#from this to you are not my father the degrees of emulation that slowly get stripped away......

[wellnoe]

“shouldn’t a son naturally want to take his father’s place?” scott summers you are soooooooooooooooooooooo

[adeyemiis]

! * , (ayo edebiri, 30, female, she/they) ! * , hey, did you see UZOCHI ADEYEMI unloading their boxes from the moving truck? i heard they are 30 YEARS OLD and work as a PODCASTER. they totally remind me of BIG FEELINGS by WILLOW, TANGLED HEADPHONE CORDS and STICKERS ALL OVER SKETCHBOOKS. they’ll probably hang out at 1924 BAKERY the most if you were looking for them.

basics

full name: uzochi adeyemi nicknames: chi or chi-chi. will most likely tell you to refer to her as chi anyways. gender: cis female pronouns: she/they sexuality: demisexual age: 30 years old date of birth: july 21st, 1994 zodiac: cancer place of birth: abuja, nigeria occupation: host of the podcast “unplugged”, meant for conversations on topics that need to be had without a filter. also, side thing as a caterer.

appearance

faceclaim: ayo edebiri height: 5’4 (“i better shut my 5’4 mouth? actually i’m 5’5.”) tattoos: small cross on her back. somedays, chi has an impulse to get a bunch of small ones on her arms, but never goes through with it. she’s kind of hesitating on it. piercings: lobes and orbital conch are pierced. clothing style: big fan of streetwear. constantly in colorful clothing, shorts, messy converse, and chunky jewelry—some days, she’s definitely more of a comfort over style kind of girl. ignore her when she comes out with a hoodie, basketball shorts, and slides with goofy kind of socks.

persona

pos. traits: resourceful, loyal, optimistic neg. traits: messy, (god don’t look at her desk.) stubborn, impulsive likes: spicy dishes, converse or just sneakers in general, trying out multiple styles in regards to her hair, and stickers dislikes: being told what to do (an overexcessive amount), resellers, that random moment where something soft turns crunchy, and smokers who can’t respect the space they’re in

hobbies:

cooking/baking

street art, but considering she doesn’t know where to consider her canvas right now, she’s been just keeping her ideas in a sketchbook.

playing old arcade games. attempting to get a better look on emulating so she can just play them from her laptop rather than having to go on a journey to find a place to play pac-man or something.

habits

peeling on hangnails

randomly stretching or walking in circles rather than standing still

fiddling with rings or bracelets

staring at shoes, and when she does, she clicks them together.

backstory

tw death

born in abuja, nigeria, chi has been the one to call out injustices since babbles turned into actual words. of course, she wasn’t protesting while she was still in the middle of potty training, because back then her version of injustices were kids not getting enough for snack time or recess—but the idea is still there. around the 2000s, though, when nap time was scrapped for homework sheets, it’s becoming a little more difficult to ignore the political conflict where she lives.

it hits full stretch when she enters high school. debate clubs, choosing her projects on certain incidents—she’s always trying to decipher “why does this happen?” “how does this happen?”, because she knows there’ll always be a place to improve, make her home feel more comfortable and safe. to but it bluntly, she’s slowly getting sick of uncomfortable dinner talks because another person or group of people died. so, rather than staying home for college, though, in order to have these conversations and works in different parts of the world with different people, because nigeria, to her, is going to feel like an echo chamber if she only talks to people at home about what’s going on—she takes her acceptance from nyu and moves to new york. her parents move to nyc in order to support her in close distance during her junior year.

six years after graduating with a degree in media, culture, and communication, chi’s father is found dead in a random location on an even more random day. there isn’t a full investigation, and it’s closed before anything even fully happens. rather than biting her tongue, chi starts “unplugged”, a podcast meant to critique how cases are treated, the actions of politicians—it’s called unplugged because she stops putting on the picture perfect persona on the mic, and just says what’s on her mind. it gets through enough episodes—her own little side hustle.

new york starts feeling a little too overwhelming for her own good though. she’s happy to have her mother here to help when her eyes feel all puffy, but rent starts getting too high, trains get too cramped, and every time she’s upset, the idea of her father uncomfortably lingers in her head. so, at the height of unplugged’s 50th episode, she decides to move again. she just needs the fresh breath of air before she (maybe) comes back to ny.

tidbits

does a catering business on the side. it’s awkward though, because how do you cook something for people knowing just last night you’ve given same said people a topic to debate about at the table while they eat your food? everyday she fights the urge to start going on air with an edited voice. she feels as if she’d fuck up and immediately got found out though. her love language is acts of service or giving gifts, so don’t be surprised if she gives you the catering leftovers, or makes dishes for you with the remaining ingredients.

has a corgi named “coco”. wayyy too chaotic for his own good, and has accidentally broken chi’s entire recording table once. (tripped over a cord. you get the idea. chi screamed in her pillow for almost 10 minutes that night.)

constantly has bandaids on her knees. she likes biking, but the problem is that she’s constantly crashing into things, so—you get the idea.

major tyler, the creator fan. talk to her about your favorite albums. thanks.

wants to get into rollerskating. would really be keen on rollerskating on random paths instead of doing walks.

[phercynoya]

We’re Alone in This Together

Some spoilers for the play The Reconciliation Dinner.

The last national elections felt like it drove a divisive wedge between our intimate connections. Ties were severed. Walls were raised. Those happen as the ego tries to keep itself safe in a social environment where hostility is encouraged and monetized.

The one-act play “The Reconciliation Dinner” written by Floy Quintos revolves around these themes. The bond between two families slowly eroded as their political positions placed them in two separate sides. Dina (Stella Cañete-Mendoza) tries her best to reconnect with her best friend Susan (Frances Makil-Ignacio) and her husband Fred (Jojo Cayabyab) after a tense exchange over dinner left a sour taste in their mouths and the ensuing cold war of words and unexpressed frustrations drove them apart.

The scenario is all too familiar. Quintos pretty much covers how middle class families socialize during a period of tense political turmoil. Everyone tries to play nice to keep the peace and keep a semblance of social order.

Bert, (Randy Medel Villarama) Dina’s husband, captures the toxic masculinity enabled by the popular Rodrigo Duterte and emulated to some degree by Isko Moreno (he bears some resemblance to the latter). Akin to his strongman idols, he tends to escalate conversations and take things personally. It would be nice if more depth is given towards his reasons for voting BBM. He felt more like a caricature throughout the play. Dina is generally on the fence, just there to support her husband all the way, while acting as referee when tensions rise. Fred and Susan try to be polite (partly to continue currying favors from their wealthier friends and avoid conflict) but they do not simply back down from an argument when they hear something they don’t agree with. Each exchange always ends in a pissing contest where the goal is to feel comfort and vindication for their personal choice.

It is great to see that the underlying dependencies (besides their friendship) between Dina and Susan are made clear, making it difficult for them to simply call it quits. Susan’s business relies on keeping good relations with generous clients. Dina gets much needed emotional support from Susan that she can’t find from her husband and do not want to demand from her daughter, especially given her current struggle. They are also the godparents of each other’s child. My favorite interactions are between Dina and Susan, because the actors are fantastic at portraying old life-long friends.

The younger generation are clearly bolder and have more polarized views than their parents. Phi Palmos’ Norby owned the stage whenever he is given the spotlight. He fits the role of a youthful Kakampink quite well. Mica (Hariette Mozelle) suffers from the same fate as his father. Her character as a scheming and aggressive BBM supporter lacks nuance. This can be attributed more on the material, not the actor.

(As an aside, I personally find it distasteful whenever the queer character is playfully flirting with a married man in a work of fiction, usually for comedic and/or dramatic effect. This feels like an unintended reinforcing of dangerous stereotypes that do not really add much value to the play.)

And then there’s the wildcard Ely (Reb Atadero). He has the most hilarious lines and his chaotic ideology captures that shitposter account you follow who is neck-deep into the meme-ry of Reddit and Twitter that no one else in the room fully gets him.

I like the portrayal of social media banters and snide remarks between the first and last dinners, a quick battle of wits between people who want to express their support, and the satisfaction of feeling right about their choices. This sequence, along with each character’s monologue generally works well.

Quintos’ politics is clear throughout the play. I guess what I would have wanted is a perspective outside the middle class. I, as a middle class citizen with generally liberal views, feel like this is portraying a segment of the internet that I am already seeing online. The conversations are all too familiar, and sure this makes it easy to empathize and relate with the story and characters. But in the end, I am hearing stories that I have already heard over and over thanks to a sinisterly designed algorithm that seeks to make me happy in doomscrolling late at night.

I would also relate this concern to how BBM supporters are portrayed in this setting. There is constraint in depth if conversations are kept within a single class.

The play in itself, is an echo chamber. Or perhaps it is the point after all?

As the play winds down, I really felt bad for everyone, especially for Dina. She is stuck, like all of us. We have to deal with the emotional toll of an unforgiving system, and we are left to fend for ourselves. The short-term highs of personal victories, milestones, and won confrontations cannot mask the shittiness of our current state, and the best thing we can do is hold on to our closest forms of support.

In the end, she had to settle with what’s left.

[filmnoirsbian]

Bruce Springsteen quotes that make me insane:

“I always feel like I was lucky. I got to a point where all my answers—rock and roll answers—were running out. All the old things stopped working—as they should’ve and as they have to, and as time and the worlds and the way it is demands and dictates, in order for you to go on. They run dry, not as a joyous thing in and of itself, but as some sort of shelter for your inability to take your place in the world, whatever that may be. That’s when either you recognize that that’s happening or you don’t and you continue with your trappings and your ceremony, whatever that may be, and slowly you just get strangled to death and you die. You just die.”

“I remember, growing up, at night, and my dad would sit in the kitchen with all the lights out and he waited for me to come in, and he’d sit there and drink, and I’d stand in the driveway and I’d look into his screen door, and I could see the light of a cigarette, and then I’d rush up on the porch and try to get by him but he’d always call me back. And it was like he was always… always angry. Always mad. He’d be sitting there thinking about everything that he was never gonna have, until… until he’d get me thinking like that too. And I’d lay up in my bed, at night, and be staring at the ceiling, and I’d feel like if something didn’t happen, if something didn’t happen soon, it felt like I was just gonna… like some day, like I was just gonna…"

“And at certain moments time is obliterated in the presence of somebody you love; there seems to be a transcendence of time in love. Or I believe that there is. I carry a lot of people with me that aren’t here anymore. And so love transcends time. The normal markers of the day, the month, the year, as you get older those very fearsome markers… in the presence of love - they lose some of their power. But it also deals with the deterioration of your physical body. It drifts away, it’s just a part of your life. But beauty remains. It’s about two people and you visit that place in each other’s face. Not just the past and today, but you visit the tomorrows in that person’s face now. And everybody knows what that holds.”

"There is nothing like the sea at night when the water is slightly warmer than the air, even though the air is humid after a 95 degree day... God, I love swimming at night. It is all darkness and mystery. It is the void and it must be done naked. Clothes at the waterline, please. Do this, and my pilgrim, you will become cleansed. Never will the evening air, or a kiss on the beach, or a dry towel, ever feel so good again. The walk to the car will be filled with starlit grace and you will never forget it. Once you hit the water, you will be covered in the blossoming beauty of your youth no matter how old you are and whoever you're with, you will always remember them."

"Now those whose love we wanted but didn’t get, we emulate them. That’s the only way we have, in our power, to get the closeness and love that we needed and desired. So when I was a young man looking for a voice to meld with mine, to sing my songs and to tell my stories, well I chose my father’s voice. Because there was something sacred in it to me. And when I went looking for something to wear, I put on a factory’s worker’s clothes, because they were my dad’s clothes. And all we know about manhood is what we have seen and what we have learned from our fathers, and my father was my hero. And my greatest foe. Not long after he died, I had this dream, I’m on stage, I’m in front of thousands of people, and my dad’s back from the dead and he’s sitting in the audience and suddenly I’m kneeling next to him in the aisle, and for a moment we both watched the man on fire on stage. And then my dad who for years, he sat at the kitchen table, unreachable, but I was too young, I was too stupid to understand was his depression. Well I kneel next to him in the aisle, and I brush his forearm, and I say, “Look dad. That guy on stage – that’s how I see you.”

“I used to, uh, I had this habit for a long time. I would get in my car and I would drive back through my old neighborhood, back to the town that I grew up in. And I’d always drive past the old houses that I used to live in. Sometimes late at night … when I used to be up at night. And I got so I would do it really regularly … two, three, four times a week, for years. And I eventually got to wonderin’, What the hell am I doin’? And so, I went to see this psychiatrist, and, uh – this is true – and I sat down and I said, ‘Doc, for years I’ve been getting in my car and I drive back to my town and I pass my houses late at night and, y’know, what am I doing?’ And he said, ‘I want you to tell me what you think that you’re doing.’ So I go, ‘That’s what I’m paying you for.’ So he says, ‘Well, what you’re doing is that something bad happened, and you’re goin’ back there, thinkin’ you can make it right again. Something went wrong, and you keep going back to see if you can fix it, or somehow make it right.’ And I sat there and I said, ‘That is what I’m doing.’ And he said, ‘Well, you can’t.”

[ninjakasuga]

Sonally Celebration Week, Year 3, Day 2: Mystery

Day two has come for the celebration of one of the best furry OTP’s ever~. @gojira007 ‘s celebration blog @boundforfreedomsonsal of Sonic and Sally continues and here’s my second entry. Enjoy all~

Sonsally Week, Year Three!!

