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anulithots · 11 months ago

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‘Your Name’, Kishotenketsu, and the Power of Storytelling.

(This is a messy little essay, but I just found out a way to watch anime and read manga... and my life as a storytelling fanatic has been the biggest lie in the best way possible. Please feel free to correct me if I got anything wrong, as I'm still new here. - I'm most versed with western stories and Bollywood/Indian cinema. Also when I say 'western stories' I'm generalizing to more of the 'Hollywood Blockbuster' sort of movies, and as far as movies/manga that use kishotenketsu, I've only seen 'Your Name', 'A silent Voice', 'The promised neverland' and I haven't finished 'the Girl from the other side'.)

In 2016, Mikato Shinkai created the film ‘Your Name’, which proceeded to become one of the most beloved movies of the time. This is due to both the storytelling tatics used, along with the intertwined rhetorical strategies. From the differences inherent in the Kishotenketsu storytelling method, to the inspirations garnered from the environment, and the message showcased through its stunning visuals, ‘Your Name’ provides an example of how different methods of storytelling showcase vastly different themes from that of western media, and in turn create a vastly different effect.

An aspect of East Asian culture and storytelling is the emphasis of the world, its beauty, and the effect it has upon those who live in it. For Mikato Shinkai, this became apparent in his inspiration. In 2014 he visited a shrine, which gave him the idea for ‘Your Name’. This shrine visit contrasted with both his visits to Tokyo and his childhood within the countryside, and this dualistic perspective became the basis for the movie’s message. Other motifs of the time also seeped into the movie’s setting and its theme, such as the ‘red string of fate’ often depicted in East Asian culture. This red string symbolizes the idea of both the supernatural and the connection that can come as a result. The first scene of the movie showcases the red string, in which the two main characters of the film - Mitsuha and Taki - become connected after Taki repeats the movie’s title, as he asks Mitsuha for her name. Mitsuha and Taki act as the speakers for the movie’s message, for they are vessels for different aspects of the same message. It’s often this exploration of the world and its relation to the characters that creates a method for delving into the characters and their internal characteristics in a way that is not often seen in western storytelling. In other stories, backstory takes the place of this, yet both accomplish the same goal - ‘Ki’ or ‘introduction’. The point of this introduction is not to introduce the plot,however, as one of the most impressive aspects of Kishotenketsu is how little it relies on a typical plot. Rather, the creator weaves a world and characters that have a history and a past quite quickly. It gives the narrative an air of depth that more plot-based stories would not be able to accomplish in such a short amount of time.

The characters of ‘Your Name’ also differ from western storytelling. Instead of an agent of the plot, or even being a conflicting force with the plot, characters in ‘Your Name’ each embody a different aspect of the overall point. They are characters first, and the story caters to that rather than nudging them to change with the whims of the plot. Mitsuha embodies the idea of perspective. She’s quite shy and polite, and withstands the humiliation of her family’s rituals along with the burden of being the governor’s daughter. Her current life suffocates her, and she wishes for another, more glamorous life within Tokyo. This all shifts when the story changes from the ‘Ki’ or ‘introduction’ stage to the ‘Sho’ or ‘development’ stage. Mitsuha wakes up in Taki’s body, and she experiences a shift in perspective and the life she’s always wanted. Whilst she indulges herself in the life she craved, she also sees Taki’s world through her lens. It’s Mitsuha who connects with Taki’s crush. It’s Mitsuha who enjoys Taki’s life to the point where the others take notice of his difference in personality. It’s Mitsuha who uses her childhood in which she weaved together threads - that symbolizes connection through time - into braids to change Taki’s life for the better. The tone of the film shifts (right before the ‘ketsu’/ ‘twist’ stage) to Taki’s different view on the same message. His point of view - especially when he inhabits Mitsuha’s body - focuses on time and the connections through it. Such as when Mitsuha’s grandmother tells him about masubi - the flow of time and how their work as a priest family is to braid the threads of time together. These dual aspects of the narrative interweave through the two characters in a way that is seamless and allows for a deeper analysis of the message made.

This film caters to people who live in Japan, as both the story structure and the societal expectations differ from western ideals. Because of the ages and desires of the two main characters, ‘Your Name’ specifically caters to the young adult audiences, for they can see themselves within the protagonists and their desire for a different life with different experiences. Those who see their environment as their cage, and who think if they were only able to find another place, another life to live, they may discover that this film speaks to them and inspires them to live as themselves.

Overall, this movie is the tale of two people connected through time via body swapping on random days. This continues through the development phase until Taki discovers the meteor that killed Mitsuha and her town three years ago. It is through their shared perspectives that they not only save the residents of Mitsuki’s town, but they also discover the connection in their past. Through this narrative, Makoto Shinkai wishes to impart on his audience the messages of two interwoven themes: of the differences in perspective over the same event or environment, and how those shared events connect people in time. The first scene established this through the meteor as it painted the sky in brilliant colors. Taki looked upon the meteor with nothing but awe and wonder, yet this is the same meteor that sent Mitsuha to her death. The meteor, despite the destruction it wrought, connected both Mitsuha and Taki, for it is implied that the supernatural of Mitsuha’s world started the events of the movie for the sake of preventing the meteor’s deaths. Similar to the braids that Mitsuha had to weave and the one she gave to Taki at the beginning of the narrative, individuals' lives are connected to these special moments of love and wonder, such as when Taki marveled at the same rituals that embarrassed Mitsuha. Their differences in worldview may cause the threads in their lives to untangle or knot, but they experienced it together. The audience then left the movie with a newfound appreciation for their unique worldview and the small things in their environment that they may take for granted. They are connected to others who will value them, both in their past and when they continue to the future.

Kishotenketsu allows for a deep analysis on a specific message or a specific perspective, whereas a hero’s journey or a three-act story structure allow for a transformative journey of self-development. Both have their strengths and there is a spectrum of artistic expression and overlap between the two methods. Kishotenketsu, for example, is able to explore a complex theme that surrounds multiple sub-themes- whilst doing so through a close examination of the characters and their world. A story made in the west may be expected to have a greater emphasis on the conflict, lest the audience become bored. This leaves the message and the characters to compete with the plot unless the creator weaves them together. Even so, western stories emphasize change driven by conflict, and they deem a proper story one characterized by a transformation to face an external obstacle. In kishotenketsu there is no difference between any internal or external development, for the character navigating the world and the premise set up in the introduction provides all the development needed.

An example of a western story in which both the plot and the message are interwoven to achieve a transformation is Puss in Boots: the Last Wish. This film explores a fear of death and the anxiety that comes with this. Through the change in the main character, the audience - who may also share this experience, as it is deeply personal to the creators - learns the lesson of living life to the fullest instead of running from fear. This is not a lesser story structure by any means, but it does serve a different purpose. This structure is meant to provide an example to the audience about how to grow from flaws or limitations, whereas kishotenketsu is similar to its poetic roots in its overall purpose. These stories do not need character transformations or a removal of flaws - such as in ‘Your Name’ where both Taki and Mitsuha forget the events of the film - instead they look at life and depict it as beautiful art and magical stories. The story is allowed to spend time with the mundane and the characters, and it leaves the audience with an impression and an appreciation of the world. It’s a new perspective, a new way to look at life, and the message is left to personal interpretations. (Rarely is the message ever outright said. The message in western stories is much more obvious and apparent). Kishotenketsu showcases the wonder of life, as it is, in the present - no change required.

#anime and manga #animanga #manga #your name #miyamizu mitsuha #makoto shinkai #kishotenketsu #storytelling #essay writing #in this essay i will #discussion #media #essay

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star-ocean-peahen · 1 year ago

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Lmao funny-slightly-not-funny story:

At church retreat one of my friends came back to our cabin and mentioned that she and the rest of the group were playing a game where they guessed each others' ethnicities. She then proceeded to list hers in percentages: Irish, English, Scandinavian, one indigenous great-grandparent. I thought "Hey! This will be funny!" and asked her to guess mine, thinking she would try to suss out my non-white heritage.

She immediately began running through different European nationalities instead. Irish, Portuguese, Scandinavian. She kept saying "Hmm, I know one of these" and I was a little confoozled because...............she's met my dad..............who is not easily identifiable as anything particular but also visibly nonwhite............and I was thinking "Surely she can't be thinking that by asking for her to guess my ethnicity, I really meant 'guess what European country my ancestors are from', right?"

I eventually prodded her into guessing my nonwhite heritage and she weakly suggested indigenous peoples before I laughed and told her I was half Chinese. She was........surprised?? Idk I knew I looked white but THAT white???? Ig if you're not familiar with Asian features it wouldn't be automatic but we were literally at that facility with a Chinese cultural group comprised of several hundred people, with some of whom I resembled. I was pretty surprised at how sheltered she seemed.

