#I’ve never felt more seen than someone instantly knowing what I meant by The Narrative

[noknowshame]

tonight I had the absolutely glorious moment of being asked for the first time unprompted if I’ve ever watched Black Sails and I think my eyes physically started to glow as I pulled a bag full of prop urca gold directly out of my purse

#I’ve never felt more seen than someone instantly knowing what I meant by The Narrative #which means they’re definitely on tumblr so if this was you hi lmao #both of us are in the same incredibly niche academic field which I think is very telling #Black Sails will do that to you

[sunjaesol]

love, between the shadow and the soul

chenford | drabble | post-canon | title: sonnet xvii - pablo neruda

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Look, Tim Bradford did not get attracted to rookies, okay? In all the years he had been a TO, none had grabbed his attention. Not when he and Isabelle were dating, or married, or when she disappeared into the night with a trail of illicit affairs and a shot of heartache for him. Dozens of young women had sat in that car beside him and never ever had he let their femininity distract him. He served his country. He fought wars overseas. He looked Death right in the eye every single day and never blinked.

But then came officer Lucy Chen. He instantly knew the type of cop she’d be the second she turned in her seat, meeting his gaze for the first time, and nervously smiled at him. Nerves were normal, he was aware, but the doe-eyed look and the hopeful grin sold her out. No mystery. Just another young cop that would either slip through the cracks by the exam by tanking their grade due to stress, or she’d become a desk duty cop — one that stayed far from danger, that handled life with a perpetual softer touch ‘cause of her shrink parents.

Nothing wrong with that, Bishop would chastise him. Every cop had its use, she’d add. Sure, that might be true, but Tim didn’t want to babysit an armed toddler waiting for it to cry and call for mom. With just a couple well-placed Tim-tests, she’d be out of his hair in no time and then he could cross his fingers for a better recruit in the following weeks.

Life had the ability to change in a snap though — their funny, yet stern reminder that the universe called the shots, not the gun in his holster, or the rulebook. He got shot. Officer Chen backed him up. Her stubborn, yet brazen, yet honest attitude reeled him in just enough to ignore her little quirks she always joyfully displayed in the shop. Whenever he didn’t nip her ramblings in the bud fast enough, she babbled on and on about her personal life, her personal issues and relationships, like they were best friends (They weren’t! Boots and him never befriended!), like their relationship was anything more than a transactional training period. They got each other’s six. That was it.

But fuck, man. She got under his skin, too.

Lucy wore this… really nice perfume. A lot of female officers had make-up and perfume on, allowed a small sliver of self-expression, and he and Lopez had spend countless hours in a shop together. He was used to it. But somehow, Lucy’s stuck in his nose and didn’t leave. He felt like a creep, thinking about the blend of cardamom and oranges and cherry blossoms mixing with her warm skin, uncontrollable while also wanted. He wanted to fantasise about that fucking perfume of hers, a realisation that took a long time to come to terms with.

That didn’t mean he liked her though — he quickly corrected himself the first time he caught the pattern of behaviour — all it meant was that Lucy had good taste in perfume. Case closed.

So why did he linger whenever her shimmery eyes flicked up at him, why did his breath catch in his throat when her voice dropped to that infuriating sincerity as she uttered words of appraisal? Why his heart go haywire when she recorded all those audio books for him; an out of line gesture and overzealous task for a boot, which would normally result in him laughing their face.

Tim never thought he’d get over Isabelle, nor did he ever believe he’d have his happily ever after with Rachel, but with Lucy he foolishly hoped for more. A more that came from such a stupid and deluded place, probably fostered through months of loneliness and the Pavlovian response to her perfume, but one he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop it. The man was always in control about everything, ran his own tests and went over every possible outcome every day, every hour — and yet he didn’t see her coming. Lucy Chen had been right under his nose and he hadn’t been prepared for the ground to disappear beneath his feet; something that should honestly get him fired. The callousness of his emotions while entertaining the idea of a relationship with his own boot sentenced him straight to P2 or desk duty, or whatever.

Lucy deserved someone better, anyway.

Someone that understood her love for sage and cleansing homes. Someone that liked veggie burgers, chai lattes, karaoke nights and social media lurking. Someone that wouldn’t hesitate for one second to open her door for a teenage girl in need of safety and a little bit of that Chen-love. Someone that wasn’t any of those firemen assholes, but wasn’t Tim either.

He never let his insecurities get the best of him, but after seeing her thrive as a P2 without him, handling undercover stints like a pro, conquering her trauma of being buried alive, it only showcased that she had more bravery in her index finger than some army members had in their entire body, all while staying innately kind. Of course Tim lost his mind over her. Of course he tried shaping officer Barnes to be more like Lucy — more sun and bite and charisma, less army BS. Of course, of course, of course. Even Rosalind, the person he hated most besides Caleb, had him figured out in seconds. He was obvious as hell.

Which was why he had to move stations. Away from the Mid-Wilshire Division and to another. He couldn’t be around her anymore and risk compromising missions or attacks. He didn’t tell Angela the details, though her knowing look said enough, and simply replied that she’d miss him and that she was sure the chief would happily reinstate him any time.

He should’ve known that information leaked through like a wildfire.

The morning of his resignment, uniform neatly folded in his locker, Lucy stopped him in the hallway with the most befuddled expression he’d ever seen.

“What?” he said.

“What the hell,” she exclaimed. “You’re leaving and I have to hear it from Angela? Why’re you…? You love this division. Is everything okay?”

Shouldering past her, he drawled over his shoulder: “Everything’s fine, officer Chen. I’d advise you to put on your uniform and get to roll call.”

“Don’t pull this crap with me,” she bit back, latching onto his arm before he was out of reach. His feet reflexively stopped in place, stupidly waiting on her to finish her train of thought. “Tim, you can tell me if something’s wrong. We’ve been through… way too much for you to act this cold with me.”

He scoffed, feigning mockery, and put his hands on his hips. “We? Chen, I was your TO. That’s it. Get it out of your head it was more.”

Lucy blinked, once, twice, a hurt expression crossing her features, followed by disbelief and a quiet contempt he had become awfully familiar with. Swallowing back the regret, he watched as she pursed her lips and took a step back. “Wow. Okay.”

“Don’t take it personally.”

“Hard not to, officer Bradford,” she muttered. Turning to the locker rooms, she added, “Talk to me when you’re ready to not be an asshole.”

That should’ve been his cue to let her go and resume his trek to sergeant Grey, but a whiff of her fragrance wafted in his face from her dancing curls and any sensical thought was knocked out his head. He wanted to embrace her and burrow his face in her hair, he wanted to hold her with intent, he wanted to kiss the scent off her skin. His feet followed her instead, both fully aware and totally impulsive at once. He chose the excuse of loving a good argument with her to then utter: “I’m not an asshole, Chen. I’m honest.”

“If you’re honest, you’d admit that we’ve been very close friends these past months,” she exhaled, refusing to look him in the eye. He supposed he deserved that. Stopping in front of her locker, she continued with, “Distorting your own reality to fit your macho narrative isn’t healthy. Also, this is the women’s locker room. Out. Now.”

Tim sputtered out a laugh and crossed his arms. “Macho narrative? Please.”

Lucy’s eyes narrowed, all air sucked out the room at the intensity of her stare, and Tim felt himself flailing, suddenly wondering why the hell he wanted to turn in his badge when the only place he could have moments with lucy was, well, here. Why was he giving up on this, how silly it might be?

With a resolute voice, she said, “Tim, why are you resigning?”

Nothing in his entire career prepared him for this. Tim Bradford had survived Iraq and Afghanistan, twelve years of the LAPD and counting, a deadly virus, hundreds of bullets taken by the vest and felt the power of death on the blue lips of Lucy in the quiet countryside. Fear got pushed aside. Pride pulled him forward, onwards. But right now, he had to take a leap of faith — the sole thing he never relied on, but Lucy did — and trust she’d be there after the fall.

(He wanted to be that amazing someone for her.)

“Because of you,” he whispered. His fight or flight told him to run for the first time in forever, but he kept his feet glued to the floor.

Her jaw fell slack in shock. “E-excuse me? Me?! I’ve done nothing wrong!”

“Exactly,” he spit. “You… you’re…” Tim sighed. “You’re the best, Lucy.”

Faltering, her brows furrowed in utter confusion, a grain of her fury replaced with compassion. He wasn’t sure if that was warranted. All he was trying to do was get it off his chest, confess, before it escalated to insurmountable heights. “I don’t think I understand.”

“Uh…”

“You’re resigning, because I’m the best?” she tried to deduce. “No offense, any other day I’d be dancing right now, but this is just…” She gestured at him. “So weird.”

Tim let out a miserable sigh and ripped the band-aid off. Fuck it. “I’m trying to be honest about my feelings, Lucy.”

She froze. “What?”

“I like you. A lot.” Her wonderstruck expression didn’t make him feel better, so he quickly added: “Which is why I gotta decrease the risk of this exploding in our faces and go.”

“Whoa!” Lucy’s hand wrapped around his, eyes wide and searching, like any empirical data would be found within his green irises, otherwise known as fondness and unresolved tension with every quiet moment they had. “Is this… another test? Are you getting back at me for pranking you?”

He quirked a brow. “You’re a P2 now. Tests are over.”

“Right,” she quipped, catching herself. She let go of him and nervously tucked a lock behind her ear. “Yeah. Okay. And you’re serious?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. O-kay. Let me, uh…” the locker swung open “… wrap my head around this.”

“It’s a pretty easy thing to—”

“Tim.”

“Yeah, okay.” He backed off, hating how the control was out of his hands now, how he practically shoved his heart in her grip and her pretty fingers could crush it to dust if she wanted to. “I’ll let you do that.”

Walking out the locker room, he took a deep breath and straightened up his face. Alright. He royally screwed that over. If his army buddies knew, they’d all laugh in his face and tease him for the rest of his life. But at least he told her and got his answer, that a relationship was off the table but that they could save their friendship once he switched divisions and some distance mended his twisted, inside-out heart. Lucy had rocked his world and all she had to do was exist.

“Tim!”

“Wha— wow!”

Her body crashed into him the second he turned around to her beautiful voice, Lucy’s arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him down to her level ‘til all he experienced were her sweet eyes and breathless smile and a kiss. Lucy kissing him, slow and tentative, but it lit his heart aflame and urged him to hold onto her. Her perfume was all-encompassing, nose full of the fragrance and the soft slope of her neck and long, brown hair and fuck, he was kissing Lucy Chen. Except he didn’t care if the entire precinct idly watched by, or if she yanked him out the building on impulse, or anything — ‘cause he was kissing her and it was perfect. Her plump lips were better than he ever imagined.

Her hands slid from his hair to his shoulders, arms and then his hands, squeezing. His forehead pressed against hers, embarrassingly weak in the knees from that incredible kiss that he didn’t dare to stand up straight. Two silly grins broke loose on their faces. He had no clue what to do now, or not do, but he did know he wanted her. He wanted everything.

Lucy decided for him.

“Don’t go,” she whispered.

Tim smiled. “Okay.”

#testing the waters... figuring out their voices... #chenford #the rookie fanfiction #the rookie x pablo neruda overlap is the funniest thing about this whole thing #the rookie

[ordinaryschmuck]

What I Thought About "Echoes of the Past" from The Owl House

Salutations, random people on the internet who most certainly won’t read this. I am an Ordinary Schmuck. I write stories and reviews and draw comics and cartoons.

What probably gets debated the most in the fandom is the legitimacy behind King being the King of Demons. Some believe that there's truth to his statement, while others, like me, like to think that he was just some stray Eda picked up off the streets. Either option seemed likely, especially since Season One never gave an answer that leaned one way or the other.

Then here comes the writers finally answering the question of who King is in episode THREE of Season Two! Because, again, they don't waste time on giving fans exactly what they want.

Fans wanted answers behind King, we got 'em, and analyzing what those answers mean requires going deep into spoilers. So if you haven't checked the episode out yet, I highly recommend that you do. Trust me, it's worth seeing.

Now let's review, shall we?

WHAT I LIKED

Luz Experimenting with Spells: Hey, look! More proof that Luz isn't an idiot like some people flanderize her to be!

But, seriously though, this is a perfect little thread to introduce into the story. Luz collecting knowledge from Lilith's old books and past work she and Eda made adds to Luz's intelligence while also providing a believable explanation for how she gets new spells. It's also nice to see that she has this little notebook (or spellbook) to help see what works and what doesn't. It's a level of experimentation that proves her dedication to becoming a witch while also exemplifying how she isn't stupid. Occasionally reckless, sure, but you can't say that the person who figured out an invisibility spell through showing her work is also an idiot.

Francios with a Knife: How did Francois get a knife? I don't know. But the fact that a random knife plopped out behind him with little to no explanation is funny, and I will not hear otherwise.

I don't make the rules. I just abide by them.

Luz’s Invisibility Spell: I breezed past this, but I honestly love this invisibility spell. More specifically, I love that there's a limiter. It can turn you, objects, and people you're in contact with invisible, but only as long as you can hold your breath. It helps make the spell something the characters can't always rely on, which is appreciated. Because if it works as long as they concentrate, what's stopping them from sneaking into Belos' castle and assassinating him in his sleep? It's a smart way of explaining why they can't always rely on something, despite how insanely useful it is.

Luz: Let's gush about Luz some more, shall we!

"Echoes of the Past" is another episode that has Luz on top form. She is constantly supportive of King, even if Lilith has a point in the dangers of indulging his fantasy as a powerful tyrant. Doing so would cause more harm than good, especially when King finds out Luz doesn't believe him, but her going along with it was all done with the best of intentions. Luz doesn't want to hurt her friend, and even if she did in the long run, she still makes up for it by helping King learn more about his past.

And, as another reminder, Luz isn't stupid. She's the first to say they should leave when it's clear how dangerous the castle is and is quick to figure out there should be more at the top. Luz is a loyal and caring friend who's also guarded and intuitive when the situation calls for it. This episode understood that, so here's hoping other fans will too.

Lilith: Yeah, she's still growing on me.

I feel like this episode shows a better idea of Lilith's place in the group more than the past two. She's a person who's obsessed with knowledge and learning but considers herself above the jovial nature of King, Luz, and definitely Eda. Therefore, she acts as the perfect catalyst for what jumpstarts this week's adventure. It doesn't surprise me in the slightest that she almost instantly dismisses King's claims due to considering herself more knowledgeable than everyone else. Still, I like how she's willing to believe King once she finally sees evidence that seemingly proves he really was the King of Demons, to the point of referring to him as "her lord." Hooty does the same thing, but it comes across as him fearing for his own life and choosing to be friends with someone who could maybe kill him in an instant. For Lilith, her newfound respect comes from the desire to learn more, and it's that desire that makes Lilith an enjoyable character to me. It's adorable to see, and it has some comedic flavor in moments like when she dismisses everyone else and their emotional revelations to take pictures of the carvings around her. I'm sure she'll cause some controversy like other characters with rushed reformations, but for me, I'm more than ok with her addition to the main cast.

More of Lilith’s and Hooty’s Friendship: HOW DOES THIS WORK!?

ON PAPER, IT SEEMS LIKE IT WOULD BE A BAD IDEA, BUT IT F**KING WORKS!

HOW?!

WHAT BLACK MAGIC DID THESE WRITERS USE TO MAKE A RELATIONSHIP SO UNEXPECTED COME ACROSS AS SO ENDEARING AND ADORABLE?!

And where can I get some for my stories...just asking.

But seriously: HOW?!

Hooty Making Himself Portable: Ah, yes. The classic bit where a character does something horrifically grotesque off-screen, and we have nothing but character reactions and sound effects to imagine what happened between shot A and shot B. It's an oldie, but given how hard I was laughing (mostly because of Luz's gagging), it's still a goodie.

Eda’s Portable Bathtub Boat Thing: I mean...I was expecting Eda would use something to catch up with the others, but...that thing...well...I mean, I'm still laughing just by thinking about it. That should tell you how well executed this joke was.

John Luke: ...I'm gonna go ahead and add him to the list because HOLY S**T was this guy disturbing! From his design to his movements to even the sounds he makes when moving, everything about John Luke screams as something that will stay in kids' nightmares for a while. Now, this might seem like a complaint, but to be honest, I'm more than alright with how creepy John Luke is. I highly doubt adult viewers will consider John Luke scary, but I guarantee he'll terrify some of the youngins that this series is aimed for. And that's fine. It's good to creep kids out a little bit with something somewhat scary, as it might introduce them to more good horror stories later in life.

Plus, the reveal that John Luke was only a guard for King is pretty solid narratively speaking. You can see how John never really meant to hurt King aside from one accident when Eda escaped with him. If you want to read into it, I guess it might be questionable to tell kids that something that looks dangerous is secretly nice, but that's really nitpicky, in my opinion. John Luke was a fantastic threat that is designed and animated well, with a solidly executed twist. Some might hate what he presents, most will fear him, but we can all agree on one thing: His theme is awesome (can I get the track for that, please)!

King’s Backstory: Finally, at long last, we know who King is, thus putting an end to a year-long debate. And I fully mean it when I say that the writers gave the best possible answer. Because in a way, everyone was right. Yes, King was just an animal that Eda decided to adopt, like the nature-loving hippie she is inside (She's got the hair for it). However, while he may not be the King of Demons himself, he is still the son of someone who deserves that title. So while he isn't the King, there's a chance he might be the Prince. Once again, there's no direct answer, but given how the writers came up with something that pleases everyone while still providing more questions for debate, it acts as a brilliant move, in my opinion. So whatever answer we get next, I'm sure it will be just as perfect.

Baby King:

My heart was not prepared for that level of cuteness!

King’s Breakdown: NOR WAS IT READY FOR THIS LEVEL OF SADNESS!

But in all seriousness, a HUGE round of applause to Alex Hirsch for his performance in this episode. He expertly captured the raw emotions of shock, anger, betrayal, and sadness that King must have felt when finding out that everything he believed he was is a lie. It's one of those moments where I don't hear a person voicing lines in a booth (or wherever the hell VAs are voicing characters nowadays), but instead hear a living person being emotionally torn apart. It was heartbreaking seeing King so vulnerable as he's so guarded with his emotions. Seeing him like this adds so much more layers to a character that many would mistake him as a cute, comedic animal sidekick. But just like with Luz, there's more to him than people will tell you.

“I don’t even know what’s real or fake anymore!”: I'm just pointing out this line because I believe it's what convinces Luz to help King learn more about who he is. Hell, not knowing what's real or fake is the main reason why Luz got sent away in the first place, so I feel like she can relate to King when he's in a similar predicament.

Hooty and Lilith vs John Luke: This was just a cool scene with some epic moments of dodging John Luke's attacks and some funny ones, like how Hooty said the word "pain." It's a ten out of ten that I would rewind to watch again.

King’s Other Horn: I'd question the logistics of how a horn that got broken off when he was a baby still manages to fit perfectly in the present...but it is neat symbolism of King accepting his past and letting it be a part of him, so who cares?

(The fact that the colors of the broken-off piece don't match the rest of the horn is nice attention to detail as well.)

WHAT I DISLIKED

It's a Little Too Predictable: I pretty much figured almost every little twist the episode offers. But, I'm willing to say that's because I'm in my twenties, and I've seen enough stories similar to this one, so I'm more likely to know what will happen. The little monsters watching this will see it for the first time, so they'll most likely get more surprised than me...And that was my only complaint about the episode...which is more of a personal problem than an actual issue...I guess that means it's perfect.

IN CONCLUSION

"Echoes of the Past" is an easy A+ in my book. It gives lore and backstory that furtherly develops the characters that episodes like this should. It also tells a tragic story about King that still sprinkles in a few good jokes every now and again to lighten up the mood. Sure, there are some nitpicks I could mention (how did King remember his own birth?). But when the good stuff is done so well, what's the point of dwelling on small, insignificant issues? This is still a phenomenal episode that flew past all expectations I had for it, and it continues the winning steak this season is having so far.

(But that's still three home runs in a row. Meaning that a stinker is coming. Ooiee, is it coming!)

#the owl house #the owl house season 2 #king of demons #luz noceda #lilith clawthorne #toh hooty #the owl house reviews #what i thought about

[bellaslilpapercut]

Eclipse reread part 3 bewr bewr bewrrr! Covering the entire rest of the book in ONE post so buckle on in baybee: 

1. Absolutely everything about chapter 15 (wager) is disgusting. To a certain extent I appreciate how successfully meyer captures how frustrating assault is as a woman, how futile it feels to fight against it. But at the same time the way she handles the aftermath is unbelievably disappointing and infuriating. Charlie doesn't get up to help his own daughter, Jake trails after Bella into the house and sticks around, there's just no relief or reflection that feels satisfying. Bella can ask where the justice is when she finds out Jake isn't aging but just ignores Charlie defending her assailant? And to some extent I get it, I've shut down after assault before to the point where it took years to recognize that some of the things that happened even were assault. But when there's a pattern within the series of men being narratively rewarded for assault and abuse and women being punished for reacting to abuse it feels like the narrative is reinforcing the status quo of women<men. I'm not stupid, I understand when a book is trying to make me uncomfortable and I don't need villains to be punished to know that they're villainous. This doesn't come across that way at all. Meyers handling of misogynistic abuse and violence lack the nuance to make me believe that she sees this violence as something to be critical of rather than something that just happens to women. And again, because it's a pattern in her writing, women getting no reprieve from gendered harm, I don't believe she's making a statement. There's just no self awareness and that's the key difference between a story like Brave New World or Lolita and Twilight.

2. Also this quote that precedes the assault is just so so frustrating:

Bella is not mean for setting boundaries! She isn't stringing you along! I would love to hit meyer in the head with a rolled up newspaper. Anyway.

3. Bella keeps saying things like "this would be annoying if it weren't so scary" in regards to having her clothes stolen by vampires that want her dead and having to lie to people around her, again because dozens of vampires want her dead. And y'know after the third time she said she would be annoyed if she weren't scared I'm just left to believe she isn't scared at all. I don't feel rising tension, the newborn army feels like a minor nuisance and even after they connect it to victoria (who still hasn't shown up at all) I'm just like...okay well get on with it then! Meyer makes bella "shudder" (I'm still tempted to make a comp of every time she shudders in this fucking book lol) instead of showing us her actual fear. I don't believe she's scared, I don't care about the "threat," and I don't believe anything bad will happen to Bella. There are Literally No Stakes here. I'm not invested in this story at all.

4. Alice is a bad friend lmfao

Girl, you're psychic you know she wanted to wear red why are you just dressing her up for your brother.

