#we’ve lived through so many different eras but

[blossoms-phan]

in their natural habitat. if you even care

[nhlclover]

𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐊, 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 | 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐇

summary: after radio silence from you, will worries that you've forgotten your pregame tradition before his nhl debut.

warnings: little tiny bit of angst in the beginning, kissing, gross fluff

word count: 1.04k

notes: this almost went a totally different (and heartwrenching) way. also i know this is unrealistic but i don’t care!

The air crackled with anticipation as the Sharks’ first game of the season loomed closer, the arena filling with a sea of excited fans eager to witness the dawn of a new era in Bay Area hockey. The buzzing energy seeped through the concrete walls, even reaching the locker room where Will sat, shoulders hunched, elbows resting on his knees. His gaze stayed glued to the scuffed floor beneath him, though his mind was somewhere else entirely. He was thirty minutes away from making his NHL debut, the dream he’d worked toward his whole life. But instead of feeling exhilarated, his stomach was twisted into a million knots, and it was all because of you.

He ran a shaky hand through his unruly hair before picking up his phone for what felt like the hundredth time, staring at the screen with an expression that bordered on desperation. Still no messages. His thumb hovered over your contact, but he stopped himself from calling. You’d always been the first to text him before every game, sending a sweet “good luck” that never failed to make him smile, no matter how many times he read it. It was your thing, something he’d come to rely on, especially on game days. Today, of all days, you hadn’t said a word.

Will swallowed hard, trying to drown out the unsettling thud of disappointment. He clenched his jaw, tossing his phone into the compartment above his head with a bit more force than necessary.

“Yo, Will, what’s with the long face?” Macklin asked, dropping into the spot beside him, his voice cutting through the low hum of pregame chatter. “You’re about to live the dream, man. Smile a little.”

Will exhaled heavily, rubbing a hand over his tired eyes. “It’s nothing. Just… personal stuff.”

Macklin leaned in, his expression both amused and concerned. “Personal stuff? Come on, dude, you’re acting like you lost your puppy or something. Spill.”

“It’s just…” Will hesitated, debating whether he should even say it out loud. Finally, he gave in. “My girlfriend, she’s always texted me before every game. It’s kind of our thing. But today—nothing. And it’s driving me insane, man.”

“Dude, you’re trippin’ over a text?” Macklin shook his head with a grin. “She’s probably just busy or caught up with something. Doesn’t mean she forgot about you.”

Will nodded, though Macklin’s words did little to ease the uneasy feeling lodged in his chest. He wanted to believe that was all it was, but the silence from you felt heavier today, almost like a warning sign he couldn’t ignore.

The minutes ticked by, each one dragging slower than the last, and soon enough, Coach Warsofsky’s booming voice echoed through the room, calling everyone to attention. “Alright, listen up! First game of the season, boys. This is where we show everyone what Sharks hockey is all about. But before we hit the ice, we’ve got a special guest who is going to announce our starting lineup for tonight.”

Will barely registered the words, his mind still tangled up in thoughts of you, until he heard a voice that made him freeze.

“Hey, everyone. I’m super excited to be here tonight.”

His head snapped up so fast it was a miracle he didn’t get whiplash. There you were, standing just inside the doorway, looking slightly nervous but glowing under the fluorescent lights. It took him a second to realize he wasn’t dreaming, and when your eyes met his, all the tension drained out of his body. For the first time all day, he felt like he could finally breathe.

You cleared your throat, glancing down at the paper in your hands as you began to read out the names of Will’s teammates. With each name, the excitement in your voice grew, until you reached the last one. “And finally, starting at center, number 2…Will Smith!”

The room erupted into cheers, but Will didn’t hear any of it. He was already halfway across the room, ignoring the playful jeers from his teammates. He reached you in three long strides, scooping you up in his arms and lifting you off the ground. “You’re here,” he breathed, burying his face in your neck as if he needed to make sure you were real. “You actually came.”

You laughed, the sound like music to his ears. “Of course, I did. I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

Before he could think twice, he kissed you, right there in front of his entire team, not caring one bit about the whistles and hoots echoing around the room. He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “You had me worried, you know that?” he murmured. Will took your hand in his, leading you out into the hall where you could talk in private, away from his teasing teammates.

“Had to keep you on your toes,” you teased, giving him a playful nudge. “Besides, I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Well, mission accomplished,” he chuckled, taking you back in his arms, keeping them wrapped around you as if afraid you might disappear. “I thought you forgot about me.”

“Never,” you said softly, fingers threading through his curls. “Good luck, Will. You’re going to be amazing.”

His heart swelled at your words, the weight that had been pressing down on him all day finally lifting. “Thank you,” he whispered. “You have no idea how much this means.”

He kissed you again, this time slower, savouring the warmth of your lips and the way you melted against him. His hands moved to your face, cupping your cheeks, feeling the way your lips curved into a smile against his. When he finally pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, he whispered, “I’ll make you proud out there.”

“You already have,” you replied, giving him one last peck on the lips. “You should probably go back now or else you’re gonna miss your first game.”

Will nodded, a confident smile spreading across his face. With one final squeeze of your hand, he turned and jogged back into the locker room, feeling lighter than he had all day. The game hadn’t even started yet, but he already knew this was going to be a night he’d never forget.

[krirebr]

More Than This 1

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x f!reader, Steve Rogers & f!reader

Word Count: ~4.1k

Summary: Arranged marriages have always been used to solidify business deals among the ultra-wealthy. Your stepfather wants to be in business with Harlan Thrombey, so now it's your turn.

Warnings: Heavy angst, age difference, adult themes, institutional sexism, a very brief conversation about the possibility of abuse, explicit language, the slooowest burn - Warnings will be added as needed for subsequent parts. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: And here we go! A huge thanks to @drabblewithfrannybarnes for helping me nail down some of the worldbuilding details and @paperweight91 for reading so much of this and especially telling me how to fix the scene that refused to be fixed. You're both the best!!

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. Even if it's just screeching at me. As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

It was uncommon to be called to your stepfather’s office. The high rise on the edge of Studio City had housed the heads of his family since the silent film era, give or take a remodel and expansion or five. You’d only been here a handful of times, mostly left out of the family business. When his assistant opened the door for you, you were surprised to see a small group of people, all in expensive business attire, surrounding your stepdad, Joseph Rogers, at his desk. Even more surprising was the figure standing in the corner, staring out the window – your mother. 

“Mom?” you asked, unable to hide your confusion. She just gave you a tight smile in return and turned her attention to her husband.

“Sweetheart,” he called to you. It’s what he’d called you since you’d first met him as a child and it had always felt patronizing and empty. You were well aware that you were an annoyance he’d been saddled with when he’d married your mother for her late first husband’s connections. Eighteen years later, you wished he’d drop the pretense already. “Please, have a seat,” he gestured to the leather chair in front of his large oak desk. 

You sat down across from him. “What’s going on?” you asked, an uneasy feeling building in your gut.

“Congratulations are in order,” he said, smiling at you. “You’re engaged.”

Years of experience at bullshit industry and society parties had you pasting on a benign smile. This was your fourth, no fifth engagement, the first one dating all the way back to when you were 10. They’d all dissolved for one reason or another, the business arrangements at the heart of them disintegrating too. But looking around the room at all the extra people in attendance, you knew better than to dismiss this outright. You were older now. Many of your friends from school had found themselves married as part of business deals in the last few years. Love matches were uncommon in the circles you frequented. There wasn’t much patience for love when this much money was at stake. But still, just because it was expected, that didn’t make you any more ready for your turn. 

“That’s wonderful,” you said, putting all your effort into keeping your tone even. “May I ask whom I’m engaged to?” 

“Ransom Drysdale,” Joseph said. “He’s the grandson of Harlan Thrombey, the mystery writer. We’ve been trying to secure the movie rights to his works for years and this should finally cement it. It’s fantastic news for our family and this studio. The joining of our families should create many opportunities for all of us. Ransom is one of the most eligible bachelors in Boston. You should feel very lucky.”

Lucky was the last thing you felt right now, but you kept your face schooled as you ran through your mental Rolodex to try to figure out if you had any social connections to this man. The fact that he lived on the other side of the country made it less likely but not impossible. 

“So,” he continued, sliding a stack of papers across his desk to you, “all you need to do is sign and initial the contract where it’s marked, and we can get started finalizing the details for the wedding next month.”

At that, all your poise disappeared and the smile dropped off your face. “Next month?”

Joseph nodded. “It’s important to strike while the iron is hot with deals like this. So go ahead and sign so that we can all move on to the next stage.”

Your heart thumped wildly in your chest. This was happening. This one was real. “Shouldn’t I read it first?” you asked, somewhat desperately.

He shook his head, “No need,” he said, gesturing to the man you recognized as one of the family lawyers standing beside him. “Julian has already gone through it with a fine-toothed comb. All of our interests are well represented. It’s all in legalese anyway. Impossible to understand if you aren’t a lawyer.” He chuckled and many of the people standing around the desk, staring at you, joined him. 

“I just–” you stammered. You didn’t know what to do, but you knew you couldn’t pick up that pen.

Irritation bloomed on your stepfather’s face. “Lydia!” he called. 

Your mother stopped staring out the window and stepped up to your chair. “Honey,” she said gently, putting her hand on your back. “This will be such a good thing. And then we can get to all the fun parts of planning the wedding!” She picked up the pen and held it out to you. You took a moment to look at her. Her features were drawn and her eyes looked exhausted. She’d looked that way as long as you could remember. It did nothing to reassure you. 

You glanced at the door behind you. You knew you weren’t getting out of this room without signing the contract. You took a deep breath and took the pen from your mother. There was nothing else to do. No other choice. You quickly flipped through the papers, initialing where indicated and signing the last page. Your hand was shaking so badly you weren’t sure any of it was legible.

When you turned over the last page, Joseph clapped his hands together. “Excellent!” He took a large binder off the desk and passed it over to you. “We’ve put some information together for you on your new fiance. Ransom will be in town next week to take you to dinner so that the two of you can get to know each other. Now, I’m sure you want to go celebrate, so we won’t keep you any longer.”

At the clear dismissal, you stood up. Many people in the room offered their congratulations and you nodded to them, forcing a strained smile. Then you made your way out on shaky legs, needing to see the one person who might be able to help you process what had just happened.

You’d been six years old when you and your mother had moved into the Rogers mansion. You were terrified, already able to sense Joseph’s indifference towards you. But your comfort during that time, and all the time after, had been his son, Steve. Twelve years old, still reeling from the death of his mother and just as deeply lonely as you, he’d named himself your protector, shielding you from his father’s annoyance and your mother’s sorrow. He guarded you from monsters when you woke up in the middle of the night after a nightmare and would stare down your bullies on the playground. You were very quickly inseparable. 

When you became engaged the first time when you were ten, sixteen-year-old Steve had taken you out for ice cream, telling you not to worry too much, there was so much time before anything would happen and that everything would be ok. When the arrangement had fallen apart, he’d hugged you and whispered in your ear, “See? I’m always right.”

