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shihalyfie · 3 years

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@sage-striaton replied to your post:

Idk how people can say Frontier has characters that lack depth. Imo it’s a very psychological season. The whole adventure thing is aimed to making them grown in their behaviours and feelings, it’s a big metaphor of their development

I’m sorry for hijacking your response to my post to segue this into another rant of mine, but I want to emphasize that one of my goals with this blog (if I can be said to have any) is that I really, really, really want people to re-examine whether they actually believe in the rhetoric that’s been dominating this fanbase for two decades, or whether there’s more to it. This is especially in regards to the fact that we’re talking a series deliberately written in such a way that it’ll change meaning and nuance as you get older, so it can “grow up” with you in a sense, and yet it seems like -- especially in regards to Adventure through Frontier, due to their position as the oldest series that the majority of the fanbase was elementary or preteen age during -- people are still regurgitating the same rehashed twenty-year-old ideas like they’re undeniable law. It’s one thing if they’re saying it because the series didn’t sit well with them the first time and they don’t want to watch it again, but we’re reaching a recurring problem where it’s sort of “brainwashing” even people who don’t actually believe it but feel compelled to go along with it, or wouldn’t feel that way if it weren’t for peer pressure. Obviously, there are dissenting opinions, and ones that are even very loud about that, but that pressure remains.

The mainstream opinion in the fanbase is that Adventure is untouchable and impervious to any criticism, 02 is its inferior sequel with half-baked characters, Tamers is an auteur work that’s the “deepest” of the original tetralogy due to being dark, and Frontier is devoid of much substance at all. Even those who don’t really believe in this will still be pressured to go alongside it, those who like 02 or Frontier will be pressured to consider it a “guilty pleasure”, and it’s only very recently when certain events revealed that the idea of 02 actually having quite its own fervent and passionate fanbase that likes it on its own merits became properly recognized. (I have actually noticed a huge uptick in 02 fans, especially casual ones, being more shameless in talking about liking it in the last two years; you’re still going to get the obnoxious person “reminding” you how bad it apparently is if you bring it up, but it’s not nearly as prevalent as it used to be.) I’m not talking about whether something is a “good” or “bad” series -- that concept doesn’t really exist to me as much as whether it’s “to one’s tastes” or not, and I think one of the joys of this franchise is that it has things that cater to people with vastly different preferences -- as much as a lot of potential for analysis and intimate thought about these very fascinating series. Even if 02 and Frontier were as shallow or half-baked as they were accused of, I wouldn’t think it’d be shameful to like them for one’s own reasons anyway, but what frustrates me is that I just don’t think that’s true in the first place!!

Not helping is that there’s still a refusal among the fanbase to admit that there were substantial differences in American English dubbing (especially in regards to Adventure and 02), which I don’t mean as a bad thing in the sense that some people prefer to stick only with that dub and consider that version what they want to work with, but in the sense that the treatment of them as “the same thing” has been horribly detrimental when two people, one coming from that dub and one coming from the Japanese version (or a dub more closely based on it), will end up often having an argument doomed to go nowhere because they were never talking about the same thing to begin with. Recently, a friend admitted to me that although they’d switched to the Japanese version a long time ago, they still couldn’t get the image of Daisuke and Takeru having an inherently hostile relationship (they don’t) out of their head due to the influence of that dub, and although they consciously knew better -- at least enough to admit this to me -- it wasn’t helped by the fact that the fanbase itself continues to reinforce this image because of how normalized it is to treat the dub version and the Japanese version as “virtually the same” and for Western fanbase discourse to assume you should be projecting those takes into the Japanese version. If you’re hanging out in English-speaking circles but are working from the Japanese version or a dub directly based off of it, you do actually have to filter out a lot of takes you’re hearing because they won’t actually apply to the version you’re watching, but not a lot of people realize this.

All four of Adventure through Frontier share tons of key staff, especially Seki, known for her focus on wanting the kids in the audience to be able to empathize with and relate to the characters on screen. All four share some of the best character work I’ve seen not only in this franchise, but also in kids’ media in general, and I also stress that a lot of this has a ton of nuance that isn’t always apparent unless you read between the lines. I do understand that a lot of this probably went over our heads as kids, and I won’t say that the choice to execute it this way should be impervious to criticism, but nevertheless, I think it’s important to call attention to the fact it is there, and much of it becomes recognizable once you see it that way; for instance, so much of "it's contradictory character writing!" comes from the fact that the series tries to represent humans in their inconsistent, messy ways, and while it'll feel "messy" from a writing trope perspective, when you think about it as "since this person has this mentality, does it make sense to approach this with this mindset?", suddenly it becomes very consistent. The supposedly “shallow” 02 and Frontier characters will act in ways that match existing psychological profiles meant for actual humans to terrifying degrees, in ways that you might actually recognize even better once you’ve hit adulthood and start intimately understanding things like depression or anxiety in ways you might not have before. Shockingly, “having heart, important themes, and kindness towards the human condition” are completely valid reasons to uplift a creative work in ways distinct from technical writing or cerebrality or how many tropes they subvert or whatever.

On the flip side, people praise Adventure and Tamers for being the naturally “superior” works with better writing, but when it comes to talking about why the writing is supposedly better, a good chunk of the reasons stated don’t actually explain anything substantial, or go back to actually being passive-aggressive dunks on the other series in some form -- it’s because 02 and Frontier’s character writing sucks that badly, or because Adventure had the “best plot” (which may be true if by “best” you mean “easiest to understand”, but that doesn’t mean much to someone who might not be very happy about how its story progression is just a boss rush), or because Tamers is the “deepest” when by “deep” they actually mean “cerebral, dark, and unsubtle about it” without any further meaning (as if Adventure and 02 were idealistic series that never went into anything nuanced and not, say, the fact they went very viciously deep into societal issues between parents and children, psychological horror, and intimate takes on the human condition). I’m personally saying this as someone who does think Adventure and Tamers have a lot to praise in terms of their approaches to realism and the unique aspects each bring to the table, and I feel that people like this are doing them more of a disservice by not bothering to uplift them for any reason that isn’t actually just inherently condescending. I mean, even taking this outside of the original tetralogy for a bit, when I was plugging Appmon earlier, there’s a reason I focused more on its theme and character writing and the use of “dark” writing to convey its sheer range, rather than trying to boil it down to a shallow “it looks cheery but gets really messed up later!”, which is unfortunately an argument I’ve been seeing about it lately.

In the end, when I write my meta, I write it "making a case" for my point of view, and I welcome others to disagree, but if you disagree, I really hope it'll be because you personally disagree, and not because the entire fanbase has been saying otherwise for twenty years and I sound like a radical. I’m not saying that everyone’s consensus takes are completely unfounded, but frankly speaking, this fanbase has some really bad takes, and in the past few years I’ve found it freeing to not only “say what you feel without worrying what others think”, but actually go out of my way to outright try and purge all the preconceived notions and pick only the ones I agree with because I actually agree with them. I encourage you to do it too! And if you do, you might find things about something you like that you didn’t realize before.

#digimon #shiha's ask box #sage-striaton #digimon adventure #digimon adventure 02 #digimon tamers #digimon frontier #shihameta

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kavat · 3 years

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I've been thinking a bit about Kids These Days and why they are Like That. This might be an Old woman yells at clouds thing, but I dont think so.

We millennials were the first generation to grow up online. Depending on how old you are and when you got access to the internet it might differ, but for many of us the internet was an early escape from a boring or not great reality.

We were the first generation to be kids online, when the internet still was a place for nerdy adults. The internet was dangerous for us, stranger danger was real. We learned (either from informed adults or because of our own mistakes) to not give any personal information or trust anyone. The image that anyone you talk to could be an old pervy man in a basement was very much real, because that was who our parents thought the average internet user was. Many of us never used our real names online until Facebook came along and changed the game completely, before that anonymity was the norm.

10 years ago there was a prevalent nerd culture online, meaning that most communities or forums was still mainly populated by nerdy guys. They had (have...) a certain jargon and humor based on being outcasts of their irl environment. The memes of that time was trollcomics, Bad Luck Brian, Socially Awkward Penguin, non mainstream pop culture references. It was based on superiority and elevating themselves by punching down. It lead to an online culture of racism, misogyny and homophobia in so many online spaces. If you found my old username on some forum you would probably find some shitty things, because I wanted to fit in. It wasn't safe to be anything but a straight white man online unless you created your own space.

But the internet isn't new anymore, it has become a lot more accessible and widespread and the majority of people depend on the internet daily. You can't see the internet as dangerous because you have to use it every single day. And I think that's why so many of the warnings about it feels either unnecessary or out of touch to younger people. They don't see the internet as a lawless wild west, it's their backyard where everything should be and is nice and safe.

The past 5 years or so there has been a lot of progress in online spaces, where racism, misogyny, queerphobia etc is less and less tolerated. And not without a fight, real people have had their lives destroyed because of the online hate campaigns (see gamergate). If you stood up for feminism you would get death threats. It still happens, but the internet is in general a much nicer place now than it was 10 years ago.

The younger people don't know that. They haven't seen the foul hate that was commonplace in every single comment thread. But they have grown into the backlash of that, where social justice is very widespread and seen as a virtue. Which is good! We should stand up for what's right! But the kids will often misdirect this energy towards undeserving people.

They will go after someone who said something problematic in 2008, without having any clue about what the culture was like then. They will shout "think of the children" without acknowledging that there are now measures in place to protect children (like age restrictions, tags, mute functions). They will claim someone as problematic because of one small misunderstanding rather than going after actual racists, because they feel it's the easier target. And it makes them feel good and like they've accomplished something. We chased off another person from the internet because we didn't like the particular thing they did, cheers all around.

Meanwhile, in the other corner of the internet, where the nerdy bro jargon has lived on and festered from feeling attacked for a decade, bigotry has grown so strong that we get mass murders in the name of a gaming youtuber and people storming the capitol. They should be the real enemy but no, the younger generation know that regular people have a conscience and are easier targets.

My point is that the modern purity culture on the rise among young people is the backside of the social justice coin. When you don't see the actual threat and just the weapon, you end up fighting the wrong people.

I have no solution for this. I just think that it's important to talk about the full context in which different generation of internet users grew up, and do our best to share our experiences.

#whatever cat #i was going to make a twitter thread but it grew out of hand lmao #anyway good morning

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fishoutofcamelot · 4 years

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Zombie symbolism in media? Body snatchers? That sounds extremely interesting 👀👀👀

OOOOOOOOOOH ARE YOU READY FOR ME TO RANT? CUZ I’M GONNA RANT BABY. YALL WANNA SEE HOW HARD I CAN HYPERFIXATE???

I’ll leave my ramblings under the cut.

The Bodysnatchers thing is a bit quicker to explain so I’ll start with that. Basically, Invasion of the Body Snatchers was released in 1956, about a small town where the people are slowly but surely replaced and replicated by emotionless hivemind pod aliens. It was a pretty obvious metaphor for the red scare and America’s fear of the ‘growing threat of communism’ invading their society. A communist could look like anyone and be anyone, after all.

Naturally, the bodysnatcher concept got rebooted a few times - Invasion of the Bodysnatchers (1978), Body Snatchers (1993), and The Invasion (2007), just off the top of my head. You’re all probably very familiar with the core concept: people are slowly being replaced by foreign duplicates.

But while the monster has remained roughly the same, the theme has not. In earlier renditions, Bodysnatchers symbolized communism. But in later renditions, the narratives shifted to symbolize freedom of expression and individualism - that is, people’s ability to express and think for themselves being taken away. That’s because freedom of thought/individuality is a much more pressing threat on our minds in the current climate. Most people aren’t scared of communists anymore, but we are scared of having our free will taken away from us.

The best indicator of the era in which a story is created is its villain. Stories written circa 9/11 have villains that are foreign, because foreign terrorism was a big fear in the early 2000s. In the past, villains were black people, because white people were racist (and still are, but more blatantly so in the past).

Alright, now for the fun part.

ZOMBIES

Although the concept has existed in Haitian voodooism for ages, the first instance of zombies in western fiction was a book called The Magic Island written by William Seabrook in 1929. Basically ol Seabrook took a trip to Haiti and saw all the slaves acting tired and ‘brutish’ and, having learned about the voodoo ‘zombi’, believed the slaves were zombies, and thus put them in his book.

The first zombie story in film was actually an adaptation of Seabrook’s accounts, called White Zombie (1932). It was about a couple who takes a trip to Haiti, only for the woman to be turned into a zombie and enchanted into being a Haitian’s romantic slave. SUPER racist, if you couldn’t tell, but not only does it reflect the state of entertainment of the era - Dracula and Frankenstein had both been released around the same time - but it also reflects American cultural fears. That is, the fear of white people losing their authoritative control over the world. White fright.

Naturally, the box office success of White Zombie inspired a whole bunch of other remakes and spinoffs in the newly minted zombie genre, most of them taking a similar Haitian voodoo approach. Within a decade, zombies had grown from an obscure bit of Haitian lore to a fully integrated part of American pop culture. Movies, songs, books, cocktails, etc.

But this was also a time for WWII to roll around and, much like the Bodysnatchers, zombie symbolism evolved to fit the times. Now zombies experienced a shift from white fright and ethnic spirituality to something a bit more secular. Now they were a product of foreign science created to perpetuate warmongering schemes. In King of Zombies (1941), a spy uses zombies to try and force a US Admiral to share his secrets. And Steve Sekely’s Revenge of the Zombies (1943) became the first instance of Nazi zombies.

Then came the atom bomb, and once more zombie symbolism shifted to fears of radiation and communism. The most on-the-nose example of this is Creature With the Atom Brain (1955).

Then came the Vietnam War, and people started fearing an uncontrollable, unconscionable military. In Night of the Living Dead (1968), zombies were caused by radiation from a space probe, combining both nuclear and space-race motifs, as well as a harsh government that would cause you just as much problems as the zombies. One could argue that the zombies in the Living Dead series represent military soldiers, or more likely the military-industrial complex as a whole, which is presented as mindless in its pursuit of violence.

The Living Dead series also introduced a new mainstay to the genre: guns. Military stuff. Fighting. Battle. And that became a major milestone in the evolution of zombie representation in media. This was only exacerbated by the political climate of the time. In the latter half of the 20th century, there were a lot of wars. Vietnam, Korea, Arab Spring, Bay of Pigs, America’s various invasions and attacks on Middle Eastern nations, etc. Naturally the public were concerned by all this fighting, and the nature of zombie fiction very much evolved to match this.

But the late 1900s weren’t just a place of war. They were also a place of increasing economic disparity and inequal wealth distribution. In the 70s and 80s, the wage gap widened astronomically, while consumerism remained steadily on the rise. And so, zombies symbolized something else: late-stage capitalism. Specifically, capitalist consumption - mindless consumption. For example, in Dawn of the Dead (1978), zombies attack a mall, and with it the hedonistic lifestyles of the people taking refuge there. This iteration props up zombies as the consumers, and it is their mindless consumption that causes the fall of the very system they were overindulging in.

Then there was the AIDS scare, and the zombie threat evolved to match something that we can all vibe with here in the time of COVID: contagion. Now the zombie condition was something you could get infected with and turn into. In a video game called Resident Evil (1996), the main antagonist was a pharmaceutical company called the Umbrella Corporation that’s been experimenting with viruses and bio-warfare. In 28 Days Later (2002), viral apes escape a research lab and infect an unsuspecting public.

Nowadays, zombies are a means of expressing our contemporary fears of apocalypse. It’s no secret that the world has been on the brink for a while now, and everyone is waiting with bated breath for the other shoe to drop. Post-apocalypse zombie movies act as simultaneous male power fantasy, expression of contemporary cynicism, an expression of war sentiments, and a product of the zombie’s storied symbolic history. People are no longer able to trust the government, and in many ways people have a hard time trusting each other, and this manifests as an every-man-for-himself survivalist narrative.

So why have zombies endured for so long, despite changing so much? Why are we so fascinated by them? Well, many say that it’s because zombies are a way for us to express our fears of apocalypse. Communism, radiation, contagion - these are all threats to the country’s wellbeing. Some might even say that zombies represent a threat to conversative America/white nationalism, what with the inclusion of voodooism, foreign entities, and late-stage capitalism being viewed as enemies.

Personally, I might partly agree with the conservative America thing, but I don’t think zombies exist to project our fears onto. That’s just how villains and monsters work in general. In fiction, the conflict’s stakes don’t hit home unless the villain is intimidating. The hero has to fight something scary for us to be invested in their struggles. But the definition of what makes something scary is different for every different generation and social group. Maybe that scary thing is foreign invaders, or illness, or losing a loved one, or a government takeover. As such, the stories of that era mold to fit the fears of that era. It’s why we see so many government conspiracy thrillers right now; it’s because we’re all afraid of the government and what it can do to us.

So if projecting societal fears onto the story’s villain is a commonplace practice, then what makes zombies so special? Why have they lasted so long and so prevalently? I would argue it’s because the concept of a zombie, at its core, plays at a long-standing American ideal: freedom.

Why did people migrate to the New World? Religious freedom. Why did we start the Revolutionary War and become our own country? Freedom from England’s authority. Why was the Civil War a thing? The south wanted freedom from the north - and in a remarkable display of irony, they wanted to use that freedom to oppress black people. Why are we so obsessed with capitalism? Economic freedom.

Look back at each symbolic iteration of the zombie. What’s the common thread? In the 20s/30s, it was about white fright. The fear that black people could rise up against them and take away their perceived ‘freedom’ (which was really just tyrannical authority, but whatever). During WWII, it was about foreign threats coming in and taking over our country. During Vietnam, it became about our military spinning out of control and hecking things up for the rest of us. In the 80s/90s, it was about capitalism turning us into mindless consumers. Then it was about plagues and hiveminds and the collapse of society as a whole, destroying everything we thought we knew and throwing our whole lives into disarray. In just about every symbolic iteration, freedom and power have been major elements under threat.

And even deeper than that, what is a zombie? It’s someone who, for whatever reason, is a mindlessly violent creature that cannot think beyond base animal impulses and a desire to consume flesh. You can no longer think for yourself. Everything that made you who you are is gone.

Becoming a zombie is the ultimate violation of someone’s personal freedom. And that terrifies Americans.

Although an interesting - and concerning - phenomenon is this new wave of wish fulfillment zombie-ism. You know, the gun-toting action movie hero who has the personality of soggy toast and a jaw so chiseled it could decapitate the undead. That violent survivalist notion of living off the grid and being a total badass all the while. It speaks to men who, for whatever reason, feel their masculinity and dominance is under threat. So they project their desires to compensate for their lack of masculine control onto zombie fiction, granting them personal freedom from obligations and expectations (and feminism) to live out their solo macho fantasies by engaging in low- to no-consequence combat. And in doing so, completely disregarding the fact that those same zombies were once people who cruelly had their freedom of self ripped away from them. Gaining their own freedom through the persecution of others (zombies). And if that doesn’t sum up the white conservative experience, I don’t know what does.

So yeah. That’s zombies, y’all.

Thanks for the ask!

#dude #film stuff is one of my main hyperfixations #but to be fair i have a lot of hyperfixations #why do you think this blog exists #ask #fish post

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nerdiebird · 5 years

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Open Letter from Joel Birch

“This is, in actual fact, my open letter.

There will be a few people out there that may jump to a particular conclusion regarding some of the lyrics on our new record, however, I felt I needed to be as open as I have been in the past, and explain myself. As you may or may not know, I am responsible for all of the lyrics in Amity. I can’t even play a chord on a guitar or hit the drums in time, so fortunately I am at least competent, (although I’m sure there are detractors out there who think otherwise), at writing lyrics.

