#but can we talk about his parents reaction versus Harry

[dont-call-me-baby-posts]

still not over the fact that anders just gave his father the fucking "goody bag"

HAHAHAHA my boy folded so easy. Very Gemini of him tbh. They didn’t even have to force it out of him either like they barely got two words in and he’s like ugh fine guys, take it 🙄 HSHSJS

ANWYAY here’s a blurb about the moments immediately after he gave his dad the goods. MAJOR TW. Also sorry if Anders isn’t very likable in this moment buuuut you have to understand he was not in a good way. Only to be cracking jokes about it a few hours later with Harry 🙃

///

Anders could hear his parents arguing through the walls, the bathroom backing up to his room through the wall just across from his bed. He buried his head under a pillow, but he could still hear it. Their words bounced off of each other and shattered on the tile flooring, his mother becoming more and more fucking hysterical as the seconds passed around him.

“He’s going to kill himself, Mike. What do you not understand about that?”

“I understand, honey. What else do you expect me to do, huh? We can’t just lock him up in his room forever.”

“We send him back to rehab is what we do! We can’t just let him get away with something like this.”

“We can’t send him to rehab if he isn’t on anything.”

“You honestly believe he’s been sober this entire time? Don’t be naive, Mike. You know how he is… he’s always been good at hiding things from us.”

“I do believe him. What more can we do?”

“What more can we do?” The scoff his mother let out in the pause between her words was sharp enough it reached Anders all the way across the room, piercing through his blankets he’d cocooned himself inside. “That’s nice, Mike. We’ll just let him do what he wants. But then it’ll be your fault when our son dies in our house.”

Anders shuttered through every silent second that ticked by. He was crying now, hard, but he knew when he got home that he was going to. He really had ruined everything- his career, his friendships, his parents marriage. What was next? Finally his dad spoke again.

“What even is this stuff, anyway?” He asked. Anders could hear the familiar jingle of pills inside an unmarked bottle, making his joints tense up all over.

“I don’t know.”

“I just wonder what it does. Is it fun for him? Does it make him feel good?”

It did, but not in the way his dad was probably thinking. He wasn’t addicted to fucking ecstasy or anything. Anders hated his dad for a second, imagining the way he must think of him. He imagined himself in the place of Johnny Depp, the lead character in his fathers version of “Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas.”

Anders heard his mother saunter down the hall into his parents bedroom that they rarely shared anymore. The door slammed behind her, followed by the sound of the toilet flushing. It continued like that for a long time as Anders counted along. 14 flushes.

Anders wanted to disappear. He wished for a second he would’ve just gotten rid of the drugs himself, or would’ve at least taken some of them before coming clean so he wouldn’t have had to feel so bad about everything. He wanted to talk to Y/N, or maybe Harry, but he didn’t want to worry them.

Suddenly the bedroom door opened slowly, the soft patter of his dads fingertips on the wood in his version of a knock. Anders flipped over quickly so he wouldn’t have to look him in his face.

“Are you alright, son?”

“Better than ever.”

It got quiet. There was a tension in the room that felt the way the spaces between fathers and their children always felt- slightly chilly and even more heavy. His dad sat on the mattress, making Anders strain against the bend of the bed to stay in his placed tucked against the wall.

“I just wanted to say-“

“Please don’t.” Anders whispered. “Whatever this is, it’s not necessary, okay? Whatever father son bullshit you’re about to lay on me, you can save it.”

“Don’t speak to me like that, Anderson.” His dad barked, though his tone did little to cover the emotion in his voice. “You’re going to listen to me, do you understand? Fix your tone.”

The silence weighed a thousand pounds, but Anders knew better than to talk back. It was like he was 16 again, getting in trouble after school for picking a fight with some asshole kid in the hallway.

(In fairness, Anders never really picked the fights as much as they picked him, his parents just acted like he did. There was one time in particular, a day Anders remembers vividly even now, where some kid named Johnathan had slapped some girl on the ass during passing period, and obviously Anders fucking decked him. Anders felt pretty good about it at the time, telling the principal that maybe he should care a little bit more about children being s*xually a*saulted in his hallways than him knocking some kid out. He felt a little less good about it when he got grounded for two weeks that night. He was banished to his bedroom, this same bedroom, because apparently even when Anders did the right thing it was still wrong. His parents had always treated him like a criminal, practically since he was born.)

“I just wanted to say that I’m proud of you for telling us the truth. I know that isn’t easy.”

“Why, because I’m a liar?”

“No-“ His dad sighed heavily. “Because it’s hard to be honest about… stuff like this. I won’t act like I don’t know that. I’ll leave you alone, but I just wanted to say thank you for trusting us. I know I don’t know what you’re going through-“

“Yeah, no fucking shit, dad.” Anders sniffled, sitting up straight. “You have no fucking clue. Do you know what it’s like to be here with her right now? She’s making this fucking impossible for me. This is, like, the last fucking place on earth I should be right now if I’m supposed to stay sober. Do you realize that? She’s making my life a fucking nightmare, twenty-four fucking seven.”

“Your mom loves you so much.”

“She fucking hates me. She always has. You think I don’t hear the way she talks about me? She can’t stand to be around me, and you know what? I can’t fucking stand her, either!”

Anders didn’t really mean it, but in this moment he did. His chest shook with heavy breaths he tried to keep even. He really did feel bad for raising his voice at his dad, who had in one way or another always been the one to take his side when it came to his mother. Even if he folded without much of a fight, his dad did always at least try to defend him.

“She makes sure I know every single fucking day how much better off she’d be without me. You both would be. And you expect me not to take it personally? Why would anybody want to live like this?”

“She doesn’t think that, and neither do I. Your mom… She’s struggling, okay? But she’s doing her best. We all are.”

“Well I must take after her, then, because her best isn’t very fucking good. I don’t want to fucking be here anymore. I don’t want to be anywhere anymore, I’m fucking tired of all of this. I’m done.”

“Don’t talk like that. You don’t mean it.”

“You think I don’t? What part of the last four months tells you I’m joking, huh? What, was it not obvious enough that I fucking mean every word of it?”

“Just because of the incident doesn’t mean-“

“Don’t fucking call it that!” Anders screamed. At this point his mother could hear every word, even down the hallway. “I tried to k*** m*****, dad! Say it with your chest, big man. You and mom haven’t said it once since I’ve been here, so go ahead and say it.”

His dad had that hard expression on his face the way he always did. “I’m sorry for bothering you, I just wanted to say that I’m proud.”

“You should’ve said that a long time ago, bro. I don’t give a shit if you’re proud of me now. You could’ve been proud when I got a record deal, or when I passed fucking algebra. You don’t get to be proud now.”

His father stood to leave, not bothering to offer a response. Anders didn’t want him to leave just yet, not because he wanted his company but because he had a lot to say. “I can’t fucking wait to leave here. You guys can live your perfect little life without me and mom can tell everybody what a “good kid” I am. You won’t even have to see me.” Anders paused to laugh. “But just wait until my face is all over the cover of every magazine in sixth months because I finally fucking did it. Mom won’t be able to lie to everyone then, will she? It’ll be fucking front page news what a shit parent she is! Maybe then she’ll actually give a fuck! You can’t convince me the only reason she’s so concerned about me dying isn’t solely because it’ll make her look bad.”

His dad frowned and shook his head, opening up the door. He sighed again. “We love you very much, Anderson. I just wanted you to know.”

“You fucking hate me and you know it.” Anders laughed. “Get the fuck out.”

And he did. Anders was left alone, again, weeping helplessly into his pillowcase. He didn’t mean any of it, really. But maybe he did. Either way, he’d said it and he couldn’t unsay it. He wanted to talk to Y/N but she had her own shit going on with Harry so he didn’t bother. He just tucked himself deeper into the space where the bed met the wall abs tried to force himself to sleep.

[taexual]

i’d love you to stay but that’s simply insane // JJK (16)

     jungkook is an uncontrollable lead vocalist of the campus band, and you’re a goal-oriented top student that’s known his rich and complicated family since childhood. you don’t want anything to do with each other, until each other is exactly what you want to do.

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

genre: college au

warnings: angst

words: 6.6k

     chapter sixteen

Despite deciding not to make your already uncomfortable situation even more awkward by discussing your kiss, Jungkook could not stop thinking about it the entire drive back to your dormitory. Actually, he’d been thinking about the kiss nearly every moment since it happened, but with you in the car next to him, his thoughts became clearer. More defined. More vibrant.

If he’d have closed his eyes – not a good idea for someone who was behind the wheel of a car; but it wasn’t like Jungkook was above entertaining bad ideas – he swore he could return to that moment when he had you underneath him on his bed, your mouth against his, right before his mother knocked on the door and interrupted you.

What would have happened if she hadn’t knocked?

“You okay?” you asked suddenly, the question startling him.

“Hmm?” he nearly swerved off the road, answering you in a high-pitched voice, “yeah. Why?”

“You just inhaled really—nevermind,” you changed your mind – it was better to stay quiet all the way home. But, aware how weird your question seemed without any explanations, you mumbled under your breath, “thought you were suffocating or something.”

Jungkook hadn’t realized his breath got caught in his throat every time he remembered kissing you, but it made sense; his body needed to give up every other activity—no matter how crucial for his survival it was—in order to make enough space in his mind to fully immerse itself into the memory.

The memory was so important to him because, based on the way you shifted closer to the door and further away from him in his car, he could tell that even the lingering possibility of bringing the kiss up made you close off. So the chance of it happening again – him, getting you to lower your guards down enough to allow another kiss – was so slim, it was incredible he hadn’t given up yet.

“So, I take it you won’t make it to my gig this Friday, then,” Jungkook said when he entered the campus, nodding at the barrier guard through his window before turning to look at you to show you that, no, he wasn’t going to try to get you to talk about last weekend, but also, no, he wasn’t going to completely let this go, either.

“No,” you said with a quick glance his way, the barbecue at his father’s company written in red letters in your mental itinerary. “Not this Friday. Sorry.”

He thought this over – “this” Friday meant that next Friday still had an opening. He liked these odds.

“Text me if my dad gets too crazy, yeah?” Jungkook asked as he pulled into the parking lot of your dormitory. “I’ll make sure to reply with tips on how to get him to leave you alone.”

“No, you’ll be in the middle of your performance,” you said – expressing your appreciation for his concern by giving him a warm smile – and then dismissed him with a wave of your hand, “I’ll find a way to handle it.”

Stopping the car right in front of the entrance – but not shutting the engine off which was, both, terrible for the environment and also not a very smart idea socially, considering that people were already watching your every step, and they were absolutely going to hear Jungkook’s car – he turned to look at you with a very determined expression on his face.

“If you don’t think I can find a way to include answering texts in my set list, I have news for you,” he said and you thought he was joking – just being reassuring – but the look in his eyes told a different story.

Your smile widened despite your protests. “Alright, noted. But don’t worry about me. Just let me know when you’re done with your gig.”

Jungkook – who’d never had to report his whereabouts to anyone before – found himself nodding eagerly.

“You too,” he said. “I mean, text me when that whole social gathering is over. I can drive over there to take you home.”

“No,” you protested again, “you have an after-party to get to. I’ll make my own way home. Don’t worry—”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he countered, using your own argument against you, “I will come get you out of there early if you’ll need me to. No matter what I’m doing.”

The look on his face was resolute and, for a moment, you considered that perhaps this was his way of showing you that he didn’t want you to go to the company barbecue at all – especially not when he couldn’t be there to supervise and make sure the real story of your relationship remained well hidden behind the tale you’d created for his parents – but then, Jungkook looked down and refuted these thoughts.

“Thank you for doing this,” he said. “My dad already had that look on his face – the scowl he saved for me only – because he’d been expecting me to refuse to come all along, but then you… well, you softened the blow.”

“I didn’t soften it much if he still looked at you like that,” you said, lowering your eyes just as Jungkook raised his.

“No, you did. I’d have gone home, thinking—no, knowing—that I’d let him down yet again,” he said, “and that often has interesting consequences—”

You raised your eyebrows. “That’s one way to put it.”

“Right. But now I get to go home and worry about you being there alone with my family and their colleagues, so that gives me something else to occupy myself with.”

You could have insisted that you weren’t a damsel in distress and could figure out your own way out of a tricky situation if you had to, but you chose to let him have this one. If thinking about this kept him out of trouble while you were out of campus and, possibly, unable to reach him in time, then so be it.

“That’s hardly a better way to spend your time, but if that’s what you’re into these days…” you replied with humor and Jungkook – who could tell that you were only saying this so you’d stop going back and forth with him – forced himself to smile.

“You’re rubbing off on me,” he said. “I’m starting to develop this need to constantly be in control of everything.”

Your mouth opened in genuine surprise and then – almost comically – opened wider still, when you decided to add a more dramatic effect to your reaction, so you could conceal the fact that the portrayal of you, as a control freak, had honestly upset you. 

But you couldn’t express your feelings out loud because, admittedly, he was right, you did like to be in control of your surroundings. Shamelessly so, too, because you didn’t think it was wrong to know about everything that involved you.

“That’s not good,” you said. “We can’t both be in control. We’ll clash.”

“If we do, I hope it will be as epic as Harry versus Voldemort.”

You snickered at this, the tension in your shoulders lightening. “I take it you’re Voldemort?”

Jungkook looked positively outraged by this assumption. “Of course not! I’m The Chosen One.”

Now you were full-on laughing. And The Chosen One – who, technically, could have actually been called The Boy Who Lived after all the life-threatening stunts he’d pulled since starting puberty – smiled, beyond proud of himself.

Smiling at each other for several seconds – that could have been minutes or even hours for all you cared; it only felt like one blink of an eye to you anyway – you felt your chest fill with affection. That tended to happen sometimes, especially when you’d been dreading a situation – The Talk About the Sunday Night Kiss – and then managed to successfully make it out alive – by using a method, commonly referred to as, Staying Quiet and Changing the Topic.

“I meant what I said, though,” you spoke and the relief that you didn’t have to endure the awkward ‘so… what do we do now?’ question washed over you with a warm wave. “I’ll be fine tomorrow.”

You had leaned closer him as you said this – it was a natural instinct: reaching out to touch someone’s hand (or, uh-oh, cheek!) for more effect – but you froze mid-way, hanging awkwardly over the console of his car and regretting your very existence because you’d noticed how Jungkook stopped breathing when you moved closer, and how quickly his breathing returned to him – in the form of a disappointed huff – when you suddenly stopped.

“Thank you for taking me to the meeting today,” you ended up blurting as you pulled back, your eyes now firmly locked on the handle of the door.

“Yeah. It’s nothing,” he replied and, somehow, that was it.

The eternity you always spent in his car when he dropped you off in front of your dormitory had suddenly come to an end and, because of how weird it was to leave without saying goodbye – but, then again, were you supposed to hug? Kiss? – your hand lingered on the handle numbly, only pushing the door open a minute later.

Paradoxically, relief and concern both flooded your brain as soon as you stepped one foot outside but then, before you could exit his car, you felt him take hold of your wrist – not pulling you back per se, but holding onto you firmly enough to stop you from moving.

“Hey,” Jungkook said. You were mid-step, so you had to fully exit the car and lean down to look at him.

“Hmm?” you asked, your wrist still in his grip even though he had successfully captured your attention.

“D-don’t…” he tried to say, mumbling the rest of the words under his breath. You frowned, not hearing him, and were about to lean forward to ask what he’d said, when he cleared his throat and tried again, “let’s not be weird around each other, okay? We know each other far too long for that.”

Your plan to keep your mouth shut and divert his attention to different topics had, clearly, only succeeded in part, because Jungkook was addressing last Sunday night, after all, but he didn’t dare to bring the kiss up directly. And his acknowledgement of the fact that you were too stuck in your own head to let him talk to you about the kiss specifically, made it all worse.

“Yeah,” you said then. “I wouldn’t want things to suddenly be weird between us.”

“So, let’s not make it weird,” he said, nodding and reluctantly letting go of your hand. “Don’t forget to text me tomorrow.”

“I won’t,” you pulled your hand back and, with one last smile – that looked forced, uncomfortable and weird; all the things you didn’t want it to look like – you walked away from his car and back to your dorm, ready for Inna’s tirade of questions. Questions that you had no answers to.

What surprised you about the company barbecue on Friday afternoon wasn’t the fact that Inna hadn’t demanded to know all the details of the event when you told her where you’d be going, or the fact that all of the people you’d seen at the bi-yearly meeting on Thursday, were now dressed in red aprons like your friendly neighborhood dads.

It was the fact that Namjoon, of all people, was dressed like one of those dads, too.

“Hey!” you exclaimed, evidently shocked to run into him here. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Oh, hi!” Namjoon seemed just as surprised but he shook your hand – which was his go-to way of saying hello to people, as you’ve learned – and smiled, explaining, “I’m interning here, actually. What about you?”

You were thrown off balance by your surprise – the two of you had talked about your plans for the future before, sharing your ambitions with each other, and yet you didn’t know that he was an intern here – but recovered a moment later to explain yourself.

“Oh, I’m—the CEO is an old family friend, so I’m here as a courtesy of sorts,” you said, feeling self-conscious when you saw Namjoon raise his eyebrows after he learned about this connection. “I was supposed to come earlier to help you set up but my roommate was leaving for the weekend, and she—well, anyway. I’m only here to get acquainted with the company, really.”

Contrary to what you’d expected him to ask you next, Namjoon wondered, “do you see yourself here in the future?”