That was the memory you couldn’t stop thinking about as you let yourself into your stepbrother’s apartment, using the key he’d given you on the day he’d moved in. He wasn’t in his front room, so you moved all the way to the back, to the spare room he used as an art studio. You lightly knocked on the doorframe as you entered, trying not to startle him. He was standing with his hands on his hips, staring at a half-finished painting, but looked over his shoulder as soon as he heard you. There was a warm smile on his face, but it dropped as soon as he took in your expression. “What happened?” he asked as you flopped down onto his couch.

“I think I might be really fucked, Steve,” you said quietly, your hands still shaking. You couldn’t get them to stop.

“What happened?” he asked again, more forcefully this time, as he dragged a chair from the corner of the room so that he could sit right across from you.

“Your dad, he–” You stopped and shook your head. Steve’s face darkened. “I’m engaged,” you said with a helpless shrug.

“Okay,” he said evenly. “That might not be the most dire thing. You’ve been engaged before. Nothing ever comes of it.”

You sighed. “They’ve set a date this time.”

“Oh,” was all he could say at first, surprise on his face. “That’s new.”

“Yeah.” you nodded. “A month from now.”

That had Steve sitting up straight. “The hell?!”

“It’s happening this time. I can feel it.”

“Hey, no,” he said, reaching out to touch your arm. “Let me try to talk some sense into him. Buy you some time. He might listen to me.”

You shook your head. “Everything’s already signed. They made me sign. I don’t think there’s any getting out of it.”

“He give you a name?”

“Ransom Drysdale.”

Before he was able to stop himself, Steve grimaced.

“Fuck,” you muttered, briefly covering your face with your hands.

“No, it’s– I’ve only met him once or twice, ok? I don’t actually know anything about him.”

“But you don’t like him.”

“He’s–” Steve paused, clearly trying to find the words that wouldn’t upset you even more, “a strong personality.” He looked at you carefully. “And he’s older than you. Older than me, even.”

“I know,” you sighed, reaching for your bag and taking out the folder. “They gave me this.”

You handed it to Steve and he paged through it. “This is intense. Do you think they gave him one about you?”

You shrugged. “Dunno. Probably. Can’t imagine it says anything interesting.”  

Steve nodded, seriously. “It’s probably pretty thin. Just the story of that time you completely freaked out when you weren’t allowed to bring Mr. BunBun to school with you.”

You grabbed the pillow next to you and hurled it at him. “You’re such a dick!” you laughed. “I’m very upset!”

He batted the pillow back at you and cackled when it hit you in the chest. “He deserves to know the kind of person he’s marrying. The kind who throws a five-alarm tantrum when she’s separated from her stuffed bunny.”

“I was eight, asshole!” You laughed again but then your brain caught on something Steve had said. “Holy shit, he’s marrying me. I’m getting married. I don’t know anything about him. He could be anyone. You don’t even like him! He could hurt me and–” 

“Hey, no!” Steve interrupted quickly. “I might not know much, but I know that. He won’t do that. I’m sure of it. And if he ever even tried, I’d be there so fast. They’d never find his body.”

“Will he be kind to me?” you asked quietly. He opened his mouth to say something, but you stopped him. “Be honest with me. Please.”

He sighed. “I don’t know.”

“Well,” you said, trying so hard not to cry, “I guess at least now we know exactly how your dad feels about me.”

Steve closed his eyes and quietly said your name. When he opened them, there was a resolved look on his face that was painfully familiar. His ‘I’m going to fix this’ face. He was intractable when he got like this. He set his jaw. “I’m going to talk to Dad.”

You shook your head. “Steve.” Your stepfather was just as intractable as his son. This would only result in a shouting match that wouldn’t go anywhere.

“It’s going to be alright,” he said resolutely.

All you could do was say “OK,” with a wan smile, knowing it was a lie. You lay down on the couch and curled up on your side. “Do you mind if I stay here for a bit?”

“Of course not. Lola good on her own for a while?”

You nodded. Your little dog was probably asleep in her kennel. “Yeah, for a while.”

“Do you mind if I keep working on this?” he asked, gesturing to his painting.

“I like watching you paint,” you said, trying to find comfort in the familiarity of something you’d done since you were small.

He stood up and turned back to his easel, and you did your best to focus on watching him paint and not think about how, if this went through, you’d have to move to Boston and you wouldn’t get to have this time with your brother anymore.

As expected, Steve’s talk with Joseph yielded no results when it came to your future. The only thing it seemed to have any effect on was their own relationship, Steve announcing to you that he was no longer speaking to his father the next time you saw him. You hadn’t expected anything else.

For your part, you spent the next week vacillating between going overboard preparing for your first meeting with Ransom—pouring over your folder on him, making salon appointments, shopping for a dress that would make the right impression—and pretending your problems didn’t exist. As such, the day of the dinner still snuck up on you. You were a nervous wreck. 

The plan was for him to pick you up at your apartment, but an hour before he was supposed to arrive, you got a text from an unfamiliar number telling you to meet him at the restaurant instead. 

So now you sat at the table, alone, in a new dress with your hair done. You’d arrived ten minutes early, and he was now 20 minutes late. You took a deep breath, staring at the empty seat across from you. He would show up. He had to. 

Another ten minutes passed and, as you waived off the server for a third time, you let yourself consider what it would mean if your future husband had stood you up. You should go. It’d be pathetic to stay. And even if he did show up after you’d gone, it’d make a point. Show you had a backbone. You should definitely go.

Just as your hand began to inch toward your handbag on the table, the hostess came through, leading a tall, handsome man to your table. She stopped beside you and then ducked away. The man looked at you critically. He said your name like a question and, when you nodded, he sat down. He didn’t introduce himself, but he could only be Ransom. 

He was dressed nicely in an expensive sweater and slacks, but much more casually than you were and looking around the restaurant than most of the other people there, too. And when he sat down, you could see the places in his sweater where it was threadbare or torn. You tried very hard to not take it as a sign of how he felt about this dinner, felt about you.

You cleared your throat to say something, you weren’t entirely sure what when he glanced at your glass of water. “You don’t drink?”

“No, I do,” you said, but when he smirked you realized how that sounded. “I can,” you amended, but that sounded odd too. “I mean, I don’t have anything against it. I was just waiting for you.”

He snorted. “Well, aren’t you polite?”  His tone made it feel like the worst thing you could possibly be. He flagged down the server and ordered a glass of the Macallan 18, then huffed impatiently while you asked questions about their wine selection. You didn’t know how he could be half an hour late and make you feel bad for taking your time ordering. 

Once you’d finally made your choice and the server left, you tried not to squirm as he gave you a once-over with his eyes. You felt disappointing without really knowing why. You tried to shrug off the feeling, but then Ransom said, “How old even are you?” with scorn in his voice.

You cleared your throat. “Twenty-four,” you tried to say with confidence.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered.

You did your best not to shrink in on yourself. Maybe he was just nervous too. It was a weird situation. But, “Didn’t they tell you about me?”

He snorted again and rolled his eyes. “Gave me a whole binder. I never opened it.”

You looked down at your empty place setting, embarrassed. You’d studied every inch of what they’d given you, hoping to show him how seriously you were taking this and he couldn’t care less. “Oh,” was all you were able to say. 

He grinned a little meanly. “You got one too, didn’t you? Don’t tell me you’ve memorized facts about me that you were ready to rattle off to impress me.”

“No,” you growled out. You weren’t going to let him make you feel small just for trying to show interest in the person you were going to have to spend the rest of your life with.

He swiped one hand over his mouth and chin. “My god,” he muttered, “this whole thing is fucking ridiculous.”

The waitress came back and set down your drinks. Ransom immediately took a large gulp of his scotch. You itched to do the same, but you suddenly felt like proving a point. Even if you weren’t entirely sure what that point was. 

You were ready to order, but Ransom hadn’t glanced at his menu yet. Just as you were about to ask for a few more minutes, he said, “Go ahead and bring me another one of these right away,” and gestured with his drink in dismissal. She nodded and left.

Fuck it, you let yourself take a large drink of your wine. “Do you know what you’re going to have?” you asked, nodding to his menu.

He shook his head. “I have dinner plans after this.”

Heat shot through your whole body. “I thought these were the dinner plans.”

He rolled his eyes again. “Getting a head start on the nagging?” he asked, dryly. “Wow, it’s like we’re already married.”

You opened your mouth to do something, you weren’t sure what. Everything in your mind had gone white. But once again, Ransom beat you to it. “Alright, let’s get this done. You’re moving into my house. Fine. But I already have everything we need, so I expect you to pack light. I don’t need your shit cluttering up everything.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. You didn’t know how to have a conversation with him. Someone who left no room for you and seemed not to care at all about anything you had to say. And then there was the voice in your head that kept shouting about how incredibly important this dinner was to the rest of your life. And now it wasn’t even dinner. So when you opened your mouth to speak, what came out was, “I have a dog.”

He stared at you for a moment, seemingly surprised that you’d spoken at all. “What? No. Absolutely not. You’ll have to get rid of it. I hate dogs.”

You didn’t even bother to try to think through the static in your head. “She’s coming with me. I don’t care what else happens, I’m fucking bringing my dog.”

Ransom just narrowed his eyes and stared at you for a moment, then, “Fine. Just keep it away from me. And if it destroys my house, you’re getting rid of it. I’m serious.”  

“She won’t,” you said, as sure of that as anything. “She’s a good girl.”

“Whatever,” he said, as the server returned with his second drink. He slid his empty glass to the end of the table, then said, “The bill,” without looking at her. As she took his empty away, he continued to you, “I don’t know why you want to deal with a dog and a baby, but…” he shrugged.

You just blinked at him, trying to catch up with the massive leap he’d just taken. “Baby? What? Who said anything about a baby?”

He laughed, loudly. “Oh my god, they didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?” you asked, harshly, panic starting to build up in your chest. 

“Of course, they fucking left that to me. There’s a clause in the contract,” he said, “requiring you to get pregnant with my child within the first year.”

You stared over his shoulder, you couldn't look him in the eye, horrified and speechless. You couldn’t breathe. How were you supposed to breathe?

“You seriously didn’t read your own marriage contract?” The judgment in his tone had you shrinking in on yourself. You couldn’t help it.

“They didn’t give me any time,” you said, quietly. “They just made me sign it.”

“And you always do what you’re told, don’t you? Yeah, you look like a good girl.” He said it the same way he’d called you polite when he’d first sat down with you. Like it made you weak. Stupid. You’d never thought so before, but now you wondered if he was right.

“Fuck,” you whispered.

He chuckled humorlessly. “We agree on that,” he said. “This whole thing is fucked.”

At some point, without your notice, the server had returned with Ransom’s card and the receipt. He signed it quickly, then stood up. “Listen, now, at least, we can go back to our parents, tell them we met, chatted, got to know each other. Everything is hunky dory. And then do whatever we want for the next three weeks. Right now, I’m going to try to salvage my night. You go do,” he gestured vaguely at you, “whatever you need to do. I’ll see you at the wedding.”

And then he was gone and you were alone.