During the course of Amity, suicide and self harm have been prevalent topics; all the way back to High Hopes which had the cringe-worthy, corny lyrics of ‘please stop cutting yourself’ we have engaged with our listeners as much as possible, to convey a positive message. There was an overwhelmingly large amount of people - wait, I should say percentage of people - coming to our shows that had evidence of self harm, and that was distressing from the get go. There is a tendency for the style we play, and a lot of other sub genres that compose the laundry list of styles out there, to have dark imagery associated with the music. Sometimes this is in jest, sometimes it’s meaningless, and sometimes it is an open window to people’s psyche. Whatever the case, a lot of people who get into this music often times have had to deal with mental illness either themselves, or dealt with it in their circle of friends.

Over the past decade there has been a slow - a very slow - move to a greater public awareness, but I can say that when we first started seeing it manifest itself physically at our shows, awareness was quite low, and intolerance and avoidance quite high. Anyway, I am prone to ramble, so I’d better get to the point a little faster. We’ve grown in stature since High Hopes, we play to more people, more people listen to our music on the radio, downloading it, whatever - and thusly, more people have become aware of my own struggles with depression and anxiety over the years. I have had clinically diagnosed depression for the better part of a decade, but when I dealt with it in my teens, I was told that everyone feels the same etc, if you have any experience with it I’m sure you’ve heard similar sentiments. Over the years, due to the increase in listeners, there has also been a steady increase of communication between myself and said listeners. This started out easy enough for me to deal with, as there were only a few people who would approach me after we’d played, we’d have a quick chat, and off they went.

Since Chasing Ghosts however, there has been a significant increase in letters, messages, and conversations between myself and you guys, and sometimes the messages and letters are extremely heavy, emotionally. I’m not made of stone, and being someone who suffers from the same problems, this has led to some extreme insecurities, personally.

I don’t feel equipped to properly handle some of these notes. I’m not professionally trained to give the necessary advice, and so a lot of the time I’m left scrambling for words to stop people from feeling so down, they really want to kill themselves. This hits hard for me, I feel extremely helpless, I don’t know what to do; I’ve lost many nights of sleep over urgent messages that I don’t know how to respond to. Let me be clear: I do not want anyone to feel like they can’t write to me, that’s not what this is about, I just need to explain the lyrics that discuss this problem on our record. I am glad that sometimes a few lines of encouragement to seek advice is all that’s needed, but sometimes I know that I haven’t done enough, and what’s worse than that, is that I don’t even know how to do more. I wrote Don’t Lean On Me especially to deal with this; I am dealing with depression and anxiety, and so I can fully empathise with everyone out there that has it, to whichever degree they are dealing with it, but I remain inadequate as an advicegiver.

I just need people to know that when a message is written to me, it doesn’t just roll off my back like water. I have felt physically ill in the past after reading some letters, just hearing the sheer desperation in the tone of them is enough to bring tears to my eyes, and still, time after time, I don’t know how to adequately reply.

Music is my personal outlet, it gets me through a lot problems within myself that I may not have been able to deal with otherwise, and likewise, it is the only language I understand when it comes to helping people get through life. I feel like I have poured myself out selflessly over the last four years where our music is concerned; I opened myself up like I never had before to try and help other people get through the same problems. I still to this day am a massive advocate of music as the message, it’s why I get (publicly) upset about bands trumpeting themselves when there are people out there who are actively searching for music to help them. Music does save lives, I believe that, and I am trying my hardest to actively contribute lyrics that can get people through.

I promise I will never take the selfish route and cut you, the listeners, out of the way I write lyrics, and the messages I convey; just remember next time you are writing to me - I understand your pain, I understand what you are going through for the most part, but the best I can do is listen, and point you in the right direction. I am easily affected by your messages, because I empathise with you on such a deep level, just remember that. Sometimes the only comfort I need is to know that someone else out there understands, and I hope I can give you that comfort through our music, as I am unable to provide it personally to all of you. I am trying my best, I just ask you don’t get offended by my writing about how your pain has a certain transference that I am sure you never intended.”

Joel Birch, lead singer of the Australian metalcore band, The Amity Affliction, posted this open letter onto the band’s website regarding their 4th studio album, Let the Ocean Take Me, released in 2014. Joel has been open about his dealings with depression and wanted to convey his thoughts to fans who also deal with these issues. One song off the record, Don’t Lean On Me, was written as a sort of response to fans who have relied on the band and their music to persevere through hard times; Joel feels that since he also struggles with mental illness, he is inadequate to help and so, Don’t Lean On Me was his message to fans not to rely on him for support.

#the amity affliction #amity #joel birch #let the ocean take me #don't lean on me #bands

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phagemaleficar · 4 years

Conversation

Occupy Wall Street Medic Interview Transcript

Q: Looking back on Occupy, how do you feel that protests have learned and grown since then?

A: Decentralization. We learned you can’t rely on one voice, or one group of voices. When any person can lead, the police cannot stop us through single arrests. I think that’s why they pulled that bullshit mass arrest – they wanted to intimidate everyone because they didn’t know how to stop a leadership that didn’t exist.

Q: How has the police response changed over the years?

A: In the past decade it has become terrifyingly and infuriatingly more militant and under trump they’ve become so absurdly violent that we’ve had to adapt as medics and protestors. They’ve gotten much too trigger happy on impact weapons, projectiles, and chemical weapons and they’re trying new stuff on us all the time.

They’re lasing protestors to mark them for arrest. That was a new one to see. Plus that terrifying DNA-marker UV dye. This stuff can mark you as having been out at a specific date or even time and place and it is devilishly hard to remove. They have also been seen using Adamsite, which is a chemical weapon designed to cause vomiting and sneezing and unlike CS, can last for 12 hours in the system. There’s some nightmare fuel for anyone who believes in democracy.

With few exceptions, I see police as being more violent, and faster on the draw. Criticism of several high-profile police-murder-unarmed-Black-civilian cases has also seemed to make them really shitty.

Q: How has protest culture and organization changed in the years since Occupy?

A: Communication is huge. Encrypted messaging, the ability to blast out info to a whole country, the capacity to put everything, every video, online has meant we have more options but also more risks. Even what, nine years ago? We couldn’t mass organize nearly as well as we can today, though it was pretty good at the time it has only gotten better.

Honestly, the prevalence of social media may have made communication and mass movements harder as the signal-to-noise ratio goes out of whack. How do you expect to find out about an action when the FB algorithm buries it but shows you 50 fuckin buzz feed quizzes? But as the landscape has changed, so have tactics.

Q: Do you think modern protestors would have handled it differently?

A: People are way more pissed now, but I think Occupy helped push that. For all its faults, Occupy made it clear that civilly obedient protest, which we’d fallen back on for… some reason, was just not as impactful. Love or hate it, everyone was talking about it. They delayed the NYSE opening bell which was, I believe, a first. I remember nearly being crushed by a police barricade that day, in fact.

A lot of people radicalized in Occupy movements. I did, personally. Prior to OWS, I thought protesting was pointless and stupid. I thought the police were just keeping the peace. I was, eugh, a libertarian. And then, while trying to help people, I saw just how offensively bad NYPD was and it was a shock. Maybe that perspective skews my thoughts a bit, but I do feel like protestors after a year of increasing violence and anger would be far more confrontational and I think it would have boiled over in that park far sooner.

I also have to say, I think OWS would have been a more diverse movement today. They acknowledge the issue at the time, but there was a bit of an “it is what it is” reaction, and maybe a tendency to overcompensate when Black voices did speak. “Promote Black Voices” doesn’t mean “turn off your brain” and look, lots of people had iffy ideas at Occupy, across melanin shades and hues. The white guilt did us no favors. Having more Black Voices and white allies who actually know how to ally instead of white knight would have been badass.

Q: What kind of impact do you think Occupy had on protesting in the US?

A: It taught cops they couldn’t just target the “people in charge”, that’s for sure. it also was there when live streams off the street were becoming a thing. Having PD there, on a live feed, hiding badge numbers and going berserk was influential in ways I think we’ll bee tracing the effects of for years. A lot like how when war footage went from carefully edited and shown in news reels to on TV, sometimes live, and horrifically live and raw and bloody in Vietnam, the people’s view swung hard.

Seeing Officer Bologna randomly and cruelly hose down a couple of protestors quietly stood in a kettle while even other cops looked on in shock and confusion is one of those images I think we need to make sure is kept around for generations. That being blasted over the internet infuriated people. And the cops know it, now. They know how fast video goes live and how much people are willing to dox every last one of them.

Beyond that, taking protesting to a youth-level, taking it to a fully digital organization and digital word of mouth, this is massive. Occupy reminded us to pressure them in their daily lives, not just at the RNC and DNC but to say “Oh, I’m sorry, were you enjoying your Tuesday? Fuck you Tuesday, people are dying.” Y’know how pearls are made? A tiny grain of sand gets into an oyster and irritates the shit out of it until the oyster makes it into a precious “stone”. OWS taught a lot of us to make ourselves a menace.

Q: What advice would you give to future protestors?

A: You are one, fragile, insignificant person. In a crowd that outnumbers anything they can throw at you. If you refuse to accept “no”, there ain’t shit they can do.

#ows #occupy wall street

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sciencespies · 4 years

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What we don't know about parasites in our changing world could be deadly

https://sciencespies.com/environment/what-we-dont-know-about-parasites-in-our-changing-world-could-be-deadly/

What we don't know about parasites in our changing world could be deadly

In the salt water marshes of southern California, a splashing killifish is easy prey for a hungry shorebird. Like a jerking marionette, the helpless creature shimmies and flashes on the surface of the water. And all the while, hiding deep in its brain, an invisible other quietly pulls the strings.

The puppeteer in question is the super-abundant parasitic flatworm known as Euhaplorchis californiensis. Throughout its life, this one parasite will infect no less than three animals, and a bird’s intestine is the final destination it wants to reach.

To get there, the parasite’s larva must penetrate a killifish, crawl to its brain and lay down a carpet of cysts, which it then uses to manipulate the host’s swimming, sending it thrashing to the surface.

As it happens, infected killifish are preyed on by birds some 10 to 30 times more, which means that parasites are essentially increasing the amount of resources available in the ecosystem: a relationship we often overlook in the natural world.

The story of the infected fish is a tantalising peak backstage, but it’s also a reminder of our sheer ignorance. As the world’s climate changes, we can’t ignore our parasites any longer.

A parasitic dark matter

Though often hidden to the human eye, parasites are, by some estimates, more than half of all known species on Earth. What’s more, they can influence virtually every other free-living animal.

Humans alone play host to nearly 300 types of parasitic worm, and around a third of us are currently infected, whether knowingly or not, with at least one.

They’re everywhere, on all sides, maybe even inside. And yet when we picture a classic food chain, how many of us remember the lions, zebras and grass, only to forget their hidden puppeteers?

Compared to free-living species, scientists have collected relatively scant information on parasites. Historically dominated by medical researchers and overlooked by ecologists and conservationists (Darwin himself viewed them as “degenerates“), these organisms are often entirely missing from modern depictions of food chains; even though, in the average ecosystem, parasite–host links actually outnumber predator–prey links.

Only in the last 30 years or so have we realised our mistake.

(Cizauskas et al., Royal Society Open Science, 2017)

Above: Global distribution of parasite climate change research. Research on parasitic species is disproportionately oriented towards human emerging infectious diseases (EIDs), especially in countries where the majority of parasite research occurs.

When parasites like E. californiensis are included in the ecology of California’s salt marshes, the classic food web – with a few predators at the top and lots of smaller species on the bottom – is almost literally “turned on its head“.

“Essentially,” the authors of a 2008 paper explain, “a second web appears around the free-living web, and this completely changes the level of connectivity.”

Parasites are thus described as a sort of hidden “dark matter“, not only in our ecosystems but also in our models of infection. When Chelsea Wood, a parasite ecologist at the University of Washington, first started researching mass fishing nearly 15 years ago, she told ScienceAlert that we had virtually no idea how this practice might impact resident parasites.

Even now, she adds, when ecosystems are facing unprecedented changes, we have only the foggiest idea how more than half the species on Earth are coping.

Whether acknowledged or not, parasites are key indicators and shapers of healthy communities, influencing the survival and reproduction of whole host populations, causing food web cascades or even epidemics.

Some call them the “omnipresent agents of natural selection“, others the “ultimate missing links“, still others the “invisible puppeteers“.

Whatever the label, it’s about time we consider the parasite.

Shooting in the dark

If the history of medical science has taught us anything, Wood argues, it’s that the emergence of a new infectious disease can go unnoticed for a long time: the tale of HIV, jumping from primates to humans decades before we recognised it as a global epidemic, is a prime example.

Today, a similar story might be unfolding in our oceans, like a shadow, creeping up the wall behind us.

“We really are just starting to scratch the surface on whether a changing world means rising rates of infectious disease,” Wood told ScienceAlert.

In the last few years, scientists have grown ever more concerned that our planet is not only getting warmer, it’s also altering the spread and distribution of parasitic diseases.

A recent finding, not yet published by Wood’s lab, indicates that from 1978 to 2015, there was a 280-fold increase in Anisakis simplex, a cold water nematode responsible for some 20,000 cases of herring worm disease, usually contracted from eating raw or undercooked seafood.

Whether the trend is due to fishing, climate change or something else, is hard to say for now. In Arctic waters, where this nematode flourishes and climate change is at its worst, we often lack baseline and long-term data, even for the best known parasites and their diseases.

Unfortunately, this means our future projections can often fall short of the rich reality.

The domino effects of climate change on parasites and their hosts. (Cizauskas et al., Royal Society Open Science, 2017)

The latest climate-parasite models are trying to fill-in this blindspot, incorporating not only climate data, but also information on parasitic life cycles, ranges, and opportunities for new hosts.

The initial results suggest that climate change will play a much larger role in disease transfer than we once thought. But what that specifically means for bird-flu, human malaria, A. simplex or other parasitic diseases remains unresolved.

After all, wherever there’s few data, there’s plenty of doubt. Even Wood, who directly measures parasite prevalence, admits that her research may well contain a sneaking bias. Researchers, you see, tend to pay more attention to those parasites that matter to humans.

“No one cares about parasites that are diminishing into extinction, because they don’t hurt people, they don’t hurt animals, they don’t cause outbreaks, they don’t ruin your fish fillet, they don’t crawl across your plate at the sushi restaurant,” Wood explains.

But that doesn’t mean they aren’t a vital part of our ecology. While an increase or change in parasite populations will no doubt have serious repercussions for health and agriculture, the flip side may well entail ecological upheaval. Some parasites are certain to flourish, while others will likely decline and go extinct.

A 2017 study on 457 parasite species predicts that five to 10 percent are committed to this fate by 2070, solely from climate-driven habitat loss. The researchers went on to create the first “red list” for parasites.

“Accounting for host-driven coextinctions,” the authors write, “models predict that up to 30 [percent] of parasitic worms are committed to extinction, driven by a combination of direct and indirect pressures.”

Will the aforementioned E. californiensis number among these wormy losers? Will another invasive parasite take its place? What then will happen to the size, distribution and abundance of killifish? The hungry shorebird? The precious salt marshes? The humans who rely on them?

Gathering answers on the complexities of parasite-host dynamics in all the thousands of mammal and bird species is a simply impossible task, says Konstans Wells, a parasite ecologist and modeller at Swansea University.

“We need more data for certain aspects,” he told ScienceAlert, “but we certainly can’t sample everything and we also can’t wait with the modelling because there is always a need to make better forecasting or maps where diseases are being distributed.”

As the clock ticks, researchers must act like ghostbusters, hunting down invisible foes, diseases that don’t yet exist or have yet to re-emerge in some new unexpected location.

Danielle Claar, a postdoc working in Wood’s lab, is studying the effect of El Niño events in the parasite-rich Tropics, because she says these can act as windows into future warming. Others in the team are sifting through countless museum samples and old journals for evidence of the past.

“When you arrive into science you think everyone’s got everything figured out,” Wood says.

“But as you get deeper in you realise there’s so much we don’t know. It’s staggering.”

As the climate crisis takes a firm grip, squeezing some parasites out and holding on to others, what we don’t know could very will kill many. And that goes for both parasites and humans alike.

A version of this article was first published in June 2019.

#Environment

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emilywendland · 5 years

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“Dear White People “- Entry #1

The Netflix television series, “Dear White People”, written and directed by Justin Simien and aired on April 28, 2017. The Netflix TV show is a comedy-drama series that follows four African-American students at Winchester College, an Ivy League school while discussing the persistent, seething challenges with casual racism - and a whole lot of prestige. The show is broken down into 30-minute episodes that follow along the main characters. Dear White People has gained controversy over the past couple of years, mainly by white viewers saying that the show is offensive to white people because the episodes are visual representations of the difficulties African-American students face at a predominantly white campus with institutional racism. (IMDb)

From what I have seen, I think this show relates to our course material by putting into action what authors, like Peggy McIntosh and Richard Dyer, were saying would be a way to put a stop to white power by making white people feel uncomfortable, like many of the show’s reviews have shown. The show saw mixed reviews, but some of the best reviews came from white viewers as well. I think back to what McIntosh said about how some white people are oblivious to their privilege or now angry because tables have turned. The director knows the script is triggering as he uses purposeful language and modern-day issues to get a reaction from his viewers, whether that be good or bad. Some white viewers expressed that they wanted to boycott Netflix as a reaction to the Netflix Original because they felt attacked. Whether this is the case of being closed-minded or because one behaves in the way the white characters are acting and feel targeted, I thought the show was a brilliant way of bringing real life issues that fellow Americans face to the viewers and get people to think about what they are doing or saying to others in regards to race and understand the lives impacted by racist words and actions on a very large streaming site. (Dyer and McIntosh)

Without spoiling too much of the show for people who may want to watch it, the first episode entails the first racial issue we see the students face. A campus magazine group, Pastiche, hosts a “Dear Black People” party, where the non-black students painted their faces to resemble African-Americans, either a celebrity or random person. The term ‘blackface’ originated during the 19th century and this contributed to other racial stereotypes as well. Now in the 21st century this term is offensive and disrespectful. The main character, Samantha, who created the “Dear White People” show on the campus radio station, filmed the party that was mocking her show. The white students in ‘blackface’ were confronted with their fellow black classmates and thereon, tension was clearly there and so was the racial separation between the students.

Meanwhile, Sam starts dating Gabe, a white student at the school, and her fellow black students/friends start losing faith in her awareness and her radio show gets replaced. This makes Sam question herself and her relationship. She feels like she has to choose him or her black culture and community, which we have discussed throughout the semester and the feeling of ‘otherness’. (Simien)

Furthermore, the show also illustrates the systemic racism still faced today by showing the violence one of the black student’s experience while they are on campus. The campus police did not think he was a student at the Ivy League school because he didn’t “fit in”, and when the student refused to show campus ID he was held at gunpoint until a white student came to vouch for him. This leaves the student ashamed and anxious to go to classes or do things on/off campus because he suffered from flashbacks from the traumatic experience. (Simien)

The continuous racism seen across the United States today is something that has grown from our documented history. The changes across the decades have continued to brew unwarranted racism in communities throughout America. The impact it has on people of color (POC) is prevalent every day and everywhere and the anxieties it brings them. We saw the violence targeted at POC in the readings of Emmett Till. The history of police brutality is an unresolved problem even after 52 years. After laws have changed and times have progressed, POC are still struggling after years of generations have passed. The demographics of communities are obviously another major component, and it is clearly seen that the black population at Winchester isn’t the majority. With that, the list of horrors that depict the daily lives of African-Americans doesn’t end there. Watch for more!

Literature Cited:

“Dear White People.” IMDb, IMDb.com, 28 Apr. 2017, www.imdb.com/title/tt5707802/.

Dyer, Richard. “On the Matter of Whiteness.” Only Skin Deep: Changing Visions of the American Self, by Coco Fusco, Abrams, 2003, pp. 301–311.

McIntosh, Peggy. “White Privilege: Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack.” Peace and Freedom, 1989, pp. 10–12.

Simien, Justin. Dear White People, Season 1-3, www.netflix.com/title/80095698.

