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rare-yanderes · 4 years ago

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(F/H) =favorite hobby.

I have the weirdest crush on this freaking duck and I don’t know why, so I’m taking out my confusion on this matter by making him yandere. Sorry that this is so long, boring and slow but I’m a sucker for slow burns and just dislike instant love. This went from just from headcannons to a freaking long ass story. I think I’ll make more on how the reader reacts when they find out just how mentally fucked Scrooge became.

Who knows, maybe I’ll write one for good ol’ Flinty. I have a feeling he’d just drop kick any rival he spots without much qualms about it. Meanwhile, Scrooge has a full on psychological derailment.

TW: manipulation, dependent behavior, stalking, and more.

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•To be honest, the likelyhood of Scrooge turning into a yandere might be higher than you think. He’s capable of self defense and can fight. He literally hunts treasure for a living. He also has a trillion dollar stockpile sitting around begging to be used for cover ups. His determination is pretty crazy, and he’s seen a lot on his adventures, things that would kind of instill a paranoia over time or an unhealthy me mentality. He can easily hide behind a professional front. Oh, and if he so wanted, he could travel and bury any evidence under a volcano. :)

•Since this is a yandere AU or, I’m gonna go with the idea that this is a what if the show had a TV-14 rating as well, so much darker themes can link and be explored.

•After pretty much a century of adventure, most of which includes violence and fighting through perils, human or not so, Scrooge is desensitized to quite a bit of violence and the dark and greedy side of the world. He’s seen the best of people and also the worst. This plays majorly in anyone who becomes a yandere; how exposed they are to people’s bad side or their own dark tendencies.

•Scrooge himself is not perfect and has demonstrated some traits of greediness, paranoia, and general distrustful behavior which is perfectly reasonable considering his work and the things he exposes himself too during it.

•Even though he loves adventure, there are a lot of bad things that happen on them that he seems to bottle up or keep to himself. Bottling up things causes a negative buildup in anyone, especially Scrooge because he expects that loving his life’s work will repair the same damage it sometimes does to him.

•Most likely, Scrooge developed an affinity with you through your similar drive for adventure. Maybe you worked for him in some way and he saw you defend someone or maybe you outsmarted one of his adversaries on an adventure he decided to bring you on. Regardless, you’ve caught his attention and this is only the beginning.

•A rival love interest’s biggest mistake is mistaking his age for a weakness. One minute he’s complaining about someone being on his lawn, the other they’re buried under it.

•Scrooge would probably connect most if he’s seen that you used to be in his shoes before, or at least a similar situation. Maybe you’re struggling financially but working your ass off to stabilize your income. As someone with the humble origins of a shoeshiner, Scrooge understands perfectly. Despite his incredible stockpile of wealth, he knows what’s it’s like to be at rock bottom.

•At first, you’re probably obviously very suprised with Scrooge’s involvement in your life. He’s from an entirely different world than yours after all, the top of the pyramid. Depending on your origins, you might react quite differently. Currently, you managed to find yourself stuck in a job you hated, working for someone you despised. It was a miserable, repetitive job that brought to your life a void of boredom.

•You craved adrenaline, even if it would get you killed, you finally figured that at least you’d go out with a spark. Putting on a smiling face, you accept a position at McDuck industries thinking that it was going to be another office job. By your luck, (or, later on, unfortunate luck), you managed to score a position that required you to be near Scrooge quite often.

•This gave both of you time to acquaint with eachother and the opportunity for him to see the potential in you as an adventurer instead of just an employee. Scrooge rarely lets people in beyond family, and is quite reserved so he himself questions what he sees in you at first, distrusting you even.

•When you are taken on your first adventure, you nearly boil over with eagerness. There’s a worry at first of the treachery involved but eventually, as you venture on more and more explorations, that fear dulls and you think the adrenaline as far more important than the possible loss of your life.

•Craving adrenaline is the main reason at first as to why you to want to stay around Scrooge. Despite his repeated attempts to brush or push you away, you find yourself excited every time you get to explore and finally get to see a world that you thought you’d never visit.

•Still, Scrooge remains cold and you can’t figure out why beyond the reason that he’s just a pessimistic old capitalist. As much as you want the adrenaline, you kinda can’t help but eventually enjoy his presence as well despite his temper and general grumpiness. Having been alone for over two decades without friends does that to someone. You needed warmth again.

•Maybe you grew attached to all the times you felt you were winning when you snubbed an artifact. Also, after collecting and sneaking a few gold coins into your own pocket, you were finally getting out of debt and on track to actually start your own business involving (F/H). You had the dream that you could travel where you wanted and finally find peace from your own mind and problems.

•Scrooge, despite his own warnings to himself not to persue, can’t help but offer you a job working for him. You made adventuring a million times better and were a great addition to the team, providing your own perspective or plan for the times he and his family would journey out. Oh, and he’d finally get the opportunity to be around you more. It was refreshing to see how optimistic you managed to remain despite your current financial predicament. (Which he contemplated solving.)

•Soon, however, Scrooge began to see that you were not as happy go lucky as you pretended to be, at least not when you weren’t on another treasure hunt. Something appeared to be gnawing at you. Deep down inside, it appeared to plague you and Scrooge began to worry for your well being and as a too curious for his own good duck, he needed to know what was going on. Especially when he had caught you quickly wiping away tears while you began to head home. What could possibly be causing you this pain?

•He had to find out and to his own realization, he had to know now. After all the times you saved and helped him, he wanted to make sure you were at least doing alright in return. He ordered Launchpad to tail you home and Launchpad, oh so very loyal, doesn’t question it much.

•Most yanderes might suffer from the constant delusion that their victims love them back or that they’re in the right but that’s not the case with Scrooge. There are times where he does try to justify himself, but this is mainly due to a fit of rage or to play innocent to you. Most of the time, he knows his actions are wrong and the burning temptation is causing a war. Very early on, he suppresses his curiosity and the growing feelings he has about you. Especially when they begin to boil into something far darker. Although he’s done this to nearly everyone, being cold to you and pushing you away seemed to be his way of trying to ensure your well being instead of his. He was finding it hard not to think about you sometimes.

•Soon enough though, he begins to grow inquisitive about your personal life as you open up to him and define yourself as a person instead of another blur. You were always quite genuine to just sit around and talk to him and despite denying it to himself, Scrooge was lonely, especially after the Spear of Selene. Sometimes you’d joke to him, sometimes you’d think philosophically. Sometimes it was just a mutual, comfortable silence.

•Scrooge might make excuses aloud to you, but doesn’t lie to himself. All the times he’s made you work later or given you an extra dose of paperwork was because he wanted to keep you around and in his line of sight. 12 hours without you was turning into a painful reminder of how isolated he was, even with Beakley around. You were a warmth, a cool, calm warmth.

• “I’ll eventually need to know her address later on in case she’s attacked by one of my adversaries anyways.” Nope, Scrooge wasn’t fooling himself with that sentiment. He knew he was invading your privacy, but he also knew that he was too nosy to care enough.

•The main problem is that although Scrooge knows a lot of what he’s doing isn’t right, he begins to care less and less. (Though this process takes quite a while.) You’re a valuable and positive part of his life, you had stayed when everyone else had abandoned him for his admittedly awful mistakes. He can’t lose another person he treasures. Especially not you. You’re becoming the shiniest yet. Losing you might mean losing himself in some sense.

•Scrooge tries to shake off the guilt but only finds that maybe it’s better to punish himself by feeling it. He’s currently following along your path to wherever your destination currently is.

•Of course, his iconic shiny limousine would be a sore thumb sticking out to both you, the media, and Duckberg in general so he makes sure to either trail far behind or to have another mode of transportation available. Regardless, Scrooge never hires another person to watch you in place.

•Scrooge doesn’t even install cameras. He’d rather experience your life from his own two eyes and not as reported from another bird or screen. He rather liked tracking you himself. It gave him a place to go and at least he’d be able to bask in your duality himself. Sometimes you cried, he found to his own breaking heart. Sometimes you’d smile, (mostly only in his presence, to his delight.)

•Most of all, though, you seem caught in the present of life. Distracted, even. It seems though, that sometimes you’re so distracted that you don’t even notice something is off. Or maybe you yourself are too unable to break the cycle of adrenaline adventure to see it. Maybe you yourself were actively creating excuses, at least at first as to why you sometimes ran into Scrooge McDuck everywhere.

•If there’s something else Scrooge is a master at other than money, it’s with keeping up the detached and reserved persona of a wealthy individual. After all, who would suspect him of such crimes like these? He’s just a selfish, greedy businessman that only cares about his wealth, right? He’d never bother with other birds unless he was shaking hands at a conference table.

•Wrong. As you and him grow to become more like mentor and student, Scrooge begins to insert himself everywhere he possible can in your life, especially after seeing the shitfest that was your social group, what little of it there was. Apparently, you’d finally made a few friends over the years working for him and there was only one out of all of them that Scrooge approved of.

•Two of them, both identical Peacock twins appeared to be fascinated with your link to him and nothing more. It made some sense. After all, who could say they were a close worker to the richest duck in the world? The other one, a tall and lanky chicken, was getting far too handsy with you, and the final, a feline male was nothing but gossip and drama.

•To add to insult, you were a pretty big pushover outside of work which meant that they would drag you to places you didn’t even want to go and pressure you to have drinks you didn’t want to taste. They were in love with the mask you put up, not the complex and amazing face behind it. The one that you were beginning to let Scrooge see.

• Scrooge watches from a distance as your laugh reverberates. The laugh appears to Scrooge as unwavered and solid, mechanical in nature like it was a reoccurring script. Gazing at your face, he could see that your smile was strained, beak scrunched. You just wanted to go home and nothing more.

•The chicken next to you he was sucking a cigarette and the smoke blew in your direction, replacing your laugh with coughing and the others cackled with drunk glee, their solo cups tipping as they did. You blew it off as an accidental push in the wind which, by the way, wasn’t even blowing.

•Out of all of them, Scrooge hated the lanky chicken, who’s name he learned was Gale, the most. You deserved far better than that. Surely you saw through his sleazy act, right? Why were you hanging around such a ratched group of birds? Just how blind were you to their usage of you?

•Almost without even realizing it himself, Scrooge had tailed you the entire way home. After having to torment himself with an hour of seeing you torment yourself, he figured that maybe you’d find something that made you happy other thanyour little flock of “friends.”

•So he was admitting to being a stalker to himself. Did that mean he’d be able to admit it to oblivious ol’ you? Well, no. At least, not for now. Not until you trust him completely. Oh well, he’ll never go further than then that, right? He was watching you, but not engaging in any way. Nothing worse could come out of it..

•Wrong.

•After a while of having you working under him at McDuck Industries, Scrooge began to realize just how much financial control he had over you. Not only did you depend on him cod for paycheck, your landlord worked for someone who worked for him. In other words, the spot of land you were living on was an apartment company that belonged to him. You were living under one of his roofs. All he’d have to do was shift some circumstances and you’d either be homeless or debt free forever. Scrooge of course, plays the benevolent route and lowers it significantly for you. Why antagonize you?

•After having taken that action, Scrooge noticed more and more of a smile on your face as you realized that you didn’t have to depend paycheck to paycheck for food on the table. He had also been aware that you had a side hobby now, involving (F/H.) sometimes you joked you’d start a business and go off parting ways with that hobby. It was source of entertainment to watch you be..Well, you. There was this genuine behavior about you that just drew him in.

•If Scrooge wasn’t adventuring with you or at a meeting also with you, he was still with you. You just didn’t know it yet. Interestingly however, you’d begun to pick up the signs that there was a presence in your life. Whereas you didn’t close the blinds before, you did now. Or maybe that was from all the adventures you’d nearly died on fighting others off. Maybe it was paranoia.

•Eventually, Scrooge managed to break into your apartment under the guise to Launchpad that he’d been invited by you. A ludicrous lie, of course, but Launchpad is gullible to a fault when it comes to Scrooge. He’s loyal like that, and his friendliness to you plays into Scrooge’s emotional manipulation later on.

•As Scrooge sneaks in while you’re still home, he makes his way behind the kitchen counter which seperated your living room. He didn’t expect you to be right there in the living room, but you were, just five feet away from him and the window he snuck in. The window was to your right. He had carefully parted the curtains. Your couch was sitting approximately five feet from the window balcony, facing a corner of the wall with the T.V off.

•Peculiarly, you hadn’t even noticed he’d entered by rigging the door. You were right there, not staring at his direction, but he should have at least appeared in your peripheral. Just what were you doing to be so disconnected to the reality around you? It was worrying.

•Now hidden behind the counter directly to the left of you, he observes your desensitized form. For a moment, Scrooge thought you were a corpse until he peered closer. You were still there, physically. Mentally you looked as if you were in a whole other dimension. In a rather bold move, Scrooge slowly stands up and positions himself in the archway, watching you from his spot.

•You were still, so very still unlike all the times you’d fidget at work or with those “friends.” You still breathed and your hands shook slightly and there was color to your eyes but you yourself didn’t even seem present whatsoever. Your eyes were glazed and far away. It was just your body sitting there in that couch. It was worrisome and yet there was a blissful smile to your face seconds later.

•It was you, daydreaming about something. Something you obviously enjoyed. Scrooge, to his own shame, hoped it involved him. For a few more moments, all you did was sigh like you were meditating. It was haunting how easily you had lost yourself within the confines of your tumbling mind. Somehow, you were blocking out the world beyond, maladaptively.

• Scrooge knew he was taking a huge risk. All you’d have to do to spot him now was swivel your head a few inches or wake up from dreamland. It would take a few inches to ruin what you thought of him.

Just then, to Scrooge’s horror, you had slowly picked yourself off the couch. Your body shuttered as your head snapped up. He knew he was taking a huge risk with this and began to think that maybe it was a terrible idea after all. (Who was he kidding, it was terrible in the first place, he knew what he was doing.)

•He quickly fell back to his crouched position behind the counter, silently and expertly as you turned around and made your way closer and closer. There was a tense moment in which Scrooge contemplated just knocking you down completely and rendering you unconscious. All it would take was a few seconds. Maybe you’d forget or maybe he’d give you the dreamland you seemed so desperate to reach. It would certainly give him peace of mind to know where you are 24/7..All he’d have to do is knock you out and take you to the manor. You’d be secure and have everything you need there…

•Your presence was setting him alight, in the good way and bad way. He loved being near you. But hated the idea of you getting any closer right now, because you getting any closer would ruin your trust in him entirely. A few more steps is all there was between the idol you saw Scrooge as and the monster he was growing to be. You were like a fire. The heat scorched his feathers. Then, when you were away, his thoughts.

•Your steps were louder than they’d ever been. Then, to Scrooge’s unbelievable luck, you turned towards the hallway away from the kitchen. Scrooge knew not to push his luck trying to follow or stay, so despite his clawing urge to figure you out, he hesitantly snuck out with unanswered questions on your concerning mental state.

•It had been a months since that incident and Scrooge was moving onto bigger and bolder actions. Sometimes he’d swipe you away from any conversations you had with your friends by calling you in for a task. Sometimes he’d eat up all your time by keeping you in late, and taking you to places far away that required days of travel.

•Sometimes he’d drive bad influences away by financially ruining their life forever.

You noticed Gale’s downfall quickly, but you didn’t have any idea it was Scrooge who was responsible. Gale lived actually, three complexes from you and oh so suddenly, rent had begun to skyrocket in the particular room he had to himself. This led to him being presented with an eviction notice. You didn’t even have the chance to say goodbye. (Not that you wanted to, though.) deep down you were glad he was gone and Scrooge knew it. Gale had to move far off to find an affordable spot. It was a mercy considering how often Scrooge had dreamed of just throwing him into the ocean tied up for the sharks to find. He was a toxic influence.

•Maybe if someone pushed his button just right, Scrooge would end up killing them, and who would care? There were seven billion fellow people on the planet. Scrooge could just get rid of any threat he wanted and no one would notice or ever suspect it was him. After all, he’s just a grumpy old man with a cane.

•It turns out, Scrooge had picked up on your plans to possibly quit your job. He had never felt his heart sink like it did now. He was fighting off his initial shock as you stood in his office, masking it with a detached face. You hadn’t even confirmed the statement. All you’d said was that maybe you’d found a company within your favorite hobby.

•It was just a small implication. But, Implications could become statements, which could turn into actions, and Scrooge couldn’t let the thought even be a presence in your mind.

•You had stayed with him throughout the years of his loneliest moments, had confessed secrets, had confided in him. You were like his pupil, learning from him and you were like his partner, fighting alongside him. Maybe you were something different altogether.

•...Was it a friend that convinced you? It had to be. Scrooge knew how much you enjoyed galavanting around the world with him. There’s no way you’d just fly off without him.-

“I promise I’ll still occasionally go with you, Scrooge. (A first name basis. This was devolving from anything normal.) I found my passion. We can still adventure together, but I found a path that also makes me happy and doesn’t ya know, get me killed.” You chuckle as if it were nothing. A light joke.

•So you were leaving. You were going to go. Why? You had a great paycheck, (an expensive one that took a lot of money,) you had the opportunity to travel the world. You had the best job you’d ever get. Who else was going to be as good as him? He won’t let you destroy your future by applying for a Mediocre position at some dumptruck company.

•As it turns out, the bird responsible for swaying you was none other than one of the peacocks, her name was Shelby. She and you laughed, and for the first time, your laugh was genuine. Genuine with her and not with Scrooge. You both shared each other’s stories, and she in return had encouraged your little dangerous fantasy of being independent.

•Now of course Scrooge realized how ridiculous this all sounded. He had willingly allowed you to go on perilous adventures with him, but at least then, you were with him. How could he keep an easy eye on you if you just moved off to some rando spot? Plus, he was plenty good as saving you. He was your hero.

•Bad influences needed to go away.

•Scrooge might lie to himself about how much it digs under his feathers, but to see you around other people really dug wrong. He itched every time you decided to take advice from other people, or confide in them instead of him. He was the one you could go to, not them. Your secrets didn’t need to be shared with anyone else but Scrooge. All those rare and precious things that made you yourself didn’t need to be snatched by thieves like Shelby or Gale or whoever else.

•He knew that his criminal actions would scare you. Even with your growing trust and dependence on him, he knew it was too early for you to want to stay with him if you knew what he’s been doing. If he wanted your presence, he’d keep it through lengths you’d find terrifying.

•Scrooge found your biggest flaw was that you always attracted the wrong crowd, and it was primarily because you were always trying to impress others when they really didn’t deserve the magnificent canvas you painted yourself to be. To his even greater detriment, you were beginning to spend your time more and more with Shelby. The canvas you painted was beautiful, as always. But it wasn’t for him, and he found that he was not happy with this new development.

•Don’t you know people take advantage of kindness? It happened to him all the time and still does. It happened to you over and over and yet you kept venturing forth giving out your trust like it was nothing. The world is a sour place if you’re not careful. Cursed kilts, you were already naive about Gale. Who knows how badly future people would hurt you, even if they were well intentioned.

Scrooge could tell that, despite him insisting otherwise, you thought leaning on his shoulder was burdening him. He wanted to make sure you knew it was anything but that. As a matter of fact, he wanted you to lean on his shoulder every moment he possibly could get you to. What was just you occasionally asking for advice on impersonal things becomes entire sessions with Scrooge encouraging you to reveal every personal detail of your life.

•You had revealed that many times, you just wanted independence. A company of your own to possibly build so you could pursue life your own way. Scrooge knew these dangerous thoughts were one of the final roadblocks. Scrooge had to prevent them. Be it through roughening you up financially or discouraging you. Be it from murdering outside influences, too. Who was going to miss the miserable miscreants that plagued your life anyways?

•It is three days before the date you had decided that you would resign. Instead of being merry, you were miserable. The opportunity you had to get the job was burned by them not even calling you for an interview. After your resume, why would they reject you? You had the word of one of the finest businessmen out there to back you up. Scrooge himself promised to put in a good word for you! You were perfectly qualified for the job you were looking for. In your days of being rejected from the position you wanted, you confide in Scrooge. You don’t know it but as he pats your shoulder, he’s thinking of the next way to sabotage your efforts of leaving him.

•Shelby ends up going missing. She was one of your closest friends and the only one who finally treated you well. Your devastation causes a major setback in any ambitious plans as you isolate yourself from anyone else but only the closest person left in your life; Scrooge.

•Currently, you were enveloped in a warm hug, the side of your face leaning in the crook of Scrooge’s neck as he calmed your crying form down, patting your back and promising you his presence would remain forever. You wept at Shelby’s funeral, so did her twin sister and their parents, who, upon seeing Scrooge, had nearly fainted in shock.

•Despite your tumultuous relationship with Shelby, she had actually begun to redeem much of her previously antagonistic actions towards you. She was in a rough place when you had developed a connection with her. So you wept in your boss’s, or rather, your best confidantes arms. You wept.

Scrooge, however, did not.

#yandere #obsession #yandere ducktales #scrooge mcduck #headcanons #yandere x reader #reader insert #platonic or romantic #ducktales #cartoon #yandere Scrooge McDuck #minors do not interact #murder #this is weird I know #dt 2017 #ducktales 2017

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halfpint55 · 4 years ago

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A Defence of Kataang with regards to how they are portrayed in TLoK (it’s long but there’s headcanons at the end)

Note: This is not about shipping wars. This is a safe zone. This is not about Zutara vs Kataang. This is me defending Kataang and the characters themselves...from the writers.

I initially wrote this as a response to a post that got me heated. My reblog just made it too long so here it is as its own post.