5. Okay returning to point 3 because I read chapter 17 and had an epiphany: Bella says she isn't scared for herself and I get that I do. But smeyer also hasn't shown us that she's selfless- just that she doesn't care if she dies. If bella actually cared for her human friends, in any way, I would believe that the newborn army was a scary threat because the people she loves might get hurt. But I don't believe that she cares about that I only believe that she- like Edward- has a weird martyr complex.

6. The Mirror chapter also reinforces this. I can’t stop thinking about how much more impactful it would have been narratively if it had been Angela in Bree’s position (because she’s the only human friend Bella seems fond of but if Bella showed interest in any of the other humans, honestly any of them would do). Imagine the moment where the newborn vampire first lifts her head to look into Bella’s eyes and it’s someone she knows. Someone she cares for. There should have been consequences for Bella beyond “Jake got some bones broken and now I feel bad :(” which was also a shitty punishment because smeyer is inflicting physical trauma on an indigenous character just to make Bella feel bad. Okay. Anyway, it would have built the tension I was missing for- quite literally- over 300 pages of this book if Bella’s friends and classmates and Fork’s residents had been going missing the whole time. Suddenly, at the end of the battle, there’s Angela. Or Jess. Or Katie fucking Marshall. Someone Bella knew should have been there and maybe I would have cared about this book at all.

7. Going back in time to this quote which comes before the battle:

UGH!!! SHUT UP SMEYER! She literally poisoned Jake’s character from the moment she made him a main character and she has zero self reflection to see the damage that she’s causing here. I’ve said before that I don’t think Jake’s actions were a romantic deal breaker and that stands out now more than ever after reading Eclipse. THIS is the moment that Bella realizes she’s in love with Jake too. Smeyer not only sees abuse and aggression as romantic, she also lacks the braincells and reflection to see that she’s playing directly into racist stereotypes. Edward got to grow up- marginally- but Jake had to remain aggressive. I still don’t think she ever once meant to villify Jake- I think that there was no way in a hell a racist woman could ever successfully portray an indigenous character. His tenderness is tainted by the aggression she forces on his character and in the end he never had a chance because- again- he was being written by a racist woman with fucked up views of indigenous people.

8. Okay, I get it. They’re like Cathy and Heathcliff. Fine. I buy it.  

This isn’t even the last time she compares them to Cathy and Heathcliff. Kate Bush isn’t gonna write a song about you, meyer! Give it a rest! (Also lol at “like wuthering heights”)

9.  Jumping right to the end here because to be completely honest the only actual event in the entire book was the newborn battle. Jane was a bitch, fine. Edward talked at Victoria and bored her to death (presumably) and the action never felt very action heavy. I knew if from the “best friend (and werewolf)” line that this book was presumably written for idiots given how little is left to the imagination at any given time. I can’t stand when books treat the audience like dummies and I especially can’t handle YA books that do this. Teenagers aren’t stupid!! Young adults can pick up on subtlety in literature!! AND young adults can handle suspense and action. smeyer doesn’t do either well and the editors never once said “hey you know teens aren’t stupid right? like your audience will pick up on hints that you scatter you don’t have to forcefully explain everything?”  

10. Smeyer can’t stop interrupting herself even in the very last sentence of the book proper:

What, pray tell, is wrong with “Where it would stay for the rest of eternity.” Why did you have to sow doubt in the sentiment right after Bella made her For Real Final Decision???? And why the em-dash!? Again: the editors of the twilight saga are my nemeses but also my favorite conmen. What were they paid for?

11. Back to the editors real quick: if i was given a draft of eclipse I would instantly say: this story is almost 400 pages of nothing, you need to play with the structure of the story. You need to build suspense and if that means playing with POV like you randomly start doing in the epilogue, then do that. Or you can play with the plot. Nothing happens for 300 pages. It takes 300 pages to get to the newborn battle and nothing that happens before the newborn battle makes me feel worried about it. Again, kill off some humans, raise the stakes, do SOMETHING. This was so painfully slow to read because meyer tried to center this book on a love triangle that I didn’t even believe in myself. And even then, it took 14 chapters for the love triangle to get real action (as in an Event, not necessarily physical action). 

12. The epilogue. Oh man. Was the r-slur really so acceptable in 2007 that not one single editor questioned its use? I won’t type the quote in full but Jake refers to his fake arm sling as r-word. Like??? What? And THEN smeyer has him call Leah a “bitter harpy.” Shut up. 

In conclusion, nothing felt like a bigger waste of time than Eclipse. Genuinely, to be completely honest. Two (2) important things happened, at least in Bella’s narrative (I agree with Vinelle that the Volturi debacle was important from Carlisle’s perspective, it adds nothing to Bellas and Bella learns nothing important from it.): 1. Bella made a decision, she chose Edward. Who could have seen that coming? Whaaaat? 2. Rosalie told Bella her backstory. Not that Bella even used that to reflect on her decision to become a vampire but hey, at least it felt like an important moment. Jasper’s backstory only mattered for the newborn battle which didn’t matter at all (and it never informed his character and no one ever brings up that the confederacy was a terrible dark stain on US history (along with the rest of US history but that’s a full dissertation or two on its own)). I can’t imagine a way to improve this book as a standalone book. You could split up the plot (using that term loosely) so that New Moon and BD are both a little longer and BD a little more organized. But without completely changing the plot beats in Eclipse, its just pointless.

#eclipse reread #saga reread #long post #very very long sorry lolol

[mobagehelllocal]

While reading leona's part in “wendy?” “hello peter pan” i thought for a split second that mc's green eyed daughter was Leona's child and thus that mc didn't know she was pregnant when she left the mirror ! 😯

Oooh! Honestly, I hadn’t really intended it to seem that way.

To really explain this, I have to go into my image of Leona, and why I chose to portray him as is. This will contain spoilers for those who haven’t read “wendy?” “hello peter pan”, so please avert your gaze if you have yet to read it!

This is also lengthy, so if you want, I put a TLDR at the very bottom. HAHAH.

PS: to make something clear, Twisted Wonderland is a work of fiction. Therefore everything—from story to character is truly up to interpretation. I’m just giving a reasoning behind why I chose to write Leona the way I do. At the end of the day, I will not begrudge you for portraying Leona differently from me. I just really want to share the way I understand him. Perhaps this could help, perhaps it won’t—either way it was fun to think about this. ^^

I knew from the start that I wanted the daughter to be the image of what Leona could’ve had.

Here’s something you probably wouldn’t figure out from my writings: I originally disliked Leona.

Now! Before you go clicking off, let me explain.

Savannaclaw’s story is sandwiched between Heartslabyul and Octavinelle--both of which are very emotionally driven narratives. I’ll try not to spend too long on these two houses, but look at it this way.

We can empathize with Riddle because he suffered a lot in the process of upholding his mother’s teachings. He put up with it because it had to be the truth--as if they were false this whole time, then he was suffering for nothing. So when you come in, and prove exactly that--it makes sense for Riddle to lash out the way he does.

Let’s not get started on Azul. We empathize with Azul because we all have that one bully, one person we want to either get even with--or become better than. Azul was bullied extensively in his childhood, and just snapped. He, with nothing in his hands, decided he would take everything away from his bullies. In the process of taking away from his bullies, he would build himself into someone infallible. He distanced himself from his past because he was ashamed of that part of him. So when all that hard work is snatched away by someone more fortunate than him? When even the indestructible version he had built himself to be is beaten? It meant to Azul that he hadn’t changed at all, that he was still that bullied octopus. He snapped. It might’ve been a big middle finger to Azul because it essentially invalidated all the hard work he put into being someone who could.

Then what about Leona?

The emotional drive behind Leona’s Overblot is exhaustion at being seen as the inferior second prince to his brother. In fact, it’s generally his inability to become number one. In Afterglow Savanna, he has to go up against his well-loved and preferred brother. In Night Raven College, he has to go up against Malleus Draconia, the strongest student.

Here’s the thing though, and this is my personal gripe about Leona--which tbh, I would still call him out for.

He doesn’t try.

Or if he did try, we don’t see him do it.

We see him laze about, doing nothing. Yeah sure he comes up with an underhanded strategy that could help them win against Diasomnia--but he actually barely does anything. And the moment it doesn’t work, he just concedes. It pisses him off, but he gives up. Just like that.

It’s also why him turning into the Overblot feels... (personally) so lacking to me. Like, I felt he had no place to get angry, when others (especially like Ruggie) were relying on him to pull it together at the end. Like, we all knew Leona would get the Overblot because he’s the Scar themed character. But narratively speaking? A stronger story would’ve been Ruggie being the Overblot, and Leona reacting to it. (Like do you know, how amazing that would be for Leona’s character to? I want to see it so bad!)

At the end of the day, we got an angry Leona. To me, at that time, his anger felt so entitled. Like, Leona’s always been seen as incredibly smart, skilled PLUS he’s also really wealthy. So to me, I just thought, “how could you be so angry when you’re so lucky to have all of this? In fact, why can’t you use that anger and turn it into a determination to make yourself better? You’re smart, you’re skilled, you have the resources--if you exerted more effort, I think you could get farther.”

I still think the Savannaclaw chapter could’ve been better, but I’ve also realized that it’s because Leona is the way he is, that makes it impossible to resolve his problems the same way Riddle or Azul is able to.

‘Ai, when will you stop bullying Leona?’

Hang on, I’m actually done, and I’ll finally get into why Leona’s story in “wendy?” “hello peter pan” turned out the way it did.

There are two people, aside from me, who actually gets to read these pieces before I post it on tumblr. They  don’t know each other, they’ve never spoken to one another--the most they know about each other is probably from whatever I say to them about the other. And here’s the thing, they both told me this: “Leona is the best one you wrote from “wendy?” “hello peter pan.””  

Of course, I’m instantly confused. I didn’t like Leona when I first wrote anything for Twisted Wonderland, by the time I was writing his piece from the series (he and Riddle were written days ahead of the rest actually) I was 50/50 on him. I was okay with him, but I certainly didn’t like him. So I did a lot of internal introspection about this.

I realized that at the end of the day, I understood what Leona was angry about.

It wasn’t anger about being stuck at second place.

It was anger about never being acknowledged in the first place.

He was never seen as Leona Kingscholar, he was simply The Second Prince of Afterglow Savanna, or Prince Farena’s Younger Brother. He never was acknowledged as his own person.

And here lies another problem. I believe Leona is someone who represses. I think he’s someone who prefers to shut his eyes and sleep, over acknowledging the problem. He decided to sleep instead of confronting Jack’s bullies in that short manga strip, he doesn’t confront Jack’s bullies in the SSR Card Dorm uniform either until he really needs to. He’ll put it off as long as he can, and if it solves itself, then that’s better for him. This ties in with the idea the fact that he’s seen as someone inferior to Farena, how he’s never acknowledged beyond that, and how it’s an opinion he can’t control. So he just decides to let it be, and keeps all his feelings to himself. Because acknowledging ugly feelings are always so exhausting, crying, getting angry--these things are exhausting, and he must’ve felt or had pent up all these emotions so much so that he’s decided the easiest way is to just leave them be. Not acknowledge them, and don’t think too deeply about it.

I had, ironically, written Leona’s piece, while unconsciously knowing this.

Leona’s piece in “wendy?” “hello peter pan” is a result of his own inaction. We all know that Leona’s cool and calm demeanor is what makes him so popular and attractive. That’s why him not expressing his true feelings is something we all, just know he does. Because that’s his character trope. However, it’s because he choses not to share his feelings that the MC leaves, and moves on with her life.

Remember, I said that Leona will “put it off for as long as he can, and if it solves itself, then that’s better for him.” Leona, at the beginning of the piece finally decides to take action. The MC being missing has probably put a toll on his otherwise impeccable control of his emotions. He wants to drag her back, claim her, make her his wife, have children with her--all of it. He realized that he wanted that, and that’s what sends him into action. However, he’s late. Very late.

The third portion of his piece, when he looks at Leona II, and realized what he could have had--the way he visualized that possible future--he lets himself have that because he realized that it’s because he didn’t try harder to hold onto her, that this future was no longer possible.

Making Leona II have features that could’ve looked like him was so intentional on my part. I wanted to confront Leona’s character with this: “this is what you could’ve had if you had been more proactive” because I personally thought, that this was what we were missing from Leona. It’s what we didn’t get in Savannaclaw--a Leona who became more proactive about the things he wanted.

Everyone else had that arc after all. Riddle, a stickler for the rules set up by his mother realized that some rules can be broken for the sake of empathy. Azul, who had denied his past self, learned to accept his past self and mistakes, and moves to become someone even greater.

We don’t get that from Leona, and I think that’s why my piece ended up the way it did.

THIS... became way too long, and I’m really sorry for that. I hope you don’t mind that I really... just... expressed what I thought about Leona and the type of mindspace I go into when I write pieces for him.

If anyone is interested in adding to this discourse, I definitely encourage you--be it if you agree or disagree with me.

TLDR: Yeah, I would’ve never given that moment of “she’s actually your daughter” to Leona because he needed to confront his lack of proactiveness.

Thank you so much for this ask!

#twisted wonderland #leona kingscholar #twst leona #aimuses #aistudies #you can all say 'but ai arent all the stories in w?hpp abt inaction' #well yes they all are but leona's proclivity to inaction makes his story the strongest #i concede defeat leona you & your good looks & sexy character depth has rendered me weak and in tsundere love #ill still pretend to deny it tho ba-baka #i can probably go into depth abt the other characters but alas... #the tags are probably not the place for that lol #interestingly enough this idea of leona's want for acknowledgement is very useful in analyzing his relationships with cheka and ruggie #especially ruggie who tbh seemed to be the first person leona is willing to be proactive for #anonymous

[loveyourselfcreatively]

Supernatural Finale Rewrite

(Author’s Notes: Regarding the finale, that was a lot and there was a lot I would have done differently. Although this isn’t perfect by any means, it’s what I would have liked and most expected from the finale. Hope you all enjoy and are feeling alright!)

Dean’s eyes opened when the sound of his alarm clock stabbed through the veil of sleep he was enjoying. Mechanically, he turned it off and sat up against the headboard, taking a deep breath and stewing on the events of the day prior. For once, he didn’t feel a weight over his shoulders. He didn’t feel like he was playing to someone else’s narrative. This was his first day of free will in his entire life and he felt faintly content about that fact, smiling to himself before his attention was trained upon Miracle. He lifted her up onto the bed and wrapped his arms around the fluffy and recently groomed canine, calmly rocking with her clasped in his arms. Sam was surprised by his affection for the dog but she was important to Dean and he was happy to have her in his corner when he began life without God’s dictation.

After doing his morning routine smoothly, with Miracle by his side, he got to the kitchen, following the tell-tale smell of Sam’s breakfast. He watched his brother use the spatula to unstick the turkey bacon from the skillet, Eileen directly behind him with her arms wrapped around his waist affectionately. She stood on her toes and was able to kiss Sam’s cheek as he smiled similar to how he used to when Dean would tease him about having crushes on girls. They were lucky to have Eileen again. Dean remembered Sam’s attempts to be strong throughout their days of being alone on Earth, eyes on getting people back and having Eileen again. When everyone came back and Eileen showed up at the bunker door, Sam very nearly cried and Dean was just as happy as Sam was relieved.

Although it wasn’t explicitly stated as they drove to investigate the case in Ohio, it felt like one of the last rides. This scared Dean but he also forced himself to accept it. Sam was holding Eileen’s hand even though she was in the back seat and stared out the window at passing trees, fantasizing with a hopeful demeanor. It wasn’t dissimilar to when Sam was getting to be a teenager and looked out the window, secretly fantasizing about going to college but keeping that fact to himself given Dean and John at the time were not very supportive of that idea. Dean was ready to hear this time and with that thought in mind, he stopped looking towards him and focused back on the road, sharing a knowing glance with Eileen, who understood Sam now had his mind on bigger things, in the rearview.

After fighting the vampires and saving those boys, that air of finality was nearly impossible to shake. Dean would have died if Eileen wasn’t there to tag-team the larger vampire with him and he was grateful for her presence. Still, a close-call was a close-call and Sam and Dean realized in that moment that recklessness was a bad practice to have now that God wasn’t protecting them for the sake of a good narrative. Not long after, only weeks following actually, Sam stood in the doorway of Dean’s room following a nice dinner of his own making. He spent hours on it and stewed over it like the day was some kind of occasion, and it was. 

Dean was laying on his stomach on the bed, flicking through news stories on his tablet with Miracle curled up by his side unbothered. He glanced up from the tablet and placed it down when he saw the look on Sam’s face. He was struggling with something, brows furrowed but also tilted up with his lips pressed in a thin straight line. Dean wouldn’t prompt him, the words that would soon leave Sam’s lips were his to share. With a shuddering breath, Sam finally said what he wanted.

“Eileen and I, we uh,” he clears his throat and looks away from Dean to the corner of the room. Dean smiled knowingly to himself but remained silent, looking down at the bed spread and scratching at Miracle’s ear as he waited. “We were wanting to go on our own trip, for a while.”

Sam expected a response from Dean, eyes softened with fearful expectation, but he got nothing. The silence wasn’t bad or uncomfortable so he clarified.

“You knew I couldn’t do this so seriously forever,” he chuckles weakly, “she and I will continue of course, can’t forget hunting, but we want to try to move on. Even though she and I… you and I, will never be normal, it’s always been something I’ve wanted to try and I couldn’t comfortably do that the last few times, when you were gone. So, I think now’s the time to…” he scoffs in realization of what he was about to say, squinting his eyes and looking down, “move on I guess?” he laughs out abortively.

Dean finally nods and looks up to his brother, waiting until Sam looked him in the eyes to speak. “I think that’s a good idea, Sammy.”

Sam stood dumbfounded for a moment, not wholly surprised by Dean’s reaction but expecting more.

“It’s what you’ve always wanted and there’s no one here that has as much power to convince you otherwise but yourself.”

A weak but heartfelt smile crossed Sam’s face. “What are you going to do?”

“I’ll take up that question on the daily,” he mumbles thoughtfully, “and eventually I’ll figure it out.” Looking up at Sam, he was happy to see he accepted the answer with a nod.

Sam and Dean didn’t talk as much as either would have wanted in the months following Sam and Eileen taking their leave from the bunker. Eileen, as they were planning on passing through Kansas on a casual hunt that interrupted the domesticity they enjoyed prior, suggested they drop by briefly to see how Dean was doing. Sam was happy she suggested it as he wouldn’t have attempted to otherwise, even though he secretly wanted to. When they got there, Baby was nowhere to be seen but Sam disregarded that. He asked if Eileen wanted to join him but she insisted their reunion was to be had between one another and that she’d join him soon enough prompting Sam to enter the dark bunker. 

His brows furrowed as he turned on the lights and looked around, finding his own barren room and eventually finding Dean’s, although, it didn’t look like Deans. None of his stuff was there any longer and it seemed as though the only remnants of anyone being there in the first place was the scratching on the table in the main room and the very faint, concerning smell of smoke that permeated throughout the bunker. Not long after scoping out the place, he called Dean’s main phone, making his way out as he did so. Eileen was confused and waited for Sam to fill her in on why Dean didn’t join him but relaxed when Sam’s demeanor relaxed as well; the call was picked up.

“Hiya, Sammy, how are you and Eileen?” he said with a smile in his tone.

“Are you on a hunt?” Sam asked even though he was aware Dean’s lack of belongings at

the bunker implied more than a simple hunt.

Dean picked at his fries and ate another, waving off a waitress politely before she could ask if he was enjoying his meal. He was sitting on the outside patio of a diner with Miracle by his side. “I’m not actually.”

Bated silence was all that could be heard on Sam’s end.

“I thought about what you said, about moving on, and I thought I’d give it a try. Still hunting but I’m doing what I want, I guess,” he chuckles, coming off as genuinely happy, “that’s all we can really do, huh? So I’m giving it a try.”

“You’re not hunting anymore?”

“Woah woah woah, of course I’m still hunting, I’m just not… well… it’s whatever comes to me.” Dean thought of his words and frowned, the part of his father in him reminding him he was selfish for not spending every waking hour hunting. “Does that make me selfish, Sam?” he asked in a moment of clarity.

Eileen watched Sam intently, garnering an understanding from their interactions based on Sam’s facial expressions and words. His eyes were wide but sparkly in happiness, mouth opened and twitching as though he wanted to say something. His brows raised up suddenly and she instantly recognized a powerful “no” leaving his lips. He was happy despite his admonishment, and so was she. Dean, likely, had left for good, and she was happy for what that meant for the both of them.

Sam had an air about him following that interaction. He was happy and spoke to Dean often. In his childhood and adulthood he always feared one of them would die too young to see the other grow old. If that didn’t happen, he was sure they would have a large fight and never make up, but they remained close despite those predictions. Dean was there for nearly every Christmas and Thanksgiving that followed the phone call, even though he said it was only for the food. Dean hadn’t been the only one to join Sam and Eileen during the holidays at their home, of course.

Jody, with Donna and the girls, joined often and teased the boys for their old age every year and Dean remained close with Claire following his absence from the bunker. Sam didn’t think to think too much about it but, more times than not, when Dean visited Sam casually, Claire was in tow, always eager to join him on hunts and growing into a capable young woman with a penchant for medicine. That fact reassured Sam that Dean was not likely to be lost with her beside him during hunts.

Miracle’s passing was followed up by Sam and Eileen having a baby girl. Sam and Dean’s makeshift family followed the latter journey every step of the way. Charlie had been excited to have her own as well so it wasn’t abnormal to see her drop by and ask Eileen how she's feeling and if she had any advice to give if Charlie wanted to have one of her own with her girlfriend by her side. Eileen was more than happy to oblige and answer those questions for her.

When she was born, the waiting room was flooded with over forty hunters from their universe and the apocalypse universe that no longer existed. Mary was calm and mild mannered like both of her parents. She would likely be just as smart as her parents and Dean never hesitated to let her know that when he visited them for the holidays following. 

By the time Mary was seven, Charlie had a baby of her own and proudly showed him off to the group of hunters and friends that joined the Thanksgiving celebration that year. Mary, eager, asked her dad when Uncle Dean would be coming and Sam insisted she had to be patient, which she desperately attempted to do. All her suppression of excitement during the hours of waiting for her uncle resulted in an explosion of squeals when Dean entered and scooped her up playfully. Funnily enough, everyone predicting she would be calm and mild-mannered was negated by her favorite uncle’s brash nature.

