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gffa · 4 years ago

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I’M GONNA HAVE TO BREAK THIS UP BECAUSE IT’S KIND OF A LOT. So, @alabasterswriting and I were having a fantastic conversation about Anakin and how much he intellectually-versus-emotionally knows that he can leave the Jedi Order at any time, that he’s not a slave to them and it was already getting really long, so I’m going to put this in a new post because this is going to be even longer, but IT’S A SUBJECT NEAR AND DEAR TO MY HEART BECAUSE I HAVE MANY FEELINGS ABOUT ANAKIN SKYWALKER. For context, there are some other posts that’ll be referenced so this is only, like, the length of two monster posts instead of five. ^_~ - The original ask about whether or not Anakin was a slave to the Jedi, which sets up how the Jedi make it extremely clear that it’s fine to leave - A follow-up ask from alabasterswriting + their very thoughtful, love response, which this post is largely a response to! Now that I’ve gotten some sleep, I think I can be more coherent on why I think there’s a lot of really good stuff to explore with Anakin’s emotional misunderstanding (versus intellectually knowing that he can leave) and why I do think it’s an important element, but not necessarily at the core of why Anakin stayed. Why does Anakin stay as a Jedi? I think the Obi-Wan & Anakin comic covers this really well--he plans to leave, he’s not upset about it, he’s excited and has nothing but respect for the Jedi Order, he even says that he may come back. Anakin knows that he has options, he believes that he’s capable of taking off into the wider galaxy, he acknowledges that part of the reason he may have joined was, despite Qui-Gon’s warnings, all he saw was a magic man and a way out of slavery, what was he going to do, say no? The overarching plot of the comic is: Obi-Wan wants him to be absolutely sure of this, so he asks Anakin for one last mission together, but makes it clear that he’ll accept whatever choice Anakin makes in the end. Obi-Wan’s point is, when they call for reinforcements at the end to deal with Carnelion IV’s civil war, they get those reinforcements, becasue they did this as Jedi. That the Jedi are part of the Republic and thus they have the backing of the Republic. (This is, interestingly enough, also a major theme in Master & Apprentice, that the day is saved precisely because Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon were part of the Republic and had the backing of the Republic.) Anakin realizes that he can accomplish more as a Jedi than he can setting off on his own, so he happily agrees to stay. This fits with how Anakin genuinely seems to like being a Jedi. The problems he expresses with it, is that he wants more than what they can do, he wants to be able to tell people want to do, to make them do the right thing. He expresses this to Padme in Attack of the Clones, he follows it up with that conversation with Tarkin during The Citadel arc, where they both feel the Jedi Code does not allow Jedi to go “far enough” to win the war. Further, he teaches on the beliefs of the Jedi. After the brain invader worms, Anakin teaches Ahsoka about how to balance letting go of their attachments versus caring about other people and wanting to save them, how the two work together. While she’s on Onderon and having confusing feelings for Lux, he teaches her again about how duty must come before her feelings, he seems to agree with this, because he’s not shy about subverting the Jedi teachings when he wants to. And very clearly, he teaches the same things to Rex in the Bad Batch arc:

That’s exactly what the Jedi teach (and is ironic because this is just a few months before Revenge of the Sith and I think it’s actually a really perfect illustration of exactly what was at the heart of Anakin, that he genuinely believes in the Jedi teachings, until they apply to him and his fears eat him up and he makes himself the exception) and Anakin also seems to genuinely believe it. In Revenge of the Sith, Anakin doesn’t express any desire to not be a Jedi until after he’s helped kill Mace and the younglings and then, frankly, he’s repeating Palpatine’s words, not his own, he doesn’t really believe what he’s saying, imo. When he talks to Padme about feeling lost, it isn’t expressed in terms of him feeling trapped, but instead that he feels he isn’t the Jedi he should be, that he wants more. Anakin never seems to feel trapped or obligated--there’s almost nothing in the movies or TV show that actually lean towards the idea that Anakin felt any pressure of being the Chosen One. He doesn’t seem to believe it himself--he tells the Father that it’s a myth. And the other Jedi (aside from Qui-Gon) never talk about it in front of him, it’s almost never even mentioned, I think it comes up all of two or three times in the movies? And each time there are people expressing doubt about it being true and it’s never discussed at Anakin’s face. Even in TCW, aside from the Mortis arc, it never really seems to come up pretty much at all. Does he feel an obligation to Shmi’s memory to stay as a Jedi? Possibly! It would certainly be an easy conclusion to come to! He never expresses it directly anywhere that I can recall, though. At the end of The Wrong Jedi, when Ahsoka says she’s going to leave, he says, “I understand. More than you realize, I understand wanting to walk away from the Order.“ which is the most he ever expresses about actually wanting to leave in any canon that I’ve seen. We’re given no other context for this--is it because he’s angry at the Jedi, is it that he feels they’re not doing enough and he could do more as a free agent, is it that he wants to leave to be with Padme, is it that he doesn’t like being a Jedi, is it that he feels a wanderlust for the stars? We’re given no further context in that scene, so we have to put it together with the other things we have. That Anakin, when he was younger, said he felt a calling to the starts, that in ROTS he wants more, that in the conversations with Padme and Tarkin, he feels the Jedi aren’t going far enough and someone should make people do things. Put together with the end of the Obi-Wan & Anakin comic, where he stays because he feels he can do more with the Jedi than without them, I think that’s at the heart of why Anakin stays. He wants more more more more. This is further evidenced by what George Lucas says about how the dark side works, which is something I think Anakin is clearly sliding into at this point: “What happens when you go to the dark side is it goes out of balance and you get really selfish and you forget about everybody … because when you get selfish you get stuff, or you want stuff, and when you want stuff and you get stuff then you are afraid somebody is going to take it away from you, whether it’s a person or a thing or a particular pleasure or experience.” --George Lucas That’s what I see it as, because the story of Anakin Skywalker is one that is sliding towards the dark side, and Anakin’s problem is that he wants more and more and more. He wants to be a Jedi, he wants to be married to Padme, he wants to be able to murder people to win the war, he wants to be made a Master (despite having just taken a bribe from Palpatine and clearly isn’t ready for it yet in emotional mastery), he wants all these people, things, and experiences. He wants more. The point @alabasterswriting makes here: “To me, (and it’s totally an opinion, and I’m open to disagreement), it’s always seemed like Anakin was on his way to being able to being able to handle himself emotionally before his perceptions of his sense of self were messed with. And I think (as I’m sure many do) a large part of that was Palpatine feeding his ego/preying on his fears and insecurities. Like we see in the bar with Palpatine that he uses a whole bunch of trigger words meant to make Anakin equate the Jedi to his time as a slave.“ is a really good one, because I absolutely agree that Palpatine completely muddied the waters on this, that Anakin was on his way to a much healthier understanding of himself and ability to understand himself, but then Palpatine started dripping poison into his hear and telling Anakin the things he wanted to hear, rather than the truth that he needed to hear. So, eventually, Vader rationalizes what he’s doing by looping back around to what Palpatine told him, which George Lucas makes clear in his directions to Hayden Christensen (that he’s rationalizing and justifying the things he’s doing, that he doesn’t actually believe them, that is), that that’s at the heart of how Anakin handles things. He does feel powerless to help people--despite that he’s not and there are plenty of moments where he knows otherwise, like in the Age of Republic comic, when he helps the people of Kudo out of the sticky situation they’re in, they have a chance to make their own choice about whether they want to join the Separatists or the Republic, Obi-Wan specifically points out that it was him who helped them:

There are actually a ton of instances in The Clone Wars of this as well, like he helps the rebels on Onderon, he helps save Naboo from the Blue Shadow Virus, he helps free the people of Mon Calamari, he helps free the people of Kiros, etc., but it was easier to grab the above cap as an example (even if I do absolutely agree that Anakin Skywalker is a bucket with a whole in the bottom--it doesn’t matter that he helps people almost every day, it’s never enough, he still wants more, he still feels powerless to help as many people as he wants, and he does feel like he’s often taking things apart, rather than fixing things, as he tells Padme in the Malevolence arc) as well as it’s a good segue into his relationship with Obi-Wan in the next part. Ultimately, I think it comes back to the dark side--it lies, it twists things, it tells Anakin that he wants more and more and more, that nothing else around him is ever enough. He’s not helping enough people, he’s not doing enough stuff, he’s not getting enough recognition, he’s not getting enough personal loyalty over loyalty to things that are bigger than him. But he can’t face that truth about himself, that the dark side has twisted him, so instead the dark side must be right, Palpatine must be right. The dark side always wins, Obi-Wan, Vader says in the Star Wars comic, and so everything else must be shuffled around to fit that. Everything else must be rationalized to fit the way he feels, so he leans into whatever justification he can find, despite that he actually really wanted to be a Jedi and believed in their teachings. (Part 2 in a reblog coming soon because I can only do one monster post at a time. ^_~)

#anakin skywalker #jedi order #meta #long post

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dreamnotnapper · 3 years ago

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ok, listen. i will gladly hivemind about many things, but one of the things i will never hivemind about is mcc

i am way too invested in that block game tournament to not have my own opinions, and trust me i have a Lot of opinions after sapnaps stream

(this will be very long, feel free to ignore. also, this is all typed up on mobile so i am so sorry)

the most prominent things is when he said he thinks he should be an s-tier, and when he said he thinks cyan is the best team

1. i dont think sapnap is an s-tier. god forbid i post this on twitter where everyone thinks he should be, but genuinely i dont. he is definitely the closest non s tier player to s tier, but i dont think hes s tier yet. i dont have stats on hand (bc im not a Nerd /j), but comparatively, sapnap isnt as good. hes one of the best pvpers and parkour players, yes. but hes pretty weak in build mart, rocket spleef and bingo, and hes decent at ace race and hole in the wall. a question we have to ask ourselves when ranking sapnap, is he at the same level as the other s-tiers? is he as good as pete, quig, fruit, techno, and dream? so far, all current s-tiers have: won at least 1 mcc, had 1st individual at least once and have 3000+ average coins. sapnap has only achieved the first. another thing is that sapnap isnt balance the way an s-tier is balanced. most notably, pete, fruit and quig are all balanced with weaker teams. pete and fruit are commonly teamed with hermits, when not with hermits pete is with b tiers or below, and quig is usually put on for fun teams (techno hasnt played in a canon mcc in a while so i cant rly say how hes balanced nowadays). sapnap isnt balanced this way, he isnt put on weaker teams. if anything, hes put on teams where someone else helps take up a leader role. mcc15, he'll most likely co-lead with dream, mcc14 he had punz, mcc13 he had dave krtzyy, (i dont remember his mcc12 team), mcc11 he had dream, etc.

so sapnap hasn't gotten 1st individual or 3000+ average coins, and scott doesnt balance him the way he balances the other s-tiers therefore i dont think sapnap is an s-tier. however, if he continues improving the way he is now, i believe he will be s-tier eventually. dont say that i'm too hard on him and that my requirements are too harsh because i'm a firm believer that once a player is s-tier, they dont leave (unless they just fuck up that bad, in multiple consecutive mccs)

2. i think sapnaps prediction of cyan being 1st is wrong. first of all, theres a reason why nearly the entire subreddit predicts cyan to be lower on the leaderboard, and its not because the subreddit is biased or playing an elaborate prank. i think both sapnap and dream really overestimate cyans abilities, especially with 2 new players. both dream and sapnap agreed that wisp is cracked, 5up is cracked, antfrost isnt bad, and scott is decent. the stats kind of do tell a different story though. again, i dont have the stats on hand, i only have what i remember from posts ive seen on the subreddit so take what i say here with a grain of salt. i dont think wisp is as cracked as dreamnap think he is. wisp has only played in (iirc, and if the subreddit was correct) 3 events, and his first 2 were very average with his mcc14 performance being the outlier. another thing is that they have two new players. that is not going to be easy. when you look at new players that joined after mcc began getting more competitive, youll see that they always underperform during their debut mcc. take illumina, for example. illumina is one of the best speedrunners in minecraft. he spent hours practicing and studying vods to optimize his performance. iirc, his first mcc he got 17th. that is already impressive, especially for a debut but his next placement was 5th. that is a huge improvement. 5up and antfrost are no illuminas, they dont have the same skill that he does. if illumina couldnt get top 15 during his debut, there is no way 5up and antfrost will during theirs like dream and sapnap predicted they would. the last thing i wanted to say about this is that 5up can practice all he wants on the practice server. he can get himself acquainted with ace race mechanics and the environment of battle box and parkour tag, but the practice server =/= the real event. no amount of time on the practice server can prepare new players to the atmosphere and pressure of the real event

thats my rant over, thank you if you stuck around. also really sorry if you stuck around, i doubt my thoughts were very coherent as its 4:30am. but yeah, i just wanted to get my thoughts out because sapnap and dream discussing mcc predictions made me very frustrated. especially since their predictions were all based on their initial thoughts on the teams and absolutely zero statistical analysis. absolute himbos, the two of them /lh

#if youre reading this have a good day/night #make sure you hydrate and take care of yourself #mcc #idk if this is the kind of thing people will read in the mcc tag but its about mcc so im tagging it as that #enjoy whatever tf this was mcc tag lurkers #good night im so tired #》 storms ahead

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rumor-imbris · 3 years ago

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Hello, Lady Connor! I want to ask out of unbearable, suffocating curiosity in my heart, even though in the previous post you already said to not mention "that certain comic". Could you please enlighten me about your view on that comic and what you despise about it? I would love to read your detailed thoughts about it even if just once. But if this is too triggering for you, I'm truly sorry for your discomfort and you don't need to answer it.

Hello, dear Anon and welcome ^-^ It's weird you naturally called me Lady Connor, as usually only my little fairy @giuliettaluce does. Well, I guess her magic put a spell on everybody here!!

If you really care to know, I'll answer, but brace yourself, it's going to be very long, almost an essay, because I can be very detailed about that comic being a failure in its every part. There's so much to say. You're right, as I mentioned before, it can trigger me, but I have attentively analized it and I know it makes not a single atom of sense. So nothing can actually bother me that much, don't worry ^_-

First of all, my general consideration of the AC Reflections comic issue #4, (yeah, that thing -.-) is that of a mere attempt to desperately make Bayek's remote vision through Senu's eyes a canon feature. It was created and published in 2017, the same year AC Origins was released and yes, they needed an excuse to make believe Connor's alleged daughter inherited a skill someone (who isn't even their direct ancestor!!) that lived 1700 years ago in ancient Egypt had! OMG, this should be funny enough, but I'll go on. Also, I think it was likely a carelessly arranged way to satisfy those AC3 fans demanding a "happy ending" for unlucky Connor (quite 5 years later, of course).

I'll better go step by step to figure out where to start from, seriously.

1) In the comic, when Otso Berg opens the file related to Connor, the scene is set in "1796: Upstate New York." Now this is chronologically and spacially incoherent and illogical. We see Connor still wears his assassin outfit in it, right? According to AC Initiates (2012) in 1804 Connor invites the Dominican assassin Eseosa at the Davenport homestead to provide him some advices and further training as he's involved in the leading of the Haitian Revolution. That's a really cool character, read about him, if you want!

So, until then Connor is still an assassin, probably the mentor (by now) of the Colonial Brotherhood. He still runs the homestead and he still commands the Aquila, I guess, he's the captain still. I calculated the distance between the homestead and the then upper NY frontier territories is approximately 260 miles (quite far nowadays with cars and planes as well). Then, why the hell should he have a family located in the forest upstate NY? It sounds very unconfortable to run back and forth to reach them and go back to take care of all the Brotherhood matters, doesn't it? Unless he knew about teleportation!!! Also, wow, he lives all alone in a nice massive villa with all the comforts of that time while his children and wife still live in a Native village constantly menaced by settlers wanting to steal their land? Beside the fact that Connor, at least in my point of view, seemed at last very familiar with european way of living by the end of the game, this leads us to the next point.

2) By the time the game and the comic are set (second half of 18th century), most of the East Coast Native tribes were facing the tragic and forced migration to western and northern territories (mostly towards Canada, protected by the British) because of all the consequences of the Revolutionary War (lost territories, failed alliances, settlers advancing and buying their lands and so on). So tells us history, unfortunately. It's a fact. And this is wisely showed to us in the AC3 main game when, after all the Kanien'kehá:ka tribes had left the territory around Connor's village (yes, even those near New York, to be clear) even Connor's own tribe at last migrates west, leaving an empty ghost village. They had remained all along to protect the secret temple, but in the end they as well were forced to leave. So, to me it's highly improbable that in upstate NY, one could still find a tribe and even if so, that Connor would let his family live there and risk their safety everyday.

3) The whole comic plot revolves around the fact that Io:nhiòte has a "special gift"... She inexplicably knows how to read the ground and find animal traces, she also can perform a perfect twisted acrobatic flip in the air and land unharmed to the ground. Do we know why? No, don't ask! xD She simply knows U.U, even if right after the next scene she slips and falls miserably down a cliff xD, but... ok!! Beside that, when Connor is far away to search for some water and is about to be attacked by a wolf hidden in the grass nearby, she sees the whole scene from the eyes of an eagle flying in the sky above her. As I said before, this reminds us of Bayek's (never clearly explained) ability to see through his eagle Senu's eyes and spot dangers and enemies. Now can you tell me why the hell this little girl has super powers and a skill Bayek had? As I said, they are not even directely related, as Bayek is not one of Desmond Miles' ancestor, we know him simply because Layla's new Animus is magical and can inexplicably read fragmented DNA from people who died a thousand years ago (it can also prepair coffee, I think!). So, where did she get that from? Magic? Mysteries of life? Convenient improbable connections for marketing's sake? We'll never know and you should simply accept that and ask no question!

4) From her height, way of speaking/moving/running, I assume Io:nhiòte is at least 8 years old, 8 - 9 minimum. She's the youngest of three siblings, who must be at least two years older than her and than each other (according to a human woman pregnancy timing!). If the comic events are set 12 years after the main game ending (1784, when Connor also starts to train the young ex-slave Patience Gibbs, arriving at the Davenport homestead with Aveline De Grandpré, according to AC IV Black Flag bonus mission with Aveline), so, this means that in that same year Connor must have found hastily the love of his life in a Native village (as if he was easy to open himself with other people after all he's been through), married her, impregnated her and seen her give birth to their first child, all in the same year when (let's not foget! xD) he still is the leader of the Colonial Assassin Brotherhood at the Davenport homestead training novices. Now, this may even be possible humanly speaking, (well, if you force the things a bit and hurry up!) but highly unlikely to happen!! xD

These are the main problems affecting the logic of the comic in my opinion, the points making its foundations crumble apart. Though I'm sure there are many little others to point out, such as Otso Berg "opening" Connor's files... like what? Where did those data come out from? I remember playing AC IV Black Flag and uncovering a file where Abstergo researchers themselves closed access to his memories as there was "nothing appealing to this character anymore"! So, if no more researches were conducted on him since 2013, where did Mr Berg magically or conveniently discovered such data in 2017?