Photos were sourced by Netflix and IMBd

Twitter messages found on:

Wright, Minnie. “Netflix Face Backlash over 'Racist' Dear White People Trailer as People Threaten BOYCOTT.” Express.co.uk, Express.co.uk, 12 Feb. 2017, www.express.co.uk/showbiz/tv-radio/766085/Netflix-backlash-racist-Dear-White-People-trailer-boycott.

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charminglatina · 5 years

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Riverdale Couples & Ships as Romantic Tropes (Part I) ❤️

In this list, I’ll be listing the Riverdale ships and couples (both teen and adult) with the romantic tropes that best represent their relationship on the show. In case you’re wondering where I got the tropes from, I got them from TVTropes.org. This list of couples and their romantic tropes is not a rankings list like my previous other lists which were rankings based on percentages. Because there are so many couples, I have decided to split the lists in two parts. Have fun reading!

#25. Archundy (Archie Andrews & Geraldine Grundy; ROMANTIC TROPE: TEACHER/STUDENT ROMANCE)

Teacher/Student Romance

"I've got it bad, got it bad, got it bad, I'm Hot For Teacher."—Van Halen

It is a pretty good bet that just about any show that features adults and teens interacting in an academic environment will eventually explore a romantic relationship between a teacher and a student. The basis for this type of relationship — if it's actually a romance and not just a Sextra Credit arrangement — can either be the adoration and respect toward the teacher and mentor figure or the teacher's protective and caring instincts, or both. The illicit, forbidden, and most often scandalous nature of these relationships can be mined for angst, and generally doesn't cause real life issues because the actors themselves are generally all above the age of consent thanks to Dawson Casting. But even if the student is eighteen or in college, this sort of extracurricular activity would still be a massive breach of professional ethics in most of the world and in some jurisdictions is considered illegal, regardless of age, in some circumstances (some teachers have been charged for relationships with high school students, even if the relationship didn't begin until after the student turned 18 and the teacher her/himself was only a few years older). Even if it was not illegal, the scandal that would erupt from this socially unacceptable affair would be so devastating it would basically cost a teacher or professor his or her job forever. There are usually different levels of moral endorsement of the relationship, depending on the genders of the participants. Relationships between male teachers and male students are condemned the most harshly. When a male teacher and a female student are together it results in the teacher being viewed as a pervert and sometimes the student being slut shamed. When it's the other way around, a female teacher with a male or even a female student is taken far less seriously. An even more outrageous double standard is that emphasis is often placed on how attractive said female teacher is — the more attractive said teacher, the more acceptable the relationship is. That said, the trope in fiction probably will involve a Hot Teacher, if only for fanservice purposes. An author might attempt to make this relationship less squicky by having the student fulfill the Wise Beyond Their Years trope, by keeping things to Courtly Love only, or by making both participants older — a graduate or doctoral student falling in love with their professor is less likely to cause moral outrage than a high school student doing the same thing due to both participants being adults, though the professional ethics of the situation remain pretty much the same. The relationship may be initiated by a Fille Fatale. A subtrope of Unequal Pairing. Compare Mrs. Robinson. See Likes Older Men, Likes Older Women, and Stacy's Mom for young people lusting after older people in general, Precocious Crush for a more innocent variant, Age-Gap Romance for when there's a significant age difference between them, and Mentor Ship. There's a version specific to magic users called Merlin and Nimue, which takes its cue from the Arthurian Mythos where Merlin formed such a pair with several women. Teacher/Parent Romance occurs when a teacher falls for their student's parent. This group of tropes is among The Oldest Ones in the Book. Although generally frowned upon in Real Life today, it's had varying levels of acceptance throughout history. It was most famously acceptable in Ancient Greece, where it took the form of Lover and Beloved.

#24. Jasolly (Jason Blossom & Polly Cooper; ROMANTIC TROPE: KISSING COUSINS)

Kissing Cousins

"If you're tired of beating around the bush, why not shake the family tree? A hot cousin might fall out."—Stephen Colbert

Romantic/sexual relationships between cousins (meaning, generally, first cousins) are a phenomenon that has been more accepted in some cultures and eras than others. A great many cultures today accept it, including a majority of the industrialized world. Marrying one's extended relatives (which is technically known as clan endogamy) seems to have been common in human evolutionary history, since hominids usually lived in small nomadic bands with few available sexual partners. At the other end of the spectrum, much of the modern U.S.A. considers cousin marriage completely taboo, so Hilarity Ensues at the very mention of it. People from backwoods areas (especially the Appalachian Mountains) are often the preferred butt of many bad jokes as well as occasional bits of Self-Deprecation for the alleged prevalence of Kissing Cousins in their culture. Despite the taboo, cousin marriages are legal in about half the states in the U.S.A., though not as much in the backwoods areas and more in the modern industrialized states, the opposite of what one might expect from hearing all those jokes. Legal or not, these marriages are still not very common due to the lingering cultural taboo. All states permit marriages between second and third cousins, but even these are looked at funny. In the UK, first cousin marriage is unusual and would be regarded as rather odd, but not with the same severity as the US. Second cousin marriages and beyond would be seen as unremarkable. Expect some strong Values Dissonance between the media from the US and other countries, and between certain modern works and works from the nineteenth century and earlier, when the taboo was sometimes non-existent or even inverted. Full scholarly debate on why some cultures would forbid cousins, or even specific types of cousins, to marry, while others ignore or even encourage it, rages on, and lies beyond the scope of this wiki. According to both Oxford's and Merriam-Webster's Dictionaries, the original definition of kissing cousins was simply a relative known well enough to be given a kiss in greeting, although this meaning has long since fallen by the wayside. Check out Incest Is Relative for more closely related tropes. NOTE: This trope is for cases of actual relationships between cousins. Cousincestuous subtext goes in Incest Subtext.

#23. Joaqevin (Joaquin DeSantos & Kevin Keller; ROMANTIC TROPE: BURY YOUR GAYS)

Bury Your Gays

"[Television] has yet to recover from the [2015/16 and 16/17] seasons, which included the deaths of an overwhelming number of lesbian and bisexual women characters. These deaths were often in service of another straight, cisgender character's plotline, and sent a toxic message to audiences. This decades-long trend — referred to in popular culture as "Bury Your Gays" — has made countless headlines in the past year, educating both viewers and creators alike on just how ubiquitous this trope has been."— Opening statement to the 2017/18 GLAAD (Where We Are on TV Report)

The Bury Your Gays trope in media, including all its variants, is a homophobic cliché. It is the presentation of deaths of LGBT characters where these characters are nominally able to be viewed as more expendable than their heteronormative counterparts. In this way, the death is treated as exceptional in its circumstances. Thus, it can be fairly said that, in aggregate, queer characters are more likely to die than straight characters. Indeed, it may be because they seem to have less purpose compared to straight characters, or that the supposed natural conclusion of their story is an early death. Also known as Dead Lesbian Syndrome, though that name has largely fallen out of use post-2015 and the media riots about overuse of the trope. And, as this public outcry restated, the problem isn't merely that gay characters are killed off: the problem is the tendency that gay characters are killed off in a story full of mostly straight characters, or when the characters are killed off because they are gay. However, sometimes gay characters die in fiction because, well, sometimes people die. There are many Anyone Can Die stories: barring explicit differences in the treatments of the gay and straight deaths in these, it's not odd that the gay characters are dying. The occasional death of one in a Cast Full of Gay is unlikely to be notable, either. Can be seen as Truth in Television in some cases, as gay and lesbian people are at a substantially higher risk for suicide and assault — see the tropes Gayngst-Induced Suicide and Homophobic Hate Crime. The fact that AIDS hit the gay male community most prominently provided potent fresh fuel for this long running trope (which, like many things about the eighties, still has an effect on more recent works). There may also be a higher prevalence of this trope in Period Fiction because of its supposed realism since historically there was lots of homophobic persecution — though undoubtedly plenty of acceptance, too. The exact opposite is found in Preserve Your Gays, often a reaction to this.

#22. Kevoose (Moose Mason & Kevin Keller; ROMANTIC TROPE: GAY GUY SEEKS POPULAR JOCK)

Gay Guy Seeks Popular Jock

LGBT media and LGBT characters featured in media have grown in prominence the past few decades. As the visibility grew, a common romance trope was employed over and over again enough that it became cliché: A gay teenager (who is the Audience Surrogate) ranging from Camp Gay to Adorkable to Shrinking Violet falls in love with/actively pursues/crushes on/is paired up with a popular, muscular and (usually) closeted jock. So many gay stories use this trope for several reasons, best written by Brent Hartinger, author of Geography Club.

The Star-Crossed Lovers trope is Older Than Dirt and used for so many love stories already, so it stands that it can be used for a same-sex tale of romance and woe.

Rule of Drama: The geeky gay and jock not only come from different "classes" (so to speak) but also face different hurdles in a Coming-Out Story: The geeky gay always is less conventionally masculine, so he doesn't have much to lose by being honest and open. The jock character, by contrast is a Straight Gay, and by coming out may lose a lot more, especially dropping down the social ladder which can lead to tons of conflict and obstacles for the pair getting together.

Most of these writers are gay and this trope could be construed as a form of Wish Fulfillment: The shy, awkward boy landing a popular handsome athlete is a pretty common fantasy amongst gay men, so it stands that this convention would be pretty prominent.

While a common fantasy, this trope is also Truth in Television as this kind of pairing does indeed happen in Real Life. See also Sensitive Guy and Manly Man, Masculine–Feminine Gay Couple, and Star-Crossed Lovers. Frequently employs Gayngst and the Armored Closet Gay trope. See also Single Girl Seeks Most Popular Guy and All Guys Want Cheerleaders for the heterosexual versions of this trope.

#21. McKeller (Tom Keller & Sierra McCoy; ROMANTIC TROPE: MALIGNED MIXED MARRIAGE)

Maligned Mixed Marriage

"Who can feel sympathy for Desdemona? A woman who, born and educated to a splendid and lofty station in the community, betrays her race, her sex, her duty and her country, and makes a runaway match with a blackamoor."—John Quincy Adams

A common source of conflict for a set of married protagonists (or a couple of Star-Crossed Lovers) is for the couple to be of different races among very unaccepting folks. They will be pressured to break up/divorce by family and friends and community, ostracized, exiled or forced to flee, maimed, or murdered, etc. Their children will be likewise persecuted, perhaps more so than the parents, for complicating racial relations and being inherently 'untrustworthy' due to not being fully one race or the other. Even if the adults are fine, other Kids Are Cruel after all. Expect the child to eventually pop the question about whether there's something inherently and incurably wrong with them because of their genetic heritage. And of course, sometimes it's a mixed species marriage, or one between a muggle and a mage, complete with attendant prejudice. On the plus side the scifi/fantasy elements mean the kid is likely to be The Chosen One, a Half-Human Hybrid, a Dhampyr, or perhaps even a Hybrid Monster with really cool powers. That makes up for it, right? Some examples of interracial marriages that earn disapproval can be found in Mighty Whitey and Mellow Yellow, Black Gal on White Guy Drama, and Where Da White Women At?. For mixed species marriages, see also Vampire-Werewolf Love Triangle. In Real Life, mixed-race marriages can be everything from completely accepted to something you only do if you've got a death wish. Thankfully, in many places it's skewed towards the "completely accepted" end of the spectrum, and a great way for someone to reveal themselves as a severe jackass is to show bigotry towards mixed couples. Mixed-race marriages seem to be one of the last bastions of racism. Many opponents of interracial marriage claim to oppose all other forms of racism including genocide, different legal rights, and the physical segregation of races to prevent cultural contamination (and some claim to have friends of other races). However, they generally argue that that it's cruel to have mixed-race kids because they see race as the sole/most important element of collective identity. This makes the existence of people who blur the boundaries between races distressing for people of those races, who will see their identity as being under threat and in their illogical rage target the unfortunate mixed-race children in their midst. Of course, race is just one element of collective identity and while it can be very important to some people this is by no means a given. In general, mixed-race children tend to have about the same level of trouble that their parents have — less if they look like one race or the other instead of an obvious mixture, or live in a society that doesn't care about race. In stories that take place in communities where "race" isn't a defining factor in classifying humanity (like ''some'' of the 19th century USA, East Asia, or Russia), a "mixed marriage" could mean many other different things: mixed ethnicity ("ethnicity" here being vaguely synonymous with "nationality"), mixed religion, or mixed class. Due to Values Dissonance, many of these other "mixed" marriages tend to be Dead Horse Tropes in fiction (at least in the Anglosphere), though they do surface occasionally: consider My Big Fat Greek Wedding, which mines humor from the "scandal" of a ('white') Greek-American woman choosing a ('white') Anglo-American man as her husband... a thing no longer scandalous in the late 20th century, but most certainly was just a few decades previously. Truth in Television, of course, as there are still people who feel this way. Although anti-miscegenation attitudes are not only found in the classic cases of dominant, traditional, "purity"-seeking communities. Notably, some minorities also vocalize disdain for "disloyalty", stemming from the considerable culture-driven asymmetry in cross-race relationships — a subtle but persistent visual reminder of imposed inferiority — and frustrations in changing the narrative over discomforting perceptions of hyper-attractiveness or lack thereof. Then there are some who are simply pricks. But any of these justifications can end up invoking the trope. To be clear, this trope can cover any romantic relationship, not only matrimony. We just like alliteration here.

#20. Fredary (Fred Andrews & Mary Andrews; ROMANTIC TROPE: AMICABLE EXES)

Amicable Exes

"It's things like using force together, Shouting till you're hoarse together, Getting a divorce together, That make perfect relationships."—Company ( "The Little Things You Do Together")

So, people who break up must indefinitely hate each other, right? Wrong. Increasingly common in media are situations where a divorced couple still get along for the most part, and in many cases still care about each other even though they're no longer together. In many cases the divorce happened because of distance, circumstance or the simple fact that people change rather than infidelity, betrayal or other serious problems, and the fact that they got divorced is treated as a fact of life rather than due to a flaw in the people. Both parties also generally agree that it was for the best for both of them. It's also pretty common for couples who broke up because of Incompatible Orientation or who were each other's Last Het Romance to end up this way. If there are children from the marriage they are shared without much complaint, and the amicability of the parents can often be interpreted as being partly for their sake. As such, this tends to show up in children's cartoons, perhaps as an attempt to counter the stereotype of the children of divorced parents being largely unhappy. May involve a Visit by Divorced Dad that will usually go well, and for the most part any Divorce Assets Conflicts are avoided or settled reasonably. The increase in this trope can be attributed in the dramatic shift in divorce rates and public perception of those who have gone through with divorces in the last 50 years (i.e. between the 1950s and the start of the 21st century). While divorce used to be scandalous, it's now a fairly common occurrence, and this trope reflects the view that it's just a fact of life that doesn't have to permanently poison a relationship. Sometimes it even results in Divorce Is Temporary, though this is less common in more realistic works and those aimed at children due to being a Family-Unfriendly Aesop ("wish hard enough and your parents will get back together!"). Can apply to non divorced former couples as well, thus the name. If someone's current and former squeeze get along well with each other, it's The Missus and the Ex. Compare Working with the Ex and Sex with the Ex. No, this is not about friendly .exe files.

#19. Clinelope (Clifford Blossom & Penelope Blossom; ROMANTIC TROPE: ARRANGED MARRIAGE)

Arranged Marriage

"We who are of noble blood may not follow the wishes of our hearts."—Jane Olsen (The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari)

An Arranged Marriage is, quite simply, the idea that someone is going to choose your spouse for you. The way an Arranged Marriage is treated by the plot will be dependent on place and time. For most of human history, arranged marriages were the norm because "marriage" was less about the union of two souls and more about the union of two families. The rise of the "Marry for Love" ideal didn't really start in Western culture until the 16th century, and there are places on Earth where it still hasn't. Additionally, the "Marriage Before Romance" trope often went hand-in-hand with arranged marriages. While the priority is, again, the union of two families, that union is dependent on the stability and comfort of the two people getting married, so the two families would try their best to come up with a Perfectly Arranged Marriage. The couple's happiness just wasn't the main goal the way it is in Western marriages today. However, the one thing that is almost always present in an arranged marriage is tension. Most people don't really want to marry a total stranger (much less have sex with them), and if that total stranger turns out to be a complete rogue and a cad, it may be necessary for the heroes to spring into action and rescue the hapless member of their group who is being forced to walk down the aisle. (Of course, being Big Damn Heroes, they'll have to do so in the most overblown and dramatic way possible.) Sometimes, the person in the arranged marriage takes matters into their own hands and becomes a Runaway Fiancé. The "aggrieved" party may claim Breach of Promise of Marriage in response, as arranged marriages tend to be viewed as legally binding commitments by those who initiate it. Alternately, there's a Love Triangle. The character of the suitor is less likely to be important in those cases, but they generally won't look kindly on the outsider's interference. Conversely, an Arranged Marriage can be used to lock the hero and heroine together so that their disputes can not end with one of them washing their hands of the other. A common tactic is for the daughter of a wealthy but common family to be matched with the Impoverished Patrician, for his title: Nobility Marries Money. Occasionally, it's the other way around, with a titled daughter and a moneyed son. Families may even pledge infant children in marriage pacts that cannot be concluded until many years later. Both in fiction and in Real Life, royal children (sons as well as daughters) were used as pawns in the political game cementing alliances and peace treaties with their marriages. You might say it was their job to take part in such Altar Diplomacy. The Arranged Marriage is not to be confused with: a Childhood Marriage Promise (whereby a prepubescent couple voluntarily pledges their own non-legally-binding, future troth); a marriage which may arise out of convenience; or a marriage that arises from some kind of cultural mistake. For clarity's sake, the Arranged Marriage trope will deal only with more binding, traditional types of unions. See also Parental Marriage Veto, You Have Waited Long Enough, Old Man Marrying a Child, Homosocial Heterosexuality, Royal Inbreeding, and Marriage Before Romance. A Shotgun Wedding is a short-notice forced marriage. If someone agrees to an Arranged Marriage but loves someone else, Courtly Love may be involved. If the people doing the "arranging" in the marriage aren't the parents, that's a Bureaucratically Arranged Marriage. Often involves Prince Charmless and Rebellious Princess. At least recently, one of the potential spouses was as likely as not to try to defy this. When the audience really doesn't want this marriage, expect the Big Damn Heroes to show up right at the Speak Now or Forever Hold Your Peace line. To see the types of follies and foibles associated with modern dating services, see Dating Service Disaster. Supertrope to Perfectly Arranged Marriage. Subtrope of Marriage of Convenience. Contrast Marry for Love. Compare And Now You Must Marry Me. Compare and contrast Fourth Date Marriage, where the couple likewise barely knows each other but it was Love at First Sight.

#18. Halice (Hal Cooper & Alice Cooper; ROMANTIC TROPE: AWFUL WEDDED LIFE)

Awful Wedded Life

Take it from me Spaghetti Man, better dead than wed."— Richie Tozier, IT

The depiction of monogamous marriage as rather like a long, slow, exquisite torture by a sadistic god from whose malicious clutches escape is impossible. Husbands are child-like buffoons who watch too much football, leave the toilet seat up, ogle hot women, and forget anniversaries. Wives are frigid, nagging, hateful shrews with zero interest in sex. Children destroy your home and what little peace of mind you have left, while waiting their turn to perpetuate the cycle. Obnoxious In-Laws serve to add to the misery. The audience may be left wondering, "Why don't they just get a divorce, if they're so miserable?" Married... with Children was probably the first time this trope was the main focus of an American sitcom, but it's been a mainstay of British shows since The '50s. It is also a staple of Borscht Belthumour, but that may be less to do with venom than with Jews Love to Argue or Jewish Complaining. The name, for those who don't get it, is a reference to the line of the traditional wedding vows, "Lawful wedded wife". Similar to No Accounting for Taste, but you'll rarely (if ever) see the Aww, Look! They Really Do Love Each Other moments occasionally found in that trope. Compare The Masochism Tango, Belligerent Sexual Tension, Like an Old Married Couple, Dead Sparks, and Married Too Young. Contrast Happily Married for the opposite and Happy Marriage Charade for when this trope pretends to be Happily Married. Unfortunately, Truth in Television for many people until quite recently, in eras with some combination of marriages being arranged for family advantage (or some other type of Marriage of Convenience) rather than created by mutual attraction, divorce being impossible or hugely disapproved of, or unintentional pregnancy leading to a choice of marriage or social ostracism.

