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canary3d-obsessed · 4 years ago

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Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 11 first part

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Goodness)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Okay! This episode is a real slice of healthy family dynamics, not triggering in any way. [Uh if this is your first Restless Rewatch: that is sarcasm, dear readers]

Goodbye to You, Goodbye to Everything We Knew

Nie Huaisang asks why Meng Yao has to leave and Meng Yao says "I killed a guy without permission, so your brother fired me."

Ha ha ha ha no he doesn't. But he does give Nie Huaisang a sweet, sad smile; he seems touched by NHS's distress.

Meng Yao carefully removes Nie Huaisang's hands from his shoulders and bows to him, wordlessly signaling the change in their relationship from intimate friends to formal strangers, while Nie Huaisang looks crushed.

They will return to intimate friendship in the future, but falsely. Meng Yao believes that truly loving a person can include destroying their family and using them as an instrument in your murder plots as long as you don't directly harm them. Nie Huaisang eventually learns to use people just as brutally, but he doesn't lie to himself about what he's doing. This farewell may be the last harmless moment between these friends.

Jiang Cheng is distressed by what's going on, while Wei Wuxian crosses his arms and watches, fully in Sherlock Holmes mode, instead of his more usual concerned-for-my-friend mode. This may signal mistrust of Meng Yao, who refused his initial attempt at friendship, and not in a sexy, slice-your-face-off way. Or it may mean that he's reserving judgement on a complicated family situation. He maintains his uncharacteristic reserve through the entire encounter.

(more behind the cut!)

Nie Huaisang runs in and asks his brother WTF happened. Nie Mingjue says "he killed my subordinate without permission, when he knows perfectly well power must flow from the ruler; it's like he didn't even read that Foucault book I gave him."

Ha ha ha actually he just yells at his brother, as if NHS doesn’t have his own relationship with Meng Yao after being wonder twink powers with him for probably a couple of years now. NHS has to sit and process his loss and confusion in silence.

As a younger sibling who would make friends with my older siblings' girlfriends and then lose those friends if they broke up, for reasons having nothing to do with why I liked their girlfriends, I super feel Nie Huaisang's pain here.

OTOH, older siblings are entitled to have break ups and not explain themselves to anyone besides their lover because that's the nature of intimacy. The moral is, uhh...don't have a family curse that makes you unreasonably angry.

Jiang Cheng steps up to advocate for Meng Yao, because Meng Yao is injured, and because Jiang Cheng is actually a born leader who knows better than to throw away a useful subordinate. For example, even when Wei Wuxian is at his drunkest and most defiant, Jiang Cheng tries to reform him, not kick him out, only drawing the line at having unpopular zombie friends.

Wei Wuxian continues to keep his mouth shut, waiting for Nie Mingjue to calm down, and speaking only about the tactical situation. He clearly knows there's more to this story but he's pretty good at keeping his head down in a family ruckus, and we're about to learn why.

Yunmeng Town

The Yunmeng bros go home to Lotus Pier, where they are greeted in town with bows, smiles, and free stuff.

We've mostly been seeing them in their roles within the cultivation community, where Jiang Cheng is grumpy and anxious, and Wei Wuxian is sassy and iconoclastic. Here among common people, they are both charming, friendly, and polite, like the imaginary good kind of gentry.

They hear the news from a local lotus seller that the small clans are coming to the Jiang Clan for shelter, but that otherwise everything's ok, which doesn't sound like everything is ok at all. He gives Wei Wuxian a giant bag of lotuses for his sister to make soup from.

Home to Lotus Pier

All the disciples practicing in the courtyard at Lotus Pier are excited to see them, and one girl goes running to tell Jiang Yanli. Thanks to the admittedly beautiful design of Lotus Pier, she is running for a long time.

A long, long time. Getting around on all these insane walkways must be a real drag if you're not the flying sort of cultivator.

Discipline and Punish

Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian immediately go and kneel while they wait for their official punishment. Jiang Cheng is kinda worried about the punishment and Wei Wuxian is like, I'm good at being punished, just let me do it.

Much later, and for a really long fucking time

He also tries to get Jiang Cheng to stop being mad, even giving him skritches while he says they should be brothers after they die.

Which they will, as it happens, although Jiang Cheng after the Wen torture is only mostly golden-core dead, while WWX dies for real.

When Jiang Fengmian shows up Jiang Cheng starts to explain that they were with Lan Wangji, but Wei Wuxian hushes him; he is still keeping the secret of the Yin Iron. Although he's keeping it in exactly the manner that a teenager keeps their weed stash secret: immediately tell literally every teen friend about it, but keep it extra secret from everybody's parents.

Happy Families Are All Alike

Now we get to meet Yu Ziyuan, who is generally styled Madame Yu but who I'm going to call by her name just as if she was a male character. More on that concept in a minute. She rolls up looking, smelling, feeling like a million yuan, with her two murder bitches in tow.

Her marriage is an unhappy one, and her husband does his best to avoid her and avoid conflict, lying to the kids that she's tired and then sending her away later with the same line about being tired, which is a particularly gendered kind of gaslighting. She is obviously not tired, other than being tired of Jiang Fengmian's shit.

I'm not going to say she's the worst mother ever, because parenthood in a feudal society entails a wide range of skills, many of which she has in abundance. She starts off with a relatively tender greeting to Jiang Cheng, tuning up his always-amazing sartorial style, which is exactly like her own. They are all ready for the mommy & me fashion show.

That said, she dishes out hellacious verbal abuse to everyone in her family. She targets each one in turn, making Wei Wuxian the focus of most of her ire, but without ever directly speaking to him. He is not, in her view, part of her family.

The Stages of Family Dinner

1. Try to fix it and defuse the situation

2. Yeah no

3. Just keep your head down and be glad it’s not your turn in the hot seat

This family meal hammers home how much Wei Wuxian is not, actually, part of the family. Jiang Fengmian adopted him into the clan, and told A-Cheng and A-Yi to treat him as a sibling, but he didn't give him the Jiang name, and he didn't get his wife's approval. He also doesn’t expect him to dress like any other clan member, apparently.

Compare this to how Lan Wangji, actual good parent, fully integrates his own adopted son into his clan and family, starting with giving him the Lan surname.

The hits just keep coming as she goes after Jiang Cheng for being less gifted than Wei Wuxian, Yanli for performing labor for Wei Wuxian, and Jiang Fengmian for possibly begetting Wei Wuxian.

On first watching this scene I took her question "Is this how you raise someone else's son?" to mean that she thought Jiang Fengmian was being too nice to a kid who was actually an outsider, taking resources away from the real kids. But on rewatching, it's pretty clear that she's saying his favoring Wei Wuxian is evidence that Wei Wuxian is NOT someone else's son; that he's Jiang Fengmian's bastard.

Jiang Fengmian doesn't say a thing to this, or to her mentioning WWX’s mother. This shit is why WWX is running around in the world desperate for any crumb of info he can get about his Mom; he hears about her all the goddamn time at home, but only as insults to her character.

A Bitch is Not Wrong

Here's the thing, though; a lot of what Yu Ziyuan says is correct.

Jiang Fengmian should be a lot more concerned about the danger to the children, and should not leave it up to the kids to decide who's going to bear that danger.

Yanli does a lot of food=love, which is ok in the right doses, but causes her to pretty extremely lose face during the whole "soup for Jin Zixuan" debacle. And her doting on Wei Wuxian is...kinda excessive. I mean, yeah, she’s more like a mom than a sister to him, but still. Running out onto an active battlefield to look for him, frex, will be a skosh too much.

I have a dictionary too, mom

Jiang Cheng, as the future clan leader, shouldn't let his attachments affect his decision making, and should let Wei Wuxian, who's the superior cultivator, fend for himself more often. We love Jiang Cheng for those moments where he puts himself in harm's way to protect his loved ones, but it's not a good strategy. He constantly yells at Wei Wuxian for the exact same thing he does all the time himself; he just limits who he does it for.

After she roasts the shit out of everyone for these failings, she leaves, and everyone sits around being miserable and not talking about what just happened.

Not to be gender studies-y on main but: the awful things she says to her children are really not very different from the things that Jiang Cheng says to Jin Ling, although her targeting is more adept. JC also says a lot of mean things to WWX when he’s angry. When a man says cruel or insulting things, it's often presented as real love hidden under a rough exterior. When a woman does it, she's a monster.

If you enjoy this sort of interaction you should definitely have a look at Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf and the plays of Eugene O'Neill.

Road Runner

Oh thank god, moving on

Lan Wangji is headed back to Cloud Recesses, and gets ambushed by the roadside with the most ridiculous trap this side of Wile E. Coyote.

Wen Chao thinks the "rug over a hole" trap is a good idea for someone who can literally fly.

Lan Wangji doesn't faff about with sword riding, he just fucking goes up in the air and stays there until he is good goddamn ready to come down. A hole in the sidewalk is really not going to be a problem for him.

Wen Zhuliu does get in one kick before Lan Wanji yeets backwards away from him, in a moment that's scarier on rewatching, now that I know what Wen Zhuliu is capable of.

Wen Chao talks some smack to Lan Wangji, hilariously complaining about "your patronizing tone" to a man who has literally never spoken a word to him, IIRC, and certainly isn't speaking now. Maybe it's a mistranslation and should be "attitude," or maybe Wen Chao is just that dumb.

Apparently Wei Wuxian made a stack of talismans for Lan Wangji to take on the road with him. This talisman is a twin to the one Lan Wangji brings out way, way later in Yunping, when Wei Wuxian says "you even have kept it until now." Missing scene alert! What else did he make for him?

In Yunping this talisman is used to distract some random harmless street bullies. Here it is used against a seven-man murder squad.

This works.

Assault on Cloud Recesses

Forgettable disciple #1, Su She, comes rushing in to tell Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen that Cloud Recesses is under attack.

I'm pretty sure these dudes already know it, because they are meditating extra hard with a buttload of incense, and Lan Qiren is about to cough up some blood. So I think they're trying to hold the ward, rather than just, like, chilling while their disciples get stabbed.

Cloud Recesses is super on fire, you guys; it's going to totally burn to the ground; look at that conflagration, oh the humanity, etc.

Lan Qiren Rises to the Occasion

Ok, I like to rag on Failmaster Qiren and he is definitely an authoritarian dick a whole lot of the time, but in this scene he is fucking amazing.

He starts off worrying about Lan Wangji, not just out of affection but out of strategic planning, probably in equal parts. All three of these Lans take their clan responsibilities extremely seriously.

Then he calmly assesses the situation while imperturbable Lan Xichen freaks the fuck out.

Lan Xichen is right to be alarmed, because he knows his uncle, he knows one of them is likely to die, and he knows that Lan Qiren will choose to take the hit.

I love, love, love Lan Qiren's physicality here; how centered and assured he is, as he holds his nephew steady and explains what is required of both of them.

Lan Xichen knows Lan Qiren is right. He is utterly fucking devastated, and all he can do to show his love...

...is to obey.

This whole scene just. kills me.

Su She and forgettable disciple #2 are in the room for this whole conversation, and they join Lan Xichen in this deep bow. Note: I will be reminding everyone of this fact in Part 2.

Whew. This episode is a LOT. Part 2 Coming Soon!

Writing Prompt: What other goodies did Wei Wuxian put in Lan Wangji's care package before Lan Wangji hit the road without saying goodbye?

Soundtrack: 1. Michelle Branch, Goodbye to You 2. Ludacris, Stand Up

#fytheuntamed #the untamed #the untamed gifs #wei wuxian #yu ziyuan #lan qiren #restless rewatch the untamed #the untamed spoilers #lan xichen #canary3d-original #my gifs #the untamed meta

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horrorslashergirl · 4 years ago

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Slasher OC: Decebal Avram Chirilă

Full Name: Decebal Avram Chirilă

Nickname(s): Dacia, Dece, The Impaler, Vladislav, Tiger, Lynx, Dracula, Casanova

Age: 38

Gender: Male

Nationality: Romanian

Place of Birth: Bucharest, Romania

Current Location: Travels from country to country

Occupation: Former Romanian Soldier; Now Hitman

Languages: Romanian, English, German, French, Italian, Hungarian, Russian, Turkish

Appearance:

Height: 6'8

Weight: 240lbs

Body Type: Middle Bulky and Atheltic

Skin Color: Warm Beige

Hair Color: Dark Brown

Hair Style: Short on the sides and longer on top, wavy

Eye Color: Pale Grey, almost white, giving the impression he is blind

Face Claim: Stephen James

Clothing: He opts for comfortable clothing mostly because of his job as a hitman and because he is always on the run. He mostly goes with black T-shirts or shirts, a khaki army coat with many pockets, along with camo army pants again with many pockets and black combat boots. He has a long black scarf with the colors of the Romanian flag trimmed along that belonged to his father.

Other features: He has many scars on his broad back and down his arms; his back's scars are covered by tattoos of an eagle and a grim reaper with two swords in an X shape. His has full sleeve tattoos down his arms, picturing all kind of nature scenarios from his country, mountains and wild animals and AK-47's on each forearm. His neck, chest and legs are also covered by tattoos along with his hands. This guy is all inked up. He also has a silver earing on his right ear. He also wears an eyepatch that is covering his scarred eye that he got from a fight with his brother Alexander, the scar mimiking the ones Alexander has, coming from his eyebrow down his eye and over his cheek.

Weapons: Twin Swords, Twin Guns, and throwing knives.

Power/Skills:

Murderous expertise

Brute strength

Skilled usage of weaponry

Skill in hand-to-hand combat

Knifesmanship

Swordsmanship

Multilingual

Cunning Nature

Charisma

Driving expertise

Ruthlessness

Fearlessness

Manipulation

Marksmanship

Master tactician and strategist

Stealth mastery

Symbols: Here is the link to Decebal's symbols

History/Bio:

Decebal was named after a Romanian king by his parents, father Apostol Chirilă, and his mother, Maria Stratulat of Moldovic heritage. They were a poor family that lived in Bucharest during the communist times, a hard period for them. Decebal's father, Apostol was one of the rebels that were against this form of a system of social organization in which all property is owned by the community and each person contributes and receives according to their ability and needs.

Because of this Apostol and Maria, along with their three years old son, Decebal, were dragged into the communistic jails where they were tortured in all kinds of ways from whipping to starvation to being chained into coldness.

Decebal tried to protect his parents even though he was a small child and the army warden that took care of the horrific jails was surprised by the child's braveness and he took him away from his parents, not before forcing him to watch how his parents were killed brutally.

During the rest of his childhood and teenage years, Decebal spent most of his life in the dark underground jail, training with the soldiers, doing hard work. Despite that, the warden thought Decebal about all kinds of languages, cultures, and history.

'Just because you're a stray dog that doesn't mean you cannot learn to bark and bite.'

In his late teenage years as he grew into an adult man, he got more to the light outside, following the warden wherever he went and did was his so-called 'father' figure did; smoke, drink and got laid with all the ladies.

The warden's words during a drunken late-night:

'You know boy, you will do something big, much bigger than you can imagine. I saw how all these sluts looked at you... You make them fall into your arms like they are desperate whores.'

'Use everything you got; charms, brains, muscles. In this world, there are the ones that walk every inch of the ground as they own it and the ones that follow, all chained. Tell me, boy... Which one you are?'

One of the greatest abilities that Decebal earned during years in the darkness was that he got so used to it that now as an adult, he sees perfectly into the darkness, just like cats do.

Some people called Decebal 'Lynx'; the moniker originates from the fact that Lynx has exceptional night vision, remarkable hearing, and incredible instincts. The spiritual lesson Lynx carries to you is a reminder to partake of quiet observance, remembering there’s more to the world than what’s accessible through the physical eyes and ears alone.

After communism fell down in Romania, Decebal still maintained the attitude he grew up around; being sadistic, cold, and cruel. People weren't too fond of his attitude; his habits including fighting and torturing people that opposed him, getting laid with other men's wives, strolling down the streets like he owned everything.

He disappeared from Romania when there was a reward on his head to be finally executed. The Romanian army was hot on his trail, turning against him, but he simply vanished.

He strolls from country to country, not having a definitive home and working as a rogue hitman to earn money and to survive.

After a brutal fight between him and his twin little brother, Alexander; the two brothers which resulted in both of them almost dead, they get on an agreement of peace between them, with the help of their third part, their little sister Nadia.

Family: His little brother Alexander Chirilă and his little sister Nadia Nikolina Chirilă

His favorite killing style:

He prefers a kill that will put on a good show, he will shot his victims in both their knees, then he will dismember them with his sharp twin swords.

Personality:

Decebal has two paths of personality; the civilian one and the hitman one, that sometimes cross path depending on the situation at hand. In hi day to day life, he is a charming, handsome man, confident and sure of himself, but also having a modesty edge, just to draw people in closer, because he loves the attention, having a God-like complex.

Despite his childhood, he is a very educated man that speaks many languages, sometimes taking people by surprise, he can even put on fake accents. He also has vast knowledge about other countries history, mostly because that's what his 'father-figure' talked a lot about.

He is a flirt, he simply adores to make women swon by his charming looks and mysterious persona wherever he goes, people always wondering from where he comes. He knows how to sweet-talk people, being extremly manipulative. His looks; big and strong, in his eyes a flaming white glow.

You will rarely see Decebal without his charming smile or dark smirk that makes the ladies sigh and faint. He always puts on a winning attitude, knowing for creating many divorces along his travelings.

Here goes his saying: 'If the female raised her tail, who I am to deny.'

He has a romantic side, after all he does speaks the romance languages, but it's highly influenced his his Casanova attitude.

He is blunt; this man will tell if you're damn gorgeous or if you're down-right ugly or stupid. He has no problem putting his opinions straight on the table.

His favorite drink: Țuică- is a traditional Romanian spirit that contains ~ 24–65% alcohol by volume (usually 40–55%), prepared only from plums.

His favorite food: Sarma is a dish of vine, cabbage, monk's rhubarb, kale or chard leaves rolled around a filling of grains, like bulgur or rice, minced meat, or both. It is found in the cuisines of the former Ottoman Empire from the Middle East to Southeastern Europe.

His scent: Decebal's scent could be described as a 'game of seduction' with an "exciting rush" of citrus and cool spice top notes. Pungent bergamot "bites" with freshness, revived by cardamom and lavender. Caviar gives a provocative and erotic touch “like a trickle of sweat on a man’s chiseled body.” Masculine and rough notes of tobacco and orris root facilitate the heat of the composition. He has that scent that could be described as smoky confidence irresistible to women.

Other Characteristics:

He is a very good dancer, especially traditional ones and he also knows singing. Attending important parties with his 'father-figure' he learned from the women how to dance and sing. The women basically made him such a charismatic man.

He is a heavy drinker and holds his alcohol like it's water; his moldovic genes showing off.

He is more of a night person that a day one, mostly because of his very good nocturnal sight.

He is pretty much an Outlaw.

His accent sounds like italian, latin, but with a little bit of russian or another slavic accent. (That's how a Austrian woman described his accent one night)

He is a master at Poker. Another way he earns a lot of money is through poker and plus, he is a master cheater. FUN FACT HERE: He won a man's wife through poker for one night.

He is a sword swallower, bonus he has no gag reflex.

He also loves to smoke from his pipe.

============================================

There lived a certain man in Romania long ago

He was big and strong, in his eyes a flaming glow

Most people look at him with terror and with fear

But to Bucharest chicks he was such a lovely dear

He could preach the Bible like a preacher

Full of ecstasy and fire

But he also was the kind of teacher

Women would desire

DE DE DECEBAL

Lover of the ROMANIAN queen

There was a cat that really was gone

DE DE DECEBAL

Romania's greatest love machine

It was a shame how he carried on

He ruled the Romanian land and never mind the Tsar

But the kazachok he danced really wunderbar

In all affairs of state he was the man to please

But he was real great when he had a girl to squeeze

For the queen he was no wheeler dealer

Though she'd heard the things he'd done

She believed he was a holy healer

Who would heal her son

DE DE DECEBAL

Lover of the Romanian queen

There was a cat that really was gone

DE DE DECEBAL

Romania's greatest love machine

It was a shame how he carried on

(This is an interpretation of the song ‘Rasputin’ by Boney M, mostly because the song inspired me into creating him)

For power became known to more and more people

The demands to do something about this outrageous

Man became louder and louder

"This man's just got to go!" declared his enemies

But the ladies begged "Don't you try to do it, please"

No doubt this Decebal had lots of hidden charms

Though he was a brute they just fell into his arms

Then one night some men of higher standing

Set a trap, they're not to blame

"Come to visit us" they kept demanding

And he really came

DE DE DECEBAL

Lover of the Romanian queen

They put some poison into his țuică

DE DE DECEBAL

Romania's greatest love machine

He drank it all and said "I feel fine"

DE DE DECEBAL

Lover of the Romanian queen

They didn't quit, they wanted his head

DE DE DECEBAL

Romania's greatest love machine

[Spoken:] Oh, those Romanians...

=======================================================

But when his drinking and lusting and his hunger

#Decebal Avram Chirila #Slasher OC #Romanian OC #Original characters #Hitman #Outlaw

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cheri-translates · 4 years ago

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[CN] Gavin’s Reflection of Beauty Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: Detailed spoilers for a date yet to be released in EN! 🍒

Phone call between Gavin and Mr Keller before the date: here

Candlelit Night Collection: Kiro // Lucien // Victor

Trivia regarding the name of the date:

This date is called 惊鸿照影来, which is part of a couplet from “Shenyuan”, a poem by Lu You written in the Song Dynasty

Rough translation of the full couplet: Alas, the green water under the forlorn bridge / Once reflected the charming face of my beloved one!

It was inspired by the poet’s own love story, where he was forced to leave his wife because his mother didn’t like her. Even so, their love never ceased. Ten years later, they met again in Shenyuan Garden (which was also the place he first fell in love with her). Lu You inscribed a poem on a stone wall, conveying his anger and sorrow towards their separation. A few days after seeing the poem, she died from depression :’<

“Shenyuan” was written later on as a memorialisation of his undying love. It conveys how revisiting old places makes one remember past lovers and sentiments

[ CHAPTER ONE ]

The date begins with MC and Gavin having a rehearsal for the sequel of the “Three Lifetimes” play

The audience had a deep impression of them in “Three Lifetimes”, so Mr Keller wrote them into the sequel as second leads

In the play, the town looks forward to the marriage between Lady Su (the female lead) and Swordsman Bai (Gavin)

But Lady Su is in love with Swordsman Bai’s friend, a scholar (the male lead)

Meanwhile, Swordsman Bai is in love with the character MC is playing (a high-ranking palace maid and a close friend of Lady Su)

After the rehearsal, Mr Keller gives them suggestions on how to improve, and tells Gavin to gaze at MC and hold her hand during a particular scene:

Gavin: ...all right.

[ CHAPTER TWO ]

Once the rehearsal is over, Gavin is a sweetheart as always, bringing water and a few bananas over to MC with this face:

Gavin: If it isn’t enough, I can get a few more?

MC: There’s enough, there’s enough.

Su Xuan, the actress playing Lady Su, tells them to change outfits for the photoshoot:

Su Xuan: I’ll help you put on some make-up first, then marry you off beautifully to your Mr Gavin. Come, close your eyes.

Without giving me a chance to explain or argue, she skilfully helps me with my make-up, as though she’s really helping a sister prepare for her wedding.

Su Xuan: Mm, that’s more like it.

She pulls me to my feet. After looking me over carefully, she tilts her head and smiles at something behind me.

Su Xuan: What does the groom think?

Before I have time to react, Su Xuan pushes me lightly, and I fall into familiar arms.

Gavin: Pretty.

Gavin, who has walked out of the changing room, is also wearing a matching set of red wedding attire.

The colour, which isn’t typically found on him, suits him unexpectedly well.

His easy-going independence has been toned down, replaced with fiery passion.

Gavin: What are you looking at?

MC: This outfit really suits you.

MC: ...very handsome!

Gavin: [coughs] ...you look very pretty in red too.

Gavin’s ears have a tinge of redness. He rubs the back of his neck, his eyes containing insuppressible surprise and warmth as he looks at me.