Day 02: Mystery

Foreword: This episode is still set in the Archie-Verse depicted in my fics of last year and day one’s story. This one is set some years after the fall of Eggman, when peaceful times finally settled on Mobius for the first time in ages. Of course, peace doesn’t always equate to ‘easy’, especially when babysitting two spirited scamps.

“Sonia, Manic- WHERE THE FREAKING BLEEP ARE YOU?!!” Shouted an irate, and clearly frustrated blue hedgehog as his right eye twitched something horribly. Standing in the town-square of the rebuilt Knothole Village, his gaze shifting back and forth from the trees, and the various huts of the quiet village. While mostly destroyed during one of Dr. Eggman’s devastating attacks; the entire village was rebuilt as it was during the war era of fighting the original Robotnik. With a few Eggman era buildings kept, and one or two new additions. Knothole was mainly a tribute to the village that sheltered the survivors of the fall of the original Mobotropolis, and became home of the resistance that would become the Freedom Fighters. Mostly a standing all-may-come museum to pay homage to the place that started as a Royal Retreat/shelter, but became so much more. A few of the huts were still livable, home away from home for certain members of the Freedom Fighters who occasionally would return to Knothole with their families to celebrate and remember those days.

Today, it was host to a game of hide and seek, giving the two instigators of the game a plethora of hiding places. One that was driving the elder brother of Sonia and Manic Hedgehog, one Sonic the Hedgehog, former hero of Mobius, crazy!

After tapping his foot rapidly for a scant few seconds, Sonic cupped his hands together again and shouted as loudly as he could manage. “MANIC! SONIA! FOR BLEEPING FRACK’S SAKE YOU BETTER GET YOUR BUTTS OUT WHERE I CAN SEE EM’! AIN’T FUNNY NO MORE!” It really wasn’t, Sonic nor his lovely wife, had agreed to hide and seek, but his two younger siblings opted to begin a game without anyone’s consent.

A voice soon called to him, followed by familiar footsteps. “Is there a reason you’re using frack and bleep? Is that a new sibling code of some sort Sonic?”

Speaking of lovely wife’s, there she was. Turning to face his wife, Sonic shrugged with a sheepish expression. “It was censor myself or risk using words I don’t think Mom nor Dad would care for two nine-year-olds to repeat.”

“That is probably for the best.” Agreed Sally, with a tired sigh as a hand went to her rounded stomach. She wasn’t far enough along in her own pregnancy; her movements were not hampered; but the extra weight of the two passengers in her belly was sapping her energy. “Whew, I’ve just been walking but I feel ready to kick back.”

Concerned, Sonic walked over and touched her shoulder. “All the more reason I’m not too happy they started this ‘game’ when I made it clear you can’t be as play-happy as usual because you’re pregnant.”

Shaking her head, Sally reached over to place her hand over his, giving an assuring squeeze as she managed a smile. “They’re just kids, it’s alright Sonic. They probably just want to get some last playtime with us before I’m truly an invalid.”

Sonic had to admit she had a point but his ire was not fully dissolved. “Maybe, but this is still too much. Even Mom n’ Dad told em’ to not get carried away.”

Smirking, Sally lifted an eyebrow as she glanced at her husband. “Sonic, they’re ‘your’ siblings. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree. There seems to be an innate sass-o-meter in your family. Pushing buttons seems to be something of a religious doctrine.”

Opening his mouth to counter, Sonic slowly shut it, frowning deeply. “... Fair nuff, but I still say you’ve rubbed off on them if we’re going for sass influence.”

“ME?!” Sputtered Sally, an incredulous frown, forming over her face. Beautiful blue, eyes narrowing almost dangerously. “How pray tell, do I count as a bad influence toward Manic or Sonia?”

Smirking widely as he got her goat, Sonic yanked the chain more, counting off with his fingers. “Well again, you’re the Queen of Sass and not just the Kingdom. When you gotta be right, you will argue til’ the cows come home. Plus you’re good at being playful when you want something, Manny’s baby-of-the-family routine is killer thanks to watching you. N’ Sonia’s all about emulating her Sis-in-law’s fancy mannerisms, and silver tongue. Just the other day she was in trouble and convinced Mom to let her off the hook light with a buncha big words she got from you.”

Almost mirroring Sonic, Sally opened her mouth, then closed it as she thought better of it. “...Touche’, but that doesn’t excuse the bad habits you’ve given them love-of-my-life.”

Laughing, Sonic gave her a big, if careful hug. Letting her have that one as, one it was true, and two, he knew jerking her around too much with hormones a-flame was a bad idea. “Of course, of course, but they also picked up on my coolness factor.”

“Truly…” Replied Sally in a dull, drawl that spoke volumes of how little she believed that. “I just hope our own bundles give us something of a break compared to these two. I can see why your parents are all-too-eager for us to babysit when we can.”

“Knowing us, they’ll drive us insane cuz they’ll be just like us in ways, but we’ll love em’ anyway.” Sonic mused, placing a hand to her belly and leaning in to kiss her gently. Sighing in a content manner, Sally melted into the kiss and hug, feeling a bit of the weight of impending motherhood ease off her shoulders to a degree.

Almost as if on cue, a duo of childish voices are heard uttering, “Eeeew gross!”

Instantly, both Sally and Sonic broke the kiss, angled their heads upward, and pointed as they both cried out in triumphant unison. “AH-HA! THERE YOU TWO SCAMPS ARE!”

“Aw crude!” Muttered Manic, as he and his sister clung to one of the large tree branches, quite a ways up that was connected to one of the tree house type huts.

“Well we gave them the ghost for a good twenty-minutes I’d say we won.” Stated Sonia in a rather faux-haughty manner. The more purple-blue of the two, whipped back her-pink hair? Wait, Sonia was blonde! Plus some of her fur looked more magenta-purple now?

In fact, why was Manic’s fur and quills more of a green-ish tinge than the light-blue they should be? Not to mention that punk-esque quill style... Eyes narrowing, Sonic let go of Sally, zipped into the hollowed out large tree with a hut built around the base. With the same speed, he charged up the ladder within the hollowed out tree, allowing him to come out at the point where the tree-house hut was, and lean out where the landing gave way to a natural, thick tree branch. 

“Oh no, you two did not!”

Putting on the best coy, innocent face he could, Manic twiddled his fingers together in a playful manner. “What’re you talking about Big-Bro?”

“Seriously Sonic, you need to use clear, concise words.” Snickered Sonia.

“You both dyed your hair and fur!” Sonic pointed between each sibling. “Mom’s gonna have kittens!” Growled their elder brother as his mind swam with images of a none-too-pleased Bernadette Hedgehog glaring at her son and daughter-in-law.

Arms crossed, Sally tapped her foot, in a manner not unlike her husband. “You two sneaks lost us to go and do the dye-jobs yourself didn’t you?”

“Maaaaaaaaaaaaaybe.” Both twins chorused.

Sighing Sally frowned more. “Manic, Sonia, you do realize your Mother and Father are going to tan the crap out of your hides. They both told you, neither of you could have such radical dye jobs until you were fifteen, thirteen at the earliest if you both proved responsible enough! Plus, Manic, sweetie, why are you intent on making yourself look like Scourge?!”

“Hey!” Manic cried indignantly, a pout forming on his lips. “I just like the color, it’s not my fault Sonic’s scrub of a doppelganger had the same color-job! It screams ‘me’! Plus I don’t have sharp teeth or those evil eyes like he does, plus my quills are cooler lookin!”

“I’ll give you that li’ bro, on the being cooler looking thing, but dam-er dang it!” Sonic grabbed his own head-quills, mussing them up some in frustration. “Urgh Mom n’ Dad ain’t gonna let us watch you two ever again if you pull crap like this again!”

“He’s right.” Sighed Sally, rather dramatically. “We’ll be seen as so irresponsible they will forbid us from ever seeing you again!” She put a hand to her heart, and the other against her head. Truly, piling on the dramatic flair. “They may even question if we’re fit to be parents ourselves and have our babies taken from us.”

While Sonia rolled her eyes, Manic’s went wide as panic took over his earlier nonchalant attitude. “R-really?! We don’t want that!”

“Manny, bro she’s trying to guilt us!”

“Well it’s working! I didn’t wanna get them in that deep of trouble!”

“Manic she’s the QUEEN!! Mom and Dad can’t do jack to her!” His (slighty) older twin argued, seeing her partner-in-crime was about to fold.

“Wanna bet?” Sonic crossed his arms, smirking fully as he saw the sliver of doubt in the two’s eyes. “Mom can be scary when she wants and Dad, Dad is aaaaaaaaaall about the ‘subtle, quiet big stick’ kind of approach.”

Now even Sonia was doubting if they’d gone too far, especially as it pertained to how much trouble this might land her and Manic. Maybe she underestimated her ability to talk her way out of trouble. “M-Maaaybe we got a little carried away?”

“You sure did you two scamps, now if you come with me down the tree, we might ‘might’ convince Mom and Dad to let you both stay the night, and we can wash out the dyes and treat your fur so they never notice.”

Nodding as they both climbed fast, but still safely across the branch to Sonic. The two younger hedgehogs cling onto his legs. “We give, we give!!”

“Smart choice!” Laughed Sally from the ground, smiling at the won tag-team victory of talking the kids into doing their bidding. “If you two behave onward, there might be my special ice cream sundaes after supper.”

“Really?!”

Maybe handling kids wouldn’t be so hard after all? Sally thought before speaking aloud to them. “Cross my heart!”

“N’ you know Sal’s promises are good as gold.” Quipped Sonic as he guided the two once they stood up towards the ladder down to ground level. “Also, expect to help do some chores as further punishment for this stunt.”

“What?! Oh come on big brother-!”

“Nope, nada, don’t even try to talk me down Sonia!” Sonic cut her off as he coaxed first Manic, then Sonia to climb down the ladder. “Sal’s gotta take it easy and I need help doing this and that.”

“But you guys got a staff at the castle to do stuff!” Pipped Manic, his voice echoing through the hollow tree.

“It keeps us honest to do our own chores.” Quipped Sonic, watching them both get halfway before he started down the ladder himself. “Plus if you want us to keep quiet about the dye-thing-.”

“Oh fine!” Both younger hedgehogs huffed, giving up arguing.

“Being a big brother has its perks.” Chuckled Sonic to himself as he made his way down. Maybe in a few years, Sally and he could return the favor and foist their own kids on Manic and Sonia to babysit. Oh the payback will be sweet!

[ahockeywrites]

Chapter 1 - St Louis, Missouri

“And, I think that’s the last of it,” Addison exclaimed as she cut the parcel tape. She was moving from her hometown St Louis to Edmonton, Alberta to start her graduate job as an engineer. It wasn’t something she thought she would be doing with her physics degree as she had aimed to go into nuclear physics but MIT, her alma mater, was offering jobs at specific companies for selected students and she happened to be one of them. The selection wasn’t particularly broad but she always took certainty over ambiguity.

Addison Silver had grown up in St Louis to a hockey obsessed father and mother. Hockey obsessed probably wasn’t the right thing to say when her father was on the coaching staff of the St Louis Blues and her mother worked as a lawyer for the team, but it did mean she had a lot of contact with hockey players.

Her first introduction to the Tkachuk family was when Keith was traded to St Louis and they moved in a few doors down the road. She had just started kindergarten and was in the phase of introducing herself to everyone she could see, which included Matthew and Brady, who’s short legs struggled to catch the two older children.

As Addison was an only child, one of her few outlets of seeing other children was at kindergarten and the children of players. The latter were always her favourite as it was almost guaranteed that they shared the love of hockey that ran blood deep within her family.

Her first time on the ice, she was 5. Her dad didn’t want her to accidently hurt herself on the ice as she was prone to falling over almost anything. It was a family skate and as her dad tied up her skates, she saw a curly headed boy skating laps at speeds she wished she could. Taking her father’s hand, she tentatively walked on the blades to the ice. “Now, Addie, remember, bend your knees and don’t look down,” her father told her with a smile. She hesitantly nodded as a response. She was scared, but anything the boys could do, she could at least try to emulate.

Slowly, but surely, she gained confidence quickly on the ice and within 15 minutes she joined her curly headed friend skating laps around the rink. However, there was one thing her dad had forgotten to teach her. How to stop. It was a split second decision, crash into the boards or crash into Matthew. She chose to crash into Matthew. Luckily, she was small so didn’t cause him too much harm. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “Maybe I should learn to stop.”

“Don’t worry,” he said, offering her his hand, “we all have to learn at some point.” He smiled softly at her and helped Addison up.

As much as Addison loved hockey, it took her all of 30 seconds to realise she loved watching it and not playing it. Even with a helmet and padding, the boys in the group knew that they would be able to annoy the only girl in the group by pelting pucks at her. There was only one boy who didn’t, he even told them to stop. Matthew Tkachuk. He caught her green eyes with his baby blue ones and mouthed sorry. He knew it wouldn’t be enough, but he hoped it was something.

After this, Addison pulled away from hockey. Even at a young age, she knew she wanted to focus on school and her parents supported her. She excelled at mathematics and was often called to the Tkachuk household to help Matthew with the work he had to finish before practice. She got on well with the Tkachuk’s, even considering them a second family as she spent lots of time with them. When the trading deadline was close and practice ran late, Chantal was always there to pick her up from school along with Matthew and Brady. She became the big sister to Taryn and their relationship formed quickly once she could talk.

