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irwen-s · 5 years ago

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pregnant omega wendy getting taken care of by alpha Irene?

(interpreted this as sfw) i decided to do headcanon format because i had so many ideas to write about wheeze; this ended up become really long. this prompt is like, my excuse to bust out all my abo pregnancy ideas.

seungwan during her pregnancy is composed and bubbly as usual on the outside, but an overthinking, anxious mess on the inside. she’s cheerful, keeps a positive attitude so as to not worry the people around her, and because she genuinely is really happy about soon having a pup. she’s done all her research too, has read through pregnancy and parenting books, consulted older omegas who have had pups, and eventually takes classes with joohyun in preparation for when she does give birth.

but seungwan has a lot of thoughts as well as a tendency to overthink, and combined with the usual anxiety every person experiences when pregnant, it means seungwan has more things to worry about and more chances to do so. her nervousness stems from many different things—the state of her pup, her bodys health, her nest, the house, joohyun, her job, being a parent, her pup’s expected due date, the actual delivery . . . its a lot. and seungwan worries.

so joohyun unsurprisingly ends up being the person who helps keep seungwan calm, soothing her anxieties to the best of her ability. its not just because of her scent and her physical presence, but also her personality in general. joohyun is naturally a nurturing, caring person. during seungwans pregnancy, her maternal instincts are basically at home, making her perfectly fit for the role of caretaker—to both seungwan and their pup.

—

massages, belly rubs

one obvious example: joohyun jumps on any opportunity available to make things easier for seungwan. as seungwan’s baby bump grows, she ends up experiencing lower back and feet pains, once in a while swollen ankles as well. joohyun takes to giving her frequent leg massages and belly rubs, even without seungwan having to ask.

they’ll be in the living room or bedroom, seungwan resting back against soft pillows as joohyun props her legs in her lap, her hands gentle yet firm as they knead and rub at her sores. seungwan closes her eyes as all the tension leaves her body, and she practically melts with each of joohyuns touches, letting out pleased little huffs and sighs that make joohyun smile quietly. sometimes theyll take turns talking about their day or just random little things, like seungwan recounting an interesting fact she learned from a documentary on tv, and joohyun will listen attentively as she continues her massage.

joohyun also gives her belly rubs. those are much more frequent, the two of them dont even have to sit down with it in mind for it to happen. half the time its just casual touches on joohyuns part.

during seungwan’s first trimester when her belly isnt as large yet, joohyun loves to hold her from behind with her hands resting against seungwan’s stomach, sometimes gently rubbing, sometimes just feeling. having seungwan nestled against her is always something joohyun enjoys of course, but theres something so right about being able to cradle both her mate and their pup in her arms at the same time. seungwan spends much of her first trimester with joohyun glued to her back, nosing against her nape or her mating mark while her hands wander around the soft swell of her belly, which can be pretty distracting sometimes when seungwan just wants to bake some muffins or something. but its endearing, and seungwan enjoys the extra back hugs too much to really complain.

planned belly rubs happen after joohyun helps seungwan lie back in bed. she settles down next to seungwan then, hands carefully massaging and rubbing the round, warm skin of seungwans baby bump, making sure to also give attention to the stretch marks near the underside of her belly. honestly, any belly rub feels really good to seungwan when shes pregnant, but its just so much nicer when its joohyuns hands gently touching her. sometimes joohyun cant resist moving closer to rub her face against seungwan’s belly too, making seungwan laugh as she noses along her skin and breathes in seungwan’s scent (which is a lot sweeter and calmer during her pregnancy) while at the same time releasing her own.

sometimes, joohyun offers to give her a massage right when seungwan is beginning to feel more sore or achy than usual. she has no idea how joohyun just seems to know, but her alpha’s always been a person with ridiculously sharp instincts, so. either its that, or joohyun knows magic.

—

food

joohyun also takes over their cooking. they can both cook pretty decent dishes, but joohyun basically bans seungwan from being in the kitchen alone some time near the end of her first trimester, since she doesnt want seungwan to somehow overexert or hurt herself. she’s only okay with seungwan cooking if joohyun is home with her to supervise (seungwan rolls her eyes while grumbling that joohyun is being too overprotective, but she does follow along, if only to keep the huffy person clinging to her back from fussing over her even more).

also yeah, joohyun does a shit ton of grocery shopping during seungwans pregnancy. as the weeks pass, the frequency of her shopping trips fall inversely proportional to the amount of food she buys—fewer trips, bigger mountains of food each time. usually joohyun would be able to buy only as much as they need, meticulous and precise as always. but seungwans random cravings and the necessity of stockpiling food during the last few weeks of seungwans pregnancy force joohyun to overshop on purpose.

—

sleeping

when theyre sleeping, joohyun of course spoons seungwan from behind. she presses her lips to seungwans warm nape while her hand curls around to rest against seungwans baby bump, cradling her close protectively. sometimes she just lies awake, not falling asleep yet, filled with overwhelming love as she listens to seungwan softly breathing, her slow and calming heartbeat. feels beneath her hand the gentle rise and fall of her tummy, the occasional, faint kick from the life thats growing inside her.

—

relationship dynamics

although joohyun is a clingy person, its different from the stereotypical stifling, neck-breathing alphas. she definitely becomes more touchy with seungwan during her pregnancy, but nothing drastically changes in how they treat one another.

the way joohyun scent marks seungwan is oddly peculiar, but very specific to her. its through their laundry: being a ridiculously sensitive person to smell, joohyun is very, very particular when it comes to how their household’s clothes smell, and a large factor of its scent ends up being joohyuns own scent. every article of clothing seungwan owns and every fabric that ever touches her or makes it into their house goes through joohyuns meticulous examination, laundry, and scenting process first. shes only satisfied when its smells the way she wants it to: distinctively hers, a cool, soft lavender that never fails to soothe seungwan and make her feel at ease.

its why joohyun doesnt have to always cling to seungwan with the purpose of constantly smothering her in her scent—controlling their laundry is her way of scent marking her omega, oddly enough.

(around the middle of seungwans second trimester, joohyun comes home to find seungwan having done their laundry as the result of a random spike of energy and nothing else in the house to clean. they get into a petty squabble over it because joohyun is huffing about the detergent and her very precise laundry process, and she ends up making a bigger fuss about it than seungwan, who learns to never try and touch the laundry again.

“are you sure you aren’t mated to our washing machine instead?”

“darling, you can’t just pour a cup of detergent and fabric softener into there and call it a day. there’s a whole process involved and—”)

but anyways. joohyun is still a clingy person, and during seungwans pregnancy, she’s always finding a way to keep at least one part of her touching seungwan. if she doesnt have her arm hooked around seungwan’s, she has a gentle hand resting against seungwan’s lower back, a shoulder brushing against her or fingers clutching onto her hip. joohyun generally tries not to constantly touch seungwans belly when they’re in public so as to avoid coming off as an overbearing alpha.

that also means joohyun makes sure to give seungwan her own space. even though shes protective and worried about seungwan, her clumsy omega thats constantly tripping over things—to which joohyuns like, someday youre going to give me a heart attack—she knows better than to try and stop seungwan from doing everything.

seungwan will go around the house, cleaning or organizing and rearranging their furniture, sometimes cooking or baking, maybe just randomly pacing in thought. sometimes she takes walks outside in their neighborhood to clear her mind or for the change in scenery. its a little endearing because while seungwan is moving around doing these things, joohyun is usually trailing after her a few paces behind, attentive and alert as she follows her tiny, bustling omega around the place. wherever seungwan is, if joohyun isnt attached to one of seungwans body parts, shes almost always a distance away, tailing her like a quiet shadow.

—

relationship dynamics with others

when theyre with close friends, joohyun isnt all that on protective with seungwan and behaves pretty normally. seulgi is a beta, yerim an omega. the only issue joohyun ends up having is with sooyoung, their other alpha. even though joohyun rationally knows sooyoung is someone completely trustworthy around seungwan, her alpha instincts constantly cloud her attempts to make logical judgments. the few times seungwan ends up being in the same room as sooyoung during her pregnancy, joohyun is struggling to keep her alpha instincts from lashing out.

(its understandable, though. seungwan and sooyoung get it. throughout seungwans pregnancy, seulgi and yerim visit more often in person, but seungwan frequently contacts sooyoung through video call or phone call, and their group chat stays very active with texts.)

joohyun is basically restless whenever seungwan is near any alpha that isnt her. although she isnt physically crowding close to seungwan or possessively holding onto her, she’s visibly tenser and more alert, pupils darkened warningly in the direction of other alphas nearby. during those moments, seungwan usually has to be the one to pull her close and let joohyun latch onto her, soothing her alpha with her own scent until joohyun relaxes a little and comes back to herself, nuzzling back into seungwan.

also, the two of them kind of mellow out during this time. theyre not as crazy (or horny) as before during seungwans heats and joohyuns ruts, being noticeably calmer and more domestic. naturally. theyre already considered the parent line in their group, but its become very apparent how much theyve truly grown into the title.

—

nesting

to joohyun, seungwan nesting is pretty cute even though her tiny omega takes it very seriously. she gathers all their blankets and cushions and pillows into an elaborately complex pile on their bed, and joohyun often comes home to her arranging different parts of the nest or sorting through their drawers, sniffing and picking out specific clothes to add.

its a little messy, because seungwan is an omega on a mission and hence has single minded focus on nesting; unsatisfactory clothes get tossed over her shoulder while other items lay scattered about the bedroom. joohyun quickly joins in to help, obediently following seungwans directions while also trailing behind her picking up anything left stranded in the wake of seungwans nitpicking.

joohyun also definitely runs out to buy more pillows and blankets, of course filtering them through her personal laundry process first so theyre all perfectly scented by her in order to be usable to seungwan—who is so used to having all her things smell like joohyuns mix of alpha and laundry lavender that she’s only comfortable with this.

seulgi, sooyoung, and yerim had offered their own assortment of cushions and blankets, but joohyun is really picky about smells and about what things belong to who, so she doesnt want seungwan to borrow other peoples things at all.

as for the actual nesting process, seungwans nest undergoes a lot of reconstruction and rearrangements. its not just because of the characteristic omega necessity to make the nest as satisfactory as possible, its also because seungwans personality is that of a perfectionist. so she just keeps scuttling around and fixing different parts of her nest, adding and removing shirts and blankets, and joohyun eventually begins to realize that seungwan is just looking around for more stuff to add, even though the nest is perfect already, because nothing is ever going to meet her standards.

joohyun learns to pick up the signs then, to catch on to when seungwans fussing over the nest goes from genuine need to reorder things to anxiety over achieving perfection. its then that she gently coaxes seungwan to relax and nestle into her arms, guiding her nervous, tiny omega into her nest as joohyun rubs her baby bump and soothes her until she settles down. tummy rubs especially come in handy to help seungwan both calm down and sleep because she absolutely melts and mewls whenever joohyun does them.

by the time seungwans second trimester comes to an end and she enters her third, the bedroom has basically become the living room—all the cushions and pillows have been hoarded inside, and seungwan spends almost all her time there now. there are also parenting and pregnancy books and guides scattered all around the place, and seungwan is usually in her nest reading or researching while rubbing her belly. joohyun ends up using the tv in their bedroom more so she can be with seungwan, curling around her and nosing into her skin.

(also, seungwan is practically always playing music aloud in her nest, and if she isnt engrossed in research, shes organizing her playlists or sorting through her music collection for the right songs. joohyun realizes somewhere along the way that she can gauge what kind of mood swing seungwan is in the midst of through what kind of music shes playing.)

—

other headcanons

joohyun is the only alpha in her family—everyone else are betas. so her protective, nurturing nature has been something shes developed ever since she was young.

seungwan starts to sleep a lot more during her second trimester, so joohyun often comes home to find her dozing off while curled up in her nest. it melts her heart every time, and she quickly ends up crawling in to nestle against her back, arms coming to rest over her belly as she cuddles close and breathes in seungwans familiar, soothing scent.

joohyun eventually has to help bathe seungwan. seungwan is a little flustered by the ordeal because even though theyve been mated for a long while now, shes always been independent. so she feels bad about joohyun having to do this for her. not to mention she sometimes gets a little self-conscious about her baby bump. but joohyun tells her that if seungwan were in her place, she would do the same for joohyun. and that to joohyun, seungwan will always be perfectly imperfect in her beauty, stretch marks and swollen belly and all.

during doctor appointments, seungwan takes notes and asks questions while joohyun listens quietly. she usually lets seungwan take the lead when it comes to the health side of things, since she doesnt want to get in the way of seungwans need to gather information and understand everything related to her pregnancy. joohyun comes along as . . . emotional support at this point. for when seungwan starts getting panicky.

joohyun is protective of seungwan and will face anything. anything except spiders because killing them is still seungwans designated job, even four months into her pregnancy and joohyun is running screaming from the kitchen into the living room to latch onto seungwan in fright. seungwan nearly trips over her own feet from laughing when she sees joohyun trying to hide behind her baby bump.

theyre both light sleepers and joohyun clings to seungwans back like a koala in her sleep. so whenever seungwan has late night snack cravings and crawls out of bed, she ends up dragging sleepy and tired joohyun along with her. sometimes seungwan wants food outside though, so joohyun ends up driving them around at like three in the morning while seungwan keeps changing her mind about what she wants to eat. she falls asleep at some point and joohyun just sighs grumpily, but with obvious fondness as she drives them back home.

#wenrene #abo #wendy #irene #red velvet #answered #sfw #i want to say i dont feel informed enough about pregnancies to get into too much detail regarding them #regardless of what i write though it will of course never accurately depict what a pregnancy is like #only people who have actually experienced them will truly understand #on the other hand i tried to incorporate abo aspects into this ask and i ended up enjoying myself way more than i thought i would #cause not gonna lie i felt reluctant to do this ask at first out of uncertainty about how to approach it #but i guess like #i focused less on the more painful or difficult aspects of pregnancies #in an effort to avoid writing about stuff i might not really understand or be uninformed about #so i hope thats all right #gonna stop rambling now #i just had a lot of thoughts while writing for this prompt ahaha #anyways thank you very much for the ask!!

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dwellordream · 4 years ago

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“...First, let’s talk about materials. We can rule out a Steppe Nomad inspiration for any of this right off. The Eurasian Steppe is very large and covers a range of arid climates (that is to say, parts of it are colder, parts of it are warmer), but they all have spinning and weaving technology, by which the supple hairs of woolly animals, or plant fibers like linen, or cotton, or even natural protein fibers like silk can be fashioned into fabric which is more flexible, comfortable, breathable and temperature controlled than the raw leather we see in the show.

...there is a distinct lack here of lots of leather, except in the sort of things that lots of cultures use leather for (boots, fittings, saddles, bags, tents). Instead, clothing is mostly made out of nice, comfortable, breathable textiles, because of course it is. That is not to say, to be clear, that leather or hides or fur were never used – fur especially was used; merely that they were generally used to supplement clothing primarily made out of textile.

...Now Plains Native American clothing does make much greater use of animal skin as a clothing material, but there is an important distinction to be made here. The problem here is with the plasticity of the term ‘leather’ which can technically include a wide range of products, but in practice is understood to mean exactly what the Game of Thrones costume department and literally every piece of official artwork of the Dothraki understand it to mean, which is the product of tanning processes.

I am not an expert, but as far as I can tell, Native American clothing was not made in the same way; animal products were used in a process I have seen described as ‘brain tanning’ (rather than using chemical tannins) and the final product was then smoked. The result – which is often called ‘buckskin’ regardless of the animal source for the hide – is very different from the leather we see in the show.

This is, in terms of material, very clearly not what the ‘vests’ the Dothraki in the show are wearing. Buckskin would also be used to make trousers, as opposed to the “horsehair leggings” of Martin’s wording, which also strike me as deeply improbable. Haircloth – fabric made from horsehair (or camel hair) – is durable, but typically stiff, unsupple and terribly itchy; not something you want in direct contact with your skin (especially not between your rear end and a saddle), unless you just really like skin irritation. It is also a difficult material to get in any kind of significant quantity – and you would need a significant quantity if you intended to make most of your trousers out of it.

...Well that’s for materials, what about patterns? Once again, we can quite easily rule out anything steppe inspired. Again, the Eurasian Steppe is big and has lots of variety, but relatively long robes are generally the norm in terms of dress; where long robes were not worn (see our Scythian above), the common pattern was heavy sleeved garments and trousers with very complete coverage. A common example of the type of long robe-like garments is the Mongolian deel, a long sleeved robe or tunic which provides a lot of protection against the elements. In the case of elites – and Daenerys is, initially, mostly around elites – these could be made of expensive silk or brocade – but poorer versions might be made of wool.

...And there is good reason for these relatively high-coverage garments. Plains or Steppe peoples naturally tend to live on, well, plains and steppes – that is large expanses of semi-arid grasslands. The very nature of that terrain configuration produces fairly extreme seasonal temperature variations (that is, very hot summers and very cold winters) as well as extreme daily temperature variations (that is, hot days and cold nights) because such places are far from large bodies of water and also don’t have tree-cover, both of which serve to moderate rapid temperature changes.

Consequently, as anyone who has lived in a plains state in the USA (or on the Eurasian Steppe, though that is fewer of my readers, but for my brave handful of hits from that part of the world, hello and welcome!) can tell you, you need clothes that can be layered and which can be both warm in the winter and cool in the summer. For us moderns, we mostly do this by owning multiple season-specific wardrobes, but clothing is expensive in pre-modern societies, so multi-purpose garments, or garments that be layered, to turn a warm-weather outfit into a cold-weather outfit are important!

There’s no reason to suppose the Dothraki Sea would be any different: it sits at about the same latitude as King’s Landing so there is little reason to assume it would be warm all-year-round. Parts of the Eurasian Steppe stretch decently far south, sharing a latitude with northern Italy and Spain; nevertheless they do not enjoy the same Mediterranean climate because they don’t have the same exposure to the weather patterns created by the sea. The southern end of the Great Plains stretches down all the way into Texas, but still gets properly cold in the winter with temperatures regularly dipping below freezing in the winter despite the latitude. For a people who are camping and working outside all of the time, warm clothing is going to be a must.