#17. Fralice (Fred Andrews & Alice Cooper; ROMANTIC TROPE: AW, LOOK! THEY REALLY DO LOVE EACH OTHER)

Aw, Look! They Really Do Love Each Other

When a couple/potential couple — who spend the entirety of the show yelling at each other, insulting one another, stabbing each other in the back, etc. — have a moment when they reveal that, deep down, they really care for one another. Awwww. Often takes place in a humorous rushing-to-your-spouse's-defense manner, where one of them angrily defends the other against the same kind of insults that they themselves like to dish out. The common line is: "Nobody insults/beats up/threatens my wife, husband, boyfriend, girlfriend but me!" If this relation is between friends then they are Vitriolic Best Buds. If it is between siblings, then it either combines Big Brother Bully and Big Brother Instinct or is Thicker Than Water. If the romance part comes without warning or justification, the trope may fall flat, since it comes out of nowhere when the previous context of the story makes it seem like they have nothing to love about each other. When couples don't even have these moments you get No Accounting for Taste. See also Defrosting Ice Queen, Slap-Slap-Kiss and Belligerent Sexual Tension. A couple version of a Pet the Dog moment.

#16. Halelope (Hal Cooper & Penelope Blossom; ROMANTIC TROPE: YOUR CHEATING HEART)

Your Cheating Heart

"Your cheatin' heart will make you weep, You'll cry and cry and try to sleep. But sleep won't come the whole night through, Your cheatin' heart will tell on you."—Hank Williams ( "Your Cheatin' Heart”)

Two-timing, playing away from home, having a bit on the side, going behind your partner's back, adultery, infidelity... There are a lot of names for cheating on your partner, but most of them have the same outcome: a world of hurt. Most of us recognize this type of plot: Bob is married to Alice. One day, Bob sees Carol at a club and is attracted to her. Perhaps things haven't been going so well with Alice for some time. Maybe they just had a major fight and Bob stormed off. Or maybe his marriage is perfectly healthy, and Bob has no excuse. Whatever the reason, Bob flirts with Carol, which eventually leads to a sexual or romantic relationship and the various things that entails. But here's the thing: Bob doesn't tell Alice about it. He doesn't dump her, he doesn't tell her that he thinks the marriage is on the rocks, he doesn't talk to her about Polyamory or swinging, he doesn't even ask for "more space". He continues to play the part of her husband, and expects her to continue being his wife, hoping that Alice won't notice when he starts coming in late for dinner, or ask him about the mysterious expenditures on their joint account. Sometimes, just to really play Alice for a sucker, their marriage will seemingly improve— he buys Alice gifts, pays attention to her and seems much happier, but all the while he's running off to see Carol. For extra scumbag points, he may be keeping Carol similarly in the dark about Alice. Chances are he'll eventually get caught; if he didn't, the story wouldn't have the same dramatic impact. A lot of angst and tension will ensue. Way back in the day, when marriage was considered permanent and divorce was a word whispered fearfully by gossiping old ladies, The Affair was a shocker of a storyline, and very often an automatic Moral Event Horizon for the cheating partner. However, it's worth noting that even further back in the day, the gods, goddesses and minor side characters of mythology listed "infidelity" under "Hobbies", didn't particularly care if their new "partner" was willing, and got away with it. Only their mortal lovers got the nasty side of the wronged wife's/husband's temper when the affair was discovered. Nowadays, affairs are common in any Soap Opera and turn up an awful lot in other types of story as well. We don't really expect a fictional husband and wife to stay faithful to each other for forty or so years. Supposedly, a solid marriage makes a boring story (though some would disagree). Often, a sequence of "get together → one cheats → they break up → they make up → the other one cheats", and so on) will be followed so often and so tiresomely that it becomes a Yoyo Plot Point. What defines cheating usually depends on the context of the story and the characters involved. Stories aimed at younger audiences, or with a clear emphasis on romantic, monogamous relationships, will probably count kissing and flirting as cheating. Most examples of cheating in shows aimed at adults, however, will involve sex. Occasionally, characters may clash specifically because they have different definitions of cheating: for example, the husband who protests that he was drunk and it was "just a kiss" to his furious wife, or a girlfriend who can't understand why her boyfriend doesn't like her flirting with her male friends. A few rules usually hold true in fiction: If a woman cheats, her paramour just scored a massive victory over her cuckolded husband, who is now permanently dishonored. The (male) big boss of any given workplace is likely to be two-timing his wife. The Protagonist remains sympathetic if they cheat, and becomes an innocent, wronged victim if they are the one being cheated on. Bisexuals are portrayed as incapable of faithfulness or have merely informed sexuality, and men are more prone to having affairs than women (and often portrayed as The Unfair Sex too when it comes to cheating). Unfortunately, adultery is Truth in Television, as many broken hearts and broken families will testify. It is also one of the most common reasons that people murder each other.

#15. Fladys (FP Jones & Gladys Jones; ROMANTIC TROPE: OUTLAW COUPLE)

Outlaw Couple

Two lovers who team up to commit crime, usually violent crime and especially robbery, and are usually on the run from the law. Such couples are almost always inspired by Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow, "Bonnie & Clyde." Which one is the brains of the outfit tends to vary from couple to couple. Sometimes one is a calm and collected criminal who charms the other into a life of crime. Other times, one is a loose cannon while the other is a cool-headed professional. Many Bonnie and Clyde stories end in tragedy, as did the original couple. This one is Truth in Television, though it should be noted that most fiction tends to romanticize the life of crime that such characters tend to lead. Compare/contrast Minion Shipping. See Unholy Matrimony for a more over-the-top, super powered version of this team-up. Expect some Back-to-Back Badasses moments, as well as a selfish suicide if one partner dies. May result in sympathetic villains or even Sympathetic Murderers, especially if their affection for each other is given the spotlight.

#14. Hiramione (Hiram Lodge & Hermione Lodge; ROMANTIC TROPE: UNHOLY MATRIMONY)

Unholy Matrimony

Poison Ivy: Once you have frozen mankind, these babies will overrun the globe, and we shall rule them, for we will be the only two people left in the world. Mr. Freeze: Adam and Evil.—Batman & Robin

You know how the story goes, right? Big Bad meets Baroness, Baroness meets Big Bad, their eyes meet, and horribly discordant music that sounds not unlike the screaming of tortured souls arise. It's black magic... a match made in hell! Lord Worldbreaker and Lady Firestorm are, individually, serious threats to the heroes, but what happens if they're suddenly working intimately together? That's when it gets really dangerous. A pair of villains capable of channeling The Power of Love is enough to give even the most hardened group of heroes a serious challenge, and worse yet, seeing the villains in love may make them doubt their own motivations. Should one of the villains fall, the other one grieving over their fallen lover is quite likely to initialize an Alas, Poor Villainscenario, and maybe even a My God, What Have I Done? Should another villain start messing with the happy couple, it's usually played as a Kick the Dog moment. ...of course, these people are villains, so you can never really be sure that one or both of them isn't just playing at being in love, in order to manipulate and use the other. If the love is genuine but unrequited, expect the one who genuinely loves to sacrifice their life to protect the other, only for the other to disdainfully ignore them as they lie dying, proclaiming that they're no longer useful. Usually, this signals a crossing of the Moral Event Horizon. If both were faking it, expect them to show their true colors at the same time. Hilarity Ensues—and it's never mentioned ever again. The most classic version of this trope occurs when two previously established antagonists suddenly take a new-found interest in each other, but it can also involve a newcomer falling for an established villain, or even a pair of villains who were, from the beginning, a "villainous couple". In the first-mentioned scenario, Enemy Mine may occur in order to match the united power of the couple — which can get particularly interesting if the "bedfellow" is another villain, who is driven by jealousy...May form a Big Bad Duumvirate. Compare Villainous Friendship, when the two are truly friends with each other, but not in a romantic way. Contrast Minion Shipping (which involves minions instead of actual villains) and Mad Love (which is one-sided). Outlaw Couple is the petty crime version of this. In the case of fiction with multiple villains where taking two out of the equation would still leave a bunch of bad guys, if it's genuine on both sides this can be used as a prelude to a Heel–Face Turn or at the very least a "Get out of Jail Free" Card. If the couple in question is heterosexual, expect the man to be the more important half of the couple, possibly making her more of a Dark Mistress. Subtrope of Even Evil Has Loved Ones. Not to be confused with Awful Wedded Life, which describes the marriage itself to be terrible, not the people involved.

#13. Formione (FP Jones & Hermione Lodge; ROMANTIC TROPE: WELL, EXCUSE ME, PRINCESS! & FOE ROMANCE SUBTEXT)

Well, Excuse Me, Princess!

"Why must everything you say to me sound like a criticism?"— Robin Hood to Marian (BBC's Robin Hood)

Snarky loser hero meets snarky haughty heroine. They either fall in love, or they snark. Usually both. This is essentially a satire of the standard Magical Girlfriend, which describes a beautiful, classy, good-mannered, loyal girl—the logical result being she should be somewhat critical of her loser boyfriend. She makes no attempt to ignore the fact that he is the Loser Protagonist, and frequently calls him on it, criticizes him, and rarely if ever fawns over him like some Fangirl. She expects better from him and pushes him to improve, while still expecting to be taken care of. However, the guy usually takes it in stride, mocks her in return, or just says the trope title. Expect a generous helping of Aww, Look! They Really Do Love Each Other moments, to let the audience know why they should be supporting this couple. The idea is that the snarky loser will help the princess loosen up and be friendlier, while the princess constantly holding the loser to a higher standard will eventually make him improve himself. Often appears in Love Comedies, depending on how satirical the story is. See also Tsundere. Related to Belligerent Sexual Tension. Compare/Contrast Screw You, Elves! and Surrounded by Idiots. If it involves an actual Princess Princess, see Royal Brat. The Woman Wearing the Queenly Mask can make similar demands.

Foe Romance Subtext

"Thou hast beat me out Twelve several times, and I have nightly since Dreamt of encounters 'twixt thyself and me; We have been down together in my sleep, Unbuckling helms, fisting each other's throat, And waked half dead with nothing."— Aufidius to his blood enemy, Act 4, Scene 5, Coriolanus

The implications of sexual tension between arch-enemies. Just as Ho Yay is about the situation of implying romance where even the characters' canonical sexual orientations make it implausible, this trope intentionally creates an even deeper paradox by subtextually implying love in a relationship that is, textually, the opposite of love. This trope is much more likely to come into play if one is The Rival and The Only One Allowed to Defeat You, or a Rival Turned Evil, and is especially likely if one is an Evil Former Friend. If enemies have to work together, it can give the impression that adversity makes strange bedfellows. Other times, this trope can be invoked by a villain who seems to be too eager and persistent about trying to convince or force the hero to rule the world together, and eventually appear as a one-sided Villainous Crush. Terms of Endangerment often feature, and watch out for the "Take That!" Kiss. Dark Magical Girls are often depicted as understanding their Magical Girl counterpart far more than anyone else, and after inevitable redemption at the very least become Heterosexual Life-Partners, if not more. Since most heroes and their villains tend to be the same gender, this results in most examples of Foe Yay overlapping with Ho Yay, but different gender foes qualify too. When it ultimately goes from subtext to text, and the two admit that they love each other, it is called Dating Catwoman. Contrast with Defecting for Love. For the villain who really is sexually obsessed with The Hero, see Stalker with a Crush, Mind Game Ship, In Love with Your Carnage, and Villainous Crush. See also Destructo-Nookie, when they actually do go the whole nine yards. See also Foe Yay Shipping, for the subjective audience reaction of insisting that after a certain number of such scenes, the two should become a couple (this appeal often lies in the forbidden nature of the relationship, a staple of the shipper diet). Please move non-objective examples to that page. Not to be confused with Faux Yay.

#12. Fredmione (Fred Andrews & Hermione Lodge; ROMANTIC TROPE: RICH SUITOR, POOR SUITOR)

Rich Suitor, Poor Suitor

"One of them is dark and poor One fair with lots of money I don't know which one to choose The flower or the honey"—Celtic Woman ("At the Ceili")

One of the most common complications in the classic Love Triangle scenario. Two men are vying for a women's affection. Who's the right one? It's hard to tell, but there's a good chance that one of them is considerably wealthier than the other, and he can provide security, glamour and the good life, while the other (who has a good chance of being an impoverished artist) can give none of the same. What are you gonna do? Most of the time, it's going to be "go with the poor one," and the story will carry an Aesop that true love is worth more than material wealth. This makes sense if the rich one is a total bore or outright jackass, or the woman is just not in love with him as she is with the broke one. When done poorly, the rich one often ends up as the Designated Villain. This trope overlaps considerably with Wrong Guy First and Disposable Fiancé, but keep in mind that the rich suitor is not necessarily wrong, first or particularly disposable. This trope is most often "two men and one women" because of a sense that woman needs someone to 'provide for her'. This sort of logic ties into Unable to Support a Wife and generates part of this trope's conflict. If the suitors are also a Betty and Veronica pair, the dynamic will typically be either "poor but nice suitor vs. rich but haughty suitor" or "poor but exciting suitor vs. rich but boring suitor", being obviously slanted toward the poor suitor in both cases. In fact, having the rich suitor win or even be a decent, likeable person is a rare variation of this trope.note Perhaps the trope name should have been "Poor Suitor Wins" instead? The odd exception can happen though, with the rich suitor being a nice, decent person and the poor suitor being a male Gold Digger. Compare Gold Digger, Meal Ticket, and Uptown Girl. It can involve Compete for the Maiden's Hand.

End of Part I. Please check out Part II!

#varchie #jeronica #bughead #choni #falice #barchie #veggie #archosie #jarchie #beronica #cheronica #riverdale #gifs not mine

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vino-and-doggos · 5 years

Text

Duality, chapter 4

Read on AO3

Chapter Length: 4,557 (full length total so far: 15,959)

Rated: E

Status: Incomplete (4/?)

Summary: Roy Mustang is a young man, dealing with his burgeoning sexuality, a difficulty alchemy teacher and his hard-set daughter, and a good-looking cadet that also likes quiche.

All beta thanks go to @flourchildwrites, who is not only the best beta, but an amazing friend.

This chapter was inspired by Janieshi’s Espionage. If you haven’t read this classic yet, please check it out!

Chapter 4: Soldiers and Second Chances

A year passed faster than Roy ever thought a year could pass. The oppressing warmth of summer made way for falling leaves and crisp air. Soon, crisp air became downright cold with a side of precipitation, which didn’t stop as the weather got warmer, but it was more bearable knowing that green buds were sprouting, dotting the stark landscape. Before he knew it, it was July again, and the heat had returned in full force. He had been with the Hawkeyes for a full year. And he was finally beginning to perform basic transmutations. The apprentice had never been so happy to see a piece of chalk.

That afternoon, as Roy sat in the front room to practice drawing the arrays that Master Hawkeye assigned him, he heard a soft knock on the door. Looking hesitantly toward the closed study, Roy knew that there was no way his master was going to let Miss Riza’s lesson be interrupted just to answer the door. He sidled over, thinking how strange it was that this was the first time someone had come calling in the entire year he had been there. Roy opened the door a crack and saw a man dressed in Amestrian Blue.

“Oh, good afternoon, young man,” the soldier lilted. His Eastern accent was prevalent, almost disarmingly so. Roy cast him a wary look. He was a year older than when he arrived, and damn it, he had actually grown a few inches. In all reality, at sixteen, Roy only had a few more months before he could enlist himself. Well, with his Aunt Chris’s permission of course. A question from the soldier broke Roy from his thoughts. “Is Master Hawkeye home?”

“He is,” Roy affirmed; he didn’t want this young man to think he was home alone. “However, Master Hawkeye is preoccupied with something important.”

“I figured as much,” the soldier chuckled sheepishly, using his hand to ruffle the back of his close-cropped hair. “I just came to see if he had changed his mind. He never does, but that doesn’t mean the military is going to stop asking.”

“Change his mind about what?” Roy asked curiously as he opened the door further.

The soldier stuck out his hand. “The name is Barnes, kid. Jimmy Barnes.”

“Roy Mustang,” he said curtly. Still, the eager student returned the polite gesture and grasped the soldier’s - Barnes’s - hand. Roy was conflicted; on the one hand, Barnes didn’t seem like he was there on a malicious mission, and honestly he wanted to know a bit more about his master from someone who didn’t live in the same house as he currently resided in. But on the other hand, Roy felt like he should shut the door and return to his studies, protecting Hawkeye’s privacy.

Making a decision, Roy stepped outside onto the front stoop and closed the door behind him. “What exactly does the military want with Master Hawkeye?”

“I can’t believe you’re his apprentice and you don’t know!” Barnes chuckled. “Berthold Hawkeye is the only known alchemist who practices flame alchemy.”

“Flame alchemy?” Roy responded, hesitantly, but also somewhat eagerly. He watched the young cadet’s eyes light up.

“Yes! His transmutation circle can take a tiny spark and turn it into a towering inferno of flame! I’m not an alchemist myself, but I’ve heard rumors from people who have seen it in action,” Barnes sighed wistfully.

“And the military scientists and alchemists can’t figure it out?” Roy questioned.

Barnes shook his head. “They’ve been trying for the better part of the past decade. But they can’t seem to get the transmutation circle right, and even when they get close, well... From what I understand, they’ve blown up a few laboratory workspaces that way.”

Roy made a strangled sound between a laugh and a groan. The soldier chuckled in return.

“But anyway,” Barnes continued, “with the tensions in Ishval rising, flame alchemy would be an asset to the Amestrian military. Hawkeye doesn’t even have to become a state alchemist if he didn’t want to. I’m sure the alchemists would settle for having him on as an independent contractor.”

After a key phrase, everything else the soldier said had an overtone of radio static. “Tensions in Ishval?” Roy echoed. This was the first he had heard about it.

Barnes nodded in the affirmative, but threw a furtive glance over his shoulder in retrospect. “Not a whole lot of news has reached any of the papers yet. So it seems like the military’s trying to keep a lid on the conflict, but it’s going to boil over soon. The Ishvalans aren’t happy with being rounded up and put in one spot. The locals aren’t comfortable with the Ishvalan religious practices. If you ask me, everything is a little bit strained.”

Roy took in this information. Ishval wasn’t that far from East City. Any sort of conflict could quickly spread to where he was. Would his alchemy training cease if a war broke out? His face must have demonstrated some kind of discomfort because Barnes’s demeanor suddenly changed. Roy carefully smoothed his features again.

“But I’m sure the military can handle it! Many upstanding men, like yourself, have joined up. Have you given it any thought, Roy?”

Roy shook his head and said out loud, “No, I haven’t.” Inwardly, he was floundering. What the hell kind of questioning was this? Master Hawkeye would be proud of his student’s placid facial features.

When Roy thought about joining the military and taking up arms, he remembered the military men who frequented his aunt’s notorious bar. Sure, there were some nice ones. The old man that Madam Christmas always saw privately in her own room once or twice a year seemed nice enough, though Roy had never had a conversation with him. But the old man had to be for the Madam to trust him like that, right?

The other soldiers that came to Christmas’ bar, however… They left something to be desired. The dirty men often came in with sunken eyes and haggard souls, but with the application of a bit of alcohol, they became raucous and rude to the girls, sometimes to the point of having to be forcefully removed from the premises. They entered in packs and would get sloppy drunk. They left horrid messes in the men’s room that I had to clean up, thought Roy haughtily. From what he knew, there was nothing appealing about military men.

Well. Except maybe the dress blues.

Barnes seemed okay from what Roy could tell. But it was hard to base someone’s entire personality off of an interaction that, so far, had only lasted a few minutes.