But then that got me thinking: The only people I've ever heard talk about their ancestry in percentages or those ancestry DNA tests or ask people what ethnicity they are...........are white people. They talk about how they're mostly German with a little bit of Irish and an indigenous grandparent here or there (and the way they talk about that is 😬) or mention being part Spanish or Greek like it's exotic and interesting. I don't hear Asian, African, South American, etc. ethnicities being listed there often, it's usually just European nationalities with a couple "exotic" mentions here or there.

And don't get me wrong, it's cool and fulfilling to know where you came from. Knowing your family history can be a very grounding thing that I want people to experience! But it feels less like they want to know where they came from, and more like they want to find a culture they feel like they're missing in their white Westernerness.

Knowing your distant roots might help you make sense of pieces of family history you already have, but it's not going to automatically give you a new status or something. You could choose to research and integrate yourself into your family's culture, but just saying "I'm like, 13% Swedish," isn't the cool addition to your personality you think it is. The culture they already have is interesting and special and important, they just don't think it is because they see being white as the default and all other races as unique cultures.

It was rather comical to think of being nonwhite participating in those guessing games. They'd just skip over you if you're visibly nonwhite, and hem and haw over your Norwegian or English vibes if you're not. There were a couple mixed Indian fellas in the original guessing group, and I could only imagine how they must have felt!

Anyway. Sheltered white people things.

#it was also funny to me that out of all the white ladies in my cabin i was actually the palest because they go outside and i dont #oh man at the beginning of last summer my friend made an offhand comment about how i'm tanner than she is and i #girl you're super active and outside a whole fucken lot this is the first time *ive* been outside in the past seven months #my base shade is white girl tan 😂#white people

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strawberryclothing · 4 months ago

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gracelaramusings · 8 months ago

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Day 19: Coron to Singapore

We got up early to catch a bit of breakfast before taking the van to the airport.

There’s nothing like a flight to catch up on some writing. The three hour flight from Coron to Singapore was perfect to again share the wonderful experiences we’ve had over the last days, which I didn’t have time to record and share. With a USB outlet and my iPad on my lap, I was set.

While waiting in line a young couple of travellers asked if they could borrow money for overweight baggage, since their credit card was not working and they couldn’t take out money. Poor things! After Yuval learned it was just 1 kilo of overweight that they needed to pay for, he suggested they take out some clothes and wear them. That hadn’t occurred to them! Problem solved.

We then had a similar experience: oh, the sorrow of overweight baggage.

We are the type of people that hate paying for bags, but will when needed. What we didn’t take into consideration was that while we needed only one bag, our other flights allowed 23 kilo while this airline (Cebu Pacific) permitted just 20 kilo. Gotcha!

They then proceeded to charge what seemed like nearly every traveler for overweight baggage, with each kilo costing 600 Pesos— some $12 per kilo! Also, carryons could only be 7 kilo in total each.

Determined not to pay a cent for overweight baggage, we did the well-known juggling act. Wore sweatshirts, put on my hiking boots and switching them with light sandals… though still overweight, they seemed not to notice we had some extra items that we hadn’t yet packed away. Concerned that at another point along the journey they might double check the weight, we couldn’t breathe comfortably until we actually got on board.

We were overjoyed to see that our friends from Spain were with us on the plane, so we caught up on eachother’s travels and enjoyed reminiscing about how wonderful our excursion was.

Our flight was delayed due to thunderstorms in Singapore. Still, the flight was made that much nicer due to the fact that we had a lovely person in our three-seater. She lives in the Philippines but works in Singapore. She makes the few-hour flight a couple days a month in order to “work from home”. Though a challenge, she has a live-at-home nanny and family nearby which help make it work. She even nurses! It turned out she was part Iranian and part Indian. Towards the end of the flight I asked if she had ever met an Israeli before, and she said it was her first time. She showed me her spectacular wedding photos (white horse and all!). What a great way to pass a few hours. And cooler yet- she's of Iranian heritage. We are the first Israelis she'd ever met.

The Singapore airport is considered among the best in the world. Since I had filled out all the paperwork in advance, we made it through with the ease that was intended. At the baggage claim, they even gave out Oreos, chocolate milk and water, I think because of the delay!

Yuval reminded me of my rule to always ask at information when you arrive in an airport, and thanks to that reminder, we learned that the bus we planned to take from another terminal also came to our terminal, so inter-terminal travel avoided!

The bus literally dropped us off directly in front of our Singapore hotel.

Check in, quick drink then a mission: find a wireless charger for my phone, to keep the juice flowing. We were told there were some electronics stores at the mall across from the hotel, so we ventured into our first Singapore malls. This one was not nearly as fancy as we expected, but we were fortunate to find a cheap electronics place that had a light charger that fit the bill. Yay!

Heading back to the hotel as the stores were all closing, we were tired from travel, so this first night we called it a night, and got a relatively early night’s sleep.

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straycatboogie · 1 year ago

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2023/08/02 English

BGM: The Police - Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic

It was a day off today. This morning I had a meeting about English conversation on ZOOM. But today it was a little bit different from usual meetings. TBH we secretly had proceeded a project for the host woman to celebrate her birthday. We had reserved some Indian sweets and delivered them to her house as a surprise present. The host showed the present she had got via ZOOM, and also a member showed a message card for her (TBH I had written an instant poem to her). I was glad that she seemed really delightful for this present. I feel thankful for these opportunities (this surprise project, and also every week's meeting). Today we tried to make our sentences by using the phrase "The point is that". We talked a lot about the Japanese sentences an Indian member made. About "The relationship between Japanese and English" and "How can we build natural Japanese sentences by using English?". We also talked about the poems and journals I have been writing. It was really a deep lesson… I have enjoyed this meeting three months I guess. I am glad for the kindness of other members.

This afternoon I went to the library and borrowed Hisaki Matsuura's books. In those books, I chose the one "Koukon Kakushi" to read. I thought that I was now living in the "dusk" or "sunset" time of my life. Indeed, I can't expect what will happen in this life. But as a fact, I have lived about half a century… "To live on" was once the same as "to lose my youth" or "to lose my possibility". I won't be able to do a lot anymore… that made me crazy, and I cried a lot. Powerless, useless, unhappy… I was just "rotten" at that period. This must sound ridiculous, but now (Of course, I am losing the vitality and mental toughness) I think "I want to do what I couldn't do once". Yes, I had tried a lot to seek for what I could do. I had been ashamed by various errors… this has brought me here. The more I live, the more I can live a simpler life. No waste… I love this simple life. Like The Police's playing. Simple, and also tasteful… I hope it could be (I can't judge this).

After that, until 3 pm I tried to write my poem at the food court at AEON. At the meeting in the morning a person asked me "How do you write your poems?". About this, I just always try to capture the ideas around me like grabbing clouds. I just try to write the first line of every poem. After that, I try to think about how I should make rhymes of the ending words. And I start building my poems following the style of sonnets. From 3 pm, I start enjoying another meeting. We did a discussion about our emotion in English. How can we control/manage our emotion? A person said to us that saying to ourselves "Oh, Well" to solve the struggles. Don't think twice. Just let them "flow". Certainly, I thought that kind of decision of letting everything "flow" can mean their tolerance or strength. I confessed my opinion. Once, I had been suffered from the idea that my co-workers hate me. But I started thinking that these people are like the weather. Indeed, the weather changes our life. But we can live our life even though the weather changes better or worse. That's OK… from that, we talked about "Other people can't be changed" but "We can change our behavior".

This evening I went to the "danshu" meeting. At there, I confessed the memory of meeting my parents on Thursday. I talked my dream… I will reach my 50s soon. The day when I was 40 (the 3rd of April), the day I had quit alcohol… I had thought "if I drink alcohol again, how I will be?". I had thought that "In this life, I have done nothing" and "I have never done anything seriously". At that time, I thought I wanted to be a pro writer but I had never written anything. I just had run away from everything… therefore I started quitting. 8 years passed. But I actually tried to complete writing my first novel and was said by a pro writer as "You can never be a pro, so you should stop trying". I guess it was right… Everything can't go smoothly. We can't live as we like. C'est la vie… After that, I started joining the meeting about autism. I also started learning English again, and began writing this journal. This year I started creating my poems too. If I were in my 20s or 30s, I would think that "I wanna be a star like Allen Ginsberg" or "I wanna be the most famous one in the world". But now, I never think that cause it never products money. I just want to live the "dusk" of my life. Single, no kids. Just I read and write. Really simple… like Young Marble Giants' music… But "Oh, Well!".