Now this post ripped apart Kataang as a couple but more than that said some stuff about Aang himself that hurt my heart. I didn’t really want to pick on this post but its condemning of Kataang was based almost entirely in what we know of them as parents in TLoK and honestly it’s that lil nugget of canon that I take issue with. It has bothered me from the get go because it doesn’t make sense from a writing and story perspective, and it’s been pissing me off since I watched it.

TL;DR nice and early bc this post is gonna be a long one:

This particular condemnation of Kataang rests almost entirely on the SHITTY way they were portrayed as parents by the writers of LoK, and in all honesty, on this particular topic, canon should be ignored.

Overall Kataang parenting is of my biggest gripes with LoK because in terms of writing it’s totally incongruous - it doesn’t fit, it doesn’t align, and it makes zero sense for what we know of those characters, and I don’t know if I can ever forgive the showrunners for allowing it to be written it into canon.

I will also preface this by saying I like LoK - love it. I had a scroll through the comments and reblogs on this post, and a lot of the hate towards this portrayal of Kataang ended up being blamed on the “terrible writing of LoK” which is not where I stand at all. That being said I am so angry at the writers for this one.

The other portion of the concurring comments that were very hateful towards Kataang came from Zutara shippers and honestly for me, although I do ship Kataang, this not a just a Kataang issue. I’m of the belief that Zutara would’ve just as easily been written to have similar issues due to very similar dynamics - Zutara also would have been two powerful benders from very different cultures, and with Zuko/Aang (whoever you ship w her) having a massively important global leadership role that is embedded in who they are, and therefore impossible to ignore as a factor in their relationship.

Now let me be clear, my desire to reject canon on this front is by no means me wanting to believe the best of my faves, and not wanting to hear a word against Aang. It’s not even necessarily a defence of Kataang bc I ship it that hard (I mean I do but I can set that aside for the sake of argument if that’s what you need from me here).

The first, and main issue people have with Aang/Kataang in Korra, is the first point of the original post:

So why in hell would [Katara] be okay with Aang ignoring TWO of their children’s complete existence once he found out they had an airbending son?

And I agree with the post on this front; Katara would not have allowed her children to each be treated differently by their father. I had the same initial thought when watching LoK, and it’s the reason I hate and want to ignore the canon of LoK so badly.

As much as it hurts to think of, we have to accept that Aang wouldn’t have been able to stop his preferential treatment for Tenzin from bleeding through into his parenting just out of a desperate desire to save his culture (which is absolutely understandable - doesn’t make it okay, but it’s understandable; Aang suffered an incredible loss, a massive cultural trauma which he alone carries the burden of). So of course he wasn’t able to hide how excited he was, and forgot to be mindful of his attitude and behaviour towards Kya and Bumi. So this aspect of canon Kataang? Yeah, I’m with it. So far so good. EXCEPT the most unrealistic element of canon is now that Katara would let him. I simply do not believe for a second that Katara would’ve allowed Aang to be the kind of parent LoK painted him to be.

However, I do not think it would’ve been a point of contention between the two of them! Katara would pull him aside, Katara would gently (but firmly) point out what Aang mightn’t be able to see for himself - he’s focusing too hard on Tenzin.

And Aang would listen.

All throughout A;tLA the two of them often help the other sort through their stuff. Aang has a great track record of being receptive to Katara’s advice and help (calming him down when discovering Monk Gyatso’s body, The Desert when he Appa is stolen, Serpent’s Pass when he’s bottling his feelings about Appa being missing). He’s also just so receptive to others’ ideas - he just goes with it and trusts in his friends (think of his trust in Katara’s plan to rescue Haru, his trust in staying behind with Sokka in the library to get the eclipse info). Aang’s humility is one of the most incredible things about him and it’s at the core of who he is. He would absolutely be able to hear Katara telling him he’s focusing too hard on one child - he would be open, and he’d listen.

So to me now canon just does not make sense at all. it does not align with their established character traits. And yes, people change as they get older and grow into adulthood but honestly, the elements of their respective personalities that we’re talking about here are pretty core elements of who these two people are.

Katara has always been fiercely protective of those she loves, strongwilled, stubborn, and ready to (vocally or physically) fight for what she believes is right and that wouldn’t disappear as she gets older. She wouldn’t let Aang’s preferrential treatment slide.

Aang has always been, and chose to be despite his loss, an optimistic, kind, believe in the best of humanity kind of person. He’s open to all points of view, he’s a good listener, he always tries his absolute best to find solutions that are good for everyone. And again his humility, his willingness to love, is who he is. He believes all humans (including fkn OZAI) and all life are sacred, he believes in the absolute right to life. The kid is a vegetarian for crying out loud.

Now the parts of the take in the post that hurt my heart to read about what OP thinks of Aang:

“Aang never made an attempt to establish anything resembling a real familial unit with Katara, basically just stayed around until she popped out an Airbender [...] she was treated like some trophy wife to give birth to airbenders and that’s it!”

I wasn’t going to address this in this post until I read the comments in the notes, because people seem to agree. They share the sentiment that Katara was reduced to “just a love interest” by the two ending up together.

However I do very much take issue w the notion that Aang “basically just stayed around until she popped out an Airbender” (and honestly that entire paragraph - we don’t actually know that Aang didn’t make an effort to establish a family unit). As much as the LoK writers fucked up in their portrayal of Kataang as parents, this is a much harsher judgement of Aang’s character as a husband and father than anything implied by Aang and Katara’s children. I just don’t buy that Aang would view Katara (or anyone he married, even if you don’t ship Kataang) as a trophy wife, whose only role is to have airbender children. He never has viewed her that way - he has always looked at her like she’s the sun, and the most important person to him after she pulled him out of the iceburg. He loves her the most of anyone on the planet. It does not align with his character, his values or beliefs that he’d think of her (or any partner) that way. He is so besotted with Katara for who she is it HURT me to read that part of your take. Aang simply would never. Look at how he looks at her!

What’s more is the unwavering respect and deference he shows Katara as his waterbending master - he recognises and loves her as the whole, complete, three dimensional, TALENTED POWERFUL INCREDIBLE WOMAN that she is. She is NEVER “just” a love interest for Aang. (But ALSO, do we respect Suki any less for being Sokka’s obvious love interest??? No. suki is written to be so badass that Sokka is HER love interest and I think Katara has equally badass energy but I digress).

Moving on!

OP made an excellent point that there would’ve been culturally different values between the two but I don’t think it would’ve been family that was the clashing point. Yes the airbenders value spirituality and enlightenment. But they lived together in massive communities! They supported and raised one another. Their community and culture was strong, and they were bonded in their spirituality! They value love, as well as enlightenment, peace, and the lives of all.

Now, again the points they made about the cultural divides within the Kataang family unit are valid, but also again I dislike how they chose to portray this in LoK. It would definitely be a struggle they faced as a couple. However I think they really missed an opportunity here with where they took it. Because they do at one point in the comics have Katara bring up the fact that their family will be a blend of two cultures, and she brings it up because Aang is trying so hard to bring balance back to the world by means of seperation.

They’ve known from the get go of being a couple that they’re going to have to navigate being a culturally blended family unit.

So I find it so shitty that they wrote it so that Kya got to learn the waterbending culture, Tenzin got Air and bumi got…nothing? It’s dangerously close to the way Disney does the “the girls are carbon copies of mum, and the boys are carbon copies of dad” thing (think Lady and the Tramp). It’s lazy. Especially when we had that “separation is an illusion” episode, AND things like Zuko learning different nation’s styles and applying them to his firebending, and Sokka learning an element of strategy or fighting from every nation.

So give us Kya using Airbending moves with her waterbending (maybe she invents the water scooter)! Give us Tenzin doing more grounded moves that Aunty Toph (or Lin, while they were together) taught him from earthbending.

There are much more creative ways to illustrate the bumps and troubles Kataang might have run into in trying to navigate incorporating equal parts of their cultures in their children and family unit. Even just smaller scale issues like food and meals - how do they figure out how to do mealstimes with Aang’s vegetarianism with Katara’s culturally significant Water Tribe meat dishes? And then even taking into account how picky little kids can be!

Give me a scene where they literally just ate moon pies for a week because toddler Kya would scream if you put anything else down in front of her.

Maybe Bumi demanded sea prunes over and over but Katara and Bumi are the only ones who like them, and Bumi bonds with his mother this way - they go on little one-on-one outings to water tribe restaurants in Republic City, searching for the most authentic sea prunes!

Kya maybe likes the water tribe fashions the most because it helps her connect with her namesake BUT Kya also has a playful sense of humour - not unlike Monk Gyatso - Aang sees how much she loved moon pies and teaches her to throw them with waterbending.

We know Tenzin was a calm, quiet, and possibly shy child. Maybe he loved to hole himself away learning crafts. Give me Tenzin learning to tattoo, Tenzin learning to carve (and carving his first glider - it crashes of course), but also Tenzin learning to carve water tribe adornments and necklaces. Katara tries at first but when she gets busy Sokka comes in and teaches Tenzin to break all the carving rules Katara has laid down (”it doesn’t need to be perfect my little pupil - let the creativity flow!”)

Tenzin may not be able to waterbend but that doesn’t mean he can’t learn other means of healing. As the littlest he spent a lot of time watching Katara work - she teaches him to tie splints, dress wounds, and yes deliver babies.

If you made it here I love you so much for reading. I love sharing my thoughts so HIGH FIVE YOU MADE IT, ur now my friend - the friendship is non-refundable sorry 😌😌

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lindorthedragonslayer · 4 years ago

Text

Aerith/Cloud’s Resolution Scene ✨

Normally, I like just reading other people’s thoughts on things, but since this scene, and Aerith herself are so tragically underappreciated, I decided to contribute to the conversation myself. :)

Warning: “there will be monsters.” (I.e. there will obviously be spoilers for FFVII Remake, but also the original game - based on my vague childhood memories of it, anyhow - Advent Children, and defs some Clerith bias shining through, so if that ain’t your cup of tea, please scroll away~)

This scene was one of my absolute FAVOURITES in the remake because - on top of it being both visually, and musically stunning, as well as amazingly well-acted - I felt like it showcased Aerith, and Cloud’s characters, and their dynamic SO incredibly well.

⁑ On Aerith ⁑

First, there’s Aerith. At the start of the scene, Aerith is her usual spirited self. When Cloud asks if she’s okay, she immediately reassures him, telling him that being back at Shinra was like “going back to [her] childhood home,” that it wasn’t "that bad,” even though that was far from the truth. Similarly when Cloud informs her that her “mom’s really worried, too,” Aerith, true to form, latches onto the chance to further lighten up the mood by teasing him about the unsaid sentiment that he was also worried about her (although this unexpectedly backfires on her).

Time, and again, it is implied that Remake!Aerith knows details that she shouldn’t, and the outcome of events that haven’t transpired yet (maybe the Whispers showed her glimpses of the future like they did with Cloud, and co.?). So, I believe that it is her awareness of her tragic fate paired with her own grief over suddenly losing her mom, Zack - and now Elmyra, and her home, too - that prompts her to deliver her hauntingly beautiful speech about cherishing the present moment, to express her heartfelt gratitude to Cloud for all the happiness he’d given her, and to say her iconic “you can’t fall in love with me” line. She knows perfectly well how devastating it is to suddenly lose someone precious to you, so she tries to find a way to both prepare Cloud for that seeming inevitability, and also prevent him from getting too attached to her, and experiencing the same profound sense of loss she has because of her.

I think it’s so sad, yet beautiful how Aerith’s loneliness is at the very heart of so many of her words, and actions. Aerith is so spirited, and lively, so full of life, because, to her, the girl who suffered so many great, and sudden losses, each, and every moment is “so precious, and fleeting.” Because of her early childhood, she learned to find, and appreciate the little joys in life, and the good in the people around her - even, and especially when neither were immediately apparent. This sad, pure girl, who is so touched by people simply seeking her out to be with her, works so hard to ensure, and protect the happiness, and lives of those precious to her, even if it comes at the cost of her own.

⁑ On Cloud ⁑

Then, there’s Cloud. In this scene, Cloud refuses to go along with Aerith’s charade: he calls her out on her “childhood home” lie; ignoring her teasing tone, he sincerely admits to being worried about her; and, he listens attentively to what she does honestly say, encouraging her to continue speaking, even when she’s uncharacteristically at a loss for words.

For the very first time in the story, the seemingly aloof Cloud actually takes a firm stance on something, and even fights for it. When Aerith tells him “not to fall in love with [her],” that his feelings for her “[aren’t] real,” Cloud responds with, “Don’t I get a say in all this?” With this curt response, Cloud actually asserts himself for a change. Cloud, the boy who, up until now, never really bothered to correct anyone’s (often misguided) impressions of him, who repeatedly chose to drop matters, and distance himself instead. Who later has an identity crisis, and doubts whether, or not “Cloud Strife,” and all his thoughts, feelings, and memories are truly real, and his, and not something Sephiroth simply created. Right here, and now, for the very first time, Cloud interjects, gets annoyed, and stands up for himself when someone tries to decide how he feels, and keep him away.

And then, Cloud, the boy who coped with social rejection all this time by setting himself apart, reacts to Aerith’s attempt to push him away by taking a page from Aerith’s own book: he holds his ground, and further inserts himself into her life. “I’m coming for you.” This quiet, but firm resolution of his marks the beginning of Cloud’s journey to becoming the hero, and person he always wanted to be, I think. Previously, Cloud simply, and begrudgingly went with the flow: while he helped Avalanche, Jessie, T*fa, and Aerith (because “he’s a merc,” and, a good guy at heart), he never offered his own input on matters, and always yielded to their decisions, even if he wasn’t too keen on it himself. However, taking Aerith back from Shinra was so immensely important to him; it was a cause he decided to fight for all on his own, regardless, and in spite of everyone’s (Aerith, Elmyra, T*fa, Barret’s) contrary stances on the matter, and a cause that he gradually started calling all of the shots for. By the end of the mission, and game, the others actually look to Cloud for direction on what to do next, cementing his role as the leader of their ragtag group.

⁑ On Cloud & Aerith/Clerith ⁑

Now what I’ve always loved about Aerith, and Cloud’s relationship with each other is that - whether you see it romantically, or platonically - their connection is based on an easy friendship that brought both of them so much happiness, comfort, courage, and strength. Their bond with each other wasn’t built on any epic, world-shattering event that brought them together, but rather on a thousand quiet, little moments that they chose to share together.

For Aerith, who was weighed down by so much sorrow, and unwanted responsibility, Cloud was someone who gave her so much to smile, and fight for. With Cloud, she was able to just let loose, and really live: being with him allowed her to be her true cheeky, mischievous, and energetic self without any restraints; to adventure in, and be part of the outside world she longed for without fear. At the same time, Cloud inspired her to be a little more open, and vulnerable, as well as to face her Cetra heritage head on in order to save the Planet that he, and all her loved ones live on - two huge shifts for her as someone accustomed to hiding behind a smile, and turning away from trouble.

Likewise, for Cloud, Aerith was someone who both accepted him for exactly who he was, while also inspiring him to be better. When presented with Cloud’s cold, and distant SOLDIER facade, Aerith wasn’t deterred in the slightest; in fact, she became even more determined to stick by his side, and get him to open up to her. Through her relentless teasing, silly antics, and steadfast friendliness, Aerith quickly broke down many of the walls Cloud built around himself, encouraging him to just be himself without any pretenses. After meeting Aerith, Cloud was inspired to do so many things he previously scoffed at, like taking a break, and being more actively involved with others. In Aerith’s company, Cloud was happy, and showed that he did actually care in his own awkward, clumsy way. However, Aerith didn’t “fix” Cloud with her love, nor did she make herself the centre of his universe: she simply stubbornly stayed by his side, which encouraged him to really appreciate, and rely on the people around him, work through his issues himself, and even save the Planet.

All in all, I believe that Aerith, and Cloud’s resolution scene perfectly captured every aspect of their relationship together. As usual, they’re initially shown directly across from each other, gazes locked, but choosing to close the distance between them. It’s a quiet moment where nothing particularly major, or dramatic happens - even the music is quiet, and gets quieter still at its climax. Yet, there’s so much love evident in every little moment, and gesture they make: they inspire honesty in each other, give each other the motivation to face another day, and once again make their desire to be together for just a little bit longer so heartbreakingly obvious. Furthermore, Cloud’s later claims about being someone who cherishes everything, and being okay because he isn’t alone anymore are so reminiscent, I think, of Aerith’s monologue here, proving that he really did take her words to heart.

Despite the game’s purposeful ambiguity in the romance department (lest they make multiple version of the same scene, or have Cloud come off as a player), it is still clear that, as friends, or lovers (this part is up to personal interpretation, and preferences), Cloud, and Aerith’s bond with one another is one that brought them so much happiness, and strength, making it one of the most precious ones they have. In a game that heavily highlights contrasts, Cloud, and Aerith are an example of how opposite personalities can complement each other so well, making it all the more beautiful, and tragic. That’s what I believe, anyway.

#final fantasy vii #aerith gainsborough #cloud strife #clerith #ffviir spoilers #games #text #blahblahblah #THIS IS SO NERDY OF ME TO WRITE A LITERAL ESSAY ON THEM #BUT I WAS INITIALLY REALLY EXCITED TO HEAR PEOPLE FANGIRL ABOUT AERITH + CLERITH #SINCE WHEN I WAS SMOL I DIDN'T GET TO EXPERIENCE THAT #AND IMAGINE MY DISAPPOINTMENT TO FIND THAT THERE'S SO LITTLE APPRECIATION FOR EITHER #TT^TT #I JUST LOVE THEM BOTH SO MUCH #AND THEY DESERVE EVERY HAPPINESS #AND EVEN THOUGH EVERYONE'S ENTITLED TO THEIR OWN OPINIONS #PEOPLE NEED TO LOVE THEM TOO #anyhow thank you for listening to my ted talk LMAO #if anyone actually reads all of this i'll be SUPER DUPER impressed

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lesbiansforboromir · 5 years ago

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Its been too long since I read the books and last time I saw the movies I was on denethor is a dick to my baby, let the man die. However, now I'm curious, since I remembered for instance that in the books he was devastated when he thought faramir died and your last reblog about that made me rethink my whole stance. Could you give me more positive denethor moments, or do I have to read the books again?

God I- I need so much for you all to understand how much I love asks like this, for PURELY selfish reasons, I just LOVE the idea of people like... doing what I do! Which is think about lotr and it’s characters and consider them in new angles and have fun with that! I feel connection and love in this chili’s tonight- ANYWAY.

To be clear, Denethor is one of my favourite characters, like JUST below Boromir in how much I love him and how furious I am with his portrayal in the films. I have a tag for him here that has a lot of good posts all about it. But positive moments for Denethor, yes ok! Lets start with my favourite quote from Denethor because it completely encompasses his- literally his ENTIRE book character;

In what is left, let all who fight the Enemy in their fashion be at one, and keep hope while they may, and after hope still the hardihood to die free.

Do you feel all the love and pride in his people and all the folk of middle earth who’re resisting this seemingly impossible threat? Even unto their inevitable end? Do you see the inherent belief that this is an unwinnable war, and yet how Denethor has remained Gondor’s greatest and most stalwart defender for all these years? GOD I do- ‘dying free’ is a VERY important sentiment that also puts a lot of his later, seemingly ‘mad’, actions into a much more understandable light. BUT I WILL TRY to not make this too much of a dissertation, god willing. SO! Onto Pippin’s swearing!

'Little service, no doubt, will so great a lord of Men think to find in a hobbit, a halfling from the northern Shire; yet such as it is, I will offer it, in payment of my debt.' Twitching aside his grey cloak, Pippin drew forth his small sword and laid it at Denethor's feet.

A pale smile, like a gleam of cold sun on a winter's evening, passed over the old man's face; but he bent his head and held out his hand, laying the shards of the horn aside. 'Give me the weapon!' he said. Pippin lifted it and presented the hilt to him. 'Whence came this?' said Denethor. 'Many, many years lie on it. Surely this is a blade wrought by our own kindred in the North in the deep past?'

'It came out of the mounds that lie on the borders of my country,' said Pippin. 'But only evil wights dwell there now, and I will not willingly tell more of them.'

'I see that strange tales are woven about you,' said Denethor, 'and once again it is shown that looks may belie the man – or the halfling. I accept your service. For you are not daunted by words; and you have courteous speech, strange though the sound of it may be to us in the South. And we shall have need of all folk of courtesy, be they great or small, in the days to come.’

The film really had no idea what to do with Pippin offering his service to Denethor as- well essentially an acknowledgement and an honouring of Boromir’s sacrifice for him. Because the Denethor in the film would have scorned it, but it’s an important plot point, so it’s just kinda in there awkwardly and uncomfortably. This is because Denethor genuinely appreciates Pippin’s gesture, his son died for this hobbit! But Pippin is fervent and honest and Denethor can tell! Denethor is grateful, he empathises! These are not traits film!denethor possessed, so we get the.... tomato... scene.... BUT ONWARDS, I consider this a positive scene, simply because Denethor and Gandalf’s rivalry in the books is just so much FUNNIER and interesting than in the films;

'And you, my Lord Mithrandir, shall come too, as and when you will. None shall hinder your coming to me at any time, save only in my brief hours of sleep. Let your wrath at an old man's folly run off and then return to my comfort!'

'Folly?' said Gandalf. 'Nay, my lord, when you are a dotard you will die. You can use even your grief as a cloak. Do you think that I do not understand your purpose in questioning for an hour one who knows the least, while I sit by?'

