all the beauty that surrounded it and unified it into a beautiful symphony of colours.

For the first time in a while, he felt free— up here with you by his side, there were no such things as duty and responsibility. There were only the two of you in this quiet, peaceful place, with the heavens above as your only witness.

“A lovely night, don’t you think?” You grinned and put your hands on your hips, the wind toying with your hair ever so slightly. “The minute I saw this, I knew you simply couldn’t miss it; not in a thousand years.”

His gaze lingered on the picture of you bathed in a soft halo of moonlight, smiling dreamily at the stars above. “...Very lovely, indeed.”

“Oh, I almost forgot!” Jolting suddenly, you fumbled as you brought out a brass bottle and a pair of teacups from seemingly thin air. “I figured it would be cold out, so I prepared something, just in case.” You gestured for him to sit. “Have a seat while you’re waiting— can’t have the ruler of Liyue standing around waiting for me to serve him, can I?”

“Your judgement is as impeccable as ever, my friend. Whatever would I do without you?”

You rolled your eyes as you began to unscrew the cap of the bottle. “Such flattery is unnecessary. We both know that you could manage Liyue just as well if you were on your own.”

“That doesn’t mean I would want to.” He hesitated, unsure if what he would say next would make you uneasy. “You have done more for me and for Liyue than you could possibly imagine, and I... I sincerely wish for you to know that. You have just as an important role in Liyue as I do, and this place would not be what it is today without you.”

Pausing in what you were doing, you slowly raised your eyes to meet his— there was nothing but pure sincerity in his eyes and words. He truly meant what he was saying, and the way he worded it made your heart- no, no, this wasn’t the time for that.

“...Thank you, Rex Lapis. Those words mean a lot to me, especially coming from you.”

“Do my ears deceive me?” He put a hand to his mouth in mock disbelief. “Say that once more, my friend, I do not think I heard you well the first time.”

“No, I don’t think I will.” You glared at him. “It seems that your age is showing, my lord. Perhaps I should carry you back inside, if your age has really advanced so rapidly.“

“You called me Rex Lapis, for once. This is a day that this aged man shall remember for the rest of his life, and shall be inscribed into the history of Liyue as a momentous occasion—“

“The tea will grow cold long before your long-winded speech finishes, my lord. How about you drink first and talk later?”

Rex Lapis gave you an unimpressed stare. “Perhaps if you cease calling me ‘my lord’, I will think the matter over. When did you learn to brew tea, by the way?”

You returned his stare with one equally matched in unimpressed energy. “Over the years, I’ve found that the art of tea-brewing helped greatly in calming myself, and so I’ve been practicing ever since. Your cup, please— my lord.”

He rolled his eyes at your smug face and held out his cup.

A faint wisp of steam curled from the bottle as the dark liquid trickled into his teacup, along with some unknown plant matter. His thoughts must’ve shown clearly upon his face, for you burst out laughing upon seeing it. “It’s not poison, for Celestia’s sake! If I were planning to assassinate you, I would’ve done it eons ago.”

“And how is that meant to bring me any reassurance?”

“Oh, it wasn’t intended to.” You poured a cup for yourself and downed a sip of your concoction. “But no assassin would be fool enough to drink the poison intended for their target... except for me, possibly. Drink up!”

Rex Lapis still eyed the teacup in his hands suspiciously— but then again, you had never given any reason for him to doubt you, so why should he start now?

“So, is it good?”

He closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the unique flavours on his tongue. “If I could, I would drink the tea you make everyday for the rest of eternity.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words; you choked, nearly sending the bottle of tea tumbling off of the roof. “Ah- er, well—“

“What, is that too humble of praise for it? I mean it from the bottom of my heart.”

“No, it’s just- well, it sounds like a phrase I’ve heard among the merchants of Inazuma— oh, never mind. I’m glad you like it.”

“What did you put in it to make it taste so exquisite?”

Leaning closer to him, you whispered, “Petals of peach blossom and glaze lily flowers. Along with some other choice ingredients, but what truly gives it that taste and aroma is the flowers.”

Your face was close, closer than he ever even dreamed to approach in a million years; in the pale moonlight, your eyes glittered brighter than any jewel the earth could give. Any dragon would covet such a treasure and guard it with their very life.

How had he not noticed how mesmerizing your eyes were till tonight?

“Absolutely fascinating,” He murmured, before belatedly realizing he said it aloud.

“Isn’t it?” You hummed in agreement. “It’s my special brew. I experimented on it until I could perfectly balance the flavours to my liking.” Your gaze swiveled to the elaborate water gardens sprawled in front of the Golden House. “Do you want me to plant a peach tree and some glaze lilies by the front of the gate? I could do that, if you really do enjoy my tea that much.”

A mix of relief and disappointment washed over him; you hadn’t realised he wasn’t talking about the flowers.

He mused over the idea— it didn’t seem so bad, after all, but...

“I’d like to plant them somewhere more.... permanent. Somewhere we can watch them grow together.”

“Say the word, and your wish is my command.” You beamed at him. “Just tell me when and where, and I’ll have them in full bloom for you in no time, no matter the season.”

A warm, fluttering feeling filled his chest, and Rex Lapis suddenly found it harder to breathe than before. His face felt oddly warm, while his hands were cold— was it a result of the night air? He wasn’t that old yet.

Anxious to change the topic before you cracked another joke about his age, he quickly asked, “How are the affairs of Liyue doing, my friend?”

You shrugged nonchalantly. “The trade routes are thriving splendidly. Many merchants from the other regions come to seek permission to transport goods to and from their lands, so I’ve been handling most of their affairs. Even picked up some of their languages while at it.” A mischievous smile spread across your face as you said, “Tu ne me comprends pas, non? Je t’aimerai pour toujours et à jamais, mon amour.”

“Impressive.” He hadn’t understood a word of what you had said, but he was almost dead certain that you were poking fun at him. “It is good to see that Liyue is in such capable hands. What about the—“

“—the adepti? Oh, they’re all doing quite well, I believe. They don’t really leave their abodes anymore, save for Madame Ping and young Ganyu.”

“How about—“

“Xiao? I visit him every now and then, to make sure he eats well and is doing alright. And yes, I bring him the painkillers you have specially made for him.” You paused. “He sends his greetings, and it is very obvious that that boy misses you, even if he won’t admit it himself.”

Rex Lapis breathed a sigh of relief and smiled. “You really do know what I’m going to say, even before I say it.”

“What can I say? Even before you need to ask, you can consider it already done.” A chuckle escaped your lips as you scuffed the sole of your shoe against the roof tiles. “That’s why I’m here, after all. Who better than I to carry out the word of Rex Lapis?”

“You had best watch yourself there, my friend, lest your head grows too big for your shoulders.”

“Oh, but my lord, who was the one who gave me this position?” Propping your chin on your steepled fingers, you give him a smug look. “I seem to recall a certain someone appointing me as his right-hand, after all.”

“What has been given can just as swiftly be taken away.”

“You’re no fun.” You stuck your tongue out at him and turned away, pointedly staring at the moon.

“So, what is the real reason you brought me up here?”

In an instant your head whipped back to meet his gaze, eyes wide and mouth agape. “How did you—“

The corner of his mouth quirked up in a lopsided grin, and now it was his turn to look smug. “You’re not the only one who can practically read minds, my friend. The facade you put up is better crafted than mine, but I can still see right through you.”

“Well...” You fell silent for a moment, fingers tracing along the sides of the brass bottle and etching invisible patterns into the metal with your fingernails. “I wanted to ask how you were doing.”

Rex Lapis tilted his head slightly, confusion and curiosity melding into one feeling. “How I was doing?”

“I struggle sometimes... with the memories of those who have passed on. Sometimes, in the heat of the moment I forget; I get distracted or actually feel happy, but then I suddenly think of them, and I wonder if I actually have the right to enjoy myself.”

Shifting slightly, your expression was unreadable in the pale moonlight. “But lately, their faces have become blurry, and I get scared when I can’t remember what they look like. It’s the least I can do for my comrades, since I’m the only one left.” You pursed your lips. “Do you have the same problem?”

The somber look on your face stirred up the remorse that still gnawed at his heart, even after all these centuries. You had been suffering alone because of his mistakes, and it pained Rex Lapis even more knowing that no contract he wrote could remedy the empty gap in your heart. All he could do was sit with you and be something you could anchor yourself to, just the way you had been a steadfast rock to him.

He shifted to sit closer to you, no longer caring whether his robes would be dirtied or not. “Not quite the same problem.”

“...Oh.”

“Like you, even after so many years I still cannot help but think of them. Every detail of their lives, their voices and faces— I remember it all.” Rex Lapis looked up to the stars, where perhaps the constellations of your friends lay, and laughed dryly. “Mortal men have been blessed with forgetfulness, but it seems that I have been cursed to remember.”

Tentatively, he raised a hand to gently pat you on the head, just the way his caregiver used to when he was feeling out of sorts or upset. “But worry not, my friend. If what you worry about is forgetting, then I will be the one to remember everything for you.”

“You needn’t worry about me forgetting you, by the way.” You said quietly. “Even if I forget everything else in this world, I know that I’ll always remember you, no matter what form you take.”

The strange, fluttering feeling in his chest returned, coursing through his veins and flowing through his fingertips— subconsciously he pulled his hand away, fearing that those feelings would somehow reach you.

It’s merely the chill of the night air, he told himself.

You said nothing as he pulled away, but Rex Lapis found himself wishing you would say something, anything; complain, or make a joke out of it, or perhaps even ask him to do it again— no, he couldn’t dare dream of that.

Not for your sake.

“The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?” You said suddenly, breaking the silence and the maze of thoughts his mind was trapped in.

Rex Lapis looked to the moon over Liyue Harbor, admiring the way it bathed the city in silver light. Though Liyue in the daytime was loud, filled with many colours and sounds that overwhelmed the senses, this version of Liyue was also beautiful to behold.

Perhaps... perhaps this is what she meant by living treasure, he thought to himself.

Caring for this city of people, nurturing them and building a better future for them and the future generations— that was certainly something close to his heart. It didn’t feel exactly like the living treasure he had expected, but as long as you were there to watch over Liyue with him, then perhaps... perhaps it would grow on him as time passed.

“Yes,” he agreed. “It truly is.”

But that evening, he failed to notice that you weren’t looking at the moon.

[sokkagatekeeper]

there have been many misinterpretations of the way zuko annoys his way into sokka’s quest to the boiling rock but i believe one of the reasons zuko insists on going with sokka even though sokka is five seconds away from trying to kick his ass into the sun is that zuko doesn’t want to die anymore.

it does seem conterproductive given the reasons he doesn’t want sokka to go alone is because 1) it’s most likely to end in death or another painful alternative, and 2) zuko does not want sokka to die or face other painful alternatives. it is obviously because zuko is very kind and brave that he offers sokka his company, however taking into account the little time he spends trying to convince sokka not to go at all i believe the sort of unconscious motivator for zuko to be so on-board with the entire thing and inserting himself in it so quickly and is that he kinda sees himself in sokka, not only in the aspect of chasing redemption, but in the aspect of chasing an almost unreachable redemption. when sokka tells zuko he needs to “regain his honor” and zuko echoes the word honor and tells sokka that he gets it, well. he also gets what it’s like to be willing to die if it means he’ll make up for one mistake.

don’t get me wrong, sokka does a more than excellent job in hiding his death wish throughout the series somehow despite being quite blatant his jokes being merely a way of coping with his own mortality. but zuko, who has been hating himself for two books and a half, is not easily fooled. i do not know how deep zuko’s knowledge went on sokka’s guilt and martyrdom intentions but he sure noticed sokka was not having a great time after the invasion, namely more than aang or katara or toph did. and namely because zuko also sort of lost during the invasion – it’s just that he doesn’t hate himself over his failings against his father anymore.

now, hakoda has been a factor that caused sokka to act irrationally in the past, when he left ba sing se and the invasion plans to katara of all people in order to meet with him after so many years, and when you think about it sokka is not wrong exactly — it was a mistake that he made on the day of the invasion, but let’s be realistic. abandoning the group and infiltrate an enemy high-security prison all alone in order to find and free his father that might not even be there at all, is foolish and irrational and impulsive and nothing like sokka’s previous plans or his extra careful nature. sokka is not looking for redemption, he’s looking for punishment.

the boiling rock serves zuko’s redemption as much as the firebending masters and the southern raiders do, and it is as much a semi-redemption for him as much as it is for sokka at least from their own perspectives. but up until a few episodes ago his idea of redemption had been capturing the avatar. zuko had been putting and getting himself out of the stupidest, most dangerous situations possible out of desperation, he had been forcing himself to be a person that he could never be, at his very core, because of one mistake he beat himself over and over again whenever he overperformed a ruthlessness that choked him without him even realizing it.

when sokka says “it was my idea, it was my decision to stay when things were going wrong, it was my mistake and it’s my job to fix it” zuko can also hear himself “it was my idea, it was my decision to speak up when they explicitly told me not to, it was my mistake and it’s my job to fix it”. zuko has some way to go in his redemption and recovery still but he has gotten over his guilt, he has gotten over his self-hatred. sokka’s mistake was a serious one but it cannot be fixed the way sokka is trying to, and zuko’s mistake had been coming for a long time. it’s the guilt over being human instead of the fearless commanding leaders and perfect sons they believed they should be, that makes sokka so sympathetic to zuko, and motivates him to be a sort of support system for sokka as he figures out what zuko struggled so hard with but eventually understood. he wants sokka to understand forgiveness towards himself as well.