Even though he didn’t inquire about your biography outright – “were your parents powerful and influential businessmen as well?” – his question did seem to insinuate that you may start working here purely because of your relationship to the head of the company.

“Maybe,” you replied, realizing how privileged you were to be here when you weren’t even a part of the company yet. “What has it been like, interning here?”

“Oh, it’s been okay. It’s the only company that took me in,” he spoke and you felt yourself exhale in relief after you lost the spotlight. “The others weren’t looking for interns. Or they needed interns with a job experience that spanned more than my college career.”

You scoffed, understanding what he meant very well because you’d been there, too. “How does that make sense?”

“It doesn’t,” Namjoon said with a sigh. “And that’s why I’m here.”

“So, this wasn’t your first choice?” you asked.

“No, but I don’t regret coming here,” he replied. “It’s a nice work environment. The people are very welcoming and helpful, which isn’t something you see a lot of in corporate businesses.”

Sadly, some of the people here weren’t very welcoming in their personal lives, you thought bitterly, remembering Jungkook and his father’s tense relationship. You chose not to mention that, however, because it didn’t seem like the right thing to do.

“I hope you’re not here for work, though,” you said instead, smiling as you watched Namjoon laugh awkwardly and nod at the beef patties on a plate next to the grill.

“No,” he said. “But they did put me on grilling duty – which wasn’t very smart of them, considering how terrible I am around things that can burst into flames – so I do have some hefty responsibilities today.”

You chuckled. “I could help you. I’ve done my fair share of barbecuing when I was growing up. Let me just leave my handbag somewhere—”

“The gazebo over there,” Namjoon pointed at the far end of the camping grounds, “they’ve turned it into a coat room. You could leave it there,” he looked at you and, catching his own eagerness, explained, “I would really appreciate your help. I don’t want my internship to end prematurely because I’d poisoned everyone with my poor cooking.”

Giving him a sympathetic grin, you assured him, “that won’t happen. At least, not on my watch. I’ll be right back!”

As you’d learned once you got back to the grill and started to assist Namjoon – or, allowed him to assist you – Jungkook’s father hadn’t even arrived yet. Him and his wife – according to a very chatty woman who was Namjoon’s supervisor – were supposed to come a little while later and then, following tradition, they would take a picture with the rest of the employees, sit down for a meal, and leave within an hour.

This barbecue may have been a nice social gathering for the employees of his company, but it was strictly a formality for Jungkook’s father.

“Still, it’s nice,” Namjoon said once the woman left you two to finish grilling the sausages and the patties alone, “not many CEOs bother to interact with the lower-rank employees at company events. At least, not in my experience. My dad didn’t even know what his boss looked like and he’d worked for the same company for twenty years.”

“It sounds impossible in today’s day and age, though, with everyone being on social media,” you pointed out.

“Of course. But you don’t always recognize people from social media in real life. So, it’s nice that even I, an intern, have a chance to see the CEO of the company with my own eyes. And maybe even meet him.”

“Hmm, sure,” you nodded with an unconcerned shrug. “It is nice of him, I suppose.”

Namjoon noticed your nonchalance and he knew that the reason why you couldn’t relate to him in this particular situation was because you had nothing to get excited about – you had already met the CEO.

“You said he was a family friend?” Namjoon asked you. “So, you know him quite well, then?”

You paused grilling for a second to look at him but he was watching the food to make sure it didn’t burn. And that was even better, since it gave you more time to come up with an abridged version of your relationship with Jungkook’s father.

“Yeah, uh… my mom and his wife had been best friends growing up,” you said, “and they’re still very close to this day. Now that they’re both married, their families got involved in the friendship, too. He’s always been kind to me but my knowledge of him comes from Jungkook’s point of view, so I’m probably—”

Namjoon finally looked away from the sizzling grill to get you to back up. “Wait, Jungkook?”

“Yeah, we—” you paused, realizing that he wasn’t confused about your friendship with Jungkook but, rather, about Jungkook, being the son – and the heir apparent – of the CEO. “The company—i-it belongs to Jungkook’s father.”

“Oh,” Namjoon mumbled, looking away as this revelation rendered him speechless for a quick minute. “Oh.”

You didn’t know what to make of this “oh”, so you tried to clear the air with a chuckle.

“I, uh—I had thought that was common knowledge on campus,” you said.

“I—maybe it is, I don’t really keep up w-with that,” he admitted. “I just assumed he was popular because of Parental Advisory.”

“He is,” you nodded, “but coming from a rich family probably didn’t hinder his way to the top very much.”

“No,” he snickered, “it probably didn’t. So, uh, is he coming here, too?”

You had picked up a pair of tongs from the folding table nearby and used them to flip the patties before you answered. That was why you didn’t notice how much Namjoon struggled to process this new information. You couldn’t ask him what was it about Jungkook that caused Namjoon to have such a hard time dealing with this news.

“No,” you said, still not looking at him as you focused on the grill. “He’s got a show tonight.”

“Ah, so his band comes first,” Namjoon said in a voice that would have been humorous—in a sarcastic way—if it wasn’t so acidic.

You stopped what you were doing to give the boy next to you a surprised look.

“Well—not necessarily,” you said and then tried to find a way to explain why Jungkook was the way he was without getting into too many unnecessary and overly-complicated details, “he cares about both, but he’s not—he’s got, uh, some issues with—”

“With being civil in front of his father’s employees?” Namjoon interjected sharply.

You blinked. “He—”

“God, sorry,” he blurted suddenly, putting the metal spatula down on the grill before realizing that this wasn’t a good idea and picking it back up again. He sounded exasperated as he tried to take his previous question back, “I don’t know why I’m coming off so angry about this. I was just surprised. I did hear that the CEO had a son who was presumably going to take over the company one day, but I didn’t think it was… you know.”

You didn’t know, but you could guess that Jungkook’s bad reputation preceded him and even people, who claimed not to judge others without getting to know them first, couldn’t help but judge first.

Namjoon sounded disappointed when he talked about him. Worse, he sounded displeased and even choked as he spoke, trying to cover up his own frustration so he could remain impeccably respectful like he always was – or tried to be.

He tried to avoid stereotypes but you’d gotten glimpses of his real attitude at the library when he’d revealed his assumptions about the members of Parental Advisory, guessing – and getting it right – that the members were a “troubled bunch”.

You’d admired his restraint from any further assumptions that could have shown his prejudice. But now his respectfulness irked you because it hid his real feelings and made it almost impossible for you to defend Jungkook without sounding like you were overreacting.

“There’s still a long way before Jungkook can take over,” you said, focusing on the tongs in your hands and the way they clapped with a metallic yelp each time you clicked them together. “He’s working on it and his father definitely isn’t cutting him any slack just because he’s his son.”

“Right, I wasn’t—”

“But you probably know that if you work here,” you continued, yours words coming out in a batch of agitation that Namjoon could not interrupt, “there aren’t any exclusive employees here. Everyone is being treated the same, regardless of their connection to the staff higher up.”

“No, of course!” he exclaimed before you could continue. “I didn’t mean to imply—although, I guess I did imply that he had certain guarantees that other people didn’t, which is true, of course, with him being the son of the CEO. But I didn’t mean to make it sound like he wouldn’t deserve the chief executive position. I’m sure his father wouldn’t give it to him if he didn’t think Jungkook was worth it.”

“Yeah,” you said, swallowing hard. “He wouldn’t.”

Namjoon wasn’t going to say anything else about this – he’d already said too much – but the way you went straight for his throat when he misspoke about Jungkook, shed a new light on your relationship with him. It intrigued Namjoon even if he wasn’t fascinated by you in a romantic sense.

His interest in your relationship with Jungkook was mostly understandable, though – the two of you were so different on the surface, one could only wonder what was it that attracted you to each other.

Well, apparently, there were depths to the reckless lead vocalist of the campus band that Namjoon didn’t know about.

“I’ve heard he treats everyone here like family,” Namjoon said, trying to make his voice sound light as he shifted the topic from the son to the father.

“I’ve heard that, too,” you agreed, your voice still on edge. “The man has a great reputation around here.”

“He’s sort of living up to it, too,” Namjoon said and you saw him nod in the direction of the road that ran along the north side of the camping grounds.

You turned your head to see Jungkook’s father step out of his car, with his wife following after, from the other side. He shook hands with the few people who came to greet him. 

He had a wide smile on his face – a smile that you couldn’t remember seeing in a very long time, but now that you did, you realized how similar him and Jungkook were: both of them seemed to lose ten years of their age when they smiled.

“He kind of looks like he’s running a presidential campaign,” you said, observing the scene as Jungkook’s father greeted his employees – some with a good-natured hug, others with a wave.

Namjoon glanced at you and, relieved to see that your mind was no longer lingering on your previous conversation, laughed. “Maybe a bit, yeah.”

Within moments of Jungkook’s father’s arrival, the campgrounds were in an uproar: everyone was busy grilling their last bits of food and arranging it in a way that would look the most appetizing.

The plate of food you and Namjoon had grilled definitely wasn’t the easiest on the eyes, but none of the food seemed under-cooked or burned, so both of you were content with that. 

Then, just as you were about to pick the food up and carry it over to the structure tent in the center of the grounds, you were reminded that time for dinner hadn’t arrived yet.

The traditional picture had to come first.

You felt a lot like you did on picture day back at school – with one of the employees ordering everyone around, demanding they squat, scooch closer, smile wider, turn their heads, and move to the back because their clothing is too flashy – and that was what you told Namjoon when the two of you found yourselves standing side-by-side in front of the camera, very close to Jungkook’s father himself.

“I think it’s worse than it was at school,” Namjoon whispered back, glancing at the other employees and their wide smiles, “but, at least, we don’t have to wear uniforms.”

You scoffed. “Yes. Wearing dark red aprons is better.”

“This awful color makes us all more united,” he said, looking over your shoulder and accidentally meeting the eye of his CEO, who was making sure you weren’t standing too far from him, because he considered you to be his guest and, therefore, he had to make sure you received the best treatment. Namjoon figured as much, as he cleared his throat and straightened his posture.

Finally, the photographer – or, actually, the Head of Human Resources with his new Samsung – took the picture, making sure the flash blinded each and every single person posing for him. And then he took another picture. And then another one. And then a few more for good measure.

You thought you’d blinked in all of them but you hoped to never see those pictures anyway. They probably hung them up in the lobby to remind everyone who went into the building that this was a very friendly environment to work in, but the actual employees never really looked at the pictures.

It was almost funny how wrong you were about that.

“Such a pleasure to see you here,” Jungkook’s father said, approaching you as soon as the people broke apart from their designated positions and pretended to mingle while, really, they waited for the director to finish talking and lead them to the main tent for dinner.

“Thank you very much for inviting me,” you said, aware of everyone’s eyes on you as you exchanged a polite and obligatory hug. “It’s a very nice place here.”

“It really is, isn’t it?” he nodded and then, much to your relief, pointed at the tent. “Let’s go have some food, shall we? I’d been saving up my stomach the whole day for this.”

You chuckled and walked next to him towards the plastic table, filled to the brim with various plates of food. There was far too much grilled meat here – it was impossible for everyone to eat it all, no matter how many people were here – but that only seemed to please the CEO.

“Would you like to take a look at the pictures, sir?” the Head of HR approached Jungkook’s father after he noticed that your conversation had ceased.

Based on how carefully he held the treasured Samsung in his hands, you figured that, either the phone had cost several million dollars, or the man was genuinely terrified of Jungkook’s father – which wasn’t unlikely, as you very well knew.

“Oh, of course, of course,” Jungkook’s father said, always so pleasant, and then stopped to take a look at the phone. You weren’t sure if you should have kept walking or stopped as well. And then he solved the dilemma for you by addressing you, “I’m going to forward the picture to Jungkook so he knows what he’s missing.”

“Oh, yes, that’s a great idea,” you said, smiling, even though you knew Jungkook probably wasn’t even going to open the picture.

Funnily enough, you were wrong about that, too.

While you and Jungkook’s father joined the rest of his employees for the barbecue, Jungkook was finishing soundcheck with his bandmates. He checked his phone – like he did after each song – and rolled his eyes when he saw a text from his father instead of from you.

He opened it, though.

He didn’t care much for what his father said – but he had to admit, he’d never seen his father use the winky face emoji before, so that threw him off – but his eyes caught the picture he’d attached and Jungkook pressed on it without a moment’s hesitation.

Skimming over the bright smiles of his father’s employees, he scanned the picture, looking for you.

And he found you.

But not before he found Namjoon standing right next to you.

Much to your surprise, talking to the other employees – even despite the age gap – proved to be a lot of fun. Some of the older ones actually remembered you from when you were little; they recalled you and Jungkook holding onto Jungkook’s mother’s dress as she brought you two along when she came to visit her husband at the company. And the younger employees curiously absorbed everything you told them about your experience at university, sharing their own life stories with you in return.

Because you found yourself having a good time here, you only remembered that you’d left your phone in your handbag – which was across the camping grounds, tucked away in the lonely wooden gazebo – when Jungkook’s father – who was still here, much to everyone’s surprise – decided it was time to pop the champagne.

You excused yourself from the table, promising to return soon because you only meant to retrieve your phone so you could check the time and maybe check in with Jungkook in case his show was over by now.

That was not what ended up happening when you located your handbag under the various expensive jackets that were haphazardly thrown on the bench in the gazebo.

You pulled your phone out to see several missed calls.

None of those missed calls were from Jungkook. In fact, the majority of them came from Inna, which was already weird enough since she’d left campus again this weekend and she never called you. You always texted.

But what truly confused you were the last two missed calls because they were from Yoongi, Jungkook’s bandmate. You’d only talked to Yoongi on the phone once, when you were attempting to get in touch with Jungkook after he missed dinner at his parents’ place, but Yoongi was high back then so you didn’t think he even remembered.

But he did remember, apparently, because, while you stood there, puzzled and a little alarmed, his number lit up on your screen again.

Clearing your throat, you picked up the call. “Hello?”

“Oh, fuck, thank God, you’re here,” Yoongi spoke and, judging from the relief in his voice, he knew very well whom he was talking to. “Is Jungkook with you?”

“Jungkook?” you repeated stupidly. “W-why would he be with me? Don’t you have a show?”

Yoongi laughed, loudly and completely humorlessly. “We do have a show. He was wasted for the most of it.”

A painful bolt of electricity shot through you. “He performed drunk?”

“Doesn’t matter. At least, he performed,” Yoongi said, “that’s before the encore, though. We couldn’t find him. The fucking asshole completely missed the three final songs. We thought he went to see you.”

You felt a pang of guilt even though you had nothing to feel guilty about because Jungkook was most definitely not with you, and he didn’t have a single reason to come see you before he finished the show anyway.

“I-I’m not on campus right now,” you said, running your hand through your hair as you considered what could have happened in the span of the few hours since you left your dorm this morning, after having talked to Jungkook on the phone. “Did you try calling him?”

“Obviously. He’s not picking up. I’m pretty sure he tossed his phone into a fucking lake,” Yoongi said and then, even though he didn’t mean it, he added angrily, “he better be in the lake, too, or else I’ll kill him myself.”

Knowing that the scenario of Jungkook accidentally driving into a lake wasn’t one to be dismissed, you felt your skin shiver.

“I’ll look for him,” you promised, looking back at the celebration in the tent across the field.

“You said you weren’t on campus,” Yoongi said. “Your roommate said she was out, too.”

You weren’t aware that Yoongi had talked to Inna tonight, but that explained the avalanche of missed calls from her. You made a mental note to send her a quick explanatory text message on your way to your dorm.

“I’m coming back,” you told Yoongi, grabbing your bag and making your way back to the rest of the company. “Let me know if he gets in touch with you, though, okay?”

The boy on the other end scoffed. “He won’t. Chances are, he won’t talk to the rest of us for a week after he eventually shows up back home. As if it’s us who fucked up, and not him.”

“Did anything happen?” you asked, still trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together. That wasn’t easy when each piece looked drastically different from the next and you had no idea what the full picture was supposed to look like. “Did someone say something to him? Did he get into a fight? Did he—”

“No. Nothing happened. We were—ah, shit, wait, his dad texted him, didn’t he?” Yoongi said but it didn’t sound like he was addressing you. He wasn’t; a moment later, a muffled, “yeah” sounded in the background of the call. Then, Yoongi continued, “yeah, we were finishing up with the soundcheck when he got a text from his dad. He read it and just fucking dipped. When he came back to do the show, he was already struggling on his feet.”

You cursed under your breath before thinking aloud, “his dad is here. I did see him text Jungkook but he was just sending him a picture—could it have been the picture that triggered him?”

“A picture of what?”

“There’s this barbecue that the company organized. His dad invited us both but he stayed back to do the show, so I came alone. We took a picture, everyone who’s here. And his dad sent it to him. Could that be the reason why he—”

“No,” Yoongi said right away, “company dinners—or barbecues, or whatever—doesn’t sound like Jungkook’s thing. He wouldn’t give a fuck about the picture. Unless you took someone there as your plus one?”

“Of course I didn’t. I was supposed to come with him but—oh, fuck.”

You stopped walking, the realization hitting you first, and the absurdity of it following right after.

Namjoon was in the picture next to you. He was just standing there, not even touching you, but was it possible that his appearance in the picture was enough for Jungkook to lose touch with reality?

“Fuck, of course, that’s possible,” you said out loud, almost stomping your feet in frustration like a kid, throwing a tantrum. “Listen, I have to go. I’ll text you if I find him.”