'If you understand it, then be content,' returned Denethor. 'Pride would be folly that disdained help and counsel at need; but you deal out such gifts according to your own designs. Yet the Lord of Gondor is not to be made the tool of other men's purposes, however worthy. And to him there is no purpose higher in the world as it now stands than the good of Gondor; and the rule of Gondor, my lord, is mine and no other man's, unless the king should come again.'

LIKE. IT’S FUNNY! Essentially Denethor’s like ‘oh ho I’m just an auld man dont be angry with me Gandy’ and Gandalf’s like ‘Denethor when you are ENFEEBLED by age you will DIE out of spite alone’ and Denethor’s like ‘OH FINE if you want to be that way, but you’re bloody annoying to deal with and I don’t TRUST you wholly so DEAL with it,’ And again we get Denethor’s like whole deal! Gondor is what he is here to defend! It’s his entire purpose in life! He doesn’t trust that Gandalf’s not going to use him for his own ends to the detriment of Gondor itself, which Gandalf LITERALLY admits he’d do in the next paragraph. Because he says ‘he’s the steward of everything, not just gondor’ which on the one hand is like, yeah, we get that, but you can understand Denethor’s perspective too. WHICH IS. GOOD CHARACTERISATION FOLKS!

'[Osgiliath] was 'It was a city,' said Beregond, 'the chief city of Gondor, of which this was only a fortress. For that is the ruin of Osgiliath on either side of Anduin, which our enemies took and burned long ago. Yet we won it back in the days of the youth of Denethor: not to dwell in, but to hold as an outpost, and to rebuild the bridge for the passage of our arms.a city,' said Beregond, 'the chief city of Gondor, of which this was only a fortress. For that is the ruin of Osgiliath on either side of Anduin, which our enemies took and burned long ago. Yet we won it back in the days of the youth of Denethor: not to dwell in, but to hold as an outpost, and to rebuild the bridge for the passage of our arms.’

This is just like a little thing but I think it’s just kinda important to emphasise that Denethor wasn’t just a politician, he bled heavily for Gondor’s safety too and the retaking of Osgiliath was an incredibly important victory that Denethor achieved for Gondor’s safety as a whole. Anyway SPEAKING of the tomato scene- god this really does entirely emphasise the difference between Film!Denethor and Book!Denethor;

‘Can you sing?'

Yes,' said Pippin. 'Well, yes, well enough for my own people. But we have no songs fit for great halls and evil times, lord. We seldom sing of anything more terrible than wind or rain. And most of my songs are about things that make us laugh; or about food and drink, of course.'

'And why should such songs be unfit for my halls, or for such hours as these? We who have lived long under the Shadow may surely listen to echoes from a land untroubled by it? Then we may feel that our vigil was not fruitless, though it may have been thankless.'

In the end Pipping doesn’t sing for him but like?? Look SEE LIKE. It’s not MEAN, Denethor is in general sardonic and kinda harsh and frustrating in tone but he’s not dismissive or uncharitable or heartless; he’s interested, he likes TALKING to Pippin, he likes to hear about the world! Songs about food and drink and weather are fine! Of course they have merit!

'Not – the Dark Lord?' cried Pippin, forgetting his place in his terror. Denethor laughed bitterly. 'Nay, not yet, Master Peregrin! He will not come save only to triumph over me when all is won. He uses others as his weapons. So do all great lords, if they are wise, Master Halfling. Or why should I sit here in my tower and think, and watch, and wait, spending even my sons? For I can still wield a brand.'

Do you hEAR the bitterness in these lines? How he has to SIT here and WAIT as he sends his loved ones to die- but he has too, he HAS to do this, it’s not new, he’s been sending his sons to their probably deaths for years, and god he wishes he could be a reckless man and just ride out himself again but there IS no one to step into his place if he should be lost and Gondor just can’t take that! IT’S cOMPELLING. And so... now we’ll end on the part you mentioned, which really is like... AGONISING, it’s heartbreaking, especially after Denethor’s manners and character up until this point, sharp, sardonic, dauntless, uncowed by ever new loss, every new defeat, Boromir’s death even did not crack him completely but now-

And as [Pippin] watched, it seemed to him that Denethor grew old before his eyes, as if something had snapped in his proud will, and his stern mind was overthrown. Grief maybe had wrought it, and remorse. He saw tears on that once tearless face, more unbearable than wrath.

'Do not weep, lord,' he stammered. 'Perhaps he will get well. Have you asked Gandalf?'

'Comfort me not with wizards!' said Denethor. 'The fool's hope has failed. The Enemy has found it, and now his power waxes; he sees our very thoughts, and all we do is ruinous.

'I sent my son forth, unthanked, unblessed, out into needless peril, and here he lies with poison in his veins. Nay, nay, whatever may now betide in war, my line too is ending, even the House of the Stewards has failed. Mean folk shall rule the last remnant of the Kings of Men, lurking in the hills until all are hounded out.'

Men came to the door crying for the Lord of the City. 'Nay, I will not come down,' he said. 'I must stay beside my son. He might still speak before the end. But that is near. Follow whom you will, even the Grey Fool, though his hope has failed. Here I stay.'

I’ll NEVER forgive the appropriation of the ‘my line is ending’ line, he doesn’t MEAN that he’s grieving the loss of his lineage, he’s grieving the loss of his WHOLE COUNTRY, of his people! As well as his son! And in this final moment with him his priorities of heart surface, where his people are banging desperately at his door, begging for their Lord to come to their aide, he refuses, because Faramir is far more important to him in this moment.

I said I wasn’t going to make this a dissertation but WHATEVER, there you are anon, hope it’s what you wanted than thANK YOU AGAIN for the ask :)

#denethor #tolkien #erran vs tolkien #chats #Anonymous

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letterboxd · 3 years ago

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Truffle Hunter.

As Pig snuffles its way up Letterboxd’s best of 2021 ranks, Mitchell Beaupre hunts down writer-director Michael Sarnoski for a chat about some of the finer creative points of his Nicolas Cage-starring meditation on cookery and grief.

In a time when audiences know too many specific plot details of films months before they’re even released, the idea of a surprise sensation feels like a fleeting memory. Yet that’s exactly how one could describe Pig, the debut feature from director Michael Sarnoski. With minimal pre-release buzz and no flashy festival premiere, Pig is a film whose status has been created through sheer quality alone.

This is a true word-of-mouth smash, hailed by critics as one of the best films of the year, as well as quickly earning itself a high placement on our Top 50 of 2021. Jacob Knight praises the film as “an existential rumination regarding how people find meaning in a mostly meaningless world”, while Muriel declares it “the most unexpectedly wholesome movie I’ve seen in forever”. Not bad for a first feature.

Written by Sarnoski, from a story he developed with co-producer Vanessa Block, Pig opens on Rob (Nicolas Cage), a loner isolated in the woods with his truffle pig. Rob makes his living selling truffles to the eager and ambitious Amir (Alex Wolff), but when two people break into Rob’s home and steal his animal companion, he must do whatever it takes to be reunited with his only friend.

A rough day deserves a decent vin rouge.

While that setup led many to give Sarnoski’s film the moniker “John Wick with a pig” when the trailer dropped, the story ends up charting a course away from genre thrills and towards something else entirely. Pig is an exploration of grief, loneliness and compassion, featuring one of the finest performances of Nicolas Cage’s illustrious career.

Raised in Milwaukee, Sarnoski and co-producer Block met in college before working together on the documentary short The Testimony, which focused on the largest rape tribunal in the history of the Democratic Republic of the Congo. That film made it onto the shortlist for the 2016 Oscars, putting the two of them on a path that would lead to their breakthrough opportunity with Pig.

Sarnoski spoke with us about the origins of Pig, the long-term impacts of loss in his own life, the joy of hand-cranked pasta and Bruce Springsteen.

Congratulations on the film! How has it felt seeing this outpouring of love coming for your first feature? Michael Sarnoski: It’s been amazing. Everyone who made this movie felt for themselves that it was special, and we all put a lot of care into it. We also knew that it was a risk, a strange film we figured would hit right for some people, but then plenty of others would think it was boring and weird. We’ve been very pleasantly surprised that it’s a small minority of people who feel that way.

What was the seed of the story that would eventually sprout to become Pig? I had this image in my head of an old man in the woods with his truffle pig. There was something sweet and tragic about that. Then I began asking questions about who this guy is and why he’s out there alone in the woods. What’s his backstory? It all evolved from there.

While the first act inhabits that “John Wick with a pig” space that people were perhaps expecting from the trailer, the story then takes a swerve and becomes a somber, thoughtful character study. Could you speak about navigating that unique arc with your storytelling? We never set out to try and subvert that John Wick sort of genre. We knew that we were playing with that lone-cowboy idea of a film and some of those tropes, but we never wanted to poke fun at that or switch people’s expectations in some sense by choosing Nic to star. We never wanted to “surprise” people by making a quiet Nic Cage movie. It was always just about these characters, what this story is, what we’re trying to explore. I think if we had tried to be subversive it would have come off as hokey.

Silence plays a key part in the film, as so much is being said in those spaces between the dialogue and action. How did you want to utilize the impact of saying more with silence? From early on, we always knew it was going to be a very silent film, and that followed all the way through the edit. Some of us wanted that opening to start out the way it’s done in the movie, where it’s totally silent and the music only comes in at the very end, while others were worried that people would get bored with it. The argument against that was that if they’re going to get bored with that, then they’re going to get bored with the rest of the movie. So, we might as well just lean into it, and let them know what it’s going to be.

From there we gauged how we wanted to approach the silence throughout. There’s some beautiful music in the film that Alexis Grapsas and Philip Klein did an incredible job with that allowed us to bring this beauty and splendor into the scenes. But there were also a lot of really quiet moments where we wanted the audience to be focused on the faces of the characters, and really be feeling the space and letting the sounds of the forest, or wherever we were, come across.

Nicolas Cage, his knife skills, and cinematographer Patrick Scola.

Along with the faces, you focus a lot on hands in the film. Whether it’s in scenes of violence or making food, there’s a real emphasis on what hands are capable of. Where did the inspiration for that come from? Nic was very into the idea of conveying artistry through your hands. He spent a lot of time with local chefs to try and get the vibe of how they moved and how they worked. He was always practicing knife skills in his room. I was constantly waiting for the AD to come up and tell me that we can’t use Nic today because he cut off a finger, but thankfully that never happened. Nic really sold that emphasis on the hands. Those shots could have felt empty if it wasn’t for him. I still am surprised watching some of the little hand choices he made.

I remember there was one shot where we didn’t get it on the day. So, we set it up with his stand-in, and just had him wearing his gloves. We all watched it, and it just wasn’t the same. Nic agreed, and so we reset the entire thing just to get that one shot with his hands in there instead. It was totally worth it. He’s an incredible actor, and it comes through every part of him.

Cage is an actor with an almost otherworldly mythos about him, which allows people to sometimes forget what a tremendous performer he’s always been. What was your experience in building a relationship with him, not just as an actor, but also as a human being? I only have positive things to say. That’s not just a gimmick. From the moment he read the script, he was interested, and he really responded to the character. He was committed to bringing the script to life, and was extremely respectful towards everyone on set. He had no reason to respect me. I’m a first-time director. He could have been a total diva. He could have been whatever he wanted to be, and we still would have paid him and been happy with his performance.

He was very kind, and maybe some of this came from the character, but he was also kind of somber and quiet in general on set. At the same time, he can also be very playful and sweet, even though he was trying to remain in the mood of the character. He set the tone, in a way, for the whole crew. A crew could easily look at a first time director and decide to just slack off and scrape by, because I wouldn’t have even known the difference. The fact that Nic treated me and the material with such respect really trickled down, and was so valuable to the film.

We shot the whole thing in twenty days, so if there had been any weak link with someone not doing their job or not being totally on top of it, we would have been screwed. I credit a lot of that to Nic, and him treating this with an incredible amount of professionalism. I think that’s where a big part of his long career comes from. He’s an incredible actor, but he also takes the art form seriously, treating it as both an artist and as this being his job, knowing that you have to do both in order to get what you need across.

Do you have a favorite Nicolas Cage performance? Other than Pig, of course. There are so many incredible ones. I really love Moonstruck. I saw that a couple of years ago, right before we officially cast him, when I was going through some of his ones that I hadn’t seen. Part of it I think is because I’m half-Italian, and I felt like it was showing me a side of my life that I never realized because my Italian family is on the east coast, and we moved out to Wisconsin when I was very young. I never got to be a part of that kind of thick Italian family, and seeing that on screen gave me a taste of what that would have been like. I loved him in that role. He was the perfect balance of sincere and sentimental, and also over the top when he needed to be.

Grub’s up.

Speaking of being Italian, Pig gets deep into the transformative power of food, and of the right meal. Has food always been an important part of your life? Definitely. I’ve never worked in restaurants. The closest thing was when I worked at a snack bar at a summer camp, which was very fun and also kind of a nightmare in its own way. I think most of the importance of food for me came from when my grandma lived with us. It was after my dad passed away, when I was a little kid, and she became this sort of old Italian cook in the house who was using food as this language of love and also as a sort of control. It had a lot wrapped up in it, this sense that we’re going to have family dinners to prove that everything is fine.

I think any Italian family is that way, but especially in that situation, having that presence come into the house when I was a kid, it made food quite charged for me. It was both a form of bonding and love, but also that control. That was very important to me. As I got older she taught me how to cook some things, and I became interested in that. I had a lot of friends who were great cooks and taught me how to do different things. I’m not an amazing cook, but I love cooking.

I love that act of making something that’s about to disappear. I think if you can be okay with that, and put a lot of time and care into that, it’s kind of a therapeutic thing to do. Accepting transience is a big part of cooking.

What’s your favorite dish to cook? I would say over the pandemic I really got into making lasagne. I had my grandma’s old hand-crank pasta maker, so I was enjoying making my own pasta and lasagne with that. I don’t know if I could pick one favorite dish, but that is definitely one that contributed quite a bit to putting on the Covid pounds.

Rob (Cage) and Amir (Alex Wolff) discuss their business relationship.

There’s a scene in the film where Rob and Amir go to a restaurant and Rob has a conversation with the chef there, who used to work for him, about the idea of losing our sense of identity when we give up on our dreams in order to fill this role that society expects of us. Is that something that you personally connected with? Yeah, people ask me a lot about what I think of the high-end cuisine world, and I have to say that I wasn’t trying to solely express that this world is garbage and phony. I was looking at it as another kind of art form. Any time you have an art form that combines someone’s personal passion with some sort of economy there are going to be conflicts to navigate. Whether you’re a painter, director, writer, whatever, those are going to be things you have to juggle. How true to yourself are you going to stay?

For myself, I’ve definitely found that when I try to focus on doing something that I care about, that’s kind of all I have control over and that’s what I should focus on. Pig was that for me. This isn’t the kind of script that you write where you’re expecting a big payday. It’s this weird movie that for some reason really means something to me.

The scene climaxes with Rob saying the line, “We don’t get a lot of things to really care about”. What about this movie exemplifies the things that you really care about in your life? It’s so many things, and even more things came from going through the process of actually making it and falling in love with Portland. It’s become even more than what it was initially intended to be. I mentioned earlier that my dad passed away when I was a kid, and the most personal aspect of the film for me was exploring that idea of what grief does to us long-term.

As I’ve gotten older I’ve been watching how my family members changed the way they interact with the world and built their perception of the world around some aspect of grief. It’s not those immediate effects of shock or sadness. It’s how those things ingrain into your worldview. I became much more conscious of how I was doing that in my own life. That was the deepest, most general thing that I was bringing to it, and that I was exploring personally through the film.

As far as specific things that I care about, I think I have all the classic things. I care about my family, and my friends. I care about the world, which is why this year has been so devastating. I don’t have one single pig. I think we all have a few different pigs in our lives.

Director Michael Sarnoski on the set of ‘Pig’.

Another scene that really stands out is the one in which Rob returns to his old home and sits with this young boy, having a conversation about a persimmon tree that used to be there. Talk to me about the significance of that moment for Rob. One of the things I love about that scene is that it seems so simple, kind of quiet and basic, but it’s getting into a lot of different things. I will say one thing about that scene. That was the first scene that we shot on the first day of filming. That kid was great, but filming with a child on your first day of your first feature was very much a moment of wondering what I had gotten myself into.

That scene does a few things. I won’t get into spoiler territory, but for starters he’s going back to his old house, so it’s his first attempt to really look at his past in the face, and to acknowledge that. I like that in that moment this is also one of the first times that we hear him speak romantically of food, because those things are very tethered to each other.

We get both the sense that there was a past, a personal path that he left behind, but intricately involved in that was how he interacted with food and his art. It’s the first time that we hear him acknowledge who he was in a way that’s okay. He tells the kid his name, and he’s acknowledging his identity that he’s been trying to hide from or ignore. Through doing that, it’s engaging with his passions and how that tethers everything together. I also thought it was cute explaining what persimmons were to a little kid.

I’ve got to ask you about the use of Bruce Springsteen’s ‘I’m On Fire’ in a very meaningful moment. What made that the perfect song choice for that scene? Obviously, who’s singing it is very meaningful. I liked that song, though, because it’s different from the sappy direction we could have gone with that moment. There’s something very passionate about ‘I’m On Fire’, of course, and it’s a pretty sexual song. It’s really charged, but it also has this kind of ethereal quality to it that’s seductive in a non-sexual way. It washes over you, and it feels very mystical. This sounds so “film talk”-y, but I liked that meeting of that transcendent, abstract feeling with that immediate sense of passion and love and obsession.

Finally, what’s the film that made you want to become a filmmaker? Probably Sam Raimi, his first Spider-Man movie. That was the first time I realized what directors do. I had a very strong association with Spider-Man growing up as a comic-book fan, and I was seeing how someone was filtering their own understanding of this character. Raimi coming from his horror background and being into the nitty gritty filmmaking with practical effects and everything, I got this understanding of how a director touches a film and shapes it.

Related content

Steve’s list of pigs in film

Melissa’s list of films featuring food, chefs, bakers, restaurants, cooking, hospitality, hotels, wineries, grocers

Rachel West discovers Nicolas Cage is her most-watched actor of all time

Letterboxd’s Official Top 50 of 2021—Jack Moulton’s list

Follow Mitchell on Letterboxd

‘Pig’ is currently in US cinemas via NEON, and available to buy/rent on digital.

#nicolas cage #pig #pig film #neon #neonrated #neon rated #nic cage #cooking films #cookery film #films about chefs #truffles #truffle pig #truffle hunter #letterboxd #filmmaker

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smarti-at-smogwarts · 4 years ago

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First Year Profile

Taking a page from the lovely @carewyncromwell who’s the blog that introduced me to HPHM and encouraged me to play.

While I’m still in year one [ im trying to catch up as fast as possible T-T] I wanted to jot some stuff down about my MC and maybe have ppl meet her.

There’s stuff missing but that will be added as I progress through the game.

[ Image ID close up of a girl with shoulder lenght brown hair, a round nose, and blue eyes. She’s smiling at the camera. End ID]

NAME | Marta Beatrice Venturi

NICKNAMES | Marti -Goes by that everywhere, actually doesn’t like her full name, and only gets called it when she’s in trouble-. Smarti [ Jacob called her this. Off limits] Munchkin [ her dad] Venturi. [ Snape and Merulla]

Pronouns | She/Her

ORIENTATION | Bi

[PERSONALITY] Marti is a bit capricious due to being the baby of her family and tends to want things to go her way. She’s a bit mischievous because of this and can be rather childish though also very playful and sweet for the same reason. She is also incredibly empathetic and always there for her friends, becoming very protective of them. She’s highly social and outgoing often known for befriending people at the drop of a hat. Despite this first impressions tend to stick to her and once she makes up her mind about you it can take a lot for her to change it. [ ie both Snape and Merula are already in a bad light for her after one meeting with each while both Flitwick and Hagrid are in a good light.]

She’s very protective of and tries to do right by those she considers friends and can be highly protective of them.

[Image ID; Marti standing between a girl with dark skin, ling black hair and glasses [ her friend Rowan] and a girl with short brown hair. The text reads under her ‘’get away from her’ End ID]

Jacob is her berserk button as she loves him dearly and still hasn’t let him go. Anyone talking badly about him instantly goes on her sh-t list and will cause her to lose her temper.

[Image ID- Marti looking angry as a text box below him reads ‘’expelling him was completely unfair; and it was just as wrong of him to run away without telling. End ID]

[BIOGRAPHY]

Marti is the third child of Abigail Rowle and George Venturi. Both purebloods. They had two boys before her, Jacob [ ten years older than Marti] and Edwin [ four years older than Marti]. Most of Marti’s early memories include her family either together or separately and are good ones. She was specially close to her oldest brother as he often babied her and had a soft spot for her.

There was a rough patch when Abigail and George after months of arguments and the relationship being rocky, separated. However, Marti was both too young and sheltered by both her brothers for it to affect her too much. Their father, a wizard world attorney, kept full custody of the three of them which Abigail was okay with.

Raising three kids was a handful for George and while he tried his best and the family was very loving [ with all three Venturi kids being unequivocally Daddy’s Girl/Boys] there were a lot of times when Jacob and even Edwin eventually picked up the slack. Being the baby, Marti was coddled and never wanted for much attention not in the very least because while Jacob tried to not have favorites between his siblings he undoubtedly had a soft spot for his baby sister.[ not that Edwin ever begrudged her this. ]

While Jacob went to Hogwarts when Marti was still really young [ which led to more than a few tantrums specially in his first year] he remained an important figure in her life and the three Venturi remained close, reuniting every break the school allowed even after Edwin joined his brother [ starting his Hogwarts career when Marti was six ]

Unfortunately this wasn’t to last. Jacob vanished during his sixth year which sent the small family into turmoil. Edwin, who was about to start his first year, became withdrawn and sulked on his own, closing himself off to everyone including his own family. George was distraught at losing his oldest son. His relationship with Abigail became strained since they separated amicably enough but the loss of a child led them to be unable to be in the same room without assigning blame. [ though Abby still keeps her visits with her children she just..doesn’t speak to their father.]

