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theggning · 4 years ago

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Codsworth Is So Underrated, You Guys

ALTERNATE TITLE: Codsworth and the Totally Understated Mindbending Evolution of Artificial Consciousness

I find Codsworth is often the most underrated of the 16 companions in Fallout 4. Your faithful robot butler is among the very first you can recruit and an excellent early-game ally, but he has a few disadvantages in gameplay that mean he’s often sent back to Sanctuary before long. Codsworth is a mid-to-close range fighter only, cannot wear armor or be equipped with weapons. He cannot be healed by stimpak, which makes him a liability if you’re playing on Survival mode. He has no companion quest of his own, so unless you particularly enjoy him there’s not a compelling reason to keep him for a long time. He also becomes recruitable exactly 2 minutes after adorable puppy Best Boy Dogmeat, so he is often (understandably) replaced just as soon as he’s made available.

But there is this great, completely understated facet to Codsworth, so understated that the game does not draw attention to it in any way. And yet, it is a wonderful reflection of many of the themes of Fallout 4 and, I believe, a pretty strong indication of its thesis statement.

Now what in the hell am I talking about?

Like many sci-fi/fantasy universes, the Fallout series is home to many highly-advanced robots. Robots were commonplace before the Great War, and many have survived the bombs intact and in working order. Others have been built or modified by wastelanders to serve various tasks (Percy, Ada.) The most important thing to understand about robots, though, is though they may have vivid personalities programmed in, they are widely accepted to be objects. They are thought of the same way as an appliance, a machine built for a specific purpose and programmed to follow a strict set of protocols.

Many jokes revolve around the relatively rigid intelligence of robots. Pre-War, many were deployed in inappropriate jobs or designed haphazardly (Mister Handies acting as nurses in a hospital, “paramedic” Protectrons with massive deadly tasers for hands, military robots constantly going haywire and erupting in friendly fire.) Others continue to man businesses and play out daily tasks as they were programmed to do over 200 years ago. Most robots are incapable of understanding anything beyond their initial programming, and most pre-War robots are completely unaware that the Great War ever happened.

When the Sole Survivor reunites with Codsworth at the ruins of their home, it seems like he, too, doesn’t understand what’s going on. He talks about tending the (dead) garden, references the (ghoulified) neighbors, and generally acts like the chipper robot butler Sole left behind on their way to Vault 111.

But there is something slightly… off in Codsworth’s dialogue here. Though he acts like the war never happened, he also specifically mentions details that suggest it did:

Player Default: Codsworth! You're still... fully operational?

Codsworth: {Defiant} Well of course, mum. You can thank the fine engineers at General Atomics for that! At least, you could have. Had they not been... vaporized.

A bit over 210 actually, mum. Give or take a little for the Earth's rotation and some minor dings to the ole' chronometer. That means you're two centuries late for dinner! Ha ha ha. Perhaps I can whip you up a snack? You must be famished.

You've no idea the desperation for human contact one develops over 200 years. {Upset, recalling bad memories of encountering raiders and scavengers. / Disgust} And when you do encounter them? Oh the cruelty! You're either... target practice or... spare parts!

Even stranger, Codsworth mentions details that are plainly made-up (or some kind of delusion):

Codsworth: It's been ages since we've had a proper family activity. Checkers. Or perhaps charades. Shaun does so love that game. Is the lad... with you...?

Player Default: Codsworth... listen to me carefully... have you seen him? Have you seen Shaun?

Codsworth: Why, sir had him last, remember? Perhaps he's gone to the Parker residence to arrange a play-date?

(Shaun is an infant. He is too young to play charades or to go to the neighbors for a play-date.)

So at once, Codsworth does and does not acknowledge the war. He does and does not seem to understand what’s happened, and he does and does not seem to follow Sole’s urgency regarding their spouse’s death and Shaun’s kidnapping.

And then, after a speech check, Codsworth finally snaps and breaks down sobbing in despair. Not only does he understand that the war happened, he has developed the ability to get depressed about it. Longing for human contact and with nothing else to do, he’s even developed coping mechanisms to help him try to deal with his loneliness and despair—futilely trying to do his chores and deluding himself into pretending everything is completely normal.

Wait a minute. Sobbing? Despair? Depression? Coping mechanisms and delusions? This Is all pretty sophisticated stuff to be programmed into a robot, and if you spend more time with Codsworth, the reality of what’s happened to him becomes apparent:

Codsworth has evolved beyond his programming. In his 210 lonely years of existence, he has developed emotional reactions and self-awareness far beyond that of most other robots, and, indeed, has basically evolved an artificial consciousness.

“Emergent intelligence” is the theoretical ability of an AI to eventually develop something resembling human thought processes, and it seems that our dear Codsworth has undergone this. Traveling with him, he displays many sophisticated thoughts and behaviors far beyond what most robots are shown to be capable of. He has memories of pre-War time and places, and understands how various locations have changed. He is capable of learning new information and forming opinions on it, gaining his own understanding of the people and factions in the Commonwealth. He can feel happiness, sorrow, fear, disgust. He can anticipate things, predict danger and imagine how people might respond to your actions. The mere he fact he has opinions and a moral code that he applies to you shows he has free will, something even other robot companions don’t (Ada has a personality, but absolutely does not care about your actions.)

He’s also smart enough to make many wry observational jokes, and to lay one hell of a sick burn on you:

{Joking - Found an old bowling alley. / Amused} Fancy a game, mum? Something tells me the bumpers are no longer available.

Codsworth’s intelligence is even more sophisticated than that. He displays stunning self-awareness, frequently referencing the fact he is a robot and what that means. He is very proud of his background as General Atomics’ finest, and seems pleased with his robot nature and his lot in life. (Unlike Curie, I don’t think Codsworth would ever really want to gain a synth body. He seems quite happy as he is.)

Here he is making reference to still feeling the tug of his programming:

{Seeing an office with chairs arranged in a circle. / Neutral} I've the most incredible urge to rearrange those chairs in a more perfect circle.

Understanding when other robots are restricted by theirs:

A pity. It appears Deezer's programming is too severe to allow for normal conversation. Ah well.

And when they’re actually not:

Codsworth: Greetings, sir. Good to see another robot in town. That chef hat becomes you.

Takahashi: Nan-ni shimasho-ka?

Codsworth: Takahashi you say? I'm Codsworth, a pleasure to make your acquaintance.

Takahashi: Nan-ni shimasho-ka?

Codsworth: Is that so? Well, we both know RobCo is no General Atomics. It's not surprising it failed, shoddy work and all. {Friendly - trying to cheer up another robot. / Friendly} Chin up, though. Never know when parts may turn up.

And here’s Galaxy Brain Codsworth ruminating on his own state of being and contemplating his nature:

{Disappointed that he can't be 100% human sometimes. / Sad} It's unfortunate that I lack the proper design to consume liquids. Something about camaraderie over a few drinks is very inviting.

I suppose if I had the hardware, I'd have the software as well. I'd hate to see how that'd affect my honesty and manner settings.

{Reconsidering what he thought was a good idea. / Thinking} Indeed. Perhaps I should rethink my initial desire.

Hilariously, Codsworth does not seem fully aware of how remarkable his intelligence is. He occasionally says things like “if I had feelings” and “if I could feel things,” indicating that in some ways he still believes he is only a robot and defines himself by what a robot is and does.

But as we can see, our humble robot butler has essentially evolved to become the smartest, most emotionally intelligent and person-like robot in the Commonwealth*, and potentially in the series.

([SIDE NOTE: Other FO4 robots nearing Codsworth’s level of consciousness and developed personality include Captain Ironsides, KLE-O, Whitechapel Charlie, and perhaps Takahashi. Curie is close, but also receives the unfair advantage of being uploaded into a synth body with a human brain. Jezebel also functions off of a human brain. Nick is not a robot, he’s a synth (though he does jokingly refer to himself as one) and also has the advantage of a human brain encoded on his processor.])

Also hilariously, the game basically does not acknowledge Codsworth’s impressive evolution. At all. There is absolutely no direct mention of it in the script. It is all left to ambient dialogue and the player’s own observations. And because so many people overlook Codsworth as a companion, they may not even realize exactly how unique his expanded consciousness is.

Now, you might call this total lack of mention a mistake, an oversight on Bethesda’s part, or that old chestnut “bad writing.” I don’t think it is. I think it’s a deliciously subtle little detail to include in a story about humanity, machines, artificial intelligence, and what makes a person.

Many of the themes of FO4 revolve around synths—distinctly not robots, but androids, artificially created beings with fully organic human bodies. Most of the storyline factions have strong beliefs about synths and the relative humanity thereof. The Institute believes that synths are objects, tools, machines no different from a robot who are only simulating their personalities through programming. The Brotherhood believes synths are monstrous abominations, a danger to humanity itself, technology run amok which needs to be destroyed. The Railroad believes they are people. Not humans, but people, built instead of born, free-thinking beings that deserve to be treated with respect and given rights.

Through quests, dialogue, notes, worldbuilding and other venues, players explore these questions. What makes someone a person? If your personality and memories can be rewritten or programmed, then who are you, really? Where do we draw the line between humans and machines, and how do we decide who belongs where?

Meanwhile, as the player contemplates the nature of personhood and the definition of intelligence, their robot butler quietly evolves into a fully-conscious person on his own, right beside them.

Codsworth is unquestionably a machine, but also unquestionably beyond the appliance he was built to be. Which to some philosophies and players should really beg a few other questions. If a robot can be considered a person, then what makes synths so different? And how many excuses do we have to make to pretend otherwise?

Ya boy Codsworth may not be flashy, or powerful, or kissable. He may not be the most glamorous companion around. But he is a good friend, a beloved member of the family, and above all else, a loyal butler—content to serve, quietly and humbly doing his job where some may never even notice him-- or the fact that he’s casually become his own person and sent generations of roboticists and philosophers spinning in their graves.

#fallout 4 #fallout meta #codsworth #hey tumblr fuck you i win #i was forced to do an involuntary second draft #but i like it better now so hey

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neighbourskid · 4 years ago

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2020

What a year, huh? Surely not anything anyone has expected to happen when we woke up on this day a year ago. I certainly haven’t. I’m not even sure, now, where to begin to sum up this year like I’ve done years prior. But then again... I may just as well just dive right into all the media I consumed this year, as I have done every year. I haven’t kept track as detailed as I have last year, but my year was definitely punctuated by pieces of entertainment that have come into my life.

Continuing on from 2019, my obsession with Good Omens was still going strong. Which was ideal, since I was gonna spend the first half of the year writing my Bachelor thesis on it. The intensity of the obsession may have waned a bit since, but I still love that show and book dearly and hold it close to my heart, and I don’t think that will ever stop. But while Good Omens was certainly an overall theme throughout my year, there were some other things that actually stood out.

With January came new episodes of Doctor Who, and having returned to that particular bandwagon the year prior, I was all about that. Jodie’s second season finally brought what I had longed for in her first--a darker kind of Doctor. She wasn’t quite as bubbly anymore, you could finally see some of the depths in the character that I loved so in the previous regenerations, which made me love Peter’s Doctor so incredibly much. In this season, I felt, Jodie was finally becoming the Doctor. Overall, that season catered to me personally every single episode. So many of the time periods they visited were of people I loved, and the introduction of Sacha Dhawan as the Master was absolutely....well, masterful. Sacha is brilliant in that role and I am utterly stunned by his talent. Although both John Simm and Michelle Gomez brought things to the Master that I liked, it’s Sacha’s completely unhinged take on it that made me finally like the character. He’s a madman and I love it.