You didn’t hear Yoongi’s response because you were already pulling the phone away from your ear as you returned to the tent. You needed to find a way to leave without raising any suspicions with Jungkook’s father – whom you ran past in a wide semicircle like he was the plague itself – and you figured that the best way to do that would be faking a health emergency.

But for that, you needed to spend another few inconspicuous minutes by the table, looking colorless and uncomfortable. That wasn’t going to be difficult since you did feel light-headed already.

As you waited for the right amount of time to pass before you could leave, you tried texting Jungkook. You even tried calling – thinking you’d have enough time to walk far enough from the table so that’d no one would hear you – but the beeping signal never ceased and you didn’t get to hear Jungkook’s voice.

Right when you bit your lip, trying his number for the fifth time in a row as if the previous four times were just glitches in the system, someone noticed your distress.

“Hey,” Namjoon’s voice sounded by your ear, startling you because he was across the table from you just a second ago. “You okay? You came back to the table, looking very out of it.”

“Namjoon,” you said, your voice so grave, he thought you were about to tell him that the entire campus had burned down while the two of you weren’t there and you were the only suspects. “I need to leave.”

“Did something happen?” he asked, the concern in his voice genuine.

You nodded. “Jungkook got in trouble. I have to go back, b-but I can’t tell his father about any of this.”

You spoke without thinking about your last conversation with Namjoon or how this news could have confirmed Jungkook as a useless waste of space in his eyes. Frankly, in that moment, you couldn’t have cared less about Namjoon’s opinion of Jungkook. 

You could have used his help, even if he was going to judge you for it.

“I’m going to call myself a cab,” you said, “but could you please do me a favor, and tell his dad that I’d left because I wasn’t feeling well?”

Namjoon pulled back from your chair and looked across the table to his own seat – his leather jacket resting on the back of the chair – before giving you a nod.

“Let’s go,” he said. You were already standing up but then paused and sat back down, confused.

“What?”

“I’ll drive you back to campus,” he said, “we can leave without saying anything – no one will even notice. And then, when I’m back, I can tell everyone that you weren’t feeling well and that’s why I took you home early.”

“T-that’s very kind, but I can really just—”

“No, let me take you home,” Namjoon insisted as gently as he could, afraid that his forceful tone might remind you of his previous slip-up when you were talking about Jungkook. “It’ll be my way of apologizing for stepping over the line earlier today.”

You considered telling him that he had nothing to apologize for – he didn’t know Jungkook personally and everyone was entitled to their own opinion; you’d just gotten annoyed that he was so quick to hide this opinion under the curtain of fake politeness – but, eventually, the realization that you really didn’t have the time to debate if he should have felt apologetic or not won over, and you nodded.

You needed to get back to campus quickly, even if there was a risk of Jungkook seeing you and Namjoon together again – if that really was the reason why he got drunk and missed the encore of his own show.

“Okay. Let’s go,” you said, finally standing up. “Thank you.”

keep reading | masterlist

[jadedragoness]

Battle Ground 1st Read Through Reaction

Can I just start off by saying, Holy crap. Chicago got curb-stomped hard. So freaking hard.

I really, really, enjoyed the story. I pretty much didn’t want to stop reading as soon as I cracked open the covers of the book but I did have to have periods of giving myself a break and just put the book down and go do something sensible like do the dishes instead of screaming or shaking my fists at the sky like a lunatic.

I do admit that as a story the continuous battle was draining and exhausting to read. But I think that was the point so I don’t really count it against the story. It is something important to know going in, and why I’d recommend breaks.

Let’s talk spoilers… just assume spoilers for everything Dresden Files related too. Ummm, also this runs long.

First Let’s Me Tell You About the Thing Which Exploded My Brain:

1. MARCONE IS FREAKING KNIGHT OF THE BLACKENED DENARIUS! WHHHAAAAT!!

...okay, I’m done screaming about it.

OF FREAKING THORNED NAMSHIEL!!! ...I lied, I wasn’t done. How long? What? When? I didn’t see this coming at all! And I’m so freaking torn about how to feel about it.

I am so damned (heh) relieved that Marcone’s didn’t die at Ethniu’s hands. I seriously freaked at the moment she snapped his neck that I went into instant denial and my eyes skipped several paragraph down out of the desperate wish to see if it was trick. I’m also very, very delighted that Marcone is now so much harder to kill. I mean, he was already pretty hard to kill being Marcone but this just takes it up to eleven.

On the other hand, a Fallen Angel is so freaking dangerous. *makes gargling worried noises* And while it looks like Marcone appears to have worked out a partnership with the coin I can’t help but remember that when we were first introduced to this Fallen he was called ‘Thorned Namshiel’ and not by the name of his bearer. So he appears to be the type to subsume the human who holds him. Which makes me worried that Marcone could be on that path and not even realize it. *goes back to making gargling worried noises*

I do find reassuring that the coin is on a chain around his neck and therefore easily removed and not buried in his body like some of the other Denarians will do.

However, I am feeling a little disappointed Marcone is no longer purely a ‘vanilla’ mortal who stood toe-to-toe eldritch beings and survived by simply being smarter, deadlier and amazeballs. I’ll miss that. I always thought that it was especially hilarious how much Harry would freak out about Marcone and how deadly Marcone is when even in the same room as scary monsters (like in ;Skin Game;, I mean seriously he was in the same room as Nicodemus and Harry was hardcore worried about upsetting Marcone… hilarious!) when Marcone was a vanilla mortal… but now he’s not.

And yet, now Marcone knows how to sling around magic and is incredibly hard to kill. *thumbs up at Jim Butcher* Yeeeessssss! *is so happy*

Although… if Harry doesn’t end up making all manner of ‘thorny’ jokes at Marcone I’m going to be very disappointed. =D

Things I Sorta Expected:

1. Murphy dying.

Now, I totally bawled at the scene after Rudolph shot Murphy. I especially lost it when Harry kept referring to her body as an ‘empty house.’ ARGH. But I wasn’t actually surprised that she died. I did feel like I got a very strong sense it was going to happen. Actually, from how often Harry’s thoughts seemed to be pinging in that direction I was partially convinced his wizardly ‘insight’ was kicking in and trying to warn him.

And he tried. He really did.

But ultimately it was Karrin’s own choice to be away from safety and be her badass self.

2. Hendricks’ dying.

I’ve actually have read the short story ‘Monsters’ from Goodman Grey’s POV and I’ve read it a little over a week ago and in it he notes Marcone’s bodyguard as a dumb Einherjaren. Which made my brain go: Whoa, wait… where’s Hendricks? Is Hendricks dead? Did Hendricks die and become in Einherjaren? Or is he off doing something and one of those guys is taking over for a bit? Fuck, Hendricks is dying in ‘Battle Ground’ isn’t he?

So I wasn’t exactly surprised, but I was still very, very upset. And when Ethniu picked up Hendrick’s corpse and smashed him into Marcone that’s where I lost it. Like totally lost it while also being worried about Marcone at the same time. Gah.

Curveballs I Did Not Expect:

1. Marva and Drakul. The deaths of Wild Bill and Yoshimo at the hands of Black Court vampires and the threat that we may see them again as Black Court? Did not see that coming. I expected to lose Wardens but not like that.

...and I may be in denial about Chandler (I like the guy, okay) being dead. Please. He’s a wizard. He’ll be back. Of course as soon as I wrote that I was instantly struck of by the thought of: “Yeah, but will you like what you get back?”

2. Also Drakul is a starborn? I get more and more curious about what it means! I’m with Harry in frothing in frustration over how people won’t tell him already! *screams into the void*

Also Kincaid worked for this guy? *shudders*

3. Marcone and Thorned Namshiel. *gurgles*

4. Justine had Nemesis in her! And for years?!

How in the hell are they going to save her? Mab barely saved Lea and she’s Mab!

Also I thought Nemesis was very infectious. Is there anyone else around who has been infected? Maybe among Harry’s friends with Justine as the vector? *is worried*  

5. Not getting a resolution on the situation with the Svartalves. Or did I miss something? Seriously, the ending of the book felt like it was missing about 30 more pages to wrap up and work a bit more on characters.

Things I Did Not Like or Was Disappointed By:

1. Rudolph getting to live. Fuck that guy.

Okay, I understand that his not getting murdered at Harry’s hands wasn’t really for Rudolph’s sake but for Harry’s own soul. I just want him dead. Dammit, is it too much to ask for him to have been shot by a turtleneck or stomped by a Jotun or splattered by Formor acid that slowly ate away at his guts as screamed until his internal organs slowly dissolved?

I have may have a bloodthirsty vengeful streak. And yet: want.

2. I also may have narrowed my eyes at the end of the book there after Harry said that Marcone was dropping off the keys and then it turned out Lara had picked them up instead. I may have also said aloud, “Butcher, are you Marcone-blocking me?” And he was, dammit, because I didn’t get to read more Marcone.

… I do not have a Marcone-addiction.

3. This is more disappointment than dislike but I didn’t get nearly as much Goodman Grey as I thought I’d get. Aw.

4. Harry not getting to talk to Ivy. *grumbles*

Things I Really Liked/Loved

1. Harry got his home back! And it’s the castle! The castle he all but swindled out of Marcone. Yes, I love it! I love Marcone but doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy it when Harry get the best of him too. Anyway, I just love the fact that Harry is claiming parts of his life back from the traumatic heart-stomp events which occurred in ‘Changes’. *bounces in excitement* Now he just needs an office!

2. Marcone. Always. Actually I was a little afraid when he vanished after the battle started that there would be very little Marcone in this book too because Butcher is so Marcone-stingy.

3. That Harry is no longer a member of the White Council. I mean, they’ve been pretty useless to helping Harry out. And honestly, Harry has gotten so many headaches from them that I can’t help but think this is a weight he needed to shed.

Although, it really feeds my ‘Harry needs to become a member of the accords in his own right’ thing again. Seriously, he’s the Warden of Demonreach. He bound a Titan. It needs to happen. Ooh, or the Paranet can see about becoming an Accorded organization in their own right and then Harry can be with them. Yeeeessss.

4. Bob is back in Harry’s hands! Freaking yes! Whoohooo! About time! Oooh, wait, has Bob meet Bonnie? Can we read this happening? OMG, I want it so much… or would Harry be too horrified to let Bob influence his spirit-kid? LoL.

5. Seeing Toot-toot and Lacuna again! And when Harry pulled his ‘Za Lord’ maneuver and got the Guard and a ton of other fairies to help in the defense of… well, pizza in Chicago, that was great I punched the air.

 The I gloated even more over how Mab then explained Harry had scared some of the others with that move. Heh.

6. River Shoulders was so damn badass and amazeballs and like Wild Bill said, I’ll take two.

7. Michael and Charity already knowing that Molly is the Winter Lady and being the best parents and loving and accepting and… so much love for those two.

EVERYTHING MARCONE… yes, he’s getting his own heading

1. Gah, I love him. I have mentioned this before. That one of the first things he says to Harry when Harry is staring at him as he changes clothes is to paraphrase ‘did you forget how to get dressed or is this an awkward sexual reconnaissance’ nearly killed me. I was caught between giggling and choking on my own spit and then I nearly fell off the couch. Just remembering about it now, has me giggling at the computer screen.

2. Also, I find that ‘Excellent’ response from Marcone after they exchange threats to be fascinating. This was one of those points were I put the book down and wondered what Marcone meant by that. Then I had the thought that maybe in his own fashion, Marcone was doing the same thing that practically everyone had been doing with Harry since he got back from being shot. He was checking to see if Harry was still the same man he’d been before. And from Harry’s response, Yup. He was. So: “Excellent.”

Having also read ‘Skin Game‘ and how cold Marcone is in the end there? The difference with this Marcone versus the one where Mab was listening? I find that interesting too!

3. When Marcone showed up to the fight! So freaking badass! Love how he led the fighters.

Also I find it significant that both of the guys who are obsessed with protecting Chicago were the ones who manifested ‘banners’ which drew humans to the fight.

Really cool. And it reminds me all over again that for all their different life philosophies Marcone and Dresden do agree on the mantra of: Protect Chicago.

4. This book, especially the lake beach scene reminded me so hard why I love the banter between Harry and Marcone so much. When it just seems to be the two of them and they aren’t actively threatening each they have such a great rapport! Loved reading it! Wished we got more of it in the books.

5. Okay, with Hendricks’ death I’m rather worried for Marcone. ‘Even Hand’ gave the impression Hendricks often acted as a very gentle conscience to Marcone. Losing him has got to be hitting Marcone hard. And that I now know he only has a Fallen angel on his shoulder?

Yup, growing more worried for Marcone at the time.

6. I’m also wondering about what was said in that exchange between Mab and Marcone on the roof when Harry called out Marcone for about being the Lord of Chicago needing to be more than talk. Okay, I can guess. I just really, really want to hear the words because I bet Marcone was badass.

7. The Lord of Chicago giving Harry the title of the Wizard of Chicago? Freaking loved it.

8. Also Marcone freaking purred. Purred. “Prove it,” he purred. “Hero.”

I think Jim Butcher is trying to give me a heart attack or cause me to crack my skull on floor because I nearly fell off the couch again.

9. With Marcone now outed as a magic-wielding Denarian does that mean we get more of him in the future books? Because I freaking hope so... I say this even knowing I’d have the exact same wish even without him being a magic-wielding Denarian.

Things I Found Completely Hilarious

1. Marcone’s opening lines to Harry. Heh. Forever Lol!

2. Is Lacuna a tooth fairy? Her obsession with teeth cracked me up so much.

3. That Mab smacking both Lara and Harry with those wedding plans. *snickers* I mean, I find it totally hilarious because of how gobsmacked both of them were about it. I don’t expect Harry to go through with it at all, not with how we know how seriously he takes relationships. So either he’s going to get out of being the Winter Knight or find some other way to defy Mab. Or hell, maybe Lara gets them both out of it by marrying someone else first. Honestly, I can’t see her agreeing to marry someone who’d burn her with a touch.

Pure Speculation or Things that Just Excite Me for the Future:

1.  Now I bet you’re all wondering why I’m not more upset about Murphy or Hendricks dying. Simply put, I’m 100% convinced that when both Murphy and Hendricks wake up in Valhalla, in drinking (with quaffing I bet) halls full of grunting, fighting obsessed Vikings and they will go ‘Nope, I’m out!’ three seconds later. Those two? Especially knowing how much trouble Harry and Marcone have got to be getting up to without them? They’d probably join forces and stage a breakout to get back.

This is what occurred to me the moment Gard explained what happened to their bodies. The whole not come back until everyone who knew them was gone, yeah, right. Not happening.

Or, jeeze, I can’t image Marcone not thinking this was a possibility and then not having made plans to bust Hendricks out and you know Murphy would demand to come along too. And with Thorned Namshiel providing help? I can see this happening.

...okay, this idea sneaked into my head but now I’m seeing Murphy (having busted out of Valhalla with a bunch of Einherjaren) and learning about the upcoming nuptials between Lara and Harry leads a raiding party (what else, with Vikings!) to bride nap (groom nap?) Harry away before he says “I do.“ Heh. This would be hilarious.

2. I’m sorta vibrating with the possibilities of what the future will bring with a Chicago that is waking up to the dangers of the supernatural while at the same time having learned that it is possible to stand up to monsters and kill them. Especially, what this means when bad things go down in Chicago again, because of course they will. And there may be more people joining in the fight.

Hmm, can the Paranet be deployed as a means of bringing vanilla mortals in or educating them so they don’t go after the good guys? They do sort of stand in the middle, more so than Harry. *lost in thoughts*

3. While I’m actually a little surprised that Ebenezar made it out alive as I actually had him down on my ‘Will Probably Die List’. I was relieved as I hope to see him and Harry actually have that conversation which Harry wants. Seriously, if only for Maggie’s sake, who shouldn’t have her first and last memory of her Great-Grandpa be him being a total jerk.

4. Harry can bind the prisoners of Demonreach to do his bidding? *blinks* Ooh, the possibilities.

5. These Librarians, the Men in Black of the DF ‘verse, sound amazing and I can’t wait to see them show up.

[malereader-inserts]

Never a Burden

Fandom: Harry Potter Pairing: Remus Lupin & Son!Reader Summary: I’ve always wonder why it’s so much harder to open up to your parents. Word Count: 3,813 Request: hi! could I request an angsty Remus Lupin x son!reader? maybe you could do something where the reader doesn't feel like he's good enough? A/n: THIS IS LONG but something to make up for a week.

You look at yourself in the mirror and sighed with your Gryffindor tie loosely around your neck. You strung up your tie higher and tighter as Ron sneaks up and pats you on the shoulder.

“Coming down for breakfast?” He asked, a charming smile as you give back.

“I’m coming, knowing you, you’ll eat my share of food before I could sit down,” You teased as he chuckles, pulling you along, his hand resting between your shoulder and neck.

“Aye, mate, I’m not that bad!” 

The two of your share a stare before howling as you two go down the stairs with Hermione and Harry waiting at the bottom of the stairs. The four of you start making your way to breakfast, Ron and Harry almost racing who can get there quicker whilst you and Hermione strolled together.

“(Y/n)?” Hermione asked as you watch in amusement in your best friends trying to shove and trip each other up.

You turn your attention over to Hermione, “Hm?”

“Are you okay?” Hermione wondered, carefully and concern, as you knit your eyebrows together in confusion, “Well, I can tell something, is bothering you.”

“I’m...” You cleared your throat, “I’m fine, nothing to worry about.”