And Marti lost her big brother.

The family grieved and eventually seemed to move on though none of them have completely let Jacob go. George still blames himself and harbors a lot of feelings of failing his son. Edwin is hugely withdrawn and refuses to speak on the matter. Marti in particular refuses to let Jacob go or give up on him returning and refuses to believe the things said about him. Jacob was and still is her hero, she had him on a pedestal before he left and still wants him to come back. Something that puts her at odds with Edwin who wants to forget and move on.

A few years down the line, George married a muggle named Nora who herself had a magical child and a muggle one. Both Edwin and Marti took this as a sign things would get better and that the family could heal, and both were happy to have additions to the family.

However this also added to Marti’s feelings that she was the only one who still remembered and hadn’t given up on Jacob as Edwin befriended Nora’s magical daughter [ her being the same age as him and a Hufflefpuff and the two becoming best friends as well as siblings] and her father seemed to move on with the help of his new wife.

Because of this she even more stubbornly clung to Jacob, to the happy memories she had of him- which she seemed to be alone in as his name was tarnished- and the more the family tried to get her to give up on him coming back, the more she dug her heels in.

Now going to Hogwarts, Marti is excited to start at the school and learn new things. She’s also determined to use the things she learns to bring her brother home someday.

WAND | blackthorn wand with a unicorn hair core. It is eleven-and-a-quarter inches and described as "slightly springy and flexible.

Blackthorn, which is a very unusual wand wood, has the reputation, in my view well-merited, of being best suited to a warrior. This does not necessarily mean that its owner practices the Dark Arts (although it is undeniable that those who do so will enjoy the blackthorn wand’s prodigious power); one finds blackthorn wands among the Aurors as well as among the denizens of Azkaban. It is a curious feature of the blackthorn bush, which sports wicked thorns, that it produces its sweetest berries after the hardest frosts, and the wands made from this wood appear to need to pass through danger or hardship with their owners to become truly bonded. Given this condition, the blackthorn wand will become as loyal and faithful a servant as one could wish.

Unicorn hair generally produces the most consistent magic, and is least subject to fluctuations and blockages. Wands with unicorn cores are generally the most difficult to turn to the Dark Arts. They are the most faithful of all wands, and usually remain strongly attached to their first owner, irrespective of whether he or she was an accomplished witch or wizard.Minor disadvantages of unicorn hair are that they do not make the most powerful wands (although the wand wood may compensate) and that they are prone to melancholy if seriously mishandled, meaning that the hair may 'die' and need replacing.

HOUSE | Slytherin

[MISC]

♦ Marti loves animals especially those often not considered cute [ bats, reptiles, bugs] and has a pet snake she left at home as she didn’t see anything about snakes being acceptable pets in the letter. She plans to ask about it at some point in her first year. Her pet snake’s name is Mickey.

♦ Marti has 2 siblings in Hogwarts. Lizzie Mcdonald in Hufflepuff and Edwin Venturi in Ravenclaw. They don’t interact that much however due to the age gap [ they’ll graduate by the end of year 2] and the fact that they have different social groups [ well Marti and Lizzie do. Edwin’s more a withdrawn Loner] as well as being in different houses.

♦ This is also in part because of Marti’s own feelings of perceived exclusion. While they love her very much and don’t mean to do it, the unmistakable synergy between her elder siblings and the friendship that immediately sparked from it often leaves Marti feeling left out or looking from the outside. It makes her miss Jacob and cling to the idea of him coming back all the more since she remembers having a close relationship with him/being closer to him than to Edwin.

♦ The Venturi’s are very protective of each other[ and of their step siblings] specifically because of what happened to Jacob. It affected them both very badly though differently.

♦ The Venturi’s are considered blood traitors by most purebloods due to their lax views on Muggleborn wizards especially now that George married a muggle. [ their view of George was already low due to having separated from his pureblood wife].

♦ More to the point, all three Venturis [ George, Edwin and Marti ] are hugely defensive against anti-muggle and anti-muggle born sentiments due to Nora and her daughters being part of their family and are likely to react violently to it, especially if directed at them.

♦ Marti has a love for old rock bands due to Jacob often listening to them when she was little/when he was still around.

♦ She wore cat ear headbands as a kid and sometimes still wears them [ specially in first year second and third as she’s still a child but I can definitely see her wearing them for fun as a teenager]

♦ Marti has a list of spells she wants to learn specifically to prank Merula. And she might be trying to remember what pranks Edwin and Jacob used on each other before Jacob went missing.

♦ Marti has -undiagnosed ADHD- and RSD [ Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria] which itself is a sympton of ADHD. This often leads to her not focusing in long classes sometimes and spacing out a lot or thinking of other things in class.

♦ RSD in particular makes it hard for her to regulate emotions and makes her incredibly sensible to perceived [ or real] rejection. She sometimes ends up crying even when she doesn’t want to [ ie when Snape blamed her for Merula’s prank.] It’s specially going to be harder in her younger years.

♦ While this won’t happen for a long time, Marti’s first exposure to a boggart will reveal her biggest fear to be her family forgetting about all Jacob.

♦ Her mirror of erised by contrast is her whole family including Jacob with Edwin smiling like he used to and her dad not looking so worn and sad as he does ever since Jacob went missing.

FC Emily Rudd

Older

Friends In Game:

Rowan Khana

Ben Cooper

Penny Haywood

Chiara Lobosca

MC Friends:

Vixen Mcmahen ( @rosievixen ) Ryan O’Donnell, Cara O’Donnell, Sara O’Donnell, Conor O’Donnell ( @unfortunate-arrow) Finnick -Finn- Moran ( @ljbard121 ) Cato Reese ( @catohphm ) Henry Mclarnon ( @that-ravenpuff-witch ) Lyra Wilson ( @cursebreakerfarrier )

If you wanna talk about your MC being friends with Marti let me know

#HPHM #Jacobs Sibling #HPHM MC #MC Marti Venturi #HPHM Year 1

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evien-stark · 4 years ago

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✧I Need You✧ Chapter 173

It was terribly difficult to get a speech written for the press conference coming up in… three hours from now. You’d been lingering over it all morning. Rhodey had gotten the first phone call over it- one of appreciation for his efforts, of course, and to check on his status. And then to ask him if he’d like to make it official. Him agreeing set another feeling of relief in motion. Knowing you had so many good people taking your spots… that made the thought of stepping back easier. It was also terribly funny. The thought of appointing him as the Avengers’ military liaison. When the two of you had met… he’d been doing the same thing for Stark Industries. And round the circle went...

While you and Tony had gotten caught up in thoughts of retirement you knew this was far more likely to be a changing of positions. The Avengers still needed a lot of help, even if it wasn’t physically fighting battles. You still had your own title with the UN, forced on you or not. And after a catastrophe like Sokovia, it wouldn’t look good for anybody if you just walked away. You had to still do PR work for them, and they still needed to be funded. But that was a far cry from early morning phone calls and being on the frontlines of world-ending events.

...of course, you hoped no more of those would come knocking at earth’s door. But. The probability of them showing up from time to time was higher than them not. And. In the event that the Avengers needed to recall Team Iron… yes. Absolutely. You and Tony would never turn your backs so completely. How could you? That was what had started all of this, after all. Tony’s proclivity to make things right. His need to protect people. Sometimes even from things he’d created himself.

A knock came on your home-office door, and Tony opened the door, standing half in the room. You looked up from your computer screen. He was already dressed. Smartly. Sharply, as always. Three piece suit. Dark silver slacks and a fitted suit jacket, black waist coat and button up shirt, and a maroon tie. His dark plaid pocket square was a little askew, but you’d have time to fix it before the two of you took the stage downstairs in the press room.

You must have been staring, because his grin was a little knowing as he put one hand in his pocket and flicked his other arm up to make a show of checking his watch. “Thought I’d see how you were doing. It’s been an hour since you locked yourself in here. But. I can tell I’m distracting you.”

“Immensely.” Smiling at him. You’d been caught. There was no need to hide your appreciation for just how incredibly handsome he was. “Who dressed you today? They did a fantastic job.” You hung your arm over the back of your computer chair, now putting your roving gaze on full display.

“I dressed myself, thank you very much.” Hand to his chest for a moment, mocking the highest of offense. “Now- who picked out my suit- I can’t recall-”

“Someone who has an eye for what you look good in, no doubt.” Grinning then.

“Mn. She’s pretty good at it by now. Definitely has my unique flare locked down.” She being you. He moved out of the doorway to come closer to your desk, propping himself on the corner.

You made no attempts to hide your roving eyes yet again as you reached up to lightly pluck at one of the top buttons of his jacket. “I’ll have to send her a thank you card. You always look so good.”

He leaned in as you tilted your head up to meet him, your noses brushing. “I’ll pass the message along.” Sealing the sentiment with a lingering, sweet kiss. A little hum traveling from his lips to yours. This was dangerous, and the two of you could very well end up being late for the press conference. You also ran a high risk of ruining his nicely tailored and finely picked out suit. The thing that was getting the both of you in trouble. When you found the strength to part he threatened it all over again as he wore a small smirk on the edge of his lips. “Oh. Honey. Got a message for you- there seems to be a secret admirer for your talents of fashion-”

You silenced him with another kiss, one that half missed its mark as it was marred by his chuckling, but you put a stop to that pretty soon. Turning the laughter into some warm and breathy noise, replacing his ever-present sass with a more inherent need. It was hard to shut him up.

That was yet another one of your unique talents where he was concerned. You were sure he knew.

---

The pair of you were a stylish yet somewhat dour match at the front of the Stark Industries media room. You matched his suit with a fitted, long sleeved houndstooth dress, with thick steel gray trim at the hem. Your pops of dark red came in the form of ruby drop earrings and a heart-shaped necklace you were overly fond of.

The press had been buzzing for an hour waiting for your arrival. Most of your speech was not drafted, which was dangerous. But you couldn’t linger on it any longer. You had a base. The rest would have to come from somewhere deep inside you. ...just hopefully not too deep.

“The loss of life that occurred in Sokovia forty-eight hours ago is a devastation unlike anything the earth has seen. And the loss of land is something that had previously been unfathomable.” Statistics came up on your prompter that you read over, trying not to wane while you called out the known casualties. The known injured. Even while the Avengers had tried their best to save lives… it was never a zero sum. Never.

“The Stark Relief Foundation is on the scene currently, rehousing, rehoming- trying to find a place for every person that lost theirs in that terrible battle. In times like this it’s important to come together. It’s important to see through the fog of war and remember that we are one planet. We need to look out for each other. Take care of each other. That’s why I’m looking forward to discussions with the nations of the globe on a solution for the people of Sokovia. Sokovians didn’t have much, but I know they would have helped if it were anywhere else.”

It was as important to mention that Stark Industries (and the Avengers by extension) were running clean up. And not so much mention it was clean up of a mess that maybe had been potentially caused by them. It was important to call out the need to come together, and to bring leaders into the narrative, so that they would have to call. So that they would have to do something. Otherwise be labeled as the ones who failed to act during an international crisis. You knew you couldn’t count on anyone’s blind charity. Forcing them was the only option.

“The Sokovians have faced real horrors. It is going to take a lot of time to heal. While we are glad that the Avengers were there to assist them, I have to make special mention of Colonel James Rhodes. He is a highly decorated officer who has been a valuable asset to several missions as of late- this one especially. It’s why I’m pleased to appoint him our new military liaison. I know with his guidance and with his knowledge, we can build a much needed bridge between the authorities of the world and the Avengers- the Avengers who without fear and without hesitation charge into every catastrophe that calls upon them.”

This speech might have been better given by someone that wasn’t part of the Avengers. But there was no one else to give it. Even if there was- your team wasn’t one person after all- they didn’t want to. This seemed to always be something that you had to do. And you’d still have to do it. Even when you and Tony announced that you’d be stepping away. ...which wouldn’t be a public affair. That would be a team discussion. And maybe even less of a discussion and more just… telling each individual. When the time was right. Which would be sooner than you were comfortable with. But you had to just do it. Or else you might not ever.

---

The next day, in your brand new office at the brand new Avengers Facility, while you were busy wading through damage reports and expense reports and emails and email reports- ...okay it was getting a little ridiculous. Like it always did after a huge incident-

There came a hesitant knock at your door. And an even more hesitant man behind it. Clint, in fact. Who put his hands in his pockets and hung his head a little. “Do you have a minute?”

Already you knew what this was about. This bastard was going to do it before you. Talk about guts. You stopped your keystrokes. “Sure. What’s up?”

He shut the door behind him, only more confirmation of what was about to happen. And then he came to sit in front of your desk, putting his hands in front of him. Cloudy. Thinking. Thinking about how to- “You know. I rehearsed this a thousand times in my head. It was supposed to be really simple.” His smile was self deprecating. And a little sad.

Yours suddenly matched. “You’re leaving, huh?”

“That obvious?” He glanced up at you suddenly but his surprise faded quickly. “-yeah. Guess it would be.” To you, he meant. And meant nothing by it, either.

“You have kids. And another one on the way. Something I had no idea about. I can’t imagine how Laura does it.”

“She’s stronger than me, that’s for sure.”

“I wouldn’t doubt it.” Grinning a little wryly. He seemed to appreciate the humor. “You tell anyone else yet?”

“Nat knows.” Obviously she did. Nat knew everything about him. They were closer than you’d ever be with either of them. That was fine. “But. I wanted to come to you first.”

“Why me?” Not that it mattered. But really, you hadn’t considered yourself high on the list of people Clint would tell that he was leaving. At least not the first after Natasha.

He took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh as his head tilted. “Well… you kinda run things around here.” Part of you wanted to reject this. Wanted to also follow it up with not for long. But that wouldn’t even be true. “And. You look out for us. I know I haven’t said as much but. I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me. And for the team. I don’t think they appreciate it as much. How much you put yourself out there. So we don’t have to.”

Someone like Clint would be the one to openly admire the benefits that came with something like that. It was true. For someone who hid almost all of his private life. Someone who wanted nothing to do with the fame that came with being a superhero. Someone who just wanted to do what was right- ...and then not get caught holding the aftermath the way you had to-

His aforementioned appreciation was just that. And it was deep.

“Tony and I are used to it.” Deflection came as a natural reflex. Out of everyone on your team, you and Tony were the most used to being media darlings. Or being the ones everyone loved to hate. Either way. It was a life you knew.

“Doesn’t mean you had to. Doesn’t mean you had to do any of what you’re doing right now.”

You felt a little helpless as he looked at you. “Someone had to.”

“And we’re lucky it was you.”

You couldn’t recall a time Clint had ever been this candid with you. But, if he really was leaving, maybe this was the best time for it. To get out everything the two of you had never had the chance to. Your smile was small but you couldn’t help it. “Thanks, Clint. Will you at least send me some baby pictures?”

At this he laughed. “Sure. Why not? Maybe it’ll give Stark some ideas.”

Your hand came straight up. “Don’t start. Or I’ll rescind my blessing.”

“I’ll still leave.” He grinned as he stood.

“But it won’t be as nice as it just was.” You stood after him and offered your hand across the desk.

He considered it. For almost too long a time. But finally he gave you a shake. And right in the middle of it he gave you a more serious look. “You and Stark consider going down that road yet?” Apparently before Clint left, he needed to be sure of this.

“We’ve talked about it.” Not so much specifically having kids, but, about having a life. Which you were a few weeks out from attempting. And still not ready to tell anyone.

“Don’t talk for too long.” He held your hand still then. “Opportunities don’t come often.”

“No they don’t.” Agreeing with him. It certainly wasn’t now or never. But… That moment was getting awfully close.

---

Over the next handful of days, the Facility really started coming to life. Some of the team had gotten a little more settled in their personal private quarters. Damage Control also had their own host of barracks- which you weren’t sure how you felt about. The Avengers had never been about trying to recreate SHEILD. And the way they marched around campus wasn’t all that convincing that someone wasn’t pulling the strings while you had your back turned but…

You couldn’t control everything. You didn’t want to anymore, in fact. So you had to let that go. It helped to have experienced agents in the field, when you dispatched them. When you needed them. So. ...maybe it was a necessary evil. You tried hard not to think about it.

Instead you focused on your meeting with legal that afternoon, and promptly afterwards you dropped down to the science labs. Alight with excitement and activity. There was one person you were there to see specifically, and she seemed to be hosting a mini-lecture, talking strongly about things that went right over your head in concerns to her research. You politely waited for her to finish and clear her assistants out, and once she did-

“Helen, can I have a word with you?” You felt a little nervous, but had no inclination to show it.

That she even still wanted to be here after everything that had happened to her was a miracle. But… you suspected what you were offering- or about to- had a lot to do with it. “We’re running on borrowed time.”

“Don’t I know it.” Joking. But it seemed to miss its mark. She gave you a polite smile and nothing more. So you quickly moved on. Plopping a hefty folder down, you pushed it her way over the table. “We’re done drawing up the documents to merge Stark Industries and U-GIN. It’s less about us and more about you. We’d like to offer you a permanent position here. As head of bio-organic sciences for the Avengers.”

She made a play at not being so intrigued. It failed, but she probably had no idea. “Is that so? What are you offering?”

“Your own labs. Your own funding. Public backing. We just ask that when the Avengers need help you give it.” That was really more what this was about. Her tech had been instrumental in helping the team. In keeping some of them alive even. It was useful. And they needed it. Not everyone was a Super Soldier.

Opening the folder, she flipped through a few of the pages. She was an extremely smart woman, smarter than you would ever hope to be, but even you knew that telltale glaze of the eyes when faced with legalese. “What about housing?”

This- ...this you hadn’t considered. “Uh- it’s not in the official documents. But, if you want something here, we’d be happy to accommodate you.”

As suddenly as she’d opened it, she snapped the folder shut, putting her hand on top of it and looking directly at you. “I’ll be very straight with you. I need stability. If you offer that I’ll stay.”

Seeing as how you had nothing to lose by doing so, you nodded. “Sure. Tell me what you need.”

“I don’t want quarters here. I need a house. I have a son and… I’m sure you can imagine that life going back and forth from labs hasn’t been easy on him.” She softened then, and there was a sheen of guilt that ghosted her. Worried she was a bad mother, perhaps.

“I had no idea.”

“Not many people do. And I’d like to keep it that way, as well.”

You almost shrugged. But this was a little bit more important than a casual conversation. This was everything to her. You had money to throw around that no one else on the planet did. Sometimes that slipped by you. Terrible though it was. “Sure. A house. And confidentiality. We can provide all that.”

Hearing your agreement, and trusting you for that matter, she eased up. Her smile was a little more real. “Alright then. I’ll sign.”

“Great. Glad to hear it.” The meeting was over. So you thought you probably should leave. She’d hand in the documents to Pepper or somebody else who would then hand them to legal for processing- but- “What’s your son’s name?”

At this she really did brighten. It was easy to see- she loved her work. She loved being a scientist. But she loved him more. A feeling maybe one day you would know… “Amadeus. He’s twelve.”

“I bet he takes after you.”

Now she was grinning. “You have no idea.”

---

Tony had introduced you to your quarters that night. While you weren’t excited at the idea of living there, and clearly neither was he, it was still nice to have a home away from home away from… well, if the two of you could actually get it together enough to make an actual home… maybe that’s why it felt so bad. The penthouse suite of the Tower wasn’t supposed to be your home either. You didn’t want to get too attached to the lofty Facility living space that Tony had put aside for the two of you. And there was always the danger that you would.

It was why you didn’t want to decorate it too much but it needed a little bit more personality than what he’d given it. Which was fine. Tony wasn’t really a homemaker. He seemed to give you credit where it was due, though, over the next three days around other more important things like meetings and press junkets of goodwill and hope, you did decorate it. Make it more cozy. And the night you decided you were done enough, he actually slept.

And so did you.

For a little while, at least. At five in the morning your mind stirred. It would have been so nice to sleep like a normal person. You were getting there. Close. Things were wrapping. You just had a few more personal things to do. But your head was clearer than it had been in a long time, and while the sun was lifting, you decided to go for a run around the campus. It meant leaving Tony asleep alone in that giant bed, but you did stop to admire his deeply sleeping form. Not held by terrors or worries. If only he could be like that all the time.

The run was nice. Nobody else seemed to be up yet. But as you stopped just outside the living area again after a good five mile tour, breathing hard, hands on your knees, you spied Steve sitting outside on the patio. Alone. Cup of coffee wisping away. This was probably a sign. And no matter how hard this was going to be, it was now or never.

You rounded the area and came over to the table, he seemed like he was a million miles away until you got close enough. He then looked up and his smile was warm. “Good morning.”

“Good morning.” Huffed out a little, still gathering yourself up. “Mind if I sit with you?”

He made a broad gesture with a sweep of his arm. “Please. Sit. You want some coffee?”

Water would have been better, but while he was offering- “If you don’t mind making me a cup.”

“Not at all.” Just like that he got up and went back into the kitchen. It left you sitting there, thinking about just how you were going to do this. How you were supposed to. What was the right way to break the news. When he came back he set down not only a cup but a shaker of sugar and a little carton of half and half. “-I don’t know how you take it. I should have asked.”