When Matthew moved to the USNTDP, Addison was sad, but it reminded her that she needed to focus on school as he was doing what he loved, she needed to do what she loved. She began to withdraw from all social events, with the exception of ones she was made to attend. She spent the majority of her time focussing on her AP classes which included mathematics and physics. Her sights were set on applying to both CalTech and MIT to major in physics. Her parents supported her every step of the way, knowing she would need it.

Her parents also noticed the shift whenever the Tkachuk’s came over for dinner, she would no longer spend as much time chatting to Brady and Taryn. This got worse when Matthew was home. It was a struggle to get Addison out of her room, she was always studying or reading around the subject of physics. Every birthday and Christmas she would compile a list of the newest books relating to applied mathematics.

Her seventeenth birthday came around faster than she could have ever imagined. She had opened all of the gifts aside from one. It was wrapped clumsily and in wrapping paper she had never seen before. The note attached read:

Dear Addie, I know I’m in Ontario right now, but I saw this and thought you’d like it. Enjoy Matthew x

It was small but simple. Particle Physics: A Very Short Introduction. Matthew knew that the content of this book was looked at briefly covered in Addison’s AP Physics classes but was her area of interest. “Who’s it from,” her mother asked, just as curious as Addison was.

“Matt, Matt Tkachuk,” she replied. Her mother looked slightly confused knowing that the two didn’t particularly speak anymore. “It must have been in the pile Chantal brought over yesterday,” Addison noted.

If it was even possible, Addison put more time and effort into her studies knowing that to go to her dream college she needed to. She sent herself into burnouts more often than she would admit, even to herself and wished she had someone around to help her. One night it got too much, her mother was still in the office and her dad was on a flyaway trip with the team. She called Matthew.

He picked up quickly, knowing that Addison only called when it was incredibly important. When she started talking, he knew something was wrong with her. She was speaking in broken sentences, kept sniffling and as soon as he tried to switch to Facetime, she declined. They weren’t as close as he may have wanted them to be, but usually she never cared what she looked like. It was one line that sent him into a frenzy and was looking at buying plane tickets back to St Louis. “Matty,” she whispered, “I’m scared. What if I’m not good enough for anywhere, what if I have to do nothing for the rest of my life. What if I’m never good enough for my parents?” The tears she was trying to hide began to flow faster than ever before.

“Addie, you are the smartest person I know, you could never disappoint your parents. You mean the world to them, no matter what. You will go to college, you will study exactly what you want and you will make everyone who knows you proud,” he said firmly. Addison was one of the most stubborn people he knew and if he didn’t make his point with enough power, she would pick holes. It was what initially drew him to her. The way she spoke to everyone with the same attitude, it didn’t matter if it was him, her mother or someone she had never met. Addison always spoke with authority and intelligence, even if she was clueless in the subject.

“Thanks Matt,” she said through tears. “I jus-just needed someone to talk some sense into my brain. You’re the best.”

“Addie, you can text me whenever. I know we’re not super close or anything, but your family means a lot to my family,” he explained, reassuring her that he wasn’t going anywhere. The call lasted until Addie’s sniffling had subsided and all Matthew could hear were the gentle snores from the other end of the line.

Addison graduated high school top of her class and had secured a place at MIT to major in physics. That entire summer was spent sneaking alcohol from their parent’s coolers into parties. Matthew had also returned and spent the summer attached at the hip to Addison. They did everything together, if one of them wanted ice cream, the other had to tag along. If one wanted to go and watch a movie in the basement, the other would be getting the snacks ready.

The feelings Matthew had felt before were nothing compared to the ones he had now. He looked over to see Addie’s long, brunette hair draped over her shoulders and noticed how the light sweeping of eye shadow made her eyes sparkle just the right amount. He had the perfect girl sitting next to him but he had no idea how to make the right move.

Addison looked over at Matthew, his curls still not under control. She thought, just maybe, they could end this summer as more than just friends. “Hey Matt,” she started, “is it bad that I’m 18 and haven’t kissed anyone yet?” His eyes widened, not expecting her to say that.

“No, it’s not bad at all,” he started, trying to find the right words, “if you’re waiting for the right person, it’s never bad.”

“Would you be my first kiss?” she blurted out, clearly her mouth was working faster than her brain. Yes she thought Matthew was attractive, but there was no way in hell she wanted to risk a friendship that was still in its infancy.

“I-I,” the curly headed boy stuttered. How on earth was he meant to answer that?

“If you don’t want to, that’s okay,” Addison began to ramble, “I just want it out of the way before I move to MIT. Like, what if I find someone really nice…”

“Addie, I’m gonna stop you there. You’re blabbering on,” he said with a small laugh. “But, if you want to get it out of the way before college, we can.” Addison audibly sighed with relief when she heard his statement. “Wanna go and watch a movie at mine?” Matthew knew he needed to change the subject, his feelings for her were becoming too real and he couldn’t admit to them just yet.

“Uh, yeah?” Addie reluctantly agreed, this did not help the butterflies she felt in her stomach. He didn’t outright say no, so she was hoping he felt something for her too.

They arrived back at the Tkachuk house and after greeting the other members of the family went down to the basement. Addison had already turned the television on and had Netflix up whilst Matthew had gone through their box of snacks and had found a bag of popcorn and a bag of skittles for them to share.

By the time the movie had started, Addison was curled into Matthew’s side with the snacks in her lap. “Addie, do you, you know,” Matthew started, trying to see if she was ready. She nodded slowly and leaned in to him. Their lips softly touched and once Addison had her first taste, she didn’t want to stop. The movie was long forgotten about and all the two wanted was to be in each other’s presence.

The sound of someone walking down the stairs to the basement caused them to jump apart. “Hey Addie, your parents want you back home for dinner,” they heard Taryn say.

“Okay, gimme a sec,” Addison squeaked, trying to hide the blush on her face. “Thanks for that,” she said, hoping the awkwardness she felt wasn’t reciprocated. “But, as Taryn said, dinner’s ready. I’ll text you?”

“Yeah Addie, I’ll see you soon,” Matthew replied. Addison quickly ran up the stairs and the few houses down to where she lived. Matthew sighed and ran his hands through his curls a few times to bring himself back down to planet Earth. He, Matthew Tkachuk, had just kissed a girl he had been harbouring feelings for since he was 10 years old, because she asked him.

As Addison walked into her house, she suddenly felt like a huge weight had fallen onto her shoulders. She had just kissed the boy that she had started gaining feelings for. Her parents noticed that something was wrong as she wasn’t eating as much of her dinner as usual. “Addie, are you okay?” her mother asked, hoping she would discuss what was on her mind.

“Yeah,” Addison sighed, not wanting to talk about what happened too much. “Just did a stupid thing at Matt’s and I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“What did you do dear?” her mother knew not to probe too far, she had seen the looks the two had shared and had hoped that something would happen over the summer.

“We kissed,” she groaned. “Not once, but for a good half an hour, and I really like him and I don’t know what to do. Like, there’s no way he feels the same way, so I don’t know why it happened.”

“Addie, why do you think he doesn’t feel the same way? He looks at you like you put the stars in the sky, why would he look at you like that if he didn’t like you?” her mother replied.

“I can’t do this with him,” Addison complained, “I don’t want to be in a relationship with a hockey player, especially one who acts as he does on the ice. If he contacts you to talk to me, tell him to get lost.” With that, she got up from the dinner table and went to her room.

Addison’s room became her place of refuge before she moved to Cambridge. She only left the room to eat and use the bathroom. Her parents tried to help her, but she was unable to understand their concern because as she saw it she was focusing her life on moving to MIT and completing all of her pre work for her course. And that wasn’t a small amount of work, every single course had around 3 books that needed to be read and 2 tutorials that she needed to do. She made sure that everything had been done well in advance and even began to look at the content that would be taught during the first semester.

Her time at MIT was filled with a lot of time in the library. Addison enjoyed making friends but they all had the same attitude as her, they were there to study for their degree and helped each other when they needed it. Graduation was a fun day, she shared a dorm with her best friend Simone and the two of them spent the day getting ready together. Their families had become good friends and had planned a celebratory lunch.

The two families watched as their girls walked along the stage to collect their degrees and couldn’t be more proud. The girls were headed off to Edmonton together to be working for the same company and had already found an apartment to be sharing. Addison and Simone were so excited for moving to Canada and it was a common talking point with their academic advisors. They had made sure that all of the logistical issues were resolved and they knew the team members they would be working with. The advisors made sure that everything was in place well before the move occurred.

Ever since that summer in St Louis, Matthew and Addison had not even said as much as a hello at an event both of their families had attended. They purposefully avoided each other not wanting to reminisce over that day. No one else knew what had happened aside from Addison’s parents and Simone. Simone knew about Matthew, but didn’t know that they were moving to the same province where he lived too. Addison had made sure to keep his last name out of the discussions, not to keep him safe but to keep herself safe.

She wanted to try and live a normal life and not have everyone using her to try and meet an NHL player. She wanted to gain her accolades from being her own person and not from people with recognisable names. That’s what she hoped she would get out of moving to Edmonton.

//next

[pynkhues]

I adore you+you are such a treasure in the fandom. I was thinking of C&C, how at least twice Rio commandeed attention of the kids easily+Beth was (little?) envious of this. Why/how does he do that so easily? Sexism at work that we take men more seriously/respect them more? The kids see Beth more as a softie? Something else? I

Ah, thank you so much, anon! You’re making me blush.

And totally! Rio does command the kids attention, and Beth is absolutely jealous of it in C&C. I’m so happy that comes across, because it’s a really deliberate thing that I write and a characterisation steeped on my interpretation of canon, haha. So there’s a few reasons for it. 

Firstly, and perhaps most simply, I think Rio is somebody who’s naturally commanding and has a charismatic, collected, authoritative presence that people respond to, whether they realise it or not. In particular when it comes to Beth and her kids, I don’t see that sort of personality as being one they’re used to at all, and while it manifests in Beth both in the show and most of my writing as something she responds strongly to, resents, and tries to emulate (to varying degrees of success), I think the kids are at an age where they just really respond to it. 

The second reason - and probably the main reason - is that I think on a sort of fundamental level, the Boland kids were born into a house where their mother and everything she does was never respected by their father. In not being respected in that way, I think she was both devalued and lost any real authority over the kids.

I actually tend to think about the moment in 1.06 a lot, where Beth comes back from the park and dumps the money on Dean, as being incredibly telling as to the dynamic in that household before Beth’s Boss Bitch Rise, and it’s actually not because of her speech. It’s because:

1. Dean changed the locks without telling her.

2. He could see her struggling with the ‘groceries’ and didn’t bother even offering to help, let alone moving his ass off the couch to do it.

3. He didn’t even pull his attention away from the TV to tell her something that was fundamentally about to change the shape of her days - that he was going to stop working late, and be around more not to help her, but to protect her. 

4. And he did points one and three without ever talking to her about it.

In that, Dean treats Beth as some combination of child, maid and trophy/doll. Which is....pretty indicative of their dynamic overall really. For the kids, seeing your father treat your mother that way - and having your mother ultimately having been complicit in that behaviour for most of your life - not only endorses that behaviour, but I think probably encourages it in them too (i.e. Kenny telling her she can’t do math in 1.02). 

And it’s not just Beth being complicit for years in Dean’s treatment of her, it’s also the fact that she’s a total mollycoddler and I feel like it’s canon Beth really struggles with discipline generally. After all, we’ve seen Ruby and Stan discipline Sara, and Annie discipline Sadie. Beth’s kids misbehaved twice in s2 alone - Jane hiding in the closet while search parties rolled out for her, and Kenny eating the teacher’s cake at school, and in both instances, Beth took all the guilt and blame onto herself and let the kids off the hook. 

This is to say nothing of the fact that there is no way Dean’s ever been anything other than a ‘fun dad’. 

In C&C, Rio’s slowly becoming the primary male figure in the Boland kids’ life, so I’m having a lot of fun exploring how that dynamic rolls out. I think, particularly early on, half of their attention to him is because he’s new and commanding, like I said above, but also because he doesn’t let them off the hook, and he represents a marked shift in their homelife and how Beth’s treated. Rio - at least in C&C - treats housework as something everyone does because everyone lives in the house, and I think respect generally is something that’s incredibly important to him and in how he relates to people. (He is absolutely the sort of dad who if a kid refuses to eat their dinner, they’re either getting it cold for breakfast in the morning, or they’re not going to be making their own meals until they can respect the chef, haha) 

I think Rio’s typically pretty fair too with the kids, and willing to talk things out like we’ve seen him do on the show with both Marcus and Kenny (I am DYING for scenes of Rio with Emma and Jane in s3!) which I think garners him a better response from the kids too as opposed to Beth’s tendency to placate and smooth over and make the kids happy? Like, just as an example off the top of my head, I can see Kenny trying to get out of chores while he’s in exams in highschool because he’s stressed, and Beth immediately getting that and letting him do it, and encouraging him to study, while Rio is like ‘No, let’s sit down and look at your schedule and work out how you can better manage your time so that you can do well in your exams and also mow the lawn, thanks.’

It’s definitely a complicated transition for everyone, particularly since that degree of accountability, and Beth trying to be better at not picking up after everyone and being more of an authority figure, is something they’re all so unused to. It’s certainly something Beth and Rio argue about a lot, a fact made worse by Marcus picking up some of Jane’s bad habits and attitude (and maybe working out on his own that Beth is a much softer touch with punishments and rules than Rio is, haha). 

And the thing is, I think Beth does want to be tougher with them too, just she’s got a lot of history to try and overcome with that, and so much baggage, and it’s really going to take her a long time to get there (if she ever really does at all). 