Hermione grabs your elbow, halting you both as she gazes into your eyes. You were taken aback as she awkwardly gives you a massive hug. You stood still as you patted her on the shoulder.

“You know, you’re a terrible liar,” Hermione commented as she takes your hand a pulls you to the Great Hall for breakfast, “But, one bad thing doesn’t diminish the good things about you.”

You give her a fake smile, “Well, I’m flattered.”

“What, I’m trying to say is that I’m your friend. Your best friend, I will listen to your problems and whatever is bothering you.”

“And that is why I don’t deserve to have you as a friend, let alone you being my best friend.”

The pair of you share a smile as you take a seat across Ron and Harry, who were both eating as much as they could. You and Hermione share a look before digging into breakfast, preparing for the day. You look over to the staff table to see your dad eating his breakfast.

As he meets your eyes, he gives you a quick smile as you quickly turned your head leaving Remus confused to the reaction. There was no secret that you were his son, you shared his last name and Lupin isn’t a common last name, so it wasn’t like you were trying to hide something.

And it wasn’t like you were ashamed that you were his son, the number of times that you had to tell him you were proud to share his name, you weren’t ashamed of him, you were never scared and all. Sometimes, he feels like he’s a burden to you because he should be the one reassuring him, being the parent but in Remus’ eyes it was the other way round. 

Remus noticed how uncomfortable you shifted your weight to create space between you and Hermione. Remus was quick to pick up to nervous quips such as the bouncing leg and nervous tapping on the table.

He watches you suddenly get up with your group of friends to your first lesson, he tries not to think too much into it. In fact, he has faith in you to come to him if you have a problem. 

As you head to Potions with the group, Harry throws an arm over your shoulders.

“So, practise tonight?” 

You chuckled, “I honestly believe that the bludgers are charmed to aim for me,” 

“Yeah! I heard Fred and George speaking to Oliver about practice this morning, they’re rounding up a plan to protect you.”

“Well, obviously!” Harry ruffles your hair, “(Y/n) is probably the best chaser in our team, last time he scored the highest goals.”

“Even if we lost,” You commented, thinking back to the Hufflepuff versus Gryffindor match, “And, yes, Harry I will be at practice tonight, we’ve been practising almost every day in hopes of the trophy, hopefully, you’ll catch the snitch within record time like the last match.”

“Don’t think I’ll be that lucky, mate.”

“Are you avoiding your dad?”

“No.”

“You said that far too quick.”

You looked up from your Charms book, staring at Hermione with an inquisitive look as you shove your lunch in your mouth, in hopes of just avoiding answering her interrogation.

“You’re practically running out at the end of the lesson, it’s been a week since we came back from Easter, did something happened or?”

You shook your head, “Of course not, I’ve been taking your advice, start revision early so I won’t be stressed for the end of year exams. Plus, Gryffindor vs Slytherin game is tomorrow, Oliver has got everyone stressed over this last match.”

“I heard, it’s a make or break situation. I heard both Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff is coming to support you guys,” Hermione commented, “Wait, stop trying to change the subject.”

“I’m not,” You replied easily, sending her a tight smile, “I was just answering your question, that’s all.”

Hermione narrows her eyes towards you as you shift uncomfortably in her stare, you promptly shut your book as you sat up straight, hoping to have a convincing excuse to leave.

“Remember Monday morning when I said you can tell me anything,” She grabs your hand to keep you seated, “So spill.”

“I can’t get anything past you, can I?” Hermione raised an eyebrow, obviously satisfied that she was correct that something was bothering you as you sighed, your shoulders deflating, “I-”

You pause for a moment, struggling to voice your hurt and doubts to your best friends, she rubs her thumb over the back of your hand. She gives you a reassuring smile and nods to encourage you.

“Do you think my dad hates me?”

Hermione was taken back because that was not something she was expecting. Your hand escapes her grip as your elbows lean against the wooden table and your face buried into the palms of your hands.

“It’s stupid, I-”

“(Y/n)?” You peak through your fingers to look at her, “There is no possible way that can happen, I know this because I see how proud he is when you answer his questions, how you always get the highest graded homework - I’ve read your stuff, it's amazing.”

“I-” You were lost for words, looking miserable as you moved your hands away from your face, “Like I said, it’s stupid.”

Hermione wasn’t convinced, there was more to it, she could tell, “Let me guess, Malfoy said something to you?”

“Pathetic, isn’t it?” You chuckled bitterly, “I can take the crap he gives to me, but, I don’t know, am I burden to my dad? I guess my dad isn’t the well-kept man here and doesn’t get a lot of money, sure, but-”

“(Y/n), the Weasleys have so many children, has taken us two and Harry in multiple times, they don’t get a lot of income and they love their children so much. Why do you think your dad doesn’t do the same?”

“Under certain circumstances,” You shrugged your shoulders, “That you wouldn’t understand!”

“You know if you are thinking like this, you should tell your dad,” Hermione advised as the pair of you finish lunch and start walking to your dad’s lesson.

“And what? If I tell him this, I make him feel bad, on top of that, he doesn’t know I’ve been talking to mum again, he’ll be devastated. I can’t exactly hide the limited make of Moontrimmer broom!”

“Talk it out, it’ll be good for the both of you, especially you.”

You stroll down the great hall with Harry walking the other side of the table, both sitting down as Saturday morning buzz was filling the room for the Quidditch game.

“Oliver is practically buzzing that his two best players are riding the best brooms.”

“You have the better one, Harry,” You commented, tugging your jersey, “I still think playing with a jersey and without the cape is better.”

“At least it has our names on the back of it.”

The pair of you smile at each other as Fred and George squash Harry in between them as Angelina and Katie sat by your side. All six of you laughing and preparing for the match, last minute going over plans.

“We better get out there.”

You glance over to your dad, finding out he was already looking at you. He gives you a smile as you return it, before both girls lifting you out of your seat and patting on the back.

You get to the quidditch changing rooms, everyone bracing the typical Oliver Wood’s infamous speeches as everyone makes their way to the seats for the biggest game of the year for Hogwarts.

“200 points to draw, more to win, no pressure at all,” You hummed as you tilt your head in each side.

Bouncing your shoulders, relieving stress as you gripped your broom by your side. You pat Harry’s shoulder as he sends you a reassuring smile.

“No pressure at all.”

The team starts heading to the entrance, Oliver and Harry leading with the twins behind then the girls then lastly you. You all mount your brooms, levitating over the ground as nervous starts to settle in, whilst the doors started to lift up. The team zooms out to pitch.

Hearing screams and cheers from your house, as you settled yourself in between Angelina and Katie, with the twins at their side. Harry hovering above and Oliver at the hoops.

“Now, I want a clean game,” Hootch calls out, “From all of you.”

You scoffed as you watched the bludgers and snitch fly out the box. The snitch swirling around Harry and Draco. Madam Hootch held the quaffle in her hand before putting her whistle in her mouth. 

The whistle blares out as she throws the Quaffle up in the air, quickly you intercept, grabbing the ball before quickly moving to the opposition’s hoop. Quickly passing it to Katie as you get side hit by Marcus Flint, him grunting as you quickly fly higher as you witnessed Katie throw the Quaffle towards Angelina who scores first.

The crowd is in an uproar of cheers for Gryffindor team as Lee Jordan commentates.

The match was as rough as it could get, every Slytherin versus Gryffindor match is always brutal, fouls always making an appearance. This was, in fact, the first time your dad has ever seen you play. Remus hadn’t been big on the sport even when James and Sirius would drag him to their matches. 

He didn’t come to the first one since it was thunder storming, he felt much comfortable sitting in. The Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw was so quick that he hadn’t properly even take a moment to register which one was his son was. 

So, it had been the first time to watch you play and it was the last match for the trophy. And it had to be the dirtiest match yet.

“Look at those clean flying from Lupin!” Lee shouts down the microphone as Remus looks up to find you. 

Watching you fly to catch a Quaffle that was heading towards the teacher stand, the teachers gasping, fearing they will get hit, only to watch you perform a Sloth grip and flawlessly catch the quaffle, rapidly swerving upwards and sitting up straight as you deliver the next twenty points.

“THAT’S ANOTHER TEN POINTS TO GRYFFINDOR-!” Lee Jordan celebrates as Remus finds himself clapping for his son.

You could hear whistle being blown and Lee’s voice drowning out in the background as another foul is given as you hold the Quaffle, only to be smacked into the side by Marcus Flint into one of the stands and the Quaffle flying out of your grip.

“A foul to Slytherin, you think you can bloody-”

“Lee!”

Remus stands up to see if you come back into pitch, McGonagall also by his side.

“Come on,” He could hear her muttering. 

Suddenly, the crowd starts cheering, “And the Gryffindor chasers coming out in the flying V position with (Y/n) in front!” Lee shouts, watching in awe the three chasers promptly steal away the Quaffle, “(Y/n) looking particularly bloody, may I say red does suit the guy.”

You shake your head at the comment as you smacked the Quaffle with your broom, getting winded with a bludger hitting you. Fred coming to your aid as he smacks the bludger into Marcus Flint who avoids it. 

“Your nose is bleeding,” Fred noticed.

“My ribs are broken from the stands,” You replied easily, “I’m just glad I’m not dead.”

Angelina takes another score as Marcus quickly makes a pass to his team and make a score for Slytherin. You could see Oliver seething.

“The scores are currently 40-10, Gryffindor needs 20 points and Harry to catch the snitch if they want to win the trophy!”

The team whizzed around to ensure that Harry had enough points to grab the snitch to win. It was then the Slytherin team upped their dirty tactics as Lucian Bole hits you in the face with the club resulting George to elbow him in the face.

“Can anyone play without fouls this game?” Hootch hollers out, scowling at both teams.

“That’s going to leave a bruise,” You commented to George as you two smirk, diving back into play. 

Bludgers coming after you, one after the other. If Fred wasn’t by your side it would be George. You had performed the Sloth grip many of times to avoid it, you had trained yourself to jump over it and making sure you land on your broom.

But, Bludgers were gunning for you whether they were hit in your direction or not. You were clearly more focused on not getting hit than scoring, as Katie hits another score for Gryffindor. Remus turns to look at McGonagall, who looked equally concerned before sharing a look with Remus. McGonagall looks at Dumbledore.

“Someone has bewitched the Bludgers,” Dumbledore spoke with concern.

“I hadn’t believed Wood when he voiced his concerns,” McGonagall sighs, shaking her head, “He went to Hootch as well, but we didn’t believe it.”

“We cannot stop the game unless both Captains agree and Mr Flint has an agenda against Mr Lupin,” Dumbledore vocalised, watching Gryffindor going up to 70 points to 10.

“If Harry is able to get the snitch, Gryffindor is likely to become this year’s winners,” Lee shouted in excitement, “This hasn’t been done since Charlie Weasley.”

You were too focus what was happening with Harry, all you can hear is insults being thrown from the crowd - especially a very heavy Scottish accent from Professor McGonagall. You can hear the whizzing of Bludgers past you, narrowly missing you.

Taking the penalty, scoring perfectly for another ten, the crowd was up cheering again before boos were being shouted when Slytherin also gains another ten. 

“And Potter catches the golden snitch, meaning Gryffindor wins the match and the tournament with 230 points!”

The game had stopped, letting you and the team zoom to the middle of the pitch as Harry picks up the trophy and handing it to Oliver, who holds it proudly. The crowd goes wild as it wasn’t Slytherin winning again, McGonagall clapping madly, ecstatic as Remus watches you celebrate with your team with a twinkle in his eyes. 

“Bloody hell,” Harry commented to your state, you holding your side with a bruise forming around your eye.

Bloody nose and a cut open lip, you tiredly rolled your eyes.

“Thanks, mate,” 

“(Y/n), you alright?” Oliver asked, allowing the twins to hold the beloved trophy, as he flys towards you and examines you, “You took a beating out there, especially being flung into the stands.”

“Hopefully they’ll examine the bludgers, it’s not the first time this has happened to the Gryffindor team,” You shrugged off the pain, “We all took a heavy beating from them.”

“They always play with their fists, you just got the worst of it,” Oliver declared, all three of you looking down at the box and seeing all the balls packed away but one, “Hang on where’s the other bludger?”

The three of you shot your head up to any flying objects, only to be smacked in the back of the head with the heavy leather Bludger, knocking you out within impact. You fall off your broom, Harry catching your broom as Oliver managed to quickly scoop you up before you had hit the ground.

The three houses too caught up to witness an accident had happened after the game and Oliver lies you down on the grass. Madam Hootch quickly coming to where the Gryffindor team was crowding. 

“Come on mate,” Oliver taps your cheek, only to get no response.

“Out the way!” Hootch calls out, “What’s happened here, Mr Wood?”

“(Y/n) got hit by those bludgers, right in the back of the head, knocked him out,” Oliver explains angrily, “I’m telling you, they’ve done something to those-”

“They’ll be examined, Mr Wood,” She snaps as Madam Pomfrey comes out with a stretcher floating behind.

The celebration with the house and teachers and other wizard spectators halt or at least quiet down at the appearance of a stretcher, out of curiosity they wondered who was going to the hospital wing. 

Remus was not expecting you, out cold on a stretcher, on the way to the Hospital Wing.

You shift in the bed as you blink awake.

“Where am I?” 

“Hospital Wing.”

You jump at the voice, sitting upright immediately and your eyes snapping open to only find your dad by your side, his voice seemed muffled and drowned out as you could only hear the buzzing in your ear.

Groaning you shift yourself into a fetal position, shutting your eyes as you try to focus on trying to hear right. You could feel the gentle hand of your dad as he strokes your hair. When he noticed you had relaxed in his touch, he was convinced that he put you to sleep only to meet your eyes.

“Hey there,” He smiles softly, “How are you feeling?”

“Bad question,” You muttered as Remus chuckles.

“Maybe I can brighten your mood if I say that all the required medicine and potions created by Madam Pomfrey can let you leave later and probably catch up with the Gryffindor celebration party.”

You huff, “Great,”

“You don’t sound happy about that.”

“I am,” You commented, “But, I hate the taste of the potions.”

“You’ll be good as new before you know it, just drink Skele-Gro and your broken bones will be good as new,” Remus hums, “I know the feeling, (Y/n), I know it isn’t the best drink in the world, but it��s best you drink it.”

“At least, I’m not facing Lockheart or I’ll be here all night regrowing bones,” You thankfully remarked as you sat up allowing your dad to hand you the potion, “Can’t I just take the healing spell?”

“Pomfrey explicitly said that would cause more pain for you, I would advise following her advice because between you and me, (Y/n), she terrified me when I was growing up.”

You give him a smile as you gulp down the distasteful liquid that burns down your throat. Moaning as you lie back down as you hand back the bottle, your dad amusingly watching you suffer.

“I’m glad that my pain sends you great enjoyment,”

There was a beat of silence, you had hoped that your dad would let you rest but you had been avoiding him all week, with you in the Hospital Wing, that was not the case.

“(Y/n)?” There was no response from you, “What’s bothering you?”

“Nothing.”

Another beat.

“Are you sure about that?” He strokes your hair as you relax, looking into his worried eyes, “You seemed troubled.”

“It’s nothing, I promised you.”

“That’s what Miss Granger said to me that you would say that.”

“Hermione talked to you?”

“She’s expressed her concerns, let’s put it that way,” Remus raised an eyebrow, “I’m your father and if something is bothering you; if someone is bothering you-”

“Am I a burden to you?”

“Wha-huh?”

You sit up, grimacing, “Am I a burden to you?” You repeated to him, “Under our circumstances, I know I’m a bit much and I feel like you could provide for yourself better for yourself when I’m not in the picture.”

“(Y/n)-”

“Plus, I’m not going to be as good as you. The teachers expect so much of me because I share your last name, and that’s not necessarily a bad thing but they are always expecting, I am not as smart as you, I can’t keep up your reputation, I’m ruining the family name.”

“Whoa, hold on there,” Remus paused you as you looked miserable in your self-hatred, “(Y/n), you’re my son, I don’t expect you to be me, to follow my footsteps, I expect you to be better and to be better means that you have to be your own person. I couldn’t do what you do and go out there, playing quidditch. You are not going to ruin the family, you’re making it into your own.”

“But-”

“And, you are never a burden me, you are my son. And, over my dead body, I will not let you fend for yourself in order to provide for myself. Your mother might have abandoned us, and gifting you with money and flashy things - don’t think I haven’t noticed the broom, but I will not abandon you.”

You looked down, your fingers playing with the sheets of the hospital bed. 

“Look at me,” You glance up at your dad, “You’re never a burden, you are my little miracle.”

“I’m not so little anymore dad.”

Remus chuckles, nodding and agreeing, “Yes, you’ll be the same height as me by the end of your fourth year.”

“Yeah,” You breathed out, looking somewhat happier than before.

Remus knows you well enough that you had to dwell on his words before it had sunk in. He pats you on the leg as you give him a smile to reassure him.

“Rest on it, the party later will distract you from your worries, but my door is always open for you.”

“I know dad,” You lie back on the bed.

“Do I want to know who said these things?”

“I never said someone said-” He gives you a pointed look as you looked deflated, “Maybe another time.”

“Alright,” He rubs his thumb on your cheek as you shut your eyes.

He lingers until you properly fall asleep, glancing at your sleeping state and smiling to himself. Sometimes, it gets to him, that he’s an actual father. Sometimes he gets overwhelmed to be blessed by the best son anyone could ask for.