You sat in the back seat of the car on the way back to your apartment, running over every moment of your evening. You kept thinking about the way he’d looked at you, talked to you. A baby. You were supposed to have a baby with him. A child that you’d have to raise. By yourself, judging by how invested in all this he seemed to be. Forty, fifty years of him looking at you like that, talking to you like that. And a baby. You leaned forward and asked the driver to take you to your parents’ house instead. 

Once you arrived, you said you needed to speak to your stepfather urgently and were shown to his study. You stood in the middle of the room, too anxious to sit down, and waited. Everyone was making you wait tonight. 

Several minutes later, Joseph finally came in. “We weren’t expecting you tonight,” he said. “How did it go?”

You ignored his question, which you guessed was an answer in itself. “Please don’t make me do this,” you pleaded. 

“Sweetheart,” he sighed, disappointed, and moved over to his bar, pouring himself two fingers of decanted whiskey. “I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.”

“It was. It was awful. He’s– I can’t do this. Please, please don’t make me.” Your voice broke, but you couldn’t be embarrassed about it, not when you were staring down an entire lifetime with him. 

“Everyone gets nervous before their wedding. You’ll be fine. This is important. To all of us.”

“It’s not nerves!” You were close to shouting, suddenly. “You weren’t there. You don’t know. There have to be other families we need things from. It doesn’t have to be this family, does it? It doesn’t have to be right now. Please, please, anything else. I’m begging you, don’t make me marry him, have a child with him.”

He chuckled lightly. “Oh, that’s what this is about. It won’t feel as scary once the baby is here. You’ll make an excellent mother.”

You just stared at him, agape. He wasn’t listening to anything you had to say. “How could you not tell me that was part of the contract? I deserved to know. I wouldn’t have signed!”

His face hardened at that. “You were naive to not expect it. Of course, children are part of this. I admit that the timing is a little fast, but Harlan insisted.”

“Joseph, please listen to me. I can’t. I can’t. Please. If you care about me at all, you won’t make me do this.”

“You’re being ridiculous. It’s done. Everything’s signed. You signed. Now,” he said and took a drink, “it’s getting late. It’s high time you went home. Hopefully, you’ll be able to calm yourself down there.” And then he left the room, ignoring you as your whole world fell apart.

As you left, you passed your mother in the hall. Neither of you said anything.

When you got home, Steve was waiting for you, having already let himself in, holding Lola in one arm. “How did it go?” he asked seriously. You shook your head and finally let the tears fall. He pulled you into his arms, smushing you against your dog, and gently guided you into your home.

Part Two

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[grifonecoronato]

The Olega Padawan

I love this guy and I wanna talk about him.

In The Acolyte, in Episode 2 "Revenge/Justice", we briefly meet this Jedi Padawan (played by Ed Kear).

He’s a big guy, and he seems eager to prove himself useful; he manhandles a kid, and explains how there was a break-in at the local Jedi Temple where he’s stationed.

He has one or two lines of dialogue, and the story quickly moves on from him. He mainly exists for two (2) reasons in the story:

To give a lived-in feel to the setting: that during the High Republic, Jedi are plentiful and ubiquitous, in direct contrast to every other Star Wars time period we’ve seen in film and TV (and yes, I’m including the Prequels era, which explicitly stated that while there were lots of Jedi, they were stretched very thin, which carries a different tone than the era of The Acolyte)

To contrast against Osha, who flunked out of the Jedi Order (more on that below).

I mean he doesn’t even have a name; he's just credited as the "Olega Padawan", his role is so small!

And the fandom menace H A T E S him. They lament that the Jedi are supposed to be physically and mentally disciplined, and being fat is antithetical to that.

I call horseshit. The Olega Padawan makes complete sense, and his inclusion is a perfect addition to Star Wars.

Visual Storytelling of The Acolyte

For now, let's leave aside the undisputed fact that there are many, many biological factors that contribute to a person's weight beyond how much food they eat. And let's be clear that a person's fitness or fatness is not an indication of their moral character or their value to the world.

So let's just say, for the sake of argument, that the Olega Padawan really is just out-of-shape.

In an era where the Jedi are plentiful, have the confidence of the people, recruit new members easily, and have known peace for generations, is it really so inconceivable that a Jedi who’s not at peak physical condition could exist?

In The Acolyte, we see that Jedi take on a peacekeeping / police roles, sure…

...but we also see them doing scientific research…

…and other non-combat, non-adventurous duties.

The temple on Olega is so tiny, so peaceful, so sleepy that its master -- Master Torbin -- took a vow of solitude, penitence, and disengagement, and the Temple was able to continue on, business as usual.

These are the conditions that the Olega Padawan finds himself in. And we're surprised that he would have other things motivating him besides commitment to physical perfection?

Headcanon: the Daily Life of the Olega Padawan

As of September 2024, nothing has been written about the Olega Padawan's story, but I can see his whole life through the context clues that were presented on screen.

The Olega Padawan was probably not a great physical student at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. Unlike Jecki, his lightsaber forms are sloppy and half-hearted, but he was good enough to eek by a passing grade for his trials.

He then was sent to learn under the tutelage of the Olega Knight, where his master taught him to manage the affairs of the local temple.

He probably spent his days worrying about building repairs, negotiating with mechanics when the droids malfunctioned, arguing with incense and candle wholesalers to keep the temple well-stocked, and taking point on charity or community outreach programs. Occasionally, his master would show him how to make requisitions for additional funds from the Coruscant Temple, or how to phrase their weekly reports in such a way that they go largely ignored.

If his master asked him to do anything physical, like move something into storage, the Olega Padawan would have a choice to make: physically lift it, or just move it with the Force... and I'm pretty sure he'd just opt to do it with the Force once his master left the room.

Occasionally the neighbourhood kids would hassle him, because there's nothing funnier than watching a Jedi lose his temper, so the Olega Padawan probably developed a sharp tongue. He'd likely have zero tolerance for bullies.

If he ever finished his work early, he'd find a way to entertain himself rather than go seek more work. After all, what's really so important that it can't wait when you live in a quiet temple in a sleepy town? Adventure. Excitement. A Jedi craves not these things!

What This Means for Osha

There's one more role in the story that the Olega Padawan plays, and that's as a contrast to Osha.

Osha flunked out of the Jedi Order. Get it?

She flunked out.

She flunked out.

And we saw risk her life to selflessly save the life of a prisoner aboard a ship that was about to crash!

She flunked out of the Jedi Order!

The Olega Padawan, who lives a sleepy life in a quiet temple, did not.

So at this stage in the story, the presence of the Olega Padawan conjures questions like "if he could make it as a Jedi... what the hell did Osha do to fail?"

How much "worse" of a student must she have been?

By the end of the series this is made clear, but by episode 2, the Olega Padawan's mere presence invites us to ask these questions.

[blakbonnet]

AUTHOR OF THE WEEK: @clairegregoryau 💕

Everytime the topic of fandom kindness and community comes up, of helping each other out and fostering a quiet corner where people can be themselves, most people in our little fandom think of Claire. She's written over a million words of OFMD fic and read even more, and you can always see so so many recs over on her twitter. Incredible good vibes, and an author who truly lives to lift other authors up. She also does SO SO much for fic authors over on the OFMD Fic Club server <3 And she was incredibly kind and shared her entire writing process with me:

What's your writing process like? Do you start with the beginning or the end? Do you write in order or as the scenes come to you?

I’m a huge advance planner, which is a process that has developed for me over more than 25 years of writing original fiction. I’ll get whacked with a story idea, then I’ll sit down and set out the central kernel of that idea, and where it needs to start, where it needs to end, and what the turning points need to be to get there.

A lot of the time I use a three-act structure, largely because Jenkins has talked about OFMD using that structure (one example here). So that makes it easy for me to hold to the canon beats when I’m writing AU stories, or to mirror them in canon-era stories, which is also something I try to do most of the time. With long experience (and now 1.7 million words of OFMD fic written (!)), I find this part of the process really easy. I’ll usually do that plotting by hand-writing out my notes, because it really fires up a different part of your brain.

Because I am such an advance planner, I do tend to write in a completely linear way from start to finish (I also pretty commonly post my long-fics as I write- each chapter goes up as soon as it’s finished and has a final editing pass). Punching through it in a linear way, knowing the ending that I’m working towards and being enthusiastic to get there, really keeps me motivated.

I do all of my writing in 30-minute sprints at the OFMD Fic Club Discord, where we’ve built a lovely and LOUDLY enthusiastic writing community that anyone is welcome to hop into 24/7. For those who find the constant chat a bit overwhelming, we also have a Quiet Focus Sprints channel. Again via long practice, I’m a very fast writer, but that’s accelerated a lot more over the last couple of years, paradoxically because I couldn’t write the way I used to anymore.

I was diagnosed with an autoimmune disease that includes some fun brain impacts at times, and it’s really hit my working memory especially. I used to be able to hold all the strands of a complicated story together in my head as I wrote, but now I can’t do that as easily. So that’s why the outline is important for me, so I never lose track of the idea- I’ll also do a quick outline at the start of each chapter I’m writing that notes what needs to happen, and then I’ll write in what I call layers, getting down whatever I can first, and then doing sweeps back through it to add internals, narrative detail, sensory details and so on. I make a LOT of notes and square brackets as I go to remind myself of things to look at later.

I also use a plot matrix [Twitter thread, Example Matrix] that you may have seen floating around- I mostly use it to keep track of plot details that have already happened within a story, so that I can check it out at a glance, but I will sometimes plan certain elements in advance (as in the case of Tree Change, which covered 87 of the 93 Kinktober prompts last year across 12 carefully planned chapters). There’s always space when I’m writing for the characters to surprise me within that plot framework- as a final plotting thing, once I’m at the halfway mark I’ll often plot backwards from the planned end to make sure that I’m on course, and to see what I need to adjust.

Favourite trope or headcanon you like to explore while writing?

I really like to dig into the friends-to-lovers trope that sits at the heart of the show. The Ed and Stede relationship reminds me immensely of my own- like Rhys and Taika as friends, we’ve been yes-anding each other for over 25 years (all of my least hinged fic ideas come from bouncing thoughts back and forth with my husband), and it’s been a steady mix of constant silliness, curiosity, and care. We’re best friends first and that’s one of my favourite things about Ed and Stede, that they are, too.

What I really love about it is the vulnerability of these two people who’ve been hurt so much by others in the past, who’ve never been fully appreciated for all the things that they are, and in each other they find the one absolutely perfect person who just gets them, and it makes all the difference. It’s always fun to play with that and variations on it in fics, and it’s usually the beating heart of my stories.

Whose voice is easier to write - Ed or Stede? Why?

I want to say that I find them both equally easy depending on the story. Ed as a character speaks very much the way I think- he has that ADHD buzz, the high swear level, and a very AoNZ turn of phrase that’s also very familiar to Australians (like me). Writing Ed is like turning the inside of my head out and it always flows easily.

But I have always said that I see myself in both characters in equal parts, so I find Stede pretty easy to write as well. I feel like I pretty solidly understand him as a person, with his history of rejection and his commitment to trying anyway, and trying to be kind, and letting himself be fascinated by things, from piracy to books to moths to Ed (that one’s not hard).