...There is tremendous variety here, but I don’t think any of it could be aptly described simply as “Men and women alike wore painted leather vests over bare chests and horsehair leggings.” Now, if you looked hard enough could you find something that resembled Martin’s leather vests, bare chests and horsehair leggings somewhere in the clothing of Native Americans across two continents? Probably, but among the specific Native peoples that Martin cites as inspiration, it does not seem to be at all common. And if that description was wholly unconnected to anything in the real world, we might well stop there and conclude that, well this is just the ‘dash of pure fantasy’ that Martin was talking about (although as we’ll see, it is going to be quite a bit more than just a dash). But I don’t think we can stop there, because (removing the medallion belts) Martin’s description does adequately describe something that exists in the real world: Halloween costumes purporting to depict Native Americans.

...The vest-and-pants style of Native American Halloween costume seems to be rather rare now, but it was, at least to my memory, much more common in the 1990s, when A Game of Thrones was written (initial publication date of 1996). You can see them, for instance, on many of the background extras in the famous Thanksgiving scene from Addams Family Values (1993) and that vest style was also a part of the outfit for the also-quite-unfortunately-branded YMCA Indian Guides/Indian Princesses program (rebranded as the ‘Adventure Guides’ in 2003 after decades of Native Americans complaining about it) which was also fairly popular in the 1990s.

Now, I am not saying that Martin planned to construct his Dothraki out of Native American stereotypes and bad Halloween costumes. In fact, I am fairly confident he intended nothing of the sort. But in the absence of doing some effective research (and it is going to become increasingly apparent that at least effective research was not done) there was quite possibly nothing else to inform the effort other than what was ‘in the air’ of the popular consciousness. Of course the danger of those often simplistic public stereotypes is that people often do not know that they have them, assuming instead that the vague impression they have is essentially accurate (or at least, close enough for a regular person). And that’s a real problem because it reinforces the popular stereotype, especially given Martin’s reputation for writing more ‘historically grounded’ fiction. And that is a problem because…

The clothing that the Dothraki are described and visually shown wearing is clearly intended to convey things about their society. Returning to our visual comparison above, it is easy to see that the actual clothing of both Eurasian and American ‘horse cultures’ was often bright, highly decorated and generally eye-catching, featuring complex patterns and shapes. It was both nice looking, but also spoke to the humanity of the people that made it and their very human desire to look nice and have nice looking things. By contrast, the clothing of the Dothraki is presented as simple, rugged and unadorned.

...I want to stress this to make the point clear: people in the past liked to look nice! Much of the popular perception of pre-modern clothing assumes lots of dull, drab colors, undecorated or merely adorned with rough pelts, but this is almost entirely a Hollywood construction. The Romans didn’t exclusively dress in white (indeed, the toga candida, the white toga, was an unusually formal thing to wear, like a politician’s suit-with-flag-pin), medieval peasants didn’t wear drab brown (they dressed in bright primary colors mostly), and as I hope the historical pictures for this essay show, both steppe nomads and Plains Native Americans wore nice clothing with lots of patterns, color and decoration. These men next to Khal Drogo are his elite guard of ‘bloodriders,’ the companions of a ruler who wields tremendous power and wealth! And yet they have opted to wear mostly undecorated bland brown leather.

Just to underline this point, think about what a fine set of clothing communicates to an observer (for instance, one of Khal Drogo’s thousands of mounted warrior retainers who are present at this event). Imported goods, like metalwares (which nomads won’t generally be able to make themselves) or fine imported fabrics demonstrate not only trade contacts but also often that the leader has useful ties to foreign leaders (since such things were often gifts or tribute from foreign courts). Garments whose production, due to fine patterns, complex weaves, intricate beading or quillwork, would take many, many hours of production demonstrate that the leader has a lot of subordinate people in their household (in many cases, that would mean women), which both implies the ability to give these people as gifts (either in marriage or because of their non-free status) and also the access to resources (in this case herds of animals) needed to sustain so many people – in short, the sort of leader who can reward faithful warriors richly.

And of course a leader who outfits his closest retainers – his bloodriders, in this case – with such wares (especially expensive foreign metal military equipment) demonstrates both access to military capital and also the ability to reward his trusted lieutenants. In short, the Khal whose person and immediate retainers are decked out in finery looks like backing the winning side, which is a very important thing to assess as one of his warriors. So even if not one of Drogo’s men cares about their personal appearance at all, it is still politically important for them to dress for success.

Which then demands the question, looking at the very fine clothing of historical horse cultures that supposedly provided the inspiration for these Dothraki fellows: Where is the exquisite bead work? The fine quillwork? Where are the carefully made fringes? Where is the silk brocade? Where are the detailed, complex patterns?”

- Bret Devereaux, “That Dothraki Horde, Part I: Barbarian Couture.”

#the dothraki #bret devereaux #history #fashion #grrm critical

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visionsofus · 4 years ago

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hi! currently on chapter 11 of your mixtape and am in love with it! 🥰 the way you write - especially the way you depict vision so accurately that i can imagine him saying all of those things - is just amazing. not sure if you still accept requests but i would love to see a fic based on “start a riot-banners” (i am a sucker for angst, love the pain🥲) love your work!🥰

oof I am very sorry for long this took but hopefully the wait will be worth it! thank you so much for your request <3 for context there was a second message requesting something following on from the compound scene in episode 8 of WV. naturally, I cannot improve upon perfection - so I decided to look at a more physical rendition of VIsion breaking down Wanda’s carefully built walls. I really hope you enjoy 🥰

| read on AO3 here | mixtape playlist | send me an ask with your song/prompt request |

Track #21: Start a Riot by BANNERS

Breathe

Wanda cried out to her own mind as she rocked back and forth, thumping a hand against her chest as though it would somehow alleviate the pain radiating from her heart.

She wasn’t sure what had brought on the intense wave of emotion – there were plenty of options to choose from, be it dead brother, the mass destruction of her city, the endless damage she’d committed under Ultron. There seemed no limit to her pain, to the pain that she had caused. All she knew was that she had woken up at some point late in the night and the darkness pressing in on all sides had made her panic, prompting the revival of all those memories she’d spent the last two weeks forcing down. Of course, it was going to bubble over. She’d just never thought it could get this catastrophic.

“Wanda!” She distantly heard Steve cry from her doorway as he tried to pull himself into her room. But it was no use, her powers were out of control, creating a dangerous tornado of swirling red magic that only seemed to grow.

A small crowd had gathered behind Steve – Nat, Sam and James Rhodes each with varying shades of concern and fear on their faces. And then a more familiar figure came down the corridor. Wanda wasn’t certain how she knew he was there before she saw him, she just did. He was a warmth at the edges of her mind, a figure in the corner of her gaze, there was always small part of her consciousness focused on him.

His arrival granted her one sweet moment of pause before the riling, spinning ball of energy encasing her room picked up speed once more. She curled in on herself, the bed at her back and the full extent of her power barely restrained between her two fists.

“This isn’t good,” Nat yelled from outside the roaring power, “we need to get through to her before she brings the entire building down.”

Yes, her powers would do that wouldn’t they? They’d bring it all crashing down, just as she had in Sokovia.

“Stand aside Captain Rogers.”

“Vision I don’t know if this is a good idea, the proximity to the power source in your head could make things worse.”

“Stay away!” Wanda howled, pressing her fists to her chest and calling her power in lest they hurt those who had been trying so hard to help her.

“I can reach her.”

With grudging respect Steve moved aside. "Have the sedatives ready," he said to Natasha as Vision began trying to enter the room she had effectively barricaded herself in.

“Wanda?” Vision’s voice was soft, yet she heard him clear as day.

“Please go,” Wanda whispered, clutching at her shoulders as though she could hold the pain in, the power in, all of it.

“Let me help you,” Vision said taking the first step into the room.

“I don’t want to hurt you!”

“You won’t hurt me.” Vision’s voice held a confidence that she didn’t feel. “I trust you.”

Wanda’s chest heaved with a sob.

“I need you to let it go, stop calling on the power.”

“I can’t,” Wanda cried, shaking with the effort it took to keep it restrained. “It’s too powerful.”

Vision was closer to her now, her power flinching off him like water off a duck’s back. She didn't want to hurt him.

“You are that power, Wanda.”

“No,” Wanda whispered and shook her head firmly.

“You are the power, you are powerful,” he said with such certainty that Wanda faltered. At the start it had felt like a separate entity, something that had latched onto her but the more she had experimented with the misty magic the more it had become her own. “You don’t need to control it, you just have to let go.”

He was crouching before her now, his hand outstretched. Wanda focused on his eyes, those strange eyes which were both artificial and entirely human.

“Take my hand,” Vision said, reaching out to her.

The roaring quietened a little bit, her mind calming enough for her to relax one hand and stretch it out. Her heat beat started to slow and the blood rushing in her ears lessened. His hand grounded her and slowly, layer by layer, her powers dropped down their red walls. Finally, the only one that remained was a half-hearted swirling mass encasing herself.

With a tight grip on her hand Vision dragged her out of her own whirlpool. Wanda shook with tears at the sudden quiet that descended upon them as the last of her power evaporated, leaving her arms aching with the magic as she let go.

Vision’s hand was her lifeline. He picked her up carefully and lifted her to the bed where she continued to tremble with leftover sobs. His voice calmed her as he whispered soft comforts and she maintained a vicelike grip of his hand.

Half an hour later and she had calmed down enough to get back in bed. The others had already retired to their quarters – convinced Wanda was fine once she started professing her apologies for disturbing their Saturday evening. Steve had left a herbal tea on her nightstand and Nat had given her a tight hug with the promise they’d talk more in the morning.

Vision didn’t leave though. He saw to making sure she had another blanket and intuitively knew to pull her blinds up so that the outside world might be seen. That he had known what would make her feel better startled Wanda and she watching him curiously. Finished at the windows he turned back to her, rubbing his hands before him as though not quite sure what to do with himself.

“Is there anything else I can do?” Vision asked hesitantly.

“You’ve already done so much,” Wanda said, her throat hoarse from the crying. “Thank you.”

Vision gave a small smile at this. “And you will be alright until morning?

Wanda managed a huffing laugh at his concern, wondering what on earth she had done to entice such care from the synthezoid. Regardless of whether it sense, she couldn’t ignore the warm feeling blossoming in her chest replacing the harshness of the feelings she’d been bombarded not long earlier. “I’ll be alright now, thank you, Vision.”

“If there is anything else you need,” Vision said stepping backwards towards the wall behind him, “now or in the future, please tell me.”

Wanda’s breath caught in her throat when she realised, he was making to leave, intending to phase through her bedroom wall as he so often did around the house. Just as quickly the panic was back at the thought of being left alone. Vision must have seen her eyes widen and her hands tense atop the covers because he paused.

“Would it bother you if I stayed a little longer?” His words were a rush. “I would rather not leave you alone, at least until you are asleep.”

Wanda’s lip trembled and she blinked furiously. “That would be nice.”

Vision smiled and pointed to the chair once again before shaking his head and walking over to sit. His mannerisms were becoming more familiar to her with every passing day, and his quirks were beginning to make her smile.

He remained at her side throughout the night, though he’d said he would only stay until she fell asleep. Though the chair was empty when morning light started to stream through her windows, Wanda was certain he hadn’t left her. She would have felt him leave, felt the absence of him even when her brain was lost in deep sleep. And a deep sleep it had been, she had not felt so well rested in a long, long time.

Wanda sat up when she felt Vision returning, and was surprised when he knocked at her door this time.

“Come in,” she called.

“I thought you might like to eat breakfast with the others,” Vision’s voice was hesitant as he cracked the door open to speak.

Wanda was quiet for a moment. She had yet to eat a meal with her supposed teammates, though not through any fault of their own. It had hurt her to hear their laughter each morning and evening as they gathered in the kitchen down from her room. She had hated the part of her that longed to join their laughter what with Pietro's loss so fresh in her mind.

“It would do everyone good to see you well,” Vision said, quieter this time.

He had torn at her walls yesterday and here he was again, making sure her defences didn't snap back up just as strong. He was asking her to leave the door open and take a step through. Wanda struggled to find a reason to say no. Afterall, Vision had walked through catastrophic amounts of her power just the previous evening, the least she could do was manage a plate of scrambled eggs.

“I’ll be right out,” she said, her voice still scratchy but eager for use.

Vision pulled the door closed behind him, just slow enough for Wanda to catch sight of his bright beaming smile. It was a smile she wanted to see again.

#wandavision #scarletvision #scarlet vision fanfiction #scarlet witch #wanda maximoff #the vision #Post-AoU #Vision comforting Wanda #angst #visionsofusfics #I'm slowly getting through all my prompts :)

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orionsangel86 · 4 years ago

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Hey Everyone,

As you have probably noticed, I have neglected this blog for a long time now. I haven’t been on any fandom related social media at all actually. But I figured since I am currently in a good mindset, I want to write a post just outlining some things which basically boils down to a goodbye letter to Supernatural fandom.

Long rambling post below the cut...

This year (and the last) has just taken it out of me in terms of general negativity online both in fandom and in the real world. At first I got tired of fandom (mostly because Twitter is a cesspool of policing and bullying) and then I got tired of everything else (the world sucks right now, and my mental health basically stopped me from being able to participate in any form of online activism – just because I’m not blogging about something, doesn’t mean I don’t support the cause ya know?). Earlier this year, right around the time of the UK lockdowns, I had surgery and a recovery period in which I spent a lot of time with family, and just reacquainted myself with the real world. I think perhaps the coronavirus pandemic made me realise that long before lockdown began I had already been isolating myself from my real life and diving further and further into an online black hole.

It was years in the making. Supernatural fandom preoccupied my thoughts for such a long period of time it got to the point where every moment of my non working time seemed to be spent either online scrolling my tumblr dash or twitter feed, or reading fanfic or doing something fandom related. I invested so much of myself into this show and fandom that I think I forgot who I was before I was a Supernatural fan completely.

After my wake up call in late 2019, which lead me to break free from an extremely nasty clique, I have tried to re-enter fandom on my own terms, as well as attempt to enjoy the source material and the fandom creations to ignite some new spark of love and interest in the show. Yet as much as I have tried, I have failed to do so.

I was thinking recently about someone I used to follow years ago before I ever created a blog. When I was still just lurking in the tumblr shadows and followed the likes of Mittens, Lizbob, and other meta writers of the period, there was a blogger whose name I can’t remember but she was the funniest blogger I had come across. But when the show killed off Charlie Bradbury, she quit. I had never even interacted with her, as I was barely getting my blog started at the time, but I’ll never forget a post she wrote about her feelings on the show. She had recently started watching something else (I think it was Sense8 but can’t recall entirely), and that this new show had given her everything she had never thought she could have from her fave before. She wrote about how her relationship with Supernatural had become abusive. That for years the writers of Supernatural continued to throw punches at fans like her – women, LGBTQ+ people, people of colour, and yet she continued to give it all her time and attention, brushing off the punches because she was so damn devoted to the characters. Then this new show had come along, and it was like she had seen the light. The killing of Charlie Bradbury was the last straw, and she dumped Supernatural’s ass and fled into the arms of her new love.

I hope she is doing fantastically today.

What she wrote has resonated with me for years. I was a fairly new Supernatural fan at the time, and therefore didn’t really understand what she meant. A TV show can’t be abusive. Can it?

Of course, we are speaking in metaphor here, and in no way are these metaphors meant to reduce or limit the truly serious situation of actual abusive relationships, but every now and then, when a new episode of Supernatural has left me feeling upset, disappointed, frustrated and grossly let down, in some cases affecting my mood for days at a time, and therefore my mental health. I have thought back to those words she wrote and quietly agreed with them in my head. Yes. This is a metaphorically abusive relationship.

When I discovered earlier this year that Castiel was most likely going to be killed off in some sort of bullshit self sacrifice before the end of the show, I was extremely distressed. When I found out that my favourite person of all time Misha Collins, supported this ending for Castiel, and may have even been the one who pushed for it, I was more than distressed, I felt betrayed by the person I cared about most. I’ll admit to you all now that in my weakest moments I have fantasized about standing in front of Misha and screaming at him exactly just what kind of affect his “ideal ending” for Castiel will have on his fanbase, on their mental health, and potentially their own safety. This fantasy has me guilt tripping him and doing everything in my power to make him feel utterly shit about the decision. I know what you are thinking – don’t blame Misha, the guy has his own problems and we all know he projects his own self esteem issues onto Cas – and yes, I know this, like I said its only a fantasy to get me through my darkest moments. I don’t hate Misha at all. But perhaps I do love him a little less nowadays than I did back at the height of my fandom life. That’s at least still a little bit more than my feelings for Jensen and Jared which now I can only describe as complete indifference.

I am admitting all of this now knowing full well it will ignite shock and anger among the more die hard fans of J2M, to explain why I need to just leave this fandom completely, or more accurately, why I have already left fandom.

Over the past 10 months of 2020, I have watched a lot of TV (there isn’t much else to do during a lockdown when you are on crutches with your foot in a cast!) and the one thought that occurred to me over and over again was “this show is so much better than Supernatural”.

I kept comparing everything I watched, from the quality of the scripts, the actors, the special effects, to the inclusiveness of the shows. Just so many beautiful and interesting stories that seem to understand their audience, and understand how to entertain and impress without resorting to cringe humour, outdated jokes, and prejudice, not to mention misogyny and queerbaiting – yup, I said it.

The thing is, I think these thoughts have been creeping over me slowly for longer than just this year, but I have been desperately batting them away the way Dean Winchester bats away his own gay thoughts. Unlike Dean though, eventually I couldn’t ignore them anymore. I cannot continue to carve out space in my own soul for this show, which incessantly beats me down regardless of my devotion. The creators, the network, the writers, and sometimes even the cast, have all shown that they don’t care about me as a fan. I’m not some gun toting dudebro living in middle America, so why should they give a damn about me? I’m clearly not their target audience, nor have I ever been.

I know many of you will vehemently deny my personal opinion of Supernatural now. That is absolutely fine. I am sorry to be admitting it, but I had to. I feel like once I finally write out these words, I have got it off my chest and can close and lock the door on Supernatural for good.

Without Supernatural, I am able to focus on my real life, I am able to find pleasure in other things, new things, interesting things, that bring me joy and joy alone – not disappointment and frustration. I found a new job this year, which has been a huge accomplishment as I was stagnating in my old one, and several new hobbies under my belt. I moved to a new flat, I have a lovely flatmate who has been a godsend throughout lockdown, and I have rekindled friendships that I was neglecting due to my Supernatural obsession.