Departure at Dusk A sunset time I enjoyed Lloyd Cole's "No Blue Skies" I remembered the days I had read the novel "High Rise" At that time I had already had two drunken eyes People said what they should, but I believed I must be wise

In Japanese, we write dusk as "the time he can't be seen" The time a owl start flying… Yes, it's what Hegel would mean I had adored to be a writer a long time ago, since I was 14 Troubles happened… but I tried to keep on saving my eyes keen

Since this summer of 48, I started this creation series with Muse I am single with no kids, therefore I have nothing to lose Like this creating process, I've enjoyed a private, spiritual cruise

A pen, a notebook, and a smartphone. These are what I need I just keep on living this life passionately, and keep this slow speed I'm now at the dusk time of my life… But I just try to keep my creed

#diary #english #journal

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oc-cafe · 2 years ago

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I posted 493 times in 2022

That's 493 more posts than 2021!

88 posts created (18%)

405 posts reblogged (82%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@oc-cafe

@jewishdainix

@desifandom

@ghostdragoncookiept2

@stressedsnake

I tagged 220 of my posts in 2022

#the royalty representation project - 34 posts

#mod sam✨ - 34 posts

#mod 🔥 - 33 posts

#mod sam - 16 posts

#aditi the desi disney princess - 15 posts

#mod🔥 - 14 posts

#mod ares - 13 posts

#original character - 12 posts

#aditi boundless - 11 posts

#mod sam ✨ - 10 posts

Longest Tag: 98 characters

#once again sorry for disturbing you all my moots are indian so i didn't really know where to start

My Top Posts in 2022:

i made this on a browser program on a dell laptop yall BETTER appreciate it

one of these couples is canon'nt

anywAY HAPPY PRIDE MONTH

Taglist (Ask to add):

@minaglobe

@thisismisogynoir for daraja, lemme know if you want me to remove

50 notes - Posted June 3, 2022

TW/CW: Body Horror, Swearing, All Caps, Bold/Italicised text; for the story: Death and Bloodshed

Ah, Nelaghati, the most charming kingdom in the world! Its splendorous architecture, natural beauty, easy-going (for the most part) populace, benevolent rulers, shape-shifting yuvrajnee- wait a minute.

Aditi, the ‘yuvrajnee’ or crown princess of the kingdom of Nelaghati, leads a normal (see: boring) life. Each day like the list, threatening to drown her in its monotonous repetition, keeping her well within the limits of what she could accomplish, of what she wanted to accomplish.

So when she finds something that might break her from this tedious routine, well, who is she to refuse?

But is this newfound power really all it’s cracked up to be?