The soldier seemed to notice the younger man in front of him was deep in thought. He waited a few moments before saying, “If you haven’t really thought of it before, now might be the time. You seem like a good kid, and if anything does happen in Ishval, we could use soldiers and alchemists alike. We’re not that bad,” he said, flashing a winning smile at Roy, who got the feeling that this wasn’t the first time he had given this speech to a local youth.

“I suppose I’ll think about it,” Roy conceded. Just thinking about it wouldn’t cause any harm, would it? “Why did you join? If you don’t mind me asking, that is.”

Barnes looked thoughtful while answering. “I guess I just thought I should protect my family. I’m the oldest and the only boy, and I’ve always felt like I needed to watch out for my little sisters. What better way than to step up and defend the nation as a part of the military?”

Roy nodded solemnly. That did make sense. He, too, was the only boy in a group of sisters - the fact that Roy-Boy was the youngest didn’t weigh on him too much, though. The parallels were enough.

“But anyway,” Barnes continued, “could you please just pass along the message to Mr. Hawkeye that, if he’s interested, to contact General Grumman?”

“I’ll be sure to do that,” Roy nodded sharply.

Barnes turned crisply and proceeded down the walkway. Roy let the chilly air wash over him as he entered the house, thankful once again for the cross-breeze that cooled the house down every night. Master Hawkeye and Miss Riza were still shut away in the study.

Heaving a sigh, Roy got back to tracing arrays onto pieces of scrap paper.

The following morning, Roy entered Master Hawkeye’s study as he had every day for the past year. Today started differently, though, when Roy was the one to begin their discussion. If there really was a war on the horizon, it would be best to broach the subject earlier rather than later, right?

“Master Hawkeye, there was something that I was supposed to bring to your attention.”

“Oh?” his superior questioned, curiosity obviously piqued.

“A soldier was here yesterday, asking for you,” Roy started. He faltered almost immediately when he saw the dark look set into Hawkeye’s face. Gathering his courage, Roy continued. Just because the master didn’t look happy didn’t mean that the message was going to remain undelivered in its entirety.

“He wanted you to consider joining the military as a state alchemist, or at least become a contracted researcher to teach the enlisted alchemists flame alchemy.” Even Roy was surprised at how steady his own voice held.

Hawkeye scoffed caustically. “I’m sure he did. And I’m sure he told you how much money I would make, and how much prestige the position would bring, and how it would be good for the citizens of Amestris!”

“Not quite, sir…” Roy started. This was the most he had heard Master Hawkeye speak, outside of reading excerpts from textbooks and asking the corresponding questions. Shocked at his master’s reaction, but ever the academic, the student couldn’t help himself. “What exactly is flame alchemy?”

“Precisely what it sounds like - a bad idea!” snapped Hawkeye.

“But it sounds like prestigious research! Sir, you have a general in the Amestrian Military asking for your research! It couldn’t be that bad!”

“You know nothing, boy,” Hawkeye spat. “This research is dangerous. Flames consume, and they consume quickly and without regard for anything else. In the wrong hands, a person, a family, an entire village could go up in flames with the snap of a finger!”

“But sir, it could also help people! Can you imagine how much easier controlled burns for farmlands would be with an alchemist who could manipulate fire? Or utilizing an alchemist to keep heat on a steam engine? The positive uses for flame alchemy are endless. Surely the good outweighs the bad!” Roy protested.

Hawkeye suddenly got quiet and turned away from Roy, walking towards the dark, sooty fireplace. “Have you ever been burned, Mustang?”

“Burned, sir?”

“Yes, boy, burned. Be it from the stove, or spilling a hot mug of tea on yourself, or…” the master paused, looking at the embers left from the chilly spring nights months ago, “touching a fire.”

“Yes, sir, I have,” the apprentice confirmed.

“It’s not a pleasant sensation, is it?” Hawkeye paused, looking at Roy. “Long after the initial injury, the pain remains. It aches; it throbs. It might even blister or disfigure. Fire is not forgiving.”

“Still, sir,” Roy started quietly, trying a different tactic, “wouldn’t the money be helpful? You can’t tell me that an income, a salary, wouldn’t make a difference for you? And for Miss Hawkeye, too? That way she wouldn’t have to hunt for food -”

“That’s enough.” The words were spoken calmly but were by no means warm. The fiery rage in his master’s eyes had been replaced with forbidding glaciers. Wrong tactic.

“You are my student. You have been graciously accepted into my home, into my life, and into my daughter’s life. Have you ever gone to sleep hungry, young Mister Mustang? Have you wanted for anything that I did not provide for you during your time here?”

Roy swallowed thickly, and his poorly-masked ambition slid slowly down his throat. It settled in the pit of his stomach, now fully morphed into regret. This was it. One conversation. One damn conversation and his apprenticeship was gone. Out the window, flying west, back towards Central. He must have stayed silent for a beat too long because the next words out of Hawkeye’s mouth felt like a nail in a coffin.

“Get out of my office.”

“Sir,” Roy attempted to protest, but it came out weak. His throat was tight, and the threat of tears burned at the back of his eyes.

“GO!” Hawkeye commanded.

Roy promptly spun on his heel and flung open the pocket door to the study. Pushing past a startled Miss Hawkeye on the stairs, the apprentice - or was he? - retreated to his room. He closed the door behind him and slid down the door frame, drawing his knees to his chest. Quivering breaths racked Roy’s chest as his head rested on crossed arms.

Great job, Mustang, you really fucked this one up, didn’t you? he thought bitterly.

He was furious with himself, enraged at Master Hawkeye, and pissed off at Barnes. Why bring this up every year if this was the reaction? Was the soldier usually on the receiving end of this outburst? Or was Roy just unlucky enough to have been the person to answer the door?

Raising up, eyes still closed, Roy rested the crown of his head against the door and slowly opened his eyes to look toward the ceiling. Drawing a few shuddering breaths, he calmed himself and started to think of a plan.

The sun was high in the sky before Roy moved from his spot against the door. He began gathering his things with a solemn finality. There was no way that Master Hawkeye would let him continue his training. He questioned his master. Such disrespect would not be tolerated. His teacher was many things; forgiving was not one of them. It didn’t matter that Roy was not the true instigator of the conversation - the soldier had no bearing on Berthold Hawkeye, and Mustang knew it. If the guillotine was coming down on someone, it was going to be the apprentice.

He had one chance, one last-ditch effort to convince Master Hawkeye to let him stay and finish learning all that he could about alchemy. On the off chance that didn’t work, however, he didn’t want to waste time attempting to gather his things.

Roy’s beaten suitcase was loaded with clothes, and the smart leather satchel that Madam Christmas sent him for the winter holiday of her namesake last year was stuffed with notes and Roy’s books. He was prepared to make a clean break if need be.

Taking one last fortifying breath, Roy opened the door and silently made his way down the stairs.

As he approached the study, he heard hushed voices speaking frantically. The yong alchemist paused and shrank back against the wall, not unlike his eavesdropping sisters. Curiously, he inched his ear to the edge of the doorframe and listened intently. It was the most words he had ever heard pass between father and daughter in a single conversation.

“He blatantly disrespected me, what else was I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know, Father. How about you tell him about your research?” Roy heard Miss Hawkeye incredulously answer; he was shocked that she seemed to be advocating for him.

“That isn’t possible, and you know it. You’ve seen how dangerous that research is, Riza! Out of everyone, you should be the one most vehemently against me telling that boy anything!” Hawkeye hissed.

“He deserves to know,” she responded, voice deadly.

“I wasn’t aware you were so fond of the boy,” Master Hawkeye said, an almost sarcastic lilt to his voice.

“I - I am not!” Miss Hawkeye defended. “He’s just here to study alchemy - all kinds of alchemy. That should include the specialty of his own master.”

“But it’s -”

“Say dangerous one more time,” the girl said so quietly that Roy had to strain to hear. “All alchemy is dangerous. Flame alchemy is no exception. It all lies in what the person practicing it decides to do with it. It all lies with you deciding to trust him. Mama trusted you. And, let’s be honest - will you get over another apprentice leaving?”

Roy chose this moment to make himself known. Slowly crossing the threshold, he saw his master and Miss Hawkeye standing in the middle of the room, staring each other down, their postures stiff and unyielding. Hawkeye’s imposing stature was back in full force, making the slight frame of his daughter seem even smaller than what she was. The boy countered the tense situation with a very small smirk that ventured nowhere near his eyes.

“I’m sorry. Am I interrupting?” Roy said smoothly - coolly. He drew himself up to match his superior’s rigid posture from across the room.

“Riza, leave us,” Berthold directed her with a point.

The look on Riza’s face betrayed her sharp nod and acquiescence to the directive. Roy’s eyes wanted to follow the movement as she walked out the door, but he forced himself to maintain eye contact. As soon as he heard the tell-tale snick of wood against wood, indicating that the pocket door was closed, Roy launched into the speech he had been ruminating on for the past hour.

“Sir, I understand that I was in the wrong in questioning your motives. I sincerely apologize. But, it doesn’t matter how curious I am about your research. My curiosity isn’t important. And it also wasn’t my place to question your decisions. What is important, however, is that I feel I haven’t learned everything I came to learn. And what is your decision is whether or not I am allowed to stay and further my training.

“A year’s worth of tutoring in alchemy just barely got me to drawing transmutation circles. I sat down and I read the books. I learned the theory; I learned the compositions. I memorized, recited, questioned, and answered. I could go somewhere else and learn more with the foundation you’ve given me. I don’t want to go somewhere else. I want to continue with the master that I started with. I want to stay here. But if you are asking me to leave, I will do so without turning back.”

Roy paused, just short of panting, feeling breathless. His mind flashed to his packed belongings on the bed in his room - the room - upstairs.

“Are you quite finished?” Hawkeye said quietly.

The boy felt heat start to redden his cheeks and did his best to halt the color in its tracks. “Yes, sir.”

“Good,” the master continued, “because I have no intention of forcing you out. You are free to go at any time - you’ve known this from the beginning. But I don’t believe that I’ve bled you dry of your potential yet.

“You’re smart. Sometimes too smart for your own good. I’ve already given you all the tools to piece together the basics of flame alchemy. Handing my research over to you would be... unsafe.” Hawkeye paused. “In ways you cannot yet comprehend,” he ended, bitterly.

Roy felt properly chastised. In the few hours of contemplation before this confrontation, the boy really perceived this to be a “don’t shoot the messenger” situation. He was only doing what was asked of him!

In retrospect, though, Roy realized that he did come off a touch ungrateful for the provisions of the Hawkeye family. And, just maybe, he questioned the methods of the master a bit too deeply. He was, after all and throughout everything, a guest.

But more than anything, the young alchemist sensed a foreign emotion emanating from his master, something completely different from the intellectual confidence he usually excluded: fear.

On a basic level, Roy understood. Like Miss Hawkeye said, all alchemy could be dangerous depending on the wielder. But flame could spread quickly, out of control before it ever had the chance of being tamed. On a more complex level, though… How was one supposed to perfect what one’s own master appeared to fear?

All in the same breath, Roy felt relieved. He wasn’t out of an apprenticeship. He didn’t have to return to Central. Most importantly, however, he didn’t have to find another alchemy master to teach him. The thought of staying, of continuing with Master Hawkeye, filled Roy to the brim with giddiness.

A genuine, yet cautious, smile broke Roy’s face. He was staying.

His thoughts turned to his packed bags upstairs. Bashfulness, apprehension, and dread flooded Roy’s system. Yet again he had acted hastily and let his emotions take control.

“Thank you, sir. For the second chance.”

Berthold’s face also donned a small smile. “Thank you for being up front with me. It’s been a while since someone was so frank. It’s good to know that I can rely on you to keep me steadfast.”

As Roy nodded, his master crossed the room to clap a hand onto Roy’s shoulder, reminiscent of the first day that the apprentice had arrived. “No lesson today.”

Before the student could breathe a sigh of relief, however, Hawkeye proceeded. “Continue drawing those transmutation circles I assigned you yesterday. Read the next chapter of The Analysis of ‘Exposition of the Hieroglyphical Figures’ and be prepared to discuss the importance of mercury and the sun.”

Instead of deflating like he normally would, Roy nodded and simply said, “Yes, sir.”

“Good boy. Dismissed.”

Roy spun on his heel and, gently this time, slid the pocket door open and made his way up to his room. All things considered, he believed he got off easy. But that didn’t alleviate the slightly uncomfortable, sheepishness he felt as he climbed the steps to his room (his room). The book that Master Hawkeye wanted him to read from was packed and ready to go - like the rest of his things.

Knowing that he was able to stay, though? That gave Roy all the confidence he needed to unpack and return to life as it was, so to speak.

With a spring in his step, the young man opened the door to his room, and went to grab the suitcase and the satchel off the bed to unpack… only to discover that neither were there. Curiously, he opened the top drawer of the dresser and found his clothes within. He quickly flung open another drawer, then another. Someone had unpacked his suitcase.

Traveling over to the small desk the apprentice had installed in his room approximately three months after moving in, he realized that his satchel, too, had been unpacked. The contents of it adorned the desk - notes in a neat, organized pile, books stacked smartly according to size. Just as his mind started to process what he was seeing, Roy heard a noise behind him. Whipping around, he saw Miss Hawkeye leaning casually against the doorframe to his bedroom.

Quickly, he said, “Thank you for unpacking my things. But you didn’t have to do that. It would have been terrible to pack them up again if your father had kicked me to the curb.”

Miss Hawkeye scoffed, “Like he would have done that to his favorite apprentice.” With a roll of her eyes, she pushed herself off of the trim work and into the room proper. “I don’t know why you pulled a stunt like that anyway,” she said, a disapproving tone in her voice.

“How was I supposed to know he’d react like that? It’s not something I was expecting at all!” Roy responded defensively.

“I’m sure the soldier told you that they ask him every year. What did you think, he turned them all away politely after inviting them in for tea?” she intoned.

“Well, no, but -” Roy started. Miss Hawkeye cut him off.

“No buts. You still have too much to learn. He still has too much to teach you. Neither of you are allowed to throw in the towel just yet.”

The wheels in Roy’s head started turning, the cogs fitting together. Between this statement and the bits of the conversation he had eavesdropped on before, he realized his hunch might be correct.

“Why, Miss Hawkeye, do I dare say that you are in favor of keeping me here? Might you actually like me?” His disarming smile was turned up to eleven, charm oozing from every pore. To his utter delight, the cheekbones of the young woman in front of him turned a delightful shade of pink.

“Absolutely not,” she vehemently denied. “You’re just the most promising alchemy apprentice to cross the threshold of this house. I would hate for Father to have to start all over again with someone half as talented as you.”

“So now I’m talented?” Roy teased as the flush on the girl’s face grew darker.

Through gritted teeth, Miss Hawkeye growled, “Good night,” and spun on her heel, shoulders hunched up to her ears and her hands balled into fists at her sides. Right before she closed the door with a bit more force than Roy thought was necessary, he could have sworn he heard her mutter “conceited boy” to herself.

Chuckling, the apprentice shook his head. But then thought seriously about the character witness that he apparently had in Miss Hawkeye. She noticed how hard he was working, how much he was trying...and how smart he was. She noticed that he was giving his all to this alchemy training. And she thought it was unfair that her father was not reciprocating the same level of trust and knowledge in this apprenticeship.

Just as he thought he had her at least somewhat figured out, Miss Hawkeye went and scattered every piece of paper in his mental file about her, the one still titled “Master Hawkeye’s Daughter.”

In that moment, Roy realized that the girl wasn’t protecting him, not really. It was most likely - almost guaranteed, in fact - that she was looking out for her father, and her father alone. Though it appeared that Miss Hawkeye was siding with the apprentice instead of his master, Roy thought back to the last thing she’d seethingly said to her father.

And, let’s be honest - will you get over another apprentice leaving before he’s learned?

Miss Hawkeye was, in a way, taking steps to ensure that her father would continue thriving. By cutting out a place in the shape of Roy’s silhouette, she was attempting to entice him to finish training one - one - apprentice completely. In doing so, this could give Master Hawkeye a sense of fulfillment that could, once again, turn him into a proper alchemist, instead of a recluse locked away in a mansion-sized house.

Sinking into the chair at the desk, Roy sighed. Even though the sun still hung high in the sky, Roy felt spent and more than ready to retire. Nevertheless, he opened his textbook, taking out paper and a pen to jot down notes. From that moment on, Roy resolved to raise his personal bar and study longer hours, reviewing even more than what he was currently.

In that moment, Roy made a vow to himself. He would gain Master Hawkeye’s trust. He might unlock the secrets to flame alchemy along the way. Most importantly, though, he would give his master a reason to possibly prosper once more.

#duality #duality chapter 4 #vino writes fanfiction #fma fanfiction #fullmetal alchemist fanfiction #precanon #precanon fanfiction

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fuckblizzardbearlover · 6 years

Text

“Reasons why Alita Battle Angel is better than Captain Marvel”

(to fans of Alita Battle Angel. this isnt a take down or insult to your movie. I know some people loved it and i’m sure it was well done. The point of this post is to criticize people using your fav movie as a cheap excuse to pit women against each other)

a strange sentiment seeing as there is no reason to compare the two. I can imagine sexist people who see women as outliers and thus “there can be only 1 good female lead movie” would make such a claim. Most normal people if they dont like a movie just dont watch it.

but i was curious as to why i keep seeing this considering i’ve heard no one talk about it, it kinda passed without the majority of people noticing it, and the fact that Captain Marvel is obviously one of Marvel’s best films ever due to the sheer amount of people praising it for everything including acting, humor, action, comedy and the way it handles its social issues (which ALL marvel movies have)and the sheer money its gained in money

I hadnt watched it yet so i went to other people for info and figured the “your milage may vary” section of tvtropes (the part where wiki-ers comment on aspects of the item that cant be agreed upon”

as i thought it dealt with many things i figured would put Atila low bar

“ A common criticism was that many tropes in the film have grown so omnipresent in sci-fi cinema over the past couple of decades that they no longer feel fresh. “

(my point being its ‘nothing fresh or new”)

“Critics think the film is somewhere between mediocre and okay, but viewers and especially fans of the source material so far seem to love it (on Rotten Tomatoes, the critic approval is 60%, while for audiences it's 93%). It's been lauded by the anime community as the first live-action Hollywood anime adaptationnote to not suck. “

I.e. Its good...for an anime adaption

So why then are people trying to weaponize Alita against Captain Marvel which based on its general reception is an objectively better movie?

“Fandom Rivalry: With Captain Marvel, another sci-fi Feminist Fantasy movie set to release one month from Alita's release. While some simply see Alita as the more visually-interesting and original movie, there's a strange case of this trope in a lot of the rivalry is less down to the Alita fandom criticizing Captain Marvel and more a group of toward certain social inclinations using Alita as an outlet to attack Captain Marvel. Following Brie Larson making certain statements that were interpreted as being political, Captain Marvel came under fire from the latter group drumming up support for the Alita at the expense of the Marvel film as a way of making a statement against Disney... Which anyone familiar with the corporate side of things can tell you would be effectively pointless, considering that Disney is set to purchase Fox shortly after Captain Marvel is released, and supporting either film will be to the benefit of the same corporate body post-acquisition. Conversely, a number of Captain Marvel fans who are mindful of the latter group have actually told others to support Alita to support the creation of more female-led films.“

See Atila is the pet project of an overblown male director (the guy who made avatar) meanwhile the most important person in captain marvel wants more diversity which white men (and POC and white women who’ve been brainwashed by their ways) find to be antethetical to their existence “ if other people have stuff then we dont rule the world” mentality.