[arcadianambivalence]

World on Fire, Episode 1

March 1939 – September 1939

World on Fire begins with a blackshirt rally in Manchester.  Blackshirts (not to be confused with the Italian group of the same name) were paramilitary supporters of the British Union of Fascists political party, led by Sir Oswald Mosley.  

In the middle of this rally, where a mustached man levels all too familiar accusations, a singer named Lois and her interpreter (boy)friend Harry break out in a derisive contrafactum of “Bye, Bye Blackbird.”  The two are thrown from the rally and arrested while the fascists remain free to incite violence, an irony that is not lost on Lois or her father, Douglas.  

After their parents pay their bail, Lois and Harry part ways, not only because they come from different classes, but also because Harry is leaving for a translator position in Warsaw.

The next thing we know, it’s five months later, and we are introduced to a completely different character, an American journalist named Nancy Campbell.  Shades on and swigging from a flash, Nancy swerves down a road along the German-Polish border until she notices something and stops to investigate.  Lying at the edge of the woods is a pile of bodies.  She attempts to look for identification in the uniforms the dead men are wearing but is startled by the sound of nearby gunfire.  German soldiers are executing people in civilian garb, and if that’s not enough of a sign that war is imminent, Nancy finds an entire field littered with (illegal) tanks.  As she escapes back to the car, a German soldier fires through the rear window.

“Nazi Germany is a master of illusions, and the greatest illusion of all is that they are seriously negotiation for peace.”

Nancy arrives in Warsaw unscathed and determined.  Harry is there too.  In the months since he left England, Harry has fallen in love with Kasia, and her family has welcomed him with open arms .  But the massacre at the border is not enough to convince his new girlfriend, Kasia, to leave Poland.  In the months since he left England, Harry has fallen in love with Kasia, and her family has welcomed him with open arms.  Poland isn’t entirely defenseless, either.  Her father, Stefan, and brother, Grzegorz, are going to fight for the Free City of Danzig, a key barrier between Poland and Germany.  (FINALLY, something that talks about Danzig!)

“What sort of camera is that?”  “A Leiker.”  “Ah, German-made.  Perhaps when Harry clicks the shutter we should all duck.”

Stefan is hopeful that Poland (with the help of the long-promised British support) will successfully push back the German army.  Harry can’t bring himself to say that his homeland will likely not honor its promises in the way Stefan envisions.  Later that night, he begs with his boss to do something to help the Tomaszeski family, but his boss waves him off.  

Nancy is encountering the same reaction with her nephew, Webster, who is currently working as a doctor in Paris and enjoying every minute of its jazz scene.  While Harry’s love for Kasia makes him want to flee Warsaw with her, Webster’s budding relationship with saxophone player Albert makes him want to remain in Paris with him.

Ultimately, this first episode places its characters between the delicately balanced familiar and the incoming unfamiliar.  Despite the bodies at the border, invasion still feels so abstract as Kasia goes to work as a waitress and Douglas sips his tea at home.  

At no point is this more apparent than Stefan and Grzegorz’s arrival in Danzig.  Far from a confrontation on a literal battlefield, the father and son prepare to fend off the German arrival from a post office, and it is post office on a little peninsula in Danzig that the first shots of war are fired.  (At one point in the first attack, you can see a stack of envelopes go flying over the end of Grzegorz’s carbine.)

Outnumbered and outmanned, the Polish fighters keep fighting for hour after hour, defending the building floor by floor, and finally, room by room.  After nearly a day of combat, Grzegorz, Stefan, and Konrad are pinned in the basement with other survivors.  Realizing that reinforcements are not coming, Stefan considers surrender, but the others agree to fight on.  

As is sometimes done in period pieces, the fictional Stefan is placed in a leadership position instead of the people who actually rallied the fighters and, ultimately, raised the flag of surrender.  

The basement in which the survivors are recovering is set ablaze in the final push against the Polish.  Grzegorz watches in horror as men are burned alive in the underground inferno.  In the chaos, Stefan steps out of the gouged frame of the post office with a make-shift flag of truce.  As was, unfortunately, true to life, German soldiers open fire on the surrendering man.

Grzegorz and Konrad escape through the sewers and climb to safety in a bombed-out building.  A band of German soldiers enters close behind them, and the two hide behind a door.  But Grzegorz, whose congenital cough is exacerbated by the grime of the explosions, coughs, revealing their hiding place.  The two are led out into the town and backed against a wall for execution by a very young and frightened German soldier.  Seeing his fear, Grzegorz offers the soldier two packets of British cigarettes that Harry gave him earlier.  The soldier does not accept the cigarettes, but he does turn away at the sound of another execution.  Grzegorz and Konrad use this moment to escape once more.

The young German soldier, it turns out, is the son of Nancy’s neighbors in Berlin.  Having returned to her normal assignment in Berlin, Nancy continues to broadcast the progression of the newly-declared war, but with a more conscientious word choice than her typical bluntness.  This is Nazi Germany, and her every word is closely monitored.

The Luftwaffe fly over Warsaw in the morning.  Harry tries to find Kasia in the chaos and is thrown through the glass doors of the restaurant in the shockwave of a blast.  He proposes.  Once more, she starts to turn him down out of concern for her family, but she loves him and can’t say goodbye yet.  While the city around them recovers from the aerial bombardment, Harry and Kasia elope.  

(Only the young and in love can smile as their country is officially being invaded, I guess).

Life is much calmer in Paris, but it is not without danger.  Albert the saxophonist arrives at the American hospital where Webster works after being attacked by Action Francaise, a French extremist group that espoused many of the same beliefs as the British Union of Fascists, the Nazi party, etc.  As Webster tends to Albert’s wounds, Albert cautiously tries to determine if Webster’s interest stems from music or love.

In England, life seems even safer.  Lois has work at a factory and moonlights as a singer, her true passion, to provide for her brother, a happy-go-lucky petty thief, and her father, who turned to pacifism after his experiences in the First World War, experiences which still haunt him with shell shock, though he is embarrassed to admit it.  With the declaration of war, there seems less and less of a place for peace in the world, and Douglas is starting to fear that his children, already at odds with his pacifism, will be swept up in war like he was.

Still in school, Kasia’s little brother Jan is already on the verge of growing up too fast.  With his father and brother gone, he is technically “Man of the House,” a title swiftly refused by Kasia.  She holds Jan tightly and tells him that from now on, he will have to be very brave.  Within the course of one episode, Kasia has changed from carefree to heavy-hearted.  One way or another, she will have to leave her family behind.

Harry calls his mother, Roberta, and tells her that he will take the next train out of Warsaw.  Far removed from any danger (and partial to the very fascism that brought it!), Roberta is too busy planning a party with her wealthy friends to be terribly concerned.  

Before he can tell her that he is bringing his new wife home with him, Harry chickens out.  There isn’t really a good way to say you’ve moved on from your British kind-of girlfriend that your mother hated to marry your Polish girlfriend that your mother will definitely hate.

But no matter.  There’ll be time enough when he gets home.  

The train station is packed with people fleeing the city and saying goodbye, perhaps forever, to their loved ones.  Harry, dressed in wide-brimmed hat and trench coat like a British Rick Blaine, anxiously waits for Kasia to arrive.  But Casablanca, this is not.  Kasia emerges from the sea of people, Jan in tow.  He’s come to see them off, Kasia explains with a kiss. Harry loads her light suitcase onto the train as Kasia says her goodbyes to her little brother.  

And this is where the show convinced me to follow it to the end.  As the train begins to leave, Harry holding her suspiciously light suitcase, Kasia lifts Jan onto the train and slams the door behind him.  “If you love me,” she shouts to Harry over the shriek of the train whistle, “You’ll watch over Jan.”  

As the train carries a stunned Jan and Harry away, Kasia cranes for a final look at the family she will have to live without, for she has made up her mind not to flee as a refugee, but to fight on like her father and her brother and the thousands of other Polish volunteers against the oncoming storm.

Closing Thoughts

At first, I thought it was a strange choice to start the series with Harry and Lois’s arrest, especially since the relationship between the two characters could easily have been communicated through the editing like the Rossler family.  

But after rewatching the first episode, I began to realize the bigger themes of this series.  The threat of fascism is not simply Germany and Italy versus the World, but a possibility in England and France, too.  The inclusion of the BUF and Action Francais brings out the movements that could have risen higher in their countries, blending the simple lines of this country is good, this country is bad often drawn in period pieces.

World on Fire shakes up the typical portrayal of war by basing it on the ground with civilians from perspectives not traditionally seen in media.  Sure, there are the strapping young British guys of Harry and Tom who will inevitably be involved in the more familiar portraits of heroics, but the use of a translator and petty criminal as your average war heroes is a twist on the clichés.

More refreshingly, the show spotlights the people often left on the fringes of war portraits, if included at all.  The most obvious example of this is Albert Fallou, a gay black French musician (when was the last time you heard those four words together when describing a TV character?).  War correspondents, too, are given their due through Nancy, our psuedo-narrator and historical guide who reminds the viewers of how many journalists on the front lines or the heart of enemy territory continued to witness the war at risk of censorship or a more dangerous punishment.  The Tomaszeski family especially ascends to the heroes of the episode from the delightful, but doomed Stefan to his resilient children.

Ultimately, this show provokes its viewers to sympathize with the characters and their situations because of how similar the people are regardless of their unimaginable experiences.

Historical Notes

Nancy Campbell is an amalgamation of multiple historic people.  Like Claire Hollingworth, the British journalist for The Daily Telegraph, she discovers German forces amassing along the Polish border (while driving a borrowed car).  Hollingworth was also responsible for the first report of the war’s outbreak and, in earlier that year, had arranged for the visas of thousands of refugees.  Like William L. Shirer and Howard K. Smith, Nancy broadcasts the early days of the war from Berlin.

Professional and uniformed soldier Stefan waving a make-shift white flag is likely a reference to Dr. Jan Michon, the director of the Polish Post Office central to this episode.  

There are fleeting moments with other people who were historically involved in the event, too, such as the ten-year old Erwina Barzychowska who was hiding with her family during the onslaught

and Konrad Guderski, who held off the incoming Germans during the first attack with a grenade.  

(However, the show makes a confusing choice of including another character named Konrad who escapes with Grzegorz.)

While the war began officially on September 1st, 1939, the Siege of Warsaw did not become a ground fight until a week later (which is why Warsaw is still in relatively good shape by the end of this episode) Polish soldiers and volunteers managed to defend the city for nearly a month until capitulation.  The city was officially occupied starting October 1st until January 1945.

Observations

I love the detail that Harry uses a dishrag to change the lightbulb in the camera.  

Dan Jones’s score is fantastic, especially during the train station scene when the whistle of the train and the hiss of the wheels are incorporated into the orchestration.

Sources

Danzig:

http://brushesandbayonets.blogspot.com/2016/09/01ix1939-defence-of-polish-post-office.html

http://www.stampnewsnow.com/PDF_Pages/1-Poland.pdf

Clare Hollingworth:

https://www.bbc.com/news/uk-37606306

https://www.bbc.com/news/entertainment-arts-38573643

More on American Reporters:

https://www.loc.gov/exhibits/wcf/

[nestofstraightlines]

The Dæmon-Cages

I went to a preview screening of episode six of His Dark Materials,’ The Daemon Cages’, followed by a Q&A with the senior creative last night.

I’m not even going to give broad expectation spoilers for the episode above the cut (I’ll include a bit right at the end under the cut just giving a broad overview of whether I liked it or not).

As for the Q&A, it was very interesting.

The team were asked several questions (by a very positive audience) about themes and research; things like ‘how did you decide which of the many themes to focus on? Did you go back to the inspirational material of the books such as Milton and Blake?’ and I would characterise the answers as a slightly defensive ‘we just went back to the book’.

Call it confirmation bias, but for me that tallies with what I’ve perceived of the writing/creating flaws of the series.

Because what does that mean?

I’ve been going back to the book for 22 years now and unpacking more depths and more angles. It really did feel like there was a rejection from Thorne and series Exec Producer Jane Trantor that adaptation would involve unpacking something and repacking it into your own storytelling form.

Their tone was much more enthusiastic when it came to discussing detail: they talked about wanting to know exactly what every moment of Lyra’s day at Jordan would be, what she would do for breakfast etc. And that’s got merits; it can suggest nice images (I’m guessing this is where the idea of Roger bringing Lyra breakfast every morning comes from).

But for me, in general, it’s an approach that fits badly with Pullman as a source material. Pullman writes intuitively, discovering the story as he writes is.

At one point in Northern Lights he uses the metaphor for reading the Alethiometer that it is like climbing down a ladder in the dark, and trusting that, though you can’t see the next step, it is there. I believe that he was describing his writing process there too.

He writes indirectly, using negative space to let the reader infer a fact or an idea. For example, with daemons. We are told a little and shown a lot. Pullman is showing himself the story too.

I don’t believe Pullman knew when he was writing Northern Lights what Lyra would do for her breakfast every morning. But if the story had wanted to contain a scene set during her breakfast, he would have known.

And okay, different writing processes, whatever. But actually it is fundamental to the text and I think where the problems have crept in.

Genre storytelling can be broken up into two rough camps: character-led and ideas-led. The senior creatives of this programme, almost inevitably coming from a British TV background, fall into the wrong one - character-led.

Now both camps contain both things: if I call a story idea/s-led it’s not saying its characters aren’t important and good or vice versa. It’s about which is the ultimate point o fthe story.

For instance, Harry Potter is, for me, character-led. Its fantasy trappings are rather unpacked or picturesque dressing used to heighten basically mundane human interpersonal drama. Yeah, it’s good versus evil, acceptance versus discrimination, but those topics aren’t explored, they’re not a priority, they’re a situation to throw the characters into.

Where Thorne has worked in genre shows before, the same can be said. There is a specific situation, even a mission statement, but these are not shows constructed around telling an idea as story, but rather focusing on interpersonal drama. The premises are settings, real or imagined, which are already neatly packaged for the audience. They’re not about inventing fantasy, they are about using it to tell small-scale human dramas. Events serve nothing larger than character and relationship drama.

In Pullman’s His Dark Materials, character and relationship drama are a but not the greatest priority of the series, they are in service to broader ideas and themes.

That’s the other camp of genre fiction, where the fantasy is not a static setting used to heighten charater stuff, but an active agent used to tell a particular story.

Calling this camp ideas-led sounds like its an inherently grand sort of a category, and His Dark Materials is of course an example that is grand and important and epic and so on. But for a show to be ideas-focused, it doesn’t have to be a Big Important Theme with Big Important Execution.

Some ideas are ‘what is it to be human?’, some ideas are simply ‘whodunnit?’ or ‘what if a monster got into your house?’

Anyway.

Pullman’s HDM is ideas-led. He creates a world (and later worlds) of things we need to pay attention to. This is not Harry Potter – school, castle, wizards, you pretty much got it – this is unconstructed fantasy. And it’s not constructed for picturesque ends either. Pullman isn’t inventing this stuff because it’s independently cool or pleasing or whatever, or at least not only that. He is creating it to express a set of ideas through the medium of a story.

So story and world are perfectly bound together. And he understands the difference between convincing a reader and making your world CinemaSins-proof. It’s a story, not a world.

The series is over-invested in the details; over-invested in the tools, and misses what they are used to build in the book/s. Sometimes it even breaks what they are meant to build.

I think the failure of daemons is the biggest casualty of this.

At the screening the creatives talked about the challenge there, the unprecedented challenge of making a show in which every human character is accompanied by a unique CGI creation. They mentioned the impossible budget challenge this presented as well as the challenges in visual storytelling and presentation. I.e. even if one can afford to put a whole crowds of daemons in every wide shot it looks impossibly cluttered and like Doctor Doolittle.

And yes, of course, but it baffles – and frankly annoys – me that the imagination seemed to stop there. Or rather, the understanding of storytelling stopped there.

They talked about having spitballed pragmatic adjustments to daemons, such as making them be semi-invisible, flicking in and out of visibility. But in the end they ‘wanted to stay true to the book/s’. Again, I think we’re looking at a profound lack of understanding of what ‘true to the book’ even means.

Creatives more suited to the material would have found creativity borne of limitation. They would have had a deep and confident enough understanding of the idea they were dealing with to find the solutions from within their own storytelling field, to create daemons for screen in a way which worked.

It feels like this teams’ reaction to the challenge has been ‘to do our best and tell people they don’t understaaand it’s haaard when they complain we haven’t got it right’.

I’m sorry if that sounds harsh. But they took on this challenge and there’s a little hubris in that. I’m not sure what made them feel they were the people for the job here, but they’ve failed to convince me of that fact.

People have been telling fantastical and profound stories on screen for a long time before CGI became so photorealistic. And I think CGI has both a limiting effect on the imagination, and it encourages directors and writers with a limited sense of visual storytelling to imagine that they are equipped to deal with stories that they perhaps aren’t, because they can unthinkingly assign fantasy ideas to the ‘literalist CGI’ box.

I just get the feeling that none of the head creatives, as a mix of character-focused storytellers and details-people, really get what daemons are in a storytelling sense.

They mentioned that when they had conversations with Pullman, he advised them not to focus on daemons, that he novel included them only when they were important. And that’s true, and I can’t put words in Pullman’s mouth, but it’s my belief the TV series team misunderstood what he was getting at, and I’m basing that on stuff Pullman has said elsewhere (such as in his essays and speeches collected in Daemon voices) as well as my own reading of the book/s.

Daemons don’t appear important but the story is carefully constructed, without ever seeming to be on the surface, to explore the idea of the daemon.