“That’s okay. Thanks for making me some.” This was nice but it was also stilted. He probably sensed it. And even after you prepped your cup, the two of you sat in silence that was less than amicable. Finally you decided you just had to rip the bandaid off and get it over with. “So.”

“So.” He was gazing at you. Just short of intensely. Almost like he was expecting you to talk about something.

Your smile back was weak at best and brief. A flash and then gone as you looked down into your coffee. “So… uh. Tony and I…” The thought trailed off, not sure what to say even after all that thinking.

“Are pregnant?” He tried to finish what you were trying to get out.

And it completely stunned you. Your head whipped up- even stranger still- getting the sense of a small well of hopefulness from him. “No- no.” Denial was quick and easy. “What?” Your head reeled a little further back, almost in offense. “What? No. Why would you say that?” He looked completely caught. Eyes a little wide. Suddenly very, very nervous. “Steve why would you say that?” Your words were quick and clipped.

He was very close to grimacing. “I- ...I don’t know what to say right now that won’t get me in more trouble.”

“Do I look pregnant to you?”

Quickly he shoved his hand out, palm up. “No! You look great! You look- you look how you always look!”

“Then why would you say that?” You weren’t sure why but you found yourself a little disturbed that he’d just say something like that.

“I don’t know- you-” He sighed, shoulders dropping from their tense position as he hung his head with a little shake. “I don’t know. You’ve seemed happier, I guess. These past couple of weeks. Despite everything that’s happened. And…” Another long breath pushed out of him and he looked up at you again. “Let’s be honest. You kinda seem like you’re getting your affairs together. At least that’s how it’s felt.”

Had you made it that obvious? “Oh.” Now you felt terrible. “Yeah I… I guess I have been.” Letting him down finally from that anxious high. A little too soon actually, so you threw a look back at him. “Well I’m not pregnant.”

“Okay. I won’t make that mistake again.” Grinning, testing the waters.

Your grin back was not as full. “But. Tony and I… we’ve been thinking of taking some time away.” The way his heart just sank killed you. He tried not to show it. But you felt its quick drop. It propelled you into overcorrection. “Just- just for a little while.”

But he shook his head, and spoke through his sad smile. “Not for a little while.”

“No. Not for a little while.” Echoing him, unable to look at him then. Guilty. “We want a lot of time. We want-” It sucked, that it hurt saying this. It shouldn’t have. You wanted a life with Tony. Why was that such a terrible thing to say?

“If anyone deserves it, it’s you and Tony.” He was sure about this. A steady presence after all that initial stumbling.

“Thanks.” But it all felt hopeless.

He tipped his head a little. “Are you asking for my blessing?” Joking, just a little. It wasn’t really that funny. This exchange was familiar to both of you now.

You gave a shrug and then decided to stop meandering, looking down. “I can’t leave unless you’re okay with it. And I don’t want that to back you into a corner- tell me- honestly- if you’re not-”

“I’m okay with it.” He cut you off with a strength you did not possess right now. And then surprised you again as he set a hand over yours on the table. The way he said your name was strange yet familiar at the same time and you looked up at him. “We’ll be okay.”

But it was like he’d stuck a knife into you with that. Like he’d actually denied you. It hurt all the same. “Will you?” You asking this seemed to stun him, for some reason. His gaze went a little more than foggy. Distant. Until eventually his eyes left yours. Something tangled inside him, though he was holding back. Knowing exactly who he was sitting with. His guilt poked you like a hot knife. And soon you worried… you worried you weren’t actually going to be able to leave. He didn’t want you to go. But it seemed he was feeling guilty- ashamed, too- of thinking of asking you to stay. Even for a little while longer. “Steve? You can talk to me. About anything. Whatever it is you wanna say. Just say it.”

Getting his attention back finally he breathed a noise out, dropping his head in a nod. “Look… we’ve been through a lot. And… I’m gonna miss you.”

“Come on.” Turning your hand over in his, giving him a wiggle. “I have an office upstairs- and a suite. Tony has labs here and projects he’s excited about. You’ll still see me. I’m not disappearing completely. I still have to do press for the Avengers. And do payroll and all that. I’m not leaving here. I’m not abandoning you guys.”

“Good. I’m glad to hear it. But that’s not what I meant.”

Steve meant… he’d miss fighting alongside you. He’d miss getting mission statements. Getting debriefings. Hell, even fighting with you about what direction was best. It wasn’t always fun, it was never easy. But… it was the basis for a lot of your relationship. And he would miss having you in that part of his life.

The two of you were staring at each other. Before you knew it, a few tears had escaped down past the line of your lashes. “Yeah. I’m gonna miss you, too.”

It was hard to tell who got up first. But the end result was still the same. He’d pulled you into a tight hug. He was letting you go. He was telling you this was okay. It was okay to leave. To start a life. He was letting you know he would take over. Without question. He would do his best. He would lead the Avengers. He would fight the fights.

...and you’d miss each other.

---

Aside from all the usual work you had to put in after a crisis, nothing happened immediately after your talk with Steve for the next few days. It was why you suspected a storm was on its way. Especially if you kept putting off having a similar talk with the rest of your teammates. The one with Steve had been so emotionally taxing, it had put you off wanting to do it again.

But the universe perhaps for once was on your side. And it forced your teammates to you instead. All at once.

You’d just come out of a long meeting hosted at one of the conference rooms in the Facility. Once the air had cleared and everyone had left the area, you double checked your schedule. Clear for the rest of the night. It would be a nice time to reconvene with Tony. See if he’d done any similar talking yet-

“Lady.” Thor called your attention from down the hall, heavy boots bringing him to you in just a few steps. “I would like to speak with you.”

For one reason or another, anxiety flared tight in your chest. But you had no good reason not to. Feelings aside. “Sure, Thor. Why don’t we take a walk?”

“I’d like that.” His smile tried to ease your fears. It missed its mark. Outside in the dying light of the sun the air was muggy and not at all as refreshing as you’d hoped. Still, you stuck your hands into your pockets and waited for him to say whatever it was he had to say. He didn’t take too long. Only waiting until you were far enough out of earshot of the compound. “Before the Vision was born, I visited a holy place called the Water of Sights.”

Oh. So he was jumping right in. You had little time to react to this new information. “Is that on earth?” Or had he traveled somewhere else?

“It is everywhere. In every realm. The Water of Sights is inhabited by a people called the Norns. They see what is to come.”

Even though you really didn’t understand too much about this, you nodded. “That’s where you had your vision, right? About JARVIS- or- err- Vision- and the Infinity Stones?”

“Yes.” He said this so resolutely it startled you momentarily. But much more so when he stopped walking. You turned, a little in front of him, but still close. His eyes watched yours. Deeply. “I saw you.”

“Me?” Hand raising to not only gesture at yourself, but to press at your chest just a little. That anxiety was starting to get the better of you. You felt very tight. “Why me?”

“That is what I would like to find out. In my vision I saw the Infinity Stones. Four of them.”

“Four? I thought you said there were six?”

“I saw the four I believe we know of. That we have had contact with, even if brief.” Really, though, what it sounded like was he was pitching you this information in the hopes that you knew something he didn’t. So he could tie it all together.

But not only did you know nothing about this. You also wanted nothing to do with it. You started shaking your head. It was too little too late now, though. You couldn’t deny this. Thor had seen you in a vision about the stones. All you could do was plead ignorant. Lie. ...it didn’t seem right. “My powers- whatever they are- come from a stone.”

“Are you certain?”

“Mostly?” Offering this with a raise of both your hands and a tight uptilt of your voice. “I don’t know. We’re still trying to figure it out. Nobody else knows. Tony had been doing some experiments with Bruce- having to do with gamma signatures and… stuff that’s way beyond me. But. They said that’s what they think. And if that’s what they think-”

“Then the probability that it is correct is very high.” Thor’s gaze went a little foggy as he nodded. “But you know nothing of which stone? Or what happened?”

You crossed your arms. “No. I’m sorry I can’t help you. When I know more you’re now the first I’ll check in with.” Aside Tony, of course.

His attention returned fully to you and his smile was sure as he reached out to lay a hand on your shoulder. “I appreciate that, Lady. I mean to leave soon, to travel the realms and find out more about the stones. But. Whatever it meant- you in my vision- I believe it can only mean good things.”

Your nose wrinkled and reluctance was easy. “Why?”

“For the same reason that I trust the Vision. He possesses the Mind Stone, and means to do good with it. If you have anything to do with another stone, it will only help us. You are one of the most trustworthy people I know. And I know your heart is good.”

His optimism was a little hard to take in all at once. You decided to focus on something else, “Wait- I mean- thank you- but… Tony thinks I was experimented on- or that I had some interaction with a stone when I was younger. Kind of like Wanda. And Pietro. But you didn’t see them. I don’t understand.”

“Nor do I. But I’m hoping my travels will reveal more information.”

This was an unsatisfactory answer. In fact it wasn’t an answer at all. And really now you felt worse. Thor was putting a lot on you all at once about these stones, not that he was doing it on purpose you were sure. But you really didn’t want anything to do with them. You’d almost mostly decided as long as Tony never brought it up again… maybe you’d just never talk about it. But now Thor was telling you he saw you in a vision-

“Lady, everything will be alright. You have my word.”

Your spiraling must have been a little too obvious. You forced a smile. “Sure.” Not really agreeing with or even believing him. “Can I just ask you that we keep this between us?”

He nodded. “It was why I wanted to speak with you alone.”

You were undecided if this was better or worse. That Thor’s instinct was to not let anyone else know, too. ...probably worse. ---

The talk with Thor had left you a little frazzled and worse for wear. Your immediate instinct was to find Tony. So you went back to the compound. And while your heart was already in the suite, your attention was stolen by two fingers on the ground level training floor. You could have easily passed them by, but- moving beyond the catwalk, one of them spotted you.

And then in the next second Pietro was up there with you. “You’re a hard woman to get a hold of, you know that?” He leaned over the balcony, grinning.

“Just busy.” Your nerves were too shot for this encounter. But it didn’t seem like you had much of a choice. “How are you feeling?” The least you could do was check in on him. Maybe he was right. Maybe you were extremely unavailable. Little did he know that was about to get worse.

His head dropped, hands clasped together. “Fine.” Answer short and clipped. The air between you was tense. You thought about excusing yourself. “As far as I can tell, that’s because of you. I’ve asked around. No one seems to know what I’m talking about.”

You found yourself a little too upset very quickly and you put a hand up to him to get his attention. When he looked at you, “What happened between us? Whatever I did for you? It needs to stay between us. Okay?”

Turning the other way on the railing, he splayed his arms out, brows knit. “Why?”

“Because I don’t know what I did.” You were being a little harsh, but you just didn’t have it in you to be gentle right now. Even if he seemed like he needed that. “All I know is you’re alive. That’s what’s important, right?”

“I shouldn’t be alive.” That careless sarcastic facade reduced to ashes in mere seconds. And… for a moment, behind your eyes, you saw Tony. Collapsing into a chair in the lab. Looking at you with pained eyes. You had to shake yourself free. “I shouldn’t be but…” Pietro continued and you tried to yank yourself out of that memory. He put a hand on his chest. “But I am. And I’m trying to figure out what comes next.”

Wanda had stopped what she was doing and was now standing just below. Listening in, no doubt. You took a deep breath. “Are you two staying? With the Avengers?”

He shrugged. “Seems like we are.”

“Then you need to work really hard. The world is going to be looking at you two. Sokovians who fought in its war. Who now stand for something greater. The media is already trying to take advantage of you for headlines.”

The roll of his eyes- his carelessness- it bugged the hell out of you. “I don’t care about all that.”

You got very close to putting your finger right into his chest as you pointed at him. “Well you have to. If you’re going to be part of this team you have to care. You and your sister. And they’ll look after you. They’ll protect you.”

He seemed annoyed. “Who says we need protecting? We got by on our own. We can again.”

“The world has seen you. They know you now. You are enhanced individuals. Not only that, but you’re now only under the protection of the Avengers. An American organization. You’re going to have to get your citizenship-”

Wanda had stepped onto the catwalk. And she was interrupting you. “We are citizens of Sokovia.”

You were about to flare. Burn them both up to a crisp. You didn’t want to deal with this right now. But a new energy had entered. Where Wanda had joined on the left, you heard pointed footsteps on your right. Tony had appeared. You didn’t know where from or how he knew to come get you. You just knew that you were grateful. He started waving his arm about. “Look. That’s great and all. I get it. The patriotic flare. But Sokovia is gone. And someone needs to take you in.” When he finally came to a stop you were seconds from sagging against him. His loving brush across your back kept you sane in that moment.

Both of them stood together, almost opposite you and Tony purposefully. Wanda narrowed her eyes. “You cannot ask us to abandon our home.”

Tony put a hand up. “Not abandon. Nobody said abandon. But, let’s get real here for a second. You’re enhanced. You’re on American soil. You don’t get smart about this, the President is gonna roll up here and make examples out of you. The guy’s been pretty twitchy these days. Don’t count on his mercy. He’s not like us.”

“Not like you. Yet it sounds like you aren’t giving us another choice. So how are you different? One prison over another.” Wanda really seemed vehement about this. You weren’t sure why.

So you tried to find some footing on her level. Every attempt was made to keep your tone gentle. “You fought. You understood the notion of helping people. Of righting what went wrong. You saw what the Avengers stood for. You see the work that’s going in now. We are not your enemies. We want what’s best for you. Sokovia is gone. I know nobody is more devastated about that than you two. All we can do now is rebuild. This team wants you as part of their family. Not as prisoners.”

Pietro touched her hand with his and she seemed to soften. If only a little. He then looked up at the both of you. “If we agree… what does that mean?”

You and Tony exchanged glances, and he fielded the question. “Nobody’s gonna babysit you. You wanna be here, you put in the time. Really. Citizenship first. I’d expedite but- given you’re the center of a media storm right now- might be good to do it the old fashioned way. It’s gonna take a while, so you gotta get on it. Other than that… show up, when somebody needs you. Fight the good fight. Doesn’t get simpler than that.”

The two of them looked at each other. You were sure a million words passed between them. When they were finished, Wanda turned back. She seemed a little more subdued. And finally, “We will stay.”

Tony’s relief that the two of you wouldn’t have to fight them anymore soaked you through. “Great. Glad to hear it.”

And that was that. ---

While it would have been nice to just go back to your suite and maybe go to bed or decompress, you found Natasha waiting at your door. Today was really just going to keep going. Maybe that was on you. If you’d only spaced all these little talks out, they wouldn’t have piled together like this. She stopped in the middle of a knock when she heard you approaching, and when she turned you noted the big bottle she had in her hand. “Was wondering where you two were.” Grinning just a little. “Hoping I hadn’t missed you already.”

Ah. So. That’s what this was about. Tony opened the door first and you went after him, motioning for her to come in. “You know, huh?”

Her laugh was short. “These guys aren’t the best at keeping secrets. Honestly, my feelings are just hurt because you didn’t tell me first. Out of everyone here, I’ve known you both the longest.” She seemed like she was in a fantastic mood, but some of that was a little bit fake.

She wanted something to do. Something to focus on. Bruce was gone. They’d been getting close. It wasn’t easy for anyone, but you expected she was having a tough time with it, too. You pulled a couple wine glasses out of the cabinet in the kitchen. “Well the only one I told was Steve. So unless Tony has been blabbing all over campus…” Turning back to look at the two of them, Tony looked guilty and Nat looked amused. “Ah. I see.” Turning away again.

Tony started fumbling. “Some things just slip out.”

Natasha wedged the cork out of the bottle as you came over and set glasses down. “Sure. Exciting times, it’s understandable.” You poured a fair amount into three glasses- she’d picked a rather expensive red wine. Always classy, that Natasha. “You gonna miss it?”

You sat down opposite the two of them at the kitchen island. “Like I told Steve- we’ll still be here, you know? You know that more than anyone. Someone’s gotta do paperwork for the Avengers.”

Tony sipped heavily at his glass and then shook his head. “Mn. Not me. You people don’t pay me enough.”

Nat laughed a little. “You pay us.”

“Don’t I know it.” He sipped even more. Exaggerated, putting on a show for the humor of it all.

You shook your head. “You don’t know it, actually.” Caught, he hid a smile behind another sip.

Once the mirth died down, Natasha looked at Tony first and then you. “So. What’s the plan? House in the hills? Big extravagant wedding? Kids? White picket fence?”

Tony made a face. “I think you’re thinking of someone else.”

Instead of letting them pick on Steve, you spoke up quickly. “We don’t know yet. We just… know that it’s time.”

Nat smiled again. “Yeah. That’s more than fair, I think.” She was incredibly sad, but hiding it well.

It was kind of getting to you, though. You didn’t want her to be sad. Not over the two of you- and not over Bruce, either. But you could only alleviate one of those things. “Really. You’ll probably see us all the time.”

Tony seemed offended by the notion. “Well- not all the time-” Almost like he was realizing you two had a different perception of what starting a life looked like. But one look at him and he seemed to smarten up. Because he cast a sideways glance at Nat next. And- then- yes it clicked. “But. You know. Often enough.”

Nat also seemed to get it and grinned. “You guys don’t feel bad for me, do you?”

You put your chin in your palm. “No. Not at all.” Then you took a slow slip of your wine. “What’s your retirement plan look like?”

At this she really did laugh. Something genuine. “Retirement? I don’t think so.”

Tony leaned in on her side. “Why not? If we can do it, anyone can, I think.”

Nat lifted a brow to him. “The question is can you do it?” Perhaps a little disbelieving. Which was valid. You and Tony were workaholics, after all…

“Won’t know until we try.” You lifted your glass. “How about a toast. To trying.”

Not a toast for goodbyes, which was why you guessed she’d brought the wine in the first place. She softened, looking at you. Then she lifted her glass. “To trying.”

The soft clink of all three of your glasses made a nest in your memories. It kind of felt like the end cap you’d been looking for this entire time. A small moment, but by no means insignificant.

And then, after a long sip, you broke the quietness. Feeling better now enough to joke. “Do you know when I tried to tell Steve, he asked if I was pregnant?”

Tony looked shocked, Nat did too- but in an extremely tickled way that led to her stifled laughter. “No he did not. Tell me he didn’t.”

“He did.”

A little gossiping never hurt anyone.

---

It was the day before Tony’s birthday. May 28th. You knew because you had been counting it all down. Almost down to the minute in the last week. The two of you had gone back to the city, finding it easier to do pressers and meetings closer to that homebase, rather than keep going to and from the Facility. The early morning meeting that day had been that the ribbon cutting of the Facility was finalized. The Avengers had a new home. New teammates that they were excited to introduce to the public they so lovingly served over the next few months. And when asked where the Facility was… well. That was private. The Avengers deserved privacy, too, after all.

May 28th was also the day you and Tony were officially stepping away. Everyone knew at that point. It was no longer a secret. It was out there. It was real. And you couldn’t wait to start.

The drive back up from the city to the Facility was a couple of hours. Tony drove a little faster than he should have, more excited than you, in fact, to close everything out. He’d only been asking for this very thing for the last few years. You couldn’t hold it against him. His hand had found yours as soon as the two of you had gotten in the car- maybe a little bit before that, showing off for the media.

And still the two of you were clutching to each other as you stepped out onto the Facility grounds that afternoon. After approaching the main compound you cast a look up his way. “You’re sure you’re ready to do this?” Grinning just a little.

His own wide smile was very telling. “Me? Yeah. More than. What about you? It’s gettin’ a little late to turn back.”

“Guess I’ll just have to go with it then, won’t I?” You were teasing, but saying this seemed to make him just a little unsure. Something you quickly eased away as you put a hand to his chest, leaning up on tiptoe to press a light kiss to his lips. He melted. Immediately. And you sensed he was seconds away from telling you to get back in the car and just send a note saying goodbye. When you tried to break, he followed you, so much so that you had to actually put a finger to his lips. “We still have to make some rounds.”

“Mn.” Mumbling against your skin. “How many?” Whatever number you gave him it was going to be too high.

A presence standing a few feet back from you caught your attention, and you half turned to see JARVIS standing there. Waiting. As if you two had a scheduled appointment. Tony’s gaze followed and then when he looked back at you, a small touch of understanding passed between the both of you. To ease him, you gave him just one more small kiss. And then, “I’ll meet you when I’m finished. I know Thor’s leaving, too. We’ll all say goodbye at the same time.”

He just nodded. “Don’t be late.” His hands went into his pockets, and even as you turned and walked away, you felt him watching after you.

JARVIS tilted his head upon your approach, his eyes glancing briefly at Tony. But when you got near enough he put his full attention on you. “It seems the time has come. You and Tony are leaving.”

The past few weeks it had turned from an open secret to people actually knowing. Yet somehow still it was strange. To just have it out there. “Is that okay with you?”

“With me?” It was a rare treat, to see JARVIS surprised about anything- whether in this body or as a disembodied voice watching over your lives. “What have I to do with it?”

“Everything.” You smiled up at him. “You’ve looked after Tony and I for so long. And I know everything is still fresh and new. It’s going to be… strange. Not having you around. Having you here.”

His expression grew contemplative and eventually he nodded. “Yes, I agree. But. I feel there is something enjoyable to new beginnings.” Rolling off him there was just the faintest sense of blue. He didn’t want you to go. But he wouldn’t say as much. He even threw his chances at doing so away when he gave you a little smile. “You two have talked about this for quite some time. Far longer than this. You deserve it.”

Your shoulders came up in a pronounced shrug. “I don’t know about deserve-”

“I do.” His hand came out, fingers gentle as he touched over your arm. You stood very still. Just watching him. “For everything you and Tony have been through. Everything you have seen. Everything you have endured… and everything yet to come… enjoy this. Please. You’ve more than earned it.” His words were busy seeping deep into you- and it took you a little too long to answer. So he grasped you just a little tighter, “I will be alright.”