Or... do we want to talk about the cover? It shows Connor in the spirit outfit from the Tyranny of King Washington DLC, which has apparently nothing to do with the comic, since it is set in his present day and he wears his assassin standard robe. Now, I think that can be either a simple marketing choice to make the comic more appealing, as... well, that cover is so cool, let's admit that, or maybe the subtle suggestion that the events told in it are just a parallel Disney-like reality and are not to be considered true at all! xD i don't know, maybe both explanations are right.

I'm sure that the deeper i dig, the more nothing rational I'll find!

If you played the old games, if you know well the franchise and its lore, the true, good, old AC lore, you definitely realize by yourself how that comic is useless and senseless.

This doesn't mean I do not wish an "happy ending" for Connor. But I'd rather accept something coherent with the main game events and AC chronology. Also, it doesn't necessarily needs to be a "happy" ending, as they conveniently created to please complaining fans. I wished for something real... coherent with his personality, acquired life-style and endless sense of duty and values.

Maybe that's what pushed me to write my FanFic novel in the first place, after all... To give him MY OWN cohesive ending, including my love, for love is always needed, I guess.

I'm so sorry if the answer took this long in time and words, but you were warned! ^w^

Though, thank you... Seriously, thank you so much for asking. You made me reflect once more about this matter.

Come visit me again, if you want. Take care

- Rumor Imbris ��

P.S. Oh, and if you're interested, this is my "jelousy song", for when things like this trigger my inner witch!! xD

#ask #ask me anything #I Am the Storm!!!!#AC3 Reflections #why it sucks #why it makes no sense #thanks for asking #anon ask

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normal-thoughts-official · 4 years ago

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Ok so Camille’s an asshole on that we can all agree, but I’m really tired of people in the fandom acting like she’s just your typical annoying ex and she makes poor uwu Alec feel insecure cause fuck that. Camille was 100% abusive and manipulative but I also think she was sexually abusive too I mean seeing what she did to Simon and kissing Magnus without his consent even though he was clearly uncomfortable, consent doesn’t really seem to be an issue for her-

I feel like she definitely manipulated his fear of loneliness and not being good enough, to suit her needs. Like Magnus isn’t in the mood for sex or it’s especially triggering on a certain day, either way he’s not up for it but Camille makes him do it anyway. She threatens to leave or go find someone else who can fulfill her needs or take care of her when Magnus won’t, ‘I mean does he even love her when he won’t do this one simple thing for her?’

So he just lets her do what she wants, even if he’s having a full blown panic attack Camille doesn’t care or she’ll just leave insulting him saying she can’t deal with this right now and leaving Magnus with no idea when or if she’ll be back. So the next time she asks he hesitates less or initiates it more even when he’s not in the mood so she won’t leave and yeah I have a lot of emotions relating to this. and now I’m thinking about how it’ll affect his future relationships, not even talking about Alec but other people - I have this headcanon where when he got away from Camille and is healing, him ragnor and Catarina live together in ragnors cottage or somewhere away from people for awhile so Magnus can slowly heal and focus on himself and unlearn Camille’s abuse with the help of his family

But despite what this fandom says Magnus has always been a helper and a selfless person to the point of self destruction. He’s unable to prioritise his own health and he wouldn’t be able to slow down and feel the full force of the abuse he experienced cause he feels like he’ll fall apart if he does and ‘no one wants a pathetic crybaby who breaks down when someone moves their hand too fast in his direction it wasn’t even that bad he’s just exaggerating like he always does this is why Camille doesn’t love him back’ (the ‘’ parts were meant to be strikethrough to signify Magnus’ inner thoughts but that doesn’t work on asks)

And he’s scared to get in another relationship cause he doesn’t think he’d be able to speak up for himself if they turned violent or controlling, he’s scared that if they did he’d just let them so he closes himself off from people puts these walls around him and a bright smile on his face that doesn’t let anyone think there’s anything wrong. And theres so much pain going on in the world ‘they have it much worse than him anyway’ and Magnus tries to help the best he can as he always does and he’s always there for people to lean on without any reciprocation and he’s so emotionally and physically tired and he’s not sure how much longer he can take it, almost considers going back to blackfairs bridge ‘really he’d be doing the world a favour’ but theres too many bad memories and he promised his family he would try so he holds on and then he finds Raphael and that obviously doesn’t fix everything but- I was going to continue this but it’s two am in my country and honesty it’s too long already😅 sorry for the rant it’s just a lot of emotions. Im so tired of the ‘Camille’s an annoying ex who keeps getting in the way of my favourite gay ship😠’ metas and needed to let out some feelings before I explode from my hate for Camille

UGH ANON HOW DOES IT FEEL TO BE NOT ONLY A GENIUS BUT ALSO MY NEW BEST FRIEND, AN INTELLECTUAL, AND COMPLETELY RIGHT. YOU ARE SO CORRECT!!! idk if uve read my other post that i posted while i was waiting for you but we no longer have the same hat we are SHARING the hat!! i can't believe i got this ask right after i had just made that long ass rant and was in so much need to talk about this like ugh are you my guardian angel. i love you more than anyone else ive ever met

ok ok ok coherent thoughts ok i can do this. first of all THE SALT how does it feel to have vision and coherency. ppl writing camille as just an annoying ex or a bad ex or even as like "oh they both made mistakes and it ended up terrible" drives me UP THE WALL. camille was explicitly abusive, so much so that magnus CANONICALLY WAS UNABLE TO ALLOW PEOPLE TO GET CLOSE TO HIM FOR ALMOST A CENTURY. and she was shown to be abusive, both in the physical sense as you have reminded us so brilliantly and in the sense that her whole "choose me" speech? like she doesn't have to literally say the words "no one but me would ever love you" for that to be exactly what she's saying. she's obviously playing with his insecurities and putting him down while presenting her as his savior, it's CLASSIC ABUSE. she was written as such a perfect to-the-book abuser that it honestly shocks me like they did that really all they ticked all the boxes. the way she immediately launched to talk about alec's mortality too, the way she was obviously trying to make them fight and draw them apart - it wasn't a jealousy thing, it is just that she's abusive and she wants him isolated so she can toy with him and manipulate him

EVEN SALTIER WHEN THEY MAKE IT ABOUT ALEC BEING INSECURE LIKE. especially because canonically he literally watched camille kiss magnus and didn't care, which was sexy of him because i was dreading some jealousy drama or something but instead he was just like. obviously she did it to hurt you. i only care in the sense that she's a fucking bitch. we stan!

as for how she treated him! oof i think the same thing with the same words dioajdsaoij it always circled back to "why can't you do this for me?" in and outside of sex - i mentioned that in a conversation in the comments of my other post but i think that with camille the sexual abuse was really just an extension of the regular abuse, so they bleed together and are not really separable in that sense. at every turn, he had to prove his worth, and she used his fear of loneliness both in the sense that she amplified it and made it seem like the only way to not be lonely was to be with her, and that she gave him just enough for him not to feel desperately lonely so she could string him along. not to mention, they both always go back to how magnus supposedly "owes" her, and yes, it's because of the bridge, of course, but there's also that underlying tone of "because she put up with him and gave him affection when no one else would". even when what she did was nowhere close to real affection. so it's both the bridge and the after. she could have saved him and left, but she stayed. that's why he feels he owes her, and she will absolutely use it

AND UR SO RIGHT ABOUT MAGNUS BEING UNABLE TO PRIORITIZE HIS OWN HEALTH UGH UGH UGH UGH like he has no choice for a while because she left him fucking broken and seeing the way she treats him and the amount of shit he puts up with i can only imagine how far she had to go for him to reach a breaking point and leave her for real. but as soon as he could pretend to have himself together he just threw himself out there. and i believe that he felt guilty for having catarina and ragnor take care of him when he abandoned them because of camille - obviously that's not what happened, she manipulated him into staying away from them, made his life hell whenever he wanted to hang out with them until he no longer had the energy to put up a fight to keep in contact with the people he loves, but it's what he feels that happened, and most likely what camille herself eventually started to tell him happened once they had been pulled away enough. ("you're gonna leave me? and go back to who? your little friends who tried to pit you against me from day one? they're just gonna say 'i told you so', magnus. and why would they take you back when you left them before? when was the last time you even saw them? you chose this, you chose me, and now you're gonna come back to them and expect them to welcome you with open arms? you selfish little prick")

AND RAPHAEL!!! raphael was so important, honestly, we say that magnus didn't let anyone into his heart but obviously raphael was the exception and EXTREMELY important for his healing. it's a complicated relationship because he's sort of a father figure for rapha, and as such, he doesn't allow himself to be completely vulnerable around him, because that's not "his role". but! he was the first person whom magnus let in. and they obviously know each other deeply ("i hate to see you like this" even though magnus looked completely put together to the outside eye) and are plenty affectionate ("sweet boy", the hugs, the way rapha talked about magnus with so much love and awe in his eyes and voice) and trusting (the way raphael went to magnus' loft, not his own damn clan, when he was tortured...). i know this fandom likes to pretend that they pretend to hate each other but NO THEY DON'T they are openly caring and loving with each other fucking fight me on this

anyway, my point is that raphael was the first person he allowed himself to trust, and of course, part of that is simply because raphael was vulnerable and in need and like you said he can't just stay still when he sees someone struggling. but to care for raphael eventually had to mean to open up to him and when he welcomed raphael in, he gained a new member to his family. raphael is his kid. that's no small thing. their bond goes deep and it's extremely important because again, after camille magnus wouldn't allow people to get close to his heart, because he was scared of how they could use that against him. raphael was his first, and the only reason magnus was able to open himself up for romantic love again (which was an extra step, not because romantic love is more important or deeper, but because it's specifically the kind of love that camille used against him, and thus it makes him even more scared) was because he had already been relearning trust and platonic love with rapha

rapha did him good!!! there's a reason he calls him "sweet boy" okay. and rapha cares about him and he NOTICES WHEN HE'S IN A BAD SHAPE EVEN THROUGH ALL OF MAGNUS' WALLS and he specifically didn't want magnus involved with the camille drama even when it had obviously gotten out of hand because he wanted to keep him safe and away from her!!! i want to be shot in the face!!! they love each other so much! fuck!

and also that implies that raphael knows about camille which means he might be the first person who met magnus post-camille and heard the story, which means that he might be (and probably is) the first person who was never involved that magnus opened up about this to. if that ain't some powerful and important shit i don't know what is. because part of abuse is that you can't talk about it - there's this sense of shame and guilt both from staying and from not staying more, especially because magnus canonically still feels like he owes her... aaaaa

this answer is all over the place im sorry but my point is you are correct, camille is a textbook abuser not just a shitty ex, she fucked up his head and made him unable to open up for a long time, and the first person that helped him break those walls was raphael and they LOVE EACH OTHER VERY MUCH AND DEEPLY thank you for your attention

#magnus bane #shadowhunters #sh #meta #magnus bane meta #camille belcourt is an abuser #long post #ask #anonymous #camille's trash party #brotp: i'll do whatever it takes to protect them

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hookedontaronfics · 5 years ago

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First Contact series - Part 10

Title: First Contact - Part 10 Read the previous installments here: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 Rating: M Pairing: Taron x OC Warnings: Mild smut and mentions of violence [trigger warning] A/N: The aftermath of Kevin’s attack takes Jess to some dark places. Will Taron’s eternal devotion to her be able see her through? This was a tough chapter to write and read; it’s not happy but I tried to keep it realistic. So stick with me through the angst, better times are ahead, I promise! x

A white tile ceiling. Stark white walls.

That was the first thing I saw when my eyes fluttered open. I had no concept of time; how long I had been out, or even where I was at the moment. I waited for the pain to hit my consciousness, but it never came. In its place was just an absence, a hollowness of feeling.

I could hear the steady sound of an IV machine in the background, and also a gentle rhythmic snoring. I spied Taron crashed out on the couch by the window, and even if I couldn’t see the sky, I could tell it was dark outside, the lights in my room dim.

Taron must have only been lightly dozing, because he stirred awake as soon as I tried to readjust myself on the bed, and moved over to the chair at my bedside. He took my hand in his and asked softly how I was feeling, the relief to see me awake evident across his features.

“Not much of anything at the moment, to be honest,” I said, trying to read the labels on my IV bags but my vision started swimming again and I had to look away. “I probably have a lot of painkillers right now,” I shrugged. Taron gave me a sympathetic look. “How long have I been out? Did they tell you what happened to me?” I asked, needing information more than anything. I felt like if I had answers, than maybe I could begin to accept what had happened.

“I think maybe the doctor should explain all that, he could do it far better than me,” he said quietly, squeezing my hand.

“T, I need to know what happened to me, please,” I pleaded with him, hating the pained expression that crossed his face and furrowed his brow.

“They had to take you into surgery when you got here,” he said heavily. “They had to rebuild your face, your eye socket and cheekbone were shattered…” he said, choking up and struggling to get the words out as I reached up to touch the heavy gauze taped over the left side of my face. I winced, though I couldn’t really feel any pain from it.

“Adding more scars to the collection, I guess,” I whispered softly.

Taron continued talking in a low, shaking voice, stroking the back of my hand with his thumb, his eyes trained on the bed. “The doctors told me you’ll probably be in here for a while to recover. They want to keep an eye on how everything is healing. You also sustained a couple of fractured ribs, and probably have a moderate concussion, and they don’t want to send you home too soon in case that worsens before it gets better. But you will get better, you have to,” he said, his eyes swimming a bit with tears.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay, Taron. I will get better, you’ll see. I’m determined,” I said, squeezing his hand before a wave of dizziness washed through me, even though I hadn’t even moved. My vision was still going in and out of focus and I closed my eyes for a moment to try and keep from needing to get sick.

“What about Kevin? Did you talk to the police? Were they here? Do they know? Does anyone know?” I asked, peppering Taron with questions he couldn’t possibly answer. “Will he be able to hurt me again?”

“Babe, I don’t know anything right now. But you’re safe here, and I’m not going anywhere. And the woman who helped you, who called me, she took pictures at the scene. They’re on your phone,” he said, his voice cracking again and he had to pause to keep his composure. “She thought they would be important as evidence to whatever charges get pressed. Because we don’t fuck around here in the UK when it comes to assault. But I also don’t know what’s going to happen because he’s a U.S. citizen. He may be extradited and face charges there instead. I just don’t know yet, but he’s in custody and will remain that way until he’s booked or sent away.”

“I used to think that moving here to London would protect me. It didn’t,” I said painfully.

“He can’t hurt you any more, I promise.” Something about the way he said that made me absolutely lose it.

“I’m not sure anyone can promise me that, Taron,” I fairly sobbed. Whether he could understand my words, I’m not sure because I was crying so hard they weren’t coherent. Watching me cry uncontrollably must have torn him apart though, because at one point he clambered into my bed, careful of the IV and all the other tubes and lines trailing from me, and pulled me into his arms, not even caring that I was probably leaving trails of tears and snot and slobber all over his shirt. I know I was shaking, afraid and traumatized by everything. Taron stroked my hair sweetly, careful with me even as he held me tightly to him, wanting his presence to be calming and comforting.

I don’t remember calming down, and I don’t remember slipping off to sleep, but I must have because I woke up later when a nurse was trying to quietly take my vitals, my face still pressed into Taron’s chest. He was out cold, lashes resting against his cheeks, his arms still sweetly around me. I knew I should have felt something, protected, safe, in love, but all I could feel was afraid. Not of Taron, necessarily, but that somehow the happiness I had found in him couldn’t last. Maybe, somehow, I wasn’t meant to deserve what he had tried to offer me.

I hated how dark these thoughts were but couldn’t keep them from pressing me flat. What if Taron had been with me when Kevin confronted me? What if he’d been hurt, because of me? That would have made things far worse. I wouldn’t have been able to handle that kind of guilt. I saw my phone sitting on the table beside me, so I carefully reached over and managed to grab it. I shouldn’t have looked, but my curiosity got the better of me as I scrolled through the pictures of myself laying on the ground, cringing at my broken face. Suddenly I was worried the doctors wouldn’t have been able to put it all back together again; would Taron still love me if I never looked the same again, if these scars made me ugly? That thought made me cry all over again, though I tried desperately hard to choke back the sobs and stay silent, not wanting to wake Taron.

The next couple of weeks in the hospital passed much the same way, and Taron really didn’t leave my side except to go home to shower and grab clean clothes. He kept Jules and Mary and even my family back in America updated, and my roommates visited me as often as they could, managing to make me laugh despite my dark moods. Taron also helped me navigate the paperwork for medical leave with work, which felt endless and confusing partly because my concussion didn’t allow me to make sense of it all, but even my boss visited and made sure I knew I had nothing to worry about, to take the time I needed to recover and that my position would be secure.

Talking to the police and trying to recall details of that day was a difficult process. I remembered most of what had happened just before the assault, but I had very little recollection of the after. And I couldn’t get over why I had trusted Kevin enough to step into that alley with him. Maybe I’d been stupidly hopeful he really had changed, though I still couldn’t figure out how he had found me, and he wasn’t talking to police about that fact either. The couple who had helped me, Darren and Lucy, visited me too, and they were the kindest people, and were incredibly helpful to police as well. Kevin was going to be sent back to the U.S. and his passport revoked, and he’d be banned from ever leaving the country again, so as long as I never went back to America there’d be no way he could get to me again. But I still didn’t feel safe and had no idea how to ever get back to that place where I would.

The bandages came off and I was surprised that it really didn’t look so bad. There were only two incisions and the plastic surgeon had used glue and tape, not actual stitches, to minimize scarring as much as possible. My skin was still red and angry but otherwise I couldn’t see much difference in how my face looked at all. They’d done a good job rebuilding the structure although now my eye socket was more metal than bone.

