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yourdeepestfathoms · 4 years ago

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pegasus grounded (part one)

[horse racing au]

———————————

...and they’re off!

“Lawrence will you stop cringing and HELP ME?”

Barbara’s partner peeked into the barn, his face pale and expression disgusted, then immediately yanked himself back out.

“Oh, that is so gross! I didn’t sign up for this!”

“You didn’t sign up for ANYTHING! I am letting you LIVE in MY HOUSE for FREE! So get your ass OVER HERE and HELP ME!”

Standing against the far wall of the barn, Adam, Barbara’s husband, and Lydia, their young farmhand, stood by, watching the exchange go down. Lydia was holding any tools that might have been needed. The barn cat, Hemlock, came strolling by, took one glance at the scene, then bounded out.

“Are they…?” Lydia’s words trailed off as she scratched the top of her head. “Does this…?”

“Oh, yeah,” Barbara said, looking over at her. “This is our process!” And then, shrilly, “LAWRENCE!!!”

“You have your ARM in a horse’s VAGINA!! You never said anything about THAT when I came to live with you!”

“I’ll stick my arm up YOUR VAGINA if you don’t get over here!”

“I don’t have a vagina!!”

“I DON’T CARE!!” Barbara then quieted her voice and stroked the fur of Latte, the foaling horse she was assisting, “Shh, Shh, Shh. It’s okay, sweetie. You’re okay… LAWRENCE I SWEAR TO GOD!!”

“Okay! Okay! I’m coming!”

Beetlejuice dragged himself over to the fallen horse and did his best to not look at the hooves sticking out of the mare’s vagina.

After some time went by, Barbara was pulling on the foal’s front legs, sticky and wet with birthing fluid and covered in the placenta. She was doing her best to be gentle, yet firm enough to pull out the baby, but the mare continued to let out louder whinnies. Adam gripped tightly to his shirt as he watched. They had already lost three dams that season. They couldn’t take losing another.

Despite its name, The Netherworld was one of the most successful horse ranches in all of America. In terms of the equine community, Barbara and Adam Maitland were basically famous. They had bred several winning foals from the finest mares and the strongest stallions. People came from miles just to bid on one of their colts or fillies. All the horses on their farm were like family, and losing them was like a shot straight to the heart.

“Come on, girl. I can’t do it alone. Push.” Barbara said encouragingly, pulling out more of the baby.

“Come on, Latte, push. You can do it.” Beetlejuice said to the mother. The horse’s wild, tired eyes looked up at him.

And then, as if she was actually listening, she began to push harder. The foal’s head slipped out a second later, followed by the rest of the upper body.

“Hey! She’s doing it!” Beetlejuice exclaimed. “Oh, that is disgusting. But she’s doing it!”

“Almost there,” Barbara murmured as she got a hold of the foal’s middle.

After a few minutes, the foal was finally out. A spew of birthing fluids and placenta followed, and Beetlejuice was darting out of the barn, causing Barbara to laugh as she peeled off the soaked glove she had on her arm.

“Good work, Beej!” She called.

“Urrg…” Beetlejuice groaned from outside.

“You okay, love?”

“Fine,” Beetlejuice replied, then grumbled, “Like you care…”

Barbara laughed again and then looked back down at the baby. The new foal looked just like its mother. Under all that goo was a beautiful, chestnut-colored mustang, with a sweet little patch of white on its nose. She just about swooned when she saw those large, gleaming brown eyes look up at her.

“It’s a filly,” Barbara called to Adam, who was taking deep breaths of relief.

“Oh, she’s perfect,” Adam said, walking over slowly. “I was so worried for a moment there. You know, after Misty and Prancer and Baylock…”

“Hey,” Barbara cupped his cheeks, making him look at her. “That isn’t going to happen. We aren’t going to lose anymore.”

Adam nodded.

The filly began to gather her surroundings, looking around to see where she was while her mother licked and nuzzled her from above. After a moment, she slowly began to stand on her long legs, wobbling and tumbling down a few times, making Lydia laugh a bit before she finally started to get the hang of it. She clumsily tottered her way over to her mother and instantly began to nurse.

“Can’t believe you made birth your profession,” Beetlejuice said as he entered again.

“What do you think doctors do?” Adam looked at him.

“I--” Beetlejuice shut his mouth. “Shut up.”

Adam laughed. Barbara shook her head, then looked over at Lydia.

“What did you parents say about tonight?”

“They said yes,” Lydia said.

“Awesome!” Adam looked excited. “FINALLY, we can show you proper horse racing! Barbara, go get changed! Hurry!”

None of them blamed him for his energy. Horses were everything to them, and there was no better way to pass the time than watching horse races. This would be Lydia’s first time watching one firsthand since she was employed by them.

Lime Rock Raceway was a huge, towering stadium, filled with sharply-dressed patrons, colorful slot machines, and expensive fine wine. Barbara, her two partners, and Lydia got to watch the races from the highest point, where the whole track was stretched out before them, eager for their attention. They discussed their bets on the contenders in the next race as they waited.

“That one.”

Beetlejuice scoffed.

Barbara did not. She continued to stare down at the horses filing onto the muddy racetrack. The one that had caught her eye was at the back of the pack, head held low, ears flicking all over as if it heard something nobody else did. She checked the number.

“Beside The Dying Fire,” Adam said, having already looked. “Jockey’s name is Jeopardy.”

“What a curious name,” Barbara mused. “Must be a nickname.”

“I sure hope so,” Beetlejuice snorted. “Or else his parents must hate him.”

“Why are they always men?” Lydia grumbled. She wasn’t having nearly as much fun as Adam had been hoping for, but Barbara didn’t blame her. Watching a horse race wasn’t for everyone.

She looked up at Barbara, asking again, “Can women not race or something?”

Barbara chuckled. “Of course they can. A lot just choose not to. It’s a very male-dominated sport.”

“That’s weird,” Lydia said, squinting down through the glass at the jockey in question. Despite how thin all the riders were, this one in particular was awkwardly small compared to his competitors. His silks were red and white with black and white stripes down the long sleeves. “Aren’t jockeys supposed to be, like, light? Wouldn’t it make more sense for women to race? It’s easier to be lightweight when you’re a woman.”

“You got a point there, kid,” Adam said.

“The weight thing is so fucking stupid. Also, no offense, Babs, but you can’t possibly think that will win?”

Barbara turned to Beetlejuice with a coolly raised eyebrow, a smile playing around her mouth. “Do you doubt me?”

Beetlejuice grinned at her. “Never.”

Nobody knew exactly where Lawrence “Beetlejuice” Shoggoth had come from. He had just shown up one day down in town, presenting himself at Yonkers Raceway with dyed green hair and barely the clothes on his back. But when he started to ride, nobody cared about that anymore. Up on that saddle, Beetlejuice was unstoppable force of speed and grace. Nothing stopped his stride, ever. The races he rode seemed to unfurl as though to a script he had written; a script that left everyone else trailing behind his broad shoulders like a wake left in water. He was the best rider Barbara and Adam had ever seen, but never got to actually become professional due to the weight limit required to be a jockey. Now, he had become more mellow, living among Barbara and Adam as a horse trainer, wanting to teach others about his methods, but still not finding the right student. Nobody he ever came across was good enough for him and his golden wonder: Sandy aka “It’s Showtime,” a magnificent black and white thoroughbred mare with bulky muscles and a knack for sprinting.

Barbara winked at him. “Exactly.”

Out in the mud, the horses were lining up at the gate. Barbara’s bet, Beside The Dying Fire, had drawn a bad position, way over on the outside. Barbara glanced over the information again. The horse was coming up to age four, stood at a staggering seventeen hands, and had terrible form. His jockey was basically a nobody, too, as scrawny and aloof as the horse. And yet, she was drawn to the stallion. There was something to look at with that dull grey horse, even if nobody else saw it.

The racers came under starter’s orders and then they broke from the gate as one at the siren’s scream. It was a small field- plenty of hooves had scratched their own trenches from the earth due to the weather. Beside The Dying Fire hunkered down the outside, ears pulled back against the driving rain. Barbara watched him gallop, watched the low, straight stride stretch and release over the sodden ground. She had grown up around horseflesh, had watched races obsessively for years; she knew a good horse when she saw one.

This was not it.

But all the same, she found herself unable to look away. There was something.

Slogging through the slippery mud, Beside The Dying Fire did not display the brilliance locked deep within him--but when the finish line passed beneath him, his nose was one of the ones in front. Barbara could see the jockey, slathered in muck all over, smiling with relief.

Barbara smiled too, which turned to a smirk as she looked at Beetlejuice. “I told you.”

“Never doubt you,” Beetlejuice said. He looked back down at the horse in question. “I’m glad I listened to you. Let’s go have a chat with this one.”

——— ——— ———

“How many times do I have to tell you? Use your goddamn whip!”

“I don’t want to! It’s mean!”

The sound of arguing echoed down the stable corridor like thunder.

“Mean? What kind of PETA shit have you been looking at? It’s a damn animal. It doesn’t know anything.”

“Peril knows a lot of things! He’s smart!”

“You’re losing us so much money.”

“I can win without hitting him. I don’t need a crop. I did good today!”

“You got third. You should have gotten first.”

“At least I wasn’t last.”

“Each day you prove that your kind doesn’t belong in racing. Not unless you use your fucking whip!”

“Well, I think I raced really well.”

“Your parents will be hearing about this.”

A grizzled man stormed past Barbara, Adam, Beetlejuice, and Lydia as they were making their way down the aisle, hissing and cursing underneath his breath. They all looked forward again to find the victim of his verbal assault: the jockey of Beside The Dying Fire.

“I think we did good,” He said to the grey giant munching on some alfalfa inside the pen he and that man had been arguing in front of.

“Jeopardy?”

Saying that name made Barbara feel a little stupid, but her call was received when the jockey just about jumped out of his skin. He whirled around, startling his horse into a stomping, huffing fit. He blinked big, doe-like eyes at Barbara and her group.

And that was when Barbara realized he wasn’t a he at all.

Beside The Dying Fire’s jockey was a girl.

Well. That probably explained what that man had meant when he said “your kind.”

She was a tiny, skinny little thing, barley 5��1, bearing no muscle at all. She was young, too, much younger than any of the jockeys Barbara had ever seen before. At most, she had to be fifteen, but by how high pitched and youthful her voice was, she could be even younger. She was completely slathered in mud from head-to-toe, face smeared with sludge and blocking most facial features, but her youth was clear and her hazel eyes were bright behind her goggles.

“Hi! Hi. Yes, hello. I’m Jeopardy.” She said, stammering slightly, and her voice was a lot higher up close, but not in an obnoxious way. It was sweet and silvery, like candy.

“You’re a girl,” Lydia said in wonder.

The jockey blinked, then looked down at herself. “Last time I checked, yes.”

Lydia laughed.

Jeopardy tried to dust herself off now that she was in the presence of other people, only to remember that she was completely covered in grime. She dropped her arms, looked back up at them, and said, “I swear, I’m not usually covered in this much mud.”

They all laughed. It was nice to see a jockey that had a sense of humor. There were too many that got cranky for asking simple questions or even breathing in the general vicinity of their horse. This girl was the complete opposite of that, and it perhaps had to do with her young age.

“Does it get in your mouth?” Lydia asked.

“Oh yeah,” Jeopardy answered. “And my nose. And my ears. ”

Lydia laughed. “How?!”

“I have no idea!” Jeopardy exclaimed. “Usually it isn’t this bad, but it was rainy today, so it kinda got everywhere. My dinner tonight is going to taste like earth.”

More laughing, and Jeopardy looked delighted. She was giving off a strong sense of loneliness, like it wasn’t normal for people to talk to her in such a friendly way.

“I’m Presley Lind,” Jeopardy— no, Presley, said. “Jeopardy is just a show name.” She then extended a hand to Barbara, only instantly rip it away when she realized how dirty her glove was. “Oh dear. Pretend I shook your hand or else my Southern Belle training will go down the drain.”

“I’m Barbara,” Barbara said. “These are Adam, Beetlejuice, and Lydia.”

“It’s nice to meet you all,” Presley said politely, smiling, and her lips were caked with drying mud. “What can I do for you all?”

“Oh, we just wanted to come down and congratulate you on your victory tonight,” Barbara said. “You were amazing.”

Presley perked up, as if it wasn’t uncommon for her to be congratulated. “Oh, really? Th-- thank you! But I didn’t really do anything. It was all this big guy!” She turned to her horse, who looked more brown than grey with all the mud sticking to his coat, and she had so much love in her eyes.

“He’s beautiful,” Adam said. “What’s his name?”

“Peril!” Presley told him proudly. “Presley and Peril- it’s kind of our thing.” She reached out and patted the stallion’s freckled nose.

Barbara felt a sort of endearment fill her heart. What an adorable girl.

And then Peril snorted and spit half-chewed alfalfa and huge globs of saliva right into his rider’s face.

For a moment, Presley was frozen, then spit the muck back out onto the ground and raised her gloves hands to wipe her face off. She took off her goggles, and the rings left around her eyes were perfectly clear of grime.

“I deserved that,” Presley said. She looked at Barbara and her group. “Do not mess with this one when he’s eating.”

“Say, Presley,” Beetlejuice spoke up. “Do you have a trainer?”

“Yes, sir,” Presley said, and her manners shocked Barbara. “He was that guy yelling.”

“Does he always yell at you like that?” Adam asked, sounding slightly concerned.

Presley nodded. “Usually. He doesn’t like me or Peril very much. But he was a lot nicer today. He didn’t hit me with my crop this time!” She laughed, and then realized the others weren’t laughing with her, so she stopped and cleared her throat. “I’m-- I’m totally joking. That was a joke!”

“Well, it sounds like your guy right now is an ass, but you’re in luck,” Beetlejuice said. “Presley, I’d like to be your trainer.”

#horse racing au #ta-daaaaa!#beetlejuice the broadway musical #beetlejuice the musical #beetlejuice au #beetlejuice fanfiction #beetlejuice fanfic #beetlejuice fic #beetlejuice #lawrence beetlejuice shoggoth #barbara maitland #adam maitland #lydia deetz #the jockey #beetlelands #chasing pegasus

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epiphany-of-a-madwoman · 4 years ago

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The Last Dragon | Witcher & Game of Thrones

Chapter 6 | Silver Towers Turned to Dust

Summary: Visenya Targaryen is the eldest and only surviving child of Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell. When Robert Baratheon’s rebellion was won, instead of being slaughtered by the Mountain like her mother and siblings, she was saved by Ned Stark and taken as his ward. Years later, after she’s killed at the Red Wedding, she wakes up outside Blaviken. Now she finds her destiny intertwined with the White Wolf on her quest to go back home.

Word Count: 7,465

Note: Click here to read the previous chapters ♡

The road winds and turns ahead of Visenya, like a labyrinth that never ends. The sun bathes everything beneath it in a soft glow warm, the miles upon miles of farm fields surrounding the road basking in its radiance. Fields of overgrown grass tinged gold by the sun act as the walls around the dirt road, swaying lazily in the breeze. Yet the sun is deceiving, a chill hangs in the air, causing any travelers Visenya passes to bundle themselves further into their cloak. However, Visenya finds herself no longer affected by the cold. The fire that laid dormant just under Visenya’s skin since waking up in Blaviken furiously fighting the cold in the wind. It bubbled just under the surface, enough for her to sense it but calm enough to not cause any harm.

She’s been walking for days, mindlessly following the road, allowing the winds to guide her to her next destination. Six days. It’s been six days since the catastrophe that is Blaviken happened. And despite her best efforts, Visenya can’t seem to forget about it, no matter how hard she tries, it lingers in the back of her mind.

Every night when she lays down to go to sleep, kept company by only the stars and the trees around her, Visenya can hear the screams of the people burning alive. They echo in her mind, coming together in a sick melody, the tones grating and harsh. When she closes her eyes, even for a brief second, she can see them, their images clear enough that she could taste the fear in the air. She’d watch them burn, performing a dance of fire and blood, the personification of what House Targaryen stands for.

But the worst part isn’t the memories following her, haunting her like ghosts. It isn’t the regret and pain she feels whenever she remembers the terrible faint she bestowed upon them. No, the worst part is she didn’t care. Even on the hardest days, when she was too stuck in her melancholy she didn’t care. Their faces were fleeting, their lives unimportant, and their potential non-existent to Visenya.

She knows she committed mass murder in same way her grandfather did and she feels nothing. Nothing but a dark obsession with the fire she created.

So she runs. She locks away Blaviken in the same spot the Starks, her mother and siblings, and her own life reside.

To the left the grass rustles, breaking Visenya from her thoughts. Turning her head, she sees nothing but tall golden grass lazily swaying in the breeze; no animal or bandit preparing to ambush a lone traveller. Her eyes narrow, surveying the area one last time. A pit rests in her stomach as anxiety creeps into her mind. And as her hackles raise, so does the fire inside of her, ready to incinerate any potential attacker. But there wasn’t anything there. She rotates her body, looking in all directions hoping to spot whatever was the cause of her sudden dread. Subconsciously, her hand rests atop the pommel of her blade, readying herself to unsheathe it in a moment's notice.

But even as her keen eyes focus on the surrounding area, taking in every minor detail, she sees nothing out of the ordinary.

A second passes and she's about to turn around and continue towards the nearby inn.

Crunch.

She turns to her right, ready to unleash hellish fury on the cloaked figure standing before her. She raises her blade and brings it down towards them. The figure manages to nimbly dodge out of the way. In another fluid, motion Visenya strikes, however the blow never manages to make impact, as a blunt object makes contact with the back of her head. And as her body falls to the ground, another figure approaches. Black blotches dot her vision as the figure pulls down their hood, revealing wheat gold hair, sun kissed skin with freckles dotting their cheeks, and pointed ears.

The person, man or woman, she can’t tell - speaks to another person. The language is light and musical and completely foreign to Visenya. Her ashen brows furrow and she tries to speak, but the words get caught in her throat. So she tries again, this time managing a pitiful whine that sounds more like a dying animal than a person.

The figure's attention darts back to Visenya, an alarmed expression painted on his face. He says something else to the other person and then turns back to Visenya.

“Get some rest why don’t you,” A moment later, Visenya watches as the pommel of a dagger cracks on the top of her head, rendering her unconscious.

o0o0o0o

It’s cold, that much is obvious, so obvious Visenya - who never gets cold anymore - notices it. Not the type of cold Winterfell bestowed upon its inhabitants, pelting them in its relentless bitter chill and glistening snow that would freeze a man to death without hesitation. No, it’s a different type of cold, the one that can only come from pain and suffering that’s so strong it bleeds into the air and syphons any joy until all that’s left is frigid air that’s still like a statue.

She doesn’t hear anything, not even the distant sounds of footsteps or voices that slowly trickle into the room. It’s completely silent. The walls in the room are made of stone, with tiny rays of light pouring through the small windows. The ground beneath her is cold and wet, either stone or dirt - she isn’t sure.

And for a moment Visenya thinks she could be dead, that her attacker put more force into their strike than originally realized, but dead people wouldn’t be tied up. Her hands clench, feeling the rough rope that binds her wrists, it’s frayed and old, but tied tight.

She turns her head slightly to the right, seeing a head full of bright white hair and a wolf pendant hanging from his neck.

“Geralt.” Her voice sounds like it hadn’t been used in days, which is possible. Who knows how much time has passed.

She feels a surge of anger rushing through her, images of Renfri’s dead body lying on the ground, blood pouring from the fatal wound on her neck. And for a second she contemplates screaming and yelling at Geralt, scorning him for what he’s done. But as soon as it appears, the feeling fades, ice cold water pouring over the fire in her veins.

“Jane.” Geralt replies, turning his head so he’s looking at her. His amber eyes stare at Visenya, brows furrowed. “What are you doing here?”

And just like that the spell was over. Like water breaking through a dam, ambient noise streams into the room, filling Visenya’s ears with distant shouts and feet pounding. And the air… the air feels less dead.

“I don’t know, I was traveling to a nearby inn when I was ambushed. Same as you it would seem.” She turns to her left to try and get a look at their third companion who’s knocked out cold. His skin is pale like ice, but not as luminous or enrapturing, floppy brown hair that looks well washed and conditioned obscures his face. Bright blues and reds color his clothes that are ostentatious and impractical for travel, with sleeves that are slightly puffed at the shoulders.

Definitely not a warrior.

Geralt starts jerking to the left and right, attempting to free his arms from the bindings locking them in place. Combined with the sudden movement and grunts of frustration he’s letting out, the man wakes up. His lolling head shoots up, his eyes fantcally surveying the room. They land on Visenya for a moment, his eyes the same shade of blue as his shirt, before they flit to the corner of his vision. He lets out a small sigh of relief, his tense posture physically deflating as he leans against Geralt’s back.