“There’s my girl!” he spoke excitedly and groans as he tries to lift her up as high as he would have normally but he got about halfway before placing her down on the ground and smirking at her. “You’re getting to be just as tall as your daddy, huh?”

Sam scoffed and rolled his eyes before they focused in on a larger box Dean had stuck into his bag with a pink bow. “What’s that, Dean?”

“Huh? Oh, this?” he whips out the box and smirks down at Mary, “I don’t know, Mary, what do YOU think this is?”

“It’s a Christmas present!”

“Yep, needed to get this to your daddy early, you still need to wait a month though.”

She groaned but accepted the situation before smiling and running off to dote over Aunt Charlie’s baby.

Dean walked up to Sam and handed him the gift, eyes bright as he looked over the individuals in the room. Sam spoke, still looking down at the box in his hands.

“This mean you won't be coming over for Christmas?”

Dean glanced back towards the gift thoughtfully before looking towards Sam. “You know I hate to miss Christmas, giving it to you early just in case. Have a few cases on the roster that I’m considering and if any of them bleed into Christmas, I wanted Mary to at least get a gift from me, you know?”

“Not working yourself silly?”

“Nah, just doing all the good I can manage. I’m human, after all,” Dean says with a smile.

Sam was happy for the words but frowned as he figured Dean would have had a wife by that point if he wasn’t actually working himself silly. Was Dean lying to him? It was something Sam had been concerned about since Mary turned three but opted to be more patient with Dean than anything. Patience was what he deserved.

Sam, sitting at the table with everyone in tow, happily reflected on the memory of his Dean witnessed years ago: sitting with another family during the holidays enjoying their food and the family life he couldn’t relate to at the time. This Thanksgiving wasn’t unlike any of the others and Sam reflected on that memory and the life he made for himself often. Dean and Sam met stares like they did every other Thanksgiving when they truly realized how lucky they were until it got to the end of the night when the kids were tired and the adults were respectfully tipsy.

As everyone chatted following dinner, Sam couldn’t help but notice his brother was missing from the festivities. Mary had been settled so it wouldn’t have been unsurprising for Dean to lose interest and find a chair to sleep on but Sam still couldn’t find him. Finally, he caught the image of his brother leaning over the fencing on the back porch, beer bottle in hand as he looked over the dark field ahead. The view provided nothing crazy aside from the decent sight of the stars up above. 

Sam joined him and stared ahead, words, unspoken, behind his closed lips as he stewed in the silence. He glanced behind him towards the group of friends, partially obscured, and his gorgeous wife, and used that for fuel for the statement he’d been keeping to himself for a few years at that point. “You ever plan on settling down like this? Have a wife and kids? Is that on your mind at all?” Sam’s eyes were softened with concern towards his brother. He noted that Jody had been right about the years never ceasing to pass. While he himself had greying hairs on his temples, Dean’s hair now took on a dull brown look, fading rather than greying. His wrinkles were deepening as well but not in a way Sam disliked. His frown lines remained how they always were but his crows feet were extra defined. Despite Sam’s worries, Dean was a happy man.

Those crows feet only deepened when his question prompted a smile from Dean. He had been still during the silence but his hand flexed around the neck of the beer bottle as he looked down and thought up a viable answer for his worried brother. “May not be what you wanted for yourself but I like how things are for me right now. It’s not normal but it's humble and unpredictable without being dangerous. Best of what you and I wanted for me if I ever got this far,” he laughs out.

Sam let out his own abortive laugh with softened eyes. Dean was privy to visits and was with Claire a lot but surely he couldn’t be happy without a partner and children of his own, right? Almost as though Dean read his mind, he continued.

“I wouldn’t mind having a kid though, if I ever feel I’m ready for it but…” he sighs softly, eyes bright, “Claire is good.”

“You see Claire as your kid?” Sam spoke softly and acceptingly.

Dean nods, “yeah, I think I do,” he chuckles almost in disbelief, “she, uh…” he tried and failed to stifle a smile, “she called me dad on a phone a few months ago and uh… I don’t know, man, it just felt right.”

Sam noticed Dean’s eyes were wet with sentimentality and nodded, eyes growing calm as he remembered watching her grow following Cass taking her father’s vessel. Sam’s eyes softened as he thought about the angel but didn’t speak of him.

Dean swallowed down his emotions and continued despite his better judgement. Sam gave off an air of openness that Dean finally decided he was willing to adhere to.

“I never told you what happened before Cass died, did I?”

Sam’s eyes widened and looked towards Dean eagerly.

Dean recognized his eagerness and faintly felt bad that he kept Sam in the dark in all the years he spent coping. Some part of him had hoped he could have Cass himself explain. Clearing his throat and nodding to himself for hype, he explained.

“Cass sacrificed himself so the Empty could come take Death away, you know that but… Well.” Dean warily looked towards Sam.

Sam responded with a patient look and Dean regained his confidence.

“Cas made some kind of deal with the Empty at some point, don’t know when. He told me the deal was when he became happy, he’d be taken away.”

Sam’s brows furrowed, not understanding where this was going.

Dean cleared his throat again, now gripping the neck of his beer bottle and staring as deeply into the dark as he could, attempting to place himself as far away from the house as he could manage subconsciously. “He told me he loved me, Sammy.”

Sam’s mouth gaped.

“He,” Dean took a deep shuddering breath, unable to stand still as he dropped his thousand yard stare and hung his head, momentarily overwhelmed with the confession, “he told me loved me and that that was good enough. That he was happiest being honest with me about it, and then he…”

Sam now understood and placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder as if he was telling him he didn’t have to explain what happened after. 

“Sammy?” his voice was hoarse and surprisingly fearful but overwhelmingly vulnerable. Sam felt like Dean was a kid again but this was different because Dean never allowed Sam to console him, that was always Dean’s job. 

“Yeah, Dean?”

Dean was now white knuckling the bottle as he shuddered. “Sammy, I think I loved him too,” he choked out painfully and raised his head, eyes wet as he looked up at the stars in hopes that the tears would cease. He placed the bottle on the raising so he could use his free hand to cover his eyes and rub the evidence of hurt from his face

Sam didn’t see much but he saw Dean’s face flush and mouth tense as he tried to stifle the sobs that threatened to spill from his mouth and gave in, using the hand on his shoulder to drag him into a powerful hug, silent because all Dean needed in that moment was comfort. Eventually, Dean gained the ability to speak in a way that was understandable, breaths evening. 

“I tried so hard to get him back.”

Sam pulled away slightly to scrutinize him, willing to serve disappointment if Dean’s words meant he would have been willing to sacrifice himself again. Dean responded by nodding his head no.

“After you left, I spent those months looking for anything. I wouldn’t summon the Empty but I just wanted to know if he was there. I wanted to talk to him but nothing worked, Sam.”

Sam recalled the smell of smoke in the bunker when he got there to look for Dean after he left and he realized.

“I just wanted to know if he was there but it was like,” Dean froze in the middle of his sentence, remembering sitting on the dock with a line in front of him and Cass by his side. He squeezed his eyes shut to compose himself before going on, “it was like I was casting a line with bait that could only get the attention of one fish but hours would pass and days would pass and nothing ever bit. It was like Cass wasn’t there at all, Sam. And I was so…” he stops himself briefly but continues, “I wasn’t really okay with it until I thought that, even though Cas was gone for good, he would want me to use that free will I worked so hard for and he would want me to live for myself and do what I wanted.”

Sam was crying calmly, a tear streaking down his slightly aged face occasionally as Dean spoke.

“I don’t think I’m ever going to feel the way I realized I felt about Cass for someone else but I’m okay with that, Sam,” he speaks, looking into Sam’s eyes and cupping his cheek, “I’ll be okay.”

Sam scoffed out a laugh through his tears as he nodded and accepted the comfort.

“I’ll be okay because,” he looked down, gathering the words in his mind before speaking them out to the world, “happiness isn’t just in the having, it’s in the being and feeling.”

Sam couldn’t stop himself from thinking back to all the times he admonished Dean for his loyalty to Cass, for his anger directed at Cass that was mostly fueled by disappointment rooted in love, all the arguments they had that he involved himself in, and suddenly his jokes back then weren’t all jokes. 

Dean begins genuinely crying and glances back towards the window and into the warm house. Eileen was peeking around the corner curiously but Dean feigned a smile for her before looking back at his brother. “You have something so good.”

Sam smiled and nodded, squeezing his eyes shut as he did so before once again meeting his big brother’s eyes.

“It’s something you built for yourself and I’m so damned proud of you, Sam,” he lovingly used the hand against his cheek to shake his head about playfully, “my baby brother.”

Sam lets out a wet laugh as he allows Dean to lead them into pressing their foreheads together. Both brother’s realized that was likely the last time Dean would tell Sam he was proud of him, not because he would be disappointed later, but because he achieved his ultimate happiness with Eileen and the family he and Dean built together.

“Are you expecting anyone?”

Bobby was shaken from his trance as he stared ahead at the world Jack built for them. He enjoyed having John, Mary, and his other friends nearby nearly as much as he enjoyed stewing in the calmness. Sitting on the porch and enjoying stillness was something he did on Earth and would continue to do throughout the afterlife.

“Hopefully not anytime soon.”

An awkward silence was the response and Bobby realized the man misinterpreted his words, “I meant anyone that’s not here already, you jackass,” he chuckles out affectionately, patting the chair and handing the man a beer when he joins him.

Cass scrutinized the bottle before tipping the liquid into his mouth and joining Bobby in the bliss of commonality despite not being fond of the taste. “Do you think they’ll like it here?”

“They’ll love it but they better not get here too soon.”

Cass looked towards Bobby with a warm, calm smile and nodded in agreement, looking back ahead at the gorgeous expanse before them.

#supernatural #supernatural finale #spn 15x21 #supernatural 15x21 #supernatural fix-it #supernatural fanfiction #destiel #saileen #dean x castiel #sam x eileen

[renaroo]

A Cass with Many Faces

About a month ago, specifically on Cassandra Cain’s fictional birthday, I made a few posts dedicated to one of the fictional characters that have had a visible, measurable impact on my life, and has continued to do so since I first picked up an issue featuring her in 2004. I was twelve years old at the time and the issue in question was the fifth of a six-issue arc starting off Superman/Batman. I picked up the issue because Superboy -- my then-favorite comic book character -- was on the cover including some other characters I was mildly familiar with. And the character that I came away with the most intrigue in was, of course, Cassandra Cain. 

Next time I was at my LCS, I picked up an issue of her solo series that was still ongoing at the time [Batgirl (2000-2006) #47] and instantly fell in love. 

I’ve made posts before about how a scattershot strategy can be a good thing when talking about characters in multimedia franchises. Characters are more likely to endure in these environments if they are given more presence, and more significance, when more voices are advocating for them. 

In the past, I was speaking about my experience in seeing the opposite happen with Cassandra. 

I can honestly say I would have never checked out Cassandra Cain had it not been for her minor appearance in a silly comic four years after her debut. I was twelve, and still fairly new to DC Comics having grown up with a Marvel loving family, and as the years went on and Cass was diminished by poor corporate decisions, I learned a lesson about strategy with characters in these franchises. If they are not seen outside of their lane, if people aren’t exposed to them outside of their one series no matter how fantastic and great it is, when that series is canceled and they are mishandled, there is not going to be any protection for them. 

Bad comics happen all the time, bad adaptations happen all of the time, it’s the nature of the business. But for the thousands of terrible Batman stories that have been published and the hundreds of head-scratching Ninja Turtles adaptations, there have been, they continue to prevail and good things happen to those characters’ IP because there is enough material out there to keep people coming back.  

[Superman/Batman (2003-2011) #5]

This is all a long introduction to get into saying that we are starting 2020 in one of the most unique and unprecedented ways we could start it as Cassandra Cain fans. There is, I’m pretty sure for the first time in the two decades of this character’s existence, an almost scattershot approach to getting as much Cass content out in a blitz as possible while aligning with the first time she has appeared in multimedia outside of video game DLC only a few hardcore fans will ever get a hold of. 

But, as to be expected, not all interpretations of Cass are going to be the most helpful or similar to the character as we know her. And while I try to think strategically, it’s important to acknowledge these differences outright. Because if this is someone’s intro to her character, it can paint what they see and expect from her for the rest of their experience. 

I can’t say how good or bad that’ll be, I am the fangirl who jumped on board when Jeff Loeb was writing and Ed McGuinness was drawing. My quality receptors will forever be in question to more purist fans!  But I do want to start out by saying that most things are valid when it comes to starting out with a medium as ridiculous and unintelligible as comics, and we can destroy each other over the remaining 10% any day. 

Let’s talk about some Casses. 

Shadow of the Batgirl (2020)

If you or someone you know is at all interested in reading more Cassandra Cain and the 73 issues of her original series are intimidating, there is a simple solution that has been given to us by Sarah Kuhn and Nicole Goux, Shadow of the Batgirl. 

In a very short first-reaction review I did the week this graphic novel came out, I mentioned that I was teary the entire time I read this graphic novel because it was just so darn impactful and endearing. And that continues to be the case. 

This is a YA graphic novel aimed at introducing young new readers to Cassandra and a world that desperately needs her gifts to escape the shadows of her past and regrets in order to fully realize her potential for the future. And it is both heartwarming and gorgeous. 

One of the things I have hit on for years when it comes to Cassandra Cain’s treatment in comics is that it has felt that for a good half of a decade if not more, what she lacked more than anything was a consistent advocate on the publishing side of things. Fans and decent sales -- which, to be clear, her meager appearances and even the majority of her solo did definitively have -- were never going to be powerful enough on their own to give her a publishing opportunity if there were not writers and artists there to provide good stories. 

In 2020, more than any other year, I feel like we finally see the fruition of these things coming true. Sarah Kuhn’s blurbs and interviews have been filled with personal love and detail for the character and her importance, which only fueled how great it was when the Shadow of the Batgirl did come out and surpass almost all expectations.

This is a retelling and reinventing of Cassandra’s origin story told completely from her perspective from the beginning. 

One of the lasting critiques of Cassandra’s beginnings in comics has always been her silence and lack of voice at the very start of her career. While sometimes these complaints grew to hyperbolism and would deny provably existent agency -- and to be clear, there’s still a lot of that to a concerning degree to this day -- there is truth to the criticism. Cassandra’s internal narration was not provided for almost a year after her first appearance which is an alienating tactic to use for a character meant to be latched onto by readership. Even when handled well, the thoughts behind this choice still deserve examination. 

This was further complicated by later reveals that Cassandra’s difficulty with expression was in part due to her aneurotypical processing. These are not independently bad choices to make narratively, I have gone on for thousands of words before on how important I believe Cassandra’s dyslexia is, but the shakey start to giving the perspective of an aneurotypical character a definitive voice to tell her own story is right to be critiqued.

Shadow of the Batgirl completely circumvents this by giving Cass a clear voice from the start and focusing her central relationships on the power of expression and individuality while giving her plenty of characters of varying backgrounds and abilities to bounce her own understanding off of. 

In some parts, this greatly enforced Kuhn’s take on making Cass’ story a teenage coming of age story that she has proven skillful at in YA novels. It also allowed her to directly correct many of the wrongs that have been long criticized about Cassandra’s original series, such as having Barbara Gordon (a physically disabled character who should and has shown more sensitivity and nuance outside of her terrible capital-M-Moment in Cass’ series) embrace and love Cassandra for her aneurotypical perspective.

[Batgirl (2000-2006) #54]

[Shadow of the Batgirl (2020)]

But, for those of us who adore and have attached to Cassandra for her disabilities and portrayals of mental illness in the past, there is also some nuance and representation that has been left on the cutting room floor for this new origin. 

Namely, while Cassandra is shown to be perplexed by and struggling with books in the graphic novel, there is not the desperation and frustration that we actively see her undergoing throughout the original Batgirl (2000-2006) series. By issue #58 of a 73-issue comic book solo, Cassandra is actively struggling to read “It was,” and her insecurities toward it are used and manipulated by the villain by the end of the series. 

However, Cassandra of the Shadow of the Batgirl shows some capacity to read from early on, and her struggles with reading are not the subject of conversation in the novel, so how much her limitations are a function of dyslexia and how much are a function of her childhood is left up to debate. 

A debate with many questions that do require an answer since the form of her isolation and abuse by her far-less rounded character of a father in this graphic novel has been changed dramatically. 

While I am giving these critiques and do think that we should be mindful and conscious of their removal for those fans who are seeking out those types of stories to read, I do not want to at all give the impression that this is a bad comic. 

In fact, it’s quite the opposite. I would argue with just about anyone that this is the gold standard for Cassandra Cain stories printed in the last fifteen years, and for what I miss about the original iteration of Cass stories it can easily be exchanged for the new voice and new direction for her character this graphic novel provides for us. 

Many of these critiques can be chalked up to the graphic novel being just that, a self-contained graphic novel and not a 73-issue monthly publication. And I believe its art and story are a great deal more consistent and appealing than many eras of the original series as a result.

I love its tributes, its characterizations, its purpose, and its focus above all else. There is also something just utterly charming about having Cassandra’s first well handled romance in comics come from a YA novelist who obviously understands the character and also understands what readers want in a non-toxic and adorable story. 

I love the focus on Cassandra’s journey being on self-compassion, forgiveness, and the earnest belief that people can change. Including yourself, if you make the choice.

It is a good book, the best for Cassandra Cain in ages, and one I bought no less than three times already to show my support. And in just one week on my classroom bookshelf, I’ve already seen it be avidly read by five students. And those are just the ones I catch!

I would also be remiss not to mention that after complaining about this pet peeve of mine for years, that it’s happened. It took us twenty-one years but we finally did it, guys. We got a costume that Cassandra Cain got to make and design herself! And not only did she get one but she got two! An adorable (and hilarious) DIY Batgirl costume, and then ending on the high note of her official Batgirl costume to swing through the city in! 

This book is precious and I hope it is the start of something new and exciting in the future. Even if that new and exciting is simply a sequel graphic novel, I will be HERE for it, and supporting it and Sarah Kuhn all the way. 

Birds of Prey (and the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) (2020)

Oh, boy. If there was one reason I was scared to make this post, it was because of this film.

Before I get too deep into this I want to first state my position on a few of the controversies that have cropped up online with concerns to this movie and its portrayal of Cassandra Cain. 

First and foremost, I have no interest in telling people how they should or shouldn’t be offended on the grounds of representation and erasure. Not being able to or simply being unwilling to forego criticisms of tropes or insensitivities perpetrated by this or any other film are completely valid experiences. I have been that person in regards to other things, and I have also been someone whose first exposure to serious issues were the stances people took with regards to protesting certain media. 

Birds of Prey (and the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) has faults and plays into certain erasures (one of which I’ll discuss more below) that people may be unwilling to let go of. If that is the case for people you know or see online, you should accept and support them. Listen to them. 

But I do think we should also support people who love this movie for good reason. I enjoy this movie, but it’s not life-changing for me. I support it in the hopes of seeing more and better. 

There are students I have who now are wearing merch and drawing fanart of the Birds of Prey, picking up the comics for the first time, because of their exposure to the hype and “girl power” of this movie. Some adults needed this movie to be some hopeful change for them and I support them too.

We’re lucky to be alive at a time where a superhero movie is so completely told from a feminine perspective, with a huge diversity of filmmakers behind it providing female voices at every level from acting to casting to scripting to directing. We’re lucky that there’s such a diversity of the cast. I want this to continue.

I hope that it continues to do better in theaters, and I know there are some murmurs of poor box office returns for it. I hope that doesn’t affect future projects. We’ll see.

All of that out of the way, we need to talk about its use of Cassandra Cain. 

The joke I’ve made with my friends is that the best thing to do with this movie is to start getting in the habit of calling the young girl at the heart of this plot “Kassandra Kane” instead because the connection between this character and that of Cassandra Cain is fairly negligible. They are both young women of East Asian descent who pop up in Gotham. 

I happen to like both characters, but there’s an obvious difference between one focused on as a main character and hero of her own story and one focused on as a supporting character who has plots happen to her. Neither is a bad thing, but my preferences obviously rest with the former.

It’s the fact that they were supposed to be the same character that seems to baffle most people. Myself included. 

This may have been a move more suited for a character with less history and expectation on her before her big debut, like Sin who is Dinah’s adopted daughter in the comics and already connected to the Birds of Prey, or the character who clearly inspired Kassandra Kane, Ditto from the Black Canary (2015-2016) series. 

[Black Canary (2015-2016) #6]

I also think that adaptation that dramatically changes Cass wouldn’t necessarily be a terrible thing either. With some rewrites and some more agency, a younger and more hardened Cass from the streets could have also worked with the movie they were trying to make -- perhaps have David Cain be Black Mask’s main enforcer rather than Victor Zsasz. Give Cassandra’s connection to the plot more character-oriented and have her liberation work in tandem with the liberation of the adult women. 

The options were there, and there are critiques to be made, but the movie also knew what it wanted to be and spent its script and filming time focused on maintaining the continuity and integrity of the adult female characters who it probably could justify putting in the rated-R situations their fights got them in more than they could young Kassie Kane.

One of the no doubt unintended consequences of this has been that online discourse revolving around Cass vs. Kass has been in justifying the decisions one team has over the other in claims of racism and ableism.

Now, to be clear, my ability to speak with authority on either of those points is minimal. I’m an ally but not a voice of those communities and I want that to be as upfront as possible. I can only speak from personal experience in the realms of being a woman and being someone who lives with and has survived mental illness. And I can speak as a critic of media at large. 

There are racist and ableist connotations in many things, and I am not going to deny that those conversations are relevant and need to happen in regards to Cass’ original portrayals or in this film. They do. I know even in my first viewing I wondered how it was deemed so unimportant and so uncritical to give even a moment where Kass could display dyslexia or any other form of disability when we had entire sequences dedicated to backgrounds of characters who appeared for half a second of screentime. 

But I’m seeing a lot of discourse that is especially leveling claims of racism toward Cass’ original portrayals and not always looking at the voices of fans of color who debate that argument. But I also see people outright denying any critique of Cass’ original portrayals having overtones to them that are unsavory. The answer is to maybe settle for something less radical than both positions.

Like there is no ethical consumption under capitalism and we should murder the patriarchy. Just like Birds of Prey taught me.

I enjoyed the movie a lot, Kassandra Kane was a lot of fun, but it’s a 1/5 for adaptation which is bizarre for a movie that was firing on all cylinders for almost literally every other character that came on screen.