[tsvestidiabolus]

the melody never changes

commission for @snurps

➵ my COMMISSIONS are open!

SUMMARY:  Robin's reflection on their newest crewmate, from Thriller Bark to Fishman Island, and Brook's growth from solitude to rockstar.

WORDCOUNT: 2529

CHARACTERS: Brook & Nico Robin

ALSO FOUND AT: ao3

Thank you for the commission!  I had a blast writing for Brook and Robin.  Theirs is a friendship that is immensely underrated.

To the charming skeleton gentleman,

First off, I’m afraid I must deny your inevitable request to see my panties.  I have self-respect, and I don’t think they would suit you.  Secondly, while we are not currently crewmates, our captain has declared you as part of the Straw Hats, and you’ll find him to be very persuasive.  Doubtless we’ll be spending more time together in the future.  In order to give you a warm welcome to the crew, I’ve decided to write a personal letter from me to you.  Partly because I know how it feels coming into this ship as a newcomer, and partly because I’m frankly interested in you.

As an archaeologist, of course.

We’ve recovered the three strongest of our crew, and those who were in the crew all the way back in the East Blue seemed to recognise the whale you mentioned.  It’s funny how life turns out that way - coincidences upon coincidences, friends meeting with friends again.  He’s called Laboon, right?  I certainly hope you’ll introduce me to him when we arrive at Twin Cape.

Nami is calling out to the crew - I believe she wants us to plan before we inevitably scrap any semblance of strategy and enter the main castle again - so I’ll have to cut this short.  If we somehow don’t survive and our mangled corpses rot on the island, which would be a shame, I’d have to hope this letter finds its way to you.

From,

Nico Robin

---

“Yohoho!”

Even now, despite all the hardships and suffering the crew had gone through in the past day, Brook laughed.  Such a melodic sound - one could almost mistake it for a song - yet it carried with it fifty years worth of promises.

The pirates were spread out across the castle of Thriller Bark, exhausted from their ordeal (yet at the moment that Luffy would shout it’s time for a party, they would be bouncing with energy) and taking their time to rest.  Some of them had been tending to their wounds with the help of Chopper, while others decided to help out those who’d been lost for years.  The Straw Hats in particular were fretting with worry over Zoro, even though they all were confident in his survival.

Brook practically danced past most of the Straw Hats, tipping his skull to those he passed by, before he settled right in front of the archaeologist of the crew, her nose stuck in a book.  Robin flipped to the next page of her novel, making no indication that she had noticed his arrival.  

“Ah, Miss Robin -”

“If you’re about to ask to see my panties, I’ll have to say no,” said Robin.  

Brook laughed. “Well, it was worth a shot!  But that’s not the reason I’m here.”

Her eyes never leaving the page, Robin arched a brow, the corners of her lips twitching upwards. “Oh?”  

“I wanted to give my thanks.  You’ve made me feel welcome to the ship already.”

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about,” Robin said, smiling.

“Yohoho!  I’ve never felt so honoured to call someone so beautiful a friend!”

With a tip of his hat, and a blank eyeless stare for a brief moment (which Robin later found out was Brook attempting to wink), Brook danced away from her, his skeletal legs skittling across the ground.  It was almost inhumane, the amount of speed the man carried in his light body, but then again their crew was full of monsters.  A living skeleton was far from the most terrifying thing in their crew.

As for the most terrifying thing?

Brook was bound to discover, sooner or later. 

---

To Brook,

Music has no language; it cannot be misinterpreted.  One strum of a guitar can tell a thousand stories and a thousand promises.  One beat of the drum speaks of a hundred wars.  One note of a violin can sing a song of sorrow in the drifting seas of time.  It is the one universal truth.

I see you sometimes, when I’m on watch duty, humming a solo that sounds so… lonely, and so melancholic, that it takes all of my effort not to climb down the mast and join you.  But I am a coward, so I leave you alone to your own devices.  To that, I am sorry.

How lonely must you have been, drifting alone on those waters for fifty years.  Only with your thoughts and determination to keep you going.  I’m amazed you can still smile, despite that (at least, I assume you’re smiling. It would be pretty strange for you to laugh without smiling).  In fact, I admire you.  And while I’m sure my words would have a better effect for you if I said them aloud, as I said before - I’m a coward.  It’s easier for me to write this down in ink.

But yet, you were on the cusp of madness, and you persevered.  You lived.  Sort of.

And to that, I want to know more.

Please, tell me your story.

From your crewmate,

Nico Robin.

---

Quietly, as the eve turned to night and the night to the dead hour, Robin slipped down the ladder from the mast.  It was Zoro’s turn now to keep watch, and she knew the swordsman would be perceptive enough to protect them in the instance of danger, despite his injuries and constant napping.  But it was not yet time to sleep, for as usual their newly appointed musician was out by his lonesome in the night, a gentle lul of the violin playing a song that reminded her of Ohara.  The song was enough to drift the boys and Nami to sleep, and Robin would have dozed off to the melody had she not felt so lonely just from the strings alone.  But it was not her loneliness that made her feel this way - she had long since accepted she was part of this crew.  That she wasn’t alone anymore.

It was Brook’s.

So, once she was safely down on the lawn of the Sunny, she joined him by the railing, leaning against the wood while he continued his solo.  His skeletal hands played the tune delicately, and in time she hummed along to it.  The nostalgia washed over her like a wave.  She closed her eyes and imagined Ohara again.  She could only imagine what Brook was thinking of.

As the last notes of the melody rang out and the song stopped, Robin opened her eyes and smiled at Brook.  He bowed his head back, setting the violin down the grass.

“Is that song known outside the West Blue?” she asked. “I’ve only ever heard it there.”

“It’s a West Blue classic!” Brook exclaimed. “Well, I say it’s a classic.  It was written by yours truly!”

Robin blinked.

“I would’ve like to tweak it before I left, but sadly there was no time.  The original music sheet must be lost as well!  I must rely on my ears now to complete it - but alas, I have no ears!  Yohoho!  Skull jo-”

“You’re from the West Blue?”

It certainly came as a surprise - after all, a majority of their crew had come from the East or the Grand Line, and she had no idea there was someone else onboard the ship that hailed from the West.  Even if he was the most recent addition.  Robin felt her curiosity peak up the more Brook revealed about himself.  His past was becoming more and more of a mystery to her, a clash between his demeanor and his tragedy.

Brook nodded his head in response, his afro bouncing as he did. “I served a royal kingdom there for sometime before I decided piracy was a better career.  Of course, I was a musician as well!”

She imagined him flashing her a grin.

“But yes, West Blue, born and raised - ah!  Miss Robin, if I recall correctly, you were from the West too, no?” he asked.

“That’s correct.”

“May I ask which is-”

“Ohara.”

She definitely said that too quickly, with too much of a snap in her tongue, that Brook paused and gave her enough time to regret it.  Before she could utter an apology, Brook picked up the bow of his violin and held it out to her.  Naturally, she was confused.  

Brook bowed his head down.

“I understand if you do not wish to talk about it,” he says. “I can assume from personal experience a deep tragedy has occurred there.”

Still, he held out the bow. 

“But know that Ohara is wonderful, and that its legacy - whatever that may be - is you.”

Curious, Robin took the bow and inspected it.  It seemed ordinary enough.  She couldn’t understand what Brook was -

Prof. Clover

Without realising, her hand had begun trembling from the overwhelming everything coming over her, and she looked up to Brook with glistening eyes.  The musician panicked.

“Miss Robin, I - I’m dreadfully sorry!” he sputtered. “I didn’t mean to upset you!  I merely - I wanted to explain that tragedies don’t have to - I’m sorry!”

“You knew the professor?” She was surprised she could manage to get even that out. “You knew Ohara?”

A relieved sigh passed through his nonexistent lips. “I stayed there for a couple years, back when I was a young man.  This violin was a parting gift from my dear friend at the time.  He’d just gotten his doctorate, and I think he wanted to show off.  Yohoho!”

Robin chuckled, wiping away a tear. 

“Ah!  But of course, this explains why you know my song!” Brook exclaimed. “Miss Robin, I knew I felt a kinship for you when I boarded this ship.  Us both being from the West Blue gives me a sense of familiarity in the crew.  I’ve never been more grateful to be alive - ah!  But I’m not alive!  Yohoho, skull joke!”

Robin was amazed, not for the first time, that Brook could joke and even dare to imply that she was the one being welcoming, when here he was, passing on Robin wisdom that she took twenty years to even consider.  It was often easy to forget that Brook had thirty years of experience out on the sea before the tragedy of the Rumbar Pirates occurred, but it was clear that those years were enough to sharpen the man’s mind and strengthen his heart.  But his heart was not made of stone, nor iron - it was laid out bare to the world, soft and beating, and his gentle lullabies sung of sorrows from his past that he dare not speak of.

So, she leaned against the railing, a slight smile gracing her lips. “Please, tell me more stories.”

And so he did.

---

Be alive.

---

She’d written the message in the dirt of the prison, pleading with whatever divine powers existed to ensure that the rest of her crew had lived.

After all, Brook owed her a concert.  One that would declare to the World that he was alright despite all the pain he’d been through.  That humans were resilient.

He’d better keep that promise.\

---

To Brook,

I do not expect this message to reach you.  The Government is constantly attempting to interfere with letters from the RA, and no doubt they’ll be trying to decipher any clues about their plans in this message (good luck, cowards).

It’s been almost two years already.  No doubt we will meet each other again soon.  I’ve been looking forward to this immensely, as no doubt you have too.  I think - I understand you, a little more.  Now that I’ve been infected with the Straw Hats’ boundless enthusiasm and joy, I can understand how you lived in isolation for all that time.  Not just because of the promise you kept to Laboon, but because dying would be spitting on their smiles, right?

Can you hear the waves crash against the shore where you are?  Do you hear seagulls, do you smell the salt?

Can you see the moon?

One day we’ll meet again.  I look forward to that day.

From Robin.

P.S. I keep hearing about this new rockstar that some of the Revolutionaries are raving about.  You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?

---

It wasn’t a soft strum that the bony hand had passed over the strings, yet it was strangely nostalgic all the same.  No, it was a thunderous sound, booming across the concert hall and somehow could be heard over the screams of adoring fans.  It was unlike anything Robin had ever heard before.  No - she never felt anything like this before.  The vibrations shook her very body, making her suddenly aware of the blood rushing through her veins, of her heart pounding against her chest.  The feeling was exhilarating.

She stared from the back of the concert hall to the star of the show.  As always, his feathered boa and skeleton-figure was instantly recognisable, as was his laugh.

“Soul King Brook, hm?” she whispered under her breath.  She couldn’t hear herself over the sound of the music.

There was something different about his music now.  She would have to ask him if he changed his muse.  Later, perhaps.

Now, it was time to find the Sunny.

---

It wasn’t hard to find Brook after the battle at Fishman Island.  Where there were cheers and melodies, there was Brook.  Robin waited by an alley, listening to the sound of Brook’s guitar as he sang a victory song for the pirates.  The tune was new, unlike anything she had ever heard before.  But there was a certain gentleness to it, despite the upbeat and heart-pounding vibrations it made.  Like Brook was unleashing happiness to the world.

When the imprupto-concert was over, and Robin could finally approach Brook, he tipped his hat and stared blankly at her.  She assumed he was grinning.

“Miss Robin!  Did you enjoy the show?” he asked. “I wasn’t sure about this song, but it looks to be a hit with the crowd!  Yohoho!”

Robin smiled back. “It was happy,” she noted.

“Mmhm!” he said. “It was inspired by our captain.”

“Luffy?” 

Brook nodded. “I suppose that’s why you picked up on the feelings I was conveying.  It’s an honour to sail under his flag, don’t you think?”  His voice took on a melancholic tone. “I would’ve never expected to find such a crew years ago.”

Neither did she.

“Are you happy, Brook?” Robin asked.  The question had just slipped out, but she was curious to know the answer.  

Brook looked at her, tilting his head. “Of course I am, Miss Robin.  How could I create such a song if I weren’t?”

Robin paused for a moment, before nodding her head slowly.  It made sense.  Brook’s music reflected his feelings at the time.  And now, as part of the Straw Hats, his tune had become one much like their captain’s.

“Now, shall we return to the party?” Brook said. “I’m sure Luffy would want to hear this too.”

Not a thing could crush Brook’s spirit.  Not being alone, not despair, not even death.  

He was alive, and he was happy, and he would make sure the world knew.

Robin couldn’t be more proud to call him a crewmate.

[backtothestart02]

The Football Star and the New Girl - 1/? | westallen fanfiction

A/N: I suck at titles lately...oh well. Enjoy this first chap! The story itself is based loosely on a dream I had. :)

...