Your personal favourite thing you've written that you'd like more people to read

This is a near-impossible question with 69 OFMD fics up on AO3 😅 I really do love them all, and I have a lot of smaller one-shots that haven’t been read as much, but overall I’m incredibly lucky with readership and so so grateful for everyone who enjoys my work.

But my recent Reverse Bang fic The Broken Lines is hugely important to me and I think it’s probably one of the best things I’ve ever written anywhere. It’s set in the aftermath of the First World War (my professional zone of expertise), and features a Stede who’s lost his voice, his memory, and as far as he knows, his Ed. He gradually remembers what happened with the help of the crew and another Ed, who appears in his mirror from 1719, searching for his own Stede. It was a beautiful collaboration with artist Gerlinde to begin with, but I also got to work with one of my longest-term writing friends Jill @followedmystar as my beta, and then with Boy, who made a truly transcendent podfic that I can’t yell about enough.

What is the one word that you think you use a lot?

I think the word I have to zap more than any other is “actually”, and there are still a million of them in there when I’m done. The main reason is that to stick close to canon voice, I try to incorporate a lot of the less iconic/ more ordinary turns of phrase that the characters use a lot in their speech (I’ve watched every episode of the show… way too many times), and both Ed and Stede actually use “actually” a surprising amount. I just use it an even more surprising amount 😂

(This just sent me on a QUEST to find a specific number because I am that kind of nerd- Stede says it 15 times in S1 and 12 in S2, and Ed says it 8 times in each, for totals of 27 and 16, many of them in distinctive moments; it just gives that little buzz of recognition for me. I started out screenwriting before I moved to prose, so my writing tends to lean pretty strongly on having a recognisable, almost audible voice to the dialogue, as well as a cinematic visual style for the big adventures especially).

Do you have a beta reader? Have they made you a better writer?

I quite deliberately don’t use a beta reader for most of my OFMD fics, because being in this space is an exercise in recovering from lifelong paralysing perfectionism around writing especially. I’ve spent so many years not finishing original work because it never feels like it passes the invisible bar for perfection that exists in my own head. So when I started writing OFMD fic, I set out to accept good enough as good enough, and to get back to enjoying writing as fully as I can.

Obviously this means that my work could be better, but I’m actively working on letting that thought go and loving everything I’ve made just as it is. When I have worked with beta readers on projects that require them, like the Reverse Bang, it’s been with friends who I trust and adore, who I know will listen to what I need (cheerleading, mostly), and will do their best to work with me on improving the story without letting me spiral into hating it all because it wakes the perfectionist beast back up.

That doesn’t mean I’m without regular support, or that I’m not trying to improve my writing! I read an absolutely insane amount of fic, and I’m always in awe of the talent we have on this ship, and always learning from what other people do well. In lieu of beta readers, we share snippets of work all the time in our sprints team, so I get feedback there; I also get it from readers in progress, who often give me a sense of what’s hitting the way I hoped and what needs a bit of tweaking. I also have lovely group chats and individual friends like Kerry @communionnimrod and Lis @ghostalservice and Jill who I can run to if I need an opinion on whether an idea feels right or not, which I will often ask.

I’m very very careful with my writing, but in a couple of rare instances readers have also DMd me to note spots where I’ve inadvertently included something that doesn’t reach the sensitivity standard I’m aiming for. I’m always grateful for that gentleness and bravery in reaching out and I’m always happy to change something or to add tags or notes as needed.

Why OFMD 🥹

I watched the whole show in one hit a week after the final episode aired, and I loved it immediately, but I thought I was going to be normal about it. The unravelling into complete, unrelenting obsession happened gradually as I rewatched it with my husband and teen, then again, and again, then started to read fics and hunt up art, then started joining fan spaces, and then dived into writing my first fic in two and a half decades (all original writing between The X-Files and here), thinking it would also be my last.

I’m still here, still writing constantly, and a major portion of it is the show and how distinctly it reflected all the many parts of me, some of which I’d never seen so clearly before. I had a tough childhood in a few different family respects. I didn’t understand that I was neurodivergent until I turned 40 and my own kids were heading for diagnosis, and I’d been rejected constantly throughout my life for being too much. I was a high achiever who was in the process of crumpling under pressure right when I watched it, and while I’d been figuring out my sense of my own queerness for a few years, I’d never had a community that helped me feel at home with that.

And in the end it’s the community that’s been the reason I’ve been fully sucked into fandom for the first time since my teens- the writing in this space is top-tier wonderful, and the community is such a found family, just like the Revenge. Being able to write and have people actually want to read that writing, being able to cheer others on and hype their work, being able to help set up the OFMD Fic Club Discord and make it a safe spaceship for so many people, has been incredibly fulfilling and lovely. 

Please head over to @ofmdlovelyletters (who also made the header) and send your love to all your favourite authors (and authors of the week 😈 watch that blog for some special letters coming your way)

[mariacallous]

Lithuania’s Jews and Yiddishists around the world are mourning the passing of Fania Brantsovsky, the last surviving member of the Jewish underground in the Vilna ghetto and a keeper of the flame of the city’s once glorious Yiddish past, who died at the age of 102 on Sunday in Vilnius.

Brantsovsky escaped the ghetto in 1942 and fought against the Nazis and their local collaborators in the Rudninkai forest with a group of Jewish partisans under the command of Abba Kovner. 

In the years after the war, she became a lifelong advocate for the memory of Lithuanian Jewry and their Yiddish language, serving as the librarian and beloved teacher at the Vilnius Yiddish Institute and an ambassador to visitors she brought to view the landmarks, many vanished, of a city that had once been known as the “Jerusalem of Europe” for its rich Jewish culture. 

It was a role that brought her world-wide acclaim and eventually local hostility, when Lithuanian nationalists began to equate her Soviet liberators with the Nazis, and tried to discredit partisans like her who had once considered the Russians their allies.

For all these roles, Brantsovsky was hailed by Yiddishists around the world who consider her death the end of an era.

“She lived so long that she came from a completely different universe than ours, like out of a history book,” Alec “Leyzer” Burko, a Warsaw-based Yiddish teacher, told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency.

“We’ve lost the last exemplar of interwar Yiddish Vilna, someone who could impart the spirit of the Yiddishist movement of interwar Vilna and its secular circles. We lost our last active veteran of the Vilna ghetto and the Jewish partisans,” said Dovid Katz, an American-born Yiddishist and co-founder of the Vilnius Yiddish Institute.

“And on a personal level,” he added, “we’ve lost a dear friend whose warmth, enthusiasm, encouragement, and desire to help, show and teach was a huge inspiration.”

Brantsovsky was born Feige Jocheles in 1922, in the then-Lithuanian capital of Kaunas but her family moved to Vilnius, then a part of Poland, when she was just five years old. 

As a young girl, she was active in the rich Jewish life of Vilnius. At the time, Vilnius was home to more than 60,000 Jews and boasted over 100 synagogues, the largest of which had seating for more than 2,000. With a Jewish community that had been flourishing when Napoleon passed through the city in the 18th century, Vilnius was more than just a religious center. It was home to a rich cultural and political scene, all in the Yiddish language. 

While she hailed from a secular family, which Brantsovsky noted kept neither kosher nor Shabbat, she completed her entire traditional education in Yiddish-speaking schools, and as a teenager was active in Jewish political youth movements

That world was shattered in 1941, when Vilnius fell under the control of the Germans and Brantsovsky, along with Vilnius’s tens of thousands of other Jews, were herded into the cramped conditions of the Vilna ghetto. 

From the first days of the Nazi occupation of Lithuania, they began taking Jews from Vilnius to be killed in the nearby Ponar forest. Over 100,000 people would be killed there, including 70,000 Lithuanian Jews and 8,000 Roma, making it the second-largest mass grave in Europe after Babyn Yar in Ukraine.  

“Our life was more of existence, really,” Brantsovsky once described the ghetto in an interview with Centropa, a European Holocaust memorial organization. Every day was a struggle for survival, and one slip-up or turn of fate could mean starvation, or deportation to Ponar.

Brantsovsky recalled hearing of a resistance movement forming in the ghetto and quickly requested to join. 

“The underground organization of the ghetto united all parties and trends such as communists, revisionists, Bund etc. Their common goal was to fight against fascists,” she told Centropa. 

That group would be remembered as the United Partizan Organization, or by its Yiddish initials, FPO. 

The FPO had considered instigating an uprising in the ghetto, as would later take place in Warsaw. After the capture and execution of it’s leader Yitzhak Wittenberg by the Gestapo, the movement’s leadership decided instead to take its fighters out of the ghetto and into the nearby forests where Soviet-backed partisans were harrying the rear and supply lines of the German army. 

Brantsovsky bid farewell to her family and was smuggled out of the ghetto on Sept. 23, 1943. She would later learn that on the same night, the Germans began their final liquidation of the ghetto, killing most of its inhabitants. None of her family would survive the Holocaust.

In the Rudninkai forest, which has been immortalized in partisan literature under its Yiddish name, Der Rudnitzker Vald, she joined up with a partisan unit composed of Jews under the command of Abba Kovner, known as the Nokmim or Avengers.  

In the forest she trained with weapons and explosives and took part in military operations against the Nazi occupation. 

“We blasted trains and placed explosives in the enemy’s equipment. We shot and killed them,” she told Centropa. “Yes, I did, I killed them and did so with ease. I knew that my dear ones were dead and I took my revenge for them and thousands of others with each and every shot.”

In the forest, she also met her future husband Mikhail Brantsovsky. Nearly a year after fleeing the ghetto, Fania returned, rifle in hand, as the Soviet Red Army captured the city. 

Less than a month after returning she and Mikhail married. 

“We were intoxicated by the victory, our youth and love,” she recalled. 

After the war, her commander Abba Kovner would gain fame as one of Israel’s poet laureates, and infamy for an aborted plot to kill 6 million Germans in vengeance for the Holocaust. 

Brantsovsky took part in none of that: She stayed in Vilnius where she and Mikhail built a life together and had two children. 

In the years after the war, it quickly became clear to Brantsovsky that the world of her youth had been lost. 

“There were hardly any Jews left in Vilnius. When I saw older Jews, or they looked old to me considering how young I was, I felt like kneeling before them to kiss their hands.” she once recalled. 

Fania quickly went to work, helping to document what had been lost, and assisted Soviet Jewish writers Ilya Ehrenburg and Vasily Grossman in the “Black Book of Soviet Jewry,” a 500-page document that recorded the Nazis’ crimes in the occupied regions of the Soviet Union. 

While it was first published in the USSR by Der Emes, the Yiddish-language arm of Pravda, the book would later be suppressed as the Soviet policy towards the Holocaust shifted to present the genocide as solely an atrocity against Soviet citizens, not one that specifically targeted Jews.  

Though Mikhail and Fania had been present and honored in Moscow’s Red Square during the victory parades of 1945, their enthusiasm towards the Soviet regime dulled after experiencing the antisemitism of Stalin’s later years. 