“This is the part where we escape.” he says. Any panic or fear that he initially showed upon waking up is gone, replaced with a sense of ease and confidence. But not in his abilities, no, he seems positive Geralt will get them out of this mess.

Visenya can’t help the snort that leaves her mouth.

“This is the part where they kill us!” Geralt exclaims, not amused by the man behind him.

“Who’s they?” Visenya asks, hoping one of them could catch her up. Nobody gets the chance to reply however. A woman clothed in poorly made garments and long brown hair burst into the room.

Like a wild boar charging towards its target, she moves to the man behind Geralt, lifting her leg in a smooth motion and driving it into the man's chest. A cry of pain escapes his mouth as the wind is knocked out of him. In a language foreign to Visenya, with similar intonation to the one she heard before being knocked out, the woman says something in a scathing tone. She says the phrase at him like a cobra spitting venom.

Like the wind, the woman then moves to Geralt greeting him in the same manner, before finally moving to stand before Visenya. Her features are pointed and regal looking with delicately pointed ears. Her eyes are the same shade as the forest during the darkest night, a mix of emerald and black with a hint of silver streaming in from the moon. She would be ethereal, in a goddess of war kind of way, if not for the heavy bags under her eyes, in shades of blue and black or the sunken appearance of her face-- a sign of under-eating. But she’s proud and angry-- like a roaring lion as it shows its teeth.

Visenya golden eyes narrowed into slits, challenging the foreign woman to treat her as she did Geralt and the other man. And she did not disappoint.

Despite looking as if she could deteriorate any second now, she kicks Visenya with the force of a fabled giant, rendering Visenya breathless. For a brief moment, everything goes black as small dots cover her vision. But she doesn’t move back into the bodies behind her, or let out a grunt of pain. Her pride is too strong to show weakness, even when she’s at an obvious disadvantage.

Warm liquid begins to pool in her mouth and without hesitation, Visenya spits it out. The crimson liquid sprays in the air, the woman narrowly managing to avoid being hit.

“Elves!” Geralt exclaims. Another man in similar garb to the woman comes into the room with an ornate lute in hand. He begins buckling at the strings, breaking them as he goes. The sound is painful, similar to the noise of silverware scraping against a plate, but worse. It lingers in her head, only to return enfold when the man breaks another string.

“Oi that’s my lute. Give that back!” the man exclaims, more concerned about his lute than their safety it would seem.

“Maybe focus on staying alive.” Visenya mutters, wiggling to try and loosen the knot around her wrist.

“Quick Geralt do your- your- witchering thing!” the man finishes, unperturbed by Visenya’s comment.

“Shut up!” Geralt yells, before being kicked by the woman again, a crack resonating in the room. Visenya’s face scrunches up in a wince, the sound worse than the pain probably is.

Like a predator circling its prey, the woman makes her way back to Visenya. She leans down until the two are eye to eye, and doesn't hesitate to slap Visenya across the face, the force causing her head to swing to the left. Before she has a chance to recuperate from the blow, the woman punches the other side of Visenya’s face. Her hands slid down, finding purchase on her cloak.

The cloak Sansa made for her. One of the only things she has left of the Starks. A reminder of a time when things were simpler and she still had a home.

“No please don’t--!” Visenya desperately pleads, but it’s too late. The woman tears the fabric of the cloak. The side that had the dire wolf embroidery completely torn off. She tosses the piece behind her, bringing another hand towards Visenya’s face. The smack resounds in Visenya’s mind, her inner dragon roaring at the offense. Her skin heats up as her emotions grow unstable.

The smell of rope being singed fills the air, the binds holding Visenya loosening, however the rope is too thick to immediately burn off. When the woman’s hand makes contact with Visenya, she screams in pain and immediately recoils, tenderly touching her burned hand. The injury doesn’t stop her though. Instead she moved onto Geralt, yelling something in her foreign tongue.

“My eldar speech is rough, I only got part of that.” the man sarcastically quips. The woman dances around Visenya, refusing to even look at her.

“Humans, shut up!” she spits, glaring at the man. He then replies to her in the same language, using that same sarcastic tone.

“Do you wanna die right now?” she says, her tone more hostile than before. By this point she’d moved so she was directly across from the man in blue.

“As opposed to later?” Geralt venomously yells, once against trying to loosen the restraints. While partially singed, the rope is incredibly durable.

She swiftly kicks the mystery man in the gut, simultaneously the man with the lute breaks another string. She then moves around to Geralt

“Leave off!” Geralt yells at the woman. “He’s just a bard.” he finishes. She responds with a punch to Geralt’s face, a third string breaking.

“You don’t deserve the air you breathe.” she says, fourth string

“Everything you touch, you destroy.” another punch to the face, and the final string is broken. The man with the lute then proceeds to break the instrument over his knee as the woman finishes Geralt off with one more blow to the face.

“You hide in your golden palace. You beat a bound man, too scared to even look him in the eye!”

“Do you like my palace? Hmm?” she replies, maneuvering back to Geralt. She lowers herself to his level, grasping his chin in her hands. “Does it live up to the tales you humans tell?” she asks. Geralt responds with a head butt. The force knocks the woman to the ground and she begins coughing profusely, unable to stand up.

“Haha! Take that pointy!” the man yells. “W-wait what’s wrong with her?” the man worriedly asks once the coughing and wheezing doesn’t cease.

“She’s sick.” someone replies, two more figures entering the room. A man with blonde hair and a… goat standing upright.

“I’ve seen it all.” Visenya mutters to herself, ashen brows raised towards her hairline. Her mouth is turned downwards, watching the...creature enter the room.

“Oh and who’s this?” the man asks. The blonde figure moves to the woman profusely coughing on the ground.

“He’s Filavandrel, King of the Elves.” the goat-man replies, rushing to the other side of the woman. Visenya snorts to herself.

“One hell of a kingdom, even better subjects too.” Visenya mutters under her breath. Filavandrel responds with a piercing glare towards Visenya, but she simply snarls at him, baring her teeth at him like an animal. The blood she spit from her mouth earlier stains her mouth deep red, making her look more like a wild animal rather than human.

“Not a king. Not by choice.” he says, taking the pack the goat-man gave to him. He turns his attention to the woman and gently picks up her arms. Her hands are bright red, small blisters forming where Visenya had burned her.

“How did you get burned?” the man asks, his voice so quiet Visenya had to strain herself to hear, despite their close proximity.

“The girl burnt my hand when I touched her.” she replies, looking past him to scowl at Visenya. Geralt looks at her briefly, his brows furrowed and eyes squinted. His gaze soon switches back to their captors.

“You mean you can do that?” the man to her left exclaims, wiggling around in his spot. Visenya pointedly ignores the man.

“You were stealing for them.” Geralt says. The goat whipped his head around towards Geralt.

“I felt for them. They were forced out of Dol Blathanna.” he says.

“Forced out? No they chose --” the man begins, sounding as confused as Visenya felt, although for different reasons probably. She has no idea what an elf is, and even less what this goat creature could be identified as.

“Do you know anyone who would willingly leave their home? To starve? To have a Sylvan steal for them?” Filavandrel interrupts, he then turns his attention back to the elven woman. “Touruviel, no one was supposed to get hurt.” he scolds her.

“What’s three humans in the ground when countless elves have died.” she responds, her voice lacking the fire it held previously.

“Two humans.” Geralt rebuttals. “And you can let them go.”

“Then Posada will learn that we’ve been stealing.” Filavandrel replies, standing from his position, moving towards them. “The humans will attack. Many will die… on both sides.” he spits, moving to stand in front of Geralt.

“The lesser evil.” Geralt gripes, obviously unamused by the current events. “No matter what you choose you’ll come out bloody and hating yourself. Trust me. “ Geralt says, conviction behind every word.

Visenya continues to stare straight ahead, not looking at anything in particular. Flashes of Blaviken enter her mind, but she forcibly pushes them away.

Filavandrel simply shakes his head, he kneels before Geralt. “I can’t. And this is necessary.” he replies, leaning over to unsheathe a dagger.

“I understand.” Geralt says. “As long as you understand it won’t be long before you join me.”

“Yes, because they pushed us from viable soil.” Filavandrel says. “Even chaos is polluted. Synthetically enhanced so humans can make magic.”

“Chaos is the same it’s always been, the humans just adapted better.”

“You say adapt, and I say destroy.”

“You are choosing to starve. You’re cutting off your own ear to spite your face.”

“Do you think this is about pride?” Anger simmers under the surface of his words, the rage barely kept in check. “My elders worked with humans and got robbed of everything they had. And when they fought back, they were slaughtered. “The Great Cleansing,” humans call it. I call it digging a mass grave for everyone I loved. And now the humans proudly watch these very fields grow… our babies fertilizer for their grain. I don’t want to bury anyone else.” He pauses, his voice turning more somber.

Like tiny flares, memories flash into Visenya’s mind: Running around The Red Keep when she was a child; tightly holding onto the skirt of her mother’s dress; reading her any book she could find after she gave birth to Aegon and was bedridden for nearly a year. She can almost smell The Red Keep, a cacophony of floral from the gardens, incense trickling through the windows, and the musk from ancient books.

“I was once Filavandrel of the Silver Towers, now I’m Filavandrel of the edge of the world.”

There’s a pause, everything in the room growing still. Visenya moves her gaze to her left, looking towards Filavandrel who is still sitting in front of Geralt.

His face can only be described as defeated. His silvery blue eyes are dull and dead, a stark difference to the glittering brightness they probably used to burn with. They look more like a foggy sky, the crystalline blue sky muddled by dirt and pollution. His lips are pulled into a thin line, lines embedded in his forehead and around his mouth. His cheeks are sunken in as well, dirt spotting his sun kissed skin.

“I understand.” Her voice is raw, why is it so raw? “When I was five, my family was killed in a rebellion. My mother and siblings were murdered, and my father fell in battle. The savage who killed my mother was pardoned and the killer of my father became king. Neither suffered any consequences. In fact, the bodies of my brother and sister were wrapped in cloaks in the color of their killer to be presented to the new king as a token of loyalty,”

It’s strange, speaking about past events outloud and remembering each detail so vividly. She’s always known their fate, the sound of her mother’s screams keeping her up in the middle of the night, the sound of her skull being crushed haunting even the sweetest dreams.

“I was raised in a foreign country by a family not my own. But I adapted.”

Filavandrel moves from his spot in front of Geralt to instead kneel before Visenya. She manages to wiggle her hands from the partly burnt rope, grasping Filavandrel’s hand in her own. He recoils in shock but doesn’t pull away, his eyes locked on Visenya.

“I never forgot my dead and neither should you.” she continues in a much softer tone than before. “But I adapted,” Visenya says, looking Filavandrel directly in the eye. “And you can too.”

He simply continues to stare at her, his eyes boring deep inside her own. An air of hopelessness and sorrow surrounds him, his light blue eyes are more ancient than his youthful face should allow. And he’s beautiful, despite how malnourished and dirty he is, dressed in rags that are ill fitting on his scrawny form. She can see past all of that and visualize the former glory he used to possess before everything came crashing down.

“I can’t.” he says. “If my people come down from these mountains, that would mean bowing to human sovereignty. They’ll make slaves of us. Pariah’s from half-blood children.” he fiercely exclaims.

“Then go somewhere else.” Geralt interrupts. “Rebuild. Get strong again. Show the humans that you are more than what they fear you to be.” he finishes. Filavandrel releases himself from Visenya’s grasp, moving back to Geralt.

“Like you, Witcher?”

“I have learned to live with them. So that I may live” Geralt simply replies. The woman stands from her sitting position, moving over to them.

“Please my king. There are others. A new generation. Evellian who wish to fight!” the woman nearly shouts, burning passion lacing each word. “Let us take back what’s ours. Starting now” she finishes. Filavandrel leans over, grasping the hilt of his dagger once more.

“Wait!” the Sylvan exclaims, grabbing onto Filavandrel’s shoulder.

“Torque, stand aside.” Filavandrel exclaims, jerking his shoulder out of the Sylvan's grasp.

“The Witcher could’ve killed me. But he didn’t. He’s different, like us.” the Sylvan finishes. Filavandrel simply shoves Torque away with his shoulder, staring intently at Geralt, his eyes occasionally flickering back to Visenya.

“If you must kill me… I am ready. But the Sylvan’s right.” Geralt intervenes. “Don’t call me human.” he holds his head up to expose his neck to the elves. Filavandrel moves to the other side, directly across from Visenya, holding up the dagger high in the air. Visenya’s eyes squeeze shut, not wanting to watch Geralt and their third companion be butchered. Like lightning, the dagger flies through the air and a sharp crack rings in the air. The ropes binding their arms loosens and falls to the ground. Visenya cracks one eye, then slowly the next.

“Oh good, we're not dead. Love it when I do that.”

o0o0o0o

“That was a nice touch, the whole ‘I know how you feel’ thing.” The man mutters to Visenya, a lopsided grin resting on his face. His floppy brown hair is disheveled, pieces of it sticking to his forehead due to sweat. Some blood spills from the corner of his mouth, where the elven woman hit him - multiple times. His bright eyes look at Visenya like a puppy would look at a child, wide-eyed and full of wonder. “Really sets a vulnerable tone.” he finishes, strumming the new lute Filavandrel had gifted him to replace his now broken one.

Geralt is a few steps away from them, gathering his weapons and other items the elves took when they captured him. Despite not looking at them and giving no indication he’s listening, Visenya knows he is. His attention seems too intently focused on the pack in his hands.

Visenya simply rolls her eyes at the man, moving across the room to retrieve her possessions. As she passes him, Geralt nods his head in acknowledgment but says nothing. His eyes are scrutinizing her face like she’s a locked box that he’s attempting to unravel. Not that Visenya can condemn him for his curiosity, only moments ago she revealed a piece of her life in Westeros. However, Geralt was merciful enough to not vocalize his inquiries and for that, she is grateful.

“I do believe this belongs to you.” Filavandrel stands behind her, a familiar longsword in his hands, offering her the blade. Visenya grasps it, the cool metal of the hilt a stark contrast to her warm skin. The silver dragon design coils around the hilt, the gleaming red gemstones set in the design imitating two draconic eyes peering into Visenya’s soul. The blade makes a soft shing as it’s slowly unsheathed. The smooth metal glistens in the light as the soft sunbeams reflect off it. She takes her time intently inspecting the blade, memorizing each slight imperfection from the extensive battles it’s seen.

“A dragon on the hilt, an interesting touch,” he notes, watching Visenya tracing the details of the blade with her eyes. Filavandrel notes the reverence in her eyes, often not seen in an untrained soldier with a sword.

“A gift from a friend,” Visenya answers his unasked question, eyes moving to meet his. His gaze is as intense as it was before, however, the delicate smile resting on his face eases any discomfort. His eyes move to Visenya’s cloak, torn from where Touruviel had ripped it when Visenya was bound. Her hand follows his eyes, feeling the ribbon of the cloak with the embroidered wolf. It limply dangles from her shoulder area, the damage far beyond anything Visenya’s skill could fix, at least to make it appear as it was before.

“I am sorry about your cloak.” he apologizes, guilt flooding his facial expressions. Visenya simply shakes her head, hand dropping back to her side.

“It’s fine, could've been worse.” Visenya shrugs her shoulders, not sure what else to say.

“Yes, but that doesn’t change the fact that, while the weather is comfortable during the day, the nights are cold - too cold to go without proper supplies.” he rebuttals. His concern for her comfort moderately amuses Visenya. Her lips faintly turn upwards, not a full smile, but enough to show her gratitude towards Filavandrel.

“I don’t find myself getting cold these days,” Visenya answers, her voice softer than the hints of sunlight flooding the room. A stark contrast to the severe tone she’d used moments ago towards Touruviel.

An amused expression snakes itself onto Filavandrel’s face, his soft blue eyes alight with humor and an upward curve of his lips. “Even so, I feel I should still apologize on Touruviel’s behalf. She can be overly zealous concerning her convictions.” Filavandrel replies, his tone apologetic. Before he can continue with needless apologies, Visenya reaches her hand out to grasp his own, cutting him off.

“You don’t need to apologize. Your people have seen the worst humanity has to offer.” Visenya remarks eyes quickly darting to Touruviel who’s been watching Visenya intently, hands ghosting on her dagger as Visenya makes physical contact with Filavandrel. Her gaze moves back to him as she removes her hand from his. “She holds an explosive passion for her people, perhaps you could learn a thing or two from her.” Visenya teases, her words lacking any bite to them. A hearty chuckle leaves Filavandrel’s mouth, the humor returning to his eyes.

By this point Geralt and his companion have walked through the doorway to leave, Geralt awkwardly hanging by the exit watching Visenya, not attempting to be subtle. In his hands, he holds a pack that distinctly resembles hers.

“Perhaps so.” he muses after his laughter silences. Noticing where her gaze is, Filavandrel turns towards the exit, holding his arm out to Visenya, offering himself as an escort. She delicately weaves her arm around his elbow, a nonverbal cue for them to move forward.

“If I thought I could, I’d point you in the direction of my aunt, Daenerys. From the information I’ve been given, the people have taken to calling her the Breaker of Chains. Her army and three dragons would make for a worthy ally to your cause and a fearsome enemy to your oppressors.” Visenya absentmindedly says as they get closer to the exit. Upon closing the distance between them, Geralt tosses Visenya’s pack towards her, which her free hand catches with ease.

“Queen Calanthe would be cowering in her palace.” Filavandrel muses in a light-hearted tone. “However from your phrasing and previous information, I gather this aunt is somewhere my people can’t reach,” he adds, taking note of her slightly crestfallen tone.

“Your assumption is correct.” Visenya plainly replies, staring straight ahead. Her thoughts once again wander home. The desire she’d felt to sail east had burned like ice in her veins upon hearing about the return of dragons due to Daenerys. The only thing keeping her was the loyalty she’d felt to Ned Stark and by extension - Robb and the northerners. A small part of her wonders how different things would’ve been if she had left, sailed to Slaver's Bay and never looked back, joining her Aunt in war as opposed to the North. Would she still become food to the crows, or be covered in glittering jewels worthy of a dragon princess. Would she don glorious plate armor, the design similar to her own father’s? These distant thoughts matter little, Visenya made a conscious choice to stay, and in turn die, in Westeros.

While Visenya was too busy lost in her own mind, Filavandrel had guided her out of the building the elves made their sanctuary, far away from bigoted humans. The natural crevices in the walls act as windows, allowing for natural sunlight to stream into the hall. The sun is in the beginning stages of setting, creating a warm glow, making the beings in the vicinity appear ethereal and surreal. Visenya’s eyes trace the faint halo above Geralt’s head, the sun reflecting off his white hair beautifully.

Beautiful; not a word Visenya would think to use to describe Geralt, but it fits.

Geralt and his companion wander ahead of them, the Witcher never more than three steps from her. It warmed Visenya’s heart, that despite hardly knowing her, he felt the need to protect her - something Visenya doesn’t doubt he’d be easily capable of. Despite the elves vastly outnumbering them, they were starving and Geralt is highly trained and they were starving.

The elves they pass watch them warily, most wearing vicious sneers on their faces, keeping a scrutinizing eye on the humans. A few of the elves reach to grasp their weapons, preparing themselves for a fight. The floppy-haired man carefully watches his surroundings, his expression giving away his nerves as he worries his bottom lip. Geralt seems completely calm - if he is aware of their hostility, he remains unbothered. But if Blaviken was any indication of his treatment, hostility is something he’s very familiar with.

The closer they get to the exit, the brighter the sunlight grows, the elves becoming more frequent until eventually, they reach what seems to be the main entrance. Filavandrel pulls his arm away from Visenya’s and moves towards the front of the group. He opens the door, motioning for Geralt to move through. He mutters lowly to Geralt, the witcher replying with a simple grunt. Next through is the floppy-haired man, nodding in acknowledgment at Filavandrel. Visenya’s gaze locks onto Touruviel, who’d been stalking behind them, her razor-sharp gaze locked on Visenya, who offers the woman a small smile, attempting to diffuse the elf’s rage. Touruviel responds with a sneer, clutching her injured hand that had been wrapped in bandages. She spits something at Visenya in her native tongue, lacing the words with venom, but makes no hostile movements.

“Perhaps the finest thing to come from this is making your acquaintance.” Filavandrel’s words pull Visenya’s attention back to him. He’s still standing by the door, arms outstretched towards her. A beaming smile rests on his face, his eyes no longer weighed down by the responsibilities that were thrusted upon him - at least for the moment, making his timeless face appear more youthful. It’s so infectious Visenya can’t help but return it. She moves towards him, placing a hand on his shoulder as she passes.