Phew! That got long! Sorry, anon! Thanks for the question, I hope that answered it. :-) 

[jellyfishdooter]

Okay so, back when I asked for asks for my Ego DnD AU, @lace-maze sent a really good ask a while back asking about why each of the egos chose the characters they did and their playing styles- and I can’t for the LIFE of me find the original anywhere on my blog. ;3;

But! I finished it and I bet it reads horribly but whatever who cares I’m tired- enjoy!

So to FINALLY answer your question, the way I went about choosing what each of the egos would play more or less boiled down to a combo of trying to pick what I think THEY would want to play, and what I figured they would be in the Dungeons and Dragons universe. (wink wonk)

Marvin- Dragonborn Sorcerer

One of the top veterans of the game, he likes to play something with more of a challenge and a lot more mechanics. And since he’s a magician it’s definitely has to deal with magic of some kind (I mean c’mon, he’s already got the aesthetic wardrobe irl for it so why not?). So he’s currently playing a Sorcerer- a magic caster who has the power naturally within him (which ties in his Race for it’s from his draconic bloodline:)

He could have easily chosen his race to be a Tabaxi (a human-cat like hybrid), but he already got enough shit of being the “furry” of the group as it was so instead he decided to go for a Dragonborn. In the game there are different types of Dragonborn, so specifically he’s Brass- which both deals fire damage breath, and is also resistant to fire.

Being one of the older players, his play style depends on the day. For the most part he is the cool, collected member of the party who doesn’t rush in and thinks things through... Until it’s later in the evening with a few drink in ‘em and then they just say, “Yeah, this might as well happen.” Before taking another shot and round-housing someone poor guy’s ass for mocking his scaly features.

Jackie- Half-Orc Fighter

Always wanting to be the hero, Jackie wants to fight and protect his fellow party members. He only has a few sessions under his belt, but he’s confident in saying that he's comfortable with playing more tanky characters and dealing heavy damage.

Jackie doesn’t have a lot of reasoning for his Race other than Orcs Are Cool so he just rolls with that.

As for his Class he likes having a bunch of different fighting styles to choose from while in combat so he can pick and choose which would work best for the situation (they also get more of a range in picking which Armor Class they want-).

His play style is Protect the Party, but also Rush In Head First Into Danger. He’s always in the front lines of a fight to tank the most damage and provide cover for the more squishy characters. It can get quite frustrating for the healer at times when he runs battleaxe-first into battle, leaving his head behind.

Speaking of healers-

Henrik- High Elf Alchemist

A lot like Anti, Henrik found the idea of playing to be quite silly. But once he got into it, the doctor found it quite enjoyable to get into a fantasy character and forget about the real world for a couple of hours. But wanting to retain some kind of dignity, he decided to play as a High Elf. He was drawn to their grace, wonderlust for adventure, and near perfectionism. To say the least, it's easy for him to slip into character.

Strictly speaking, Alchemist is not the the 5E DnD Handbook, but Jack allowed it and made some homebrew additions to the character so their party would actually have a fucking healer. So in addition to the damage-dealing bombs Henrik’s character uses, he also has a special healing bomb he can yeet at the other players when needed.

Henrik’s play style is serious, but curious. He’s always wanting to explore the world Jack created for them and peacefully interact with the NPCs, enjoying events that unfold naturally. However when it’s time for a proper fight he does not beat around the bush, staying in the back for more long-ranged attacks rather than right on the front lines.

Chase- Human Ranger

The recently-single father needed an outlet other than drinking to try and cope with the loss of his family. So like any good friend, Jack offered Chase a spot in his campaign that he was putting together! He wasn’t too sure at first, Chase said that the game seemed really complex and hard to get into. But Jack waves it off and told his friend, “You honestly have to fully jump into it if you’re gonna get anywhere. There’s not really a small way to start. It’s pretty much all or nothing. But trust me, it’s gonna be great!” And ever since his first session, Chase always looked forward to next week’s game.

Being one of the newer players, Chase doesn’t really play anything too crazy, so he sticks to his guns and runs a Human pc. And he may or may not have based the character on his old life to some degree. Giving himself a stable home, a fulfilling job, and a big loving family and at least 3 dogs. Ya’know, real heavy fantasy stuff.

Jack offered him the newer class/ homebrew of a Gunslinger, but he politely declined ‘cause he didn’t want to have to deal with new rules. So he decided to go with a Ranger for his class, figuring it would make for a cool character to play.

Chase’s play style is pretty average (no pun intended), and not all that spectacular. He gets a few good one-liners in here and there, but for the most part he plays passively. Fights when there’s a fight, and interacts almost only when others interact with him directly. (He’s been trying to get better at being more engaging, but he tends to zone out.)

Jameson- Halfling Bard

This session being JJ’s (and Robbie’s) first ever game, JJ pleasantly surprised Jack when he decided to be a Bard. When asked why, the silent man replied simply, “There’s nothing in the rules saying bards HAVE to sing. At the core of them, they are performers.” Jack beams and asks what’s their instrument of choice then? Jameson smiles and shows him this video, saying he thinks it would be interesting to have this as his musical item. (Also gotta love that good The Bard Seduces Everything trope. He’s keeping that in his back pocket for the right moment.)

As for being a Halfling, Jameson figured it would be fun to play a smaller character. And nobody ever suspects the small man to pack such a whaloop. But really, his love for the hobbits in the Tolkin books had captured his heart and really wanted to try and emulate that in the game! Maybe leaning more towards being a little prankster, but still at the core- in short- Soft Cottage Aesthetic™

Jameson’s play style is bouncy and go-gettem. He’s eager to explore the world and have fun with the NPCs. In battles he’s more comedic relief in the back inspiring the other players (and intimidating enemies by aggressively cranking his music box rapidly). And AT LEAST ONCE he has had Jackie’s character YEET his at the enemy to get the final blow to slay the beast. That was a fun session.

Anti- Changeling Rouge 

Do I really gotta explain this one? 

Naturally Anti always tries to play the edgiest characters he can. Giving them dark, moody personalities but with a slight crazed tick. (Chase naturally calls hypocrisy when Anti says his character is a self-insert to the game.)

I’m almost out of steam here so in short-

Anti loves the idea of having puppets to mess around with irl- so in the game he can somewhat do the same- by changing his figure/ features to mimic those of somebody to manipulate another. He doesn’t care much for the society around him and does his own thing, but can easily blend in and slip into other’s traditions if he needs to. His character has a tendency to pick fights pretending to be someone else before ducking out and watch the fight take place with a smirk on his hidden features. None of the party has ever seen his real face/ form, always changing it subtly so every time someone tries to take a second look something seems different or off.

Rouge: Quick and Stabby. Like the bitch himself.

Robbie- Undead Druid

Jack had to make a special homebrew character for Robbie ‘cause he was set on being an Undead. Apparently Robbie and Marvin talked about character ideas before hand and Robbie got a little overwhelmed with all the options that they had, so Marv suggested something Rob could relate to easier. So after an afternoon of crafting a special stat sheet, Jack allowed their favorite zombie ego to play.. Well, a zombie. (I’m sure someone else has made something similar out there but I might try and make a sheet later.. That could be fun lmao)

As for Druid, I like to see Robbie as being a little more connected to nature than the rest of the egos. Since he.. Yaknow, crawled out of the dirt at one point. (Side story- before the others found him in an old cemetery, he liked to just hang out around the area that was slowly being reclaimed by nature and liked watched the birds and animals). So he was pretty drawn to choosing this class. It’s a little complicated at points, but that’s why Marvin sits between him and JJ, so he can help them out through the whole process. Robbie gets really excited when one of his spells works in combat or just having fun interacting with the NPCs by growing them some flowers to be nice. 

As a whole Robbie’s play style is pretty passive. He gets distracted pretty easily and unless Jack is waving his arms around or using miniatures/ figurines to keep a visual, the zombie will sometimes lose focus and stare off into space for a minute before coming back to the game and raising his hand for something to be repeated.

It’s one big mixing pot of different people and play styles, but at the end of the day, Jack has a lot of fun trying to bounce around and keep up with everyone’s antics and storylines. It’s hard as hell at times and it gets a little frustrating when things get out of hand, but they all try to check each other and keep things rolling. And at the end of the day, all the boys enjoy the game and what Jack has to offer and really fucking enjoy themselves. DnD is a good destresser for most of them and all around a grand fun time!

[illkickyourbass]

henlo. have an expanded Shining Quest AU.

to release some steam from my kettle of stress, have some noodling about a Shining Quest AU that’s less April Fool’s, more high-stakes high-fantasy, but still every bit as tropey, stuffed with otome trappings, and Yay Music as we’ve come to expect from Utapri 

As with the last venture into this AU: not explicitly romantic, non-gendered MC, SFW, and mild CW for arranged marriages. I don’t know HEAVENS (plus they didn’t get canon classes for Shining Quest), so we’ll just be covering STARISH and Quartet Night! 

It’s a fairly typical setup -- there’s a fantasy kingdom, there’s a useless king, there’s a princess (Haruka) known for her talent for music composition, there’s a court of nobles and royals, all that usual hey. Magic is cast by mastery of the arts, whether that be visual, performing, musical, written, you name it. 

There’s a looming threat of some sort of demon king or similar fantasy anime bullshit that the royals and nobles of the kingdom are tasked with keeping at bay. We’re also gonna shamelessly borrow a detail from the pinnacle of wasted potential, the movie Rock and Rule -- there’s a plot point about how a demon can only be forced back with “the magic of one voice, one heart, one song....but there is no one.” Here in this ‘verse, that’s a longstanding prophecy the status quo has taken to mean there’s no-one who’ll ever be able to defeat the demon king. 

The solution that’s been in place for as long as anyone can remember is a royal or noble family offers one of their heirs as a sacrifice to be married off and sate the demon king for that generation-- the “devil’s bride” or “devil’s groom” or “devil’s betrothed.” This goes pretty badly for the heirs, of course, but it offers great prestige to the house that does it. 

You, the player, would get to pick what RPG class you fill (which would affect some dialogue trees and the expertise you demonstrate) and what art you use to cast magic. You are a member of the royal guard tasked with Haruka’s protection, but you’ve stumbled into the knowledge before it goes public: she’s the next devil’s bride! You go to Tomochika, a hired hand to the royals who’s been dating Haru in secret, and you begin to hatch a plan to bust Haruka out of the arrangement. 

Your route’s then determined by which of the boys you seek out as your other co-conspirator. 

Otoya is a fellow member the Royal Guard on Haruka protection detail. He’s equally resented and well-liked for his dauntless optimism and natural talent with swordsmanship, but it’s no secret that he’s not someone you’ll be trusting for expert strategy. He’s had the chance to become friendly with Haruka, and he’s ready to fight tooth and nail for her freedom! He’s classed as a warrior, who casts light-element attacks and healing spells with his music. 

Masato was raised from birth to become an ideal Devil’s Groom, since the Hijirikawa nobles are falling out of favor in the courts (spurred in part from their takedown of the Kurosakis backfiring on them). But Masato has rejected that he (or Mai) will ever go along with that plan, instead intently training in swordsmanship and fusing music and fiber arts to make enchanted fabrics that work like armor. Quietly, he has kept a very ambitious goal in mind: outright defeat the demon king and end the legacy of the devil’s betrothed. 

Natsuki is a natural genius at using both his voice and viola to communicate with creatures and summoning the cutest ones to absolutely wreck house. Though a humble farmboy who’s kind of out-of-touch with the political goings-on of his land, his talent was too great to go unnoticed forever, and he was invited to live among the high court as an entertainer and summoner. He got to make so many new friends (like the princess and you!) and better provide for his family, so he’s thankful every day for the change, even if he misses his animal friends at home! 

Tokiya came from a humble family that wanted to lead a quiet life, but Tokiya himself had ambitions that far outpace that. Though not a natural talent, he put unimaginable sweat into a field that creates potent spells and tools by the power of song. Eventually becoming estranged from his whole family, Tokiya finds it all worthwhile after struggling his way into being hired by the royals. Much of the court thinks of him as a weird mad scientist who sings to his books, but he’s found fast friends he’d go to the ends of the earth for, like Masato, the princess, and you! 

Ren is the inverse of Masato in his circumstance. Like the Hijirikawa noble family, the Jinguujis helped orchestrate the fall of the Kurosaki nobles, but the blowback had them falling out of favor instead of rising in power. Ren was planned to be offered as a Devil’s Groom to restore some clout, but instead of being intently groomed, he was left to do whatever he wanted since he’s got such a foregone future. So Ren becomes a carefree playboy, eventually taking his talent for alchemy and becoming a for-hire adventurer to sate his boredom. He tells everyone his saxophone is his secret to brewing his one-of-a-kind love potions, but he’s actually devised some uniquely remarkable revival and buffing potions.

Syo comes from the same backwoods as Natsuki, but took less interest in working for the courts and instead trying to find a career emulating his childhood hero that kept his body’s limits in mind. But his twin left to pursue medical schooling, and eventually, between loneliness, worry, and the promise that the musical magic and medicine in the courts could help him safely push his limits, he follows Natsuki into the belly of the royals and nobles. His small stature and commitment to the movement arts made him a natural rogue, and he’s technically part of the Royal Guard’s special ops. But Syo’s brashness and burning spirit tends to best serve motivating the people around him -- what few spells he prefers to cast with his violin-playing are all buffs that lift the spirit and energize the body.  