Su Xuan: All right, you two “newlyweds” can appreciate each other after the shoot! The photographer this time is quite picky.

As she speaks, she pulls our hands together.

The both of us stop talking, perhaps due to the dry air around us, or the warmth surfacing in our eyes.

Gavin holds onto my hand tightly.

[ CHAPTER TWO: A flashback ]

Location: Outside Lynn’s Kitchen

By the time Minor and Gavin leave the noodle shop, the sky is mostly dark.

Only traces of the sunset glow faintly from behind the tall buildings.

Minor: It’s so difficult to get tickets this Chinese New Year... I’m always struggling during this part of the year, and spending the New Year’s alone here is too cheerless. Gavin, what are your plans? Eh... why am I even asking - you’re definitely spending it with Boss.

Gavin is the same as always, letting Minor ramble on at his ear.

Only when he hears the final sentence does a corner of his heart feel a light tug.

Gavin: Mm. I promised to help Mr Keller with her.

Gavin smiles faintly without even realising it himself.

Minor: Huh? ...even though I find this method a little off, it’s not bad I guess! Boss has been asking everyone in the office what dishes they usually make for New Year’s. It made me curious... so you two are spending New Year’s together!

Minor’s words cause Gavin to recall the few memories of “spending the New Year’s” he has.

New Year’s should be a festival of celebration. There was a time when he looked forward to it.

It’s just that afterwards, this day gradually became no different from a normal one.

That is, until the girl reappeared in his life, drawing the link between this day and warmth.

It made him start looking forward to it again.

Minor: Bro Gavin? What are you thinking about? It’s rare to see this look on your face... I got it!

Minor makes an exaggerated expression, predictably receiving Gavin’s neither hard nor soft punch.

Gavin: Minor, are there places selling New Year goods near her home?

Minor: Bro Gavin, you want to... buy New Year goods?!

Gavin: What’s wrong with that?

Minor: Nothing nothing nothing...

Gavin: ...your smile is a little nauseating.

Minor: I’m just happy! Then again, as compared to preparing in advance, there will be more of an atmosphere if you pick them out together!

Gavin: Makes sense.

Gavin nods, quickening his pace slightly.

Minor: Bro Gavin, where are you headed to next?

Several images flash across his mind - a warm light in the living room left on for him, a table with the home-cooked dishes he mentioned liking, and the girl waiting for him on the sofa, hugging a pillow.

Gavin: Home.

[ CHAPTER THREE ]

The photoshoot turns out to be more difficult than MC expected

Photographer: You must imagine - you two are about to elope, so it has to be dynamic! And yet have a tinge of... hesitation and worry! You’ve got to feel it! Change your pose!

MC and Gavin struggle to understand the photographer’s abstract descriptions

MC suggests they pretend to chat while sitting on the grass

MC: ...the weather is getting cold. Does Sparky need to be sent for maintenance?

Once the words leave my mouth, I’m filled with a sense of regret. This topic is too forced...

Gavin seems to be stunned for a moment, then the corners of his lips lift gently.

Gavin: Mm, I have plans to do so. We can find a day to go together.

MC: Ah, okay!

Gavin smiles, lifting his hand to tuck stray tendrils of hair behind my ear.

His amber eyes, which are filled to the brim with smiles, hold my blinking and grinning expression within them.

Photographer: Very good! That’s the right feeling! Could the both of you try lying down? Girl, close your eyes and lift your head slightly.

MC: ...all right. Like this?

I follow the photographer’s instructions and lie down at Gavin’s side, closing my eyes.

In the darkness, a familiar warmth encases me tightly, allowing me to have a peace of mind and lean into his arms.

We are very close to each other. His unique scent entwines with the reed grass that has been dried by the sun, reminding me of the summer we spent together. A breeze brushes past us.

It makes one want to draw even nearer.

Photographer: Very good very good. Can the man include some movements to add on to the idea of newlyweds interacting?

Gavin: ...uhm.

I hear Gavin’s breath halt for a moment, as though he’s deep in thought.

After a while, he seems to have thought of something, and he laughs softly.

Gavin: MC, don’t move.

Right after he finishes speaking, I feel a lock of hair near my ear being lifted gently.

I don’t dare to move a single inch, nor dare to open my eyes. I leave myself entirely to Gavin.

The frequency of my heartbeat increases, and a numbness travels from the roots of my hair to my spine. My hair seems to be gently held in his palm.

Gavin: ...let me know if it hurts. I’ve never tried this before.

Even though he says this, his actions are cautious and tender.

All I can feel are the slight vibrations from my hair, the lock of hair ascending and descending along with his fingers, and then falling by my ear again.

I purse my lips tightly, frantically trying to control my rapid breathing. I’m afraid that I might accidentally ruin this ambience.

The shutter continuously sounds. The photographer seems to be saying something again, but I can no longer hear him clearly.

Next to me, Gavin’s breathing brushes against my forehead and the tips of my hair. The breath, which carries a certain warmth, feels like a light kiss.

Even though this is just a photoshoot, I wish time would give us this moment for a little while longer.

The words he said during the Qixi Festival last year surge from the depths of my heart, and once again gather in the centre.

I can’t help but feel that even if our destinies entangle and cross, and fate only allows for fleeting meetings, we will ultimately accompany each other at the very end.

In my ear, the sound of his heartbeat is akin to him giving me a definite answer. One after the other, regular and resolute.

Photographer:

Gavin: MC, we can get up now.

I open my eyes slowly. The past few minutes have felt like a small, beautiful dream.

In Gavin’s hand are locks of our hair tied together with a red string.

Noticing my gaze, Gavin clear his throat unnaturally.

Gavin: ...when the idea of “newlyweds” was brought up, I could only think of this.

[Trivia: In Chinese culture, one’s hair represents one’s self. During a traditional Chinese wedding, the couple would each cut a lock of their hair and tie them together. This is called 结发 (”joining of hair”). It symbolises the couple becoming one flesh and blood, and how they would be connected forever... T^T]

I nod, not daring to meet his eyes.

His short sentence channels layers of emotions in my heart, converging into unstoppable ripples.

In a most straightforward way, his unembellished words leave a long and sweet aftertaste in my heart.

MC: Let’s go over there so the next group can use this place...

Gavin: Hold on...

Without waiting for Gavin to finish, I’ve already sat up. Only when I feel a light tugging sensation do I realise that my hair is still tied to Gavin’s.

MC: Ah-

Gavin: ...does it hurt? Don’t worry, I’ll untie the knot.

Gavin’s voice, which carries within it concern, is very close to the top of my head. In the next second, the strands of hair that are pulled are immersed in a tender warmth.

Gavin: ...I might have tied it a little too tightly.

MC: Let me try...

Gavin agrees with a sound, cooperating by bending down slightly to make it easier to untie the red string.

I try pulling at the end of the string, but the knot refuses to budge.

Gavin: ...

MC: It does seem a little tight... could it be a dead knot?

Gavin seems to have leaned in a little closer. Perhaps it’s just my misperception, but he seems even closer than he was during the photoshoot.

His temperature and breath make my face feel increasingly flushed. I focus on the knot in my hand, hoping he wouldn’t notice my flustered state.

MC: N-next time, don't tie it so tightly! Or else I’ll leave it to you to untie.

I pretend to be angry, wanting to break the atmosphere that makes my heart go into a frenzy.

Gavin: All right, I got it.

When I hear his voice in my ear, I know fully well that my attempts are futile.

When the red string is finally released and falls to the ground, I release a huge sigh, yet feel an inexplicable emptiness in my heart.

It’s as though my fate with Gavin has become untied.

They get called back to the rehearsal

MC: We should go over then.

Gavin: ...hold on.

Gavin pauses, then takes the red string from my hand.

In a slightly clumsy manner, he uses the string to tie a knot at the end of my plait.

Gavin: This is also considered joining of the hair.

Gavin looks at me, his eyes clear, as though he has seen through all my emotions.

Gavin: Let’s go.

While he speaks, he takes my hand and we leave.

I hold onto Gavin firmly, the red string on my hair swaying gently along with our footsteps.

We will never miss each other again.

[ CHAPTER FOUR ]

At 8pm, the play finally begins

On stage, MC is supposed to read a letter to Gavin

But when she opens it up, she realises there’s nothing on the letter even though her script is supposed to be on it

Gavin notices that something is amiss, so he steps in to calm her down while pretending everything is normal

MC starts reciting her lines based on memory, but starts panicking in fear of ruining the play

Gavin then takes the letter from her and pretends to read from it, reciting her lines perfectly

The First Act of the play comes to an end, and there’s an intermission

MC decides to thank Gavin properly after the play is over, but Su Xuan suddenly looks for her:

Su Xuan: MC, are you free now? Pass the silk ball to Gavin! I don’t know why, but the prop hasn’t been brought over yet.

MC: Okay! I’ll go now!

Thinking of the little time left, I grab the silk ball and run towards the other end without much thought.

In the next scene, Gavin and I are supposed to enter the stage from different sides, which is why I have to cross through the entire backstage to reach him.

The silk ball is an indispensable prop in the next scene. Also... I have a “thank you” to say to him in person.

With this in mind, I quicken my pace, and find a familiar figure afar off in the busy backstage.

MC: Gavin! I’m over here!

I stand on my tiptoes and wave at him, thinking of ways to reach him even faster.

Hearing this, Gavin raises his head. After seeing me, he immediately weaves through the crowd and walks towards me.

People are moving to and fro. Our eyes only have each other, and we go against the flow of people, walking towards our only focus.

Staff: Prepare for the second half!

When I’m only a few steps away from him, the countdown for the second half of the play resounds.

MC: Gavin, this is for you!

In my desperation, I lift my hand. The silk ball flies in a slightly shaky arc, landing steadily in Gavin’s arms.

[Trivia: In Chinese culture, the silk ball (绣球 - ”xiu qiu”) is used to symbolize love. Giving it to someone reflects the giving of one’s heart. If a woman is in search of a fated life partner, she will toss the ball high into the air in a crowd. The person who catches the silk ball would become the person’s husband]

MC: Gavin, about earlier...

Staff: MC? What are you doing here? Go back, we’re about to start soon. The snatching scene is next, and it’s very important.

MC: Please wait! I haven’t finished what I wanted to say...

The staff doesn’t give me a chance to continue, and pulls me to the other end.

I turn my head towards Gavin, and I have no choice but to swallow the words of gratitude I couldn’t say to him in time.

Gavin: [unintentionally sexy whisper] Wait for me.

Gavin stands in place and looks at me, mouthing those words to me.

The bell from the venue rings, and the noise from the audience gradually dissipates.

Staff: The Second Act! Begins!

[ CHAPTER FOUR: A flashback ]

Location: Gavin’s home

MC: “It’s good, and I doubt the lady would refuse, but...”

Gavin: Are you still looking at your lines?

MC: ...Gavin? Why are you here!

[Note: I have no idea why MC asks this since the backdrop is of his own house LOL]

Gavin walks over with a blanket in his hand.

MC: The rehearsal is the day after tomorrow, so I’m trying to make use of my time to familiarise myself with the script, especially the scene where I’m reading the letter. Even though I should be able to read straight from the letter on the actual day, I think it’s better to memorise it just in case... Gavin, why don’t you accompany me in going through the lines!

Gavin nods and sits beside me. After covering me with the blanket, he takes the script from my hands.

Gavin: From here?

MC: Okay!

Gavin and I go through the dialogue. Places I usually get stuck at become miraculously smooth.

Without realising it, we’ve gone through the entire script.

I flip through the script, marking out places requiring additional attention.

MC: I feel like Mr Keller has taken reference from the personalities of the actors when writing the lines. I keep thinking that the lines sound like what you would say.

While speaking, I let out a yawn.

Gavin: If you’re tired, rest. We can continue tomorrow.

As the year draws to a close, there are more things than usual to settle at work. And when I come home, I’d have to familiarise myself with the script. It’s natural that I’d feel fatigued.

MC: You don’t have anything on tomorrow?

Gavin: I don’t have work tomorrow, so we can practice our lines.

MC: That’s great!

A warmth gushes out of my heart. I shift closer to Gavin, sharing half the blanket with him. We look at the script together.

MC: This is so much warmer!

Gavin: ...do you still want to look at it?

MC: Mm, let’s look through the letter scene again. “If you lack medical knowledge... attach some... scattered silver... I hope to do my best...”

The words in front of me gradually become blurry and distorted. After a certain line, I lean on Gavin’s shoulder in a dazed state, giving up on my fight against sleep.

Gavin: MC? Are you asleep?

The girl, who loftily said they would look at the script together just a few minutes ago, is now leaning softly against his shoulder, sleeping peacefully.

Gavin doesn’t wake her up, and simply covers her with a jacket. He flips to the first page of the script, quietly reading the girl’s lines, and memorising them.

The city is asleep, but the room filled with the breath of two people is still illuminated with a tender light.

The all-knowing stars in the night sky are silent, and will guard the small world belonging to these two people.

[ CHAPTER FIVE ] The curtains are drawn slowly. I once again step onto the stage, following the script.

In this scene, Gavin will snatch the silk ball, and I will hand it to the male lead so he can bring his beloved home.

For the scene to be more realistic, the actors are allowed to walk around spontaneously.

As such, I have to run past various settings, weave through the crowd, and finally reach the stipulated spot.

MC: Swordsman Bai?

Panting slightly, I stand underneath the embroidery building, looking for Gavin.

[Trivia: In ancient times, women who were more socially well-to-do would do embroidery in embroidery buildings.]

The sense of deja vu blurs my perception of the boundaries between the play and reality.

A strong wind arrives as promised. Following the glint of a sword, a path forms in the crowd, interrupting my thoughts.

Gavin is dressed in red. One hand holds onto the silk ball, and the other sheathes his sword. He walks straight towards me.

Gavin: Trivial matters held me back, and I seek forgiveness from the lady.

The corners of his lips are curled into an open smile. His eyes are wilful and tender.

The setting of the blue sky, the red silk in the surroundings, and the startled magpie birds surround Gavin, who is donned in wedding attire. It makes one unable to look away.

At this moment, he finally stands before me again.

The crowd and the noise of the world - they no longer have anything to do with me.

Gavin places the silk ball into my hands steadily.

Even though I know this is a script, and that it’s part of the plot, I can’t help but feel that the red silk ball in my hands is akin to a solemn promise.

A greedy thought even flits across my mind - maybe it’d be good if the story ends like this.

On stage, the silk ball is finally handed to the scholar. The lady takes the silk ball and holds it with her lover.

Under the embroidery building, Gavin suddenly takes my hand.

Gavin: Perhaps this may be abrupt. MC, are you willing to marry me and become my wife?

MC: ?!

Was there such a line in the script?

I look at Gavin with confusion.

Gavin doesn’t say a word. He stares straight at me without a hint of evasion.

There are so many emotions within that pair of eyes, leaving me unable to make sense of them. I have no idea what to say.

Off-stage, the audience erupt in thunderous cheers.

I glance to the side. Mr Keller, who has been watching the entire play, nods in my direction, signalling that I should continue in my role.

My confusion dissipates when I see Gavin’s amber eyes, which are filled with deep, tender emotions and lingering affection. There is even an undercurrent of questioning and anticipation.

It’s as though the answer I give would be an entrustment of the rest of my life.

My heart beats loudly in my chest, feeling like it would leap out from my throat in the next second.

MC: I... I accept.

I blush and respond, not even sure if my words are loud enough to be heard by the audience off-stage.

However, every single word is heard by Gavin, who has received my feelings.

With a gentle laugh, he wraps an arm around my waist and lifts me up.

Gavin brings me up the embroidery building to stand alongside the male and female leads.

At the end of the play, there is thunderous applause from off-stage. There are even a few audience members who are fully immersed in the story, sending us their blessings.

In the midst of the applause, I tilt my head and lean towards Gavin’s ear, speaking softly.

MC: Gavin, just now... I don’t remember seeing such a scene in the script?

Gavin: Mm, it was impromptu.

MC: Why didn’t you tell me beforehand? I even thought...

Gavin doesn’t respond further, only smiling at me.

Facing the cheering audience, the four of us bow and thank them for watching, as though worshipping the vast sea of people.

After the play, everyone involved in the show gathers together to celebrate over dinner

MC: Gavin, thank you so much for today! It’s a good thing you saved the show! Back then... I really didn’t know what to do.

While I speak, I raise the drink in my hand, clinking it lightly against Gavin’s.

Gavin: You were looking for me just now to say this?

He raises his drink, making up for the delayed clink.

MC: Yeah. I wanted to thank you properly, but time was so tight that I couldn’t find the chance. Come to think of it, how did you know my lines...

Gavin: When we were rehearsing lines together, I just memorised them as well.

Gavin lowers his head and takes a mouthful of food, maintaining his usual casual attitude. Noticing that I’ve been watching him, he rubs his neck in slight confusion.

Gavin: Um... is there something on my face?

I immediately shake my head. A warm wave of emotions overflow from my heart. Countless words of gratitude are lodged in my throat, but I feel that no matter what I say, it would not be enough.

In the end, I silently fill a bowl of soup for him.

At the table, everyone is eating and drinking merrily, and the atmosphere is warm.

MC: After spending so many days with the crew, thinking of how we might not have the chance to get together like this again makes me feel quite reluctant to part with them.

I lean against Gavin, looking at the lively crew around us.

MC: Gavin, I suddenly thought about something from my childhood. My dad used to be busy producing programs, and would bring me to the recording site to spend the New Year’s. The site was always busy, but no matter how pressed they were for time, everyone would sit down together and have an especially sumptuous dinner. Once I grew up, I also started spending my New Year’s working. I still remember that the warm ambience back then was the same as right now.

Gavin: Mm, I can imagine. I used to spend New Year’s with my teammates, and it was very lively.

MC: Even though it’s not at home, it’s still a different kind of fun!

Gavin: Since we’re on this topic, [coughs]...

Gavin seems to have something very important to say, but he takes another sip of his drink and stops.

I blink, waiting for him quietly. I can vaguely guess what he wants to say.

In the end, he seems to become determined. He clears his throat and turns his head to look at me with a serious expression.

Gavin: Over the next few days, if you don’t have anything else planned....

Gavin: Spend the New Year’s with me at home.

His tone is light, but the look in his eyes tells me just how solemn this invitation is. Even the tips of his ears turn an unnatural shade of red.

I am very certain that, to the both of us, these words are the most precious and serious treasures from the deepest parts of his heart.

MC: Okay.

I nod heavily in response. Since a very long time ago, this answer has not changed.

The corners of Gavin’s lips turn up slightly. Those eyes, which always have an undercurrent of emotions, look like a glacier that has melted in spring, tenderly melting into a warm current.

Gavin: I’ll pick you up then.

MC: Mm!!

The way his lips are curled upwards is as though all the uncertainties in his heart have found a most potent answer.

I find myself smiling along with him.

MC: I recently learnt how to make a few New Year’s dishes, so we can try them.

Gavin: All right, I can help. My skills... have improved.

I freeze for a moment, making a sudden realisation.

MC: Have you been practicing in secret? Looks like teaching you how to cook was a wise decision.

Gavin: ...I occasionally tried to.

MC: I’ll have to check the results of my teaching this year then!

Gavin: No problem.

Gavin smiles, nodding his head with some measure of seriousness. He suddenly thinks of something.

Gavin: Oh yes, do we need to buy things like spring couplets?

MC: Mmhmm, we also have to buy the character “福”! It will only feel like New Year’s when we have these things pasted.

[Trivia: During the Chinese New Year, households paste an inverted red coloured square with the character 福 (“fu”, which means auspiciousness, blessing or happiness) on doors, walls, etc. to usher in such tidings]

I continue talking, listing on my fingers the items I want to purchase.

In my memory, my aunties’ fierce interrogations don’t seem that long ago. In just a blink of an eye, a new year has arrived.

[Note: She’s making reference to the Spring Festival Date!]

This time, we can leave our time to each other.

In a place belonging only to us, flipping open a new year’s calendar together.

The atmosphere at the dining table is just right. The sound of clinking glasses and celebration comes in waves. No one notices this small corner.

We clasp each others’ fingers quietly.

Our pulses, only separated by a layer of skin, call out to each other in the language of warmth.

I’m so lucky to have you by my side.

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc gavin #SOFT GAVIN #pardon the one billion screenshots of Gavin I included in this

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dwellordream · 3 years ago

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“If any character in English popular culture stands for the sheep, it is Griselda. Her chief detractor is, not surprisingly, the shrew. In Robert Snawsel's A Looking Glass for Married Folks, Eulalie preaches the Griselda gospel to Xanthippe and Margery, urging them to bear their husbands' blows and drunkenness with meek loving kindness. This is too much for Margery: "Are you a woman, and make them such dish-clouts and slaves to their husbands? Came you of a woman, that you should give them no prerogative, but make them altogether underlings?" Margery's scornful reference to slavery goes to the dark heart of the Griselda myth. Folklorists have argued about the ancestry of the famous tale for more than a century.

William Edwin Bettridge and Francis Lee Utley have made a strong case that Griselda owes her features to a folktale from medieval Smyrna called "the Patience of the Princess." A prince buys a poor girl from her father and lays a wager with her that she will not be able to submit to all his demands with utter composure. The prince shuts her in a tower alone and tests her for twenty years, repeatedly impregnating her and then taking away her newborn infants, telling her that he is going to kill them. She builds a mother doll out of clay to talk to and cry to but never loses her patience, and in this way she wins the bet.

The tale, which matches the European narrative more closely than any other yet found, throws into stark relief the specter of female sexual slavery that haunts Griselda's story. The most striking variance between them is that the girl from Smyrna is sold into involuntary servitude by her father, whereas Griselda has a choice and agrees to voluntary and total obedience. Passing into European culture, the story came to Boccaccio. In reworking it for the Decameron he reclothed it in local garb, fashioning his novella partly in terms of Italian wedding and dowry customs that were sharply weighted against brides and wives. Boccaccio thought Griselda's story significant enough to give it pride of place as the last tale on the book's final day of storytelling.

Petrarch read the novella and converted it to an exemplum in Latin for male scholars. Griselda entered English culture through Chaucer's "Clerk's Tale," which is largely based on Petrarch's version. Plays, ballads, and pamphlets on Griselda issued forth on the continent and in England throughout the early modern period, with a cluster of publications and performances in the mid- to late sixteenth century. Arguably the most radical change between versions occurred when Petrarch reworked Boccaccio. The Decameron's final tale is told by the satirist Dioneo, a crucial choice by Boccaccio. Refusing to let the happy ending stay happy, Dioneo spells out the political import of the story and caps it off with a horn joke against the marquis:

Everyone was very happy with the way everything had turned out ....Gualtieri was judged to be the wisest of men (although the tests to which he had subjected his wife were regarded as harsh and intolerable), and Griselda the wisest of them all ....What more can be said here, except that godlike spirits do sometimes rain down from heaven into poor homes, just as those more suited to governing pigs than to ruling over men make their appearances in royal palaces?

Who besides Griselda could have endured the severe and unheard-of trials that Gualtieri imposed upon her and remained with a not only tearless but happy face? It might have served Gualtieri right if he had run into the kind of woman who, once driven out of her home in nothing but a shift, would have allowed another man to shake her fur to the point of getting herself a nice-looking dress out of the affair.

Scholars often downplay Dioneo's bitter words about pig-tending and his final putdown of Gualtieri, attributing it to his cynicism; but their labors to match the tale's disturbing sadism with an uplifting exemplary meaning are less than persuasive. The passage is much more than a glib throwaway, as Edward Fechter points out: "the climax angrily repudiates theological allegory and exemplum." Certainly, it seems fitting that the last lines of the last tale in the Decameron should recapitulate the Boccaccian theme of cuckoldry as female revenge. Dioneo's parting shot about "the shaking of the fur" is also an invitation to his listeners and the book's readers to come up with better interpretations than do the silly sheeplike courtiers of the tale, who judge "Walter wise and Griselda the wisest of all."