All in all, I am finding post-Supernatural life far more rewarding and content than my life in fandom. It has taken me a while, but I am over the show. And whilst I will always hold a special place in my heart for Castiel, it will be as I know him in my own mind; as the wonderful, strong, powerful and determined angel with a soul, who loves so strongly, and who is worth so much more than his own creators give him credit for. He is up there with Aziraphale and Crowley, with The Doctor, and Buffy, as one of the greatest characters of all time.

So the Supernatural writers and creators can take whatever ending they have decided upon, and shove it up their asses. I am sorry to say that Sam and Dean Winchester are also lost to me. Any love I had for them was destroyed by their later season depictions. Castiel alone is the only character worthy of that space in my heart now. If in time he longs for a companion, I will find one for him, but it won’t be the Dean Winchester of the canon show. Canon Dean hasn’t been deserving of Cas for a long time now.

Perhaps I am still a little bitter about the ending. Perhaps the finale won’t be the disaster I expect it to be, perhaps Dabb will somehow turn it all around last minute following whatever travesty Bucklemming have given us in 15x19. Either way, I won’t be watching.

So this is me saying goodbye to this blog, at least until I have decided what else to do with it. It certainly won’t be a Supernatural fandom blog anymore. It wasn’t all wasted though. I did get a wonderful friendship group out of this fandom, and I have certainly expanded my knowledge of film and television analysis, as well as having enjoyed a great many memes.

I guess in the end, my internal war with my inner bitter Cas girl finished with her winning, and writing this post. Once it is posted however, I will put her to sleep with thoughts of a happy Castiel, who has swapped his wings for a beating human heart, and is living on a beach somewhere beautiful, refurbishing an old Victorian house, and greeting his kindly elderly neighbours. There’s a gay bar on the main strip, and the bartender is quite a dish. Green eyes and light brown hair with a killer smile. Castiel thinks he looks familiar, like a memory from a past life, but they’ve definitely never met, because this man is kind.

Now that she is asleep, there is nothing left for me here. Goodbye everyone. Whether you manage to enjoy the finale or not, I truly hope you too, find your peace.

#personal #a goodbye message to fandom

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sleepless-in-starbucks · 5 years ago

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it’s 3am in a coffee shop

Summary: It’s 3am in a coffee shop, and there are four men. Pairing: Rolosleepxiety Notes: Inspired by pineapple anon’s prompt. Also tried a weird prose-y style for this so uh,,,, beware. Also there is no dialogue and no names so I hope you like weird third person narrating and a hell of a lot of epithets.

It’s 3am in a coffee shop, and right at that place, right in that moment, there are four men.

One of them is sitting on the counter. He is the only employee currently in the cafe, though he is not working. He is drinking a mocha he made for himself but will not be paying for. He should not be on the counter, but he is unsupervised, and he does not care.

One of them is sitting on a table. Shadows, artificial and earned, are smeared beneath his eyes. He is drinking a coffee filled with an unhealthy amount of sugar and cream. There is a laptop on his lap and he is working on an essay that’s not due for two weeks as if it were due tomorrow. He, too, should not be sitting where he is sitting, but the barista who winked at him when he came in seems happy to turn the blind eye.

The final two are sitting at the next table over, across from each other. They did not come in together. The one who came earlier is drinking a plain black coffee as he works his way through a page of messy equations. The one who came later is drinking a coffee with a name longer than a foot-long sub and more complicated than any of his accidental companion's equations as he doodles on the paper he should be writing on. He sat across from the man with the black coffee and the equations because it felt wrong to sit alone in an otherwise empty place.

It is 3am in a coffee shop, and the silence within is deafening (in a comforting way).

There is not a sound aside from the scratching of pencil on paper and the steady tap-tap-tapping of keyboard keys and typing. Occasionally, there is another noise, a slightly louder sip or the light thump of fingers tapping in thought. Occasionally, the silence only grows, with a pause in the typing or a stop in the writing.

The man who is doodling has not been doodling for five minutes. His pencil has been put upon the paper, already marking the spot on which it rests, but it no longer curves and moves. The man’s eyes have not been on the paper for just as long as his pencil has been stopped. His gaze has been fluttering between the other three.

Without much thought, his pencil begins to move again, but it has moved on from mindless doodles of castles and dragons. Now it draws the curve of a jawline. The sweep of hair. The quirk of a smile.

It is 3am in a coffee shop, and a man is drawing strangers.

The man with the plain coffee notices after a few minutes. He stops the ticking of his pencil as he quickly spells out complex formulas to watch the other man as he easily and carelessly draws the employee who is sat upon the counter.

Within a minute the man with glasses as black as his coffee and a thought process as emotional as a robot has come to a realization or perhaps several: he is beautiful.

Who is ‘he’? Is it the man who is drawing? Is it the man he is drawing? Is it simply his drawing?

Yes.

No.

All of the above.

It is 3am in a coffee shop, no one’s drink is finished, and a man is falling in love.

The man who sits upon a table behind them is not a blind man. He has noticed the drawing man watching the employee without pause. He has noticed the analytical man watching the drawing man as if he were the most interesting person in the world.

Of course, he has noticed them since they came in, sitting so close to him. But now he truly notices them, notices not just how and who they look at but also the equations that are forgotten in front of the man with the black coffee, how complicated they are, how smart he must be; notices the slight smile on the drawing man’s face as he works, how small and unimportant it should be, how he thinks it makes the drawing man look absolutely stunning.

The typing has fallen silent for some minutes. It is unlikely to start again soon.

It is 3am in a coffee shop, assignments are being forgotten, and two men are falling in love.

The drawing man has finished his first piece. He barely even realizes what he’s done until he’s looked down, finding a rough but rather accurate depiction of the working man who is not working scrawled across his paper. He’d be surprised if it hadn’t been obviously coming. He was an artist. He drew pretty things. Pretty things and pretty people.

He is surprised, however, to find the other two men watching him. They pretend not to, but the man with equations is no longer writing them, his eyes sitting at some point near the top of the paper where it is all too easy for his eyes to quickly flick up for a glance; the man on the table has shifted more towards him and no longer types.

The man with doodles in place of his work flushes. He does not know why. He is not one unused to attention. He is, in fact, one who seeks it out and draws it upon himself. Stares as he passes by or talks or works are not uncommon.

But here, the attention is a foreign kind. It is… softer than the attention he is accustomed to. They are not staring at him because he is flashy or loud or bold. They are staring at him because he is himself.

It is 3am in a coffee shop, no one is working, and three men are falling in love.

The employee who should be fired but will not be is watching all three of his customers rather shamelessly. They do not notice his gaze, as it is hidden behind sunglasses that no one but him would be wearing at such a dark hour.

He has noticed very quickly the strangers coming to look about and go from looking about to looking at each other. Noticed quickly the artist turn to watch him as his doodles take a more purposeful shape, noticed the man with calculations lose focus as his gaze wanders from artist to himself, noticed the man with a laptop watch the two strangers sitting at the same booth.

He is often a late shift worker. He has seen this before, seen the odd hours of the morning pull strangers together like magnets to metal.

But he has never seen them before this night, before this moment, before they came in looking tired but gorgeous, before he realized that when it all came down to it, he, too, was just another stranger caught up in the odd hours of the morning.

It is 3am in a coffee shop, one man has been falling in love for half an hour, and all four men are falling in love, now, together.

The silence in the cafe is no longer deafening but instead simply silent. It is heavy, too, but heavy with unspoken words and meaningful glances and the realization that the sun always rises and life always calls, calls away from here and this moment, in the early hours of the cafe, where the world is at standstill and hearts are at the edge.

The doodling man takes his pencil up once more, now purposeful, as he begins to draw another face, the face of the man in front of him who is failing to keep his attention to his equations and formulas. He goes quicker now, because 3am is running away from them and the spell is breaking, but he still wants to capture the moment just as it was before it is gone forever and forevermore.

He will not speak up and break the silence.

The man of black coffee and calculations still watches the doodling man, watches as a new face takes shape, one that bears glasses perched on the tip of its nose and eyes downturned in work. He does not bother to hide his gaze now, because the tip of the sun is broaching the horizon, and though it is small and will not truly rise for some time, it is a mocking reminder that time does move and moments do not last an eternity.

He will not speak up and break the silence.

The man with shadows beneath his eyes has turned off his laptop, but it still sits open in his lap, even as the screen sits black and dead and useless. He refuses to close it just yet- if he closes it, he will leave, and he is not ready to leave. Instead, he continues to keep it up as a facade of working, even as his eyes remain over the top of it, watching the other men, and not the window, where the world is slowly, very slowly, but also very surely waking up. Soon the waking will breach the quiet safety of the cafe, and he will leave, and he will leave these strangers with faces he already feels he could never forget and stories he wants to hear but knows he never will.

He will not speak up and break the silence.

The man with sunglasses and hidden eyes remains watching them all, constantly aware of the passing minutes as one who usually counts the seconds til freedom does automatically. Today and tonight, however, every passing second is a regretful one, a reminder that time continues to pass regardless of whether or not you want it to, and that this moment, these people, wouldn’t be here forever. Tomorrow, there will be no man with shadowed eyes watching a man doodle a stranger’s face. Tomorrow, there will be no artist doodling a stranger’s face while he occasionally glances at said stranger with an unfairly soft look in his eyes. Tomorrow, there will be no stranger with abandoned equations looking between the artist suddenly drawing him and the employee sat upon the counter instead of stationed behind it. Tomorrow, all of this, all of them, will be gone, back to their lives, far from some small twenty-four-seven cafe on the corner of an off-street.

He will not speak up and break the silence.

But he will not let this moment completely slip away either.

It is 3am in a coffee shop, four men are falling in love, and one of them is finally doing something about it.

The three customers give a brief glance up when the employee slides off the counter, moving to actually work with the equipment he has not so much as looked at since the artist took his own drink. They look back down just as quickly, unconcerned with what they assume is simply another drink being made for the employee himself.

They do not notice him make not one but three drinks, do not notice him writing numbers and a name that only belongs to him on their lids, do not notice him lining up the drinks across the counter in preparation. They are too caught up in the realization that 3am is a breath away from being over, and they must soon be leaving.

The man with shadows beneath his eyes leaves first, closing his laptop with a light thud that sounds louder than gunfire in the quiet cafe. He gets up slowly, regretfully, and heads towards the door. The artist has paused his drawing, the man of equations watches him go.

Before he can open the door, however, there is a knocking noise behind him. He turns. The employee is leaning against the counter and knocking on it. He wears a smirk, now, as he pushes a cup towards the departing man and nods at it. The silence must hold, after all, so he does not speak. But his unspoken words are clear enough.

The man with a closed laptop smiles the tiniest bit as he comes back for his cup. He offers the employee a small nod. He turns.

It is 3am in a coffee shop, and there are three men.

The artist who has done none of his work leaves next. It takes another five minutes for him to finish his drawing, but eventually it is done, the cheekbones fully shaded and the expression practically alive.

He looks between the drawing and its inspiration. Pushes it forwards. An offering.

The man with calculations shakes his head and pushes it back. A reminder.

The artist frowns in the slightest but he does not offer again. He packs his things. Attempts to leave. Is stopped by a knocking sound and another smirk and an offered cup. But not stopped forever.

It is 3am in a coffee shop, and there are two men.

The man with calculations has not moved since the artist left. He is staring at his work but not working. It is time for him to leave. He does not want to leave.

There is a thunk on the table in front of him. The man with glasses and equations and no desire to fall in love but the eternal capacity to do so looks up to find the only other man in the cafe smiling at him. The thunk came from the final cup being placed before him.

He glances at the cup. Notices the number and the name and the heart scrawled on top. Glances back at the barista.

He almost says something.

But he doesn’t.

It is 3am in a coffee shop, and there is one man.

He leans against the counter and looks out at the now empty cafe. It will not be empty long. Early risers will come looking for coffee and free wifi. He will be forced to work another hour and then he will go home and nap for as long as he can get away with. But first he must survive another hour.

His phone dings. Once. Twice. Thrice.

He smiles.

It is 4am in a coffee shop, and there are four men. They are no longer together in the coffee shop.

But they are still together.

#who allowed me to write the fck #I only half like this #and I only edited it once #but I'm still forcing y'all to look at it so like #suffer #the cryptid speaks #fanfic #fanfiction #ts sides #sanders sides #ts logan #ts roman #ts sleep #ts remy #ts virgil #rolosleepxiety #lorosleepxiety

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agent-cupcake · 5 years ago

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Dimitri and mental illness

**Warnings for Blue Lions spoilers and armchair psychology

Depending on who you ask, Dimitri is an innocent sweetheart whose actions are entirely excusable and justified or an unforgivable war criminal and overall terrible character. Arguments for both sides have been exhausted, usually in the form of the popular Edelgard versus Dimitri debate, but I feel that both statements are heavily flawed and, truthfully, I think I take more issue with the former. Does it strike anyone else as rather patronizing that the audience (and the game, to an extent) treats Dimitri like an innocent, broken uwu soft boy both before the time skip and once he begins his recovery arc? Of course, a lot of this can be blamed on the awful pacing and poor writing of said recovery (which is the most valid structural critique of his character imo), but there’s a lot to be said about the fan depiction of Dimitri and the way people treat his mental illness. I think the reason this gets me is because I see it as an extension of the problems I have with the romanticization of male-specific mental illness. In this case, “all depressed boys are emasculated, soft, sad bois” and “anger is an accessory that is vanished once the cute boy takes it off” with the related sentiment of “the only two real mental illnesses are depression and anxiety, with a splash of PTSD for argument's sake”. And, speaking of arguments, while many people bring up mental illness in regards to the discussion around Three Houses characters, it is often supplementary to support their points rather than the main point unto itself. Dimitri’s mental illness (aka, the thing his entire arc is predicated upon) is mostly given only a passing recognition in the discussion of his actions. Even then, it’s often used as a justification to defend or lambaste him.

TL;DR Dimitri is a flawed person with a debilitating and incredibly well written mental illness that, while not excusing his actions, allows for further exploration of his character and a well-deserved shot at a recovery arc that is not usually awarded to people with the “non-traditional” mental illnesses. Furthermore, the game offers a wealth of insight as to what they intended his mental illness to be, the symptoms that manifested, and a plausible background to match up with it all and I have the receipts to prove it. Let’s go~

“Me? Oh. Um. Please forgive me... It's difficult to open up on the spot, don't you think? I'm afraid my story has not been a pleasant one... I do hope that doesn't color your view of me, but I understand if that can't be helped.”

I know that mental illness can be singularly caused by a traumatic event or events. That is, generally, how I see people framing Dimitri’s mental illness. My argument, however, is that the Tragedy of Duscur was not the genesis, but the trigger for issues that would exist otherwise. Perhaps it’s due to my own personal experience with mental illness, but I’m almost always more inclined to believe that issues stem from an unlucky combination of many things.

Regardless, my evidence to entertain the idea that he would be naturally predisposed to mental illness is slim. Aside from arguing that it wouldn’t be out of the question for his mother to have been unwell while she was pregnant with him considering she would later die of plague (a cause that in and of itself is subject to skepticism), I would bring up his Crest. In-game there is clear proof that Crests have wide-reaching effects on the person, there are actually a few analysis posts that hypothesize that Crests could be the reason for certain character motivations. In ng+, the Crest of Blaiddyd is called the Grim Dragon Sign. There’s no definitive proof to point to here, but if his Crest was one of the reasons for his mental deterioration it would follow other rules set in-game. Rather than inherited human genetics creating the blueprint for mental issues and the writers having to face that issue on its own terms, it was the Crest’s influence. This goes along with the fact that the game never overtly references Dimitri’s illness, essentially using “the dead” as a blanket symptom of his problems. Both these things are cool ways to imply a possible way to read more deeply without having to use anachronistic medical terms.

Side note: There’s something uncomfortable about the idea of a Crest that gives the individual inhuman strength and mental issues. Grim Dragon indeed.

My next point is one that I don’t see being brought up too often in regards to how it might have affected Dimitri, likely because the events that came later in his life far overshadow it, but Dimitri lost his mom when he was young. The date is not given, but I think it’d be when he was about six-ish. Admittedly, the timeline is strange and non-specific around here but if that were true, it would mean that the plague, Dimitri’s mother’s death, and Lambert and Rodrigue’s war campaign to subjugate the southern half of Sreng would all have happened around the same time. Dimitri says he doesn’t remember it, but that doesn’t necessarily matter. At six years old he had lost one parent and the other one left him to go on a battle march, leaving this child without any sort of parent figure to console him in a country that is culturally opposed to expressing emotion. Lambert will probably always remain a mystery, but I think it could be fair to say he was a poor father. Or at the very least a distant one. Dimitri was undoubtedly a sensitive child (if we’re to judge by the sensitive person he grew up to be) and during the years where he was actually becoming old enough to remember, he had nobody to teach him how to properly navigate and manage his emotions. Emotional neglect in a child who is predisposed to being emotional and empathetic can leave them suffering from a sense of isolation, an inability to ask for help, and a predisposition to having break downs as they get older.

But three-ish years later, possibly one of the best things that ever would happen to Dimitri came to pass and Lambert married Patricia. Dimitri adored her.

“I share no blood with my stepmother, but to hear you say that... It pleases me greatly. She was the one who raised me. I suppose it makes sense that we would share certain mannerisms.” (Dimitri’s B support with Hapi)

I don’t think Dimitri’s feelings about Patricia can be overstated, as I feel it’s one of the most defining aspects of his reactions to things that happen later on. Dimitri talks about Patricia more lovingly than he talks about Lambert. She was in his life for around four to five years but had such an impact on him that even his mannerisms are similar.

Soon after, a ten-year-old Dimitri made his first friend that wasn’t knightly, who didn’t embody those Faerghus ideals of stifling emotions and swinging swords.

People point out the Faerghus crew as Dimitri’s best friends, and yet Edelgard is the one associated with his best memories. It’s just my own assumptions, but I think that it’s because both Edelgard and Patricia gave Dimitri space to be an emotional child, to not have to be the knightly prince who had no emotions and engaged only in the most masculine of activities. And, I mean, look at them. He’s learning to dance and she’s bossing him around, absolutely no regard for propriety.

It’s pretty clear that Dimitri doesn’t feel romantic feelings towards Edelgard in the academy phase, but I think it would be fair to say she was his first love when they were young. He essentially says this was the best year of his life and establishes Edelgard as someone very precious to him (as well as the daughter of one of the most precious people to him). Strong feelings beget strong feelings, do they not?