Batman and the Outsiders (2019-) #10

When it comes to consistent monthly comic publishing, the pickings for Cassandra Cain have been incredibly thin for years, arguably since the end of her own solo in 2006. But since the DC initiative “Rebirth” in 2016, an era has been entered where, with a few months here or there as the exception, Cass has been appearing in some comic each month. 

That seems like a small thing to celebrate, especially when the quality of monthly content can vary so much depending on the creative team, but it has been a hugely important development that Cass has been put on a team book for over a year now.

Bryan Hill is a comic veteran at this point, publishing comics independently and from both Marvel and DC, making him quite busy, but one thing I’ve really appreciated as a Cassandra Cain fan is that he has consistently shown love and appreciation for her character.

The Cassandra that features in Batman and the Outsiders is arguably the closest the character is to her original solo series on paper, and Hill has weaved her origin story and relationship with Lady Shiva into the overarching plot of the entire series. 

For me, Batman and the Outsiders has been a little slow in its story structure, and I worry about how that will affect the future of the book and whether or not it will continue as an ongoing after Hill’s planned departure, but his character focus is also my style of comics to read. And make no mistake that there is a plethora of character development and examination in every issue. 

Cassandra is sharing her page time with her Outsider teammates, but this can be a good thing. Development is easier for characters who have consistent character interactions, and I have always been a firm believer that the Outsiders as a team concept works the best for Cassandra’s specific needs. This plays out and the team consisting of Bruce Wayne, Jefferson Pierce, Tatsu Yamashiro, and Duke Thomas all compliment each other and compliment Cass very well.

I do want to mention that I love this book and think it’s great reading for Batman fans, too, even with Bruce’s reduced presence. And I think the snub the Duke and Cass are receiving in other Bat titles like Peter Tomasi’s Batman: Alfred Pennyworth R.I.P. just last week is cruelly shortsighted. 

But, hey, Tomasi being dismissive and backhanded toward members of the Batfamily outside of his preferred five. Guess it’s just another Wednesday. 

Harley Quinn and the Birds of Prey (2020-) #1 (of 4)

After the complete circus that has been made of the Black Label Birds of Prey title meant to tie-in with the movie -- one DC thought to give to Brian Azzarello who vocally despises Harley Quinn and is divisive (to say the very least) in his treatment of high profile female characters that he does say he likes -- I wasn’t expecting DC to come through in aligning movie buzz with their comic publications. To be clear, DC has always sucked at doing this and I really didn’t think it was special to the BoP movie.

When Conner and Palmiotti got to announce their own tie-in for the movie that was supposed to be more fun and use more of the same characters, I was intrigued but also a little concerned about how this team would handle it. I can like or dislike their work depending on the project. 

But my god, were they absolutely on when it came to this first issue of their four-issue miniseries.

I didn’t think I’d be recommending fans go pick up the first issue of the Harley Quinn and the Birds of Prey miniseries, but I am absolutely doing that for any fans of the movie who, like me, enjoyed it but wished a better Cassandra Cain adaptation had been woven into the plot. 

Amanda Conner’s history with the character of Cass and with the Birds of Prey, in general, is actually interesting. While she is regarded for her art and her storytelling now, when she first started at DC it was art only in the credits, but those credits included a BoP arc and several fun covers for the latter half of Cassandra’s Batgirl (2000-2006). When she later had the opportunity to write comics along with doing their art, she even had Cass (albeit very chattily) feature in a rare team-up with Power Girl and Wonder Woman in the Wonder Woman (2006-2011) #600 special. 

And, of course, the husband and wife team have become industry heavy hitters thanks to their smash hits with multiple Harley Quinn solo series. 

This is a fun and cartoonishly violent miniseries that plays to their styles properly, but the characterizations in the first issue struck me as very true and very calculated. Cassandra Cain does not speak in this entry, but that allows Conner to stretch her artistic muscles in making Cass’ actions and expressions give a lot of character to her role. Which already shows more restraint and understanding for the character than many others have with Cass -- including Conner’s freshman efforts at writing Cass herself. 

Cass isn’t alone in the little joys of this comic. There are overt references to Conner and Palmiotti’s Harley Quinn miniseries and solos that place this non-mainstream comic in a more nebulous space than the Black Label imprint would initially make you think, and the strong characters feel as though they walked off of the pages of their current mainstream efforts. All of which I greatly appreciate. 

Not to mention on the front of queer representation, while Harley is a mess, I’m glad that I can unabashedly relate to her as a gay mess without obfuscation this time.

If there’s any comic that new fans brought on by the Birds of Prey movie are likely to pick up themselves, it’ll probably be this one. Which is a great thing because it seems like an honest effort with strong roots in the original comic source material for everyone -- including Cass this time. 

Shame I can’t recommend it to my middle school students who are loving the movie. Though, I suppose, if they are watching a rated-R movie they’re probably sneaking to Black Label comics too. Little scamps.

DCeased: Unkillables (2020) #1 (of 3)

I cannot believe the wholesome Batfamily content I’ve craved for a decade needs the zombie apocalypse to happen. 

While I read DCeased last year and didn’t hate it in the vein that I thought I was going to due to it being a zombie apocalypse AU in a superhero universe that seemed to keenly pull from the surprising successes of Marvel’s efforts, I never imagined that it would join the ranks as continued Cassandra Cain content vehicles.

It must be the sign of a good decade, right? Bats are lucky, indeed.

While DCeased proper dealt with the aftermath of the Anti-Life Equation that was Totally Not a Zombie Virus as they kept telling us over and over again, it was pretty closely tied to the most main of main DC heroes and heroines and their families as they attempted to survive and escape the hordes. We didn’t see many other fan-favorite but not quite A-tier heroes’ efforts until the tie-in comics began coming out. 

I, as a Booster Gold, Blue Beetle, and Mister Miracle/Big Barda fan adored A Good Day to Die, but I never saw DCeased: Unkillables coming. And even when it was announced I said to my dear friends “This will either be very good or very bad.”

I need to put more faith into Tom Taylor, he really hasn’t let me down just yet.

In Unkillables, we follow the days after the Anti-Life Equation is released on Earth now through the eyes of two teams -- one helmed by Deathstroke, whose unique physiology allows him to recover from infection and is now joining other supervillains in a doomsday cult led by Vandal Savage; one helmed by Jason Todd, whose unique position as the family rebel has apparently left him out of the loop enough to not die with Bruce, Dick, and Tim in the series proper, but not so out of the loop that he can’t access the cave and the heart monitors Bruce creepily keeps on track of all their other family and friends, letting him reunite with his estranged sister Cassandra and Jim Gordon. Who is just as confused as you are that Batman kept a heart monitor tracker on him without asking. Also, Ace the Bathound and I love it.

This is the first of three issues, but it fits a lot of character work and relationships into those pages, which if you’re paying attention, is the sort of writing that seems to be most helpful with Cassandra Cain's appearances. 

I am hoping that everything continues to work well for this team, even knowing that we are going to have bloodshed and death along the way, but I think that the setting of making the last stand in an orphanage protecting children is the exact kind of thing these three characters would be united to do together in the zombie apocalypse. 

This is a fun, albeit bloody and morbid, comic that is worth picking up for anyone who misses Cassandra being Batgirl as much as I do. 

Also wow that family photo with Cass alongside her brothers and father. It took us this long to finally get one, huh.

Worth it. Suck it, Tomasi.

I have a lot of love for Cassandra, and a lot of opinions as well. Obviously! But what I love more than anything is to enjoy good stories with other people, and I’m hopeful and joyful that there seems to be more and more of those things intersecting on the horizon. 

If you’ve enjoyed my take on any of this, I hope I can continue to point you toward content in the future. And even if not, if you want to share your takes with me, I hope I can provide some good conversation there, too! 

Most of all I hope we all have something wonderful we can look forward to. 

[Shadow of the Batgirl]

#Cassandra Cain #Batgirl #Birds of Prey (2020) #Shadow of the Batgirl #Batman and the Outsiders #Harley Quinn and the Birds of Prey #the Orphan #Black Bat #DCeased: Unkillables #DCeased #Batgirl (2000 2006) #Superman/Batman (2003 2011) #Sarah Kuhn #Nicole Goux #Birds of Prey (and the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) #Ella Jay Basco #Black Canary (2015 2016) #Batman and the Outsiders (2019) #Bryan Hill #Harley Quinn and the Birds of Prey (2020) #Amanda Conner #Jimmy Palmiotti #Tom Taylor #opinions opinions opinions #Rants of Unusual Size #batfam #long post

[oswildin]

O & K {Part 1} ~ Dhawan!Master x Reader

Summary: O & K set out on a case... However, it soon leads them down a rabbit hole. O tries to convince K that aliens do exist, and they have been to Earth for hundreds of years...

Warning: I mention religion arguments. (Please don’t take offence, it’s just apart of the characterisation to fit the narrative).

You and O had been working together for the last week. You didn’t hate his company as such, it was just he would often get distracted and go off on tangents about aliens randomly, which made you question your sanity. You would often wave him off, telling him he was crazy. You knew you probably came off like an ass, but what were you meant to say to that? You knew he probably just had a weird fascination with the topic rather than being crazy.

You were currently on a case, and had to go check out an old abandoned building for any evidence. You and O cautiously entered, keeping your guns by your sides as you began to search the place for any sign of life. You could tell this wasn’t O’s domain. He’d never done field work before, and it showed. He seemed out of his depth.

“Will you please try to calm down?” You whispered. “You can tell from a mile away you don’t do this stuff.” You told him as he swallowed the lump in his throat.

“Sorry.” He muttered. “Not exactly one for field work. It’s not exactly what I had signed up for.” He sighed as you raised a brow.

“Yeah well, it’s what you were given so learn to like it.” You said shortly as he nodded at your words. You didn’t mean to come across bitchy, but you felt weighed down by his presence. You could’ve done this alone. There was no need for someone else. You were so used to working alone, that as soon as you were given a partner your levels of annoyance sky rocketed. You preferred working alone. At least then if any mistakes happened, you knew it was your fault and no one else’s.

The building was run down, and clearly hadn’t been in operation for years. It used to be an old factory, as the machinery was still there, most likely in working condition after a few pick me ups. Rounding a corner, you heard a noise from the distance, like metal falling to the floor as your senses heightened. You aimed your gun in the direction of the noise as you felt O tense beside you. You lowered your flash light, staying put as you tried to listen for more sounds. A few moments passed as you decided it was most likely due to the old building. Walking forwards, you brought up your flash light once more, as your eyes scanned the room.

“You sure there isn’t anyone here?” O whispered hastily as you sent him a glance.

“No.” You told him truthfully as his eyes widened slightly in fear. “I’m not going to lie to you O.” You sighed. “It comes with the job. You never know who’s around.” You said quietly as you looked back forwards. Quickly something caught your eye as you furrowed your brows. You cautiously walked towards the object on the floor as O followed slowly behind. “What is that?” You asked, narrowing your eyes, trying to get a better look from a distance. You couldn’t make it out as you drew closer to it.

“Be careful.” O warned as you rolled your eyes at him, continuing to edge closer to the object. As you got closer, it looked like a pile of clothes? No... Something else with clothes? A body? You kept calm as you finally were in a few feet of the thing, making sure you used the flash light to illuminate it. Finally you saw what it was.

“Oh my god.” You whispered, eyes in shock as O stood behind you, looking over your shoulder. “It’s... Some sort of human suit?” You tried to comprehend as you inched closer, kneeling beside it as you used the flashlight to turn it over. You covered your mouth as you saw it was in fact what appeared to be a human suit, the top of the head open, revealing an entrance point for whoever got inside. “Well... I’ve never seen anything this realistic before.” You commented as O suddenly appeared beside you, a small smile on his lips.

“That’s because it is.” He muttered. You glanced at him in confusion. “It is a real human.” He told you as you raised a brow.

“How can you be so sure? I mean look at it.” You nodded to it. “There’s nothing inside, no evidence of anything human, just the outside appearance. Besides, no one could do that.” You insisted.

“You’re right.” He paused. “No one can. But something could.” He raised his own brows as you narrowed your eyes at him.

“Stop talking nonsense.” You snapped at him. You hesitantly reached out, going to touch the hand of the body, feeling the texture as you almost shivered at it. “It feels... Well, it feels like skin. Too much like skin.” You instantly pulled your hand away. “So what, we’ve got an Ed Gein fanatic on our hands?” You questioned, looking expectantly at your coworker. O took out his camera, deciding to take a photo for evidence, to add to his files.

“Not quite.” He breathed out. Suddenly there was another sound from in front of you as you stayed still, putting your finger to your lips to show O to stay quiet. You could hear noises you couldn’t quite describe, bizarre wheezing. You pulled out your gun once more, standing slowly as O followed suit, looking less nervous than before. You turned off the flash light trying to stay hidden in the dark, but you swore you could see the silhouette of something in the distance. You tried to focus on it, but couldn’t get a clear picture.

Stepping out from beside the body, you steadied your breathing as you decided to take a risk. You aimed your flashlight ahead, slowly turning it on, as you instantly backed up, seeing what was making the sounds.

A large green creature stood before you, a few metres away. It had large black eyes, small sharp teeth and large claws on its hands. You gasped in shock, as O quickly took lead. The thing roared, as he grabbed your arm, pulling you back further, dragging you away. He led you both back out the way you’d came, as you felt adrenaline rush through your veins. You could hear the creature roaring from behind you as you reached the entrance, not hesitating in making a quick exit, slamming the door shut behind you. You didn’t stop there, continuing to run away from the building, as far as you could get, before you saw your car round the corner. Without thinking, you jumped inside, O following as he got in the passenger seat. You quickly started the car, making a quick getaway, not looking back.

You were panting as your mind tried to make sense of what you had just seen. It had to be someone playing a trick. There was no way that thing was real. If they were able to make a realistic human suit, then they were capable of making a creature one too.

“You ok?” O asked from beside you, as you kept your eyes on the road. You noticed the breathlessness in his tone, but he didn’t seem afraid somehow.

“Yeah.” You breathed out. “Just didn’t expect someone to dress like that.” You sighed, deciding to pull over to compose yourself.

“What makes you think it was someone dressed up?” He furrowed his brows, looking over at you. You laughed lightly.

“Oh what, and you think it was a real alien?” You shook your head. “O, this is MI6 business. We investigate real things. Real people. People that are sick and twisted and do anything for attention.” You told him as he sighed in frustration.

“Why is it so hard for you to believe?” He asked, his eyes boring into your own.

“Why is it so easy for you to?” You asked in return as he licked his lips, shaking his head in annoyance. “We need to go back, but with backup.”

“Thought you work alone.” He commented as you pursed your lips.

“I do. But I’m not an idiot.” You retorted as you decided to make your way back to headquarters.

The trip back was filled with silence, as O stared out of the window in deep thought. You could see the frustration on his features. As you arrived at the offices, you saw C, telling him you needed backup at the location immediately, as you set up a plan to ambush the person. You then went to O’s desk.

“You stay here.” You ordered him as he stood from his seat, looking confused.

“What? Why?” He asked as you looked at him.

“Because I don’t need you going in there, shouting from the rooftops how you think it’s a bloody alien.” You told him. He clenched his jaw briefly before nodding at your words, looking defeated. You couldn’t help but feel bad for the guy. “Look, when I come back, I’ll tell you all about it. Over a drink.” You offered, however it came out more like an order. Turning on your heel you left him at his desk.

An hour later, you returned to the office, looking defeated yourself as you walked to O’s desk. He looked up at you expectantly.

“Nothing was there.” You sighed, shaking your head. “No sign of anything.” You almost growled. “No human body suit, no weird creature suit. Nothing.” You folded your arms, taking a seat on the edge of his desk as he furrowed his brows.

“But... how?” He inquired, shaking his own head. “We saw it. I took a photo.” He told you, pulling out his camera. He flipped through the images until he found the right one, as he handed it to you.

“My best guess is they fled the scene.” You told him, taking a look at the photo. “But... With this, we can find them.” You wore a small smile. “This clearly shows their face. Well, the bodies face. We can run it through our database, try and find out who this was. It made lead us to some connections.” O nodded at your words. “It’s getting late. I’ll drop this with the team, you start packing up.” You told him, getting off his desk. “I expect the first round on you.” You called over your shoulder at him as you disappeared out of sight. O looked flustered, before beginning to pack up his things.

About 15 minutes later you reappeared at the doorway, arms folded as you waited for your coworker.

“Right, I know a place not far from here.” You called to him as he jumped slightly at your sudden voice. “As I said, first round on you. If you get me drunk enough, maybe I’ll listen to your crazy alien theories.” You joked as he smiled slightly.

You arrived at the pub, heading inside as you headed to the bar. O got you both some drinks as you headed to a nearby table, plopping yourself down as you sighed tiredly.

“Not going to lie. This case is a first.” You commented as you took a sip. “I mean, what psycho skins someone and uses their body as a suit?” You shook your head. O listened to your rant intently as he stared at you. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“There’s been cases like it before.” O told you as you raised a brow at him. “Back in 2005. It was in number 10.”

“What? Downing Street?” You furrowed your brows, leaning forwards on the table. He nodded.

“Apparently, there were whispers that before it was blown up, there were aliens in Parliament.” He told you as you rolled your eyes, reaching for your drink again.

“I told you. You’ll have to get me drunk to listen to your alien theories.” You teased, as he looked down at his own drink. “Why are you so hellbent on all this alien stuff anyway?” You asked, genuinely curious. He shrugged.

“I suppose it started when I was a kid really.” He started.

“You watched too much sci-fi from the sounds of it.” You joked.

“Maybe.” He nodded shortly. “But, don’t you think the universe is so big... So much unexplored by humans... That it’s a bit ignorant to think there isn’t anything else out there with us?” He raised a brow as you pursed your lips.

“Listen. I like to know the facts. I base my opinions on facts.” You told him. “Until I have solid proof, factual evidence there is such thing as aliens, then I just can’t believe it.” You sat back in your seat. “It’s like religion.” You paused. “Many people believe in a God. There’s supposedly evidence all around us. The Bible for example. But anyone could’ve written that. And in fact they did.” You smirked. “I wish I could have that belief system but, as someone who bases things on science...” You took another sip. He narrowed his eyes at you, leaning on the table.

“Who’s to say God wasn’t an alien?” He raised a brow as you laughed lightly.

“You just don’t stop do you?” You joked as he smirked. “Right. My round.” You declared as he furrowed his brows, looking at his still full pint.

“But I’m not finished.” He looked confused.

“Better get drinking then.” You smirked as you waltzed to the bar.

A few drinks later, it was safe to say you were feeling merry. You rested your head on your hand as you leant on the table, gazing at O.

“Go on then. Let’s hear your theory.” You gave in. His eyes lit up slightly as he began talking.

“Well, as I said earlier, the aliens in Downing Street... Harriet Jones claimed she saw them. In fact, she gave a statement, saying she witnessed an alien that looked human, but could remove its human skin, revealing a large green beast underneath.” He told you as you kept a smirk on your lips.

“Wasn’t she the Prime Minister that got unelected because she couldn’t handle the stress?” You asked, as he sighed. “Stress can make someone say bizarre things.” You offered.

“But this was years before that.” He insisted. “Torchwood had the file on the incident. Harriet Jones worked closely with them.” He told you as you nodded slowly at his words.

“And what’s Torchwood when it’s at home?”

“They dealt with incidents that appeared to be extraterrestrial.” He informed you. “Same as U.N.I.T.”

“Hmmm.” You hummed in thought, taking a sip of your drink. “Then why haven’t I heard of these organisations?”

“Because they’ve been erased.” He told you. “MI6 has files on them. Just buried away.” He paused. “Didn’t you see the large ship nearly crash into Buckingham Palace?” He raised a brow as you shrugged.

“Yeah it was deemed a hoax.” You argued. “Along with every other supposed alien invasion.” He sighed, giving you a small smile.

“There really is no convincing you is there?” He asked. You shook your head.

“Sorry.” You smirked. “Has to take more than a few doctored news footage to make me believe.”

“Then what if I told you...” He leant forwards, his face close to your own. “That I was actually an alien from a planet called Gallifrey...” He narrowed his eyes as you noted the shift in them. “And that I have been around for thousands of years, with the ability to change my face, and I have tried relentlessly to take over your dull planet time and time again.” You couldn’t keep a straight face as you laughed lightly, leaning back away from him.

“Did you go to drama school by any chance?” You teased, finishing your drink as he forced a smile onto his lips, leaning back himself. “Right. It’s getting late. Should probably head home.” You told him, grabbing your bag. “Call me a cab will you, going to go use the ladies.” You tapped him on the shoulder as you left him. O shook his head in disbelief at you. How could someone be so ignorant? So... complex?

~

Taglist: @drapetxmaniia @dannighost @imagine-whatever @yourlocalspacebisexual @the-sweet-space-bi @blamerogertaylor @koschei-taylor @koschei-studies @lostshadow12 @hannahlilyyx @wonders-of-the-multiverse @ettorah @nikey-no-likey @imthedoctorlove @twentysomethingloser92 @sometimes-i-feel-like-falling @hellothedoctorisreal @tragic-and-tried @kind-sober-fullydressed @chiswicknoble @sherly-not-obsessed @astudyoftimeywimeystuff @psychobitchtess

#the master x reader #doctor who #doctor who imagine #fanfic #dr who #reader insert #master x reader #dhawan master x reader #dhawan!master x reader #dhawan!master #sacha dhawan #the master #doctor x reader #dhawan master #agent o x reader #agent o

[dreadwulf]

*sigh* Okay, I just had to write this all out to get it off my chest and hopefully get over it and move on.

People tell me I look just like Brienne of Tarth. I’m tall, blonde, broad-shouldered, and homely. I get mistaken for a man, even when I have long hair that goes all down my back, even wearing a dress. I’ve gotten used to it.

My earliest memory of school is lying on the ground while a crowd of boys are kicking and hitting me, because I was an ugly freak. Girls grow earlier than boys do, you see. I was the tallest kid in my elementary, and I was hated for it. I endured constant abuse. When I got a little bit older, and I was almost 6 feet tall when I was 12, the abuse mostly turned away from being physical and into emotional and psychological. Girls followed me into the bathroom, laughing at how my clothes didn’t fit, how awkward I was, how masculine. Boys no longer hit me, just ignored or ridiculed me. Because it was the 80s I heard constant references to the East German olympic team, how I looked like a member. I didn’t understand the references at the time, but I knew it was yet another reference to how I didn’t measure up as a woman. Much later I learned about how those women were dosed with testosterone by the government against their will - a terrible story that the people around me regarded as a joke.  There’s nothing funnier than a manish woman, apparently.