They kept me on strong pain meds and I had random blindingly awful headaches that made me cry because it was all I could do. My vision stayed slightly fuzzy and I half-worried this would be permanent, but the doctor emphasized that I just needed more time to heal, that the effects of my concussion could take months to fade. The depression that set in, though, that was probably the hardest thing to deal with. I went through a couple of brain scans and a psychological evaluation and was told I had post-traumatic stress disorder but somehow that still didn’t set in my mind that my hopeless feelings weren’t all my fault.

Taron truly was a saint through all of this, remaining strong and stable and supportive, and doing his best to keep me entertained when I wasn’t sleeping, which I admittedly did a lot of. And when it was finally time to be released from the hospital, Taron was adamant that he wanted me to come home with him, and I didn’t have enough strength of mind to argue.

So three weeks later, I was snuggled in amongst the sheets of Taron’s bed, spending most of my time there because I just didn’t have the energy to do anything else. I was sad and worried and afraid most of the time, hovering just above completely bottomed out. I think Taron probably kept me afloat in the worst of it, making sure I ate and showered and took my medicine. Not every day was bad, to be fair. Some days I helped him cook in the kitchen, and the depression couldn’t take away how much I loved to hear him laugh, or we took a walk around his neighborhood, hand-in-hand, and I could pretend I wasn’t this way, or we just stayed in and watched Netflix all day on the couch, being lazy together. But other days the darkness crept in around the edges, and I questioned in my mind why he stayed with me.

I was unfortunately wallowing in the middle of one of these pits when Taron breezed into the room. “I figured it out, babe,” he said, settling on the bed and placing his hand on my knee.

“Figured out what?” I asked, trying to wake up from the stupor I had been in, staring at the ceiling and not even sure what I was thinking.

“I got to thinking how you said you deleted all of your old social media accounts after what happened with Kevin. And all of your new accounts are totally private. But that got me thinking and I realized that I’m to blame for him finding you.”

“What? You’re not making any bloody sense, T,” I said, rubbing my temple and trying to make an oncoming headache go away.

“My Instagram. It’s completely public and the photos we posted while on vacation together… You know, everyone shares those photos on Twitter and Tumblr and Facebook and wherever else and he must have somehow come across it at some point and recognized you and put 2 and 2 together. You dating a London bloke, he must have figured it out and come here just hoping to run into you. It’s really my fault, I should have thought that through.” His green eyes had darkened as he looked troubled over having somehow endangered me.

“Hey. It’s not your fault I have a crazy ass ex. I don’t regret you posting those photos,” I said softly. “It’s also not your fault that the American law system doesn’t better protect its victims of domestic violence. You’re not in control of that. Don’t carry that burden for me, okay?” I said, smiling slightly at him.

“I’d carry anything for you, love,” he said, leaning over and kissing me gently on the forehead.

“I know you would, T. I know,” I said, trailing off and pulling the blankets up around myself again, worn out by our conversation already. I just don’t know why, I thought.

“I love you, and I’ll see you through all of this, yeah?” he added softly, earnestly.

I nodded, because I wasn’t sure what else to do. Trying to cross over this chasm of darkness, fear and pain had gotten even more difficult to do. I was on one side, and Taron and all of his patience and kindness and love were on the other, and try as he might to reach across it to me, I didn’t have the courage to jump.

“I’ll get us dinner started, you just rest now,” he spoke, leaving me to my apparent misery. He doesn’t deserve this, whatever it is I am now, I thought angrily as I watched him leave the room, seeming a bit deflated at my lack of an actual answer.

I wish I could say the following weeks got better, but somehow they got worse. The first panic attack I had was when Taron and I were downtown, having braved being out in public. We had passed by an alley and somehow that set me off. It took me by surprise and I only was aware it had happened once I had come back out of it. I was on my hands and knees on the concrete, breathless and crying, and Taron was crouched down next to me trying to talk me down. Other people surrounded us, so it must have been embarrassingly obvious that I was losing my shit, and someone had even called an ambulance but the medics weren’t needed by the time they arrived.

More brain scans ensued and I was given more medicines to try and signed up for more counseling to help, but the panic attacks continued because my ptsd was becoming more entrenched in my brain. I was starting to see the image of Kevin everywhere I went, lurking about and waiting to catch me by surprise. Things became so concerning that Taron canceled a weekend event he was supposed to fly out to. He was extremely vague about what it was, just saying that me and my health were more important and he didn’t feel he could leave me by myself for that long. He hadn’t said that to make me feel guilty, of course, but I wished he had consulted me about it first. Especially after I logged into Twitter and saw angry tweet after sad tweet after shitty tweet about Taron canceling his comic con appearance and disappointing a boatload of fans. Because of me. This was not what I had wanted at all.

“Taron,” I said, walking out to the living room to find him crashed out on the couch with a beer and some movie or show on the telly, I couldn’t tell what.

“Mmm, yeah?” he asked, muting the telly before sitting up and looking at me over the edge of the couch.

“You shouldn’t have canceled your con appearance,” I said, as it dawned on him that I knew what he’d done. “All those fans are going to be pissed off and disappointed because of me.”

“I did my best to apologize profusely to the fans for that but you’re my priority right now. It wouldn’t be any different if it was my family having a medical issue.”

“I could have gone back to my flat. Jules and Mary would have looked after me, and frankly I could have handled a few days, I think,” I said in a huff, mostly upset that I’d become dependent on him.

“But you need me to help you. There’s no shame in that.”

“I don’t need you,” I bit back. I wished I could have taken those words back the instant they came out of my mouth. The look of hurt that crossed his face, after all he’d done for me already, was awful to witness. But I hadn’t meant it like that; I was frustrated at having to be doted on, and wanted to go back to the sort of independence and freedom I had had before Kevin had walked back into my life and erased years of work I’d done to overcome him.

“Do you really feel that way?” he asked softly, standing up and walking over to me, brushing my hair away from my face.

“I don’t understand anything right now. I’m confused, and depressed, and I’m struggling to understand why this happened to me again, T,” I admitted. “But I also don’t love the idea that your life has been affected by me.”

“My life is affected because I choose to be here for you, in whatever capacity you need me to be. That’s not a burden, Jess. You enrich my life by being in it, and who would I be if I fucked off when you went through something difficult and needed the support? This isn’t about you not being able to do things for yourself. I know you’re fully capable. But I also don’t think you should be alone right now either. And that’s my right to think that, and to ensure that you’re not. Because the last thing on earth I could handle right now is you feeling alone or abandoned. And as to why this happened, I can’t answer that. I wish I could, but it was so wrong, and bad things happen to people who don’t deserve them. And it breaks my heart that you had to go through this, but I also know how strong you are, and every day you prove that more and more. To even be in the orbit around you, it changes things for me.”

The intensity of Taron’s gaze as he spoke his raw, real feelings to me, about me, for me, I felt like I might combust under it. Just burn up on the spot.

“I don’t understand your devotion to me, Taron. I don’t deserve your goodness. I don’t know that I ever have.”

“Just please, don’t do that. I love you and I’m so tired of you trying to find every reason why I shouldn’t. Stop shutting me out, Jess. I can’t profess to know truly what you’re going through right now, but I can’t understand it at all if you don’t talk to me. I want your honesty, and your vulnerability, and your pain, all of it. I just want every beautiful inch of you.”

His words sent shivers over my skin, something I hadn’t been able to feel since the assault. I looked up at him, tried to really see him for more than just the handsome, patient and kind man he was. I tried to see the way he saw me, but it was so hard to do. Kevin had made me feel broken and discarded all over again.

“But what’s so beautiful about me, Taron?” I asked doubtfully.

“Come here,” he said, pulling me over to the couch and down into the seat cushions with him. “And let me show you,” he added, running his fingers gently over my arms.

“Taron,” I whined softly at that, as he gave me one of his small smiles. “Let’s start here,” he said, placing sweet kisses over my eyelids and making me giggle slightly.

“You have the most soulful eyes of anyone I’ve ever met. I can see the world in them because you care so deeply about everything around you.” Next he kissed the tip of my nose, telling me how adorable he thought it was. His kisses traveled to my cheeks, my forehead, my jaw, even my ears, as Taron described how much he loved each one.

Finally he captured my lips in a sweet kiss, something we had barely done since the assault. “And I love kissing your lips. I could do this all day,” he grinned, and even if mentally I was still messed up, my body remembered what it was like to be with him, and craved more of him, and I tried to give myself over to that feeling, leaning in and kissing him back as he leaned me back on the couch, tugging my shirt up and off in the process.

“I love your neck, when I kiss you in that spot that makes you moan,” he smirked, his kisses traveling along my smooth skin and yes, making me moan softly in response. He added my collar bones, my chest and my stomach to the list as he traveled lower and my breath caught in my throat at the feel of his gentle lips sliding over my skin. “Feeling beautiful yet?” he whispered, his hot breath raising goosebumps along my skin. “Or shall I keep going, love?” he smirked, unbuttoning my jeans and slowly sliding them down my legs.

“K-keep going,” I said with a shaky breath, unable to tear my gaze away from him, the way he hovered over me.

“Hmmm, my pleasure,” he hummed, dropping kisses on my thighs. “I love how strong they are, for carrying you through everything. And I especially love being between them,” he whispered with a wicked grin, my head dropping back as he wasted no time in peeling my underwear off and settling himself between my legs.

It’d been a long time since someone had dared to go down on me; Kevin certainly never had. I couldn’t tell you whether Taron was great at it or not, as I didn’t have enough experience to compare either way. But I was 100 percent lost to what he was doing to me there, his tongue and fingers exploring every inch of my folds and drawing out every bit of pleasure I could feel. My fingers gripped his hair, my moans guiding him to what felt good.

When I was close, oh so close, Taron stopped and smiled up at me through his lashes; I groaned at him in frustration for being left hanging, but he only crawled back up my body and kissed me, the taste of my own juices still on his mouth. He wrapped my legs around himself, and I got the hint as he picked me up and carried me back to the bedroom, setting me down on the bed gently before practically tearing his own clothes off, grabbing a condom, crawling over me and joining our bodies all in the same motion.

We both groaned our mutual feelings out loud, the delicious feeling as he thrust in and out of me driving me crazy. I was quite lost to how full and whole I felt in the moment as he peppered my face with kisses. Soon enough we were crashing hard together, Taron collapsing next to me, his face tucked in against my neck and arm thrown over my chest as we attempted to come back down to earth.

“I love you so much, babe,” he whispered. “You’re the absolute world to me,” he said, brushing my hair out of my face tenderly.

“I love you too,” I said back, feeling compelled to get the words out in that moment.

“Yeah?” Taron grinned happily, his dimples popping out as his eyes sparkled at me. I couldn’t deny him this happiness, I couldn’t.

So I repeated the words, even as they felt hollow in my chest. I should have felt something, shouldn’t I?

“You make me so ridiculously happy,” he said sweetly, even as he snuggled into me further, hugging my sweaty, spent body to his for a few moments. I knew what he felt was completely genuine and real. I just didn’t know what was wrong with me that I couldn’t return the same.

Eventually he got up to dispose of the condom and secure the house for the night, while I stayed crashed out in the bed. Once he’d returned and we bedded down to sleep, I laid awake for far too long vacillating between how I should feel and why I wasn’t feeling anything at all. The numbness had settled deep in my soul and I hated myself for it, as I watched Taron sleep soundly, the cutest smile on his face. His love didn’t belong to me, and I knew it.

I don’t remember exactly how long it took to slip off to sleep, but Taron was not in bed when I woke up the next morning. I rolled over and squinted at my phone, and realized it was well after 11 a.m. and Taron would be at an early-morning meeting he’d told me about. I sat up and rubbed at my eyes, looking around me for a long moment and sighing. I got up and showered quickly, grazed on some leftovers I heated up, and then set about packing my clothes. I had spent much of the past month of recovery slumming around in Taron’s pajama pants and sweatshirts, though Mary and Jules had brought some things over for me, clean unders and bras and the like.

I was lost in thought when I heard the front door open. “Darling?! You awake?” Taron called, and I couldn’t move while his footsteps moved about the house. He found me in the bedroom, of course, finally in my own jeans and a blouse, the bed neatly made and my bag resting at the edge of it.

“What’s this?” he asked, his expression immediately clouding over.

“I’m going back to the flat, T. This wasn’t supposed to be a permanent move, anyway. And I don’t want you as my nursemaid, I need you as my boyfriend,” I said quietly, trying to explain and hoping he just understood. “I’m really grateful for what you’ve done for me, but I just need to get back to my routine. I’m trying to process what happened with Kevin still, and I know that I still have this depression hanging over me, and the panic attacks are still happening, but I feel like I can deal with that if I just go back to work and get a sense of normalcy back.”

“I… guess that makes sense, of course,” he replied hesitantly, blinking a few times and trying to process what I was saying. “I think you could be happy here, though, too, with me,” he said sweetly, making my chest ache slightly.

“I just can’t do this right now, with you,” I said softly. “When I said I loved you last night, I couldn’t feel it at first. But it wasn’t because I lied. I do love you, far too much to hold you back with the person I am right now. I need to go back to my normal life and deal with all of this so that I can be worthy of being the person you love.”

“I… Jess,” he said, his voice cracking at that. “You already are the person I love, as you are now,” he replied a bit desperately.

“And you may think that, but I don’t feel it, and that’s never going to go away if I don’t address it now,” I said, watching his face just crumble. It wasn’t easy to fend off my own tears then.

“I wish I could change your mind. I’ve gotten rather used to having you here all the time,” he said, biting his thumb in thought.

“I have to go, T. If we want this to work in the future, I need to be okay with myself first.” I gave him a quick hug, that he oddly didn’t return, before grabbing my bag and walking toward the door. I almost thought he wasn’t going to try and say good-bye but he came running after me, skidding on the tile in his sock feet slightly.

“Wait! Wait, Jess,” he said, taking my free hand in his. “I’ve been waiting to give this to you but I think now’s the right time,” he said, proffering a small black box and making my heart flutter several times. Nestled inside the box was a simple rose-gold band, with a tiny diamond in the middle; it was simple, elegant and clean. “It’s a promise and a hope… My promise to you that I’ll wait for you no matter how long it takes, and my hope that no matter how far you wander, you’ll always find your way back to me. You don’t even have to wear it, I just wanted you to know where I stood,” he said, shoving the box in my hands. The fractured look in his eyes tore at the edges of my soul, but I also knew I was doing the right thing, for him and for me.

“Thank you, Taron,” I said, because there wasn’t anything else to say. “We’ll keep in touch. We’ll go on dates. I’m not giving up on us,” I promised back.

“No, but you’re pushing me away, and I don’t understand why,” he said in a bit of a pained voice.

“I have work to do on me, for me. No one has to understand that.” Taron could only nod at that point, kissing me on the forehead gently before letting me go. I carefully placed the ring in my bag and made sure it was secure before hoisting the bag onto my shoulder and grabbing my purse.

“I can drive you back over to the flat, if you want,” he offered idly.

“I’ve got this, Taron. I know how to take the tube,” I couldn’t help but giggle slightly. His worry over me was sweet, but I needed to be able to rely on myself too. I felt this wild, desperate need to prove to myself that I could.

“I’ll see you later, I suppose,” I said, giving Taron a small smile that he couldn’t bring himself to return. Things could be different, would be better for the both of us, and I could only hope his faith in me wouldn’t be fleeting. I felt both crushed and liberated as I left, confused by both emotions as I peered over my shoulder to see Taron standing in his doorway, watching sadly after me.

Will Jess be able to repair the damage to her soul, and her relationship? Find out in Part 11 HERE!

#taron imagine #taron egerton #taron x reader #taron smut #taron egerton fanfiction

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pokeshippingflashfic · 6 years ago

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“primary”

The clipboard felt extra heavy in his hands as he soundlessly approached the counter, hyper-awareness causing his hair to stick out more on end than usual as he warily eyed his surroundings.

When he’d decided he was gonna show up and surprise Misty during his second journey around the Kanto region to compete in the Battle Frontier, he hadn’t expected to walk in on her collapsed and breathing shallowly near the staircase leading to the second floor of the Cerulean Gym.

The Pokemon had all been dropped off at the PokeCenter, including Pikachu, May had said she was going to visit the cape and view some local trainer matches and see if she could strategize for the next coordinating festival event, Max and Brock were out shopping for supplies and food. The plan had originally been for all of them to meet up in the late afternoon hours at the gym and treat Misty to dinner.

Ash, having nothing else to do with his time, had eventually come to the genius conclusion that he should sneak up to the Cerulean Gym and see how busy things were. It was tough work being a gym leader, after all, and it would have sucked for their group to show up and take Misty out only to discover she was too swamped to join them...

But, upon approaching the front sliding double-doors to the familiarly dome-shaped building with the Seel sculpture encompassing the archway over the entrance, he began to think perhaps he was wrong.

He’d stared through the slightly tinted glass into the semi-dark building, wondering why everything was locked up... and saw a silhouette on the other side slouching against the bottom of the stairs down the hall.

“What’s going on...? Is that...” He squinted his eyes so hard it almost caused him to lose focus, blinked away the incoming headache, and barely made out the unique distinguishable trait that was a side ponytail, “... Misty?”

Knock, knock on the glass but she made no move to get up and unlock the doors. Brow furrowing and frown setting in, he tried once more, rapping on the glass a little harder with his knuckles. Still, the redhead didn’t move to greet her visitor or make any attempt to turn on the lights.

The original plan was clearly out the window. Now he was worried.

It had been the longest thirty minutes that Ash could remember. From finding a maintenance door on the side of the building that thankfully happened to be unlocked that he could enter through to unsuccessfully attempting to wake his unconscious friend up to dialing out for emergency responders to scrambling to scribble a note to their other friends and post it on the front double doors before locking up and leaving once more so that he could accompany Misty in the ambulance to the local hospital.

That had been a wildly overstimulating hour or two ago. Now he was forcing himself to shuffle awkwardly up to the nurses station so that he could ask a question he had never been bothered to find the answer to. Most of the staff were shuffling around, one filing, two making phone-calls, one was walking around the other side of the counter with one of those IV drip bags he’d seen once or twice before in his years on the road...

“Excuse me, dear, did you need something...?” an elderly woman in similar scrubs as the rest of the adults around him were wearing asked, a kindly smile on her wizened face as she stepped forward.

“I, uh... this part here,” the teenage boy gulped as he lifted the clipboard and pointed the source of his dilemma out to her, “I don’t understand it. I came in with...”