Alita has a stock super evil villain, while CM’s villain is a complex character who used his personal relationship to manipulate the hero and take advantage of her (see the prevalence of “nice guy” and “hookup artist” in male culture)

Alita has an anime waifu with unnatural features despite the ‘realism’ of the movie. while one of hte first things captain marvel was criticized for was her costume didnt hug her ass enough

There is nothing wrong with romantic stories, there is nothing wrong with women heroes whos story revolves around a man, nothing wrong with anime adaptions and nothing wrong with women lead films directed by a man

but maybe you should be careful about if the fellow fans you are bonding with are doing so because they just want to hurt others.

#captain Marvel #alita battle angel #alita #cm spoilers #feminism #meninists #pick up artists

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accio-ambition · 6 years

Text

No Good Deed (3/15)

Summary: Killian Jones is a gentleman. He and his brother pride themselves on the matter, even if it ends with harm to them. So when an angry ex of Killian’s client bites him, he tends to the wound, watches it heal, and thinks no more of it.Until he wakes up in a closet on his ship with no memory of what happened the night of the full moon. Fleeing from the unknown, the brothers Jones find Storybrooke, and with it, Emma Swan, who is a lot more familiar with their situation than anyone could expect. And when an old foe comes to their new home, Killian has to rely on new talents to keep those he loves safe. Rating: M for language, violence, some sexual content. (better safe than sorry) Content warnings: violence

happy friday friends! time for another update, literally just in the nick of time (I PROMISE I’LL GET BETTER). anyway, hoping that the mods won’t hound me too bad about this chapter ;) as always, muchos gracias to Taylor aka @killiarious for her beta-ing skillz, @wellhellotragic for her art that I absolutely adore and will properly praise this weekend properly, and the mods at @captainswanbigbang who know what they’re doing and get me sucked into this project each and every time. :)

Ao3 if that’s the name of your game

Chapter Three

"Oy, Jones!"

Killian turns to see Gus running down the gangplank to catch him. He waits, though he's eager to get home, shower off today's grime, and settle down with a drink and the game of the night on the telly. In the few days since Gold’s attack, Killian’s been tired beyond belief. He’s also had more headaches, at least one a day, since the occurrence. It’s probably got something to do with the pills he’s downed to keep the pain of his bite at a minimum, or the lack of sleep caused by more frequent and vivid nightmares of that night.

All he wants to do is go home, but he waits for his coworker to catch up to him.

"I was hoping," Gus says, breathing deeply. Holding up a finger of pause, he bends over, hands on his knees, to catch his breath. Killian does all he can to keep himself from rolling his eyes at the man's dramatic action - he's in fine shape, he shouldn't be this winded from a slight jog. When Gus finally believes himself to be ready, he straightens.

"Sorry. I was hoping you could cover me next Tuesday. It's the night shift, which I know you don't normally do, but my son placed in the science fair and I-"

Holding up his own hand in interruption, Killian says, "No worries, Gus. I've enough warning so I can stock up on sleep." Grinning, he holds his hand out for a shake, one that Gus gratefully takes part in. "Tell the lad good luck."

"With pleasure!" Chuckling to himself, Gus claps Killian on the shoulder. "Thanks, man. You're a lifesaver."

When the Tuesday in question comes around, Liam, the sodding fool, hands Killian a brown lunch sack as he's on his way out the door.

"What the bloody hell is this?" Killian asks. "I'm not in school anymore, or have you forgotten that?"

"It's dinner, you arsewipe," Liam explains, flopping on the couch. "Nothing's going to be open by the time you get hungry, so I made you a sandwich and threw in some pretzels if you get hungry in the meantime."

His brows furrowed and a slight frown on his lips, Killian unravels the opening of the bag to peer inside. As he said, Liam had packed a sandwich, a ziploc bag of pretzels, and what looks like some cookies wrapped in plastic.

"If I didn't know any better, brother, I would say that you have a heart."

Liam laughs, his head falling on the back of the couch. "It's been known to come to life every once in a while."

The television clicks on and Jeopardy appears on the screen as Killian throws on his jacket and boots. "You'll need your strength and wits tonight. Supposed to be a full moon."

"And what, pray tell, does that mean?"

"Crazies come out in droves." Killian's popping his collar when he catches Liam's eye. "And, you know, werewolves and such."

"Ah yes, such a prevalent problem in the post-Twilight day and age," Killian quips. His keys jingle when he snatches them from the ring they rest on. "Alright, I'm off. Don't wait up."

"I won't."

“Thanks for caring.”

“Never a problem.” Killian’s scoff is overwhelmed by the slamming of the door shutting behind him.

The public transport ride down to the harbor is never been particularly notable. The occasional dancing crew or street musician sometimes serenades his ride, but at this hour, everyone is heading away from the water, for the most part. Sure, there’s a couple dressed nicely further into the car, probably heading down for a dinner cruise along the river. Everyone else has got families to attend to, laundry to do, errands to run before the shops close in Midtown.

Killian spends his time thinking mostly unconsciously on his wound. Especially as he comes up from the underground station, something about the sea breeze makes Killian scratch his injury a little more forcefully than he probably should. It's been hurting over the past couple of days, a soreness and itch that he attributes to healing, but currently is at its worst yet. The skin’s scarred over, flaked off, and knitted itself back together, but it's still obvious that the crazy man broke quite deeply into the skin. Frankly speaking, he should’ve probably gotten stitches, but Liam’s first responder skills seemed to the job well enough.

Still, he probably should have gotten it checked out. But, as he’s grown to do, Killian ignores it, jogging across the street in the last seconds of the crosswalk timer without a second thought. Thatch’s office window is alight, second story of the marina office building, one in from the corner. It’s a little quirk he’s picked up over the years, checking to see if the boss man was in and what the chances were of any surprise inspections or visits before setting sail. When that happened, Killian could always makes out his pacing figure in the lit window.

The windows are empty now, void of any person or object moving or otherwise. He’s safe from any surprise scolding for the night.

He strolls down the docks, head down as he makes his way past the line of anxious travelers. He walks up the gangplank, nodding to the lads in the crew he recognizes and the odd passenger whose boarded early due to age or disability. He’d stop to chat with them all, but he hasn’t the time. Gus’ men are good men, Killian knows that, or otherwise Thatch wouldn’t have hired them in the first place. Killian just doesn’t know them as well as he knows his own crew, and therefore can’t guarantee that they’d do all the tasks needed to safely get across the Hudson. With a final itch at his injury, Killian sets off to check all the stations, make sure proper switches are flicked and such before settling in at the captain’s wheel for the evening.

After checking everything and requesting his second in command for the night, Tom, double-check behind him, Killian waves at the man on the gangplank to let the line file on and find spots on board. He closes the door of the helm behind him, ready to get going. The lights are dimmer up here to make sure sailors can see whatever lies beyond the ship. Others’ faces only illuminate due to the dashboard lamps and button lights. Killian checks the place over quickly before opening up a window and waiting for the signal that the ropes were untied and secured.

It comes in and Killian pulls away with ease despite the darkness falling around them.

With a contented sigh, he sets course for Union City.

They make it over uneventfully the first time, and then they make the return trip without consequence. But the third time, as the saying goes, is the charm.

It comes on suddenly, his migraine. He's been known to have them on occasion, but they're usually more gradual, his body having courtesy enough to give him a wee bit of warning before his head feels like it's about to split in two. But this one strikes him harder than the rest: even the deck lights from passing vessels and the dull dashboard blinkers are too bright, the few thoughts in his own head are yelps and howls, and that thoughtful dinner Liam packed him is more than threatening to make a reappearance.

"Sorry, lads," Killian groans, the mere movement of the ship and the action of speaking worsening his condition. "I need to take a minute."

"Go for it, Jones," Tom says, "people aren't supposed to be that color."

Barely able to nod, Killian blessedly wanders below deck, off to find some secluded corner of the ship that's dark, quiet, and hopefully has something he can lay horizontal across.

He hasn't felt this ill in ages. The last time it was this bad, he must have been in high school and, though he retains his youthful glow, that was easily a decade ago. Could it be food poisoning of some sort, he questions himself. Maybe Liam was finally sick of some of his more dickish tendencies and decided to off him.

When he finds a closet big enough for him to lie down on the floor, Killian is hobbling instead of walking. The clang of the closet door as it shuts behind him throws him to his hands and knees. For some reason, he looks up, his eyes caught by the light of the full moon shining through the porthole window above him. This light source - nature's nightlight, a guardian that used to calm him before closing the bedroom door and submerging a purely frightened Killian into darkness - seems to be the only one that doesn't bother his vision. Curious, Killian thinks, before his stomach rolls and causes him to curl into the fetal position.

There might be something impeding him from laying down, but he's too far gone to even bother. Eyes closed, Killian focuses on his breathing, hoping that maybe settling that will settle the rest of him.

It doesn't work much.

He might fall asleep, but it's fitful to say the least. The strangest dreams plague him. They're animalistic in nature, but, for some odd reason, he's on the water. It's sort of calming: even in his subconscious, the water has that affect, makes him stop whatever he's doing in the dream and take a breath. Somehow, he can even tell it's the Hudson, the very body of water his physical body sails across. It's something in the scent, the dirt and oil and rubbish that New Yorkers and New Jerseyans constantly bash it with.

(He's never been a huge believer in dreams having hidden meanings, but the appearance of this water makes him at least contemplate googling it.)

When he comes to, Killian feels oddly refreshed. It feels like he's gone on a run, one meant rid him of all the excess energy he sometimes has, and his muscles are beautifully sore. He goes to sit up and then the pleasant feelings he's got start to disappear. His back is blessedly achy, and when he twists around to see why, Killian finds a loose nail right where his right shoulder blade was. That, and the floor of the closet he's for some reason still in is pure metal.

"That can't be good," he mumbles to himself, his voice hoarse speaking about the errant screw. Clearing his throat, he notices it feels sore, as if he's coming down with strep or something similar, or like he'd spent the evening before shouting imitating his favorite screamo band's top hits.

(He doesn't have one. A favorite screamo band.)

Shaking his head, Killian glances out the porthole window. It's bright, but not too much so. "Early," he says to himself. Liam's going to be worrying: Killian should've been home a couple hours ago. The ship isn't swaying anymore, meaning they must be docked, probably fueling up for the day's cross-river trips.

Going easy on his body, Killian stands, brushing his clothes off. Or, he should say, what's left of his clothes. His pants stop at the knees now, tatters dangling from the fabric. There's also a rather sizable hole near the seam of his crotch that wasn't there when he boarded last night. Killian grabs at his shirt. Half of his left sleeve is missing, the skin showing scratched up and crusted over with dry blood.

"What the -" Searching his surroundings for any clue as to what might have happened or who might have attacked him in such an odd manner, Killian sees something curious. As he approaches the door to the closet, his hand reaches out to trace what looks like claw marks, deep ones, in the grain of the door. "Bloody hell."

Everything after that seems a little bit fuzzy, or at least that's what he'll tell the psychologist he'll definitely have to see because of this incident. In the moment, Killian is disoriented, sure, but more so, he's hyper aware of exactly everything that happens to him: the smell of the diesel filling up tank, the face of everyone he passes. The bracingly cool feel of the Hudson as he stumbles getting off the gangplank and trips into the water. Sand and sludge greet his feet, the water pretty shallow, thankfully, and after a quick scan, Killian swims to the closest ladder unharmed. Dripping wet and even more confused, he makes his way down the docks and back to land. He doesn't have the patience to deal with public transportation and, at this hour, it's run is limited, so he calls for a Lyft.

(Thankfully, working on and around the water for so long has taught Killian to invest in waterproofing his phone. His wallet, however, and the other various small things in his pockets aren't so lucky.)

Once safely back in the apartment, Killian leans against the front door, his head tilting back and his eyes sliding shut. His breathing is harsh. When he tries to remember what happened last night, his memories fail him. He knows he wasn't feeling well, had told the lads that he needed a lie down to get rid of a migraine. And then waking up this morning. Something must have happened in between the two memories, especially taking in to account the injuries and state of his clothing.

"Killian? Is that you?" Liam's voice breaks him from the point of falling apart. It sounds like he's in the kitchen, meaning it's early enough for him to be getting ready for work, but not so late that his brother's rushing out of the house. That's comforting.

Pushing off the door, Killian heads toward his brother, asking, "What time is it?"

"What time is...?" Liam's scoff turns into a chuckle as he comes into view. He's fixing a cup of coffee, back to Killian. He's got his police department shirt on, yet hasn't changed out of his pajamas pants. "Little brother, where the hell have you..." Turning around, Liam trails off. Killian can see his eyes widen. Placing his mug carefully on the counter, Liam rushes up to him. "Killian, what the bloody hell? Are you alright?"

"Am I alright?" Killian laughs at the notion. Gesturing wildly, he adds, "Do I look like I'm alright?"

Liam's hands inspect the scratches on his arm, then frantically search the rest of his skin for marks. He finds some on his other arm, and even more on his neck, face, and calves. "What the fuck happened, Killian? Did you get in a fight?"

"No!" Running a hand through his hair, Killian sighs. He can feel his pulse speeding up again, and an irrational sense of anger and frustration wells up in him.

"Move," he growls at Liam. His brother takes a step back and watches him cautiously as Killian begins to pace.

When he calms down a bit, is more able to string words together sensibly, Killian breathes deeply and stops in front of Liam. "I don't know what happened," he tells him. "I was feeling ill around eleven, so I went to one of the closets to rest and I woke up this morning looking like this."

Liam's brow arches. "You woke up this morning in one of the closets looking like a drowned rat and smelling like sun-baked shit?"

"Ugh, no," Killian says, shaking his head emphatically, "I fell in the river trying to get back home."

Shrugging his shoulders, Liam makes a noise of understanding.

Killian grasps his brother's arms, forcing him to pay attention and focus. "Liam, I think something's wrong with me."

"I would be more concerned if you didn't believe there something to be wrong," he says.

Releasing himself from Killian's hold, Liam places a hand on his brother's shoulder.

"We'll figure it out together, little brother, worry not." He gives him a comforting smile and squeezes his shoulder gently. "But let's get you in the shower and then dressed in something clean. Then we'll figure out the rest in time."

0000

Confusion and slight trauma of blacking out aside, Killian recovers for the entire experience quite well. Nothing a shower, some sleep, and a bottle of rum couldn’t solve.

When he comes back to the Jolly Roger after a day off, Thatch, Gus, and the rest of the men welcome him back as if nothing had happened. They were worried for him, sure, but they thought he’d been struck by a bad 24 hour flu.

Killian asks Tom, Rob, and everyone else who was on the ship with him that night. All they could recall was him going down below complaining of a headache. No one saw him leave the ship, yet didn’t question it because, as captain, he was often the last one to leave as it was. No one checked on him, figuring that he would be angry if they woke him or would appreciate the chance to rest. It’s a wee bit disconcerting, but at least Killian can argue that his crew is thoughtful enough of his well being.

A few weeks go by with nothing unusual to report. Life goes on and on. Killian keeps reporting to the Jolly Roger, each time pushing away the concern of his blacked out night. Liam keeps his shifts at the station, sometimes staying on duty over 24 hours to follow that ‘good form’ he drilled into his younger brother. It’s not very often they get to share a meal together, but when they do, it’s over DVR-ed games and alcohol.

It’s the night before one of those nights - Killian’s off for the next couple days, but Liam’s working on his last graveyard shift of the week. Tomorrow, they’ll be able to spend the day together, or at least the afternoon depending on how late Liam decides to sleep, for the first time in a while. The forecast calls for rain - torrential downpours at times - so the chances of them spending all of their time in pajamas, probably unshowered, and a questionable amount of alcohol is quite likely.

Killian’s already preparing for it.

For his last night of solo freedom, he’s conquered the couch, sitting in the middle cushion and sprawled out. No cares. Chinese food on the coffee table and a beer in hand.

Save for the slight headache grinding his brain, the night is pretty perfect.

He’s zoned off enough to only catch the tail end of the local weather report, the meteorologist warning of thunderstorms and higher tides due to the full moon.

He rolls his eyes at the weather report, and instead, settles on a rerun of Friends, something familiar, funny, and mindless. If he falls asleep - a likely outcome, given the growing severity of his headache - he won’t feel like he missed out on anything.

(Liam never liked watching Friends, he was always more of a Seinfeld person, so that’s an additional reason to get in an episode while he can do so without complaints.)

Idly scratching the scar left Gold left behind, Killian relaxes on the couch, fixing his feet on the table. He takes a sip of his drink as one of the characters begins complaining about her hair. Throughout the first episode, he closes up his dinner and lays down on the couch. On about the fourth episode, his eyes begin to droop, his headache unwieldy. He stays conscious long enough to turn the volume almost all the way down, hoping that will help soothe his aching head, before fading off to sleep.

Shooting awake an hour and a half later, pain wrecks his entire body. Killian can’t help it: he howls. His headache is wreaking havoc, somehow having gotten worse as he rested. The grinding has evolved into pulsations and mumbling, incoherent voices and questions unanswered. His muscles feel like they’re ripping apart, the pain manifesting in another, longer howl. Waves hit him, radiating from his wrist, right where Gold bit him. The voices and noises he hears are getting louder by the minute. Thank gods Liam was working that night, though the same can’t be said for their neighbors. He’s definitely woken them: they might have already called the police or banged on their shared walls.

Despite his better judgement, Killian tries to stand from couch, immediately collapsing. His skin is too tight: he feels like he’s going to explode. His clothes already seem to be doing so, the seams of his sweatpants tearing and his shirt hanging from his shoulders.

He grasps for the coffee table, his fingers sinking into the wood like putty. His eyes shoot to his hand.

It’s not his hand.

Rationally, he knows it’s his hand, can feel the coffee table splintering beneath his grip, but it’s not his hand. It’s far too large, too hairy, too pawlike to even be human.

Pain ripples through him again, another wave curling him up on the floor. Whatever illness he has, or attack that’s struck him, is ending him. Killian is convinced this is how he dies, in the fetal position on his living room floor.

And then it’s done. The sinews of his muscles return to their spots. His organs have halted their threat of explosion. He is fine.

Except now his eye level barely reaches the top of the couch arm.

And something heavy hangs from his ass.

Panic starts to set in. Killian’s somehow shrunk, and the idea throws him off balance. He thumps into the couch seat, then slams into the destroyed coffee table. He looks down and, instead of seeing his knees and his bare feet as expected, he’s met with the floor.

And paws. Not paw-like hands. Paws.

His head whips over his shoulder. The heavy weight is connected to him, switching swiftly from side to side.

He’s got a tail.

“Oh fuck,” he says. But it doesn’t come out in words. It’s incomprehensible, something like a moan or a man without a tongue trying to speak.

There’s a banging on the ceiling that Killian can somehow differentiate from the nearly identical banging three floors door. It’s two couples having sex, the woman above him having a much more pleasurable time than the other. He’s not quite sure how he knows that, but he can pick up the hitches in her breath.

“FUCK!” Killian barks. An actual bark.

Before he’s sure he’s made up his mind, Killian’s barreling toward the front door. He needs to get out of here, but without opposable thumbs, he’s trapped. That flusters him even further, his tail wagging furiously and running him into the wall.

Killian tries to headbutt the door down to no avail. Anger floods him, brings a growl from the depths of his stomach in frustration. He pulls back, adrenaline coiling in the muscles of his legs, and jumps, throwing the whole of his body weight against the door. It budges, and with another, more forceful headbutt, the door gives, leading Killian to freedom.

He’s running: where, he knows not. Killian can already smell the dirt and garbage in the air from the stairwell. He hits the outdoors, the fresh air as stunning as the puddle of rain his paws splash in. The colors of neon business signs flash as he runs by them, the lights far too bright, and the noises he usually finds comforting enough to fall asleep to far too loud. He can hear the garbage truck six streets over, the drunk conversation in the pizza parlor on the corner of the block, the rumble of thunder rolling southeast. It’s overwhelming to the point of nausea.