Google says that eleven to fourteen is the general age of male puberty. It’s the time that kids begin to more fully define how they’re going to emotionally interact with people and the world at large. Meeting Edelgard was at the cusp of this period of Dimitri’s life, and the Tragedy of Duscur was right in the midst of it.

And we all know what that turned out.

Dimitri’s accounts of what happened during the Tragedy are... conflicting. This CG of an unharmed Dimitri in a field of corpses is... conflicting.

“My father...was the strongest man I knew. Someone I loved and admired deeply. That said, he was killed before my eyes. His head severed clean off. My stepmother, the kindest person I had ever known, left me behind and disappeared into the infernal flames.”

I’ve seen people create a plausible scenario in which Dimitri’s recollection is entirely accurate, where he saw Lambert call for revenge and get beheaded, saw Glenn’s ruined body and face twisted in pain, saw his step-mother disappear into the flames, and all despite the raging chaos of the battle and how people would undoubtedly be targeting the prince, but I think it makes more sense that his memories are unreliable. Dimitri suffered a severe head injury (very important to keep in mind) at Duscur. Maybe that happened early on, after seeing who attacked Lambert but before he was an actual target himself, which merely made him look dead. Maybe he saw a version of the events he described, but through the filter of confused head trauma, smoke inhalation, and intense terror. To think that his recollection isn’t exactly entirely reliable sets a precedent for his later skewed take on reality.

Regardless of opinion, though, the facts are that Dimitri left Duscur with a traumatic brain injury and post-traumatic stress disorder.

After that, from thirteen to seventeen, Dimitri was pretty isolated. Most of the people he cared about were dead. His entire emotional support system (Patricia) was gone. He saved Dedue (although they were definitely not on even terms, that relationship is unbalanced to the extreme) and occasionally saw Rodrigue (who I have no reason to believe was emotionally accommodating in any way considering the way he sees Dimitri as an extension of Lambert to his dying breath). Again, it’s strange. People act like Dimitri was super close friends with the Faerghus crew, that he was surrounded by people who loved him (although it is clear there is a lot of love there), but he never presents things in a way to imply that’s the case. In fact, he highlights his isolation:

“In Duscur, I lost my father, stepmother, and closest friends. I didn't have many allies at the castle after that. In truth, I had only Dedue for companionship.”... “I once had people I could confide in. Family, friends, instructors, even the royal soldiers. But they were all taken away from me four years ago.” (Dimitri’s C support with Byleth.)

Two years passed before the next time Dimitri saw his friends and it was a war campaign, putting down the rebellion in western Faerghus. Dimitri speaks about those battles from a place of deeply affected emotion, expressing empathy, pain, and disgust with his actions and the killing.

“I recall coming across a dead soldier's body. He was clutching a locket. Inside was a lock of golden hair. I don't know to whom it belonged. His wife, his daughter...mother, lover... I'll never know.... in that moment, I realized he was also a real person, just like the rest of us… Killing is part of the job, but even so... There are times when I'm chilled to the bone by the depravity of my own actions.” (Dimitri’s B Support with Byleth)

I love this support, honestly. It’s so very telling about the destructive quality of empathy. Although caring can be a good thing, it’s also arguably one of the most destructive of Dimitri’s qualities. His empathy is what presents him with situations he cannot accept, the thing that pushes him to disassociate from reality so he can be rid of it and fight without remorse like he was taught to do by his father and other soldiers. Dimitri is a man of extremes. Either total control or none, without any room for error. This dialogue is also the first time Dimitri brings up reconciling himself with reality and hints to the fact that he has been unable to do so. This is contrasted perfectly in this line from Felix,

“The way you suppressed that rebellion... It was ruthless slaughter and you loved every second. I remember the way you killed your victims. How you watched them suffer. And your face...that expression. All the world's evil packed into it...” (Dimitri’s C Support with Felix)

Dimitri doesn’t deny this. Just like all of the other terrible things Felix says, he takes it without protesting in an act of what I think is stilted contrition. Although, it’s not just in supports that Dimitri’s contrasting behavior is brought up. The Remire incident probably works as a good reference for what Felix saw all those years back.

This is the first time we see Dimitri’s darker side in full. The similarities in the situation to what is shown to have happened in the Tragedy of Duscur are interesting. The fire, the utter chaos, strange figures watching it all from above. This is another case of a perfect disaster. I wonder if his ultimate snap would have been so destructive if not for Remire.

Anyway, this draws parallels to his and Felix’s separate recall of the rebellion because later Dimitri apologizes.

“Professor... I...I'm sorry you saw that side of me in the village… When I saw the chaos and violence there...my mind just went completely dark.”

Dimitri is unreliable. A lack of control, a separation of self, and becoming consumed by a dark rage only to come to his senses later, full of shame and a sense of confusion about why. From my own experience, it’s not unnatural to come out of an episode like this without being able to explain what was happening and being baffled by your behavior. This firmly establishes Dimitri’s uncomfortably fast mood shifts in relation to his trauma from the Tragedy and confirms all of the warnings Felix had given. When Dimitri was faced with a reality he could not accept, he lost control of his emotions and his mental state shifted to adapt accordingly.

This is when I’d also like to note something interesting about how Dimitri discusses his trauma. He is very honest and open about his experiences, explaining exactly what happened to him to Byleth. However, he uses the truth to hide. In recounting the events of the Tragedy of Duscur, in talking about how his family died and saying how badly it hurt him, he does not make himself vulnerable. When he admits weakness, he does so in the past tense or apologetically, vowing to be stronger. “Stronger”, aka, he’ll be better in suppressing his emotions.

“I always strive to keep my emotions at bay, but... Sometimes the darkness takes hold and...it's impossible to suppress. It just shows you how lacking I am... I have much to learn.”

Dimitri lies by using the truth, shoving down his feelings, and blaming himself rather than attempting to figure out how to handle his emotions. In his own words:

“Everyone has something that is unacceptable within them. I certainly do, and I'd wager you do as well. I wonder which is best, Professor... To cut away that which is unacceptable, or to find a way to accept it anyway...”

Good advice Dimitri. Might want to keep that in mind.

It is at this point is when I’m going to get into my personal thoughts and armchair psychiatry nonsense.

First off, when I mentioned earlier about “non-traditional” mental illness, I did not mean abnormal or rare. Although people mostly just point to Dimitri having PTSD (and depression) as the source of his issues, I’m going to use all of my above information to make the (decently common) argument that Dimitri is schizophrenic, which is, contrary to popular belief, not too unusual. I state that with the caveat that I understand that there’s a lot to be said about schizophrenia and the tumultuous relationship between mental health and fiction. However, now is not really the time to go into mental health politics and representation or the many lies spread about the illness so instead, I recommend that you read into the topic if you’re personally interested (This has some good information).

At the very least be aware that this IS sensationalized.

That said, Dimitri does not, to my understanding using grossly simplified terms, meet the qualifications generally (very generally) used to diagnose schizophrenia through the majority of the White Clouds chapters. These qualifying symptoms include, but are not limited to, the duration of the psychotic episode, the concurrent presence of hallucinations and delusions, and a greatly lowered ability to keep up with basic quality-of-life tasks. You only see these symptoms in the final chapter of White Clouds and the first few of Azure Moon. This isn’t unusual, however, because schizophrenia manifesting fully in younger individuals is extremely uncommon, sometimes taking years to trigger during a person’s late teens. And since the diagnosis generally relies on the occurrence of a psychotic episode, it can be mistaken as other mood disorders. Actually, the idea of him having a mood disorder was one of the things that caught my eye originally. Prodromal symptoms such as depression, irritability, headaches, sleep disruption, and mood swings are common in bipolar disorder (and, of course, schizophrenia).

Still, I don't deny that Dimitri has PTSD and depression, only that I don’t think PTSD is his main (or only) issue. In reality, PTSD and schizophrenia are closely tied. They share many symptoms, even the symptom of psychosis. There’s also evidence that those with genetic precedent to develop PTSD overlap with those at risk for schizophrenia, and that the nature of PTSD triggers can act as a severe stressor to aggravate a schizophrenic episode.

(From here)

This falls into the realm of being uncertain where one ends the other begins, highlighting the lack of concrete understanding about schizophrenia and the dependency of diagnosis and treatment to rely entirely on the individual experience, but that’s not a conversation I’m actually qualified to have.

The study that truly caught my eye and while researching for this was one called “Psychiatric disorders and traumatic brain injury”. As I mentioned, at some point during the Tragedy, Dimitri sustained severe head trauma. We know this because of his development of the rare inability to taste called ageusia. I was originally interested in following this narrative thread because, as you might know if you follow true crime cases, there are many murderers who recall having sustained a head injury as children. Not that Dimitri shares similar psychology to people that kill and eat their victim's feet... Although his body count is higher. Besides that, head trauma, in general, is known to be linked to mental illness and altering a person’s behavior. There is even a correlation between TBI (traumatic brain injury) and schizophrenia.

From the study I linked above:

To put it more simply, patients in the study who had suffered TBI and developed schizophrenia reported that their most common symptoms were delusions of persecution, auditory hallucinations, and aggressive behaviors. The auditory hallucinations were often voices. Many of the subjects experienced psychotic episodes two or more years after the initial incident (although, as I mentioned, Dimitri’s age could also have something to do with the timing as children rarely have fully developed schizophrenic episodes). Furthermore, the behaviors classified as an absence of normal behaviors called “negative symptoms” (which include apathy and disordered speech) were rare in this testing group.

Dimitri exclusively displays “positive” symptoms of schizophrenia (“positive” meaning the presence of symptoms such as hallucinations and delusions). He also clearly suffers from delusions of persecution in his belief that Edelgard is the sole instigator of Duscur and the war and that he immediately accuses Byleth of being an Imperial spy upon meeting them post time skip. I think it’s pretty fascinating how closely Dimitri’s symptoms follow the outline of the study, especially with the aggressive behaviors, as those aren’t actually very common in schizophrenics.

In very, very simplistic terms, if I’m right and Dimitri was born with the genetic blueprint for schizophrenia/PTSD (through Crests, inheritance, or environmental causes) and later suffered severe head trauma in an event that also gave him PTSD in combination with his pre-existing parental issues and stilted emotional development, then this could definitely create the type of person who loses all sense of reality, can’t control his emotions, and is prone to episodes of murderous rage when being reminded of the trigger (however tangentially) of losing everything he loved.

However, I’ll add real quick that the study I mentioned should be taken with a grain of salt.

I use it mainly because I thought the similarities were interesting and it shows that there was more thought put into Dimitri than maybe people appreciate.

This brings us to my final point; Some kind of twisted joke.

A major point I saw being made as proof of how terrible Dimitri is as a character was that he blamed Edelgard for the Tragedy of Duscur (a time where she would have been twelve). More accurately, he blamed her for everything that had happened and the thing is, I don’t disagree with that critique entirely. However, this is a case of him being a bad person, not a bad character. This might seem like an odd distinction, but I think it changes the scope of deserved criticism.

As I’ve been trying so desperately to illustrate, Dimitri snapping wasn’t just because of Edelgard being revealed as the Flame Emperor. Rather, it was an unlucky combination of many things. His grasp and interpretation of reality were already hazy at best by the time she was unmasked, slowly falling apart as his prodromal symptoms worsened. Going into the fight, he believed the Flame Emperor to be responsible in whole or in part for the worst thing that had ever happened to him, guessed at Arundel’s involvement, had found (and lied about) the dagger, and was rapidly mentally deteriorating. While Dimitri suspected Edelgard’s involvement to some degree, he did his best to act like it wasn’t true.

Dimitri didn’t want it to be true. To the extent that he was willing to lie to Byleth (and to himself) to avoid reality. He cared deeply about Edelgard. The best year of his life was spent with her, she was his first love, and she was the daughter of the step-mother he adored. Strong feelings beget strong feelings, do they not? This reveal confronted Dimitri with something that he could not accept, so his mind sidestepped the issue altogether. Delusion convinced him that all of the fears and worries he had beforehand were related, all into one larger delusion that Edelgard had sole responsibility. It’s not right and maybe not even excusable, but it falls in line with everything else.

Edelgard and Dimitri. Bound by some twisted fate but forever doomed to be separated, unable to understand the other’s chosen path.

I do recognize the flaws of Dimitri’s character and arc. There are some pretty major flaws. I have parts of a post typed out about his shoddy recovery and how I’d fix it that, hopefully, one day will see the light of day as well as many complaints about the way the story is hindered by the need for flexibility to accommodate gameplay and a happy ending.

But, despite that, this has all been a very long-winded way of praising Dimitri’s writing. His mental illness has a surprising amount of depth and I loved studying it as intently as I did. I learned a lot about his character as well as about mental illness in general.

Ultimately, Dimitri is neither an innocent sweetheart whose actions are entirely excusable and justified or an unforgivable war criminal and overall terrible character. You can feel bad for his pain and his struggle with his illness and understand that as a reason for his actions, but you shouldn’t use it as justification. He had the opportunity to seek help before things got too bad. He was selfish with the mismanagement of his emotions and goals. However, he also was a victim. Dimitri worked to recover and mend the mistakes he made while he was unwell, which is a side of this mental illness that is rarely shown in media.

I wholeheartedly believe that, love him or hate him, Dimitri is the most well-written of the Three Houses characters,

#dimitri #fe dimitri #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #fire emblem 16 #fire emblem #FE3H #fire emblem three houses #i spent an ungodly amount of time on this feel free to share your thoughts

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charliejrogers · 4 years ago

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Klaus (2019) Review & Analysis

I remember recently discussing with my fiancée how, though there have undoubtedly been a number of Christmas movies released in the last twenty years, none have really risen to the level of a “classic” – something you would want to watch every year as part of a tradition. It’s true I have not seen it, but still something tells me that 2008’s Reese Witherspoon vehicle Four Christmases is not on anyone’s annual watchlist… nor 2017’s Mel Gibson-infested Daddy’s Home 2. We concluded that the last “classic” was 2003’s Elf. And, while Christmas movies don’t have to mention Jesus or religion obviously, please don’t try to tell me that Frozen is a Christmas movie… it’s not! In some ways, given how secular things are, I began to wonder if there even was a market for holiday family fun movies, but of course, I’m an idiot because you can just make a whole movie about Santa Claus. Move over, Jesus, we gotta talk about the reason for the season!

Klaus released last holiday season on Netflix and at least in Chicago I saw billboards for it everywhere. Netflix went all in on promoting this as the next big Christmas movie and had some moderate success; they even grabbed an Oscar nom for best animated picture. Unlike most animated films these days, Klaus was made by neither DreamWorks nor Disney, and it shows. It lacks the refined polish of a Disney/Pixar feature, but also has a heart unlike a DreamWorks picture. The animation style can be best described as a hybrid of 2D and 3D (yet not quite 2.5D). At times the character models look like classic hand-drawn 2D models set within a mostly computer-generated 3D environment. But at other times, they look more 3D. It’s confusing to describe, and inconsistent to watch. It often felt like I was watching a compromise between a studio that wanted a distinct animation style but didn’t have the budget to fully realize it. Still, more often the not it’s a pretty movie.

More than the raw visuals, the movie has a fantastic sense of atmosphere… perhaps even too much at the beginning. Klaus is, in one sense, the story about how a lonely woodsman becomes the legendary Santa Claus, but for such a jolly premise, much of the film is shrouded in shadows and dominated by an oppressive, cold, snowy bleakness. In retrospect, this makes sense as the true triumph of Santa and “Christmas spirit” can only be best appreciated when it brings light to the darkest of places and times. Still, upon first viewing, I was quite surprised and shocked by the dark atmosphere and downright violent imagery on display at the beginning of the film, so much so that I was wondering if this really was a Christmas movie!

The darkness stems from the fact that our woodsman Klaus lives deep within the forest on a far north island, far far from the closest village which is a town called Smeerensberg and is famous for its never ending feuding and wickedness. It’s a genuine Nineveh of the North so it seems. The town’s feud centers around two rivalling clans (the film’s equivalent of the Hatfields & McCoys) and every villager belongs to one clan or the other. The two families’ feuds go back longer than anyone can remember (cave paintings exist that depict their feud), implying an original sin of sorts with the town being more born from hatred than spawning it. Hatred is so foundational that it infects every part of society. Unwilling to allow children to interact with the rival clans in classrooms, children just don’t go to school. Instead, they roam the streets playing pranks on old people and stabbing snowmen with carrots.

For the most part, Klaus lives his life separate from and unbothered by these unruly residents of Smeerensberg. What breaks his solitude is the arrival of a new post officer to Smeerensberg. More than a trivial side character, this post officer, Jesper Johansson, is surprisingly the main character of this movie all about the origins of Santa Claus.

Much like the residents of Smeerensberg, we the audience come to the film with a primary misunderstanding, much of what makes Santa famous today (the home invasion via chimney, the responding to letters, the reindeer-pulled sleigh) were the creative inventions of a spoiler-brat-turned-postman. So despite this movie being about the origins of Santa Claus, being a Christmas movie, you should have guessed that this will be some variant on Dickens’ classic tale. Jesper isn’t a classic Scrooge in that he doesn’t abhor Christmas, but he is self-absorbed, materialistic, and all-around not a great guy. He’s the spoiled son of a successful postal worker who controls a postal empire that looks more like an army. (The true fantasy of this movie has nothing do with sleigh bells and stocking stuffers… it’s the idea that the post office is a well-organized, well-respected, successful enterprise.) Anyways, recognizing his own son’s worthlessness, Jesper’s father decides to whip him into shape, ship him off to the God-forsaken land of Smeerensberg with an ultimatum: Jesper must process 6,000 letters from the town of Smeerensberg in a year or else be cut off from his father’s wealth. The problem? With how ugly the feud is in Smeerensberg, no one needs to write a letter to express their feelings when a cold snowball to the face (or worse) will get the point across quite clearly.