Coming Soon!

~~~

Remember Aditi? Take a little refresher if you don’t. We’re giving her her own story, and the first chapter should come out soon if everything goes smoothly, so stay tuned!

And for those wondering why I didn’t include the shape-shifting in the trailer, well, the trailer was more of an on-the-spot thing. And yes, the beast was created to get a what-the-fuck reaction. Would you pet it?

61 notes - Posted May 25, 2022

I PRESENT TO YOU

the main cast. because i need to finish the story but i'm also a chronic procrastinator so RIP

First up, Princess Daraja Adesina!!!

You know her and you love her!!! Please welcome our main character!!

she/her

Daraja is our main character, one of the most resourceful and curious people from our story and I think she's really cool! Let us know what you think!

Okay next up from the land, is of course the wonderful Eren Abbas, we love her

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63 notes - Posted April 20, 2022

Episode 1: Dusty Old Book

Once again, please check the trigger warnings before proceeding, since this story will probably have death, violence and angst and mentions of blood.

Cover made with Canva, crossposted on my wattpad account.

A silent figure walked through the busy streets of Nelaghati. Draped in a simple cotton sari and a few ornaments, she blends in easily with the bustling crowd. She pulled her pallu over her head, partly because of the heat, partly to avoid anyone recognising her.

There will be plenty of time to get back to her later. First, let us have a look around this charming town.

Nelaghati was a beautiful, busy place. Bursting with colour and life, this kingdom was sure to enthrall any who came by.

Now, our 'Silent Figure' was walking in the streets of Nelaghati's biggest marketplaces. The area is buzzing with people. Vendors selling their wares, street performers performing, a suspicious person selling even more suspicious trinkets, and so many more things, but if we stop to list them all we will never get to the point.

She hurried past all the people trying to stop her, to convince her to try their items, to warn her about all those 'other sellers' who won't have such amazing quality or prices, but eventually she escapes them all, and found her way to a secluded spot, where a horse with a velvety brown coat and a black mane was impatiently waiting for her. It neighed disapprovingly.

Now, here's two things about the horse that our reader might find interesting. One, that it belonged to Aditi, AKA our 'Silent Figure'; and two, that it bore the royal seal.

Aditi lowered her pallu and lovingly stroked the horse. She held up a dusty old book.

"Look what I got!"

The horse seemed unimpressed.

"Hey, hey, look, I'm sorry. I came back here as soon as I could."

It seemed satisfied with her - admittedly flimsy - apology and she mounted it in a second, gently squeezing its side with her legs to make it start moving.

They rode for a while, gradually gaining speed , Aditi getting more and more harrowed by the second. They soon reached the small wood that bordered the palace.

The wood was a wonderful resource, and although it was certainly very pleasant, it would take a while to get through, which only increased Aditi's distress.

"Tvarte, tvarte," She urged her horse on as calmly as she could, which was, to be fair, not very calm. "We're running late!"

Somehow managing to get to the palace in record time, she led her horse to the stables, unbridling, untacking and giving it water. She assigned the stable hand to groom it, and after making them swear not to tell anyone she had been out, she headed towards her chambers, hoping to make it there without anybody else seeing her.

"Aditi! Where have you been?!" She heard a familiar voice hiss into her ear.

"Rekha, hey, do you mind not telling anyone?"

Rekha, her handmaiden, rolled her eyes.

"You're lucky no one noticed. Yet. And what's that you're trying to hide?"

Aditi raised her hands in surrender, one hand still grasping the dusty old book.

"You got me."

"Wait, wait, wait. So you sneaked out, even though you knew that you could get into massive trouble for that, all for a Dusty Old Book?

"Yes?"

"... alright. Let's get you cleaned up before someone notices."

Aditi grinned. "You're a lifesaver, Rekha."

Rekha made no reply and simply led Aditi away, all the while chastising her about how much trouble she would have gotten into - to which Aditi could only smile ruefully and utter a quick apology - and quickly scrubbed her down, removing all the branches and brambles and dirt she had managed to get in her hair. She waited as Aditi got dressed in her more 'regal' sari, and royal ornaments, and then gently wove gajra flowers into her silky black tresses, which had been tied up in a low bun.

"So, where did you get the book?"

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72 notes - Posted June 7, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

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314 notes - Posted March 17, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #mod🔥

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harrysmimi · 2 years ago

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Coffee And Pancakes

Synopsis: One where Harry visits this cafe everyday for this one person he likes (requested)

CW: mentions/slivers chronic pain pls put your mental health first and read with caution if it if something that bothers you. I wrote this because it hit home to me the most combining two requests I got.

Series Masterlist | More of my work

Harry very much liked to visit new cafes in the city everytime. Especially if they served healthy breakfast options.

This Cafe restaurant he goes to particularly caught his special interest, all because of this barista who works there. He saw her the very first day he decided to check out the place, he noticed she was wearing his a crewneck from his old solo merch instantly telling him she was a fan. She also wore a baby green baseball hat to hide the hairnet which he saw every employee wearing. His favourite was her big glasses with dainty frame she wore always.

Since then everytime he visits he liked to watch as she tries not to freak out and take each of his orders, how she stutters even though he orders the same thing everyday he goes there. He liked to talk to her, her name is YN and she works there full-time, he's gotten to know that much about her so far.

But he also remembers her mentioning how Niall once reacted to her video of singing his song on some YouTube channel a few years ago when she was talking about One Direction with her this one very beautiful day. She even suggested he does the same and his fans would love to see that.

Today he was accompanied by his friends and his sister as they were going to catch up after a long time. Gemma has been bugging him to hang out with her so he took out the day for her as his usual schedule consists of going on a walk, after a shower head to the cafe and go straight to studios. He needs to give his family some time too!

Though it made him a teeny bit upset he couldn't talk to YN. But there was always another day, unless she decided to quit her job for some reason. He also really enjoyed his day with his sister and their mum also joined them later.

......................................................................

It wasn't until the next four days Harry got to see YN again, apparently she wasn't there for work for some reason. It was a friday so he had to wait the weekend but his heart was broke again he didn't find her there on Monday either. He was again disappointed today thinking he wasn't going to see hee there and her friends didn't know when she'd be returning, he didn't ask that because that would be creepy but he over heard a few of her friends talking about her.

Did she quit her job?

He still needed a coffee so he still went the cafe and planned to directly head to studio, call Mitch and Ben early today. Just as he entered the shop he could take a few peaks at the same baby green hat he saw everyday by the coffee machines. Harry's tummy started fluttering with butterflies as he did. He ordered his usual coffe and Pancakes with extra maple syrup.

"Hey you," he heard her voice chirp as she loaded the espresso machine.

"Hey you," he couldn't help the smile which dared to take over his features, "haven't seen you here in a while, how are you?"

"I'm good, I am good," she nodded still getting on with her work, she took out almond milk from the fridge as she poured it into the metal jug and proceeded towards the frother. "How are you? I wasn't in for work for two days, graduated last Friday."

"Oh, congratulations!" he was quite amused by the new information, "what did you major in?"

"In Indian classical music, minored in music history." She seemed very proud of herself though he was quite unsure if it was the degree she was talking about or the pretty design he poured onto the latte she just made, a little swan he could make it out to be.

"Impressive." He commented earning a soft puff of giggle from her. He swore his heart broke into a million pieces then and then watching that smile and giggles of her voice.

"Just a minute." She excused herself and called out the customer who's order was just made, and proceeded to make his coffee.

Harry truly didn't know how to take the conversation ahead. He didn't wanted to ask her what her future plans are with music, it truly had him fascinated because well he's a musician himself!

"Here are your pancakes with extra maple syrup and coffee." YN gave Harry his order, "enjoy!"

"Thank you so much, love." He smiled taking the tray from her as he went to his original spot next to coffee station where she's usually doing her job. He saw she'd drawn a little smily at the end of his name on the cup, something she'd do here and there to show off her doodling skills.

The cafe was silent, there was no ruckus by angry entitled customers as he read his book and indulged his breakfast. It wasn't until a teenage couple walked in and he noticed a bit of banter going on at the cash counter.

"Come on, you drive a fucking tesla, how is one coffee going to affect you?" The young guy said, YN was stood right there with nothing but anger and disappointment on her face.

"I work here, get out Asher." YN sighed, "Ashlyn do you still want your order?"

"Yes, please." The girl nodded and paid for her order.

"I'm going to tell Mumma about." The guy warned her.

"Go on," YN rolled her eyes, "I am not giving you any free coffee, you're old enough go get a fucking job and stop being a fucking brat that you've grown to be!" She turned to the girl, "Ashlyn your order will be ready in five."

......................................................................

Now it's been almost a month to that situation but it's been on Harry's mind all this time, even though he knows It was none of his business and he's seen her deal with rude customers before but he reckoned the teen was her brother by the conversation.

YN on the other had have had enough from her family, especially her little brother. Being the second oldest of six children she has always been taken for granted. But she carried on with her work that day pushing to take care of later when she's visiting her therapist on the Friday.

Harry was sat in the cafe this morning like usual, eating away his pancakes. Promise, he doesn't eat those everyday, it's only for when his mood strikes!

"Hey Harry!" A voice called from behind catching his attention. It was his friends Kyle who he's known since school.

"Hey," Harry greeted him, "haven't seen you in a long time." They shared their usual bro-hug and sat down.

"Yeah, I've been busy lately with the restaurant we just opened." Kyle said. "Never thought you'd be the kind to go out to get breakfast, how do you like it here so far?"

"Oh, I've been coming here from last month or so." Harry smiled sheepishly not wanting to share the exact reason why he's been going there for that long, "it's quite nice in here, the staff's amazing, so is the food. You should try their muffins."