When I was young I was undatable, never considered an option to anyone. I never kissed anyone until I was in my twenties, and was a virgin until I was 25. It’s bizarre when I look back now at photos of myself, because I’m expecting a hideous monster, and all I see is an ordinary girl - a little taller, broad-shouldered and plain, not pretty, but ordinary. But it all got into my head, you see. Inside I still feel like a freak. Undesireable. Unloved.

I started watching Game of Thrones from the first episode (mainly because I’m a big fan of Peter Dinklage!), and I was intrigued. Intrigued, but not obsessed, not yet. I’m a grown woman and I don’t have time for that sort of thing. But the first time Brienne of Tarth took off her helmet onscreen and I saw her face, I literally pointed at the screen and said out loud, “that’s me!”

Never in my life have I reacted that way before. Never before, and never since.

Granted, the actress who plays her is a great beauty, but the character of Brienne I latched onto instantly and felt a deep kinship with, especially after reading her story in the books. How as a child she was a girl very much like Sansa, who loved songs and romance and dancing and other girlish things, but the adults around her told her she was too ugly. Her septa told her no one would ever love or want her. She was shamed for wearing dresses and trying to be feminine, was told she was embarassing herself because her body was not womanly enough. She was made to feel like a failure just for existing, for being umarriagable, for causing the end of her house by being so ugly that no one wanted her. But instead of just crumbling and disappearing, Brienne of Tarth took up a sword and decided to make something else of herself. She wanted to help people, she wanted to contribute something to the world, and she decided to find a good lord and serve them as a knight. Brienne is brave and caring and defends the weak and wants to protect the people she loves. Brienne is a hero. She is a hero while not being tiny and delicate and pretty but large, sturdy, and ugly. In that she is completely unique, and completely wonderful.

A lot of old wounds opened up, watching that story and reading A Feast For Crows. Old issues I thought I was over all came back up. I identified powerfully with having your femininity stolen from you because your body is different, with being abused for not being woman enough, and with longing for love in a world that hates you. I remembered being hated, constantly and visciously hated, just for existing. I relived the bone-deep belief that I would spend my entire life alone, because no one would ever want me, a belief that was constantly validated by the actual people around me. I became painfully aware of the sense that I still have to this day of being constantly too big, too loud, too much, that has me slouching and shrinking and taking up less space and whispering timidly and the effect that those things have had on my life and career to this day.

And watching Brienne’s story, I saw how someone can endure the same things I did, and keep trying. Can keep struggling to succeed, and even fall in love. That was the most amazing thing of all, you see. This woman on television who looked like me, she was a love interest! She had her own romantic storyline! I could hardly believe it at first. I watched through my fingers trying to talk myself out of hoping. Because this never happens - an ugly woman, a masculine woman, is never desirable in fiction, never important enough to the story to be a love interest, and never worthy of romance. Yet here it was, it was happening right in front of my eyes.

Her love story with Jaime Lannister was a competely unique thing on television. An ugly woman with a beautiful man. A bond of deep respect and admiration, with undeniable sexual tension. Here were two people who can understand each other because they have both been hated for reasons beyond their control, who sought refuge in honor and knighthood and were loathed for it. Brienne understood how hatred can warp a person, make them someone they never meant to be, just the way she herself had been made to harden and close off to the world. She saw the person that Jaime might have been, if things had gone differently, and the man he could still become. Jaime for his part saw worth in her when everyone around him called her ridiculous, even though she was his enemy. He still knew that she was more deserving than any knight in Westeros, and believed in her when no one else in the world did. He gave her a sword and a quest and even a squire, lost his hand defending her, and he put his own life on the line to save hers.

Jaime openly adored her, looked at her like she was the most wonderful thing in the world, and I have never seen anything like that. A woman who looks like me, being looked at like that. Do you know what that felt like for me? Can you imagine it?

This story meant a lot to me, is what I’m saying. It was healing for me. I believed in that story, and I expected that even if there wouldn’t be a happy ending, at least there would be that respect for the character, and that she would be taken seriously by the narrative and her story would be completed in some fashion.

And then they aired Season 8.

In season 8 we learn that not only did the show never bother to adapt her storylines from the books, where she is slated to face Lady Stoneheart and the Brotherhood Without Banners, they gave her no story in replacement. She has no material impact on the storyline of the show, she simply doesn’t matter in any way. The only major storyline they kept from the books was her romance with Jaime Lannister, and in Season 8 they destroy that story in the cruelest possible way.

After emphasizing that Brienne is an adult virgin, they give her one scene with what we thought was her love interest, where they share one kiss. One. Onscreen within seconds of Brienne being naked Jaime looks dissatisfied and unhappy, and in the same episode, leaves her to go back to his traditionally beautiful ex. Leaves her crying and pleading with him to stay. And then her story ends, except for a brief bookend where she writes an entry in the White Book showing she still loved him, even though he abandoned and betrayed her in the worst way possible.

Right now I’d really like to know if anyone involved with this show ever gave a moment’s thought to what it would be like to watch that happen. After years of patiently waiting to get the love story we were promised for five seasons, instead, to humiliate and punish Brienne for daring to think she deserved love. Did anyone ever consider what that would feel like for women like me? If they did think about it, I hope they enjoyed the hurt they caused me, because the way this story played out felt outright malicious and hateful. They could have given me one tender moment, one declaration of love or affection, just to know what it would look like to see that onscreen for a woman like me. Instead they deliberately withheld that. And then went out of their way to invalidate absolutely everything about the storyline we had been watching, as if it had never happened, as if we had imagined it all, and been foolish to believe in it in the first place.

Yes, I know, it’s only a story, but stories matter. We wouldn’t put nearly the effort and investment into them that we do as a culture if they didn’t. My story has never mattered before, and it meant something to me over the last 8 years that someone was telling it. So was this ending intended as a deliberate slap in my face, or was that collateral damage that the show simply did not care about?

The messages sent by our media are sometimes unintentional, but they are usually given at least some consideration. So I wonder what sort of message was trying to be sent by giving the gender non-comforming woman who dared to open her heart an immediate rejection, and have her then swear to serve a celibate organization for the rest of her life? Giving up her inheritance, her island, her own sworn vows to Sansa, and everything else she cared about? Am I meant to regard this as a happy ending, I wonder? Her feelings and dreams don’t matter, but hey, she has a position in the small council, so Girl Power! Was there a single woman anywhere involved in this production who might have pointed out how awful this is?

I understand that what’s done is done and there’s no fixing this, and complaining about it is pointless. But what I really want, what I wish for, is for somebody to confirm that at least at some point this was a love story, and that for whatever reason, network interference or showrunner decision or whatever it was, it was changed at the last minute. Just tell me that at some point the intent was real. To know that would be helpful. Because right now I feel like a stupid chump for ever believing that anybody wanted a woman like me to have a love story, and you cannot imagine how much that hurts.

#braime #brienne of tarth #jaime x brienne

[betweengenesisfrogs]

Homestuck is My Favorite Sprite Comic

Yes, you read that right.

Homestuck is my favorite sprite comic.

Those of you who remember the earlier days of the internet are probably looking at this post in disbelief right about now. Others of you might be scratching your heads, not knowing what I’m talking about.

But here’s my pitch: Homestuck is the culmination of an entire genre of internet art, and the tools that make it so powerful are the very tools that made that genre once so reviled.

Homestuck is the greatest and most successful sprite comic of all time.

And honestly, I’ve wanted to talk about that for ages, so let’s do it.

WHAT SPRITE COMICS WERE

Many of my readers are probably too young to remember the era of sprite comics. So: what were sprite comics?

Sprite comics were a genre of webcomics made entirely by taking pixel art from video games – especially character art, called “sprites,” but also backgrounds and other images—and placing them into panels to tell a story. They were near-ubiquitous on the internet in the early 2000s, emerging right as webcomics in general were seeking to establish themselves as an art form.

They were not, shall we say, known for their quality. The low bar to access meant that art skill was not an obstacle to starting one. The folks behind the huge swell of them tended to be young people, kids and early teenagers recreating the plots of their favorite video games with new OCs—not the most advanced writers or artists. They were the early 2000s’ quintessential example of ephemeral, childish art. Unfortunately, they look even worse today—blown-up pixels don’t hold up well when displayed on higher-resolution monitors.

Today, they’re mostly forgotten, remembered only as a weird, strange moment in the youth of the internet. Someone who evoked them today, such as a blogger who compared them to one of the most successful webcomics of all time, would be inviting good-natured teasing at the very least.

It would be unfair to dismiss them entirely, though. In this low-stakes environment, comics where the author could bring more skill—engaging writing, legitimately funny jokes, or especially, a real ability to work with pixel art—really stood out. (Unsurprisingly, these authors tended to skew a bit older.)

The obvious one to mention is Bob and George. Bob and George wasn’t the first sprite comic, but it was the most influential. Conceived initially as Mega Man-themed filler for a hand-drawn comic about superheroes, it quickly became a merging of the two concepts, with the original characters made into Mega Man-style sprites, full of running gags, humorous retellings of the Mega Man games, elaborate storylines about time travel, and robots eating ice cream. It was generally agreed, even among sprite comic haters, that Bob and George was a pretty good comic. Worth mentioning also are 8-Bit Theater, which turned the plot of the first Final Fantasy into a spectacular and hilarious farce, and of course Kid Radd, my second favorite sprite comic. (More on that later.)

But even if you weren’t looking for greatness—there was something just damn fun about them. The passion of sprite comic authors was clear, even if their ideas didn’t always cohere. To this day, I think the sprite comic scene has the same appeal pulp art does—it’s crude and rough, full of garbage to sift through, but every so often, something deeply sincere and bizarre shines through, and the culture of its authors is a fascinating object of study in itself.

Okay, full disclosure: I was one of the people who made a sprite comic. I’ve written about my experiences with that in more depth elsewhere, but yeah, I was on the inside of this scene, rather than a disinterested observer, and from the inside, maybe it’s a lot easier to see the appeal.

Still, let me make this claim: even with all their flaws, sprite comics were doing some incredibly interesting things, and Homestuck is heir to their legacy.

TAKE ME DOWN TO RECOLOR CITY

One of the problems people always had with sprite comics was the sprites themselves. They’re the most repetitive thing in the world. You just keep copying and pasting the same images over and over again, maybe with a few tweaks. That’s not really being an artist, is it? It’s so lazy. Re-drawing things from different angles keeps things dynamic, develops your skill, and makes your work better in general. Right?

I’m mostly in agreement. Certainly I think it’s fair to rag on the Control-Alt-Delete guy, along with other early bad webcomics, for copy-pasting their characters while dropping in new expressions and mass-producing tepid strips. And to be fair, digging through bad sprite comics often felt like an exercise in seeing the same slightly-edited recolors of Mega Man characters over and over again. You got really tired of that same body with its blobby feet and hands.

(It should be noted, though, that there were folks in the sprite comic scene who could pixel art the quills off a porcupine. I salute you, brave pixel art masters of 2006. I hope you all got into your chosen art school.)

All this said, I think the repetitive and simplistic nature of sprite comics was often their biggest strength.

THE POWER OF ABSTRACTION

In his classic work Understanding Comics, Scott McCloud makes an observation about cartooning that has stayed with me to this day.

McCloud notes that simple, abstract drawings, like faces that are only few lines and dots on a page, resonate with us more strongly than more detailed drawings. This is because our minds fill in what’s missing on the page. We ascribe human depth to simple gestures and expressions based on our own emotions and experiences – and this makes us feel closer to these characters as readers. Secretly, simple cartoons can be one of the most powerful forms of storytelling. If you want your readers to fall in love with your characters, draw them simply, and let them fill them in.

Video game sprites work very well in this regard. They have that same simplicity that cartoons do. In fact, I’d be willing to bet a huge part of the success of SNES-era RPGs was simple, almost childlike character sprites drawing people in. I think sprites did the same for sprite comics.

Here’s the weird thing: Bob and George worked. Despite four different characters being variations on the same friggin’ Mega Man sprite in different colors, they immediately began to seem like different people with distinct personalities. For me, George’s befuddled, helpless dismay immediately comes to mind whenever I picture his face, while with Mega Man himself it’s usually a wide-eyed, childlike glee. I would never confuse them. This, despite the fact that the only actual difference between their faces is that George is blonde. It’s pretty clear what happened. The personalities the author established for them through dialogue and storytelling shone through, and my brain did the rest.

Sprites, in short, were a canvas upon which the mind could project any story the author wanted to tell. Even the most minute differences in pixel art came to stand, in the best sprite comics, for wide divergences in personality and ideals, once the reader spent enough time with them to adapt to their style of representation.

Wait a minute, haven’t we seen this somewhere before? Character designs that focus on variations on a theme, with subtle differences that nonetheless render them instantly recognizable?

Oh, right.

Look at what greets us on the very first page of Homestuck. An absurdly simple cartoon boy, abstracted to a ridiculous degree—he doesn’t even have arms!—followed a whole bunch of characters that follow suit. Though many other representations of the characters emerge, these little figures never quite go away, do they? Why is that?

Simple: they’re very easy to manipulate. They’re modular—you can give John arms or not, depending on whether it’s useful. You can put him in a whole variety of poses and save them to a template. You can change out his facial expressions with copy and paste. You can give him a new haircut and call him Jake. It’s all very quick and easy.

Sprite comics proliferated because they were very easy to mass-produce. Andrew Hussie’s original conception of Homestuck was very similar: something he could put out very quickly and easily, where even the most elaborate ideas could rely on existing assets to be sped smoothly along. We all know the result: an incredible production machine, churning out unfathomable amounts of content from 2009-2012. I’d say it was a good call.

But it goes way deeper than that. The modular nature of sprites always suggested a kind of modularity to the sprite comic premise. George and Mega Man were different people, true, but also two variations on a theme. Was there something underlying them that they had in common? Perhaps their similarity says something like: We exist in a world which has a certain set of rules? One of my favorite conceits from Bob and George was that when characters visited the past, they were represented by NES-era Mega Man sprites, while in the present, they were SNES sprites, and in the future, the author used elaborate splicing to render them as 32-bit Mega Man 8 sprites or similar.

Suppose there was a skilled cartoonist thinking about his next big project, who wanted to tell a story centered around this kind of modularity, a narrative that was built out of iterative, swappable pieces by its very design. He might very well create a sprite comic named Homestuck.

Homestuck is a story about a game that creates a hyperflexible mythology for its players, where the villains, challenges, and setting change depending upon what players bring to the experience, yet which all share underlying goals and assumptions. What more perfect opportunity to create a modular story as well? Different groups of kids and trolls have motifs that get swapped around to produce new characters, whether that’s through ectobiology, the Scratch, or the eerie parallels between the kids and trolls’ sessions. And yet each character can be analyzed as an individual.

This is an incredible way to build a huge emotional investment from your readers. Not only does this kind of characterization invite analysis, the abstractions draw readers in to generate their own headcanons and interpretations. A deep commitment to pluralism is at the heart of Hussie’s character design. Then, too, it encourages readers to build their own new designs from these models. Kidswaps, bloodswaps, fantrolls—these have long been the heart of Homestuck’s fandom. And what are bloodswaps if not sprite recolors for a new generation? With the added bonus that now a change in color carries narrative weight, evoking new moods and identities for these characters in ways that early sprite comics could only dream of.

In Hussie’s hands, even the dreaded copy-and-paste takes on heroic depth of meaning. Even when Hussie moves away from sprites to his own loose art style, he continues to remix what we’ve previously see. Indeed, Hussie talks about how he would go out of his way to edit his own art into new images even when it would take more time than drawing something new. Why? Because he wanted to evoke that very feeling of having seen this before—the visual callback to go along with the many conceptual and verbal callbacks that echo throughout Homestuck. This is at the heart of what Doc Scratch (speaking for Hussie) called “circumstantial simultaneity:” we are invited to compare two moments or two characters, to see what they have in common, or how they contrast. Everything in Paradox Space is deeply linked with everything else. And Hussie establishes this in our minds using nothing less than the tool sprite comics were so deeply reviled for: the “lazy” repetition of an image.

(It’s fitting that some of the most jaw-droppingly gorgeous images in Homestuck—dream bubble scenery and the like—are the result of Hussie taking things he’s made before and combining them into fantastic dreamscapes.)

But it all started with the hyperflexible, adaptable character images Hussie created at the very beginning of Homestuck.

And if you need more proof that Homestuck is a sprite comic, I think we need look no further than what Hussie, and the rest of the Homestuck community call these images.

We call them sprites.

THE FIRST GENRE-BENDERS

Was Andrew Hussie influenced by sprite comics in the development of Homestuck? It’s hard to say, but as a webcomic artist in the first decade of the 2000s, he was surely aware of them. It’s likely that he quickly realized that his quick, adaptable images served the same purposes as a sprite in a video game or a sprite comic, and chose to call them that.

One purpose I haven’t mentioned up until now: sprites lend themselves very well to animations. In fact, in their original context of video games, that’s exactly what they’re for: frames of art that can be used to show a character running, jumping, posing, moving across a screen. It’s not surprising, then, that sprite comic makers quickly saw the utility in that.

Homestuck was, in fact, not the first webcomic to make Flash animations part of its story. There were experiments with various gifs and such in other comics, but I think sprite comics were among the most successful at becoming the multi-media creations that would come to be known as hypercomics..

Take a look at this animation from Bob and George. It represents a climactic final confrontation against a long-standing villain, using special effects to make everything dramatic, but ultimately, like many a Homestuck animation, leads to kind of a pyscheout. The drama and the humor of the moment are clear, though. This relies in large part on the music—which is taken directly from the game Chrono Trigger. This makes total sense. Interestingly, it also contains voice acting, which is something Homestuck never tried—probably because it would run contrary to its ideals of pluralism. What I find fascinating is that in sprite comics, animations like these served a very similar purpose to Homestuck’s big flashes: elevating a big moment into something larger-than-life. Another good example is this sequence from Crash and Bass. Seriously, it seems like every sprite comic maker wanted to try their hand at Flash animation.

(By the way, it’s a lot harder than it looks!! I envy Hussie his vectorized sprites. Pixel art is a PAIN to work with in the already buggy program that is Flash.)

The result: because of the sprites themselves, sprite comics were among the first works to play around with the border between comics and other media in the way that would come to be thought of as quintessentially Homestuck.

What it also meant was that another genre emerged in parallel with sprite comics: the sprite animation. Frequently these would retell the story of a particular game, offer a spectacular animated battle sequence, parody the source material, or all three. Great examples include this animation for Mega Man Zero, and this frankly preposterous crossover battle sequence. Chris Niosi’s TOME also found its earliest roots as an animation series of this kind. You also found plenty of sprite-based flash games, in which players could manipulate game characters in a way that was totally outside the context of the original works.

The website the vast majority of these games and animations were hosted on?

Newgrounds, best known to Homestuck fans as the website Hussie crashed in 2011 while trying to upload Cascade.

What’s less talked about is that Hussie was friends, or at least on conversational terms with, the owner of the site, hence the idea to host his huge animation there in the first place, and other flashes, like the first Alterniabound, were initially hosted there as well.

It’s hard to believe that Hussie wasn’t at least a little familiar with the Newgrounds scene. I suspect that he largely conceived of Homestuck as part of the world of “Flash animation—” which in 2009 meant the wide variety of things that were hosted on Newgrounds, including sprite animations.

The freedom and fluidity sprite comics had to change into games and animations and back into comics again was one of their most fascinating traits. Homestuck’s commitment to media-bending needs, at this point, no introduction. But what’s less known is that sprite comics were exploring that territory first—that Homestuck, in short, is the kind of thing they wanted to grow up to be.

PUT ME IN THE GAME

I would be a fool not to mention another big thing Homestuck and sprite comics have in common: a character who is literally the author in cartoon form, running around doing goofy things and messing with the story. This was an incredibly common cliché in sprite comics, no doubt because of Bob and George, who did it early on and never looked back. You might have noticed that the animation I linked above concerns a showdown between Bob and George’s author, David Anez—depicted, delightfully, as another Mega Man recolor—and a mysterious alternate author named Helmut—who is like Mega Man plus Sepiroth I think? It’s all very strange. I could ramble for hours about the relationship between Hussie and the alt-author villains of Homestuck and what it all means, but I’m not sure I can nail anything down with certainty for these two. Maybe Bob and George was never quite that metaphysical.

But yes, bringing the author into the story in some form was already a cliché by the time Homestuck started up. Indeed, I think that’s why Hussie’s character refers to it as “a bad idea” to break the fourth wall—he’s recognizing that people will have seen this before, and are already tired of this sort of shit. And then he goes and does it anyway and makes it somehow brilliant, because he’s Andrew Hussie.

Homestuck breathes life into the cliché by taking it in a metaphysical/metafictional direction. I don’t think that was really the motivation for most sprite comic authors, though. Let’s see if we can dig a little deeper.

I think the cliché kept happening because sprite comic authors were writing about a subject that very closely concerned themselves: video games. I’m only kind of joking. The thing about video games is that even though they’re made for everyone, playing through one yourself feels like an intensely personal experience. You develop an emotional relationship to a world, to its characters, that feels distinctly your own. Now, suddenly, thanks to the magic of sprites, you have an opportunity to tell stories about that world for others to read. Of course you’re going to want to put yourself in the story in some form.

When it wasn’t author characters in sprite comics, it was OCs. You know Dr. Wily? Well here’s my own original villain, Dr. Vindictus. You know Mega Man? Here’s my new character, Super Cool Man. He hangs out with Mega Man and they beat the bad guys together. Stuff like that. Most sprite comics retold the story of a game, or multiple games in a big crossover format, with original elements added in. There was quite a lot of “Link and Sonic and Mega Man are all friends with my OC and they hang out at his house.”

What’s interesting, though, is that because these sprite comics were very aware that they were about video games, this was where they sometimes got very meta. It started with humorous observation—hey, isn’t it funny that Link goes around breaking into people’s houses and smashing their pots? But sometimes, it grew into more serious commentary. Is Mega Man trapped in a never-ending cycle, doomed to fight the same fight against the same mad scientist until the end of time? Is it worth it, being a video game hero?

Enter Homestuck. What I’ve been dancing around this whole time is:

Homestuck is a sprite comic…because Homestuck is a video game.

Or more specifically, Homestuck’s a comic about a video game called SBURB, where the lines between the game and the comic about the game blur as characters wrestle with the narratives around them, both those encoded into the game and those encoded into our expectations.