Mikhail passed away in 1985, and Fania retired from her job as a teacher in 1990 just before Lithuania gained its independence. 

In retirement, Fania found a new purpose: In an independent Lithuania, there was renewed interest in recording Vilnius’s Jewish past and studying the Yiddish language of its Jews. 

In the early 1990s, Fania and a group of other survivors, including another former partisan, Rachel Margolis, worked to establish a Holocaust museum in Vilnius known as the Green House. 

In 2001, Katz, a professor of Yiddish who had previously worked at Oxford, relocated to Vilnius and established a Yiddish institute at Vilnius University. 

“When I founded the Vilnius Yiddish Institute in 2001 my first executive act was to hire Fania as librarian and that choice was a success from day one,” Katz told JTA.

Fania, who worked as a teacher much of her adult life, originally trained to do so in Yiddish for students in the city’s Jewish school system. The Nazis shattered that future, but decades later, the Vilnius Yiddish Institute represented a return to her roots. 

“She understood that she was the carrier of so much of the living Yiddish culture of the interwar period, especially its secular Yiddishist incarnation,” Katz explained.  

The Institute lasted for 17 years, until it ultimately closed down in 2018. Every year it ran a summer program attended by students from around the world, and Fania became a fixture of the experience, telling students about the city of her youth, the experience of the ghetto and bringing them out to the remains of her partisan camp in the Rudninkai forest well into her nineties. 

She is remembered fondly by nearly everyone who passed through.

“I feel really blessed to have had an opportunity to work with her,” Indre Joffyte, who helped run the program, told JTA. “Fania’s energy, determination and passion in everything she did was an inspiration to everyone around her. I will always remember her caring nature, our girly conversations, her preparedness to help, and her inner youth despite her age and tragic life experiences.”

In independent Lithuania, Fania became a prominent figure in its Jewish community as well as in diplomatic circles, guiding visiting leaders on tours of the former ghetto and Ponar where so many of her relatives were killed.

But the increased attention also invited trouble. 

In the years since the fall of the Soviet Union, a nationalist narrative arose in the Baltic states that equated the actions of the Soviets with the Nazis.  

Known as the “double genocide” theory, it has been largely rejected by Jewish and western Holocaust institutions, but has become the standard presented in Lithuania and the other Baltic states. 

It resulted in a smear campaign directed against Brantsovsky and other surviving Jewish partisans, such as Margolis and Yitzhak Arad who was the director of Yad Vashem from 1972 to 1993. 

For fighting in units allied with the Soviets, they were accused of being war criminals on the same level as Lithuanians who collaborated with the Nazis. 

“I agree completely with all the anti-Communist pronouncements. What I disagree with is, of course, the equalization of the people who committed the genocide at Auschwitz and the people who liberated Auschwitz. They’re simply not the same.” said Katz.  “As much as one should hate the Stalinist Soviet Union between 1941 and 1945, we were in the American-Anglo-Soviet alliance, and the Soviet Union was the only force fighting Hitler in Eastern Europe. So of course, Fania’s partisan union was aligned with the Soviet partisans in the forest who were fighting.”

For Brantsovsky, the issue came to head in 2008, when Lithuania’s chief prosecutor publicly demanded that she be questioned over her alleged connections to a massacre of Lithuanian civilians during the war. 

Katz believes that the demand was in retaliation for increased pressure from the Simon Wiesenthal Center and other Jewish institutions for Lithuania to investigate its own wartime collaborators.

The charges were dropped that same year, but the incident had a notable effect on Brantsovsky, resulting in her receding somewhat from public life in Lithuania. 

She didn’t stop teaching Yiddish, however, and was active in working with students and guiding tours until her 99th year, when she had a fall on the eve of the COVID-19 pandemic. 

With her passing, another thread connecting Eastern Europe’s Jewish past and rich Yiddish culture has been severed. 

“She was one of the last witnesses of prewar Jewish life in Vilna, a proud graduate of its Yiddish school system where everything from chemistry to Latin and Shakespeare was studied in the Jewish community’s native language,” Jordan Kutzik, a former deputy Yiddish editor at The Forward, said in a memorial post on Facebook.

“After nearly her entire family and cultural milieu were murdered and then her native language suppressed for 50 years, she wasn’t wasting any time in helping to document her city’s history and encouraging others to explore it.”

[aeoki]

Number Eight - Tripping: Chapter 7

Characters: Rinne, HiMERU, Kohaku & Niki Location: Los Angeles Townscape

TL Note:

A pure culture of an organism is a culture which is obtained from a single strain having no contamination of other strains of organisms. Basically, Niki is trying to say that Rinne was raised in a pure environment, free from other influences/culture.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ< After some time. >

HiMERU: Three hours left. It seems “Number Eight” is finally coming to an end.

Niki: Let’s hurry and find the goal while Rinne-kun’s resting in the car.

Kohaku: Where are the clues for the goal hidin’, anyway? I wish we had somethin’ more specific.

Rinne: Sorry to make ya wait, guys!

HiMERU: That voice–

Niki: Rinne-kun! You’re finally awake. Are you feeling okay?

Rinne: You betcha. Rinne-kun slept like a baby, so he’s in tip-top condition ☆

Kohaku: Thank goodness… Still, it’s rare to see you sleep for that long.

Did you feel like a fish out of water?

Rinne: Probably. The water and air was just so different here, so I guess I must’ve used up more energy than I’d thought.

But who knew we had this sorta weakness~? Man, I’ve never been more envious of Niki’s sturdy stomach.

Niki: There’s a lot of nature back in your hometown, right, Rinne-kun~? It’s kinda like pure culture[⁎].

Rinne: I don’t wanna hear that from you. There aren’t that many things that can rival your purity, Niki. Or in terms of cooking, anyway.

Well, I’m sure the only reason I got used to living in the big city was all thanks to your cooking. But now that I’m overseas…

I ended up passing out due to starvation and lack of sleep. Haven’t done that in a while.

Dunno if someone cast a spell on me or something, but I found myself at our destination when I woke up.

You guys can’t drive, right? If you guys committed a crime, then even I can’t help you then, ya know?

HiMERU: Don’t worry. We came up with a plan for that.

You should be able to understand what happened if we told you we borrowed a staff member’s phone and used all our money to call a towing car over.

In any case, we need to find the goal.

But we don’t have any clues. There hasn’t been any new information from the tablet, either.

Kohaku: “Go back the path you came and find the goal”... the mission itself sounds simple, but we’re stumped because we don’t have any clues.

Niki: We should have more luck if we had some clues~

Rinne: Oh? You guys really have no idea?

There was a huge clue on the way here.

Niki: Wha? You sound like you know where the goal is, Rinne-kun.

Rinne: You betcha. Don’t underestimate Rinne Amagi-kun the genius…☆

I know exactly what the mean “Number Eight” staff are thinking!

HiMERU: You mean on the way here? Don’t tell me, you’re talking about that?

That banner that was at the place we landed on with the parachutes…?

It had “COME HERE” on it, didn’t it? You’re saying that wasn’t a landing point, but a clue hinting towards our goal?

Rinne: Perfect answer ☆ I’d expect no less from you, Merumeru!

I can be a bit mean, ya know~? I had a lightbulb moment when I saw the tablet saying “go back the path you came”.

It’s pretty convenient for a variety TV show to have both the starting point and the finishing point at the same place, right?

Kohaku: That’s true. It makes sense when you think about all the ridiculous things we’ve been through. They were plannin’ on confusin’ us even further by givin’ us that hint.

Niki: And they wouldn’t be villains if they just gave us a hint from the very beginning. You could even say it’d be our fault if we failed to notice it.

Rinne: If we couldn’t reach the goal, then they could laugh in our faces too.

Gyahaha. That sounds pretty funny in itself, though.

“The problem children of the idol industry fail to notice the clue at the starting point and wander around in circles on the West Coast!”

But we ain’t gonna fall for their trap.

We’re currently in a clean era, where anyone can say whatever they want on social media. They want to be a villain who wants to feel satisfied after arguing with those with differing opinions.

They only care about themselves. We’re in an era where everyone wants to win – they want to argue and eliminate the foreign matter…

If a villain doesn’t exist, then they’ll find another to use for their own satisfaction.

It makes you wonder where the real evil is, huh? Let’s hit back and do a proper job of saying NO to those opinions.

We’ll reach “Number Eight’s” goal, and we’ll sing our hearts out with love and peace. And the ones who are allowed to do that are us, “Crazy:B”, right?

HiMERU: Hehe. You’ve got quite the silver tongue. You said it loud enough for the staff behind the cameras to hear as well.

If you’ve had a good rest, then all that’s left to do is to head towards the goal.

Once again, we’ll be counting on you to drive. You’ll do it, won’t you, Amagi?

Rinne: ‘Course, I will. Right now, the word “impossible” doesn’t exist in my dictionary!

If they’re tellin’ us to “COME HERE”, then we’ll have to do just that…☆

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ← Previous Chapter ᠂ ⚘ ˚⊹˚ ⚘ ᠂  Next Chapter →

[phanfictioncatalogue]

Post-Dan and Phil World Tour 2018: II Masterlist

a new kind of blue (ao3) - writingwannabe

Summary: After almost ten years of bottling up his romantic feelings for his best friend, Dan decides he can go on no longer, and after confessing all, he decides that in order to move on with his life, he must move away from Phil and attempt to start life as an individual rather than one half of a double act.

In which Dan is a hopeless romantic and Phil doesn't know what to say.

animal (ao3) - danhoweiis

Summary: after a 82 show sell out world tour, dan is just glad to be home and to have phil all to himself

Back home. (ao3) - KujiraHanma

Summary: It's the first morning back at their London apartment after the tour.

black hole sun (ao3) - bloodyscarab

Summary: addressing the passage of time while headlining a world tour.

do you remember the time (ao3) - selinawrites

Summary: it's florida, 2015. the amazing tour is not on fire is about to open to american audiences, and dan sees a photobooth. it's london, 2019. dan is just about to upload for the first time in over a year, and phil recognizes a photo.

Escape the Night (ao3) - FandomsAreLifex_x

Summary: After

Every Day is Christmas (When I'm With You) (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: Dan and Phil finally spend a joint Christmas with their families in their home.

ii: ty ly bb (ao3) - manchestereyes

Summary: 28/04/2018 - 28/11/2018: An era that will live on in countless hearts and memories, including dnp's. An era of new friendships made, old friends meeting for the first time, and an abundance of laughter and tears. Most of all, though, it's been an era of growth and discovery.

Or, Dan and Phil (but mostly Dan) reflect on Interactive Introverts.

In Dreams (ao3) - JudeAraya

Summary: They're exhausted post-tour, and the work never seems to end, but neither do all the little ways in which they take care and surprise each other.

it gets better (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: Phil will happily take any amount of PDA from Dan. Granted, it’s not usually a lot when they’re out and about, but sometimes there’s a sneaky peck on the lips when there’s absolutely no one about, or the casual hand hold if they’re in a more remote place. More intimate things are reserved for the privacy of their own home. But when they’re stuck on a stupidly crowded tube carriage, standing in at least three different stranger’s personal bubbles at the same time, Phil’s holding onto the closest pole for his life, with Dan desperately clutching onto his arm like a newborn koala.