Cecil came to this land on essentially a study abroad program and came to love the friends he made so much he stuck around! A wildly talented sorcerer able to cast even without playing his flute, Cecil is held in high esteem by the whole kingdom for the knowledge and skill he has to offer. Prone to disappearing, however, since a curse has him transforming into a cat as an occasional side effect of casting magic. He’s found this useful, though -- something injust he won’t stand for is afoot in this kingdom, and nobody suspects a little black cat of eavesdropping! 

Reiji is a court jester who loves, loves, loves nothing more than to make you smile! Much of the court takes his good cheer for granted, and even more underestimate his prowess in tough/delicate situations, but the most powerful folks know he’s just as sharp as he is goofy. When he’s not doing his job making people smile, he’s often helping or promoting his family’s pub or bugging his friends from outside the royal court. His flashy performances and maraca-shaking have been shaped into a great conduit for spells of transmutation, though he tends to use them to put on a great show more than beat ass.

Ranmaru is the eldest son of the disgraced Kurosaki nobles (whose power and legacy were ruined by the Jinguujis and Hijirikawas as per usual) but he decided to bear the brunt of the damage in wake of his father’s passing to spare the rest of his family. Shouldering massive debt, Ranmaru disappeared and re-emerged as the gambler prince of the underground, now incredibly powerful in his own right. Not-so-secretly a big softie, he’ll swindle and ruin the lives of those who take advantage of the helpless, even operating out of a pub owned by an old couple that needed some protecting from loan sharks. Ranmaru wears special runed gloves that store mana when he plays his bass, letting him cast a set number of fire evocation spells before his next recharge. 

Ai lives in woods on the outskirts of the city. Most regard him as a hermit, but a couple know that Ai is actually a homunculus that has been refining his understanding and performance of humanity and needs frequent breaks to “recharge.” Nominally a ranger, Ai’s skills lie in his powerful patience and observation moreso than his bow and arrow, though he and Reiji have an arrangement where he helps hunt and forage ingredients for the Kotobuki pub. Ai is beginning to grasp his own unique sense of humanity and is ready to take grander action to realize it. He fights with arrows of a special alloy that react to an instrument at home; they are tempered by the sound and blessed by the wind to never miss their target should the wielder be skilled enough. 

Camus is an assassin that lives in shadow. Nobody’s quite sure of his intentions or allegiances, but the few times someone does see him in the open, he’s as haughty and demanding as ever. Rumor has it that he lives in the royal castle -- certainly, their enormously increased sweets output would imply such, and it’s well-known in the castle that unexplained cello music is usually his doing -- but he’s such an evanescent and terrifying presence nobody’s quite sure (and is too scared to ask). His assassinations are almost impossible to track, as his blades of ice melt, disappear, and leave no trail to follow. 

Typical route stuff goes as you’d expect -- you progress the plot, you get closer to your chosen boy, some political intrigue things probably happen, some heart-racing events etc. etc., and before you know it the two of you are very close and realize that your arts cast wildly powerful magic when put together. Slowly, you gather more friends (a selection of the other boys + Haru and Tomo) and find that together, your work amplifies in power to unprecedented degrees. It’ll vary from route to route how you get there, but eventually, you all come to the same conclusion: it’s time to kick some demon king ass. And you do! 

The ends vary from angsty (like the player or the chosen boy is mortally wounded or dies) or fairytale fluffy (go off and spend a happy life together) or something more power fantasy-feeling (like you and chosen boy revolutionize the whole kingdom for the better in wake of the demon king’s defeat), etc. -- but no matter what you know that your art + your boy + the power of friendship kicked more ass than anything Shining Kingdom has ever seen! 

[yyh-revival]

Alot of people draw parallels between Kurama and Kurapika, Hiei and Killua, Yusuke and Gon, Kuwabara and Leorio But no one comments on how Karasu is this weird hybrid of Ilumi and Hisoka. ( Also Sensui and Chrollo)

Wish I could help you there, but I only saw I think two seasons? Maybe one season. *shrugs* I could never get into Hunter x Hunter. I have a few theories for why, I think, but it’s all super subjective. One of my friends is the exact opposite, obsessed with HxH and unable to enjoy Yu Yu Hakusho.

If you are a fan of HxH, I strongly advise you don’t read this. These are my personal opinions on why I cannot stand the show, not a detailed analysis of the show itself or objective view of its merit. Will be under cut.

Also I am sleep deprived and potentially tipsy so this will likely not be coherent. *finger guns*

Anyway, for me, HxH always felt… too on the nose? Too Naruto-like, in a way? Here, meet Gon, he’s a super nice and friendly dude, but oh no, he has a tragic past because his dad is missing… And now he wants to be just like his dad, who is missing, so why is he emulating a dude he doesn’t know? And here, meet Killua, he’s a psychopath and he’s like 10. Instead of getting this kid a therapist the older characters around him are going to encourage him to go kill people. Oh yes, these children are also murderers. Meet Kurapika, the Kurama of the group, who is also a bishie, is low-key scary, intelligent, caring, and also has a tragic past! Yay… And Leorio… I confess I don’t know shit about him. But he probably has a tragic past.

Okay, I am probably being too harsh on this show. I know it’s beloved by many people. But the constant pushing of “tragic!! So sad!!” and “child murder! Yay!” Is just not my cup of tea. 

YYH did this way better, in my opinion. The tragedy is there, but it’s layered on slowly. Hiei, who arguably has one of the most tragic childhoods a shonen character ever experienced, doesn’t actually tell us what happened to him until the show is almost over. We get to learn who he is, what makes him tick, we get to love him, ponder about his past, get invested. Then we are given the sad. But HxH is like Naruto in the fact that it just shoves it into our face, as if to say, “hey, this character had a bad childhood, you should feel sorry for them and love them.” I just hate that. 

And Gon… that friendly optimism is just… weird? He feels 2-d to me, not like a real child. Whereas the imperfect Yusuke acts exactly as you’d expect a child in his position to act. He has daddy issues because he never had a father. He has issues with authority because his mother was awful and he never felt safe or comforted by the adults around him. He gravitates towards male role models and at the same time rejects them. He respects only one authority, Genkai, because she is the first adult who taught him what he found useful. His kindness, his empathy, all that is earned. When Yusuke tells Genkai he cares about her, when he cries over her death, we believe it and we feel it, because we saw what he was like when he didn’t care, when he didn’t have an adult to turn to. It’s like a child that had been neglected all his life who was suddenly thrust into a foster home or an orphanage where one cranky lady is done with life, so she’s honest and raw and doesn’t throw platitudes into his face, and he respects that. He gravitates to it the same way 9th grade students do to the teacher who uses swear words in class and isn’t afraid to show the Romeo and Juliet movie that has the *gasp* boobie in it. His relationship with Genkai is realistic and earned, and genuine like crazy, and when he mourns her, the first and only adult he respected, loved, and felt safe with, we all mourn with him…

But Gon? I don’t know. He just put me off from the start. He doesn’t seem to have a reason for being so damn friendly. He doesn’t seem to act like a normal human being at all. He’s just this weird 2-d cartoon that tries to kill with kindness and be just like his missing dad instead of, ya know, doing the realistic thing and having a complicated relationship with him. Like, Yusuke doesn’t hate Atsuko. But he sure does blame her for lots of things. I can interject my own childhood here, because my feelings toward family are also complicated. I know the “missing parent” thing really well because my parents lived in a different county for half of my childhood, and I can tell you, while I understood why they did it, and loved them, and appreciated with all my heart the sacrifices they made… I still did, and still do, blame them for robbing me of a normal childhood. Of robbing me of a relationship with them. Of robbing me of that mother-daughter best friend dynamic, of being able to tell them all my secrets and feel like they’re part of my life and not just distant parental figures I respect and love the way the religious love and respect their gods. And Yusuke is the same. His relationships with all the adults in his life, even some of the other kids, are complicated and layered and realistic. He knows his mother had a raw dealing having him at what, 15? But he also blames her for not doing more… Hiei, how does he feel, knowing that his mother died, instead of leaving the Glacier Village during her pregnancy or right after birth to go look for him? How does he feel knowing she stayed there, and died there? It wasn’t her fault. She was heartbroken, she was exhausted from giving birth, and she was weak and scared and alone… it’s even implied she committed suicide. And if she did, don’t you think Hiei might still feel complicated about it? Don’t you think he might feel like she should have been stronger, for him, for this small child that didn’t deserve his fate? She should have lived and left the village and searched for him! She should have looked even if she knew he was dead, if nothing else then to bury him! That’s the sort of thoughts I bet once ran through his mind…

But Gon? Nothing. Just… love for mom and idealizing dad. It’s boring, unrealistic, and I hate it.

Killua, my friend’s favorite shonen character (if not favorite anime character) of all time is literally one of my least favorite, and the only character I might have liked, Kurapika, was clearly ripping off of Kurama, whip and all included. So I just could never finish the show.

As for the Karasu question, technically, he came first, so those other characters are based on him. But from what I did actually see of Hisoka… he’s like an evil pedo (right?? I heard something like that??) clown. That’s what he is. How is he threatening? This isn’t even a rhetorical question. Creepy, maybe. But I’d just feel slightly uneased by him and then call the police if he came near me. If Karasu had his eyes on me like he did on Kurama, I’d probably shit my pants, let’s be real. 

Karasu was a sadist. He was thrilled by the “intimacy between murderer and victim.” And the scariest shit of all? You can sorta understand him. When you murder someone, you are the only person in the world to see what happens to them. You have complete control over that person. You are their god, deciding if they are worthy of life or death. It’s an urge you can theorize about, can talk about, can even understand to a degree. But Hisoka? He uh, wears clown clothes and chases Gon? Or something? He makes scary faces? Karasu doesn’t have to even show his face to be terrifying. He just has to talk about his hobbies and his beliefs. Hell, the moment she shows up you feel something is up. I saw Hisoka like, at least 10 times and I still don’t know shit bout him. Karasu had like, 3-4 speaking scenes and they all made him fucking scarier with each one. I felt like each scene with Hisoka added absolutely zero to the show. Not to mention how fucking slow it was…

I feel like having a character target your young protagonist and make creepy faces at them is just lazy. Dude is, and I know Naruto came after, but that’s the show I saw first and actually know a thing or two about (till whenever shippuden started). So dude is just like Orochimaru. Now I was never scared of that guy, I just thought he was a total creeper. To me, there were way scarier moments. Hell, even Gaara’s brother, when he like, trapped a guy inside a puppet and then blood dripped out? Was that him? Anyway, that moment was way freakier than anything Orochimaru did. Karasu’s like 3 scenes were way more psychologically scary than all of Orochimaru’s scenes put together. And I got the same vibe from Hisoka as Orochimaru. The, he’s creepy and these kids should definitely find an adult asap, and not “holy fuck that’s a mass kidnapper/rapist/torturer/murderer and holy hell I am fascinated and also terrified and holy shit Kurama run run run!” 

*shrugs* Karasu is honestly probably the scariest villain in YYH, too. Only because he enjoys torture and murder, and he explains why. And the explanation makes fucking sense and its so terrifying that I can’t

and he also doesn’t look like a clown. That’s a major plus. I’m not and never will be scared of clowns. Like… its a clown. Its colorful and does weird shit. How is that scary? No, demonic looking motherfuckers with long ass ink black hair and eyes that glow purple with glee at the thought of ripping blood curling screams out of someone in front of a giant ass audience, and lamenting that they wish they could fucking keep him and I dont know fucking fuck his corpse is that what he meant cause holy fuck!??! 

Anyway, Karasu gives me nightmares and I love him and I don’t care for HxH and I need sleep and love you all very much please don’t hate me for disliking this show I really did give it like, three separate chances. *shrugs*

- Mod Lola

[vxnevermorevx]

Welcome to my mind

For the last three years, my mind has been... Well, shit. Not that it hadn't been on a steady decline for years prior.

Recently, someone named her Denise. My other me. "Because that's what she is..when something is the opposite of something it's de-. She's not nice, she's De-Nice..."

Denise.

The name give to the me that's not me but spends more time pretending to be me than I do.

*Character Bio*

When I'm not Denise, I'm Ginny and she was the most wonderful person. I miss her dearly.

I had a great childhood. Very few psychological events, in my opinion. We never had much money, but my mom made sure I never knew it. My father worked hard at both his job and destroying his marriage; which is probably one of the marks on my childhood. More to come on that, I'm sure.

I didn't have trouble in school, per se. Bullied only a handful of times in all my school years. My mom is a designer, so I wore things you couldn't find on stores throughout my whole school life. I was *always* ahead of the trend and some kids couldn't handle it. We're talking 1991-2003. So, jumpers, corsets, mesh dusters, pants with fur on the bottom, dressing like anime characters... I was the first of everyone around me to be dressing that way. And I loved it!

But I had my revenge, as my hecklers could be seen wearing the same things they made fun of me for, after it became trendy. I guess you didn't have to be dead to be caught wearing that after all...

I struggled in math and excelled in art and writing. I had mostly good teachers, I think only one hated me.