Homestuck presents the fantasy of many a sprite comic maker: I get to go on heroic quests, I get to change the world and become a god. I get to be part of the video game. And then it asks the same question certain sprite comics were beginning to ask:

Is it worth it, to be that hero?

I want to tell you about my second favorite sprite comic, a comic called Kid Radd.

Kid Radd distinguished itself from other sprite comics of the time by being a completely original production. Its sprites looked like they could be from a variety of NES and SNES-era video games, but they were all done from scratch, and the games they purported to represent were all fictional. Kid Radd used animations with original music, and sometimes interactive, clickable games, to tell its story. It also used all sorts of neat programming tricks to make it load faster on the internet of the early 2000s, which was great—unfortunately, these same techniques made it break as web technology evolved, something Homestuck fans in 2019 can definitely relate to. The good news is, fans have maintained a dedicated and reformatted archive where the comics can still be seen and downloaded.

Kid Radd’s premise is that video game characters themselves are conscious and alive—more specifically, their sprites. Sprites developed consciousness as human beings projected personality and identity onto them, remaining aware of their status as video game constructs while also seeking to be something more. The story follows the titular Kid Radd, at first in the context of his own game, commenting on the choices the player controlling him. He must endure every death, every strange decision along the way to save his girlfriend Sheena. Then the story expands into a larger context as Radd, Sheena, and many other video game characters are released onto the internet as data. They try to find their own identities and build a society for themselves, but struggle with the tendency toward violence that games have programmed into them. The story culminates in an honestly moving moment where Radd confronts the all-powerful creators of their reality—human beings.

It’s a very good comic.

The first sprite comic authors wanted to fuse real life with video games. Later sprite comic authors decided to ask: what would that really mean? Would it be painful? Would you suffer? Would you find a way to make your life meaningful all the same? Despite the limitations of sprite comics, these ideas had incredible potential, and in works like Kid Radd, they flourished.

Homestuck is heir to that legacy.

It takes the questions Kid Radd was asking, and asks them in new ways. It tries to understand, on an even deeper level, how the rules of video games shape our own minds and give us ways to understand ourselves.

At its heart, Homestuck is a sprite comic, and it might just be the greatest of them all.

EPILOGUE

I’ve seen a lot of good discussion recently on how Homestuck preserves a certain era of the internet like a time capsule: its culture, its technology, its assumptions, its memes.

I think sprite comics, too, are part of the culture that created Homestuck. Do I think Hussie spent the early 2000s recoloring Mega Man sprites? No, probably not. But what I do know is that sprite comics were part of his world. The first webcomic cartoonists came of age alongside an odd companion, the weird, overly sincere, dorky little sibling that was sprite comics. Like them or hate them, you couldn’t escape them. They were there.

And maybe a certain cartoonist saw a kind of potential in them, in the same way he summoned Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff from the depths of bad gamer culture.

Or maybe he just knew, as some sprite comic authors did, that the time was right for their kind of story.

On a personal level—Homestuck came along right when I needed it.

Around 2009, the bubble that was sprite comics finally burst. People were getting tired of them, or growing out of them, and blown-up sprites no longer looked so good on modern monitors.

I was more than a little heartbroken. I’d enjoyed Bob and George, read my fill of Mega Man generica, and fallen utterly in love with Kid Radd. I’d been working on my own sprite comic for a long time out of a sense that there was huge potential in them that we were only scratching the surface of. I’d dreamed of maybe someday doing something as amazing as the best of them did. But I was watching that world disappear. I had to admit to myself that my work wasn’t going to continue to find an audience. That I could live with. But it was painful to think that the potential I sensed, the feats of storytelling I wanted to see in the world, would never be realized.

And then, in the fall of 2010, a friend linked me to a comic that broke all the rules, that mixed animation, games, music, images and chatlogs. A comic that crafted its own sprites, just as Kid Radd did, and remixed its images into an ever-expanding web of associations and meanings. A comic that took on the idea of living inside a video game with relish and turned it into a gorgeous meditation on escaping the ideas and systems that control us.

That this comic would exist, let alone that it would succeed. That it would become one of the most popular creations of all time, that it would surpass other webcomics and break out into anime conventions and the real world, that it would become such a cultural juggernaut, to the point where it’s impossible to imagine an internet without Homestuck—

I can’t even put into words how happy that makes me. It’s the reason I’m still writing essays about Homestuck nearly eight years after I found it.

And it’s why Homestuck will always be my favorite sprite comic.

-Ari

[Notes: The image of the kids came from the ever-useful MSPA Wiki—please support and aid in their efforts to provide a good source of info about Homestuck! They need more support these days than ever.

For more on Homestuck’s place as a continuation of the zeitgeist of early 2000s experimental webcomics, this article by Sam Keeper at Storming the Ivory Tower is excellent and insightful.

Thanks for reading, y’all.]

#homestuck analysis #homestuck #homestuck's influences #hypercomics #understanding homestuck #sprite comics #internet culture

[lucytara]

1/2 Hey I don't know if you have seen Eruptionfang's video about Bumblebee but I have question to you now that I saw it. I know people don't like him but I thought that video was not hateful and he explained himself well. But looking at the video and comments people are saying B&Y never got the same narrative development as B&S. And in someway I agree. Like B&S spend a lot of time outside of school together and obviously the two volumes as a whole. And I think we can admit Blake had a crush on

2/2Sun for a while. But I think they ignore the manga where we see B&Y relationship in school. In the animation we don’t see them as much interact like that but the manga makes it clear in my opinion that they have a close relationship and spend time together but it seems like a lot of people think contrary, as they have only seen the animation. But I don’t know seeing those comments made me doubt how much I watched it the way I wanted it. Do you think the narrative was there?

fair warning that this ended up turning into uhhhh…..a long post so welcome to rwby: a bumbleby vs black/sun narrative analysis

so i haven’t watched it, and in regards to it being not hateful, i think you first have to look at the intent behind it. first of all, it’s not his place to discuss this topic whatsoever. this story isn’t being written for him. it’s not being written for men. it doesn’t matter what y’all think about it, quite frankly, because it’s not for or about you: it’s about us, people who have never in history seen the kind of representation rwby is giving us with blake and yang. that’s something anyone who wants to “have an honest opinion about bumbleby” should think about. he didn’t. he ignored that, ignored the tons of wlw who love this portrayal and relationship. that tells me really everything i need to know about him as a person. the intent of his video is to bring people around to “his side” of things, his perspective, here’s why bumbleby was done wrong, b/s was done right, etc whatever. the intent behind him creating and posting this video is hateful. let’s be very clear about that.

the problem with people trying to claim that bumbleby came out of nowhere or that black/sun had a ton of now-pointless development is that their claims are almost always viewed through a heteronormative lens. they look at blake and sun on-screen together and they think it’s development. they think blake being visibly annoyed with sun for the entirety of volume 4 is romantic. they think his total lack of understanding her character but pushing her boundaries anyway is romantic. they think blake owes him her own feelings in return for his, just because he feels them. they think that because it’s a narrative that’s been popularized by media for literally…well…ever.

from a wlw perspective, for those of us who ship bumbleby, did not read sun and blake’s relationship as “development” in a romantic direction. i’ve always said that sun was a red herring. he appears - another faunus - at a time blake is desperately looking for someone to understand her. except he can’t! sun had a great life, so it seems! he thinks the white fang are nuts! he has nothing to do with any of the hardships blake has faced throughout her entire life. sun never understands her and he doesn’t, at any point, relate or empathize with her. he moves on very easily with his life after the incident with the white fang and torchwick. he tries to ask blake to the dance. she says the one line that lets us, the audience, know what she’d hoped from sun and wasn’t receiving: “i thought you of all people would understand that.” he doesn’t understand. but an episode or so later, someone does understand blake, and that person is yang.

this is really the Big “oh” moment for me. blake was looking for someone to understand her in sun, but she was looking in the wrong place. yang comes in unravels blake in the span of a single conversation. she understands blake perfectly, understands where she coming from and why, and most importantly, understands how to get her to stop. how to put things in perspective. burning the candle was honestly all the narrative we needed in regards to sun/yang/blake as a starting point. sun isn’t who blake wants him to be and this is where she’s started to realize that. this is where we, the audience, are also supposed to realize that.

sun and blake have then, what, one moment in v3? where he flirst with her in a stadium full of people and she blushes? sure, whatever. i’m not denying that on some level i think blake wanted to be interested in sun. i don’t really buy that she fully was, but i think she wanted to be. however, the last half of the volume, blake’s entire focus is on yang: yang, who she watches attack mercury, and rather than believing her immediately, finds herself shaken and reminded of adam. in this conversation, we’re told a couple of things: one, that yang and adam are parallels. blake is comparing them herself. the implication is that yang is also someone very dear to blake, and blake’s afraid of the same thing happening. but she ultimately believes yang when yang looks her in the eye.

then - a quick telling moment - blake’s eyes narrowing when hearing cinder describe yang attacking an innocent student. she immediately realizes yang was set up, and she was wrong to not believe her. this is important because imo this weighs on blake from the finale onward.  

if we use some critical thinking skills, we can infer that blake and yang have spent quite a lot of time together up until the v3 finale. they’re literally partners, teammates. they share the same dorms. they’re together almost all the time, for - what - like 9 months or so? we can imagine they know each other pretty well. blake picked her to begin with. they’re close; we don’t have to know every single detail, especially considering the format rwby is presented in. 

v3 finale - yang finds weiss, who tells her ruby’s still missing and so is blake. sun? also right there. doesn’t go look for her. yang makes the decision to prioritize blake and goes after her. we all know what happens now - adam takes one look at blake’s face and to yang and knows she’s someone blake loves. yang loses an arm and almost dies trying to protect her, blake almost dies trying to protect her immediately after. blake holds her hand and tells her she’s sorry while sun looks on at their joined hands. 

like, there’s the narrative set-up. all of it. it’s right there. yang/adam are paralleled and yang immediately loses to him. he gives them both scars that link them together forever. they’re never going to be able to take that night back. they’re bound by it. they have the literal. scars. to prove it. and sun plays no role in it. people who ignore this in favor of the very surface-level development bs get are doing extreme disservices to the characters and the show itself. 

i came in at the end of v3. i was elated all throughout volume 4 because blake literally was not interested in him, she wasn’t interested in his advances, and her heart was clearly elsewhere. she spent all of volume 4 upset that sun had followed her. she even has one last-ditch moment on the ship - where sun says “i knew exactly what you were doing” and she perks up for a moment before he hits the final nail in the coffin and completely misinterprets why she ran. like, that’s the end for bs romantically, right there. when sun still proves after all this time and everything that’s happened, he fundamentally doesn’t understand blake. 

they had zero romantic interactions all throughout volumes 4 and 5. what they did have? friendship development. blake and sun essentially started over their entire relationship with blake finally in the right mindset to process it. she didn’t like sun, she never really liked sun, they’re incompatible and now she really sees that. so they work their way to a friendship, which is exactly what myself and most people in the bb fandom saw. blake wasn’t interested. it doesn’t matter how much sun was. both people need to be equally invested or a relationship is nothing. blake wasn’t interested. there is no way to retcon that or get around it. she doesn’t like sun romantically. she makes it explicitly clear, and i don’t respect anyone who chooses to ignore that. heteronormativity in media has taught us forever that what a girl wants/how she feels doesn’t matter as much as what the boy does, that perseverance is key, but that’s a fucked up narrative and i’m happy to see it subverted here.

anyway. during this period of time that blake and yang are apart, they’re constantly on each others’ minds. blake voices it once or twice; yang snaps one time and breaks down about it. we can infer that what hurt yang the most wasn’t losing her arm, it was that blake ran. yang wanted to be there for her. yang carries a photo of her around, so worn in the middle that it bend automatically, used to being grasped on blake’s side of the frame. these are details meant to imply certain things. yang misses blake and thinks about her more than she ever dares to say it aloud. 

all of this builds both to them reuniting and volume 6. weirdly enough (not), a majority of the fandom predicted blake and yang’s dynamic this volume. we predicted exactly how blake would act, how yang would reciprocate. we predicted this accurately because we understand exactly the story crwby is telling and how it plays out. we knew blake and yang spent however long apart thinking about each other. we knew blake felt enormously guilty and sorry and regretted ever running in the first place, and we knew she’d promise yang she’d never do it again. (this was slightly more split, but) plenty of people predicted yang would forgive her instantly, because all yang wanted was to be by her side. we knew this because this story is being told to us and for us. 

sun says it himself: it was never about romance where he and blake are concerned. she’s with who she’s supposed to be with now, and it’s not him. the show told us all of this. 

someone’s inability to view a narrative through a different perspective than their own skewed one does not make it a bad narrative. rwby has done exactly what it’s intended to do with blake & yang, and if all of us - as our fandom is mostly comprised of wlw - could pick up on that perfectly, then the narrative is not the problem. the problem is the homophobic/heteronormative lens with which you are viewing the show through. 

#bumbleby

[arigatouiris]

out of my league // t. h — 02

Pairing: Tom Holland x Critic! Reader [I use female pronouns]

Warnings: swearing; eventual fluff; angst; hurt/comfort; a little bit of cliche because come on.

A/N: If Tom seems a bit out of character here, I apologize. This is after all, my first time writing for him, and it’s all based other fanfiction I’ve read about him or how I see him on screen. Do let me know what you think, it’d be great if some of you had pointers! 

Also, the story does start out a bit slow in the beginning, but trust me, there’s a lot of stuff that’s going to happen that can potentially make things very, very interesting. So hoping to see your reactions~

Thanks for all the love and support, darlings~ 

Word count: 2845 

Series Masterlist

 01 | 02 | 03 |

Ch. 02

At times when (y/n) was not critiquing, she found herself buried in books. She would never call herself an avid reader because she was working most of the time, and for her, reading to write a review didn’t come under reading for fun. 

     It had been close to a year since she had read anything that she didn’t have to critique, and for the first time, she felt a tad bit cheerful for it. It was a book called The Girl Who Fell From The Sky, and narratives such as these always caught her eye. However, this wasn’t how it used to be. Things before never phased her when she was buried into a book; she could man any distraction and not let it come between her mystic connection with the book she held in her hands. However, now, being an adult changed everything.

    (y/n) found it hard to maintain concentration—this didn’t mean that the book wasn’t interesting; she found it interesting enough, though, whenever her phone went off for a notification, her eyes would instantly lift off the page and land on her phone. 

The hate mail fell in number, but they came nonetheless. While some were personal, others were not too fond of her physique and mannerisms on social media. (y/n) had to shut down and deactivate Facebook, Instagram, and didn’t bother to even check Twitter after the fiasco. It had been three days since her break and last conversation with Mr. Holland, after which he hadn’t tried contacting her or approaching her for another apology.

But, these days, journalists made sure that the shelf life for any news story lasts longer than it intentionally was supposed to last. It wasn’t as if they had something against (y/n), it was simply them doing their jobs, and making sure they get enough viewership and interaction with the audience as possible. And here, in London, people loved the best Spiderman, and people loved the man who played the tragic character, Lionel—Tom Holland. 

And even if (y/n) never personally attacked Tom, and attacked instead a writer who was always constantly attacked by even the most amateur of critics, news channels made sure to squeeze as much juice out of this story—(y/n)—as possible.

    And this meant going through her critiquing history.

That Wednesday night, (y/n) remembered watching Love, Actually for the thousandth time, alone in her little cozy home, ignoring the rain outside during the monsoons that pervaded London. After the movie ended, teary eyed for being the secret romantic that she was, (y/n) swiped across random channels until her eyes fell on a picture of herself on television. Immediately, she checked the time. It was over 9 o’ clock. It was prime time. She was doomed.

How am I not off the news yet? Really? They’re going to punish me for doing my job? The tears, they fell now because of the news and not Hugh Grant’s handsomeness. Covering her mouth with both hands, she watched in shock as Jenny began to narrate another story of hers. A story she hadn’t thought was serious.

    “Turns out that our favourite critic,” Jenny gestured sarcastically, “had also gotten into a small duel with another actor before Tom.”

    “That did not happen.” (y/n) whispered, grimacing at the screen.

    “Apparently, after having viewed the hit movie, Do You Remember Us? starring Chris Evans, (y/n) had written a nasty review about the direction of the movie!”

(y/n) groaned. Chris was such a sweetheart, she remembered fondly. He even made a statement on the internet saying how much he liked the review and how he understands the displeasure several fans felt with the way the film was directed. 

     Slow and neat in the first half and rushed toward the end—forcing an exit for the character in the movie, which wasn’t called for in the slightest. But, journalists never pay heed to comments that could lighten the bruise on the person in question. It was almost as if news channels were bullying her for being a critic, and perhaps, it was because she had made so many others in the past very unhappy for the reviews she had written.

    She knew when she got into this job that it wasn’t appreciated by several artists. Years and years put into bettering her best, (y/n)’s words were considered truth almost, for how raw and real her critiquing style was. She made it a point to talk about good things and bad things in every movie or TV show or book she criticized, and criticizing never meant just saying bad things. 

Movie directors would often appreciate her good reviews and saw that more people turned up to their films after the review was published. And even if she had written a disappointing review, (y/n) always made it a point to never badmouth any artist—it was their hard work at the end of the day. A vision that they saw, which perhaps didn’t deliver in the best way for the audience. And this is no one’s fault. Rushed or otherwise, (y/n) ensured that her reviews, bad or good, would talk about the importance of art as a whole.

But, all of that didn’t matter right then. She was hated because Tom Holland “hated” her review and didn’t agree with her. No other celebrity had ensued a statement for her review in such a way before, not directly at least. Displeased writers or directors would contact her personally and ask for an explanation, which she would handle very professionally.

     If only Tom had contacted her—not that he had any right to since there was nothing bad written about her in that review. If only he had read the entire review, he could have seen how (y/n) had mentioned some of the key writing skills that Jean did possess.

She stood up immediately, with a newfound confidence. Heading to the kitchen counter, this decision of hers that popped up out of nowhere, had in fact, come from one place—loneliness and sadness; the two often came together, and weren’t good influences. 

     Picking up the bottle of wine carefully, (y/n) didn’t bother about taking a glass out. The wine bottle had already been opened the night she had written the review, it needn’t be poured into the glass at the moment. I don’t care anymore, she thought before gulping down a mouthful of the red wine, which stung the back of her throat the second it was swallowed. She was never really too much of a drinker, but the night called for it. Turning off the television, (y/n) decided to drink with the quiet tune of her raging thoughts.

    It took five such gulps and fifteen more minutes for her to officially fall under the dangerous level of intoxication. She was giggling at nothing now, teary eyed for reasons that all fell under moronic during normal circumstances. Intoxication had its own way of letting you know how alone you are in the world; of how to doubt your choices, and how to not be proud of them. 

These thoughts came slowly and almost hesitantly, but when they came, it was as if they were welcome.

Her phone rang, but she didn’t pick the call. She thought of Jean, and she thought of how she wanted to call him up—she had his contact from a few earlier reviews, all of which were not so pleasant—and she thought of demanding an explanation. She thought of Susannah, of how she once thought of her manager as the nicest person on the planet, but was someone who only cared first for the firm and (y/n) came slowly following behind like a lost puppy. 

     She thought of all the years of hard work she had put to come to a position where writing those reviews made her money. She worked as a reporter, and on the desk, and almost everywhere and overtime to get to this spot—and it was snatched from her for simply doing her job.

    And she thought of Tom Holland. The attractive and kind actor, whose performance as Spiderman in the Avengers series tore a hole in her heart. She remembered how she sobbed uncontrollably when Peter Parker faded into dust in Tony’s arms. She remembered how she sobbed uncontrollably when he was brought back, again in Tony’s arms. She thought of all the nice things she had written about Tom, the bubbling little high school girl crush that was dormant inside of her led to further disappointment since it was the very same Tom that had taken her hard work away.

As if it were a reverie, drunk (y/n) noticed her phone ringing at last. Trudging toward her device, she saw that the caller ID wasn’t visible. And just as she was about to pick the call, the call ended. In her intoxicated state, she checked how many times this person had called her—there were four missed calls. Blinking a couple of times, and before she lay her phone back on the couch, it rang again. This time, she picked. And this time, she didn’t care if she sounded drunk.

    “Who is it~?” Her voice was sing song.

There was shuffling on the other side, and no answer.

    “Are you... another journalist? Calling to get a note from me for the review I wrote—”She was hiccuping now. “I’m sorry, so yeah. Where was I?” She giggled after this sentence.

It was as if the person on the other end was simply waiting. (y/n) took this as a positive for her questions.

    “I knew it! Okay, okay, okay. Whaddaya wanna know?” She dragged the ‘o’ at the end of her question.

    “I didn’t even write anything bad about Tom… Did you guys even—”Hiccup. “—read the review? Don’t my old reviews count anymore?” She dragged the ‘ore’ at the end of her question. “I wrote such nice things for Tom before! Even on here! I can’t believe he made that satement, oops. I meant, statement. Sorry.”

There was still no voice on the other end.

    “I just did my job, really.” Her voice was low now and perhaps, the intoxication had reached the level of sadness, which allowed her to cry. “I don’t want to be hated on like this.. I pretend as if those words don’t hurt me, but they do!” She dragged the ‘oo’ in the end of her sentence.

    “I’m sorry.” Came a voice that she couldn’t recognize.

    “You have nothing to be sorry for, journalist.” She said, smiling wide, tears falling down her cheeks.

When the call ended, (y/n) decided she had had enough. Going to bed seemed the only viable option, after having such an intense conversation with a stranger.

    “Is something the matter?” Harry asked, staring at his brother.

    “Yeah, your face is funny.” Sam said, grinning.

Tom looked up at his brother with a straight face.

    “I meant, you look very sad over somethin’. Is everything alright?”

Tom sighed. It was the kind of sigh you sigh when something is so wrong and you blame nothing but yourself for leading it there. Harry and Sam looked at each other before looking back at their brother. Tessa was asleep next to Tom, and if she could talk, maybe she’d know what was up in Tom’s mind.

    I feel so bad for her, Tom thought, recalling the conversation (or the lack thereof) he had with (y/n) over call a couple of hours ago. She was quite obviously drunk, another fact he felt terrible for. Tom was quite an observant person, and he could hear it in her tone how sad she actually was. 

As if a shock came over his body, Tom quickly opened his phone and browsed for her reviews—the ones she had written on Spiderman and Avengers; the ones she had mentioned were nice.