Synopsis:  HS!AU - They were like ships passing in the night. Would they ever meet on the same page?

...

Chapter 1 -

Francine West walked down the hall and peeked into the open doorway of her daughter’s bedroom. She found her sitting on her bed, her things packed in multiple suitcases at her feet, but she herself – Iris West, 14 ¾ years old – did not look very excited to be leaving her home without her family. She was looking at a photo album. Tears were staining her cheeks.

Francine rested her head against the door frame as she watched her, her heart aching to heal the wounds she knew would only grow more with time.

“It’s not too late to change your mind, you know.”

Iris’ head whipped toward the sound, and she hastily shut the photo album and tossed it onto her bed, wiping her cheeks quickly after.

“Mom!”

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t interrupting, was I?”

She walked into the room, and Iris scooted over a little so she could sit next to her on the bed.

“No, not at all. I’m glad you’re here.”

They shared a sweet look, then Iris leaned her head on her mother’s shoulder. Francine held out her hand, and Iris intertwined her fingers in her mother’s grip.

“I still want to go,” she assured her.

“Yeah?”

She nodded against her shoulder.

“I need stability, mom. I can’t be moving around going from school to school every six months. I’m proud of dad, of course, and I love being with you all. I’ll miss you a lot, but…I want friends and the same school and a life.”

“A boyfriend?” Francine nudged her gently.

Iris rolled her eyes and smiled.

“Maybe…eventually. I’m only 14, Mom.”

Francine nudged her again.

“14 ¾.”

Iris laughed.

“Yeah, yeah, okay. A boyfriend would be nice, once I get to know the guy for more than a couple months. But first, friends.”

“Friends are important too.”

Iris nestled into her mother’s embrace and sat in silence for a while.

“What about Wally? Is he going to be going to new schools every-”

“I’ve decided to attempt homeschooling.”

Iris lifted her head.

“You have?”

She nodded.

“He’s only 10, so the curriculum is simpler, and he’s pretty introverted, even around us, so Ruffly can suffice for his friend. At least for now.”

Francine pursed her lips. She did want real, live human friends for her son, as well as for her daughter. But for now their golden retriever seemed to be what got the most laughs out of young Wally West. She would hope that lasted at least through another school year.

“I’d take him with me if I could,” Iris said.

“You’d take both my children from me?” Francine asked, only half joking. “What am I supposed to do all day long without your brother to drive me crazy?”

Iris looked into her mother’s eyes and saw that they were watering.

“Oh, Mom, I didn’t mean-”

“It’s okay, honey.”

She sighed and pressed a kiss to her daughter’s temple.

“I know it hasn’t been easy for you, losing your friends so often because we have to move. It’s the life of a military family, I’m afraid. I signed up for it when I agreed to marry the man, but you, my baby, were just born into it.”

She pulled back to look into her eyes.

“I want you to know though that if at any time the school isn’t working out for you, we’ll come get you in a heartbeat.”

Iris winced. She knew it wasn’t that simple. They were moving overseas to a new post. Iris would be staying here in the U.S. Even if the school was a bit of a move for her too. It wasn’t anything she wasn’t used to.

Still, she obliged her.

“Yeah, okay, mom.”

She smiled, but Francine knew better.

Footsteps sounded down the hallway, and interrupting their little moment came Joe West with little Wally West on his back. Joe was dressed in all camouflage wear, and Wally was giggling from bouncing up and down on his “horsie”. Ruffly was close at Joe’s heels.

“What is this here?” Joe asked, witnessing the tear streaks on his two ladies’ faces.

“Dad!” Iris sprung up.

She ran to him, and he slowly released Wally off his back, who promptly complained when his shoeless feet hit the floor.

Joe hugged his daughter tight, lifting her off her feet briefly and kissing the side of her face.

“Oh, baby girl, are you sure you want to go?”

Iris laughed when she was back on her feet again. She wiped away fresh tears.

“Yeah, I’m sure. I’m just gonna miss you guys, but I need this. For me. Okay?”

He sighed and nodded, then looked across the room at his wife.

“She’s so grown-up.”

“I know.” Francine sniffled.

“Why is everyone crying in here?” Wally asked. “Aren’t we gonna see her for Christmas?”

Everyone laughed.

“Aren’t you gonna miss me at all, you little punk?” Iris asked, ruffling his curly hair.

“Eh, maybe a little.” He shrugged, uncaringly.

Iris rolled her eyes.

“Well, it’s time to get going then, yeah?” She looked at her parents who nodded.

“Yeah,” Joe said. “That seven-hour drive is no joke.”

“Seven hours! That’s a lifetime!” Wally whined.

Ruffly barked.

“Just wait till your plane ride,” Iris egged him on. “That might be even longer.”

Wally groaned. “I hate traveling!”

“Better make sure you have something to keep you occupied with then, Walls,” Joe said, and with that Wally zipped out of Iris’ room to make sure his many bags included plenty of toys to play with on his very long journey.

“I’ll go help him,” Francine said. “We’ll meet you at the door with his things.”

“Sounds good.”

Joe smiled, but it was pained. Once Francine had left, all the toughness had melted away again, as it often did with his baby girl.

“Boy, am I gonna miss you,” he said.

“I’m gonna miss you too, Dad.” Another tear streamed down her cheek, and he was quick to wipe it away. “You look so handsome in your uniform, Dad.”

He chuckled.

“Alright, enough sadness for now. We can do this again in seven hours.”

She laughed. “Okay.”

“You wanna help me get all a million and one suitcases out to the car?”

She took a step back and looked around her room.

“Yeah, sorry about that.”

“You can apologize by helping me.”

“Deal.”

She smiled, and slowly they made their way to the front door and then the driveway with all seven of her suitcases. It took a few trips, but then she knew she would need every bit of her belongings for the long school years that lay ahead.

Her family would visit as often as they could, of course, but it would be difficult with them living overseas. She probably wouldn’t see them again until her dad was forced to move again like they were doing now.

But she’d thought long and hard   this. She longed for friendships that lasted, for a life beyond what was available to a military family. She needed to connect and to be free for a while, even at the sacrifice of not seeing her family every day, especially her mom and baby brother. This new school – Huntington Farm and Boarding School – would be just the ticket.

Out in the middle of nowhere somewhere down south, the school was on a huge stretch of lush land that also served as a farm – no animals, just crops, which was a shame, Iris thought. She’d miss having even just her dog around too.

But the place was renowned for its academics and social scene there in the middle of the wilderness. A boarding school for those who needed it, traveling families mostly; and if the colorful flyer they’d sent in the mail was any indication, Iris would absolutely love it.

“Everybody ready?” Joe asked, when everyone had piled into the car sometime later.

“Ready!” the family cheered.

Joe chuckled and started the car.

“Huntington Farm and Boarding School, here we come. Watch out for your most dazzling student yet.”

He met Iris’ eyes in the rearview mirror, and they sparkled.

“You know it!” Iris said.

Joe grinned and backed out of the driveway.

They were all on their way to bigger adventures now.

…

One year later…

Iris sat on top of the fence on the edge of the football field, waiting for who she hoped she hadn’t misinterpreted wrong. After nearly a year of first claiming he didn’t like her and then months of mixed signals, Iris was convinced he actually did like her, as much as she liked him.

Sitting on the fence post waiting for the guy to come kiss her seemed like an odd tradition, but it was built into the social aspect of the school, and she figured it was the only guaranteed way she’d know if he was really crushing or not.

She’d dressed as cute as she could for a game, and soon she’d know if it would pay off or not.

Biting her bottom lip, she gasped quietly when she saw him coming around the corner heading right towards where she had herself perched.

Barry Allen was the star football player – star of every sport he could get himself into really – and they’d been making genuine eyes at each other for weeks. Now, as he approached her, it felt as if their whole future was hanging in the balance.

He stopped about 20 feet away. Bracing himself maybe for the decision he’d have to make? Presumably have gained the courage, he continued his walk, headed straight for her and stopped directly in front of her.

Iris waited, her heart hammering a mile a minute in her chest. He was tall enough to reach her – so tall, but she bent her head anyway, and sure enough their lips met in a soft, tender kiss.

She opened her eyes as he took a step back, but the smile on his face was undeniable. So was hers.

Just as he was about to say something truly romantic – she’d decided – one of his teammates burst behind them.

“Did you just kiss Iris West?”

Barry spun around, panic on his features.

“I-”

Another teammate appeared.

“Wait, what?”

“Barry just kissed Iris!”

“But I thought he hated her. He swore he did.”

Iris tensed on the top of the fence, waiting for Barry to smooth the whole thing over. It couldn’t be that big of a deal that he’d pretended to hate her all while flirting with her on the downlow for nearly a year…could it? It was annoying to her for sure, but his teammates couldn’t be that annoyed, could they?

Barry never smoothed it over.

His teammates left, looking disgusted, and Barry looked back at Iris for one more moment, not knowing what to do. Then he left, calling after them.

“Wait, guys, it’s not what it looks like!”

And Iris sat alone on top of the fence, the magical memory of her first kiss completely shattered.

How would they come back from this?

[peaches-writes]

relax—i’m nervous too

description: something short and sweet member: jeongin / i.n. word count: 2.2k genre: fluff, implied best friends to lovers au, first date au, summer au notes: innie went on vlive then i remembered that this has been sitting on my drafts since i posted hwang’s guide to gardening lmao

You wonder if you should hold Jeongin’s hand as you walk down the natural slope of the road, eyes fleeting down to his hands hidden inside his long coat’s pockets. You are, after all, in the middle of quite a packed crowd on this particular Sunday—it’s dangerously easy to lose each other (especially you since you haven’t been exactly the most attentive to the people coming from the opposite direction)—and the sidewalk’s quite steep since it’s, first and foremost, a hill. Also, it’s not like you haven’t done it before; holding onto Jeongin in any way is a long-established habit of yours formed at the first instance he declared you as his best friend years ago.

Holding onto Jeongin in this situation, from a casual standpoint, is the most logical thing to do—except this situation is anything but casual. It’s your first date ever and your first date with Jeongin, your best friend since forever. Holding his hand without permission, along with the other kinds of skinship that you used to initiate for this matter, meant nothing that can easily be misinterpreted before but now it’s suddenly everything. I don’t want to seem too clingy, you frown to yourself absentmindedly, almost tripping on your walk in the process.

Jeongin immediately seems to notice even when he’s walking slightly ahead of you, turning around and placing a concerned hand to your upper arm that does nothing but fluster you more. He doesn’t tell you but he’s noticed this entire time that you seemed really nervous and it’s not helping his own nervousness at all.

“You okay?” He takes a step closer to you in order to avoid bumping into other people as the two of you stop in the middle of the crowd, pure concern in his eyes since it’s the second time you’ve tripped on nothing.

Unconsciously, the two of you both contemplate if the question’s asking if you’re okay from your small accident or if you’re okay despite acting a bit off and distant.

Quickly recovering, you muster up a smile. “I’m fine.” You take a step forward, a gesture that you continue moving. Assured, he follows and the two of you resume walking, his hand immediately sliding down to yours when you try returning them to your own coat pockets.

“I noticed.” He points out sheepishly, as if he’s still unsure if he should bring it up. “Relax—you’re making me nervous too.”

“Sorry.” You squeeze his hand as you steal a glance in his direction, catching the way he briefly returns your look with a small smile. He’s flushed red, nervous too, while trying to look past the people ahead of you for the building you’ve been looking for. “I was just—overthinking about holding your hand. It’s silly, I know.”

But he shakes his head no. “It’s not, I was wondering the same thing, too.” He then touches the nape of his neck with his free hand, chuckling to diffuse the awkwardness.

Somehow, it calms you down knowing that you’re on the same page.

“Oh, hey, we’re here.” Jeongin points to an old building across the street, showcasing endless racks of clothes and trinket shops. There’s no sign or any identification for the building itself, Jeongin just knew from the old cinema next to it that serves as a landmark.

Thank God the road to this particular shopping district is closed on the weekends.

The two of you cross the street along, careful of avoiding the chalk drawings and the people squatted over them on the ground. You make a mental note of this—and the flyer for a music festival later posted on the streetlight that meets you at your destination—for later.

“Try this one!” 

“This one suits you!”

When you’ve completely mastered how to efficiently navigate the maze that is the thrift shop you and Jeongin found yourself in (which only took some 30 minutes actually), the two of you immediately tackled the shops with clothes and shoe racks that caught your eyes. Exchanging clothing suggestions, buying trinkets you don’t actually need but found too adorable not to buy, thinking of what you could do to upgrade certain pieces, trying to haggle for some of the more unique pieces you’ve found (with decent success), and playing with the occasional toys you found on display in your way, you feel more at ease with each other now—as if it’s just another hangout and not your first official date.

“I like this denim so much. I think we look rather cute!” You stand in front of a full mirror next to Jeongin who looks back at you through your reflections with a matching denim jacket you found hanging above your heads while you were looking at jumpsuits. “We can paint these and put the pins we bought on them and—“

You stop yourself from talking immediately when you notice Jeongin trying to stifle a giggle, making you laugh. Instinctively, he covers his face in embarrassment, “What?”