“Ah, you’re the boy who came in with our city’s gym leader, right? Let me see that...” She accepted the clipboard from him and followed his finger down a few inches of the first page. “My, you’ve done a pretty good job so far filling this out considering you’re not her family.”

“Well, we’ve known each other for years. Used to spend all day every day together so I guess I just... know her pretty good after all that.”

Somehow he was feeling both flattered by the woman’s acknowledgement and flustered by his own admission at the same time.

“Ah, I see.”

“Yeah, that part... What’s a primary emergency contact?”

“Well, that just tells us who to reach out to in the event that something changes with Miss Waterflower’s medical condition.”

“Changes? Changes like what?” he asked, confusion swirling amidst dark thoughts in the back of his mind.

The older nurse paused, mouth slightly agape before apparently thinking better than to confirm his suspicions and choosing a different response.

“You don’t have much to worry about. Miss Waterflower is just being given IV fluids and nausea medications. She probably won’t even have to stay overnight. She just caught a really terrible flu bug that’s going around town right now.” She paused here long enough to watch a subtle sense of relief flood Ash’s features before going on. “Unfortunately, the administration still needs the contact information for her file. She runs the gym with her sisters, right?”

“Well, I don’t really know how to reach them... I know they’re out of town though. They all take turns when it comes to the gym.”

He took the clipboard back from her, that strange foreign anxiety niggling at the back of his mind still and getting stronger with every passing second. He gave a cursory glance down the hall in the direction of her room and then back at the forms in his hand.

“Could I... I dunno, could I put my own name and number down?” Their eyes met momentarily but the ensuing embarrassment caused him to clear his throat and look away once more from the helpful elderly nurse.

“Would you be comfortable with that?”

“I... I dunno if I am. We never had this kinda thing happen to us before. But I don’t know what else to do and, like you said, I know her - I mean, of course I know Misty real well, we’re best friends, and she’s sick and needs my help so how could I not do my best to give her what she needs most now,” he rambled on, tapering off towards the end, but only long enough for his next thought to make itself coherent for his audience, “even if what she needs most is me.”

The nurse’s smile widened knowingly at the clearly baffled, unsettled yet brave teenage boy before her as he apparently made his final decision and scrawled his own contact information down on the board and then shoved it across the counter in her direction.

#pokeshipping #flash fic #fan fiction #aaml #ash ketchum x misty waterflower #ash x misty #1wordprompt #word count: 1129

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unproduciblesmackdown · 6 years ago

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here’s me talking about the month since i was last online

firstly it was/is depressing not to be able to talk with ppl or hear from them. or just to be able to talk somewhere i know people CAN hear. i also mentioned being completely detached from the news. i like to be current about the news. anyways i was like “well not like this is anything new” as its technically unusual for me to NOT be cut off both irl and from the internet. but, shockingly, that doesnt make it not depressing. and having something for even a bit makes it more frustrating to lose it even if its “normal” for you not to have it. also by depressing i mean i was going like hmm i sure am even more tired than usual and i am less interested in my few lingering faint interests. whats up with that! and then i was like oh yeah thats called Even More Depression

it is funny because im someone who has never really had that many friends and when i do we often end up separated one way or another. Very Close friends &/or Very Longtime friends are a foreign concept. basically the heights of my “what i wish it was like” for life involve having a group of friends with whom you can have fun in an empty parking lot in the middle of the night just talking and hanging out and messing around. friends that you feel comfortable being yourself around and like they appreciate you as much as you do them. i do not think this is ever going to happen, but oh well because in reality i can be very picky about people because i am weird, to put it that way for now. my social landscape and language is not always considered normal or even tolerable. and i have a lot of standards for who i want to have around me in terms of traits and personality. theres a lot of things im not interested in. anyways. i also just, in the way things actually are, often prefer to be alone, so that i can be myself and do things i feel like. i dont have to worry about being strange or feeling like i need to please people. anyways. unfortunately i dont ONLY like being alone. i actually really like to be with people and talk with them but i rarely can, and i figure this is bad for me. isolation isnt good for anyone obviously. not being able to be around friends in person depresses me. not being able to talk online either depresses me further.

i think sometimes about how much i dont say. its a funny place to say it, in an overly long text post. but one of the reasons they can be so long is because irl i dont really talk much to people. so it builds up and can come out through writing. sometimes it comes out in talking. i think that in conversations, when i do talk, i talk too much because of this. so one of the reasons i dont talk much is to prevent this, which obviously is like “well that would just cancel out” but there are other reasons i dont talk. but i have loads of thoughts and things to say. i end up keeping so much of it to myself and wonder sometimes if i’ll ever get to say some of it. sometimes i’ll have something to say and bite it back. i’ve been “quiet” all these past twenty some years of talking and i know the reasons i dont talk. i was thinking about the feeling of biting something back in an individual occasion feeling like the cumulation of all the years worth of keeping my own voice running in my head alone. it kind of feels like what you want to say is in your chest and throat and the roof of your mouth.

speaking of the roof of your mouth, theres a weird sensation i can feel sometimes, seemingly at random but mostly in strange times like trying to fall asleep. it is so transient and unlike any actual externally caused sensations that its been difficult to try to get a grasp of how to describe it, but i think i have it thanks to ongoing effort and an unusually long period of it a few days ago during which i was especially alert about it. it’s like having a pressure radiating out from inside your mouth. like an orb pushing outwards against the teeth and roof of the mouth. which i’m fairly sure isn’t anything that would ever happen, so i am assuming its some little neurological hiccup that happens to align every now and then, but maybe a previous life cycle has put something weird in their mouth. or shot into it, because i would be like, well not much has changed.

anyways. words sitting like a pressure in your mouth. i was seeing a thread about how grief is ongoing and reoccurring which also mentioned that people who specialize in knowing how grieving and living with it works often consider it to be a form of grief when someone’s life is affected by something like trauma. they have to grieve themselves because of the possibilities taken away from them. i feel that, sometimes. thinking about how i wish i had a life where i felt free to speak and where my identity mattered and i got to feel like i could be myself and it was important and it was important what i thought and wanted and who i really was. and where i got to have friends and do things and realize what it was to actually feel happy, not try to understand an unhappy existence as what must be okay. its not just what couldve been in the past, but also how that couldve affected the present and future. im not sure who i’d be if my life didnt have to be about survival and escape. i say i never had dreams, which is true, but in retrospect i DO think that when i was fifteen and really bearing down in trying to figure out what i wanted to do, i was already seeing activism as the answer, which made sense why it wouldnt register as a dream or ambition and why it was also impossible to pursue. i still dont think of anything like personal fulfillment through a career/job or anything. but i also dont think of what i want to do as very relevant to anything at all anymore.

anyways. i’m “used” to things, but they still depress and hurt me. i actually have a lot of sadness and anger about some of these things, like never getting to have the friends i wanted or never being able to speak and it not mattering who i really was, and how long it took me to realize this really wasn’t okay and it wasn’t because of some personal deficiency which made me deserve it somehow. also the abuse. i remember i had this how-to book about weaving friendship bracelets which i got sometime in elementary school, and it even supplied some twine and stuff. i had always wanted to have occasion to use it, and i never did, which is just symbolic. the twine/potential friendship bracelets can also be things like positive social connections that feel real and open, or my ability to feel secure in expressing affection because it seems mutual. but anyways. i also just go along.

i was thinking about the Being Gone For A Month thing and the not-talking and holding all my words back even though i think so much about all sorts of junk and thus have too much to say, and about a week ago i just spent like six hours writing about myself. i was debating doing so in the first place because i figured i wouldnt post it. i did write it, but i won’t post it. its just good to talk to myself in the form of writing. getting thoughts into that form requires an extra level of analysis and coherent flow that can help put even things you already knew more in order. so here’s this stuff instead.

there’s not much to say about this past month. the worst of it was that discovering my weird tooth is all janky and broken has made me on edge about teeth. i mean, i’ve already all but stopped worrying about the broke tooth, because i kind of do that sometimes when i can. just worry hard and then stop, because what can you do? might as well try to avoid stressing even worse. and in this case i dont have money and doubt i will ever have a job w dental coverage, so i cant do anything about it. but im always worried about my teeth because, fittingly, my parents dental genes seem to combine into that of a tasmanian devil. i think im in some Dental Report b/c i had this weird situation that needed basically a root canal but it wasnt the normal kind of root canal situation and the dentist said he hadn’t seen it or heard of it even. special. i was horrified about needing the root canal, because of the clichés. but it ended up being fine and i really just sat there for an hour thinking about whatever. dental procedures are truly not what theyre hyped up to be. on account of local anesthetics. anyways. when i left my parents house i was specifically worried about leaving my access to a dentist, but obviously it wouldve been far from worth it. but that doesn’t mean i dont worry about my teeth. so i had these few days where i just had a spontaneously sensitive gum spot and another one which im guessing i caused by jamming corn shards down in there by eating corn on the cob. that happened sort of last year, i got really worried about an angry-looking spot on my gums and finally realized something was just up in there that needed to be flossed out. anyhow. the point is i got overly worried about everything that always worries me even though it used to worry me even before going to the dentist and they’d say the stuff was fine actually. but still. i got

very worried for a minute there and i realized very easily that if i start getting any really serious tooth problems i am out of here. i have no motivation at all to live through it. i don’t want to have to deal with that. it’s way too much. i dont even have motivation to be alive now. but when i was worrying i was thinking about not using my handful of cash to change locations, but instead to get some fancy Dying Equipment. there are still some methods by which im not sure i could try offing myself. but if things got a lot worse, like teeth problems, i could probably lower those standards. i COULD obtain some items for one method, or by necessity do it for free. im less worried about the tooth stuff now. it was just an unfortunate convergence of a couple tiny things. but ive still got a sensitive spot or two, and im always a bit worried. if something bad happens i cant do anything about it except get tf out of this life cycle, right.

there was something else unfortunate i was going to talk about. maybe just the depression.

there were nice, small things. i always knew how to enjoy those kinds of stuff. i like the sky, and i appreciate that its summer. theres a lot of fireflies sometimes and i saw kittens chasing them one day. one of those kittens mightve gotten killed by something since. i got to hear rain on the roof a few times. i like corn on the cob even if it betrayed me. i was wanting some last summer. i also got to make sweet tea and lemonade for the first time in forever. i’d been wanting that for a long time too.

the nicest surprise was that i had been writing extra hard since the start of june. i sort of really pushed at it and got to the dividing point between the section and the next, and i was sure it was shorter than previous sections. but actually it was just over 1000 words short of being 140k, and i’d written it all in about five weeks, and it was abt 22.5% longer than the next longest section i’d written. i’ve since gotten to a point i’ve been writing towards since this whole time, and im right on the verge of another long awaited one right now. it’s nice, but writing has been fun, and i hope i dont get depressed if i hopefully do finish it. i can just write some more, but doing so on my phone isnt the most efficient. it doesnt seem sustainable.

anyways thats it for now before i can think of anything else to say am i right

#talking abt being nervous abt it has made me a bit more nervous abt it...im trying to simmer down...dont have to die just yet...But You Know #also i could.

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itsbeenawhile7 · 7 years ago

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The absolution of Dana Scully in the aftermath of My Struggle IV: one pissed off fan’s grand manifesto

–also known as, “what in actual hell happened to Chris Carter?”

If you have not already read through this interview, courtesy of Avi Quijada and XFN, I am going to need you to start there first.

And listen: before anyone goes there, I am not analyzing the fuck out of this to excuse Chris Carter for the disastrous finale he just served up to us. Rather, it’s that there are a lot of us who are products of the Scully Effect in one way or another, and we’d like to feel good about her legacy. We deserve to figure out a way to clean up this mess you left us with.

Some people write fanfic. Me? I do this. Get some hot chocolate and pull up a comfy chair.

Rant rating: R, for language and possibly some implied violence against Chris Carter

Content warning: I mean…you saw MSIV, right?

Did MSIV actually destroy Dana Scully for all of us forever? Nah. We just witnessed the apex of a once skilled writer complete his own demise. We just witnessed a writer who got in way over his head, who was trying to articulate extremely complex, controversial ideas and concepts, and doing so in about the most tone deaf way anyone ever possibly could. Having read his interview with Avi Quijada, I now think it is absolutely fair to say that Chris Carter actually did have at least some idea about what the right motivations for his characters were. But in a writing decision that will baffle me and the rest of the world forever, he did not heed the warnings of those around him, and convinced himself that his audience would be able to infer absolutely everything of import to his story, and that we didn’t need to see any of that stuff actually fleshed out on screen. Sure, fine, whatever, Chris. Challenge accepted, here we go.

Let’s review. In the space of a scant few ridiculous hours occurring over the course of MSIV, Scully found out all of the following:

the child she thought was conceived miraculously with her partner was not, in fact, created as a the result of that union

she was medically raped and violated in order for William to be brought forth into the world

the being that she has conceived of as their son for 18 years is barely human: he is a shape-shifting, unstable lab creation, who is far, far more dangerous than any of the many forces that have been out to destroy him

William was created specifically by that fucking bastard Carl, and for whatever purpose Per Manum previously served in this universe, Dana Scully and the rest of us ostensibly should now assume it was to obtain fertilized embryos for the CSM to screw around with and deploy when she made the biggest fucking mistake of her life going off with him in En Ami

she is somehow pregnant right now, at age 54 (because Chris is apparently fascinated by perimenopause? or some shit like that?), after having not gotten miraculously pregnant at any point before in her extensive sexual history with Mulder

William directly and repeatedly said to both of his parents of genetic origin that he does not want to be protected, and that he wants them to let him go [quick break here: sorry, Chris, but there is no way that the CSM is the literal genetic father here, because Scully had a fucking AMNIO in season 8, and therefore you will neverrrrrrrrr convince any of us that this could ever possibly be the case]

And in the midst of all of this, Skinner is killed (maybe), her now compromised friend Monica Reyes is killed (maybe), her partner witnesses the murder of their son (maybe), and her partner kills his father (maybe), after having himself killed or witnessed the killing of dozens of New Syndicate operatives (definitely, because: exploding entrails!!!).

Two things stand out to me. Number one: this level of emotional trauma and upheaval is far, far too much for anyone to even be capable of putting up a coherent verbal response to in its immediate aftermath. Number two, to reiterate points Gillian Anderson and Avi Quijada both made directly to Chris: this “grand vision” or “Big Idea” of his should have had an entire season or two’s worth of episodes behind it if it was ever going to stand a chance in hell at working. I do not believe that the simple act of making these specific storytelling choices is in and of itself the problem, no matter how I might personally feel about it. The X-Files has been telling us a story involving horrifying genetic, physical, and reproductive assaults on its characters since 1995. We just, y’know, occasionally used to think about the aftermath of those atrocities in scripts and on camera, in episodes like One Breath, Memento Mori, or the Emily arc. What is abso-fucking-lutely a BIG problem, though, is if your reproductive horror show is executed as poorly as it was written in MSIV. Full stop.

I will argue until I am blue in the face, though, that Dana Scully is not destroyed by this ending, no matter how poorly written it was. Chris Carter simply didn’t let this character actually do any of what she should have been doing with this ON SCREEN, where we could see her. We now know for a fact that Chris was aware that he was leaving all of this off screen, so what I want to know is…why? No, really. I really want to know the answer, here. Why on Earth didn’t you show us, Chris? Hell, you could have even gotten this done with one, or two, or six additional bloated voiceover monologues, since most of what went down in MSIV wasn’t articulated *~anywhere at all~* outside of post-mortem press conversations. (Exhibit A: the entire Monica Reyes sub-plot.)

As a parent myself, I cannot even fathom what it would be like to find out that your child was capable of doing horrific, terrible, inhumane things. That’s also a pretty relevant–if extremely uncomfortable–concept right now, one that could have been grappled with in an era in which we are beginning to finally engage with mental health, gun control, and domestic terrorism in very public forums. We are made to understand thanks to Avi, that Chris Carter apparently loves using The X-Files to ask us tough questions that don’t always have answers. So…why the hell didn’t he do it here? I mean, come ON! What does it mean to be the parent, biological or otherwise, of a child capable of these horrors? I’m not saying that any of us have to like it, but as written in MSIV, William is a sociopath. William is not a human being. William is not anyone’s child anymore, and William is for damn sure not something capable of being protected. William can only destroy, because that is exactly what Fucking Carl (trademark pending) made him for. Whether in the Supersoldier sense, or in the New Syndicate global-contagion-let’s-wipe-out-humanity sense, we have been told that the CSM made him to be nothing more than a tool to help execute his own post-apocalyptic needs.

So after 18 years, Scully suddenly and very traumatically has to process that William was an experiment gone wrong (or right, I suppose, if you go talk to Carl). After 18 years, this is the William we’ve got. Can you even imagine how much worse it might have been for Scully if she had actually been there the whole time, watching this happen? William had a good childhood, he was raised by good people, and he still turned into a sociopath, and he tells us so himself. Was Scully ever a parent to what William ultimately turned out to be? That’s…actually a pretty damn good question, in this context.

And the answer to that question, according to Chris, is that Scully was the mother of the idea of William, the mother of the idea of a child who was miraculously created out of nothing more than love. She was the mother to the ideas and imaginings that she had about William for 18 long years. She was that mother during her pregnancy, she was that mother during his infancy, and she was that mother when circumstances erroneously convinced her to put him up for adoption, in a move that we were told was to try to give him the best life she thought she couldn’t ever possibly give to him. She was that mother in Ghouli, pouring her whole heart and soul into the idea of her son William in that heartbreaking morgue scene. So, no, I don’t think it means that she instantaneously stopped loving that idea of her son, when the shit hits the fan in MSIV. But it does mean that she understands that her idea of William hasn’t ever been the right one: the “truth we both know" was actually a horrific lie. “William…was an idea, created in a laboratory…” is true in this universe, for better or for worse. Dissecting what that means for Scully, just this one single solitary point alone, should have been granted an entire episode, not 10 seconds on a pier.

“Scully, he was our son! He was our son!”

He was.