It’s a practical issue too. You employ people to write and direct this stuff who are used to stories made up of human characters interacting in rooms, and they’re going to lack experience in showing stuff which is vital to this story, which includes the relationship between the human heroine and her shape-shifting animal-shaped companion, a giant talking polar bear, a city in the Aurora Boreales, fights with demons during a hot-air balloon fight and so on.

A lot of the stuff that matter in HDM isn’t just mundane drama in fantastical settings. The most vital emotional scenes include a girl interaction with a giant talking solar bear; the threat tot he bond between a person and their shape-shifting soul-manifestation etc

 The human/daemon relationship is like a lot of things at different times and in different ways: human/animal, siblings, friends, parent/child etc. But it’s not a mundane human relationship clothed in light fantasy disguise. It's an idea and thus needs careful building for screen just as it did on the page.

Russell Dodgson, the head of VFX on behalf of Framestore for the series, talked about how fans always focus on daemons while there are so many more ideas in the book. ‘People love talking animals, I guess.’ He joked.

And OK, he was being off-the-cuff and deliberately glib, and in any case he’s not the writer and thereby not responsible for getting the overall imagining of daemons for this series right. But he’s so off the mark here in a way which helpfully sums up the misses of this team.

Daemons are not talking animals in the book and that is what the series has rendered them as through this lack of understanding that they amount to more than an emptily whimsical note.

EXPECTATION SPOILERS FOR THE DAEMON-CAGES:

... Having said all that; a really great episode! Best episode of the series yet.

It benefits from coming from a part of the book which is perfect for an episode of TV: it is very dramatic and climactic, while also being something of a great self-contained story in form. Lyra goes into a situation with very clear parameters of tension, fears, goals and a ticking clock. The production plays on all of those very strongly.

The weakest element of the episode is predictable given what the weakness element of the adaptation has been all along: daemons of course. As with last week my feeling is that while the show is so far from doing justice to certain ideas and moments it might as well be on a different continent, it finds enough strengths in other areas to stop the bottom dropping out of the episode.

The production design is absolutely incredible. It’s the boldest imaginative leap from the book so far. The staging of some of the events plays out differently due to a differently imagined Bolvangar and I adore the new approach. Again, I’ll have more to say when the episode has aired. I can’t wait to get into the detail of this!

[crimsonrevolt]

Congratulations Jenny you’ve been accepted to Crimson Revolt as Isaac Bones

↳ please refer to our character checklist

Jenny, I can’t explain how excited I was to hear you were planning on returning to us! Your application for Isaac blew us away, and we’re so happy to be welcoming not only another Bones sibling, but you back into the family; your way of capturing his voice and explanation on how he views the war and his family life are so thought out and we know that he’s in good hands with you. Welcome back! *Your faceclaim change to Oliver Jackson-Cohen has been accepted

application under the cut.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Introduction: Jenny, 24, She/her, back in the good ole EST

Activity: 7-8/10, I’ve moved home from school and am applying to jobs, so I’ve got a good amount of time on my hands.

How did you find us? OG Crew <3 But originally through the Harry Potter RP tag.

Anything else? I’ve missed you guys so so much <3

IN CHARACTER

Desired character: Isaac Louis Bones

+ Isaac -> “he will laugh”, of Hebrew origins

+ Louis -> “renowned warrior”, of German and French origins,

Birthday / star sign: 10 March 1950 / Aries

Occupation: Isaac used to be a Curse Breaker for Gringotts, but transferred to a desk job after his sister’s abduction in order to become more involved with war efforts.

Faceclaim: Oliver Jackson-Cohen, or Dan Stevens if he doesn’t fit.

Reason for chosen character:

I had been contemplating Isaac even before I had to leave before. At first, I loved the idea of having siblings on different sides of the war, and having to manoeuvre the complications that came with that. However, now with the latest plot drop and the change to Amelia’s character, this brings a different, but still very intriguing plot should someone come and pick her up! More specifically to Isaac, I have yet to play a character like him. I’ve tended to stick more to lawful good or lawful evil characters before, so playing someone who falls mostly into the chaotic good category is something that would help me broaden the realm of characters I right, and helping me personally grow as a writer.

Having spent the first part of his life an only child, Isaac has had to make adjustments ever since the birth of his sister. So much that it became second nature to him for a long time. He’s had to supress a lot of his discomfort and internal discord because of this. This has created a very guarded, almost two-sided character: the jovial, loving and devoted son, and the hardened, cynical soldier. He works very hide to keep these two sides from ever meeting, or revealing themselves at the wrong time. With the recent change in his sister, this is becoming increasingly hard for him, though he is questioning whether it’s time to show both sides to his sister, as a sign that the two could possibly live in harmony.

Preferred ships // Character sexuality // Gender & Pronouns: Isaac is male, preferring he/his pronouns. He is bisexual, biromantic, with a slight preference for women. This is a vague label, but he prefers not to label anything these days, as romance is far from his priorities at the moment. Barring the right person, that is.

CREATE ONE (OR MORE!) OF THE FOLLOWING FOR YOUR CHARACTER

Trait expansion:

✓Jovial

Despite throwing himself into the war, Isaac loves the rare times were he and his friends let loose. He loves finding ways to lift peoples’ spirits when the time called for it, loving finding the individual ways to crack each persons’ smile. While he could tend to seem ruthless, those close to him know that for the most part, he could be a teddy bear, one of the most loving people you could have on your side.

✓Clever

Isaac’s father often teased him that he was going to end up in Ravenclaw, something he was actually quite proud of, despite ending up in Gryffindor. He was always the kid who found more creative solutions to his problems, sometimes to the awe of his younger siblings. His mind looked at things differently than most people would approach things, something he never let anyone train his brain otherwise. This is what led him to become a curse breaker in the first place.

✕Irresponsible

No one ever pegged Isaac for prefect or head boy. While he took his studies seriously, he was always known as someone who liked to push boundaries and do his best to get away with breaking rules. Once he gets an idea in his head, he has to see it through or the thought continues to eat at him until he does. He’s gotten a better handle on this as an adult, but recent events have started to drive him back into his old ways.

✕Cruel

For the most part, Isaac is warm and caring. This, however, does not extend to his enemies. When faced with someone who stands against him, a switch flips in him, and he can show a side of him his loved ones have never seen. Until recently, that is. His rage directed to the war has caused him to lash out, letting people see this darker side to him. He will stop at nothing to get revenge on the people that have hurt his family.

Headcanons:

Isaac was terrified when the realisation hit him as a child as to what being an older sibling meant. He loves his siblings to death, but the pressure he built on himself seemed to be heavier than that which others put on him. He could never let them see any other negative sides of him, never wanting to sway their beliefs as children. He’s had to cultivate a fine line now as adults, trying to lead by example and get them on his side, while also attempting to make sure they kept their own minds.

(alcohol tw) Due to the stress of the war, Isaac has developed a problem with alcohol addiction. He’s been able to keep it under wraps, but now with everything that has happened with his siblings, its begun to spiral a bit out of control. This has also seen a rise in his more violent side against the deatheaters, and has put him in some rather dangerous situations. Its most important to him, however, that he is able to hide it from his sister as to not put more strain on her.

Christmas is his absolute favourite time of year, because it’s one of the few times he actually allows himself to enjoy more than a moment of jovialness. Even during the war, he’s gone out of his way to make sure that the holiday remains important to his family, and makes it a time for them to relax and let loose, when he’s become much more serious other times of the year.

An old, worn teddy bear sits on a high bookshelf in his flat. This was the first toy his mother had ever given him, and aside from his first toy broom, the most important. Though he never tells anyone, this bear brings him a sense of comfort, a reminder of a life that was far simpler than the one he currently lives.

IN CHARACTER QUESTIONNAIRE

Do you think it is more important to be feared or loved? Which would you rather be?

“I think it’s actually good to have a balance of them, depending on who you’re talking about,” Isaac replied after a moment. “Loved by the people you care about, feared by the people against you. In the context of war, fear is definitely preferred. Peace time may yield a different answer.”

What is one thing you would never want said about you?

“That I didn’t do enough to help win the war. That’s pretty much the reason I joined Aversio, to make sure I was legitimately doing every possible thing to save the people I love and care about, no matter what risk it entailed.”

If you were able to invent one spell, potion, or charm, what would it do, what would you use it for or how would you use it? Feel free to name it!

“A potion to speak a different language when needed would be insanely useful, especially when curse breaking. Definitely would have gotten be out of some rather… unpleasant situations.”

What kinds of decisions are the most difficult for you to make?

“Family versus cause. Especially when it comes to my sister,” he reluctantly replied, running a hand nervously through his hair. “We’ve not always seen eye to eye on this war, and it’s been incredibly hard at times.”

REACTION TO LAST EVENT DROP

Nothing has made Isaac happier than to see the change in his sister’s beliefs after being rescued. Having his sister fully on his side now lights even more of a fire within him, and he is more invested in ever in being the thick of the action. Seeing her in action at the Quidditch World Cup, he felt a swell of pride in his chest. While his loyalty to Aversio has never faltered, with his sister by his side, his ferocity towards the cause has grown tenfold. Once his brother was found and better, perhaps the two could help him see things the way they do.

Isaac is insanely grateful to Marlene, for forging ahead to find his brother. Despite his gratitude, and that his brother was found, this also causes inner turmoil for him. He becomes guilt ridden that he was more focused on Aversio work than doing everything he could to find his brother, making it two siblings he was unable save himself. This could potentially lead to a distance between him and his siblings.

WRITING SAMPLE

Routines are too monotonous.

The itch was only growing stronger, sitting at his desk.

Fresh out of school, he had been ecstatic to get a job at Gringotts. The job allowed him to work around the world, never staying in one place too long, and being the cool older brother who brought stories home for Christmas. He could also work, and also be useful to Aversio by being covert in finding information.

That all changed when Amelia went missing.

He, as well as his parents, believed he needed to stay closer to his family, to the heart of the fight. He felt like he had failed as a big brother, and as a fighter, that he could not keep her safe. And he needed to do whatever he could to fix that, even if it meant spending monotonous days sitting behind a desk, rather than being in the thick of things.

That was saved for after work, with the pent-up aggression and drive border lining into dangerous territory.

You’re wasting time behind this desk.

Then the day came that finally broke the work rut he had fallen into. The most bleak, boring day broken by a more than welcome owl flying through his office and landing directly in front of him on his desk.

He almost didn’t believe it when he read the paper it offered him. Not because he did not want it to be true, but because he wanted it to be true so badly it felt like a dream. A dream that came with the risk of not coming true.

She’s actually alive.

Without even uttering a word, he raced from his desk, disappearing in the swirl of his cloak and the familiar pop sound. Once they heard, they would understand. They had had to deal with him for past year, anyway.

You should have been the one to find her.

Arriving at the hospital, he was hardly even able to utter her name before he was whisked off to room being circled by a number of people. Some he recognised, some he had never seen before. Luckily, the resemblance in his face was enough for people to part and let him through to the doorway. His foot had not even crossed the threshold when he heard a familiar voice, filling him with both relief and an odd sense of dread.

But you weren’t the one to find her.

But there she was, right as he stepped in the room. He had dreamed of this moment, all of images and scenarios now flashing through his mind with each step. As his green eyes met hers, his mind quieted, focusing on all of the changes and familiarity in front of him.

And it’s all in her eyes.

There was no way of knowing what she had gone through, but the result was clear as day as he looked at her.

He had always seen her as a kid, even when he knew she had joined the fight. No matter how long she had been an auror, she would always still be his baby sister. The age gap was initially to blame, but he still had not been able to fully accept that both of his siblings were now adults and in the same fight he was. It was only that moment, finally, when Isaac saw a woman standing in front of him, and not the little girl he remembered.

She’s seen more than you could dream of.

“‘Melia,” he was finally able to breath out, a true smile reaching his face for the first time in what felt like forever. “Thank Merlin.”

They were going to fucking pay.

[palaverouspeverell]

Harry Potter Tag!

So as I’m new to Tumblr, and my page is based on HP, I thought I’d do a tag so you can get to know me a bit better (:

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

1. Favourite book?

Now this is rather difficult to say because obviously I love them all so much. But I think my favourite is probably Deathly Hallows, it had so much amazing content.

2. Least favourite book?

Again, quite difficult to answer, but I didn’t hugely enjoy Order of the Phoenix. I thought the basis was good and liked how Harry was growing up and shit was getting serious and all, but I thought most of the content was quite irrelevant and actually (unusually) preferred the film version.

3. Favourite film?

Probably Prisoner of Azkaban, I loved the whole spooky feel it had to it.

4. Least Favourite film?

Chamber of Secrets. I just found it quite boring and I remember the basilisk scene really scaring me as a young child, lol. 

I also hated DH1, it was so repetitive!

5. Favourite quote?

Has to be a Dumbledore one!

 "It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends.”

Idk, I just relate to this a lot and love how Dumbledore is probably thinking of Grindelwald here too, and also Neville’s character development in the whole series!

6. Favourite Weasley?

Ah, no, don’t make me choose! Honestly, I love every member of that family. I mean, Ron has made me laugh aloud so many times through the course of the books and I think the films didn’t really reflect how funny he actually is. Of course, Fred and George are gold... but I think my fave is Ginny. She is honestly so strong, independent, courageous and brave, and she’s such a little bad ass. I just love her (:

7. Favourite female character?

Luna!! She’s such a gem.

8. Favourite villain?

Ooh, I don’t know! I think the villains in this series are so complex, which I love. I think Bellatrix is my favourite, she’s just absolutely mad and I think there’s something quite appealing about that, in a really strange way. I also think Helena Bonham-Carter portrayed her magnificently and really brought the character to life.

9. Favourite male character?

Like I said before, Neville’s character development is so inspiring and lovely to witness, especially in DH when he kills Nagini. I love how he is a parallel to Peter Pettigrew, displaying what Peter could have been if he had been brave and loyal. I could honestly talk for days about Neville, I think he’s a really great character.

10. Favourite Professor?

Definitely Mcgonagall, she’s just amazing. “Have a biscuit, Potter”

11. Wash Snape’s hair or spend a day listening to Lockhart rant about himself?

There’s no way I’m touching Snape’s hair. Lockhart, definitely. I actually find him quite amusing.

12. Duel an elated Bellatrix or an angry Molly?

Ooh! Considering what Molly did to Bellatrix in the battle, I would have to go with the former.

13. Travel to Hogwarts via Hogwarts Express, or flying car?

Hogwarts Express, definitely! I’d try all the food and everything!

14. Kiss Voldemort or give Umbridge a bubble bath?

Give Umbridge a bubble bath... and drown her.

15. Ride a Hippogriff or ride a Firebolt?

Oh no, I’d love to do both! Probably the Firebolt, so I could play Quidditch (:

16. Is there a character you felt differently about in the movies versus the books?

Oh yeah, definitely! Er, Ginny Weasley?! To be honest, I think the films messed up most characters, even the Golden Trio. Hermione was way too perfect in the films, no where near as annoying as she could be in the books. Ron, who was so humorous and actually proposed some really good, clever ideas in the books, was a senseless, tactless, stupid idiot in the films. And Harry, I just don’t think Daniel Radcliffe did the best job of Harry, in appearance wise too, he didn’t really match the physical description given in the books. Plus, is it just me or was Harry so much more laid back in the films? Book Harry is so much more angst and angry, and the films missed out on some really good Sassy Harry opportunities. But yeah, back to Ginny. Ginny was like a completely different person in the films. She was quiet and shy, and her and Harry’s relationship was practically non-existent. We got to see Ginny’s character really shine through when she was with Harry, you know, her feisty and teasing side really came through, and she was just missing that in the films, and I think that’s why so many people (who haven’t read the books) don’t understand the Harry and Ginny relationship, which is quite sad, because imo, they really are quite amazing together (:

17. Is there a movie you preferred over its book?

Yes! Going back to my previous point about Order of the Phoenix, I thought some of the scenes in the book really weren’t necessary, but I do wish we got to see St Mungo’s and Lockhart in the film, because I think that would have been quite amusing (:

18. Richard Harris or Michael Gambon as Dumbledore?

I think Harris was more compatible in appearance, as I thought Gambon really didn’t resemble Dumbledore at all, but saying that, I thought Gambon’s portrayal of Dumbledore was fantastic, especially his acting in the cave scene, and that sort of changed my opinion on his appearance if you get me? So I preferred Michael Gambon’s interpretation.

19. Your top thing (person or event) that wasn’t included in the movies that annoyed you the most?

Honestly, there’s so much the movies missed out on, but two biggies for me, are Peeves and SPEW. Peeves is AMAZING, and I was so devastated to see he wasn’t in any of the films, and also the whole story line about SPEW and Dobby, Winky, Kreacher... I really enjoyed reading those scenes, and thoughts Ron’s reactions to whenever Hermione brought it up, were really funny.

20. If you could remake any of the Potter movies, which would it be?

Definitely HBP, and just make it a Hinny fanfic film, lol.

21. Which house was your first gut feeling you’d be a part of?

I feel like, initially, everyone wants to be a Gryffindor, but I knew that I don’t really possess any of those qualities. Honestly, I thought I’d be a Hufflepuff, which I was fine with. I think everyone should want to be a Hufflepuff because they’re just kind and loyal and compassionate and caring, and just lovely!