“You’re smiling so much!” You can’t help but smile now too, turning your head to him so that you’re looking directly at him and not through your reflections. “What’s getting you all so giggly?”

He initially shakes his head no, teasing with a smile, but you insist. “...You said ‘we.’”

Your heart melts right there and then. “Well, yeah, they’re matching denims after all?” You tease despite knowing what he meant. “I’m not going to layer these on myself.”

You’ve done a lot of things together, there’s no doubt about that, but now it’s just a little bit different—but for a good reason. It makes you feel strangely excited.

“Okay, yeah, I agree, we do look cute in these. You, especially.” He concludes, a wide grin still on his face, before taking out his phone and putting an arm on your shoulder. “Can we take a pic?”

He ends up snapping a handful photos of the two of you, making a mental note to change his wallpaper later when he gets home.

“Do you think the auntie can give us some kind of couples’ discount.” You joke as you shed off the jacket, feeling more light and free now that you’re doing something with Jeongin.

“You’re doing it again!” 

“What?” 

“’Couple.’” 

You roll your eyes playfully, elbowing him on his side as he takes off his jacket. “You asked me on this date and you’re suddenly nervous about the word ‘couple’?” 

Even though, it’s your turn teasing him now, you did feel the same jittery feeling of calling the two of you a couple. It’s such a long jump from calling each other best friends, especially since you’ve grown accustomed to it for years. 

“No, I like the sound of it.” Jeongin is quick to defend himself when he’s fully recovered from your sudden attack. You laugh because it took him a while. 

Also, you did manage to get a discount after that.

On the way out, you spot a corridor that leads to an adjacent building. Tugging on Jeongin’s arm, you excitedly point it out, specifically the paintings hanging on the walls that peek out from your limited view. “Should we check this out?”

It’s not like the two of you had anything planned specifically for the day besides checking out the thrift shop—you wanted to eat lunch in between, of course (since it’s nearing 2 PM) but somehow you didn’t want to sit down yet.

And Jeongin seems to agree. “Yeah, let’s go.” The two of you then make a turn, heading to the mysterious corridor instead of back outside.

Walking in the other building, it immediately dawns on the two of you that it’s the old cinema Jeongin referred to as the thrift shop’s landmark, remodeled into a more open space with art galleries, snack stands, and other upscale stores, especially him. It suddenly made him extra nervous as the two of you look around while walking over to the art gallery that has caught your eye, displayed at very center where the light from the clear ceiling seems to be focusing its light on.

Jeongin wanted to check this place out for the longest time since he asked his dad where he could take you on a first date. Watching a movie at the old cinema would’ve been your second date—if you agreed to it, of course—but here you are.

“We can eat lunch here afterwards.” Jeongin points to a couple of mall restaurants as the two of you approach the displays. He also notices that there’s still a theater on the highest floor—he’s noticing a lot of things, actually, taking notes for later. “Or maybe check out the jewelry shop over there.”

“Lucky I spotted the corridor, ‘no?” You briefly look at him from examining a painting of a girl and flowers, a proud smile on your face. “It’s really cool—especially if you think about how it used to be a cinema!”

He nods in agreement, matching your slow pace of moving from painting to painting to appreciate the details of the work on display. “You know, my parents used to go here a lot.”

“Really? Is that how you knew about the thrift shop?”

“Yeah...” He then briefly ponders over telling you the rest. “...They also went on their first date here at the cinema.”

Oh.

Oh.

“Was that too much?” He asks, following with a nervous chuckle. Are you supposed to say that on a first date? All the gears in his head turn to panicking internally. “It’s just—“

“No, it’s not—I’m—“ You stutter out, looking at him fully now instead of the paintings. You’re almost done circling around the entire display, anyway. “I’m honored...is that the right word? Like I feel really happy—like I can boast this to Seungmin and the others and go, ‘yup, Jeongin took me to a very special place for our first date last summer’ when school starts again.’—I can say that, right?”

“It’s...it’s not weird or anything?” 

“Why would it be?” You shrug nonchalantly, curious as to where this conversation is going. “This is like your parents’ cool date suggestion or something.”

“If you say it that way, it makes it look like our date’s very unoriginal.” He pouts in frustration, making you giggle.

Shaking your head, you counter, “No, it doesn’t because even when the place is the same, it’s still ours in a way—like, did Mr. and Mrs. Yang buy matching denim jackets and questionable statement pins at the thrift shop? Or checked out this amazing installation?”

“No, definitely not.” You manage to return a smile on his face. “In fact, they didn’t go on a Sunday so they couldn’t enjoy the night music festival.”

“You caught that too?” His eyes widen. 

“Do you want to go later?” 

“If we can draw on the road too with chalk!”

It fully sinks on Jeongin that this is, in fact, your very first date and, hopefully, the first of many. He suddenly feels excited to tell his parents later all the things they missed out on this shopping district when he gets home later. “Okay, deal. Let’s eat first, though, I’m starving!”

“Chicken?” 

“Chicken, yes please.”

You leave the cinema-turned-mall late since you both decided on drinking iced coffee and eating fries after your meal. Returning to the outside world somewhere around 5 PM, hands now naturally clasped together, you buy chalk on a nearby stationery store then cross the street, finding a spot after 10 minutes amidst the long stretch of already painted road.

It’s almost the end of the day so most people are on the other lane, waiting for the night music festival under tents set up by the organizers. Still, that didn’t stop the two of you from doodling along with some children, couples, and friends.

“What are you doing?” You ask after a while, peering over Jeongin’s shoulder curiously.

“I’m drawing a fox and a rabbit.” He points out, the mismatched colors he’s used used making you laugh. “Guess who’s who.”

“We have red and white colors here—where have you ever seen a pink fox and a pink rabbit?” You chuckle, glancing back at your own own work of making a bouquet of flowers.

“Just this morning when you were blushing so hard about holding my hand—” He teases cheekily, earning him a slap on the arm. “—Hey, I mean, I was too!”

“You talk like you weren’t so giggly about me referring to ourselves as a couple.” You’re the one pouting this time, but lightheartedly. “I’m erasing your card on this bouquet.”

“You wouldn’t!” 

“Yes, I can!”

The playful banter eventually makes you laugh that you almost stumbled and accidentally sat down on the road before Jeongin steadied you with his dust-free hand on your arm. When you’ve recovered, you go back to working on your chalk drawings.

“Hold on, let me take a photo.” You whip out your phone once the two of you are done, standing over your drawings and giggling all the way. Jeongin drew, as mentioned, a fox and a rabbit walking around buildings and under ‘Jeongin and Y/N were here’ in big letters. You, on the other hand, drew a bouquet with a message and two people in matching denim jackets. “This is so cute.”

While you take photos, Jeongin decides on reading aloud the note you’ve written along with the bouquet. “‘Jeongin and Y/N’s first date, summer ‘20. Let’s make more memories like this together!’” He then turns to you, now done taking photos. “We’re going on a second date?”

“Aren’t we?” You look up at him despite the feeling of heat rising from your neck. “Today was fun—not disastrous like they say about first dates, we can accidentally do those later.”

You really are looking forward to a second date now—and a third, fourth, fifth...

Meanwhile, it feels like a weight is lifted of Jeongin’s chest and his first instinct is to pull you into a hug. “I’m glad.” He rests his chin on your crown. “Let’s go on that second date soon.”

“And go back here in the future, I like it here.” You hug him back, relieved that you’re still, even at the end of the day, on the same page. “Maybe they do have really good movies at the old cinema, we didn’t check.”

Jeongin only chuckles at this now. “Sounds like a promising future date.” 

Later that night, the two of you enjoy lively music at the night music festival, jumping around, dancing, and singing to the songs both familiar and unfamiliar.

[tiwaripoojaaa]

WFH is great until your mom yells from behind “uth chai bana de”

If you’ve ever been stuck in torrential rain waiting for a delayed train after a long day at office, the chances are pretty decent that you’ve thought about working remotely at least once or twice.

There was a time when Work from home was a fantasy for everyone until we all got attacked by pandemic. Wherein we actually want the hectic schedule rather than working remotely. WFH is in favor for someone as an introvert like me and a disaster for an extrovert who loves roaming around in the office greeting everyone with a smile and gossiping with every second person in the office. Without having an office where you need to share pleasantries with your coworkers, boss, and clients, you need to find alternative methods of socializing with people on your own time.

  Challenges:

     Sounds appealing right? No more setting the alarm for 6 am. No more sitting in your cubicle all day, your only escape a measly hour for lunch. You can set your own hours and work when you feel it. Freedom is yours!

Expect it doesn’t work that way.

Juggling work, household chores, and parenting responsibilities along with fear of infection and job loss can put a dent in performance, motivation and productivity. On the other side of the coin, when you work from home, you no longer have a clear geographic division between workspace and your personal life. Ideally, your home is a place of relaxation, safety, and security. It’s a place where you subconsciously slip into a calm, easygoing state of mind , putting the stresses of the workday behind you and have a beautiful evening with your family.

Feeling of disconnection and social isolation:

   Even in normal situations, managing remote employees is more challenging than managing regular office workers because Emotional health is a priority now because living and working in confined conditions for a long time takes a mental toll. Moreover, people who have so far been accustomed to working in an office setting may find remote work very lonely. Only now have team members and managers begun to realize how much time and effort it takes to communicate properly across screens. They cannot reach out to each other as easily as they would in a physical office, and this makes people feel disconnected from the company. Direct reports may feel that their managers are out of touch with their reality and cannot help them solve their problems.

Screen Fatigue: You’re probably hearing people complain about ‘Zoom fatigue’ or ‘meeting fatigue’. Managing remote employees via video conferencing has given rise to a new challenge – that of screen fatigue due to back-to-back meetings. People are turning away from their screens in exhaustion, citing headaches and eye strain. It is more tiring to look at a screen for a prolonged time than it is to have face-to-face conversations. It is more tiring to look at a screen for a prolonged time than it is to have face-to-face conversations. In addition to the laptops, team members are also looking at conventional screens like phones, tablets, or television. It fatigues the eyes, causes loss of focus, and decreases attention span. Naturally, people cannot work efficiently because of these issues.

Breakdown of effective communication: Perhaps the biggest challenge of managing remote employees during the COVID-19 pandemic is effective communication.  As you and your team members must have discovered by now, it isn’t quite as simple as shooting off a few emails and calling a meeting. Your direct reports can’t casually walk up to your desk for a quick chat. You can’t see each other in the office and you have to make an effort to know who is working on what. This ‘blindness’ leads to an interesting situation–people tend to think the worst when they receive a negative message. For instance, if you get a brusque e-mail from a colleague who you know is having a bad day, you tend to brush it off. But when you’re working from home, you have no context on what is happening at the other person’s end. This causes more misunderstandings, negativity, and friction within the team.

Communication & Coordination Challenges

It’s hard enough to hold productive in-person meetings to coordinate different team members’ efforts to remain aligned. When everyone works from home, it becomes all the harder to stay on the same page.

Human beings rely on nonverbal communication when they speak. But emails, phone calls, and even video calls remove much of the nuance from how we communicate. Just think back to the last time someone misinterpreted an email or text message you sent for a quick example.

This problem is so inherent in virtual businesses that an entire industry has sprung up to solve it. Team collaboration and communication tools like Slack exist specifically to make it easier for companies to stay in touch and stay organized. GoToMeeting is another popular choice for companies to stay in touch using video conferencing.

  Since the majority of the global workforce is not used to working from home, this sudden change has led to many problems. They are just adjusting their seats to meet the organizational needs amidst everything that is happening around the world. Work from home is prominent but comes with a lot of challenges like communication and coordination with team, failing network is the biggest interruption “Uncle wifi nahi chal raha check karo” which impacts productivity, you may get distracted by your dog or just feel like going through some memes on Instagram (which unknowingly turns from seconds to minutes to even a hour sometimes) or just sibling’s silly fights or just in a mood to workout.

Productivity:

Sitting at home by yourself all day takes a toll. Humans are social animals. They need interaction with other people. Without a water cooler to swap jokes, stories, and shop talk around occasionally, telecommuters can get lonely. People working from home sometimes struggle with productivity. Working away from your co-workers, with only remote online meetings, risks emotional disconnection and apathy. It can also encourage procrastination .

You might find that it helps to have particular clothes for working at home. Dressing for work can set the right mental tone for the day – and avoid the awkwardness of being dialed in to a virtual meeting while you're still in your pajamas! Also, avoid going into certain areas of your home, or sitting in certain chairs, for example, so that you know when you're in "work mode," and when you're not.

Productivity at office was optimal as there were no distractions, you had a great working environment and also who doesn’t like working with their colleagues and friends like family rather than completing the given tasks alone. The lack of interaction that often comes with remote work can also be a detriment to team building – something that is built during meetings, lunches, chai/ coffee/ cigarette breaks or even water cooler conversations.

Challenges faced by HR:

HR managers have been at the center of these pandemic-generated changes from the beginning. They had to navigate new health and safety requirements, support managers in the new normal, reduce headcount in some cases, and keep up with required administrative processes. Organizations now have to rely more than ever on their HR departments to ensure their workforce feel as safe as possible during this unprecedented and unpredictable times.