He was their son. For 18 years, they both believed that he was their son. I don’t think anything Scully stutters and stumbles to explain to Mulder in this moment suggests that she doesn’t actually believe that, or grieve for that. It mostly indicates that Chris Carter has no idea how to write this magnitude of dropped psychological bomb. I think he does know his own limitations, which is why it all happens off screen. Thanks only to Gillian Anderson’s acting, it does appear as though we are witnessing a confused, traumatized Scully here, one who has been exposed to so much death and destruction immediately proceeding this moment that she can’t even find the way forward. Gillian Anderson, thankfully, fills in the cavernous script hole, and gives us a Scully who doesn’t know how to begin to explain what she has been forced to understand to a now very visibly fracturing Mulder.

This is not a mother suddenly throwing away her decades of love for a child just because she is getting a “do over” baby. And the only reason we even had to consider whether or not that was the case at all, is solely because of the steaming pile of inadequate shit dialogue that was written for her.

Let’s step back now and consider Mulder, and how his presence impacts Scully’s reaction. Mulder, who shocks the hell out of all of us when he says, “if I am not a father, then what am I?” in MSIV. We have gone an exorbitant amount of time watching this man, who devoted his life to finding his lost sister, seemingly refuse to engage in the same manner with his own lost son. So, we could take this as an example of even more what-the-actual-Carter-fuckery-are-we-doing-now, OR we could choose to listen to what Chris tells Avi, and believe him when he says this is the hidden motivation that’s been driving Mulder all these years. You know, off screen. Because this isn’t at all yet another concept that needed its own entire episode to explore. Exploding entrails, bitches!

Or, how about we also revisit a much better writer’s take on all of this? Let’s pick up adoptive father James Wong’s narrative, because he actually kind of gets how this kind of thing might work. In Ghouli, Mulder tells us that we’ve had no idea about his state of mind on any of this. Not ever. And we can infer that that was intentional on Mulder’s part. He’s doing it because he thinks it is what he needs to do for Scully’s benefit. There is no possible way that Fox-Freaking-Mulder, you punks, didn’t have some ridiculously big feelings about all of this. He’s been presented on screen to us as having sublimated his feelings on the matter since he found out about William’s adoption in The Truth. He wasn’t there to make the choice, and whatever resentment or sadness he may feel about what Scully did, he is swallowing it for her. He’s standing right beside her, he’s just listening. That’s his choice.

Also courtesy of James Wong: we know that Mulder has outright lied to Scully about his feelings about William in the past. In Founder’s Mutation, he tells Scully that he’s had to put it all behind him. James Wong does what a writer should do to communicate a character’s motivations, by actually showing us that Mulder has lied to all of us at the end of the episode, and letting us see Mulder’s dreams about what parenting William could have been.

So yes, I am going to take Chris at his word that these really are Mulder’s feelings in MSIV, even though he failed to articulate those motivations appropriately on screen. Look, many of us have been complaining for years that Mulder’s seeming non-response to his lost son seemed wildly inconsistent with everything we know of his character. I will take the bone Chris has so generously offered us here as an attempt to rectify all of that. I think coming into peripheral contact with William in Ghouli began to dismantle Mulder’s carefully constructed walls of sublimation, and by the time he actually gets his hands on him in MSIV, the flood gates have opened and cannot be closed again.

I have no trouble at all buying the narrative that the idea of being a father has quiescently been the single thing holding Mulder together for almost two decades. Look, I am absolutely here for that. I think most hard core X-Files fans are absolutely here for that, too. We know Mulder pretty damn well at this point, and we know that the loss of his sister shaped him forever. You even made him bring it up in IWTB after years of dormancy. So, yeah, I don’t have any trouble believing that through it all, while on the run, while locked away and adrift in the Unremarkable House for years, and when ultimately left by a very lost Scully who couldn’t bear north anymore, that this broken man from a broken family did indeed secretly cling to the idea of being a father. That for all of his failings and losses, he wanted to believe that he had at least had a part in making this miraculous child he dreams is out there. That he could believe that William was, in fact, living an idyllic childhood, the kind of childhood that he himself never got to have. For so damn long, Mulder wanted to believe all of that. Yes, Chris, for fuck’s sake, I BUY that, okay? As obnoxious and stupid as that written line is, having now heard it for the 4,000th time, this concept is right on for Fox Mulder.

[Another aside: that line is the one and only moment that David Duchovny loses me in MSIV. But OMG, as an actor who has had to say this ridiculous line every which way to Sunday? I can’t say that I blame him. No one actually talks this way! There is no actual right way to play it without making all of us want to crawl into a hole and die.]

Okay. So Mulder watches his son die. The ideas and dreams that he has carried beneath the surface this whole time die along with him. Scully sees all of this happening to Mulder, and based on what the Wongverse has established, she has probably not ever seen it look like this for him. So, what we are getting here is that for this one instance, we are seeing Scully put her own feelings about William second to Mulder’s feelings about William. Every other moment between them thus far has been Mulder putting his own feelings second to Scully’s feelings about William, right? I do believe that Chris Carter is daft enough to think that Scully got “her turn” in Ghouli, and so in MSIV, there’s no problem at all if we only get “Mulder’s turn.“ (And apparently, we also have time for Ford Mustang’s turn.) That all plays into the nonsensical words coming out of Scully’s mouth at the end of MSIV. Scully can’t find the words to speak to the guilt and pain she is trying to absolve Mulder of. How could anyone?

Listen to Gillian’s work, actually giving us some damn meaning here:

“William…William was–”

William was.

Ultimately, here’s MY truth: I hate how the William narrative turned out. I have hated every single moment of the William narrative beyond the end of season 8. Existence absolutely could have ended the series in the way in which these characters deserved to have their hero journeys end. And you know, it wouldn’t surprise me at all if I found out that Chris Carter secretly hates that this ending got away from him, too. I mean, look, we know Chris is a lying liar who is lying in all of the press he is doing right now, as he tries to convince the world that this has been The Grand Plan All Along. Never mind that this plan is contradicted by his own press prior to 2018, never mind that it is contradicted by all of the other writers and producers who worked on the William story at the time it was conceived, and never mind that it is contradicted by the simple reality that every zig and zag in the X-Files universe beyond season 7 is really the result of never knowing if David or Gillian were going to participate in the story anymore going forward. So, I’m sorry, but bull-fucking-shit that you had any of this in your head when William B. Davis wrote En Ami, Chris. Why not just admit that handling The X-Files was kind of impossible when one or both leads were maybe not going to be involved in telling the story anymore? We would all completely understand that, Chris, no one would ever in a million years question that. Of course you might wind up losing your narrative thread under those business circumstances. We aren’t blind to how the entertainment industry works.

I mean, there was never any hesitation on Chris Carter’s part to explain why all things had the intimations of a sex scene, not for one minute ever, so don’t try to tell us now that he just kept a lid on the truth about what role En Ami was actually fucking serving in this story for 18 whole years. Sorry, bro, I am not buying it. When you really think about it, how can Chris Carter possibly not know that he blew it years ago with William’s narrative? It is precisely the impossibility of navigating the logistics of telling a story far beyond the boundaries set by the involvement of the real people making it that drive showrunners like Vince Gilligan to give themselves a finite amount of time to tell it. Chris (or the Fox network, or whoever you want to blame) didn’t do that, and therefore he wound up giving up at least 4 other possible endings to The X-Files over to the uncertainty of actors continuing to involve themselves in this project. I really do wonder if that’s why he went down this particular path of turning William into a monster, and I wonder if that is why he seemingly worked so hard over the course of his Struggles to try to strip Mulder and Scully’s ties to him. Because this really wasn’t the way it was supposed to happen.

And so now here we are, hitting the do over button with a new pregnancy. I have no doubt that this guy thinks that he actually could hit the reset button just like that, and magically get back to the original poetic justice that these characters were given in their 2001 ending. He probably thinks that the fans would see this as a gift, even! I mean, shippers were heard, amirite? But even the idea of ending with a pregnancy, now many many many years too late, isn’t ultimately the real problem. All together, one more time for the folks in the back of the classroom: the problem is, and will always be, piss poor execution. You could hand this exact story to a Penumbra, or a syntax6, or an Aloysia Virgata, and I have no doubt it could be told in a beautiful (if utterly soul-crushingly painful) way.

So, fine. You want this to be the narrative, Chris? Fine. I will fill in the Grand Canyon of plot holes that you left us. The fandom will follow your stupid bread crumbs, and we will imbue them with the motivations and meaning you claim to have been driven by, but inexplicably chose not to write into any of your recent scripts. William was. Fox Mulder and Dana Scully have been letting him go, piece by piece, for 18 years. He was not meant to be. He was, ultimately, not ever theirs, even though he was created from genetic pieces of them. (Fight me, Chris, you can have that CSM created him, but FUCK NO WE ALL DRAW THE LINE AT CARL’S SPERM!) We can even give this bleak, wasted moodscape a soundtrack, if you want, in the form of a song you chose 10 years ago for them yourself: I will fire up UNKLE’s “Broken” right here, right now.

And OKAY Chris, I will even follow you down the rabbit hole of this new pregnancy, and I will take it in the spirit of the way I want to believe you intended it: as a way to desperately claw our way back towards getting the ending Existence gave these characters, the ending that was supposed to be their just rewards for all the nightmares they have lived through. Scully and Mulder are alive, they are a family, they are going to get to finally have a real human child, okay, fine, it’s fiiiiiiiiiine. I will go ahead and imagine that Scully, somewhere a few exquisite and bittersweet heartbeats down the road from the pier, is running away from the FBI and blowing up the motherfucking car (the Mustang, please). Scully is going to row a damn boat to an island paradise on her babymoon with Mulder, her vibrator, and a blobfish. You once wanted all of that to be the post-script for your characters, Chris. You lost the thread. I get it, I really do.

Look, I’m not a gifted writer or a gifted storyteller. I’m a Scully Effect scientist working in medicine, and I’m an overanalyzer at heart. My creative outlets skew in an entirely different direction. I am a woman, though, and I am a mother, and people with life experiences just like mine might possibly have had the perspective that could have saved your story, Chris, if only you would’ve consented to hear us out.

If I had been given the chance to help figure out how to crawl out of the William mess created by all those years of renewal-or-not uncertainty, here’s what I might have suggested to you, Chris: let’s make William a savior, not a monster. Let’s make William an empath with the power to heal others. Let’s reference Scully’s alien DNA, her chip, Mulder’s season 7 alien artifact brain shit, and let’s say that all of that came together and allowed for the possibility of superhuman recombinant DNA magic once those two people came together. Let’s give William the ability to read his biological parents’ minds and hearts from afar, but have it be a benevolent thing, and not a painfully torturous apocalyptic thing. Let’s have William come back to Mulder and Scully having harnessed his powers for good, after the New Syndicate killed his adoptive parents as part of a failed attempt to take him out of the picture. Let’s give some concrete evidence that William’s adoption did, for a time, keep him safe, to absolve Scully of that guilt. Let’s have him tell Mulder that he saw all of the same dreams about building rockets, and father-son TV nights and talk. Let’s end the New Syndicate’s plans by letting Scully have some motherfucking agency, y'know? Remember? Let’s let her do it all like she used to in the glory days, and go be the scientist that she is. Let’s have Scully save the world, by distilling out some saving grace compound from William’s superhuman blood, or stem cells, or whatever the fuck you want to ask Anne Simon to give you, to fight against the New Syndicate’s planned viral apocalypse. Let’s have Mulder and William vanquish CSM together; these two sons taking out this toxic, villainous “father” that’s been hovering over this whole show, and let’s have them reclaim the narrative of fathers and sons as something that is good, and positive, and right.

Where’s the writer? I want to speak to the writer!

In the end, Chris, you didn’t do Dana Scully any justice on screen at all. But your inadequate words don’t get to be the last words on the subject of Dana Scully, nor do they get to define what she means to us. You can’t ruin her, Chris. She belongs to us now. We’ll take care of her. We’ll give her the ending she deserves.

#dana scully #fox mulder #the x files #my struggle 4 #my struggle iv #ms4 #msiv #x files season 11 #x files revival #meta #x files analysis #william #i really do hate the william story with the burning passion of a thousand white hot suns #saving dana scully #msr #mulder and scully #x files negativity #but also x files positivity too #the scully effect

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dawnfelagund · 7 years ago

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[I posted this essay to my blog The Heretic Loremaster over the weekend. Click the link above if you’d rather read it there. Reactions are welcome in both places.]

Who wrote The Silmarillion? It's a question with a more complicated answer than it seems on the surface. Yes, of course, J.R.R. Tolkien wrote the book that I picked up from a Barnes & Noble fourteen years ago, that is now on my desk with its cover coming off and its corners rounded from being read so many times. But who, in the vast imagined world within its pages, is telling the story? The narrator of The Silmarillion is so distant as to be barely discernible at all; it is possible to believe he doesn't exist at all. Indeed, in at least my first two readings, I did not think much of him. I assumed a distant, omniscient presence recounting what happened in plain, incontestable terms. Just the facts, ma'am.

The fact is, though, that J.R.R. Tolkien--the Silmarillion author whose name is on the cover--always imagined and constructed his stories not just as stories but as historiography: documents written by someone within the universe in which the history occurs. This complicates things: gone is the distance, the omniscience, and perhaps most importantly, the impression that the stories happened exactly as they are told.

This wouldn't be a problem--in fact, would be quite simple, as most fiction has point of view that is biased or unreliable--but for the fact that this isn't simple: This is Tolkien. So naturally, he had this idea that he wanted to write his stories as historiography, with a loremaster or chronicler who was himself a part of that history, but he couldn't make up his mind who this person was. In fact, he changed his mind several times, reversals that are documented in The History of Middle-earth for fans and scholars to angst and argue over.

I'm going to make the case that the "Quenta Silmarillion" is part of the Elvish tradition. This is contrary to the belief of Christopher Tolkien and other Tolkien scholars, who assign it to the "Mannish"--namely Númenórean--tradition. (@ingwiel has an excellent discussion of the evidence for this approach.) I understand why they did this, but I think that if you look deeply at the texts and the evidence those texts provide, there is not much to support that the tradition originated with the Númenóreans. (I am willing to concede that Elvish texts may have passed through Númenórean hands on their way back to Elrond and, eventually, Bilbo, but I persist in believing they are nonetheless predominantly Elvish texts representing an Elvish point of view.)

The Idea of the "Mannish" Tradition

The Elvish loremaster Pengolodh was first introduced as the primary author of the "Quenta Silmarillion" prior to 1930, when he was assigned author of the Annals of Beleriand (HoMe IV). Pengolodh was a tenacious character: Texts written as late as 1960 were still being assigned to him. So what happened?

The idea of the "Mannish" loremaster was a late idea and introduced as part of the series of writings collected by Christopher Tolkien under the title Myths Transformed (HoMe X). In a text that Christopher dates to 1958, Tolkien writes:

It is now clear to me that in any case the Mythology must actually be a 'Mannish' affair. ... The High Eldar living and being tutored by the demiurgic beings must have known, or at least their writers and loremasters must have known, the 'truth' (according to their measure of understanding). What we have in the Silmarillion etc. are traditions (especially personalized, and centred upon actors, such as Fëanor) handed on by Men in Númenor and later in Middle-earth (Arnor and Gondor); but already far back--from the first association of the Dúnedain and Elf-friends with the Eldar in Beleriand--blended and confused with their own Mannish myths and cosmic ideas. (Myths Transformed, "Text I," emphasis in the original)

To summarize: in 1958, Tolkien began to deeply question whether a civilization as advanced as that of the Eldar--a civilization that also had access to the teachings of the Ainur, who knew firsthand the structure of the universe--would produce myths that included such components as a flat Earth and the "astronomically absurd business of the making of the Sun and Moon" ("Text I"). This led to some radical cosmological rearrangements in Myths Transformed--and the relatively overlooked decision to reimagine the Silmarillion histories from a Mortal rather than an Elvish perspective. In an undated text also presented in Myths Transformed, Tolkien again takes up this question and explains the method of textual transmission in greater detail:

It has to be remembered that the 'mythology' is represented as being two stages removed from a true record: it is based first upon Elvish records and lore about the Valar and their own dealings with them; and these have reached us (fragmentarily) only through relics of Númenórean (human) traditions, derived from the Eldar, in the earlier parts, though for later times supplemented by anthropocentric histories and tales. These, it is true, came down through the 'Faithful' and their descendants in Middle-earth, but could not altogether escape the darkening of the picture due to the hostility of the rebellious Númenóreans to the Valar. ("Text VII")

"A leading consideration in the preparation of the text was the achievement of coherence and consistency," Christopher Tolkien wrote in a note on The Valaquenta in The Later Quenta Silmarillion II (HoMe X), "and a fundamental problem was uncertainty as to the mode by which in my father's later thought the 'Lore of the Eldar' had been transmitted."

Christopher Tolkien tentatively dates The Later Quenta Silmarillion II (LQ2) to 1958. Along with the last set of annals, The Annals of Aman and The Grey Annals, this represents the final version of the Silmarillion that his father produced. (See "Note on Dating" at the end of LQ2 in HoMe X.) Interesting about these texts--especially LQ2--is the fact that Tolkien removes all attributions Pengolodh. Mentions of Pengolodh are sprinkled throughout the Later Quenta Silmarillion I, which was written around 1951-52. When Tolkien "remoulded" LQ1 into LQ2, he removed Pengolodh. Also written around 1958? That first Myths Transformed text in which Tolkien asserts that his cosmology requires a Mortal and specifically bars an Eldarin loremaster.

And the Evidence of the Elvish, Part 1: The Creative Process

All this probably seems very simple. Tolkien was clear on his intentions. The Elvish tradition doesn't work, in his opinion. Therefore, it must be Mortal. He even took out the Elvish loremaster from the oldest Silmarillion draft. Simple, right?

Never. Working with any of the Silmarillion material--including the published Silmarillion--is necessarily speculative. This is a posthumous text, unfinished and existing in many forms. I think Christopher Tolkien did an admirable job of making a published book out of the tangle of his father's writings, but making that book required making decisions, as alluded to above, about how to decide what to include.

On this particular question, there are two approaches to making a decision on mode of transmission: There is Tolkien's stated intention, and there are the texts themselves and what they show of the realization of that intention. Christopher Tolkien, and many scholars, clearly prefer the first approach. Tolkien was clear on what he wanted, so that's the way to read the texts.

I prefer the second.

Perhaps this is because I approach the welter of Silmarillion texts as a creative writer as well as a Tolkien scholar. My experiences as an author of fiction myself lead me to question whether the creative process lends itself to the kind of neat analysis that says, "The author stated his intention. Here we have our answer." My experience tells me it is rarely that simple.