    Tom felt worse for not having read them before. She had written descriptively on how well thought out the movie was, and had even mentioned Tom’s improvisation at the end (the scene where he said he didn’t want to go, as Tony Stark held him in his hands). He sighed once more, the same distressed sigh, and rubbed his hand under his jaw. 

     He had called to apologize, having seen her in the news. It was the first time he had seen her face, (e/c) eyes and a nice smile, her hair neat and kempt. Another failed apology, he thought before laying back on the couch.

The next morning, Tom called her first thing, during his morning run. For a second he thought maybe it was too early and that she might still be asleep, but when she picked the call, he felt his heart skyrocket.

    “Hi, I called you last night—”

    “That was you?!” She didn’t sound pleased.

Tom chuckled nervously.

    “Oh my God, you heard me when I was drunk? Couldn’t you have stopped me! This is so embarrassing!”

    “No, no! I didn’t mind! I mean—” Shit, what am I saying? “I meant, I can understand. You don’t have to feel embarrassed—”

    “Mr. Holland, I did not want to cry out my sorrows to you when I was intoxicated. You could have at least let me know that it was you on the other end. What was that?!”

Tom was quiet. He knew he had stressed her out, but now he genuinely wanted to help. He stayed up almost half the night reading so many of her reviews, seeing how she had never insulted a single artist or writer for their art, but only criticized the story. Tom, who had no idea how critiques were written or what thought went into it (and had only believed it was saying bad things, honestly), had finally learned that there was more to criticising than met the eye. (y/n) was a hard working woman, and Tom had somehow made things quite difficult for her.

    “Listen, (y/n), can I call you that?”

There was no response. Perhaps, she had understood that he had something to say, and was allowing him the chance to speak.

    “(y/n), I really want to apologize for what happened. I made a mistake and reacted hastily. I’m going to make things right, but I want to run it by you once before I do it. Please let me apologize to you properly over coffee? I insist—”

    “I already told you, Tom,” his heart beat faster at the way she said his name. It made him feel terrible. Her talking reminded him of his guilt. “I don’t want to meet you for coffee, and if I can recall, I asked you to leave me be.”

    “Yes! Yes, you did. But, listen, I just feel so terrible—Oh my God.”

What Tom saw was a bunch of photographers heading his way. Recognizing him was fairly easy, and because he was on call, he had forgotten to take the path that could have avoided the early morning paparazzi that was waiting for him at the “posh” end of town. Tom groaned before turning around hastily and making a run for it, looking like a complete fool for doing so the way he did, but there was no other faster reaction his brain offered.

    “Hello?” (y/n) was growing impatient.

    “I really have to call you back, (y/n), I am so sorry—”

    “Don’t call me back. Good day, Mr. Holland.”

And there goes another wasted effort for an apology.

Tom didn’t call her back. Not like she expected him to, she had made things too hard for him to apologize. She half expected him to tell one of his friends about how he’s tried so hard to apologize and how she’s being so hard on him—and this invariably getting on the news as well, garnering more hate for her. 

     (y/n) licked her lips before putting on a white baggy sweater. She sat at the edge of her bed and brought her legs up and folded them under her, before grabbing the book she was reading earlier. Just as she read a sentence, her house bell rang.

    “Coming!” She called out, before stopping midway.

What if they’re journalists? It couldn’t have been hard for them to find out where I live, her heart was beating at 300 mph at the moment with the mere thought that it could be reporters at her doorstep. She didn’t have the heart nor the energy to deal with any other person at the moment. Her heart had already been damaged way too much.

    The bell rang once more, and her heart along with it.

(y/n) cursed loudly for not having a peephole through which she could have seen who was on the other side. She had to open the door before finding out who was on the other side. Shutting her eyes and quickly muttering a prayer to who knows what, (y/n) opened the door.

And the shocked face she made perhaps didn’t startle Tom as much as his awkwardly smiling face startled her.

series taglist: 

@strangemaximoff​​, @aestheticgaybish​, @noobmaster63​​, @why-are-all-the-teens-gay​​, @wonders-of-the-multiverse​​, @boushalaivre​​, @jackiehollanderr​​, @nerdypisces160​​, @yourwonderbelle​, @quackson606​, @stickyqueenbouquetsstuff

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom hollander #tom holland fic #tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x you

[likefromtheoffice]

What I Had To Do - TLoUII SPOILERS

I started feeling compelled to write a deep reflection on The Last of Us Part II when it became clear I was going to be playing as Abby for quite some time. Like everyone else, I imagine, I had made up my mind about Abby almost immediately. She would die, and I would be the one to do it. I didn’t want to play as Abby, I wanted to not move the controller and just have her die. But the game makes the choices here. 

Of course, knowing Naughty Dog and expecting the level of quality I did from this game, there was certainly a reason we were slated to spend so much time with her. While I ultimately came to respect this choice, it was plain to see that the game was going to attempt to change our minds about Abby, to show us how she came to be the person she is and how she was driven to do the things she had done. For this reason, I was not engaged in Abby’s story. Because, like I said, I’d already made up my mind. 

The brilliantly-handled revelation of her father being the surgeon the player is forced to kill in the first game was enough to fully humanize this woman who, in the space after she kills Joel up until she is hoisted in the Seraphite noose is surely the most viciously despised character on Playstation. Even though I kept the difficulty low in order to breeze through her portion of the story, I admittedly did eat my words: “If they can change my mind about Abby, I’ll be shocked.” My mind was changed just about as much as Abby’s heart changed throughout her ~10 hours of game time. She ends up doing almost exactly what Joel does for Ellie for a very similar reason, although Lev’s brain can’t save the world.

When I found Abby at the Pillars, I had already decided that if the game were to give me the option to press Square to kill Abby or circle to let her live, I’d smash the circle button. When Ellie says “I can’t let you leave,” I thought to myself, “yes, let’s actually do let her leave, but we probably should fuck her up a little bit, right?” Fuck her up we did, but of course the game isn’t base enough to trivialize the story it’s told over 20+ hours by letting you funnel out all your rage with a button press, completely destroying Ellie’s and Lev’s lives with a single click.

So ultimately, Abby’s segment shows us a lot about the world we’re living in inside this game, and the metaphor of warring clans with their own agendas and perspectives very directly reflects the distilled personal motivations behind Abby’s and Ellie’s actions. I said a hundred times that Abby’s section was too long, and I think I’d drastically shorten the first act. I don’t think we needed to stroll through the base and see kids taking classes in an attempt to humanize and raise the stakes for her. When we’re forced to play as her, we are not interested in what is happening. You could start with information about Owen and the coming attack on the Island. A lot of Abby’s section felt like Druckmann knowing that we need more hours for $60. But this may have been because until Lev’s mother dies in her cabin, I still wanted to watch her die.

This is where it all changed for me, except for the feeling that her segment was still too long. One thing this segment does perfectly and to hopefully great and continued effect, is to show us--more than the game already has--that LGBTQI+ stories are now a part of our human experience, and these people will be in the stories we tell. And it won’t be a fucking big deal. “Do you want me to ask about it?” “No.” 

I was able to stay almost entirely blind to the promotional materials for Part II. When I started the game at 11pm CST, I knew only that there was a guitar, there was a fight in a shopping area, and there was a real bad person cutting a hanging guy’s stomach open. I was also able to avoid anyone’s conjecture about the game, but in seeking the opinions of others after I’d completed it, I’ve discovered the bizarre criticisms about the narrative. Namely, being forced to play as Abby for so long and having “social issues” shoved in their face when they’re “just trying to play the game.” I had a problem with the Abby segment even after I began to see its purpose, but eventually it cracked me open in the way it intended. In making me do the things she’d done, I was of course forced to fully realize her perspective from the moment we’re put over her shoulder instead. But the latter issue is what bothers me to no end, and it’s upsetting that we’re still here as gamers.

If someone has a problem with Ellie’s sexuality or coming of age, Dina’s sexuality, Lev’s gender identity, or the fact that all our main characters are women, then the only hope I have for that player is that they might see themselves in Seth. Seth is the physically oldest character we see in the game, and he is the only character who has any problem with what he’s seeing. He’s alone in his bigotry and he is weak. He will die very soon and he will do nothing meaningful before then, aside from being forced to make free steak sandwiches for those he has hurt by those who are in power and do not take his side. If this hypothetical--although very real--player fails to make this revelation and turn this corner, if that person still disapproves of the story being told, my question to them would be: “did you accidentally buy this when you meant to download Call of Duty: Warzone?” If you’re not playing the game for the story, you should just play a game where you’re always shooting things. If you are playing the game for the story and you have a problem with the story, also fuck off to Call of Duty. I use Call of Duty here because it’s mainstream and not objectionable and you are holding the trigger through most of the game where the story doesn’t matter if you don’t want it to, not because I have a problem with its playerbase or the games themselves.

The dissent I still cling to is that it’s difficult to ratchet intensity upward and keep motivation high when you know the character has to survive because you’ve seen a future piece of the story--especially when you don’t want them to survive. This was most sharply upsetting when I was still playing as Abby after she shoots Jesse and Tommy in their heads. I felt like tossing the controller and quitting. The only reason I can think of for this choice is that the trope of unwinnable fights in games exposes the guts therein. For me, though, this exposed them even more. I would rather have tried very hard to kill Abby and then have her overpower me with those cannon arms and watch the devastating Dina scene play out. It’s what I wanted just then, and was undoubtedly what Ellie wanted. This would have aligned me more with her, the character who I would still side with instantly and unquestionably. It was so strange to fight Ellie’s AI, particularly because the computer does not play her like I do, and for the only portion in the entire game, she was not human. I understand what this rigid perspective attempts to illustrate, but the choice still puzzles me greatly. 

While I am still able to see why the game did it and why it was necessary, there was no way I was ever going to care about the Jackson Crew. This made playing with Manny and Mel very frustrating. Owen’s meta-perspective philosophizing about how none of the clans are actually any different from each other was interesting, but it was not touched on for very long, and now seems to only have been there to benefit Abby’s journey toward her own perspective-altering events. I see this as the only other true failing of the game, although I don’t have any idea how it could’ve been done differently. Aside from being shorter.

            The reason everyone hates playing as Abby is because very few narratives have ever fully explored the other side of a conflict, and for us to be forced to see that, to play as The Bad Guy for so long, is something we’re absolutely going to hate for a long time. It does, or it should if you’re paying attention, eventually do exactly what it’s supposed to do. When Abby becomes human, we can then say that we’ve experienced the story up to that point. We are almost never shown this, much less forced to do it. 

Another thing I’m stuck on but can’t suss out is the theme of pregnancy and innocence. Of course, an unborn baby is completely innocent even in an overgrown hellscape. Where this is most effectively employed is when the knife is at Dina’s throat. “Good.” Maybe the most terrifying line in the whole pair of games. It shows us the depth of hatred these women have fallen to, and how, like the player controlling Joel or Ellie or Abby in parts I and II, when we have to survive, it doesn’t matter what’s going on in anyone else’s life. If we feel someone has wronged us, we take everything from them and don’t consider the consequences. This game does show us our own actions very plainly, and the ultimate consequence could not have been more beautifully shown than in the final chronological scene in Part II. In following her own anger--combined with Tommy’s--she has damaged her connection to the very reason she followed it. She cannot play the song she shared with Joel without wounds appearing in the music itself. 

Ultimately, the story told here is about violence. Why, how, and when it is employed, the unexpected casualties thereof, and how it changes the world for everyone connected to it. Love, hate, survival, revenge, and so many more. Joel protecting Ellie ended a lot of lives--starting as duty and perverting into misguided redemption and love. Abby avenging her father ended a lot of lives--starting as revenge and ending as duty and love. The cyclical implication is very clear as we come to blows between the two rowboats, although it is--like many other gigantic story moments--masterfully left un-hinted-at. If Ellie were to have held Abby under the water for a minute more and Lev were to survive somehow, we’d have ourselves a Part III for almost the same reason which started us down the troubling path of Part II. Can you imagine Ellie looking into the boat at a broken and unconscious Lev? Would she have felt something similar to looking over the bars of JJ’s crib?

What a lot of games don’t bother to explore is what violence takes away from those who employ it, no matter the reason for their doing so. When Ellie walks away from the farmhouse where her family used to live, leaving the last object connecting her to Joel there at the window, I was devastated, as I’m sure we all were and as I’m sure the storytellers intended. Through the deeply troubled feeling Naughty Dog left me with, I was searching for meaning, like Ellie was after seeing those giraffes: “After all we’ve been through. Everything that I’ve done. It can’t be for nothing.” What was it for? It seemed like it was going to be difficult to determine when the credits started to roll, but when it appeared to me, I was embarrassed it had taken me so long to figure out. Everyone was led to their devastating conclusion by the same driving force: love.

There’s also been a fair bit of talk about how bleak the outcome is, and how hopeless everything seems. This observation comes down to how deeply we’re hit by Abby’s boat disappearing into the fog as we sit entirely alone, physically and emotionally less than we’ve been so far, and how the ending and outlook of the whole game isn’t really what we want right now because our world doesn’t need a lot of help in the bleak category. Of course we want everything to work out, and we are so used to video games giving us what we want. Tragedy doesn’t cater to the wants of the audience, and the weight of this tragedy is gargantuan. What a knee jerk dismissal of the story would rob you of is the incredible contrast. I finished the game eight days ago and I’ve probably watched the dance scene at least once per day since. How gorgeous. “Oh, Ellie…” says Dina. To feel this moment fully, knowing its the beginning of a beautiful thing that can’t last, is a gift rarely given to any audience or player. It does so much so deeply in 3.5 minutes. That scene in itself shows us that this isn’t what we’re used to, and the bit of Joel and Ellie’s interaction we get in that scene also demonstrates that the things we care most about are not okay right now. We were Joel more than Ellie in the first game and we protected her. We saved her. We want to continue to protect her.

But the decisions Joel made in the hospital guaranteed things would never be okay. What is it that these folks want from the ending? “You killed Abby! Congratulations! Ellie went on to found Joel Miller Memorial Research Center, where a cure was eventually reverse-engineered from a culture of bacteria extracted from Ellie’s intestine. Dina eventually forgave Ellie, and invited her to live with her and JJ inside the walls of Jackson where they dance, free from hatred and despair, every Thursday night.”

It’s hyperbolic, sure, but what a fucking waste that would be. What we have instead is a seemingly insurmountable sorrow which wraps around a glowing core of warmth and beauty which we’ve seen firsthand throughout both games, begging us to discuss and reflect and analyze and feel. Is the ending really entirely hopeless if Ellie puts down and leaves behind the guitar which attached her to Joel? I don’t know if she’s wearing or still has the watch, I’d have to see the cutscenes again. But she’s walking away from it, finally. What could she be walking toward?

Finally, there is one piece of storytelling after the credits, not a cutscene or a piece of text. The iconic title screen rowboat which we assume Ellie rides away in is replaced with its twin, dragged up onto the shore near Abby & Lev’s beached fishing boat. I’m having trouble putting what I believe this means into words that don’t sound too disgustingly sunny, but if Abby and Ellie, these two veritable destroyers are now free from the searing chains of revenge, and we’ve seen their allegiances shift and their hearts fundamentally changed, imagining the good they’re capable of isn’t too terribly difficult a task. That’s disgustingly sunny to even type out, but I believe it’s supported. It’s very clear that at this point, both parties deserve and have earned peace, inside and out.

[bdneiceme]

Changes....

Every year, at the end of the year, I always do a reflection of what the year has taught me. More recently I began writing Facebook posts, but 2019 taught me so much that I figured a blog would be much better...

2019, all in all, wasn’t a bad year at all. Uncomfortable? Extremely! Bad? No. I will say, it definitely wasn’t “my year”. I grew in ways that I could of never guessed. I hit record lows, but I gracefully recovered. And with God’s grace I’ll be blessed to enter into the last year of my 20s next week. So here are some take-a-ways that I learned.

1. Rejection is necessary. I can honestly say, my life has been extremely easy for the most part. The life I’ve experienced doesn’t hold a candle to some of my friends. It was imperative that I understood the string of losing, and constantly losing at that, so that I could appreciate how much life has been a breeze. I have seen more closed doors this year than ever in my life. I was angry. I was pissed. It was everybody else, and never me. It became a lot...It wasn’t until I talked to God that I understood that the rejection was protection. Even though the closed door looked like the end of the World, what was on the side coulda been way worse. Learning to take rejection and not turn it inward is an uphill battle, but 2019 definitely equipped me to better navigate those feelings. I’m grateful.

2. Love isn’t enough. With Disney+ shaking the table and having all streaming sites shook, it’s a good time to revisit a lot of our favorite childhood movies. When I was a Therapist I would refer to the “Disney effect” that many Millennials, in my opinion, are cursed with. We saw so many Princesses fall in love, go through trauma, but in the end true love prevailed. In my own opinion, we allowed Disney to romanticize some downright awful relationship standards and through some fairy tale music to it. And now many of us still follow under the unction that “true love” will always be enough. I believed it too, until it wasn’t. I found myself in a relationship this year that I was literally blindsided with. I ignored all logic and hanging out a few times a week turned into a year and half of complete and utter bullshit. Time wasted because love wasn’t enough. That little voice, the pit in your stomach, the lump in your throat...that’s not fear of commitment. That’s God literally giving you signs that, “This ain’t it Chief!” Listen to it ! If you start allowing it, you’ll have to continue to allow it and you don’t deserve that. I don’t deserve that. So I cleaned the slate. I pay T-Mobile every month for an alarm clock, but that’s okay. The peace I have is so much greater. I guess my first point goes hand-in-hand with this one. Though I felt rejected, I THANK GOD FOR HIS PROTECTION ! I’m grateful. P.S. Don’t become what hurt you !

3. “No new friends”. When Drake released that track I instantly caught an attitude. At the time, my new friends was better than my old ones and I didn’t get it. Until I did. I felt so alone this year. Not depressed. Just alone. This year I had to depend on me. I didn’t have the support that I desired, I wanted. I went through some of the darkest moments of my life alone. This isn’t a jab at my friends, but I had no idea how much I needed to be alone. I needed to depend on me and only me. I had to be isolated. I didn’t need anyone to try to sugarcoat the reality of me at a fork in the road. I couldn’t afford to fallback into the same pattern of things. Truth is some of the closest people to you will stunt your growth because they don’t want to see you grow, because what happens when they outgrow you? So they plant seeds by telling you it’s everybody else and not you. So while you stay stagnant, they grow, and eventually they’re the ones that outgrow you ! I thought I was abandoned. Friends that I thought I could lean on, I realized quickly, they were not my friends. Friends I had for years were now acquaintances. I was alone. But in those moments, I found me. I had the tough conversations about my own toxic, negative behavior, and in those moments I became a better version of myself. And now I’ve met me again. I’ve been able to meet people,and let my own guard down, who really do care about little ole me. I’ve rekindled friendships that I hindered, some hindered me. But all-in-all, I’m grateful.

4. The power of no. I give great advice. Like really good, but I don’t always listen to my own, but I do give it. I had to learn to say no. This year I felt so drained, until I started saying no. I really do think it means something when someone calls when they could of called anybody. But in the same breath, can you call them? Because of that little revelation I’ll tell someone in a heartbeat now, HELL NO ! Lol but serious when I’m not in a good head space, I tell people I’m sorry, I can’t today, we’ll have to talk about it later. I’m not losing my own sanity so you can process through yours. I’m not caring the weight of your burdens so I can weigh my own self down. I can’t. I won’t. Stress literally triggers so many physical responses that I literally started dealing with my anxiety again. Like can’t breath, gotta take a walk or a drive because I’m so overwhelmed, overstimulated. So I learned to say no. The attitudes will catch you off guard initially, but the freedom of ‘no’ goes a long way. My phone LIVES on DND 🤧 because I’m allowed to be selfish with my time. I’m allowed to not want to hear bad news. My spirit feels lighter. My mind stop racing, I was able to rest, all because I learned the power of no. I’m grateful.

5. Silence is golden. My mother used to tell me all the time that just because something needs to be said doesn’t mean you have to be the spokesperson. Earlier in the year I defended someone who I truly do care about. Ch...I got called everything but a child of God after I did it lol. It doesn’t matter what was actually said, because of my personality anything I say or do is always dragged to the 10th degree. So by the time I read through texts and phone calls, I was, yet again, the wrong one. But the situation taught me that because people already have so many preconceived notions about who and what we are anyway, why waste my time, energy and breath. Learning to silence myself and let things be what they’ll be has truly been a journey. I internalize a lot. Like a lot. I genuinely like to be liked by people. But this year I learned those committed to misunderstanding you will always do just that. I may do some off the wall stuff but my heart is pure. I’ve helped people who have slandered my name and I never told a soul what they did to me, and never will. As sure as I’m writing this blog, it’ll come out. It always does. But I what I have to learn to do is not allow someone to pull that type of behavior out of me. I even started going back to therapy because of it. I’m learning. I’m growing. I’m grateful.

6. It’s okay to be mad, just don’t stay mad. I’ve spent so much of my life bitter. Truth is I wasn’t over so many of the things that were done to me and instead of telling someone I let it turn me bitter. I was angry. I was hurting. I saw so many of my peers have people to lean on and mentor them through the processes and then there was me....I hated it. I still felt like a 6 year old little girl some days. As a child, I was talked about like I was grown. So once I got older, I learned to snap back 10x harder to ensure the disrespect would never occur again. You hurt my feelings? Cool, I’ll demolish yours. 🤷🏽‍♀️ But at 28 who tf wants to live like that? I wasn’t raised like that. It was draining. Then people looked at me to be the bitter one. You know the “jokes” they tell but in all actuality it’s the shade they don’t want to say flat out. It was my narrative. I was sick of it. Letting that fester....it ate at me. I had to give it to God. I always desired to be like everybody else until God touched my heart. It’s a process, but I’m better ! He’s healing me. Working on me. Allowing me the unique opportunity to grow through my own issues has allowed me to give grace to others for theirs. I’m grateful.

7. I’m sorry. I’m ending the blog with 7 points because this one is the most important. I’m learning to take responsibility for my own mistakes. Having the courage to embrace my own shortcomings. I apologize to those I ridiculed, betrayed, lied to, beat up 🥴, humiliated, embarrassed and disrespected. I know this doesn’t excuse the offense, but from the bottom of my heart I’m sorry. In my own disappointments and insecurities I took it out on you, and that you didn’t deserve. Learning to swallow your own pride makes room for the blessings you let pass you by, because your heart wasn’t in the right place. My heart is healing and I literally squirm thinking about some of my past behaviors. At the time, I meant every bit of it, because I was operating from a hurt place. I never gave myself an apology for the person I was trying to survive. I’m trying. Learning to not allow what happened to me, consume me. Forgiving myself for every mistake. Owning who I am and who I am called to be. I don’t want to turn 40 and then start living life 😕 I want to do it now. But I couldn’t get to it because I was my own stumbling block. God has a funny way of humbling you, but what he will do is just that, humble you ! And because of that humility, I can now let some light in I know how wrong I was, but the glory is...it’s a process...but I’m grateful.