The next major thing was The Good Place. I tend to have a talent of getting into shows just as they either ended their entire show, or the final season is just coming up. It’s happened quite a bit, and it was the same with this. I finally binged the show early in January and it would end its final season at the end of the month. True to form, I was completely obsessed with it for about a month, before I only occasionally thought about it again. But, thinking back now, I get this incredibly fond feeling for this show, and I remember that the finale absolutely wrecked me and I basically ugly sobbed through the entirety of it. Also very true to form, actually. I want to rewatch it again some time, but honestly preferably with someone who has never seen it before. Which, obviously, is a difficult thing to do given, well, everything.

Next up is something that surprised me a lot. In the middle of having to write my BA thesis, my procrastination thought it would be a great idea to rewatch and catch up on the entirety of Criminal Minds. And so I binged 15 seasons of that instead of writing my thesis. Which, coincidentally, had also just aired its final season not long before I started my binge in March. Rewatching this, I realised just how little I took in of the actual, like, stuff in the show when I first watched it as a teen. Although I mostly cared about the characters and their found family this time around--although I do find the cases really fascinating most of the time too--I noticed just how much I am not watching this for the fact that they are in the FBI. I was hyperaware of how often they shot at people before doing anything else, how many of the suspects died before ever being questioned or being brought in, and it made my skin crawl. I am aware how fucked up the criminal justice system is, and especially in the US, how the police functions and how incredibly glorified they are in the media. But rewatching this show, I realised how little I actually paid attention to anything when I was younger. Big yikes. Still, I remembered my love for these characters, and I really enjoyed that rewatch a whole lot. Found family will always get to me.

Once I finished writing my thesis and handed it in early in July, I then found my next momentary obsession: Community. The show had finally come to Netflix earlier in the year and a friend of mine had watched it then. I remember watching that pilot episode back then and being completely uninterested in watching it. The comedy felt like it wasn’t quite up my street, the characters were entirely unlikeable, and I especially disliked Jeff who the show was more or less centred around. I binged Criminal Minds instead, but then decided to give it another try. And, well, I watched it twice through without taking a break to watch something else in-between. Ironically, and maybe actually unsurprisingly, Jeff ended up being my favourite and I found myself relating a lot to him and his arc throughout the series. I even found myself writing some short ficlet-like things in the notes app on my phone. I made an attempt at starting a third watch, but I guess then the month was up, and my brain decided it was time for something else. My hyperfixations usually tend to die out after about a month. Which is why my complete devotion to Good Omens was a pleasant surprise. I did, however, end up watching quite a bit of Joel McHale and Ken Jeong’s The Darkest Timeline podcast throughout August.

Early in September, while already preparing for the new term at uni, and my first semester in my Master’s studies, I then turned to New Girl. Friends of mine had seen it and recommended it, and I remember watching probably the entire first season on TV while I was in San Diego the first time around back in 2016. Or at least I think it was the entire first season. Either way, I binged that whole thing, realised through Nick Miller that the go-to character I am drawn to and tend to project on in any piece of media is usually what I like to call “the garbage man,” which Nick is a prime example of. And although I spent a month watching the show in-between starting university again and volunteering at a film festival, I didn’t spend much time afterward thinking about it and moved on to other things rather quickly. I enjoyed watching it, that much I remember, and I’m pretty sure I cried at the finale because it was done wonderfully, but seeing as another month was up, my brain was probably like “okay fine that’s enough”.

I then spent most of fall and early winter watching every single bad Christmas movie available on Netflix, which was quite fun. In that moment of festivity, I also watched a movie I found absolutely brilliant and fell in love with immediately. It’s a beautiful movie called Jingle Jangle, it has a magnificent soundtrack and is absolutely incredible. I had no idea Forest Whitaker could sing and he completely blew me away. If you haven’t seen it already, I highly recommend it. It doesn’t matter that Christmas is already over, it’s beautiful either way.

By the time December finally rolled around, I was already over the whole Christmas thing, to be honest and I turned away from festive movies or shows, and eventually ended up finally picking up a gem I had heard much about and had been meaning to watch for a while. A show which, as it were, also aired its final season earlier this year. This little show is Schitt’s Creek. I will be going on about what this show means to me probably in another post at length, but for now just let me say: if you haven’t seen it, find some place to watch it, and put this beautiful show in your eyeballs. I am on my second run through already (although I’ve seen the second half of the show a second time already while watching it with a friend on their first run through), and it brings me so much fucking joy. It’s a gift, this show. And it will likely stay with me for a very, very long time.

That’s about it for the big things. I also watched a whole lot of other stuff, including entirely new things, or just newly released seasons of things I was already watching. Here’s what I can remember off the top of my head:

Charlie’s Angels (2020). The Night Manager. The Witcher. Dolittle (2020). The Librarians (rewatch). Harley Quinn (2020). Sonic the Hedgehog (2020). The Chef Show (S1 part 3, S2 part 1). Avenue 5. Money Heist (part 4). The Good Fight (S4). Brooklyn Nine-Nine (S7). DuckTales (2017 reboot). Frankenstein live. Staged (2020). Hamilton. Sense8. Julie and the Phantoms. The Boys in the Band. One Night in Miami. Enola Holmes. Supernova. His Dark Materials (S2). Happiest Season. The Great Canadian Baking Show.

I also got some reading done in-between what I had to read for my thesis in spring, and then for regular university courses in fall. Here’s some of what I can remember:

Anthony Horowitz, The House of Silk. Ramona Meisel, Sunblind. Donna Tartt, The Secret History. Good Omens novel and script book. Matt Forbeck, Leverage: The Con Job. Keith R.A. Decandido, Leverage: The Zoo Job. Greg Cox, Leverage: The Bestseller Job. Greg Cox, The Librarians and the Lost Lamp. Greg Cox, The Librarians and the Mother Goose Chase. Greg Cox, The Librarians and the Pot of Gold. Neil Gaiman, Marvel 1602. Christina Henry, The Lost Boy. Neil Gaiman, Norse Mythology. John Green, An Abundance of Katherines. Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Aurora Leigh. Maria Konnikova, The Confidence Game.

Having mulled over all this entertainment I consumed in 2020, there are also some non-tv or book things I need to point out. As many, many other people around the globe, I have also spent a large amount of time this year on my Nintendo Switch, playing Animal Crossing: New Horizons. It is a game I have waited for since the Switch was first announced, and I fell in love with it from the moment the first trailer dropped. It has brought me great joy in this weird fucking year, and I have more or less consistently played it since it came out in March. I ended this year with the in-game New Year’s Eve celebration and I feel like that summed up this year quite neatly and appropriately.

This year also brought with it another game very close to my heart: Super Mario Sunshine. With their release of Super Mario 3D All-Stars in September, Nintendo finally brought my all-time favourite Mario game to my all-time favourite console, and I played the entire game through in the first week of owning it, in-between university courses and volunteering at the film festival. Also contained in that package was Super Mario Galaxy which I have also played through in its entirety since. All that’s left for me now is Super Mario 64, which I am excited to play through in the coming year.

And to round off my year of entertainment, there are two more things I would like to mention. First, David Tennant Does A Podcast With..., which released its second season this summer. It is one of the only, if not the only podcast I keep up to date with and listen to immediately whenever a new episode drops. I’ve loved the first season dearly, and David came back with some incredibly fantastic guests for the second season as well. I can’t wait for what the podcast will bring in the future, but I will wait patiently until it is time. I can highly recommend it for everyone who likes interesting conversations between lovely people who clearly adore each other a whole lot.

And finally, while this year brought a whole lot of bullshit with it, it also gave me something I never thought possible and did not even dare to imagine in my wildest dreams. My all-time favourite show announced that it would be rebooted with the same main cast (minus one), a new wonderful member, and involvement of the original creators, and even started filming already in summer. Leverage is coming back. I still cannot believe it. I hoped for a movie, always. That maybe one day, they might bring the gang back together, for one last job, just one more encore. But to get a whole new tv-show with Aldis, Christian, Gina and Beth returning? With the addition of Noah Wyle? I can’t wrap my head around it. I am so excited for this. I predict that I will ugly sob through the entirety of the pilot episode, if not the first season, and will have to rewatch every episode because of it, but I have no doubt that it will be brilliant and wonderful.

True to form, I have now gone on about tv shows and movies for far too long, and haven’t really said anything about this year at all. 2020 was fucking weird. And I don’t think 2021 will be much different quite yet. I wrote an entire BA thesis in 2020. I successfully finished by Bachelor’s degree and started my Master’s studies and even got some excellent first grades in as well. I was lucky enough to be able to see some friends and family throughout the year, and even celebrate my birthday with a small circle of friends. I’ve become closer with friends, shared experiences I wouldn’t trade for the world, and, I think, maybe also grown a bit as a person.

I started this year excited to finally be able to start taking testosterone in February, and to finish the first part of my studies by summer. Although I did both of these things, they didn’t happen quite how I imagined them, but I am glad that I could do these things nevertheless.

2020 was a hell year, for sure. But there were some moments in there that I wouldn’t want to lose.

I’ve tried very hard to not be optimistic about this upcoming year, and rather take a more realistic, even pessimistic approach. But I can’t help but be hopeful. Hopeful that this year will be kind to us, and if it isn’t, that at least, we’ll be kind to ourselves and each other. It won’t be easy, and not much will change, I think. But we have to approach the coming time with kindness and compassion. That’s where I’m at currently. And I think that’s all for now.

Be well, friends, and take care.

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bookishable · 5 years ago

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goblet of fire book moments

‘the riddles all appeared to be in perfect health—apart from the fact that they were all dead.’

ron, hermione, hagrid and sirius sending harry food and birthday cakes over the summer so he would have enough to eat

“she did put enough stamps on, then”

“we’ve been hearing explosions out of their room for ages, but we never thought they were actually making things, we thought they just liked the noise.”

percy: we’re trying to sTAnDaRdiSe cAuLdRoN tHiCkNeSs ron: that’ll change the world, that will

arthur trying to light a fire at the world cup and ron being like but we’ve got an oven

YOU BUST SLUG

the guy named archie wearing a dress because he thought it was regular muggle clothing

ludo bagman existing

crouch calling percy “weatherby”

“oh, shut up, weatherby”

the quidditch world cup actually happening and being amazing

“you can speak english! and you’ve been letting me mime everything all day!” “vell, it vos very funny”

fred and george predicting the quidditch match score and earning all the money they bet back

“if the hogwarts express crashed tomorrow, and george and i died, how would you feel knowing that the last thing we ever heard from you was an unfounded accusation?”

harry ‘would willingly have split all the money in his gringotts vault with the weasleys’ <3 my boy is precious

the visual of mrs weasley giving amos diggory a piece of toast through the fire where his head was

“it would’ve been so easy to push malfoy off a glacier and make it look like an accident… shame his mother likes him…”

hermione not eating at the first feast in aid of house elves and ron waving puddings at her: “hermione gave him a look so reminiscent of professor mcgonagall that he gave up.”

dumbledore: the triwizard tournament will be taking place at hogwarts this year fred: you’re JOKING dumbledore: i am not joking, but i did hear an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag and a leprechaun who all go into a bar— mcgonagall: *clears throat loudly*

blast-ended skrewts

harry: why have i got two neptunes ron: *imitating trelawney* when two neptunes appear in the sky, it is a sure sign that a midget in glasses is being born, harry

“has your mother always looked like that, or was it just because you were with her?”