Furthermore, it is a jest that asks for scornful laughter, especially from listeners who have grutched throughout the tale at Walter's arrogance, egotism, and sadism. Petrarch told Boccaccio that the story so fascinated him that he decided to spread the tale to scholars abroad. So "snatching up my pen, I attacked this story of yours." The angle of Petrarch's attack on the novella (which he termed "a little too free at times") becomes manifest at the cuckoldry-free conclusion of "A Fable of Wifely Obedience and Devotion," in which he erases Boccaccio's satire and his bawdy call for female revenge:

This story it has seemed good to me to weave anew, in another tongue, not so much that it might stir the matrons of our times to imitate the patience of this wife-who seems to me scarcely imitable-as that it might stir all those who read it to imitate the woman's steadfastness, at least; so that they may have the resolution to perform for God what this woman performed for her husband ...Therefore I would assuredly enter on the list of steadfast men the name of anyone who endured for his God, without a murmur, what this obscure peasant woman endured for her mortal husband.

Petrarch's straight-faced version has none of Dioneo's political satire or irony. He is writing in Latin to male scholars, not in vernacular Italian to women and men, as Boccaccio had done. Nonetheless, it is Petrarch that Chaucer credits by name in the vernacular, mixed-audience "Clerk's Tale," although he departs from Petrarch in crucial ways. The Clerk does follow his source in insisting that his moral applies not to wives but to all humankind: This storie is seyd, nat for that wyves sholde Folwen Grisilde as in humilytee, For it were inportable, though they wolde; But for every wight, in his degree, Should be constant in adversitee As was Grisilde .... (I 142-47)

Chaucer actually intensifies Petrarch's warning that wives should not try to imitate Griselda, calling her example "inportable," or unbearable. (The Merchant, whose turn comes next, blatantly ignores this caveat, complaining "Ther is a long and large difference I Bitwix Grisildis grete pacience I And my wyf the passyng crueltee.") Still, scholarly attempts to align Chaucer's Walter with God do not work because Walter is described as "tempting" his wife, a word almost always associated with sin and vice. In another departure from Petrarch, Chaucer's Clerk breaks in several times to condemn the marquis. After Walter first decides to try his wife, the Clerk interjects hotly what neded it Hir for to tempte, and alwey moore and moore, Thogh som men preyse it for a subtill wit? But as for me, I seye that yvele it sit T'assaye a wyf whan that it is no nede, And putten hire in angwysshe and in drede. (45?-62)

Chaucer's version subtly calls Grisildis's ovine quality into question. The lamb of God is Christ, of course, and Grisildis' meekness when her daughter is taken away resembles his suffering: "Grisildis moot al suffre and al consente, I And as a lambe she sitteth meke and stille" But "moot" she? Within English popular culture, sheep and lambs do sometimes stand for the positive values of resignation and endurance-for example, in emblems on patience. But there is no doubt that sheep generally connote passivity, cowardice, and stupidity. In terms of sheer frequency, the negative secular connotation overwhelms the positive religious one.

A related complicating effect is the criticism leveled at "the unsad" (that is, fickle and sheeplike) people of the realm, who at first deplore Walter's acts but change their minds when they see the pretty new queen (actually his daughter), leading "sadde folk" to exclaim: "0 stormy people! unsad and evere untrewe!" As the Clerk finishes his tale, he shows that he is fully aware that not all his listeners will appreciate Griselda's virtues. With teasing wit he acknowledges the Wife of Bath, who has been called the tale's motivating force and dialogic counterpart. Just before the comic envoy he promises "for the Wyves love of Bathe" to gladden her "and al hire secte" with a song urging them to ignore Grisildis and revel in shrewdam (rr69-74).

By shifting the Clerk's role from that of the preacher of a pious exemplum to a merry jester-singer, Chaucer undercuts his clerkly authority and blurs the moral legibility of his tale, already obscured by Griselda's lack of moral agency and her husband's viciousness. Nonetheless, Griselda quickly proved alluring to husbands, and she retained that allure despite proving highly problematic as a pattern for wives. Like the new husband in the jest about the pottage, men who wanted very much to promote Griselda as a model found her too hot to handle.

In the training manual he prepared for his young wife in the 1390s, the Menagier de Paris offers a confused and troubled account of why he wants her to learn about Griselda. He rushes to assure his wife that he'll never torment her "beyond reason" as the "foolish, arrogant" Walter does Griselda, nor does he expect such obedience: I have set down this story here only in order to instruct you, not to apply it directly to you, and not because I wish such obedience from you. I am in no way worthy of it. I am not a marquis, nor have I taken in you a shepherdess as my wife. Nor am I so foolish, arrogant, or immature in judgment as not to know that I may not properly assault or assay you thus, nor in any such fashion.

God keep me from testing you in this way or any other, under color of lies or dissimulations …I apologize if this story deals with too great cruelty-cruelty, in my view, beyond reason. Do not credit it as having really happened; but the story has it so, and I ought not to change it nor invent another, since someone wiser than I composed it and set it down. Because other people have seen it, I want you to see it too, so that you may be able to talk about everything just as they do.

What he really wants, it seems, is for his wife to be au courant. Griselda had "much currency off the page as a talking point in the late fourteenth century" and was "a subject about which wives might be expected to have an opinion." Codified as a way to get women talking (instead of shutting them up), the narrative about testing is itself a means of testing a woman's opinions and conduct. Is Griselda sick or stoic? Enslaved or free? Is hers a saint's tale, with Walter an abstract tool in the central mystery of her endurance, or is it as much a story about Walter and his court? Is he a cruel tyrant or a stern but loving husband with every right to test his wife? Is Walter God and Griselda a female Christ or Abraham or Job? All these positions have been argued during the six centuries of the debate.

Some recent readers still find Griselda admirable and even question whether she should be regarded as a passive victim. Harriet Hawkins has argued that Chaucer's tale should be read as a criticism of unquestioning obedience to authority, even divine authority, while Lars Engle hears "an implicit voice of sane moral protest" in Grisildis's mild objections to her husband. Such strained attempts at recuperation show that Griselda disturbs more than she edifies, raising but failing to answer questions about the limits of obedience in the face of tyranny and the conflict between Christian duty and wifely subjection.”

- Pamela Allen Brown, “Griselda the Fool.” in Better a Shrew than a Sheep: Women, Drama, and the Culture of Jest in Early Modern England

#pamela allen brown #renaissance #history #medieval #late middle ages #better a shrew than a sheep

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tearsofthemis · 4 years ago

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Tears of Themis : Chapter 1 ��Social Snobbery” Part 3

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▌ Location-Themis Law Firm’s Reception Area

(My arrival seemed to have made Lu HaiYang lose his will to fight. He hesitated and left without causing more trouble. After he left, Xue XinRan let out the sigh she had been holding and crumpled to the floor. I hurriedly called for Zuo Ran, and we helped her into the office.)

~~~

▌ Location-Break Room

MC: “Miss, how are you feeling? Do you need to go to the hospital?”

Xue XinRan: “No, I’m alright, it’s just low blood sugar.”

(Zuo Ran set a mug down in front of Xue XinRan.)

Zuo Ran: “Hot chocolate, it’ll help if you’d have some.”

Xue XinRan: “Thank you. My name is Xue XinRan. I came today to hire a lawyer for QingPing Restaurant.”

MC: “QingPing Restaurant? The private gourmet kitchen that has been trending recently for food poisoning cases, that QingPing Restaurant?”

Xue XinRan: “The stuff they’ve been saying online is false! Grandpa Fang built our restaurant to commemorate his late wife, and we’ve always had a good reputation ever since we opened twenty-five years ago. The recent food poisoning reports, they should be an accident and nothing more...”

Zuo Ran: “Miss. Xue, what kind of person is ‘Grandpa Fang’, and what is your relationship to him?”

Xue XinRan: “Fang Yuan is Grandpa Fang’s full name, and he is the owner of the restaurant. He’s also my sponsor.”

MC: “...Sponsor?”

Xue XinRan: “That’s right. Grandpa Fang has always supported less fortunate students, and I am one of many. I would’ve never been able to attend Stellis University without Grandpa Fang’s support.”

Zuo Ran: “The purpose of your visit today, is it because there are already customers who have filed lawsuits against the restaurant?”

Xue XinRan: “Yeah. Grandpa Fang had originally agreed to pay the settlement, but the customer suddenly raised the settlement by a staggering amount, and Grandpa had to refuse. The customers banded together to hire someone from Bader Law Firm, and they plan to sue Grandpa Fang.”

MC: “It’s Bader Law Firm again…”

(Bader Law Firm is Stellis City’s largest law firm. Ever since their so-called ‘trump card’ lawyers lost a case to Zuo Ran, Bader has considered us to be their biggest competitor, and never misses a chance to bump heads. Honestly, no one at Thermis has taken it to heart, although it sure looks like the other party’s pride has been sorely wounded…)

Xue XinRan: “Grandpa Fang was so upset by their actions, he almost had a heart attack. Thanks to Bader’s actions, Grandpa has lost his trust in lawyers and refuses to appear in court with one. But the trial starts next Wednesday, and if we don’t find a lawyer that will take our case, even if we were wronged, we won’t be able to prove it. We really… I… I’m not quite sure how we can go about this...”

MC: “Don't worry Miss. Xue, let’s focus on carefully sorting out the situation; what happened before and after the incident. How about I lead with some questions; all you have to do is answer to the best of your ability.”

Xue XinRan: “Alright.”

~~~ Interrogation Start! ~~~ [The interrogation section requires you to ask about certain topics until you receive the required about of clues (this chapter requires 3 clues). All others are extra information about the case.]

▌ [About the man at the reception area]

MC: “Who was the man you were arguing with at the firm’s reception area?”

Xue XinRan: “His name is Luo HaiYang, and he’s MeiWeiKa’s sales manager.”

MC: “Are you referring to the ratings and reviews app, MeiWeiKa?”

Xue XinRan: “Yes, that's right.”

MC: “What is MeiWeiKa’s connection with this incident?”

Xue XinRan: “Originally, they weren’t involved. Eventually, Lu HaiYang caught wind of the rumors, and since then, he hasn’t stopped pestering Grandpa Fang, pitching the so-called benefits of employing MeiWeiKa’s PR services.”

[Flashback]

Lu HaiYang: “Look, old man. Your dishes are truly poisonous. If you went to court, you’d be sure to lose the battle. Even if the settlement has been paid, your restaurant’s reputation will tank. Believe me when I say this: if you buy MeiWeiKa’s PR services, we’ll be sure to get the customer complaints retracted and renew your tarnished reputation; two birds, one stone.”

[Flashback Ends]

MC: “How would he be able to retract customer complaints? Also the company seems… I heard that their platform is about to go live soon, so they’ll be quite sensitive to public opinion during this time.”

Zuo Ran: “MeiWeiKa’s involvement in an upcoming lawsuit will bring risk to the app’s release. Lu HaiYang’s decision to pitch it to your restaurant, was it to satisfy his own intentions, or was it mediated by MeiWeiKa’s officials?”

Xue XinRan: “That… was never made clear to us. Their company has been shady since before, and it’s not the first time Lu HaiYang has come to harass Grandpa Fang with his pitches.”

MC: “...This wasn’t the first time?”

▌ [More about the Incident] (Receive ‘Incident Appraisal Report’)

MC: “When did this incident happen?”

Xue XinRan: “Two weeks ago, Friday afternoon.”

[Flashback]

Male Customer: “My wife and her colleagues dined here for lunch, and in the afternoon, she couldn’t stop throwing up and having the runs! It must have been caused by shoddy ingredients!”

Female Customer: “My son and daughter-in-law were the same this afternoon! What kind of private kitchen are you running! I ought to bet that you use rotting fish and dead seafood to make a quick buck!”

Other Male Customer: “I’ve kept the meal receipt and my hospital prognosis as proof. With the health department on their way, I’m sure they’ll secure evidence. I’d love to see how you’d try to talk your way out of it!”

Female Customer: “Right, right! That pot of fish and tofu soup there, don’t let them throw it out and try to hide the body… I mean, tamper with the evidence!”

[Flashback ends]

Xue XinRan: “That day… there were a total of six customers that had food poisoning symptoms. And they had all ordered the fish and tofu soup. The health department tested the water we use for cooking, which tested positive for pesticide contamination, and ruled poor restaurant management as the cause of the incident. Here’s the official written report.”

Zuo Ran: “Pesticides, huh…”

▌ [About past entanglements] (Receive ‘Promotion Refusal File’)

MC: “You mentioned that this isn’t the first time MeiWeiKa and Lu HaiYang have bothered Mr. Fang, can you elaborate further on it?”

Xu XinRan: “Lu HaiYang is responsible for the sales promotion of the area in which Grandpa Fang’s restaurant is located. In the past, in order to meet his own sales quota, he pressured Grandpa Fang to buy a VIP membership on the platform. The membership was overpriced and Grandpa Fang needed to build up savings in order to fund his charity, so he refused Lu HaiYang. Lu HaiYang thus failed to meet his quota and was fined by the company. Since then, he’s harbored hatred for Grandpa Fang, even going as far as to buy negative reviews for the restaurant on MeiWeiKa. Ever since the incident, I’ll bet he’s been bouncing off the rocks!”

Zuo Ran: “In short, there exists a conflict of interest between Lu HaiYang and Fang Yuan. The restaurant incident provides Lu HaiYang with an opportunity for profit.”

MC: “Does Lawyer Zuo suspect that Lu HaiYang might have a hand in the incident?”

Zuo Ran: “I’m just covering all the bases.”

▌ [About the affected customers] (Receive ‘Customers’ Medical Records’)

MC: “What’s the current condition of the affected customers?”

Xue XinRan: “Everyone has recovered. These are the medical records provided by the hospital. All six affected customers dined for lunch on the same day, and all experienced diarrhea and vomiting afterwards. Besides that, there aren’t any other symptoms. No one stayed in the hospital, either. Since it was almost the weekend, no one wanted to hinder their work. For that, they’re asking for a settlement of two hundred thousand per person, it’s ridiculous!”

Zuo Ran: “The settlement for food poisoning lawsuits are regulated legally, the judge won’t permit the plaintiffs to set the price themselves.”

Xue XinRan: “That’s a relief to hear.”

▌ [About other sponsees’ attitudes]

MC: “You mentioned that Mr. Fang has sponsored many underprivileged students. How long has he been doing these charitable acts?”

Xue XinRan: “I think he started it when Grandma Fang was still around, so it’s been about twenty years.”

MC: “That means a lot of his sponsees are all living and working, each to their own?”

Xue Xin Ran: “Yup, there’s quite a few of them that are well established within Stellis City. They’re well off. Actually, I can be considered as a ‘past sponsee’, too. Last month, I received my offer of acceptance to Stellis University with a full scholarship. My plan was to work part-time in Stellis City for my living expenses. I shouldn’t always rely on Grandpa Fang’s generosity, can I.” MC: “Well said, Miss. Xue. I admire your integrity. Although Mr. Fang’s charity work isn’t related to the case, it can be used to prove that Mr. Fang is a good character and not a profiteer. The court may come to believe that this case is a one-off accident by Mr. Fang, helping reduce the settlement cost, and preserving the restaurant’s reputation. Miss. Xue, are you able to contact some of the students that Mr. Fang’s charity has helped?” Xue XinRan: ”Actually… after the incident happened, I’ve considered contacting some of Grandpa Fang’s past sponsees for help, but… Those who were kind said they’d agree to pitch in for the settlement cost, like repayment for Grandpa Fang’s support in the past, then there were some that followed along with the people online and accused him! They claimed that he’d gone senile, and that’s what caused the incident. They even accused me of collecting repayment and attempting to cash in his good karma. That was never my intention....”

Zuo Ran: “Avoidance is a common and natural way for some to stay away from trouble, there’s no point in forcing a confrontation.”

▌ [About the pesticides used in the restaurant]

Zuo Ran: “The restaurant’s pest control protocols, is it outsourced to professionals, or is it done in-house?”

Xue XinRan: “Grandpa Fang told me that he asked the restaurant runner to buy powdered pesticide on Monday of the same week as the incident.”

Zuo Ran: “The powdered pesticides on the market are generally harmless to humans. The ones that do have adverse effects are difficult to procure. If it’s the runner that accidentally bought the wrong pesticide and mixed the powder with the water source, the cause can be deemed as the worker’s negligence.”

MC: “If it’s the employee’s fault, Mr. Fang can claim compensation from his employee after the trial, which can reduce his personal losses.”

Xue XinRan: “Grandpa Fang said that he was the one who sprinkled the pesticide powder, and his poor eyesight is to blame for mistaking the water source. He wasn’t paying attention…” Zuo Ran: “He claims he wasn’t paying attention, but afterward is so sure that it was caused by his misoperation. That’s a logical fallacy...”

▌ [About employee]

MC: “The means of procuring harmful pesticides is suspicious in of itself. After the incident, did the employee do or say anything out of the ordinary?”

Xue XinRan: “Anything abnormal…?” Zuo Ran: “For example, making purchases that exceed their expected budget and living conditions, or giving off the impression that they have acquired wealth.”

Xue XinRan: “That… no, I don’t think so. Grandpa Fang’s restaurant isn’t big. He works as the head chef, and employs two others: a waiter, and a helper. After the incident, the two employees were afraid of implicating themselves, made excuses to quit, and found work elsewhere. They’re still obtaining their bread and butter working for others.”

~~~ End of investigation! ~~~

Xue XinRan: “I’ve only been in Stellis City for about a month or so, working part-time and taking care of Grandpa Fang on the side. In regards to the incident and the lawsuit, that’s as much as I know.”

Zuo Ran: “We’ve covered the general situation and will require a visit to the restaurant in order to collect evidence for the case. Before that, we will require that you sign an agency agreement. I do have to point out, Miss. Xue, you are not the owner or operator of the restaurant, and do not hold the right to appoint a lawyer to appear in court for this lawsuit.”

Xue XinRan: “I… didn't know that.”

MC: “I believe that Mr. Fang is only caught up in the heat of the moment. I’m willing to visit Mr. Fang and try to persuade him to agree to our help.”

Zuo Ran: “You want to pick up this case?”

MC: “That’s right, Lawyer Zuo. Mr. Fang has supported less fortunate students in his ongoing charity work and has without a doubt opened up doors for those that could not afford it at a time when others would not have given them a sliver of hope. Since he is going through a rough time, he deserves good people such as Miss. Xue to help him, as he has done for others. Moreover, civil and commercial law are my areas of expertise.”

Zuo Ran: “Alright, then this case will be assigned to you. Should you require any help or assistance, do not hesitate to contact me.”

MC: “Thank you, Lawyer Zuo!”

Xue XinRan: “Then…”

MC: “What’s wrong, Miss. Xue, do you have any other concerns? I might not have Lawyer Zuo’s elite qualifications, but…”

Xue XinRan: “No! That’s not what I meant, please do not misunderstand.”

(Xue XinRan pulled an envelope out of her canvas bag and pushed it in front of Lawyer Zuo and I. I opened the envelope and pulled out a stack of banknotes - about a thousand dollars. Everyone has been favoring electronic payment methods, yet Xue XinRan, she…)

Xue XinRan:

”These are the living expenses my parents gave me, and my earnings for this month… It’s all in there… Grandpa Fang’s savings have largely gone towards supporting students in need, and now, he has to prepare funds for the settlement as well. He’s not young and has heart complications, so he can’t be allowed to work as hard as he does. If it’s possible, I’m willing to work more shifts so I can pay the lawyer fees in installments. Although, I’m not sure if that’s acceptable here…”

(The envelope in my hand suddenly felt heavy. Zuo Ran took the envelope out of my hands and handed it back to Xue XinRan with both hands and a gentle smile, something that I rarely see.)

Zuo Ran: “There’s no need to worry. Themis Law Firm’s legal aid fund allows for the lawyer fees to be reduced, or even exempted, as long as you meet our requirements.”

Xue XinRan: “R-really?”

MC: “Lawyer Zuo is one of Themis’s long term partners, so you might as well even consider him as one of our bosses. Whatever he says is obviously true.”

Xue XinRan: “Thank you so much, from the bottom of my heart. Gauging from Grandpa Fang’s mood earlier, I’ve also hired a private investigator to look into this case. The PI has also refused payment and told me not to worry about the money. It seems like Stellis City is filled with warm-spirited people.”

(Just then, Zuo Ran’s cell phone started ringing. His expression soured as he checked the caller ID.)

Zuo Ran: “I apologize, I must attend to this call.”

(Zuo Ran bowed towards Xue XinRan, and left the break room in a hurry. Judging from the tight timeline of this case, I think I should start investigating immediately.)

MC: “Miss Xue, If the trial starts next Wednesday, we should go get a move on. Let’s head to the restaurant and pay a visit to Mr. Fang.”

Xue XinRan: “Sounds good. The restaurant is located in CBD, so it’s close by.”

(Zuo Ran was still in his office by the time Xue XinRan and I left the firm. I sent a quick text to let him know where we were headed.)

MC: (Did Lawyer Zuo encounter something troubling? If so, I wish him all the best.)

~~~

▌ Location- Zuo Ran’s Office

(In the office, Zuo Ran was on the phone, and he was furious.)

Zuo Ran: “Solely based on one email correspondence, Master was determined to have betrayed NXX. I won’t accept this!”

Zuo Ran: “...”

Zuo Ran: “We three all have our own standpoints, and there’s no way to remain unbiased. That being the case, I will bring a fourth party into the investigation.”

Zuo Ran: “...”

Zuo Ran: “En, if there are any suitable candidates, I ask Mo Yi to conduct a psychological evaluation.”

-------

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《CREDIT》 Translator: @humi-and-co Editor: @hallowsivy 《未定事件簿》Tears of Themis is a 2020 Chinese otome game by 米哈游Mihoyo. All original credits go to 米哈游Mihoyo.

《 VOICE ACTORS 》 Xia Yan | Jin Xian: https://weibo.com/riceranger Zuo Ran | Zhao Lu: https://weibo.com/mzhaolu Lu HaiYang | Zhang Pei: https://weibo.com/u/1937059462 Xue XinRan | V17-Su Wan: https://weibo.com/u/2925530143

《OFFICIAL ACCOUNTS》 Official website: https://bbs.mihoyo.com/wd/ Official WeChat account: 未定事件簿 Mihoyo official website: https://wd.mihoyo.com/

#tears of themis #tears of themis translations #tears of themis zuo ran #zuo ran #左然 #未定事件簿 #otome #otome game #otome game translations

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ariainstars · 6 years ago

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Boys Don’t Cry or Star Wars and Coolness

Many of the truths we cling to depend greatly on our own point of view.” (Obi-Wan Kenobi)

Soooo… Time for another of my lengthy ruminations. Be warned - this meta does not entirely consist of sarcasm but it contains some.

Masculinity Clichés

Of course, anyone is entitled to his own opinion and impression when it comes to the Star Wars saga, or anything else for that matter. But let me break down a few impressions I got over the last years, watching youtube videos and reading articles and essays about the saga.

Reason for this meta is that the attitude of the so-called “hardcore” Star Wars fans one comes across so often makes me want to climb walls.

“Star Wars is only the classics, and the classics mean Darth Vader.”

“Star Wars is Han Solo’s story.” (I wasn’t surprised when I learned how fans used to argue about who was “the other one” before Return of the Jedi came out).

Another favorite is Darth Maul, a guy who says about one and a half sentences and of whom we don’t even learn whether his looks are natural or whether he’s actually painted. Until we see him again The Clone Wars tv show we hardly know who he is, where he comes from and what he wants (except killing Qui-Gon for obscure reasons), but countless “hardcore fans” are in raptures about him.

In Attack of the Clones, a whole arch is dedicated to Jango Fett, Boba’s father. Maybe it was a matter of keeping in tune since there never is a Star Wars movie without a father-son relationship (with the rare exception of Rogue One with the father-daughter issue), but I couldn’t rid myself of the impression that this whole side dish was mostly fan service: the classic movie’s booty hunter Boba Fett is a huge favorite despite the fact that he hardly ever speaks and that we never see him without his helmet.

So what’s the bottom line here? My impression is that the saga is expected to be about a character’s coolness, not his personality or development.

Side note: I have heard that despite not being all that thrilling or funny, The Big Lebowski is a huge favorite, in particular with many male fans.

Why?