That was the root of the issue. He knew it. He knew that’s what you were really worried about. You didn’t want to abandon him. This was all so new for him. And now you and Tony were leaving, too. “Promise?” It was almost sort of selfish, asking this of him.

His smile then was one of admiration. And no less of love. “I promise.”

You made the first move, reaching up to wrap your arms around him. Squeezing him tight. It was strangely rewarding. When he hugged you back just as hard.

---

It took you a little while searching the compounds, but you found your three favorite confidants roaming the eastern outer wing, shoulder-to-shoulder-to-shoulder with each other. Though they would have met you coming up the other way, you were alight with sudden nervous energy. It was starting to feel like now or never. As Thor, Tony, and Steve approached, you smiled at them. “You boys having a rousing discussion about something important?”

Tony reached his hand out, putting it on your shoulder. “Terribly. I need your opinion. Vision. He’s not- he’s not human, right?”

This blindsided you. “Uh- I guess- technically- no? Why?”

Steve snapped with a point afterwards at Thor. “Ahah. See? It doesn’t count.” You were worried what you’d agreed to. They were all in a fantastic mood it seemed.

Tony shook his head, putting his arm around you. “No. It’s not a person lifting the hammer.”

“Right. It’s different rules for us.”

Oh. ...were they serious? You nudged Tony just a little. “What’s the matter? Egos bruised a little?” You cast a look up Thor’s way although he was extremely amused. Clearly not upset by the talk at hand. “You gonna let them go on like this?”

“It’s alright, Lady. As I’ve already said. If he can wield the hammer, he can keep the Mind Stone.” -ah, that was a little bit of a different discussion than the men worrying about who was more worthy. “It’s safe with the Vision. And these days safe is in short supply.”

The four of you took up walking down the rest of the hall. You couldn’t help yourself. “Don’t say that. Please. Or else we’ll be here a few more weeks.”

Tony raised his free hand in a sweeping wave. “Absolutely not. We’re safe. He said it. No takesy-backseys.”

Steve spoke from your other side. “Let me just say this- if you put the hammer in an elevator…”

A sharp and quick chuckle came from Tony. “Elevator would still go up. We can test that theory.”

You shook your head, feigning exasperation. “You two really aren’t gonna let this go, huh?”

Looking over at you Steve raised both his brows, “Now- see- the elevator isn’t worthy. That’s my point. But it’ll still go up.”

There was another stinging edge you wanted to put in- men and their egos- but Thor’s laughter stopped you. He reached out, laying one of those heavy hands on Tony’s shoulder, giving him a small shake. “You know, I’m going to miss these talks of ours.”

Tony grinned at him. “Not if you don’t leave.”

Raising a finger, you had to ask, “Doesn’t Asgard have better communication tech? We need to have cellphones. Hell. Even pagers would be better than no contact.”

After a slow blink, Thor asked, “What is a pager?” Steve seemed equally interested.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Please. Let’s not step back. I can figure interstellar communication tech out. Give me a month.” A month of working. Of Thor staying here. And… the two of you not actually leaving to go on your own, too.

Something Thor understood very quickly. “Ah. Lady would not be too pleased with that, I fear. You will have to figure it out on your own time.” Your smile was gratitude enough, and the three of you followed him as he finally exited the hall to go onto the lawn. “The Mind Stone is the fourth of the Infinity Stones to show up in the last few years. That’s not a coincidence. Someone has been playing an intricate game and has made pawns of us. But once all the pieces are in position…”

This was… this was not how you wanted a send off to go. He was speaking so darkly. Surmising about the future. And it didn’t sound great. Tony offered his usual sassy levity. “Triple Yahtzee?”

The mood had turned. Steve put his hands on his belt. “You think you can find out what’s coming?” This was work. It was duty.

Thor nodded. “I do.” But he eased the mood by breaking with a smile. Lifting his hand, he gave Tony a small pat to the chest. “Besides this one? There’s nothing that can’t be explained.” He stepped further back and the intent was clear. While he gave the group a nod, you raised your hand in a small wave. And while he lifted his hammer towards the sky- you got lucky. And he offered you a small wave in return.

Right before he summoned that ridiculous rainbow lighting. And disappeared in the next flash. Leaving behind a burned patterned ring in your freshly laid and cut grass.

Tony’s annoyance hit the mark first. “That man has no regard for lawn maintenance.”

You just sighed. “I’ll send him a bill when he’s here next time.”

“Yeah. And he’ll pay it with money we give him. Paying ourselves. What a scheme.” Reaching into his pocket he pulled his keys free with a little jangle, and then once he had his fob in hand, he called his car over. “I will miss him, though.”

“Me, too.” Echoing the sentiment easily. Thor often came and went whenever it suited him. But that didn't mean you liked him any less, or were any less attached.

That fancy sports car made its way down the drive, and you and Tony went over to it. Steve followed at a lingering distance. The two of you looked at him, and Tony smiled. “Don’t tell me. You have the big we’ll miss you card that I’ve been asking for. I’m impressed. Where’ve you been hiding it?”

Affectionately you rolled your eyes. “Oh please say you do. I don’t want to hear him whining about it.”

Steve’s smile was soft. Something bittersweet. “I will miss the both of you. Even if I didn’t bring a card.”

The quipping mood seemed to die rather quick, and Tony nodded slowly. “Yeah. Well. ...it’s time for us to tap out. Barton’s kinda making us look bad. And…” He didn’t know how to say it exactly. Maybe it was his present audience. Tony had never had trouble explaining his desires about this to you.

You twined your fingers with his, but kept your eyes on Steve. “We want a life.” Saying it just the way it was. As plainly as could be. You felt Tony looking at you, so you glanced up at him. “Together.” His smile then wrapped a warmth around you.

Steve interrupted your gazing. “Hopefully a simple one.”

Tony looked back at him. “You’ll get there one day.”

You couldn’t help your grin. “Sharon’s welcome to come by any time, you know. Have you talked to her lately?”

And this seemed to ruin his mood completely. He gave a heavy shrug and looked away. “She hasn’t answered my calls in weeks.” You wanted to offer maybe she’s just busy- you didn’t want this to be the thing that made him give up. But he kept talking. “I don’t know anymore. Family… stability…” He looked up at you and Tony again. “The guy who wanted all that went in the ice seventy-five years ago. I think someone else came out.”

This broke your heart. Completely. To hear him say this. Yet despite the way he was talking, there was the burgeoning hopefulness welling up inside him. Maybe Tony had been right. Maybe this was the life Steve wanted. He seemed to be leaning that way, too. With a little nudge, Tony got you around the other side of the car, and he opened the door for you. Though before you moved to sit, the two of you looked at Steve one last time. Tony was the one to ask. “You alright?”

Steve just smiled at the both of you. “Yeah. I’m home.”

---

The drive away was quiet. This wasn’t forever. You still worked for the Avengers. And like you’d told everyone else that you’d said it to, the both of you would still be around. Maybe not immediately, though. You thought perhaps a vacation was in order. A true celebration to kicking off this strange idea that the two of you could be on your own. Live a life.

Your hand reached over to take his. Almost a little possessively. Tony Stark was yours. For now… for now the earth needed to back off. Stop laying claim to his genius. His efforts. His heroism. You wanted him. You needed him.

You wanted to be with him. And finally… finally just live.

His smile caught you sideways, and you felt like you might melt right onto the floor. He was clearly thinking the same thing as you, with a look like that. So warm and intense. So full of that deep love. You had to put a stop to it. Or you might have to pull over. “What do you wanna do for your birthday?”

Tomorrow. Tomorrow was his birthday. He could do anything now. He was free. What did Tony Stark want to do?

“Let’s find a house.”

At this point you’d started smiling so hard it hurt. “A house, huh?”

“Plot of land. House. Whatever. I want the present I’ve been asking for for years. As long as you’re ready to give it to me.”

Shifting over you laid your lips on his cheek, felt the stretch there as his smile got the better of him. Your murmur was careful, but sweet. “I’m ready.”

#Tony Stark #Tony Stark x Reader #INY Chapter One Hundred Seventy Three

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tksfandomhellhole · 5 years ago

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totally didn't just give up on the tumblr app and boot up my laptop just to post this

Fandom: Apex Legends (Video Games) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Mirage | Elliott Witt Summary:

Mirage is his own biggest fan, because he knows no one else will be.

Mostly an introspective/character piece I did a few weeks back for Mirage and lowkey a plea for buff (which is finally happening!!) Caustic is technically there as well.

Mirage would be elated if you told him that you'd find his picture if you looked up "Self-absorbed" in the dictionary. The idea of negative press doesn't exist to him.

Or at least that's what he tries to make it seem like.

So it would come as a surprise to most that perhaps the most egotistical and self-absorbed of the Legends does not check the ratings or read the comments on any forums about the games.

In fact, aside from hanging fanart on the walls, he keeps any fan letters in a box under his bed only for days where he's at his worst.

(He tends to have a lot of those)

Because the reality is, Mirage is his own biggest fan.

If he wasn't, who else would be? He's certain it's no one.

Growing up the youngest of four boys, it was easy for Elliott to internalize a lot of things that his brothers didn't really mean.

One of those things was that being the youngest made him the weakest.

When his brothers went off to fight in the Frontier War they told him he had the very important job of staying here and watching over their mom. He knew it was just a way to make him feel better about not being able to fight the good fight. That once again he was being excluded because he was the youngest.

It didn't really make him feel that much better when the war was still going on and he was sitting at home feeling useless.

And it definitely didn't make him feel any better when they were reported MIA once the war ended. That now he'd never get the chance to prove himself. That he had stayed at home, useless, while his brothers had fought and lost their lives.

Elliott hates being useless.

Unfortunate that his curse of uselessness seems to have followed him into the games, the one place where he thought he could finally prove himself.

Most of his teammates wouldn't guess it, but Mirage actually brings his 110% to every game.

Problem is, his 110% is not even 70% of some of his more skilled teammates.

And when everyone besides you brings something valuable to the table, you have to hide your inadequacies behind self-deprecation and humor.

Today he's the jump master and the pressure to not make a shit landing might already be getting to him a little. "Just a thought, we could land here." He throws out, trying to gauge his teammates' reactions to the spot. Annnnd dead silence. Great. He takes their silence as confirmation and launches anyways.

"Follow the leader! Or don't- do whatever, as long as we win."

Of course, suddenly his teammates find some other spot far more interesting than the one he pinged, and take that as invitation to silently break off.

He lands on his own and loots as quickly as possible. By some stroke of luck, it's not an active spot, and he gets the drop on an enemy Lifeline.

"Nobody had your back, huh? Hate when that happens." He tells her, irony not lost on him.

He loots her stuff as quickly as possible and drops out, hoping to avoid any smoke from her teammates.

"I'm down!" He hears Wraith say over the comm lines. He takes a look at his map and finds she's none too close to him.

But what is Mirage, if not at least a good teammate, even at the cost of biting off way more than he can chew?

"Uhhh, okay, don't panic, I'm coming to save you." he says with what feels like is becoming his trademark uncertainty.

He makes it all of thirty yards before the squad from earlier runs up on him, and two of them against two of him doesn't work out in his favor. "Bad news, I'm down!" He says over the comm line, using the few extra seconds his knockdown cloak buys him to inch his way into a corner out of sight. Another squad joins the fray, and the first squad ignores him in favor of not dying. He watches the firefight go down suddenly regretting his choice of words earlier. He'd much rather his team all be in one place right now.

To his relief, he can see on the map that Caustic seems to have made his way towards Wraith's now banner and recovers it.

He's not too optimistic about his own outlook though. Caustic is not the fastest legend and there's still a sizeable distance between them.

There's also the fact that Caustic has no real reason to come recover him anyways.

Mirage isn't the worst shooter in the game, but he's no Bangalore. And he's no Pathfinder, no Crypto, no Gibraltar- hell even Revenant at least deploys a death totem that he doesn't care who uses.

No he doesn't do any of the things that everyone else does. He's just another- or well several- pretty faces for people to shoot at.

And he tries, he really does. He keeps an eye on everyone's shields and weapons, keeps an eye out for useful equipment, revives and respawns teammates as soon as possible, but deep down he knows it isn't good enough. There's no advantage to teaming with him. And if there's no advantage, it means anyone stuck with him is at a disadvantage.

When he first joined the Apex Games, the last thing he was worried about was the other people. He was used to looking out for himself- he had already learned the hard way that he was the only person who'd care about what happened to him outside of his mother. So he outfitted himself with his holo-tech and did his best to make a name for himself in the games. He didn't realize at the time how integral teamwork would become, and how lacking that in turn made him.

No matter which way you flip it, all he is good for is eating bullets.

He wants to improve his holograms in some way, but he's no Wattson, and he didn't inherit any of his mother's genius. So instead he tinkers with an old holo-suit every weekend trying to figure out a way to make the modifications he wants a reality. Instead he jokes about how bad he is at this while putting in extra hours at the range whenever possible. Instead he enters combat with the confidence of a seasoned pro and none of the skill to back it up.

Self-absorbed, self-serving, and insufficient. Well aren't I just the greatest person to have on the team? Mirage thinks loathingly.

Maybe it's more fitting if he dies here alone, nothing but fakes to back him- the biggest fake of them all- up. Maybe he was wrong to think he could really be a Legend, much less a champion.

As his eyes begin to cloud over, he's ready for death's cold embrace yet again.

Instead, someone's shoes are in front of him now, and a muffled sigh of discontent is heard as a hand on his shoulder pushes him backwards gently and he's suddenly jabbed.

He really doesn't know when Caustic got here, but he expresses his thanks as Caustic pulls him to his feet.

"Your gratitude is acknowledged, let us move now before the ring comes in." The remnants of the earlier fight are still here in the form of half looted deathboxes, and he has to scour through some of those for some heals and ammo before they move on.

It's looking like the respawn beacon they were heading for won't be in the next ring, unfortunately for Wraith, so they cut their losses and head to the center.

They encounter another two or three squads, and one rambunctious Octane along the way, Mirage continuously finding himself downed in increasingly ludicrous ways.

"I've been observing... I hate to be the first person to break it to you, but I dont think you were really made for these kinds of games, Witt." Caustic confesses, while reviving Mirage for the 4th time.

He just sighs. "Yeah... yea, I know."

"So then why do you do it? Why the masochistic endeavor of placing yourself in an environment where you are the weakest link?"

"Wow, ok, little harsh there." He says, pride hurting more than the injection site of the syringe. "I just... want someone to remember me. And I guess I thought, 'What better way to be remembered than dying in the most glorious bloodsport of our generation?"

"A foolish sentiment. Life is insignificant; why not accept your fate?"

"Listen, I don't have to explain myself to you." Mirage says, a little defensive, and more than a little annoyed.

"Have it your way. Your incredible knack for narrowly defying death has provided me an insurmountable amount of data. So much to notate..."

"Glad to be of service." Mirage mutters bitterly.

Mirage does feel a little stupid when he compares his reasoning to other people's. It's not noble or some part of a larger plan. He isn't searching for answers. He isn't doing it because he has to. He isn't even being straight about it and just acting out of boredom like Octane or Revenant.

He's just worried that once everyone has forgotten him it'll be like he never existed at all.

His mom has already started forgetting... who will be left when she's gone?

It's the one thing that truly terrifies him.

So he keeps going on, even though he's the weakest link.

He keeps going on even if he's the biggest joke amongst the legends.

He keeps going on, even if everyone else is laughing at him and not with him.

Because as long as they're laughing he knows they see him.

Really, he's more concerned about what's gonna happen once they stop finding him funny.

No respawn beacon will ever be able to save him then.

---

They don't win the game.

He wakes up alone in the med ward, common procedure for the squads upon elimination from the game.

He heads back to his room, not bothering to check the results, congratulate the champions, or talk to any of the other legends.

No one stops him.

He sits on the floor next to his bed and pulls out the box from underneath, taking out a letter at random.

The words start to blur about a paragraph in, and he puts it back once he realizes his tears are just drenching it entirely at this point.

He's ready to go home.

But there's nothing left for him to go back too.

#apex legends #apex legends fanfic #mirage #fanfic #im incapable of creating content that doesnt have angst you have been warned

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d-issent · 5 years ago

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‘Dissent’ – Rough plot outline. Chapters 1, 2, 3 and 4.

Sodor is a supposed ‘safe haven’ where things are a lot better than the rest of the world, after a terrible disease strikes the planet and wipes out a staggering and concerning percentage of the human race, there are very few safe parts of the planet left. At a loss as to what to do, people from all over the world finally put aside any differences and set out to both recover from the damage the disease had caused, and find a way to keep the world running and operational while the human race is given a chance to recover.

The solution? Make machines with sentience, to carry out each and every job that humanity now finds itself quite unable to do, since there are so few of them left.

‘Dissent’ was a work of fiction intending to focus on the rules of robotics, and how, perhaps out of desperation on the part of humans, those rules end up twisted and sometimes completely broken.

It was, simply; a ‘humanised’ and dark take on Thomas the Tank Engine, if you can even call that simple. I wasn’t intending for the story to be a particularly long one, or to be one that was taken seriously, but I believe I made a bit of a mistake in thinking that I could make a whole comic depicting the story. But hopefully with this rough plot outline, I can at least tell the story I intended to tell, maybe one day I’ll have the time and the resources to pick up this story again, but for now I hope this will suffice for anybody who was left disappointed.

1. Who on Earth was Smudger?

The story of Dissent happens in two parts, one for the build up to the main climax, and the second to gradually come down from that climax. I’ll be popping the first four chapters into this post, and carrying on in another post, so I’m not giving you guys literal walls here.

The story focuses largely on Duke’s neck of the woods, the Mid Sodor Railway, but in the era before Stuart/Peter Sam and Falcon/Sir Handel showed up; mainly it was going to focus on the turbulent and painful relationship between Duke, Stanley(NG) and perhaps the most elusive character in the whole story; Smudger.

‘Dissent’ begins much like the ‘Sleeping Beauty’ story of canon begins; with a team of rescuers setting out to find the legendary ‘Duke’, an engine built for the Duke of Sodor, who I imagine was quite a kindly man, who’s character and morals Duke emulated quite a lot, or at least tried to emulate.

I remember deciding that the reason Duke why was stored away when humanity really needed every single engine it could get it hands on – was because he was an older model – as time went on and as humanity got better and better at making these sentient machines, Duke would have eventually been considered a very early model, still completely functional, but a little cumbersome compared to newer, modern models. I believe that the main reason for his rescue was the sentimental value attached to him, the Duke of Sodor was no doubt a very important man to the people of Sodor in such trying times.

Again, much like ‘Sleeping Beauty’, the rescuers find Duke after one of their party falls through the roof of his shed, they light his fire in order for him to wake up and regain the ability to talk, and soon explain to him who they are and why they’re here.

As the story goes, Duke is returned to the Skarloey railway, where he is first reunited with Stuart and Falcon, now named Peter Sam and Sir Handel.

Duke has quite a lot of trouble with these name changes, the two younger engines put it down to him being old and having “so much to remember already!” but Duke’s memory issues play quite a big role in the first part of ‘Dissent’.

All seems well and good, until Duke falls asleep (as if he hadn’t got enough in his shed.) and wakes up to find that two new engines have returned home from the day’s work; the two oldest on the railway, Rheneas and Skarloey, the latter of which strikes up a conversation.

Skarloey talks a lot, he’s hasty to introduce himself and welcome Duke to the railway, also to make a passing comment on how “It’s quite nice to have someone our age around here; we’ve had quite a ride with the younger engines, haven’t we Rheneas?”

Rheneas makes a point to keep to himself until now, so Duke – half asleep still – probably hasn’t focused on the other engine as of yet. But when he does, something very large, and very unpleasant stirs in his mind. Groggy as he is, he scrambles up from his chair and grasps Rheneas’ hands in his.

“I haven’t seen you in decades, Smudger!”

There’s silence.

Skarloey is the first to break it, though he doesn’t sound quite as chipper as before; which is to be expected since there’s an excitable stranger yelling at his best friend. He gently prises Duke off of Rheneas with a calm explanation; “Duke? This is Rheneas, our number 2. I don’t think either of us have ever met you before, perhaps… You’re mistaking him for some other engine?”

Rheneas is understandably shaken up, but he gladly accepts the apology from Duke, he’s an old engine himself and he’s probably seen weirder shit in all of his time on Sodor. Duke stays subdued for the rest of the evening, even after the rest of the engines finish up work, and even after Peter Sam and Sir Handel do their best to make him feel at home, Duke’s mind is stuck on one, disturbing question.

“Who on earth was ‘Smudger’?”

2. The Old Warrior.

There’s a brief time skip of about three weeks I think I decided, and the next scene starts out with Duke dreaming a confusing set of dreams.

It’s the same series of dreams he’s been having ever since he arrived at the Skarloey railway. He’s back in the sheds at Mid Sodor, he’s not alone in the room however, there’s another engine in the shed, fiddling about with a phonograph sitting on a small wooden table. His paint job definitely looks green to Duke, but when he crosses the room to greet his fellow engine, it always turns out to be Rheneas, looking incredibly confused…

Duke wakes to utter bedlam in the Skarloey sheds, rock n’ roll rider Duncan won’t shut up about something; a new engine coming to the railway? Damn, fair dos. Duncan’s friend and possibly also his part-time counsellor, Rusty explains to Duke that Duncan is upset about a ‘ghost engine’ coming to work on the Skarloey railway, an engine who was found lurking about an old mine. Duncan is convinced that the engine is some demonic entity, but – as usual – all it takes is a few words from Rusty to get him to pipe down.