CONSTANT VIGILANCE

‘telling neville what professor sprout had said, harry thought, had been a very tactful way of cheering neville up, for neville very rarely heard that he was good at anything. it was the sort of thing professor lupin would have done.’

harry and ron’s made-up divination predictions that foreshadow the rest of the book

S.P.E.W

“excuse me, i don’t like people just because they’re handsome!” ron gave a false cough which sounded oddly like ‘lockhart’

ron: that’s not a normal girl, they don’t make them like that at hogwarts harry: *looking at cho* they make them ok at hogwarts hermione: wHeN yOu’Ve bOtH pUt yOuR EyeS bAcK iN

“we all know professor moody considers the morning wasted if he hasn’t discovered six plots to murder him before lunchtime”

hermione bringing harry some toast and taking him on a walk at breakfast so he wouldn’t have to face ron and the rest of the gryffindors

“ah, this is nice and cosy.” it was a broom cupboard. harry stared at her.

rita: i hope you saw my piece over the summer? dumbledore: i particularly enjoyed your description of me as an obsolete dingbat

charlie weasley existing

“there are switching spells… but what’s the point of switching it? unless you swapped its fangs for wine gums or something”

moody: play to your strengths harry: i haven’t got any moody: excuse me

trelawney telling harry that he was in danger of a sudden, violent death: “well that’s good, just as long as it’s not drawn out, i don’t want to suffer”

“no, i’m fine,” said harry, wondering why he kept telling people this, and wondering whether he had ever been less fine.

‘he wouldn’t have cared if karkaroff had given him zero; ron’s indignation on his behalf was worth about a hundred points to him.’

“yeah, you can have a word, goodbye.”

“i thought it sounded a bit like percy singing… maybe you’ve got to attack him while he’s in the shower”

CANARY CREAMS

ron giving dobby his christmas jumper

harry and ron having a sword fight with the fake wands

harry: i don’t dance mcgonagall: oh yes you do

harry: why do girls have to move in packs? how do you get one on their own? ron: lasso one

“ron, can we borrow pigwidgeon?” “why?” “because george wants to invite him to the ball”

“harry—we’ve just got to grit our teeth and do it,” said ron, in a tone that suggested they were planning the storming of an impregnable fortress.

ordering food at the yule ball feast by telling the plate what they want to eat

“when i went back to investigate, i discovered that the room had vanished. possibly it is only accessible at five thirty in the morning—or when the seeker has an exceptionally full bladder.”

“nice socks, potter”

snape: what are you doing? ron: we’re walking. not against the law, is it?

“i wouldn’t come near you with a ten-foot broomstick”

harry calling rita skeeta a cow and dumbledore being like “i have gone temporarily deaf and haven’t any idea what you said”

aberforth dumbledore being mentioned to have been prosecuted for practising inappropriate charms on a goat

“never be ashamed,” my dad used ter say, “there’s some who’ll hold it against you, but they’re not worth botherin’ with.” someone hold me i’m crying

“just go down to the lake tomorrow, stick your head in, yell at the merpeople to give back whatever they’ve nicked and see if they chuck it out. best you can do, mate.”

‘hermione seemed to be taking the library’s lack of useful information as a personal insult; it had never failed her before.’

“your wheezy, sir! the thing harry potter will miss most!”

dumbledore speaking mermish

‘ron and hermione both gave harry half-exasperated, half-commiserating looks.’ honestly if this isn’t a summary of the series idk what is

ron: i could’ve taken those mer-idiots any time hermione: what were you going to do, snore at them?

sirius “fulfilling his duty as godfather” by sleeping in a cave and living off rats to be near harry

“if you want to know what a man’s like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals.”

referring to sirius as ‘snuffles’

winky: you is nosing dobby: harrypotterisbraveandnobleandharrypotterisnotnosy!!!

NIFFLERS

“aren’t you two ever going to read hogwarts: a history?” “what’s the point? you know it off by heart, we can just ask you.”

harry and cedric uniting in their indignance at the hedges for the third task growing all over the quidditch pitch

bagman: shall i wait for you harry? harry: no it’s ok, i think i can find the castle on my own, thanks

trelawney: if you leave you may lose the opportunity to see further than you have ever— harry: i don’t want to see anything except a headache cure

dumbledore saying madame maxime is “a very able headmistress—and an excellent dancer”

“i didn’t see madame maxime anywhere, though, and she’d have a job hiding, wouldn’t she?”

“curiosity is not a sin, but we should exercise caution with our curiosity…”

harry: but the task’s not until tonight! *spills scrambled eggs* mcgonagall: i’m aware of that, potter

harry expecting the dursleys to turn up for the third task and it turns out to be mrs weasley and bill and they spend the day wandering around the castle

harry working out the sphinx’s riddle and being ‘amazed at his own brilliance’

“you fail to recognise that it matters not what someone is born, but what they grow to be!”

‘he had no memory of ever being hugged like this, as though by a mother.’

“what’s comin’ will come, an’ we’ll meet it when it does.”

“cedric was a person who exemplified many of the qualities which distinguish hufflepuff house: he was a good and loyal friend, a hard worker, he valued fair play. his death has affected you all, whether you knew him well or not.”

“we are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided.”

“we can fight only by showing an equally strong bond of friendship and trust. differences of habit and language are nothing at all if our aims are identical and our hearts are open.”

hermione keeping rita skeeta in a jar and blackmailing her to not write any more stories after she found out rita was an unregistered animagus

harry giving fred and george all his triwizard winnings because he’s the kind boy he is

#i started this series a while ago but i reread gof last so i’ll be able to post the rest sooner #this book has some of the best lines the film really didn’t do it justice #hp book moments #goblet of fire #harry potter books #harry potter quotes #hp textpost

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novelwritingtrash · 5 years ago

Link

When Harry Styles played the O2 Arena in 2018, his fans illuminated the cavernous venue in the colours of the LGBTQ Pride flag. Coordinated by a social media account called The Rainbow Project, each seating block was allocated a different colour, so that when Styles played the song Sweet Creature, an enormous rainbow emerged from the crowd. I was there, and it was pretty magical. But it was also emblematic of how Styles’s fanbase views their idol: as a queer icon.

There’s arguably never been a better time to be an LGBTQ pop star. Acts such as Sam Smith, who came out as non-binary earlier this year, Lil Nas X, the first gay man to have a certified diamond song in America, Halsey, queer boyband Brockhampton, pansexual singer Miley Cyrus and Kim Petras, who is transgender, have all enjoyed an incredible year, bagging the biggest hits of 2019.

Still, when Styles shared Lights Up, the lead single from his forthcoming second solo album Fine Line, there was a collective intake of breath. The song and video - in which he appears shirtless in what looks like a sweaty orgy as both men and women grab at him - was heralded as a “bisexual anthem” by the media and fans on Twitter, despite not really making any explicit or obvious statements about sexuality or the LGBTQ community. Instead, Lights Up was just another example of the queer mythologising that occurs around Harry Styles.

As a member of One Direction, Styles was – aside from Zayn Malik – the group’s most charismatic and enticing member. From his first audition on The X Factor to the band’s disbandment in 2015, the teenager from Cheshire managed to elevate himself and his celebrity swiftly rose to the A list. Helping him along was speculation about his private life: during his tenure in the band he was romantically linked to everyone from Taylor Swift to Kendall Jenner.

But there were two other rumoured relationships that dogged Styles more than the others. The first was his close friendship with radio DJ Nick Grimshaw. Styles and Grimshaw were often photographed together, and there were anodyne showbiz reports about how they even shared a wardrobe.

Inevitably, rumours suggested they were romantically linked. In fact, so prolific was speculation that during an interview with British GQ, Styles was asked point blank if he was in a relationship with Grimshaw (he denied any romantic relationship) and, in a move that upset many One Direction fans, if he was bisexual. “Bisexual? Me?” he responded. “I don't think so. I'm pretty sure I'm not.”

The second, and perhaps most complicated of rumours, was that he and fellow bandmate Louis Tomlinson were in a relationship. Larry Stylinson, as their shipname is known, began life as fan-fiction but mutated into a wild conspiracy theory as certain fans – dubbed Larries – documented glances, gestures, touches, interviews, performances and outfits in an attempt to confirm the romance. Even now, four years after the band went on “hiatus”, videos are still being posted on YouTube in an attempt to confirm that their relationship was real.

For Tomlinson, Larry was fandom gone too far. He has repeatedly rejected the conspiracy. Styles, meanwhile, has never publicly discussed it. In fact, unlike Tomlinson, whose post-1D career trajectory has seen him adopt a loutish form of masculinity indebted to the Gallagher brothers, Styles has largely leant into the speculation surrounding his sexuality. Aside from the GQ interview, Styles has told interviewers that gender is not that important to him when it comes to dating. In 2017 he said that he had never felt the need to label his sexuality, adding: “I don’t feel like it’s something I’ve ever felt like I have to explain about myself.”

Likewise, during his time touring with One Direction, and during his own solo tours, the image of Styles draped with a rainbow flag became ubiquitous. He has also donated money from merchandise sales to LGBTQ charities. His fashion sense, too, subverts gender norms: Styles has long sported womenswear, floral prints, dangly earrings and painted nails.

Nevertheless, Styles’s hesitance to be candid has met with criticism. He has been accused of queer-baiting - or enjoying the benefits of appealing to an LGBTQ fanbase without having any of the difficulties. I’ve written before about how queer artists, who now enjoy greater visibility and are finding mainstream success, have struggled commercially owing to their sexuality or gender identity.

Styles, who is assumed to be a cisgender, heterosexual male, doesn’t carry any of the commercial risk laden upon Troye Sivan, Years and Years or MNEK, who all use same-gender pronouns in their music and are explicitly gay in their videos. His music – with its nods to rock’n’roll, Americana and folk – doesn’t feel very queer, either. Looking at it this way, the queer idolisation of Harry Styles doesn’t feel deserved.

“The thing with Harry Styles is that he often does the bare minimum and gets an out-sized load of credit for it,” says songwriter and record label manager Grace Medford. For Medford, who has worked at Syco and is now part of the team at Xenomania records, Styles’s queer narrative has been projected on him by the media and his fans. “I don't think that he queer-baits, but I don't think he does anywhere near enough to get the response that he does.”

Of course, Styles does not need to explain or be specific about his sexuality. As Medford puts it: “he's well within his rights to live his life how he chooses.” However, he has also created a space for himself in pop that allows him that ambiguity.

It’s a privilege few pop stars have. Last year, Rita Ora was hit with criticism after her song Girls, a collaboration with Charli XCX, Cardi B and Bebe Rexha, was dubbed problematic and accused of performative bisexuality. Even though Ora explicitly sang the lyric “I'm 50-50 and I'm never gonna hide it”, she was lambasted by social media critics, media commentary and even her fellow artists until she was forced to publicly confirm her bisexuality.

But the same was not done to Styles when he performed unreleased song “Medicine” during his world tour. The lyrics have never been confirmed, but the song is said to contain the line: “The boys and the girls are in/ I mess around with him/ And I'm okay with it.” Instead of probing him for clarity or accusing him of performativity, the song was labelled a “bisexual anthem” and praised as “a breakthrough for bisexual music fans”.

Of course, there’s misogyny inherent to such reactions. But there’s also something more layered and complex at play, too. “There's such a dearth of queer people to look up to, especially people at Harry’s level,” posits Medford. “With somebody who is seen as cool and credible and attractive as Harry, part of it is wishful thinking, I think.

“The fact is, he was put together into a boyband on a television show by a Pussycat Doll. And he has rebranded as Mick Jagger’s spiritual successor and sings with Stevie Nicks; he's really done the work there. Part of him doing that work is him stepping back and letting other people create a story for him.”