Because the protagonist shows off that life is all about attitude. You can be selfish, stupid, useless as can be, just don’t be aware of it and carry your weaknesses about like a torch, and everything will fall into your lap without effort. Sounds cool, right?

~ more under the cut ~

The Skywalker Family

No Skywalker man is cool.

Ever.

That’s both their tragedy and what makes them so special. They are deeply emotional hotheads, and family men, which is why the whole saga is called the Skywalker saga in the first place.

Anakin had started his family although as a Jedi, he was not supposed to have a family of his own. Luke brought the family together again, and added to it by befriending Han. The desire to belong and to protect is deeply ingrained in their nature.

Skywalkers never do well on their own. Anakin and Ben were taken away from their homes before their personalities were fully formed and that was in both cases when their downfall began. Skywalkers are not the type of the “lonesome cowboy”, on the contrary: if they are away for too long from the ones they care about, they begin to lose themselves.

Anakin lost himself when he was separated from his mother and later his wife and children. Luke was at his best when he shared himself with others and at his worst when his friends were separate from him - first on Dagobah, later on the unnamed planet where he founded his own Jedi Temple. Ben grew up with huge insecurities because he knew that his own parents were afraid of him, and he lost the ground under his feet when he saw his own uncle debating to kill him.

Luke and Leia both lived at home until they were grown, and they’re two healthy Skywalkers, firm in their self-esteem, idealistic and altruistic.

In the classics, Leia loses her adoptive family and home planet, in the sequels she has lost both her husband and son, and she is abandoned by her brother. But she never gets tempted to do evil, either through the Force or in other ways. Her compassion is what makes her strong. She is never alone, because she dedicates her life to others.

No Skywalker is born to be a Jedi, as strange as that may sound. Their name already says it: they are pilots, all of them. None had the ambition to become a Jedi and to be burdened with so much responsibility. Anakin, Luke and Ben all were pushed into it because it seemed to be their “fate”, and they accepted it believing it was their duty. But being a Jedi made none of them happy, it only meant a lot of sacrifices for all of them. Seeing Luke again in The Last Jedi, we learn among other things that being a hero is everything but gratifying. It only seems “cool” from the outside, not when you actually have to pay the price. Adult Anakin had to keep what little happiness he knew a secret.

Qui-Gon had warned Shmi that the apprenticeship for becoming a Jedi is hard, and that even after that a life made of sacrifice awaits. Obi-Wan never warned Luke. He told him about the past, gave him his father’s light saber, said to him “You have to become familiar with the Force”. In The Empire Strikes Back he shortly appears as a ghost vision to tell Luke “You will go to Dagobah to seek out Jedi Master Yoda.” Note the imperative here: Luke is not asked to make a choice.

Kylo Ren - The Disappointing Villain

“Hardcore fans” of course wanted Ben Solo / Kylo Ren dead, and they see him as the ultimate villain, denying his inner conflict the way they also did with Anakin, the other “whiny sissy”.

Why?

Because he’s not cool. He has feelings (other than wrath and hatred, that is), and they are clearly to be seen. That’s not “masculine”. It’s not what blockbuster and action movie fans want to see. They want to see the badass hero killing the badass villain. (Even if the so-called “hero” is a cold-blooded killer and wily seducer like James Bond, a character I never could stand to begin with. But I digress.)

And: Kylo killed his father.

Don’t get me wrong, patricide is a terrible deed and no kind of murder is ever justifiable. But the crux of the matter is that the person killed was the over-the-top cool Han Solo, for f***’s sake.

Kylo Ren, that ridiculous wannabe Darth Vader, killing the coolest hero of all??! Of course he deserves the worst punishment, deepest pain and humiliation, death and despise. Because from the point of view of “hardcore fans”, he deserves it. He does not deserve redemption. (Not that anyone does, but an uncool villain least of all.)

When Kylo destroyed the console on Starkiller Base, that was already the moment when many fans decided that he was unbearable. What kind of villain is that, lashing out because he lost track of the droid?! What a baby. Can’t he be more dignified, keep his cool?

Even on second view, few consider that Mitaka had said the droid was seen aboard a Corellian freighter marked YT 1300.

Han Solo’s ship. The man who is Kylo’s father. The man whom, we see it in the dialogue on the bridge, he still loves but was ordered by Snoke to kill.

Snoke, that grotesque figure, was his last resort, the only person he could turn to when he felt let down by everyone whom he trusted; he offered Kylo protection and a chance to use his potential in the Force, but only if the latter agreed to sacrifice everything he had and was to him.

Kylo already has lost everything: his home, his family, his identity, his name - and now this ultimate sacrifice is asked from him, and the moment is imminent. No wonder he’s lashing out. But to the “hardcore fans” he’s someone who has no self-control, not a human being driven to the limits of endurance over and over for years. Until now Kylo Ren was shown off as a cold-blooded villain much like Darth Vader, but in this scene we get a first glimpse of his inner conflict. Oh dear, that’s so uncool.

Han was always the wisest of the trio. He knew that his son was about to kill him and that Snoke had ordered him to do it, it’s clearly to be seen in their interaction on the Starkiller bridge. And he knew what was the only ultimate deed that could save his son’s soul. He was not killed senselessly; he sacrificed himself out of love for his only child, forcing him to look into his eyes the whole time. (We had never seen Kylo kill or torture anyone without his mask until now, like he didn’t really want to see what he was doing.) When we first see Ben’s face in The Last Jedi he is deeply traumatized, another explicit hint at his future redemption. When Snoke makes fun of him because he didn’t enjoy the terrible thing he did, it’s only the last drop for Kylo: he destroys his mask and never looks at Snoke or speaks to him again.

Ben Solo was redeemed but not rehabilitated. If he is not brought back for the next trilogy, the whole saga which took 42 years, 9 movies and three generations to tell will end in a tragedy. The Skywalker family will drown in the sea of Vader’s and Kylo’s blood and sins. All that the heroes from both generations endured and suffered will have been in vain. Han and Luke will both have sacrificed themselves for nothing. Rey has little to do with both of them (they care much more about saving Ben than about her), but she’s seen as the heroine and expected to win by the “hardcore fans” because she’s cool.

After The Force Awakens, most fans thought Kylo Ren was Vader 2.0, with Rey as Luke 2.0. Then The Last Jedi came out, and surprise: they’re not. They’re their own persons with their conflicts, characters and developments. Their story tells among other things how wrong it is not to go one’s own way: Ben tries to imitate Vader and fails, Rey tries to go Luke’s way and fails, too. A much wiser and more original choice, from the point of view of storytelling, than a simple rehash. But it subverted expectations. So “hardcore fans” claim that The Last Jedi sucks and the franchise is ruined.

Rey - Contemporary Heroine or Mary Sue?

Rey did not beat Kylo at their duel. He had plenty of opportunity to strike - instead he offered to be her teacher, and while she concentrated on the Force he stared at her in fascination. He let her go on purpose; he made it amply clear from the start that he didn’t want her to get hurt. But he’s uncool, so it’s better to call Rey a Mary Sue who won without ever having trained, than to consider that her victory might have been enabled on purpose by the so-called villain. Snoke said that “he was bested by a girl”, but Snoke was not there to watch them; besides, he’s the archvillain, so there is no reason for taking his words as the gospel truth.

Same for when he says that Kylo has “too much of his father’s heart”: Snoke was only saying that to mortify him with his father’s “inferior blood”. Maybe Snoke really did believe that: but it was what brought him down, because it was shrewdness that helped Kylo kill him, a trait he has from his father, unlike his heart. Ben has his mother’s compassionate heart, like all Skywalkers.

Some fans may shake their heads about Rey, call her a Mary Sue, pretend that Star Wars was “ruined by feminism”, but these are only male prejudices speaking all over again.

Rey has some parallels with Luke in The Force Awakens, so there were naïve viewers who believed she would turn out to be his daughter until the end. Because she’s a badass. All right, the badass hero ought to be a guy, but the idea of Rey the Superwoman as the heroine who will save the day still sounds more acceptable than the actual truth: that this is Ben Solo’s story and not hers.

It was often believed that Rey must be the Skywalker of the sequel trilogy, as in stories like “the daughter of the Black Corsair”, “the son of the Wolf Man” etc., where a hero’s child magically appeared from out of nowhere to do almost exactly what his progenitor had done, so that the story could go on - i.e. so that the fans could be instantly gratified by watered down and warmed up reruns of the same story.

Rey is the central figure in the first movie of the trilogy because the heroine is always the central figure in the first instalment: Padmé, Leia, Rey. In the second movie, it’s the Jedi: Obi-Wan, Yoda, Luke.

Kylo Ren aka Ben Solo as the protagonist becomes the central figure only in Episode IX because that, too, is in the narrative technique: it wasn’t until Episode III that Anakin chose his fate and became a Sith, and only in Episode VI we saw Luke ultimately choosing to be a Jedi like his father before him.

As important as Rey is, she is not the protagonist of the sequel trilogy and she never was meant to be.

Darth Vader - The Coolest Villain Ever

Vader did not deserve or need redemption according to the “hardcore fans”. Had he simply exploded at the end, it would have looked better than the broken and worn-out man we get to see under the mask. Because that’s not cool. Luke ending the conflict by throwing away his light saber is not cool. “Love” being the last word we hear in the classic saga is not cool, which is why it’s so often overheard. (For who didn’t notice: he last words the background chorus sings are “Celebrate to Love”).

Consider this: for all of his coolness, Darth Vader is a failed experiment. We never see him succeed at anything.

In A New Hope, he kidnaps and tortures Leia to no avail. He finally gets to kill Obi-Wan in revenge but the deed lingers with him forever: he speaks about him on every occasion. He lets the rebels escape with the plans in order to hunt them down, resulting in the destruction of the first Death Star.

In The Empire Strikes Back he leads the battle of Hoth: the rebels escape again. He hunts them down to Bespine: same as above. He orders Han Solo to be frozen in carbonite, a man he never had any interest to begin with. He isolates, cripples and blackmails his son, who leaves him anyway.

In Return of the Jedi he leads the battle against the rebels on Endor and tries another time to bring his son to the Dark Side, unsuccessfully. Only when he takes Palpatine by surprise he manages to kill him as was his intention.

In Rogue One he has a dramatic entry, only to see the rebels escaping from him again with the Death Star plans.

But he looks so cool with his cape fluttering in the wind. His breath is creepy, his voice deep, his sentences curt and sardonic. Who cares about whether he ever has any success with what he does?

That’s the point. Coolness makes everything else forgivable and forgettable. Despite all that was said and shown about Anakin Skywalker in the meantime, his alter ego remains the most popular Star Wars character and one of the most iconic villains of all times. A myth doesn’t die. Nor does it change with time.

The Star Wars Prequels

Are the prequels bad, in the eyes of the “hardcore fans”?

Yes. Of course. Because “the coolest villain of all times is reduced to a simpering brat”. That’s what riles them, not the darkness of the themes, the ultimate tragedy of the end, the reduced importance of the Force, the stagnation in the Jedi Order and the decadence of the Old Republic.

When he still was a slave, Anakin had his mother, his friends, later he met Qui-Gon who was a father figure to him. None of them feared him, all of them believed in him and his potential. Child Anakin is skilled, brave and generous. The Jedi allegedly free him, but they place him into another kind of prison, an emotional one. When we see Anakin again as a young grown-up he is rebellious, frustrated, full of pent-up anger: not surprisingly, because he spent these years that are so important for personal development being taught to suppress his emotions. He never got to free his mother, his only relative, and never saw her again except a few minutes before her death, and he wasn’t even in contact with her: it came as a complete surprise to him when he learned that Lars had freed and married her. Qui-Gon at least had negotiated with Watto to free his mother, too; the other Jedi obviously had never considered it for a moment, on the contrary, they saw his attachment to her as a weakness.

Anakin is a bad flirt, yes; but that’s no reason to grind one’s teeth over and over due to silly remarks about sand. Of course he doesn’t know how to talk to women: he is not your classic seducer, he is a Jedi and thus supposed to live chastely. Padmé doesn’t fall for his artfulness or beauty or power, nor does Fate make her love Anakin in mysterious ways: she always sees the good-hearted and idealistic boy he was in him, she says so right away on meeting him again. Anakin makes a fool of himself believing that he has to conquer Padmé, when he already owned her heart all along; but he realizes that as little as the “hardcore fans” do. He becomes Palpatine’s follower because he believes he has to protect his family at any cost, which blinds him to the Sith’s manipulation. His twisted idea of masculinity is his tragedy. And the Jedi Order is composed mostly by men, who live by a Code which dictates strict detachment.

In Attack of the Clones, we get a first glimpse of Anakin’s extreme strength and skill: he takes down the entire Tusken village on his own, where twenty men had failed (only four had come back, and Lars had lost his leg in the battle).

But why does Anakin lash out? Out of pain and hatred because they killed his defenseless mother, a good woman who probably never hurt anyone in her life. And that’s not ok, because a “true hero” is supposed to kill his “enemies” in cold blood, not because his emotions get the better of him. When a guy kills James Bond or Indiana Jones style, with his hand at his hip, it’s seen as acceptable, even as funny.

But like this, “hardcore fans” shake their heads wondering how stupid Padmé can be to marry this guy. Not because he killed the Tusken together with their wives and children, but because he was not cool about it, and because he admitted his hurt and despair before his woman.

Padmé married Anakin, although she had not desired a secret marriage, because she realized that he was going down a dark path and thought she could save him through her love. An understandable mistake that females often make.

Understandable?

No. Getting laid by someone who kills in cold blood is sexy. Marrying a man you have known and loved for years out of compassion is lame.

Anakin agreed to become a Jedi because he wanted freedom and the chance to help others, e.g. free the slaves on his home planet. He gives up his home, his mother and his dream of becoming a pilot and does his best to stifle his human emotions to be finally accepted by the Jedi, but they never do. They ask him to leave his mother and the woman he loves to their fate, to spy on Palpatine who seems to be his only friend and confidante, they deny him the title of Master. They never trust him; while the Jedi follow their own aims, Anakin is left behind, conflicted and shedding tears of humiliation. No wonder he says to his wife that he feels lost, and that he ends with the opinion that the Jedi are evil. Bit by bit, he completely forgets why he joined them in the first place .

In the prequels we see both politicians and Jedi masters having no other agenda than preserving their social status and power. They don’t care about the suffering of people who were not born and raised privileged like them. Anakin is told over and over not to make things about himself; but his strong sense of self, the fact that he is not cold and detached like he’s expected to be, is precisely what makes Anakin compassionate.

He knows pain.

He knows loneliness.

He knows what it means to feel helpless and trapped instead of appreciated and understood.

Had he ever been encouraged to employ these experiences in order to help others, he would have become the good person he had the potential to be. Anakin was the disturbing element who was supposed to bring new life to the rigid Jedi Order, that’s why he was “the Chosen One”.

Anakin’s compassionate nature is deliberately violated by the Jedi Order: he is constantly expected to assume an attitude that is contrary to his nature. On his mother’s grave, he doesn’t shed a tear but instead promises her to be “stronger” in future. He blames himself although his alleged lack of strength had nothing to do with her death, merely the fact that because he was held back by the Jedi Obi-Wan, he was too late to save her. And how much stronger did he mean to become, the man who had obliterated the entire Tusken on his own?

But the Jedi deliberately denied him their trust, despite the prophecy’s warning about the lack of balance in the Force, which they, interestingly, never questioned in the first place. They preferred to stay, aloof, in their (literal) ivory tower and to believe that they were untouchable. Their philosophy of self-defense, their role as the protectors of peace and justice in the galaxy were turned upside down by the war against the Separatists, which they carried on and on for years leaving nothing but losses on both ends, until Palpatine picked the ripe fruit and became the triumphant third in the quarrel.

But to the “hardcore fans”, when Anakin finds his terrible end on Mustafar, it’s because he deserves it, since he is not proud of being a Jedi and always was the one who saw and spoke about the disagreeable truths they didn’t want to see. But the burning scene looks cool. Or hot, depending on how you see it. (Not sorry about the sarcasm.)

For the same reasons, JarJar Bings is hated. And child Anakin. Because they have feelings.

JarJar means well, but he’s aware of his shortcomings. Child Anakin has nothing whatsoever in common with the terrible creature he will become later, and that is exactly the point: he was shown like that to make the contrast all the more unsettling.

Why were cute Jake Lloyd and handsome Hayden Christensen chosen to portray them in the first place? Exactly: for the contrast. We are supposed to feel with Anakin, to identify with him and his troubles, to be shocked by his downfall. But for the “hardcore fans”, the prequels become interesting only the moment the mask is placed over his face.

Jedi Teachers

I don’t know how many times I have read and heard fans complaining that Luke Skywalker’s character was assassinated in The Last Jedi.

Seriously?

Let’s make a comparison.

Obi-Wan Kenobi is largely responsible for Anakin’s downfall. Yes, he is, even if most people don’t want to accept it.

Obi-Wan is too young for his task and the other Jedi, even grand Master Yoda, wash their hands of it, leaving him alone with it. Unfortunately he has no understanding for his pupil’s passionate heart and questioning mind, so he keeps him down all of the time instead of encouraging him to develop his potential. He belittles his fears when they manifest themselves through nightmares, and hasn’t the slightest bit of compassion for either the boy or the mother. It never occurs to him that if his powerful student has nightmares announcing disaster, they might very well be true. Anakin once says to Padmé that Obi-Wan holds him back because he envies him: it’s the first time that we hear Anakin say a bitter truth, and it won’t be the last.

Anakin passes the Jedi’s tests but these deny him the title of Master, with the excuse of him being too young. Mace Windu openly says to him that he doesn’t trust him but that maybe he will if he finds out that Anakin had the nerve to betray Palpatine as the Sith Lord. Anakin feels isolated because he knows that only Padmé believes in him, so he obsesses about his fear of losing her; enhanced by his nightmares, which already proved to be right once. But this time he already knows that he can’t talk to Obi-Wan about them. Instead he talks to Yoda, who also belittles his fears and tries to tell him not to care about others. The only person left for Anakin to trust in his despair is Palpatine.

On Mustafar, Padmé talks one last time with her husband and she is about to convince him to just forget about everything, come with her to Naboo and help her raise their child. In that moment, Obi-Wan believes he has to play the hero and interject between husband and wife, believing that the woman is in danger. Anakin, who never would have hurt her before this, feels betrayed and chokes her until she faints. Note: he never wanted to hurt or kill her, only to make sure that she wouldn’t run away from him.

The two men, who were supposed to have a long-standing friendship, fight a terrible duel which ends with the “wise Jedi master” cutting Anakin’s legs and his good arm off and simply leaving him to burn in the lava. He doesn’t even have the mercy to kill him off because “that’s not what a Jedi does”; instead he accuses the agonizing, burning man additionally with sharp words, loading all of the guilt on him.

Having somehow found out that Anakin is not dead but that Palpatine had turned his miserable remainders into Darth Vader, Obi-Wan doesn’t lift a finger against the Empire but waits for Anakin’s son to grow up, convinced that the boy will be the only one strong enough to kill his own father. He outright lies to him saying that Darth Vader was Anakin’s killer, manipulating Luke because he expects him to become a patricide, never imagining the internal horror the young man who trusted him has to go through on finding out what he almost had done. And, surprise: the one who tells him the actual truth is no other than the supposed villain. Whatever evil Darth Vader did, lying never was in his nature.

On the Death Star, Obi-Wan lets Vader kill him on purpose to increase Luke’s desire for revenge. Han lets Ben kill him on purpose, too, but there is no second thought in him, only the love for his son and the desperate wish to make him stop doing evil.

Obi-Wan never questions himself, his choices and actions. He never takes his responsibilities: even when he’s dead, he justifies his blatant lie to Luke saying that the truth is only a point of view. He never loses his cool. So I guess that whatever he does, it’s ok. Obi-Wan Kenobi is another Star Wars myth that no facts can dismantle.

Luke makes only one unfortunate mistake with his nephew: he succumbs to panic, finally making the young man realize just how much he fears his power. Disaster happens. Another Jedi Temple burns.

Luke goes into exile, too, but all he waits for is his death. He doesn’t spend his time dreaming of a better past, on the contrary: when Rey comes to be taught by him, he outright tells her about the sins of the Jedi, the hubris and hypocrisy which led to the destruction of their order and of the Old Republic.

As he opens up to the Force again, the first person he mentally reaches out to is his sister, who promptly wakes up from her coma. When he comes back to see her, he apologizes for the mistakes he made with her son, and tells her not to give up hope.

Luke ends the battle on Crait without shedding one drop of blood, by confronting his furious nephew. He does not want him dead, on the contrary: he wants him to have a future. He apologizes. He communicates to Ben that he still believes in him, and promises that he will still be around. The effort of projecting himself from Ahch-To kills him, asking the ultimate sacrifice from him. And Ben is or will be aware of it, since he knows how the Force works.

Much has been said and written about the forgiveness Ben must earn or receive undeservedly. We like to forget that he has much to forgive himself, for the things that were done to him. And I don’t only mean Luke’s moment of weakness, but mostly his parent’s fear of him which led them to send him to be trained to be a Jedi, far away from home, at an age when his personality was assuredly not yet formed. A far too heavy responsibility for an impressionable young man, not to mention that Ben had wanted to become a pilot like his dad and had no ambition of becoming a Jedi.

Honestly: how many of us have been let down by our families, teachers, doctors, spiritual leaders? I daresay there’s not one of us who hasn’t made the experience.

But do they ever take their responsibilities? Apologize? Try to make up? In my experience, never. Most people want to keep their cool as if it was the most important thing in the world.

Luke Skywalker proves maturity, wisdom and human greatness to the extreme in his last appearance. Ben at least got an apology, something - as I already said - most of us don’t.

Is this character assassination? I have never admired Luke Skywalker more than in The Last Jedi. He is the last Jedi and also the strongest, because contrarily to the others he is compassionate.

That is what the saga is about: compassion, or lack thereof. A society that lacks compassion, that discourages compassion is doomed. Yoda himself said that compassion is essential to a Jedi, but we never saw any of them pay more than lip service to the word.

But the “hardcore fans” don’t ever want to get that message. Or any message at all for that matter. They think they know the saga, but they don’t listen to it.

Because.

Because…

We Don’t Want to See Balance - We Want Endless War

…Because these are only action movies, folks!! It’s supposed to be about duels and explosions and chases and special effects, not about family and love and philosophical issues! We don’t want to see teamwork, we want to see Big Dick Energy. Badass Hero killing the Bad Guy, saving the world and getting the girl.

Nooo, the Jedi are not flawed and they had nothing to do with their own demise and the failure of the old Republic. They are some kind of superheroes with the Force as their superpower and light sabers as the ultimate weapon. Because that’s cool. That Jedi theoretically are supposed to fight only for defense and to protect others is uninteresting. They’re supposed to win, for f***’s sake. Even if they fight two men against one (Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan against Darth Maul) or attack from behind and kill without provocation (Obi-Wan against General Grievous). In the cantina scene in A New Hope Obi-Wan is molested by a guy and simply cuts off his arm although neither he nor anyone else was in danger.

That’s not unnecessary cruelty. It’s cool. Not to mention the infamous “Han shot first” scene, which also took place in the cantina. In Return of the Jedi, Han is much calmer and more self-controlled: one of the things “hardcore fans” dislike about the movie. Han has lost a lot of his swashbuckling cool, but who wouldn’t, after the terrible experience he had to go through? I guess a “real guy” would tough it out, however that is accomplished.

Why does Luke throw his light saber away before the Emperor? Why do he and his friends enter Jabba’s lair one by one instead of together? Why does Luke come last, and why does he try to find a diplomatic solution first, instead of attacking right away?

Because that’s what we were told a real Jedi does: he fights only to defend. Throwing his weapon away before the two most dangerous men in the galaxy requires an enormous amount of moral courage.

Luke has learned his lesson. The “hardcore fans” haven’t. The reason is simple: it’s uncool. The hero is supposed to “win” by killing the ultimate villain, not to forgive and reach out for his father to help him when he’s in agony.