I met all my best friends there. Can't say I've made all that many more in the years since. But, in my defense I'm surrounded by people who are nothing like me. You see, I grew up in Florida. All my vital youthful years were spent there. And now I live near Portland, Oregon. God, why? I even lost one of my dearest friends to the city. She completely changed from a fun, artistic girl who liked to draw, read, and cook...to...one of them. She's now a guilt vegan ( let's you know how disgusting you are for eating meat ) and is obsessed with shows that need to be cancelled. I had known this girl since first grade, she said she would follow the first friend who loved out of state. That was me, so she came out here too. Our friendship immediately began deteriorating as she would not allow me in my own room during the day, because she was talking to some loser friend of hers online. This person left her in a Walgreen's 20 miles from her home, on the wrong side of town, when we were all barely old enough to drive, because she was taking too long looking at eyeliner. But, she sounds like a solid individual to begin emulating. Are you serious? I watched my fully replacement take effect. 20 years of friendship completely gone in a matter of months. Have you ever watched someone stop carrying about you? Think about it. No, don't think about it. It's awful. She even physically ended our friendship. The first I had ever experienced. It was wrenching. But, I'm too far ahead now. I need to tell you how I got to Oregon.

Somewhere around me being 16, my dad stopped coming home. His mother had recently died and he knew some pretty shitty people willing to help him take the pain away. How does a poor, dyslexic, hoodlum, with a history of abuse cure the blues? Crack, of course. My mom did all she knew how to do, but she was pretty done with it all. They got divorced and some rich old lady "saved" him and whisked him off to Maryland where he would suffer many years of depression for what he had done to his family.

Now, it was just my mother and me. I immediately got a job and gave her my entire paycheck to help keep us in our lovely house. But as fate would have it, the city claimed eminent domain on our house with plans to build a water treatment facility. So, they lowballed us on what our house was worth and gave us 6 months to move. Now, here's some important side information: my mom is an army brat who grew up with mountains her whole life, until moving to Florida for my dad, which was apparently one of the last places she ever wanted to be. And my chummy from another tummy, was born in Oregon and had recently left me to go to OSU. This girl is my sister by all counts but blood. So, with a few other helping factors the logical answer was to start anew. How completely different my life would have been if I stayed. Can't say it would be better, just 100% different from what it is now.

But, in 2005 we moved to Oregon on the promise that we would do all the things we wanted to do and be living in Seattle in a few years.

None of that worked out. I can still remember the first night we spent in our apartment. I hated it. I let everyone know too. I think I cried for a week. I just wanted to go home. My Sisi was too far away to see her more often than the weekends and slowly her grades began to falter. This led to her dropping out and moving back to Florida just five months after I moved out here for her. I fell apart. I had only my mom and I love her, but sometimes you need your friends... You know? We did what we could and took jobs we hated and tried to get used to our new surroundings. I'm apparently a spoiled brat so I'm sure I made things painful for my mom who was finally back in her element and here I was stomping around telling everyone how much I hated it. Hate it. Present tense. I know the whole world is a cess pool of hipster, millennial idiots who all think that they know how to run the world, but the concentration of their free-for-all holier-than-thou ways is as dense here as the trees. It's exhausting listening to people who haven't showered in a week tell you how special they are because they have this heightened awareness that they learned from some Joe Blow and happens to not be fact at all. I have had a 24 year old Hispanic girl tell me that only white people can be racist, everyone else is prejudice. I told her that that in itself was a racist statement. And she said "no it's not. My teacher told me, and she has a PhD." I don't think I need to explain the definition of racism, but I do think Manson could have thrived in this town.

Fast forward quite a few years and we are both still in Oregon working jobs we hate not getting any of the things done we said we would. Are we lazy? Are we depressed? I'm sure it's both.

But, a small miracle comes my way, as I'm getting dressed to go down to the office to sign the next years lease I get a call from a woman who used to work with me. She asks if we are still looking for a new place to live and I tell her yes! We end up renting her townhouse from her because she's getting married. She proves to be a terrible landlord, probably because she's not all that good at being a person. She's really great at other things, but not that. Somme people are like that. But, I also haven't learned how to speak Oregonian in the 14 years I have been here.

A few more years and we end up buying the house and I have changed jobs for my health and things are looking up. I lose some of the weight I had acquired in my sorrows. I even find a guy that I can tolerate. Mostly bc he's 4000 miles away in another country. But, I struggle to find my way in our incredibly mismatched relationship. And he's so smart. So, successful... Here it comes... "what's he doing with a loser like me?"

My friends.... They all have something to show for their lives: degrees, children (Im not interested in these things,) husbands, jobs they don't hate....

I have a mortgage and a ridiculously high HOA, two payed off cars, 50 extra pounds on my ass, a job I'm not particularly built for, and a guy whom I love differently than he loves me.

I'm killing it.... Or myself. One way or the other. "I still haven't figured that shit out yet " -Eddie Murphy

I think this a pretty good place to stop for now. You should have a good amount of reference points for the following posts which will entirely be me, describing my chronic severe depression hoping that someone somewhere might read it and know they are not alone. I feel such a sense of validation when I read something from someone who feels the same as I do. This blog isn't for attention or critiquing, as most will likely be written when things like grammar and story structure aren't focused on. It's purely to get the chaos out so, I can organize it.

I don't know who you are but if you're reading this far, please stay tuned if you want to say "Wow, that's exactly how I feel."

Do good.

[humansofhds]

George Vicente, MDiv '24

“I went to my cell, got on my knees, and made the decision to give my life to Jesus Christ. I said to him, ‘this day forward, I'm going to follow you.’ And I did. Before that moment, I gambled in the prison, and I drank alcohol. But after, I cut off everything. It was like night and day.”

George Vicente is an alum of the HDS Diversity and Explorations Program and an incoming student at HDS for fall 2021, planning to study New Testament philosophy. The child of Cape Verdean immigrants, Vicente is originally from Brockton, MA.

A Good Kid

I grew up in Brockton, Massachusetts. My parents are a Cape Verdean, and I grew up in a Cape Verdean household with my mother and my siblings. I didn't grow up with my father. 

Growing up, my mother was – and still is – a Catholic. I never went to church with her, but she had statues of Mary all over the house and a big mural of Jesus in her bedroom. She used to scare us with God. If we were misbehaving, she would say, “Jesus, you see what they're doing, right?” We would get scared and jump under the covers. I had a 100% belief in God. It didn’t matter that I didn’t go to church. I believed he existed and that he made all things. It was just natural to me. 

I was a good kid. I did good in school, I cared, and I was sympathetic. As I got older, I started to see that the older family members were involved in the street life. At first, when I looked at what they were doing, I was against it. 

But I guess, being in that environment, it slowly creeps up on you. By late elementary school, I started to emulate them in the way I walked and talked. I thought that was what a man was supposed to be – somebody who, like them, was tough, somebody who didn't take any type of disrespect. 

Over time, I grew into that identity. I would get into fights here and there. Even when I wanted to, I felt like I couldn't back down because of what I thought I had to be. 

One day, at the Brockton fair, my friends and I got into a fight with another group of kids, and we got jumped. After the fight, I started thinking that they got the best of me. In my head, they were somewhere looking down on me. My pride was hurt, and I was upset. I wanted to do something to get back at them. 

There was somebody in my area who had a firearm. When he showed it to me, I thought of it as an opportunity to do something back. I was 17 years old. In my head, it didn't matter if anybody got shot. I was focused on me. I wanted to scare them or have them run away. 

Unfortunately, what ended up happening was a 16-year-old got shot. I shot him. In his lower back. The bullet traveled, and he ended up dying. 

When I found out the next day that he had died, I was petrified. I couldn’t understand it – I had just done the biggest crime, the biggest thing you can do in the world. I didn't know how to deal with those emotions and that thought, so I suppressed the realization of what I had done. 

I mean, it was never my intention to do that – I didn’t even think it was a possibility. You would think that if you have a firearm, and you point at somebody and shoot, that you know harm or death can occur. But I didn't realize that. My whole intention had been to just do something to show them I was tough. 

There were witnesses, so the next day I was arrested. I was sent to Plymouth County Correctional Facility and charged with first degree murder. When I was there, I had this realization: I don't know who I really am. All I knew was that I had put on a front for the last four or five years. I had tried to be this image, this person I thought I was supposed to be. But I wasn’t that person. I was lost. 

Finding Hope Through Faith 

For the first year and a half of my incarceration, I still tried to live up to that tough image. I got in fights, spent time in solitary confinement. When I was around 20 years old, I stepped back and took a look at I was doing. I realized I didn’t want to do it anymore. I was done. 

I started, here and there, to go to church. I had always believed in God, but I hadn’t always obeyed him or done him good. He became more real to me in prison because I felt like I now needed him for survival and freedom. I tried to obey him, and I felt that he would be faithful to my efforts. I struggled, and sometimes I failed, but I still believed. 

Meanwhile, at trial, I was found guilty of second-degree murder. My sentence was 15 years to life. I was sent to a maximum security prison, and I was afraid. The maximum security prison was a dangerous place. When I walked into it, I could feel violence in the air – in the atmosphere. But I decided to stay out of any conflict. I knew it would be hard to do, but I was committed. 

Six or seven months in, an older Cape Verdean man in my unit came to speak to me. For two weeks, he spoke to me about God and all that God had done in his life. I saw his faith, and I wanted it. I wanted to see God in my life, like he did. 

One day, after talking to him, I went to my cell, got on my knees, and made the decision to give my life to Jesus Christ. I said to him, “this day forward, I'm going to follow you.” And I did. Before that moment, I gambled in the prison, and I drank alcohol. But after, I cut off everything. It was like night and day. 

My faith gave me the strength to stay out of conflict. And eventually, it gave me the opportunity to leave that prison. I had started getting more involved in the Bible. I would read the Bible for a few hours in the morning, a few hours in the afternoon, and few hours in the night. In between I would pray and go to Bible studies. I was surrounding myself with Christians. This led to me being transferred to Norfolk State Prison, where there were a lot more opportunities to grow.

In that prison, Boston University offered a degree program. When I got there, I decided I wanted to do it. I took the exams and interviewed with the professors. I got into Boston University, and I ended up graduating with a bachelor's degree in interdisciplinary studies. My whole life was changed. I had faith, and I had hope for a future. I didn't know exactly what my future was going to look like, but I believed – I still believe – that God is in control of my life. He had a plan and a purpose for me beyond the walls. 

Project “Get George into Harvard”

Before that point, I never thought about having a career. I just thought, when I get out, I'm going to go the church, and God is going to use me. I don't know how, but I believe he's going to. I had a purpose – why did I need a career? 

That’s what I thought, until one night, I had a dream where I was asking the prison GED professor, “how do you become a professor?” When I woke up, I knew that that was God speaking to me. He was telling me what he wanted me to do with my life. 

That day, I went to the GED professor and spoke to her about how to become a professor. She asked, “what do you want to teach?” I didn’t really know, until she asked a second question: “what are you passionate about?” 

As soon as she said that, it clicked. I told her, “Christianity.” And she was like, there you go. 

I knew from speaking with her that my next step was to get a Master’s of Divinity. I figured I would go somewhere practical, reasonable, and affordable – until my professor suggested Harvard. She said it with such conviction, like it was possible. Instantly, I just – I believed. I thought, if this dream is of God and this path is of God, then anything is possible – I can't give him limits. So we started project “Get George into Harvard.” 

At first, I didn't think I was smart enough for Harvard. I also didn’t think I had the money for it. I spoke to the prison chaplain about it. He had doubts at first too, not because he thought I couldn’t get in, but because Harvard is a liberal school and my faith is conservative. He didn’t how that would fit. I kind of felt the same way. But I told him that God is leading me in that direction. Later, when I realized why I was supposed to go to Harvard, put that into words, and told him, he was all for it.    

Flash forward to April of 2020, when I was released. I had been in prison since 2002 – 18 years. I hit the ground running. I took the GRE and I connected with an HDS graduate through a reverend I met in prison. She coached me through the application process and let me know what Harvard was like. I also got help writing my personal statement from a journalist friend of mine. It was with through their support that I was able to put words around my desire to go to Harvard. 

I wrote my application essay about my faith. I explained that mine is a real world faith – I believe that Jesus and God are real in this world. And so, since I believe they are real in this world, then they must stand firm in the face of philosophical questions, arguments, and debates. I want to be in the classroom, having those conversations, seeing my faith provide reasonable and intelligible answers to challenges. 

So why not Harvard Divinity School? It's actually the best place to go to because that's where all the theological and philosophical questions, ideas, and viewpoints that represent the face of the world are going to be. There's no better place. 

I submitted an application in January of this year. When I got my acceptance letter, I realized I wouldn’t have to pay for my degree – I got a full ride. And, yeah – now I'm in. 

Looking Forward 

I took New Testament Greek through the Summer Language Program this summer. We had our last class yesterday. I got hundreds on my midterms, and I think I did pretty well on my final. I've learned the foundation of this new language. Now I feel ready for the fall, ready to start the next part of my journey towards what God has for me. 

I'm most looking forward to learning different aspects of my faith and becoming more refined in it through God’s grace. If the professors are anything like the professor I had from my summer language program, I mean, that's awesome. That makes the class. 

My goal is to become a professor of Christian Philosophy at a university. I want to teach of God and Jesus Christ in a non-dogmatic way, through reason and logic to students from many different religious and non-religious backgrounds.

Right now, I’m also looking at classes that are different from my faith. I'm excited to be in those classes so I can hear and engage with new ideas. I have faith that God is going to show up in me in those classes. He's going to show me some things. I'm excited about what's going to happen.