One only has to look at how Styles’ celebrity manifests itself (cool, fashionable, artistic) in comparison to that of his former bandmates. Liam Payne (this week dubbed by the tabloids as a chart failure) has been a tabloid fixture since his public relationship with Cheryl Cole and relies on countless interviews, photoshoots and even an advertising campaign for Hugo Boss to maintain his fame.

Styles, meanwhile, doesn’t really engage with social media. He also rarely appears in public and carefully chooses what kind of press he does, actively limiting the number of interviews he gives. Styles’s reticence to engage with the media and general public – perhaps a form of self-preservation – has awarded him a rare mystique that few people in the public eye possess.

This enigmatic personal, along with his sexual ambiguity, his support of LGBTQ charities and his gender-fluid approach to fashion, creates the perfect incubation for queer fandom. It also provides a shield against serious accusations of queer-baiting. As Medford argues: “Harry's queer mythology has been presented to and bestowed upon him by queer people whereas other acts feel like they have to actively seek that out.”

Ultimately, the way that Styles navigates his queer fandom doesn’t feel calculated or contrived. For Eli, an 18-year-old from Orlando who grew up with One Direction, seeing Styles “grow into himself” has been important. He suggests that Styles’ queer accessibility has helped to create a safe space for fans. “Watching him on tour dance on stage every night in his frilly outfits, singing about liking boys and girls, waving around pride flags, and even helping a fan come out to her mom, really helped me come to terms with my own sexuality,” he explains.

Vicky, who is 25 and from London, agrees: “To be able to attend his show with my pansexual flag and wave it around and feel so much love and respect - it's an amazing feeling. I'm aware so many queer people can't experience it so I'm very grateful Harry creates these safe spaces through his music and concerts.”

There’s appeal in Styles’s ambiguity, too. Summer Shaud, from Boston, says that Styles’ “giving no f----” approach to sexuality and gender is “inspiring and affirming” for those people who are coming to terms with their own identities or those who live in the middle of sexuality or gender spectrums. “There’s enormous pressure from certain gatekeeping voices within the queer community to perform queerness in an approved, unambiguous way, often coming from people with no substantive understanding of bisexuality or genderfluidity who are still looking to put everyone into a box,” she argues. “Harry’s gender presentation, queer-coding, and refusal to label himself are a defiant rebuke of that “You’re Not Doing It Right” attitude, and that resonates so strongly with queers who aren’t exclusively homosexual or exclusively binary.”

Shaud says that the queer community that has congregated around Styles is another reason she’s so drawn to him. “Seeing how his last tour was such an incredible site of affirmation and belonging for queers is deeply moving to me, and as older queer [Shaud is 41] I’m so grateful that all the young people growing up together with Harry have someone like him to provide that.”

In fact, she argues that there’s a symbiotic relationship between Styles and his queer fans. She cites an interview he gave to Rolling Stone this year in which he said how transformative the tour was for him. “For me the tour was the biggest thing in terms of being more accepting of myself, I think,” Styles shared. “I kept thinking, 'Oh wow, they really want me to be myself. And be out and do it.’”

All of the queer Harry Styles fans I spoke to agreed that it really didn’t matter whether their idol was explicit about his sexuality or not. “It’s weird that people scrutinise people who don’t label [their sexuality] when they have no idea what that person feels like inside or, in Harry’s case, what it’s like to be under the public eye,” argues Valerie, who is 18. “It's an individual choice, not ours,” agrees Vicky.

Ollie, 22 and from Brighton, takes a more rounded view, however: “On one hand, I think that quite simply it isn’t any of anyone else’s business. On the other, if you place yourself in the public eye to the level of fame that he has then you should be prepared to be probed about every minute detail of your personal life, whether you like it or not – you should at least be prepared to be questioned about it.” Still, he says that the good that Styles does is what’s important: “He brings fantastic support and attention to the community, whether he is actively a part of it or not.”

Arguably, the ambiguity and mystery that surrounds Styles only allows more space for queer people to find safety in him and in the fandom.

Still, if fans are expecting a queer coming of age with new album Fine Line, they will be disappointed. Lyrically, he doesn’t venture into new territory, although there are some new musical flares. He also seems like he’s started to distance himself a little from the ambiguity, too. “I’m aware that as a white male, I don’t go through the same things as a lot of the people that come to the shows,” he told Rolling Stone. “I can’t claim that I know what it’s like, because I don’t. So I’m not trying to say, ‘I understand what it’s like.’ I’m just trying to make people feel included and seen.” Having said that, within weeks Styles appeared on Saturday Night Live playing a gay social media manager, using queer slang and even wearing an S&M harness.

And so the cycle of queer mythologising continues, and is likely to continue for the rest of Styles’s career. And maybe things will change and maybe they won’t.

“If you are black, if you are white, if you are gay, if you are straight, if you are transgender — whoever you are, whoever you want to be, I support you,” he said earlier this year. “I love every single one of you.” In a world where LGBTQ rights are threatened and there’s socio-political insecurity, perhaps, for now at least, that’s enough.

#is it enough?#that the privileged cis white man gets to cosplay the gay saviour?

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accidentalharrie · 5 years ago

Note

maybe you or one of you followers has access to the telegraph article about Harry "Why does the world want Harry Styles to be gay" I don't know what to think about this headline and I really want to read it but its online only for subscribers

Here you go, Nons. (I hesitate to post this but…)

“The thing with Harry Styles is that he often does the bare minimum and gets an out-sized load of credit for it,” says songwriter and record label manager Grace Medford. For Medford, who has worked at Syco and is now part of the team at Xenomania records, Styles’s queer narrative has been projected on him by the media and his fans. “I don’t think that he queer-baits, but I don’t think he does anywhere near enough to get the response that he does.”

Of course, Styles does not need to explain or be specific about his sexuality. As Medford puts it: “he’s well within his rights to live his life how he chooses.” However, he has also created a space for himself in pop that allows him that ambiguity.

It’s a privilege few pop stars have. Last year, Rita Ora was hit with criticism after her song Girls, a collaboration with Charli XCX, Cardi B and Bebe Rexha, was dubbed problematic and accused of performative bisexuality. Even though Ora explicitly sang the lyric “I’m 50-50 and I’m never gonna hide it”, she was lambasted by social media critics, media commentary and even her fellow artists until she was forced to publicly confirm her bisexuality.

But the same was not done to Styles when he performed unreleased song “Medicine” during his world tour. The lyrics have never been confirmed, but the song is said to contain the line: “The boys and the girls are in/ I mess around with him/ And I’m okay with it.” Instead of probing him for clarity or accusing him of performativity, the song was labelled a “bisexual anthem” and praised as “a breakthrough for bisexual music fans”.

Of course, there’s misogyny inherent to such reactions. But there’s also something more layered and complex at play, too. “There’s such a dearth of queer people to look up to, especially people at Harry’s level,” posits Medford. “With somebody who is seen as cool and credible and attractive as Harry, part of it is wishful thinking, I think.

“The fact is, he was put together into a boyband on a television show by a Pussycat Doll. And he has rebranded as Mick Jagger’s spiritual successor and sings with Stevie Nicks; he’s really done the work there. Part of him doing that work is him stepping back and letting other people create a story for him.”

This enigmatic personal, along with his sexual ambiguity, his support of LGBTQ charities and his gender-fluid approach to fashion, creates the perfect incubation for queer fandom. It also provides a shield against serious accusations of queer-baiting. As Medford argues: “Harry’s queer mythology has been presented to and bestowed upon him by queer people whereas other acts feel like they have to actively seek that out.”

Vicky, who is 25 and from London, agrees: “To be able to attend his show with my pansexual flag and wave it around and feel so much love and respect - it’s an amazing feeling. I’m aware so many queer people can’t experience it so I’m very grateful Harry creates these safe spaces through his music and concerts.”

There’s appeal in Styles’s ambiguity, too. Summer Shaud, from Boston, says that Styles’ “giving no f—-” approach to sexuality and gender is “inspiring and affirming” for those people who are coming to terms with their own identities or those who live in the middle of sexuality or gender spectrums. “There’s enormous pressure from certain gatekeeping voices within the queer community to perform queerness in an approved, unambiguous way, often coming from people with no substantive understanding of bisexuality or genderfluidity who are still looking to put everyone into a box,” she argues. “Harry’s gender presentation, queer-coding, and refusal to label himself are a defiant rebuke of that “You’re Not Doing It Right” attitude, and that resonates so strongly with queers who aren’t exclusively homosexual or exclusively binary.”

In fact, she argues that there’s a symbiotic relationship between Styles and his queer fans. She cites an interview he gave to Rolling Stone this year in which he said how transformative the tour was for him. “For me the tour was the biggest thing in terms of being more accepting of myself, I think,” Styles shared. “I kept thinking, ‘Oh wow, they really want me to be myself. And be out and do it.’”

All of the queer Harry Styles fans I spoke to agreed that it really didn’t matter whether their idol was explicit about his sexuality or not. “It’s weird that people scrutinise people who don’t label [their sexuality] when they have no idea what that person feels like inside or, in Harry’s case, what it’s like to be under the public eye,” argues Valerie, who is 18. “It’s an individual choice, not ours,” agrees Vicky.

Arguably, the ambiguity and mystery that surrounds Styles only allows more space for queer people to find safety in him and in the fandom.

And so the cycle of queer mythologising continues, and is likely to continue for the rest of Styles’s career. And maybe things will change and maybe they won’t.

#I hope it goes without saying that I disagree with a LOT in this article #telegraph #not sure how else to tag this #asks #Anonymous

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nerdylittleshit · 6 years ago

Text

Thoughts about Spn 14x03

SPOILERS AHEAD! BEWARE!

Soooooooooooooooo, another great episode. This week I think the balance between character focus and plot was more equal, after two very character driven episode. Though I do like the slow development of the plot so far. There are two minor things I want to complain about: first I wished we would have seen more of the Wayward Girls, aka Claire, Patience and Alex, instead of just mentioning them. Second: CAS AND JODY STILL HAVEN’T MET! How is that even possible? But maybe we should be careful for what we wish for, because we demanded for years for Cas and Charlie to meet and when they finally did Charlie died an episode later.

Anyway. There is a lot to unpack again, so as always, let’s take a closer look.

Angry AF

Hey, I didn't mean… I didn't mean to be a dick.

So let’s start with the man of the hour: Dean. Oh how we missed you and your snark (btw I love Sam’s beard and so does Jody, and that is really all that matters). There is a whole lot of unanswered question concerning Michael and the episode doesn’t even try to answer them, because as for now they are not important. Important is Dean and what Michael did to him. Dean is, as other Kaia noted, scared, but to him fear translates into anger, because that is the only way he has learned to deal with it. He acts like a man possessed (oh the irony), and wants to skip to the end of the story where he kills Michael. Which is such an interesting meta commentary, because the show tells us that it will take some time until we get some answers, that both Dean and the audience have to muddle through what this possession made of him, until we get the big showdown. This is really just the start, and we can’t skip ahead to the end. And this makes me think we might get entire season that is more interested in its characters than the plot, than instead of the multiple story arcs we had in prior season we really just get one big story this season and that it takes some time to tell it. Which makes me really excited.