So now with the spoiled postal heir longing for silk sheets as he tries to survive out in the cold boonies, the movie gets a hint of the Emperor’s New Groove flavor… sans llama. It is only by sheer “chance” (we’ll get to that) that when Jesper visits the woodsman in a last ditch effort to find one person on the island who wants to send a letter, a piece of paper falls out of Jesper’s bag as he flees in horror of the woodsman (we’ll get to that). This piece of paper contains a drawing that a little boy made of himself locked in a high tower looking sad. In a very humorous scene, we had seen Jesper accidentally stumble across this drawing and then unsuccessfully try to scam the boy into giving him money so that Jesper could “mail” it back to him, rather than just give it back. Regardless, recognizing the little boy’s suffering, the woodsman decides to do something about it and enlists Jesper’s help. Luckily for the children of Smeerensberg, the woodsman has a barn full of toys. Yes, “a barn full of toys” is as creepy as that sounds and the films uses that creepiness to full effect when Jesper first meets the woodsman. The large, imposing, hooded, axe-bearing woodsman is far from the jolly fellow we know he is destined to become. He’s downright scary and given how violent the town of Smeerensberg is (Jesper almost dies when he first arrives because he’s tricked into ringing the war bell which sends the whole town into violent frenzy), we and Jesper are not wrong to assume the woodsman holds only ill-intentions. Essentially, the first meeting with the woodsman is supposed to be something akin to the reveal of the Beast in 1991’s Beauty & the Beast, a film so scary it sent my then two-year-old sister running out of theater in tears. Ultimately, I can’t speak for the mind of a child, but the tension for me here is certainly lessened by the fact that… well… we know the woodsman is Santa Claus. So even though Jesper is scared shitless and flees after meeting the woodsman, we know that there will be more to their story.

Still, even if not necessarily scary, the film does successfully shroud the woodsman in mystery, and his backstory is slowly and beautifully revealed throughout the film. I won’t spoil it here, but the script does a fantastic job of contextualizing the woodman’s stoic and aloof nature and explaining why that barn is so full of toys. The explanations come naturally and speak to a real human pain that I was not expecting from this film. In terms of emotion, the woodsman’s backstory almost reaches the opening montage to Up. ALMOST, I said, so put down the pitchforks!

So Jesper and the woodsman team up to deliver a present to that first child from the drawing. Or more accurately, the woodsman throws Jesper down a chimney to deliver a present while the woodsman looks on. The ensuing scene when the boy opens his present brought tears to my eyes. The woodsman (and we with him) watching the pure joy of a child receiving a present is truly nostalgic in its most literal sense. It hurts to see such joy, remembering that at one time you too could feel such joy from a hunk of plastic, and knowing you will never feel that way again. It’s a joy that few films outside of A Christmas Story with its the red rider BB gun really nail. Anyways, the little boy sees the woodsman through the window and finds his original drawing of himself locked in the tower which the woodsman leaves behind by accident. He surmises that the postman had devliered his drawing to the woodsman, and the woodsman responded with a present.

After that… well the rumor spreads wildly of the mysterious woodsman who comes down chimneys at night to give presents to children in response to letters. Now, the once dormant post office becomes a bustling hub of activity as children from all over flock to send letters to this Mr. Klaus. Kids even beg to go to school so that they can learn to write in order to get presents (much to the dismay of the disilliusioned teacher who long ago gave up on her dreams of teaching in a town where no child goes to school and had turned to being a fishmonger in order to pay the bills and one day afford to leave the town for good).

Gradually the children, who seemingly had no toys prior to Klaus and Jesper’s escapades, now joyously play together, regardless of which clan they belong to. Initially this upsets their parents greatly, but in the end it’s hard to really hate the parents of your children’s friends. The film promotes an age-appropriate and inspiring, if fanciful and naïve, notion that all the world’s problems would be solved if we all thought like children. As by spreading joy throughout the town, Jesper and Klaus inadvertently make the town a better place to live. It’s the theme of the film (not that they’re subtle about it): one act of good-will always begets another (or something like that). Still, all this doesn’t please the village elders, who abhor the change from the town’s hateful origins. They will ultimately serve as villains trying to put an end to all this gift-giving business.

Of course, there’s another villain of sorts, as well. Despite all the good he’s doing, Jesper is ultimately still motivated mostly by the notion of getting back to his old cushioned life. He is essentially using Klaus and preying on his kindness in order to launch himself back to a life of selfishness. It’s here the story feels most Dickensian, particularly in a scene where the school teacher (now love interest) acts functionally the same to the ghost of Christmas present and takes Jesper to the city center to see for himself the love and joy that he has helped bring to the world. But, still his desires to go home are strong, and, of course, he keeps them a secret. So between Jesper’s inner conflict about where he belongs in life and the external conflict of the community trying to fight back against a change in its culture, the film naturally comes to climax when the two conflicts meet and Jesper must confront both challenges at once.

What I’ve realized in writing this review … is that I am very impressed by the plot’s complexity and depth. The film weaves together at least three solid story arcs (Jesper’s coming-of-age/Scrooge-like-change-of-heart, Smeerenberg’s bubbling kindness revolution, and the woodsman’s aged hero who finds redemption and purpose after so many years alone). That all three feel fully supported and without any bloat is a testament to its absolutely solid writing, and for a kid’s film no less! Furthermore, the “origin” story genre can sometimes fall flat as it can just feel like the writers are writing more Wikipedia entries, explaining how every little aspect came to be more than just telling a good story. I call it the Han Solo trap. As for Klaus, the little tidbits about why Klaus uses reindeer and not horses, who the “elves” who work his workshop are, always clever and grow organically from the plot.

Plus, despite my opening doubts regarding whether the dark tone really fit a “Christmas” movie, the film very capably captures the joys of the Christmas season. Like Christians think about Jesus, Klaus/Jesper bring a world of light into a world of darkness. The film teaches about the importance of creating a loving community, of being selfless, and most importantly of respecting the spiritual aspect of the season. Even if this is a decidedly capitalistic/entrepreneurial movie, the film is not without a spiritual side. The previously mentioned “chance” of the woodsman seeing that initial drawing of the boy locked in the tower is no chance at all. Instead, throughout the film we see that the woodsman is “haunted” in a sense by a ghostly wind that points him in the path of righteousness. The film has its own explanation for what the force behind the wind is, but it is not too far of a stretch to point out the similarities between the wind and the Christian idea of the guiding Holy Spirit. Now, I’m not going to sit here and tell you that the woodsman represents God the Father and Jesper God the Son, (or is Klaus more the Christ figure?) because I think this movie is decidedly not Christian, but more I just want to highlight that I enjoyed that the film allowed for the presence of spirituality, which moves this film from the realm of secular kindness to one that recognizes the power and presence of some spiritual goodness, aligning with how many think of the “Christmas spirit.”

Now, let’s be clear, this is a fun, family classic, but it’s not a perfect film. In fact, I downright disliked the first twenty to thirty minutes, for the aforementioned tonal reasons, but also because I really disliked Jason Schwartzmann’s voice acting in the lead role of Jesper. My dislike lessened with the introduction of the woodsman, but it never went away fully. I can’t help but think this movie would be better with a different actor voicing Jesper. Everyone else does an adequate job with the voice work. J.K. Simmons as Klaus takes on an almost Batman-like stoic gruffness, and Rashida Jones as the teacher and love interest is just fine. And, again, I never really fell in love with the art style and it sometimes distracted me, and I found the soundtrack, particularly the main song to be rather lame and too much “of its time” than the typically timeless, more Broadway productions that Disney/Pixar put out. Still, director Sergio Pablos has done something I did not think possible. He and his team created a *new* Christmas classic, one that I’m sure will be played on an annual basis in many households across the world.

***1/4 (Three and a fourth stars out of four)

#klaus #klaus 2019 #jason schwartzman #rashida jones #j.k. simmons #sergio pablos

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atamascolily · 4 years ago

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After Ursula K. Le Guin died, I made an agreement with myself I would read anything and everything she'd written as the chance arose. That said, Searoad: Chronicles of Klatsand probably would have been the last on my list, had I not stumbled across a paperback copy in a library booksale (in pre-pandemic times) in a "fill a paper bag for $10" sale and it languished in my TBR pile for months before I finally got around to it.

The reason? Genre snobbery, in reverse of the usual direction. Searoad is a collection of short stories published in magazines like The New Yorker, and fancy-sounding publications with Review in their names. Serious publications publishing so-called "literary" fiction, or maybe "realistic fiction" or just plain fiction--fiction that's supposed to tell-it-like-it-is, lay bare the inadequacies of modern life, and leave you feeling empty and unfulfilled after watching empty and unfulfilled people make poor decisions in futile attempts to fill the emptiness and inadequacies of their lives. Because that’s the whole point of literature, right?

Oh. Perhaps I'm generalizing. But so it feels to me whenever I dip into one of these publications. They are "literature", everything else is "genre": romance, science-fiction, fantasy, action, adventure, thriller, mystery, crime. "Literary" fiction is usually just plain old "fiction" in the library classification systems and in common parlance: it is assumed to be the norm, the default, from which everything else is a deviation. And I hate this. I've always hated this.

To write about petty modern people with their petty modern lives is one thing--we all have our kinks--but to disdain others for imagining different things, for epics and grandeur and you-could-have-anything-so-why-not-go-for-it always struck me as a deep failure of, and disdain for, imagination. Genres, like so much else in our lives, are social constructs: us and them, the have and the have-nots. Literary fiction are the "haves", everything else is the "have-nots". That's changing, obviously, and the boundaries aren't as rigid as they once were, but I still see that divide reflected in so-called "serious" publications, and I generally avoid them.

Ursula K. Le Guin has always hugged the boundaries between "pure" genre (aka trashy, flashy, unfit for serious folk in the eyes of the pedants) and "literary merit". She's been accepted and respected by both camps, although the "literary" folks speak of the sci-fi rather patronizingly in their reviews of her works. Le Guin, however, never disdained the sci-fi labels in the same way that Margaret Atwood--another boundary-spanning writer--has always done.

For this reason, I've retained infinitely more respect for Le Guin than Atwood, despite Atwood's considerable talents as a writer. Atwood wants to play with sci-fi tropes, but she doesn't have the backbone to stand up and be proud of it. Atwood wants to write science fiction but not be judged for it, and the easiest way to do that (since genres are a social construct) is just to firmly insist that it's not sci-fi at all--move along, nothing to see here.

Here's a blurb on the back of my copy of Searoad by Carolyn Kizer, a Pulitzer-prize winning poet from the Pacific Northwest:

"For a number of years, the only science-fiction I read was that of Ursula K. Le Guin. I don't read science-fiction any more, thought I wouldn't think of missing a book of Le Guin's. She has transcended the genre..."

How very generous and open-minded of you to only read science-fiction so elevated it “transcends” its genre entirely, thereby becoming worthy of notice. And this is supposed to make me like literary fiction?

That said, the irony is that Kizer’s statement sums up my approach to non-genre stuff as well, although I would not have phrased it quite so baldly. More like “Okay, not usually my cup of tea--but if it’s you, it’s okay....” The genre transcending thing, as much as I despise the phrasing, works both ways here.

All this is to say I finally read Searoad, even though I had to coax myself into it by pretending that this was an alien society that Le Guin and I were exploring together in order to tell us stuff about our own, and that helped. It also helped because the stories were so damn good, and I got carried away, even though they are very literary stories, with ambiguous endings, the usual focus on unexpressed and/or self-destructive emotions of love, birth, and death, and no magic or wizards or dragons whatsoever.

(To repeat: I am a genre snob who has never understood why writing without dragons was inherently better than writing with dragons in it. I have always operated under the principle that dragons made everything better. And I have never understood why depicting the world as it is was a stroke of literary genius, if all you were going to do with it it is show people being unhappy in the usual old ways instead of unusual ways. Or even imagine something new and different!)

Searoad reminds me of Lake Wobegon a little, but that's only because it's a small town, with characters from one story popping up in others in the most unexpected places--just like small town life. After a while, it feels like we're constantly running into old friends, a shared world--real, but in a good way. The stories were published across a wide range of outlets from 1987-1991, yet flow into each other astonishingly well when read in rapid succession, or indeed, in any order at all.

My favorite is "True Love," which is all about ditching unsatisfying conventional relationships to focus on one's true passion instead:

For me, sex is sublimation. Left to itself, in its raw, primitive state, my libido would have expend itself inexhaustibly in reading.

And since I have been a librarian ever since I was twenty, I can truly compare my life to that of some pasha luxuriating in his harem--and what a harem! Half a million mistresses, when I was at the Central Library in Portland! A decade-long orgy! And during the school year, since I teach now at the Library School, I have access to the University Library. Here in Klatsand where I spend the summers, the harem is very small and a good many of the houris are rather out of date, but then so am I. My lust has lessened somewhat with the years. Sometimes I imagine I could be contented with a mere shelf of tried, true, and highly selected Scheherazades, with only now and then a pretty little novel to flirt with, or a volume of new poetry to make me cry out with excess of pleasure in the heart of the night.

And in the same story, Le Guin makes it clear she's one of us:

"Do you like science fiction" I asked her, because all I can really talk about is books. And of course, she couldn't talk about books. That had been knocked out of her years ago. We compromised on "Star Trek," new and old. She liked the new series as well as the old one. I liked the old one better. Antal stared, not at Rosemarie, only at me. "You watch it?" he said. "You watch television?"

I didn't answer. ... I was not going to let him try to shame us for our commonness.

"The one I liked best was the one where Mr. Spock had to go home because he was in heat," I said to her.

"Except, he never, you know," she said. "They just had a fight over the girl, him and Captain Kirk, and then they left."

"That's his pride," I said, obscurely. I was thinking how Mr. Spock was never unbuttoned, never lolled, kept himself shadowy, unfulfilled, and so we loved him. And poor Captain Kirk, going from blonde to blonde, would never understand that he himself loved Mr. Spock truly, hopelessly, forever.

Reader, I LOLed. Because it's true. You know it, I know it, and so does Le Guin. And she had the guts to say so in the Indiana Review, and the editors published it. LEGEND.

Like all of Le Guin's writing, the stories in Searoad are lyrical, elegant, soaring, and moving--sympathetic, yet unafraid to call out bad behavior and terrible things when she sees it. My other favorite story, "Sleepwalkers," is a brilliant example of this: it starts with a complaint by a privileged male playwright about the housekeeper at his summer cabin, only for us to quickly learn (if his tone and phrasing didn't give it away) that he's an arrogant asshole who sees only what he wants to see and misses what's actually in front of him. We then pivot to a number of other people at the little resort, and their views of the housekeeper, and we're left with an open question at the end: which view is more accurate? Which story do we believe? What is actually going on? Can any of us really know or understand the hidden depths within another person? It's so deep and lush and well-written, and even funny on occasions.

And there's also a diversity of viewpoints and perspectives and scenarios enough to keep me interested: a lesbian grieves the death of her long-time partner, a war veteran deals with PTSD, a college student runs off into the woods to secretly map illegal old-growth logging stands, a ghost appears in a late-night diner to a sexual-abuse victim. The ghost thing seems like it ought to fall under genre conventions, but doesn’t because of the framing, and yet it still works for me--another example of Le Guin’s skill.

Anyway, so Le Guin actually made me enjoy so-called "literary" fiction and that was unexpected and delightful. Regardless of my feelings about most "realistic" fiction, I'm glad I read this collection.

#book reviews #Ursula K. Le Guin #searoad #fandom life #writing life

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tenshindon · 4 years ago

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*waves* Hi, I'm Silver. I want to write Yamcha more accurately (he seems really nice?), but I haven't the time or money to buy the manga or episodes, so... any tips, I guess? Can you help me? Thank you 🌻💜

hiya !! i’m always happy to talk about yamcha and The Character Of yamcha :) gonna put my thoughts under a read more cause this Might be long:

I havent watched Z or Super in a while but I do watch and read through the original Dragon Ball often so accuracy May Vary due to my trash memory. I’m also going to try to keep the games’ depictions of him out of this since accuracy varies among those.

The first thing I wanna touch on is Yamcha’s ego- especially how it evolves over the series. The main thing to keep in mind is that while he is generally cocky about his fighting abilities (which is a major weakness of his as he underestimates his opponents often and gets in trouble because of that), he’s never overly confidant with himself as a person; he seldom tries to paint himself as a better person in comparison to others and rather keeps realistic skepticism about himself. It’s also worth noting that, depending on how old Yamcha is in your depiction, his awareness for his fighting inadequacy compared to his friends varies (the older he is obviously the more conscious he is).

Next thing I’ma talk bout is something that i see kind of treated inconsistently; Yamcha’s relationship with women and his love life. I feel like a lot of people forget that Yamcha’s defining character trait in Dragon Ball was his gynophobia- he chased Goku and his friends so long for the dragon balls so he could remedy his fear of women. Of course, he eventually does date Bulma as they realize dating each other would resolve their mutual wishes for Shenron (Bulma’s being getting a boyfriend and as mentioned before Yamcha’s fear of women). As we’re all aware though, nearly a decade later Yamcha and Bulma mysteriously separate, and the reason for doing so is never explicitly made clear in canon (I could honestly make a whole separate post on Bulma and Yamcha’s break up- there’s a lot to discuss with it so if anyone wants that let me know lmao). The majority believe that Yamcha was unfaithful which, in review of his whole character, makes literally no sense- even just subtracting his fear of women (though I’ll elaborate on that later). But back on track and in regards to his fear of women, it never fully goes away. It just so happens that he’s most comfortable around Bulma, and since Bulma’s the most prominent female character of the series we tend to forget his fear in the first place. When around other female characters, he’s subtlety more anxious- or at the very least he isn’t so much of a playboy as fanon interprets him to be. One final thing to note is- unless I remember the series wrong (and anyone’s free to correct me on this)- Yamcha’s never implied to have gotten another girlfriend or even a lover at any point. Of course it’s hard to track the intricacies of Yamcha’s life- this is a shonen anime where slice-of-life episodes are limited, and even then Yamcha is far from being a prominent character anymore (post Dragon Ball).

Up next is his loyalty/friendships, methods of handling conflict, and overall courage because in my rat brain these all go hand in hand. Nevertheless, Yamcha’s a devoted friend- he’s shown time and time again to be supportive of his pals and, even in spite of his shortcomings, always does his best to help the gang out. Like i touched on before, as Yamcha gets older, he’s more and more aware just how far behind in training he is in compared to his peers. But that doesn’t stop him from trying to fight off whatever threat’s present. So with that we can infer that even if Yamcha can’t be the absolute best, that’s not going to stop him from at least trying if it means helping his friends or making them feel better. Additionally, he’s quick to stand up for others, even if he doesn’t know them too well or even at all and he’s shown not to hold onto grudges. One thing to remember is that, presumably for 16 years, Yamcha’s only companion was Puar (that’s not even considering his life before meeting her) and most interactions he has with people involve robbing them. His social skills might not be the best (though that doesn’t mean he can’t act socially capable- he clearly has no issue trying to make Beerus feel comfortable and like a friend at Bulma’s party) but again, his social skills varies with age and the situation. But again, referring back to his readiness to defend others, he isn’t afraid of getting into conflict if it means helping someone else.