The so-called ‘demonic’ engine is also known as the Old Warrior, though – like in canon – his name is Bertram, and nobody quite knows how he even got to the mines in the first place. Mister Percival – who has managed to escape the disease that has ravaged humanity somehow– explains to the engines that Bertram will be joining them to assist with the workload, since he really doesn’t have anywhere to go. Duke chats idly with a concerned Peter Sam about the state of Duke’s boiler – which is giving him quite a considerable amount of trouble, so considerable in fact that it’s now become pretty difficult for him to do the same work as the others. As is always the case with Thomas the Tank Engine, there’s “no money to repair him” so Duke has to make do with a shoddy ass boiler.

As the day goes on, and the sun starts going down, Bertram arrives, and the first thing he does besides let Mister Percival welcome him, is give Duke the filthiest look he can muster, so filthy in fact that it takes Peter Sam and Sir Handel aback, the latter worriedly asks;

“Have you met him before, Granpuff? It looks like he recognises you.”

Duke denies any knowledge of Bertram, but still chooses to give him a wide birth until that evening, when everyone is back inside the sheds, and he kind of can’t steer clear of him any longer. Duncan however is still doing his very best to stay the hell away from Bertram, but the latter is a little preoccupied with talking to Rheneas and Skarloey, mainly about his time in the mines, and how he got his nickname, “The Old Warrior.”

Duke – in spite of himself – snorts a little at this title, which of course pisses Bertram RIGHT off. The two have a little mini stand off in the sheds, with Bertram telling the old man to do one, and Duke telling him to “watch your tongue young’un, I’m very important to this railway.”

However, throughout the argument, Duke’s memory jolts again, and for a second he’s standing back in the sheds on Mid Sodor, arguing with someone, he can’t make out the engine’s face, but their fists are clenched and they’re yelling fit to burst.

The argument eventually ends with Bertram storming out of the sheds, and Duncan slyly commenting; “Oy, lads, I’ve changed my mind. I like him.”

3. Rain, rain, go away.

The following day, Duke is left alone in the sheds because of his boiler, and because of the rain PISSING down. Everybody else complains loudly about having to go out in it, but they’re all young-ish and in perfect working order so they all leave. Duke is left alone with nothing but his thoughts of Bertram after saying a quick goodbye to Peter Sam and Sir Handel, but those thoughts are quickly interrupted by Bertram himself as the Old Warrior comes crashing through the shed doors, soaking wet, and demanding to be given a towel to dry himself off with; he’s panicked and almost deranged.

Duke, still salty but generally being a kindly soul, makes sure to help Bertram dry himself off, all the while giving him breathing exercises, telling him to empty his mind – kinda useless shit – but it helps to calm Bertram down, and soon the latter is completely dry. He’s embarrassed, but he begrudgingly explains himself to Duke.

“I don’t like water. I can take rain, but when it’s lashing down like this, I can’t stand it. It suffocates me, I can’t see where I’m going and I can feel the stuff seeping into the grate on my back, even if I’ve closed it. I hate it, and don’t think I’m about to tell you why; it’s personal.”

Duke doesn’t ask, he’s not about to repeat last night after all, and soon enough Bertram relaxes, and Duke finds him to be oddly agreeable. Bertram quietly strikes up a conversation about how and why Duke was found, and the two talk for a little while, however at some point Duke mentions his weird ass dreams, and Bertram’s interest is immediately piqued. The Old Warrior asks Duke if there was anything he had forgotten, and of course Duke insists that his memory is fine, but he offers to ‘humour’ Bertram, and asks him what he would have him do if he had in fact forgotten something.

Bertram ponders if Duke had left anything of importance behind in his shed back on Mid Sodor. It’s an oddly specific question, but trust me, it isn’t just specific by pure chance, Bertram clearly knows something, but Duke’s mind really isn’t in a position to think about it in depth. Instead, he ponders back to his old shed, and soon realises that there were a few things he had forgotten to ask the rescuers to bring up to Skarloey; a picture of his Grace the Duke of Sodor, a few books, and a little, unexciting black box that he kept on the bottom shelf next to his books.

Duke is completely unaware as to why his brain has singled out that particular box, but Bertram immediately pounces on it, demanding that Duke go and get it immediately. Duke reluctantly agrees, mainly on the basis that if his brain coughed that box up out of everything else he had owned on Mid Sodor, it must be important.

Soon, the pair reach a bit of a truce, and apologies are exchanged about the previous night, they carry on talking until the rain stops, and Bertram is able to go back out and resume his work.

He doesn’t, though, preferring instead to sit with Duke.

4. Miss Cora.

New character oh boy.

A woman is trying to come into the Skarloey Railway, she’s visiting from her usual residence, which is quite a long way out of town. She’s been stopped at a checkpoint and is having her ID scrutinised, she’s incredibly annoyed at this, and the fact that they’re checking her luggage is also souring her temper. She demands to be let through faster, but the people checking her insist that they need to take all necessary precautions to make sure that the virus that put down so much of humanity isn’t on her in any way.

As they do this, she begrudgingly gives her reason as to why she’s visiting; the current head of the Sodor Railway, Sir Topham Hatt II, is apparently ‘not long for this world’, and he intends to make her the next controller, as her family and his family have been close for decades. The men are a little suspicious as to why Sir Topham Hatt is choosing her instead of his son, but she shuts them down; “His son is otherwise occupied. Why are you so startled at this, gentlemen? Is it because I am a woman?”

Which, shuts them up pretty quickly.

Soon enough, she’s through to head up to the Skarloey Railway, and she thinks briefly that business can wait, she’s seen the news… She has an old friend to visit.

Back up at the railway itself, Peter Sam and Sir Handel have volunteered to go and get the items from Duke’s shed for him. The latter protests weakly, suggesting that he should go instead, until Sir Handel tells him to shut up.

“Listen, Granpuff, I can’t find no way to say this politely; you’re old. The trek back to Mid Sodor is long and tedious, plus everything’s overgrown… Why’d you think the guys who found you ended up having to fall on you? It’s dangerous up there.”

Duke eventually agrees to let the two go, with warnings to be very, very careful along the way, and soon they depart, leaving Duke alone in the shed once again to enjoy some peace and quiet, until Bertram barges in yet again, he’s trying to make it seem like he’s not terrified, but he’s doing a really bad job of it. He informs Duke that there’s a woman outside who wants to see him, and had he been given the chance he would’ve warned Duke against talking to her, but the mystery woman pushes her way in regardless, completely ignoring Bertram.

She sets her suitcases down, and she beams widely at the old engine. Duke – despite the fact that his memory is horseshit – recognises her almost immediately.

“Bless my boiler. Cora Patricia Tomlin… Is that really you?”

Cora was the daughter of the old Mid Sodor manager, who – though he is sadly no longer around – was a good friend to Duke, Peter Sam and Sir Handel, so the man’s daughter was also considered a friend by association. Duke is incredibly happy to see her, despite Bertram lurking about, looking as sour as old milk, the latter looks desperate to say something to Duke, but after a while he realises that there’s no point in trying, and he leaves the shed in a huff. It’s just a little thing he does…

Cora seems a little relieved at the disappearance of Bertram, and soon sits down to chat with Duke about the old times. The conversation includes the news of her possibly becoming the railway’s next controller – on which Duke congratulates her thoroughly – the state of humanity now that the virus finally seems to be dying down, the weather, and the state of Duke’s gosh darn memory. This particular part of the conversation seems to quieten Cora down, and for the first time since her appearance on Sodor, she seems a little lost for words.

Eventually, after gentle prompting from Duke, she lays a hand on his arm and speaks to him softly.

“The situation with your memory is no good. But there is also no good in pursuing the past, my advice to you is to move past your time at Mid Sodor, there’s no point in going back there. Perhaps your inability to let go is because you keep dwelling on it, preoccupy yourself with other things, Duke, you’re far too good of an engine to be wrapped up in the past.”

Her words – as bullshit as they are – make some half assed sense to Duke, and he agrees with her that he has been thinking about his time on Mid Sodor rather a lot. Those times were the times in which he was happiest after all, spending time with Stuart and Falcon on their own little railway, truly he doesn’t like this change, but it’s as Cora says, he has to move on.

He briefly mentions Peter Sam and Sir Handel’s little expedition back to Mid Sodor to fetch his things, which for some reason greatly sours Cora’s mood. She asks him why he would ever think to do such a thing, and he doesn’t know how to respond, she tells him firmly that bringing objects back from his shed will do nothing but worsen the problem, and instructs him to burn the items when they arrive, as part of the process of moving on.

Eager to get himself out of the mist fogging up his brain, Duke agrees, and promises to destroy the items the second Peter Sam and Sir Handel bring them back, even though every single circuit, servo, gear and cog inside of him is screaming at him not to.

Cora soon takes her leave, but not before she once again reminds Duke to get rid of the pieces coming back from Mid Sodor, it’s time to stop living in the past.

Everyone else comes back the sheds that evening, besides Peter Sam and Sir Handel – but that’s to be expected. However, there appears to be no sign of Bertram either…

#there's gonna be more parts so dw #just #bear w me lmao I'm tryna remember this aaaaa #I got a rough idea of what I wanted to happen!#TTTE #Thomas The Tank Engine #Thomas the Train #Thomas and Friends #Mid Sodor Railway

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birdscreeches · 5 years ago

Text

Are You Telling The Truth? | Aisha R.

In sixth grade, I accidentally stole a fire extinguisher. It was lunch time. I was in school. I found myself loitering on the second floor hallway, right outside the library, where I was headed, when I found myself enraptured. Right ahead of me, there was a panel in the wall. Inside the panel was a fire extinguisher. It was a panel that was usually covered by glass, but on that day, the glass was gone, leaving the fire extinguisher out in the open. At this point in my life, I was incredibly interested in fire extinguishers. I was going through a phase of picking random objects and reading about them extensively, from neon lights to lithium ion batteries to alligator snapping turtles. On that week, it was fire extinguishers, and the one in the panel was too great a temptation to resist.

I walked forward. Nobody was in the hallway. I stood in front of the panel. There were no other footsteps. I reached out, picked up the fire extinguisher, and felt the kind of inexorable glee only an eleven year old could feel upon holding the thing I had been reading about for days. I held the fire extinguisher in my hands, feeling the cold metal against my palms. That moment was one suspended in childlike awe.

The spell was broken when I heard somebody yell my name, “Ms. Rallonza!”

There was nobody in the hallway, but I had neglected to remember that this second floor hallway was directly across from another building filled with classrooms and ongoing classes. In one of those classrooms, an entire class and my old science teacher were watching me. My fight or flight instincts kicked in, and since there was nobody to fight, I ran. With the fire extinguisher still in my hands.

This is a story I tell a lot of people. Sometimes, I include the epilogue where I have to return the fire extinguisher and apologize to my teacher, but at its core, it’s a silly story. It’s the perfect mix of my impulsivity, my tendency to fixate on random objects, and my knack of shutting down reasonable thinking in a crisis. All of these elements crashed into an anecdote ridiculous enough to keep telling but mundane enough to not really matter. Initial embarrassment aside, it was the perfect story. Or it would have been, if the story were actually true.

Most parts of it were true. The setting, the fascination with fire extinguishers, the not-there glass panel, the getting yelled at. That’s around 99%. The only lie was the bit where I picked the fire extinguisher up and ran away with it. In reality, I walked over to the panel, reached for the fire extinguisher, got yelled at, and then ran away. That’s all. From one version to the other, I always thought it barely made a difference. This version certainly was more interesting, and in the grand scheme of things, it was just one wrong detail in an otherwise correct telling of events. It didn’t matter, so I told the story again, and again, and again. I had told it so many times with that wrong detail that I often forget it didn’t really happen, that I myself can sometimes remember the weight of the fire extinguisher in my hands as if it did.

My habit of lying started early, when I was a kid. From then on, I grew up getting called out for those lies. Nanay always told me I was a terrible liar. No matter what it was, from “I didn’t break it” to “I passed my math quiz”, she could always tell, and from there, she’d pull the truth out of me. Honesty is the best policy, echoed my memories of kindergarten, and I assume this was the goal of getting called out for lies, but it didn’t work with me. Instead of not lying, I just told myself to get better at it. Don’t fidget, don’t look away, don’t let your voice waver. Talk like you believe the lie just as much as you want other people to believe it too. I don’t know if I really got better or if Nanay just got tired of telling me off for it, but I never stopped. Not once.

In my defense, I only lied about things that didn’t matter. Never anything big or sincere like apologies or I love yous. I lied about the small things, like if did my homework or if I unintentionally stole a fire extinguisher. A habit that started in childhood followed me up until now. I lie about small things the same way I talk; naturally, unthinkingly, one word after the other, unbidden. A lot of the time, I don’t realize I’m lying because of how easy it is. Things that don’t matter slip off the tongue effortlessly.

So a few months ago, when my guidance counselor asked me if I regularly think about killing myself, I didn’t fidget, I didn’t look away, and I held my voice strong. As far as “no”s go, I thought that one was pretty good.

In Leslie Rubinkowski’s essay, “In the Woods,” she writes, “The smaller a lie is the harder I scramble to expose it. Because one tiny lie slides past and then bigger ones follow and then rot sets in and then everything flies apart [...]”

It’s important to note that Rubinkowski is writing from the perspective opposite to my own. From the one being lied to. Her grandfather had always told her odd stories, she became a reporter and valued the truth, she went out of her way to expose fabrications and find out if something really happened. It was this tension between lies and truth that kept her up at night.

On the other side of the coin, there I am. The one telling the lies. From there, I can easily admit that I have no compulsion to call other people out on their lies, in whatever way. Exposing them, confronting them, proving the lies from the truths. None of that appeals to me because I believe that lying, at least lying about small things, is done with some kind of purpose. When people ask “how are you?” I assume it’s not because they really want to know, but because they want the answer of “I’m fine.” Small lies and small answers aren’t really searching for truths, but searching for answers that are appropriate. Answers that are wanted. I lie about the fire extinguisher because when I think about what people want, the truth or the interesting story, I always find myself siding with the latter.

But the sentiment of escalation still holds. Start small, and the bigger ones follow, and then things fall apart. That’s how most stories usually go, but it’s not how this one does. While I believe the escalation is possible, I don’t believe it’s happened to me.

Thinking about killing myself feels small. The thoughts come to me not after moments where I am extremely upset, but instead during moments so mundane they aren’t even worth telling. When I cross the road, I imagine stopping in the middle and getting hit by a car. When it rains, I imagine throwing myself into the nearby river and drowning. When I’m in bed, to fall asleep, I imagine overdosing on paracetamol, my breathing weakening after vomiting for hours, my liver failing from the toxicity, my eyes finally falling shut. It sounds bad when I say it like that, but the fact is that I wake up the next day. The fact is these thoughts, no matter how constant or detailed, stay thoughts.

But, argues some part of my mind, thoughts are powerful. And I can’t deny that. Suicide ideation is defined by an unnatural preoccupation with suicidal thoughts. That in itself states that no matter how normal these thoughts are for me, they aren’t supposed to be. Normal people supposedly don’t think like this. It’s one thing to have a fleeting thought of dying, and another altogether to think about it every other hour, every day, each fantasy so vivid and well worn with how much I go back to them. Repeated thoughts become habits. Habits stay consistent and can shape people. If exercising everyday pointed a person’s trajectory towards better health, I wonder what direction I was going in with my constant thoughts of killing myself. I wonder if this is the difference between a long life and one that ends at twenty years old.

There is a contradiction here: I only lie about small things, but these thoughts are supposedly not small. I lie anyway. I lie to my guidance counselor, I lie to my friends that I’m still seeing that guidance counselor and that I hadn’t stopped three months ago, I lie to everybody I tell “I’m fine” when I’m really thinking about the revolver locked in the cupboard at home.

Perhaps, I rationalized, these thoughts started out big, but after years and years of thinking them, I wore them down into pebbles that could slip through the cracks. The only problem is that if I try to think of beginnings, I get lost. Trying to remember the first time I thought about suicide is like trying to remember the first lie I ever told. There was no clear beginning, just a period of my life that began and failed to end. If big things can become small, or if small things can become big escapes me. All I know for sure is what is true and what isn’t, and what that means to me. If I lie about it, it must be small. I wouldn’t lie about it if it wasn’t.

Rubinkowski writes:

I used to think I was trying to expose the same lies that annoyed me when I was young, but as I’ve gotten older I realize I was lying to myself. There are lies that attempt to hide, and there are those that reveal. These are the ones that haunt me because of what they say about loss and hope. I could count on my grandfather lying to me the same way I could count on him loving me. He lied to me because he loved me, I think.

and:

So maybe what I’m looking for aren’t lies at all. Maybe what I’m looking for---hoping for---is a happier truth.

Looking at my collection of lies, my collection of small things, I try to peel the layers away. I try to see if there’s a happier truth behind my lies. I find a little kid who wanted to hold a fire extinguisher because they’d read all about them, a kid who wanted to be liked by their friends and family, a kid who wanted to be what people wanted. I find an adult walking the edge of being alive and not wanting to be. I find myself grappling with smallness and bigness and what it means.

The truth of it all is this doesn’t make sense, and that scares me. It only seems right that lies are how I make sense of things.

Over the course of writing this essay, I became hyper aware of my lies. I lie so easily about small things that I often don’t notice, but now, every time I spoke, the question was at the top of my mind: was I telling the truth?

I recently went to the dentist. The left side of my mouth had been in pain for a month, and I didn’t schedule an appointment earlier because I was lying to myself about how much it hurt. When I was finally there, the dentist had cleaned a tooth out and told me it was broken. She said it might need a root canal if the damage was too bad. She tapped at the tooth and asked “Does it hurt?” No, I said. She tapped at it again. “Are you sure?” Was I? I thought I was. The sharp pain in the tooth disappeared after she cleaned it, but some kind of sensation was still there. Was that pain? Was I hurting? Was I lying? If I was, why?

The answer was simple; I didn’t want to have a root canal. It sounded terrifying. Feeling pain meant the root canal would happen, so if there was pain, I lied about it.

The contradiction again. This wasn’t a small thing, but I lied about it. New questions came into my mind. Questions about cause and effect. Which came first, the chicken or the egg? Do I lie about things that don’t matter or do I lie about things because I wish they didn’t?

All the lies I tell are told because I want to be avoiding something. They’re my attempts at deflection and diversion. By telling a lie, I create another dimension, stretching out the distance between where I am and where an inevitable reality is. In my not-truths all it seems I’m doing is speaking things into insignificance, into smallness. And smallness feels safe. Small things aren’t important, and thus small things don’t hurt because I don’t give them the chance to. Truths can’t be controlled like that. Truths don’t care about anything other from the fact that they’re real, and that realness is merciless. Cut at a brick wall, and you’ve just chipped it. Cut at the skin, and I bleed. Telling the truth means admitting that that bleeding matters.

The person who stole the fire extinguisher is the same person who wants to be alive. This is the same person I am not. The same person I give to people because I know it’s that one they really want. Rubinkowski, on the lies her grandfather told her, writes “This is who I am, he seemed to be saying. Never mind that it isn’t true. In his lies, he offered up his best self [...]” If behind a lie, there’s a happier truth, in front of it, is an image of the self. I wonder who I offer in my lies. Not a best self so much as a facsimile I wish I could be. I wish I could hold in my hands something I knew everything about, something that made complete sense to me. I wish I could be somebody who woke up in the morning and didn’t immediately feel disappointed that I hadn’t died in my sleep. Behind my lies is somebody confused, and in front of them is somebody who yearns for another version of myself. They’re a version of myself that is truthful about everything, from the inconsequential to the allegedly a big deal. They’re a version of myself that admits that things matter, that reality is important, that I’ll have to face things eventually. They’re a version of myself I don’t recognize.

I reach out towards the image, the stranger, but my hands stop short. I hesitate. My hands fumble, and I can’t hold it. I don’t.

#non fic #cw suicidal thoughts #cw suicide ideation #cw generally for mental health issues

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yasuda-yoshiya · 6 years ago

Text

Below the cut is an old unfinished post I wrote several years ago about my experience playing the original Mother game for the NES (aka Earthbound Beginnings). I found it sitting in my drafts recently and decided it was worth digging up and finishing it off, because this game really did mean a lot to me.

Spoilers below!

Finished playing Mother! I ended up really loving this game; I’m so glad I gave it another chance after having given up on it previously. Weirdly enough, despite the undeniably repetitive and grindy nature of the thing, the game pretty much never dragged for me at all this time, and if anything I was surprised at how fast I flew through it! Maybe it’s because this time I went into it without any illusions about how it was going to play, or maybe it’s that I just happened to be in the right mood to find the repetitive gameplay relaxing instead of frustrating. Either way, something about the game just clicked for me this time around, and I’m really happy that it did.

Playing this game was a surprise to me in quite a few ways. Coming into it, I was aware that the party members’ designs and a lot of the basic scenario and world were very similar to Earthbound, so I was expecting it to play something like a more primitive version of its sequel - but in the end I was surprised and impressed that the game actually ended up feeling very unique and distinct from Earthbound despite those superificial similarities. The initial opening act, exploring the cemetery and the zoo, was fairly unremarkable - but as soon as I entered Magicant, I was thoroughly hooked.