Below is what I imagine the creative process looks like for worldbuilding and constructing stories in that world, done in clipart and scribbles. For me, most of my work goes on in my mind: while driving to work, falling asleep at night, reading other authors' work, washing dishes, daydreaming. Some of the thinking is intentional, other occurs because it's where my mind wanders where I'm bored. Sometimes, thinking is sparked by an outside stimulus: an interview on the radio, a song, an image, a clip from a movie or TV. All of it goes into this tangle of thought constantly swirling in my mind, making and remaking my imagined world. Every now and then, an idea leaves my mind and takes concrete form as I write it down.

But only in limited instances do these ideas become finalized, incontrovertible--"canon," if you will. Sometimes an idea won't work and withers, unfinished. Other times, an idea is written down, only to dive back into the welter of thought in my mind for further reworking and reshaping--sometimes radically so.

Every author's creative process is different, of course, but hold up The Tale of the Sun and the Moon from the Book of Lost Tales next to the story Tolkien writes in Myths Transformed and the two are radically different, showing what any Silmarillion fan can tell you: Just because Tolkien wrote it down doesn't mean he meant it. Likewise, he went years at times without working on the legendarium, yet his letters and the progress we observe in the drafts show that he was always thinking about it. In short, his creative process, in this regard, seems a lot like mine.

Around 1958, we can say with some certainty that an idea crystallized from Tolkien's thoughts about his legendarium that the mode of transmission had to be centered on Mortals, not Elves. The idea seems to have loomed large in his awareness--along with ancillary ideas about cosmology--to the extent that it appears to reflect in decisions he made in revising LQ2.

But does that mean it is definitive? That it is "canon"? Not necessarily. In fact, I'd argue that we have proof that this particular manifestation of an idea was one that was far from finalized but dove back into the swirl of thinking on worldbuilding to be reconsidered and reworked--and ultimately unrealized.

And the Evidence of the Elvish, Part 2: Point of View

Point of view is no small thing in a story. In fact, in all but a few cases, it is so essential that to change the point of view risks breaking the story in a way that changing other elements rarely does. It's like painting. If you paint from the point of view of a peasant looking at a castle from the field where she labors, you cannot suddenly decide that the point of view is that of the princess looking out from the room in the castle where she spends most of her days, at least without redoing the painting entirely.

Likewise, one cannot take a story written from one point of view, then suddenly decide to change to a different point of view with any guarantee that the story will still work, much less make sense, without rewriting the story. In fact, in many cases, it will not.

Changing from an Elvish to a Númenórean point of view is not so simple as declaring, "Let it be!" and there it is. In the case of the "Quenta Silmarillion," the Eldarin (specifically Gondolindrim) perspective is deeply embedded. @grundyscribbling‘s post here is a good run-down of how the narrator's affiliation with Gondolin is revealed, even if never stated, in the stories included as part of the "Quenta." My article Attainable Vistas looks at some of the numerical data I've compiled that suggests a Gondolindrim perspective. At last year's Tolkien at UVM Conference, I presented more of that data, as well as new evidence that even the narrator's language in the "Quenta," reveals the point of view of a loremaster from Gondolin. Tolkien didn't put Pengolodh's biography down on paper until the 1959-60 text Quendi and Eldar, but the texts suggest that Pengolodh's identity was swirling in his mind many decades before that, and he wrote the "Quenta" with that point of view always in mind. Changing the point of view of such a story requires significant rewriting of the text. Do we have evidence that any of that rewriting--short of striking Pengolodh's name from LQ2--occurred?

No, we do not.

In fact, we sometimes see the opposite.

And the Evidence of the Elvish, Part 3: The Texts

The Later Quenta Silmarillion II becomes a relevant text to examine here because 1) it was written at the time when we know Tolkien was thinking about the mode of transmission and 2) his striking of Pengolodh's name from this version suggests he was beginning to act on his stated intention to revise the "Quenta" to reflect a Númenórean point of view. It is also an interesting text to study because it is a revision of LQ1, written about seven years earlier when the mode of transmission was, as far as I can tell, unreservedly Elvish.

Does the LQ2 contain other revisions toward a Númenórean mode? No, it is does not. In fact, it includes additions that, from a Mortal perspective, are suspect.

Laws and Customs among the Eldar. One of two major additions to LQ2 was Laws and Customs among the Eldar (L&C). L&C is explicitly attributed to Ælfwine, the Mortal man who was part of the mode of the transmission involving Pengolodh. Ælfwine is Anglo-Saxon, not Númenórean, but L&C is clearly written from the point of view of a Mortal commenting on Elves.

L&C opens with the sentence, "The Eldar grew in bodily form slower than Men, but in mind more swiftly." This comparison immediately establishes a Mortal point of view different from that of the "Quenta" as a whole, where Mortals are usually but supporting actors in a drama enacted by Elves. The first two paragraphs continue this comparison and assume the distinct point of view of a Mortal. Later, in the section "Of Naming," the narrator notes that the variety of names used by a single Elf "in the reading of their histories may to us seem bewildering," again establishing a Mortal point of view (emphasis mine).

L&C is an example of what a text written from a Mortal point of view would look like. "Men are really only interested in Men and in Men's ideas and visions," Tolkien wrote in Myths Transformed, and L&C acknowledges this by bringing Elvish customs into the context of Mortal experience ("Text I"). This text shows that Tolkien did manipulate the point of view based on his narrator. (This won't be shocking to any writer of fiction, and as an Anglo-Saxonist, Tolkien would have been aware of the impact of point of view on a historical text from that perspective as well.)

Christopher Tolkien dates L&C to the late 1950s (LQ2, "Note on Dating"). The argument could be made that Tolkien hadn't yet begun the process of revising to incorporate a Númenórean narrator. However, of all of the texts in LQ2, L&C is the easiest to revise to change the point of view. It is already from a Mortal point of view! Simply change the attribution to Ælfwine to a suitably Númenórean name and you have a major chapter of LQ2 aligned with the Númenórean mode of transmission. It is a surface change on the order of removing attributions to Pengolodh, and the fact that Tolkien didn't undertake it makes me question how seriously he truly undertook to revise the point of view.

The Statute of Finwë and Míriel. The Statute of Finwë and Míriel is the second major addition to LQ2. It is likewise dated to the late 1950s (LQ2, "Note on Dating"). If Tolkien wanted to write a text representing a Númenórean point of view, he couldn't have done a worse job of it with the Statute of Finwë and Míriel. Here we have a text deeply concerned with eschatology: Elven eschatology.

The Númenóreans were also concerned with eschatology. You could even say the Númenóreans were obsessed with eschatology, and immortality in particular. Here's a people, after all, annihilated because of their king's obsession with an Oasis song proclaiming, "You and I are gonna live forever!" A Númenórean text that represents Elven eschatology with no commentary grounding it in a Mortal perspective (like Tolkien does with L&C) is almost impossible to fathom. A text that centers on immortality and the decision to forgo immortality would certainly excite commentary from a Númenórean loremaster. Revisions to represent a Númenórean point of view would have to address this chapter--but they don't. Again, this suggests that JRRT's ideas about the mode of transmission weren't as definitive as his writings in Myths Transformed suggest.

And all the rest ...? Outside of L&C, the remainder of LQ2 includes nothing that suggests a Mortal point of view, even though L&C shows that Tolkien was capable, with the addition of a few words, of beginning to establish this. A convincing Númenórean text would have needed deep revisions, but surface changes--like the deletion of Pengolodh--set the course in the right direction.

Throughout the "Quenta," Tolkien often uses formulas like "it is said," "it is told," and "it is sung" to indicate that the narrator is receiving information secondhand versus as an eyewitness account. As I discussed at the Tolkien at UVM Conference in 2017, these formulas are used primarily with the Ainur and Mortals. The image below shows the data from one of my slides from this presentation. Adding these formulas is a rather easy way to signal that the information the narrator is reporting is at a distance from him--and LQ2 uses them when reporting on the actions of Ainur to which even an Eldarin narrator could not have borne witness--yet Tolkien did not make these revisions. Instead, this part of the Silmarillion (originally attributed to Rúmil, who would have been present for this history) is written in the style of an eyewitness account, even though a Númenórean loremaster would certainly find these chapters of history the most distant and unattainable. Yet nothing in the style in which these chapters are written suggest this.

There is one passage in particular in the chapter "Of the Silmarils and the Unrest of the Noldor" that, like the Statute of Finwë and Míriel, seems a ripe opportunity to make revisions to signal a Mortal narrator if Tolkien desired to do so:

In those days, moreover, though the Valar knew indeed of the coming of Men that were to be, the Elves as yet knew naught of it ... but now a whisper went among the Elves that Manwë held them captive so that Men might come and supplant them in the dominions of Middle-earth. For the Valar saw that this weaker and short-lived race would be easily swayed by them. Alas! little have the Valar ever prevailed to sway the wills of Men; but many of the Noldor believed, or half-believed, these evil words. (emphasis mine)

It is hard to imagine a Mortal loremaster self-identifying as "weaker and short-lived" or offering up such an assessment without commentary. Yet this passage was brought over from LQ1--when the narrator was Elvish--without revision.

Another small passage again betrays the Elvish perspective: "But now the deeds of Fëanor could not be passed over, and the Valar were wroth; and dismayed also, perceiving that more was at work than the wilfulness of youth" ("Of the Silmarils," emphasis mine). According to the timelines in the Annals of Aman, Fëanor was about three hundred years old at this point. For a Mortal narrator--even a long-lived Númenórean one--to describe him as a "youth" is difficult to fathom.

Now one might claim that perhaps Tolkien just didn't get the chance to add material. It is one thing to remove Pengolodh but quite another to add content, even in a very brief form. However, he does add other content from Myths Transformed to LQ2: In the chapter "Of the Darkening of Valinor," he adds a reference to the "dome of Varda" that alludes to his revised cosmology. He also adds volumes of other details to flesh out the narrative of LQ1. Yet he leaves the question of transmission untouched. Ironically, Christopher Tolkien refused to consider the revised Myths Transformed cosmology in making the published Silmarllion but stripped Pengolodh from the story on the strength of the purported revision to a Mortal tradition found also in Myths Transformed.

I find the opposite. Tolkien may have stated a desire to change the mode of transmission, but he didn't actually do much to effect this, even when he had the chance to make surface changes to the text that would have set him on the path to deeper revisions. Therefore, I conclude that the "Quenta Silmarillion" should be read as a text written by an Eldarin loremaster and from an Eldarin point of view, with all that entails.

#silmarillion #tolkien #historiography in middle-earth #pengolodh #narrator of the silmarillion #history of middle-earth #myths transformed #statute of finwe and miriel #laws and customs among the eldar #quenta silmarillion #later quenta silmarillion

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thedapperrabbit · 4 years ago

Text

She-Ra Rewatch: season 3 and onwards through season 4, and boatloads of Introspection time!

So Ive been rewatching She-Ra with my partner, because sharing Entrapdak is caring. I could probably squee on about that for a century or more (because eeee, sharing things i love with people i love AND THEY EVEN PAY ATTENTION TO THE THINGS AND REMEMBER THEM!)...but ill spare you, kind internet strangers who for some reason find my thoughts mildly interesting enough to be reading this. This is going to be a lot. Like, a LOT. A lot especially from a stranger that youve probably only seen a notification from due to me sticking a heart on your content or for reblogging something lovely youve made in pictures or words. I dont think anything is going to be violently trigger-y because im not always great at judging that stuff and also ive yet to feel quite comfy enough to be fully open-posting specifics about my own past trauma, other than a vague allusion to self-harm and distant-ish unspecified abuse aaaand the usual childhood garbage truck of assholes....but i suppose you could possibly draw some darker potential conclusions from the content im focused on. Also, my ADHD makes it incredibly hard to keep to a straight and non-branching narrative so...ramble-y bits and expressions of brain frustration ahoy. Either way...you are forewarned, just in case. Sorry in advance, this is going to be a small booklet by the time Im done explaining, and thinking, and then attempting to stick words to abstract feels which sometimes im great at, and then others i fucking suck at...but at least this is all written and not me trying to say this to any of your faces! Thats....a mercy all of its own. Haa... Anyway, while rewatching with my partner, I realized just how much more painful parts of it are to sit through now...they were the first time, and each time since, but NOW having spent a while mulling over the series as a whole a bunch, and reading a lot of other peoples writings on here and finding myself largely in agreement with most Entrapdak fan’s assessment of things, I just....feel like all the air is ripped out of me during some moments, watching with keener insight. And despite thinking i had myself reasonably well figured out by my age, its all also made me further consider a few things about myself as well. Particularly my notable internalized fury response to chunks of it which have been consistent through all my viewings of SPOP. With Hordak at least, its way easier to understand my reactions. For me at least. Maybe not so much for the people around me. And, shittier due to intensity and subject matter, but still easier in the long run because...the broken bits in me that he resonates with are fresher and sharper and still more recent, like within the last ten years, and thus more towards the front shelves in my head, compared to things that resonate with Entrapta, which are all old, lifelong dull aches at this point. I feel like nothing i can point to is fully sufficient to fully express my feels involving Hordak. But, maybe the best representative moment is with the crying i do every damn time I see his face looking up at Prime just after he glimmer and catra were beamed up...because ive seen that face in the mirror. I HAVE MADE THAT FACE. That same. Goddamn. Face. I may not have gotten a jab to the back of the neck directly from the person I made it at...but they often seemed to silently goad me to harm myself in an attempt to jolt my brain out of getting stuck in re-looping through what theyd just done/said to me. Likewise, much of his interactions with Entrapta are very...very weirdly familiar in feeling, but in a good way. Watching the stuff with Hordak hurts because fuck me if it isnt frequently like watching myself back in 2008ish to 2013, which was the duration of the worst parts of that particular circle of hell i parked my ass in. So...that makes sense. Hes so well written in those moments, it occasionally gave me PTSD flashbacks (still does a little, but now im prepared and braced for it and can shrug it back off....thanks, lifetime of therapy and years of studying abnormal psychology! Still totally not an expert, just very passionate...just, as a disclaimer). Entrapta though...Entrapta is a different story. Mostly, I see Entrapta and in her free expressions of delight and joy and her bouncy enthusiasm I am reminded of a younger, less discouraged me in some ways, and in others, a “me” I could have been, but...well, extremely early-onset anxiety and depression made me insanely self-conscious super-super early on...not that i was great at hiding or...i guess the term people seem comfy with is “masking”? Which was a huge problem, or so it was in the 80s when far less was understood of such things. Id do so for a bit and then would forget to, in a way (because id forget long enough to go and trust again reflexively) and would get badly bullied and would squish everything down until id feel a crumb of safety again, and then almost instantly ADHD would pop that mask right the rest of the way off aaand it would start all over again. Ad nauseam until my teen years, where the depression sort of “fixed” that, and made it much easier to destroy my desire to share much of myself freely at all, save for with one or two people, and to a less deep extent a broader circle of nerd friends. Course, then i hit 30 and ran out of the majority of fucks I used to give. Or I became so damaged and salted with anger that parts of me dont grow any fucks anymore? Either way, plowshares to swords, WHEEEE!) And, maybe thats where this time while watching, I started to really think back to all that, and to how i see Entrapta treated by the other princesses, or really just in general except by Hordak...and why it burns my biscuits so badly. Every time I see someone roll their eyes at Entrapta’s beautiful unbridled enthusiasm or try to make it seem distasteful or at least weird and unwanted and uncomfortable for them but then dont even bother to try coming to terms with why they feel that way... or how they seem to feel free to grab and manhandle her without her consent, or the way they try to lessen her contributions because shes non-normative? Like its the fucking least she can do to make up for being weird in their space (...okay, that might just be the anger kicking in..but i dont feel like its an entirely innacurate assessment, is it?) All of that...seeing it inflicted upon someone, It feels like someones punched me right in the damn sternum, but because its a hurt that im so desensitized to, it seems to have a much different effect than the sharp, violent crushing pain that i feel when I relate to Hordak a little too well for comfort. Again, i could go on, but its nothing more eloquent people on here havent already spoken volumes on. And my first gut reaction is always “I dont understand! why is that their reaction to her?! it doesnt seem logical at all, i dont seem to be able to parse it correctly, how is this acceptable? I HOPE SHE IMMOLATES YOU ALL.”. Which...I suppose isnt entirely usual for me (the silent wishing that people be immolated, I mean...i blame my past years of working in retail. And devouring too much Warhammer 40k contentl). (oh gods...and this is going to be the most clusterfucky part cause i can feel my meds kicking in and thats gonna be hard to keep coherence on but i gotta get this all out of my head or ill forget it or get too scared of you fucking BRILLIANT insightful smart people on here and then ill continue to live scared and regretful that i never said..anything, and just sat here like “noticeme, entrapdak sempais!” Ehhn...which is to say, if this is a garbage dump from here down, dont worry, when i wake up ill fix it...but hopefully itll at least make a tiny bit of sense ) But I realized something...something I hadnt ever rememberd much about due to the shitty neuronormative (apology if thats wrong term) behaviors continuing over years and years but in less and less directly aggressive ways as i grew older and was more prone to losing my shit in , (and likely because I got excessively lucky and managed through...uhhh...agonizing determination? Sheer stubbornness? Alleviatory rebalancing of universal karma? fuck if i know --to curate a surprisingly supportive circle of other castoffs and misanthropes.) That was exactly how people used to treat me. OKAY THISLL BE EDITED LATER to add in the rest of what i was gonna say...im...too full of Ambien sleep meds and damn write it anymore...and im aing trouble separating realigty and dream...an i k apawing at the kybord...not safe Lov yous for reading this far. Il fix it later, swears.

#should i tag this?#im not sure if i like it #berres #psyhcology of pop culture chraracters #psychology of the writer/author

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beyondthetemples-ooc · 7 years ago

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Hey everyone. Soooo, guess who just spent an entire week in the hospital....

this is gonna involve tws for #emetophobia, probably #coprophobia, #aichnophobia / #needles, mentions of #blood, #suicide ideation, and #medical stuff, obviously.

It’s an entire week of Things Happening... but tl;dr I went to the ER from work and was picked up by an ambulance in a freaking Walmart bathroom Friday around 6pm, agonizing pain driving me to suicide ideation alongside every digestive system problem you can imagine flaring with extreme and constant severity, until 5am or so, when my system finally collapsed and I was barely aware and coherent, and I was transferred to a psychiatric hospital because the IV zofran they gave me wasn’t working and the pain meds weren’t working and I was losing my mind with the repetition of these episodes.... but they finally gave me the medical attention I needed, and after four days of trial and error, they finally found a pair of medications that WORKS.