The most interesting part to me was Dean’s confrontation with the other Kaia. She noted the similarities between Dean and Michael, how they both run on threats and violence. And the episode before already asked us the question if the connection between angel and vessel isn’t just the bloodline, but a similarity in character as well. 14x02 left it open for interpretation if it was Nick who had killed his family, if he might have been a monster even before Lucifer made him one. This week we saw how very alike Dean and Michael are, at least from Kaia and other Kaia’s perspective. Kaia experienced Dean as a violent man, as someone she was afraid of. We do know that while Dean has a dark side that there is more to him, we do get the full picture, whereas Kaia only saw a glimpse. Is it possible than that (arch)angels feed on the worst version of their vessels? Or simply bring out the features similar to them? Michael and Lucifer then, sinister creatures, fed on both Nick and Michael’s dark side, whereas Cas, the angel with too much heart, was influenced by Jimmy’s kindness and his wish to do the right thing? I always found the relationship between vessels and angels very interesting and it seems this season will give us a few new insides on it.

The other thing that has changed is of course Dean’s home, the bunker. Naturally Dean will need some time to get used to all the people there, and that they see Sam as their leader. In contrast to that the scene where Dean commanded Cas to get in his head seemed almost intimate, just the core three of them. And speaking of Cas, it seemed to me that there was some sort of distance between Dean and Cas, despite Dean allowing Cas to get in his head. There was no reunion hug (Jack got one), and Dean was very quick to agree that Cas should look after Lora. It was like Dean tried to put some walls up, but then he did the same thing around Sam, so it might not be specific related to Cas. I’m curious to see how their next interaction will be.

There is also still the mystery of the spear, what it is exactly and why it could hurt Michael (and possibly kill him). Do Archangels exist in every universe and could that been an Archangel weapon? How did other Kaia got it? And what is her plan/motivation?

Also, the modified vampires knew that Dean was Dean again, and no longer Michael, so can monsters sense angels? (Was that mentioned at some point?)

We end the episode with Dean once again drowning in guilt, thinking it is his fault alone that Michael got the chance to hurt people. Guilty Dean is known for not always making the best choices, so we have to wait to see where this gets us.

Wayward AF

I just feel like I sort of already lost before I ever began.

As I mentioned before I wish we would have seen more of the Wayward Girls, because I love their interactions, both with Jody and each other, but I take what I can get. The Wayward story is now intervened with the Michael story through other Kaia and her weapon. I don’t think that was the original plan for Wayward Sisters, as they probably would have a myth-arc independent from Supernatural, but this way it means we are definitely going to see them again, and they will (hopefully) play a bigger role this season. And Jody and Cas might actually meet, though it seemed on the phone like they do know each other (though it is possible they only know each through phone conversations, because I do hope they didn’t had their first meeting off camera already).

One of the big things we can take away from this episode is that Dreamhunter has been confirmed canon. I think Bobo confirmed after 13x10 that Dreamhunter is definitely a thing, but still it is good it is canon now, especially as it wasn’t necessary for the plot to make them romantic. Claire’s guilt over Kaia could be still as intense without her having romantic feelings, but they still went there. Which I will use to talk briefly about Destiel, because we can’t talk about the one without the other. Or we could have if Wayward Sisters would have become its own show, because then Dreamhunter would have no longer be related to Destiel, as they would have both appeared on separate shows. And sure the CW has a thing for spin-offs or shows that share the same universe (Arrowverse) but those shows usually don’t parallel each other. But unfortunately Wayward Sisters isn’t its own show, but for now part of Supernatural, and because of that Dreamhunter do mirror Destiel. And Bobo knows that because he put in those parallels deliberate in 13x10, and Dabb knows it as well, so I take that as a win on the Destiel front.

I liked that we got to know other Kaia a bit better. She is not a monster, and she might even become an ally to the Winchesters and their fight against Michael. I wonder though why she wanted to kill Claire. She confirms that she and our Kaia were connected, because they were both Dreamwalkers. Does that mean she was aware of what our Kaia felt for Claire? And if so, why would she kill Claire? What is her goal? There are too many questions surrounding her character for her not to come back, and I do hope we will see Claire again and her reaction to other Kaia.

And lastly, that quote of Jody I put up there: in show Jody talks about her grief about losing Kaia before she even got to know her, but from outside this is Bobo talking about losing his show before it even started, about the characters he loves so much, and the meaningful stories they were meant to tell us. Those lines and Kim acting them so brilliantly was a huge F*ck You towards the CW, showing us the kind of depth Wayward Sisters could have had, and making me longing for this show even more. I hope they shove in as much of Wayward Sisters into the show as they can, but I’m still very bitter about everything we could have had and that we don’t get to see.

Nougat AF

Well what you did today, you just made me so proud.

Awwwwwwwwwwwwww Jack (that is just my usual reaction whenever I see him). Seems like he didn’t listen at all when Cas told him last episode to find value in his own, but never mind, this week’s case will do the trick. Obviously Lora functioned as a Jack mirror in a not that subtle way. She ran away from home, because she was sick of being treated as a child, the same way Jack planed to leave, because of how Sam, Dean and Cas have treated him. So far the mirror works. But then Lora met a witch, a witch that was at first kind, but then she locked her up, and started to steal her youth, which then resulted in Lora’s (temporally) death. We know that Sam, Dean and Cas have been kind to Jack, have fed him, and also currently locked him up for his own safety. And in the end Jack starts to wither away in some way, the way Lora did. But it wouldn’t make a lot of sense if Sam, Dean and Cas would be the witch in this story, so who is? Someone we already met or someone in the future? Why is Jack’s health deteriorating? Is it a result of the spell the witch used on Lora? Does it have other origins? And how can we help him? Just after jack realized that he can help other people without his powers, that there are many ways to be useful, after Cas offered him a hunting trip. I can’t deal with Jack being sick, he is my sweet Nougat child.

Some other things:

Speaking of Jack, he referred to Cas as one of his dads, contracting the statement from last week that Kelly’s family is the only real family he has left. But also, from Lora’s perspective, who doesn’t know who or what Jack is and his relationship to the Winchesters, this sounds like Jack has two gay dads… which you know is actually true.

I love that the show didn’t forget about Sam’s weird obsession with serial killers.

They have a bottom drawer marked “gross stuff”. Of course they have.

Obviously Posh Spice is Michael’s favourite Spice Girl.

#supernatural #spn 14x03 #the scar #spn meta #spoilers #my meta

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gaysparklepires · 7 years ago

Text

1. Ultimatum

Beau,

I don’t know why you’re making Charlie carry notes to Billy like we’re in second grade—if I wanted to talk to you I would answer the

You made the choice here, okay? You can’t have it both ways when

What part of ‘mortal enemies’ is too complicated for you to

Look, I know I’m being a jerk, but there’s just no way around

We can’t be friends when you’re spending all your time with a bunch of

It just makes it worse when I think about you too much, so don’t write anymore

Yeah, I miss you, too. A lot. Doesn’t change anything. Sorry.

Jacob

I ran my fingers across the page, feeling the dents where he had pressed the pen to the paper so hard that it had nearly broken through. I could picture him writing this—scrawling the angry letters in his rough handwriting slashing through line after line when the words came out wrong, maybe even snapping the pen in his too-big hands that would explain the ink splatters. I could imagine the frustration pulling his black eyebrows together and crumpling his forehead. If I’d been there, I might have laughed. Don’t give yourself a brain hemorrhage, Jake, I would have told him. Just spit it out.

Laughing was the last thing I felt like doing now as I reread the words I’d already memorized. His answer to my pleading note—passed from Charlie to Billy to him, just like the second grade, as he’d pointed out—was no surprise. I’d known the essence of what it would say before I’d opened it.

I wasn’t so naïve as to think we had left things in a good place. But I had hoped that we could work it all out… somehow. Something had happened after the last time I saw Jacob in person. Something had changed his mind about where things were between us. I couldn’t really blame him, though. I had told him it wasn’t fair of me to tell him the truth of my feelings, if there was such a strong possibility that nothing would come of it. I had to try and reconcile myself with the fact that he had realized this himself.

What was surprising me was how much each crossed-out line wounded me—as if the points of the letters had cutting edges. More than that, behind each angry beginning lurked a vast pool of hurt; Jacob’s pain cut me deeper than my own.

While pondering this, I caught the unmistakable scent of a smoking burner rising from inside the kitchen. In another house, the fact that someone besides myself was cooking might not be cause for panicking.

I shoved the wrinkled paper into my back pocket and ran, making it downstairs in the nick of time.

The jar of spaghetti sauce Charlie had stuck in the microwave was only on its first revolution when I yanked the door open and pulled it out.

“What did I do wrong?” Charlie demanded.

“You’re supposed to take the lid off first, Dad. Metal’s bad for microwaves.” I swiftly removed the lid as I spoke, poured half the sauce into a bowl, and then put the bowl inside the microwave and the jar back in the fridge; I fixed the time and pressed start.

Charlie watched my adjustments with pursed lips. “Did I get the noodles right?”

I looked in the pan on the stove—the source of the smell that had alerted me. “Stirring helps,” I said mildly. I found a spoon and tried to de-clump the mushy hunk that was scalded to the bottom.

Charlie sighed.

“So what’s all this about?” I asked him.

He folded his arms across his chest and glared out the back windows into the sheeting rain. “Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he grumbled.

I was mystified. Charlie cooking? And what was with the surly attitude? Edward wasn’t here yet; usually my dad reserved this kind of behavior for my boyfriend’s benefit, doing his best to illustrate the theme of “unwelcome” with every word and posture. Charlie’s efforts were unnecessary—Edward knew exactly what my dad was thinking without the show.

The word boyfriend had me chewing on the inside of my cheek with a familiar tension while I stirred. How easy it had been when that word was enough. I’d use any other word, even the hokey ones like destiny and fate that had no place in casual conversation.

Edward had another word in mind, and that word was the source of the tension I felt. It put my teeth on edge just to think it to myself.

Fiancé. Yikes. I shuddered away from the thought. I had managed to talk Edward down from his proposal. After all, it had really been poor timing and, while the idea certainly made it clear how serious he was about staying with me—and had definitely improved his chances of winning back my trust—I wasn’t in a proper place to make a decision of that magnitude at the time.

I shook my head, focusing myself back on the present.

“Did I miss something? Since when do you make dinner?” I asked Charlie. The pasta lump bobbed in the boiling water as I poked it. “Or try to make dinner, I should say.”

Charlie shrugged. “There’s no law that says I can’t cook in my own house.”

“You would know,” I replied, grinning as I eyed the badge pinned to his leather jacket.

“Ha. Good one.” He shrugged out of the jacket as if my glance had reminded him he still had it on, and hung it on the peg reserved for his gear. His gun belt was already slung in place—he hadn’t felt the need to wear that to the station for a few weeks. There had been no more disturbing disappearances to trouble the small town of Forks, Washington, no more sightings of the giant, mysterious wolves in the ever-rainy woods…

I prodded the noodles in silence, guessing that Charlie would get around to talking about whatever was bothering him in his own time. My dad was not a man of many words, and the effort he had put into trying to orchestrate a sit-down dinner with me made it clear there were an uncharacteristic number of words on his mind.

I glanced at the clock, keeping track of the time. Less than half an hour to go now.

Afternoons were the worst part of my day. Ever since my former best friend (and werewolf), Jacob Black, had informed on me about the motorcycle I’d been riding on the sly—a betrayal he had devised in order to get me grounded so that I couldn’t spend time with my boyfriend (and vampire), Edward Cullen—Edward had been allowed to see me only from seven till nine-thirty p.m., always inside the confines of my home and under my dad’s protective watch.

This was an escalation from the previous, slightly less stringent grounding that I’d earned for an unexplained three-day disappearance and one episode of cliff diving.