Some of the challenges are-

Performance Appraisal like you actually are not aware if the employee has given its best due to working remotely as compared to work from office.

 Team collaboration like if you have to give any cross training or learn a new process.

 Employee engagement is also affected due to pandemic as there is no connect with the management and just virtual meets or seminar or activities conducted by HR but all of this has been now fixed into a rectangular display which is not giving desired results.

 Health and safety is the utmost priority of the workers and as employee is an asset of the organization especially after pandemic HR also needs to look into health and safety measures.

Promotion cycle is been simulated as company actually doesn’t have the same promotion cycle period which eventually demotivates the employee.

  Challenges in Business continuity

If you’re working for yourself and think you can disregard administrative work, think again. You’ll probably end up doing more mundane administrative work than you ever did at your old day job. Ignoring business basics, like paying your bills, preparing your taxes, and invoicing clients, is a sure fire way to not only ruin your business but possibly trigger an audit with the IRS in the process.

Traditional jobs tend to come with paperwork, such as work reports, time sheets, travel expense reports, and accounts payable requests for freelancers and vendors. Still, each individual worker’s administrative work pales in comparison to the total amount needed to run a business. Beyond administrative work, businesses need systems in place to streamline all repetitive tasks. Otherwise, entrepreneurs spend all their working time on mundane work that doesn’t actually generate revenue and quickly go out of business. 

Organizations are facing unprecedented times as the measures being deployed to slow the spread of the coronavirus (COVID-19) are impacting capital markets, supply chain, and business operations. The uncertainties of the current environment serve as a powerful reminder to senior decision-makers of the need for risk management and crisis planning.

Business continuity will be on a toss due to few obstacles like technical problems such as data loss, data protection, technology failure, incident management software and so on, Workforce will need to be retrained to be update as per the new changes, taking utmost care of cash flow management like does the organization have sufficient funds to continue operations or have a plan of how to address unanticipated expenses.

This pandemic poses significant challenges and unlike many crises has unfolded much advance warning or scope for preparation. Nevertheless, there is a wealth of information and resources that organizations can use to weather the pandemic and its aftermath and can be accessed here. CEOs and small business owners may find it helpful to bring this information to their boards or other advisors to stimulate discussion on the issue.

 Its just not the cons, here are some pros:

Remotely working comes with a slew of benefits from no setting up alarm, no daily commute in the morning, No strict dress code (unless you have online meeting!), get a more flexible work schedule to being work anywhere in the world, and every benefit comes with a challenge like managing your own schedule and time like we suddenly look at the clock and realize their kids want food, you need to have a proper division between workspace and personal space. Humans are social animals they need interaction with people, occasionally talk or no face-to-face interaction can get people lonely.

  New Learnings from the #NewNormal

As days progress, we see a positive adoption of the isolation, which was initially difficult to adjust to. So be it working from home, connecting with colleagues and teammates at a slightly more personal level, managing chores, and working more efficiently. People are now working around to make way for a new style of living.

Tools such as Zoom, Skype, and facilities such as conference calls earlier used exclusively for official meetings are increasingly used by people to connect with family, friends, and relatives. Every small act of kindness and courtesy, which was earlier absent, is now making a huge difference. People are now more appreciative of life, of things that were taken for granted before.

Let us know what you think of our blog and also how you manage to WFH (might help us :-p).

Blog by-

2020175-Dhwani Thakkar.

2020176- Gaurav Thigale.

2020177- Bhagyashree Tikar.

2020178- Pooja Tiwari.

2020179- Muskaan Verma.

2020180- Sakshi Vijan.

LALA LAJPATRAI INSTITIUTE OF MANAGEMENT.

[saltys-writings]

Dancing Doll

Optional dancer bias

~ 2.7k words

Author’s note: I originally wrote this with Svt’s Jun in mind, but it works for other main/lead dancers too, so I decided to keep it optional bias~

Just as announced, my small appartment’s front door swings open right as I very ungracefully opened a bag of chips, scattering about half of them on my lap and the couch next to me. As I look up into my friend’s face, he doesn’t even stop for a second to laugh at me or mock me and he also doesn’t immediately collect the snacks off me to eat them himself. Instead he just plunges down on the sofa across me, letting out a sigh he must’ve been holding in for quite a while now, then leaning forward and taking his head in his hands.

“…what’s up?” I ask, stuffing a handful of chips into my mouth. The answer is another long sigh, him dropping his hands between his knees and giving my room a very annoyed look. I see a drop of sweat sitting on his forehead that he doesn’t even bother to wipe off. I pick up the chips that had fallen onto my pants and hold them out to him. “Want some?” He gives them a suspicious look, then stares into my eyes and I can finally tickle at least half a smile out of his not very friendly face. He takes the snacks from me and stuffs them into his mouth, leaning back and taking his sweet time to chew them.

“You know how to make me happy,” he finally lets me hear his voice.

“Glad I could heal you from being mute,” I joke. “Now what’s the matter?” I set aside the plastic bag with a rustling noise. His expression grows cold again and he lets his hand glide through his hair, brushing it back.

“The choreography…” He doesn’t need to say anymore for me to know what his bad mood is about. After all this has been going on for days now.

“Is your manager still not satisfied?”

“It’s not about our manager this time…” he sighs, “I’m just not feeling it, you know? I’ve been going over this same song so many times, always doing the same set of moves, adjusting only details. Because the others like the overall concept, but something kept feeling off…”

“And now you went over it so many times that you can’t tell anymore if it’s good or not?” I assume and he nods.

“That’s it. It started feeling dry a while ago…”

“Then why not take a break and dance something else for a while? And then a day or two later you dig out that song again and try the choreo once more.”

“No, you don’t understand,” he says and gets up, walking a few steps away, then after letting his hand quickly brush through his unkempt hair, throwing his head back. “You’re not an idol, you wouldn’t understand the stress that comes with people telling you to finish this choreography as soon as possible.” He turns his head to look at me. “Because that means they’d rather you serve it to them yesterday.”

“You’re not a superhuman though…” I argue with my very irritated friend. “Good things need time.”

“Well, I’m happy at least one of us can see things this relaxed,” he throws back. I huff.

“Then why are you here if you don’t have time to relax?” A pissed off look from his side tells me he did not appreciate my teasing.

“You’re right, I should leave,” he says and walks to the door, crouching down to put his shoes back on.

“No, no!” I call out to him and run after him, to which he gets back up.

“I thought I might be able to clear my head here, or even find some inspiration…” With a smile he adds, “But it seems like you just want to take out your frustrations about the torn chips pack on me and chase me away.” I can’t hold back a laugh.

“Yeah, that’s definitely what this is.” He joins in on the laughter, though a little less enthusiastic than me and I earn a ruffle over my head by him, to which I playfully complain about him ‘messing up my hair’ – which was already kind of a mess to begin with.

“What kind of dance is it even?” I ask. We have talked about this before and I know the song he’s using, but I’ve never seen more than a glimpse of the whole performance.

“It’s kind of a couple dance,” he explains.

“Kind of? Maybe… I can help with that?” I offer, but get flustered immediately by the surprised look on his face. “I mean! I’m not a dancer obviously so… I doubt I can do much…” He cuts me off.

“No, this might actually work. I haven’t thought about trying it out with another person yet…”

“…but I thought it was a couple dance?”

“Well… kind of. Have you listened to the lyrics of the song closely?” I shake my head.

“I haven’t really studied them…”

“The song’s about someone chasing a woman so beautiful, he thinks she’s more like a doll than a human. That’s why in the finished performance, there is supposed to be a female person on stage, but she doesn’t really move, since she portrays that doll-like beauty.”

“Oh!” I exclaim, a scene of what the finished stage might be like forming before my inner eye. “That sounds… tricky to create.” He lets out a tired laugh.

“That’s what I’ve been saying the past few days…”

“But how can I help with that then?”

“Up until now I’ve only imagined the girl standing there… the feeling might change if there is actually a pretty woman in the room, and I get to seduce her with my dancing.” I hit him in embarrassment.

“Stop spitting such cheesy lines!” I yell at him, before we leave and he takes me back to the company building, taking the backdoor to the practice rooms, just to be sure nobody sees him letting in a female from outside of the company. Not that it would be a problem for his higher-ups, but other fans that have his group under surveillance 24/7 might misinterpret. As we enter the broad room with the mirrors spread along one wall and I close the door behind me, he quickly stretches, then puts on the song and stares at himself in the mirror, his foot tapping to the music.

“Aren’t you… going to do anything?” I dare ask after watching the awkward scene for a while.

“I’m seeing if I can implement a different move-set in the middle. So I like to just visualize the dance first to find out if it would work on a stage,” he explains without paying me a single look, closing his eyes. After passing the bridge of the song, he gestures for me to come to where he’s standing. Taking me by the shoulders he leads me away from the middle of the room, placing me a bit to the right.

“Do I need to do anything special?” I ask.

“Just keep standing there, and play along when I lead your arms somewhere.”

“…you’re not gonna lift me up though, are you?” As he walks over to the equipment to restart the song, he shoots me a smile over his shoulder, winking at me.

“At least I’m not planning to!” Suddenly feeling a little uneasy, I collect myself to calm down. I can’t exactly be of much help if I’m a nervous wreck, can I? …Why am I even so nervous about this? As the music sets in and he starts approaching me with swift moves, carrying a whole different energy to him than just a second ago, I realize why I’m so tense. Even when he’s not on stage, as soon as he switches to performer-mode, his presence is… overwhelming. Watching his every move, the way he sets one step after the other securely, emitting a strong energy while still remaining graceful at the same time, I get sucked into that space he seems to be creating just for the two of us to retell the story of the song in his own way. I hold my breath when he suddenly stands next to me and I slowly lift my head to look at our frames in the mirror – his every muscle visibly tense, ready for the next sharp move at any second, while I just stand there, kinda limp, pulling back my shoulders which only makes me seem even more awkward. I see his hand touching mine, his fingers walking up my arm, reaching my chin and lifting it up, turning my head so I’m forced to face him.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t ask if you were okay with me touching you like this,” he mumbles over the beat of the song, his eyes glued to my lips. In a haze I just stare back at him for a few seconds, unable to answer until he moves to my other side, breaking the physical connection.

“I-it’s okay,” I respond, still a little flustered. I didn’t think this would be so intense… then again – what did I even expect? Looking back up into the mirror to see him take a step towards me, eyes still fixated on me, I watch as he slowly incorporates me into the piece of art he is aiming to create with his body. Focusing hard to keep my mouth from gaping, I hold my breath once again as he suddenly stands behind me, taking a hold of my hand and lifting it in the air as if I was his most precious treasure. I need to mentally kick myself out of falling into that feeling. No, this is just acting, got it? He takes a spin away from me, only to come back, his face so close to my arm, I am getting ready for him to kiss his way up to my shoulder. My eyes meet his and a certain passion arises in my stomach, that I can no longer stop. Him breaking off the eye-contact is followed by his arms embracing me from behind, creating an electric atmosphere in the room that I have never felt before. I proceed watching us in the mirror, longing for more surprises, more of those sharp, beautiful moves. His head comes dangerously close to my neck and through the reflection he now stares into my eyes. His breathing suddenly seems louder than the music surrounding us and I swallow heavily.

“Is this all part of the dance…?��� I dare not speak louder than a whisper, and his answer comes in about the same volume.

“It wasn’t up until now…” he says. “But I can stop here if it’s too much for you.” With those words and without waiting for my answer, he removes himself, continuing the dance next to me, where I feel nothing of him but the air strongly being whirled around by his movements. I watch his reflection that is still staring back at me and mouth the words “come back”. As if he hasn’t already seemed like a completely different person than usual, I feel like that flicked a switch within him and he comes up to me, the back of his hand gliding over the side of my face, to then gain a strong grip on my chin, further closing the distance between us. Again, his eyes land on my lips and he lets out a breath through his mouth. As we stay in that position for a few seconds, I gather my courage to ask the question that’s been circling in my head time and time again.

“This… was never just about friendship, was it?” Without hesitating, he gives me a short, but clear answer.

“No.” He looks into my eyes and I feel like I’m being sucked into that warm brown color of his pupils. My mind blank, I reach out behind his neck to have him bow down to me, our lips meeting for a second before he breaks the kiss, searching my eyes for some kind of signal of wanting him to stop. However, the thought that we could stop hasn’t even crossed my mind, and our lips meet again, quickly deepening the kiss. We stumble backwards and separate for a second to catch a breath, before I feel his hands glide down my back and over my butt, to grab my thighs and lift me up, while I put my arms around his shoulders. He keeps walking, until I roughly meet the wall behind me, gasping. His face disappears in my neck, continuing to kiss me there.

“I’ve waited so long for this…” he whispers. The next moment I feel his teeth against my skin, pulling him just a little closer in response. I knew this was going to happen at some point… My hand finds its way up his hair, tugging at it so he throws his head back, exposing his neck, but closing the distance between us too fast for me to return the favor of placing a mark onto his skin. As if he knew what I was up to, he grins at me.