“I’m flattered, your grace.” Visenya quips, light joking lacing the formality. He raises his eyebrows at her joke but does nothing else. She moves past the door with a hand still on Filavandrel, feeling the fresh air hitting her face. She turns to face him, his body moving like a magnet to match her. “About what Touruviel said earlier about a new generation wanting to fight back,” she remarks, Filavandrel opens his mouth to interrupt, but Visenya pushes on before he can. “You can count me in. It would be an honor to fight alongside your people.” she finishes. The light expression on his face instantly shifts into disbelief, his eyes, however, look at her with an admiration that wasn’t present before.

“You shall be the first ally I call upon,” he claims, managing to regain his composure. Visenya responds with a beaming smile. Her golden eyes - beaming with delight - could rival the sun on the hottest summer day. She leans forward, placing a delicate kiss on his cheek.

“I promise you, my life is eternally richer by meeting you,” she tells him, and she means it. “Until we meet again Filavandrel,” she adds, before releasing her grip and moving towards Geralt and his companion. Geralt is watching with a neutral expression and his arms crossed over his chest. His companion’s composure is the exact opposite, watching with wide eyes, trying to take in every detail of the scene before them. Unknowingly to Visenya, he is planning his next ballad, based on what unfolded before him. She moves towards them, not stopping once she reaches them but just continues forward. Geralt and his companion follow suit, however, the man rushes forward until he’s keeping pace with Visenya.

“I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure to formally meet my lady,” he comments, dashing to stand in front of Visenya. She pauses her movement as the man kneels before her, grasping her hand in his own. “Julian Alfred Pankratz, but you may call me Jaskier,” he says as he attempts to pull her hand towards his lips but Visenya jerks away before he can.

“Jane.” she plainly replies, hoping to not encourage the man further. Either he doesn’t get the hint, or he decides to disregard it.

“I am but a humble bard blinded by the beauty of the woman before me…” he begins but is interrupted by Geralt, who is a few steps behind Visenya.

“Leave her, Jaskier,” he demands. His eyes are locked on the man in question, his ashen brows furrowed and lips pulled in a tight line.

“Perhaps the lady would like to hear a ballad, each line inspired by her beautiful golden eyes.” Jaskier continues, completely ignoring Geralt. Visenya sighs in annoyance, staring straight ahead. She side-eye's Jaskier, sending a chilly glare his way before continuing to move, albeit at a faster pace than before hoping to get ahead of the persistent bard. Similar to when Geralt demanded Jaskier to leave her alone, he chooses to ignore Visenya’s cold reception of him. The soft sounds of a lute begin to resound in the area when Jaskier starts singing a soft ballad, the song lyrics thinly veiled references about Visenya.

Geralt moves up until he’s walking beside Visenya, leaving the bard in the back. His lips still pulled into a tight line, eyes narrowing in concentration as he stares ahead. There is a flicker of annoyance in his eyes, that grows more apparent the louder Jaskier’s singing becomes. His jaw is clenched so tightly, Visenya could swear a few of his veins have popped. A slight smirk tugs itself onto Visenya's face as she continues to watch his irritation grow. Out of the corner of his eyes, Geralt notices Visenya’s amusement.

“Something funny?” he questions, his deep voice closely resembling a growl. Visenya’s gaze moves from Geralt’s face to the rolling fields ahead of them. The soft crunch of the grass beneath her feet is a stark contrast to Jaskier’s incessant singing. A soft giggle bubbles from her mouth, her hand immediately coming up to her lips to stifle the sound. But the damage has been done. Instead of looking at her out of the corner of his eyes, he turns to face her head-on. She shakes her head, unable to silence her laughter. All the while, Geralt continues to stare at her. The only sign of his amusement is the slight twitch in his furrowed brows.

“It’s nothing. I just forgot how vexed you always seem to be.” Visenya muses, after managing to silence her laughter. His face relaxes as her words sink in, a single brow rising in questioning.

“This is the second time we’ve encountered each other.” he points out, a teasing undertone hidden in his gruff voice.

“Then it would seem you’ve made an impression, Geralt of Rivia,” Visenya claims, not missing a beat. She turns her head to meet his gaze for a split second, a teasing grin resting on her lips, amber eyes alight with mischief. A simple grunt is all Visenya gets in response to her banter.

A moment of silence passes between the two of them. By this point, Jaskier’s singing has ceased and instead, he opted to idly strum his new lute, silent for the first time since Visenya met him. The sky is a beautiful blend of vivid oranges and reds. Fluffy white clouds conceal the majority of the sun, causing the rays that peek through the clouds to appear more concentrated. Visenya can’t help but stare, her face alight with childlike wonder at the sky being so beguiling and surreal, looking akin to a painting rather than a natural cause. Geralt sneaks a glance at Visenya out of the corner of his eye.

“So my fair friends! Where to now?” Jaskier exclaims, rushing to stand in between Geralt and Visenya - his brief silence over. His lute is slung over his shoulder, his face stuck in a puppy dog state. He throws his arms over their shoulders, however, Geralt swiftly shoves Jaskier off of him, continuing forward at a more rapid pace than before.

“That depends, where are you planning to head off to.” Visenya inquires, side-eyeing Jaskier once again. A beaming smile breaks out on his lips, his baby blue eyes nearly as beaming as the brightest star.

“Well my lady, I will need to head back to the inn in Posada to gather my things, then perhaps I was thinking about going to Venngerburg. Who knows what the capital could offer a bard like me!” Jaskier exclaims, removing his arm from her shoulder, opting to instead practically dance around her, twirling in front of Visenya, finishing his movements by smoothly kneeling to the ground and brandishing a single flower. It’s a delicate wildflower, it’s petals a vivid red that blends with the sunset above it. Appearing as if the same artist that painted the sky dotted the field with flowers.

“Perhaps the lady would care to join me?” he asks, offering the flower to her. Visenya’s eyes flicker to Geralt momentarily before moving back to Jaskier. His eyes are hopeful as they dart across her features, attempting to discern her reaction. After a moment of contemplation, she grabs the flower from his outstretched hand.

“Perhaps the lady would like to make sure she is on the other side of the continent,” Visenya replies, mimicking Jaskier’s tone. She glides past him, placing the flower behind her ear. Jaskier stays frozen in his position, his brain not fully registering the turn of events.

She briskly moves towards Geralt to match his pace once again. The only acknowledgment he shows her is a quick glance at her before returning his attention forward. After a few moments, Jaskier manages to gather his bearings and moves to walk behind the duo. The three of them continue in silence. With no conversation acting as a distraction, Visenya finds her thoughts wandering. The elves had struck a nerve in her, their tragic fall from grace too similar to Visenya’s own house's demise. Injustice appeared to run rampant in this world - similar to Westeros. Despite being reborn with fire magic, Visenya still finds herself helpless to do anything to stop it. It was almost better when she couldn’t do anything at all.

o0o

Eventually, they reach the main road - a brown mare that Visenya recognizes from Blaviken as Geralt’s - is patiently waiting on the side of the road. It snorts and shakes its head as Geralt approaches. He places his hand on its head, gently petting the horse as he softly speaks to it. It’s quite possibly the most tender Visenya has ever seen Geralt act. The sweet smile that had crept onto her face immediately disappears as she notices Jaskier approaching her. Before he has a chance to begin talking, Visenya throws a glare his way.

“Don’t,” she says before moving towards Geralt. By this point, Geralt is guiding the mare towards the road. Once again, she takes her place beside him. The sound of a lute smacking against a surface alerts Visenya that Jaskier is following.

“So what now?” Visenya asks Geralt as they wander aimlessly down the road.

“Leaving.” Geralt mutters.

“Off to bigger and better adventures?” Visenya teases, nudging Geralt with her shoulder, a sly smirk on her face. He snorts in reply, unmoved by Visenya’s attempt to lightly push him.

“Something like that,” he replies, a hint of a smile on his grim face. “And you?” he asks, his gaze meeting her own. Visenya sighs, not having a clue what her next course of action should be.

“Well, my cloak is ruined so I’ll need to get it fixed. Which means I’ll need coin, which also means I need to get a job. Maybe the inn has an idiot that needs their gold relieved from their pouch.” she wistfully replies.

“I do!” Jaskier exclaims from the back. Geralt and Visenya stop and turn to look at Jaskier. His arm is raised in the air, a giddy expression lighting up his face. He swiftly lowers his hand upon gaining their attention. He stands up straighter, attempting to smooth out his clothes. “I mean - I might possibly have a job for you my lady Jane,” he adds, trying to keep his voice level and tone nonchalant.

“Really?” Visenya asks, an amused look on her face as she raises a single eyebrow, watching the man expectantly.

“Truly,” Jaskier replies, running to close the distance between them. “I find myself in need of a bodyguard of sorts if you will. A bard of notoriety such as myself will need the highest security gold can buy.” he finishes, running his hands through his already messy hair. Geralt snorts, nudging his horse to continue moving forward, leaving Visenya and Jaskier. Visenya momentarily glances at Geralt’s retreating figure before returning her attention to Jaskier.

“I’ve never heard of you before,” she notes, scrutinizing Jaskier’s face, trying to see if his offer had any double meanings.

“I assure you, my lady, I’m up and coming. Before you know it, kings and queens everywhere will be begging for me to perform at their parties!” Jaskier exclaims, wrapping his arm around Visenya’s shoulder as he leads her down the road - the same direction Geralt went. “Which means - should I acquire any rivals or perhaps trouble during my travels - I will need someone with a very large sword at my back.” he continues. Visenya once again snorts, watching Jaskier from the corner of her eyes.

“Fine.” she relents. His eyes widen in surprise momentarily at her agreeance to his offer. “But there’s going to be some rules.” she sternly finishes, narrowing her eyes at him to get her point across.

“Anything.” he quickly exclaims, with a large smile on his face. With the fluidity of a practiced warrior, Visenya shoves her elbow into Jaskier’s side. The bard crumbles to the ground, moaning in pain as he holds onto his right side, attempting to ease the pain.

“Don’t touch me,” she says, continuing down the road.

o0o0o0o

Tags: If you’re name is crossed out, it means Tumblr wouldn’t let me tag you.

@ayamenimthiriel | @1967-chevy-impala-called-roscoe | @sunlithours

#the witcher #game of thrones #geralt x reader #geralt of rivia #geralt imagine #Geralt #Jaskier #jaskier x reader #Filavandrel #the last dragon #targaryen!reader #sami writes

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joshhhhhhhhhhhhhhh · 4 years ago

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I watched Higurashi episode 9 baby

For this loop we’re using newspapers to tell us the date

We get a LOT of adorable Satokos this timeline, so that’s really good, she’s felt the most shafted so far by far.

And hey Shion can now casually exist since we’ve established her in previous timelines! That’s pretty cool. Don’t know who I’d rather be here, because being hugged by Shion and getting to hug Satoko both sound extremely appealing.

But anyway my guess is that between like, Shion existing now, and nobody expositing to Keichii about Oyashiro’s curse anymore, we are gonna move towards arcs that have more elements at play to keep them interesting. Information we’ve learned across multiple timelines becoming relevant at unexpected moments for bigger stories, shit like that. I mean, maybe. It’s certainly something to look forward to.

On that note, there’s already quite a lot to take in with just this one episode of Satoko focus. Just for a little TL;DR, Satoko’s parents actually supported the dam project and are now dead, on the night of the Watanagashi festival too, hmmm. Her older brother Satoshi also “ran away”, though some kids say he got demoned away on Watanagashi too. So she’s been living with Rika for a while (whose parents are also dead) though the episode actually ends with her moving into some place with her uncle Teppei, who’s house is a fucking shithole and he constantly verbally abuses his landlord and is generally a cunt. He’s also that dude in the ED I suspected of maybe having raped Satoko so, fun.

Now obviously lots of this info is just, hey her life sucked. So people feel sorry for her. Including the captain of the baseball team - Irie - wants to marry her when she’s older slash adopt her if not for legal shit. Alright, fuckin creep! Really don’t think if you’re a character in that universe then you should be talking about wanting to see that in-universe child in a maid costume and wanting to marry her, let alone in the same sentence where you say you’d adopt her if you could. Fucked up dude.

But I mean that’s basically it for like, properly new info, and all of it did a lot to endear me to Satoko. I already liked her anyway, right, because she’s a cute Akio Watanabe loli with a fang. But I guess just, seeing how this tragic backstory sort of forced her to mature early is really interesting. Girl’s had to learn all about getting the best bargains at shops and cooking for yourself and a bunch of shit that she shouldn’t really need to concern herself with at age, what? I don’t know. Can somebody tell me how old these characters are? I could look it up but if people tell me instead I get to praise the Higurashi fandom more for their willingness to engage with newcomers.

But yeah Satoko, grows up too early. I like to think her going desu wa and speaking formally as all fucking hell literally constantly is like, just her way of feeling more mature. If she sounds more adult like, she can tell herself she’s more ready to accept these responsibilities than she really is. She’s committed pretty hard to it. Of course, the actual Satoko is this dumb shitter loli with the snootiest anime girl laugh of them all that likes to prank her friends and calls her big brother “nii-nii”. She’s just a pretty interesting character imo is the TL;DR, and she’s the least popular of the series’ main characters on MAL too lol. What a shame.

I do think that this idea that she’s being forced to grow up too early lends credence to my like, prediction that her uncle is going to sexually abuse her. Cause the main reason I’m guessing that is just because of the ED, right. But there’s also that like, definitely messed up cultural thing that losing your virginity is what makes you an adult. For the record I obviously disagree with that notion, it’s creepy and fucked up and does a lot of damage to people while benefitting literally nobody. But it’s an interesting narrative tool here in that, if Satoko were to lose her virginity to being raped by her uncle, that’s like the ultimate “forced to be an adult way too soon” thing. It’s fucked up but I’m basically saying I think there's narrative merit to having Satoko to be raped by her uncle. That would tie who she is as the character to the events of the plot in a really thematically coherent way, and one that’s appropriately fucked up and horrific for, you know, a horror show. We’ll see what happens though. By the way nobody tell me if I’m like, right or wrong about this. I want to have that “fuck yeah” moment of predicting something cool, or I want to have that “god I’m stupid” moment of being so confident in something and being completely wrong. For better or for worse.

But yeah, I think this was a good episode. Endeared me to Satoko’s character a lot more, gives me more interesting details about this world and its characters, and with two timelines already spent establishing shit like the dam project and Oyashiro, the show’s now free to like, have those elements be a part of the narrative without constantly refreshing Keichii as to what they are. Cool stuff.

#higurashi #27.11.20

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yaboylevi · 5 years ago

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Does Eren's question mean that he has a cruch on Mikasa?

Mmm, I’ll try to explain how I read the scene.

Short answer: No, I do not believe Eren has a crush on Mikasa and the scene, albeit presented in a romantic light from Mikasa’s pov, it was not on Eren’s part. Same as usual, I’d argue.

I will expand on this under the cut, but I just want to reiterate that this is just my interpretation, as one of the anons said, and I am aware everyone is free to have their own, even if they might puzzle me. You are free to disagree, but please don’t send me hate messages.

Upon reading the chapter the first time, I didn’t feel romantic vibes. It was actually quite tragic and disappointing for me to see one of my favorite characters (Mikasa) completely misunderstand my favorite character (Eren), in spite of how close they are supposed to be. I was so depressed and disturbed by the whole chapter, that even if I read it at 5 AM and I could’ve slept another 2 hours before having to actually wake up, I just laid in bed restlessly, absolutely depressed. I even tweeted about it lol.

Anyway, I was pretty busy that week, and only later I found out most people interpreted the scene as Eren being in love with Mikasa. It was a shock for me. It was literally the opposite of what I personally understood.

- Eren’s headspace

Let’s first talk about Eren and where his mind is in this chapter.

I felt discomfort and anxiety throughout the whole chapter. I am a pretty empathetic person, so I realized why I was feeling like that only later, after rationalizing chapter 123: Eren’s memories (which we know are horrible and gruesome and depressing) were being triggered the whole time he was in Marley and it was disturbing to watch.

He looks distressed and uncomfortable. His gaze is often unfocused (or, well, not focused on the present) and he is constantly spacing out - Armin notices but doesn’t seem to care or understand why. Honestly, it is cringe-worthy seeing Eren’s friends’ behavior. They should know what memories Eren has of this place. I do not know if anyone reading right now is familiar with triggers and what they do to a mind affected by PTSD. It’s enough to know that you feel like suffocating because you are fundamentally battling a panic attack and you ideally would want to get away from the source that is triggering you. So, imagine being in a situation you can’t escape from and everything is triggering your worst nightmares. Literally.

Even here, I’m ashamed no one in canon (and almost even in the fandom?) realizes or bothers to be understanding and careful, even when Eren makes a disturbing comment about it. Mikasa admits to it when it's all too late.

The ice-cream scene, just like the one I’m supposed to analyze in this post, is rose-tinted through Mikasa’s glasses, until we are faced with reality and are asked to reflect on Eren’s emotional state, again and again.

Reality is not a happy trip in a foreign country. Reality is a crowd of grown men wanting to hang a child because he’s different. Reality is people wanting to kill them all. Reality is Eren being triggered by ice-cream. Imagine being unable to look at a certain food because it reminds you of people being abused and brutally killed, something that you have actual memories of.

It’s just really frustrating seeing Mikasa looking at Eren, with this dumbfounded look on her face, every time Eren’s eyes seem to scream “help”.

The strain he is put under for the whole time culminates in him crying while looking at the war victims’ homes. Here at this moment, Mikasa enters the scene.

- The “eremika” scene

At this point, Eren’s reminiscing about an awful part of his past, and has a pretty clear idea of what will happen in Marley in a close future. We can be certain of this because he voices both of these topics out loud.

Eren is visibly distressed. Honestly, I’m pretty sure his voice in this scene will be quite telling of his emotional state in the anime. The direction his thoughts go, when expressed out loud, and the expression on his face are self-explanatory. Or should be, at least.

It doesn’t matter that Mikasa hasn’t seen him cry, she saw Eren wipe his face and noticed that there is, again, something wrong, but she doesn’t even ask him if he’s alright. She either doesn’t comprehend the depth of Eren’s pain, yet again, or she isn’t brave enough to ask. I believe it’s the former.

The whole chapter revolves around Mikasa’s inability to see Eren’s true feelings. Chapter 123 opens with this concept. And it is also quite clear that everything is retold from her point of view, so we shouldn’t complacently accept a surface reading of it; we are instead invited to have a deeper look into the events, both by Mikasa’s initial lines as well as the not at all subtle visual storytelling. So yeah, she has a perspective on Eren that is wrong. I think we should keep this in mind.

That’s why the moment she thinks ice-cream can make Eren happy, she is wrong. The moment she thinks Eren’s question has romantic implications, she is wrong. The moment she wonders if a different answer could’ve prevented Eren from choosing this path, she is also wrong...

Let’s go back to the scene.

Eren opens up on his own, even if Mikasa didn’t ask. He’s always been open throughout the time-skip (and even before), but I believe at this moment he has reached the breaking point since landing in Marley. He is at the most vulnerable. Like a dam finally breaking, his walls, that he had tried to keep up until that moment, fall and his feelings/thoughts spill out, after being mostly silent all day.

His short monologue is a direct continuation, or out loud repetition, of what he had been thinking about only moments before and that had caused him to cry. I believe the future he has decided upon also plays a part in it, but he doesn’t voice it, just offhandedly acknowledge its existence with that “Not yet.” comment.

Seeing a family living in poor conditions because of a war they didn’t even have any say in, has triggered Eren’s memories of the past. His and Mikasa’s and Armin’s past. They only had each other, as family, because the adults weren’t there anymore, unjustly killed, like many others. They had experienced first hand what it meant to lose your loved ones, to live a life without enough food, enough rest, enough protection. Without freedom.

Mikasa doesn’t say anything to this. She doesn’t know how to reply, and, thanks to the chapters dedicated to the time-skip, we know this has been going on for years. It’s honestly…disappointing.

And even before the time-skip, we know that she sometimes projected her insecurities and wishes on Eren, misinterpreting him really badly, to the point of making situations romantic when it really weren't.

The scene in chapter 123 is no different, especially because, as I said, it is explicitly a chapter told from Mikasa’s point of view where she also explicitly says she hasn’t been seeing Eren correctly.

There have been a lot of parallels with past chapters in this recent arc, and even 123 wasn’t lacking in this department: if the ice-cream scene parallels the ocean scene, with everyone having fun, while Eren is in emotional pain and discomfort; This other scene parallels chapter 50. At the ocean, Eren’s words gave pause to everyone, but in chapter 123 nobody, quite frankly, gives a damn about Eren to the point that they forget about him. Similarly, in chapter 50 Mikasa had managed to express her feelings for Eren’s existence (gratitude, acceptance and unconditional love - not necessarily romantic), and managed to surprisingly help him because she understood his needs on a basic level. In chapter 123, she doesn’t understand Eren’s pain and so she doesn’t say the right thing (that, btw, wouldn’t have changed Eren’s mind about his future actions, imo).