Because human feelings are not cool. A real man doesn’t have feelings and even if he does, he doesn’t show them. Who cares about nuanced, realistic characters? They are supposed to be cardboard cutouts so you can either identify with them (cool guy) or despise them (uncool guy). A “hardcore fan” doesn’t want to think about them in more depth than a quarter of an inch. Or, worse, admit that he might understand what Anakin, Luke or Ben are going through. The horror.

Like his grandfather, Kylo Ren chose the path of evil because he had struggled with the darkness inside of him over and over, only to come across fear and rejection from the ones who were responsible for him. Yet the “hardcore fans” see him as an unredeemable villain solely by his own choice; not because of the burden his family placed on his shoulders, not because of his uncle’s betrayal, not because he was coerced and manipulated by Snoke.

“Hardcore fans” hate Kylo because he still has a visible spark of hope, of goodness in him. In Vader, this was not discernible (due to his mask and his haughty attitude) almost until the very end, so, though with a sigh, they might accept his ultimate redemption though more or less secretly judging it as being superfluous and mushy. Because that’s what they think of feelings like hope, forgiveness and compassion: they’re ridiculous. Coolness is the ticket to being popular with “hardcore” Star Wars fans. Not humanness.

“Hardcore fans” hated the idea of a romantic future between Ben and Rey for the same reason. They pretended it would immoral to hope for the villain to get a happy ending of some sort, but the truth is that it’s not about morals.

It’s about coolness.

Kylo aka Ben is oversensitive and doubtful, so he doesn’t deserve to get laid. Rey is cool so she would deserve it, but not with that stupid “child in a mask”. (Leia was a badass woman too, but she was seduced by Han, so that made things “right”.)

Anakin was the strongest Jedi of his time because, not despite being strong in both sides of the Force. What kept him in Balance? Loving and being loved. Feeling that he belonged, that he was needed and appreciated as a person, not only as a warrior and space wizard.

And that’s not ok. A true hero does not need affection and belonging. He may have short-lived connections because being human, he can’t forego them completely, but in the end, he always rides into the sunset on his own, content and at peace with himself.

In Star Wars, there never is the classic moment of most action movies where the heroine, impressed because the hero saved her, in awe of his coolness and brutality, jumps into bed (or wherever with him). Love stories happen, but interestingly man and woman are always at their closest when the man is at his weakest:

- Anakin after his mother’s death

- Cassian shortly before the Death Star fires for the first time

- Han when he is about to be frozen in carbonite

- Ben after the patricide.

For the typical action movie goer, of course that’s disappointing. But it’s exactly one of the things that makes these stories so compelling.

Feelings are scary. Human relationships can be complicated. They can lead to personal development. Isn’t the idea of a guy who always stands for the same things much more reassuring?

No wonder Anakin, Luke and Ben are not particularly loved by the fans. They are family men. They want to help and protect, to feel needed on a personal level, not to stand, untouchable and detached, above mundane matters.

A man who feels, who gives and takes tenderness, who wants to have a home. Who says openly to a girl he knew from childhood that he’s in love with her, who calls the child she is carrying a blessing! The absolute worst.

“The fear of loss is the way to the Dark Side.” Yoda in Revenge of the Sith

Fear alone is not the way to the Dark Side. You go down the Dark Side only if you come to a point where you’re willing to do anything to prevent your fears from coming true. That the warm-hearted, generous Anakin was pushed to this point only shows the depth of his despair. He did not choose the Dark Side because he wanted power for himself alone, he chose it because he thought that the end (protecting whom he loved most) would justify the means. And where did he learn that the end justifies the means no matter what? From Palpatine, half an hour after having pledged himself to him? No. he had lived with and fought, during the clone wars, by the side of the oh-so-perfect and all-wise Jedi for years. More or less unconsciously, the Jedi knew that in order to be the good ones, they needed villains to fight against. They took children from their families and indoctrinated them leaving them no choice; their antagonists usually joined the Sith as adults, when they were frustrated and let down by the Jedi. The Force was at war between both of its extremes, and Anakin, the strongest Force user, got crushed between them.

Oh, but hey, they have shiny light sabers, they make things float with their minds and speak in wise-sounding sentences. Who cares about what they actually do when they shouldn’t, about what they ought to do but omit? Jedi are cool. It’s that easy.

If by the end of The Last Jedi Good and Evil allegedly are firmly separated, why did Anakin’s / Luke’s light saber stay suspended between Rey and Ben, instead of flying directly into Rey’s hand the way it did at the end of The Force Awakens? That silly thing probably had some kind of whim. The reason was not that Dark and Light are equally strong in both antagonists. Oh no. That simply can’t be.

Why is the fight against the Praetorian Guards so impressive, and at times even in slow motion to ensure that what is happening here is something really epic, groundbreaking? Oh no, it’s assuredly not meant to tell us that if they cooperate, Dark Side and Light Side are invincible.

Parallel to this, who was the hero of the Resistance? Poe, of course. Because he’s good-looking and swashbuckling and reckless and that makes a true hero. Admiral Holdo was by far braver and wiser than he, but she doesn’t look cool with her purple hair.

Sigh.

It’s all so badly made.

What are these producers thinking of?

When the prequels came out “hardcore fans” expected the classics warmed up and served all over again and they were hugely disappointed. Then Episode VII came out as a homage to Episode IV and everybody was like “How boring, it’s just a rehash.” I wish they would at least know what they want.

Videos are made and articles written by the thousands about how only the classics are really good movies (ok, apart from that dumb plot twist with the redemption) and how everything else compared to them is rubbish.

It’s easy to make comparisons. To have some respect for the author who thought up and created two different worlds from scratch (prequels and classics) is something else. If you’re so dissatisfied, make up your own saga and do it better. Good luck with that.

Honestly?

Must I go on?

I’m sick and tired of stumbling upon so-called “hardcore fans” ranting and raving about the sequels and the prequels and also partly about Return of the Jedi simply because, if you boil it all down, their complaints are about one thing: human feelings.

Blowing entire planets up, crippling and killing people is ok. Regretting and forgiving, not giving up hope to make peace - that is unacceptable.

The line “saving what you love” instead of “killing what you hate” is judged as incredibly dumb.

Seriously?

The classic movies live from nothing if not from people running to the rescue of the ones they care for: Luke wanting to rescue Leia on the Death Star, Han arriving at the last minute to save Luke from Vader and then again from freezing on Hoth, Luke leaving Yoda to save his friends on Bespine, Leia returning to Bespine to save Luke, Luke and his friends entering Jabba’s lair to get Han out of there, Luke surrendering to the Emperor to save his father, Vader sacrificing himself to save his son.

Don’t get me wrong, I like Han Solo. I was devastated that Kylo killed him.

I wholeheartedly agree that Darth Vader is one the most iconic movie villains of all times.

Anyone is entitled to like Darth Maul and Boba Fett.

And I’m not saying that the Jedi, including Obi-Wan, were evil: they were misguided but they had no bad intentions.

But in the end, it’s not about them. It’s called the Skywalker saga for some reason. It’s the story of three generations: Anakin, Luke, Ben. It’s about the Light Side of the Force against the Dark Side, with this powerful family at the center of the conflict.

Classic Trilogy = the Light Side wins. How do you end a war? Compassion.

Prequel Trilogy = The Dark Side wins. How does war start to begin with? Lack of compassion.

It doesn’t take particular genius to understand the narrative. All it takes is listening to what the author wants to tell, instead of making it about one’s expectations - aka good guys versus bad guys, ka-boom, the end. Star Wars is so beloved because it’s a profound and wise story, not because of its action scenes or clichés. The fact that it often subverts expectations, digs deeper and offers plot twists is what makes it compelling.

It’s not that I don’t like action movies, as long as they are made well. And I’m not following the Star Wars saga hoping for a happy ending with sunshine and roses. But in order to feel suspense, I need characters that feel real. I can’t bring myself to care about characters who might as well be brain dead because they hardly ever doubt, fail, care, let alone change in any way. I don’t mind coolness, I like style in a person no less than anybody else. What I do mind is when said style is accepted as an excuse for anything a person does, respectively the good things he ought to do but omits.

If you love action movies and watch them mainly for the duels, the chases, the battles, fine. It’s not as if the prequels or sequels are lacking those. What I’m saying is that it’s no reason for being deliberately deaf and blind and turning your heart to stone.

Who can’t deal with human feelings is bound for disappointment right from the outset, sorry. I suggest these so called “hardcore fans” to stop watching these movies, or at least complaining about them. The Star Wars saga is intrinsically about Love winning over War. Believing in love, faith and hope is neither immoral nor stupid. The saga drives home over and over how disastrous it is when people believe they have to pick a side and to fight the other to the bitter end - and beyond, if you count in the Force ghosts.

But then, if you believe in love, faith and hope and show some compassion and you’re a guy, you will be called a stupid softy and you’ll never get laid.

A real man has no feelings. At least, he doesn’t show them. Because that might mean - shocking - that he might know fear, instead of being brave and tough. Someone who doesn’t know fear at all, or any other kind of feeling, is allegedly a “hero”.

So are psychopaths.

Vader was not cool because he was fearless by nature, he simply knew that he had nothing left to lose.

A true hero is someone who can control his fears; that’s why Luke is the hero of his story. Anakin is, too, for a long time. A hero is not someone who has no fear at all. Someone who is totally fearless is either emotionally stunted or, at best, stupid.

There is no reason to admire people who seem “fearless” and to believe that their emotional detachment equals courage and strength. Nor is there reason to think that someone who has and shows emotion is weak.

If you believe that, please stick with stuff like Mission Impossible, Dirty Harry and James Bond, and identify with those guys. But please stop infesting the Star Wars fandom with of your idea of justice and your stuck-up conviction of what a “real man” is supposed to be like. Enjoy your daddy issues and wait for someone who has no good character trait at all but looks imperturbable to come and solve all of the world’s problems without batting an eyelash.

But but, girls want to get laid by the cool guys? Ok, if that’s what you believe. I’ve lived on this planet for more than half a century and from my experience I can tell you that’s only what silly girls want.

The intelligent ones sometimes are taken in too, yes. But they don’t stay by the side of “cool” but heartless assholes for long.

Thank you for reading. Be respectful in your comments.

Have a nice day.

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thegreatantonchekhov · 4 years ago

Text

The Man In A Case

By Anton Chekhov

Translated by Constance Garnett

“Ah, freedom, freedom! The merest hint, the faintest hope of its possibility gives wings to the soul, does it not?”

AT the furthest end of the village of Mironositskoe some belated sportsmen lodged for the night in the elder Prokofy’s barn. There were two of them, the veterinary surgeon Ivan Ivanovitch and the schoolmaster Burkin. Ivan Ivanovitch had a rather strange double-barrelled surname -- Tchimsha-Himalaisky -- which did not suit him at all, and he was called simply Ivan Ivanovitch all over the province. He lived at a stud-farm near the town, and had come out shooting now to get a breath of fresh air. Burkin, the high-school teacher, stayed every summer at Count P-----’s, and had been thoroughly at home in this district for years.

They did not sleep. Ivan Ivanovitch, a tall, lean old fellow with long moustaches, was sitting outside the door, smoking a pipe in the moonlight. Burkin was lying within on the hay, and could not be seen in the darkness.

They were telling each other all sorts of stories. Among other things, they spoke of the fact that the elder’s wife, Mavra, a healthy and by no means stupid woman, had never been beyond her native village, had never seen a town nor a railway in her life, and had spent the last ten years sitting behind the stove, and only at night going out into the street.

“What is there wonderful in that!” said Burkin. “There are plenty of people in the world, solitary by temperament, who try to retreat into their shell like a hermit crab or a snail. Perhaps it is an instance of atavism, a return to the period when the ancestor of man was not yet a social animal and lived alone in his den, or perhaps it is only one of the diversities of human character -- who knows? I am not a natural science man, and it is not my business to settle such questions; I only mean to say that people like Mavra are not uncommon. There is no need to look far; two months ago a man called Byelikov, a colleague of mine, the Greek master, died in our town. You have heard of him, no doubt. He was remarkable for always wearing goloshes and a warm wadded coat, and carrying an umbrella even in the very finest weather. And his umbrella was in a case, and his watch was in a case made of grey chamois leather, and when he took out his penknife to sharpen his pencil, his penknife, too, was in a little case; and his face seemed to be in a case too, because he always hid it in his turned-up collar. He wore dark spectacles and flannel vests, stuffed up his ears with cotton-wool, and when he got into a cab always told the driver to put up the hood. In short, the man displayed a constant and insurmountable impulse to wrap himself in a covering, to make himself, so to speak, a case which would isolate him and protect him from external influences. Reality irritated him, frightened him, kept him in continual agitation, and, perhaps to justify his timidity, his aversion for the actual, he always praised the past and what had never existed; and even the classical languages which he taught were in reality for him goloshes and umbrellas in which he sheltered himself from real life.

“ ‘Oh, how sonorous, how beautiful is the Greek language!’ he would say, with a sugary expression; and as though to prove his words he would screw up his eyes and, raising his finger, would pronounce ‘Anthropos!’

“And Byelikov tried to hide his thoughts also in a case. The only things that were clear to his mind were government circulars and newspaper articles in which something was forbidden. When some proclamation prohibited the boys from going out in the streets after nine o’clock in the evening, or some article declared carnal love unlawful, it was to his mind clear and definite; it was forbidden, and that was enough. For him there was always a doubtful element, something vague and not fully expressed, in any sanction or permission. When a dramatic club or a reading-room or a tea-shop was licensed in the town, he would shake his head and say softly:

“It is all right, of course; it is all very nice, but I hope it won’t lead to anything!”

“Every sort of breach of order, deviation or departure from rule, depressed him, though one would have thought it was no business of his. If one of his colleagues was late for church or if rumours reached him of some prank of the high-school boys, or one of the mistresses was seen late in the evening in the company of an officer, he was much disturbed, and said he hoped that nothing would come of it. At the teachers’ meetings he simply oppressed us with his caution, his circumspection, and his characteristic reflection on the ill-behaviour of the young people in both male and female high-schools, the uproar in the classes.

“Oh, he hoped it would not reach the ears of the authorities; oh, he hoped nothing would come of it; and he thought it would be a very good thing if Petrov were expelled from the second class and Yegorov from the fourth. And, do you know, by his sighs, his despondency, his black spectacles on his pale little face, a little face like a pole-cat’s, you know, he crushed us all, and we gave way, reduced Petrov’s and Yegorov’s marks for conduct, kept them in, and in the end expelled them both. He had a strange habit of visiting our lodgings. He would come to a teacher’s, would sit down, and remain silent, as though he were carefully inspecting something. He would sit like this in silence for an hour or two and then go away. This he called ‘maintaining good relations with his colleagues’; and it was obvious that coming to see us and sitting there was tiresome to him, and that he came to see us simply because he considered it his duty as our colleague. We teachers were afraid of him. And even the headmaster was afraid of him. Would you believe it, our teachers were all intellectual, right-minded people, brought up on Turgenev and Shtchedrin, yet this little chap, who always went about with goloshes and an umbrella, had the whole high-school under his thumb for fifteen long years! High-school, indeed -- he had the whole town under his thumb! Our ladies did not get up private theatricals on Saturdays for fear he should hear of it, and the clergy dared not eat meat or play cards in his presence. Under the influence of people like Byelikov we have got into the way of being afraid of everything in our town for the last ten or fifteen years. They are afraid to speak aloud, afraid to send letters, afraid to make acquaintances, afraid to read books, afraid to help the poor, to teach people to read and write. . . .”

Ivan Ivanovitch cleared his throat, meaning to say something, but first lighted his pipe, gazed at the moon, and then said, with pauses:

“Yes, intellectual, right minded people read Shtchedrin and Turgenev, Buckle, and all the rest of them, yet they knocked under and put up with it. . . that’s just how it is.”

“Byelikov lived in the same house as I did,” Burkin went on, “on the same storey, his door facing mine; we often saw each other, and I knew how he lived when he was at home. And at home it was the same story: dressing-gown, nightcap, blinds, bolts, a perfect succession of prohibitions and restrictions of all sorts, and --’Oh, I hope nothing will come of it!’ Lenten fare was bad for him, yet he could not eat meat, as people might perhaps say Byelikov did not keep the fasts, and he ate freshwater fish with butter -- not a Lenten dish, yet one could not say that it was meat. He did not keep a female servant for fear people might think evil of him, but had as cook an old man of sixty, called Afanasy, half-witted and given to tippling, who had once been an officer’s servant and could cook after a fashion. This Afanasy was usually standing at the door with his arms folded; with a deep sigh, he would mutter always the same thing:

“ ‘There are plenty of them about nowadays!’

“Byelikov had a little bedroom like a box; his bed had curtains. When he went to bed he covered his head over; it was hot and stuffy; the wind battered on the closed doors; there was a droning noise in the stove and a sound of sighs from the kitchen -- ominous sighs. . . . And he felt frightened under the bed-clothes. He was afraid that something might happen, that Afanasy might murder him, that thieves might break in, and so he had troubled dreams all night, and in the morning, when we went together to the high-school, he was depressed and pale, and it was evident that the high-school full of people excited dread and aversion in his whole being, and that to walk beside me was irksome to a man of his solitary temperament.

“ ‘They make a great noise in our classes,’ he used to say, as though trying to find an explanation for his depression. ‘It’s beyond anything.’

“And the Greek master, this man in a case -- would you believe it? -- almost got married.”

Ivan Ivanovitch glanced quickly into the barn, and said:

“You are joking!”

“Yes, strange as it seems, he almost got married. A new teacher of history and geography, Milhail Savvitch Kovalenko, a Little Russian, was appointed. He came, not alone, but with his sister Varinka. He was a tall, dark young man with huge hands, and one could see from his face that he had a bass voice, and, in fact, he had a voice that seemed to come out of a barrel -- ‘boom, boom, boom!’ And she was not so young, about thirty, but she, too, was tall, well-made, with black eyebrows and red cheeks -- in fact, she was a regular sugar-plum, and so sprightly, so noisy; she was always singing Little Russian songs and laughing. For the least thing she would go off into a ringing laugh -- ‘Ha-ha-ha!’ We made our first thorough acquaintance with the Kovalenkos at the headmaster’s name-day party. Among the glum and intensely bored teachers who came even to the name-day party as a duty we suddenly saw a new Aphrodite risen from the waves; she walked with her arms akimbo, laughed, sang, danced. . . . She sang with feeling ‘The Winds do Blow,’ then another song, and another, and she fascinated us all -- all, even Byelikov. He sat down by her and said with a honeyed smile:

“ ‘The Little Russian reminds one of the ancient Greek in its softness and agreeable resonance.’

“That flattered her, and she began telling him with feeling and earnestness that they had a farm in the Gadyatchsky district, and that her mamma lived at the farm, and that they had such pears, such melons, such kabaks! The Little Russians call pumpkins kabaks (i.e., pothouses), while their pothouses they call shinki, and they make a beetroot soup with tomatoes and aubergines in it, ‘which was so nice -- awfully nice!’

“We listened and listened, and suddenly the same idea dawned upon us all:

“ ‘It would be a good thing to make a match of it,’ the headmaster’s wife said to me softly.

“We all for some reason recalled the fact that our friend Byelikov was not married, and it now seemed to us strange that we had hitherto failed to observe, and had in fact completely lost sight of, a detail so important in his life. What was his attitude to woman? How had he settled this vital question for himself? This had not interested us in the least till then; perhaps we had not even admitted the idea that a man who went out in all weathers in goloshes and slept under curtains could be in love.

“ ‘He is a good deal over forty and she is thirty,’ the headmaster’s wife went on, developing her idea. ‘I believe she would marry him.’

“All sorts of things are done in the provinces through boredom, all sorts of unnecessary and nonsensical things! And that is because what is necessary is not done at all. What need was there for instance, for us to make a match for this Byelikov, whom one could not even imagine married? The headmaster’s wife, the inspector’s wife, and all our high-school ladies, grew livelier and even better-looking, as though they had suddenly found a new object in life. The headmaster’s wife would take a box at the theatre, and we beheld sitting in her box Varinka, with such a fan, beaming and happy, and beside her Byelikov, a little bent figure, looking as though he had been extracted from his house by pincers. I would give an evening party, and the ladies would insist on my inviting Byelikov and Varinka. In short, the machine was set in motion. It appeared that Varinka was not averse to matrimony. She had not a very cheerful life with her brother; they could do nothing but quarrel and scold one another from morning till night. Here is a scene, for instance. Kovalenko would be coming along the street, a tall, sturdy young ruffian, in an embroidered shirt, his love-locks falling on his forehead under his cap, in one hand a bundle of books, in the other a thick knotted stick, followed by his sister, also with books in her hand.

“ ‘But you haven’t read it, Mihalik!’ she would be arguing loudly. ‘I tell you, I swear you have not read it at all!’

“ ‘And I tell you I have read it,’ cries Kovalenko, thumping his stick on the pavement.

“ ‘Oh, my goodness, Mihalik! why are you so cross? We are arguing about principles.’

“ ‘I tell you that I have read it!’ Kovalenko would shout, more loudly than ever.

“And at home, if there was an outsider present, there was sure to be a skirmish. Such a life must have been wearisome, and of course she must have longed for a home of her own. Besides, there was her age to be considered; there was no time left to pick and choose; it was a case of marrying anybody, even a Greek master. And, indeed, most of our young ladies don’t mind whom they marry so long as they do get married. However that may be, Varinka began to show an unmistakable partiality for Byelikov.

“And Byelikov? He used to visit Kovalenko just as he did us. He would arrive, sit down, and remain silent. He would sit quiet, and Varinka would sing to him ‘The Winds do Blow,’ or would look pensively at him with her dark eyes, or would suddenly go off into a peal -- ‘Ha-ha-ha!’

“Suggestion plays a great part in love affairs, and still more in getting married. Everybody -- both his colleagues and the ladies -- began assuring Byelikov that he ought to get married, that there was nothing left for him in life but to get married; we all congratulated him, with solemn countenances delivered ourselves of various platitudes, such as ‘Marriage is a serious step.’ Besides, Varinka was good-looking and interesting; she was the daughter of a civil councillor, and had a farm; and what was more, she was the first woman who had been warm and friendly in her manner to him. His head was turned, and he decided that he really ought to get married.”

“Well, at that point you ought to have taken away his goloshes and umbrella,” said Ivan Ivanovitch.

“Only fancy! that turned out to be impossible. He put Varinka’s portrait on his table, kept coming to see me and talking about Varinka, and home life, saying marriage was a serious step. He was frequently at Kovalenko’s, but he did not alter his manner of life in the least; on the contrary, indeed, his determination to get married seemed to have a depressing effect on him. He grew thinner and paler, and seemed to retreat further and further into his case.

“ ‘I like Varvara Savvishna,’ he used to say to me, with a faint and wry smile, ‘and I know that every one ought to get married, but . . . you know all this has happened so suddenly. . . . One must think a little.’

“ ‘What is there to think over?’ I used to say to him. ‘Get married -- that is all.’

“ ‘No; marriage is a serious step. One must first weigh the duties before one, the responsibilities . . . that nothing may go wrong afterwards. It worries me so much that I don’t sleep at night. And I must confess I am afraid: her brother and she have a strange way of thinking; they look at things strangely, you know, and her disposition is very impetuous. One may get married, and then, there is no knowing, one may find oneself in an unpleasant position.’

“And he did not make an offer; he kept putting it off, to the great vexation of the headmaster’s wife and all our ladies; he went on weighing his future duties and responsibilities, and meanwhile he went for a walk with Varinka almost every day -- possibly he thought that this was necessary in his position -- and came to see me to talk about family life. And in all probability in the end he would have proposed to her, and would have made one of those unnecessary, stupid marriages such as are made by thousands among us from being bored and having nothing to do, if it had not been for a kolossalische scandal. I must mention that Varinka’s brother, Kovalenko, detested Byelikov from the first day of their acquaintance, and could not endure him.

“ ‘I don’t understand,’ he used to say to us, shrugging his shoulders --’I don’t understand how you can put up with that sneak, that nasty phiz. Ugh! how can you live here! The atmosphere is stifling and unclean! Do you call yourselves schoolmasters, teachers? You are paltry government clerks. You keep, not a temple of science, but a department for red tape and loyal behaviour, and it smells as sour as a police-station. No, my friends; I will stay with you for a while, and then I will go to my farm and there catch crabs and teach the Little Russians. I shall go, and you can stay here with your Judas -- damn his soul!’