Kyle chuckled, "this is my mum's cafe, I come by to check in on stuff when she can't." He shared, "and yes the muffins are our speciality here. Grandma's recipe."

"Ah!" He smiled, finding it amusing, "no wonder why it's so good then! Gran Bunny makes the muffins."

Harry felt nostalgic. He'd go over to Kyle's whenever and his grandma would have something or other to force feed him and his friends as kids. He doubts she'd spare any of them even now that they're all grown ups pushing their thirties. Some of Harry and Kyle's would admit to online go over to the boy's house for food which he did not mind, his family loved having people over.

"Have you been to Holmes Chapel lately?" Harry asked, be hasn't been there in a long time either.

"Yeah, I was there last week to see Granny." Kyle shared and they talked, catching up. Harry kept stealing glances at YN as she went about her work as usual catching his attention here and there. "Have you got a crush on her, mate?" Kyle said catching all of Harry's attention at once.

"No," he shook his head, "why'd you say that?"

"You're literally staring at her."

"No I'm not." Harry refused to admit it to his friend who's technically also YN's boss.

"She's a nice girl, a little too young for you I'd say. But you can try asking her out if you wish." Kyle teased his friends sat in front of him, slumped on his chair poking at the last buts of pancake on his plate drenched in maple syrup.

"What do you mean too young?"

"She started working here when she was 15, Granny says, as a cashier but she stuck around its been about good six to seven years since." Kyle shared, "she's got more patience than a turtle and has out lasted many of our older employees here."

......................................................................

Harry was walking home at around eight-thirty from studio calling it a day for writing. He was frustrated with the writers block he's been trying to get over from past two weeks. Busy on his phone texting his creative director about the new single from his previous album, he bumped into someone.

"Ah!" The person hissed in pain as they stumble back on their feet.

"Oh my god, I am sorry. I wasn't looking—" he stopped seeing it was YN, he looked to his left to see he was just passing the cafe she works at. "Hey, you okay?" He enquired watching her squeeze her hand in pain. He didn't bump into her that hard, did he?

"You want me to help you with something?" He asked, concerned as she was still hissing in agony. It scared him because he didn't know what was happening, was she playing a prank on him? But he saw a sheen in her eyes before sucked in a deep breath. "Did I bump into you that hard? I'm so sorry?" He spoke again, he noticed there was keys in the keyhole of the door, she was closing up.

"Oh no, lemme see." He carefully reached for her hand to see if she's injured severely. But she wasn't.

"I, uhh, no it's okay. I'm fine." She assured him, pulling her hand hand from his.

"You sure?" He asked.

"Yeah, I'm sure." She nodded and proceeded to lock up the door. He found it adorably weird how she used her knuckles to turn the keys. "You needed coffee this late?"

"No, no I was on my way back home." He shared, "are you sure I didnt hurt you?"

"No you didn't, you're fine. I'm fine." She rushed.

"You work this late?"

"No, took up extra shifts for this month." She shared.

"Okay." He nodded, stood there awkwardly not knowing what to say. She sighed.

"Okay I'll take your leave now, have a good night, Harry." She smiled. Harry swore his heart was about to burst.

"Uhh, yeah. Good night." He nodded, trying to reciprocate the same smile without coming out as a creep. She started her little penguin-esque walk upto the side walk all bundled up in her oversized hoodie and her coat, it was getting colder. He watched her unlock a Tesla — so that douche bag wasn't wrong about it!— and was about to get in before he rushed upto her. "Hey, YN?"

"Hmm?" She turned to him, her car door between them.

"Are you free tomorrow after work?"

'Oh my god! Okay it's happening!' the inner Michael Scott started screaming inside his mind as he asked the question. But she looked at him confused.

"I don't have worked tomorrow, why?" She said canting her head a side, a smile threatening to tug on the corner of her lips.

"I, ehm, wanted to—" he stuttered feeling his throat go dry in instant, "I wanted to ask if you'd like to grab a coffee or maybe lunch?" He blurt out just before rushing to add, "If, if you wish."

YN swallowed thickly as she looked at him for a moment longer, not believing what was really happening. The guy she spent minority of her childhood and all of her teenage years obsessing over is asking her to grab a coffe with him? Is she dreaming? She contemplated how to answer him, not wanting to break his heart. No one has asked her out since she was in highschool and that too ended horribly to add to her many traumas.

"I... uhh... Harry!" She found it difficult to find words from her vocabulary, "I, I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow in the morning. It might take me whole day."

She's telling the truth okay!

The way his puppy face turned into one of upset made her heart drop to her stomach, she doesn't want to turn him down. "That's okay." He sighed, looking down at his vans toeing at the concrete pavement.

"Harry?"

"Hmm?" He lifted his head up to look at her. Soft, tiredness never left her features, a gentle crease between her brows.

"I'm not turning you down," she said, catching full and more of his attention, "if you'd like we can still go grab dinner or go the next day."

"I, ehm, yeah I'd like that." He nodded, rubbing a nervous finger under his nose, his classic move when he's nervous. "I'll see you tomorrow then?"

"Yeah." She nodded.

"This would sound stupid," he mumbled under his breath before taking a careful step closer to her, but she heard him, "can I get your number so I can text you tomorrow?"

"Sure." She smiled. He's sure he's as red as an apple as he felt heat rush upto his cheeks and find it amusing enough to smile at. He fished out his phone from his back pocket and unlocked it before he handed it to her. She took his phone with her shaky hands as she typed in her number and name. Was it that cold? She didn't seemed nervous. Maybe it's just the minor adrenaline rush keeping him warm to even notice, it's nearing October. He even sent her a smiley made of colon and end parenthesis so she knows it's him.

"Shouldn't hold you back longer it's getting late." He said taking his phone from her and checking her new contact in his phone to make sure he doesn't text the wrong number later.

"Mhmm. See you." She said with a petite wave tickling at her finger tips. He waved back and waited for her safely get in her car and drive off before he headed back home himself.

......................................................................

Harry couldn't bother to go to the cafe today, he made coffee at home today. It was pretty shitty but it was going to work and keep caffeinated him enough for the day at the studio. He felt very motivated to write today!

Though he kept picking up his phone and resting it face down back again throughout his studio session. He wanted to text YN and ask how's her doctor's visit going but that would make him appear as though he's been an obsessed creep of some sort, wouldn't it? He just can't get her off his mind there. He hoped she's doing fine even though he doesn't know her that well yet.

He felt anxious to text her but he told her he was going to. Excusing himself Harry picked up his phone and headed out for a moment. Finally clicking over her contact he saw she'd saved it with her name, plain and simple, he took that extra second to add a little sparkle emoji next to her name before he started drafting her a message. There was around quarter left for six.

- Hey you,

- how's your doctor's appointment going?

He cringed at his question. Three dots appeared on his screen indicating that she's writing a response back.

YN ✨

- Hey you,

- I'm so bored sitting here !!! 😩

- how is your day going?

He chuckled at her choice of emoji at the end of her complain.

- been in studio since morning, so I'd say I'm having an amazing day.

YN ✨

- I am soooo jealous!

- hey, it's my turn now I'll text you in a bit.

He took in a long breathe of relief that it's going to be over for her and he can take her out later. He stuffed his phone back in his pocket.

"Lads, I think we should wrap up for the day." Harry announced reentering the studio room.

"I'm staying to work on this tonight." Ben said, lifting his head up from the computer to look at him.

"Have you been seeing someone?" Sarah pointed out. She has been accompanying their writings sessions lately with Mitch. "You arrive at the studio late, you leave early. What is going on?" Even Mitch shot him his own suspicious glare from where he was sat next to Ben.

Having been put up in a spot Harry froze on his spot for a moment. He wants to keep this to himself if anything further happens for a little while, "no, I'm just hungry. I'm making pasta today, do you guys want to join?"

"Nah, I'll pass this time." Mitch waved him off before getting back to jis work with Ben. He used his cooking as excuse because no one likes when he cooks. He's agree he sucks at it, especially when it comes to pasta dishes.

"I'll see you guys tomorrow." Harry said after he'd gathered his stuff, "Sarah, bring your baby tomorrow."

"Aye!" She gave him a salute as he walked out.

Harry drove back home and hopped in shower taking his time to clean up as he's gone straight to studio after his intense run after Mitch called him up to play him a new tune. Just when he was out of shower he recieved a text from YN.

YN✨

- it's finally over! 😭

- oh, I hope you don't mind me. I've been complaining since you texted me

He chuckled. Of course he doesn't mind her complains over text. He could listen to her all day, everyday if she lets him.

- it's fine love.

- do you still want to grab dinner?

Honestly, he felt more comfortable now asking her questions. And he's really looking forward to this.

- yeah, I'll be home in thirty.

He smiled checking the time. It was half past six. He typed his message leaving her enough to get home and get ready if she wishes.

- I'll come and pick you up at 8?

- is that alright?

Harry felt so stupidly smitten that everytime those three little dots appeared on his screen his heart never fails to almost jump out of his mouth. Her message came in along with her little address.

- yeah, that gives me enough time.

He threw his phone back on his bed as he walked into his closet pushing him into the biggest turmoil of the day; what is he going to wear?!

At the end he settles on a pair if regular fit jeans and his yellowish cream Bode shirt with a tank top underneath to keep him warm. He pulled out a jacket to go with it as it's already freezing cold outside as it's nearing October end. He made sure there was no dust and dirt on the piece of clothing which has been sitting in his closet for almost a year now. He left the house making sure everything is in it's place and all the windows and doors are locked.

YN on the other hand was panicking. For starters, she was stuck in traffic on her way back home, her water heater started acting up when she went to take a shower after sitting in a hospital for entire day. Plus her chronic pain did nothing but added to one and half hour she had to get ready.

It was nearing winter which meant her arthritis was going to flare up, that meant more frequent visits to her doctor and physiotherapist. October has been truly a spooky season for her from past ten year now. She was just eleven when she had a life changing diagnosis, which her parents never bothered to look at for the longest blaming it on her introvert-ness. But now she's been living alone since she moved for college, life has been more easier on her.