That is until he reaches a wooded area. What little part of his rationality remains realizes he’s somehow made it to Central Park and over the fence. He’d made what was normally a 20 minute subway ride in maybe ten on foot. The pavement here smells differently, damp grass and dead leaves mingling and growing stronger in his nostrils. He slows down to a trot, his senses calming. He can feel his heartbeat slow, the adrenaline leaking from his muscles. The noises are quieter here, more natural. Nocturnal animals scurrying around in search of a meal. Zoo animals breathing deeply in sleep. The occasional couple passing on the outskirts of the park.

This is a side of New York no one really ever considers. Even as a self-professed New Yorker for life, Killian sometimes forgets how peaceful New York is at night, especially Central Park when it’s closed to the public eye.

It’s nice.

Breathing deeply through his nose, Killian lets out a contented sigh. A crack of wood to his left catches his attention, the noise far louder than he’s used to. It startles him. It startles him further when he can tell that, whatever creature broke the stick, is smaller than him.

And panicking because it knows it’s been heard.

Before he can realize what’s truly happening, Killian’s running. His breath comes hard and fast. His muscles stretch and contract more than he’s ever really realized possible. His legs feel stronger. There’s an ache in his shoulders he knows will be even worse come morning.

The animal’s a coyote, rare in the park, but not unheard of. It’s running, far and fast.

Killian’s faster.

He catches up to the creature in less than a half a mile, a good effort on both sides.

Unsure of killing it, Killian lets the animal in himself take over.

This primal side of him sated, Killian carefully ambles back to the apartment. He’s not quite sure what the hour is, but somehow knows it’s late enough to be considered early. He’s been out for far longer than he should have been. It’d be wise for him to watch where he strays. The last place he’d want to end this transformative night is the city pound, especially when he doesn’t know what might happen come sunrise.

(He hope he isn’t...whatever he is by sunrise. That’s put a damper in some plans.)

The front door is just as he left it, slightly unhinged, just as he feels. Killian crawls through the opening, his back bristling as the wood scratches his spine.

(Idly, he hopes he doesn’t have weirdly-placed splinters on his back tomorrow.)

The sun is barely peeking over the horizon, hardly shining through the grates of the fire escape outside the living room when he settles on the couch. He’s got nothing left to do but wait out this demonstration. Might as well catch up on some sleep while he does.

Killian nods off, only to come to when a noise pricks at his ears.

Someone’s coming up the building stairs. The gait is somewhat familiar, heavy.

They stop on his floor. Killian’s hackles rise.

The person stops short of the apartment door. There’s a brief scuffling, as if the person is looking around. In his throat, Killian feels a slight hum rising.

And then the door creaks open.

“Who’s there?” Liam’s threatening voice startles him and brings a growl from the back of his throat. Killian can feel the noise reverberate off the walls of the apartment. He hops off the couch and stalks toward the front door, hiding in the shadows of the couch.

When his brother comes into view, it’s a little unnerving. The door fully pushed in, much more wonky than it was when Killian came back earlier in the evening. Liam’s off duty, yes, but he’s still got his badge and his gun, leading him into the apartment. His eyes search the opening area quickly, methodically, until they land on Killian. Liam’s eyes go wide in shock, his arms falling slightly. He’s scared and Killian isn’t quite sure why.

And then Killian realizes: he’s the reason Liam is so frightened.

Coming out of the shadows, Killian cautiously approaches his brother, looking him straight in the eyes. When he’s within reach, he knocks his head against Liam’s knees, hoping that, somehow, his brother will get the message.

“Hoooooly shit,” Liam breathes. His eyes, if possible, go even wider. In an instant, his arms fall to his side and the gun goes back in its holster. His brother runs his hands through his hair, the exhaustion already on his face further emphasized with messy hair. He cocks his head for a moment, something like recognition washing over his expression, before asking, “Killian, is that you?”

Killian nods. There’s a weird sensation occurring on his head, high above his brows. He’s felt this sensation earlier tonight, but not enough for him to question it. New muscles are stretching behind him, and Liam’s voice becomes a wee bit fainter. His brother holds up his hands. “Don’t be afraid.” Killian tilts his head up to match gazes. Liam points at his head. “Your ears are back.”

Killian grumps. This weird body he’s inhabiting is so unusual. He already tends to wear his heart on his sleeve and now, it seems, his thoughts bubble up in his ears or his hackles. Killian stalks around the apartment, back toward the cushions and destroyed coffee table. Liam follows, as evidenced by his footfalls. Killian leaps onto the couch and sits, staring at his brother as he observes the damage inflicted.

“Christ alive, you’re a fucking wolf,” he mumbles. “What the fuck happened here?”

When he opens his mouth to explain, Killian is unfortunately reminded that his vocal chords aren’t as advanced as he’s accustomed to. His words come out as whimpers and grunts. With a groan, Killian rolls his eyes.

Liam chuckles. “Right,” he says, “I suppose you can’t really tell me anything that happened.” Looking around the living room, he must come to the conclusion that nothing more can be said - or barked - on the matter.

“Just tell me this. It’s a simple yes or no question. Are you okay?” Killian nods, his tail wagging behind him.

Nodding, Liam scrubs at his forehead and mumbles, “Go to bed, Killian. Or go to your bedroom. You don’t have to sleep, but I do.” Sighing, Liam stands, his joints crunching in protest. “Just stay in your room until morning and then we’ll discuss options.” He glances toward Killian once more. “Hopefully it won’t be as one-sided as this conversation.”

Killian watches as Liam heads to his bedroom. He hops off the couch and trots up to his brother’s side, his haunches coming up to Liam’s hips. Hoping his brother perceives it as the sign of affection it’s meant to be, Killian knocks his head against Liam’s knees again.

Liam chuckles, reaching his hand down to pat Killian’s head. “I know, brother,” he says.

“Don’t stress about things you don’t understand and can’t fix at the moment. Try and rest.” With a brush of Killian’s ears and a final pat to the head, Liam smiles tiredly and heads off to his room.

Following suit, Killian lopes into his own bedroom, bed still made from this morning and his sleep clothes still folded on the dresser. Unsure of what state he might be in come morning, all Killian can do is jump up on the bed, circle a spot in the center and plop down, his head resting on his paws. All he can do is close his eyes and hope that he can find some sleep and some answers tomorrow.

0000

A cold breeze wakes Killian. It runs over his shoulders, his bare back, and over his ass. He shivers so violently that his eyes shoot open and he inhales deeply and suddenly.

He’s caddywompus on the mattress, one foot hanging off one edge, a forearm and both hands hanging off the other. But they’re human hands, not paws anymore. Pushing himself up on his elbows, Killian takes a quick inventory. He’s naked, his clothes from last night mostly likely in tatters on the living room floor next to the destroyed furniture. He’s cold, yes, but goosebumps cover his skin, not his fur. All of his parts are in place and, save for a few scratches and bruises on his calves and arms, he’s unharmed.

Cautiously standing, his muscles scream from overexertion. Killian rifles through his drawers for some of his less-loved clothes just in case a repeat of last night occurs. Once clothed, he stretches further, reaching a high as he can and moaning.

Last night was interesting, to say the least. He remembers everything that happened, thankfully, and the migraine that preceded yesterday’s events has since disappeared.

That’s promising.

Shuffling out of his room, still a little disoriented, Killian makes his way into the kitchen. Liam stands at the counter, pouring out his own mug of coffee.

“Morning,” Killian grumbles, squinting at the light from the windows and the gravel in his own voice.

Liam glances over his shoulder with a chuckle. “Oh good,” he says. “I was wondering whether I’d have to go out and get some kibble for you, but it looks like you can find some breakfast on your own now.”

“Yeah, opposable thumbs are quite the invention.” He opens the cabinet and pulls out a coffee cup. He fills it to the brim before replacing the pot and taking a healthy swallow.

Turning to Liam, mug wafting steam up his nose, Killian asks, “How did you know it was me and not some stray dog?”

“Eyes,” Liam says solidly, pointing to his own. “I raised you, little brother. I’d know the family trait if I were blind.” Walking to the living room, Liam gestures for Killian to follow. He does, naturally, only to see the destruction from last night cleaned up. Liam sits on the couch as if nothing were unusual. “What happened, Killian?” he asks.

“I…” Clicking his tongue, Killian sits down on the other side of the couch. “I’m not quite sure. I think,” but that can’t be right, could it, “I think I ran to Central Park.”

Liam chokes, spitting his coffee messily back into his mug. “Excuse me?”

Killian shrugs. “It would explain the unhinged door.” The more he thinks about it, the more he’s sure that it’s the only logical explanation. “Yeah. The noises on the street, the lights.” He looks up. “It was a lot to take in.”

“What happened in the park?” Liam inquires.

“Nothing.” Eyebrows furrowed as he mentally reviews what he did, Killian tilts his head.

“It was quite lovely, actually. It was quiet and dark. I got to hunt. No one bothered me.”

“I should think not,” Liam says. “Did anyone see you?”

“I don’t know! I wasn’t paying them much attention.” He’s pretty sure no one saw him, though the more he ponders on the topic, the more concerned he grows. Matching his gaze with his brother’s, Killian professes, “We can’t stay here, Liam.”

“I agree.” Killian leans back against the couch arm, confused.

Liam shrugs, pointing toward the door. “What? You were a goddamn wolf mere hours ago! We live in one of the most populated cities in the entire world.”

Setting his cup down on the floor, Liam rests his elbows on his knees, fingers templed over his mouth. “Look, I know human you has a heart of gold, but how am I supposed to know that animal you won’t attack someone in the building or on the street?”

“I didn’t this time, did I?” Killian responds petulantly.

“Beginners’ luck, I guarantee it.”

“Technically, this would be my second time going through this transformation.”

“Killian, you don’t remember the first time this happened and you wrecked this place the second.” He has to concede: Liam does have a fair point. “Come now, let's get some food and then we can start looking for a new town.”

As his brother stands, Killian looks into his mug. The liquid is muddy, just like his mind. There’s so much running through it - transforming, ruining furniture, searching for a new home. He feels slightly hungover. Still, Killian hangs his head, bringing his cup down to his lap.

“I’m sorry, brother,” he apologizes morosely. His voice is soft, but he knows from years of experience that Liam’s listening.

“For breaking so much of this shitty furniture?” Liam asks with a chuckle. There’s a clink signaling he’s put his mug in the sink. “We’re due for some adult digs.”

“No, not that,” Killian says, standing himself. “You know how much I hated this table.” He makes his way back to the kitchen, pouring himself another cup unlike his brother.

“This is home. This is where we became a family again. This is our safe haven and I’ve ruined it.”

Liam’s shoulders sag as he sighs. “No you haven’t,” he replies, shaking his head. “We are home when we are together. Don’t ever forget that. The weather, the city, the blasted kitchen table might change, but our love for one another never will.”

His hand falls on Killian’s shoulder. He squeezes comfortingly, drawing his attention. “I love you, Killian. I don’t say it often, but I do. We’ll find a new place to settle and we will figure out this Twilight thing of yours.” Lightly punching him on the arm, Liam laughs.

“This is the weirdest way to reveal which side of that fight you’re on.”

Killian scoffs, pushing his brother away. “Team Jacob for the win,” he says half heartedly. That makes Liam guffaw, bending at the waist to help get air in his lungs.

“Shut up. You’re only laughing because you know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“I won’t pretend to.” He’s still laughing as he heads back to his room. “Get yourself together. We’ve got a long day of finding a house ahead of us.

#csbb #captain swan big bang #csbb fic #csbb art #cs ff #captain swan #ouat #storytime #my words #no good deed #i hate myself for not properly loving this whole project #im gonna remedy that this weekend #probably create a masterpost or something #that sounds like a good idea #maybe ill finally be able to catch up on all the stories

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tratserenoyreve · 6 years

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@noirandchocolate thing is, i don’t feel like this is something i should even be thanked for! it’s really freaking me out that this stuff is so prevalant! like, i’ve grown up with the internet since i was a preteen, i’ve seen and experienced some messed up sh!t, and the way these people present it can and has made people think it’s desirable and allowable. and that’s how predators flourish and grooming happens.

i get it, in the past people advocating for safer spaces involving s3xual!ty resulted in a lot of lgbt+ works being wrongfully eradicated and none of the actual bad sh!t being taken care of. which just means for decades we’ve had a virulent cocktail of a predatory culture just... cultivating.

i want teens to learn about and explore their own s3xuality in a safe setting, for folks to have the ability to discuss consensual safe habits and just having knowledge of boundaries and mutual respect. but this is absolutely not the way to do it. harboring predators and predatory attitudes is absolutely not the way to do it.

“don’t like don’t look” is for folks who are into shizz like size difference, roughpl4y, transformation k!nks. not presenting p3doph!lia and abuse as “omg so hawt”.

also like these people happily invade spaces where people have not consented to their “play”. there are so many posts of someone starting off with a mundane conversation and then a terrifying chain of reblogs of people pretending to be children for the sake of getting off to it. oftentimes the op themself is a minor, and at the very least have absolutely not consented to any of those displays.

kids are not k!nks!! consent, boundaries, and mutual respect are not possible between a middle aged dude and a preteen! to use the imagery of kids for this sort of shizz endangers actual kids, and i say that as someone who has experienced some sh!t!!

coping mechanisms are personal, personal does not mean commissioning art of toddlers eating d!ck waffles. exploring your trauma thru coping mechanisms is also meant to be a step towards moving away from said trauma, to develop new and more nuanced coping methods so you are no longer just committing self-harm and endangering others.

so, like, again, kids are not k!nks!!!!!

#tratser talks about stuff

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oochaycheesstuff · 3 years

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LGBTQ & BIPOC Representation In Media

Queer stories have changed and evolved throughout the time of cinema. Over the past couple decades queer cinema has become more prevalent and well known, to the point that they are now able to have bigger budgets and reach a wider audience. Because of this newfound popularity and growth, more and more directors of queer movies are able to create the vision they feel best suits the story being told. Visually, a lot of these stories are shown in somewhat different ways in the cinematography, mise-en-scene, and editing. Though there are many differences in the way some of these movies look aesthetically, there are commonalities between the stories they tell and how they’re presented. Themes that are often seen in LGBTQ+ movies are hardship in being comfortable in oneself and your own identity, navigating love for the first time, dealing with bigotry and hate, and a few others. Something that I have also noticed within LGBTQ+ cinema is the character(s) having a space away from a judgemental society where they are able to either be with their love interest, or generally have a moment to be their genuine self without fear of judgement from others. An aspect of queer cinema that is prevalent in Moonlight, Boys Don’t Cry (1999), Call Me By Your Name (2017) is nature being a big part of the love story between the main character and their love interest, especially when it comes to their first physically intimate moments. In Moonlight, Chiron and Kevin share this moment on the beach (54m:13-55m:50s).

We see it happen with Elio and Oliver in Call Me By Your Name when they’re alone in the spring (56m:00s-57m:21s).

In Boys Don’t Cry at 54m:45s-56m:21s when Brandon and Lana are in the field.

Another stylistic choice I’ve noticed in multiple queer movies, especially movies made more recently, is colorful lighting. Colorful lighting can be seen a few times in Moonlight (2016). One moment in particular that sticks out to me is at 1h:06m:48s-1h:06m:58s, where we see Chiron as a grown man during the Black stage of his life. Although subtle, the lighting is blue, which I believe helps indicate how cold to people he has gotten over the years. This is also symbolized by the fact that he is literally dipping his face into a sink of ice water. This also plays back into my point of hardship in the life of the queer character. He has had to make himself this big, intimidating looking guy due to his past experiences being abused and ridiculed as a kid.

There is a certain colorful lighting combination that I see being used a lot: bisexual lighting. The colors of the bisexual flag (purple, blue, and pink) used as lighting is something that seems to be more and more common, especially amongst movies, TV shows, as well as music videos that include bisexual or other queer identified characters.

One aspect of queer media that is slowly becoming more apparent is the intersection of identities. In movies like Moonlight and Pariah (2011), we can see the stories of characters that are both black and queer. With Moonlight, Chiron has to deal with being black, queer, and a drug addicted mother who takes whatever money he has away from him. In Pariah, Alike is a masculine presenting black lesbian who has to deal with her religious family as well as the judgmental people in her neighborhood and experiencing love for the first time. We can also see this intersection seen in Rafiki (2018), a movie about two Kenyan girls falling in love and having to deal with the violent homophobia rampant in many African countries. In both of the latter two movies, the colorful lighting is used, each in scenes where we see the characters falling in love and being comfortable with each other, even while in a public space.

That visual aspect, especially the lighting being pink, is something that indicates intimacy and love, which is something presented in queer movies with the lack of the male gaze. It focuses on this particular love between women, who also happen to be Black.

I think the aesthetics and techniques used to create the imagery to evoke emotions from the audience in queer movies is powerful enough to bring an audience into the experiences and feelings that queer people experience. Because of this, I think it is somewhat fair to say that a queer film can “queer an audience”, at least to some extent. Being able to see the perspective of characters and what they experience and feel, it allows the audience to experience those things as well. They might not necessarily be queer themselves, but they are able to get a peak into what at least one queer experience can be.

One movie that is patriarchal in nature with heterosexual characters that can be reworked into a queer movie is Grease (1978). Being a movie of its time, it is very cis, straight, and white. There are a few elements that can be changed and reworked in that movie to give it a queer cinema type of feel. The first element that could change would be the biggest aspect of the movie: a heterosexual romance. I think to keep away from the patriarchal and sexist aspects of the original movie, it would be beneficial to change Sandy from being a girl to being a boy named Sammy. Having two guys pine after each other is the first step in erasing the heterosexist elements of the original Grease. Another element to flip in order to have BIPOC representation would be to have both characters of Sammy and Danny would be to have them both be people of color. Having a diverse background allows for more complex storylines, especially when it comes to the intersection of sexuality, race, and cultural upbringing. I would also change the year that this takes place. Rather than being in 1958, I decided to make it 1969, right after the Stonewall Riots. Finally, I would have it so that in the end Sandy wouldn’t dress up as a greaser to impress Danny. The message of changing yourself to receive the attention and affection you want from a guy is drenched in patriarchal standards and expectations. Here is the plot summary:

“In the summer of 1969, Danny and Sammy meet and fall in love over spending time with each other having fun on the beach and connecting through their similar life experiences. Danny being the son of Jamaican immigrants and Sammy being from Jamaica, they bond through their understanding of each other’s familial drama and how they deal with being closeted gay boys. When Sammy’s family decides to stay in the U.S., he enrolls into Rydell and befriends The Pink Ladies, a group who actively participated in the Stonewall Riots. They tell him stories of the event and what they witnessed, eventually leading Sammy into feeling comfortable telling them his secret, accidentally outing him and Danny. When The Pink Ladies hear this information, they try to link them back up, but Danny, being a popular jock, acts as if he doesn’t know Sammy at all and starts harassing him for being different. Sammy is visibly hurt and upset about the way Danny is acting towards him. Feeling bad about how he acted, Danny goes to find Sammy and once they’re alone, it feels like they’re back to the summertime when they were in love. They start secretly hanging out together, but Sammy tells The Pink Ladies everything that happens between the two of them and how they’re still in love with each other. The Pink Ladies confront Danny, which gets him angry because he becomes aware that people know his big secret. The two get into a big argument and Danny breaks off the relationship. Sammy feels terrible and decides to make things right by reminding Danny of all their good times together and how they have a connection that none of them have ever felt with another person, and promising to never overstep the boundaries of their relationship again. Danny accepts the apology and the two continue being together, only this time Danny sticks up for Sammy whenever people pick on him and they continue to experience life together.”

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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Edgar Wright on Ghosts, Musicals, and Last Night in Soho

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Edgar Wright is trying to cure himself. That’s how the writer-director describes his latest movie Last Night in Soho: a cure for the nostalgia that’s followed him all his life, and which still causes him to daydream against his better judgment about 1960s London as if it were a golden age.

“I have this recurring time travel fantasy about the idea of going back,” Wright says with the air of a confession. “But I think it’s always that thing, this nagging fear that it’s probably a really bad idea.”