Just like in chapter 50, Eren is in an emotionally fragile moment, and what he needs, unconsciously, is the reassurance that he is loved, that someone cares about him for who he is, even if he feels undeserving of it.

I believe he is feeling despair on both occasions.

Of course, we can only guess about what made Eren cry in this new chapter, because we don’t have access to his mind this time around, but I’m sure it’s a mixture of things: knowing how ineluctable their future seems, and whatever it entails is upsetting for Eren as well; empathy for someone else’s painful condition because he’s been there before; probably also sadness, because he knows what he himself will cause to happen (as implied by that “not yet”) as well as that his time with his found family and friends is about to end; the bonds he will have to break, something that breaks Eren in return.

So it’s honestly not that surprising that he searches for comfort. I guess he’s been struggling with what he has seen in his future because he would have never thought himself able to kill innocents. His mindset used to be about protecting himself and his loved ones and innocents from being robbed of their freedom, yet he knows he is about to become someone who takes away that freedom, along with lives. For him, life equals freedom, because when you are born you are intrinsically free. So his future actions must have been weighing heavy on his mind and heart.

I find it fitting and incredibly sad that he asks Mikasa what she thinks of him now, after talking about families being robbed of their freedom and how much pain this causes.

Mikasa has always been family to him. So has been Armin, but Mikasa is somehow different. She has lived with him, he has directly invited her to be part of his family, he admitted he childishly rejected her familial care because he was jealous but after this admittance, he embraces it. Opening Grisha’s book together was an important moment exactly because they are family, and that was their home.

They are constantly compared to family. It doesn’t matter, in my opinion, that Mikasa holds also romantic feelings for Eren. She primarily sees him as family, too.

They are what is left of the Yeager household, and the story has highlighted this.

So I believe that in his pain in 123, Eren seeks something, a word of comfort, an assurance that he is not just a killer or a failure, and that he is Eren, someone who has been trying to do the right thing since forever, someone who has done the right thing often, someone who is deserving of the care of the girl he once saved (even if the question clearly implies he doesn’t think he deserves it). In chapter 50, Eren invokes his mother. I am sure he is searching for the same kind of warmth here too. The warmth of his family.

The scene, to me, felt a lot more about Eren’s feelings of self-hatred and Mikasa missing the point.

The entirety of the chapter is meant to show how Mikasa didn’t understand Eren: both by ignoring some signs and misunderstanding others.

He is suffering, but she thinks he is asking her about her romantic feelings.

She blushes, yet Eren has just finished crying and becomes teary-eyed once again.

He is distressed and looks haunted, during both of the rose-colored scenes with Mikasa.

His questions are almost needy. Yet, she fails to understand what Eren was in need of: comfort, understanding, an “I care about you because it’s YOU”. Something that she implied later in chapter 112, when it was indeed too late.

- The two choices were possibly both wrong

Eren presented two options and I think they were both partially correct but at the same time incomplete, because Mikasa’s care for Eren is comprised of many facets. We don’t know what he thinks of Mikasa's answer because we don’t see his reaction to it. However, he seems at peace, later on, falling asleep next to the closest members of his found family, meaning he is content with and values the way their relationship is.

Eren surely doesn’t regret saving Mikasa. He also surely considers Mikasa his family, as I stated before. But there are certain kinds of expectations in being family and in being someone’s savior. You will always care about someone who literally saved your life. You will always care about family because they are…well, family. No matter how messed up they may be, they will always have a small place in your heart, whether it’s bad or good.

“You’re my savior” might imply a dependance or sticking to someone just to repay them. “Family” might have the meaning of “it’s my duty to look after you because it’s simply what family members do”. Both also imply that Mikasa will be hurt even worse by what Eren is about to do.

These weren’t the answers Eren needed, perhaps.

As I said already, I believe that what he searched for, was a different answer. If Mikasa had told him she cared about him as a person, as Eren himself, Eren would have felt reassured - because he would be loved for the neutral quality of simply existing. That’s also what made him feel better, when hearing Carla’s words at the end of Uprising. That he was loved, cared for, and worthy of existing just for being born. No expectations, no burdens. An “I stick with you because I love you (romantically)” could have held the same meaning, potentially, because love is love, but in no way this means Eren wanted a romantic answer or that he feels the same way. Besides, that’s not the reason Mikasa cares about Eren, that’s just a side effect, imo.

And I don’t believe Mikasa, at the question “what am I to you?”, believes she should have responded with “you are the love of my life”. That would’ve been so out of place, because Eren is not the love of her life. He is more. I think family well describes it, but her half-assed, panicked answer wasn’t truthful or as powerful as her words were in chapter 50, so they had no real effect and felt unsatisfying for everyone, honestly.

I always stated that if Eren fell in love with someone else, their love for one another wouldn’t change, because the strongest feeling Mikasa feels for Eren isn’t romantic love, and romantic love is something that has never been in Eren’s mind when it came to Mikasa, as shown countless times (or rather, the lack of romantic undertones on his part re:Mikasa should be proof enough, imo).

Anyway, I could be wrong, but I can’t see it any other way. I think it’s a very complex scene to analyze and there is way more than meets the eye, especially because we aren’t granted access to Eren.

I am a great fan of Mikasa, but this scene and chapter made me reconsider her a lot, unfortunately. I strongly believed she had resolved and understood her complicated feelings for Eren in chapter 50, so she had reached a less biased view, but there has been a regression. The same happened with Armin, his character arc was about him growing confident in himself, and learning to always pay close attention to his own realistic reading of the world, but he has just become unsure of what he has to do and lost his cynical edge.

And finally, I want to quickly address another two points so I don't have to talk about this scene anymore until new information is revealed:

The “perfect timing” comment: I interpreted it as Eren knowing what was about to happen and being depressed but used to his memories being correct. Proof, for me, is Mikasa being confused at Eren’s comment, just like she was at the “not yet” one. Besides, they had already been interrupted by the old man and he didn’t seem to mind, so this “perfect timing” has nothing to do with their friends “ruining” the moment. He willingly invites them to join in and finally, he is content and relaxed, when he is with all of them. He loves them all.

Mikasa’s comment about “if only I had said something different”: I think she may have realized that it wasn’t a romantic situation - because clearly, her romantic inclinations have clouded her judgment. That she had failed to understand Eren’s feelings and his reason for bringing up Mikasa’s care for him. I don’t sense a “I should’ve told him I loved him”. Because honestly, familial love IS love. Platonic love IS love, too. If Eren wasn’t “saved” by the purest form of love, I don’t see how any other type of love could’ve changed anything. That panel, revisited by the current Mikasa, focuses even more on Eren’s tears. Eren’s deep sadness clashes with Mikasa’s initial frivolous reading of the moment. So stating that she believes she should’ve confessed, means going against what the chapter has stated to be…not right.

Thank you for reading all of this, if anyone has managed to! :)

#mikasa ackerman #eren yeager #snk 123 #snk spoilers #snk meta #snk #Anonymous

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legendarypizzaalpaga · 5 years ago

Text

Here are my thoughts on Frozen II

(and it’s going to be terribly long, I’m sorry)

Actually I don’t think anybody reads my articles (well, I might have written 3 in the past 5/ 6 years with like 4 years of inactivity so ahem) but I really need to share what I think about this movie.

I am a Hans fan AND a Helsa shipper. Or course I was disappointed by him not being in the movie, by knowing his useless appearance or all the punch in the face from the writers to Hans and Hans’ fans (that seem both to be hated by them for some reason? Even if we are part of Frozen fandom too?). Of course, I can’t totally enjoy it because of that, because it feels that there is something “missing”, because it really feels that we, Hans’ fans, are being made fun off by wanting him being redeemed. Disappointed, but not surprised, actually.

BUT you know what? I accepted it. I can deal with it. I can find all the Hans and Helsa content I want here, so even if I am genuinely sad that Hans doesn’t appear in the movie, I thought that I might be able to like the movie like everyone else. I was not waiting for it regarding all the spoilers I read, but after reading a lot of positive comments, even from other disappointed Hans’ fans, I changed my mind.

Believe it or not, I am not a hater, I wanted to like this movie. I wanted so badly to like this movie, I swear. But I didn’t, not only the end, but from the beginning to the end. I dislike it to a point I envy people who liked it because I felt so bad during the entire movie when I wanted to like it like the first one.

Long story short, I didn’t like Frozen I neither the first time I watched it. The only thing I liked was Hans, because he was handsome and a ginger (true story). I thought him turning a villain was stupid and terribly written. But after that, I was still thinking about it. I re watched it, started to like Elsa, Anna, started to ship Hanna and finally Helsa. I even started to like Hans being the villain, because his back story with him bullying by all his brothers was really interesting. Shipping Helsa made sense and after six years I’m still in. Frozen is a beautiful movie with very likable characters in their own ways.

But I still think Frozen I is not amazingly written. It has a lot of flaws, but every movie has, so I didn’t make a big deal of it. I waited six years for Frozen II, which can probably explain why I don’t like it to that point. I spent six years discussing Frozen and realizing that the writers’ idea of it is totally different of mine is quite weird, even if its is not their fault. Disney owe Frozen, not the fans, they can do anything they want with it. I hope in the future I’ll start to like Frozen II like I did for Frozen I, seeing its quality. I am not a negative person and I don’t want to hate or roast anything.

But I can’t help but think that Frozen II has a pretty terrible writing and a lot, A LOT of flaws, plot holes and things that made me wonder if the writers even watched their own first movie. Even fans have different points of views, but really, I just don’t get what the movie was trying to say.

Still, I want to start with all the things I appreciate in it, because a lot of persons worked on this movie and sometimes did a pretty amazing job.

The songs are amazing. I want to put this one first because, as someone who don’t like Disney’s songs (even as a kid), me liking the songs is pretty rare. All the lyrics are beautiful, “Show Yourself” is now my favorite Disney song of all time and I’m going to listen to it over and over for the next six years. Unpopular opinion but I liked Kristoff's song too, being very kitschy, but I think that was the point. And Panic at the Disco’s “Into the unknown” is the best, really.

The movie is beautiful. Do I need to say anything more than that? I like the autumn theme of the all movie, with a lot of beautiful images. Frozen I was already really beautiful but, whoa, this one is amazing.

The new characters are enjoyable. Especially the lieutenant Destin Mattias (I had to google his name...). I regret they don’t have a lot of importance in this sequel because they had a lot of potential. Elsamaren shippers, you know what I mean.

Some scenes are really emotional. Elsa and Anna’s separation, Elsa being about to cry in “Show Yourself” when she sees her mother, Olaf’s die, Anna’s “The Next Right Thing” and everything about her in the end of the movie.

Anna being the amazing person she is. I am a Helsa shipper but did I ever say how much I love Anna? Anna who saves the day, as she always does, Anna being so strong and doing the right thing, Anna’s becoming queen (again I know it’s not a really popular opinion but I love Anna being queen and I would DIE to see her having powers too). She was a way more relatable character in the all movie than Elsa in my opinion, unfortunately. The only time I get a little emotional in the movie was for her, and even before, I always thought that Anna was the true heroine of all the Frozen franchise.

Elsa’s being super powerful. I have to say I didn’t like it, for a lot of reason I’ll discuss later, but I understand why a lot of persons like it. In six years, Elsa became a symbol, of what can be seen as a weakness could actually be your strength. In that sense, the fact that she is so powerful, so sure about herself, can be a fantastic message, especially for young audience, and having Elsa (or Anna) as role model seems really positive to me.

Kristoff’s positive masculinity. The line “My love is not fragile”, just that. You’re a cool guy, Kristoff, I like you. You deserve a happy marriage. That being said, I had to continue with what I didn’t like. I have to say first that I watched this movie only once, not in my mother tongue, and I didn’t watch Frozen I since a long time go. So it might containes mistakes or things I simply forgot. I am sorry for that. Again I don’t want to roast this movie, and I am really happy if you liked it, I wish I had too, I don’t like to be that negative but I have to take this out of my mind. (I’m not going to discuss Hans’ not being in the movie, as I said I accepted it)

I’ll start with “minor problems” really subjective and finish with my biggest issues about this movie.

Olaf was never funny to me. Unpopular opinion again, I don’t appreciate Olaf, I barely think him being a bit funny in the first movie, but in this one... I didn’t even smile once, except maybe with him explaining Frozen I’s Plot, but that was an easy one. His song is the only one I totally dislike and all his “I’ll understand when I grow up” well... I didn’t get it. When he admits he is angry at Elsa is the moment that made me him like him a little more. But, yeah, no, Olaf is not my cup of tea.

It’s the first time in my life I think animated characters are bad at acting. I am sorry but some lines where... like... I don’t know. The one I have in mind is especially when Kristoff is trying to propose once again and talks about “being crazy” and Anna responds with “Do you think I’m crazy??” with crazy eyes like... she NEVER acts like that! It seems like the animators wanted so badly to show how many facial expression the were capable of that they wrote those weird lines where the character changes their expression in a couple of seconds. The same goes with all the times the characters talk to themselves so the audience can understand what’s happening (ok it’s a kid’s movie but they’re not stupid...). Sometimes it made sense but sometimes it was just like a Korean drama, really (I love Korean drama but that’s not a compliment). I think it’s more a problem of writing, but sometimes it just made me feels that I was watching bad actors, that was so weird.

All the “water has memory” stuff. I am sorry but it doesn’t make sense, even a little. I know it’s a movie and I shouldn’t care, but the boat scene just killed me. Elsa has ICE powers, not WATER (I know ice is from water but if it’s the same, why is there a water spirit while Elsa is the fifth one?), so HOW DOES THAT WORK? HOW? EXPLAIN, MOVIE, PLEASE. Elsa can take water in everything (wind, earth, boat) and can create “memory” because it’s made of ice? Is that her special ability that nobody else has? But the water spirit also have a form of an horse so you can create things with water too? I don’t get it, not at all, sorry, I just don’t. It’s just lazy writing, in my opinion. It shouldn’t be a big deal, but that fact that it is used at EVERY single moment of the movie made me cringe, especially because of the next problem I have:

The characters understand everything too fast. All the “water has memory” bullshit is an easy way to allows that. The fact that the sisters immediately recognized their young father is a thing, but just by seeing a scarf they immediately understand that their mother is from here? Ok, why not. But Anna, just by seeing a sculpture of her grandfather trying to kill someone, she immediately understands that the dam was a trap???? HOW DID YOU MANAGE TO GET THAT? It could have been BILLIONS of reasons to her grandfather to kill the chef of the tribute, like conquer their forest, stealing their stuff or whatever. How does she know that the dam was a trap when it could have been a real sign of peace but then their grandfather becoming a douche after that? Again, it’s so lazy writing. Just by the tribe explaining to her that the dam was bad for them, but Anna continue to believe her grandfather was good, before understanding by the statue he was not could have been ENOUGH. And again, HOW does she know that breaking the dam is going to solve everything? Because the tribe lives with the nature, so what’s again the tribe is against the nature, so the spirits are mad, so they blocked the forest, but still what does that have to do with the damn fifth spirit? I don’t get this movie.

Elsa’s earning spirit’s friendship by fighting them. This one really made me wondering if I was watching the same movie as everybody. The spirits seem to be positive figure, because they represent nature. They don’t want intruders, so they attacked the group... why did they suddenly started to like and help Elsa when all she does is fighting them? Because they understand that she is like them? Because she is too powerfull, they finally decide to help her? What made them change their mind? If the writers tried to do something like Moana, well... that was better done in Moana, because she failed when she tried to attack but succeed when she decides not to, because you can’t fight nature, that’s the message. Again, I don’t get what this movie is trying to do. (oh and I especially hate the scene with the water horse, just by jumping on a horse doesn’t mean it suddenly loves you being there...)

The fifth spirit. Do I need to say anything else? All the fifth spirit stuff didn’t make sense and was totally useless in a movie that could have worked without. Honeymaren saying to Elsa that she belongs to the forest was... like... you BARELY know her, how do you know that? It was like they needed to have a reason to make her stay in the forest and “be free”? When she could just have given the crown to Anna that deserves it and being free... with her family? (her REAL family she needs not her mother’s tribe...)

Elsa and Anna abandoning their kingdom for the second time in two movies. Ok you did it to save Arendelle but, still. And after that people still complain about Hans not being a good leader? Again, not a big deal, but my girls... don’t do that often please.

Elsa’s journey. That’s a big no no for me. Did the writers of this movie watched the first one? Because she just seemed like a totally different character to me. I understand she grew up, and I could have accept that she wanted to be free, that it was her journey. But, again, it was not brightly written. In like the five first minutes of the movie, we are introduced to Elsa hearing voices and... that’s it. She hears voice. If it was supposed to be symbolic or her wanting to go for an adventure instead of having a boring like in Arendelle, well, that was absolutely not necessary. Why didn’t they show her not enjoying her life? Like doing queen’s tasks she doesn’t enjoy, talking to people that continue to judge her for her powers, showing that Anna is naturally a better leader than her. It could have been very interesting that even being that powerful, she still has flaws, visible flaws. The only thing we see is her life with her family, but if the message of the movie was that the sisters have to learn how to live separately, again it wasn’t clear AT ALL. And thinking that the message of the first movie was that love from your family can save you, it’s a quite weird message for a sequel in my opinion.

At the end of the movie she is supposed to be free... free from what? By not accepting herself? While we see her being so confident about herself during the ENTIRE movie (yeah she “died” at one moment but it just made her realize that Anna is strong enough to help her to, which is totally different from accepting her own flaws). She finally found the place she belongs... again... a forest? Because her mother come from here? ??? I don’t get this movie.

And finally... my biggest problem... the HUGE issue I have with this movie. The only thing I just can’t ignore. The thing that made me cringe to HARD during the ENTIRE MOVIE.

Why is nobody discussing Elsa’s parents attitude during the first movie?

DID THE WRITERS WATCH THEIR OWN DAWN FIRST MOVIE??? DID THEY?

Don’t get me wrong, I do think Elsa’s parents loved her. I do think they thought they were doing the right things for her and their other daughter. I do think they had the best intentions. I do things parents with good intentions can f*ck up their kids so badly it will follow them forever (well, not forever in the case of Elsa, because she is perfectly fine now as if the first movie never existed... mental health, not a big issue).

BUT WHAT THEY DID TO HER WAS WRONG.

To be honest I would have LOVED if Elsa’s arc was about understand and finally forgive her parents about what they did to her. It would even have made sense with her grandfather being a douch, convincing his son that magic is dangerous. It’s normal that Elsa and Anna love their parents, I mean, just because your parents did something wrong doesn’t mean that you won’t love them anymore. But all the “Let it go” song was about not listening to her restrictive parents anymore!! They erase her from her beloved sister’s memory and caused her terrible anxious issue that was basically THE PLOT OF THE FIRST MOVIE.

Elsa’s parents f*cked up EVERYTHING and you can’t change my mind. The fact that this is NEVER, not A SINGLE TIME, discussed in the entire movie was unbearable for me. And worst, the fact that they are shown as heroes really disturbed me. Again, I would not mind if this was the consequence of an all “redemption” arc for them, by Elsa finally understand her parents, why they wanted to restrict her true self (the f*cking thing she is singing about in “Show Yourself” with her MOTHER, yeah movie, that makes totally sense), why they thought it was the right thing to do when it wasn’t. Iduna’s being the voice Elsa hears could have been her wanting her daughter’s forgiveness and encouraging her to be 100% herself after years saying her not to be. But no.

The worst for me was the boat scene. So Elsa’s parents are the true heroes of the story, for some reason, AND they died because they wanted to help Elsa ? I swear, when Elsa started to feel guilty of their death I wanted to leave the theater so bad. AGAIN, if she had discovered that after an all movie being mad at them for restraining her true self for so long, it would have made sense. It could have help her understand that they did love her too, that they did wrong but wanted to help her in the end. Elsa could have grown from the bitterness of the past, and her thinking that she is so powerful she could do everything could have been her way of emancipation from her parents, when she finally learns that she still needs her sister's help.

This is all I see with Frozen II: a lost opportunity. A lost opportunity to have a better journey for Elsa, than just... being powerful, always powerful, being saved by her sister again and becoming a god-like powerful after that. A lost opportunity to show that good parents can be wrong thinking they are doing what’s right for their children. A lost of opportunity to show a character who wants to break free, not from something not even explicitly shown in the movie, but from the regrets of the past that we can all understand (because it was IN THE FIRST DAMN MOVIE).

A lost opportunity of a good sequel. Maybe Frozen II is a good movie, I don’t know, but it’s a really weird sequel in my opinion. The story makes no sense, the characters have really strange evolution, and some message are questionable. Again, I am really happy for you if you like it, and I even envy you for that. Waiting six years for a movie you almost wanted to leave the theater at, that’s harsh. I thought I was only going to be disappointed at Hans’ missing, but with all the plot holes and the weirdness of the story, I’m not even sure it would have been better with him anyway. Maybe you did dodge a bullet here, Hans...