22. Which house where you actually sorted into on Pottermore?

Ravenclaw! This really surprised me, because I am not very clever, but, as I found out, Ravenclaw is so much more than intelligence, and I’m actually quite proud to be part of that house (:

23. Which class would be your favourite?

Oh my God, I would love to do any of them! My favourite would probably be potions (as long as it wasn’t taught by Snape!) or History of Magic, just because I really enjoy History as it is, and I think Wizard history would be even more interesting. It would be amusing to see what they get taught in Muggle studies too...

24. Which spell do you think would be most useful to learn?

Accio! I’ve found myself in plenty of situations where I’ve thought “if I could just use Accio now, my life would be so much easier!”

25. which character do you think you’d instantly become best friends with?

I think I’d get on really well with Ron, because he’s so funny and says things really bluntly, which I like. I could imagine myself getting quite irritated with Hermione, but all the same, I think she’d be a really great friend. 

26. If you could own one of the three Hallows, which would it be?

Definitely the cloak!

27. Is there any aspect of the books you’d want to change?

Overall, I’m really happy with the books. I would have loved to see more of the relationships between Ron/Hermione and Harry/Ginny, and I also wish we got to hear more about Lily Potter, I wish Harry got to hear more about her too, because I feel like he was constantly being compared to his father, and he knew his father’s friends, he had his father’s looks, he had his cloak, he had the map, etc. It would have been nice for him to have something tangible of Lily’s as well.

28. Favourite marauder?

Sirius! I think fanon has really changed my opinion on him (:

29. If you could bring one character back to life, who would it be?

Either Remus, so little Teddy could have at least one of his parents around. Fred, because I really, really cried when he died, I loved him so much, and I really don’t know how George will cope. Or Snape. It was frustrating how he died right before it was revealed he was on their side after all. I’m sure Harry has many questions for him.

30. Hallows or Horcruxes?

HALLOWS! My soul is fine as it is, thank you very much. 

[sage-nebula]

Least-favourite HP character, aside from Snape?

Hmmm … maybe Petunia Dursley?

I mean, don’t get it twisted—both Petunia and Vernon are obviously horrible, for more or less the same reasons. If I dislike Petunia more than I dislike Vernon, it’s by a very small margin—like, a 1% margin. But I’ve been thinking a bit on this lately, and when I think about the books and then compare them to fandom trends, it makes me realize both something about the characters themselves, as well as how fandom perceives characters, and especially how fandom tends to perceive female abusers vs. male abusers in terms of how guilty they are of the act, as well as how likely it is that they can be (or should be) redeemed.

To be more specific—I think it’s obvious to see why Vernon is often perceived as the main instigator behind Harry’s abuse, as well as The Definite Worst™ of the two. He’s the one that creates the most bluster, the one that is the loudest, the one that takes action more often than not. He’s loud, he’s aggressive, he’s in-your-face. He definitely scares Harry for a time (though it’s worth it to note that Harry is wary of Petunia, too, but more on that in a minute). On top of all of this, he’s a man, and society has conditioned us to see men as more likely to be abusers, whereas we’re conditioned to see women more as nurturers / victims. This is the exact reason why female abusers are so often unreported. (Additionally, taking it back to fiction from a real world context, you’re more likely to see male abusers portrayed than female—and in fandom, particularly since many fic writers and the like are women, you’re more likely to see male characters who either a.) are abusers, or b.) could be abusers focused on, while female abusers are likely to be ignored / toned down / redeemed. We see this even in Pokémon fandom; although Lusamine abuses her children more on-screen, versus Ghetsis’ surprise reveal as an abuser at the end of BW, Ghetsis is the one who is seen as irredeemable while so many people clamor for a happy ending for Lusamine. I’m not saying Ghetsis should be redeemed, mind you; I’m saying they’re both vile, but only one of them is consistently excused by fandom, and gee, I wonder why?)

However, although it’s easy to see why Vernon is often unquestionably interpreted as the worse of the two / Petunia is often seen as the one who can be redeemed, what I’ve actually come to realize is that not only is their abuse equally as bad (e.g. Vernon is not the only one who gets physical with Harry; Petunia threw a soapy frying pan at Harry’s head in the beginning of Chamber of Secrets because he babbled nonsense “spells” at Dudley to scare him; she then made him pull weeds in the garden despite how hot it was and how physically taxing that can be as further punishment), but that it could be interpreted that a lot of Vernon’s blustering and outright action is a direct result of what he thinks Petunia wants, i.e., she’s actually the one in control, and his horrid behavior feeds off hers.

There are two things that make me think this. The first is the very first chapter of Philosopher’s Stone, which is largely from Vernon’s point of view. Vernon goes about his day noticing the strange happenings around the city: all the owls, the people in cloaks, whispers about the Potters, et cetera. He grows increasingly unnerved by this, not only because he likes ordinary things and dislikes magic, but specifically because he knows that Petunia will be upset:

He dashed back across the road, hurried up to his office, snapped at his secretary not to disturb him, seized his telephone, and had almost finished dialing his home number when he changed his mind. He put the receiver back down and stroked his mustache, thinking … no, he was being stupid. Potter wasn’t such an unusual name. He was sure there were lots of people called Potter who had a son called Harry. Come to think of it, he wasn’t even sure his nephew was called Harry. He’d never even seen the boy. It might have been Harvey. Or Harold. There was no point in worrying Mrs. Dursley; she always got so upset at any mention of her sister. He didn’t blame her—if he’d had a sister like that … but all the same, those people in cloaks …

And lo and behold, he’s right:

Mr. Dursley sat frozen in his armchair. Shooting stars all over Britain? Owls flying by daylight? Mysterious people in cloaks all over the place? And a whisper, a whisper about the Potters …

Mrs. Dursley came into the living room carrying two cups of tea. It was no good. He’d have to say something to her. He cleared his throat nervously. “Er—Petunia, dear—you haven’t heard from your sister lately, have you?”

As he had expected, Mrs. Dursley looked shocked and angry. After all, they normally pretended she didn’t have a sister.

“No,” she said sharply. “Why?”

“Funny stuff on the news,” Mr. Dursley mumbled. “Owls … shooting stars … and there were a lot of funny-looking people in town today …”

“So?” snapped Mrs. Dursley.

“Well, I just thought … maybe … it was something to do with … you know … her crowd.”

Mrs. Dursley sipped her tea through pursed lips. Mr. Dursley wondered whether he dared tell her he’d heard the name “Potter.” He decided he didn’t dare. Instead he said, as casually as he could, “Their son—he’d be about Dudley’s age now, wouldn’t he?”

“I suppose so,” said Mrs. Dursley stiffly.

“What’s his name again? Howard, isn’t it?”

“Harry. Nasty, common name, if you ask me.”

“Oh, yes,” said Mr. Dursley, his heart sinking horribly. “Yes, I quite agree.”

All throughout that scene, what we’re presented with is a Vernon who is afraid to talk to Petunia about this, and a Petunia who is very harsh, direct, and angry. This is not to say that Vernon likes magic, of course; it’s made quite plain all throughout the chapter that he thinks the people in cloaks are vagabonds, that he thinks they are hooligans who need to get jobs, et cetera. He’s not any more fond of magic or strangeness than Petunia herself is. However, despite Vernon’s own aversion to such things (and the disdain he has for those things in his own head), it’s pretty evident that between the two of them here, when it’s just the two of them, the one who is actually dominant and in control of the situation is Petunia. Vernon didn’t call her earlier in the day, despite hearing things about a “Harry Potter,” because he was afraid of upsetting her. And later that evening, when he feels he can no longer put the conversation off, he mumbles, he has a lot of hesitation in his speech, he chickens out of mentioning the fact that he heard about the Potters earlier in the day, and his heart sinks as he agrees with her that Harry’s name is “nasty” and “common.” Vernon is afraid of Petunia’s reaction in this scene, not the other way around.

The other thing that makes me think that Vernon overcompensates for Petunia’s own feelings on the matter comes from Order of the Phoenix, after Petunia receives the Howler. Here’s the scene in full:

“Hang on,” said Uncle Vernon, looking from his wife to Harry and back again, apparently dazed and confused by the unprecedented understanding that seemed to have sprung up between them. “Hang on. This Lord Voldything’s back, you say.”

“Yes.”

“The one who murdered your parents.”

“Yes.”

“And now he’s sending dismembers after you?”

“Looks like it,“ said Harry.

“I see,” said Uncle Vernon, looking from his white-faced wife to Harry and hitching up his trousers. He seemed to be swelling, his great purple face stretching before Harry’s eyes. “Well, that settles it,” he said, his shirt front straining as he inflated himself, “you can get out of this house, boy!”

“What?” said Harry.

“You heard me—OUT!” Uncle Vernon bellowed, and even Aunt Petunia and Dudley jumped. “OUT! OUT! I should’ve done this years ago! Owls treating the place like a rest home, puddings exploding, half the lounge destroyed, Dudley’s tail, Marge bobbing around on the ceiling and that flying Ford Anglia—OUT! OUT! You’ve had it! You’re history! You’re not staying here if some loony’s after you, you’re not endangering my wife and son, you’re not bringing trouble down on us, if you’re going the same way as your useless parents, I’ve had it! OUT!”

Harry stood rooted to the spot. The letters from the Ministry, Mr. Weasley and Sirius were all crushed in his left hand. Don’t leave the house again, whatever you do. DO NOT LEAVE YOUR AUNT AND UNCLE’S HOUSE.

“You heard me!” said Uncle Vernon, bending forwards now, his massive purple face coming so close to Harry’s, he actually felt flecks of spit hit his face. “Get going! You were all keen to leave half an hour ago! I’m right behind you! Get out and never darken our doorstep again! Why we ever kept you in the first place, I don’t know, Marge was right, it should have been the orphanage. We were too damn soft for our own good, thought we could squash it out of you, thought we could turn you normal, but you’ve been rotten from the beginning and I’ve had enough—OWLS!”

The fifth owl zoomed down the chimney so fast it actually hit the floor before zooming into the air again with a loud screech. Harry raised his hand to seize the letter, which was in a scarlet envelope, but it soared straight over his head, flying directly at Aunt Petunia, who let out a scream and ducked, her arms over her face. The owl dropped the red envelope on her head, turned, and flew straight back up the chimney.

Harry darted forwards to pick up the letter, but Aunt Petunia beat him to it.

“You can open it if you like,” said Harry, “but I’ll hear what it says anyway. That’s a Howler.”

“Let go of it, Petunia!” roared Uncle Vernon. “Don’t touch it, it could be dangerous!”

“It’s addressed to me,” said Aunt Petunia in a shaking voice. “It’s addressed to me, Vernon, look! Mrs. Petunia Dursley, The Kitchen, Number Four, Privet Drive—”

She caught her breath, horrified. The red envelope had begun to smoke.

“Open it!” Harry urged her. “Get it over with! It’ll happen anyway.”

“No.”

Aunt Petunia’s hand was trembling. She looked wildly around the kitchen as though looking for an escape route, but too late—the envelope burst into flames. Aunt Petunia screamed and dropped it.

An awful voice filled the kitchen, echoing in the confined space, issuing from the burning letter on the table.

“REMEMBER MY LAST, PETUNIA.”

Aunt Petunia looked as though she might faint. She sank into the chair beside Dudley, her face in her hands. The remains of the envelope smoldered into ash in the silence.

“What is this?” Uncle Vernon said hoarsely. “What—I don’t—Petunia?”

Aunt Petunia said nothing. Dudley was staring stupidly at his mother, his mouth hanging open. The silence spiraled horribly. Harry was watching his aunt, utterly bewildered, his head throbbing fit to burst.

“Petunia, dear?” said Uncle Vernon timidly. “P-Petunia?”

She raised her head. She was still trembling. She swallowed.

“The boy—the boy will have to stay, Vernon,” she said weakly.

“W-what?”

“He stays,” she said. She was not looking at Harry. She got to her feet again.

“He … but Petunia …”

“If we throw him out, the neighbors will talk,” she said. She was rapidly regaining her usual brisk, snappish manner, though she was still very pale. “They’ll ask awkward questions, they’ll want to know where he’s gone. We’ll have to keep him.”

Uncle Vernon was deflating like an old tire.

“But Petunia, dear—”

Aunt Petunia ignored him. She turned to Harry.

Prior to the Howler arriving, Vernon has absolutely no qualms about screaming at Harry. He “inflates,” he “bellows,” he screams in such a way that Harry feels flecks of spit hit his face (ew). It’s more than obvious—as it has been for the past four books prior to this one—that Vernon has absolutely no problem being loud, aggressive, and abusive to Harry.

But that changes when Petunia gets the Howler. Note that although Vernon “roars” at Petunia to drop the Howler, she doesn’t. She doesn’t even attempt to. Nor does she show any real reaction to the fact that he ordered her to drop it because it could be dangerous. Instead, she points out that it’s addressed to her—and this is, understandably, exciting for her (in an odd, frightening way), because she has always wanted to be part of the magical world despite the fact that she’s a muggle, hence her loathing of Lily. Regardless, Vernon yells at her to drop the letter—presumably using the same volume he was using when he was trying to kick Harry out of the house—but Petunia doesn’t react to that. She’s not scared of him.

Then the Howler explodes, Petunia gets her message, and Vernon goes hoarse. He stammers as he tries to ask her what that meant, what just happened—but she ignores his questions. She stays silent. And when Vernon asks after her again, the dialogue tag says that he does so timidly. This is not a word usually used to describe Vernon, and what’s really interesting here is that Petunia hasn’t actually done anything yet. Just like he did in the first chapter of Philosopher’s Stone, though, Vernon is cautious about upsetting her. Given that he’s asking this timidly, one could say that he’s afraid of upsetting her, especially since he has no idea what that Howler was on about. And then, when Petunia says that Harry has to stay, Vernon is still only able to stutter and sputter, weakly trying to counter what she’s saying, but unable to do so. It’s not that he agrees with the neighbors, but rather that Vernon cannot argue with Petunia, and never has been able to. Despite how aggressive and violent he is toward Harry, Vernon has never once shown that toward Petunia. Rather, what we’ve instead seen is that Petunia is harsh, angry, and snappy with Vernon in ways that he is not with her. (Of course, that chapter ends with Vernon screaming at Harry, “YOU HEARD YOUR AUNT, NOW GET TO BED,” but that just proves my point, tbh.)

What I’m getting at here is that while Vernon is clearly the one who instigates most of the abuse toward Harry in a way that is eye catching (e.g. he drags Harry to his cupboard, gets in his face and screams, et cetera), one interpretation of this could be that Vernon overcompensates because a.) Petunia is also of the opinion that Harry should be abused and mistreated, given that she hates him because he’s Lily’s son, and b.) having Harry there makes Petunia unhappy, which makes her angry, which stresses Vernon out / makes him angry, which he then takes out on Harry. It’s a vicious cycle; because Petunia lashes out at Vernon (and she does lash out at him when she’s upset—the first chapter of the first book shows this), Vernon in turn lashes out at Harry. And if nothing else, all three Dursleys use Harry as a punching bag for their emotional outlets (Dudley literally learned this from both of his parents), so if Vernon is feeling stressed or upset because Petunia is stressed or upset, then it’s very likely he’ll take it out on Harry, no doubt while complaining about Harry to Petunia, who will agree and feel relieved that Vernon agrees with her about how awful Harry is, regardless of whether or not Harry actually did anything wrong.

The point that I’m trying to make here is—over my many years in this fandom I’ve seen this tendency to treat Petunia as if she’s just going along with Vernon’s hatred and abuse of Harry, or to try and view Petunia as the one most likely to get fed up with the abuse and whisk Harry away somewhere to love him and treat him with care. I think, though, that this is an incorrect interpretation of her character brought about by the fact that a.) Vernon’s abuse is much more bombastic (particularly in the movies, because again, that soapy frying pan scene from the book has stuck with me since childhood), and b.) people are conditioned to see men as abusers more readily than women, who are stereotyped to be more nurturing and loving. Therefore, since Petunia is a woman, people more readily want to make her have a change of heart, wherein she sweeps Harry up in her arms and protects him from mean, nasty Vernon. The truth of the matter is that both Petunia and Vernon are horrid, but if we’re going to actually look at the power dynamics between the two, Petunia is actually the dominant one in their relationship, and a potential read of the situation could be that Vernon is worse than he might otherwise be (in terms of actual action, not attitude) because of Petunia—that he overcompensates because he thinks that’s what she wants. (Hence why he’s so confused and stammers so much when she says Harry has to stay. He thought she would also want Harry gone; the fact that she doesn’t is confusing to him, and reduces him to asking after her “timidly,” to “deflating,” to stammering and stuttering because he doesn’t know what to do.)

TL;DR:

If I had to pick a least favorite character after Snape, it would have to be Petunia and Vernon, but with Petunia disliked a little more than Vernon given the fact that I’m not at all fond of fandom’s tendency to try and excuse / sweep away her abuse / put her in leather pants. I can understand the feeling of wanting Harry to have one blood relative that’s not horrid to him (and after the majority of the series, he does have one—Dudley is the Dursley who is redeemed, as he should be), but Petunia Dursley is not, and would never be, that relative. 

[stevenuniversallyreviews]

Episode 40: On the Run

"That’s not my home.”

Anxiety and depression are two sides of the same coin, separated by opposing degrees of certainty. Depression tells you to dread the future because bad things will definitely happen. Anxiety tells you to worry about the future because who KNOWS what’s going to happen, yikes, things could go REALLY BAD. Depression tells you to zero in on awful things from your past and remember that there’s nothing you can do about it. Anxiety tells you that oh man if you’d just done that one thing differently life might be better, or heck, life might be WORSE, so hopefully you won’t get lost in a time vortex and screw things up, oh no, one more thing to worry about! Depression tells you that nobody cares about you. Anxiety makes you cripplingly unsure, because what if your friends are just pretending and your parents are just tolerating you, but what if that’s all in your head and everything’s fine but people find out you’re worried about this and think you’re crazy?