“What if the fans see…?” he breathes with a spark in his eyes that almost makes me think he is challenging me. I wriggle in his hold for him to let me down and drop to my knees, my hand gliding up his abdomen and lifting up his shirt in the process.

“But they won’t see here, will they?” I shoot him a cheeky look before placing my lips right next to his hip bone, feeling him twitch under my touch, before I start sucking on his skin, watching how his facial expression slightly changes and his hand lands on top of my head, burying his fingers in my hair. The song has stopped by now and the room has become silent, the only sounds filling it being our breathing and the moan that escapes him as I dig my teeth into him. Before I move back to look at the mark I gave him, I make sure to lick over it and place a gentle kiss on the spot to reduce any pain caused. Smiling in satisfaction, I let his shirt drop and get up. He watches my every move with hungry eyes, just getting ready to slam me against the wall again, when he suddenly stops and turns around, the door opening mere seconds later. A staff member walks in and makes eye contact with him.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were practicing here. Sorry for the interruption.”

“Ah, no, it’s fine, what did you need?” While I try to calm down my breathing, the staff member asks him about some of his group members and if he knew where they went. When he finally managed to shoo the other person away, he drops his shoulders and lets out a huge sigh, shooting me a certain look and we both start laughing.

“God that was close…” he says.

“What if he had walked in a minute earlier?” I exclaim, running up to him and hugging him, laughing in relief.

“I have no idea,” he answers while patting the top of my head, before drawing back to get a proper look at my face. “Does this mean… you like me back?” Suddenly the atmosphere becomes serious.

“Well, you’re not a bad guy I suppose,” I say, shrugging, and he spins me around faster than I can comprehend what’s going on, having me watch him immobilizing me in the mirror, placing his head on my shoulder and holding my hands behind my back.

“And now I want an honest answer, or I’m starting the dance again – this time with more self-control and more teasing,” he whispers and despite the shiver of excitement running down my spine, I retort,

“As if self-control and you was a thing when it comes to me…” He lets out a laugh.

“I can’t exactly admit you’re right here, can I?” I shake my head and he lets go of my hands, which I immediately make use of by spinning around and wrapping my arms around his neck. Despite the danger of yet another person walking in and disturbing us, I get on tiptoes to place a kiss on his lips, unable to hold back a smile. I whisper my response while we part for a second.

“Yes. I like you too.” Then I playfully hit his shoulder and shove him a little closer to the mirror. “And now do something! You have a choreography to finish, right?”

[aion-rsa]

The Simpsons Season 32 Episode 17 Review: Burger Kings

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This The Simpsons review contains spoilers.

The Simpsons Season 32 Episode 17

The Simpsons Season 32 episode 17 ” Burger Kings,” continues to charbroil Springfield mythology into tasty nuggets of classic comedy. With so much grease built up over the years, the cooks are unafraid to refry old dishes as new cuisine. This season has seen quite a few instances where old storylines are transformed into surprisingly fresh installments.

In spite of all outward evidence, and the best testing indicates, Mr. Burns never gets old. Yes, he has made “The Top 100 Most Evil People Over 100” list more times than he cares to admit. But not in the comic sense. We’ve seen him do good many times, only to revert to the evil capitalistic monster which lies at his black, barely beating heart. Over the years, he’s rebuilt himself by plundering all ocean life, protected the town’s children from an anti-child group in order to keep ensure their supple young organs will be available when he needs them, and stole the winning glory from a championship bowling team.

Unlike Dick Cheney, Burns won’t live forever. So, when he turns a mouth-watering near-death experience into an animal-cruelty-free shot at redemption, long-time audiences are primed to see how it’s going to turn sour. The Simpsons consistently pushes the inner logic of each character to their most hilarious limits. Burns is an ancient being, who is also tremendously wealthy. This foreknowledge makes the idea he has all of the wrinkles from his one breakfast raison ironed out palatable. Wearing a live bat for a night eye patch works because he’s just evil.

Burns’ final request, as he lay on his deathbed, to have Smithers fire someone, preferably an employee who just bought a house, is perfectly reasonable. When Burns gets his epiphany about doing good, he says he knows how Edison felt when he invented the electric chair. His reference to a beloved airman is Rudolph Hess. We buy it as easily as we believe he lived past 100 without ever eating a hamburger. And this, we believe because we don’t doubt that Burns believes hamburgers are made of people from Hamburg.

Burns’ twisted line reading of “People don’t like me. They really don’t like me” is a nod to Sally Field’s memorable second Oscar acceptance speech. Burns is on the same level of public transformation, but he’s no flying nun. Though he can take some comfort in knowing there is a little extra radiation in every drop of water on the planet because of him. Burns does have a point when he disagrees with Smithers on how the townspeople hate him because he’s sic’d the hounds on each of them by pointing out everyone loves dogs. The writers twist his logic perfectly.

It isn’t even surprising how Burns, who made his fortune at a nuclear plant, only realizes what fission is during this episode. We should have some sympathy for Burns. We learn he’s always craved praise because it was something he never had as a child. Monty’s father died the same day he found out his mother doesn’t like fake art, like a crayon drawing he made of her hugging him. But the newspaper headline begins with “Finally some good news” when it announces Burns is near death.

Music has been very important this season, filling the gaps in almost every installment. This episode is bookended by a lounge singer, who also does double-time as a Greek Chorus, improvising the verses to match the inner conflict in both Homer and Burns. Homer learns more from dreams than can ever be taught in books. In the opening Burns learns people think of him as a fat cat no one really likes, and the singer serenades him with wishes he never fall asleep. One song teaches Homer he sold out all his values.  

Homer the perfect spokesperson as a stand-in for the common slob. Not only does he have it on his business card, but the card itself is stolen from Ned’s store with the name and number of his Leftorium crossed out. Lisa’s expertise in meat bypass products is as impressive as it should be. She’s been vegetarian since meeting Paul and Linda McCartney, and she’s intelligent enough to know her phony baloney from her ghost beef. It is a truly rousing moment when Burns wins the Simpson family over with a tasty meatless burger. The artistic rendition of Lisa’s tastebuds is inspired.

While it’s not explicitly stated, it looks like the Ex-cellent Burger stock movement brings out the compulsive gambler in Marge. It begins with a comment on the efficiency of Alexa voice commands. After Marge is misinterpreted into buying a thousand shares, Alexa tries to pawn herself off as Siri, but Marge is already hooked. The shareholders subplot, with the E-Trading and the “More money for Marge” stock ticker tongue, is as scary as it is funny because it is animated in Lisa’s childlike point of view.

The Burger Wars segment is ingenious, and benefits from the subtle seasoning. The medics arrive on the battlefield as Hamburger Helpers, and the mushroom clouds make for perfect burger toppings. One of the great mysteries of Springfield is how long “The Krusty the Clown” show has been on the air, when Krusty was made for cancel culture. When Burger King did an inclusionary ad promotion, Krustyburger rolled out the “Burger Queer.” The environmentally, and apparently humane food product Burns is selling inspires Krusty to introduce the LGBTQBLT. “My hero is a loser,” Bart notes sadly. Ultimately Krusty wins by doing exactly what he’s always done, nothing. He’s just waiting for someone to round up the donkeys before he gets back in the burger business.

The blatant social subversion of townspeople, including Fat Tony, holding up signs like “Blessed are the rich” and “We’ve got no beef with Monty” is brilliant subtle satire. The commentary continues as Burns finally gets to join the very exclusive “Beloved Billionaires Club.” It only has two members, Warren Buffett and Bill Gates. Mark Zuckerberg gets left out in the shade. Not only is he not allowed into the club, The Simpsons takes on Facebook’s privacy issues in a scathingly funny way.

The episode is loaded with quick references to quickly disposable culture. In one scene, Homer is reading the book “Harry Potter and the Apologizing Author.” It looks like the Stranger Things kids get eaten by the alien they’re apparently trying to save. In the Burns’ food rendering plant, one of the workers kills the vegetation with the same implement of death used in No Country for Old Men (2007).

“Burger King” is also supersized with the quick passing tone comedy bits which make for classic Simpsons episodes. It is overloaded with comic shorts. We say goodbye to the “Sad News Reporter” as he streams away with the burst dam water so Kent Brockman can present sponsored news. As the French chef is running from the hounds he yells “cordon bleu.” During one fantasia, Homer sees himself as the daddy of a fly family who “has put all his kids through garbage.” Burns shoves the Krustyburger bag into Homer’s mouth to shut him up and take his burger.

The Simpsons even puts a spin on the comedy law of threes. When Mr. Smithers is worried that Burns has doubled his weight by eating hamburgers, we see Burns top the scale at 42 pounds. This is funny, and works as a punch line because of Burn’s known frailty, but when Smithers says “tripled,” it extends the joke, and the surrealism. It almost forces the audience to do math. Lisa’s climactic pursuit of Burns is classic series traditionalism. The slow-moving old man can’t get away from her on foot, and she beats him to his mansion when he tries to escape her in his ancient car. She even has enough time left over to tame his hounds.

Because of the NDA, Homer can only speak in pre-approved corporate phrases like “yes, ve gan,” “I guaran tree it,” and “abso-lettuce.” He’s only learned one lesson in his life, and that is not to bite the hand that feeds you, even if there’s delicious marrow inside. Homer’s generation did what it did, and he imparts timeless wisdom. Lisa’s future will have its own problems to face, like inventing new bees and learning to live peacefully with fire tornadoes. But she reasons, like the promotions promised, “The fate of the world is in your mouth.”

When Lisa wants to know whether she should tell Burns his company is only using endangered plants, Bart says “he already knows. He’s evil.” Lisa believes people do change for the better even though there’s no evidence to back it up. She wants Burns’ life of evil to be completely forgotten with one good deed. She even believes he will do the right thing when he learns the Amazon is the lungs the planet. 

Of course, Monty can’t keep it up. It’s what we expect, but The Simpsons still finds a way to twist it further. Once you’re known for doing something good you have to continue doing good things. “That’s why Jesus retired at 33,” Burns notes in an amazing realization. He’s no longer crushed by morality. Evil always wins, and he’s even planning on opening a school for the blind so he can convince them aliens have landed.

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“Burger Kings” is the leanest fast food The Simpsons have served up in an already-satisfying season. With only one fat joke for texture, it is crammed with gags, jokes, sarcasm, and funny lines within funny lines. It crackles with cynicism and dashes dreams of little girls in mustaches asking hopeful questions. Even the opening couch gag offers an abstract appetizer to the story. The Simpson family are rendered as pre-French-fried potatoes. It’s only garnish, but it completes the meal.

The post The Simpsons Season 32 Episode 17 Review: Burger Kings appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3s9KWkr

[ejsponge61]

Kendrick Lamar’s FEAR.

          Since he released his first studio album in 2011, Kendrick Lamar Duckworth has been one of the most celebrated artists in all hip hop. While many contemporary rap artists make songs about the usual topics of sex, drugs, and violence, Kendrick has always tried to have his music deliver deeper messages. In 2012, he imbedded Christian themes and used unique techniques to tell the story of Good Kid, m.A.A.d City, which introduced him to mainstream success. In 2015, he used historical African imagery and references to modern pop culture to tell the story of To Pimp a Butterfly, which is widely considered a classic in the genre. His dense lyrics encourage greater interpretation, which has led to the overwhelming reaction to his latest release, DAMN. This album is by far his least straightforward, which has led to several theories on what the tracks could mean. However, once the lyrics themselves are analyzed, the deeper message is not so obtuse. Now, while I would love to breakdown the entire album, I don’t think anyone would want the pages of this paper to reach double digits. So, instead, I will use the longest track, FEAR., to speak to the album as a whole. But first, allow me to quickly summarize the preceding tracks.

           The track is the twelfth of fourteen, and it serves as the climax of the entire album. In the first track, “BLOOD.”, Kendrick delivers a monologue, in which he is shot by a blind woman while trying to aid her. “DNA.” Tackles both the positive and negative aspects of his being and eventually serves to highlight the fact that these aspects are found in everyone. “YAH.” goes into his family relationships and how they motivate him in his music. “ELEMENT.” highlights Kendrick’s confidence and unwillingness to let people alter his path in life. “FEEL.” serves as the antithesis of “ELEMENT.”, in that it shows, despite his image of being the savior of hip hop, he still desires support from family, friends and fans. “LOYALTY.” describes how he greatly desires faithfulness in his inner circle, while still feeling that God should be to whom one is most loyal. “PRIDE.” and “HUMBLE.” both discuss his struggle to set aside his pride, and how being humble would maybe allow him to better serve mankind. “LUST.” speaks to the reliance on and desire of worldly possessions by not only people he sees, but himself, and how those desire goes against the wishes of God. “LOVE.” is about his ability to love others, and in some cases, specifically about his love for his longtime girlfriend Whitney Alford. And finally, ”XXX.” is about the violence he would see daily during his childhood and adolescence in Compton and how, with his new broadened world view, he believes some of that violence is created by those of higher social and political power.

           Now, the biggest of Lamar’s worldly emotions is “FEAR.”, which he goes into in detail on this track. The song begins with the following phrase.

“Why God, why God do I gotta suffer?