Of course, I still saw Edward at school, because there wasn’t anything Charlie could do about that. And then, Edward spent almost every night in my room, too, but Charlie wasn’t precisely aware of that. Edward’s ability to climb easily and silently through my second-story window was almost as useful as his ability to read minds.

Edward needed as much time as he could get with me as he was still on probation for his behavior the previous September when he unceremoniously left me—for my own good, he insisted—and then tried to get himself killed when he thought he had lost me for good. It hadn’t been one of his best plans. He spent the days at my side being as attentive and sweet as he could, and he spent the nights next to me in my bed whispering how much he loved me.

Though the afternoon was the only time I spent away from Edward, it was enough to make me restless. When Edward wasn’t there to distract me, I would think of Jacob. I had hoped, after the last time I saw Jake, that we would be able to work things out. I couldn’t blame him for changing his mind. He had every right to, and it would be selfish of me to expect him to sit around waiting for something that very well may never happen.

Either way, I endured my punishment without complaining to Charlie because—for one thing—I knew I’d earned it, and—for another—because I couldn’t bear to hurt my dad anymore. Not when the possibility of a very permanent separation hovered, invisible to Charlie, so close on my horizon.

My dad sat down at the table with a grunt and unfolded the damp newspaper there; within seconds he was clucking his tongue in disapproval.

“I don’t know why you read the news, Dad. It only ticks you off.”

He ignored me, grumbling at the paper in his hands. “This is why everyone wants to live in a small town! Ridiculous.”

“What have the big, bad cities done wrong now?”

“Seattle’s making a run for murder capital of the country. Five unsolved homicides in the last two weeks. Can you imagine living like that?”

“I think Phoenix is actually higher up on the homicide list, Dad. I have lived that.” And I’d never come close to being a murder victim until after I moved to his safe little town. In fact, I was still on several hit lists… I felt a swirl of nausea in my stomach, not brought on by the pasta-mush.

“Well, you couldn’t pay me enough,” Charlie said.

I gave up on saving dinner and settled for serving it; I had to use a steak knife to cut a portion of spaghetti for Charlie and then myself, while he watched with a sheepish expression. Charlie coated his helping with sauce and dug in. I disguised my own clump as well as I could and followed his example without much enthusiasm. We ate in silence for a moment. Charlie was still scanning the news, so I picked up my much-abused copy of Wuthering Heights from where I’d left it this morning at breakfast, and tried to lose myself in turn-of-the-century England while I waited for him to start talking.

I was just to the part where Heathcliff returns when Charlie cleared his throat and threw the paper to the table.

“You’re right,” Charlie said. “I did have a reason for doing this.” He waved his fork at the gluey spread. “I wanted to talk to you.”

I laid the book aside; the binding was so destroyed that it slumped flat to the table. “You could have just asked.” I teased.

He nodded, his eyebrows pulling together. “Yeah. I’ll remember that next time. I thought taking dinner off your hands would soften you up.”

I laughed. “It worked—your cooking skills have me soft as a marshmallow. What do you need, Dad?”

“Well, it’s about Jacob.”

I felt my stomach drop. “What about him?” I asked, trying to keep my voice casual.

“Well, Beau. I know you’re still upset that he told on you, but it was the right thing. He was being responsible.”

“Responsible,” I repeated quietly. “Right. So, what about Jacob?”

The question repeated endlessly inside my head. What about Jacob? What was I going to do about him? My former best friend… my almost boyfriend who was now… what? My enemy? I cringed.

Charlie’s face was suddenly wary. “Don’t get mad at me, okay?”

“Mad?”

“Well, it’s about Edward, too.”

I raised an eyebrow. My suspicion evident on my face.

Charlie frowned. “Hey, kiddo, listen, I let him in the house, don’t I?”

“You do,” I agreed. “For brief periods of time. Of course, you might let me out of the house for brief periods now and then, too,” I continued—only jokingly; I knew I was deservedly on lockdown for the duration of the school year. “I’ve been pretty good lately.”

“Well, that’s kind of where I was heading with this…” And then Charlie’s face stretched into an unexpected eye-crinkling grin; for a second he looked twenty years younger.

I saw a dim glimmer of possibility in that smile, but I proceeded slowly. “I’m confused, Dad. Are we talking about Jacob, or Edward, or me being grounded?”

The grin flashed again. “Sort of all three.”

“And how do they relate?” I asked, cautious.

“Okay.” He sighed, raising his hands as if in surrender. “So I’m thinking maybe you deserve a parole for good behavior. For a teenager, you’re amazingly non-whiny.”

My voice and eyebrows shot up. “Seriously? I’m free?”

Where was this coming from? I’d been positive I would be under house arrest until I actually moved out, and Edward hadn’t picked up any wavering in Charlie’s thoughts…

Charlie held up one finger. “Conditionally.”

I was wary, but intrigued. “Okay, go on.”

“Beau, this is more of a request than a demand, okay? You’re free. But I’m hoping you’ll use that freedom… judiciously.”

“Could you elaborate?”

He sighed again. “Now, I know you’re satisfied to spend all of your time with Edward— “

“I spend time Alice, too,” I interjected. Edward’s sister had no hours of visitation; she came and went as she pleased. Charlie was putty in her capable hands.

“That’s true,” he said. “But you have other friends besides the Cullens, Beau, or you used to.”

“I still do, Dad!” I objected.

“When was the last time you spoke to Jessica Stanley? Or Angela Weber?” he threw back.

“In person or on the phone?” I raised an eyebrow. “Because we text all the time, and I saw them Friday at lunch.”

Before Edward’s return, my school friends had polarized into two groups. I liked to think of those groups as good vs. evil. Us and them worked, too. The good guys were Angela, her steady boyfriend Ben Cheney, Mike Newton, and Jessica; these four had very generously forgiven me for falling into my depression when Edward left. Logan Mallory was the evil core of the them side, and almost everyone else seemed to go along with his anti-Beau agenda. Only Logan’s sister, Lauren, seemed to waver on the edge.

With Edward back at school, the dividing line had become even more distinct.

Edward’s return had taken its toll on Mike’s friendship, but Jessica was un-phased—if not worried about me getting hurt again, Angela was unswervingly loyal, and Ben followed Angela’s lead. Despite the natural aversion most humans felt toward the Cullens, Angela even sat dutifully beside Alice every day at lunch. After a few weeks, Angela even looked comfortable there. It was difficult not to be charmed by the Cullens—once one gave them the chance to be charming.

“Outside of school?” Charlie asked, calling my attention back.

“I haven’t seen anyone outside of school, Dad. Grounded, remember? Jessica and I text all the time, but she’s always going on dates. And Angela has a boyfriend, too. She’s always with Ben.” I thought for a moment. “If I’m really free,” I offered, “maybe Angela and I could convince the guys to go on a double date.”

“Okay. But then…” He hesitated. “You and Jake used to be joined at the hip, and now—“

I cut him off. “Dad, what’s the condition—exactly?”

“I don’t think you should dump all your other friends for your boyfriend, Beau,” he said in a stern voice. “It’s not nice, and I think your life would be better balanced if you kept some people in it. What happened last September…”

“Was unfortunate, and I learned a lot from it.” I said pointedly.

“Well,” he said defensively. “If you’d had more of a life outside of Edward Cullen, it might not have been like that.”

“It probably wouldn’t have gone much differently, Dad.”

“Maybe, maybe not.”

“I still talk to my other friends, Dad. I really do.” I sighed. “Tell me your terms.”

“Use your new freedom to see your other friends, too. Keep it balanced.”

I nodded thoughtfully. “Balance is good. I can do balance.” I raised an eyebrow at him. “Do I have specific time quotas to fill?” I asked, half-teasing.

He made a face, but shook his head. “I don’t want to make this complicated. Just don’t forget your friends…”

It was dilemma I was already struggling with. My friends. People who, for their own safety, I might never see again after graduation.

So what was the better course of action? Spend time with them while I could? Or start the separation now to make it more gradual? I quailed at the idea of the second option.

“…Particularly Jacob,” Charlie added before I could think things through more than that.

A greater dilemma than the first. It took me a moment to find the right words. “Jacob might be… difficult.”

“The Blacks are practically family, Beau,” he said, stern and fatherly again. “And Jacob has been a very, very good friend to you.”

“Yes, he has.”

“Don’t you miss him at all?” Charlie asked frustrated.

My throat suddenly felt swollen; I had to clear it twice before I answered. “Yes, I do miss him,” I admitted, still looking down. “I miss him a lot.”

“Then why is it difficult?”

I wasn’t something I was at liberty to explain. It was against the rules for normal people—human people like me and Charlie—to know about the clandestine world full of myths and monsters that existed secretly around us. I knew all about that world—and I was in no small amount of trouble as a result. I wasn’t about to get Charlie in the same trouble.

“With Jacob there is a… conflict,” I said slowly. “A conflict about the friendship thing, I mean. Friendship doesn’t seem to be enough for Jake.” I wound my excuse out of details that were true but left out the part that Jacob’s werewolf pack bitterly hated Edward’s vampire family—and as far as they knew I was planning on becoming one of them. Even though I hadn’t made any decision. It wasn’t something I could work out with him in a note, and he wouldn’t answer my calls. But my plan to deal with the werewolf in person had definitely not gone over well with the vampires.

“Isn’t Edward up for a little healthy competition?” Charlie’s voice had a tinge of sarcasm in it.

I sighed. “I don’t know if there’s still a competition between them.”

“You’re hurting Jake’s feelings, avoiding him like this. He’d rather be just friends than nothing.”

Ah, now I was avoiding him.

“I’m pretty sure Jake doesn’t want to be friends at all.” The words burned in my mouth. “Where’d you get that idea, anyway?”

Charlie looked embarrassed now. “The subject might have come up with Billy…”

“You and Billy gossip like old women,” I rolled my eyes, stabbing my fork into the congealed spaghetti on my plate.

“Billy’s worried about Jacob,” Charlie said. “Jake’s having a hard time right now… He’s depressed.”

I felt a familiar ache in my chest, and the memory of Jacob’s face the last time I had seen him flashed across my mind.

“And then you were always so happy after spending the day with Jake.” Charlie sighed.

“I’m happy now.” I had head meant to sound light and cheerful, but it came out as a pathetic whine.

The contrast between my words and tone broke through the tension. Charlie burst into laughter, and I had to join in.

“Okay, okay,” I agreed. “Balance.”

“And Jacob,” he insisted.

“And Jacob.” I repeated.

“Good. Find that balance, Beau. And, oh, yeah, you’ve got some mail,” Charlie said, closing the subject with no attempt at subtlety. “It’s by the stove.”

I didn’t move, my thoughts twisting into sadness around Jacob’s name. It was most likely junk mail; I’d just gotten a package from my mom yesterday and I wasn’t expecting anything else.

Charlie shoved his chair away from the table and stretched as he got to his feet. He took his plate to the sink, but before he turned the water on to rinse it, he paused to toss a thick envelope at me. The letter skidded across the table and thunked into my elbow.

“Er, thanks,” I muttered, puzzled by his pushiness. Then I saw the return address — the letter was from the University of Alaska Southeast. “That was quick. I guess I missed the deadline on that one, too.”

Charlie chuckled.

I flipped the envelope over and then glared up at him. “It’s open.”

“I was curious.”

“I’m shocked, Sheriff. That’s a federal crime.”

“Oh, just read it.”

I pulled out the letter, and a folded schedule of courses.

“Congratulations,” he said before I could read anything. “Your first acceptance.”

“Oh, wow! Thanks, Dad.”

“We should talk about tuition. I’ve got some money saved up —”

“Hey, hey, none of that. I’m not touching your retirement, Dad. I’ve got my college fund.” What was left of it — and there hadn’t been much to begin with.