I made sure to end every point with ‘I’m grateful’ because I truly am grateful. I’m grateful for it all. The good. The bad. The ugly. I’m grateful. Why? Because I’m still here, so that means it didn’t kill me. It could of, but it didn’t ! This year, this decade....taught me so much. My goodness my 20s taught me some things okay lol but I thank God for the grace He gave me to try to get it right. I’m ready for Scene 29 and I am beyond ready to see what 2020 has to offer ! I deserve it ! Be grateful !

[thedungeonsbat]

Muggle Love (Chapter 12)

A/N: This is shorter than usual but I hope you still like it. Also, credit to @obviously-best-potions-master for our dear owl's name.😊

_________________

Chapter 12

The lunch with your dad on Sunday went fine. He told you what's new back home, how's your mother doing and all. He made some jokes and you had a nice laugh. For some time, you were able to get Severus out of your head. You did like him but lately, he has been intruding your thoughts way too much. Especially when you sat down to relax. You kept wondering if it was too soon to write to him and the argument had continued.

Apparently, Severus' owl didn't have a name so you decided to name him. Erebus. Surprisingly, he began answering that name though it took 4-5 days. He was grumpy as ever but now he did not resist you petting him. You were hopeful that maybe someday he'll show some signs of affection too.

Just another evening you were chilling with Carl and Holly. They were talking about things you didn't pay attention to. You kept looking out of the window, wishing Severus would pop out of some corner.

Holly excused herself as she was running late for her work. Carl turned to you but you did not notice. He waved his hand in front you and you snapped out of your thoughts. He smiled at you and asked softly,

"Where are you lost (Y/N)?"

"Oh, nowhere. Just thinking." You replied, shrugging.

He turned a bit serious, or rather worried. "Is there something wrong (Y/N/N)? You can tell me because I think you've been acting unusual lately." There was concern in his eyes, he was always worrying that you were stressing yourself too much.

"No, really. I'm fine." You weakly smiled at him but his expression did not change, he was not gonna let go this easy.

"(Y/N), you can tell me anything, all right?" He said softly and slowly. He was so concerned for you and you felt bad you hadn't been sharing with your best friend, the one whom you told everything that happened with you. You had never mentioned Severus, he was more like your own secret world. It was true, every time you had been with him, everything had been very different, very magical. It was almost like you did not want to share him which you felt weird to know. Were you being obsessive?

With a deep sigh, you gathered up the courage to speak, "It's just a guy I know… from back home." you lied about him being someone from your home city but you were half-honest.

Carl furrowed his brows, wanting to hear more about this 'guy' you never told him about before. "I've just been missing him." That was true, even if it was just a few weeks since he has been away and you seldom saw him while he was here, you missed him. You missed his velvety voice that made your insides flutter, you missed his cold yet tender gaze which saw directly through you.

It was as if some realization had struck Carl when he began nodding his head in understanding. "So, Holly was right all along." He said thoughtfully.

You eyed him curiously, "Holly? What did she say?"

"She was the one to notice your different behaviour. She suspected it was a guy, I thought otherwise. Now I know, so tell me who he is." He smirked and you rolled your eyes.

"Oh please, he's just a friend." You said irritably.

He snickered and said, "I am your friend, you don't daydream about me." His mischievous glance was not something you were enjoying.

You scowled and punched his arm. "OW!" He said while rubbing his arm. You folded your arms and went back to looking out of the window, face fuming. He regained his teasing grin, "Ooh, look who's blushing."

Your eyes widened and you glared daggers at him. Your cheeks turned even redder if that was possible. "You shut up right now!" It felt so embarrassing to you, you couldn't maintain eye contact with him.

He pretended to be hurt and made a sullen look. You could not do this anymore, you gave up. As always, he was too sweet to be upset with. You rolled your eyes at him and apologised, "Okay, I'm sorry."

He instantly gave up with the acting and smiled broadly. "So, you telling me about him?"

"Do I have a choice?" You asked.

"Nope." He replied. "Tell me his name first." He said excitedly. You smiled at how childish he was being.

"It's Severus." You said, letting the name roll off your tongue smoothly. Images of Severus flooded your mind. His cold, piercing eyes, his dark hair, black robes and then his smile, the most beautiful smile you had witnessed.

"Severus." He repeated, "Odd sort of name, isn't it?" You narrowed your eyes at him. "No offence, of course, just never heard something like it before." He quickly added.

"He's different." You remarked smugly.

"Clearly." He smirked. You raised an eyebrow, not understanding what he meant. "Only someone different would have caught your eye." He teased.

You would have hit him again but contained yourself. "Go on." He said, very amused, more by your embarrassment than the conversation.

"Well, he is tall, has shoulder-length black hair with onyx eyes." You began the description, Carl was listening closely. "He usually wears all-black. He is this mysterious kind of guy, doesn't really talk much, mostly just listens or lost in his own thoughts. You can never tell what he's thinking. He's hard on the outside, softer on the inside." You were lost in your narrative until Carl spoke,

"Doesn't seem your type to me." He stated.

"What do you mean?" You asked, harshly than intended.

"I mean, he seems like a dark sort of person, mysterious, as you put it and you, on the other hand, are totally the opposite." You were indeed different from him but that never occurred as a problem, you were fine this way. Besides, Severus was not as hard as he seemed but the reality was, he was actually softer just around you.

"I don't know. I told you we were just friends." It was his turn to roll his eyes. It was strange how it was so obvious to him that you liked him but it was so hard to accept it to yourself. It was transparent to him whereas opaque to you. Nothing had been this hard to understand.

"He certainly has had an impact on you, you are acting like him." He complained and you wondered if you really were. He glanced at his watch and his expression changed into an annoyed one, "Wish we could continue with the description but it seems I have to go."

You smiled kindly at him and replied, "It's fine. Perhaps someday else." Internally, you wished you never had to continue this little chat. Somehow, just talking about Severus made you feel weird.

He got up and stretched a bit. He made his way to the door and waved you goodbye but before leaving he said something leaving you wide-eyed in your seat.

"He's not 'from back home', is he?"

You were dumbfounded in your place and he got his answer. "Bye (Y/N)."

~~Meanwhile at Hogwarts~~

It hasn't been easy for Severus at Hogwarts. Remus Lupin, another Gryffindor he did not 'like' had been appointed as the Defense Against The Dark Arts professor this year.

What annoyed him more was that he hadn't received a single letter from you. Two weeks and he still had not seen any sign of his owl. He was disappointed, never in his life, he had longed for a sight of his owl.

Another day passed, Lupin brought a boggart in his class and one of the students took Severus' form. But it did not bug him for very long.

He was seated in the staff room, not his usual place to be as he stayed mostly in the dungeons. There was only Professor Sprout there to accompany him. She was on the verge of leaving when something began banging the window, distracting Severus from the essay papers he was checking.

"Severus, is that your owl?" Professor Sprout asked cheerfully, which was how she always remained. She was the Head of the Hufflepuff house after all. Severus grunted and looked at the window and it was indeed his owl with a letter tied to its feet.

Severus did not reply to Professor Sprout and walked towards the window and opened it, letting the owl in. It was a great relief to see you had finally written to him and all of his anger just vanished away, though he did not show any change of expressions due to her Sprout's presence.

She smiled broadly at him, a bit excited to know who had owled him. Anyone would be curious to know who that person might be as Dumbledore was there at Hogwarts and she could not think of anyone else writing to him. She knew Severus would not be very informative so she left without any word.

Severus gently untied the letter and stroked the owl softly, his gaze fixed upon the piece of paper in his hand.

He sat down to read the letter and carefully opened it. He could not help a smile when he finished reading it. It said,

'Dear Severus,

I am sorry for being this late in writing to you as I could not decide if it was fine to write this soon. I hope you are doing excellent and this letter finds you well. I do not know where you stay but it seems like your owl does.

I do not have much to tell, everything is the same in the "muggle" world. I keep thinking of how things are in the magical world. I'd be more than happy to know if you can let me know about some of the interesting stuff in your letter.

Also, I never asked you what you taught (very foolish of me). I am sure that whatever it is, you are great at it. And you should know that I named owl, seeing that you had not. I call him Erebus and much to my astonishment, he even answers to that name. I hope you don't mind it.

I look forward to your reply and if possible, tell me about your fellow teachers and the school, I can't seem to stop thinking about how fascinating they might be. I am already missing you a lot and wish you could come or I could come over for Christmas. Have a good day.

(Y/N).'

Even in the cold staff room, he felt warm. His eyes were shining with numbers of emotions. Even if the letter didn't say that much, it was so much to him. Mostly, he was relieved to know that you had not completely forgotten him. Stupid of him to think that though, you, who thought of him all the time could not possibly dream of forgetting him.

"Erebus," Severus said while smiling at your thoughtful choice. The owl did look at him, questioningly.

He got up after staring at the letter and thinking of you for several minutes. It was unfortunate he had two more classes but now, not even Potter could bother his joyous mood.

He opened the door to leave and at the same moment, McGonagall was entering the room. He didn't grunt or scowl at her, as he usually might.

"Afternoon, Minerva." He greeted and not bitterly, but with a hint of a smile.

Minerva blinked a couple of times in disbelief, "A-afternoon, Severus." She said, her eyebrows knitted together in deep confusion.

Severus gave her a side smirk, only increasing her interest. He walked out of the door, his cloak billowing behind him.

'What was that? Severus and smiling? Slytherin's not even in lead. Potter is in no trouble.....or is he?' Minerva was thinking. Whatever possible reasons she could think of, none of them was anywhere near the real thing. It was you, an ordinary muggle (not to Severus), who was on his mind.

_________________

Thanks for Reading!

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[evangeline01posts]

How Authentically Can I use Life Experiences to Create an Engaging Piece of Work?

When in early 2018, Anoushka Warden’s autobiographical play “My Mum’s A Twat” opened at the Royal Court, she was hailed ‘fearless’ by Artistic Director Vicky Featherstone. She went on to say of her first reading of the play that she was “Blown away by it – by the energy of the storytelling. I became breathless, struck by the writing’s musicality and by its title. I was amazed by the resilience of this young girl who was effectively abandoned.” However, Warden at that time was not and never had intended to be a writer: her one woman show came from a stream of conscious writing based and grounded completely in the reality of her own situation. As Mark Twain said, “Truth is stranger than fiction”, and Warden certainly proves that this is true. On a similar note, there are plenty of writers such as, Tennessee Williams, who express parts of their own life experiences in their work such as when Williams gives a nod to his own childhood in “A Glass Menagerie” or certain writers that seemingly ground their work in fiction as seen through the lens of “Fleabag” in Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s one woman show. As such I wanted to investigate how I can use the life experiences of those around me to create an authentic piece of work examining where the boundary between complete honesty and dramatic license exists.

My first aim was to create a piece of work that was accessible to the community it was based upon whilst also being accessible to people on a universal level. I decided I wanted to create a piece of work based on my Nana, Heather, and the stories she’s told of being from a fishing town in the 60’s as these had gripped me throughout my upbringing. This would also give me a clear target audience. The Grimsby fishing industry was massive and involved a network of families that would have a relationship with the piece because they had their own understanding of the time. On presenting the idea, one piece of feedback I got was from my tutor Jayne Courtney. She was born close by to Grimsby, in Hull and commented that as Hull also had docks and a fishing community she too could relate ‘directly to the story and nostalgia of her own experience’s’.  However here I was only fulfilling one part of my aim, I needed to make sure that the play would be received by people who had no concept of that time so as to create something with widespread appeal. Writer David Edgar once said, ‘The play text is both a blueprint and record, but also has an independent life’. This gave me the confidence to free the story up. Whilst I was documenting my Nana’s life, I could allow myself to use elements of dramatic license to help shape a story of its own. I started to think about the elements of the story that anyone could resonate with; her turbulent relationship with her rebellious husband, Keith– which taken out of context is really just a story about love and family, something that everyone has some understanding of and can connect to. I therefore wanted to draw on a particular story about the time my Mum found an article about Keith in the Bygones, a section of the modern-day newspaper that looks back on stories from the past. He was wanted for being involved in a shooting at a local pub. The reality was his friend had a starting gun that he pulled out- completely harmless. However, what if, for my story, the gun was real, and it had been used to harm someone and Heather was in some way recounting this. As tutor Karen Henthorn had taught me in my acting training to ‘always play the highest stakes’ I wanted to transfer this to my writing and play the ultimate scenario. This would make the story much more about a woman witnessing a betrayal from her husband and could arise many feelings of anger or confusion, of pain and protection: all of which every person must have experienced on some level in their life. Falling in love in the 60’s really is no different to falling in love today, illustrated extremely well in Baz Luhrmann’s interpretation of ‘Romeo and Juliet’, for example. So, in doing this, I hope I opened the piece up to a universal audience who could recognise Heather’s emotional journey and connect in some way to it.

The next step, now that I had a clear idea of what I wanted the piece to be and who I wanted it to be aimed at was to start the writing process and achieve a first draft. Taking inspiration from the likes of Warden, I began stream of conscious writing.  However, the work quickly descended into a ramble and mesh of different stories my Nana had told me about her and my Grandad thus lacking clear direction. My second aim was to create a clear story arc, where a change occurred in the state and situation of the character from beginning to end. So, coming back to that, I decided to use a technique I had learnt from reading up on Waller- Bridge’s creative process in “Fleabag”. She talked of always having three things going on for the character in the scene at any one time, as seen in the first section of ‘Fleabag’ in which she is late for a job interview, sweaty and hot but really needing to impress. She went on to say when you achieve this “You instantly have reality”. By this I think she means as humans we are hardly ever focusing on one want, we always have multiple metaphorical plates to balance and are brains are aware of so many different things coming at us. Applying this to my work, if Heather was only having a conversation with the audience, there is nothing else going on and we are far removed from reality. I therefore decided to put someone else in the space, a Police Officer to rely the story too, someone who was looking for her husband Keith. He was kept imaginary to allow the focus to still be on Heather and her story but giving the character someone to speak directly to gave her a reason for speaking that developed into an objective. If the Officer was around enquiring after Keith, why wasn’t he there? Maybe Heather was protecting him? I quickly started to have my 3 things going on; Heather outwardly trying to placate and find out what the officer wanted whilst inwardly worrying about the disappearance of her partner. It gave a really interesting conflict between the show she was trying to put on against her own fear’s. I just needed a third. I came up with the concept that she was due to pick her daughter up from her mother’s, it provided a reason for her to want to see the Officer out and another thing weighing her down. This also meant I could start the piece with a really clear story and journey for it to go on. This was because all of these things Heather was battling put her right in the middle of the action with an active want. It wasn’t just a woman recounting some stories. Whilst this slightly altered the reality again, it would give me a clear set up to fill the imagined world with entirely real scenarios.

The next part was to then sustain this strong opening and continue the narrative arc and journey. The Officer had given me the means to do this. By the characters wanting something from each other it could allow them to move, affect and thus change one another. I wasn’t sure how exactly I wanted to do this but I took inspiration from Steve Waters who commented; “The idea of sitting down and working it all out and then fitting the dialogue in is a lot of nonsense because dialogue is about action, it is about the energy in the play… writer who has to get through it minute-by-minute, second-by-second, word-by-word to get to the next word.” Therefore, I thought the best way to do this was to just let the two characters live in the space. To find out what was going to happen and how they would push each other around. In order to do that I decided I had to write the dialogue of the Officer, so that his arc was as clear as Heather’s; even if I took him out again it was not enough to imagine him anymore, he had to be real. In doing this I could start to examine the status of the Officer, especially at that time and how that affected the normally outspoken Heather. At what points was she bold in her responses to him and at what points could he silence her to submission. I also found the writing reached a natural point in which, under the strain of the pretense, she dropped her guard to the Officer and revealed that she didn’t know where her partner was. This changed the dynamic and relationship between them, it felt natural that the Officer would have some sympathy for her, dropping his status to identify with her on an equal and human level. When I then looked at removing the Officer’s parts again I found the scene now had a clearer journey for Heather that was heavily influenced by her now clear relationship with the Officer.

Now I had written a very rough draft of my story I wanted to take my work to an audience and see what reaction it could ascertain. Duncan Macmillan says his biggest surprise about having his work performed by actors is that ‘however much I’ve worked on a play before rehearsal, I’ll still need to cut and rewrite almost everything’ and I think this is so, because different people will have their own artistic responses and thoughts on your piece of work that will naturally force the writing to change in order to accommodate and actually, I know from my own training, when collaboration occurs the results can be even more fruitful than what one person could achieve on their own.

I therefore wanted to read the work so far to my peers and see what response I would achieve. But in light of quarantine this proved tricky. Instead, I picked certain sections of my work to record and send to them and receive feedback on. A section of the work I performed for them can be found in Appendixes C. I wanted to highlight this particular section to talk about in my rationale for it received especially important feedback. From Reader A it was said that the work seemed especially ‘chunky’ and ‘far less conversational’ because of the absence of the Officer’s lines. Further to this, Reader B, said what was happening to Heather would make her ‘a bit more all over the place’. It was also felt that a lot of Heather’s responses were ‘engineered’ as they were having to ‘spell out’ the officer’s lines that were deleted. This was going against my third aim to create a ‘nuanced piece of dialogue’.

My first thought was to reinstate the lines and think about having the Officer live in the space however I then remembered Alice Birch’s ‘Blank’ that I had recently seen performed. There is a scene between a young girl and a police officer were his lines were deleted. The first thing I noticed about her work was that the policeman’s lines were very minimal, he let the girl reveal her information and only prompted her at times. For instance, the Officer says, ‘Your friend’ and rather than the girl simply answering ‘yes’ she goes on to say ‘He hadn’t decided to have a party. He had an empty house – his parents weren’t there’, so rather than the Officer driving the conversation and asking everything, the girl offers up the information herself. I therefore decided I needed to have longer periods of time were Heather was speaking and in control and not the Officer. This proved tricky at first in my story he is firmly in control and on the front foot asking Heather questions.  However, as was said in my feedback ‘she’s all over the place’ so therefore her thoughts can be too. For example, she can protest Keith’s innocence and quickly switch to discovering the Officer’s motives for being there and quickly switch to asking him to leave and he definitely wouldn’t need to tell her how serious it was. The officer could tell her the initial information and then the rest of it could unfold for her without his interference, as if she is playing out the situation in her mind.  It also helped to achieve the next part of my aim: ‘what is not said carries as much weight as what is’. Heather would be quick to get rid of the Officer because she knows full well of Keith’s involvement in the incident and so deflecting the blame onto the Officer’s need to ‘catch the proper criminals’ would make sense. By re drafting the piece with this feedback in mind I felt it really worked to keep the Officer as an imagined force and still created nuanced dialogue. In fact, my hope is in performance, this will only be heightened because you don’t know exactly what the Officer says so hopefully each individual audience member will take away different thoughts and feelings towards the relationship and what was going on.

In working on the story and dialogue of the piece I had started to come further away from the original truth of the story and whilst I wanted the piece to have elements of dramatic license it had to be mostly authentic. I decided I could channel this really effectively through the character of Heather herself. As the great Arthur Miller said, “everything we are at every moment is alive within us”. By this I believe he is saying that humans are complex, and we have many faces and moods and opinions that exist within us and can come out at any one time. It’s that detail that makes us real and Heather already had that level of detail before I even put pen to paper because she is real. She has years of life experience bundled into her words and at the age of 72 knows exactly who she is. I wanted to harness this and put it into the piece so her voice could shine through. Water’s also went on to say of dialogue “The dialogue is not just about, “I like the feel of that dialogue.” It is something to do with what is happening with the dialogue; the way that it shows you how people behave; the way it shows you about how life is.” This is exactly why I think Warden’s play had a ‘musicality’ and ‘energy’. She was using her own rhythms and speech patterns and opinions to be really frank about her life. I saw little reason as to why I couldn’t channel that in my piece. I therefore decided to go and speak to my Nana again and with her permission, record her talking to me about the stories I had chosen to include in my writing. Whilst the piece couldn’t be totally verbatim (which would leave little scope for dramatic license) I could pay special attention to the way she told these stories and how she used her words to create an accurate portrayal of her. A section of this recording can be found in the appendix. I wanted to make sure Heather’s tone came out in the text and so I started going through it listening to the recording and redrafting moments that opposed her manner.  One thing I noticed and suppose had always known was how direct and forthright my Nana is and was. Highlighted by the frank tone she had when recounting stories, for example, when she talks of my Grandad ‘being thrown out’ of the Winter Garden’s she states it was a ‘rare occasion’ that he had done nothing wrong. And when she subtly implied that if he hadn’t asked her to marry him ‘the night was young’ and she may have left with someone else. I decided to pull these phrases out and use them in the text. By doing the character really started to gain detail and become the real person behind it, that I know and love.

During our conversation she started to show me pictures of both her and Grandad. Which can be found in the appendix also. Looking at what they were wearing and how they presented themselves revealed even more to me about who they were at that time. As the Oscar’s Costume Design Instructional guide puts it simply ‘In real life, clothes define our taste and are an expression of our personality’. So, this was another layer I had to consider. In all of her picture’s Heather appears extremely ‘on trend’, perhaps the most striking is her aged 15 in a beautiful white coat. Thus, suggesting her outlook and ideas were slightly modern for the time. However, there was an element of the well put together housewife also present in her look. Already the details of what makes her, her were unfolding. I decided one of the best ways to give an immediate nod to the reader, which would potentially be the actor portraying her, on how they could achieve this character was to give a little character bio in the stage directions. This would touch upon all of the key traits that had come to light from my interview with Heather and I gave special attention to her clothing as another way to elude to her personality. In doing this I had started to blend totally authentic experiences with the drama of the piece to create something steeped in truth.

In conclusion, I believe you can use life experiences to create an authentic piece of work. I think I have demonstrated this in my piece as the character, story, dialogue and detail of the work is all firmly grounded in the truth. However, in order to bring my version of the story to a new audience the concept and overall arc of the story contained elements of dramatic license. But I think overall both fact and fiction blended together seamlessly, to create this story.