“Or he would laugh till he cried, first in a loud bass, then in a shrill, thin laugh, and ask me, waving his hands:

“ ‘What does he sit here for? What does he want? He sits and stares.’

“He even gave Byelikov a nickname, ‘The Spider.’ And it will readily be understood that we avoided talking to him of his sister’s being about to marry ‘The Spider.’

“And on one occasion, when the headmaster’s wife hinted to him what a good thing it would be to secure his sister’s future with such a reliable, universally respected man as Byelikov, he frowned and muttered:

“ ‘It’s not my business; let her marry a reptile if she likes. I don’t like meddling in other people’s affairs.’

“Now hear what happened next. Some mischievous person drew a caricature of Byelikov walking along in his goloshes with his trousers tucked up, under his umbrella, with Varinka on his arm; below, the inscription ‘Anthropos in love.’ The expression was caught to a marvel, you know. The artist must have worked for more than one night, for the teachers of both the boys’ and girls’ high-schools, the teachers of the seminary, the government officials, all received a copy. Byelikov received one, too. The caricature made a very painful impression on him.

“We went out together; it was the first of May, a Sunday, and all of us, the boys and the teachers, had agreed to meet at the high-school and then to go for a walk together to a wood beyond the town. We set off, and he was green in the face and gloomier than a storm-cloud.

‘What wicked, ill-natured people there are!’ he said, and his lips quivered.

“I felt really sorry for him. We were walking along, and all of a sudden -- would you believe it? -- Kovalenko came bowling along on a bicycle, and after him, also on a bicycle, Varinka, flushed and exhausted, but good-humoured and gay.

“ ‘We are going on ahead,’ she called. ‘What lovely weather! Awfully lovely!’

“And they both disappeared from our sight. Byelikov turned white instead of green, and seemed petrified. He stopped short and stared at me. . . .

“ ‘What is the meaning of it? Tell me, please!’ he asked. ‘Can my eyes have deceived me? Is it the proper thing for high-school masters and ladies to ride bicycles?’

“ ‘What is there improper about it?’ I said. ‘Let them ride and enjoy themselves.’

“ ‘But how can that be?’ he cried, amazed at my calm. ‘What are you saying?’

“And he was so shocked that he was unwilling to go on, and returned home.

“Next day he was continually twitching and nervously rubbing his hands, and it was evident from his face that he was unwell. And he left before his work was over, for the first time in his life. And he ate no dinner. Towards evening he wrapped himself up warmly, though it was quite warm weather, and sallied out to the Kovalenkos’. Varinka was out; he found her brother, however.

“ ‘Pray sit down,’ Kovalenko said coldly, with a frown. His face looked sleepy; he had just had a nap after dinner, and was in a very bad humour.

“Byelikov sat in silence for ten minutes, and then began:

“ ‘I have come to see you to relieve my mind. I am very, very much troubled. Some scurrilous fellow has drawn an absurd caricature of me and another person, in whom we are both deeply interested. I regard it as a duty to assure you that I have had no hand in it. . . . I have given no sort of ground for such ridicule -- on the contrary, I have always behaved in every way like a gentleman.’

“Kovalenko sat sulky and silent. Byelikov waited a little, and went on slowly in a mournful voice:

“ ‘And I have something else to say to you. I have been in the service for years, while you have only lately entered it, and I consider it my duty as an older colleague to give you a warning. You ride on a bicycle, and that pastime is utterly unsuitable for an educator of youth.’

“ ‘Why so?’ asked Kovalenko in his bass.

“ ‘Surely that needs no explanation, Mihail Savvitch -- surely you can understand that? If the teacher rides a bicycle, what can you expect the pupils to do? You will have them walking on their heads next! And so long as there is no formal permission to do so, it is out of the question. I was horrified yesterday! When I saw your sister everything seemed dancing before my eyes. A lady or a young girl on a bicycle -- it’s awful!’

“ ‘What is it you want exactly?’

“ ‘All I want is to warn you, Mihail Savvitch. You are a young man, you have a future before you, you must be very, very careful in your behaviour, and you are so careless -- oh, so careless! You go about in an embroidered shirt, are constantly seen in the street carrying books, and now the bicycle, too. The headmaster will learn that you and your sister ride the bicycle, and then it will reach the higher authorities. . . . Will that be a good thing?’

“ ‘It’s no business of anybody else if my sister and I do bicycle!’ said Kovalenko, and he turned crimson. ‘And damnation take any one who meddles in my private affairs!’

“Byelikov turned pale and got up.

“ ‘If you speak to me in that tone I cannot continue,’ he said. ‘And I beg you never to express yourself like that about our superiors in my presence; you ought to be respectful to the authorities.’

“ ‘Why, have I said any harm of the authorities?’ asked Kovalenko, looking at him wrathfully. ‘Please leave me alone. I am an honest man, and do not care to talk to a gentleman like you. I don’t like sneaks!’

“Byelikov flew into a nervous flutter, and began hurriedly putting on his coat, with an expression of horror on his face. It was the first time in his life he had been spoken to so rudely.

“ ‘You can say what you please,’ he said, as he went out from the entry to the landing on the staircase. ‘I ought only to warn you: possibly some one may have overheard us, and that our conversation may not be misunderstood and harm come of it, I shall be compelled to inform our headmaster of our conversation . . . in its main features. I am bound to do so.’

“ ‘Inform him? You can go and make your report!’

“Kovalenko seized him from behind by the collar and gave him a push, and Byelikov rolled downstairs, thudding with his goloshes. The staircase was high and steep, but he rolled to the bottom unhurt, got up, and touched his nose to see whether his spectacles were all right. But just as he was falling down the stairs Varinka came in, and with her two ladies; they stood below staring, and to Byelikov this was more terrible than anything. I believe he would rather have broken his neck or both legs than have been an object of ridicule. ‘Why, now the whole town would hear of it; it would come to the headmaster’s ears, would reach the higher authorities -- oh, it might lead to something! There would be another caricature, and it would all end in his being asked to resign his post. . . .

“When he got up, Varinka recognized him, and, looking at his ridiculous face, his crumpled overcoat, and his goloshes, not understanding what had happened and supposing that he had slipped down by accident, could not restrain herself, and laughed loud enough to be heard by all the flats:

“ ‘Ha-ha-ha!’

“And this pealing, ringing ‘Ha-ha-ha!’ was the last straw that put an end to everything: to the proposed match and to Byelikov’s earthly existence. He did not hear what Varinka said to him; he saw nothing. On reaching home, the first thing he did was to remove her portrait from the table; then he went to bed, and he never got up again.

“Three days later Afanasy came to me and asked whether we should not send for the doctor, as there was something wrong with his master. I went in to Byelikov. He lay silent behind the curtain, covered with a quilt; if one asked him a question, he said ‘Yes’ or ‘No’ and not another sound. He lay there while Afanasy, gloomy and scowling, hovered about him, sighing heavily, and smelling like a pothouse.

“A month later Byelikov died. We all went to his funeral -- that is, both the high-schools and the seminary. Now when he was lying in his coffin his expression was mild, agreeable, even cheerful, as though he were glad that he had at last been put into a case which he would never leave again. Yes, he had attained his ideal! And, as though in his honour, it was dull, rainy weather on the day of his funeral, and we all wore goloshes and took our umbrellas. Varinka, too, was at the funeral, and when the coffin was lowered into the grave she burst into tears. I have noticed that Little Russian women are always laughing or crying -- no intermediate mood.

“One must confess that to bury people like Byelikov is a great pleasure. As we were returning from the cemetery we wore discreet Lenten faces; no one wanted to display this feeling of pleasure -- a feeling like that we had experienced long, long ago as children when our elders had gone out and we ran about the garden for an hour or two, enjoying complete freedom. Ah, freedom, freedom! The merest hint, the faintest hope of its possibility gives wings to the soul, does it not?

“We returned from the cemetery in a good humour. But not more than a week had passed before life went on as in the past, as gloomy, oppressive, and senseless -- a life not forbidden by government prohibition, but not fully permitted, either: it was no better. And, indeed, though we had buried Byelikov, how many such men in cases were left, how many more of them there will be!”

“That’s just how it is,” said Ivan Ivanovitch and he lighted his pipe.

“How many more of them there will be!” repeated Burkin.

The schoolmaster came out of the barn. He was a short, stout man, completely bald, with a black beard down to his waist. The two dogs came out with him.

“What a moon!” he said, looking upwards.

It was midnight. On the right could be seen the whole village, a long street stretching far away for four miles. All was buried in deep silent slumber; not a movement, not a sound; one could hardly believe that nature could be so still. When on a moonlight night you see a broad village street, with its cottages, haystacks, and slumbering willows, a feeling of calm comes over the soul; in this peace, wrapped away from care, toil, and sorrow in the darkness of night, it is mild, melancholy, beautiful, and it seems as though the stars look down upon it kindly and with tenderness, and as though there were no evil on earth and all were well. On the left the open country began from the end of the village; it could be seen stretching far away to the horizon, and there was no movement, no sound in that whole expanse bathed in moonlight.

“Yes, that is just how it is,” repeated Ivan Ivanovitch; “and isn’t our living in town, airless and crowded, our writing useless papers, our playing vint -- isn’t that all a sort of case for us? And our spending our whole lives among trivial, fussy men and silly, idle women, our talking and our listening to all sorts of nonsense -- isn’t that a case for us, too? If you like, I will tell you a very edifying story.”

“No; it’s time we were asleep,” said Burkin. “Tell it tomorrow.”

They went into the barn and lay down on the hay. And they were both covered up and beginning to doze when they suddenly heard light footsteps -- patter, patter. . . . Some one was walking not far from the barn, walking a little and stopping, and a minute later, patter, patter again. . . . The dogs began growling.

“That’s Mavra,” said Burkin.

The footsteps died away.

“You see and hear that they lie,” said Ivan Ivanovitch, turning over on the other side, “and they call you a fool for putting up with their lying. You endure insult and humiliation, and dare not openly say that you are on the side of the honest and the free, and you lie and smile yourself; and all that for the sake of a crust of bread, for the sake of a warm corner, for the sake of a wretched little worthless rank in the service. No, one can’t go on living like this.”

“Well, you are off on another tack now, Ivan Ivanovitch,” said the schoolmaster. “Let us go to sleep!

And ten minutes later Burkin was asleep. But Ivan Ivanovitch kept sighing and turning over from side to side; then he got up, went outside again, and, sitting in the doorway, lighted his pipe.

NOTES

elder Prokofy: the village elder was the elected head of the mir (village commune)

Anthropos: Greek for man

Turgenev and Shchedrin: Ivan S. Turgenev (1818-1883) and Shchedrin (real name Mikhail Y. Saltykov, 1826-1889) were considered liberal and enlightened in the 1850-1860’s

Buckle: Henry Thomas Buckle (1821-1862) was an English historian

Little Russian: Ukrainian

Aphrodite: refers to Botticellil’s painting “The Birth of Venus”

pothouses: taverns, pubs; the pun is that the Russian word for tavern, kabak, means “pumpkin” in Ukrainian

aubergine: eggplant

kolossalische scandal: ein kolossalischer Skandal, a colossally unpleasant incident

vint: a bridge-like card game

#Chekhov

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norisxfics · 5 years ago

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The Difference Between Fiction and Fact: Chapter 2

Title: The Difference Between Fiction and Fact Chapter 2: Take me with you Genre: Angst, Romance Characters: NCT127 ft. Lucas, Mirae (oc), Minhee (oc) Trigger Warning: This story contains bullying, suicide attempts, and reference to rape I will make sure to mark with a TW warning on the chapters that contain it.

Poster made by: bbyhoseok on AFF

"Good Morning Auntie!" The young boy grinned as he hugged the older woman. "Morning? It's 12 pm!" The woman leaned away playfully glaring at him. The boy whined and gave her a pout "It's the weekend I wanted to sleep in for a bit,"

"Okay okay, stop whining and go do the dishes,"

"Why do I have to do the dishes? Let Heeyeon noona do it!"

"She's is helping in the restaurant cleaning the tables and serving the customers, so you're going to help with the dishes, we can't serve our customers their food on dirty plates, now go,"

She smacked the younger males butt as she pushed him towards the kitchen.

The restaurant doors opened and a girl walked in taking a seat on a small table by the wall, the lady smiled walking over to her, "Oh my, Mirae, it's been a while, it's nice to see you again sweetie, how are you?" Mirae smiled "I'm fine, and how are you , Mrs. Moon?" she asked.

"I'm fine as well, would you like to order the usual?"

"Yes please! That would be great,"

Mrs. Moon nodded and walked towards the kitchen, "Taeil we have an order of beef bibimbap and a cola," Mrs. Moon called out "On it, Mom!" Taeil responded as he went to ask his dad to make the order. Mrs. Moon put some side dishes together and brought it on the tray setting it on Mirae's table. "If you need anything else let me know okay?" Mirae nodded and gave Mrs. Moon a smile before taking out her notebooks.

Mirae took her time eating her food, when she finished she opened her notebook and started to write in it.

The girl watched the interactions of the owners kids and laughed quietly to herself when she saw Heeyeon smack Yuta on the back of the head. "ah noona~" the boy whined, "there are customers watching, why are you doing this in front of everyone?" Heeyeon shrugged, "good let them watch so that you can stop fooling around,"

Mirae felt her phone begin to vibrate, she reached into her pocket and smiled when she saw her father calling, "Hi dad!" she answered excitedly, "Oh Mirae, we need you to come home right away we have something important to tell you," Mirae was about to ask what was so important but before she could her father had already hung up on her.

Mirae sighed and collected her things leaving the restaurant to take the bus home.

When she got home she saw her parents sitting in the living room, she sat beside her mother and looked at both of them.

"What's up? What did you have to tell me?"

"Well me and your mother are going on a business trip to England tomorrow morning," her father explained. Mirae furrowed her brows, "so we want you to pack your things, anything that you need, we're going to be gone for a month," Mirae perked up, "Am I going with you?" Her parent shook their heads, "No sweetie we can't bring you with us, you'll be staying at your uncles house, they'll be picking you up from home after school tomorrow, we'll leave you a credit card and some cash to use while we're gone,"

Mirae's eyes widened, "But...I want to go with you, I'd rather go with you than stay with him!"

"Sweetie, we can't have you miss a month of school, we don't have anyone else we trust around here for you to stay with,"

"But mom, I don't want to stay with them, I can do home school or something or....or at least let me stay home alone, please? I can take care of myself and I know how to co-"

"We can't it's dangerous to leave you home alone,"

"It doesn't matter, I'm always home alone anyway! You guys are never home you're always out at work or some kind of business trip! So what difference would it make if you just left me home alone this time? I'm 18 I can take of myself..." Mirae practically shouted at her parents. "Mirae, just stay with your uncle, he'll take care of you and you get home cooked meals and the-"

Mirae cut her father off as he spoke, "No I don't care! I know how to cook! I know how to clean! I've always been taking care of myself. I don't want to go there, I don't like it there, if you can't leave me home alone then just take me with you instead. I'd rather be home alone in an empty house then alone with them!" Mirae stood up "You never listen to me and you're always doing as you want, why can't you just listen to me for once? You guys never care about how I feel about anything, I hate you!" She shouted in anger before running up to her room.

Mirae decided to skip school the next day, she stayed in bed and didn't bother saying good bye to her parents when they left early in the morning. Her parents were already almost never home and now they were leaving her for a month. She started to feel as if her parents didn't want to be around her, that they never loved her. They were never there for her for anything, not when she won those art competitions, not when she needed a hug, not when she was in the hospital. They only ever called to check up on her but nothing more. They don't know what goes on with her or what she liked and disliked, they almost knew nothing about her.

She didn't want much from her parents, all she wanted was to just have a normal family life, for them to love her and care for her. But it just seemed like they did anything they could to avoid her. She began to cry and scream into her pillow, cursing her parents and the world.

Soon she finally decided to force herself out of bed and began to pack her things into a large suit case. When she finished packing her things she filled her tub and sunk herself into the warm water, closing her eyes. She began thinking about how she could avoid being around her uncle and cousin, she hated the both of them and didn't even want to breath the same air as them.

After she finished relaxing in the bath she got dressed and took her suitcase down the stairs. She sat on the Sofa as she waited for her uncle and his wife to pick her up.

When they arrived to her uncle's house, her aunt showed her to her room, the room was her eldest daughter's old room before she got married. Mirae thanked her aunt before closing the door behind her. She opened her suitcase and began to unpack her things.

"Haechan, did you really not do your homework again?"

"I figured, why should I do it myself when you can do it for me?" The younger boy grinned as the older rolled his eyes "I'm not doing your homework for you,"

"Okay but what if, I can talk to your girl crush and get you two closer?"

"N-no you can't sway me like that, plus I don't trust you,"

"But Mark, listen...listen Mark...we are partners on a project and I have her number, I can totally help you out,"

Mark was silent for a moment before letting out a defeated sigh "Fine, but don't be weird about it, where's your homework?"

Haechan smirked and was about to open his bag to hand his homework over to Mark when they heard a couple of girls talking.

"Ugh my parents gave me another earful last night because I couldn't get passed that bitch Mirae in the school ranking again,"

"How does she even keep getting better marks than you anyway? She's probably fucking the teacher than dumb whore,"

"I mean she has no friends she has no choice but to study since she get a life,"

"I'm going to humiliate her....girls come close here's the plan,"

Haechan and Mark were sitting on the stairs above the girls and had heard everything. The two looked at each other as they heard the plan be explained. Once the girls left Haechan stood up "I have an idea,"

"Usually you having an idea is always bad and I would reject your idea's but this time I think I'm going to like your idea, hit me with it,"

#tdbff #my fic #my story #nct fanfic #nct127 fanfic #nct 127 #nct #nct127 #jaehyun fanfic #taeyong #haechan #kpop fanfic #fanfic

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courage-a-word-of-justice · 5 years ago

Text

Aniplex Fugou Keiji Livestream | Fugou Keiji 2 | Kitsutsuki 2 - 4 | Arte 3 - 12 (FINAL) | Fruits Basket 27 - 32

During the Millionaire Detective: Unmissable livestream (part of FunimationCon and Aniplex Online Fest), I watched and took notes, so you might find these handy upon retrospect. To be honest, this is how I do the posts for magicalgirlsandcerulean’s livestreams as well, but there hasn’t been one of those in a while...

Otherwise, these are all normal notes.

Aniplex Fugou Keiji Livestream

Look out for the dancer from the OP

Onuki was the model for the dancing for the anime – he was told to do it out of the blue

Episode 11 might have one of these^ be relevant

Daisuke’s cup ramen has shark fin in it and he made the packaging from scratch – that’s why it’s so expensive!

The director Tomohiko Ito omits important information, allowing people to decide for themselves what happened. (Miyano) – This might be why the series is stylish. (MC)

Attractiveness of character design is important! (for adapting Fugou Keiji to modern day)

I’ve never watched a livestream where the stars were so conscious of their English and Chinese audiences! This was interesting, especially because Onuki is not normally known as a VA!

“We still have a little bit of recording to do.”

Fugou Keiji 2

I keep misunderstanding my own instructions…this starts again in July after ep 2.

Todai = Tokyo Daigaku (Uni).

I believe this is the 2nd time I’ve seen a rich person like commoner’s instant noodles, although I forget where I saw the 1stinstance.

Kambe switched to the back seat now, huh?

Ah! Now I remember! The first time was seeing spoilers for this episode on Twitter! (LOL)

I see Suzue has a sensible naming scheme for her data.

Hmm…judging by the Google hits, the name visible in the background (Betbeto bin Abura) is the Arabic prince from last time.

SYN-ACK. I see these guys did their work – that’s the final stage of the 3 stage handshake required for things like internet sockets (used to send “packets” of data).

Way to crash a party, Kambe siblings…(LOL)

I really wanna see someone draw Kato slapping (Daisuke) Kambe in the face with a wad of cash…or a “shut up and take my money” meme with Kambe in it.

I like how “special cup ramen” is on the purchases list and it costs 100000 yen. I also like how the reporter Mita was bought out for 5000000 yen (bigger than all the other individual costs except for buying out the Tower)…that’s how he showed up.

Kitsutsuki 2

I gotta finish this show and then pause it…3 shows in my normal lineup are safe.

Did Kindaichi take the bones of the fish out for Ishikawa…? Like a child would have had done for them?

Why is Ishikawa being referred to as “Hajime”…?

Draw this prostitute like one of your French girls…(LOL?)

Ishikawa clearly dropped those coins into that book earlier.

Way to diss the potential asexuality/celibacy in the house. I mean, it’s the 1800s – early 1900s, so there was less LGBTIQ+ stuff then and certainly the further back you go, the more sexual prowess becomes a sign of masculinity, but still, if the guy doesn’t want to go through with it, don’t force him.

Notice how the borders were pink for Ishikawa’s version and blue for Kindaichi’s.

Notably, Otaki didn’t seem to have that hairpin…but maybe that’s because we saw things from Ishikawa’s perspective.

Ooh…who are these bois? Also, crab.

Kitsutsuki 3

…cat? Now there’s a new perspective. That’s like saying the butler did it.

Yay! Hagiwara is Ume!

Notice Hagiwara’s version has a purple frame, while Yoshii (?) has yellow and another person has dark blue.

I think “consumption” was tuberculosis, once upon a time.

I love how the crowd is fed up with Ishikawa’s bulls***.

Ooh, chuuni Akutagawa…

In a Grove is the Rashomon story.

Tarou Hirai = Rampo Edogawa.

You stalker, future Rampo!

I kinda suspected Otaki when I thought through the possibilities…Ishikawa, Kindaichi, an outsider, Otaki (and as of this ep, Rampo too).

Gaiheikan? Is that Ishikawa and co.’s lodging?

Did they have pencils back in that day?

Kitsutsuki 4

Humouresques.

Kabayaki.

I think it was in Detective Conan that I learnt (one of) the only way(s) a man can get his nails done is by his wife doing it for him, possibly as a prank or to indicate he’s “taken”. Note this was early Detective Conan, so it’s very much a 90s attitude…considering the widespread acceptance of drag queens and the LGBTIQ+ movement these days.

Kozukata.

Lace flower.

Maichou seems to be a hybrid of Asahi Shinbun and Mainichi Shinbun.

[Monkfish/dictionary/going home] - Is this how Ishikawa shows consideration…?

The purple letterrboxing is back but this time with Ishikawa…meaning that’s just an aesthetic thing for all flashbacks after all.

Just from vaguely hearing it (I’ve got the volume on low), the words are nodo tsuki/nodo zuki. “Throat moon/throat wound” works just as well, if not better.

Balsam flower.

Update: Since enough anime fulfilled the special COVID-19 criteria, Kitsutsuki was put on hold after this.

Fruits Basket 2 2 (27)

I’ve read Another, remember?…so I kind of know what happens.

Uo’s got purple nails…that’s surprisingly cute of her.

Aw, Kureno! Another Ume role!

Why is “shisho” (master) not translated…? A weird Tokyopop-era translation quirk?

Aw, Shisho cut his hair…? Bummer.

Who was that? Shigure…?(!) Update: We find out his name later in this ep.

“If you continue to change, I’ll continue to protect you.” – Another quote for the archive.

Great…I feel personally called out by this ep.

Fruits Basket 2 3 (28)

It seems all male designers wear their designs if they have no one else to wear them…at least, that’s what I’ve gathered from Hajime (Runway de Waratte) and Ayame.

I remember Ayame stood in for Yuki’s parents in the manga at one point. This must be it.

(Spoilers for later!) I also remember Mine and Ayame get married at the end…This is the prelude to that.

Dang, Ayame, you moment-ruiner!

Fruits Basket 2 4 (29)

Did anyone in the doorway hear about Hatsuharu turning into an ox?

To quote Sailor Mercury, “Douse yourself in water and repent!”

Ooh, window splitting Yuki and Haru. Nice cinematography going on here.