Pain in my heart carry burdens full of struggle

Why God, why God do I gotta bleed?

Every stone thrown at you restin' at my feet

Why God, why God do I gotta suffer?

Earth is no more, won't you burn this muh’fucka?”

          This is one of dozens of religious references made on the album, however this one is filled with much more despair than others. In all the preceding tracks, he discusses his issues and here, he admits he’s not sure why he is chosen to suffer. Also, with the line “Every stone thrown at you restin” at my feet” he is referencing the view of him by many as a savior, or even prophet. In his prior album, To Pimp a Butterfly, he has named himself a prophet on the final track, “Mortal Man”. Because he delivers the message of God, he feels that any criticism of God is one thrown at him as well, hence the stones thrown at God resting at his own feet. After this phrase is heard, the same phrase is then played in reverse as to lead into the first verse of the song, where Lamar is seven years old.

           In this verse, he begins nearly every line with “I beat yo ass”, followed by something a young kid would likely do. These lines, all being from the perspective of his mother, are meant to highlight how instead of calmly correcting a young Lamar’s mistakes, she instead wields fear as a constant threat. The repetitious use of “I beat yo ass” here serves to highlight how, while initially terrifying, the shock of the violence fades away and eventually becomes normal. It also highlights how the same aggressive response is used for things trivial and minor, from acting out in school to just watching TV too loud. However, in some instances, Lamar does test the boundaries of his mother. The line “Better not hear ’bout you humpin' on Keisha's daughter” implies that something similar, or maybe this very act, has occurred before. This leads to the last lines of the verse: “Seven years old, think you run this house by yourself? Nigga, you gon' fear me if you don't fear no one else.” Here Lamar’s mother calls out his maturity, but strikes his confidence back down as she desires herself to be in control solely. This leads to the fear he has of disappointing his family and elders, one that sticks with him to this day. After the chorus, which emphasizes how he wishes fear was easy to overcome, the second verse begins.

           Here, Kendrick returns to speaking from his own perspective, except he has aged a few years and is now seventeen. This goes another one of his biggest fears, death. Having a fear of death is by no means rare, but in his exposure to the violence of Compton has led to this fear being more to the forefront of his mind. This verse, once again, uses repetition to hammer home just how prominent this fear is. The phrase “I’ll prolly die” begins almost every line, and after it, he lists another way he could possibly perish. These possible outcomes are ones he’s seen firsthand in Compton. “I'll prolly die from witnesses leavin' me falsed accused” speaks to how he could easily be blamed for crime that he didn’t commit, simply because he may fit the profile of a suspect.  “Or maybe die because these smokers are more than desperate” speaks to how those addicted to crack, and other hardcore drugs, will do anything for money to feed their addiction, including murder. “I'll prolly die tryna buy weed at the apartments” speaks to how the most innocent of interactions to them could easily turn into a life changing event when interference of the police. Specifically, he has a few lines about the possibility of death by police brutality:

                       “I'll prolly die from one of these bats and blue badges

Body slammed on black and white paint, my bones snappin'”

          Kendrick might have been a child during the Rodney King riots in L.A., but incidents like that have clearly stuck with him. In addition to his general fear of dying, he also fears that he’ll “die anonymous” or “die with promises”, meaning he fears that he’ll either die without having left any significant mark on human history or without delivering on the promises he made in life. Then, he reveals that his real fear is not death but that he is not in control of his own life. The final line of the verse, “All worries in a hurry, I wish I controlled things”, illustrates this, and then leads into the final verse of the song.

           In this verse, Kendrick winds the clock forward once again and is now 27, two years away from his current age. He finally ditches the repetitive structure to more clearly speak on his final fear: losing his success. At the age of 27, he released the aforementioned To Pimp a Butterfly. It was likely the most successful period he had ever seen, with him being able to work with him winning his first Grammys for the project. However, this even did not fill him with confidence, but instead shocked him and made him more concerned of losing all that success. Because he has reached heights higher than he had ever foreseen, he questions why would God allow this to happen.

                       “All this money, is God playin' a joke on me?

Is it for the moment, and will he see me as Job?

Take it from me and leave me worse than I was before?”

          Job is a biblical character who was a prosperous man who followed the word of God devoutly. However, God tested him by taking away his wealth and family and inflicting him with disease, only to give his prosperity and health back once he stayed faithful. Lamar questions if his is God’s plan for him, which would justify his fear of losing his wealth. Also, he interesting has a few lines referencing a 2015 controversy between music artist Rihanna and one of her former accountants. After Rihanna sued this accountant over a $9 million loss from that year, they agreed to settle the case for $10 million, only for him to go missing before paying the total. Kendrick uses this example to show just how his own funds could vanish if just one of his accountants was to behave similarly. It’s also funny he’d use Rihanna as an example, as she if featured in the earlier track, “LOYALTY.” At the end of this verse he, once again reveals that his biggest fear is not just that he will lose all he has gained, but that it will come about due to the public misinterpreting his music. Lines like “How they look at me reflect on myself, my family, my city” and “What they hear from me would make 'em highlight my simplest lines.” speaks to how he worries about his perception. And in the final verse, he wraps up the topics of the entire album.

            He lists even more fears here, but now he is using the titles from other tracks on the album in his lines:

“I'm talkin' fear, fear of losin' loyalty from pride

'Cause my DNA won't let me involve in the light of God

I'm talkin' fear, fear that my humbleness is gone

I'm talkin' fear, fear that love ain't livin' here no more

I'm talkin' fear, fear that it's wickedness or weakness

Fear, whatever it is, both is distinctive

Fear, what happens on Earth stays on Earth

And I can't take these feelings with me, so hopefully they disperse”

          Incorporating all these themes heard elsewhere on the album allows up to find the meaning of the album itself. Near the end of that quote, he claims he can’t take these feelings with him. Where could it be going if it’s not earth? The answer is Heaven. In the first track, “BLOOD.”, he is murdered, and all the songs leading to this one are him wrestling with his problems that have led to his fears. And in this track, it culminates in him coming to terms with fear itself, all in order to disperse all of these worldly emotions and leave them on Earth, as they have no place in God’s domain. The following track, “GOD.”, further validates this theory as he now know “what God feel like”, a feeling he could only know by seeing him firsthand.

           DAMN. is one of Kendrick Lamar’s most dense and experimental projects to date. However, despite its initial absence of a straightforward plot, there is just enough here to create a larger framework. And the track, “FEAR.” does the most to help aid in the creation of that framework.

[sshbpodcast]

Captain's Log. Stardate: Literally All of Them

By Ames

I'm continuing my read through the galaxy with William Shatner's Star Trek Memories, "the real, behind-the-scenes Trek story." Happily, it's written pretty damn well, full of tongue-in-cheek joking around, and has some unexpected introspection in the epilogue. I would honestly consider this required reading for any Trekkie out there, so ask your ship's computer to replicate you a copy today!

[images © Paramount]

If you're thinking, "Ugh, Bill Shatner? This must be one massive ego trip after another," then you can just stay on your porch flinging acorns at squirrels, yelling at passing children, and fashioning yourself a new tinfoil hat to keep the Metron out. Anyone expecting Bill's personal autobiography is SOL (that would be this one, which is on my list), because instead this is a comprehensive chronicle regarding how the entire original series came to be, functioned, and finally burned up in the atmosphere. Shatner took it upon himself to put this thing together, and gathered lots of quotes and explanations from cast, crew, space amoebas, tribbles, ghosts of redshirts, and other aliens of interest. Attention grab? Probably at least partly. But it also makes you really respect all the work put in by Roddenberry, Coon, Justman, and countless others to whom Shatner makes sure to give due credit because getting this series off the ground and then to warp sounds harder than most of the missions on the Enterprise's five-year trek.

It does make you wonder, of course, how much of the account is factual and how much of it is either misinterpreted, glossed over, rose tinted, or otherwise the result of a good corbomite maneuver or two. If you've read my review of Grace Lee Whitney's book, you'll remember that she made it a point NOT to tell other people's stories, specifically citing that Shatner had gotten some of the elements of her life wrong when writing this. So while it's absolutely fantastic to hear all the really neat anecdotes compiled in Star Trek Memories, it probably could have been more objective. Speaking of which:

Before reading this, I had just finished Stephen E. Whitfield's tome The Making of Star Trek, which is infinitely more thorough and less Shatner-centric. So a lot of the anecdotes about the behind-the-scenes running of the show were just echoed at me from both books. I do admit Shatner's is way less dense and also has a good amount of humor poking fun at himself (and especially at Nimoy), so that's a plus, but also comes with the level of bias you'd expect from the galaxy's biggest ham.

What the Whitfield book was missing was anything about season three because it was written in 1968. Star Trek Memories fills that gap with the gusto of Kirk planting his mouth on some space broad's general face region. Shatner explains NBC's role in fucking over the final season of the show and getting it canceled, and tries to devillainize producer Fred Freiberger who wrongly took most of the blame for the series going downhill so quickly when it was already in the middle of a self destruct countdown.

As we've discussed on the podcast, your hosts didn't find season three of TOS as malignant as people say it is, and when Shatner poopoo'ed "For the World Is Hollow and I Have Touched the Sky" while praising "And the Children Shall Lead," I was tempted to throw the book across the room. Because I'm a sucker for graphs, I even made a visual representation of our top and bottom fives (which we also catalogued here and here), proving that your gallant hosts found season three no more sinful than season two. So there's that.

But the real creme de la creme comes in the epilogue, in which Shatner recounts his interviews with all the second-string costars – Nichols, Takei, Koenig, and Doohan – who step up and tell him to his face that he was kind of a shit who didn't pay them any mind during the show and who mainly served himself. In fact, conspicuously missing from the entire book is James Doohan, who reportedly never showed up for his interview and made it clear he wanted nothing to do with Shatner. It's a fine chapter to see Shatner coming to terms with how people viewed him, which evidently was on the brink of mutiny at any given time.

All in all, the book is well worth it for the cute anecdotes and background into how the Enterprise was painstakingly hauled inch by inch into space. You'll leave with a greater appreciation for all the key players who made the series happen, and a frustration with network television's stupid numbers game that brought it all crashing down. You might even like Captain Shatner a little too.

I’ve got a pile of books to grill now, so stay tuned, be sure to keep listening, and follow “A Star to Steer Her By” on Facebook and Twitter!

[mrmichaelchadler]

Happiness and Artifice: The Performances of Julianne Moore

Gloria Bell (Julianne Moore) comes to the dance club frequently. She loves the music—‘70s and ‘80s pop ballads and disco hits—and dancing, but after 12 years of being divorced, she’s constantly looking over her large-framed glasses, trying to be noticed. Tonight, she will be. She catches the eye of Arnold (John Turturro), who approaches her slowly and awkwardly. She notices him, but doesn’t immediately warm, until he jokes about her looking happy. Gloria laughs, but her response has a stop-start rhythm, as if she’s deciding in the moment how much she wants to reveal and recognizing only there and then how truthful she’s being. “Sometimes I am,” Gloria smiles, bouncing around a bit as if weighing whether to let the rest out. “Sometimes I’m sad.” 

It’s simple, but in her laugh and her slight shifts in expression, Gloria simultaneously shows amusement at her suitor, genuine attraction, and years’ worth of loneliness. It openly acknowledges the nuance that comes with aging—knowing that much of life has passed her by and that while she’s experienced plenty of joy, she’s also not totally satisfied that this is it. She finishes: “Like everybody.”

Julianne Moore is one of cinema’s greatest laughers, and one of its greatest criers. She seems to have an almost superhuman control over her facial muscles, breaking out laughing or bursting into tears so quickly that it takes a viewer by surprise and sears itself into their brain, no matter how many times they’ve seen her unmistakable, tooth-bearing guffaws and sobs. Yet she’s also one of the best actors in the world in terms of communicating her feelings to an audience while plausibly hiding them from those around her, maintaining an artifice of happiness. Often, it’s because she’s navigating a restrictive or hostile world. Sometimes she’s just trying to protect herself or those around her from being hurt. 

Her latest film, Sebastian Lelio’s “Gloria Bell,” is a rather faithful remake of the director’s 2013 Chilean film, but it’s still largely a pleasure to see another story of a woman trying, sometimes successfully, sometimes not, to find a measure of happiness and a moment of truth in her life, all while dismissing the things pointing to trouble until she can’t anymore. These five films best exemplify Moore’s extraordinary range and the richness of her body of work.

1994: “Vanya on 42nd Street”

An army brat, Moore and her family moved frequently in her youth, and it caused her to learn to adapt to her environment at a young age. According to Moore in an interview with T Magazine: “I would change, depending on where I was. I would go to one school and everyone would dance one way and, then, at a new school, you’d notice that no one picked up their feet when they danced. You’re like, OK—I’ll shuffle my feet like them.” After initially considering a career as a doctor, she was encouraged to pursue acting, graduating with a Bachelor’s of Fine Arts from Boston University (that location evidently didn’t rub off on her, if her uncharacteristically shaky “30 Rock” accent is any indication). 