Last few topics I’m going to talk about are his relationships with property, finances, and goals- they seem like a small topics but I still want to talk about it. Now hopefully we’re all familiar with Yamcha’s beginnings of being a desert bandit- and seeing his methods of obtaining items, he didn’t try to charm his victims into giving him their stuff. He just took it if he could if he couldn’t intimidate them and retreated if he couldn’t get what he wanted (which is also noteworthy of Yamcha’s awareness of his limits- a bit contradictory to his fighting ego but it seems that if Yamcha’s certain he isn’t able to win something, then he’ll save himself if it means delaying a goal or staying alive). He doesn’t seem to mind playing the long game either, as he’s willing to tail Goku and co. for months as he waits for them to gather the dragon balls without ever letting his true intentions slip. When it comes to finances, Yamcha doesn’t seem to care to heavily about them: back in the desert, Puar mentions to Yamcha that he should wish for money to which Yamcha dismisses it quickly, stating he could just steal money if he really needed it. It’s also worth noting that despite being a successful baseball player by Super, Yamcha chooses to live in a modest apartment. Either he’s very paranoid with money and, despite having enough to buy a full house, chooses to live in a cheaper apartment building or he’s more comfortable with smaller living spaces- which makes sense since he’d lived nearly two decades in a desert cave and had to scavenge for supplies (plus he seems to still think fondly of the desert as he has a painting of such in his apartment).

For the TL;DR version of this post, here’s essentially what you should keep in mind when portraying yamcha:

He’s generally a very lax, simple, and sociable person when he wants to be- though a bit socially awkward when he isn’t prepared

He’s not egotistical, but he has a bad habit of underestimating his enemies at times. this changes over time of course.

While he’s not itching for conflict, he is loyal and quick to stand up for friends and strangers alike

He acknowledges he isn’t the best, but that doesn’t stop him from trying

He’s ambitious and seldom gives up on his goals

He cares little for huge amounts of wealth or property and generally is just trying to get by in life comfortably

While not cripplingly petrified of women post DB, he still maintains a mild anxiety around women he doesn’t know- even around women he does know pardon Bulma he’s still a bit on edge

I’m done with my character study using the anime and manga, but I like talking about Yamcha so below this little buffer I’m going to get into how the games portray him. I might’ve forgot something or got some things wrong so feel free to talk to me about that if you want to. Anyways, you can stop reading if the above is all you’re concerned with- regardless if you keep reading or not, I wish you the best of luck in writing Yamcha ! :)

If you’re still reading, join me in my continuous ramble of the Rubix cube of Yamcha’s character because Toei and Toriyama can’t be consistent.

Something that seems to be portrayed a significant amount is that Yamcha’s aware of his charm and that he uses this to advantage to smooth talk his way out of situations- not that he just so happens to be good looking and endearing and his panicked socialization just happens to work out for him. In regards to his way of talking out of situations, that’s honestly something I could see if Yamcha acknowledges he’s against a threat much greater than his fighting abilities will allow him to handle- and it’s not like he doesn’t consider himself attractive, if we’re to take his reaction to losing his tooth as anything (in case you aren’t aware, he curses Goku for ruining his “beautiful” face). An example of this is most prominent is his interaction with Frieza in FighterZ, where Frieza remarks that Yamcha is both “handsome and sensible”, to which Yamcha attempts to keep the conversation casual so as to not have to fight (which he later points out to Goku once the latter urges that the three of them should just start fighting already). Though I’m sure his first reaction isn’t to talk his way out of something- he’ll just do it if the opportunity presents itself.

I obviously take huge issue with Yamcha’s portrayal of being a womanizer- his major goal was to settle down, get married, and live out the rest of his life with someone. So for him to be portrayed as having to juggle girlfriends is a bit strange to say the least. You could maybe argue that Yamcha hypes himself up to be a lady’s man as a way to cope with his anxiety (fake it til you make it y’know) but I have little faith in the characterization in Dragon Ball games and for them to think that complexly- plus, again, it contradicts with his humble and awkward personality.

Aside from these two notes, that’s all I have to say. so I’m done- forreal this time.

#dragon ball #dragon ball z #dragon ball super #yamcha #snap chats #sorry im late to responding #first i was asleep and second of all i had to think a lot with this- plus i kept getting distracted #there might be a little bias in this with how i see yamcha so take my words with a grain of salt #whether you're 100% accurate or not the thing to remember most is to just have fun :)#saiyanblood2 #reply

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honeylikewords · 4 years ago

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C, k, w. For whoever you wanna write for.

Thank you! I decided to experiment and go out on a limb with this one and try someone new, someone I’ve never written publicly for before: my version of Harvey Dent!

I’ve mentioned a few times before that Oscar is my ideal casting for Harvey (and many people seem to agree; there’s even talk that he was cast for the role in the upcoming Batman movie, but that the role had been cut from the final version of the script), and I just think it’d be fun to play around with the idea.

This version of Harvey that I’m experimenting with is inspired by the Harvey from Batman: The Animated Series and Oscar’s role as Basil Stitt in Lightningface, and is largely based on the understanding that Harvey is a fundamentally good person, and completely capable of healing, change, and growth (i.e. the occasional run in comics or other adaptations wherein Harvey is saved from himself and given proper care and support, allowing him to progress towards health).

Of course, I do want to mention that characters like Harvey are not accurate (nor entirely helpful) depictions of conditions like dissociative identity disorder, and the condition itself is complex and covers a rather broad spectrum of individual disorders and behaviors and experiences, with much dispute in medical and psychiatric communities about classification, origin, treatment, et cetera, and therefore is not something I feel qualified to weigh in on.

That said, Harvey is a character I love and care about, and therefore do feel comfortable writing about him with the intent of portraying respectful admiration and sowing the seeds of wishful thinking for a healthy recovery for him, a happy life with loved ones, and a prosperous future for his character. In that way, my Harvey will be written as having a well-developed support structure and beginning to lead a more healthy lifestyle.

Now, with all that out of the way, here is my first foray into writing out some of my (admittedly lighthearted and possibly OOC) concepts for my interpretation of Harvey!

C = Cuddle (How do they cuddle?):

Harvey Dent is in a strange, self-made bind about physical touch. On one hand, Harvey is desperately touch-starved, viciously craving even the most minuscule of intimacies, aching for something, anything, be it as light as a brush to his wayward curls or a hand on the small of his back; the mere idea of something like being held in a loving pair of arms, safe and steady, makes him fucking dizzy.

But, on the other, deeply marred hand, Harvey is petrified of himself and doubts his capacity for tenderness. He fears that some dark, malicious part of himself lies in wait, hoping to strike when he is most lulled into comfort; worse yet, Harvey is afraid that those he loves and trusts the most will, by some horrible twist of fate, turn against him and hurt him when he least expects it.

He tries to fight against those thoughts, and tries to reassure himself that he would never lay a hand on his loved ones, and especially never raise a hand to someone as precious to him as his sweetheart, but the niggling worm of his anxious thoughts still chews away at him from time to time, and he finds himself avoidant of touch, even if it’s something he yearns for passionately.

Harvey is naturally drawn to physical expressions of love, so telling himself “no” or shying away from something like being cuddled by his beloved feels both unnatural and cruel, and it exhausts him and his patience to try and uphold his self-enforced isolation. It’s like pulling teeth for poor Harvey; all the boy wants is to lay in bed with his sweet girl and feel the warm, solid weight of her against his skin, knowing she is his and he is hers, feeling that comforting press and release of their breaths falling into unison as they unwind together, and he just won’t let himself have it!

That said, as his relationship with his beloved strengthens with time and endurance, Harvey’s trust in her builds, too, and he grows more confident knowing that all sides of him, regardless of mood or memory, care about her, love her, and would never do anything to intentionally harm or frighten her, so their intimacy is able to flow more naturally.

Once they are at a comfortable place in their relationship, Harvey’s beloved goes out on a limb and curls up on the couch, patting the cushion next to herself. Harvey takes a seat and feels her put her hands on his shoulders and gently coax him into a laying position, his head resting squarely in her lap.

She asks if he’s feeling alright-- his solid cheek has turned a deep and detectable shade of warm tan, and his eyes skitter around her face, shyly flitting from feature to feature-- and when he nods his consent, she reaches out a hand and passes her fingers along his hairline, tracing the coast of his curls as they transition from deep brown-black to stark white. Harvey holds his breath, afraid that if he moves even a single muscle, the spell will be broken and she will change her mind, repulsed by his scars, his odd hair, his mismatched eyes, his... everything.

But she does not pull back. She merely runs her fingers across his face, brushing at the crests of his strong cheeks, down his angled jaw, along the lines of his lips. She gazes at him with dreamy eyes, smiling to herself, and she hums, as if distantly amused.

“You’re so handsome, Harvey,” she purrs, using the back of her hand to card softly across the ridges of his scars.

She’s lying, the familiar voice snarls. Lovely little liar, but a liar nonetheless.

Harvey ignores it and turns, burying his face in her belly, unwilling to let her see his flushed face and watery eyes. He takes a deep breath and puts his hands on her back, tugging her into himself, and him into her; he’s going to let himself have what he wants, for once.

From then on, Harvey finds it much easier to take the initiative to cuddle his beloved. When his Id takes greater control, Harvey will sometimes lift his sweet one up into his arms and confidently stride to the nearest cuddling spot-- be it the couch, his armchair, or the bed-- with her pressed to his chest, a cocky smile and waggling eyebrows meeting his beloved’s surprised expression. When he’s more reserved but still craving her touch, he’ll try to indicate his needs by nudging his head against her, hoping she takes the cue and fiddles with his hair, which relaxes him so deeply.

Both are, in their own ways, uniquely endearing to his partner, but she loves when he regains even a sliver of his former savoir-faire and confidence and sweeps her off her feet; it feels like there before her is Apollo Dent once more, proud of himself and proud of his love, and she is always happy to see him grow more comfortable in his skin and around her!

As for how they cuddle physically, Harvey has a few positions he enjoys: he is quite fond of the aforementioned couch position, with his head in her lap and her fingers brushing his hair until he grows drowsy; he likes when she sits on his lap in his tall-backed armchair, reading a book together, her arms looped around his neck; he dearly delights in spooning his darling, stretching his broad arms around her and pressing her tightly to his chest, their bodies adjusting to one another’s curves and planes so naturally.

But of all these, Harvey’s favorite would have to be laying in bed, on his back, with her laying half-on, half-off him, her head on his chest, her hands rubbing up and down his stomach and chest. Something about that combination of pressure and weightlessness, warmth and coolness, space and proximity, just feels ever so right to him, and often sends him into a deep and restful slumber. If he ever needs to melt into comfort, that’s his go-to.

K = Kiss (How do they kiss? Who initiated the first kiss?):

Before his accident, Harvey was a big proponent of kissing. Big fan. Huge. He loves the contact, the intimacy, and the adrenaline rush; nothing made his heart race and his head spin quite as much as winning a massive case or getting a public event under his belt and tugging his girl to his side, planting a deep, excited kiss on her lips and dipping her into suspension in his strong arms. It made him feel powerful and proud, and the kiss sealed the deal every time.

However, in the aftermath of his burns, Harvey’s kisses have had to evolve.

The hunger for them is still there, as potent and all-consuming as ever, but for a long while, he felt that the texture and warping caused by his scars made him, frankly, unkissable, so he avoided the act entirely.

Still, much like cuddling, Harvey grew back into his intimacy and allowed his yearnings to come to fruition, and surprised all parties involved by being the first one to initiate a kiss in this new stage of their relationship.

It happened one day when Harvey was sitting at the kitchen table, poring over a copy of the Gotham Gazette (the Globe, Times, and Daily Planet sitting in a neat pile, waiting their turn to prophesy and portend), running his finger over the rim of his half-drunk coffee cup.

He looked up from an article about the upcoming local elections to see his girlfriend futzing with something on the kitchen counter, tugging out a frying pan and ducking into the fridge. Deciding to mind his own business, he turned his nose paperward once more and returned to scanning the article, though his vision slipped back to her every few sentences or so.

The sound of the stove starting alerted him to her cooking, and he soon heard the familiar shattering of a cracked eggshell, the sputtering of the white hitting the pan, and the scrape of a spatula. Somewhere else in the kitchen, the toaster popped, as did the lid of a jam jar.

By the time Harvey had finished the article and flipped over to the sports section (ever the avid follower of the hometown baseball team, Harvey wanted to check in on the Gotham Knights’ standings), he saw his beloved round the counter and join him at the kitchen table, sliding a plate behind his paper.

He folded the paper at the median and peered down: there, on the table, were the eggs (soft scrambled), the toast (mid-doneness, teetering on dark, spread with a dark red jam speckled with seeds, indicating to Harvey that it was, in fact, raspberry), a pair of small sausage links, and a glass of orange juice.

Blinking, Harvey looked up from the plate and over to his girlfriend, who was now back in the kitchen and preparing a second round of toast. He pointed down at the food, then cleared his throat.

“This yours?,” he rasped, voice still a little rusty from misuse.

“Nope. That’s yours,” she returned, working a butter knife into the furthest crevices of the jam jar. “I don’t like seeing you just having coffee for breakfast. Makes me worried about your blood sugar levels.”

Harvey paused.

Then he stood up from the table, likewise rounded the counter, put his hands on either side of his girlfriend’s hips, turned her away from the jam jar, and kissed her squarely on the mouth.

The kiss only lasted a few seconds, but it was long enough for her to slip a hand onto his cheek and cup him close, and for Harvey to move his hands to the small of her back, rocking her body closer to his. He breathed in deep through his nose and broke the kiss after a beat, lips separating with a light ‘pop’, and pressed his forehead to hers, smiling to himself.

He could hear her breath stutter and shake in the aftermath, and when she regained a stable pattern, she made a small, re-centering noise, halfway between an “ahem” and a “whooh”, then put her hands on his chest.

“What was that about, hon?”

“Nothin’,” he managed through his puppyish smile. “Thank you.”

“It’s just eggs and toast,” she giggled dizzily. “I suppose I’ll have to see what happens when I make you dinner!”

At that, Harvey chuckled, nipping her bottom lip with his teeth.

“I suppose you will,” he reiterated.

Again, much like cuddling, after that, Harvey began to allow himself more kisses more often.

He’s a fan of taking his beloved’s chin between his thumb and forefinger and tugging her up for a deep one, but equally pleased by pressing a light kiss to her temple before she heads out the door. He adores kissing her, slow and hungry, while they relax and enjoy each other’s company, or quick and fervently in brief spare moments of privacy. Every kind of kiss delights him.

Still, when he gets sensitive about things like his face or lips, and the texture thereof, he’ll ask her to only kiss the unscarred side of his face or the unburnt corner of his lips, which she’ll, of course, agree to do, but all the while remind him that his scars are no affront to her nor a deterrent to her kisses.

“They’re perfect lips,” she reminds him, even as she acquiesces to kissing just the unmarred portion of his mouth, “both sides.”

W = Wedding (When, how, where do they propose?)

Marriage was a concept Harvey found himself more intimidated by than comforted by throughout most of his life.

Harvey feared becoming someone like his father-- tyrannical, abusive, cruel and callous-- and trapping someone, inescapably, inside his own self-destructive world through the bonds of marriage, and often feared that if he grew too attached to his partner that she would, like so many before her, discover his flaws and abandon him, breaking his heart irreparably. He feared growing worse and worse with age, feared locking himself into something he couldn’t commit to, feared lashing out and hurting someone he had promised to protect and provide for; he feared what could happen to her if something went wrong in this terrible town, and if he did something that might set her up as a prime target through which to punish him.

Still, through all his fear, the idea of marriage floated in his mind, congealing and solidifying as a concept the longer he loved his sweet girl, the more he thought about her as a fixture of his life. It didn’t seem reasonable to ask her to stay, to bear all his burdens alongside him, to struggle with him in the dark places he fell into, but at the same time, some selfish, childish urge inside begged him to keep her and claim her, to make himself part of her life inextricably.

Harvey fretted back and forth over the matter, waffling between extremes; it didn’t help that his personality shift had allocated his loyalties so unusually. While his Id, manifesting as Harv, was designed to be self-preserving and independent, Harv also was possessive and uncompromisingly loyal to his beloved, unwilling to even contemplate the idea of not having her in his life: Harv, though categorically opposed to any social strictures, was as dedicated as a married partner already to his one and only, and utterly determined not to share her.

Harvey, the more balanced Ego, was a proponent of the idea of marriage but petrified of the consequences of his possible failure to perform in such a bond, and thus went back and forth on his potential spousal value, torn between the love he felt for his dear one and the anxiety he encountered at the idea of letting her down.

In summary: Harv believed marriage was a sham but he’d do anything to keep his girl his to love, and Harvey believed marriage was a sacred bond of love but feared he’d fail as a spouse as his father had failed his mother all those years ago, throwing the two halves into conflict and a restless oscillation of opinion on the topic.

Still, there was, thankfully, no rush for them to come to an immediate conclusion: Harvey’s girlfriend had no problem with their relationship as it stood, and was perfectly happy to just be by his side, loving him and caring for him as he loved and cared for her, while assisting in his recovery and reintegration into everyday society. There was no hurry for some big, life-altering change, nor any pressure to push towards “the next step”, as it were.

That, however, did not change Harvey’s internal struggle on the topic, which came to a head one day when the couple was on the couch, Harvey’s hair being finger-combed by his doting dear as she watched some home restoration show idly in the background.

Harvey gazed up at her face and listened to the couple on the screen talking about bay windows and a portico and something something crown molding and “our budget of blah blah thousand dollars”, and began to imagine the process of buying a house.

He imagined it was very, very stressful-- after all, even trying to nail down an apartment in Gotham, District Attorney’s position and salary to his credit, was difficult-- but likely very gratifying. Owning a home, a place to call one’s own, to share with someone you loved... it sounded nice, in a sort of saccharine way.

Somewhere inside, Harv made a retching sound, but internally agreed that it did sound rather nice. Owning things did always appeal to Harv.