It gives him a warm fuzzy feeling. But it fades when he remembers how much Dan must be struggling in that moment.

Dan has obsessive compulsive disorder.

Last Christmas Alone (ao3) - echoedvoices

Summary: Dan and Phil try to enjoy life after tour and rekindling their relationship after being apart. Their loved ones are concerned.

Love you through it all (ao3) - Lesbianphan

Summary: A glimpse into Dan and Phil’s journey over the years, through dates/holidays and all the adventures they’ve embarked on together. Just some introspective fluff, featuring the many different stages of their relationship we’ve witnessed over the years

moment of epiphany, in gold light (ao3) - softiejace

Summary: The door to the balcony opens, revealing Phil with his duvet still wrapped around his shoulders like a cape, the garish yellow of his emoji pyjamas poking out underneath.

Dan grins in relief, scooting over on the bench. "Did you find it?"

But Phil doesn't move to sit beside him. And when he unfolds his arms in front of his body, no bottle comes into view in his hands.

Only a small, velvet box.

Noise (ao3) - intoapuddle

Summary: Their first morning together in the privacy of their own bed after tour allows for some filthy fun

Based on tumblr prompt from anon: "This is mine. So is this. And this. And this. Especially this.”

slow burn (ao3) - AnnaSepulchre

Summary: They're home, and they have time.

The Story of Dan & Phil (ao3) - manchestereyes

Summary: It's 2018. Interactive Introverts is over, and Dan has an idea. The ultimate culmination of "give the people what they want", if you will. Throughout the rest of 2018 (and some of 2019), he and Phil will embark on their biggest journey yet: telling the story of their lives, from the moment they started talking until the present day, to set the record straight before they settle down for real.

But as Dan and Phil move into this next chapter of their life, will they be able to fully confront their pasts and move on, once and for all? Or will the race against time to get the book out on October 19th prove too difficult?

Truth (ao3) - Mysticallykai

Summary: Dan realizes that he needs to live his truth after the Interactive Introverts tour ends.

We have Each Other (and that's all we need) (ao3) - evanegg

Summary: Dan and Phil have finished their 2018 tour and are visiting Phil's family on the Isle of Man before they go home. This is supposed to be a nice calm vacation for the two after the stress of the tour, however Phil can't find it in himself to calm down. Dan decides to help him out a little bit...

[suffersinfandom]

gifset by seraph-novak

So there’s a critique of this scene (and Ed in season two as a whole) that I haven’t been able to shake. The post went into how the whole mermaid sequence was ruined by the rest of the season -- about how this beautiful scene was, put in the context of Ed’s behavior in the rest of season two, an ominous rebirth of a villain. The writer couldn’t see Ed as a protagonist finding the will to live; they saw a monster getting another chance to terrorize his victims.

I really hate that. I’ve already typed way too much about how I don’t think that Ed is abusive or that the Kraken Era was all that bad, so of course I disagree with any take that characterizes Ed as a monster. But do you know why this post stuck with me?

It made me unreasonably sad.

There’s a danger in over-identifying with characters (and I do think that a lot of the tension in OFMD fandom comes from over-identification), but it’s so easy for me to understand what Ed’s going through in the first three episodes of season two. I’ve been there. Judging by this post, many of us have been where Ed is. 

We’ve struggled to live while we’re drowning. We’ve been trapped and hopeless and desperate for a reason to keep going -- for someone to give us hope that things can be better. 

And we’ve also hurt people in our despair. 

When I was in my Kraken Era, I was a sick college student who’d been fighting depression since middle school. I’d just escaped a “friendship” with someone who (I can admit in retrospect) abused me mentally and emotionally, and I had no other friends because that person had effectively isolated me. I was alone and I was convinced that I was a fundamentally unlovable person who had no right to exist. 

I pushed the few people I had around me away. I isolated myself from my mother as much as I could while living in her house. I cut off communication with my online acquaintances (who would later become good friends) and didn’t speak to anyone at school. For a while, I was so focused on my pain and self hatred that I barely thought about other people. It was an intensely selfish and self-centered existence, and I hurt my mom and everyone who could’ve been a friend. When you're in that desperately hopeless, depressed mindset, you don't care about hurting people because your own pain is so all-consuming. If anything, you want to hurt others so they'll give up on you in the same way you've given up on yourself.

It’s different from what Ed did, of course, because he’s not me and I wasn’t a pirate captain with the lives of a crew in my hands. The harm I could cause was severely limited by my lack of power, but I still caused it. I was still trying to isolate and cut ties and push away anyone who could’ve helped me even when I desperately wanted help. I wasn’t a good person.

Watching Ed go through a self-destructive arc that’s immediately identifiable, deeply personal, and so well done was incredible, and seeing the show support him instead of demonizing his behavior? I have no words for the way I felt during season two’s run. 

OFMD makes Ed a sympathetic character who’s worth loving even when he’s at his lowest. It gives us a lead who fucks up when he’s in the depths of his despair and it doesn’t pity him or wave away his problems or make a monster out of him. It doesn’t even have his romantic interest save him! Instead, it lets Ed save himself when he realizes that there’s still hope and love out there. 

This show reminded me that we’re not monsters even if we’ve hurt people. It told me that recovery is possible, and so is forgiveness. It asked me to keep loving Ed through his entire arc, and in doing that, it forced me to love the parts of me that I’m still working on as well.

So I know that I shouldn’t be bothered by people who see season two Ed as an irredeemable monster who gets an undeserved second shot at life, y’know? But even though I’m a decade and a half out of my own Kraken Era, I’m still in a perpetual state of recovery. There’s always a persistent doubt -- a suspicion that there’s a fundamental flaw in me that no amount of therapy will fix -- and that doubt latched onto some random person’s conviction that Ed is a monster. It says, If Ed will always be a monster, what about you?

And I know that voice is wrong because it’s always been a liar. I know that it doesn’t matter that some portion of the fanbase turned on Ed in season two because that man isn’t real and he’s not me. I know that, for people who haven’t experienced something that was reflected in Ed’s arc, it might be difficult to sympathize with him (and with real life people who blow their lives up in their despair). 

There will always be people who don’t understand or can’t empathize with that kind of desperate hopelessness, but there are also many, many people who get it… and some of those people were clearly in season two's writer’s room. Some of those people are in this fandom.

I guess what I’m getting at is this: I hope that, if you saw yourself in Ed’s early season two story, you know that you’re not a monster and you’re not a villain in someone else’s story, no matter what anyone else says. I hope you know that you’re worthy of love. 

I hope you know you’re not alone.

[beautifulpersonpeach]

It's cold and dreary and the tannies are gone,,, *cries in the corner* But the re-debuting (?) efforts for 2 cool 4 skool (I definitely didn't know how to spell this lol) is so heartwarming!! I just feel warm and fuzzy inside, you know?? Do you know if these fandom efforts are typical for kpop groups? I don't know what to expect for this ms era. I keep seeing articles and discussions that talk about who'll fill in the gap that's left by bts. It's not that I'm super worried (I know exactly where I stand), but I just don't know what will happen next as a whole. I quite enjoy the current army atmosphere. It makes me think that armys are the best when they are working towards a goal. Would you be able to share what are the things that ppl (who's never been through something like this) should keep in mind moving forward for the next 6month-1.5year? Thank you so much!

***

Yeah, re-charting old songs is something more than a few fandoms do from time to time, but ARMYs’ aim of re-charting several old songs, sometimes whole albums, at once and methodically - that’s something I don’t think has been done before. And yes it warms my heart to see the fandom give BTS this. Even though it’s more of symbolic gesture than ‘huge achievement’, it’s a tangible way the fandom can express that we intend to stick by BTS this entire time. Life might happen, we might explore other groups and hobbies or take some time to ourselves, but we’ll never really abandon BTS or forget them while they’re in service. It also allows the fandom the opportunity to re-experience BTS’s old music. It’s reminding me of why I fell in love with them in the beginning.

And you’re right. The fandom does need a goal to work towards. One of the first things I said on this blog that I remember people got mad at me for (lol), was that I think many ARMYs are just Type A k-pop stans who prioritize BTS. A lot of us do well with targets and performance measures, using information and ingenuity to achieve desired goals for someone we love genuinely gets us going. When the fandom is aimless people go crazy. So yeah, keep ARMYs busy and peace will be reasonably attainable.

It seems HYBE intends to keep milking the fandom too - more documentaries are coming, at least four members will release new music over the next 1.5 years, we might get a Jin tour/showcase or Hobi live performances, etc. So I guess we’ve got nothing to worry about on that front.

I’m not too sure myself what to expect between now and 2025. Last week I talked about what usually happens when a group enlists based on what I’ve observed:

1. Some people take a break away from k-pop fully.

2. Some explore other groups, whether or not they end up stanning as well.

3. Some people stay in k-pop and remain only committed to BTS

All three options are valid and sometimes there’s no real difference between how people approach options 2 and 3.

But really, while the guys are in the military I don’t expect the infighting within the fandom to reduce. At best it’s going to remain this annoying for the next 18 months. I know people are hopeful we get more spaced out releases but I’m actually expecting some stacked line-ups in releases next year. I’m also not expecting Seven/Golden-style promotions for any member that doesn’t release under HYBE America. The usual suspects (akgaes, shooters, antis, shippers) will be whining in any case so it’s going to be a pain.

And outside the fandom, I know the race is going to be mad. Right now ATEEZ, Stray Kids, NewJeans, RIIZE, Aespa, VCHA, Katseye, IVE, SHINee, Blackpink and few more… are revving up to take over in 2024. I’m so curious to see all the ways these groups/their companies will try to fill the BTS vacuum. How they will try to court ARMYs and pitch themselves as the rightful successors to BTS.

I’m not really sure what to expect but I know it’s going to be a fun time that’s for sure.

[bettyshoweduptotheparty]

Happy New Year! I'm popping in today because I've spent a bunch of time listening to Midnights lately, and I'm wondering what your thoughts are on songs like "Maroon" and "Hits Different" that suggest that K/T broke up (at least at one point). I do wonder whether the two had a big break at one point (maybe around the Lover/pre-Folklore era?), or if Taylor is talking about complications the two encountered at the very beginning of their relationship. 🤔

Happy New Year lovely!

My personal interpretation is that they were ‘on a break’ (sorry, very Ross and Rachel) for a few months in 2019, but there’s a lot of takes out there on whether or not they broke up or just had some trouble. A lot of people take the Great War to mean they only almost broke up, I think we wouldn’t have a song like Hits Different if Taylor hadn’t at least felt the real possibility of losing the love of her life. And her cover of ‘Can’t stop loving you’ in the BBC Live Lounge in the summer of 2019 was so devastating, that was the face of a woman who thought she’d lost everything. But noteworthy that Hits Different also ends on a hopeful note that suggest that the lover is coming back home. So not a real end. Pink has actually written a few ‘break up’ songs about her husband over the years when they had struggles but they never actually broke up, so I think it’s very possible for music to convey what in the moment felt like a breakup, but wasn’t. Maroon feels like one of those to me.