So... fandom team. Whenever you liked the movie or not, like me, please let’s create some cool content. That’s what fandoms are made for and made off. I don’t want to leave the Frozen fandom, because I still like a lot of things about it. I am just sad this sequel was not worth the patience for me. I hope I didn’t make any Frozen II fans feel bad because of this post. I just wanted to share my thoughts. It took me hours but I needed to.

Now all I can say is: disappointed, but not surprised.

#frozen #frozen 2 #frozen 2 spoilers #helsa #helsa fandom #iduna #frozen iduna #queen iduna #agnaar #frozen agnaar #king agnaar

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hereisisa · 5 years ago

Text

I saw Frozen 2 and there’s a lot to say. I’m not gonna write in any particular order so I apologize if this seems a bit...disconnected.

- Elsa is a cute little angel when she sleeps. Expecially in the wagon scene. I wanted to take a pic. lol

- Elsa and Anna entering the castle, arms in arms at the end of “some things never change” is something I’ll need to rewatch over and over.

- I didn’t like how ready Elsa was to leave at any time (night and day) forgetting she has Anna following her. Even after the fire, she’s following Bruni and boom, Anna hugs her from behind. Of course she’s fast to recover and ask her how she feels...but if they wanted to show her priority was to find the voice....mission accomplished. It shouldn’t have been this way tho.

- One of the K’s proposal was really ridiculous, Anna’s watching the dam, she casually talks about how it may break, and he has to “reassure her” it’s gonna be fine and she needs a hug over it. Fanservice. It was a casual convo, not a dramatic scene. There was no need for all that thing even if it didn’t bother me, it made ma laugh. They did it to prove Anna cares about him and it explains why she says yes later...otherwise the audience has no idea the relationship evolved since last time we saw them. Anyway it seemed weird as fuck and totally ridiculous. Nobody needs a hug over something that it’s ... NOT happening in that very moment.

- Kristoff’s song. It totally stopped the movie. The song is cute, but it’s one of those things that could have been cut to give more space at the end.

It was “pee time” for all kids in the theater who were bored, and it was “let’s check the time” for the moms who reached for the phone in their purses. I would have cut it, but if you cut that...well you also cut the only thing he does in the whole movie. :/ Cause it’s his only storyline.

- I loved how furious Anna was when Elsa made her leave. It was a dick move, Elsa, and again, instead of opening up to her sister she sent her away. She may have “changed” into a 5th spirit, but this is NOT growth. Not at all. She’s still not sharing her pain, and still not opening up. She didn’t change, and she should.

Anyway if this is all the “fighting” they did during the movie...lol I’m on board. It’s not a fight at all.

- “Show yourself” is amazing. I loved how Elsa is crying when she’s reaching the glacier. She’s so beautiful when she wipes the tears from her face.

- I’ve cried a little bit over “show yourself” but the fact that it was in italian really stopped me from being emotional. I need to watch it in original language.

There were young kids there...3/4 year olds, who didn’t understood most of the movie. It was too difficult for them, the plot too complicated, and what’s happened to Elsa wasn’t properly explained in a way kids would understand it. They were annoyed at Olaf’s “big words”, and didn’t cry cause they didn’t even understood Elsa died. They cried when Anna cried, cause it was obvious what was happening there.

Older kids (7/8) as my daughter cried for the minute Olaf started to melt, and on. Elsa’s death wasn’t too emotional to be honest.

Kids cried but were also annoyed after 1 minute of Anna’s song. It’s not “harmonious” enough, people got bored.

- The moment when Anna apologizes to Kristoff for leaving him behind felt totally wrong. It wasn’t the right moment. Any sane woman who just lost a sister would even remotely THINK of something else, like...apologizing for something like that. Again, the way they had to bend the storyline to prove the proposal made sense, it’s unbelievable! I said it was fanservice but it’s not.

It’s about the little things they had to insert here and there to show it makes sense for them to do the next step.

Spoiler: it doesn’t.

Every one of those moments, as the one in front of the dam I’ve discussed before, feels out of place, exaggerated, like they were “reaching”.

- When K does the proposal and calls Anna an extraordinary person look at Elsa, she’s nodding. Not because she agrees with the proposal as “they” said LMAO but because she is confirming how amazing her sister is. I loved how after the proposal Elsa bends her head trying to catch a glimpse of her sister’ eyes, to see how she really feels. She goes to look for her face, to look at her in the eyes. Very human, I loved it. She didn’t react in any particular way to the proposal tho, as expected.

- Honeymaren. It’s nothing. Nothing at all. A not-existent relationship. I don’t understand what’s there to see. Now that i’ve seen her interaction with Elsa and Anna I have 2 things in my mind:

1) there was NOTHING REMOTELY SEXUAL in their enteractions. No flirting, no hints to anything, it confirmed to me what I already knew, that Elsa is asexual.

Yes, in my mind she’ll always be a lesbian and in love with Anna, but this is my ship, my dream. In the reality of the show, in canon.....I strongly believe they’re painting her as asexual.

There is nothing about Elsa that hints to romance, to flirt, to interest towards women or men. She’s pure as a virgin, she’s an ethereal goddess, an angel. And I’m perfectly fine with it.

2) Since there is this...not existent relationship between Elsa and the Nolthundra, I’ve found extremely arrogant from Honeymaren’ to say “your place is in the forest”. Like uh??? Who asked you? You are you? Who cares about your opinion? Why do you believe you know what’s better for Elsa? It irritates me, but I’m wrong to be irritated to her. I should be irritated with the writers who didn’t find a better way to explain why Elsa should stay there. I know, they changed your story and you couldn’t kill Elsa....but a better “plan B” had to take place!

- The end: it’s clear as the sun that Elsa lives with the Nolthundra and that she’s doing a trip to the glacier in the end. You can absolutely see Anathollan in front of her, the same shape we saw before in the movie, as she runs towards it. Yes, the dark sea is iced cause it’s almost winter now, but it’s there. She’s NOT going to Arendelle at all, not in that moment anyhow.

- Anna as Queen feels extremely weird. She looks like Iduna. My daugther noticed how her clothes matched..................Mathias’ ones. lmao. I see now how naive we were to think we’ll see a coronation. We saw it in one movie, no chances in hell they’ll do another similar scene, it would feel like a unnecessary copy.

Now....on with the characters and ships’ reviews:

KA: there’s nothing sexy at all. The wagon scene was innocent and pure and I can’t believe people thought it was flirty. Even the “leather” comment.....I think the italian translation here really helps to explain what Anna meant. They translated it with “I prefer you when you wear animal fur”, which is exactly what Kristoff wears. Translators didn’t see an innuendo and I don’t think there was one. Anyway Kristoff’ only plot was to propose. If you take the proposal out of the movie you LOSE NOTHING, and you gain 10 minutes who could be spent on expanding the rushed finale.

elsanna: I felt an enormous affection and love between the 2 sisters, for Anna it lasted for the whole movie, for Elsa I didn’t feel it when she was too focused on her trip, but every little gesture screamed “love”. I didn’t think it was “too much”, it could 100% pass as sisterly love only, and if you don’t rewatch the scenes in slow motion and don’t see the little things as Anna staring at her lips....it’s really NOT “too much” for the anti-elsanna viewer.

elsamaren: not registered.

Elsa: she’s larger than life. She’s everything. Of course I didn’t like when she sent Anna away, or when she ignored her, or when she dumped her responsabilities like that.....But she was magnificent. My Elsa is still Queen of Arendelle and I’m taking home from this movie only the good things. She definitely has to apologize to Anna, and if there will be a third movie, I would like it to be about Elsa running after Anna, about Elsa showing how much she cares and about Elsa making sacrifices for Anna. She has to. Otherwise it’s not fair.

The kids loved her tho....it was like she was the only thing they saw on screen.

Anna: I’m sorry to say it but if Elsa was more popular before.....now they’re not even on the same planet.

If this movie accomplishes one thing, is to increase the gap between the love/attention Elsa will get from kids, and the love/attention Anna will. And there’s nothing to do about that. Elsa is this gorgeous magic being, pure and beautiful, who rides an ice horse and control the elements....and Anna destroyed a dam once. I’m sorry for Anna cause there is really no game now. It’s the sisters’ franchising but this is this movie consecrates Elsa as its star.

My daughter is in love with Nokk and her favorite scene is when Elsa turns Nokk into ice. She thinks it’s “not fair” that Elsa isn’t Queen anymore, she laughed at the Kristoff’ song (she liked it=, and she would want Elsa to live with her sister because “I don’t like the idea that when you grow up you have to go to live elsewhere”.

LOL @ Jenn who wrote a movie for kids with adult messages they may not like.

I will probably find more to add later, but this is for now.

I want to ask a favor to my anons.....instead of sending me questions about what I’ve seen, please, interact with this post. I want to keep it all together. Otherwise (no big deal!) I will screencap your anons and add them here, if they’re related to this post. :)

#Frozen 2 #Elsa #Anna #elsanna #anti-kristanna #Queen Elsa #BringElsaHome

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moominquartz · 5 years ago

Photo

rating: T fandom: Steven Universe prompt: Secretly Drawing the Other warnings: None Apply word count: 3.4k requester: @kohakhearts

[IMG attached]

Connie is in desperate need of a reference picture.

My first complete fic for Fluff Bingo, which is something solely in a writing discord I’m apart of! Yes, it was inspired by BTHB, but it’s fun to have something to go to when I’m all out of angst juice. :)

[Read on AO3!]

~*~

Connie has never been especially talented at anything outside of school. She wins only as many tennis matches as she loses, and she struggles with the advanced sheet music that most of her peers seem to pull off flawlessly. Her grades are always A’s, sure, but that hardly seems like talent or skill, only an ability to test well.

The one thing Connie has never allowed herself to itemize — never allowed herself to compare herself to others, no matter how tempting it is — is her ability to draw.

To be fair, she knows she isn’t very good. When she begins, she’s heavily influenced by the wide-eyed, shoujo anime she adores, and proportions are the furthest thing from her mind. She draws solely for the fun of it, for pure expression. She draws when she’s ecstatic, she draws when she’s angry, she draws when she’s so sad that her tears stain the pages.

It’s only pencil drawings, but they’re very personal to her, and it’s something she doesn’t want anyone knowing she’s doing. Her parents know, because they’re her parents and she needs them to buy her the sketchbooks and the pencils. None of her friends do.

No one except Steven.

“Whoa,” Steven whispers with wide, childlike awe as he holds her sketchbook between his hands. He cradles the book as if it were scripture bound in expensive, gilded leather. “Connie, you’re amazing.”

She blushes. “Oh, it’s not anything special.”

“Are you kidding?” He looks at her with such fervent belief that it throws her off-kilter. “Connie, I don’t know anything about drawing, but look at all the details you put in here!”

That isn’t quite true; Steven draws as well, though maybe not as frequently as she does. Still, she supposes she can see what he’s saying. Even though the proportions are way off and Archimicarus should not be double the size of Lisa’s head, Connie took the time to put in every accessory she loved into Lisa’s outfit. She was determined to make sure Lisa was recognizable, despite the fact that the movie hadn’t come out yet and nobody knew what Lisa was going to look like.

“Okay,” she murmurs, feeling high on the praise. “All right, I’ll take that. Thanks.”

He grins. “Will you show me more sometime?”

“Oh, uh… sure.” Flattered that he’d even ask, she agrees without thinking about it.

Connie starts to draw him. Not out of any intention, and certainly not because she wants to. It happens entirely by accident that she looks down at her sketchbook, struggling to find inspiration, and realizes she’s doodled his head in the corner.

It becomes commonplace that, when they’re spending time together — time not always spent doing something, but rather, sharing the same space and simply being — Connie will draw.

Sometimes Steven asks, but more often than not she says no. He takes absolutely no offense at all, and that’s part of why she likes him. He just lets her do her thing while he chugs through another playthrough of GolfQuest Mini or plans out his next TubeTube video.

Connie’s never been good at drawing real people. They’re even harder to get right than her anime characters. But the doodle doesn’t look entirely bad. It doesn’t look like Steven, but it doesn’t look bad.

And this is how Connie learns to use references: she stares at him while he doesn’t look at her.

She’s nervous at first, watching him while she draws. She’s afraid he’ll realize what she’s doing and draw attention to it. He’ll strike a pose or blush and say something about how she should be drawing someone else, or worse, he’ll ask to see it when she’s done. But Steven doesn’t do any of that. He keeps right on going, completely oblivious.

Connie gets pretty good at drawing him.

Years pass and Connie gets pretty damn good at drawing him.

The way she draws him changes with time. Her skills transform and puberty hits Steven like a freight truck. Every time she sees him, he seems to have grown a few inches. She hardly gets the chance to draw him more than once or twice while he’s in front of her. Once she reaches high school, she has far less time to just “hang out” — or if she does, and they aren’t doing anything, she’s forced to spend her time doing homework.

And then she figures out the work-around.

“What’re you up to?” she asks aloud as she types it into text. “Send pics.”

It sounds as if she’s asking for something else, but she absolutely isn’t. She hopes her Mom doesn’t still go through her text messages, or else she’s going to have a very awkward conversation with her later.

Her phone dings in response before she even sets it down.

w/ lars at the bakery!! lookit this! [IMG attached]

Yes, score! She only hopes it’s got a good enough angle—

—aaaaand it’s a picture of a dessert. It’s a very delicious-looking chocolate orange mousse, but it’s not of Steven.

She tries again on a different day, when she’s so tired of studying her eyes will fall out if she has to read one more word. She pulls out her sketchbook, lays on her bed, and texts him again. I’m so boredddd. Doing anything fun?

To prompt a photo in return, she attaches a selfie while she’s lying on the bed. It isn’t the best selfie she’s ever taken, but this isn’t about that. It’s about getting one back.

Steven, as always, replies quickly. sry, @ LH, can’t talk now. No picture. Connie glances at the clock just to make sure it is, indeed, past 8 PM, and she frowns.

Fine. Maybe she can ask for some help.

I am so sorry, Connie. Pearl’s texts are always way longer than they should be. You should’ve asked me a few weeks ago! I had a ton of pictures saved, but I recently exported them to an external harddrive. And he’s been so unwilling to let me take pictures of him recently.

Connie bites her lip. Pearl isn’t exactly a ‘grandma’ with technology — most of the things she’s learned how to operate, she’s done herself or only after one demonstration — but Connie wonders if she pressed, if she asked Pearl to retrieve her most recent picture of him to send to her, that Pearl would be a little too curious in return.

With all other options exhausted, Connie turns to desperate measures.

“Why am I doing this, again?” Amethyst asks over the phone. “Can’t you just, like, ask him yourself?”

“Please,” Connie all but begs. “I can’t tell you what it’s for, I just need a picture of him from the front, and it need to be at least waist-up. Although if you could get a full picture of him standing up, that’d be even better. Oh, and please don’t let him know that it’s for me.”

“Hmm.” Amethyst’s little hum is plotting, and Connie absolutely hates it. “Well, what do I get in return?”

“Huh?”

“What, you’re not expecting me to do this for free, are you?”

Of course. This is Amethyst. Connie chews on her bottom lip, considering.

“Well, what do you want? I could order Fish Stew for you.” Connie’s mom gives her enough of an allowance for her grades that that wouldn’t be a problem. “Or some of Lars’s bakery’s treats, if you like.”

Amethyst’s laugh goes to her bones. “What? I’m gonna need more than that. Hmm… How about this: I’ll take the picture for you, but you gotta come here to get it yourself.”

“What?” Connie’s voice squeaks. “You can’t be serious, Amethyst! It’s a school night!”

Amethyst snickers. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to get it tonight. I’ll text you when I have it, and you’ll get it when you come over. Oh, but when you do, you’d better bring two full pizzas with you, okay?”

“O-kay,” Connie mumbles, defeated.

“Sweet. Catch you on the flip side.”

do u need his face showin?

Connie blinks at the text on her phone, three days later. She’s just gotten out of school and Amethyst sent it three hours ago.

Yes.

dam. well heres the outtake [IMG attached]

When Connie clicks through, she gets the full shot of Steven all right. But he isn’t standing upright and still; instead, he’s rushing past the camera, blurring the shot, a hand in front of his face to block it from being seen.

This is a shitty picture.

i kno, that’s why i sent it to u w/o getting pizza, dam!!

In the interim, Connie tries once more to provoke a selfie from Steven. This one requires a little more effort and is incredibly flirtatious — borderline forward — but she has to try it. Her sketches of him seem more and more off by the day, and it’s driving her nuts. She needs that reference shot, at least one.

She has a violin concert one Friday night. She dresses up for it, wearing black slacks, a white button-up with a high collar, and a black blazer. A simple tie, black with blue stripes, adorns her neck, and she lets her hair down. Like this, it would just barely tickle her shoulders. She puts on a little more makeup than she normally would for a concert; she dabbles in foundation, in blush and lipstick, when normally she would settle for mascara and concealer, if she decided on makeup at all.

Eyeshadow is still too foreign for her, but she hopes this is enough.

Then the trick is taking the selfie itself. At first she takes a shot without her shoes on, then decides it would probably look better with them on, especially if she’s trying to get one back. So she puts on her nice pair of loafers and stands at the full-body mirror in her room, taking a deep breath as she tries to set her nerves to rest.

“It��s fine, Connie,” she murmurs. “It’s fine. It’s just Steven, and what’s the worst thing that could happen? That he just flat out doesn’t respond?”

That is, by far, the worst thing that could happen. She doesn’t know what he’d do if he did that, because Steven is always the type to reply within a few minutes. She doesn’t know if it’s just like that for her or for everyone, but she has to trust that he’ll reply to this.

She takes the picture. It’s a little lopsided because her hand is shaking, but it’s the full picture of her, head to toe. She sends it off with a caption that, she hopes, is not too flirtatious, not too forward, because she would hate to put him off:

Don’t I look nice? What are you wearing tonight?

She bites her lip. Mom calls for her to get going, that she’s taken too long, but Steven’s response is almost instantaneous: a long, long string of heart eyes emojis and hearts of different colors and patterns. Then another text, this one saying, you look amazing!! i wish i was there!!!

It isn’t a selfie, and it doesn’t answer her question, but it makes her heart soften nonetheless. He’s so good to her, and of course that makes him difficult to manipulate. Maybe she really should just ask.

Several hours later, on the drive back home from the concert, she turns her phone back on. And to her surprise, there is a message waiting.

sorry this took so long, i wanted to match!! [IMG attached]

She blinks.

Steven has gone all out for this. He’s wearing a formal dress she hasn’t seen before, the same blue of her tie; an A-line that allows her to see the broadness of his chest, with off-the-shoulder sleeves that proudly display the freckles of his shoulders, and a pleated skirt that begins at his waist. His shoes are the same color, heeled, open-toed, and he’s even done his nails.

His makeup is more intricate than hers. Blush, foundation, eyeliner, mascara, an iridescent violet eyeshadow and vibrant lipstick.

He’s sent multiple pictures. One is of him doing a kissy face, eyes lidded; the next is him laughing, blurred from moving the camera, what might have been a shot he hadn’t done on purpose; and the next is of him doing a peace sign.

Connie’s face burns. She’s glad her mom and dad take the front seats, so that she can have this little moment all to herself.

I love it! She hesitates over the send button. He sent her all those emojis, and she can’t even say more than three words?

You look great! Oh, but he looks more than great, doesn’t he?

Can I come over? Now that was honest, but way too suggestive!

She deletes it again and then realizes they’re almost home. She has to send something, she’s been thinking way too hard about it!

You’re the most beautiful, most handsome man in the whole world, and I wish I was with you.

She sends it before she can think twice about it. Steven responds immediately with many more emojis.

Connie can’t get the way he looked out of her head. In school, she doodles the dress in the margins of her notes. At tennis practice, she imagines trying to wear those heels and run at the same time. In orchestra, she pretends Steven is watching, that he came to her concert in that outfit.

She draws him, of course. For hours in her room, she flips through the pictures and draws, and draws, and draws. She draws him in the dress in different poses, in different settings, with different people.

… Mostly with her.

Her outfit’s different, though. It’s not the same, boring orchestra one she had to wear for the concert. She Googles different outfits and finds some fantastic, colorful tuxes, and of course pretends she would ever be able to wear them.

She’s in the middle of coloring a self-indulgent piece in which the two of them are dancing in these outfits (and this is one she would never, ever show to anyone), when she gets a text from Amethyst.

i got the pic. but uh… kinda havin some issues [IMG attached]

Connie blinks.

It’s a picture of Steven, though not the one Connie asked for. He’s closer to the camera, a rage in his eyes as he moves toward the person taking it, mouth open as if speaking.

Oh, no. Is he mad at Amethyst for sneaking pictures of him? Quickly, Connie tries to call her, but it only rings twice before going to voicemail.