And by that I mean, helps with the unending nausea and vomiting I’ve been enduring since motherfucking SEPTEMBER, and seem to help the post-eating nausea I’ve felt since at LEAST age 19, so I don’t regret a thing. (Except maybe that I hadn’t enforced the sincerity of my suicidal thoughts on October 1st, when I first went to the hospital for the pain and nausea and dehydration and suicidal thoughts, and it had to get THIS FAR before somebody took my issues seriously and tried to treat me then and there, not scheduling an appointment a week or two months or three years out....)

Diagnosis thoughts they gave me include diaverticulitis (inflammation/infection of the intestine, small intestine in my case given the pain’s location). ulcerative colitis (where the colon bleeds, but my blood test didn’t indicate significant bleeding, even though there was definitely substantial amounts of blood in places there shouldn’t be blood, three times in a row), possibly celiac still, and one of the medications is actually used to treat gastroparesis specifically, but they haven’t mentioned that one yet. It’s what my mother suspects, it’s what I suspect (since many of the primary symptoms of the other ones have only happened during that episode, after vomiting for 3+ months). But we’ll see what the endoscopy says and where my GI doctor wants to go from there, given that the second medication was the single medication that stopped the after-eating unwellness in my entire 24 years of life. When a medication that helps with chemotherapy vomiting didn’t do a damned thing about mine.

...Also, did you know you can get prescription multivitamins? Apparently you can get prescription multivitamins even when your bloodwork “looks good” and your body rejects its nutrition that thoroughly for 3 months.

So, I’m finally on the mend. I have a little more energy, I actually feel like there’s life in me, and I can actually eat without counting hours until the medication wears off or my stomach decides to reject things. I did a little writing there, a lot of meditation, even had a spiritual awakening (because it was really all I could cling to until it stopped).

And guys, I cannot overstate how freaking absolutely ELATED I am to finally be able to eat a decent amount of food in a meal, and feel okay after eating, and not be vomiting, and it was affecting my mental state so badly, and it’s just so incredibly fucking beautifully relieving, I can’t even put words to it.

#little miracle in a bottle is what that stuff is.#rhs personal posts #digital mirrorbooking #rhs emlog

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roccoroks · 7 years ago

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VOLUME 5 DAG POST SO ANOTHER ROD RUN HAS COME AND GONE AND IT HAS LEFT ME IN THE WAKE OF DISGRUNTELED GUEST OVER PARKING , ROOMS WITH BROKEN REFRIDGERATORS AND SEVERAL LOST ITEMS IN NEED OF BEING RETURNED TO THEIR RIGHTFUL OWNERS. SEVERAL THINGS HAPPENED THIS TIME AND I WILL TRY AND KEEP THINGS AS STRAIGHT AS MACH STYLES SEXUAL ORIENTAION SO BARE WITH ME! It was your typical rod run this spring in that there were classic cars as far as the eye could see, toilets were overflowing with the stench of nearly dead guests last dinners from the golden coral and I for the first time in 3 years had the day off to enjoy ………at work……even in my down time I have to come here….sux. The time is 4:30 pm, it officially hawt as bawls outside and im watching the desk while my new manager “monty” dips out for a bite to eat. The door opens and im faced with a loud, demanding, hateful women from PA….so a normal woman from PA….who is mad about parking. Me: *gee, I really hope the next 30 mins goes smoo….. WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT SMELL! IT REEKS OF BITCH!* CLAB: *Crazy Loud Ass Bitch* umm….theres a man outside that’s saying that if I don’t move my car then he will have it towed or he will park his truck in front of it until Monday and called me a bitch……(ME: honestly I stopped paying attention to her at this point)……or im going to call the cops. Me: *fuck you karam, just because I like to rub vasoline all over my butt cheeks and press it against businesses plate glass windows in downtown under the cover of darkness, I have to deal with this?* CLAB: so…..what are you going to do about it? Im paying 175.00 a night and I feel I should beable to park where ever I want! Me: *you are the same bitch from last year aren’t you…* mam im really sorry about this but during the rod run we have over 5000 people and cars come into town and parking can get a bit limited. CLAB: WELL DON’T YOU THINK THAT’S NOT MY PROBLEM? Me: *oooooooh so we are going to go down this long road of stupidity?* like I said, mam, parking can get a bit hectic during these shows and we expect everyone to govern them selfs. CLAB: look you NEED to go out there and talk to this man or im going to report you to your manager. Me: *ah hellnah! Bitch you did not just…….. >.> i cant believe you just...how dare.....i may pee on you* Me: ok, lets go *get this over with* *we both walk out to the parking lot where im am greeted buy a mid 40’s male who knows me from years of rod runs and he seems to have been drinking and is in no mood for this ladies bullshit, I know because he says so in this dialog ^.^ * CLAB: this is the guy that spoke to me like I was trash Me: *because you do infact smell of a garbage bag filled with diapers that someone threw up on and set on fire....because thats what bitch smells like* DD: *drunk dude* look I never said any of that shit to you, your just making it up Me: but we haven’t even discussed what you said yet….never mind, look, why is it a problem for her to be parked here CLAB: *interrupts* oh there’s no problem, he just wants this parking spot to himself DD: look, my tools are in my truck and I need to work on my car and I don’t want to have to walk across the parking lot to get my tools every 5 mins Me: *and a long stager it must be 25 feet away! Beside, had you bought a ford instead of that rolling shit box you call a nova that’s more rust that nova, this wouldn’t be a problem* CLAB: that’s not my problem , I need a parking spot and this one was open Me: *5 points to bitchindore!* DD: MY GD CHAIRS WHERE IN THIS SPOT SAVING THEM FOR ME AND YOU JUST…..JUST…..MOVED THEM! LIKE THEY WERE NUTHIN! Me : *shee-took-yur-churrrs! * CLAB: well they were in the way! DD: iv had just about enough of your shit! ME: HO HO HO HO HO HANG ON A MIN! *yelling louder that both of them to convey my point* NOW LOOK, last year I put up two signs and handed out two flyers to ALL of my guests, including you, that 1. Trailers are no longer to be parked on site and 2. That chairs could no longer be used to save parking spots, meaning first come, first park no exceptions! DD:…….. I forgot about that, you did do that CLAB: *shoots a look of “take that bitch” Me: *looks at clab* I also told you on Tuesday when you checked in that this would happen with parking and that you would need to get a spot early to AVIOD THIS! CLAB: I don’t think that’s my problem do you? Me: *omfg if you say that one more motherfucking time* YES, yes it is your problem when I looked right at you and warned you this would happen and you ignored it! Is like I said “hey this coffee is hot, don’t pour it all over your face ok” and you did it anyway and couldn’t figure out why it hurt. CLAB: I just don’t see how this is my problem Me: * o.e there is a special place in hell for people like you! Its called florida* I honestly don’t know what to say. DD: I don’t know why this is such a problem, I mean there is a perfectly good spot open right over there by the pool doors, its closer too. Me: * O.e…..did I just hear a loud pop sound in my head? Why is everything starting to get shaky and I smell burning hair….am I having a aneurism?* did….you just? Surely you did say there is a parking spot right over there….right? DD: yeah, so I don’t see what all the fuss is about! *crosses arms and looks proud of him self CLAB: I don’t want that parking spot I want this one! Me: …….. *looks at both of them in disgust* so what’s wrong then? *both look at me like im a idiot* Me: *clearly im dealing with creatures with undeveloped brains not unlike that of a 5 year old or a form of mild cheese. I may have to get the speak and spell out for them* look, I should be in my office answering the phone and booking reservations for tomorrow night, instead im out here dealing with 2 12 year olds who are fighting over who gets to ride the tricycle next. There is a perfectly good spot right over there that either one of you could park in, its close to the hotel, and its close to your car so THERE IS NO PROBLEM. You two just wanted to be validated in what you both thought was right in your list of personal self-ethics and came and got me, someone half both of your ages to settle your squabble instead of acting like adults! CLAB: who’s your manager, ill have you fired for this! DD: …..mam, this young man is the owner. CLAB: *looks at me* WHY DON’T YOU TELL HIM TO APPOLGISE (or how ever its spelled) TO ME THEN! Me: *really….you are no longer mild cheese, im down grading you to Mexican! (yup, going to hell for that one)* because you started this! You both can’t act like adults and neither one of you deserves it! Look if I have to come back out here and deal with this again, you will both be looking for a lot more than a parking spot for the night! *walks off like a boss!* Meanwhile back in the halls of ‘’fort phone ringing the fuck off the wall’’, I have 12 people trying to call me at the same time Me: good afternoon RSML, how may I help you Dag: umm….yeah….um…hi…um like how much like…you know ….your Me: *come on you can do it* Dag: um….like your 2 room bed suites are? Me: *in what way was that even a fucking sentence….* when are you coming in? Dag: um….. like……you know….that time….next month? Me: hummmmmm that time next month….. Dag: oh! Um….yeah you know….like Saturday? Me: ok getting closer, we narrowed it day to 5 days instead of 31 Dag: oh, um….you like….. Me: *oh for fuck sake* *begins trying to pull my hair out and presses the phone harder to my ear out of frustration* Dag: like…that one Saturday that everyone's coming in? Me: 199.95 +tax Dag: wow that much? Me: *oh now you speak coherently* yes sir Dag: for which Saturday? Me: um like…you know...um...all of them Dag: *hangs up phone* Me: and a fine fuck you to you too sir *hangs up phone and turns around to see a family of 5 behind me* Me: how may I help you? FO5: we will just check somewhere else *walks out the door* Me: normally this would be bad but we are full soo……fuck em…. Monty: *from the back office* you should be nicer, they might have come back Me: really ass, you were back there the whole time and you couldn’t come to help me? Monty: I have a ham sandwich, this take precedent over pot heads asking about rates Me: you know I can fire you right Monty: you wont though Me: ……mother of fuck…..bitch called my bluff Few mins go by and im about to head out for the night when a man that I can only describe as so old that he may have known jesus on a personal level. Me: good after noon, how may I help you? *20 mins later he makes it to the desk* Old Dude: (we will call him OG cuz he gansta!) do you have anyrooms? Me: yes sir ! I have 2 br suites available *maybe this is a cool old dude and my night is turning around for the good* OG: oh good, what that Me: *ah you’re a crazy old man* well that’s our trademark room with 2 queen size beds! OGh I need 2 rooms with 2 beds in each room Me: well I have 2 2bed room suites side by side if that will work for ya? OG: no no no, I only need 4 beds not 8 Me….um…k….well if you get two of our 2 bed room suites then it would accommodate you that would give you 1 queen per bedroom OG: no no no then I would only have 2 beds, I need 4 *he is getting a bit angry…..or tired….or both, idk, hes old and hard to read* Me: I know sir but 1 of our 2br suites will have 2 queen beds OGh ok so that’s 1 room with 4 beds total right? Me: *O.e…wooooooooooooooow….* no sir that’s 2 beds total per room OG I know giving me 4 beds total right? Me: yes….wait no…what? OG: do you even have rooms with 4 beds/ Me: no sir OG: do you have 2 rooms? Me: yes OG: how many beds do they have Me: 2 per rooms OG: so you do have 4 beds per room? Me: whos on first? OG: what? Me: no whats on second, do you want a key so you can look at one of the rooms? OG: yes….wait, what? Me:...here…..*grabs pen and paper* OG: oh….nevermind, that’s not what im looking for ME: FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU /RANT . . . . . . . . OR IS IT……

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gooodluckmode · 8 years ago

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im deep in the vld hole here and need to voice my thoughts on kallura given literally everything so far & how i believe it doesnt make sense? (even though a lot of ppl have already said that) and maybe my worries will subside a bit. this most definitely might be a jumbled mess but i hope if youre worried or anxious or just kinda ehhh on the whole possibility this will help your worries subside too!!

(definitely got longer than i intended it to be but its coherent!)

i guess first ill go with the vld staff and crew. have to start with this dont @ me: lauren montgomery retweeted very obviously romantic klance art months ago (which im still not over lol). onto more serious stuff, i do know in an interview it was said sexuality can be explored? jeremy shada has said on a few occasions that he wants more keith and lance interaction and he has said that lance is gonna mature! i see that as a really good opportunity to address sexuality - have lance contemplate his bc of his feelings for keith. like that potential just seems so big and i would be disappointed if they wasted it?? lance obviously has confidence issues and to have him work through everything would be rly nice to see? also bex brought up klance in an interview and looked so devious and happy when she said she likes watching the klance shippers explode (i love her). she also said kallura is a bromance and thats it. of course this means nothing for sure but its stuff to think about. steven yeun said quite strangely that you never know where the romance is or who it is between so like ?? that can go both ways given what question he gave that as an answer to (it was about keith and allura). and just in general i know this crew isnt against lgbt content and representation (they’ve already done a bit with pidge & worked on lok which has korrasami!) so why not go further? and of course if they do go further, im just gunna guess and say it would be with klance, and if klance happens, well, kallura cant? honestly vld is ripe for amazing storytelling and relationships (if they choose to address romantic relationships - which if they dont thats totally fine too! the friendships in this how have amazing potential too!) and i want to trust the staff to handle it all well no matter what and not force anything just bc it happened in the older voltron.

onto keith himself. we havent seen keith show any real interest in allura at all. heck he even wanted to leave her on a galra ship in s1? in s2 its obvious he is hurt by her comments but yeah of course who wouldnt be? when he was in the little pod thing with her in s2 he didnt act like he was interested in her that way and when she kinda sorta hugged him after apologizing he didnt really react like someone would if someone they were interested in p much hugged them? i mean yes there are maaany eps left (at least 4 seasons worth!) and i know shada mentioned slowburn and i think it was lauren and joaquim that mentioned romance not being the paladins’ priority bc duh war but theyve also said they can plant things in early eps and seasons to go back to and really the only two ships that you can really argue things have been planted for for ultimate slowburn are shallura and klance (have you seen how tender some moments between shiro and allura are??? and of course bonding moment).

allura also hasnt really shown any romantic interest in keith either and tbh i really think she just felt genuinely bad that she treated keith that way after finding out he was part galra? i dont really see the apology scene with the kinda hug as totally romantic but i definitely see why it worries ppl bc it does worry me too. (especially when coupled with the scene of them in the pod together in space but *big shrug* you know. i dont think that scene was romantic either except for when the pod exploded and they had to cling to each other??? but i digress). idk how other ppl interpret allura’s age and i dont wanna start discourse here but i personally feel like she is an adult in human age and keith is obviously a teenager and like yeah age gap problems but also??? no offense to keith but allura deserves someone more mature and just.. better for her?? and IF she gets paired up with someone i think given her interactions with shiro, he would make the most sense (plus she will probably play a very big role in finding him and saving him and im super excited for that!! allura is gonna kick some ass)

additionally ive already mentioned this but i mean the development and potential for both shallura and klance cant be ignored. this isnt a “shallura and/or klance might become canon post and here’s why” post but it is a post that points out two very popular ships in the fandom that make a lot more sense given everything. if you want a good klance meta, head on over here. i dont have any shallura metas on hand but if anyone knows of any link me!!

and also real quick i mean.. the crew on vld is capable of telling a good story and i really want to trust them to not write forced relationships if they make anything canon at all. i know a lot of ppl think s2 didnt rly compare to s1 but i think s2 was made to set us up for A LOT in the upcoming seasons. plus tyler labine has said that they do look at feedback they get from fans when considering things (for example they know how ppl have reacted to how hunk was treated and theyre going to work on showing him in a different and more heroic light rather than just the comedic relief food guy). i know this fandom has a bad rep when it comes to discourse about everything but i also know ive seen legit respectful constructive criticism from fans and thats what will be mostly heavily noted - NOT harassment!! dont harass the crew!! these people are working on a show you love and dont deserve the terrible harassment i know has gone on. being someone who lives for characters and character development more than plot, im really concerned about relationship dev in the upcoming seasons (platonic and romantic) and im sure a lot of ppl understand where im coming from but more than that i think its important to enjoy the show and the story, you know? i think the lore in this universe has got amazing potential and im excited to see it unfold along side these characters that i love!

feel free to message me or add more!

#voltron #voltron legendary defender #uhh......#klance #shallura #i guess yeah?#vld #i cant believe i sat down and typed this up but i had a convo on twitter #and wanted to get some things out lol #im so deep in voltron hell its not even funny i cant be saved #why am i so invested #i blame lance #bc i love him #and now i love everyone else too #so much #too much lmao #*#ok i need to do some schoolwork #feel free to message me or add to this

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ahouseoflies · 8 years ago

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The Best Films of 2016, Part IV

No, it’s not mid-February, Jack. Part I. Part II. Part III.

GOOD MOVIES

48. Jackie (Pablo Larrain) Pablo Larrain's aesthetic is rooted in the desire to demystify history. For a lot of the movie, I wasn't sure the week after JFK's assassination was history that needed to be demystified. Was it something that deserved more than Larrain's experimentation? Especially after a scene with John Hurt's priest that seemed superficial, after Portman's whispery impression went a bit too far, I didn't believe this game of dress-up.