Harvey’s mind wandered to the idea of moving in with her, somewhere quiet and old, a fixer-upper with rooms to paint and floors to re-carpet and sconce lights that made everything look eerie and Victorian but in that nice, warm way. He pictured her sitting in a room full of boxes and unspooling packing tape, wearing one of his old NYU hoodies and “practical shoes” for moving day, smiling at him over a package of plates. His heart soared.

“Hey,” he rumbled. She looked down, curious, fingers stilling in his hair. “Would you ever...”

He trailed off, wondering if there was a non-embarrassing way to ask what he was thinking.

“Would you ever... want to... if you... had the choice to, uh, would you want to... live with me for the rest of our lives?”

Harv and Harvey both cringed.

There was a pregnant pause as Harvey stared up at her, bated in his breath, as he waited for her to respond. He watched her face, still at first, slowly spread into a knowing smile, her eyes warm and glittering with promise, and observed her as she bent down and pressed a light kiss to his forehead. Sweeping her hand across his brow, pushing his hair back, she nodded and twirled a curl of his shock-white hair around her index finger, springing it loosely.

“Mhm,” she hummed. “I would be very happy living with you for the rest of our lives.”

Harvey nodded slowly, reaching a hand up to stroke the fullness of her cheek with his calloused, burned hand, admiring the softness of it that he could still feel, nerve damage be damned. He pinched it slightly, causing her to giggle and tug lightly on the curl still wrapped around her finger.

“It’d make me... very happy to see you every day,” Harvey stated. “Forever. You know.”

“I think I get the idea,” she laughed, bending down to rub her nose against his sweetly. “I would be very happy seeing you, too, Mister Dent.”

She hovered her lips above his, tantalizingly close, and Harvey slipped a hand up to the nape of her neck, brushing the sensitive hairs there.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

And with that, he tugged her down.

Though it was by no means a proposal, nor even the promise of one to come, it satiated both halves of Harvey for the time being and soothed something inside: he knew, inherently, that she meant it. She did want to be with him. And he hoped that his intention to live a life dedicated to her, ever-loving and ever-loyal, was somehow, even slightly, conveyed by what he’d said.

But, for now, in lieu of a proposal, this would do.

Thank you for asking!

#long post #messages #anonymous #oh my goddd i stayed up way too late on this BUT i told myself i needed to finish an actually long piece of some media somehow so. here we g #anyway now im tired and going to bed see y'all later #harvey dent #original #please dont show this to any actual diehard comics stans theyll eviscerate me

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montagnarde1793 · 5 years ago

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Ribbons of Scarlet: A predictably terrible novel on the French Revolution (part 4)

Parts 1, 2, 3 and 5.

Inaccuracies: the minor, the inconsistent, the fuck no and the unintentionally hilarious

I have no intention of detailing every historical inaccuracy in this book. I’d say we’d be here all day, but we’ve already been here all day, so maybe all week?

The book is riddled with minor errors, oversimplifications and dubious interpretations — some of which could be chalked up in theory to writing from a limited POV, but this is not a book that allows for that kind of complexity. Opinions may be those of the characters, but explanations for events and who belongs to what group and so on tend to be those of the authors regardless of which character is speaking.

Given the level of detail of this book, I would count things like Condorcet’s being made a member of the Constituent Assembly or the Revolutionary Tribunal being founded by September 1792 minor errors. They might even have been deliberate (combining the Constituent and the Legislative Assemblies or the Tribunal of 27 August and the Revolutionary Tribunal, for “simplicity”’s sake).

“Les Enragés” is also an official group and that’s their official self-designation in the world of this novel. Um. Ok.

Also things like the complete lack of self-awareness revealed by the assumption that because 21st century Americans consider omelettes a breakfast food this must be a universal constant.

Anyway, I find that kind of thing irritating but pretty inevitable. Errare humanum est and all that.

Other minor errors are forgivable in and of themselves, I suppose, but indicative of a larger lack of understanding, similar to some of the implausible scenarios the authors set up (cf. Manon Roland’s random trip to Caen).

There’s a moment, for example, when one of the figures on trial for “conspiracy” in the red shirt affair appeals to the crowd by saying “I am suspected merely because I am an émigré.” (p. 490) which is hilarious when you realize the fact of being an émigré and returning to France after the cut-off date was already punishable by execution — a law pushed among others by our friends the reasonable, moderate “Girondins.” And I say this not to condemn them (on this point, at least) — there were actual, serious arguments in support of such a law — but to highlight a trend. The authors have decided that certain figures are reasonable, so they give them what they consider to be reasonable opinions, whether or not those opinions line up with those they actually held and, as we’ll see, they’ve decided others are dangerous extremists, so likewise they only get to do things the authors consider extreme, or at best hypocritical.

Usually there’s at least some consistency to the errors — too much in fact, as noted. But the fanciful claim that the guillotine was painted red and that everyone who was executed was dressed in red to hide the blood is repeated more than once, before being replaced with the accurate assertion that dressing the condemned in red was reserved for assassins (also arsonists and poisoners, in accordance with the penal code of 1791).

More serious are the “errors” that serve a certain narrative, like the repeated assertion that Louis XVI abolished torture and notably execution by breaking on the wheel. Er… no he didn’t. I’m going to charitably assume that the authors just confused torture for the purposes of obtaining a confession with torture as a punishment. Louis XVI abolished the former, not the latter. That may seem like a nitpick, but they make a very big fuss about it.

People were still being broken on the wheel until the implementation of the Constituent Assembly’s penal code which provided that all executions should be equal and as quick and painless as possible — ultimately leading to the adoption of the guillotine. The first execution by guillotine is apparently such a crucial event that we have to implausibly have Louis XVI’s sister sneak out and witness it, but we’ll just ignore the fact that the “hero” La Fayette’s cousin bloodily repressed the mutiny of Swiss soldiers in Nancy resulting in a number of hangings and one man being broken on the wheel — repression that La Fayette applauded — in 1790, because 1790 is a year in which nothing happened.

Besides, as is well known, La Fayette never did anything wrong (Sophie de Grouchy forgives him for firing on her when she was petitioning for a republic in 1791 (p. 509-510) so you should too, I guess. Though while we’re here, her signing the Champ de Mars petition is a pretty unlikely scenario, actually, given that only the Cordeliers petition remained after the Assembly’s 15 July decree and that even before that Condorcet didn’t dare to sign his articles in favor of a much less democratic republic than the Cordeliers were advocating for Le Républicain (which prudently stopped publication after 15 July).)

The abolition of torture thing is merely one of a number of errors or exaggeratedly charitable interpretations of Louis XVI’s actions to fit the myth of the fundamentally well-meaning, soft-hearted reformer who was just in over his head. Mme Élisabeth’s violence, while I commend it for its accuracy, serves to highlight her brother’s pacifism. We’re meant to believe that of course it was nothing but revolutionary slander/conspiracy theories to think he was actually intending to use foreign troops to restore himself to absolute power, despite the overwhelming evidence to the contrary. Mme Élisabeth asserts that she would like that to happen but her brother would never and Manon Roland confirms it from her point of view too.

On a similar note, Condorcet gets his usual “consensual figure” treatment. We’re unsurprisingly fed the myth of Condorcet as the paragon of democracy and feminism, with nary a touch of ambiguity. Even Pauline Léon can only reproach him with being ineffectual. That’s par for the course, as is framing the people’s fears of grain speculation as a conspiracy theory at least from Sophie de Grouchy’s point of view, though nothing in the text contradicts her at any point (p. 61), but framing Condorcet’s pre-revolutionary math lectures at the Lycée as him and his wife opening a school for popular education and Sophie de Grouchy personally teaching Reine Audu to read at her husband’s invitation… That’s pretty disingenuous.

On the other hand, nothing is too awful to be believed without question of the “radical” revolutionaries, whether it comes from dubious sources (as regards the myths about Lamballe being stripped naked and/or raped before or — depending on the “source” — after being massacred, or about Charlotte Corday’s head being slapped by the executioner and her body examined for evidence of virginity, or Robespierre’s lusting over Émilie de Sainte-Amaranthe and personally participating in Catherine Théot’s rituals) or is just made up. Surely the September Massacres were bad enough without imagining that random bystanders — including children — were being raped and massacred in the streets? Since calling for the execution of adult royals based on their actual actions doesn’t sound sinister enough, let’s have Pauline Léon demand the massacre of Louis XVI’s underage children too!

On that note, I have to wonder whether part of the problem is that we’re so used to hearing about atrocities on a scale that dwarfs anything that happened in the 1790s that what the sources suggest — which could still be pretty ugly, don’t get me wrong — doesn’t live up to the hype. The French Revolution is built up in reactionary propaganda like it’s one of the periods of the worst violence in history. I suspect that it’s like with a scary movie: your imagination will conjure up something far scarier than what they could show you on screen. So, expecting to find horrors, you readily believe whichever sources (or “sources”) have the most of them and fill in the blanks when the sources don’t match up to your image of what terror, chaos and violence look like.

It’s basically just deductive reasoning: they say there was horrific violence, so I’m going to depict what must have happened according to my mental image of horrific violence. It’s no different really from deciding a character is reasonable and therefore giving them the opinions you find reasonable. But not only is this poor methodology (which perhaps you don’t care about, as a novelist), it sucks out everything that’s nuanced or complicated or surprising about history for the sake of flattering your own prejudices. And that’s a shame.

Anyway, as for the red shirt affair, it’s generally believed by historians to be a cynical maneuver on the part of the Committee of General Security* to make Robespierre look like a tyrant by executing a large group of supposed co-conspirators with would-be assassins Ladmirat/Ladmiral and Cécile Renault but needless to say — and following G. Lenotre’s lead — that’s not at all how it’s portrayed here. Robespierre is of course personally involved for his own (necessarily hypocritical) reasons. He wants Émilie de Sainte-Amaranthe but in this telling she and her family have reason to believe he’s cozying up to royalists like them for personal political gain too. Oh, also, Saint-Just and Fouquier-Tinville are lusting over Émilie de Sainte-Amaranthe too, because why the fuck not?

*To use the misleading standard translation (sûreté ≠ sécurité)

Particularly ludicrous is the insinuation that not only did the Convention abolish slavery entirely as an expedient — which, to be fair, some historians argue, though there’s ample evidence that proves there was more to it than that — but that they had to because otherwise the British and Spanish would come to the slaves’ aid first. As if the plantation owners were not doing their level best to deliver their colonies over to the British precisely to preserve slavery. That bit was just insulting.

But you know, why let a little thing like reality interfere with dividing the world into reasonable people and hypocritical demagogues and the mobs that they incite, am I right?

And it’s often the absence of certain realities that poses the greatest problem. Like, counterrevolutionaries aren’t a real threat, that’s all a figment of the revolutionaries’ imagination... but as usual this idea coexists uncomfortably with the existence of actual counterrevolutionaries in the narrative.

The war, which dominated everyone’s reality from 1792 onward, is barely mentioned. Manon Roland is made to treat the idea that the Prussians were well positioned to march on Paris after the surrender of Verdun as an absurd rumor (p. 268-269) and we’re meant to agree. (This was very much not an imaginary threat, if you didn’t know.)

Also! Get ready because I’m going to cite Serna favorably for once:

Il est frappant de noter combien l’historiographie s’est de suite intéressée aux massacres de Paris et aux prisonniers d’Orléans, sans vraiment porter son intérêt sur les morts civils sur le front et la mise à sac des villes et villages à la frontière, deux poids deux mesures qui ne peuvent qu’interroger.

– Pierre Serna, « « La France est république » : Comment est né le Nouveau Régime dans le Patriote français de Brissot » dans Michel Biard, Philippe Bourdin, Hervé Leuwers et Pierre Serna, dir., 1792. Entrer en République, Paris, A. Colin, 2013, NP, note 37.

(Translation: “It’s striking to note how the historiography took an immediate interest in the massacres in Paris and the prisoners of Orléans, without really getting interested in the civilian deaths at the front and the sacking of cities and towns along the border, a double standard that we can’t help but question.”)

I mean, we know why: military violence, up to and including every kind of war crime, is normal and expected as long as it’s a proper war conducted between two foreign powers (though the various foyers of civil war also don’t really come up in this book). But yeah, that is a pretty big fucking hypocritical double standard, isn’t it? And one that this particular novel reflects rather than invents (as is also true of many of its other flaws, to be entirely fair).

It’s also particularly ironic, for a book that touts itself as feminist, that the real gains made by women regarding inheritance, marriage redefined as a contract between equal partners dissolvable by divorce, the rights of single mothers and illegitimate children and so on — even if the periods of Reaction that followed reversed them — are nowhere to be seen. Nor do we see women voting on the constitution of 1793 or fighting in the army or any of a number of things real women did. I concede that no one novel can be expected to show everything, but given the things they bent over backward to include, would it have been so difficult to include things that are thematically relevant?

This wouldn’t even piss me off so much except for the way Pauline Léon’s storyline ends. Her arc consists of her being convinced of the folly of those of her beliefs that the author doesn’t approve of so that she can be used as a mouthpiece for the moral the author wants us to take from all this and then being forced into marriage because she gets pregnant. And I cite (p. 433):

They would silence us all.

One woman at a time.

First the Angel of Assassination. Then Widow Capet, who had once been queen. Olympe de Gouges five days ago. Now proud Manon Roland.

A professed Girondin, Manon was still against tyranny and had been an advocate for the republic since the dawn of the Terror. Once, I wouldn’t have been able to admit that, but I could admit it now. Now that it’s too late.

And, when she tells Théophile Leclerc he got her pregnant, he replies (p. 435):

“‘We must marry. You’ve no other choice,’” he continued when I didn’t respond. […]

We had wanted liberty in France. But what freedom was there now? I had none. Théo would possess me utterly. I knew it, because the look her gave me had me wanting to crumble to the ground. All the choices I’d fought years for had been stripped away.

And now, I was nothing.

If there’s one point in history before the last 50 years or so that that’s not true it’s in 1793, when this scene is set. Will she be more comfortably off if she marries? Yes, and that would unfortunately be true pregnant or not. But there’s nothing forcing her to marry him if she doesn’t want to and even if she does he doesn’t own or control her under revolutionary marriage law. Were things perfect for women in 1793? Of course not, but given that they were a lot worse both before and especially after, I’m more than a little sick of 1793 being portrayed as the most misogynist of all the misogynist eras.

Ironically though, they omit Amar’s report and the closing of women’s political societies* which is a far more relevant and accurate point if you’re trying to make the case for revolutionary misogyny. Not to mention, it’s kind of baffling to leave it out of Pauline Léon’s storyline as it was targeted against the society she led in particular. (Her section ends instead with Manon Roland’s execution.) But I guess that would require introducing Amar and we can’t have people believing that Robespierre, Danton and Marat weren’t the only Montagnards; they might get confused otherwise. Maybe at this point I should just be glad they didn’t give Robespierre Amar’s speech in the name of consolidation of characters?

*NB, mixed societies were never closed (until the Thermidorian Reaction shut down all political clubs), so the result is a bit more ambiguous than is often claimed.

Anyway. We’ll finally conclude this mess in the next part…

#en anglais #French Revolution #Révolution française

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mtvswatches · 6 years ago

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Jane the Virgin 1x17 Chapter Seventeen

Spoilers disclaimer (please read before sending messages or writing comments.)

Click here for previous recaps!

Stray thoughts

1) Jane is picking baby stuff and Rafael is… not there. This is obviously a warning sign.

2) Oh, I hate #moms who believe they have found this illuminated upbringing approach which is THE RIGHT ONE and everything else is WRONG and they judge other mothers because of it. Each person needs to find what works best for them and their kids, there’s no perfect way to raise a child and you’re bound to mess up in more ways than one. So raise your kid the best way you can and let others do the same.

3) Are Petra and Rafael becoming a thing again…?

With Jane getting closer to Michael again, it seems these two are headed in the same direction.

4) Okay, Michael, you’ve won this round, this was sweet…

5) Xiomara and Rogelio seem to be doing great after moving in together, except for the whole not-saying-I-love-you thing. I guess they will have some kind of fight and then make up?

6) I understand Jane panicking. She likes to have control of things and she likes to be prepared, and she’s starting to feel she’ll never be prepared for what it is like to be a mom. And that’s exactly the point. And of course, she went down the Internet rabbit hole.

7) This is the sweetest thing ever!

…

Well, at least it’s an accurate depiction of mother/daughter relationships.

8) Aww, Rogelio is so sad Jane is asking him to break up with his boyfriend…

I really don’t think there’s something wrong about him hanging out with Michael. I get that Jane wants to spare Rafael’s feelings, but Rogelio is not going to like Rafael any better just because he doesn’t hang out with Michael anymore.

9) Xiomara keeps showing how an amazing mom she is, I just would like Jane to GET it, once and for all.

XIOMARA: So I brought something to show you. Just to remind you that even though I was only 16 and mommy blogs and nursing classes didn't exist…

JANE: Mom.

XIOMARA: I just don't want you to overthink this stuff.

JANE: But I'm sleeping on my stomach. And the pacifier's probably chock full of BPA. Plus there's a blanket over me, mom. And there's a crib bumper in there!

XIOMARA: Look, Jane, all I'm saying is, you turned out great. And-and you can read all the books you want. But trust me, with an actual baby, everything's different.

10) Is Petra really considering hooking up with her dead lover’s twin brother…?

Bad decision, girl, bad decision.

11) Yes, Rogelio, equal rights movement was all about the right of men to get pedicures.

12) Uh-oh. Rogelio slipped up. Michael knows that his presence makes Rafael uncomfortable, so now he’ll be attending the party with Rogelio and I’m sure drama will ensue.

13) Oh, I really hope we get to meet Rogelio’s mother!

14) Tbh, his is a top-notch “things I love” list…

15) Ugh, Rafael, no, that’ a big no-no.

I get what the writers have been trying to do – they keep showing us why these two are not right together, which begs the question, why are they together at all? Every single episode has shown them growing further apart, and yet, here they still are. Together.

I don’t get why Jane would put up with this. She broke up with Michael because – among other things – he lied to her, and she thinks being ignored, going through all this excruciating pregnancy stuff alone, and being dismissed when you’re having a bit of breakdown is somehow better than being lied to? One of the reasons she used as an excuse to start dating Rafael was that she wanted her child to have a mom and a dad, a family. Yet it seems Rafael has been less and less involved in all the pregnancy stuff? Which is kind of a contradiction, considering he was the one who actually wanted to have the baby in the first place.