It’s a surprising admission for a filmmaker who has spent his career often looking to the past in order to find something new and clever to say about our present. After all, Wright’s breakthrough was directing the game-changing British sitcom Spaced, which featured so many references and nods to the movies he loved that the show’s DVD introduced the “Homage-o-Meter” bonus feature. And his early cinematic achievements in the Cornetto Trilogy—Shaun of the Dead, Hot Fuzz, and The World’s End—are nothing if not love letters to the genres that inspired him and co-writer Simon Pegg.

That sense of always being aware of the history of things weighs on Wright, even as he appears happy and relaxed when we meet on an August afternoon. He’s at the tail-end of the UK rollout for his new music documentary The Sparks Brothers, and the filmmaker is relieved to just be out of his flat and in a London hotel room (in the Soho district, of course). Sitting 90 seconds from his home down the street, the director is taken back to both better and stranger days in this neighborhood, including when he decided to set his first psychological horror movie there.

In Last Night in Soho, audiences follow Eloise (Thomasin McKenzie), a young woman who has come to London with starry eyes for what the big city was like back in the day. Unfortunately, her reveries take a more insidious turn once she actually travels to the tumultuous ’60s decade, shadowing a mysterious lounge singer (Anya Taylor-Joy) toward dark places.

Looking back now, Wright is swept up in the excitement he found in shutting down whole streets and redressing them like their seedier glory days while Taylor-Joy and Matt Smith zip by in mod attire. He’s also haunted by the evenings when he found the courage to return there during lockdown, becoming affected by the sudden silence of the district and memories of friends who were recently lost, including ’60s luminary Dame Diana Rigg.

“It was completely and utterly deserted, which added an extra poignancy to it,” Wright says. “And there’s another separate part of it that’s bittersweet and elegiac in a way. Soho is rapidly changing. Some of those buildings with ghosts in them, they’re just going forever, which is very sad.” Clearly such spirits walk beside Wright, be it in his wistful comedies or serious ghost stories. Below is our conversation, edited for length and clarity, about those shades.

In Last Night in Soho, a character says, “This is London. Someone’s died in every room and on every street corner.” Is that something you think about when you’re walking around town?

Oh, my God! I mean that character says it because I believe it. This specifically is to say there are buildings in London that are hundreds of years old, of which most of Soho is like. That’s the thing that inspired the movie, really. I’ve been in London for 25 years. I’ve spent most of that time working in Soho. I’ve probably spent more time in Soho than I have in some couches in flats that I’ve been in. Because I’ve written there, I’ve edited movies there. Nearly all of the movies I’ve done, even the American and Canadian ones, have been edited in Soho. I’ve just spent an enormous amount of time there. It’s also an entertainment district, so there’s restaurants and bars, and cinemas.

But it’s also that thing where, even now, it is on the border of a darker side of the underworld, which is still there in contemporary Soho in plain sight. And then going back, when I first moved to London, that side of life was a lot more prevalent, and then if you go back to the ‘60s, even more so. It’s not necessarily always a great place to be, and I guess that’s the point of the movie: that there is a danger of romanticizing the past, and obviously the ‘60s is a decade to get totally obsessed with, and I certainly am in terms of having grown up with my parents’ record collection, which was predominantly ‘60s records.

You can’t help but think when you go to London, “Oh my God, the swinging ‘60s and Soho, and film and fashion and music!” But of course there was a darker side to the place. And I guess that’s what the movie ultimately is: a cautionary tale for time travelers. Like, if you could go back, should you?

Diana Rigg has a wonderful role in this. What was it like working with her and also having her as a resource on a project like this?

I was just really lucky to get to work with her and get to know her, and I guess call her a friend. Because after we’d filmed and before the lockdown, I saw her a number of times or called her on the phone. I mean all through the early lockdown, I would be calling Rita Tushingham [who also appears in the movie] and Diana Rigg and just chatting, and talking about old movies.

In terms of a resource, that would be true of Terence Stamp, Rita Tushingham, and Diana Rigg. All people who have got an incredible body of work, and obviously all three of them started essentially in the ‘60s. I mean Rita Tushingham, who plays Thomasin’s grandmother, was 18 when she shot Tony Richardson’s A Taste of Honey. She was the same age as Thomasin McKenzie was shooting Last Night in Soho. So the idea of her playing the grandmother—I couldn’t think of anybody better to play this part. Also Thomasin, before shooting, I think she’d already met Rita once and then she watched A Taste of Honey and she said, “Ah that film is so great but now I’m starstruck by Rita!”

So as a resource, it is really interesting, because obviously they have amazing stories to tell. But there’s another thing that I think is a microcosm of the movie itself. There are ways that I’m like Eloise. There are moments in the film where Eloise, in a puppyish sort of way, is talking very excitedly about the decade to somebody who was there. And I’ve done that to people, whether it be actors or people in a film, where you’re going, “Oh wow, the ‘60s must have been so cool, right?” And I feel like the answer from them is always, Yes… dot, dot, dot. There’s always a dot, dot, dot, because yes, great things happened but also terrible things happened, as well.

These older actors are the living memory of that era, but you also have Anya and Thomasin channeling it for a new generation. Why was it important for you to enter this era through a female gaze?

There’s that one element where all of my movies have featured young males, and you have to challenge yourself in your career and write slightly outside of what you know. Just writing what you know all the time is not very progressive or challenging, ultimately… Also there are a lot of movies of that time that are not horror movies or psychological thrillers, but dramas of the ‘60s, and they’re cautionary tales about girls coming to London. I think what a lot of those movies were was the old guard slapping the young generation on the wrist, as if to say, “How dare you come to London and make it big?” There are a lot of moralistic films made around that time. There are some very good ones and there are a lot of ones that are of a genre that seem like they’re wagging their finger, and I always found those films quite fascinating.

So that part of the story of Soho is to show us a different version of one of those films told in parallel decades. That you see Thomasin coming to London in the modern day, and you see Anya coming to London trying to make it big in the ‘60s.

Do you think about how Eloise’s London is different from the London Shaun moves through in Shaun of the Dead?

Well, not that there’s much that you could join the dots between the two, but Shaun is in his late 20s, living in the suburbs, and at the point when you meet Shaun in the movie, he’s clearly been around there for a long time. So he’s quite comfortable, nigh complacent, in where he lives. I think the thing is, coming to London for the first time, like any big city, is a very lonely experience. I mean, where are you?

New York. And I’m not from New York originally.

So I’m sure moving to New York is very similar to coming to London. When you first get there, it’s really forbidding. It was the same for me. I’m from the country. I’m from where Hot Fuzz is shot in Somerset, and when I came to London [in the mid-’90s], it’s that thing where we even used the term in the movie, it’s like country mouse. One of the mean girls at fashion college calls Thomasin country mouse, and I remember reading that book, The Town Mouse and the Country Mouse, when I was a kid. And I remember when I was going to London, I was like, “Ah, I’m the Country Mouse.” [Laughs] Because I do not belong here, or even if you don’t belong, it’s like with any big city, you have to find your own way in and you have to let the city open up to you.

Some people never have that experience. I’m sure you have friends as well that come to the city and never get in sync with it and leave. When you find your place in the city, sometimes it’s really hard won. So I’m not Eloise, and I’ve never been an 18 year old fashion student, but I certainly had a very similar experience to her coming to London and feeling totally out of place, totally outpaced by everybody. And Krysty [Wilson-Cairns], who co-wrote the screenplay with me, is from Scotland and she came to London. It’s a very powerful thing when you come to the big city and you’re not from here.

Do you think that this experience you had when you first came to London is why you have made so many stories like Spaced or Scott Pilgrim, or even Shaun, where young people feel aimless in the world?

I guess so. You’ll never not be the kid from the country. It’s a powerful thing, and it’s something that—I don’t know. That’s a good question.

Yet, unlike many of those characters, you knew what you wanted to do since you were 14.

Yeah, and whatever the quality level of my first film, A Fistful of Fingers… I realized after the fact I’m really glad that I made it in Somerset and then came to London. Because then I always had this weird calling card in terms of, even if it was a slightly kitschy thing, it’s like, “Hey, this kid, he made a Western in Somerset!” Now it may not have been a great film. It got a good review in Variety. Empire gave it one star. So opinion on it is mixed. But the thing is that because I did it in my hometown and then came to London, I had sort of done something outside of London.

I think if I had come to London without having made anything and tried to make it in the film business, now you’re one of tens of thousands of people who want to be a film director… That can be really tough. I think it’s always a thing that I’ve given advice to younger filmmakers: If you can make a film on your own patch first, it can be more powerful.

You’ve mentioned on social media being enamored as a child with posters for movies like Alien and Friday the 13th, and your parents would say “no,” leaving them to your imagination. Do you feel like that forbidden nature influenced your tastes?

Yes, absolutely. There’s something where you start to imagine what those films might be like. And sometimes they live up to your imagination and sometimes what’s in your imagination is more powerful. That particularly became the case with the VHS mania, when there were video libraries everywhere. My parents didn’t have a VCR. They sort of refused to buy a VCR. So I didn’t actually have one in the house until I was in my late teens when I could pay for it myself.

Prior to that though, I remember very distinctly when I was maybe 10 years old going into a video store that was around the corner from my house. And I’d usually go in the afternoon when it was empty, and just look at the covers and the back covers of 18-rated videos. I’d be looking at the cover of Brian de Palma’s Body Double, and just trying to imagine what the film was like from the poster image and the little stills on the back, and maybe what the synopsis said.

Then occasionally there are movies from that period where I’ve never seen the movie, and I realize it would be better not to see the movie, because I’m not sure it could ever live up to the cover art. Like I remember specifically being quite obsessed, aged 10, with a film called Zone Troopers, which is, I discover now, directed by Rachel Bilson’s dad, Danny Bilson! But I just remember seeing that poster, and it’s got an alien pointing, saying, “Your universe needs you!” and “Zone Troopers.” I never saw the movie and it’s probably not a good time to start now, but as a 10 year old, I’m thinking, “Woah, what is that movie?!”

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What did your parents think of your genre interests, particularly as they continued into your adult professional life?

They knew that my brother and I were both very interested in genre movies, and I think we had kind of tried to convince them on a number of levels [that genre is great]. I mean, long before I knew that I wanted to be a director, I definitely knew I wanted to do something in film, and there was definitely, like with a lot of kids, an early obsession with makeup. There are films where those things are more acceptable as a kid, where Star Wars has the cantina sequence or Raiders of the Lost Ark has the whole ending with Nazis melting. And then other things are more illicit. My Mum and Dad are well aware that me and my brother would really like to see Alien, really like to see The Thing, really like to see American Werewolf in London, but can’t.

Then I think it was when I was 10 years old that An American Werewolf in London was shown on network TV for the first time. I managed to convince my parents to let me stay up and watch it, and they acquiesced, and they let me and my brother watch it until midway through that dream sequence with the Nazi monsters. When they slit David Naughton’s throat, my Mum was like, “Okay, that’s it. Bed.” So I didn’t see the rest of the film for another three years after that! I had terrible nightmares because I never saw the story resolve. I really did, I’m not kidding around! I really had terrible nightmares because I never saw the resolution of the story.

I don’t think the resolution would’ve prevented the nightmares.

That’s true! [Laughs]

You’ve been described in the press as the ultimate film nerd fanboy. Do you like that title?

I mean, it depends how it’s used. If it’s used as an insult then, sure, I’d rather not. But in terms of, am I a fan of cinema? Of course. Like you could use the word enthusiast. It doesn’t really annoy me. I guess it only sort of is a thing where people assume that means I only like a certain type of movie, which is not true. I like all types of movies. And certainly in recent years, I’ve gravitated away from what people might think is more like the comic book nerd kind of movie, just because a lot of it tires me out to be honest. I mean, weirdly enough, I just saw James Gunn’s The Suicide Squad this weekend and I thought, “Oh, that’s the first comic book movie in quite a long time that I actually enjoyed.”

But there’s a certain type of movie that I feel like I’ve grown out of for the most part, and certainly in terms of the things that I watch. I try and watch a bit of everything. In fact in the pandemic, for the start of it, for like the first five months where nobody was going to work or couldn’t do anything, I decided to make a dent into my long list of films that I’d never seen, which had an enormous breadth to it in terms of the types of movies I was watching. And it was an amazing experience to sort of get through some of these films on the list of things that I had never seen.

I read your list of everything you watched in lockdown, and saw a movie on there which I thought about while watching Last Night in Soho: Bob Fosse’s Cabaret. Was that intentional?

Yeah, I’m a big fan of Bob Fosse full-stop, and actually just before the pandemic, they had a musical season at the BFI in London, and they had a triple bill of Sweet Charity, Cabaret, and All That Jazz, and I think I hadn’t seen any of them on the big screen actually. So I took my choreographer from [Last Night in Soho], Jenn White, and I said, “What are you doing on Sunday?” She said, “Why?” I said, “Let’s watch the three Bob Fosse films in a row!”

I love Sweet Charity, as well, and there’s a poster of Sweet Charity in Eloise’s bedroom at the start of [Soho]. And not just the Sweet Charity movie poster with Shirley MacLaine but also a photo of Judi Dench playing the character on the West End production of Sweet Charity.

In Baby Driver, you wrote into the script the songs you planned to shoot and edit the scenes to. Is that something you continued then with Eloise’s love of ‘60s music here?

Last Night in Soho was similar to Baby Driver in the sense that I had specific songs worked out for specific scenes. And in a lot of cases in the way that I write, especially with Baby Driver and Last Night in Soho, the song in some ways inspires the scene. Maybe not in terms of what’s happening in it story wise, but the rhythm of it or even the length of it.

So there’s one song in the movie in the first dream sequence, the Graham Bond Organisation version of “Wade in the Water,” and sometimes it’s like this movie, which I’ve had in my head for 10 years. Sometimes I’ve had those songs connected with the movie for that long. If they come up again, like maybe you’re working on something else and you hear that song and you’re like, “Ah, I’ve got to make Last Night in Soho!” So I know what this scene is.

Because the film is set in the ‘60s, I zeroed in on a particular period and a particular type of song. The majority of them were by female singers. And a lot of them I feel have, even if they’re pop-y, they kind of have a melancholic edge to them in the lyrics. That’s something that always, I find, very striking about some of those songs by Cilla Black or Dusty Springfield or Sandie Shaw.

But I love making films that become music-centric. Both with Baby Driver and Last Night in Soho, working with a choreographer on a day-to-day basis—on both films, we had a choreographer there every day because it was not just the dance sequences. It’s kind of everything involved in movement and how that relates to the music that might be in the scene. It was a great experience. Some director friends of mine have said outright, “When are you just going to make a musical?”

That’s my next question.

Alfonso Cuarón said it to me after he watched Last Night in Soho! He really liked the movie and he said, “But honestly, when are you just going to make a musical?” [Laughs]

Has it been in the back of your head? You flirted with it in Scott Pilgrim, and the first reference I caught in Spaced is to The King and I.

I can’t claim credit for The King and I reference in Spaced. That was definitely a Jessica Hynes reference. But yeah, listen, if I found the right subject matter or something that I felt could be a really great movie that I could make, then yeah, for sure. It would be amazing. They’re always a genre that I absolutely adore, right back to some of the early sound musicals, especially all of the Busby Berkeley films of the early ‘30s. I just find them mind-boggling.

I mean the thing about those movies made in the early ‘30s at Warner Bros. is that it would be difficult to better them now. Like that’s what’s crazy. Also nobody would make them with that many dancers now. The studio would be like, “Um, do you really need 60 dancers? Can you, like, CGI them?” So that to me is what’s amazing about that. Like good luck trying to top that now.

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What is harder to block for the camera: a fight scene or a musical number?

Well, they’re very close. I’d say they’re equally difficult, because they both require the same thing. A fight scene requires not just the choreography itself, but it requires strategy in that, where do you put the camera to best showcase this action? So that’s where in Scott Pilgrim and The World’s End, and working with [cinematographer] Bill Pope and [stunt coordinator] Brad Allan was incredible, because Brad Allan is an amazing stunt coordinator. I mean, he’s now directing second unit and he did second unit on Scott Pilgrim. And then Bill Pope has obviously shot incredible action films, including The Matrix.

So another thing with action is it’s not just the choreography; it’s also where is the best place to put the camera? That’s what’s great about all of the Hong Kong cinema, the golden period of Hong Kong action. It’s just looking at it in terms of camera placement. Here for this, here for that. It’s sort of the opposite of the Western style of filmmaking, which is when I think you can get a more bog standard take on action, because they’ve just hosed it down with coverage. Whereas all of the Asian influence in action is to be very specific about this piece works for this camera, and now this piece works for this camera.

So there was an element of that in Scott Pilgrim and The World’s End, and then with Soho, with some of the dance sequences, it was more in some cases building these extended shots. There are some very complicated one-take dance sequences. One thing I’d say about it without giving too much of the game away, I think people would be shocked at how much of Soho is in-camera. Things that you might think, “Ah, that must be motion control. Oh, that must be like a green screen.” No. A lot of it is actually in-camera, and maybe eventually with the Blu-ray we can pull back the curtain and reveal some of the trickery.

Since you already mentioned the ‘30s, did you do the Harpo Marx trick with the mirror scene between Anya and Thomasin, as seen in the trailer?

There’s an extra bit of complexity to the start of that shot, which maybe I won’t reveal. But let me put it this way: It’s all in-camera, including the part at the start of the scene where there is really a mirror there. And then the later part of the shot—you have to sort of watch the shot to figure out exactly how it’s done, but it’s like good old fashioned magic, optical illusion stuff.

But yes, when Anya and Thomasin are facing each other in the mirror, they are in the take together and they are essentially doing choreography to mirror each other. Even if you watch the shots in the trailer where they’re twirling their hair and tapping, when they tap their fingers, it looks like there’s glass there, but they’re just going like that. But it’s not just the choreography and the actors, it’s also about the camera operator needs to be in the right place at the right time. And we had an amazing camera operator, Chris Bain. So whenever we were doing one of those sequences, we would rehearse with him.

For instance, there’s the scene on the dance floor where Matt [Smith] is dancing with Anya and sometimes Thomasin, and sometimes back to Anya, and that’s all one shot. And that is all about, we rehearsed it in a town hall with dancers and we recorded it on Steadicam, and then on a Saturday, I think it was literally the day after Anya had wrapped Emma., like with no break, she had to come straight onto the set to rehearse this dance number with the camera. And director friends of mine would watch that shot and say, ‘Is that motion control?’ No, it’s just a Steadicam shot.

You mention filmmaker friends, but do you have long conversations with filmmakers who you’ve heavily homaged? Has Michael Bay ever come up to you and been like, “We’re going to talk about Hot Fuzz?”

I’m not sure that Michael Bay has ever seen Hot Fuzz. I once met him at a birthday and I introduced myself to him, and I think this was just after Hot Fuzz came out. So I introduced myself and said, “Oh, I don’t know if you know, I’m Edgar Wright, I made the film Hot Fuzz.” And he went, “That’s the film with the guy from Mission: Impossible III?” I said, “Yeah.” And that was the end of the conversation. So I have a feeling he’s never seen it. [Laughs]

And George Romero?

Well, George was probably the first director who was a big hero of mine that I got to meet, or talk to before meeting. Specifically because when we made Shaun of the Dead, we wanted to reach out to George to watch it, because we felt that it was such a valentine to him that we’d feel bad if he didn’t like it. It was obviously a nerve-racking thing to do because what if we show it to him and he fucking hated it? Me and Simon would be devastated.

But we reached out to him through Universal, and he watched the film when he was on holiday in Florida in 2004, and he called us that night. I always remember that moment. It was before the days of group Zoom calls. He called Simon first and then he called me, and I remember I was standing when I got the call, and talking to George Romero about Shaun of the Dead and hearing this voice that I knew from documentaries and DVD commentaries.

Now George Romero knew who we were and liked our film, and liked it enough to give it a poster quote. He was really the first director who I really admired that I met. But I also remember that as the moment that the world started getting smaller.

Last Night in Soho opens in theaters on Oct. 29.

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