I’m pretty sure they were back together before the pandemic and by the time Taylor started writing folklore and evermore. But imagine going through all of that and then sitting in quarantine 8 months later and all your shows are cancelled. I’d need writing therapy too… So many gaylors think the folkmore albums are just about the Kaylor break up, but she lost her life’s work, her coming out, faith in her relationship and God knows what her dad had to do with it all, so I think that’s plenty of emotions to process to make these albums so loaded.

Little bonus and a hot take from me (but I’m putting it under the cut because it’s not really about your question): I think the Betty/James/Augustine love triangle is the story of how their relationship began. If I have time I’ll go through some lyrics to point out where we’ve seen nods to a love triangle pre-folklore and how they lyrically link to each other. I’ve only recently noticed how much cardigan throws back to both Delicate and Cruel Summer!

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Brooke Allen

Published: Mar 5, 2023

Many of us who care deeply about education in the humanities can only feel despair at the state of our institutions of “higher” learning. Enrollment in these subjects is plummeting, and students who take literature and history classes often come in with rudimentary ideas about the disciplines. Interviewed in a recent New Yorker article, Prof. James Shapiro of Columbia said teaching “Middlemarch” to today’s college students is like landing a 747 on a rural airstrip. Technology such as messaging apps, digital crib sheets and ChatGPT, which will write essays on demand, has created a culture of casual cheating.

Never have I been more grateful to teach where I do: at a men’s maximum-security prison. My students there, enrolled in a for-credit college program, provide a sharp contrast with contemporary undergraduates. These men are highly motivated and hard-working. They tend to read each assignment two or three times before coming to class and take notes as well. Some of them have been incarcerated for 20 or 30 years and have been reading books all that time. They would hold their own in any graduate seminar. That they have had rough experiences out in the real world means they are less liable to fall prey to facile ideologies. A large proportion of them are black and Latino, and while they may not like David Hume’s or Thomas Jefferson’s ideas on race, they want to read those authors anyway. They want, in short, to be a part of the centuries-long conversation that makes up our civilization. The classes are often the most interesting part of these men’s prison lives. In some cases, they are the only interesting part.

Best of all from my selfish point of view as an educator, these students have no access to cellphones or the internet. Cyber-cheating, even assuming they wanted to indulge in it, is impossible. But more important, they have retained their attention spans, while those of modern college students have been destroyed by their dependence on smartphones. My friends who teach at Harvard tell me administrators have advised them to change topics or activities several times in each class meeting because the students simply can’t focus for that long.

My students at the prison sit through a 2½-hour class without any loss of focus. They don’t yawn or take bathroom breaks. I have taught classes on the Enlightenment, the Renaissance, Romanticism, George Orwell, South Asian fiction. We’ve done seminars on Adam Smith and Alexis de Tocqueville. Together we have read Montaigne, Rousseau, Keats, Erasmus, Locke, Montesquieu, Wollstonecraft, Byron, Goethe, Petrarch, Rabelais, Saadat Hasan Manto, Rohinton Mistry. The students write essays in longhand; during the pandemic I taught a correspondence class via snail mail. Some of them do read “Middlemarch,” and their teacher finds the experience far more gratifying than trying to land a 747 on a rural airstrip. We encourage them to treat different societies in history as experiments in time travel, where they try to understand the mores of particular eras as though from the inside. They are very open to that approach, unlike university students, who tend see the past only as one long undifferentiated era of grievous unenlightenment: not just one damn thing after another, but one damn oppressive thing after another.

Like students at elite institutions, most of my incarcerated scholars are politically liberal. Unlike them, many are religious, and that proves surprisingly enriching in studying these authors, who would have been amazed to know they would one day be read by classrooms full of atheists. One of my more devout students, a Protestant who converted to Islam, was so distressed by Voltaire’s disrespect for established creeds that he had to be comforted by other class members. They informed him that he was exactly the sort of person Voltaire was aiming his polemic at, and therefore he could understand the force of it in a way his irreligious peers couldn’t.

My hours at the prison are rich in such moments. In many ways, it is the Platonic ideal of teaching, what teaching once was. No faculty meetings, no soul-deadening committee work, no bloated and overbearing administration. No electronics, no students whining about grades. Quite a few of our students are serving life sentences and will never be able to make use of their hard-won college credits. No student debt, no ideological intolerance, no religious tests—whoops, I mean mandatory “diversity” statements. And in our courteous, laughter-filled classroom there is none of the “toxic environment” that my friends in the academy complain about, and that I experienced during my own college teaching career.

If prison inmates, many of whom have committed violent crimes, can pay close attention for a couple of hours, put aside their political and personal differences, support one another’s academic efforts, write eloquent essays without the aid of technology and get through a school year without cheating, is it too much to ask university students to do the same? Or ask professors to try to create an atmosphere where these habits can prevail? Perhaps prison education can serve as a model of how to return to true learning and intellectual exchange.

[ Via: https://archive.ph/5YRih ]

==

The state of things.

[bleachbleachbleach]

[Bleach e312]

Snake Wines and Beer Steins*: An Anthropology of West Rukongai

* I learned this morning that is not a stein, but I’m keeping it for the assonance!

Really down the rabbithole with this episode and cannot put it down, but this cap is such a completely fascinating glimpse at potential Rukongai cultures and trade routes! 

The first thing that caught my eye, naturally, was the snake, which when this scene first came up I thought was just a completely undressed snake on a plate. But when I went to take the cap, no! It’s a snake in liquid! Which led me to believe it was a pickled snake. 

But then my co-blogger brought up snake wine, which it definitely is. According to Wikipedia, the liquid part of habushu, snake sake from the Ryukyu Islands (Okinawa), is mixed with herbs and honey, which is why it has a yellow tint. The Habu snake is a pit viper viewed as both a menace (it can launch itself and bite you from pretty far away) and as a god, bestowing health and virility. (Contemporary Ryukyuan/Okinawan literature sometimes includes habu snakes as an anti-colonial metaphor, such as Medoruma Shun’s 1999 short story, “Hope.”)

1. Increased Importance of Medicinal Food vs. Sustenance Food in Rukongai

Makes all the sense in the world to me that Rukongai would have virility wine. If you don’t need to eat to survive, I imagine the value of virility wine is quite high. ...I mean, what else is there to do out there?

2. Climate Profiles Suggest Far-Reaching Trade Networks

Because the Gate Guardian who shows up in this episode is Jidanbou, this means the village Oomaeda encounters is in West Rukongai somewhere—probably close to the gates, since Soi Fon expected him back after a day trip. (But per the Bount arc, Renji can apparently run to the ass-end of Rukongai to the Seireitei and back in a few hours, so there’s some wiggle room here.) 

Nothing we’ve seen from West Rukongai suggests it’s climatologically similar to the Ryukyu Islands (or to southeast Asia, where similar pit vipers live), which are subtropical. Soul Society always gives the impression of being fairly temperate. At least, it snows in the Seireitei without mountain elevations being involved (Winter Fireworks chapter). West Rukongai is where Hokutan is, the mountains where Kaien and Rukia trained, which gave the impression of being pretty temperate. West Rukongai is also where Junrinan is—where Hitsugaya and Hinamori are from. Judging by Hitsugaya’s behavior in the Beach Episode, if Junrinan was anything like the Ryukyu Islands, he’d have perished long ago.

So… DID THEY TRADE FOR IT. DID THEY GET THE SNAKE WINE FROM ELSEWHERE. How far away is that elsewhere? How many different owners’ hands did it pass through to make it to this village, to this feast? Snake wine is intended to age fairly substantially, which in Rukongai could mean quite a bit of time. How old is this snake wine? What is its provenance?? Potential evidence of complex and far-reaching patterns of trade and shared ascriptions of value, is what I’m saying. snake wine snake wine snake wine

In my mind, I’ve mostly transposed Japan over Soul Society and imagine  North Rukongai as northern Japan, West Rukongai as western Japan, etc. Except in my mind sometimes south is southern Japan and sometimes it’s northern New Mexico lol. East Rukongai in my mind is "idk, New Jersey?" Maybe the snake wine is from the version of southern Rukongai where Pirate AU Soi Fon lives, dominating the high seas…

3. Evidence of Glassworking and Alcohol Production Characteristic of the late 19th/early 20th Centuries

[For reference, Soul Society is typically described as being similar to the Edo Period of Japanese history, which spanned the 17th-19th centuries.]

The second standout beverage here is the beer stein, which I called a stein and then learned that the original beer steins came from the Bubonic Plague era and had tops, for plague reasons, and were made out of wood and leather and then pewter. What do I know, I don’t drink, LOL.

That is more technically a ten-sided handled glass pint, which became popular in the early half of the 20th century in England, though some sources place it in Austria a few decades earlier. Drinking beer out of various forms of glass predates that, and there was a whole period of ceramic drinkware and trade with China and Japan thrown in the centuries between, blah blah. But two things are probably true if there’s a glass beer mug: 

 1. Glassworking has developed enough to make this workable/not a holy pain, production-wise. But again, this is Rukongai—maybe this is the one mug in all existence in West Rukongai and not something intended for mass production. They’re toasting the once-in-a-lifetime event of a Gotei captain slumming it with them, after all. Heck, maybe they got it from the Seireitei, which definitely has more than one of these, though after a cursory look at two places I thought they’d appear, neither does. LOL. Welp. 

2. Beer production has developed enough that it’s filtered and there’s not unseemly gunk floating around in it (made obvious by the fact that you’re drinking it out of a clear glass mug). This could mean Rukongai is pretty with the times with is alcohol production.

Not that that begins to touch why ten-sided handled glass pints from late 19th/early 20th century England and/or Austria are in West Rukongai, a place less likely to have them than the Seireitei, where weird anachronistic stuff seems like it would come into circulation with more regularity.

I love the idea that even if souls don’t remember their previous lives, there’s still imprints and rogue dreams and strange images floating around in their heads, their muscle memories. But like, specifically the version where sometimes the rogue dream is just a gigantic, bomb-ass cup that Some Guy then proceeds to spend his entire afterlife re-developing. He is a VISIONARY. A GENIUS. A rare mind inventing something the likes of which have never been seen is this world but that exist in his mind so clearly it is as though he has seen it in his hands before!!

[antigonewinchester]

@setyourfireonme

retcon of mary's deal? wait can you expand because i don't remember seeing anything about it lol. disappointed but not surprised...

so it’s not a literal retcon, i.e. Mary still makes her deal, but to my view, it’s a framing / thematic retcon.