Moore got her first major role on the CBS soap “As the World Turns,” playing the twins Frannie and Sabrina Hughes; while the work may not be frequently cited by her fans, it hinted at her ability to perform in heightened realities in which she’s required to make hairpin emotional turns. This served her well early in her career, from her entertaining supporting turns in erotic thrillers good (“The Hand That Rocks the Cradle”) and bad (“Body of Evidence”) to her breakout role in Robert Altman’s “Short Cuts,” in which she drew attention for an argument with her husband (Matthew Modine) while nude from the waist down. The scene is as notable for her gradual emotional unburdening, starting from an artificial, “yes dear” pitch before growing more irritated and letting out a painful, furious confession, revealing a lie that protected their marriage for years. 

It’s a spectacular scene, but the best of her early, pre-stardom/greatest actress of her generation roles is in “Vanya on 42nd Street.” Andre Gregory’s experimental adaptation of Anton Chekhov’s “Uncle Vanya” began work in 1990 and was rehearsed and performed for three years before Louis Malle shot it as his final film (Altman cast Moore in “Short Cuts” after seeing her perform it live). As Yelena, the young wife of an aging and ailing professor (George Gaynes), Moore gives a thrillingly counterintuitive performance, expressing herself in a way that suggests someone trying hard to soften her feelings so as to protect herself or others. When the curmudgeonly Vanya (Wallace Shawn) comes onto her, she lightly pats him and laughs in a way that’s not dismissive, but gently rebuffing, subtle enough that it could be easily misinterpreted or dismissed. It’s a gesture that Moore returns to and reworks several times throughout the film, trying protect a man’s feelings while remaining firm in her conviction.

And yet, Moore’s Yelena is not a happy woman trying to keep the peace, but an unhappy one trying to keep herself together despite her admittance that “this is not a happy home.” Her care for her husband, his adult daughter Sonya (Brooke Smith) and those around her is genuine, but it’s also a mask for her own pain, a role she fulfills to keep going. A key scene with Sonya sees another unburdening, a confession that she married for love but it was “not real” before discussing the girl’s potential love with Larry Pine’s Dr. Astrov. Moore speaks with the assurance of a much older woman, her voice low but warm, her face and body language receptive as she wishes for her stepdaughter’s happiness and laughs matter-of-factly at her own unhappiness. It’s only when she’s alone that she mask slips, briefly, and she’s no longer forced to adapt. It’s a mere 20 seconds of unfiltered emotional honesty, but the shift is so sudden and stark from her carefully managed act that it feels like ages before she’s forced to compose herself again. One witnesses a lifetime’s worth of sacrifices and compromises in those 20 seconds, and a whole future filled with them.

1995: “Safe”

If her work in “Vanya on 42nd Street” is unconventional, Moore’s performance in Todd Haynes’ 1995 masterpiece “Safe” is wholly unique. Moore’s Carol White is introduced as a sweet-natured cipher, someone who goes through life passively and blankly. In a passionless sex scene, she’s entirely receptive without conveying disappointment; when trying to order food or change her hair, she appears to have difficulty determining A) what she wants, and B) if it’s OK for her to have it, her voice going to a higher pitch that communicates submission and lack of comprehension. She’s someone who inhabits her role as a homemaker without apparent enjoyment or pain, satisfaction or dissatisfaction. Her physical and psychic breakdown, then, plays as if her body is rebelling in a way her mind cannot.

That breakdown is nothing less than astonishing to behold, with Moore somehow finding a way to physically manifest symptoms that defy description for an environmental disease that utterly baffles everyone around her. Moore’s coughing begins as simple reaction to smoke before turning into a bizarre, sobbing hyperventilation; her panicked gasping in the middle of a party appears to be a body rejecting air rather than trying to take more in. One can see both physical deterioration and the total horror and confusion one must feel experiencing an entirely new disease. What’s more troubling, however, is her continued recessiveness while feeling her body fail; Carol apologizes for her nosebleeds and aches in a voice that suggests guilt for putting others through her illness. She suggests a feeling or a thought, only to shut down at the slightest rebuke or bit of questioning; when she and her husband attend a meeting on MCS, she introduces herself, only to look to him with fear and the expectation that he’ll be able to explain to others and to her what’s happening.

By the time “Safe” reaches its terrifying conclusion, Carol has found a new place and a new vocation as a true believer in a self-help cult, but one with no semblance of self. Her new home is its own grotesque palace, a world that suggests she is to blame for her health and unhappiness (indeed, suggesting that her unhappiness may be partly to blame). In her final scenes, Moore speaks to others with the same vacant friendliness that she displayed earlier in the film, but only the setting (frugal rather than materialistic) and her appearance (blotchy and sickly rather than made up) have changed. Moore delivers Carol’s birthday speech as someone who’s finally been given the floor to express herself, but finds she has nothing to express but the inarticulate stringing together of motivational slogans and secondhand sentiments. She’s jumped from one repression to another, desperately telling herself “I love you” with the hope that it’ll bring something rather than the glassy unhappiness that she’s forever doomed to live out. Her despairing blankness suggests she’ll never even know what’s wrong. Though Moore belatedly won an Oscar for solid work in the Alzheimer’s drama “Still Alice,” there’s no question which portrayal of illness is more singular. 

1997: “Boogie Nights”

The same year that Moore made “Safe,” she co-starred with Hugh Grants in the pregnancy comedy “Nine Months.” Many of Moore’s roles from this point forward would explore the idea of women addressing the fraught emotions that come with family and motherhood, whether it’s dealing with the grief of losing a child (“Children of Men”) or the difficulty of experiencing the distance that comes with children growing up (“The Kids Are All Right,” “Gloria Bell”). Others films still see parenthood as pathological, be it something to pursue (her hilarious work in “The Big Lebowski”) or pervert (“Savage Grace”). Moore’s best maternal performance came in Paul Thomas Anderson’s 1997 porn industry epic “Boogie Nights,” in which the loss of one child is substituted with the adoption of many others that never quite fill that painful absence.

Moore’s most famous scene as porn star/matriarch Amber Waves is likely her sex scene with Mark Wahlberg’s Dirk Diggler, not yet a coked up, cocky superstar, but rather a gifted but nervous kid who’s not yet sure of himself. The way Moore seamlessly shifts from motherly concern (reaching out and stroking Dirk’s chin, her voice going up on “are you alright, honey?”) to clumsy acting (an affectless “this is a giant cock!”) to real desire is something to behold, with the actress perfectly underlining in one scene how Amber’s roles as loving mother, semi-inept creative and talented sex worker blend together. Much of “Boogie Nights’" success is in its recognition of how these seemingly contradictory roles aren’t contradictory at all, and how Amber’s co-workers could clearly come to love and trust her as any kid would their real mother. The way she guides Dirk back to the scene in between takes, reassuring him all the way that he’s doing great, shows how any milieu can become a family, no matter how unlikely. It makes Dirk’s temporary rejection of her during his spiral all the more painful.

That said, “Boogie Nights” recognizes how societal expectations that these roles be mutually exclusive can hurt someone like Amber, not to mention how the overall atmosphere of excess can help give powerful figures ammunition against her. Every scene in which Amber tries and fails to reconnect with her biological son is a deeply painful one, whether she’s strung out on coke and booze and losing control (watch her wobble uncertainly as she tries to assert herself when on the phone with her ex-husband) or holding herself together as her ex attacks her in front of a judge for her career choice. The latter scene shows her trying like hell not to show outrage, raising her voice slightly only to collect herself again, showing clear knowledge that the slightest slip-up can keep her from ever seeing her son; the smash cut to a sobbing Amber is all the more powerful because of it, with Amber no longer able to hold back as she realizes she never had a chance. If Moore’s final scene is less hopeless than the ending to “Safe,” it’s just as sad in its own way, with Amber staring at herself in the mirror with weary resignation, knowing that this makeshift, artificial family is all that she has, and it’ll never be enough.

2002: “Far from Heaven”

Moore has spent much of her career playing people in unsatisfying relationships and marriages, ranging from explosively guilt-ridden (“Magnolia”) to neglected (“The Kids Are All Right”) to religiously conflicted (“The End of the Affair”). Those performances are all rich in their own ways, but they pale next to her second Haynes collaboration, the Douglas Sirk-inspired “Far from Heaven.” Like Carol White before her, Moore’s Cathy Whitaker, a 1950s Connecticut homemaker, is a picture of conformity. Adopting the heightened acting style of Sirk’s melodramas, Moore appears perfectly poised and gorgeously made up, performing as if she were in an advertisement for the bliss of suburbia. One can see small cracks in the façade at key moments—her eyes seem to flash with recognition when her friends talk about how frequently they have sex with their husbands, suggesting that she doesn’t much at all—but she seems perfectly happy with her lot in life.

Cathy, however, becomes far more aware of what’s eating away at her soul, beginning her learning of her husband Frank’s (Dennis Quaid) repressed homosexuality. Her initial reaction is one of incomprehension, with Moore stopping in her tracks after catching him with another man and searching herself in the elevator, her eyes conveying someone realizing her life is a lie. Moore spends much of the rest of the movie trying to maintain the illusion that nothing is wrong, whether she’s masking her discomfort with her husband’s drunkenness or plastering on a smile as her friend (Patricia Clarkson) questions her about a new bruise the day after. The latter scene sees a woman’s defenses slowly breaking down, her eyes swelling and her hand coming to her face after Clarkson leaves, as if anyone seeing her sorrow will make it real.

Someone does see: Dennis Haysbert’s sensitive black gardener Raymond, with whom she falls in love. Moore’s gradual warming to him—from friendly but a bit patronizing to total, unself-conscious comfort—is a marvel to behold, her body language growing more open, her smiles less broad but more natural. The film tracks a woman gradually realizing the passion she’s been missing and the person who could be right for her, only to make it impossible for the two to get together. Moore spends so much of the film hiding or denying her feelings that watching her face glow with yearning as she confesses her love is truly heartbreaking, her face freezing back into a forced smile as she recognizes her best chance at happiness being ripped away. If “Safe” follows someone escaping one constrictive role only to dive into another without realizing it, “Far from Heaven” is the story of a woman who realizes how limited her life has been, only to be kept from truly breaking free.

2014: “Maps to the Stars”

Still, it's a better fate than what awaits Moore’s character in David Cronenberg’s hilarious, horrifying Hollywood takedown “Maps to the Stars.” Moore has had a few opportunities in her career to play villainous or morally compromised figures, some manipulative but sympathetic (“Savage Grace”), some callous and calculating (“The Hunger Games” series), and some just cartoonish (“Carrie”). She earned the most acclaim for her work as Sarah Palin in “Game Change,” but Danny Strong’s script never takes enough interest in what makes the reactionary Palin tick for Moore to dig in beneath the superficial impression, with all humanizing details ultimately coming off as disingenuous. “Maps to the Stars," on the other hand, is Moore’s best portrayal of an essentially venal figure, a haunted woman whose deep insecurities and superficial charm can only temporarily obscure her selfishness and capacity for cruelty.

Moore’s washed-up actress Havana Segrand initially engenders some sympathy, introduced with a look of abject horror on her face as her therapist (John Cusack) pushes her to relive what she believes was abuse at the hands of her more famous mother. Her vulnerability becomes more overwhelming whenever she encounters her mother’s ghost (Sarah Gadon), with Moore’s demeanor shifting to wide-eyed terror (further exaggerated by how exhausted she looks throughout) and confusion as she’s simultaneously confronted with painful memories and remembrances of her own failures. At the same time, Havana’s deep neediness makes her perfectly pathetic. Moore runs through her to-do list as if she’s begging for help from her assistant (Mia Wasikowska) and leans into conversations with her agent like someone who’s trying and failing to hide how desperate they are for validation. She plays Havana as someone who’s in constantly in the throes of both psychological abuse and self-degradation, plausibly hurt by those around her without recognizing how much she contributes to her own unhappiness.

Moore and Cronenberg recognize how Havana’s as rotten and artificial as anyone else in Hollywood, however, with the actress barely concealing how insincere Havana’s interest is in anyone but herself. Some of it can be picked up at how flippantly Moore delivers lines about her housekeeper having “like 40 kids,” or how she speaks to Wasikowska during their initial interview as if she’s doing her a favor, or how she barely hides her disinterest in Robert Pattinson’s limo driver (until he admits he’s a fan). The film’s funniest scene, in a laugh-catching-in-the-throat way, sees Havana’s immediate shift from shock to cravenness upon learning of a rival’s tragedy, her open-mouthed horror changing to sticking her tongue through her teeth as she plots stealing a comeback role; still, that’s nothing compared to how cheerfully she dances immediately after, celebrating and taking the opportunity to reassert control over her assistant all the while. 

If “Maps to the Stars” takes the character’s unhappiness and the emptiness of her lifestyle seriously, it also posits that maybe someone like Havana, who immediately takes to berating those beneath her once she’s back on top, doesn’t deserve happiness. At any rate, Havana Segrand, Carol White, Yelena, Cathy Whitaker and Amber Waves have spent their lives taking on and tossing out roles forced upon them by circumstance, barely getting a moment to consider whether or not it’s what they want. Whether they’re luckier to know it or remain totally oblivious, no one can say.

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