Interview by Gianna Cacciatore; photos courtesy of George Vicente

[ekedolphin]

Sample RP for the World Wrestling Alliance

San Francisco, CA December 9, 2009 8:34 a.m. PDT

“Once there was a way to get back homeward… Once there was a way to get back home… Sleep, pretty darling, do not cry… And I will sing a lullaby…”

Listening to the remastered Abbey Road album by The Beatles on his iPod as he jogs down a sidewalk in the middle of San Francisco, California, John Grant—who, in the ring, called himself “The Lion”, as in a hungry young lion eager to prove his supremacy to the pack—lightly sings the words along with Paul McCartney about midway through the fifteen-minute-long medley that ends the last album The Beatles ever put together.  John unfortunately inherited his mother’s sense of pitch, and so he’s slightly off-key, but he’s focused enough on his jogging that he doesn’t notice.  Besides, in this part of town (and in this kind of cold) there aren’t really a lot of people out to care.

Wearing a light, black jacket with the letters “DV” in flaming blue letters on the back of it, along with black jogging pants, mittens, and Converse running shoes, John is protected, somewhat, from the near-40-degree weather.  He could see his breath in front of him, but it didn’t bother him—he’s learned that battling the elements, whether they were the sub-zero temperatures of his father’s native Juneau, Alaska, or the ninety- and hundred-degree days of the California summers—is the best way to truly tell how someone will hold up against real physical pressure.

Not to mention that singing while jogging was a good way to practice breath control.

In this instance, John wasn’t just jogging for his health; he was jogging to the Inferno Wrestling Academy, the place where his uncle had spent six months from April to October torturing him and fifteen other kids in an effort to churn out the wrestling superstars of tomorrow.  At least, it had started out as fifteen other kids.  John remembered speaking with one of the Academy’s most notable graduates, Antonio Mason, who had gone on to a quite successful career in Japan and Mexico, and having Tony tell him that the Academy was one of the hardest physical regimens he’d ever been through.  Antonio had been a three-time All-State linebacker in high school, so John had known what he’d been getting into when he applied…

…or, at least, he thought he had.

Any illusion that the five-time World Champion was going to take it easy on John just because he was his son was shattered in the first five minutes the younger Grant had spent on the mat.  Steve had forgotten more wrestling moves than most people will ever know, and damn if he hadn’t applied more than a handful of them on John.

As usual, the Academy had a high washout rate for 2009:  Steve Grant demanded nothing but excellence and the deepest commitment from his students, and many people weren’t prepared for that.  But in the end, three students prevailed and graduated from the Academy:  Barry Andrews, a guy who’d started out hating John’s guts (and nicknamed him “Spoon Boy” after the silver spoon John allegedly was born with in his mouth) but had ultimately come to respect him; Violet Waters, the first female graduate in the Academy’s four-year history; and John.

It’s Violet who greets John by raising up on her toes and shyly kissing his lips when she sees him just outside the Academy’s door.  True to her name, Violet was wearing purple; purple, yellow and white were all she seemed to wear, in fact, from the Lakers warm-up jacket to her purple sweatpants and white tennis shoes (with purple highlights).  The 5’7”, bespectacled, cream-colored African-American looks much more like a chemistry major at the University of San Francisco than a future professional wrestler.  But she was, in fact, both.  The shy kiss she greeted John with was an acknowledgement that they were still in the early stages of a romantic relationship.  They’d actually met at the university, ironically; John had just finished some homework at the library and was killing time with a Sudoku puzzle book when Violet saw him and commented that she loved Sudoku.  Their friendship had started quite easily after that.

Though she’d been friends with John for a month or two before they separately came to the Inferno Wrestling Academy, Violet had been stunned to learn that John was the son of “Blue Inferno” Steve Grant, whom Violet had grown up watching and admiring.  John, in turn, had been amazed that the admittedly-nerdy Violet had any interest whatsover in professional wrestling.

Going through the fire together tends to leave the survivors much closer, and that was certainly true with John and Violet, who’d started dating two weeks before graduating the Academy.  They’d agreed to let things progress at their own pace, and thus they were still a little shy, a little tentative around each other.  Violet had had no serious boyfriends in high school; just a couple of disastrous first dates, but she liked John and wanted to make sure this relationship went right.

“You’re up early this morning,” John comments as he gave his girlfriend a light hug, and upon breaking the hug he slips a hand into his jacket to turn off his iPod and then removes the earphones.

“Yeah well, Harry told me you’d be showing up to view your first promo video in its completed form.”  For her part, Violet had already completed a promo video and sent it to ten wrestling federations across the country, but had yet to hear back from any of them.  If she was disheartened by it, she’d never shown it around John; besides, the chemistry degree she was working towards would ensure her a job in any number of fields when all was said and done.  At the moment she was holding down employment with a start-up paint company.

“If nothing else, that 25-minute classic I had with Antonio on Halloween night should be more than enough to impress the scouts,” John says, feeling a burst of confidence as he remembered the night that he and Antonio Mason had put on a masterpiece of high-flying, brawling and technical wrestling at Shane’s Pub in Alameda.  The shows that his father put on weren’t designed to replicate the big-time feel of the major pro wrestling federations of yore, but more the cult feel of the old ECW and small-time bingo-hall operations.  But he stressed more than anything the ability to wrestle and the ability to entertain; he would have nothing to do with “garbage wrestling”.

“Hell, the highlights alone would convince me,” Violet says with a smile.  “The Flying Space Tiger Drop that missed and wiped out the referee and the guy at the concession stand… the reversal of the Death Valley Driver that ended in a Tiger Suplex… and you got so much elevation on the Superfly Splash at the end I thought you’d never come down.”

John kisses Violet again, and says, “I’m glad to see my girlfriend, anyway, isn’t lacking in confidence.  What about the actual interview?  What’d you think of that?”

Violet, perhaps sensing that John wanted an honest critique of his interviewing skills, takes a moment or two to think before replying.  “It reminded me a lot of your father in the latter days of his career,” she decides.  “If you had butterflies up there, it certainly didn’t show.  You displayed a level of confidence in your abilities that’s remarkable for someone who’s only had a handful of actual professional matches.”  Violet takes a slight stutter-breath here, and John already knows her well enough to know that the constructive criticism was about to come.

“You may have shown a little bit too much bravado, in fact,” she adds.  “You put a lot of pressure on yourself to succeed in the business—and, really, in everything you do.  Almost like you’re afraid that if you don’t work hard every moment of every day, someone’s going to come and snatch everything away from you.”

John purses his lips, nodding slowly.  Violet’s honesty was one of the things he’d come to admire about her, and that honesty was always couched in tact.  “You might be right about that:  I do put a lot of pressure on myself.  I do want, very much, to succeed in the wrestling business.”

“Because of your father?” Violet asks, her tone making it pretty obvious that she already knows the answer.

Again, John nods.  “And Uncle Brian.  And even Uncle Adam.  The three of them combined won just about every championship in every division—heavyweight, light-heavyweight, tag-team—that they set their minds to getting.”  Indeed, it was the style of John’s uncle, “The Tiger” Brian Grant—far moreso than his father’s—that John had emulated in developing his own wrestling abilities.  A lot of that had to do with the phyiscal differences between Steve and John:  John was 6’3”, 227 pounds—tall by normal standards but about average among his wrestling peers.  Steve, on the other hand, was 6’9”, 295 pounds in his wrestling days (though he was about 305 pounds in retirement).  Steve Grant had been able to do insanely high-flying moves that were nearly unprecedented for a man of his size, and it was because of his martial-arts training and tremendous flexibility and conditioning.

John had no martial-arts training to speak of, and he also lacked Steve’s sheer power and size.  Therefore, he had to rely on his technical mastery, speed, and high-flying ability.

“My father and Uncle Adam were so driven and determined to reach the absolute heights of the business,” John continues.  “Even though they were best friends most of their careers, and later family, it didn’t matter to them if they were fighting alongside one another or against each other.”

“‘In this business, you can make friends or you can make money,’” Violet quotes, repeating the words that Chief Jay Strongbow once said to Scott Hall and Kevin Nash.

“Right,” John says, nodding in agreement.  He’d always wondered, though, whether Uncle Brian agreed with that philosophy.  Based on his more modest list of career accomplishments compared to Steve, he doubted it was so.

“Well, let’s get in there,” Violet says, “and see the video that Harry and the gang have put together for you.”

Smiling, John takes Violet’s hand and walks into the Inferno Wrestling Academy with her, his calm demeanor belying the anxiety he felt at this moment.  This video could either kick-start a career for him, or, in twenty years’ time, lie covered with dust at the bottom of a moving box somewhere.

~*~*~

A few minutes later…

Having removed his jacket to reveal a Sgt. Pepper album cover T-shirt underneath it, John sits with Violet in the darkened film room of the Academy, watching the video that he’d put together.  Highlights of his match with Antonio Mason at Shane’s Pub start the video off, showing, of course, the offensive and defensive moves that were in John’s favor.  In real life, the match had been far more back-and-forth than one might assume by watching the highlight video.  But highlight videos weren’t meant to emulate real life; they were meant to spotlight one individual in particular.

John knows that the complete video of the match will also be sent to the wrestling promotions that he’s applying for, and so he doesn’t feel bad that the highlight video shows Tony (whom he had tremendous respect for) getting his ass kicked.  And anyone who really knew wrestling would know that Tony’s ability to take those bumps was just as impressive as John’s ability to perform the moves in the first place.

So John watched, seeing these highlights for the first time.  He’d consulted Harry Jaffee, the video editor—as well as Steve and Brian Grant—as to what moves he would like to have spotlighted, but he hadn’t yet had the opportunity to see himself wrestle on video.  They’d certainly spared no expense, either:  The video was a dual-layer DVD/Blu-Ray combo, presented in 1080p, and displayed on a large flat-screen television.  The film footage had been shot in anamorphic widescreen format.  “Blue Inferno” Steve Grant was a multi-millionaire several times over, and he wasn’t afraid to use that money to provide the best for his students.

John watched as he springboard-vaulted off the top rope, and was caught by Antonio.  Tony had prepared to hit a fallaway slam, but John had grabbed the back of his knee and pulled him down to his back.  There was another highlight of the Death Valley Driver reversal into a Running Tiger Bomb; the Flying Space Tiger Drop that took out the referee and the concession stand guy, sending popcorn and soda flying everywhere (but missing Antonio completely); the STF, figure-four leglock and Sharpshooter he’d applied at various points during the match; and, finally, a high-elevating Superfly Splash that ended John’s first professional match with a win.  John lets out a whistle as he realizes for the first time how close he’d coming to slamming his head against the ceiling.

Then came the promo part of the video, during which announcer Alex Yost interviewed John following his match, while “Hells Bells” by AC/DC played lightly in the background to compliment it.  John knew that this last bit showed some technical mastery from Harry and the gang:  When the interview had been taking place, “Hells Bells” was blaring from the sound system.  John had had to strain to be able to hear Alex’s questions over the din.

Alex Yost was dressed nattily in a brown sports coat, blue-and-silver tie and pants, and was about fifty years old.  His neat appearance contrasted considerably with John, who looked like he’d just come through hell—but at least he’d come out triumphant.

“Thanks Quinn, and I’m standing here now with the winner of tonight’s epic main event, ‘The Lion’ John Grant.”  Turning to angle towards John now, Alex continues to speak.  “John, you were born and raised in this business.  You’re the son of the great, former world heavyweight champion ‘Blue Inferno’ Steve Grant, and a graduate of the Inferno Wrestling Academy in San Francisco.  What does it feel like to win your first professional match?”

When John spoke, his breath was still quite elevated from the hard work he’d put in, but he wasn’t out of breath.  “Well, Quinn, it’s the culmination of months of hard work training to become one of the bright young stars of the business.  The Inferno Wrestling Academy churns out only the most capable, most determined individuals, with the strongest, most disciplined minds.  As you can probably tell by the way Tony and I brought down the house tonight, I didn’t breeze through the Academy just because my father was teaching me.”

“And I know you’re not satisfied with simply one great match,” Alex replied, stating the obvious.  But then, it was supposed to be a leading question.

“Absolutely not; the Grant family of wrestlers has always been a family that strives to be the unqualified best at what we do.”  John spoke with a steady intensity, and while he’d organized his thoughts in advance of the interview, he was, generally speaking, improvising what he was saying.  “At the peak of his career, there was no wrestler, in any federation, whom my father couldn’t beat.  I know I’ve only had one match, but I’m hungry for more.  I want to prove myself against the greatest competition in the world, and establish my name as a champion just like my father, my uncle, and my uncle-in-law.  Hell—I want to one day surpass all of them.  

“So to every professional wrestling promoter in the world—if you’re looking for someone who will push himself every day to put on the highest-caliber, most entertaining matches, someone who’ll come in early and stay late, and do whatever it takes to make himself—and the company—successful, you’re looking at him.  And for every one of the guys in the back, you’d better start worrying about protecting your spots, because this hungry young Lion is coming, and he’s not playing with kid gloves.”

Both Johns—the one on-screen talking to Alex, and the one in real-life sitting next to Violet—chuckle softly at his use of a mixed metaphor there.

With that, the screen fades to black, and “Hells Bells” by AC/DC continues to play, a little louder than before, before it, too, fades.  Then the lights come up in the film room.

“Looks good, Harry,” John says to the very talented, albeit a little skittish, technical manager before the latter could utter a word.

“I agree,” Violet opines, giving John’s hand a light squeeze.  “I know you’re gonna be sending it to, like, fifteen different places, but where do you hope to end up?”

“Well, the World Wrestling Alliance is gonna be starting up again in mid-January,” John tells her.  “They’re gonna start off slowly, kind of having more of an independent feel to it, so it’ll be ripe for opportunities for a young wrestler to prove himself and move up the ranks.”