4x03 is a double gut punch: first, the audience gets the reveal that Mary, contrary to how we’ve seen her as the sweet housewife, was born into a hunting family. we got a hint of this in 2x21 (why did Mary know Azazel?) but fully seeing Mary’s backstory re-contextualizes her as a character; no longer only the fridged wife, she was someone who knew and grew up with the supernatural. second, Azazel was only in Sam’s nursery to dose him with blood because he got ‘permission’ from Mary: he made a deal with her. Dean, and we the audience, have assumed Mary’s death as the starting point for the Winchester family tragedy, but in this ep we learn that isn’t true: it wasn’t Mary’s death, but her deal, that opened the door for Azazel and so many other horrors to later enter not just her, but John, Sam & Dean’s lives. Mary’s deal is tragic & disturbing - she had to kiss her dead possessed dad! - while also horribly understandable. Azazel killed her mom & dad, killed John, Mary just wants a husband & kids & normal life and Azazel says he can give it to her, even if she knows there will be unintended consequences down the line for her family. at the least it’s an ambiguous choice, and at most it’s the wrong one; Mary could have let John go, married another man, and still had a normal life, even if we know (and can sympathize with) why she didn’t.

then, way down the line at the end of S12, we get a glimpse at the Apocalypse World: a world where Sam & Dean were never born and so they never stopped the Apocalypse like they did in S5, leading to Lucifer and Michael fighting and destroying the world. already, I think, this framing is different from how Kripke’s era handled it. you can’t really separate Sam & Dean from the Apocalypse; it’s a family drama played out on a planet-wide scale. so no Sam & Dean = no Apocalypse. if S5 was about how Sam & Dean were fated to bring about the Apocalypse and subverted it because of their love for each other, then Apocalypse World implicitly suggests that it was the reverse: Sam & Dean were fated to stop the Apocalypse, and so their non-existence meant they weren’t there to do so.

later on in 13x14, we get this exchange between Mary & AW-Bobby:

BOBBY Mary Campbell was a… complicated woman. Brave, but sad. Full of regret. MARY Let me guess. She made a bad demon deal? BOBBY Opposite. She didn’t make one. Lost the love of her life. Never moved on. MARY And Dean and Sam were never born. Bobby, I made that deal. And it—I brought my boys a lot of pain. But what happened here, in your world? Sam and Dean stopped that war in mine. BOBBY Then I’d say you made the right choice.

the subtext of this conversation is that while Mary’s deal might have been the spark for the fires that burned through Sam & Dean’s lives, her deal with ultimately a good choice - it led to Sam and Dean being heroes and saving the world. the ambiguity that was there in Kripke’s era is dropped for something emotionally simpler and less tragic.

in Kripke’s era, Sam and Dean were chosen, and being chosen meant being cursed. they won by fighting as hard as they could against their fates, and true to Kripke’s humanism, it was Sam & Dean’s love for each other that saved the world. in Dabb’s era, while being chosen may mean suffering and hardship, it also means being a hero. arguably I’d say being chosen is a gift, even if it’s a painful one, if one looks at how powers / helping the world is talked about with Jack, Patience, etc.

neither of these two framings is “right,” per se, but imo they are two very different framings of Mary’s deal.

[twistedtummies2]

Year of the Bat - Number 15

Welcome to Year of the Bat! In honor of Kevin Conroy, Arleen Sorkin, and Richard Moll, I’m counting down my Top 31 Favorite Episodes of “Batman: The Animated Series” throughout this January. We’ve officially entered the Top 15! TODAY’S EPISODE QUOTE: “Kids these days. No respect.” Number 15 is…Legends of the Dark Knight.

One of the great things about many famous comic book characters is their adaptability. Some of these characters were created nearly a century ago; Batman, for example, first appeared in the late 1930s. (He actually turns 85 Years Old this very year!) Some characters that old who were popular then have, for one reason or another, not stood the test of time. Batman has, and part of this is because his creators found him easy to adapt and reconfigure as times changed. Bruce Wayne and his universe have been portrayed more seriously or more goofily over the decades, and have been made to appeal to adults and children alike time and time again. “Batman: The Animated Series” is widely considered the most definitive take on the Caped Crusader and his world specifically because the writers who worked on this show understood this, and had a deep love for ALL sides of Batman’s world. The show, therefore, hits a near-perfect balance, overall, between silly superhero shenanigans, and dark, complex, sometimes downright brutal storytelling.

“Legends of the Dark Knight” is an episode that exemplifies not only the skillful balance of tone the Animated Series managed for the majority of its run, but acts as a tribute to the long and storied history of Batman, and the adaptability of the character. The plot focuses on a group of random children, living in Gotham, all of whom are gossiping about the mysterious Dark Knight. Through their banter, they start to share stories and theories about what Batman is really like, all of which pay homage to different past incarnations of Batman. Some of these references are relatively brief; for example, a passing friend of theirs named “Joel,” and his bizarre, strangely effeminate fixations on Batman, are meant to be a joking reference to Joel Schumacher’s much maligned film versions of the character. Another case is one young man who makes insinuations of Batman being some monstrous vampire, a reference to the Elseworlds “Batman & Dracula Trilogy” written by Doug Moench.

The most notable of these homages, however, are two long sequences of the show, acting essentially as stories within a story. The first is a tribute the late Golden Age and the Silver Age of comics, as well as to the Adam West 1960s TV series. It features an original adventure, with Batman and Robin battling the Joker, when the Clown Prince of Crime tries to steal the original score of the opera “Pagliacci.” The second sequence is taken directly from the pages of Frank Miller’s somewhat controversial (but highly influential) masterwork, “The Dark Knight Returns.” This one adapts and combines two scenes from the graphic novel, where Batman faces the despicable Mutant Leader. I love both these sequences; it’s neat to see the way the animation style changes for each to match the decade and story style (I especially love how the first sequence so accurately captures the look of Dick Sprang’s famous aesthetics). Interestingly, they also bring in new voice actors to play the characters in each one; instead of Mark Hamill, for example, Michael McKean plays the 60s-era Joker. Meanwhile, Michael Ironside – who would later play the devilish Darkseid for the DCAU – voices Frank Miller’s Batman. Both are perfect casting.

The episode ends with the kids bearing witness to the real Batman – Conroy’s vocals and all – duking it out with the villainous Firefly. I used to love this episode a lot more, but upon revisiting it, I felt I had lost some love for it, and I think part of it is this final sequence. While I love the idea of the kids encountering the real Batman after all that, and I suppose such a thing was inevitable with a plot like this…something about it feels underwhelming after the spectacular sequences we saw earlier in the episode. It’s hard for me to say what the issue is, but I don’t think that was the intention, based on the way things are set up and described in-story. Still, it’s not necessarily a bad ending, for various and probably obvious reasons. It’s a great episode that showcases a different perspective (several different perspectives, in fact) on Batman and the City as a whole, and if you’re as much of a fan of the history of this character – and the duality of the Animated Series itself – as I am, you owe it to yourself to give this one a quick peek. That is, of course, presuming you haven’t already.

Tomorrow we move on to Number 14! Hint: “This used to be a beautiful street. Good people lived here once.”

[varietales]

Talk about your favorite ship! | Favorite character to rp?

mun meme // accepting

This turned into a massive ramble oops...

Favourite ship (i'm letting myself do 3 RP ones from across my blogs)!

Lisanna x Sting with @aitheros. It lives in my head and heart rent free, I’m so soft for them. We have had so many good and precious interactions with them and plotted much more too! They are such a lovely pair and bring out the best in each other, I adore their softness and the way they can relax around each other so beautifully and understand each other. They’ve both been through a lot, and the plot we’ve done for them has added to that and I’m forever excited about the things we can do within the plot and outside of it too. They’re also AU gold honestly. And I can’t even think about Lisanna without Sting coming to mind now. I can’t express how much I adore them, and Mandy is an incredible writer (im forever in awe of the description and imagery and use of metaphors, absolutely stunning every time, not to mention the dialogue and everything else too) so I’m always feeling super lucky to get to write with her! Her Sting is just CHEFS KISS (its also his bday today and I remember this bc I love him so much, he is the sunshine in my life). So yes 10/10 I adore them.

Rogue x Mary with @killrate. We started writing these babes together way back in like 2016, so it has been A Long Journey and it’s been so good. Beautiful example of awkward friends to secret lovers. With Mary being an ex-cultist and criminal and all, and Rogue being a famous mage, we get this Delicious plot of them keeping their relationship secret. The Yearning and Drama and all that goodness. And we also have an angsty breakup era planned which is gonna kill me but I also love it. In their happy era, they are so beautiful, so cute and adoring and flirty and fun but deep too and the feelings are so real and get me every time. He just adores her so much and is the absolute softness for her. I’m weak, send help. Plus as well as being one of the coolest people ever, Fae has such wonderful writing, its always so fun, so well done and full of personality, and a delight to read!!!

Gray x Evergreen with @lucentaire. At first glance, one might think Huh that’s a weird pair, but the more you think about it, the more it makes sense. They have a lot in common in terms of hobbies/interests, the way they think and even act sometimes, and a lot more. I love these two (and Jana’s specific portrayal) for the way they have this beautiful…idk exactly, like understanding or acceptance of each other, that’s growing with each interaction. They’re really starting to Get each other and it brings a certain peace and its lovely. I love seeing them begin to open up to each other, and I love the hints of feelings creeping in, and I love the teasing that happens from time to time between them as well as from their friends, its just all So Good. When I think about them, I just get this really warm sense of peace and I love it. I also have to say Jana is an amazing writer, her words always flow so well, and she has this gift of sneaking in little references to other characters/muses or little anecdotes from a muse’s past or family that just really Add a little something and make her muses feel so real and rounded. An absolute inspiration every time. And anytime i'm writing anything about Evergreen in general, I have to actively stop myself from writing 'Rena' instead, she's just so deep in my brain.

Favourite character to RP!

I have so many muses and have written so many more in the past, so it’s tricky to pin down a favourite! They all have their differences, and my fave can change based on mood as well. That being said, the first one that came to mind was Lisia (Pokemon)! She was my most active (basically Only) muse for about 8 or 9 months (which is sadly impressive for me) back in 2018. I’m not sure if its nostalgia that I’m holding onto, but I had a lot of fun with her. The RPC was fun and active and I had some really cool things going (and then things went Bad). I put in a Lot of work with Lisia, writing heeeaps of hcs and so she’s a muse that I really adore. She’s just a gorgeous gal with a gorgeous heart. I haven’t been able to get her going again since then but I’ve been thinking about her lately and might give her blog a clean up. I say that every so often tho and never do it, plus I can never manage to get her active again. But anyway, outside of her, I think I would say Lisanna is one of my faves to write! Coincidentally (or not), Lisanna and Lisia are very similar personalities. I enjoy their bubbly, cute personalities, and the way they can become teasing menaces when they want to be, particularly when they get close to someone. They also have this great potential for depth and deep and meaningful convos and angst. They’ve been through a lot and are still So Kind and I think I just find that sort of character comforting. On the complete other hand, I also really get a kick out of writing Macbeth, and my other old fave that’s just come to mind is an og muse of mine, Siegrain, which again, was once upon a time a Most Active muse of mine that I somehow can never get going again. But I did love that sassy blue haired bastard...

I suppose I could have said which muse on This blog is a fave to rp, but i haven't really gotten things going for each muse yet so we'll have to wait and see!