Oh, no.

She calls Steven instead. He hangs up on her, too, but shoots her a short text: can’t talk.

URGENT, she replies in all caps and without punctuation. He does not reply.

She grabs her sketchbook, rushes downstairs. It’s late but not so late that she’ll be in trouble. She runs past Dad at the kitchen island, sipping on coffee before he goes in. “Sorry, I’ll be back before Mom!” she promises, slipping her shoes on.

“Where you going, honey?”

“To Steven’s!”

And when she opens the door, there, waiting for her, is a pink-hued lion.

When she throws open the door to the beach house, Steven is still yelling: “—you know I don’t like it when you take my picture—”

“Why?!” Amethyst yells. “Just because it’s me?!”

“No, it’s because I don’t want y’all snapping pictures of me for a scrapbook like I’m a baby—”

“AHEM.”

Connie’s clearing of her throat cuts through it, startling them both. They spin back around to face her, and while Amethyst’s glance goes askew, almost ashamed, Steven sees in her an immediate ally.

“Ugh, Connie, this isn’t a great time!” His voice is high, angry, but not at her; clearly, he thinks she’ll be on his side. “You won’t believe this, but Amethyst’s been trying to snap photos of me all week when she thinks I haven’t been looking, without even asking me or anything, and I’m in the middle of confronting her about it because if she thinks this is funny—”

“She doesn’t!”

“—just because that concealer isn’t working on the dark circles under my eyes, then she’s got another thing—” He cuts himself off, and Connie feels her nerves spike as he turns to her again, looking almost like a startled animal. “—uh… what are you talking about, Connie?”

“I asked her to do it.” Connie’s voice is one of defeat. Shame makes the room feel so much hotter than it is, and she wishes she could hide. She makes do by pressing her face into both of her hands and speaking against her palms. “I’m sorry. I just… I needed to get a picture of you and I didn’t want you to know, and that was probably really weird and creepy of me, and I’m sorry.”

The silence is suffocating. Steven whispers something to Amethyst, and Connie can’t hear the response. He must think she’s so creepy, that she’s been manipulating him somehow, and that she’s a horrible, untrustworthy person—

A moment later, Steven is right by her side. “Hey.” His voice is soft, and he pries a hand from her face to enfold in both of his. It should be comforting, but for a moment, she feels even worse; like she’s tricked him into offering her this kindness. “Um… So, why didn’t you just ask me?”

“I thought you’d say no.” That’s not quite it. “I… I thought you’d ask why.”

“Well, now I kinda really wanna know.”

“I…” And here it is, the big moment. The confession. She looks down, unable to meet his gaze as her free hand fists at her side. “I’ve been drawing you and I needed a reference.”

There’s another beat of silence. Then two. And then Steven bursts into laughter, loud and relieved and maybe even playful. It still is humiliating to hear, but at the same time, she’s so, so glad he isn’t angry.

“You totally could’ve asked! I would’ve sent one to you, because that’s like… really, really nice of you to draw me.”

“No, it’s not!” And as she looks back at him, she can see just how much he doesn’t see this. She doesn’t tug her hand free because, selfishly, she hopes he never lets go. “I haven’t been doing it because I’m planning to paint you a portrait or anything, I’ve been solely using you for practice and it’s probably a really selfish thing of me, I-I even used the selfies you sent me that one night, and I’ve kind of lost all control over that, because you were so gorgeous in that dress and I…”

“Wait.” He cuts her off, and she bites her tongue. “Can I, like… see the drawings you’ve done? Or a few of them? I know you don’t like it when I ask, but there’s got to be at least one or two you’re proud of, right?”

“You… want to see them?”

“I want to see everything you’ve ever drawn!” His voice is so sincere and enthusiastic that her heart soars, forgetting immediately every single thing she said that could have soured their relationship. “But only if you’re cool with it! You’re such an amazing artist, Connie.”

“I don’t know if that’s true.”

“Don’t start with me. I can go on and on.”

She smiles. She fidgets with a strand of her hair, and though it’s juvenile, she plays witness to the way such a small thing makes Steven’s face light up in adoration.

“Hey.” The word cuts through the moment, startling the both of them, and they look over at Amethyst leaning against the fridge with a raised eyebrow. “So now that like, the truth is out there and all that, I think I’m owed something.”

Connie opens her mouth at the same moment Steven groans, cutting her off. “I… yeah. I’m sorry, Amethyst. I shouldn’t have yelled at you, and I’m sorry for just… assuming stuff.”

Amethyst’s gaze then turns to Connie.

“Uh… Thank you, Amethyst.” Connie sighs. “For doing all of this for us.”

Amethyst laughs. It startles Connie a little, but Amethyst just shakes her head, a knowing grin on her face. “I can think of, maybe, a way for you two to express just how sorry and grateful you are…”

Steven blurts out a “huh?” while Connie giggles, reaching for the phone in her pocket.

“On it.”

#connverse #su #su fic #steven universe #connie maheswaran #isaiah writes #fluff bingo #real talk this was so much fun to write lmao

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maaaddiexo · 4 years ago

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Chapter Seventeen | Peter Pevensie

[Red Series Book One: Roses]

Synopsis: With World War Two ravaging the world, no one is safe and no one is happy.

Despite their protests, Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy Pevensie are evacuated from London and sent to live in the English countryside with an old professor. Scared and unhappy, only the youngest Pevensie child remains optimistic and ends up sharing her hope with her siblings in the form of a wardrobe that takes them to Narnia, a different world where they are the only form of hope to bring an end to an evil witch's reign of terror.

Rosemary Bennett has no more hope left in her heart. Her brother and father are off fighting for their country, the former having gone missing months ago, and her mother ignores her, preferring the company of a bottle over her own daughter. Giving up seems the only logical plan of action. But when it finally comes to carrying it out, she's transported to a different world, with talking animals and a prophecy that doesn't involve her. Unsure as to why she is there, she must navigate a new world and ponder the possibility that maybe - just maybe - she doesn't actually want to die.

*Warning: this book deals with depression and suicide. Though mental illness isn't what this story revolves around, the act of suicide and depressive thoughts are intertwined with the plot and act as 'backseat drivers' to the novel.

[Chapter Eighteen] [Series Masterlist] [Masterlist]

Much like her first night at Aslan's camp, Rosemary spent her night dancing and laughing. Except now, she knew her dance partners. Susan, Lucy, and Rosemary spun in circles, laughing hysterically and trying not to trip over their own feet. Finally, Rosemary came to stop and dropped her hands. "Okay, I need a break. The room is spinning."

Susan turned Rosemary to face the refreshment table, nudging her in that direction. "Water's that way."

"Thanks, Susan."

At the table, a faun dressed in servant's clothing filled a lavish chalice full of water before handing it over to Rosemary. With a curtsy, Rosemary drifted over to the corner of a room, watching the festivities but no longer wanting to participate in them. Something was troubling her. While dancing with Susan and Lucy and talking with everybody, the issue had been pushed to the back of her mind, but now that she was alone, her thoughts were running rampant.

"Something on your mind, my dear?" Aslan appeared from thin air, as he usually did. Like Rosemary, he chose to watch the festivities instead of taking part.

"I'm afraid so."

"Let's go for a walk."

Rosemary tangled her fingers in Aslan's soft mane, wondering to herself how it never knotted. Aslan led them through a maze of hallways to the gardens. Out there, the noise of the party was distant and Rosemary knew that they were alone.

"What's troubling you, my dear?"

"England." Rosemary took a seat on a stone bench, unable to look at Aslan. "I miss home."

"I too miss my home country," Aslan replied, taking a seat in front of Rosemary. "But there seems to be something else that is bothering you. You more than miss it."

"When I asked you what would happen to me if I ever returned to England, you said you didn't have the answer. If you don't then who does?"

"Only you can answer that, Rosemary. Like I said before, only the best of us deserve a second chance. So, why would Narnia delay your death by bringing you here only to let you return where you will die when you no longer want to?"

Rosemary frowned. She couldn't answer that. "What if I'm only worthy of a second chance here? In Narnia."

"You were taken from England, Rosemary. You were deserving of a second chance before you arrived here. And whether it is in Narnia or England, your life is one worth living. You've had such a large impact on so many people here, Rosemary. On the Narnians, on our defeated enemies, on the Pevensies, and on me."

"And they've had an equal impact on me. It is through them that I realized that I want to live and be with them but I miss England."

"You believe it's time for you to go home."

"Not if I'm going to die."

"If you don't want to die, then have faith in yourself and that might just be enough."

Rosemary inhaled deeply, running her fingers through her hair. "So, how do I get home?"

"No two things happen the same way twice."

"Well with those confusing words," Rosemary slapped her hands against her thighs and stood up. "I am going to spend every last minute here in Narnia as best as I can."

•

Back inside the Great Hall, nobody seemed to notice Rosemary's temporary disappearance and she quickly joined in on the dancing once more. Her conversation with Aslan was still at the front of her mind but it didn't weigh her down as it did before. Instead, it pushed her to keep dancing even when her feet hurt and laughed even though she was breathless. All of the windows in the hall had been opened as wide as possible but Rosemary could still feel a line of sweat trailing down her back between her shoulder blades.

A glass of water appeared in front of Rosemary and she followed the arm, smiling up at the gold crown resting on a head of blonde hair. "Good evening, Your Highness."

"I swear, Rosemary, if you curtsy I will have you thrown in the dungeons."

Rosemary took the glass, downing half of it in seconds, her manners having been thrown out one of the large open windows. "Not even King for a day and you're already making threats."

"How about this: you take a walk with me and I won't throw you in the dungeon."

"I don't think I'm allowed to refuse a King."

"Stop it!"

Rosemary laughed at Peter's adorable pout and linked her arm with his and guided him out of the Ballroom. The drop in temperature is immediately and extremely relieving. Rosemary had to fight the temptation to simply drop to the ground and press her cheek against the marble floor.

For the longest time, neither of them spoke. They wandered the halls, having gotten lost long ago. Paintings of random people had been hung up on the walls and ancient artifacts had been placed throughout the castle. Not that either of them recognized anything.

"I can't believe this is mine," Peter said in awe, breaking the silence for the first time. "There's so much of it."

"It kind of reminds me of a museum."

"Well, this museum is also your home." It took Peter a moment before he no longer heard a second set of footsteps against the floor. He turned back around and noticed she was a few feet behind him. "What's wrong? You don't want to live here?"

"What? No. I want to live here with you and your siblings and everybody else."

"But?"

"But I can't."

"Why not?"

Rosemary's heart shattered at the sadness in Peter's eyes. "Before I came here, I made some mistakes and wrong decisions. I need to go back and make things right. There's peace here in Narnia. I have no reason to stay here anymore."

"What about me?"

Rosemary's voice broke. "Please don't make this harder than it already is."

"Then why do you have to go back so soon? Why can't you stay?"

Peter," Rosemary sighed. "Did I ever tell you how I got here?"

"Through the river by the Beavers' dam. Susan told me."

"But I never told you why I was in the water in the first place." Rosemary pulled Peter into a random room. It was a bedroom, completely untouched for an unknown amount of time. "Peter I...I jumped into the English Channel."

Aside from two words to Mrs. Beaver, Rosemary had never told anybody what she did nor did she plan on it. And now here she was, about to tell Peter the whole story. So she certainly didn't expect Peter to laugh.

"Well, why would you do that, silly goose? The water's cold." Rosemary simply waited for Peter to connect the dots - she was sure a smart boy like him would. It took close to thirty seconds before the look in Peter's eyes changed. "Oh."

"Yeah."

"Why didn't you ever say anything?"

"It's not something I can just come out and say. Besides, I was embarrassed. I still am but I'm more at peace with it."

Peter sighed sadly and pulled Rosemary into him for a long hug. She had a feeling it was more to comfort him than Rosemary. How had he never noticed? Weren't there signs for this kind of thing? Peter wondered if she still would have tried to jump had they known each other before Narnia. "I'm so sorry, Rosemary."

"It's okay, Peter. I'm better now. But when I jumped into the channel, Peter, I was transported here. But I have to go back. I miss home and I need to make things right."

"How?"

"I'm not sure, but I know I need to go back."

"No." Peter shook his head, pulling away. "I won't let you leave. Not if you're just going to die."

"It isn't your decision to make, Peter. And honestly, I don't think it's entirely mine either. It's time for me to go back."

Peter wasn't sure when he'd begun to cry, but he could feel his salty tears stinging his eyes and his nose had begun to run. "Please don't leave Rosemary."

"Oh, Peter." Rosemary guided Peter to the large bed in the center of the room. She sat down beside him, leaning her head on Peter's shoulder. Her hand rubbed slow, soothing circles on Peter's back and she let him cry, feeling tears of her own spill over onto her cheeks. "I don't want to leave, Peter. There are so many things here that make me want to stay and you are one of them. But, Peter, I have to go back."

Peter sighed, dejected. He couldn't fight Rosemary on this nor would he. He understood as much as he could. She was going back to England. "When?"

"I don't know. But soon, I think. It's almost like I can feel it."

Peter sighed again. He was doing a lot of that tonight. "Is it selfish of me to want to spend every last second with you?"

"Yes, but I don't mind," Rosemary admitted, blushing. Peter stood up and held a hand out to Rosemary. Curiously, she took it. "Peter, what are you doing?"

Peter placed a hand on Rosemary's waist and grabbed her other hand, holding up their conjoined hands. "Well, since we have an unknown amount of time left, I suggest we spend it getting to know as much as we can about each other in the limited time we have left."

"While dancing?"

"You didn't save me one back in the Ballroom."

"You didn't ask."

Peter laughed as he guided Rosemary across the room. "Fair enough. First question: would you like me if we'd met in England instead of Narnia?"

•

Peter had lost his suit jacket and Rosemary had long discarded her shoes when the two finally collapsed on the large canopy bed. Rosemary was laughing loudly despite her exhaustion as Peter told her of the time he broke his arm whilst playing soldier with Edmund.

"And now you fight for real."

"Who would have thought," Peter huffed. Rosemary yawned loudly from beside him and he smiled, wrapping his arm around Rosemary. "You tired?"

"Yes. But I don't want to fall asleep. I'm scared that if I do I'll wake up back in England."

"You want to go back, Rosemary," Peter recalled, rubbing his thumb over Rosemary's bare shoulder. "And you have my address and I have yours. We'll write to each other."

"Do you promise?"

"I promise, Rosemary."

Rosemary sighed, curling into Peter's side. "Call me Rose."

•

When Rosemary opened her eyes, she knew exactly where she was. She was overlooking the English Channel, standing right where she was when she had jumped into the freezing water below.

Am I back in England?

Rosemary tried to move away from the cliff but her feet were planted in place - at the very edge of the cliffside. This was a dream. No - a nightmare.

The wind began to pick up, making the trees around her rattle. Rosemary began to cry because she knew what was to come next.

"Please," she begged to the air as one foot moved to hover over the air. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't pull her foot back. She began to tip forward into the vicious waves below. "I don't want to die!"

[Chapter Eighteen] [Series Masterlist] [Masterlist]

#narnia #the chronicles of narnia #chronicles of narnia #the lion the witch and the wardrobe #peter pevensie #edmund pevensie #susan pevensie #lucy pevensie #william moseley #peter pevensie x oc #peter pevensie x fem!oc #peter pevensie imagine #peter pevensie fanfiction #love #romance #fantasy #adventure

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catandguitarsnugglingonthecouch · 5 years ago

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The legend of the Roggenbuk

As you may know, I live near the Baltic Sea, at the coast of Northwestmecklenburg, which is a part of Mecklenburg-Vorpommern in Germany. The land is rich with Castles and Churches, and with tales of dragons, mermen, mermaids, nymphs, trolls, knights and witty fishermen. But it takes some digging to actually find those stories. The Brothers Grimm did collect a huge amount of legends but sadly did they miss our coast.

The legend of the Roggenbuk plays at the shore where I live, right before Travemünde. In 'de ole times' people worshipped their old gods and strange creatures. The people of the then small settlement by Travemünde were haunted by a merman (Wassermann) with green hair and ugly fangs. He lulled his victims into the water by playing a magic harp made of human bones. But as he was never quite satisfied with the sound he constantly needed new material. The poor bastards couldn't help themselves, the sound of the harp held them in thrall until they were deep in the water, Roggenbuk then grabbed them with his claws and ripped their arms and legs off. The rest did he give to his army of sea monsters. (nice guy, I know) This went on for a long time, and nobody would go fishing anymore or even near the water. People left the land and the remaining few were poor and lived in despair. They went to an old, wise woman to get her advice. She went to the waterfront and called for Roggenbuk to show himself. Before he could begin to play his harp she called out to him, asking him if he would be willing to compromise. The village would give one of theirs each year, and he wouldn't bother them for the rest of the time. Roggenbuk needed new bones for his harp and of course he noticed that no one came near the water anymore. So he said he wanted the most beautiful maid each year, in May, and he would let the village live in peace. So the deal was made. This they did, for years and years. But the village was still bathed in sadness. They loved their children as anyone does, and it killed their spirit to give one of them to a cruel and cold death.

But what could they do?

So each May a crying procession slowly went to the coast, in their midst the maid, afraid and trembling, bound like an animal for the slaughter. But one year a young knight on his horse came by, stopped and asked what the villagers were up to. They told him the gruesome tale and he couldn't believe it. 'Stop this now!' he said, 'go home, I will talk to this Roggenbruk and free you of its presence.' The villagers were sceptical, but they were willing to give it a chance. If the knight was drowned by Roggenbruk, they would just leave the land and start elsewhere anew. They were tired of all the sadness anyway. They asked him after his name: 'Jürgen', he told them.

So knight Jürgen rode right into the shallow water at the beach and banged his lance against his shield, shouting 'Roggenbruk, you green-haired, ugly monster, show yourself!' and Roggenbruk rose out of the deep, asking in his hypnotic voice 'Who are you? Where is my maid? I'm waiting.' But the knight kept on mocking him and calling for a fight. Roggenbruk got angry, turned himself into a dragon and attacked Jürgen. The knight wasn't afraid, he wielded his shining lance and stabbed Roggenbruk between the gaping jaws, killing the monster instantly. The villagers, who watched the fight from a distance, came to say their thanks and asked the knight, what he wanted for his deed. He just wanted them to promise to never make their children into victims again. And off he rode. The villagers loaded Roggenbruk's dead body onto a big raft and paddled it as far off into the deep sea as they could. There they sank the body and it turned to stone.

And there it lies still today, the Roggenbruk, a big stone, vaguely in the shape of a gigantic snake, close under the water. Legend says, that if one day the stone touches the sands of the beach, Roggenbruk will come alive and sing again.

Of course, this is one of the tales told by missionaries to coax the then Slavic people of the coast to convert to Christianity. Young Jürgen rode under the sign of the cross, therefore he was able to kill the beast so easily. It's a metaphor, the good (Christianity) is victorious over the evil (the old Gods) in the form of a dragon (snake). Anybody who does know something about the Old Testament will recognize what that stands for: Snake = Demon/Satan

The name Jürgen is a German variation of Georg (George), which means "peasant" deriving from the Greek: ge = earth and ergo = working. That a knight has such a name seems peculiar, but as the Holy George (3rd/4th century, England) was a legendary Dragon slayer, not so much.

But even so, the whole thing is dam interesting. That the merman is playing a harp had me thinking, that of course some of the oldest refined instruments in northern lands were harps, played by Druids for example. All in all this is religious propaganda, dissing the older religions as cruel, monstrous and ugly. My oldest daughter asked the logical question: "What did he play on, before he caught his first victim?" Errrm... She is six by the way, and wasn't impressed by this story at all. Poof!

An Illustrator turned the story into a short graphic story. It's very well done. It may be in German, but you already know the story if you read the text till here ;)

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tomeandflickcorner · 5 years ago

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Episode Review- The Real Ghostbusters: Knock, Knock

Wow, I remember enjoying this episode to the point that it’s among the episodes I remember the most strongly from the days when I’d watch the show as a kid. But it really holds up due to how fun it was.

Right away, we get an action scene. The Ghostbusters are in the middle of a bust at this bowling alley somewhere. They manage to catch the ghost with relative ease, but not before inflicting some pretty sizable damage to the bowling alley. I’m not kidding, there’s actually a moment where the camera focuses on the fire that the Ghostbusters caused. Of course, the episode glosses over this as we’re never told who is paying for the damages to the facility. Instead, they simply exit the bowling alley to be greeted by the cheers of the crowd. Interestingly enough, when Winston comments how the crowd loves them, Egon voices his doubt, saying he thinks it could be a trap. (What kind of trap would this be, Egon? Paranoid much?)