“Looks like you’ve already got this all mapped out,” Violet tells him, and a sheepish grin and shrug from John confirms that without words.  “Well, wherever you end up, I know you’ll put on a show, and make your family—and me—proud.”

John blushes lightly, and gives Violet a soft kiss on the lips.

[lehdenlaulu]

tlj was an uneven movie for sure, but i thought it was thematically pretty consistant. im under the impression you had a problem with rey giving kylo a chance for the light side, which he then rejects after killing snoke and the movie to me said "sometimes people are irredeemable" and doubles down on kylo as being villainous. it made sense to me for rey to act like it, hear me out: she meets her hero, luke, who turns out to be what she didn't expect, he has become a grumpy recluse. (1/2)

(2/2) since the current luke isn’t what she expected, she tries to emulate what she knew Peak Hero Luke did: he gave Darth Vader a chance! So slowly she thinks she can do the same, get the current villain to turn to the light, just like Luke did. It would save the galaxy! And she consistently hangs on to this belief, until Kylo reveals himself to want to destroy everything and asks for her to compromise her beliefs. She shuts the door on his redemption for good. I liked her Luke-ish idealism.

3/2 (oops) but ofc you’re allowed to dislike the last jedi and have differing opinions! I was super worried up until 2/3rds of the movie, but then it won me over. It’s definitely a more divisive movie than TFA, which i also liked! Idk how to end this, you have valid criticisms and I am DEFINITELY not a fan of reylo. i guess what confuses me is how ppl seem to think it was pro those two together? It ended with the divided for good.

Oh no, that part I’m actually reasonably okay with, on paper anyway. On paper, it kinda even works. But the execution? Oh boy. Nope.

First of all, the storyline relies on the idea that Rey somehow would know Luke tried to save his father and bring him back to light. Yeah, it’s been established in the expanded canon that there are lots of stories, legends and tall tales about Luke Skywalker, sure. But it’s also been established that there are things about the Skywalkers that are very much not common knowledge that some scavenger girl from a backwater planet would have realistically heard of.I mean, sure, you could theorize that she picked the knowledge from Luke’s head or Leia told her or whatever, but if you want your audience to accept something like that… Rule #1 of visual media: Show, Don’t Tell. And we weren’t even told just how she knew that.

Secondly, it’s painfully obvious Johnson had exactly two story objectives: Kylo becomes Supreme Leader and Luke dies. And while the Resistance storyline (including Finn and Rose) ended up being pointless running around and infighting to keep them busy meanwhile, Rey had the dubious honor to become a plot device. And, again, I’d be much more okay with her willingness to trust Kylo and try to drag him back to light if she’d been given a proper motive that didn’t undermine her own intelligence, integrity, and importance. Again, if she had known or even falsely thought Kylo is her long-lost brother or even cousin, that would have been acceptable and characteristic motivation.

Now her personal motivation was, what? She felt lonely and rejected because Luke was an ass to her, and wanted to prove herself? Sure, understandable to a degree, but at what cost? Luke had to be written to act way out of character to push her towards Kylo, who may I remind you, she very nearly dueled to death only days before. “Miscommunication as the cause of conflict/drama” is one of my least favourite tropes ever, and it was (ab)used prominently in two of this film’s three main storylines. That’s shitty and lazy writing/storytelling and I cannot condone it.Also, yeah, Rey did reject him in the end, but I could have lived never having to see it being even implied in textual canon that there could be anything remotely romantic going on between the two, ever. It was one of my main fears that she would be pushed into this trite “pure-hearted maiden saves evil douchebag’s soul from the grip of darkness with her love and light” role, and that’s… kinda very much what happened. At least there was no more swooning into his arms, I guess. *sigh*

So, no, my main issue was not with that storyline per se. My main issue was that Luke’s characterization, Rey’s importance and integrity as a character (and role as the heir of the Skywalker legacy), and, well, pretty much everyone else’s storylines and character arcs as well were sacrificed on the altar of Kylo.No, he was not redeemed or anything, but the fact remains that pretty much the entire main plot was about him and he’s now both the Big Bad and (presumably) the Last Skywalker. And I find that unacceptable.

To recap: the story was mediocre at best, the execution was terrible and the writing overall was generally horrendous. Not to even mention the countless continuity issues.  That’s my beef with this film.

[filmforthought]

Columbus

Starring John Cho, Haley Lu Richardson, and Columbus, Indiana Rating: ★★★ out of ★★★★ The first time I came to Monmouth University, I was in awe of Wilson Hall. Its marble floors, stained glass ceiling, and grand staircase were striking. The enchantment of this building continued into my freshman year, when I had a political science class on the third floor. The gorgeous painted walls and picturesque views outside the window were breathtaking (and no, not from climbing up those stairs).  Now as the years go on, I and many other students overlook the beauty of Wilson Hall. However, a film like Columbus brings architecture to the forefront, while reminding viewers of the grandeur they may take for granted. After the collapse of his father, Jin (Cho) flies in from Korea to be with his father as he recovers in a Columbus, Indiana hospital. Jin is a translator, who has a distant relationship with his father. During Jin’s stay, he accepts a cigarette from Casey (Richardson), a library employee whose appreciation of architecture is fervent. The two hit it off well, and Casey becomes Jin’s architectural tour guide of town. Although there is an age gap between the thirty-something-year-old Jin and twenty-year-old Casey, what brings them together is the small conversations that negate from the daily grind. When the couple first come together, it makes for one of the year’s best moments in camerawork and choreography. Casey shares her cigarette with Jin, who is on the other side of a brick wall with columns. The two slowly walk straight as they break the ice. Once there is an opening in the gate of the fence, Jin steps towards Casey and introduces himself. This shows that Jin and Casey will have nothing to hide in their forthcoming conversations and beautifully sets the tone. As we eavesdrop on Jin and Casey’s conversations, we slowly gain a better understanding of the characters. Despite Jin’s lack of appreciation for architecture, he still has an idea of its purpose. While Casey explains the textbook importance of a bank’s all-glass exterior, Jin asks her, “why does it move you?” These sorts of questions expand into deeper talks, like when Casey discusses her issues at home and in the town. Casey sums up her home and Columbus’s issues in three words to Jin with, “meth and modernism.” While they are outside the First Financial Bank’s glass clerestory structure, Casey discusses her mother’s meth addiction. This, along with her financial troubles, has grounded Casey in Columbus. Although she is anchored to the small town, Casey has gained an appreciation for its architecture. Considering her love of architecture, Casey desires to attain her degree in the field. However, her socio-economic position restrains her from getting out of Dodge. Casey’s situation shows how amid the beautiful buildings and grounds, there are still real problems that affect the town’s citizens. The quiet conversations between Casey and Jin about everyday life are reminiscent of the directorial style of Yasujirō Ozu. Ozu was known for zeroing in on the common person’s issues, while restraining from film’s commercial norms like overly dramatic acting or a powerful soundtrack. Take for example Ozu’s Tokyo Twilight, where two sisters discover that their dead mother is alive. Throughout this feature, there is hardly any score because Ozu wanted to focus on their conversations. Also, the performers carry out their discussions in a somber and sincere way. However, when there is an uptick in drama, it is well known. The directorial debut of Kogonada emulates these characteristics of Ozu in Columbus, by not only focusing on the issues of the common person, but how he depicts their lives. While Kogonada brings the everyday struggles to light, he also brings architecture to the forefront. Every time Casey and Jin are together, the two are outside of a stunning building. Normally, when one thinks of achievements in architecture, structures like the Eiffel Tower, La Pedrera, or the Colosseum come to mind. On the other hand, the elegant structures in Columbus, Indiana, consist of banks, churches, libraries, high schools, or bridges. On their own, each structure serves as another piece to the story and plays an important role. Architecture not only brings out the best in each character, but suffices as the way out of town. Columbus begins and fittingly ends with a shot of the cable Robert Stewart Bridge. With this shot being the first and last thing we see, Kogonada seamlessly takes us in and out of this small Indiana town. When the trip is over, it feels refreshing. This is a realistic, yet relaxed experience into the lives of two normal people. The issues they face might be similar to our own, which makes this relatable. Above all, the architecture gives perspective not only to the characters, but audiences as well. Next time you are in Wilson Hall, just look around. Admire the beauty that surrounds us and how lucky we are to have it. Sometimes it takes the power of film to put into perspective the little things in life that may go unnoticed, even if they are big structures on campus.

[bitchcassidys-blog]

spring always smelled like wildflowers.

no. no, not always – there had been a time before now, eighteen years where spring had never had such an easily recognizable smell, where it had crept slowly, silently upon her, making its presence felt in little ways. shoots of yellow in the school gardens, hardly seen through the weeds which choked them. the touch of a hand to her shoulder as she sat, hands clasped, head bowed, a hundred voices echoing, our father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name, and hanna’s own, silent, fervent prayer, get your hand off of me, get it off, get it off, get it OFF –

chocolate, too, a guilty little secret as they passed the bar around in the midst of lent, caring little for the promises to god they broke. a bar of chocolate never killed anyone. hadn’t jesus died for their sins ? surely, he’d appreciate them making sure he didn’t die for nothing. perfume, her mother’s, changed with the seasons. she always smelled of some sort of flower, and spring brought roses, and the wrinkling of her nose, god, it was overpowering. grey clouds breaking, the sun peeking through. ten degrees celsius outside, and half of dublin stripping off. aglæca, at least, could be called warm in the early months of the year.

she preferred the wildflowers. they had been in the first bouquet she had pressed into someone else’s hands, the first year she had arrived, volunteering for the spring festival – not that she had intended to. she had been on the island barely three weeks, and when someone had approached her asking if she wanted to help out, she had panicked, blurted out yes before she knew what she was agreeing to, and quickly found herself swept up in the preparations for it. it was the best possible way she could have found herself integrated into the community, and she had signed up for it again and again, nine years in a row – but not this year.

she had to admit, it was strange ( yet not bad ) to stand on the sidelines this year, watching as others did her usual job. volunteers darted in and out of the crowd, doing all they could to spice it up – handing out flowers, throwing handfuls of glitter, offering drinks to anyone who passed, modern-day maenads, and it brought a smile to her face. they had already intercepted her, and she had let them weave flowers into her hair, dust her face with gold powder, press her favourite flowers into her hands, and she carried them now in the crook of her arm, looking for a moment like she was attempting to emulate their monument.

anyone who would have glanced toward the spot where she stood just a moment later would have found it empty, with hanna having quietly disappeared in the direction of the sculpture. she had never really bought into it before – she was, after all, an irish catholic, even now, and most years too busy to slip off and see to it – but she carried, this year, a tribute in her arms, and in her pocket. she was in luck, it seemed; few people were gathered in front of the sculpture as she reached it, and she recognized none of those who were. awkwardness seized her, and the flowers felt heavy in her arms. how the fuck did this work ? it wasn’t exactly church, but … furtive glances cast towards the others who were paying tribute yielded no answers. it seemed she would have to do it her own way. well, fine.

perhaps it had been a bad idea to wear a dress, she realized as her knees touched the ground, cold in the shade of the sculpture, but what could be done about it now ? from her arms, the flowers, held upright as she bowed her head, just a little, and wondered what to say. she knew some prayers, but they seemed so awfully out of place. imagine saying a hail mary to a god they honoured by letting goats run riot ? she probably wouldn’t mind. the bitch gave birth in a stable, and the corners of her mouth twitched at the idea of it, the mother of christ herself, waving a hand towards her, ❛ g’wan ahead love, say my prayer, you should hear what these other gobshites are saying. ❜ that had to be some sort of blasphemy, right ? oh well. she was going to hell anyway. she went to church now out of habit more than anything.

in the end, she said nothing, did nothing, wished for nothing. a minute, two, passed, and there she knelt, eyes shut, until she felt satisfied that she’d made enough of a dick of herself. her second piece of tribute was not so easy to locate, buried as it was beneath the flowers which had been crammed into her jacket pocket, but – aha ! petals spilled out as she withdrew her hand, gold ring glinting in the afternoon light. those who gave it a cursory glance would assume that the stone set into it was an opal, perhaps an old diamond, but it was neither, not even a stone at all. hanna had carefully sanded the nub of bone down herself, and though it hadn’t been set into the ring very carefully ( glued in, more likely, hanna swearing all the while, cursing the task she had assigned herself ) – well, it looked presentable enough, didn’t it ?

it was a stupid thing, probably, and had anyone asked why this was the tribute she was offering, she would have snapped at them to fuck off and mind their business. but, finally, after so many years, the thought of home no longer conjured up an image of that house in dublin, of weekends spent causing trouble on grafton street, but instead of aglæca. now, she thought, home, and she saw the amphitheater, and all the performers there. penny’s bakery, where she turned on the charm to try and get everything she bought discounted. the library, the bar, beloved haunts, second homes. the sound of ruby singing in the shower. dinah’s dressing room, that tiny piece of wonderland, filled with costumes from all over the world. seth’s bedroom, though she’d admit it to no-one. she thought, home, and aglæca sprang immediately to mind, as if there had never been anywhere else. she had found it in a time where she was lost, and those who lived there had welcome her with open arms, and well – had she ever really given anything back ? it certainly didn’t feel like it. but this, this ring hidden in the midst of the wildflower bouquet; this ring had the very bones of her in it. in laying it at the feet of the sculpture, she was paying tribute to aglæca as much as she was the gods they worshiped.

getting to her feet, hanna quietly brushed herself off. in the time it took for a heart to beat, she disappeared – where she stood, there remained only a handful of scattered flower petals, of gold dust, and the faint smell of wildflowers.