Charlie frowned. “Some of these places are pretty pricey, kiddo. I want to help. You don’t have to go to all the way to Alaska just because it’s cheaper.”

It wasn’t cheaper, not at all. But it was far away, and Juneau had an average of three hundred twenty-one overcast days per year. The first was my prerequisite, the second was Edward’s. If I was going to be hiding from murderous vampires, I wanted to be as far away from those I loved as possible. Well, the humans I loved, at least.

“I’ve got it covered. Besides, there’s lots of financial aid out there. It’s easy to get loans.” I hoped my bluff wasn’t too obvious. I hadn’t actually done a lot of research on the subject.

“So…” Charlie began, and then he pursed his lips and looked away.

“So what?”

“Nothing. I was just . . .” He frowned. “Just wondering what . . . Edward’s plans are for next year?”

“Oh.”

“Well?”

Three quick raps on the door saved me. Charlie rolled his eyes and I jumped up.

“Coming!” I called while Charlie mumbled something that sounded like, “Oh, great.” I ignored him and went to let Edward in.

I opened the door, and there he was.

Time had not made me immune to the perfection of his face. My eyes traced over his pale white features: the hard square of his jaw, the softer curve of his full lips — twisted up into a smile now, the straight line of his nose, the sharp angle of his cheekbones, the smooth marble span of his forehead — partially obscured by a tangle of rain-darkened bronze hair…

I saved his eyes for last, knowing that when I looked into them I was likely to lose my train of thought. They were wide, warm with liquid gold, and framed by a thick fringe of black lashes. Staring into his eyes always made my heart pound a little.

It was a face any male model in the world would trade his soul for. Of course, that might be exactly the asking price: one soul.

No. I didn’t believe that. I felt guilty for even thinking it, and was glad—as I was often glad—that I was the one person whose thoughts were a mystery to Edward.

He reached for my hand, and I felt a little spark of excitement when his cold fingers found mine. His touch always did that to me, even now.

“Hey.” I smiled.

He raised our interlaced fingers to brush my cheek with the back of his hand. “How was your afternoon?”

“Slow.”

“For me, as well.”

He pulled my wrist up to his face, our hands still twisted together. His eyes closed as his nose skimmed along the skin there, and he smiled gently without opening them. Enjoying the bouquet while resisting the wine, as he’d once put it.

I knew that the scent of my blood—so much sweeter to him than any other person’s blood, truly like wine beside water to an alcoholic—caused him actual pain from the burning thirst it engendered. But he didn’t seem to shy away from it as much as he once had. I could only dimly imagine the Herculean effort behind this simple gesture.

It made me sad that he had to try so hard, but that dedication served him well in his effort to prove his love for me and end his probation.

I heard Charlie approaching then. Edward’s eyes snapped open and he let our hands fall, keeping them twined.

“Good evening, Charlie.” Edward was always flawlessly polite.

“Edward.” Charlie nodded once, and then stood there with his arms crossed over his chest. He was taking the idea of parental supervision to extremes lately.

“I brought another set of applications,” Edward told me then, holding up a stuffed manila envelope. He was wearing a roll of stamps like a ring around his littlest finger.

I groaned. How were there any colleges left that he hadn’t forced me to apply to already? And how did he keep finding these loophole openings? It was so late in the year.

He smiled as if he could read my thoughts; they must have been very obvious on my face. “There are still a few open deadlines. And a few places willing to make exceptions.”

I could just imagine the motivations behind such exceptions. And the dollar amounts involved.

Edward laughed at my expression.

“Shall we?” he asked, towing me toward the kitchen table.

“My hand is going to fall off if I have to fill out any more applications,” I complained. “I think we’ve done enough.”

Edward ignored me, but he smiled.

Charlie followed behind, protectively, thought he could hardly complain about the activity on tonight’s agenda. He’d been pushing me to make a decision about college on a daily basis.

I cleared the table quickly while Edward organized an intimidating stack of forms. When I moved Wuthering Heights to the counter, Edward raised one eyebrow. I knew what he was thinking, but Charlie interrupted before Edward could comment.

“Speaking of college applications, Edward,” Charlie said, trying to keep his tone polite—for my benefit, more than Edwards, “Beau and I were just talking about next year. Have you decided where you’re going to school?”

Edward smiled up at Charlie and his voice was friendly. “Not yet. I’ve received a few acceptance letters, but I’m still weighing my options.”

“Where have you been accepted?” Charlie pressed.

“Syracuse…Harvard…Dartmouth… and I just got accepted to the University of Alaska Southeast today.” Edward turned his face slightly to the side so that he could wink at me. I stifled a laugh.

“Harvard? Dartmouth?” Charlie mumbled, unable to conceal his awe. “Well that’s pretty… that’s something. Yeah, but the University of Alaska… you wouldn’t really consider that when you could go to Ivy League. I mean, your father would want you to…”

“Carlisle’s always fine with whatever I choose to do,” Edward told him serenely.

“Hmph.”

“Guess what, Edward?” I asked in a bright voice, playing along.

“What, Beau?”

I pointed to the thick envelope on the counter. “I just my acceptance to the University of Alaska!”

“Congratulations!” He grinned. “What a coincidence.”

Charlie’s eyes narrowed and he glared back and forth between the two of us. “Alright, alright,” he muttered after a minute. “I’m going to watch the game, kiddo. Nine-thirty.”

That was his usual parting reminder.

“Er, Dad? Remember the very recent discussion about my freedom…?”

He sighed. “Right, okay, ten-thirty. You still have a curfew on school nights.”

“Beau’s no longer grounded?” Edward asked. Thought I knew he wasn’t really surprised, I couldn’t detect any false note to the sudden excitement in his voice.

“Conditionally,” Charlie corrected. “Why do you ask?”

I raised an unpleased eyebrow at my dad, but he didn’t see.

“It’s just good to know,” Edward said. “Alice has been itching for a shopping partner, and I’m sure Beau would love to see some city lights.” He smiled at me.

But Charlie’s face went pale, “Absolutely not!”

“Dad? What’s the matter?”

Charlie looked at me, very serious. “I don’t want you going to Seattle right now, Beau.”

“Huh?”

“I told you about the story in the paper—there’s some kind of gang on a killing spree in Seattle and I want you to steer clear, okay?”

“Oh,” I considered this. “I mean, I’m pretty sure there’s a better chance that I’ll get struck by lightning than that the one day I’m in Seattle—“

“No, that’s fine, Charlie,” Edward said, interrupting me. “I didn’t mean Seattle. Alice was thinking a trip to Portland, actually. Besides, I wouldn’t have Beau in Seattle, either. Of course not.”

I looked at him curiously, but he had Charlie’s newspaper in his hands and he was reading the front page intently.

He must have been trying to appease my father. The idea of being in danger from even the deadliest of humans while I was with Alice or Edward was downright hilarious.

It worked though. Charlie stared at Edward for one second more, and then shrugged. “Okay, then.” He hurried off toward the living room—I imagined he didn’t want to miss tip-off.

I waited till the TV was on, so that Charlie wouldn’t be able to hear me.

“What—,” I started to ask.

“Hold on, love,” Edward said without looking up from the paper. His eyes stayed focused on the page as he pushed the first application toward me across the table. “I think you can recycle your essays for this one. Same questions.”

Charlie must still be listening. I sighed and started to fill out the repetitive information: name, address, social… after a few minutes I glanced up, but Edward was now staring pensively out the window. As I bent my head back to my work, I noticed for the first time the name of the school.

I snorted and moved the papers aside.

“Beau?”

“Be serious, Edward. Dartmouth?”

Edward lifted the discarded application and laid it gently in front of me again. “I think you’d like New Hampshire,” he said. “There’s a full complement of night courses for me, and the forests are very conveniently located for the avid hiker. Plentiful wildlife.” He pulled out the crooked smile he knew I couldn’t resist.

I sighed.

“I’ll let you pay me back, if that makes you happy,” he promised. “If you want, I can charge you interest.”

“Edward, I couldn’t even get in to Dartmouth without some enormous bribe. Or was that part of the loan? The new Cullen wing of the library?”

“Will you just fill out the application, please, Beau? It won’t hurt you to apply.”

I pouted and dramatically rubbed my wrist. “I think it just might.”

He rolled his eyes at me, but I could see a smirk dancing on the edges of his mouth.

I sighed, and turned my attention back to the stack, grumbling, “Can’t I do these online or something?”

I reached for the papers, but they were already gone. I stared at the empty table for a moment, and then at Edward. He didn’t appear to have moved, but the applications were probably around tucked away in his jacket.

“What are you doing?” My brows furrowed in confusion.

“I sign your name better than you do yourself. You’ve already written the essays.”

“If this is an attempt to win you points by sparing me from filling out all these applications…” I narrowed my eyes at him. “…It’s working.”

He smiled is crooked smile again.

“But, honestly, Edward, I don’t really need to apply anywhere else. I’ve been accepted in Alaska. I can almost afford the first semester’s tuition. It’s far away, and everything…”

A pained look tightened his face. “Beau—“

“Don’t start. I’d love to go somewhere else, Edward. But if the… If we need to go into hiding, I want to be as far away from Forks as possible. If I’m already supposed to be in Alaska, it will make it easier for everyone if they haven’t seen me as much to begin with. Plus, we’d be able to go stay with your cousins in Denali in a… worst case scenario…” I trailed off.

“Beau, don’t you want a full, human college experience?” Edward’s eyes were pained as he asked me.

“I’d love it,” I replied. “But we have to have plans in place, Edward. It’s just too dangerous to mess around with.”

“There’s no danger yet,” he insisted.

I sighed in frustration. No danger? Sure. I only had a sadistic vampire trying to avenge his mate’s death with my own, preferably through some slow and tortuous method. Who was worried about Victor? And, oh yeah, the Volturi—the vampire royal family with their small army of vampire warriors—who insisted that my heart stop beating one way or another in the near future, because humans weren’t allowed to know they existed. Right. No reason to panic.

Even with Alice keeping watch—Edward relying on her uncannily accurate visions of the future to give us advance warning—it was insane to take chances.

Going to Alaska was the safest, smartest move I could think of. Either I went to college in a state where Edward could stay by my side and protect me—far away from Forks and the people I loved—or if we couldn’t run, he could change me and we could stay with his cousins in Denali for a while.

A sharp jolt of unease pierced my stomach as I realized how short time really was. Especially if the worst did happen and Edward did have to change me. Of course, there was no other choice—I couldn’t stay in Forks, I couldn’t put anyone at risk by being here much longer—but I was deeply conscious of Charlie sitting in the other room enjoying his game, just like every other night. And my mother, Renée, far away in sunny Florida still pleading with me to spend the summer on the beach with her and her new husband. And Jacob, who, unlike my parents, would suspect the worst when I disappeared to some distant school. Even if my parents didn’t grow suspicious for a long time, even if I could put off visits with excuses about travel expenses or study loads or illnesses, Jacob would know the truth.

For a moment, the idea of Jacob’s certain revulsion overshadowed every other pain.

“Beau,” Edward murmured, his face twisting when he read the distress in mine. “There’s no hurry. I won’t let anyone hurt you. You can take all the time you need.”

“Who needs time,” I whispered, smiling weakly, trying to make a joke of it. “Just make me a monster, already.”

His teeth clenched; he spoke through them. “You have no idea what you’re saying.” Abruptly, he flung the damp newspaper onto the table between us. His finger stabbed the headline on the front page.

DEATH TOLL ON THE RISE,

POLICE FEAR GANG ACTIVITY

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Monsters are not a joke, Beau.”