I feel like Magicant is pretty much the heart of Mother’s narrative, and the whole game is very deliberately built around it, setting it up as a place that you’ll inevitably return to periodically as the game goes on - to update equipment, revive unconscious characters, use the item storage, bring newly acquired characters up to scratch in a safe environment, and so on. Magicant is something the player is encouraged to depend on and fall back on whenever they’re struggling, as one of the NPCs in Mary’s castle says: "Don't hesitate to come visit us again whenever you're having a hard time. Everyone here loves you.” This all contributes to form a firm association in the player’s mind between Magicant and safety, comfort and acceptance - which is made all the more strong by the fact that the rest of the world seems so hostile in comparison. Most of the main dungeons of the game - Duncan’s factory, Rosemary Manor, Mt. Itoi - are huge and relentless, with oppressively sinister music and seemingly never-ending random encounters constantly taxing the player’s resources. Exploration in Mother invokes a constant feeling of tension and stress in that traditional unforgiving NES RPG way, and that’s what makes Magicant so important to the player as the one place where they can escape from all that. I feel like Mother does an incredibly good job of embedding this stark contrast between Magicant and the “real world” into every aspect of the game, with everything from the BGM to the map design; Magicant feels unique, vibrant and alive, full of NPCs giving positive reinforcement and constantly making allowances for the player (there are three or four different ways to fully heal yourself in Magicant!), where the rest of the game often feels cold, lonely and unforgiving; empty and hostile.

At the same time, though, there’s still a constant sense of underlying ‘wrongness’ about Magicant; underneath the surface comfort, there’s also an undeniable feeling of sadness and melancholy about it, and the presence of those conflicting emotions sort of pervades the entire game for me. Even though the people of Magicant are welcoming, the player is also made to feel out of place there; several people comment that you’re weird and that you don’t fit in. There are also a lot of disturbing things that become apparent from thoroughly exploring the area - there’s the man who tells you that to avoid unhappiness you should just stay still forever and never do anything, and there’s a general sentiment that the idea of anyone ever wanting to leave Magicant isn’t even worth considering. There are the Flying Men who claim to have been born to serve you and disturbingly sacrifice their lives for you without a second thought, even though you never asked them to. There’s the sad "forgotten man” who’s locked away underground, acknowledged by nobody - and if you want to proceed with the game, you have to refuse to acknowledge him too. And the way one of the NPCs in the castle describes Queen Mary’s agonised nightmares when she sleeps is really affecting and powerful. All of this combines to create a really strong bittersweet atmosphere and an intangible sense of nostalgia, which is only made stronger by the wonderful music - and also a sense that despite Magicant being so dependable and important to the player, it’s also inherently alien and unknown. This is made even more the case by the way the player is suddenly introduced to Magicant after having spent the first few hours learning to find their way around an essentially familiar everyday setting; the sharpness of the contrast between Magicant’s abstract dreamlike quality and the rest of the world’s material familiarity just serves to make it all the more striking.

All of this makes the moment when everything comes together, when the eight melodies are finally collected and presented to Queen Mary, particularly powerful to me. The player has spent the whole game using Magicant as a sort of base, grateful for the relief it provides but also with the constant feeling that something is uncomfortable and unresolved about it, especially with the knowledge that Queen Mary is still tormented by her inability to remember her song. Because this issue is set up so early in the game, but not resolved until so late, the feeling of relief and gratitude that she shows when the melody is remembered becomes so much more meaningful. When Magicant dissolves into nothing, and the game quietly informs you that it was just “an illusion created by Maria’s consciousness”, it evokes a strong feeling of closure and resolution - you’re left in no doubt that Maria being able to let go of Magicant was just what she needed to do - but also a real sense of loss at the same time, that the player is leaving behind this thing that’s supported them and kept them going all this time. When I tried to reuse the Onyx Hook, the item that takes you to Magicant, and nothing happened, I was surprised how genuinely bereaved I felt, and how much the game was able to mirror what that kind of loss actually feels like; what hits the hardest often isn’t the moment of loss itself but noticing those little things afterwards, instinctively moving to fall back on something that’s always been there to comfort you and then remembering that it’s gone.

Looking back, there’s one particular sequence that I feel really sums up my feelings about Magicant, and it’s the part with the Flying Man. What struck me and disturbed me the most about his sacrifice was how casual and matter-of-fact it was; the game treats it as something that’s inevitable and unpreventable, and none of the other Flying Men seem to see it as something you should be bothered by or hold yourself responsible for. (In fact, the next Flying Man immediately volunteers to take his place and do the same thing again, which only makes it even more disturbing.) When the Flying Man first says he’ll come with you to protect you, it doesn’t really cross your mind that he means he’s going to die for you - but as soon as you enter a battle he’s throwing himself in front of every single attack, taking all of your damage on himself whether you want him to or not, until eventually it kills him. The excessive level of sacrifice he makes for the player doesn’t even feel especially necessary - the enemies around Magicant aren’t really powerful enough that you need someone to take all their attacks for you, and while the Flying Man’s presence certainly helps, I felt like I could still easily have coped without him doing all that for me. But the game doesn’t treat any of this like it’s a big deal, or like it’s anything to be concerned about; as far as Magicant is concerned, you’re obviously not "supposed” to worry over these questions of whether the Flying Man’s sacrifice was worth it, whether you could have prevented it, or whether you should feel responsible. Magicant’s purpose is to protect you and be there for you, so of course the Flying Man was just fulfilling that purpose. That’s what he’s here for, and it’s nothing to worry about.

The main thing that this sequence represents to me is a distinct feeling of Magicant’s comfort and relief being built on sacrifice - and most importantly, that the comfort Magicant provides necessitates deliberately drawing your eyes away from those sacrifices that are being made to maintain it; even implicitly accepting that they’re just inevitable and can’t be helped, that they’re nothing to concern yourself with. Magicant’s safety is something the player desperately needs, something they couldn’t get through the game without - but that security is contingent on ignoring the Forgotten Man’s plea to be remembered, on accepting and shrugging off the sacrifices of the Flying Men, and for Queen Mary it’s contingent on having to deal with that urgent feeling that she’s forgotten something important that torments her every night. Staying protected from the world like a child keeps you safe, and there are times when we desperately need that safety - but staying in that kind of sheltered state forever also walls you off from the suffering of the people around you, and leaves you unable to grow or to really appreciate and understand what’s important in your life.

Maria made Magicant because she needed to escape from her trauma and block out the world the way a child does, but in the end that became its own kind of torment that she ultimately needed to break free from; she needed to remember the Forgotten Man and the song she used to sing to Giygas because those memories were important to her and an essential part of who she was, even if they were unbearably painful to remember. She needed Magicant, but she also needed to let go. The experience of playing Mother has the player go through that same emotional journey along with Maria; you experience what it’s like to have to depend on something like Magicant to survive, and you genuinely can’t get by without it, even with the growing awareness that something is “wrong” - but by the time you’ve reached the end, you feel ready to let go of it, to seek the truth from Queen Mary, and to return to the real world for good this time. You and Maria can say your goodbyes and finally make peace with this important, flawed but still beautiful thing that you’ve both needed and loved, accepting that it’s okay that you needed it but also that it’s time to let go; and when that’s done, you can both finally move on to do what you need to do.

All of this is only able to have the impact that it does because of the constant presence Magicant has had for the player up to this point; the longer the player has been developing these unresolved feelings about the place, the more significant and meaningful it feels when the resolution comes. Even though the actual presentation is extremely minimalistic, and the reveal itself certainly isn’t anything particularly amazing on its own from a storytelling perspective - its significance comes instead from the personal investment the player has built up in Magicant through their personal reliance on it, through their desire to understand this thing that they’ve both needed and depended on but found strangely wrong and uncomfortable all this time. Mother somehow managed to evoke what felt like a genuinely deep emotional reaction from me despite containing almost no actual narrative content; instead, the game managed to affect me simply through the “experience” of playing it, and that’s a unique kind of narrative that only a videogame could possibly deliver.

Mother is a weird and clunky and inaccessible game in a lot of ways, and I’d probably hesitate to recommend it to anyone else - but to me personally, I really did love this game so, so much. It conveyed a lot of things I felt like I really needed to hear, and in such a gentle, loving, compassionate way, without a trace of pretension or condescension; it actively drew me into its experience and made me really live it, making me feel genuinely immersed and connected in a way I’m not sure I’ve ever felt from a videogame before. I’m so grateful for this game!

#mother 1 #earthbound beginnings

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aethersea · 7 years ago

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I haven't listened to taz but I loved that Iroh thing you made up one time. So can you please do Iroh? Good luck with the next midterm!

Iroh’s incredible, good good choice, thank you for this prompt. This prompt got me through my midterms, actually, and through the first part of finals week. Thank you. And sorry it took so long to publish this – I take a glacial age to write anything, even these headcanon posts, but I did have a lot of fun doing it, and I hope you’re pleased with the result.

So. Let’s kick this off with the opening lines from that fic I’ll never write:

Iroh left the Fire Nation capital a proud general, filled with the passion of his element and the careless, easy confidence of those who have grown up blessed. In those days he laughed often, smiled at everyone, and dispensed kindnesses like a game. He rode to war at the head of a shining battalion, his son at his side and the whole world laid out at his feet.

He came back with white in his hair and age in his gait, at the head of a ragged company, with no one at his side but loss.

Iroh saved a dragon’s life. I will not budge on this, okay, I’m very invested in this headcanon. Slaying dragons was a big deal in the Fire Nation, remember – mastery over the element and nature or some such rot, bla bla honor, imperialism, whatever. Iroh’s the Dragon of the West for more reasons than one, and one of those reasons is that, as far as anyone knows, he slew the Dragon of the West. The last dragon left alive, people thought. Iroh told the story at parties for years – how fierce the battle, how fearsome the dragon, how fiery its demise. How the very mountains shook with its death throes. How absolutely certain he was that there were no dragons left, no sirree, not a one.

Iroh saved the dragon from another Fire Nation general. Some powerful firebender, one who’d lost his military command over some disgrace, was looking to regain his honor by slaying it, and Iroh stopped him. Killed him, which he can’t find it in him to regret, though sometimes he thinks maybe he should. Iroh turned away from his enemy’s burnt body and saw the dragon, wounded, dying, and learned a whole lot about dragon medicine on the fly.

Iroh wasn’t even looking for a dragon, which is the funny part – he was honest to god just passing through, yes I know it’s the middle of nowhere and there’s no human settlement for days, I really wasn’t looking for you, please don’t breathe fire at me I just want to help. Incidentally do you know the way to Sen Zhu, I am very lost.

Iroh doesn’t go to Sen Zhu for a while, because he has to nurse the dragon back to health, and after that it takes him to that dragon temple from the Indiana Jones episode. Iroh learns a bunch of cool firebending moves from the temple guardians, and when he leaves he swears he’ll tell the whole world that the Age of Dragons is over.

Iroh was a great general to serve under, back when he was still fighting. He has a brilliant tactical mind, and even before he learned how to be kind, he knew the importance of taking care of the people serving under you. His soldiers were well fed and provisioned, his officers didn’t abuse their power, and at night when they made camp he would go from campfire to campfire with a large jug of good wine and a choice selection of really bawdy jokes. It took a while for the soldiers to get used to this, but eventually they all knew him, and he knew them. By the time they reached Ba Sing Se, all of the soldiers, even the conscripted ones, had come to believe that maybe the Fire Nation would be in good hands when he took the throne.

He was a pretty great prince in a lot of ways. He was arrogant, yes, and prone to recklessness – you know the opening scene in Prince of Egypt, where the two princes wreck everything? That was Iroh and Ozai, every other month – but he was clever and cunning, he knew everything about how the Fire Nation was run, and he knew how to balance listening to wise counsel with making his own decisions. Everyone was sure he was going to be a strong Fire Lord, and most people thought he might even be the one to end the war. The general consensus was that the Siege of Ba Sing Se would be the last great battle of the hundred-year war, and that when it was done or shortly after, Azulon would step down and hand his crown on to his son.

When Iroh took Zuko under his wing, it wasn’t because he saw himself in Zuko. It wasn’t even because he saw his son in Zuko – that would have been too painful to bear, even several years after his death. It was because of how much of his family he didn’t see in Zuko. Where Iroh had been arrogant, Zuko was shy. Where Ozai was coldly ambitious, Zuko was generous and kind. Where the Fire Lord was dispassionate and calculating, Zuko cared about people. Where Azula was—well, the less said about Azula the better. But Zuko was nothing like her, and if Iroh had anything to say about it, he never would be.

Iroh met his wife in winter, under the boughs of the only tree in the palace gardens that blossomed in that season. Their marriage was not yet arranged, but they both knew it was likely to happen. She had smiled at him, shy and hesitant under the star-white flowers, and admitted with a self-deprecating smile, “I think I’m meant to seduce you.” Iroh had laughed, and said, “Our parents can worry about that. Why don’t we talk about something else? Do you like the theater? There’s an excellent production of Zukon the Dragon-Slayer on in town.”

After the play, they walked arm in arm through the city parks, under trees that were sparse and drooping in the tropical winter, and talked about dragons and history and storytelling, and never once touched on politics or weddings. It was only after several more months of such outings that Iroh turned to her, seriously, and said, “I know what our parents have planned, and it’s not a plan that I could ever object to. Spending time with you is the brightest part of my day. But I would rather work the rest of my life on forging alliances with your family myself than see you unhappy. If you don’t want the marriage to happen, it won’t. I will see to it that it won’t have to.”

They weren’t in love. They both knew this. But Iroh thought he could grow to love her, that he could be happy the rest of his days with her at his side. He hoped she felt the same, but—

She stared at him in shock, and then started to laugh. Iroh turned away, embarrassed and awkward, ashamed of his sentimentality. He didn’t see her face when she called him an idiot, and he was taken by surprise when she turned him around, still laughing, and kissed him.

Iroh joins the White Lotus like this: One of its members is the governor of an occupied Earth Kingdom city, and when Iroh visits, they play pai sho. Iroh leads with the white lotus tile, and the governor comments on what an unusual choice it is. Iroh responds with something cryptically philosophical, as he is wont to do – something about unexpected stratagems allowing for unpredicted victories. It is exactly the kind of thing White Lotus members say to each other.

They play a full game of pai sho, and Iroh wins, making use of clever strategies and maneuvers which are all part of the secret code that White Lotus members use to impart how much they know. Iroh’s new friend understands it all to mean that Iroh’s a super high-ranking member of the organization, and he’s here to help the governor with some problem plaguing the city.

Iroh’s never heard of the White Lotus. He’s just really good at pai sho. When the governor asks for help, he gives it freely, because that’s just who he is as a person. When word spreads and more people start coming to him for help, flashing a white lotus tile as they ask, he starts to put two and two together.

Iroh doesn’t tell anyone that no one ever actually recruited him, in case they decide to assassinate him or something. He picks up secrets as he goes, through intuition and careful questions. It’s not like he disagrees with what they’re doing, once he figures out what it is.

After the war, he tells King Bumi about all this, and they laugh together for a good long time.

Iroh and Bumi get along like a house on fire. Sometimes literally, because they have a lot of friendly duels and they can get a little out of hand. In the years after the war, they exchange lots of correspondence, and Iroh visits Omashu a lot.

Whenever he does, the whole city despairs, because now there are two unreasonably buff old men with mad bending skills walking around, delighting small children with their antics and imparting cryptic wisdom to shopkeepers.

Iroh never actually got a divorce. His father wouldn’t let him, and later his brother upheld that ruling – a disgrace to the throne, your wife leaving you because she can’t bear to see your face anymore. Because you can’t find words to say to her anymore. He never got a divorce, but he hasn’t spoken to his wife in a long time. She lives with her sister, on one of the more distant islands.

When Iroh was imprisoned in the start of Book Three, she sent him a letter. It was cold and brief, and Ozai had the prison guards read it to him, out of… some jealousy that still remained, some desire to see Iroh beaten, to see him brought as low as he could be brought. Iroh listened to it silently, eyes hooded and blank, which was how he always looked in prison when there was anyone around to see. In the letter, his wife said, “My heart is a barren winter, where only the star-white flowers of the senko tree could bloom. Hearing of your vile betrayal, you who style yourself Dragon of the West, I remember the dragon-slayers of old, and I long for a return to those days of chivalry and hope. The legacy of that time has died, but it pains me to think that we have fallen so far. I hope you still believe in repentance.”

After the war, he finds her. “Thank you for your letter,” he says. “Thank you for believing in me when no one else did. I am sorry for how long it’s been.”

“I meant what I said in it,” she says firmly. “I am your wife and your ally. I should have been by your side, these many years.”

“As I should have been by yours. I should never have left you to grieve alone.”

Iroh’s wife smiles, and kisses him on the cheek, and says, “Now, I think we should get down to business. Your nephew has the support of the people and of the Avatar, but that won’t keep him safe for long. I have a list for you of blackmail material for the nobility. Unfortunately it’s not comprehensive, but we’ve managed to assassinate or otherwise remove the worst ones in the chaos of the last year or two, so your boy should have a few years at least to solidify his claim.”

Turns out Iroh’s not the only one who’s been running with an undercover network of powerful people looking to enact change. Hers is smaller, based almost exclusively in the Fire Nation, but it’s also a fair bit more… hands-on. Iroh immediately takes her back to Zuko and says, “Nephew, hire this woman as your advisor. Trust me, you want her on your side.”

Iroh loves his brother. That never changed, even when Ozai stole the throne, abused his children, killed… no, surely Ozai would never kill his wife. Surely not. Iroh won’t believe it. But even so, Ozai has done horrible things, become a monster worse than their father, and Iroh loves him still. Iroh tries to reason with him, tries to fight him, and it never seems to make any difference. Iroh works against him, secretly, with the rest of the White Lotus, and his heart is heavy as he does.

Iroh sees his brother challenge Zuko to an agni kai when the boy is only thirteen years old, sees his brother mutilate his own son in public, sees the unrelenting rage in his brother’s face as he does it. Iroh gives up.

Iroh loves his brother. He never stops loving him, till the day he dies. But he never forgives him, either.

Iroh came home from the Siege of Ba Sing Se a broken man. That phrase gets thrown around a lot, to the point where it’s almost lost its meaning, but this is what it means here:

In the days after coming home, after kneeling before his father’s throne and recounting his defeat, Iroh does not leave his office. For seven days and seven nights he sits at his desk, staring at the books and scrolls that he’d studied before leaving. They’re filled with tactics, strategies, accounts of historical battles. He wants to burn every last one of them. He can’t muster up the energy.

On the eighth day his brother comes to his office and says that this has gone on long enough. The people are worried, his family is worried – it’s time for Iroh to leave his rooms and return to the world of the living. Iroh stares at him, stares through him, but Ozai doesn’t take no for an answer, forces Iroh to shower, get dressed, go outside. Iroh follows his brother through the halls of the palace like a ghost, empty and drifting.

“You’re upsetting your wife,” Ozai tells him. It’s one of many things Ozai tells him, but it’s the only one that sticks. Iroh hasn’t seen his wife since he came home, and told her that he sent their son marching to his death. She had known already, of course – he’d sent word when it happened – but she had thrown herself into his arms and sobbed until she was empty. Through it all, Iroh had held her and felt numb. His guilt and his grief had long since consumed him, until he no longer felt like a man at all, just a walking hole in the world.

The next day, and the next, and the day after that, Iroh forces himself to leave his rooms. He walks through the palace, face blank, not seeing any of the people who bow and step out of his way as he approaches, not hearing their hushed whispers as they stare and stare at their fallen prince. He walks, after a while, into the city, without a litter or a procession, unaccompanied by anyone but a squad of harried guards who were manning the palace gates when he went through and had to hurry to catch up. He stops in parks and at busy intersections, and spends hours watching the flow of traffic or the way the wind moves in the branches of blossoming trees.

This is very embarrassing for the crown. Ozai is sort of regretting having forced his brother out into the public eye. There are whispers and murmurs that the Fire Nation will surely crumble when Iroh takes the throne. Azulon is not pleased.

Iroh’s wife goes to live with her sister. When she tells him she’s leaving, he nods, and says, “I understand.” When she’s gone, he puts his head down in his arms and cries, for the first time in a long time.

It’s not long after this that Iroh goes before his father – formally, requesting an audience and kneeling before his throne – and asks permission to run away. He wants to tour the kingdom, he says. He wants to see the results of their war with his own eyes, to remind himself what they fought for. Azulon is relieved. He sends Iroh off with his blessing, hoping his son will find his backbone out in the world where he lost it.

Iroh wanders, for a long time. When he comes back he is, once again, a changed man.

#finx writes #finx has friends on the internet #uncle iroh #atla #I'm very pleased with this one #it's still not the fic I wish I could write but that last bullet point is basically the first chapter anyway #and it was definitely going to include the dragon scene #iroh makes friends with a dragon and it's awesome #he ends up an ally to the temple-keepers #they teach him a ton of cool new firebending stuff #new moves but also a new approach to the whole discipline #and from the dragon he learns a lot of new philosophy around fire and age and responsibility and time #guardianship of the land and spiritual connection with the world #also about his wife #I love her #I want only the best for her #so does iroh #and I admit it feels a little cheap to have her be a resistance fighter but it felt cheaper still to not figure out what she's been doing al #all these many years #and I rather think she would have fought against the fire lord #not just for the loss of her son - lots of people lost their children to this war #and not just for the insult to her husband when he took the throne #those might have made her angry but that's not enough to fuel a true rebellion #it was for how he led the people #how he built on azulon's authoritarianism and made it ever stronger #she'd seen nothing of the war before her husband and son went off to fight in it #she has no reason to see it now #but she sees what the war is doing to her own country; she sees that the war is here too #I think this is where she's found by some people who show her what war truly is - the death and miser and despair in the earth kingdom #and I think this is where she starts to fight back

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