They eventually make it back to the Firehouse, where they are greeted by a rather sizable mess. It turns out that Slimer has decided to have a huge gorge fest, consuming a sizable amount of food while they were gone. Janine doesn’t hesitate to complain about this, announcing that they don’t need a receptionist, they need a babysitter, and a whole platoon of them. Being true to character, Peter reacts to this with his usual anger. He makes a movement to fire his Proton Pack at Slimer, but Winston and Ray hold him back, giving Slimer the chance to get away. Egon reminds Peter that he can’t go after Slimer, as he’s the only ghost willing to hold still long enough to be closely studied, and that being able to study a ghost is vitally important to the advancement of science and whatnot. On that note, the Ghostbusters decide to retire for the night. But not before they head down the basement to place the captured ghosts into the Containment Unit. Though the odd thing is that they’re acting like it’s some big chore. Peter even briefly argues with Winston over which one of them will do the honors, with Winson insisting that it’s Peter’s turn as he’d already did the dishes. I didn’t realize loading a trap into the Containment Unit was such a trial.

Meanwhile, deep below the city streets, a group of construction workers are hard at work in building a new subway tunnel. As they’re tunneling along with their giant drill, they stumble across this large ornate door. Now, this door is awesome. Especially with the giant demonic looking face adorning it. This door was a personal highlight of the episode for me, and I think I’m sad the door never appears again after this episode. (Though there appears to be brief cameos of the demonic face in the IDW comics.) Anyway, the construction workers all pause for a bit upon discovering this door, with one of them noticing that there’s something written on the door. As they start to try and figure out what the writing says, the demonic face on the door comes alive, declaring ‘DO NOT OPEN UNTIL DOOMSDAY!’ Obviously, this gives two of the construction workers pause, with them thinking it might be in their best interest to turn around and leave this door alone. But their boss insists that they have a job to do, and this subway tunnel must be built, regardless of what some nut door might say. (Dude, a door is TALKING! I get you have a deadline or whatnot, but how jaded can you be?) When the head construction worker orders the drilling to continue, the door lets out a loud growl, and then opens up.

Okay, I realize the door would have been opened anyway if the construction workers did continue on drilling. But the door opened up before the drill even started up again. So….technically, nobody actually opened the door. It just decided to open up on its own under the mere threat of being opened. Kinda a faulty security system there.

Anyway, when the door opens up, the construction workers are all seemingly vaporized, as they completely vanish from sight, and a bunch of poltergeist energy is released. The energy ends up consuming a subway train, forcing it to become possessed. And apparently, so does the graffiti etched onto the side of the subway train, as all of it becomes alive and runs off. This alone is pretty wild, as it results in various illustrations and logos sprouting legs and running about. We’re talking winged eyeballs with legs and arms and a giant green speech bubble featuring the word ‘soon’ bouncing about.

Needless to say, this leads to someone putting in a call to the Ghostbusters’ office, resulting in a pretty good joke from Janine. Something along the lines of ‘Something messed up in the subway? How can you tell the difference?’ That was a clever one-liner, especially considering I’ve been on a New York subway. I can say from experience that you can encounter interesting things there. After taking down the caller’s information, Janine heads up to the Firehouse’s sleeping quarters to inform the Ghostbusters, who were in the process of changing into their pajamas. They do kinda groan at the fact that they have to head back out again, but they proceed to get back into their uniforms. (Random observation here- in a blink-and-you’ll miss it moment, when you see Egon zip his jumpsuit back up, you catch a brief glimpse of what I think was a patch of chest hair. So Egon has chest hair? Not a good or bad thing, of course. But it’s just a bit jarring, since it indicates someone actually took the time to animate chest hair on the character.)

As the Ghostbusters enter the subway system, they quickly find the place covered in in ectoplasm, with Ray noting how it looks as if the whole place is turning evil (something he’s clearly thrilled about). To their surprise, a subway train pulls into the station, despite the fact that they’d been told offscreen that the trains had stopped running. So of course they decide to enter the empty subway train, even though it’s pretty much a dumb idea to board an empty subway train even under normal circumstances. Naturally, as the subway train begins to move, the lights briefly go off, and when they turn back on again, the Ghostbusters find themselves completely surrounded by a horde of skeletal ghosts.

At this point, the episode gives us an extended action sequence of the possessed subway train careening out of control, even to the point of literally jumping out from one subway entrance to another, leaping over the city streets Free Willy style. While the subway train continues on its joyride, the Ghostbusters are busy firing their Proton Packs at the skeletal ghosts in an effort to keep them at bay as the Ghostbusters theme song plays in the background. Eventually, the train ride comes to an end, with the possessed subway train stopping at a shadowy station. When the Ghostbusters exit the train, it instantly deflates like a balloon. Upon consulting his PKE Meter, Egon notes the source of the disturbance is a 10 mile walk from their current location. But before they could begin to search for the origin point, their attention is caught by what appears to be a solitary woman standing at the edge of the subway platform. Peter immediately approaches the woman, offering to help get her out of there, but it’s then revealed the woman is another one of those skeletal ghosts. And then the skeletal ghost woman just kinda….explodes. Okay, that was odd.

Of course, the exploding ghost lady does kinda serve a purpose. Winston, upon backing up from the explosion, trips over a large stone tablet jutting up from the ground. The other Ghostbusters proceed to examine the stone, with Egon noting that there’s something written on the stone in Sumerian. (Even though close-ups of the stone show that the hieroglyphics don’t match actual Sumerian writing. Nice try, show, but I don’t think any ancient civilization ever utilized a skull with a tongue sticking out as a hieroglyphic.) Anyway, Egon, announcing that he can read Sumerian in his sleep, underwater with the lights turned off, translates the writing to say that the tunnel ahead leads to a door to the Nether-Region, and that this door was only to be opened at the end of the world. He goes on to announce someone must have opened the door prematurely. And much like a dam breaking, the flow of poltergeist energy will continue to consume everything. Peter, for some reason, doesn’t seem to understand why this is a big deal, so Ray has to spell it out for him through this whole analogy of stinky socks in a closet. I guess this analogy was put in for the benefit of the wee little kids watching this episode, in case the dam visualization went over their heads. Either way, they determine that all of this spooky ghostly aura that’s consuming the subway tunnels is what was meant to replace everything after the world came to an end. And if they don’t find a way to close the door again, this world of darkness with ghosts taking over everywhere will be the new reality. With the mission clear, the Ghostbusters head further into the tunnel. (And the stone tablet randomly sprouts a face and begins to laugh for no discernable reason other than to further illustrate that things are going to get weird in this episode.)

So the Ghostbusters continue to head down the tunnel to locate the door. Naturally, they encounter some strange and bizarre stuff along the way, such as a stone pillar covered with eyes that probably wouldn’t look out of place in a Jim Henson film. At one point, they witness what appears to be a longboat that is constructed entirely of bones. This longboat is being rowed by a group of human prisoners, with a skeletal figure overlooking their progress while pointing out random things like rocks and dirt like some kind of vindictive tour guide. Oddly enough, the Ghostbusters decide to pretend like they didn’t see this and continue on their way. Which is a bit upsetting, to be honest. I realize the implication is that these people are condemned human souls that are beyond help since we hear one of the people state they’ve been rowing for 500 years, but it’s still a bit disturbing that the episode simply sweeps this under the rug with them never referencing it again. Instead, we get some brief scenes interspaced throughout the episode to show what’s going on aboveground. More and more subway trains are getting possessed by the spectral ghostly energy emanating from the door, and a news report announces that the Ghostbusters haven’t been seen since they first entered the subway tunnels two hours ago.

Eventually, the Ghostbusters begin to near the end of the tunnel. But first, they have to make it through one final section that this creepy-voiced tree thing states is the Place of Lost Souls. The Ghostbusters are informed that all new spirits must make their way through it, and that no living being has ever came out of it in one peace. It then wishes the Ghostbusters a nice day as they press on. (Thanks, creepy tree thing!) The Ghostbusters navigate through the Place of Lost Souls, evading a dark room filled with a large amount of eyes and what could best be described as an Escher style series of paths. Finally, they reach the site of the opened door, where a large glowing core of energy can be seen.

It’s here that Egon reveals a bombshell. In order for them to put a stop to this, they have to actually enter the door and utilize the energy of the door’s Power Core to supercharge their Proton Packs in order to pull everything that was released back into the door. The catch is, if the door closes up again when they’re still inside, they will be trapped there forever. This idea is particularly distressing to Ray, as he’d just purchased season tickets to the Mets. Peter accuses Egon of knowing this from the start, and Egon more or less confirms this, stating that if he had told them the truth earlier, they might not have been willing to come this far.

After a bit of back and forth, though, the Ghostbusters all decide to see this through to the end, crossing the threshold of the open doorway. Upon doing so, they fire their Proton Packs at the Power Core, with their packs in full dispersion mode, wide angle. This results in all of the released poltergeist energy to be collected back up and, upon switching their Proton Streams back into Capture Mode, everything is drawn back through the door. However, as all of the escaped ghosts and such are drawn back into the door, the Ghostbusters also find themselves being pulled inward as well. In a last ditch effort at escaping before the doors can fully close behind them, Ray comes up with the idea of firing off their Proton Packs at the Power Core once again. Only this time in order to launch themselves back through the closing doors. Rather like a rocket being propelled forward by the flames shooting out the back. This ends up working, as the Ghostbusters make it out alive, seconds before the door closes up again. As they dust themselves off, Peter jokingly states that they should do that again. But the demonic face on the Doomsday Door responds by repeating its warning of ‘DO NOT OPEN UNTIL DOOMSDAY!’

With the crisis averted, the Ghostbusters once again return to the Firehouse, with Ray stating he feels like he could sleep for a week. Peter, on the other hand, announces he plans to raid the fridge and eat until dawn. Because saving the world obviously gives you an appetite. Of course, when Peter opens the fridge, he finds Slimer has already consumed everything inside. Naturally, this results in Peter’s renewed ire at the little green ghost, but the others seem to take the knowledge that Slimer just ate all of their food in stride, with Winston telling Peter he shouldn’t take it out on Slimer just because he had a bad day. Egon then points out that perhaps the reason why Slimer eats all the time is because he wants to feel accepted. As the others head out of the room, Egon reminds Peter that Slimer is a ghost who lives with a group of people whose job it is to bust ghosts. He asks Peter how he would feel if he was in Slimer’s shoes.

Peter doesn’t seem to be in the mood to consider this, but later that night, we see him sitting in bed while the others are sleeping, seemingly deep in thought. As the other Ghostbusters continue to sleep, Peter sneaks out into the hall, where he finds Slimer. Covertly, Peter tosses him a rather small pizza, announcing that if Slimer ever told anybody about this, then he would simply deny it. After delivering the small peace offering, Peter goes back to bed, as Slimer remains in the hall, chuckling to himself. And it’s here that the episode ends.

This episode was weird but fun. Sure, it’s a rather simple plot and a lot of the scenes are clearly there to fill in the time, but we get a lot of interesting visuals, so I say it evens out. And in a way, it does serve as something of a secondary pilot episode, as this was the first episode of the show’s syndicated run. So it’s entirely possible that this was the episode that would introduce the show’s premise to viewers who hadn’t been able to watch the first 13 episodes on ABC. And it was pretty awesome to get an adventure with high stakes involved. Not to mention what is quite possibly the first onscreen death within the show, as it’s doubtful those construction workers survived. Though it does beg the question of what happened with the subway tunnel plans. Were the plans at constructing the tunnel completely abandoned after the incident? Or did the construction company simply decide to chart out a different route for the tunnel? Of course, this is a show that’s largely episodic in nature, so all of those questions naturally have to be forgotten after the credits roll.

(Click here for more Ghostbusters reviews)

#the real ghostbusters #rgb episode review #ghostbusters franchise

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lets-talk-appella · 6 years ago

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i’m nobody’s but yours

Chapter 9/25 - Beca

Summary: Beca is straight as an arrow. 100%, totally, completely straight. Except for one problem that 100%, totally, completely changes everything: Chloe Beale.

Title borrowed from Calum Scott’s “If Our Love Is Wrong.”

Word Count: 4k

Rating: M (for dark themes, homophobia, masturbation, and eventual smut in later chapters)

AO3, FFN, and below.

Beca paces the bedroom she shares with Amy, alternating between shaking out her hands at her sides and clasping them together in front of her. Her eyes fix on the carpet below her feet as she circles between their twin beds in a never-ending orbit of anxiety.

Amy hadn’t been in the room when Beca woke up, slightly hungover, a headache forming at her temples, and Beca assumes she’s downstairs eating breakfast with the others. It’s almost noon, so she wouldn’t be surprised if she were the last one up.

If it’s like the morning after any other party, the Bellas are most likely gathered around the kitchen table in search of coffee or some kind of food to soak up the residual alcohol in their systems. They’re probably alternating between laughing and wincing at the pain in their heads, reliving the blurry memories of the night before.

Beca wishes she could erase one memory in particular.

She can still feel Chloe’s tongue on her neck, sending hot spikes of electricity rocketing through her entire body. It had been intoxicating; she’d gotten drunk on it, so much so that she’d lost control. She’d purposely spent more time at Chloe’s neck than necessary, enjoying the way it had made Chloe tense under her lips. She’d purposely taken the lime with more embellishment than needed, and had purposely allowed their lips to meet. It had been a moment of weakness, a moment where Beca had cast aside the wall separating her feelings from her actions.

And as a result, Chloe had run from her.

It had almost made Beca laugh, actually, because it was so atypical. Chloe never ran from anything; running was Beca’s job. But then the awful realization of what Chloe was probably running from hit hard, and shame had rushed in to fill the space she’d left.

“Maybe she’s got to use the bathroom or something,” Amy had shrugged, looking supremely unconcerned. “More shots?”

Beca had done it. She’d taken more shots – though not off anyone’s body this time – with the intention of forgetting the sight of Chloe walking away from her. It had worked, too. She’d danced with Amy, with Stacie, with Lilly for several terrifying moments, and maybe once with Jesse, but she can’t really remember beyond that.

What she does remember – though she wishes she didn’t – is the look on Chloe’s face during their argument yesterday. She hates to call it an argument, but that’s what it was. Chloe’s voice reverberates around the walls of her mind, the Did I do something wrong? echoing in her skull. She tries to cover her ears but still hears it; tries to cover her eyes but still sees Chloe’s fragile expression.

She can hear the sounds of the Bellas downstairs now, even from her attic room. They’re all definitely in the kitchen, and they’re definitely eating, judging by the faint clatter of utensils against plates.

Beca makes another complete circle between the beds.

She’s separate from the Bellas, divided from them by the invisible wall of her secret. Well, divided from everyone except Cynthia Rose. By not telling them, she’s not revealing something crucial about herself. By not telling them, she’s back to keeping them at arm’s distance, always policing herself to make sure she doesn’t slip up and ruin everything. She’s her own jailer, keeping herself hidden away from the people that matter most in her life because it’s too risky to tell them.

There’s so much pressure building in her chest that she feels she’s going to burst open at any second. She just knows it. She has to be on her top game when she goes down there, or the smallest question – something as innocuous as “how’re you feeling?” – is going to break the dam and make her spill everything in a torrential outpouring of truth.

It would be easier to hide it. It would be safer. It would be simple to go on as is. She’ll have to move out at the end of the summer anyway, and then she can start over. The others would never have to know. It would be so, so easy to never tell them.

But… Beca pauses in her pacing, the pressure in her chest mounting by the second, soaking into her lungs and weighing her down. Would it really be easier? Pretending to be someone she isn’t?

The idea of having to restrain herself for much longer, of holding this secret within, exhausts her from the inside out. If the internship had been hard to hide for a year, hiding this aspect of herself and her identity seems impossible for even another week.

Cynthia Rose’s voice drifts through her memory, then: They’ll support you. Those aca-bitches’ll joke about it, but they’ll support you.

Hiding the internship from them all had been a mistake. She’d spent almost all year in anguish over it, only for them to be completely okay with it. Hell, more than okay – they’d wanted to hear more about it.

And why wouldn’t they? Beca spun to face the door, heart racing. They’re her family. Why wouldn’t they love and support her, no matter what? After the internship fiasco, didn’t she learn that she can tell them anything?

Maybe even this. She should be able to tell them this.

Before she can change her mind, Beca forces herself to her bedroom door. She sees her hand turn the knob and watches herself – as if from floating above everything – pick her way down two flights of stairs. She’s both absent from and trapped within her own body; her head feels filled with helium, and yet, she’s hyper-aware of the leaden pressure steadily building in her chest, the anxiety twisting her innards, the sweat forming on her palms, and the quaking in her legs.

In an instant, she’s in the kitchen. As she’d thought, everyone is already gathered there; Chloe, Stacie, and Jessica at the stove preparing a breakfast of pancakes and eggs, Ashley and Emily managing the coffee, Flo working on toast, and Amy, Cynthia Rose, and Lilly sprawled at the table. At the sight of them all, the pressure in her chest grows to a roar and the dividing wall constructed of the secret separating her and them feels more solid than ever. As soon as Beca steps fully into the kitchen, nine pairs of eyes swivel to land on her.

Beca tries not to think too much into the fact that Chloe’s looking at her like she always does, as though last night hadn’t changed a single thing.

(She fails.)

“Morning, party animal!” Amy greets, raising her hand for a high-five that Beca has to lean over to reach. “Survived the shots?”

“Yeah,” Emily adds, looking concerned. “You really danced a lot last night. Did you pull anything?”

“I didn’t know you could bend like that,” Stacie purrs appreciatively, her eyes roaming down Beca’s body. “Something to keep in mind.”

Chloe has turned back to making the eggs, her face hidden from view. Yet, she’s the one Beca speaks to when she clears her throat.

“Can I… can I talk to you guys?”

Her voice is scratchy, but she hopes they’ll chalk it up to the night of heavy drinking and sleep, rather than nerves and the suffocating grip on her lungs. As soon as she asks, the mood in the room shifts; Stacie’s and Emily’s smiles drop, and Chloe turns back to look at her, eyes questioning.

“Like… in the living room?” Beca continues, gesturing weakly to the couch. For some reason, she feels like this should be a more formal announcement than something that would occur over the gentle sizzle of cooking pancakes.

“We’re already here,” Amy whines, setting further into her chair. “Are you gonna make us move?”

“Uh –”

“Spit it out,” Flo urges, putting more bread into the toaster and pulling the lever down to start it.

Beca stares around the room, feeling trapped. Chloe doesn’t say anything, but watches her carefully, looking concerned. Cynthia Rose takes a sip of whatever is in her mug and stares at her over its rim but doesn’t give any sort of indication of what she should do.

“I… okay,” Beca starts, now hearing the roaring pressure in her ears. “It’s just… you guys know how, well, when there’s something that you kind of know, but you don’t want to know, so you just deny it until you can’t anymore? You know?”

She receives nine blank stares in return.

The dam in Beca’s chest cracks.

Chloe sets down the spatula she was using to make the eggs. “Beca, what are you –”

The dam shatters.

“I like girls,” pours from Beca’s mouth, flooding the room. “I’m… into girls. Too, I mean. At least, I think it’s ‘too?’ I’m not really positive on… the logistics…” her voice trails off into the silence of the room. They’re all just looking at her. It’s unnerving. Beca waits with bated breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Chloe gapes at her, eyes slightly unfocused, lips parted in surprise. Unable to bear it, Beca forces herself to look elsewhere. Cynthia Rose is smiling at her. Emily’s jaw has fallen open. Amy takes a sip of her drink, eyes wide. Panicking slightly, Beca wonders if Amy will ask her to change rooms or something, to avoid being around her.

The toast pops up in the toaster, startling them all and shattering the spell.

Flo moves first, turning back to pull the toast out. “Okay,” she says, and then it’s like the air is restored to the room.

Amy shrugs, throwing the rest of her coffee back. “Okay.”

Ashley and Jessica nod, then turn back to their respective tasks.

“Aliens have no sexuality,” whispers Lilly.

“Okay,” says Stacie, flipping a pancake.

“O… kay?” asks Beca.

“Yeah Shawshank,” Amy replies easily. “With the way you talked to that German woman, that’s not the surprising part.”

Chloe frowns at that, but Beca has to do a double-take.

“Wait, then… what’s the surprising part?”

Amy grins. “That you finally admitted it.”

Beca blinks, unsure whether to be offended or to laugh. Stacie smirks at her, while almost everyone else nods in a way that can only be described as pitying.

Chloe hasn’t said anything.

“Wait,” Beca says slowly. “So... like, it’s cool?”

Emily grins at her brightly. “We love you, no matter what!”

And for a second, Beca’s back with her mom, wrapped in a hug after an elementary school breakup or being comforted after watching her dad walk away. She feels safe, and secure, and so loved that it makes her want to cry.

“I… yeah,” she chokes out, trying not to let anyone see the sting in her eyes. “That’s really… yeah.”