Living alone came with it's own perks. No one bothered her. No one told her what she can and can not do. Living alone meant more savings, especially after she found herself lucky that her grandfather left her tuition fees in his will. She was able to buy herself a flat, it's been just a year she moved into her own home, no longer having to live with creepy roommates or crappy flats. Her brother has been very jealous of her recent purchase of her Tesla, but that was a different story. No one believed her working at a cafe got her all these things, she could careless.

Just as she was starting to put on her make-up to look tad bit presentable with her tired face with massive dark circles. She got a text from Harry saying he's waiting for her. She doesn't quite know if it's a date or he wants to hang out, but she had two options which are, go out with him bare faced or make him wait for ten more minutes.

God she hates being late!

Harry had to wait all for five minutes before he got a text from YN.

YN✨

- omg I'm so sorry!

- I need five more minutes plsss

- you can come up.

- pls

- it's very cold outside!

- I feel so badddd

He laughed at her frantic texting. He recieved a number of her flat with another row of apologies and asking him to upstairs as it's very cold outside. He took up her offer after contemplating. He took the lift up to her floor and walked down the corridor finding hers. Her door was right at the very end of the hallway. It was very calm and quiet.

Taking a deep breath he tapped on her door with his knuckles not opting to ring the bell. Still hoping he was at the right door, he was proven right when her door swung open.

"Hey you," he smiled.

"Hey, please come in." She stepped aside. "I just need five more minutes. I promise I'm not like this!"

"Hey it's okay, I'll wait for you." He chuckled. She brought him a glass of water.

"Please take a seat." She gestured at the yellow sofa in her living room, "five minutes." With that she walked into her bathroom.

YN house screamed that jt was her. Though she was still adding a few touches here and there. But what caught Harry's eye apart from bright yellow sofa with two coffee brown love seats in the living room was her little dining table for two which had an aquarium on it pushed towards the wall. He never thought she'd had a pet, let alone a fish. He pulled himself a chair as he admired the beta fish living a good life in it. He saw a little yellow sticky note with a messy writing on it which said 'His Royal Highness, King McFish the first'.

He didn't realised he let out an audible laugh reading that until his own voice rang through his ears.

"Don't laugh." He heard YN call from her bathroom, probably getting ready. She walked out all ready. "I didn't name him that."

"Who did?"

"It's my neighbours daughter, I baby sit her some times." YN shared walking to her balcony and shutting the door closed. "She named him that because she was eating McDonald's that day."

"He's a royal then, isn't he?" Harry chuckled hearing the back story still watching him swim around. And he doesn't blame the little girl, the fish was really looked royal. Black fins with a yellow body, truly calming and easy on eyes to watch it swim around.

He finally looked at YN, she was ready. Dressed in a pair of brown panta, a white over sized turtle neck sweater which looked handmade. He was blown away seeing her hair which would usually be covered by a hair net at work. She'd decided to braid her long hair leaving it draped up front over her rught shoulder, her curtain bangs styled perfectly. He noticed she had even put on just a tad bit of makeup.

"I like your jumper." He commented watching walk upto the table.

"Oh!" She sounded, looking down at her jumper running smoothing sweater paw over the front, "thank you. I made it."

"I thought so." He smirked proud of his little judgement. "Are we ready to go?"

"Uh-huh," she nodded, grabbed her coat hanging on the vacant chair, slipped her phone and a chapstick into a pocket. All the while Harry waited patiently for her as she slipped on her shoes before they headed out. Like a gentleman he is, he got the door for her. He was quite liking her taking her time, it only meant he got more time himself to spend with her that way. Though he was infatuated by her pet fish for a moment there.

"Are you sure I didn't hurt you last night?" He enquired as he drove them to his favorites Italian diner, watching her squeeze her hands. Maybe he was reaching and she was just nervous.

"No, you didn't." She turned to look at him wanting to say something further but shut her mouth.

She didn't wanted to tell him her medical history there. It wasn't his fault that her body turns more fragile during colder months, it was a tiny accident. And that was her nervous tick. She's going out on dinner with Harry after all!

This was her first date (if it was because he didn't specify it when he asked her) after that shitty prom date she had, when her girlfriend ditched her last minute to go with the football team captain instead. She wasn't all that heartbroken because they were dating merely two months before. YN had best time regardless with her two best friends.

"Is this a date?" She wondered.

"Of course it is. Do you still want it to be?" Harry spoke taking her by complete surprise.

"Did I said that out loud?" YN gasped covering her mouth in disbelief. She knew it she is going to fuck it up!

"I can read minds." He shrugged glancing at her occasionally as he drove, "you were thinking way too loud."

YN just shook her head sheepishly, feeling her cheeks heat up and heart basically jumping in her ears. Harry had a good laugh teasing her there.

God, he looks even prettier in person!

She couldn't believe she's going on a date. Let alone with Harry. This was something she was sure she would be telling her grandkids in future for sure.

......................................................................

Harry pulled a chair for YN before he took a seat himself. They were immediately greeted by the waiter with a menu card. She noticed it had all kinds of beverages on it, especially majority of alcoholic ones. It was a bummer she doesn't drink as alcohol clashes with her medications. She can't even drink more than half a cup of coffee a day because of that.

"Have you decided?" Harry asked.

"I, uh, I don't drink so I'll stick to water." She shared.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't ask." Harry said.

"It's okay, you didn't know."

They were handed the menu card with starters and main course. She didn't know if they were going for both so she picked both not wanting to embarrass herself more in front of Harry. She used up the rest of her time to gather her courage to talk to the waiter.

Don't get her wrong, she works in the same field but she doesn't like to go out to eat for this exact reason. It gives her major anxiety and thanks to her mither who'd forced her to take French and Italian in school that she knew how to pronounce these dishes.

"Are we ready with your order for starters, ma'am?" The waiter asked her first out of both of them, great!

She glanced at Harry once before looking down at her menu picking first thing she saw in front of her having long forgotten what she actually picked, "I'll have, uh, a Caprese Salad, please."

Now when has be eaten a salad in her whole life?

Sure her friend Alex made her and their other friend Brielle the same salad, and she picked only the cheese in it. This was going to be way more embarrassing. Harry ordered some type of soup.

"How did your doctor's appointment go, everything alright?" Harry enquired.

"Mhmm," she nodded, "just a routine check up. I, ehm, have arthritis so I tend to get more... I don't know to put this— sick... during colder months." She finally shared.

Harry felt even more bad now, he definitely did not bump into her that hard but she's already in pain, even that small bump causes her to wince in complete agony, no wonder why her hands were shaky last night. It took him long to put two and two together then and there.

"I'm sorry, love, did it hurt bad?" He felt guilt build up in his gut.

"No, Harry," she rushed, "I told you it's okay. You didn't know." She cooed, reaching for his hand over the table.

"You sure?"

"Yes, I am sure!" She assured him.

"Okay." He nodded.

"You're writing new music you said?" She asked, curious.

"Mhmm." He nodded, "quite a hassle actually. Been going through a massive creative block."

"Awh!" She cooed again.

"Enough about me, you tell me now, what made you get a degree in Music?" He asked.

"Who doesn't love music?" She shrugged, "I certainly do."

"Yeah?" He chuckled at her adorably enthusiasm.

"My grand dad was a teacher, he taught Indian classical music his whole life." She shared, "him and I were very close so I picked up from his hobby and passion."

"That's sweet." He commented, "do you sing?"

"Meh, you can say that I sound more like a dying horse. I'm more into just the art of it, that's why I took the music history too."

"Huh, interesting." He canted his head to aside as he said so, "tell me more about it."

The entire Harry urged her to talk about what she liked and she did with that much enthusiasm. Harry later went with simple Alfredo pasta and YN with some Gnocchi, they even ended up switching. The fight to split the bill was won by Harry as he asked her out, so it was all on him.

"Do you want to get icecream or something warm?" Harry asked as they walked out of the restaurant.

"It's very cold for Icecream." She reminded him.

"Then something warm it is," he opened the door to his car for her, "would you like some hot chocolate, it's a bit late for coffee I reckon?"

"Yeah. But it's on me." She said buckling up her seat belt.

"No, no," he warned her as he drove to the nearest Starbucks as that's the only place which would be open that late. The driveway on the passenger side, as YN ordered for two hot chocolates and paid for it the moment they reached the window. "Hey, you're making me upset!"

"Too bad, too bad my friend." She shrugged stuffing her wallet back in her coat pocket, he just chuckled giving up arguing with her already. He drove to the next window and finally parked in the car park.

Taking in a long breathe, he reflected on his day real quick. Or his evening you can say. He liked his time spent with her like he expected he would. He longed to hear her talk more about literally anything, than hear her calling out people come pick up their orders at the cafe. He wanted to do this again with her. Go out or hang out with her.

"I had a really good time with you, Harry." She shared, leaning back on her seat comfortably.

"Yeah?" He turned his head to look at her, "I did too."

"I know I shouldn't say this, but this doesn't feel real that I went on a date with you!" She shared hesitantly.

"Well, to put you at ease my love, I'm a narcissist so I don't mind that." He chuckled, she scoffed jokingly at his comment. She had much more to say much it can wait for some other time which is not their first date. They sat there in silence, a comfortable one might we add sipping on their hot chocolates.

"Don't make it awkward, say something." She spoke after a while.

"It's not awkward." Harry shrugged. "Is there anything to talk about?" He wondered.

"Not really." She looked at time on her watch, "I've got work tomorrow, I think we should call it a night."

"Mhmm," he sighed sadly, pulling out of the car park, he started driving back to her place.

The drive back to her place was awfully short for his liking. He stopped by her building, and got out with her.

"Thank you for going out with me." He said, "hope we could do this some time again?"

"Yeah," she smiled sheepishly. "We could do that."

"We'll plan that out soon then, yeah?" He carefully reached for her, to his surprise she slipped her hand right in his. Her felt cold against his.

"Mhmm." She nodded, "hug?" Without a word uttered Harry wrapped her in his arms, in a warm embrace making sure to be extra delicate with her. She draped her own around his shoulders. "Text me when you get back, okay?"

"I will." He nodded, with a last gentle squeeze he let her go.

"Good night." She said, gently slipping her hand from him.

"Good night, love." He waved at her as he walked back into her building.

Sighing he got back into his car, drove home with a possible second date.

......................................................................

N O T E:

1) Please do leave a comment about how you like this one.

2) Reminder that my requests are open atm.

3) it really calmed me writing this one. Hehe! The way of self validations I find. But I hope the person aho requested this liked it too. 🥺

Thank you so much for reading!

......................................................................

Tag list:

@vrittivsanghavi @buckymydarlingangel @sweetwritingfanficfriend @theroosterswife24 @sleutherclaw @melllinaa Lemme know if you want to added to the tag list

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oak1985 · 2 years ago

Text

Stede Bonnet: reassurance for the clueless amongst us

I have read lots of great, thoughtful meta about why Stede is in fact more aware of his romantic and/or sexual feelings for Ed than popular perception (and David Jenkins) might suggest. They point to Stede’s acceptance of Lucius’ use of boyfriend to describe Ed, Stede’s response to Calico Jack asking if they’re buggering, Stede’s turning back to Ed after the moonlight almost kiss, and other moments. How could he use this language, do these things, and not know? These posts use close textual reading of both words and body language to point out moments that suggest that Stede knows that he loves Ed or knows that he is attracted to Ed or knows that he is in a relationship with Ed. This post does not do that. Instead, I use my own experience of falling in love as a clueless queer person to show that, if nothing else, it is entirely possible to give as many signs of self-aware love or desire as Stede does without actually knowing it yourself. Please travel back in time with me to fall of 2004 and prepare to be astounded at how oblivious a neurodivergent queer who hasn’t figured out they’re queer can be...

Rather exquisite cashmere: I met my partner E the first day of freshman orientation. As an incredibly socially anxious person, I had promised myself not to take a book out of the dorm room until I had people to talk to. I chose to sit next to E on a bench because, and I kid you not, I thought: “She has long hair and she’s reading a book, she’s probably safe.” Since E is also pretty socially awkward, my attempts at making conversation about her reading material fell completely flat (she thinks she was gregarious. She is mistaken) and I subsided into silence, watching the campus green. I started laughing at some squirrels’ shenanigans and when she asked what I was laughing at and I said the squirrels and she didn’t get up and walk away from me, like “you weirdo,” I though to myself, “Ok, I’m keeping this one.”

Immediately, we started going to every meal together and working in the library or each other’s dorm rooms every evening. We also pretty much hung out just by ourselves.

Co-captains: By my birthday in early October, a month later, I told my mom on the phone that E was going to be my “Judy L,” a reference to a lifelong friend of my mom’s. She and this college friend were incredibly close, speaking on the phone every week even though they lived in different states, and were each other’s main emotional support, since they were both divorced, single women at the time. Basically, I was saying that E was going to be in my life forever and was going to be my closest emotional partner. But my mom and Judy L were just friends (I found out later that Judy had flirted with lesbianism during the early feminist movement and my mom had gone with her to a Daughters of Bilitis dance but didn’t feel attraction for women. But that’s their story.). As long as we were talking friendship, the deeper emotional resonance of the commitment I was envisioning could be obscured.

Marmalade: For my birthday, the two of us (just the two of us) went to an Indian restaurant for dinner. Yes, this was the restaurant we later went to our first date on, why do you ask? When we got back to the dorms, my mom had sent a chocolate cake, which we proceeded to eat together. Beforehand, E and my mom kept asking why I wasn’t going out with a group of friends. “I only want to hang out with E.” It wasn’t that I didn’t have other friends by that point, I just wasn’t as interested in spending time with them and I wanted E all to myself for my birthday (ok, and a little bit was that I wanted the chocolate cake just for us as well).

Calico Jack: On the way down to the restaurant, we shared our entire (and by entire I mean minuscule) dating history up to that point. I told her about both of my boyfriends and my many male crushes from middle and high school. I remember her being sort of impressed/intimidated and asking lots of questions about them. She hadn’t had any boyfriends or girlfriends, just a male friend who had wanted to be her boyfriend but she didn’t want that. “Gee, wouldn’t it be exciting to be her first boyfriend,” I thought to myself. No, I did not recognize what this meant. No, I did not follow this train of thought any further. I wasn’t even freaked out by it yet, because I had no sphere of reference into which to put it, no way to make sense of it, given that I’d (almost) always been attracted to guys before. I didn’t think bisexuality was real, so instead of creating a new understanding of my sexuality, I just smooshed these feelings and thoughts into existing schema (you’re a caring friend, you have strong emotions, you are always horny about everything).

Fine things: Sometime in the late fall but before snow had fallen in Minnesota, we were walking down to Whole Foods when I casually told E that I loved her. While this was heartfelt, it also didn’t feel like a big deal to me. I had grown up in a family who were very free with “I love you”s and I have always taken love to encompass anyone about whom I care deeply: friends, family, even teachers and (now) students. It’s important but it’s not sacrosanct and I don’t believe love is cheapened by expressing it more often. So I was not prepared to E to stop walking, let alone to stop breathing. But I immediately started worrying about being misinterpreted: “Are you ok? I didn’t mean to upset you! I just meant that I care about you! Are you ok? Are you angry? Can you breathe?” Eventually she was able to tell me that no one had ever said that to her before, not even in her family. Which was my cue (I thought at the time) to loudly and emphatically discourse on the importance of expressing your love freely, explaining to E how I had grown up with very loving parents who were both verbally and physically expressive about it and that I had said I love to both my middle and high school boyfriends much to the chagrin of my more socially-adept peers and that if it was ok with her, I was going to tell her I love her any time it came to mind now. Which I did. With no awareness that it might be a different kind of love than I thought.

A missed kiss: On another walk later that winter, E took my hand in hers. I thought long and hard about what I was going to ask her because I was worried she would misunderstand me, but by that point I was too close with her to do anything other than say what was on my mind. “I want to ask you something but I really am just asking because I’m curious, I don’t mean anything hidden by it. In Hungary, do girls hold hands in public? Because in the US, it would read as gay, so most girls don’t and I just wondered if Hungary is less aware of homosexuality so it’s safer to do this.” [E was an immigrant who’d come from Hungary to the US for college]. E blushed tomato red and dropped my hand like a hot coal as she started apologizing. Eventually I convinced her of the truth: that I really didn’t mind, wasn’t embarrassed or uncomfortable, and didn’t think she meant it as a come on (I don’t think I used those words). I really was just curious. We talked about the perception of homosexuality in Hungary and in my US girls’ school and how different forms of homophobia shaped our respective same-sex friendships growing up. If I remember correctly, we held hands the rest of the way to the store, but not again after that. And we still didn’t realize we were queer.

The auxiliary closet: At the end of first semester, we were able to swap roommates and I moved in with E to her dorm room. From this point, we spent every waking minute except for classes together, from brushing our teeth in the communal bathroom to tucking each other in at night. (The number of black-and-white photos E took of different parts of my body--my neck, my shoulder dimple, my ear, my ankle--during this period is, frankly, ridiculous. But that’s about her cluelessness and I’m trying to stay focused on mine). We were not just cohabiting, we were partners, we simply didn’t know it yet.

Buggery: One night, E asked me if I thought romantic relationships were possible without sex. I said no, immediately and vehemently. (At the time, asexuality was not on my radar. Nowadays, I would answer differently; that it’s possible for some people but not for me). E was distraught and kept asking me again and again in different ways and I kept explaining that sex and sexual desire were an integral part of romance for me. We stayed up past midnight debating this. Neither one of us had a clue why it felt so important to convince the other.

The beach kiss: Even our mutual realization that was we were feeling was queer desire took for-fucking-ever to resolve. In late February, just after my mom had left after a visit, I was feeling really sad and lonely and was struggling with the worst depressive episode of my life. Again, I hesitated a while before asking for what I wanted because I was so worried it would be misread (the number of times I worried about being misread when I was the missing what I was actually feeling is both hilarious and fucking tragic). But eventually, and with many caveats that “You don’t have to if it makes you uncomfortable,” I asked E if she would cuddle me in bed. The only furniture in our room was one tiny armchair with wooden arms, our two single bunk beds and our desks underneath them, so she couldn’t really have held me anywhere else. But let’s be clear: I asked if she would cuddle me in bed and I didn’t know I was attracted to her or in love with her. Denial ain’t just a river in Egypt. She said she would and was holding me and stroking my hair and a while after I had stopped crying, I looked at her face and thought, “I wonder what it would be like to kiss her. I’d like to kiss her” and I felt a wave of arousal. And then. And then! I handwaved this dismissively in my head because I’d had that thought/feeling about two female friends earlier in my life, once in 8th grade and once in 9th and hadn’t acted on it or thought it meant anything. I knew I was (very) attracted to boys, so I just figured horny teenagers sometimes wanted to kiss their same-sex friends without it meaning anything about your sexual orientation. I literally thought, “Well, you’ve felt this before so it doesn’t mean anything.” Whaaat?! So I was pushing the arousal down and preparing to ignore it until it went away. Then I noticed that E had gone rigid, her breathing had quickened, and she looked panicky.

This was the turning point for me, the moment when I realized that my feelings were real and really queer. It wasn’t until I had reason to suspect that she wanted me back that I was able to allow myself to take my own desires seriously. I needed permission to love queerly before I could even think the possibility. But I still wasn’t confident enough to risk our friendship by saying what was going on with me without confirming what E was feeling. When I turned to ask if she was ok, she squeaked and literally leaped out of the bunk bed and halfway across the room into the armchair, where she sat in a ball with her arms wrapped around her knees and on the verge of hyperventilating. Eventually, her staunch refusal to tell me what had happened and her clear turmoil convinced me that she also wanted me. After hours of pressing her for an answer (I knew I was being a bully but I didn’t mean to be as cruel as I probably was), I felt sure enough of what was going on to say “Just before you left the bed, I wanted to kiss you. Is that what you felt, too?” And then she burst into tears. And then, like the mentally ill, neurodivergent wlw that we are, we talked for six weeks about our feelings and what it might mean for each of us to be queer and what it might do to our friendship if we entered into a relationship. So we didn’t even get a kiss in our beach scene. We were just fucking miserable until April 3.