When depression gets its way, you’re a passive mess accepting a miserable fate. When anxiety gets its way, you’re an active mess stressing yourself into a panic about possibilities. And a lot of us get to have both!

Amethyst and Pearl are sad in a way that Garnet and Steven fundamentally aren’t, but this sadness takes two distinct paths. Pearl’s is certain and passive where Amethyst’s is uncertain and active. Pearl is Depression, and Amethyst is Anxiety.

Of course, this isn’t (and shouldn’t be) a perfect metaphor, because like most actual people with anxiety or depression, both Gems have elements of both disorders: recall Pearl’s many anxious fits and Amethyst’s depressive slumps. Moreover, it’s important not to diagnose fictional characters with real disorders when you don’t have a medical license and the characters don’t have the physical brains required to even have human mental illnesses. But as a representative exercise, Pearl appeals to my despondency while Amethyst appeals to my overthinking. Pearl often lets negativity engulf her, but Amethyst internalizes and dwells on it until she explodes.

On the Run is one such explosion. Except for a single joke-based hint in Steven’s Lion (“We kept Amethyst”) there’s been no reason to believe that Amethyst has a different origin than Garnet or Pearl, but it’s soon clear that Kindergarten is never far from her thoughts. Our excursion solidifies Amethyst as a character who’s always worried about how people see her—which, I mean, she’s a shapeshifter, come on—and that she’ll never measure up to the roles she’s supposed to play. She’s supposed to be part of a team that fought the Homeworld Gems, but she’s the direct product of the invasion. She’s supposed to be a mighty Quartz warrior, but she’s an overcooked runt. She’s supposed to be one of Steven’s guardians, but she’s still treated like Garnet and Pearl’s kid sister half the time. Pressure squeezes away her self-esteem until she sees an opportunity to bond with Steven, and they immediately bounce.

The conflict of On the Run hinges on Amethyst’s anxiety blending with her middle-child syndrome. This isn’t Tiger Millionaire, focusing on Steven and Amethyst, or Giant Woman and Secret Team, focusing on Amethyst and Pearl. This is about how both of these relationships pull Amethyst in different directions.

The prompt here is Pearl’s explanation of the Homeworld invasion, which pointedly omits Amethyst from the group of rebels led by Rose Quartz. We can see that Amethyst is mad, and gets madder as Pearl dances around the “bad” thing Homeworld was doing, but at first viewing one could easily read her reaction as anger over being ignored. Miniature twists like these do wonders for the show’s rewatchability.

After a welcome aside commenting on old-school book series like The Boxcar Children and The Hardy Boys (complete with criticism of their ridiculous comic counterparts), Steven and Amethyst are off! 

On the Run (the song) has two important achievements beyond being a great tune. First, it speeds our characters from Steven’s room to the open rails and gives us a little journey without using too many of the show’s eleven minutes. Second, it ensures our understanding that Steven and Amethyst are in separate places. We begin with Steven singing alone, highlighting the silly hopefulness of running away on a whim. Then we have a whistle solo (courtesy of the sequence’s songwriter/co-storyboarder and resident guitarist Jeff Liu), giving a nostalgic, adventurous interlude to reinforce how fun this whole thing is. But then, as Steven continues to obliviously enjoy himself, Amethyst reveals that she’s still dwelling on Pearl. It all culminates in the same line, “Home’s a place that I have never known,” sung from opposite perspectives—one goofy, one wistful—before a gorgeous final shot sets a somber tone for the rest of the episode. 

Amethyst reverts to her usual demeanor as soon she’s home, reversing her and Steven’s chipper/wary dynamic from the song. I wonder how grade-school kids grapple with the fact that the ominous canyon full of bacteriophage drills we spend most of the episode in is called “the Kindergarten.” Does it tap into their budding sense of irony to see a class they aren’t far removed from associated with such a scary setting? Do they think the name is funny, in the way Fluffy the three-headed dog from Harry Potter is? Regardless, as an adult, I love love love the name of this literal garden that grows children.

Amethyst’s light attitude helps keep the Kindergarten’s dim lighting and eerie soundscape (the music, sure, but also those clangs) from getting too frightening, but it’s still a hell of a place. In a rare moment of asking the right questions, Steven voices the viewer’s concerns over just how many Amethyst-shaped holes there are in the walls, and all that they imply. But Amethyst is just happy to give him a tour.

Because when she’s around Steven, she gets to be the cool big sister that runs away with him and tells him all the secrets the grown-ups don’t want him to know. He, and we, wouldn’t get this introduction to the Kindergarten without Amethyst’s desire to bond, and maybe show off a little. She’s not ashamed of her background, instead proud to position her earthling status as something she and Steven share.

It’s only when bigger sister Pearl shows up that Amethyst’s sour mood returns. Telling Steven the full truth is against the rules, it seems—who would’ve thought a team founded by Pink Diamond might be against telling the truth?—and Pearl is blind to Amethyst’s ulterior motives in bringing Steven to the Kindergarten. Part of this is Pearl’s fault, as she should know Amethyst well enough over thousands of years of friendship to understand why she might be upset, but a lot of it is Amethyst’s fault for her stubborn refusal to talk things over. It takes something drastic to break this pattern, and it comes in the form of their first physical fight on-screen.

While Steven Universe has always veered against violence being the answer, its exciting fight sequences often go against this message. Not here. Amethyst and Pearl’s fight is just brutal, even when Amethyst gets what may be her most badass line in the series (“I wouldn’t wanna fight me neither!”) and the choreography’s on-point as ever. Aivi and Surasshu obviously help, but Amethyst’s blind rage quickly giving way to her self-loathing is heart-wrenching on its own, especially when we see how futile her attacks are. And when you think the worst of it is over, it ends with this:

The ambiguity afforded to this scene is incredible for a children’s show. While watching it over and over reveals that Amethyst is clearly stepping away before Steven bubbles, in the moment itself it’s uncertain whether her exclusion was intentional on her or Steven’s part. Obviously Steven’s not a monster, and immediately is concerned, but physically separating Pearl and himself from Amethyst encapsulates the latter’s self-exile in a way that’s succinct, elegant, and tragic. Having it not be immediately clear whether she’s the one doing the exiling is icing on the cake.

While this is Amethyst’s moment to shine, Steven gets to show off his maturity by realizing he’s in over his head. It’s Pearl that needs to talk with Amethyst, but there was a time where Steven wouldn’t know that, and Pearl wouldn’t have listened even if he did. I appreciate that his contribution isn’t overplayed, because this isn’t really his story, but I’m also glad he isn’t limited to a standard “hey stop fighting!” role.

The positive reinforcement for Steven about talking versus fighting has major benefits down the line. He, and we, are shown that talking things out, even when you’re sorta bad at it and it’s awkward, beats fighting. There’s a straight line connecting the conclusions of On the Run and Mr. Greg that I adore; Steven presents the same solution to a longstanding conflict, but where the former comes from a place of confusion and desperation, the latter is a planned and confident maneuver (and in song!).

I don’t wanna think about what Amethyst would be like without Michaela Dietz. In the wrong hands, the character’s slangy lexicon would aggravate and alienate viewers over the age of ten, but Dietz’s natural delivery makes every line feel wonderfully unforced (give or take a “Chill it, dude” that not even she could salvage). This skill by itself would be enough to make her casting worthwhile, but episodes like On the Run let her show off her impressive range and criminally underused singing voice. Dietz has openly discussed how her experience growing up as an adoptee affects her portrayal of Amethyst, and her vulnerable performance exhibiting Amethyst’s anger and sorrow in the Kindergarten is some of her series-best work.

On the Run continues the show’s trend to put character first even in heavy lore episodes; with all the emotional tension here, it can be easy to forget just how much we learn. Not only is Amethyst from Earth, but lots of Gems are, and it was kind of a huge deal to the rebellion. This is a game changer, but we care more about whether Amethyst and Pearl will make up, even though we’ve already had two entire episodes about their feuding natures. 

Still, this is hardly to say the lore is brushed aside. Even if the Gem Odd Couple is one step closer to the healthy sisterhood of Last One Out of Beach City, the lingering final shot of Kindergarten before it cuts straight to black leaves an impression of its own. We’re in this deep, folks.

Future Vision!

The lovely melancholy feeling of the train ride gets another day in the sun when Steven and Amethyst take Peridot on the scenic route back to the Kindergarten in Back to the Kindergarten.

Now We’re Only Falling Apart not only shows the moment Amethyst was left behind, but the moment Pearl’s anti-Amethyst sentiment was born: this might’ve been a very different relationship if nobody had bumped Pink Diamond to the ground.

We’re the one, we’re the ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!

The amazing tone of Kindergarten gets this high marks already, but finally getting some development on Amethyst and Pearl’s relationship after hemming and hawing for forty episodes? Yeah, put it up there.

Top Ten

Steven and the Stevens

Mirror Gem

Lion 3: Straight to Video

Alone Together

Coach Steven

Giant Woman

On the Run

Warp Tour

The Test

Ocean Gem

Love ‘em

Laser Light Cannon

Bubble Buddies

Tiger Millionaire

Lion 2: The Movie

Rose’s Room

An Indirect Kiss

Space Race

Garnet’s Universe

Future Vision

Like ‘em

Gem Glow

Frybo

Arcade Mania

So Many Birthdays

Lars and the Cool Kids

Onion Trade

Steven the Sword Fighter

Beach Party

Monster Buddies

Keep Beach City Weird

Watermelon Steven

Enh

Cheeseburger Backpack

Together Breakfast

Cat Fingers

Serious Steven

Steven’s Lion

Joking Victim

Secret Team

No Thanks!

     3. Fusion Cuisine      2. House Guest      1. Island Adventure

[aditi-kumar-prod500-journal]

PROD 500 Assignment: Vision Writing (Autobiography and Influences)

Autobiography and Influences

School:

It was a era predominantly marked by confusion, incredible envy and tremendous achievement at the same time. Despite excelling in my studies, training as much as time allowed at sports and pushing myself to do the very best for various institutions, I remember feeling happy during only a handful of moments. Teachers straddled the line between being completely supportive and rather regressive, while my schoolmates seemed to forever gossip or conspire to make the next non-conformist feel terribly about themselves.

However, if it weren’t for these conflicting forces, I would not have learned the value of hard work. Not everything came easy to me at first. But by dint of sheer bullheaded-ness (in fact, all I lacked were actual horns; I could be quite undiplomatic when I wanted to succeed badly), and the unflinching support of my parents (who in fact, believed in me more than I did myself - they often became angry if I seemed to give up at anything), I was able to attain a sense of dignity. That prevented me from kowtowing to the more ‘popular’ crowd. More importantly, the desperation to be liked, to prove myself was instead channelled into drive, not addiction. And with the help of an incredible friend who saw me through it all, I passed this phase without too much difficulty into the next.

Adolescence:

Can there be a period in your life where you remember feeling more angry than anything else? I had a chip on my shoulder about everything - from people who I was sure disliked me right off the bat, to people who really did despise me, to the way I was handling my insecurities. Instead of carefully working through them a step at a time, I’d bundle them all into one fragile basket of eggs, before dumping this on the next person who irked me. Needless to say, I was not especially kind to the people I loved, despite only wanting to be liked by everyone.

That was the key need: wanting to be liked, adored, respected. The last was begrudgingly earned because of various leadership positions I occupied over the years in school - I always did justice to my roles - but the first two were more successful in alienating others. I could be a very nice person, till I decided I had something to prove.

People I’ve loved:

He was unlike anyone I had ever met. Aloof, selfish in his need to protect himself But he was also extraordinarily kind and easy to talk to, which I’d experienced with very few before. Curiously, I readily befriended without constantly questioning his actual motives - which meant that I had absolutely no unnecessary standard to live up to.

It seemed like we could talk forever and still not cover everything we wanted each other to know. Learning about the niches in popular culture - he was very knowledgeable when it came to music and films - was now pleasurable, not an exercise in internally comparing ourselves to the other. Of course, the deep affection I had for him grew into my first love - and the moment I decided I was happy - happy that I’d found someone without any expectation of him reciprocating - a major portion of my insecurities fell away like old snakeskin. 

It ended as most first loves do - on a semi-sweet parting note. His agenda was to cut off from everyone he’d met during college (for this was when I met him), and he’s ended up sticking to it. As for me, I will always remember him with immense gratitude. He gave me the confidence to be myself. 

People I’ve hated:

We started out as best friends, and because we grew up together, we did everything in twos. I revered her - she was older by nearly a year, and acted it too, but somewhere along the way, the terrible curse of middle school hit. Suddenly, popularity was her number one goal (as was mine, but to a lesser and less successful degree). She quickly realized that I was prone to being mocked for deserved and undeserved reasons, and left me in the dust. I become bitter, jealous and spent most of my high school years in real unhappiness, for she also seemed to have the knack of taking away people I was close to by turning them into her lackeys.

In retrospect, this could have partly been a reaction to the secret rivalry we had, one that made us intensely competitive for a very long time. The arenas ranged from academics, to individual achievements, to winning the affection of various people in the building complex where we lived. I suspect we never were truly content with our lives - although this worked as great motivation - and that we were both frankly relieved when school ended. It meant the end of a tiring relationship forced upon us - we did not talk about our mutual resentment, and her folks did not make it easier by pretending all was hunky-dory and friendly between us.

Today, it’s a little easier to speak to her. I will probably never understand her fully, and vice-versa. But the distance has helped put the past in a new perspective. We learned hard lessons because of each other and are perhaps better for it.

Art:

The first stories I heard were about the gods and goddesses in Hindu mythology. My mum and dad regaled me in their own ways (my father’s tales had a slightly more religious bent) about the cowherd prince Krishna who stole butter; who would eventually grow up to oversee the events leading up to the legendary Kurukshetra war. There was the honorable Ram, the mischievous but big-hearted monkey-god Hanuman, Arjuna the brave warrior…and then, from the West, about Achilles, Helen, Hector and Athena.

Heroes versus villains. The struggle between good and evil - various forms of each force, of course - have been a regular feature in my imagination. Anything that involved a epic, life-changing moment to fight back influenced me, from Mulan and Aladdin and most importantly, the Harry Potter series. Even today, if I have to be brave about something, my mantra is to chant, ‘If Harry can, I can.’ The themes of friendship and sacrifice from JK Rowling added nuance to my black-and-white view of the world.

But it’s not all popular culture. My mother is an artist. From the bright, sunlit colors of Vermeer’s portraits and Van Gogh’s achingly vivid work, to Rembrandt’s elusive impressionism, her descriptions and my own research have helped me, to an extent, pursue the fine arts on my own time. I’m not the best at it, but the practice has helped better my visual storytelling abilities. My mother’s averse to anime art, though, and that was a wonderful discovery I made all by myself - in fact, it was learning the media’s strange parameters for its characters that made me practice sketching seriously.

Having grown up in Oman, big bare landscapes are the kindling to what I consider free-flowing inspiration. Its stark, rugged mountains, the unflinching heat, the unspoiled, undulating sand dunes and in sharp contrast, the utter blueness of Oman’s waters are home for me, where I can breathe and dream freely. 

Role models:

Harry Potter, the orphan who found a purpose thrust upon him, and rose to the occasion. Fa Mulan, who took a potentially fatal risk and ended up saving China. Aladdin, the diamond in the rough. And Benjamin Franklin ‘Hawkeye’ Pierce of M*A*S*H, a devil-may-care surgeon who got so worked up over an injustice that he rode a jeep in bloodied scrubs through a war zone to an international conference, and protested.

Fiction is as influenced by reality as real life is by the art we make, and these four characters are heroes of mine - or should I say, very close to becoming anti-heroes till they grasped the first opportunity they were given to fulfill tremendous potential. That such initial pieces-of-work, who really believed they were creation’s mistakes, could defeat the very notion on their own, is something I try to emulate everyday. It’s a great way to overcome my severe imposter syndrome.

It’s harder to find people like that in real life, however, because of that irritating truth: they can change, and for the worse. Having said that however, JK Rowling (for her belief in failing to succeed, and the immersive world she’s created), Andy Samberg (for crazy perseverance, comedic talent and the immense clarity of mind he portrays in public), Alan Alda (for the absolute love of the work and play balance) and Charlotte Bronte (for her early feminism, and for doggedly pursuing her literary ambitions) are my role models.

And now, in my life, there are three who have made a mark on who I am today. My mum is the earliest and most enduring. We are oil and water in terms of personality, but her strategic patience and boundless love are two qualities I have to strive to imbibe. In that, she is second to none.

My dad rose from a deprived background, where some family members were decidedly less moral than others. Despite that, he refused to work without studying and today, is the only one to make it out of this narrow-minded society. His determination to prove himself, and admittedly silly humor are why I believe life is always worth improving by trying just a little harder.

The last is tricky, for I have changed in spite of him. A friend I consider a mentor in some ways, and a former crush, he is hugely talented but curiously cynical for it. I tried to become him, failed and learned the difficult way. I have come to see his virtues and faults, and have decided to forgive myself because he doesn’t; have aimed at trying to be more optimistic because he doesn’t; have moved on from believing that a single word of disapproval from him will ruin everything I’ve achieved regardless. He is a wonderful teacher, and he doesn’t even know how much I’ve studied from him!