I bet all people think they only think about themselves, in one way or another.

Arashiyama tofu.

Yatsuhashi are great. They’re these sweet triangle things like samosas that come in various flavours. Mitarashi dango are sticky brown skewered balls of glutinous rice…which I’ve never had, but I’ve seen them in enough anime to know what they are.

I only just realised this, but Yuki’s hairstyle isn’t even on both sides, like Atsushi from BSD’s.

Huh…you can see a copy of Mogeta and Ari (as it turns out, “Ari” is the name of a character and not “ant” at all in this case) on Haru’s bed. There’s also an article in one of the magazines discussing how denim is the popular thing now and which types are in right now.

Fruits Basket 2 5 (30)

I realised Yuki isn’t calling Tohru by her first name – he’s going against Haru’s advice.

Hmm? Why should anyone ask a rabbit to hold their horses…? (LOL)

CGI cars…*sigh*

Tororo is grated yam, IIRC.

I learnt recently that nanban means “savage” or “uncivilised”…for a potato and chicken dish, the name and the contents don’t really match…Update: Nanban means “savage” (noun) or “barbarian”. Close enough.

17-26…age gap 9 years…yikes…

The words “(a happy, yet) caged bird” come to mind when Kureno describes himself. Also, Kureno is an Ume role! Yippee!

Ahh…young love…even if it has a bit of an awkward edge to it. Mind the (age) gap!

Me being the Ume stan, of course I want to hear those sweet nothings in his voice, even if it has to be via a proxy like Uotani…I wouldn’t be an Ume stan if I didn’t.

…Ah, I see. Uotani reminds me of Minare from Wave and vice versa.

Oh, I just remembered Akito is 20 or thereabouts. Kureno/Akito is only a bit more legal than Uotani and Kureno.

Arte 3

Notice Leo never once uses Arte’s name in the lady’s presence. Her name does have some infamy to it, after all.

“She’s got some guts.” – You say that at a live dissection…LOL.

Is this love~? What’s the age gap between Leo and Arte, anyway? Update: We know for sure Arte is older than 13…that’s it.

Make the things you want prominent with perspective and such. I thought that much was obvious, but for someone straightforward like Arte, I guess it ain’t so. (Maybe it’s because I’m self-taught to some degree when it comes to art.)

*sketching by candlelight* - You’re gonna ruin your eyes, Arte!

Arte, ma girl! You’re getting’ a raise! Good job!

Arte 4

Anime makes this courtesan stuff sound like a host club…(?)

I thought Leo was saying “Aria” for a second instead of Arte, LOL. I’m getting too used to that being my alias…

Arte 5

The speech bubble said “so annoying I could die”.

Arte 6

The video’s gone all pixelated…at least, the subs have…

I bet she’s going to fall over…Update: Nup, she didn’t.

Arte 7

I thought Yuri was a Russian name…or a Japanese one.

This is basically Oushitsu Kyoushi Heine all over again! (LOL)

I thought Yuri would be pushy…like, “Here’s an offer you can’t refuse.” That kind of thing. Likewise, I didn’t think Arte would refuse.

Leo? *dun-dun-DUN!*

Siena is apparently in Tuscany. Also, I did see the Silent Manga Audition page had a chapter on a pregnant woman, so this is ch. 17 or thereabouts.

Is Ruthanna not getting the money because she’s pregnant…?

Epidemic? The Black Death?...Speaking of which, Arte is very much of that ganbaru spirit. By being progressive for her time, she becomes ordinary in our time.

Ohhhhhhh! It’s a reverse harem in progress here!...This would be a good otome game, come to think of it. It’s framed the same way.

Leo can be surprisingly childish at times, don’t you think?

Arte 8

…Really? She fell overboard? *raises eyebrow*

Ooh, china (with and without capitalisation).

Is this another sarcastic child…? Oh, bother. Still, I can see why Hamefura crossed over with Arte now…Katarina vs. Catarina!

Arte 9

Bigoli is a type of pasta, as can be guessed from context.

The kanji for the episode title literally translate to “bad child”! Like the Tones and I song, LOL!

Mikata (ally).

Arte 10

This episode is giving off a Katarina x Gimo ship vibe…but with how young they are, I’m not sure I should ship it. They’re 6, aren’t they…?

Oh, you can see Katarina and Sofia’s hug in one of the ED frames.

Arte 11

Arte’s let her hair grow out…

An Italian man…bowed. In Renaissance Italy. Now I understand what all the ANN complaints are for.

What’s up with that kid’s face…? *grumbles*

Leo’s just being Leo, I see.

That’s right, Angelo and Leo never met.

Instead of a father or a brother overly cherishing his daughter, it’s the uncle…I never thought I’d see the day I saw something like that.

Arte 12 (FINAL)

Is this like Orientalism, but with gender…? (What would you call that?)

Lemme guess…Leo is working on the church mural and so he’s away?

Was that Leo, in the middle of the mural somewhere…?

Another Japanese bow in this anime, which is set in Italy.

But where is Arte herself in that mural?

Fine = end.

Fruits Basket 31

The word Momiji is using is “hisso” or something like that. Hissho is secretary, so the translator made it “secret getaway” to make it work.

That hat! *laser stare*

*one of the textbooks has “high school chemistry” on it* Tohru can do chemistry?! I suck at chemistry!

The episode title is translated as “Are you really this stupid?” It seems the real line for that was “Are you an idiot?”

Something about high school girls appeared in my head when Haru mentioned Shigure wanting to see Tohru in her tight swimsuit…*mumbles grumpily about pervs*

Kyo’s not wet, even though he got in the water! Amazing!

I think it’s sad that Tohru responds to “stupid girl” like it’s her own name.

“…that makes you suspect me?” seems better.

The Akito and Shigure age gap is somewhere between 6 and 8 years, IIRC.

Fruits Basket 32

Tohru switched from okaasan (mother) to okattekita (a formal past tense verb meaning either “bought”, “lent” or “won” based on the characters…which I don’t have a reference for). I assume because it was so off the mark, the subbers chose a similarly off the mark word.

“When I was a kid, I thought watermelons would sprout in my stomach if I ate the seeds.”

We only know about Kyo’s dad so far…hmm…what about the mother? Update: (TW: suicide) I think it was at this point we already knew that Kyo’s mother didn’t love him and committed suicide, but it’s not certain until later.

Why do doctors always use scalpels and syringes as weapons…? I mean, even Jakurai’s symbol in ARB is a syringe!

I’ve been wondering…how big is the Sohma family? Is it diluted enough that Haru and Rin can love each other without genetic problems for their child/ren? (From Another, I would say the answer is “yes”, but shoujo normally doesn’t care about this sort of thing, which is why I ask in the first place.)

Shigure seems like the type to say, “U mad, bro?”

The mansion looks like the one in Haruhi Suzumiya, if I remember the appearance of that one correctly.

#simulcast commentary #fugou keiji: balance:unlimited #Millionaire Detective: Balance: Unlimited #Fruits Basket #arte #Kitsutsuki Tantei Dokoro #Woodpecker Detective's Office #Chesarka watches Arte #Chesarka watches Fugou Keiji #Chesarka watches Furuba

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crazy-little-cool-cat · 5 years ago

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Hand in Glove - Chapter 28 | Ben Hardy x OFC

A/N: We’re getting closer and closer to the end here. The anxiety is strong. The creative juices are flowing. The hangover is mild but still real.

Warnings: Implied smut, and the usual.

Word Count: ~3.4K (disappointing, I wanted it to be longer)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14 , Chapter 15 , Chapter 16 , Chapter 17 , Chapter 18 , Chapter 19 , Chapter 20 , Chapter 21 , Chapter 22 , Chapter 23 , Chapter 24, Chapter 25 , Chapter 26, Chapter 27

“Bloody bureaucrats!” Annie barked, walking into Jamie’s trailer as he finished up his breakfast on Tuesday morning. “I hate everything!”

“What happened?”

“The amount of documents and appointments we need to hand out and set is just unreal!” Annie started ranting. “Also, guess what? Doesn’t matter if I don’t want a big wedding - we still have to exchange vows and -”

“Annie -”

“We need two witnesses.” Annie mumbled.

At that, Jamie smiled his best shit-eating grin and puffed his chest out. “Well?”

“What?” Annie avoided eye contact.

“Ask nicely.” Jamie’s smugness made Annie shudder. “Go on.”

“Will you be a witness at my wedding?” Annie looked down at the floor. “Please?”

“Try again. With more passion this time.”

“You know what? Fuck off.” Annie said and started to turn. She stopped when she realised that other than Jamie, she had no one else to ask. “Jamie, will you please be a witness at my wedding ceremony?”

“God, I love seeing you squirm.” Jamie chuckled. “Yes. Of course.”

“Motherfu -”

“Would you look at the time! I’m late for hair and makeup!” Jamie patted Annie’s back and left.

###

“We should ask Rami to do it.” Ben said, slightly out of breath.

“We most definitely should not.” Annie moved the phone from her right ear to the left, tucking it between her shoulder and her ear so she could start washing the dishes. “He’ll tell Lucy, she’ll tell Joe…”

“Gwil, maybe?” Ben suggested.

“Nope.”

“We’re kind of running out of options here.” Ben started to get frustrated with Annie’s stubbornness.

“Andy, maybe?” Annie suggested. “You’ve been friends since you were, what, two years old? I’m sure he’d love to be at your wedding.”

“He’ll snitch and tell my mum and dad, and they will tell everyone. Literally.” Ben sighed. “We’ll find someone. Don’t worry.”

“We need to have their names ready when we give notice.” Annie almost whined.

“Don’t worry. I’ll finish up here, come back, and we’ll find someone and give notice.” Ben said, suddenly rushing. “Annie, I’m late for something. We’ll talk later, alright?”

“Yeah.” Annie sounded a bit off. “Sure.”

“Annie, I love you and we’re going to do this even if we have to pay people to pretend to know us so they could act as witnesses.” Ben paused. “We’ll find someone. I promise.”

“I love you, too.”

###

Shooting for season three was the hardest work Annie had ever done. Not only were her personal life in constant whirlwinds, her character’s life was just as chaotic. After failing to produce a male heir for the king and losing her grasp on him - it was time for Anne Boleyn to meet her new lady in waiting and the king’s new crush, Jane Seymour.

Annie was quarantined on set for the entire day along with Mike and Clara to keep her company. There was no structured script for the meeting - Annie just needed to channel her inner Anne and react. Then, finally, it was time.

Annie sat at a cards table with Clara and Mike. They were playing Go-Fish for hours on end now as they waited. The director’s assistant showed up and started briefing them about camera locations and lighting directions. All Annie wanted to do was get this over with so Anne Boleyn could start falling from grace and lose her head.

While everyone fiddled about on set, the three Boleyn siblings felt like they were a bit stir-crazy. Annie started to dance a little jig, while Clara hooted ‘yee-haw!’ and Mike pretended not to have any association with the two lunatics.

“Places!” the director called and Annie and Clara both heaved a sigh of relief. Finally. One take. Just this one take and the day is done.

“Roll film!” the director called and put on his headset. “Action!”

The three siblings chatted idly when the door to Anne’s apartments flew open.

“The lady Jane Seymour!” the herald called out. Anne’s entourage parted and created a hallway for Jane to walk through. A plump blonde young lady walked over to where Anne was standing, her eyes locked on the carpets under her. She curtsied deeply.

Anne looked down in disdain at the newcomer and scoffed. George, her brother, sneered at the timid creature at his sister’s feet. Mary seemed preoccupied with her own dress.

“Your majesty.” Jane squeaked out, eyes cast down.

Anne side-eyed her brother with a smug smirk on her face and gestured at the girl to rise.

“Welcome to court.” Anne greeted her dryly, a snarl curling up her upper lip. “Milksop.”

“His majesty the king!” the herald announced and the entire room bowed down. All except for Anne.

“Ah!” King Henry waltzed in and stood between his queen and her new lady, his eyes fixed on the blonde. “I see you’ve met your new lady in waiting.”

“Cut!”

The cast members exchanged knowing looks. This scene marked the beginning of the end. Annie felt tears pricking at her eyes and blinked quickly, holding them back.

###

“What in the bloody hell?!” Annie barged into Jamie’s trailer, yet again, after she changed out of her costume. “What kind of fuckery is this, James?!”

Jamie tilted his head curiously.

“Sources close to the two castmates say that the ice-cold silent treatment has finally been broken. They reported the two Greensleeves stars are sharing meals, spending time together off-set and looking very snuggly on location?!” Annie roared as she read from the article on her phone. “I know this is your doing.”

“You know me so well.” Jamie shrugged.

“What on earth is wrong with you?!” Annie shrieked.

“Unbunch your knickers, Annie.” Jamie said, his jaw clenched. “Or if you can yell louder, that would be best. That means I won’t be the one to leak our lover’s tiff.”

“Fuck off!” Annie hissed. “Do you even know the colossal clusterfuck you’re about to unleash with Ben’s mates?!”

“Yes.”

“Yes?” Annie repeated.

“Yes.”

“What the fuck, Jamie?!”

“You wanted to distract the world from what’s really going on, right?” Jamie asked, his voice calm and rational. “Stirring the pot is the perfect way to do that.”

“Does Ben know of this?”

“Sent him the link myself.” Jamie shrugged. “He sent me an audio note of himself, laughing hysterically.” Jamie smiled. “We’re all good.”

###

“She’s not bad looking.” Mike mused the next morning as he and Annie walked to set together after getting into costume and getting their hair and make-up done. “She’s just… plain.”

“See? Milksop.” Annie smiled proudly. “Best insult I could come up with, on the spot.”

“My God, woman,” Mike snickered, “you’re actually turning into Anne Boleyn.”

“Just calling it like it is.” Annie shrugged. “I’m sure Milksop won’t mind her nickname.”

“You’re evil.” Mike chuckled.

“Well, well!” Jamie rounded the corner and joined them. “If it isn’t my soon-to-be-headless wife and her incestuous brother!”

“Jamie, it’s too early for that.” Mike groaned.

“Mind if I steal her away for a bit?” Jamie asked with a wink.

“I… sure?” Mike frowned as Jamie took Annie’s hand and led her away with him.

###

“We should call Ben.” Joe was determined. “It doesn’t matter what the time is, he’s our friend and he needs us.”

“You’re overreacting, mate.” Gwilym yawned and sipped his coffee. “It’s probably just some bullshit article. He and Annie are just fine.”

“How would you know?” Joe asked.

“I asked her.”

Joe blinked at Gwilym, his face blank of any expression.

“What are you giving me the stink-eye for?” Gwilym rolled his eyes.

“She’s cheating on him. Why would she tell you, one of his best friends, that she’s doing it?!” Joe’s hands waved about as he spoke. “Seriously. Come on!”

“You know what?” Gwilym huffed. “Fine. Call him.”

Gwilym and Joe sat and waited for Ben to pick up the phone, bouncing their knees anxiously.

“M’lo?” Ben’s sleepy voice came through.

“Hey, mate!” Gwilym looked at Joe for guidance.

“Hey. What’s going on?”

“We just, uh,” Joe started, “we just wanted to check up on you. See how you were doing.”

“I’m fine?” Ben rubbed at his eyes.

“Was that a question or a statement?” Gwilym rubbed his stubbly chin.

“I meant, I’m fine.” Ben blinked into dark. “Are you?”

“Yeah, we just wanted to let you know we’re here for you.” Joe intervened. “If you need to talk about it and stuff.”

“Talk about what?”

“Uhm, Annie…” Joe looked at Gwilym, confusion splattered on his face. “We saw the article.”

“Article?” Ben mumbled to himself, “what...? Oh. Oh!”

“Yeah, we, uh, we know.”

“That’s just a bullshit article, guys.” Ben sighed. “I talked to her about it. She promised it’s just tabloids looking for trouble. Relax.”

“Yeah?” Gwilym quipped.

“Mhm. It’s fine.” Ben yawned.

“That’s not what Clara’s been telling me, mate.” Gwilym pursed his lips.

“Sorry?”

“Clara thinks there might be some truth to that so-called bullshit article.” Gwil added. “She says Jamie and Annie are very, very close and handsy lately. Not just during scenes.”

“Well, I trust her.” Ben rolled his eyes. “She’d never cheat.”

“Well, that’s true.” Joe agreed. “But just because she didn’t do anything with me doesn’t mean -”

“Look, I appreciate the concern and all,” Ben was more than done with the conversation, “but nothing’s going on between them. I know Annie. I can tell when she’s lying. If she said nothing is happening - I believe her.”

“So Clara’s imagining things?” Gwilym scoffed. “Really, Ben.”

“Maybe she’s jealous Annie started hanging out with Jamie again, I really don’t know what to tell you.” Ben yawned again. “Anyways, I have a super early morning. I’m going back to sleep. Miss you guys!”

“Miss you too, buddy.” Joe said. “Good night.”

“Night.” Ben hung up the call and fell asleep with the phone in his hand.

###

“What, you’re carpooling now?” Clara scoffed when Jamie and Annie got out of Annie’s car. “Are you joking?”

“My wheels broke down.” Jamie shrugged. “I live pretty close to Annie. She offered to help.”

Clara looked from Jamie to Annie and back again.

“Thanks for telling Gwil I’m cheating on Ben, by the way.” Annie locked her car and walked past Clara, nonchalant. “I really appreciate that.”

“I… Well it’s... “ Clara stammered.

“No, really.” Annie turned around, grinning happily. “Gave us a good laugh.”

“First of all,” Clara stalked behind Annie, “he asked me what I thought of that gossip site article thingy.”

“Clearly you thought they hit the nail on the head.” Annie noted.

“Well, no, but you two are acting very…”

“Friendly?” Annie suggested.

“Nice?” Jamie offered.

“Snuggly.” Clara corrected them both. “And I know both of you for years now. When you two get snuggly, it usually means your genitals are snuggly too.”

“I’m engaged, Clara.” Jamie took off his sunglasses and placed them on top of his head. “You’ve got it wrong.”

“Why are you so defensive, then?” Clara raised an eyebrow. Jamie opened and closed his mouth, seemingly at a loss. “Whatever it is you two are up to,” Clara chastised them as if they were schoolchildren, “it’s wrong and it’s going to hurt those you supposedly love so much.”

Annie scoffed and rolled her eyes.

###

“I’ve missed you.” Ben kissed the top of Annie’s head in the airport arrivals hall. Home. For good. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“You’re home now.” Annie mumbled, one hand on the luggage cart. “I’ve missed you so bloody much.”

It was still dark outside. The cold air hit Ben. The familiar, faint smell of rain made him feel at instant ease. He was home, for good this time.

“Rors?” he asked while yawning.

“At your parents’.” Annie led the way to the car. “I have work tomorrow but I already told them I’m coming in late.”

They idly chatted as they walked through the parking lot towards Annie’s car. When Ben collapsed in the passenger seat, he inhaled deeply and closed his eyes.

“M’so tired.” Ben mumbled and placed a hand on the back of Annie’s headrest. “How’s Jamie?”

“Good, good.” Annie started the car. “Always alert. Clara’s mad at me.”

“How come?”

“She feels like I’m hiding something and I’m pretty sure she’s ninety-three-point-eight-percent convinced I’m cheating on you.” Annie sighed. “And I’m not confirming nor denying it.”

“Gotta stick to the plan.” Ben smiled lazily. “I’ll keep her occupied. Don’t worry.”

“Oh, yeah?” Annie glared at Ben through the corners of her eyes. “What’s that mean?”

“Oh, relax.” Ben chuckled.

###

Award season was not a fun time for Annie.

At first it was fine. Late nights with Clara, rooting for their men while watching the live broadcasts. Shrieks of joy whenever Rami won. Waking Rory up with said shrieks and then having to bounce-bounce-tap her to sleep again.

Then, Ben started asking Annie to join him on award nights. While she tried to weasel her way out of it, he insisted and she complied. She didn’t mind the pretty gowns and spending time with her soon-to-be husband; what bothered her was how utterly boring these award shows were.

Annie’s stomach growled loudly. Loud enough for Gwilym and Clara to look at her with raised eyebrows. Loud enough to make the people in the table next to them giggle quietly. Loud enough to hurt.

“Hungry?” Ben leaned over and whispered to her.

“What gave it away?”

“The dinosaur noise coming out of your body.” Ben smirked.

“Was it that loud?” Annie blushed.

“I think the people on stage might have heard it too.” Clara interjected, making Annie slump down in her chair.

“I brought candy.” Ben whispered in Annie’s ear and kissed her cheek, whipping out a Snickers bar from his slacks. “There’s more where that came from.”

###

This wasn’t Annie’s first time attending the BAFTA awards. She’s been here before with Jamie for their rendition of Hamlet (and lost), but the excitement still consumed her. Ben and Annie matched. He wore a glittery black dress-shirt; she wore a glittery black evening gown with a plunging neckline.

“You two make a stunning couple!” the interviewer on the red carpet said. Annie and Ben exchanged smitten looks. “Will you two ever tie the knot?”

“Sooner than you might expect!” Annie giggled as Ben pulled her closer by wrapping an arm around her waist. “Who said we’re not already married?”

“You’re certainly acting the newlywed part!” the interviewer laughed with a confused look. “Yet, there are no rings…”

“Ben! You’re holding everyone back!” Joe called from a distance.

“Sorry to cut this short. Lovely talking to you!” Ben winked at the interviewer and tugged Annie along by the hand.

Once they were out of earshot, Ben turned around and stood still. Annie almost crashed right into him.

“What the fuck?” Ben asked, his palms open and facing upwards, jaw clenched. “Have you lost it completely?”

“What?” Annie giggled nervously.

“Either you want people to know or you don’t,” Ben glared at his girlfriend. “Pull a stunt like that again and I’m sending out invitations to everybody we know, you hear me?”

###

After-parties were Annie’s favourite part of award shows, and the BAFTA after party was fun. Open bar, great music and great company. The BoRhap group hung out on the balcony. Drinks were flowing, conversation was great and Joe pulled out all the stops with his dance moves. It was only natural for Ben to whip out his phone and film it.

Doing a simple two step, Joe slid from right to left and snapped his fingers. He shuffled his feet and popped the button on his tux jacket open and started moving backwards, waving one hand to the beat. Moving forward, he did a little turn and bounced his shoulders, his body swaying in perfect sync with the beat, lip-synching to Drop it Like it’s Hot as he danced. Shuffling backwards, he then step-touched once to the front, once to the back. Flicking his coat-tails back, he danced his way over to a very amused looking Ben.

“Where did you learn to dance like that?” Clara’s eyes glinted playfully.

“My parents own a dance studio.” Joe shrugged once the camera was off. “It’s in my blood.”

“Amazing.” Clara laughed. “Truly.”

“Thank you!”

###

“Ooooh, don’t we look good together? There’s a reason why they watch all night long…” Clara and Annie sang, as they danced with each other. To appease Ben, who was still clearly pissed off at Annie for the interview slip-up, she knew how to make him forget all about it. The dance got frisky and handsy pretty quick.

“Yeah, know we'll turn heads forever; So tonight I'm gonna show you off!” the girls sang, stepping away from each other. Annie ran her hands down the length of Clara’s arms and held onto her hands. “When I'm walkin' with you; I watch the whole room change..” Clara pulled Annie closer in a spin and wrapped her arms around her. “Baby, that's what you do; No, my baby, don't play!” they swayed their hips together to the beat. “Blame it on my confidence; Oh, blame it on your measurements…” they rolled their bodies together, Clara’s hands running down Annie’s sides. “Shut that shit down on sight - That's right!”

“We out here drippin' in finesse; It don't make no sense! Out here drippin' in finesse; You know it, you know it!” Their bodies snaked and writhed together to the music, each girl throwing seductive looks at her man while Rami filmed them on Clara’s phone. Clara’s flowy red dress was a stark contrast to Annie’s glittery black gown.

###

“Finally!” Annie sighed when Ben unlocked the front door after four failed attempts due to being absolutely blitzed and the fact that it was dark outside. “Jesus!”

“Get in there, brat.” Ben muttered and nudged Annie forward before smacking her bum playfully. “You are a menace.”