(Btw, if you want to know how season 2 will go, we broke up after less than two weeks of being together and were “not in a relationship” [scare quotes] for a year before getting back together. If people want, I can tell that saga, too! And our season 3 was navigating the external obstacles, with US immigration playing the role of British Empire.)

I wrote this because a. I think we’re adorable and more people should know our story and b. I saw some eerie parallels between my oblivion and Stede’s that I wanted to explore. It is so hard to know your own desires when you’re queer and neurodivergent and when people around you have told you that you’re undesirable your whole life. When there isn’t a place for you in your society, of course you can’t imagine one. Why would a kiss and “I reckon what makes Ed happy is you” mean romantic/sexual love? Why not just literally that Stede makes Ed happy? After all, Stede’s not sure about that before this moment, as we can see with the treasure hunt and with Calico Jack - just the fact that Ed enjoys his company is news to him. Of course Stede didn’t know he was in love until Mary gave him the words for it. It’s entirely possible to be aware of, even to articulate to others your own feelings, without having the foggiest fucking clue what they actually mean.

#my meta #GPOY #uzsgyijany #like since college #love #queer #ofmd #our flag means death #stede bonnet #ofmd: love #ofmd: queer #i do not identify with this character and this does not say anything about me #i love how many different interpretations this show supports

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kickthecan-revolution · 3 years ago

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I don’t hate a lot of things but I truly hate the cutesy way Tumblr communicates to its users. It is so condescending and disrespectful - its forced whimsy and I hate forced whimsy about as much as I hate “forced fun” at showers, parties and camp.

I sat in the sun today for a few hours after watering and an early trip to Corte Madera to look at some patio furniture and now my face is on fire. I came home early and started working on a big presentation which was good, as my boss asked for it tonight and we review it in the morning. I also am prepping for my conversation with J. I am going to stay super positive because the changes - while hard emotionally for him - are great for his career.

I texted my brother Happy Father’s Day and then again to my niece’s husband who is so wonderful. I spoke to my dad and all he did was obsess on his living options and where was he going to go and what about mom - he is in some cognitive dementia loop, he’s confused and can’t track. I about snapped at him and just breathed deeply through the whole thing. He then proceeded to call me four more times. And then my sister texted, asking if I’d spoken to him (she clearly didn’t, I asked if she tried and she didn’t respond). She went on and on about how she’s so jealous of her ex’s new wife and her new restaurant he financed, and all of his kids went to brunch at their house and honestly, it sounded lovely. She’s so bitter and in a loop of her own; she said “God I need to heal from this” to which I replied yes, if you don’t it’s going to rob you of the life you have left.

I’m over it. I’m sitting here working after dealing with a father you can’t bother to call because you are so focused on yourself. Breathe Breathe Breathe.

*********

When I was little - maybe 10 - I remember my dad pulling my sister hard out of her room. I remember him making some gross comment about her breasts in a picture saying she could be in Playboy and feeling sick. He was constantly drunk, on a boat out in the Puget Sound, he was so drunk that he couldn’t get the boat motor to turn on and we were drifting into the Alaska Shipping Line. I remember a massive container ship and how loud the booming horns where, how high the waves were. We barely missed it. His dad - whose dad before him threw acid on his face when he was angry - called him stupid as a nickname when he was little and beat him severely.

My dad heard him suffocating on his own bile/phlegm (he was ill) one night when they were all asleep, and did nothing. He let him die.

He was traumatized by nuns in Catholic school. He was going to law school when he met my mom but flunked out because he had such anxiety over tests. My mom who was so obsessed with high society ended up marrying a printing salesman who eventually got fired for something - maybe an affair with his secretary, my mom said there were several - and started his own printing company. My mom had to go to work as a delivery driver and she never forgave him. They found a piece of property and bought it and built a big house they dreamed of that addressed their own lack of self and desperate need to “be something”, but that they couldn’t afford, and embezzled money from the company to survive.

My first memory of my dad was sobbing because he didn’t want to do this father-daughter thing called “Indian Princesses” with me. He did it with my sister and we went a few times, but my mom had to break the news to me that he didn’t want to go. I sobbed on the couch, so confused. In grade school I was this crazy great athlete - he would get so frustrated if I asked him to give me a ride anywhere and once he had to stay with me during a volleyball game. I looked up and he was reading a book. He and I would go to dinner sometimes when I was little but I think I was just a person who could sit with him while he drank. He was a functional alcoholic, never drank at work but at nights and on weekends. He was terrifying and menacing - he beat us with a belt (though I have no recollection of it) and his footsteps coming down the hall were so terrifying, I’d hide in my closet or pretend I was asleep. He got drunk and said some truthful but honest things to my moms family, causing her fragile and essential connection to her sister to snap. I remember swimming on his back when I was little, little, little. That is my only memory of engaging him positively.

One spring, my sister got a husky puppy and then had to go work in Alaska that summer - he didn't like the puppy so he just dropped it off in a neighborhood with a bunch of kids when she was gone. Her name was Kiska. When he came home and told us what he’d done, I got the courage up in my 9-year old body and went on to the deck where he was drinking and told him how horrible of a thing it was that he’d done. He said “well you can go to hell.” and he meant it, I felt it.

After some kind incident with my mom where she’d be sobbing in a locked room somewhere, my brother and I would always pump each other up and one of us would go in and scream at him. We were terrified but my God, we were so fucking brave. He’d come watch us play tennis sometimes though I never expected it; he’d drive away quickly if we lost. He got so drunk that he fell asleep on the freeway and got a few DUIs - forced into treatment, I remember hugging him when he got back, aware of how performative it was. Sobriety did not last long.

Through high school, I had to get a ride with him every morning. It wasn’t that we didn’t talk - I wasn't there. We did not say one word - he was so focused on what was in his mind, I didn’t exist. He didn’t ask me one question about myself in those car rides - ever. That’s when I would be so focused on other men driving, noticing me. The worst part is when he’d drop me off, he’d say “give me a kiss”. and I had to. I cannot express how much I hated it, a block away I’d have the door partially open so I could pretend I didn’t hear him. Sometimes I’ve wondered if that was a form of sexual abuse.

The worst part of it was the power that he had. We’d be watching MASH at dinner and he’d come in and say curtly “I want to watch the news”. He’d not ask - we had no power to stop it. And then he’d kick us out of the family room because he wanted to watch porn. He was gross and the rage sat in my throat, unspoken. Years later, a therapist asked me about my dad and my throat froze up. It’s all so dark and deep and unspoken. My throat hurts just writing this.

When my sister and brother left the house, things got really bad. Their business tanked and they were desperate. I basically did not exist to them, I made myself small and invisible. One particular weekend, my mom was screaming she was going to kill herself and needed to see a doctor, her migraine was so bad, and I ran into my dad’s den - where he was constantly - and told him we had to take her to the hospital. He got so angry and when he came into her room she said “oh no, please don’t let her take me to the hospital!” I think I kind blacked out in my room.

He ceased to exist in college - I don’t think I ever spoke to him once. He didn’t reach out once, thoroughly involved in himself. My mom took a pilgrimage to Medjugorje and did experience some healing (thank you Mary), and he went back with her. They took a suitcase of mine where I had accidentally left a book called Blessed Be the Addicts. They thought I had added it on purpose which was the first moment we started this fake dance of me caring for him.

When in church, he listened to a homeless man behind him singing and after Mass, told him how beautiful of a singing voice he had.

He loved our dog Sandy and when she died, my brother had to take him to the vet and put him to sleep. My dad cried for days in bed. My poor brother. My broken dad.

He lost half of their retirement in shorting the market. He got glaucoma but didn’t treat it. I spent a good deal of my childhood and adulthood as my mother’s advocate, hating him for making her life so empty and miserable. One day I came home to them playing basketball in the pool and my immediate reaction was how she had betrayed me.

He wants to reconcile with his younger brother, they are estranged, but ends up screaming at him. His older brother killed himself.

He had moments of real kindness and compassion. He also is incapable of deceit and what you see is absolutely what you get.

And the rest is the rest. It’s what I do now.

Happy Father’s Day to all of the men who I’d watch so longingly with their daughters - to my friend Gina P’s dad who held her hand as we looked for restaurants for our Tolo dates, he drove us all around to pick the best one, and held her hand as they walked. I stared at them walking hand in hand, confused and shocked, longing for something I didn’t even understand, freaked out he was actually driving us around. Happy Father’s Day to Mindy M’s dad, who came down to the living room where we were, sat on the sofa and massaged her feet asking how her relationship with God was. The kindness. I would be such a quiet observer in these families, knowing I was betraying mine by wanting what they had so I could never linger long. Happy Father’s Day to the youth group counselor who at one point as I sobbed, put my head on his lap and just stroked my hair while saying “You are profoundly OK”. Happy Father’s Day to my brother whose opinion means so much to me.

I remember a vivid dream I had when I was in college. That I was sitting in the den with my entire family, leading them through the last years of my parents’ lives. Calmly, rationally. I was so shocked by it but that was a premonition that’s come true. And, there are oceans of grief and rage.

There won’t be any men, as the ones I choose are so terrible and hurt me so badly. I can’t love them, I only know how to need them, and water seeks its own level. There won’t be sex, as it makes me so anxious, I physically can’t do it, my vaginal walls contract. It’s not fixable. And it’s OK.

There will be only relief when he is gone. Some sadness. And, peace knowing that I was a decent human being in the end and the hope that I am breaking at least some of these generational bonds.

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