She inhales deeply as everyone returns to their breakfast chores, feeling like she hasn’t breathed properly in weeks. The pressure in her chest is gone, and the final walls separating her from her family dissolve away to nothingness. Just like that, with only a few words falling from her lips, everything is okay again.

Beca looks around at all of them, the people she would do anything for and can tell anything to, and suddenly she’s regained that sense of family she hasn’t had since she was 16.

She tries not to think about how Chloe hasn’t said a single word.

***************

Beca doesn’t plan on staying the night after the Treble party. It just sort of… happens.

The party crowd starts to thin out around 2:00 am, either from people leaving or from passing out on the floor thanks to Amy’s latest, and terrifying, concoction of random alcohols. Ordinarily at this point, Jesse would ask Beca to stay the night, and she’d say no. Then, she’d attempt to round up her Bellas so they could make their way back to their own house, either for more alcohol or for water, snacks, and bed.

Tonight, though, is a little different. Tonight, when Jesse asks her if she wants to stay the night, his expression hopeful, she hesitates. They’ve been dating for almost sixteen months. He’s been asking her to sleep with him for the last twelve of those. He’s never pushed her when she says no, and he’s never sulked about it. But he keeps asking, and it’s starting to make Beca feel like a bad girlfriend. It’s starting to make her feel like there’s something wrong with her that she doesn’t want this as much as he does.

Beca’s eyes land on Ashley and Chloe as they attempt to corral Lilly, who is currently playing with a lighter. They won’t notice if she doesn’t come back with them and will probably assume she already went back to the house. A few feet beyond them, Stacie locks lips with some random frat boy, wrapping one leg around him and likely already promising him the night of his life. She makes it look so easy. She makes sex seem like the most casual thing in the world.

Tonight, Beca hesitates when Jesse asks, thinking of how long he’s been asking and how easy it would be and how no one else seems to make as big of a deal of sex as she does. For a split second, she wonders if Chloe has hooked up with anyone lately.

She feels herself nod yes.

Jesse’s face turns into a mask of surprise that’s borderline insulting. A quick, “Are you sure?” flies past his lips and she says that yes, she is sure, and then he’s grabbing her hand and leading the way to his bedroom at top speed. He’s so eager that she trips a little going up the stairs, and she has to take a second to assure him that no, she isn’t drunk (she’s only tipsy) before he continues to guide her up the stairs and away from the rest of the party.

For reasons she can’t explain, she hopes Chloe hadn’t seen.

As soon as his bedroom door locks behind them, Beca’s world becomes a blur. He’s kissing her, then undressing himself, then her, and sucking at her neck as he guides her to the bed. She tells him it’s her first time, and he pauses before nodding and resuming, more slowly. She sees him reach for his bedside drawer, watches as he pulls out a small, crinkly package. The sight of the condom makes her stomach flip violently.

It’s not what she’d thought it would be. He tells her she’s beautiful, kisses her breasts, and once even kisses her between her legs, but it feels like a pretense, a perfunctory opening act before the main event. She doesn’t like being naked in front of him. It’s stifling, lying under him. It’s uncomfortable, and borderline painful, having him inside of her. It doesn’t feel bad, exactly, but it doesn’t really feel good either. She finds herself more focused on helping him, dragging her hands down his back and allowing him to push into a regular rhythm until his body shudders above her and he gasps into her ear.

After, she lies staring at his ceiling, her mind flying and her chest constricting. He’s already snoring, sprawled on his back beside her without touching her. She doesn’t want him to touch her.

There must be something wrong with her. That’s the only explanation.

She’d lied to him, when he’d asked if she’d climaxed. She hadn’t even been close, though he’d done everything right. She knows the first time isn’t supposed to be the greatest for a girl, that it’s normal, even expected, for the guy to finish but not the girl. Despite that knowledge, she still feels that she must have messed something up. She’d barely felt a thing the entire time; surely, that can’t be normal. People talk about sex like it’s the best thing in the world, and she isn’t particularly interested in having it with Jesse again for a while.

There must be something wrong with her. She must be so broken inside, from her past, from not letting anyone love her for the longest time, that she is incapable of feeling anything.

She knows it’s not Jesse’s fault. He’d gone slow enough, he’d communicated, he’d tried his best to make sure she was comfortable. It’s not his fault. It can only be hers.

Beca presses the heels of her palms into her eyes, trying to calm herself before he hears her crying.

For reasons she can’t explain, she hopes Chloe won’t see her come home in the morning.

***************

Beca reclines on her bed, trying to quiet the unease chipping away at her insides. She’s pretty sure she’s suffered worse nerves over the past two days than during all four years at Barden, which include countless Bella performances. It’s ridiculous; is she going to feel like this every time she has to come out to someone?

The phone in her hand seems like it’s getting heavier by the second, and she wonders if Amy had started putting nickels into the case or something like Jim does to Dwight in The Office. But, no. She knows it’s the weight of what she has to tell her dad and Sheila.

She doesn’t particularly want to tell them. She’s still not that close with her dad, and Sheila… well.

It just feels like something that she’s supposed to do. She’s told her ex-boyfriend and her closest friends (which are her real family), but it seems like she should tell her father, and, therefore, his wife. Doesn’t she kind of have to tell them, now that she’d told just about everyone else?

She presses “call” on her dad’s contact icon before the nausea can get any worse.

He picks up after two rings. “Hello? Beca?”

“Yeah, hi – Dad.”

Silence fills the line. She’s only recently started calling him that again, and she thinks it still surprises them both when she does it.

“So, uh, what’s going on?” he asks, skipping the small talk neither of them is any good at.

Beca closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “Um, I –”

Shelia’s voice appears in the background, muffled but still clear enough for Beca to make out what she’s saying in that awful, nasally voice of hers. “Warren? Who is it?”

“It’s Beca,” her dad replies, but Beca’s only half-listening.

Which of them is the girl in the relationship? I thought you liked boys? Did you see the new ad with the two brides? Disgusting, I can’t believe they show that on TV where a kid could see. I don’t know why the whole thing about gay marriage is such a big deal. It’s been illegal for this long, so why bother changing anything now?

“Sorry, kiddo, what?” Warren asks, speaking over Sheila’s past comments.

Beca reopens her eyes. She hates it when he calls her that. Kiddo. He called her that before he left.

“Um, I just – I thought I’d let you know I’m not moving to LA.”

There’s a beat of confused silence – she can picture the bemused look on his face. It’s the same one he used to give her in high school every time she tried to explain how much music meant to her.

“Did something happen?” he asks.

“Yeah, uh, Jesse and I broke up.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Did you do – did he do something?”

Beca grimaces. She almost wants to congratulate him on that save.

“It wasn’t like that,” she says instead. “He – we just aren’t suited.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Another pause.

When he speaks again, his voice is cautious. “So, is Chl –”

Someone knocks on the closed door of her bedroom.

“You know, I have to go,” Beca says into the phone, already rising from her bed.

“Um –”

She ends the call, gets up from the bed, and places her phone face-down on her desk. She only takes a second, another deep breath, before moving to the door and opening it to see Chloe’s tentative smile.

“Hey,” Chloe greets.

“Hey.”

Beca wonders how much of that phone conversation Chloe heard before knocking.

Chloe had been the only one not to say anything when she’d come out.

“Are you –”

“Is that –”

They speak simultaneously, both cutting themselves off when the other talks. Chloe giggles at it, and the awkward tension eases.

“Want to come in?” Beca asks, moving aside.

Chloe nods and steps forward into the room, moving to sit on Beca’s bed without being prompted. Beca closes the door behind her, trying not to think about the fight that had happened the last time they’d been shut in a room together. She turns back to Chloe and, after a moment of indecision, sits at her desk chair rather than joining Chloe on the bed.

Chloe smiles shyly. “You go first,” she says.

“Um, right,” Beca says quietly, looking down at the floor. There’s the ghost of pressure back in her chest, fleeting, vanishing before she can really think about it. “Just, is it, you know... okay that I’m, like... into girls?”

Chloe startled laugh makes Beca look up from the floor. A second later, Chloe’s lifting her hands in apology. “No, sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh,” she apologizes. “It’s just – I mean, it’d be a little hypocritical if I wasn’t okay with it, Bec.”

My biggest regret is that I didn’t do enough experimenting in college.

“Oh, right,” Beca huffs, rubbing the back of her neck awkwardly as a sort of embarrassed relief creeps up her neck. “I just – I wasn’t sure.”

“Of course it’s okay, Bec,” Chloe insists, her expression earnest now, as if to make up for laughing. “You’re you, and nothing will ever change what you mean to – nothing will change that,” she finishes in a rush.

“Thanks,” replies Beca, not sure what else to do. She studies the floor for a moment, before remembering that Chloe had come to her bedroom for a reason, presumably.

“What were you going to say?” she asks, tilting her head.

Chloe looks down at her hands, clasped in her lap. “Oh. Well. I was just going to ask…”

She trails off, and Beca waits with bated breath. Her stomach lurches with the sudden possibility that Chloe might know, might be about to ask if Beca’s liking for girls extends to her, and Beca’s really not sure how to answer that because she can’t lie but she can’t risk destroying the most important friendship she’s ever had and –

“Is that what… I mean, yesterday?” Chloe continues. “Like, the weirdness, or whatever? Was it about you liking girls?”

“Oh,” Beca exhales, hoping Chloe can’t see how relieved she is. “Yeah, that was… it was that.”

Chloe nods thoughtfully, looking marginally happier.

“Yeah,” Beca elaborates, wanting Chloe to understand. “I was just figuring it out, and I’d told Jesse and broken up with him, but I didn’t want to tell other people yet because I – because I was scared,” Beca finishes in a quieter voice.

Chloe frowns at her, eyebrows drawn together uncomprehendingly. “You were scared?” she asks.

Beca hesitates, then nods uncomfortably.

“You didn’t have to…” Chloe begins. “There’s no reason to be scared about this,” she says, looking at Beca like she’s never fully seen her before.

Beca squirms a little in her chair, unused to being scrutinized quite like this. Anyway, she disagrees; there are more reasons to be scared than not to be scared. She has too much to lose to not be scared.

She shrugs and replies, “It’s just hard.”

It’s more than ‘just hard,’ but she doesn’t want to get into it now.

“I suppose,” Chloe concedes, still watching Beca closely. Then, she sighs and her expression clears. “Well, I’m glad you told us now. Thank you for being… thanks for trusting us. It doesn’t change a thing,” she promises, eyes wide.

Beca wishes it could have at least changed one thing.

“Yeah,” she replies, “and… thanks. For listening, and for… yeah.”

Chloe smiles at her then, her signature Chloe Beale smile that is so warm and familiar and so Chloe that it makes Beca forget about everything else.

“You wanna grab ice cream or something?” Chloe asks with a wink, rising from the bed.

Beca grins back. “You know it,” she agrees instantly, standing from her chair. “If I ever don’t want ice cream, then you know I’ve been replaced by an evil clone or something.”

Chloe just laughs and reaches for her hand, and Beca doesn’t pull away when their fingers link together. She only feels the smallest twinge of guilt – which she immediately shoves down – when the contact with Chloe’s skin makes her heart speed up.

She’s still got one secret from Chloe, but at the moment, she doesn’t care.

#bechloe #bechloe fic #my writing #beca mitchell #chloe beale #pitch perfect fanfic #i'm nobody's but yours #chapter nine #wow 9 chapters already #brief amounts of Jeca in a flashback

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sophieakatz · 5 years ago

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Thursday Thoughts: The Right Medium For The Right Story

I’m a bit obsessed with the topic of adaptation – and by “a bit obsessed” I mean “I wrote my undergrad thesis about it.” Adaptation is a kind of re-telling; you take a story that was told before, and you change some things when you tell it again.

For example, West Side Story is an adaptation of Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet. It’s the same basic story, but it’s set in 1950s New York instead of 1300s Verona, and the warring “families” are rival gangs instead of members of the nobility.

But there’s another kind of adaptation here that’s perhaps even more important than the change of setting – the medium. While Romeo and Juliet was originally a stage play, West Side Story was a musical, and later adapted again into a film. Adapting a story across mediums changes the work just as much, if not more, than anything else – or, at least, it ought to.

Minor spoilers for The Hunger Games books and movies as well as Disney’s Aladdin and The Lion King ahead.

[Image: The Hunger Games movie poster]

A Rose By Any Other Name Is Different

As a writer, I firmly believe that you must find the right medium to tell a story in. If you later change the medium, then something about the story is going to need to change as well. As much as a reader might want the film of a book to be completely loyal to the original text, a story originally designed as a novel is not going to work if you simply transfer it page-for-page onto the screen. This is because there are fundamental differences between books, a textual medium, and films, a visual medium.

My favorite example of a book-to-film adaptation that shows a clear understanding of the necessity of change is the Hunger Games franchise. Suzanne Collins’s books are told from a first-person perspective, giving the reader insight into Katniss’s thoughts the whole way through. Because we are hitchhiking along in Katniss’s mind, we get a lot of exposition about the world through her memories, and we know exactly what she thinks and feels about everything that’s going on. Importantly, this includes her confusion about how much of her affection for Peeta is real or just for the Capitol audience.

The Hunger Games film, on the other hand, is shot in a traditional third-person manner. Consequently, in the adaptation process, we lose Katniss’s point of view. We don’t get so many of her memories, aside from a brief dream sequence. We also lose her inner conflict about the performed romance (though the sequel, Catching Fire, plays catch-up on that point).

The filmmakers could have tried to make the film more like the book by adding a voiceover to explain what Katniss is thinking throughout the film, to sidestep the limitation of not actually being inside Katniss’s head anymore. Plenty of films do that. But The Hunger Games does not.

Instead, the film leans into the differences between the two mediums, seizing the opportunity to explore things that the book could not. While we lose Katniss’s inner voice, we gain everything that Katniss could not see. We get scenes of President Snow talking politics with Seneca Crane, making the viewer aware of the greater stakes of Katniss’s behavior in the Games much earlier than Katniss herself is. We also see the riots in District Eleven as they happen, instead of learning about them much later. In the third film, Mockingjay, scenes of Katniss’s work creating promotional videos with the rebellion are paired with the actual acts of rebellion that her words have inspired (I particularly love the “hanging tree” sequence at the hydroelectric dam). The effect is haunting, and it all truly drives home the magnitude of what’s going on.

As a result, the Hunger Games films remain true to the heart of the story without trying to shove a square peg into a round hole. A rose you read about in a novel might smell just as sweet as one seen on film, but only if you acknowledge that you can’t depict the rose in the exact same way in a book as you would in a movie.

[Image: The 2019 Aladdin movie poster]

Anything Is Possible… But Not Always

The current trend of live-action Disney film adaptations provides us with a fascinating case study in the power of adaptation, and of how well the adaptors succeed in transitioning a story from one medium to another. The original animated films (which themselves are mostly adaptations of oral fairy tales – but that’s a whole other blog post) and the new live-action and/or photorealistic CGI films are, of course, both films. But the kind of story you can tell in traditional animation is different than the story you can tell in a more realistic “live action” style.

(Not to mention that the kind of story you can tell in a mainstream media production today is different than the stories told twenty-plus years ago, representation-wise… but again, that’s a whole other blog post.)

Animation is a medium of imagination. That’s why animated fairy tale movies have always done so well. The un-reality of the medium lends itself to depicting the kinds of fantastical transformations typically told of in fairy tales. The viewer can suspend their disbelief and forget about the rules of the real world while watching an animated film. It’s much harder to forget those rules when the people on the screen are human actors.

The live-action Aladdin hits all the same story beats as the animated Aladdin, but it makes several brief but notable changes along the way. There are just some things that the animated film could get away with that the live-action film could not.

For example, the Genie spends a lot more time in a “human” disguise than he does in his natural blue form. If you were on the internet at all when the first images of Will Smith as the Genie were released, then you likely saw the backlash – for a lot of people, it just felt weird. A blue character with cartoony proportions who is constantly shifting into different shapes and sizes works very well in traditional animation, but less well when it’s an otherwise normal-looking human guy who is just… blue. You can smush and stretch the 2-D animated Genie and nobody will bat an eye, but if you tried to do the same to Will Smith – ouch! It conflicts with our idea of what is possible in the real world, and a live-action film is always going to feel more like the real world than a 2-D animated film.

This is likely why Jafar does not transform into a snake in this movie. Jafar-as-snake is arguably one of the best parts of the original Aladdin film – it’s certainly one of the best parts of the Fantasmic show at Disney’s Hollywood Studios. It’s awesome, it’s terrifying, and it does not happen in the live-action adaptation of Aladdin. Jafar does a lot of other magic – mostly levitation, paralysis, and creating a storm – but he does not turn into a giant snake. The world of Agrabah established in this film is many things, but it is not established that this is a world where people can turn into animals. We do see some animals turning into other animals – Abu becomes an elephant, and Iago a monstrously huge bird – but neither of them remain transformed for very long. The audience’s suspension of disbelief will only go so far in a live-action film, and the filmmakers probably guessed, and I think correctly, that Jafar turning into a snake would not have gone over well in this medium.

Another thing that would not have gone over so well in live-action is the scene in the marketplace where a shopkeeper threatens to chop off Jasmine’s arm for stealing an apple. Just picture it – a man grabbing a young woman and threatening her with a sword, and they are both real people with real-people proportions, and it is a real sword instead of a cartoony dinged-up scimitar. In the animated film, the moment is quickly played off as funny, but here it would have been scary, much too scary for the first act of an otherwise cheerful film.

A savvy adapter sees and accepts what won’t work as well in their chosen medium, and so makes the appropriate changes.

[Image: The 2019 The Lion King movie poster]

Rules? What Rules?

Which brings me to the new “live-action” Lion King. Now, if you enjoyed this film, then I’m happy for you, and I neither expect nor want to change your mind.

However, this film does not successfully adapt its story from one medium to another. It keeps almost everything about the story, the music, and the dialogue exactly the same as before – but now, the world and animals are photorealistic. Throughout the film, I kept wanting to close my eyes and just listen to it, because the film that I was hearing and the film that I was seeing just plain did not match up with each other.

When Mufasa dies, Simba’s voice actor is obviously crying – you can hear the tears in his voice. But Simba himself is not crying, because real lions do not cry. The disconnect between what the viewer hears and what the viewer sees reminds us that what we are watching is not real, consequently breaking the suspension of disbelief and robbing the scene of vital emotion.

A musical and a nature documentary are two very different things which we watch for very different reasons. Put bluntly, this new Lion King imposes the rules of a nature documentary onto a musical. In a nature documentary, the animals must look and move a certain way which does not line up with human emotional behavior, and the world must look and behave in a certain way which features muted colors and subtle movements. A musical, on the other hand, is all about heightened human emotion – that’s why characters sing, because their emotions are so big that they can only be expressed in song! Musicals are also about visual spectacle over strict realism (with some exceptions – compare the elaborate stage effects of The Phantom of the Opera or the intensive choreography of Hamilton with the much more subdued The Spitfire Grill).

There are a few moments where the rules of the animal world line up with the rules of the Lion King story, to wonderful effect. For example, when Nala is telling Simba to return to Pride Rock and confront Scar, Simba paces back and forth in a real form of lion body language which reads to a human eye as frustration. The slouched-to-the-side way that lions sit looks a lot like the casual lean of a confident villain, giving Scar a marvelous aura of attitude. Also, the frantic, bouncy, here-and-there movement of a meerkat lines up well with Timon’s jumpy, shifty personality and dialogue, adding humor at key moments.

But for most of the film, there is little to no bridge between the story that they are trying to tell and the medium that they have shoved this story into. The Lion King is not a realistic story. Audiences did not go see The Lion King in theatres in 1996 because they wanted to see a realistic story. They went to see a colorful, fantastical musical about talking animals with human emotions. Photorealistic CGI is simply not the right medium for that kind of story, and the story was not changed nearly enough to fit the new medium.

[Image: Cinderella’s Castle at Walt Disney World]

What Comes Next?

I see nothing wrong with telling a story again. As I said before, I love adaptation. It’s clear that today’s filmmakers, especially the filmmakers at Disney, are eager to try their hand at recreating the stories that they watched and loved when they were younger. There’s nothing inherently wrong with that, but there is a wrong way to do it, and I hope that future adaption films move away from that way.

One of the biggest things that Walt Disney loved about Disneyland was that, unlike the films, he could change things in the theme park if they no longer worked for the audience or if they could now be done better than before. I think he would be intrigued by the current culture of adaptation, and curious why today’s filmmakers aren’t doing more to explore the differences between mediums and the different kinds of stories that you can tell in different mediums.

Adaptation does not have to mean being stuck saying the same thing over and over. It could, and should, lead to us telling more stories, different stories, and better stories, because when it comes to adaptation, change is a good thing.

#disney #adaptation #the hunger games #the lion king #aladdin #hunger games #lion king #filmmaking #thursday thoughts #nonfiction #film analysis #reviews #musicals #animation #live action #storytelling

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