I stared at the headline again, and then up to his hard expression. “A… a vampire is doing this?” I whispered.

He smiled without humor. His voice was low and cold. “You’d be surprised, Beau, at how often my kind are the source behind the horrors in your human news. It’s easy to recognize, when you know what to look for. The information here indicates a newborn vampire is loose in Seattle. Bloodthirsty, wild, out of control. The way we all are.”

I let my gaze drop to the paper again, avoiding his eyes.

“We’ve been monitoring the situation for a few weeks. All the signs are there—the unlikely disappearances, always in the night, the poorly disposed of corpses, the lack of other evidence… Yes, someone brand-new. And no one seems to be taking responsibility for the neophyte…” He took a deep breath. “Well, it’s not our problem. We wouldn’t even pay attention to the situation if it wasn’t going on so close to home. Like I said, this happens all the time. The existence of monsters results in monstrous consequences.”

I tried not to see the names on the page, but they jumped out from the rest of the print like they were in bold. The five people whose lives were over, whose families were in mourning now. It was different from considering murder in the abstract, reading those names. Maureen Gardiner, Geoffrey Campbell, Grace Razi, Michele O’Connell, Ronald Albrook. People who’d had parents and children and friends and pets and jobs and hopes and plans and memories and futures…

“If it comes to that, it won’t be the same for me,” I whispered, half to myself. “You won’t let me be like that. We’ll live in Antarctica.”

Edward snorted, breaking the tension. “Penguins. Lovely.”

I laughed then, sliding the paper away so I wouldn’t have to see those names anymore. Of course, Edward would consider the hunting possibilities. He and his “vegetarian” family—all committed to protecting human life—preferred the flavor of large predators for satisfying their dietary needs. “Alaska, then, as planned. Only somewhere much more remote than Juneau—somewhere with grizzlies galore.”

“Better,” he allowed. “There are polar bears, too. Very fierce. And the wolves get quite large.”

My mouth fell open and my breath blew out in a sharp gust.

“What’s wrong?” He asked. Before I could recover, the confusion vanished and his whole body seemed to harden. “Oh. Never mind the wolves, then, if the idea is offensive to you.” His voice was stiff, formal, his shoulders rigid.

“He was my best friend, Edward,” I muttered. It stung to use the past tense. “Of course the idea offends me.”

“Please forgive my thoughtlessness,” he said, still very formal. “I shouldn’t have suggested that.”

“Don’t worry about it.” I stared at my hands, clenched into a double fist on the table.

We were both silent for a moment, and then his cool finger was under my chin, coaxing my face up. His expression was much softer now.

“Sorry. Really.”

“I know. I know it’s not the same thing. I shouldn’t have reacted that way. It’s just that… well, I was already thinking about Jacob before you came over.” I hesitated. His tawny eyes seemed to get a little darker whenever I said Jacob’s name. My voice turned pleading in response. “Charlie says Jake is having a hard time. He’s hurting right now, and… it’s my fault.”

“You’ve done nothing wrong, Beau.”

I took a deep breath. “I need to make it better, Edward. I have to. I owe him that. And it’s one of Charlie’s conditions anyway—“

His face changed while I spoke, turning hard again, statue-like.

“You know it’s out of the question for you to be around a werewolf unprotected, Beau. And it would break the treaty if any of us cross over onto their land. Do you want us to start a war?”

“Of course not!”

“Then there’s really no point in discussing the matter further.” He dropped his hand and looked away, searching for a subject change. His eyes paused on something behind me, and he smiled, though his eyes stayed wary.

“I’m glad Charlie had decided to let you out—you’re sadly in need of a visit to the bookstore. I can’t believe you’re reading Wuthering Heights again. Don’t you know it by heart yet?”

“Not all of us have photographic memories,” I shrugged.

“Photographic memory or not, I don’t understand why you like it. The characters are ghastly people who ruin each other’s lives. I don’t know how Heathcliff and Cathy ended up being ranked with couples like Romeo and Juliet or Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy. It isn’t a love story, it’s a hate story.”

“You have some serious issues with the classics,” I muttered.

“Perhaps it’s because I’m not impressed by antiquity.” He smiled, evidently satisfied that he’d distracted me. “Honestly, though, why do you read it over and over?” His eyes were vivid with real interest now, trying—again—to unravel the workings of my mind. He reached across the table to cradle my face in his hand. “What is it that appeals to you?”

His sincere curiosity disarmed me. “I’m not sure,” I said, searching my brain for reasons. “I think it’s something about the inevitability. How nothing can keep them apart—not her selfishness, or his evil, or even death, in the end…”

His face was thoughtful as he considered my words. After a moment he smile a teasing smile. “I still think it would be a better story if either of them had a redeeming quality.”

“I think that may be the point,” I disagreed. “Their love is their only redeeming quality.”

“I hope you have better sense that that—to fall in love with someone so… malignant.”

“It’s a bit late for me to worry about who I fall in love with,” I pointed out. “But even without the warning, I seem to have managed fairly well.”

He laughed quietly. “I’m glad you think so.”

“Well, I hope you’re smart enough to stay away from someone so selfish. Catherine is really the source of all the trouble, not Heathcliff.”

“I’ll be on my guard,” he promised.

I sighed. He was so good at distractions.

I put my hand over his to hold it to my face. “I need to see Jacob.”

His eyes closed. “No.”

“It’s really not dangerous at all,” I said, insisting. “I used to spend all day in La Push with the whole lot of them, and nothing ever happened.”

But I made a slip; my voice faltered at the end because I realized as I was saying the words that they were a lie. It was not true that nothing had happened. A brief flash of memory—an enormous gray wolf crouched to spring, baring his dagger-like teeth at me—had my palms sweating with an echo of remembered panic.

Edward heard my heart accelerate and nodded as if I’d acknowledged the lie aloud. “Werewolves are unstable. Sometimes, the people near them get hurt. Sometimes, they get killed.”

I wanted to deny it, but another image slowed my rebuttal. I saw in my head the once beautiful face of Emily Young, now marred by a trio of dark scars that dragged down the corner of her right eye and left her mouth warped forever into a lopsided scowl.

He waited, grimly triumphant, for me to find my voice.

“You don’t know them,” I finally said.

“I know them better than you think, Beau. I was here the last time.”

“The last time?”

“We started crossing paths with the wolves about seventy years ago… We had just settled near Hoquiam. That was before Alice and Jasper were with us. We outnumbered them, but that wouldn’t have stopped it from turning into a fight if not for Carlisle. He managed to convince Ephraim Black that coexisting was possible, and eventually we made the truce.”

Jacob’s great-grandfather’s name startled me.

“We thought the line had died out with Ephraim,” Edward muttered; it sounded like he was talking to himself now. “That the genetic quirk which allowed the transmutation had been lost…” He broke off and stared at me accusingly. “Your bad luck seems to get more potent every day. Do you realize that your insatiable pull for all things deadly was strong enough to recover a pack of mutant canines from extinction? If we could bottle your bad luck, we’d have a weapon of mass destruction on our hands.”

I ignored the ribbing, my attention caught by his assumption—was he serious? “But I didn’t bring them back. Don’t you know?”

“Know what?”

“My bad luck had nothing to do with it. The werewolves came back because the vampires did.”

Edward stared at me, his body motionless with surprise.

“Jacob told me that your family being here set things in motion. I thought you would already know…”

His eyes narrowed. “Is that what they think?”

“Edward, look at the facts. Seventy years ago, you came here, and the werewolves showed up. You come back now, and the werewolves show up again. Do you think that’s a coincidence?”

He blinked and his glare relaxed. “Carlisle will be interested in that theory.”

“Theory,” I scoffed.

He was silent for a moment, staring out the window into the rain; I imagined he was contemplating the fact that his family’s presence was turning the locals into giant dogs.

“Interesting, but not exactly relevant,” he murmured after a moment. “The situation remains the same.”

I could translate that easily enough: no werewolf friends.

I knew I had to try and be patient with Edward. It wasn’t that he was completely unreasonable—prone to taking things to extremes, sure—but not unreasonable. The problem was that he didn’t understand. He had no idea how very much I owed to Jacob Black—my life many times over, and possibly my sanity, too. Perhaps the love between Jacob and I was lost now, but I’d be damned if I didn’t go to help my friend when he was in a bad place, just like he had done for me.

I didn’t like to talk about that time with anyone anymore, and especially not Edward. He had only been trying to save me when he’d left, trying to save my soul. I couldn’t condone how he had gone about it, and he still had a lot of making up to do. But I, at least, was doing my best to forgive him.

He wouldn’t forgive himself.

So I would have to word my explanation very carefully.

I got up and walked around the table. He opened his arms for me and I sat on his lap, resting into his cool stone embrace. I ran my hand through his hair and looked him straight in the eyes while I spoke.

“Please just listen to me for a minute. This is so much more important than some whim to drop in on an old friend. Jacob is in pain.” My voice distorted around the word. “I can’t not try to help him—I can’t give up on him now, when he needs me. Just because he’s not human all the time… Well, he was there for me when I was… not feeling so human myself. You don’t know what it was like…” I hesitated. Edward’s eyes closed and his arms were rigid around me; his hands were in fists now, the tendons standing out. “If Jacob hadn’t helped me… I wouldn’t be where I am today. I owe him better than this, Edward.”

I watched his face warily. His eyes were still closed, and his jaw was strained.

“I’ll never forgive myself for leaving you,” he whispered. “Not if I live a hundred thousand years.”

I put my hand against his cold face and waited until he sighed and opened his eyes.

“I was really hoping you had learned your lesson about taking things to extremes.” I kissed him on the forehead. “You thought you were doing the right thing, even if it was a really awful way of doing it.” I ran my hand through his hair again. “Besides, you’re here now. You’re sorry, and you’re trying to make up for it. That’s the part that matters.”

“If I’d never left, you wouldn’t feel the need to go risk your life to comfort a dog.”

I flinched. I was used to Jacob had all his derogatory slurs—bloodsucker, leach, parasite… Somehow it sounded harsher in Edward’s velvet voice.

“I don’t know how to phrase this properly,” Edward said, and his tone was bleak. “It’s going to sound cruel, I suppose. But I’ve come too close to losing you in the past. I know what it feels like to think I have. I am not going to tolerate anything dangerous.”

“You have to trust me on this. I’ll be fine.”

His face was pained again. “Please, Beau,” he whispered.

I stared into his suddenly burning golden eyes. “Please what?”

“Please, for me. Please make a conscious effort to keep yourself safe. I’ll do everything I can, but I would appreciate a little help.”

“I’ll work on it,” I murmured.

“Do you really have any idea how important you are to me? Any concept of how much I love you?” He pulled me tighter against his hard chest, tucking my head under his chin.

I pressed my lips against his snow-cold neck. “I know how much I love you,” I answered.

“You compare one small tree to the entire forest.”

I rolled my eyes, but he couldn’t see. “Ha.”

He kissed the top of my head and sighed.

“No werewolves.”

“No deal. I’m not going along with that. I have to see Jacob.”

“Then I’ll have to stop you.”

He sounded utterly confident that this wouldn’t be a problem.

I was worried he was right.

“We’ll see about that,” I said anyway. “He’s still my friend.”

I could feel Jacob’s note in my pocket, like it suddenly weighed ten pounds. I could hear the words in his voice, and he seemed to be agreeing with Edward—something that would never happen in reality.

Doesn’t change anything. Sorry.

#Eclipse Revamped #3.1 #The Twilight Saga #The Twilight Saga Revamped

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