“Me?” Annie wore the most innocent expression, batting her eyelashes and pouting her lips. “A menace?”

“Mhm.” Ben took off his jacket and undid his bow-tie, slurring his words. “Dancing like that. In public.”

“I have no idea what you’re referring to.” Annie giggled and yelped when Ben pulled her close. “Sounds to me like you were jealous.”

“Jealous?” Ben raised an eyebrow.

“Yup.” Annie placed her hands on his shoulders. “Super jell.”

“You think this is a game, huh?” Ben’s deep voice sent electric currents in Annie’s intoxicated brain, almost hypnotising her. “You think you’re so cute…”

“I know I am…” Annie purred, eyes closed.

“Yeah?” Ben smirked slyly. “You think I’m your little toy?” he bit his bottom lip. “I think you’ve got it all wonky.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. You’re my toy to play with.” Ben bent down and threw Annie over his shoulders. “And I’m just getting started. This is going to be a long, long game.”

###

“Ah, the dynamic duo!” Mike grinned when the girls practically stumbled together onto set the next day, hungover and frazzled. “Nice moves!”

“Ugh.” Annie shut her eyes tight. “Not doing this right now.”

“Out here drippin’ in finesse…” Mike sang teasingly.

“Children, are we ready to listen, now?” the director and scriptwriter approached the trio. “Girls, I don’t care how much you’ve had to drink, get it together for Christ’s sake.”

“Lights. Too bright.” Clara mumbled, fighting the urge to rub her eyes. “So tired.”

“Annabelle, we want you furious for this scene. Your husband gave your lady in waiting trinkets and she has the nerve to wear them in your presence. Go insane on her.”

“Not a problem.” Annie stretched her neck.

“Take your places, then. Let’s get started.”

Once the director called ‘Action!’, hungover Annie was gone and fierce, jealous Anne arrived. They shot the scene in ten takes, only because of changing camera angles.

###

“We have a second witness. And a third one, in case Jamie nopes out.” Ben beamed when Annie came home later that night. “Trustworthy, they know both of us, would never tell a soul. You love them.”

Annie pondered over Ben’s declaration for a minute, trying to figure out who these mystery witnesses might be.

“Annie, my love, do you need a clue?” Ben chuckled and warmed up Annie’s dinner in the microwave.

“It hurts to think today.” Annie admitted.

“Does it hurt to walk, as well?” Ben smiled cheekily. “Feeling a bit exerted, hm?”

“Yes.” Annie blushed. “I have bruises everywhere.”

“Good.”

“So, who are these mystery witnesses?”

“Rock legends and honorary grandpas to Rory.” Ben tried to hide his smile. “Also known as -”

“No!” Annie’s smile lit up the room. “No!”

“Yes!”

“Ben! I’m… I’m…” Annie blinked quickly, indicating she was close to tears.

“You’re welcome.”

###

TAGLIST: @ramibaby @xgoingdownx @qweenly @violetpond @sweeterthancheese @drummerqueenrmt @westansstuff @justgivemethekeys @blondecarfucker @cheeseedreams47 @deacy-dearest @pinkmarvel @onceuponadetectivedemigod

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demented-dukey · 6 years ago

Text

In-depth Meta of “Dealing with Intrusive Thoughts” as it pertains to Incest and the presumed sibling relationship between Remus and Roman

Thanks to @squipfromjapan for picking out these moments from the episode. They also notated other moments that could be interperated as “sibling banter”, but for this post I’m going to focus on the dialogue that specifically references brotherhood.

I’m making this post so I have something to link to whenever someone tells me that “They called each other brothers several times!” or “The episode said they were twins!”, because I keep seeing the same assumptions made over and over again being represented as cold hard facts, when there is so much more nuance and room for debate.

So. Let’s look at the episode “Dealing with Intrusive Thoughts”, shall we? Buckle your seatbelts, kiddos, ‘cause this is gonna be a wild ride.

💚

Timestamp: 5:46 Remus: “Have you ever imagined killing your brother?”

Remus whispers this line in Thomas’s head. He is referencing Thomas’s dream the previous night, where Thomas literally imagined murdering his brother and dragging the dead body into his bathroom. The dream sequence won’t be revealed until later in the episode, but upon rewatch this is a clear reference to ~specifically~ That Dream. This is also a more subtle reference to the “Moving On” two-ep arc, when Thomas showed a drawing his younger self had made of him electrocuting his brother. We know from the livestreams that Thomas and Joan have been planning Remus since the “Growing Up” episode, and have been dropping hints and easter eggs about Remus’s existence in various episodes. That drawing indicates that these “intrusive thoughts” have been with Character!Thomas for a long time, and this is not the first time this particular thought has crossed his mind.

A few moments later, Remus appears and knocks out Roman. Patton screams, “You killed him!”, but it’s a lot less likely that Remus was actually intending to ~murder~ Roman - Roman is obviously not “dead” because he continues to mutter in his sleep, and Remus does not continue to attack Roman to finish the job. It’s made clear later in the episode when Remus attacks Logan that his actions are impermanent, and do not do lasting harm to the other sides.

Because Remus attacked Roman directly after uttering this line, many people have taken that to mean the “brother” in question is Roman, thus it implies that Remus was talking about killing Roman. But correlation does not equal causation - just because the action happened so soon after the line, doesn’t mean that the line is referring to that action. The action echoing the line makes for a beautiful cinematic parallel, but it’s all a matter of interpretation. People can make that association, but it is their headcanon, NOT actual canon proof.

For example: Immediately before Remus’s appearance, the other sides are taking about whether ghosts are evil, or if they just appear to scare people. At the same time, Remus is appearing (much like a ghost) behind Roman. The conversation directly parallels this for a reason - the viewer is supposed to make that association and wonder “Is Remus evil? Or does he just scare people because you never know when he’s going to show up?” Being a mental projection of Thomas’s mind, Remus is very ghost-like, and he even says the trademark ghost sound, “Boo!”, but in this scene there is no more “proof” that Remus is a literal “ghost” of a dead person than there is “proof” that Remus is trying to kill his literal “brother”.

Conclusion: “Have you ever imagined killing your brother?” is referring to Thomas’s bad dream, not the relationship between Remus and Roman.

💚

Timestamp: 7:53 Roman: “Bro, I’m gonna whip your butt!”

Roman calls Remus ‘bro’. Yes, this can imply a sibling relationship, but “bro” is often used for non-sibling relationships as well. Roman says this line as a threat, much like the common phrase, “Come at me, bro!” or the less threatening but equally common phrase “Cool story, bro.” - which can be used to address anyone of any gender without indicating a sibling relationship. Much like “Dude”, “Bro” carries a inherently “male” association, but it is not used exclusively to address “men” - it can also be used interchangeably to refer to a woman or nonbinary person.

For example: In the beginning of this episode, Thomas is doing an advertisement for Hello Fresh. He holds up a dish of food and says to the viewer, “You jealous of this, bro?” Thomas is using the term “bro” as a nickname, and addressing his entire audience irregardless of gender. Thomas is NOT implying a sibling relationship with the audience.

Conclusion: “Bro” is a commonly used generic greeting, not proof of a sibling relationship.

💚

Timestamp: 14:30 Logan: “At a young age you filed away your products of your imagination as either welcome or forbidden. This led to the development of two separate sides of your creativity.” Thomas: “So my creativity split in two?” Logan: "Into two parts during your development, yes. Like an ovum. The Duke is like Roman’s twin.”

For this scene, let's go over some basic English Grammar rules. What Logan is saying is an example of a simile, because he uses the word "like". Logan says "Like an ovum. The Duke is like Roman's twin."

A simile is a figure of speech that directly compares two things. Logan has proven in other episodes that he is very literal and very, very careful with his speech, so he is using a simile on purpose. He is not saying that the Duke ~is~ Roman's twin, he is saying that the Duke is ~like~ Roman's twin, drawing a comparison so that Thomas can better understand Remus’s role in Thomas’s psyche. This comparison has nothing to do with how Roman and Remus ~feel~ about each other, it is strictly an example of Remus’s role in Thomas’s brain and the portion of his negative Creativity that Remus embodies, as a comparison to Roman’s role and control of Thomas’s positive Creativity.

As Logan says this, he hold up two fingers together before splitting them while talking about why Remus exists - this indicates that Roman and Remus were once one whole side. Much like Thomas’s “whole” personality “split” into the personifications of Creativity, Morality, and Logic, Creativity “split” again to form Roman and Remus. Therefore, Remus and Roman are no more “genetically” related to each other than any of the other sides.

It’s worth noting, also, that the specific details around the split are still unclear. A majority of the fandom has accepted the headcanon that Creativity, prior to the split, was a Personification of unknown name and personality that was equally split into what we now know as Roman and Remus. But it is possible that Roman himself was the Original Creativity with Complete Control, until the negative attributes were removed from him and created into a separate being, like Eve was created from Adam’s rib.

Conclusion: “The Duke is like Roman's twin" is a simile used to explain what Remus’s job is in comparison to Roman’s job. It is not a description of how Roman and Remus feel about each other, and it is not proof that they are siblings.

💚

Timestamp: 15:01 Remus: “You made me this way Thomas. I was the unloved brother from the Genesis. Roman and I are Cain and Abel.”

Logan points out later in the video that Remus intentionally uses Religious Iconography to play to Thomas’s sensitivities. It’s possible Remus is being deliberately misleading as a scare-tactic (he accused Logan of being Deceit when he knew he wasn’t, so he is capable of lying), but for this meta let’s assume he is being genuine in his comparison.

Remus uses a metaphor (not a simile) to compare himself and Roman to Cain and Abel. While some people use this comparison as “proof” that Remus harbors a desire to kill Roman, this is not the point he is trying to make.

Let’s backtrack to the story of Cain and Abel: Cain and Abel are the first two sons born to Adam and Eve. Cain, a farmer, offers God a portion of his crops one day as a sacrifice, only to learn that God is more pleased when Abel, a herdsman, presents God with the fattest portion of his flocks. Enraged, Cain kills his brother. God exiles Cain from his home to wander in the land east of Eden.

Why is Remus using this as a metaphor for how Thomas “made” Remus the way he is? Remus equates Thomas to “God” in the story, because Character!Thomas is the one who “created” his own sides - He is the one responsible for visualizing them as separate beings. Logan points out that Remus and Roman literally wear Black and White because they are Thomas’s sides, and that is how Thomas sees them. Roman and Remus each contribute creative ideas to Thomas (read: “sacrifices” to their “God”), but Thomas is more pleased with Roman’s contributions and shuns/exiles Remus. Remus doesn’t actually say that he wants to kill Roman; however he does heavily imply that it is Thomas’s fault that Remus was created to be inferior, Thomas who chose to favor Roman over Remus, and therefore Thomas’s fault for Remus’s actions and any rage Remus may feel towards Roman.

Conclusion Part One: Remus uses religious imagery on purpose to play to Thomas’s sensitivities. He uses the metaphor of Cain and Abel to point out how he has been mistreated by Thomas, but does not confirm or deny any harsh feelings towards Roman himself.

But while we’re on the topic, let’s look a little more into Religious Canon. Adam was the first human created by God on the planet. God removed a rib from Adam and used it to fashion Eve, to be Adam’s wife. (As I mentioned above, this iconography is a cinematic parallel to Remus’s creation. As Eve used to be a part of Adam, so was Remus a part of Roman before he was removed and reformed into a separate being.) Not only was Eve literally created from a physical part of Adam, she also would then share his genetic code. Even if Adam and Eve didn’t have sibling “feelings” towards each other, an argument can be made that they are still an incest pairing.

Cain, a son of Adam and Eve, marries a woman and produces children to populate the earth. But if Adam and Eve were the only humans on Earth, then Cain’s wife must be a daughter of Adam and Eve, and therefore Cain’s sister. Thus, Cain and his wife are also an incest pairing.

Conclusion Part Two: Adam & Eve, as well as Cain & his wife, are both incest relationships. If a romantic relationship between Roman and Remus is considered incest, it is still no more problematic than the biblical family Remus was comparing himself to.

💚

Timestamp: 35:52 Thomas: “So, you have a brother?” Roman: “Yeah.”

This is, by far, the most commonly used argument in favor of the headcanon that Roman and Remus are brothers. Most fans hear Roman’s “yeah” as confirmation that he sees Remus as a brother.

However, there is still room for debate. “So, you have a brother?” “…yeaaaaah.” Roman is reluctant. He tilts his head back. He stretches the word out. Maybe he’s not quite sure “brother” is the right term for it, but there’s not really anything else he can call him. There’s no easy word for the other half of what used to be a whole fusion. Remus is like a limb that used to be attached, or a rib that was removed and created into a separate person. Remus is something to him, alright, and Roman feels responsible for Remus in a way that the other sides aren’t because of their shared history. So of course he would default to “brother”, it’s the simplest way to try to grasp a large and complex issue. He then starts comparing Remus to a mirror - “It shows you everything you don’t want to be.” When he looks at Remus, he doesn’t say he sees a sibling or a rival - he says he sees ~himself~, the dark parts of his own mind he doesn’t want to admit to. The dark parts that used to BE part of his own mind before they were separated.

Conclusion: Roman’s “Yeah.” is the closest thing to “proof” of a sibling relationship in the entire episode. But it’s also debatable - Roman seems hesitant/reluctant to confirm that Remus is his brother, and he doesn’t actually use the term himself.

💚

So, let’s recap. In the Intrusive Thoughts episode, there were the following references to brotherhood:

One (1) occurrence of Roman calling Remus “bro”, which is a generic form of address.

One (1) occurrence of Remus comparing his relationship with Roman to “Cain and Abel”, which is an intentional use of Incestual and Religious Iconography designed to shock and repulse Thomas.

Two (2) occurrences of Someone Else (Logan and Thomas) associating Remus with a familial term (twin/brother).

One (1) occurrence of Roman (reluctantly?) “confirming” Thomas’s “brother” association, but never using the term himself.

Roman never calls Remus his twin, nor uses the word “brother”, and he compares his feelings towards Remus to “looking in a mirror” and seeing not a twin, but himself.

Remus never calls Roman his brother, nor his twin, and he never directly comments on his feelings towards Roman.

This will change as new episodes reveal more about Roman and Remus, but as of “Dealing with Intrusive Thoughts”, all the “proof” in the episode that Roman and Remus are brothers and/or twins is debatable and subject to interpretation.

If you want to believe that they ARE twins/brothers and share a platonic relationship, that’s a valid headcanon, but it is not the only one.

If you want to believe that they ARE twins/brothers and share a romantic relationship, that’s a valid headcanon. There are many reasons to intentionally ship a fictional incest pairing.

If you want to believe that they are NOT twins/brothers and share a platonic relationship, that's a valid headcanon.

If you want to believe that they are NOT twins/brothers and share a romantic relationship, that's a valid headcanon.

#remus sanders #roman sanders #ts remus #ts duke #ts roman #meta #intrusive thoughts #sanders sides #thomas sanders #tw incest #religion #religious iconography #all ships are valid #headcanons #blasphemy #dd is tired #i really talk a lot for someone who hates the sound of their own voice #murder

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cleighwrites · 5 years ago

Text

Hott Yoga

SPN Fanfic

Characters - Sam, Dean & Castiel, Donna (mentioned)

Summary - Sam drags Dean to a hot yoga class, and Dean ends up liking it a lot more than he thought he would!

Word Count - 1,878

A/N - this fic was inspired by this tweet!! It was too great to not write!! There will be more to come!

Warnings - sexual thoughts, blatant male objectification, it’s just fluffy crack!

There were quite a few things that Sam did that Dean just could not get in to. Listening to music dated post-1978 (with very few exceptions), waking up at ungodly hours of the morning, even trying to eat turkey bacon, insisting that garnish was a food group, running (not even from anything), and yoga.

That being said, there were a few little brother tricks Sam held up his sleeve for when he really, really wanted Dean to do something. Today, what he really, really wanted was for Dean to go to a hot yoga class with him. Dean had adamantly refused until Sam had volunteered to do the dishes and laundry for two weeks. How bad could a little stretching be?

That was how Dean found himself in sweatpants and a wife-beater, sweating his ass off in a 100-degree room, trying to bend in ways his body was not built to bend in. The only thing that was keeping him there was their instructor.

He was a tall, well-built man with relatively short sweat-spiked black hair. He had broad shoulders that led down to slightly slimmer hips. He was not a small man; the fact emphasized by the leggings he was wearing.

Yes, the man that was talking them through the poses was wearing leggings and a tank top that was about five sizes too small for him, but that was somewhat excusable in this heat. The leggings, that Dean was not staring at while the man bent into another pose to grab his ankles, had angel wings on them. Big, giant wings that spread across his tight, round ass, expanded around his thick muscular thighs and trailed down his calves.

Dean was feeling flushed, from the humidity, obviously, and the exertion of trying to contort himself like a human-pretzel. Sam snickering beside him caught him off guard while he was attempting to be a tree; he lost his footing and slipped on his sweat covered mat when he tried to regain his balance. After he shot a deadly glare at his brother, he turned to see a hand in his face, presumably there to help him up.

When he looked past the very strong and capable-looking offering, he found strikingly blue eyes laughing at him. They belonged to the angel-winged-ass yoga instructor. Not that he needed the assistance, he grabbed his hand and hauled himself into a standing position then swiped the sweat from his brow.

“May I?” the man asked.

“Huh?” Dean was not distracted by the sweat pooled above the man’s collarbones, nor the seemingly perfect way his hair happened to swoop.

The man laughed and dipped his chin before looking him in the eye, not something very many people were comfortable doing. “I can help you with this pose, if you’d like. If it’s okay to touch you.” He nodded toward Dean’s entire body with a seductive quirk of his eyebrow.

Dean couldn’t think of anything he’d like more than to have this man’s hands on him, so he just nodded and put his arms up over his head. The man walked around behind him and put one hand on his lower back, then grabbed his shoulders and maneuvered him into a more upright position. After he was satisfied with that, he wrapped a hand around his left hip then put his other hand on Dean’s right thigh, gently guiding his leg to turn out while holding his hips still.

With his mind in a fog, Dean stood there with his right foot on his left calf and his arms raised above his head, thanking whoever would listen to his pleas that no one was paying him enough attention to see the massive hard-on he was sporting for their yoga instructor. The man kept ahold of his thighs and put his mouth tight against Dean's ear and told him to take in deep breaths and to look skyward. He was able to inhale twice, but when he went to look up, he began to lose his balance again.

He only wobbled a little bit before he abandoned the pose altogether and stomped his foot down. Sammy would just have to find another yoga buddy because Dean was not cut out for this hippy, wanna-be workout shit. He got all the workout he needed hoisting transmissions into vehicles at work. He had planned to apologize to the super-hot hot yoga man and duck out early, but the second he turned around, the man’s smile short-circuited what was left of Dean’s brain.

“It's not as easy as it looks; is it? With some practice, you’ll get it.” The man’s smile was so genuine Dean really had no choice but to agree with what he hoped was a self-assured grin. The man smiled a little wider then announced to the class, “Let’s finish this up in lotus pose.”

It was then that Dean realized that one of the man’s hands was still on his hip. He applied a little pressure, so Dean got the hint to sit down along with the rest of the class; everyone else seemed to know what a lotus was. After a quick glance around, carefully avoiding the angel wing-framed bulge in front of his face, he sat cross-legged and put his hands on his knees.

Sammy snorted beside him, and when Dean turned to shoot him a look he felt hands on his, flipping his palms to face up.

“Palms up and put your fingers together,” the blue-eyed angel man corrected him. “And, if you can, tuck your feet in above your legs, like Donna, over there.” He motioned to a cute blonde woman who kept her eyes closed, but smiled a dimpled grin at the mention of her name.

Dean tried his best to get his feet up, but only managed to angle them so that his toes were favoring upward. After an approving nod, the man went back to the head of the class and assumed the same position with ease, then motioned for Dean to take a deep breath and close his eyes.

Considering that he was sweating his literal balls off, and was sporting an almost painful boner at being manhandled by this gorgeous legging-clad dude, Dean was the most relaxed he’d been in a long time. Within moments his body was no longer sore, he was hardly registering the sweat dripping from his face, and he felt… peaceful.

Far too soon, the man announced the end of the class with the sound of a small gong, and everyone fell into hushed chatter. Plans for lunch, after showering, or meeting up at some other time or for some other class were being made. Sam offered Dean his hand to stand, which he begrudgingly accepted, trying not to moan as he extracted himself from the floor.

“See,” Sammy smiled down at him, “that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Dean chanced a glance over his shoulder to where the yoga-man was talking with the cute girl, Donna. “Yeah, I can see why you come here.”

Sam laughed and made a face that Dean knew only preceded an observation he knew he wasn’t going to like. “I thought you might find something here worth coming back for.” Dean just nodded and grabbed a towel to wipe his face off. Sam leaned in and whispered, “He’s single, I checked.”

Dean balked for a moment before Sam leveled his stupid, little brother, you-can’t-lie-to-me face, then he huffed. “Whatever, Jolly Green Giant, get out of here, you’re cramping my style.”

He shot his brother a smirk and a wink, then made his way over to intrude on what he was sure was a conversation about the newest juice cleanse. Smiling at both of them he waited patiently for an opening in the conversation to interject an apology.

“Sorry to interrupt; I just wanted to say thanks… for, um, helping me out earlier. Yoga isn’t really my thing.” Dean laughed, and the woman excused herself to the showers.

With a pointed look at the other man, she left.

“That’s what I’m here for…?”

“Dean. And you are?”

“Castiel,” he responded, offering his hand once again.

Dean shook his hand like his father had taught him, thumbs shoved together, fingers gripped tight, but not squeezed. Castiel was only caught off guard for a moment before returning his firm handshake; commendable. They stood there for a moment, definitely not holding hands and staring into each other’s souls.

“I’m going to need that back, at some point.” Cas, which was what Dean had resolved to call him, joked.

“Oh, yeah.” Dean laughed and took his hand out of Cas’s grasp.

If Cas could stop smiling at him like he was, Dean could probably have said something really cool, maybe asked him out for drinks sometime. As it was, all Dean could think about was not looking down at the bulge in those God-forsaken, not-so-angelic, leggings.

“So, will I be seeing you next week?” Cas laughed at what must have been the face Dean was trying not to make, then added, “for another class, I mean.”

Dean ran a hand along the back of his neck and answered honestly. “I’m still not sure yoga is the thing for me, especially if it involves this much sweating!”

“That’s just for the hot yoga class… if you’d prefer, I do have a standard class on Tuesdays and Thursdays; same time.”

How could Dean say no to this man, especially when he’s looking at him like that? “That sounds awesome.”

“Does it?” Cas was asking honestly, who is this man? Dean decided right then and there that he would find out who this attractive, strange man was.

“Well, I mean. Sure.” There was a slight pause where Dean probably should have resolved to stop talking. “Don’t knock it till you try it, right?”

As Dean rolled his eyes and mentally chastised himself, Cas laughed. A full-bodied, eye-crinkling laugh that Dean noticed showed the gums over his top teeth; he was terrifyingly attractive, in a dorky, unconventional sort of way. Dean was so screwed, hopefully literally.

“How would you like to grab a smoothie with me?” He was still laughing, which made Dean feel equally off balance and a little giddy.

He blinked a couple of times to bide his time while he processed what exactly Cas was asking him. “Uh, sure.”

“Great. Meet you out front in fifteen minutes? Gotta wash all this sweat off.” He motioned to his entire body.

As if it were beyond his control, Dean openly checked the man out, marveling once again at his thick thighs, somehow encased in those damn feathered tights. He bit his bottom lip to keep from voicing his inner thoughts and shook his head, laughing at himself.

“Or maybe, I’ll just stay in this.” The heat behind Cas’s eyes left little room for interpretation.

“Or…,” Dean could not believe he was about to say this, “maybe I could help you out of those.”

Dean took a shot and rested a finger on the waistband of the leggings. They were soft and warm and pulled taut over Cas’s hipbones. The too small, to call it what it was, crop-top, perfectly showcased that well-shaped ‘V’ that dipped teasingly into his bottoms.

“I would like that.”

To be continued...

Read part 2, Steam Shower here!

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