But the pieces add up, especially the piece that is Mica Levi's score, which establishes the film's eerie intimacy and is one of the year's best. That priest I mentioned comes back for the best scene of the film, one that cements Jackie's role as a shaper of history herself, and he proves that the film deserved my patience. In the end, this is a movie with a real point of view, and I preferred it to the more expected approach. 47. Midnight Special (Jeff Nichols) Especially at the beginning, the mystery of Jeff Nichols' script works really well. People wrote that the film is indebted to early Spielberg, and I think they mean the sense of wonder. But it really has more to do with the way the information is parceled out in the parallel action. Like, a character will know a police call sign for some reason, and fifteen minutes later, when someone asks him what he used to do back home, he'll pause for a few beats and mutter, "State trooper." That doesn't seem like a big deal on paper, but those buttons at the ends of scenes create a lot of momentum. And while most people just see menace or inscrutability in Michael Shannon's square jaw, Nichols keeps capturing love and sacrifice. I don't know what I wanted from the ending, but its power is inversely related to how pompous the movie is about it. The film kind of lost me in the final third, but there's something to be said for a filmmaker who, instead of joining the franchise machine, just decided to make his own version of X-Men. 46. Don’t Think Twice (Mike Birbiglia) After an invigorating and true-to-life first half, Don't Think Twice suffered from insisting on balancing the ensemble. Every character gets a full arc and equal screen time, even though there are at least two that I didn't care about and two that could have been combined. Plus, a character makes a huge romantic leap that I didn't believe at all. But I don't care about those fairly major faults because the film gets the spirit of what it's depicting right. The improv bits are funny, but they're also believable as unwritten bits. Birbiglia's screenplay masters the subtle mixture of pride, envy, joy, and resentment that comes when a friend succeeds in something you can't. It also nails the weary desperation of artists of a certain age. And, thanks to yet another honest, soulful performance from Gillian Jacobs, the film is able to depict the blurry line between contentment and complacency. 45. Wiener (Josh Kriegman, Elyse Steinberg) Weiner is exactly the movie it claims it is, which is sort of at odds with Anthony Weiner's presentation of himself. In other words, it's a straightforward, honest portrayal of a serpentine, dishonest man. Or maybe dishonest isn't quite the right word--though he does lie all the way to the end, even when it's unnecessary. It's more that Weiner convinces himself of things that are untrue. As far as that notion goes, the film is a compelling character study of the type of person who gets into politics in the first place, the specific chemistry of idealism and cynicism that it takes to believe that one man can and should represent everyone in the biggest city in the country. The filmmakers shape that analysis with a tight tragic hero structure to complement his foibles. That shaping is what gives me a little bit of reservation. From the cutesy titles to music cues to their tendency to not shut up, the directors connect a few too many dots for my taste, all to serve a "can you compartmentalize public lives and personal lives?" question that I'm frankly tired of. But if that's the trade-off for capturing the exact, raw moment of Huma Abedin hearing about Carlos Danger for the first time, then it's fine with me. Sydney Leathers is the definition of thirsty. 44. Born to Be Blue (Robert Budreau) It didn't vault the hurdle of greatness for me, becoming more conventional as it went, but Born to Be Blue's conceit worked well. The "starring in a film about himself" idea plays with reality in a sticky way. Unlike something like Miles Ahead, Born to Be Blue gives us enough of what made Chet Baker great that we can see the hole in his life as he tries to overcome addiction and re-teach himself the trumpet. A lesser actor would have found scenes to overplay, but Ethan Hawke's performance is just like Baker's style, "below the center, almost flat." And I mean that as a compliment. Playing most of the film out from a concentrated low point allows it to crest at a bittersweet moment, maybe not the perfect ending for Baker's life, but the perfect ending for this story. The coda of the film states that Baker continued to work "and" remained a heroin addict. Not "but." Budreau goes out on a limb and allows that some of the artist's greatness arose from heroin. Which proves that this is a film interested in learning about the actual man, not excusing away what made him complex.

43. Train to Busan (Yeon Sang-Ho) Have you ever written a sonnet? You have to understand the form before you start writing, and part of the writing is understanding how powerless you are to the form. It's one of the only mediums of art that squelches originality: A great sonnet is one that exemplifies the form, not necessarily one that transcends it. Zombie movies are kind of similar, and Train to Busan gets the form through-and-through. The rules are clear about how people become infected and what the zombies can and can't do. Then we meet fully-realized characters, some of whom we're rooting for, some of whom we're not sure about, and some of whom definitely have a bite coming. The economy with which the film makes those divisions is breathtaking. "Oh, he let the girl go ahead of him at the bathroom. Cool guy." "He told that colleague to straighten her tie. He needs to die." The effects are SyFy channel quality, and everything runs a bit long. But the film barely ever missteps. The central character's journey to, ahem, humanity is a familiar one, but it's not like I would want the final couplet of a sonnet in lines three and four. 42. Hacksaw Ridge (Mel Gibson) Mel Gibson stays an auteur of suffering. The first third is imbued with a broad, Capra-esque tone that I didn't respond to but that was definitely consistent and intentional. Of course there's a coda with the real-life Desmond Doss, which makes Hacksaw Ridge another casualty to 2016's worst trend. As an action director, however, Gibson delivers the goods with coherent, visceral conflict. Did I write "action" above? Because what I meant was "violence." Like all other Mel Gibson films, Hacksaw Ridge is marked by nearly pornographic violence. He gets the post-Saving Private Ryan irony of war, and he stages Japanese seppuku with almost the same reverence as American sacrifice. After an hour of environments that Doss can grasp or control, the horror and chaos of war hits even harder. (One of the most gruesome moments comes in an extraneous nightmare sequence, the epitome of an uncontrollable scenario.) And after Doss has been hurt himself, after the stigmata on his rope-burned hands, after the ablution with water, after the shot that makes his descent on a stretcher look like an ascent to heaven--only then can he be redeemed. 41. Green Room (Jeremy Saulnier) As tense as it is realistic, Green Room does the hard work of developing the central band's dynamics before allowing all hell to break loose once that band is pushed. There isn't a wasted scene in the first half, and the characters and location seem lived-in and authentic. As the film became more grisly in its second half, it lost a bit of my interest. Part of it is that Saulnier isn't yet a skilled director of action, and part of it is that his script is trying so hard to be subtle that it sometimes sacrifices clarity. I'm of the minority opinion that he botched the ending of Blue Ruin, and I'll be of the minority opinion that he botched the ending here. (Excellent closing metaphorical note with the dog though.) Still, it's rare to see thrillers with such organic escalation of stakes and such committed performances. 40. How to Be Single (Christian Ditter) There's some good old-fashioned joke-telling going on here, and I laughed a lot. The film is light enough on its feet to be freewheeling in one scene and emotionally bare in the next. More notably, it finishes with the message that not everyone's happiness comes from romantic relationships, which is a refreshing note. Like many ensemble films of its type, it occasionally drops a character for way too long and treats that ellipsis as growth. And I would say that I want Rebel Wilson to do something different, but that's just kind of a nice way of saying that I want Rebel Wilson to go away. The rest of the cast, including potential Movie Star Dakota Johnson and undeniable Movie Star Jake Lacy, is aces. 39. Mustang (Deniz Gamze Erguven) At first I thought that the approach was too broad for what the film was trying to explore, but then it got more heartbreaking with each minute. The comparisons to The Virgin Suicides are obvious, (For my money, Coppola's film is a more lush and meditative work of art than Mustang ever is.) but there's a unique desperation at play here. Erguven's camera produces so much empathy that I felt active patriarchal shame when characters were asking to see a sheet stained with a girl's hymen blood on her (arranged) wedding night. That being said, I wish the film had ended two minutes earlier, on a note of tonal false security, rather than a note of narrative false security.

38. Love & Friendship (Whit Stillman) The marriage of Whit Stillman and Jane Austen makes almost too much sense because the pleasures of both of their works are entirely verbal. If you look up "droll" in the dictionary, it's Stillman giving Austen a behind-hug while she takes a selfie. The difference is that Austen uses superficiality as a jab, and it sets the reader up for a piercing moment of emotion. Think Darcy's proposal or (wink wink wink wink wink) Cher realizing that she loves Josh. Stillman never really gets there; he's content with the characters' vapidity, even if that vapidity is hilarious for the entire runtime. Beckinsale has been fighting werewolves for so long that it's easy to forget how enchanting she is. She slips right back into Stillman's rhythms, and the void of compassion that is Lady Susan might as well be an ancestor to Last Days of Disco's Charlotte. However, the real find is Tom Bennett, who plays Sir James Martin, a man labeled in one of Stillman's opening tableaux as "a bit of a rattle." Bennett fidgets on the periphery of each room, throwing in a silly walk, congratulating an author on writing "in both poetry and verse." Martin's motivations are simpler than any other character's, but Bennett does so much with the role. 37. Triple 9 (John Hillcoat) The rest of the movie never climbs back to the level of the gripping opening, but the exhilaration doesn't get that much lower either. Triple 9 is a bit overstuffed for its running time--there are actually two ingenious plots being developed when either one would have been enough. So sometimes you scratch your head about a connection that is most likely on the cutting room floor. But dammit if there aren't some actors punching way under their weight classes. (I'm particularly enjoying this stage of Kate Winslet's career, which I call "Yeah. Why not? I have bills.") A cast like this lifts the screenplay's twists because you end up going, "They're going to kill off X? Well, yeah, I guess it's him or that other famous person." In one of the filmmakers' smartest moves, Triple 9 takes place in Atlanta, avoiding other productions' habit of taking the city's tax credits and having it stand in for some other metropolis. The locations feel gritty and lived-in, and Casey Affleck provides a credible Georgia accent, not just a generic American South. John Hillcoat, a director I've been lukewarm on, isn't slumming it just because this is a genre picture. 36. Little Men (Ira Sachs) The best thing that Ira Sachs's films have going for them is that there are no good or bad guys. Here we have more characters trying to do the right thing and trying their best to get by. (The pet theme of gentrification is back as well.) Greg Kinnear nails two big moments, but the problem is that the kids are the main characters. And, not to be mean to pre-teen actors, the proceedings are kind of limited by their performances. One of the boys in the film might be gay--he's still figuring it out--and the between-the-lines writing of that idea is way better than the execution of it. It's unclear whether Sacks worked out the levels of camaraderie versus attraction versus confusion with the boys, and I think the overall piece suffers for it, though it is a type of character we don't see even halfway articulated enough. 35. Dheepan (Jacques Audiard) We've seen many films about surrogate families or adopted families whose members, against all odds, come together because they need one another. How about a loose, unofficial family that doesn't work? The adults never fall in love. The kid never feels protected or safe. No one is responsible for anyone else. Dheepan isn't as depressing as that might sound, but it is a slice-of-life that is exactly that matter-of-fact. As usual, Audiard excels with detail: He gets the daily challenges of immigration right. "Oh, people alphabetize by last name in this country, not by first name. How was I supposed to know that?" Some, uh, important stuff happens at the end--there's an almost Taxi Driver-like switch that gets flipped for Dheepan--but I needed more dots to be connected before that. I didn't want the characters' devolutions telegraphed, but I would like to trace them after the fact. 34. Blue Jay (Alexandre Lehmann) A modest but haunting production, expertly acted, that resists any temptation to go bigger and more movie-like until...the revelation that does just that. 33. The Wailing (Na Hong-Jin) Let's say you're watching a movie, and something bizarre happens, then the film cuts to a guy bolting upright in bed. It was all a nightmare, right? You've been taught to disregard the previous scene because it didn't actually happen. What The Wailing's style presupposes is...maybe it did, and the guy waking up is just an unrelated new scene? I spent most of the first hour wondering if I was even watching The Wailing correctly, and the destabilizing elements extend to the tone and the characters. In the way it threads the needle between scary and silly, the fluid tone reminded me of Bong Joon-Ho's Mother, to do that condescending thing in which a critic compares two movies from the same country. Do Won Kwak's police officer ends up trying on heroism, but for the first half he's a guy whose daughter has to meet him at the station with dry clothes. Eventually though, the film leaves the idiosyncrasy for the trappings of any other supernatural thriller. Granted, it's an artsy supernatural thriller--the cross-cutting exorcism sequence is a stunner--but the last leg of the film drags and amounts to something disappointingly literal. 32. Maggie’s Plan (Rebecca Miller) The characters of Rebecca Miller's script are all academics and, in quite a shocker, she treats them like the intelligent people they are. There's some farce here and some bad decisions, but they're decisions founded on smart people's accurate self-reflection. Couple that with a three-year flash forward as audacious as it is effective, and this is a nice surprise. Bill Hader's character is ye ol' screenplay's sounding board flatline, and Maya Rudolph is wasted even more. As far as the leads go, Julianne Moore's performance feels too broad, and I started to wonder, for the first time, if Greta Gerwig is a better actress than even the best actress on Earth.

31. Tower (Keith Maitland) There's quite a bit of novelty at work here. Maitland uses animation to recreate events of fifty years ago in a way that I never even really imagined could be done. By interviewing subjects, iPhoneing the (largely unchanged) setting, and rotoscoping over those backgrounds, it's as if the younger version of those people are going through that harrowing day all over again. When the novelty wears off, however, I don't think the film asserts enough. There's the montage of all the other mass shootings at the end, but too much of that connection--this as the day we lost our innocence--is implied. Charles Whitman is never shown, and his name comes up only twice. But by making him a faceless madman, Maitland might be over-simplifying the issue. I feel bad for pointing that out since this is a wholly compelling, admirable film that just didn't cross over into greatness for me. It pushes the genre forward. 30. Don’t Breathe (Fede Alvarez) After a refreshingly economical setup (being set in Detroit adds automatic desperation), Don't Breathe is Pure Cinema through the night vision-y sequence. Especially if you read Rocky's family member as a daughter, not a sister--as I do--the characters' motivations come through loud and clear, preparing us for a breathless (ha ha) and visually confident second act. I would say that Fede Alvarez shows promise, but that sounds too underhanded for something that actually is a cashing-in accomplishment.The rest is fine. Something happens at the hour mark that was ballsy, then the screenplay kind of backtracked on it. And I'm far from Mr. Identity Politics, but how much more interesting would it have been if the Hispanic kid with cornrows was the calculating one whose dad owned a security company, the girl was the destructive hothead with criminal connections, and the White guy was the young parent with the terrible homelife? As opposed to the way it is, the matching quiz that you totally just aced. 29. The Nice Guys (Shane Black) With its crackly dialogue, west coast cynicism, and convoluted plot, The Nice Guys is a typical Shane Black film at a time when a typical Shane Black film is what we need most. If only it took place during Christmas time. Black sifts in ideas about alcoholism and What It Means to Be a Good Person; bystanders get clipped by stray bullets to remind us that the violence has actual consequences. But still, perhaps because the left turns and reversals are so relentless, the film feels a bit weightless by the end. Is it wrong for me to think this role as some sort of arch greyhound is Ryan Gosling's best performance? Even though I've loved him in the same pictures everyone else loved him in and some of the ones no one loved him in? He has to shoulder acting nightmares, like pretending to be drunk, and entire sequences depend upon his physical comedy. For most of the movie, it's unclear if Holland March is even good at his job, but there Gosling is crafting a character from the very first time we see him, crawling to catch a phone that stops ringing just as he gets there. It's not an easy role--somehow both adrift and paternal--but he attacks it with expressive, exuberant invention. He does everything shy of singing and dancing, and he does that in a film higher up on this list. 28. Sing Street (John Carney) It's nothing we haven't seen before--in fact, John Carney is remaking his own films in pretty clear ways--but Sing Street is a delight. The film is set in 1985, and its pre-Internet inspirations really suit Carney's optimism and the characters' guilelessness. The film is built upon the sort of serendipity and inspiration that is exempt from the anxiety of influence that a bunch of kids starting a band would have today. I could have done without so much of the performance in the school gym (about ten minutes could be shaved off easily), but both the romance and the big brother relationship rang true for me. Sing Street is the perfect version of what Carney has been trying to do all along. Now pick something else please. 27. De Palma (Noah Baumbach, Jake Paltrow) The more demanding part of me wants to say, "No, tell me more about when you tailed your own father as he was having an affair! Tell me more before moving on so breezily." But that would be discounting how candid De Palma actually is in, professionally at least, this insular, warts-and-all retrospective. He's honest about his work experiences, ("Cliff Robertson was terrible to work with.") his own limitations, ("I don't care for car chases. I'm not a car guy.") and the direction of cinema ("So what do you get? Visual cliches.") If nothing else, it feels like a privilege to see some of these indelible images on the big screen when I hadn't before. More importantly perhaps, the film doubles as a portrait of a time when artists were allowed to make mistakes. De Palma's a survivor, but in the high stakes corporate hellscape of global entertainment, that's a privilege. 26. Pervert Park (Frida Barkfors, Lasse Barkfors) Many people who are upset about current events are using movies as palliative care: a silly comedy or a mindless horror film to numb one from the horrors of daily life. I went the other way on the night after the election: a haunting, brutal documentary about the ugly depths of cycles of abuse. Pervert Park is a lean film marked by candid interviews with sex offenders. Those interviews are unpleasant, sometimes because of the selfish, misguided, even evil betrayals that the subjects committed. Sometimes because of the miscarriage of justice lurking on the margins of the piece. But if nothing else, the film teaches us that these are people, not monsters, who deserve dignity even if they took it away from someone else. I wanted more at times; a few of the subjects don't feel fleshed out, even though they reveal a damning amount already. But the saddest part is that the people who need to see this movie, the ones making policy about mental health and recovery, will not see it. So I'm back at being upset.

25. The Birth of a Nation (Nate Parker) (Yeah. What up?) The Birth of a Nation was independently financed, but it does what the best studio films used to: It rousingly hits its beats with power that is two parts sincere and one part overdetermined. It's far from perfect. There's a bit of me-first filmmaking, light streaming through slats type of stuff, and the less magic realism the better for me at this point. Maybe the final fifteen minutes are padded, and a crucial scene, in which Nat explains his plan, strains to connect the dots between his equanimity and rage. But Nat is more complex than he would have been in most hands, burdened by the same things that free him. Furthermore, the element of the film that feels new and sophisticated is his relationship with Samuel Turner, the slave master he has known since childhood. The two have an uneasy dynamic that they refuse to talk about; they would even be friends if, you know, Samuel didn't deny Nat's fundamental humanity. (The relationship is made more tenuous, of course, by--spoilers for history--the fact that Nat will eventually kill Samuel.) In what might be the first time I've bought him, Armie Hammer plays that plantation owner, who dances on the edge of benevolence but is capable of real hatred. He believes he isn't "one of the bad ones," but he has justification after justification for why Black anger, not White oppression, is the problem. It's one of the pieces that is meant to resonate sharply in 2016--like almost everything else, it's pushed right to the edge without feeling forced. 24. Gleason (J. Clay Tweel) There are a few times in the film when Steve Gleason and his wife Michel say that, rather than sainthood, they're just striving for authenticity and honesty. That's what this documentary is aiming for as well. I could probably nitpick, especially with the opening's stock footage or Scott Fujita's guyliner, but the film is founded on raw emotion and delivers with rare intimacy. I should note: I'm a recent father, and I know this film was poignant for me in a way that it wouldn't have been even a year ago. The closest antecedent for Gleason is Life Itself, but as articulate as Roger Ebert was about his illness, he didn't also have a baby to raise, a father to spar with, and as acute an awareness of the moments passing him by.

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