I’m just tired of this storyline, I’m getting bored of this. They keep stretching this out, and I don’t know how long Jane can stay with Rafael without me resenting her for it, you know? It just seems idiotic at this point.

16) Michael had a… Vine? Do you think he posted his impersonations there?

17) Jane is ghost-writing this girl’s texts to Michael…

I’m predicting she’ll get all jealous once she finds out the ex she’s been talking about since they met is her ex.

18) Now I wish Jane had had this daughter…

(I know she will have a son, it’s one of the few things I’ve been spoiled about.)

19) Alba gets it…

20) UGH I HATE THAT THIS SHOW IS MANIPULATING ME INTO LIKING MICHAEL AND IT’S ACTUALLY WORKING.

Like, he definitely doesn’t give me feels or anything, and I don’t really ship him with Jane, but I can see why her being with Michael makes %1000 more sense than her being with Rafael.

21) Rogelio gave him good advice, though, he needs to move on. Regardless of how Jane’s relationship with Rafael turns out, Michael can’t remain stuck in his life waiting for her to change her mind and come running back to him. Which I’m sure will happen at some point.

22) I CALLED IT.

23)

24) Oh, what a sneaky bitch! SHE KNEW!

What was she trying to accomplish by befriending Jane?!

25) Phew, Petra left before things got more intense with Aaron. And she admitted she’s still not over Rafael…

26) WTF RAFAEL! Now I straight up dislike you!

RAFAEL: We were shut down. Our liquor license is going to be suspended. And we are facing a huge fine.

JANE: What?

RAFAEL: The cops came, and we didn't have the permits that we needed for the party.

JANE: Oh, no. Why not?

RAFAEL: ‘CAUSE I SCREWED UP!!!

JANE: Sorry, I was just asking.

RAFAEL: I really don't need any judgment right now, okay?

Why is he taking it out on her? He’s been a less than stellar boyfriend and now he’s also mistreating her? Get the fuck off, dude. Please tell me that she leaves his sorry ass right there and then!

27) And then he somehow made it all about Michael? Like, you’re really giving her reasons to go back to him just by being a complete asshole.

28) Oh, Rogelio…

Like, why would he bring up the “I love you” conversation if he wasn’t ready to say it? Why would he let her tell him she loved him if he wasn’t going to say it back?

29) WHAT?

Those words mean a lot to me. And, if I'm honest, there is one thing holding me back. What's that? The animosity that exists between you and my mother. Her approval, it means a lot.

Rogelio, don’t do this to me, you were my favorite! Is he really saying his loving her depends on HER MOTHER APPROVING OF THEIR RELATIONSHIP? How are those two things even related? You either love her or you don’t, it has zero to do with how other people feel about her. I get people feeling pressured into breaking up with people their parents don’t approve of, but that clearly cannot change the way you feel about them? And dude, you’re a freaking 40something! It’s time to grow a pair!

Please tell me Xiomara is not going to go along with this and try to get his affection by buying his mother’s.

30) Ugh, dude, it seems he wanted a baby as an accessory item or something…

JANE: I'm not mad, Rafael. I'm scared. When this baby comes, I'm scared it's gonna all be on me, all the child care.

RAFAEL: No, it won't. We won't let it.

JANE: What does that mean? Work is always gonna come up for you.

RAFAEL: So we'll get a nanny to help.

31) UGH I’M SO FRUSTRATED! He keeps saying “we’ll figure it out, we won’t let it be all on you, we’ll be okay.” His intentions are good, but how exactly will you achieve it? And they never figure anything out! He says, “we’ll be okay”, and then say “I love you”, and THEY STAY TOGETHER?! WHY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I’m so done with this shit, it’s so irritating!

32) The conversation between Xiomara and Alba was pretty heartwarming. I really like how they’ve come to understand each other and their relationship better by listening to Jane and just seeing her go through everything she’s being going through. Alba’s conclusion is very accurate – they are different, but that doesn’t mean that one way of raising a child is better than the other. It simple means that they’re different, and that’s it.

33) YES! THIS IS THE LOVE STORY I’M HERE FOR!

These women who love each other and challenge each other and piss each other off, but no matter what, they’re in it together, whatever happens.

34) WTF!

35) Hope you enjoyed my recap, and, as usual, if you’ve got this far, thank you for reading! If you enjoy my recaps and my blog, please consider supporting it on ko-fi.Thanks!

#Jane the Virgin #JTV #Jane Villanueva #Rogelio De La Vega #Gina Rodriguez #MTVSwatches #JTV recap #JTV 1x17 #mine

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vulpinesaint · 6 years ago

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I’m Conflicted™

Okay. So, as you may know, I love Voltron. Very much. And let me tell you another thing now- season 6 hit me like a fucking brick.

S6 spoilers ahead, by the way.

I stayed up until midnight last night, intending to just watch the first episode, fall asleep, and binge it the next day. That could very well have happened, except I’m complete trash with no self control, so catch me at three A.M., shell-shocked and texting my friend in a desperate attempt to convey all the emotions coursing through me.

I think that what I need to do is just talk my way through this season. Maybe that’ll help sort out my emotions, because I really don’t know how to feel about this season. On the one hand, my poor babies are hurting so much, but on the other hand, everything turned out okay? It’s really not good for my health, guys.

So. Episode one (disclaimer- I may not remember everything, it was kind of late).

Hunk being a total badass

Vrepit Sa is actually a really cool motto thing? Like, “the killing blow”. Dude, I would want that in my empire.

Lotor (evil fucking snake bitch that he is) has a beautiful voice and eloquence for days. I think I found love listening to his beautifully worded speech.

Shiro’s a clone. Confirmed. I mean, it’s not a good thing in itself, but it’s good to know that we were right (even if actual confirmation didn’t come until like episode six)

ON THE OTHER HAND

All this Lotura shit

We never see Lotor’s nanny again?

Lance is moping that’s no fun

Episode one wasn’t that bad. Let’s get into episode two.

Yes, Keith, she’s your mom. (also my boy is back dufsfcjbsk)

A lil’ stroll down memory lane

His dad’s accent (get ready for those texan keith jokes my dudes)

Keith and his fuckin’ pokemon (I love him so much you don’t understand)

THOSE ARE SOME WEIRD LOOKING MAGNEMITES

OR STARMIES

HAVEN’T DECIDED

SPACE WHALE

COSMIC TELEPORTING GOOD BOY

Krolia is a badass confirmed

Their little house I mean look at them they’re a family

Our boy Keith is growing up

THE ALTEANS

I thought this episode was great. No down-points.

Besides Lance being sad. We don’t like that. Poor moping honey bun.

Episode three, baby

Are you kidding me? This is such an accurate depiction of playing D&D I can’t

Shiro being the mysterious stranger in the corner

Lance is a furry but it’s okay we still love him regardless

Allura? could be? hotter? as an ‘elven’ archer?

“I want to be a paladin”

THE CORANIC DRAGON, BITCH

Inkeeper Coran.

The little 8-bit videogame theme that would play when Pidge was talking

I felt Lance’s pain checking for those traps

They have a full party? They’re so efficient?

His twin, Gyro

Shiro’s crown was 10/10 I loved it

Nope this episode was just all around wonderful

Here comes episode four. Hoo boy.

Well, Romelle is a total cutie.

Kieth is back! With space doggo! And his mom! And Romelle!

“He’s bigger, right?”

KEITHY BOY IS BACK IN THE BLACK LION

can’t think of any more good points.

Lotor is a fucking snake and a messed up little bitch. And he had such perfect hair, too...

ROMELLE DIDN’T DESERVE ANY OF THIS POOR BABE

How DARE he make Allura feel bad

That is strictly NOT allowed

HAGGAR GET OUT OF SHIRO’S HEAD

Shiro is a BETRAYER (which we knew but it hurts now)

Episode cinq (because even french hurts less than this season)

We get more Ezor screentime. And we love a queen.

Our boy Keith is leading like a queen

I mean that slingshot move though that was admirable

Just Ezor is great and that’s all I have to say on that matter

Lotor finally emotionally ambushes the right person

Keith gets his mom’s markings on his cheek

Cute memory of baby Keith in the Garrison

Now onto the negatives because they let Keith GO OFF ON HIS OWN AGAIN I MEAN HOW MANY TIMES IS HE GOING TO LEAVE

Pidge has to use the protocol which is Not Fun™

WE ALL CALLED IT SHIRO’S A FUCKING CLONE

Shiro uses mean words with Keith which is strictly outlawed

“Shiro, please. You’re my brother. I love you.” (not sure whether that’s a positive or negative soooooooo)

Prepare for many titanic jokes as soon as I’ve emotionally recovered

Episode six (is this in french or english? you’ll never know)

Allura and Lance have quality forgiveness time

Coran is still indeed an incredibly gorgeous man I mean did you see him in this episode

Powerful Girl Squad™ finally ditches Lotor for real

Coran makes a bomb out of his grandpa’s old nunvill and if that isn’t the mood of a lifetime

SHIRO NOOOOO HE DEAD HE FUCKIN DEAD

Lotor’s a fuckin furry but unlike Lance we will not forgive him

Lizard Voltron

THE SCREAMS OF ANGUISH ARE NOT GOOD

Episode seven, the finale of this torment

We didn’t have to watch the voltron sequence at the beginning

Keith is out here with a plan

Voltron gets powered tf up

Okay honestly I really liked the animation style and the writing for Lotor kind of going insane so the sharp teeth and crazy eyes are going on the positive side of things

Kaltenecker is 100% safe

Space pupper is okay

PIDGE IS STILL OUT THERE WITH THEIR SPACE FLOOFS AND THAT GIVES ME HOPE

Shiro is back and looking like an old man (and he can ba a six year old again)

Lotor does the bunny hop

NOT THE CASTLE NO

CORAN HAS TO GIVE UP THE ONE PIECE OF TRUE ALTEA AND HID GRANDFATHER’S LIFE’S WORK

EVERYONE CRIES

I PROMISED AFTER THE EPISODE WHERE PIDGE THOUGHT THAT MATT WAS DEAD THAT I’D KILL SOMEONE IF I HAD TO SEE THEM CRYING AGAIN AND HERE WE ARE

But yeah. This took a heckuva long time to do. And I’m still conflicted, but honestly? I think it was worth watching.

#voltron #allura #lance #shiro #keith #my boy #lotor #snake bitch #ezor #vld #lance is a furry #it's chill though #vld s6 spoilers #s6 #i love voltron #so much #positives #negatives #three cheers for raidiation

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Python in Shaping the Future of Machine Learning 5

How Amazon Is Dazzling The World With Ai & Ml

You can use either of them, as both give just about the same outcomes specifically in case of CART analytics as shown in below determination. Entropy in simpler terms is the measure of randomness or uncertainty.

In the above example, a choice tree is being used for a classification drawback to resolve whether an individual is fit or unit. The depth of the tree is referred to the length of the tree from root node to leaf. If you could have disposable revenue to spend then I’d highly recommend hiring a mentor who can stroll you through your issues. Income share mentorships make new opportunities accessible to people who can’t afford the professional time or discover professional knowledge scientists to be taught from.

” There are many assets across the net, but I don’t wish to give anyone the mistaken impression that the path to data science is as simple as taking a few MOOCs. Unless you have already got a robust quantitative background, the highway to becoming a knowledge scientist might be challenging but not inconceivable. A knowledge scientist will never thrive if he/she doesn’t understand what to take a look at to run when and the way to interpret their findings.

Stock Market Clustering Project — In this project, you'll use a K-means clustering algorithm to establish related corporations by discovering correlations amongst inventory market actions over a given time span. We have tried to take an extra thrilling approach to Machine Learning, by not working on simply the idea of it, however as a substitute by using the technology to actually build actual-world initiatives that you should use. Furthermore, you will learn how to write the codes after which see them in motion and actually learn to assume like a machine studying skilled. In this weblog, we'll take a look at initiatives divided largely into two totally different levels i.e. First, projects talked about under the beginner heading cover important ideas of a specific technique/algorithm.

But that is the proper guide for superior-intermediate to professional data scientists. If you need to know how to work professionally as a knowledge scientist, this guide is for you. But this is only for intermediate, advanced, and skilled knowledge scientists since you have to know the fundamentals before starting on this guide. P is the likelihood of a knowledge level belonging to class 1 as predicted by the model.

And check out the top 5 rows utilizing the head() Pandas DataFrame perform. This is how the K Nearest Neighbours algorithm works in principle. As you possibly can see, visualizing the data is a big assist to get an intuitive picture of what the k values must be. Finally, we return a category as output which is closest to the new knowledge level, in accordance with various measures. The measures used include Euclidean distance amongst others.

Now that we now have defined our phrases, let’s move to the lessons of Machine Learning or ML algorithms. The why must be predicted using the ML mannequin trained on the seen knowledge. The predicted variable is often known as the dependent variable. For example, information of a thousand customers with their age, gender, time of entry and exit and their purchases. The subsequent question I all the time get is, “What can I do to develop these abilities?

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Experienced working with skilled builders could make or break your capability to land a knowledge science position. Learning knowledge science will never be straightforward without any assistance from the community or from somebody who's prepared to help novices. These someones are the ones which might be making up our wonderful LinkedIn Data Science Community.

Similarly, tasks beneath superior class contain the application of multiple algorithms along with key ideas to achieve the answer of the problem at hand. Thus, we have designed a comprehensive listing of projects in the Machine Learning course that offers a palms-on experience with ML and how to construct precise initiatives using the Machine Learning algorithms. Furthermore, this course is an observation up to our Introduction to Machine Learning course and delves further deeper into the sensible applications of Machine Learning. Changes aren't just challenges, they are additionally alternatives for much higher-paying and much much less laborious jobs than the roles you hold at present. And, if by probability, you happen to be a scholar studying this article, you now know which business you should concentrate on – fully. All the best, and bear in mind to benefit from the process of studying.

Regardless of your age, that is the best time to be alive – ever. Because area knowledge is out there extra widely today than at any time up to now. And make the right selections at the right instances – and no, it's never too late when you're high quality trainers able to mentor you. May the fun of studying a completely new idea with really enlightened insight never leave you. Dimensionless.in is an elite information science training firm that imparts trade degree expertise and knowledge to those with an actual thirst to study. Training is given from the fundamentals, resulting in a strong basis.

If you need to be an information scientist, not having a decent Kaggle profile is inexcusable. Kaggle will be like a showcase of your information science expertise to the whole world. Even when you don’t rank very excessive, consistency and practice can get you there most of the time. This single book incorporates a number of the latest and the most effective methods to attain what you should be a professional information scientist. Every chapter has multiple case research taken from the experiences within the industry.Vincent Granville is recognized worldwide as probably the greatest-recognized useful resource in information science. The level is slightly advanced, and it is not beneficial for novices.

The greatest potential break up will be the one with the lowest general entropy. This is because of decreased entropy, lower uncertainty and hence more probability. Dropping the variables that are of least importance in deciding. In Titanic dataset columns such as name, cabin no. ticket no. is of least importance. Decision Trees can be utilized for classification as well as regression problems. That’s why they are called Classification or Regression Trees.

Therefore, our prediction could be that the unseen flower is a Rose. Notice that our prior probabilities of both the lessons favoured Sunflower. But as soon as we factored the data about thorns, our decision changed. For all N factors, we sum the squares of the distinction of the predicted value of Y by the model, i.e. Y’ and the precise worth of the anticipated variable for that point, i.e.

They want a stable understanding of algebra and calculus. In good old days, Math was a subject based mostly on common sense and the necessity to resolve primary issues based on logic. This hasn’t modified a lot, though the size has blown up exponentially. A statistical sensibility provides a stable foundation for several evaluation tools and methods, that are utilized by a knowledge scientist to build their fashions and analytic routines. An information scientist is not going to conclude, decide, or resolve without enough data.

This is the essence of the ML algorithm that platforms such as Amazon and Flipkart use for each customer. Their algorithms are much more complex, but that is their essence. Determine sort of characteristic capabilities decide whether a kind of feature is categorical or continuous. There are 2 criterias for the function to be known as categorical, first if the feature is of knowledge sort string and second, the no. of categories for the function is less than 10. I actually have used Information Gain Entropy as a measure of impurity.

With the right strategy and by trying at the right corners, you'll find information scientist mentors who might help you bridge the hole between theoretical and sensible functions of data science. Development of algorithms for Computer Aided Detection of early-stage breast most cancers among others. KKD cup is a well-liked knowledge mining and knowledge discovery competition held annually. It is likely one of the first-ever data science competitors which dates again to 1997. With the growing demand to research giant amounts of data inside small time frames, organizations choose working with the data immediately over samples. Consequently, this presents a herculean task for an information scientist with a limitation of time. Sports Betting… Predict field scores given the info available at the time proper before each new recreation.

Regression analysis is a type of predictive modeling method which investigates the relationship between dependent and independent variables. Regression goals at finding a straight line which may accurately depict the precise relationship between the 2 variables. Data is rising day by day, and it is unimaginable to understand all of the knowledge with higher velocity and higher accuracy. More than 80% of the information is unstructured that's audios, movies, photographs, paperwork, graphs, and so on. Finding patterns in knowledge on planet earth is impossible for human brains. The knowledge has been very large and the time taken to compute would improve solely. This is the place Machine Learning comes into motion, to help people with significant information in minimum time.

It may be proven that there isn't an absolute “best” criterion which would be independent of the final goal of the clustering. Consequently, it is the consumer which should supply this criterion, in such a means that the results of the clustering will go well with their needs. Clustering is likely one of the most important unsupervised learning problems; so, like each other's downside of this kind, it deals with finding a structure in a collection of unlabeled information.

In this article, we shall be looking at why there's even a necessity for people to have mentors in knowledge science and the way we can discover them. Although Data Science has been around us ever since the 1960s, it has only gained traction in the previous couple of a long time. This is one of the major reasons why budding knowledge scientists find it quite challenging to find the best mentors.

Now, anybody with discipline and persistence can study information science and turn out to be a data scientist. The coaching obtained is customized to cater to the needs of each pupil. These days, just having an impressive profile on Kaggle might be enough to land you a job interview at the very least. Kaggle is a site that has been hosting information science competitions for a few years. The competition is immense and intense, however so are the tutorials and the articles are additionally equally highly effective and instructive.

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#Python in Shaping the Future of Machine Learning 5

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