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imagine-loki · 3 years

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Loki's Daughter

TITLE: Loki’s Daughter CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 13: The Grimoire of Curses AUTHOR: traveling_classicist ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Avengers: Endgame AU Loki that gets away with tesseract has been using it to explore the universe. During his adventures, he comes across a little girl with developing but oppressed magical abilities. Intrigued (and subconsciously lonely) Loki keeps her around. RATING: T

AO3 Link: Here NOTES/WARNINGS: None for this chapter. Enjoy!

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Loki had scoured over his new collection of books on curses. He was becoming increasingly frustrated with each discourse he picked up; more frustrated and more discouraged. Kuna, on the other hand, enjoyed her new freedoms. The freedom to explore where she wanted, eat when she wanted, sleep when she wanted.

She could even play, something she had always really wanted to do but was always forbidden from doing. The strangest part of all: she didn’t have to work. Ever. In fact, Loki actively stopped her from cleaning, tidying, cooking, or any other attempts at non-child-like behavior, and promptly pushed her outside to play.

Loki had even begun to teach her how to read and write. He had spread out a large piece of paper in front of her and taught her how to hold a quill and dip it in ink and write out the Asgardian futhark. She had never been so excited in her whole life. She memorized the whole futhark in just a few minutes. She learned how to write hers and Loki’s names and the names of her toys. Loki was a good teacher. Kuna was convinced he knew everything there was to know.

Now, she was able to write whole sentences and read short stories in their storybooks. Loki even made up stories for her to read which were her favorite.

One day, Loki sat in their hammock grumbling at another book, while Kuna swatted at an imaginary beast with a stick. She had learned to be quiet when Loki was reading because he wanted to concentrate on his books, so she kept her stories about slaying imaginary beasts inside her head.

“Arrgh, I’ve had enough of this!” Loki slammed the book closed.

Kuna jumped, dropping her stick. Her shoulders drooped and her head hung low. She looked up cautiously, afraid she had caused his angry outburst.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t yell like that. What do you want to do today, Kuna?” he asked.

“Me?” she asked, shyly.

“Yes, you,” he said. “I can’t take any more of these bloody books today. So, what do you want to do?”

Kuna had never been asked this question before, so it required much thought. She walked over to the hammock and crawled into it beside Loki. She tapped her finger against her lips in thought.

“Mmm. Will you teach me how to fight monsters?” she asked finally.

“How to fight monsters,” Loki repeated.

Kuna nodded, excitedly.

“That’s very specific.”

Kuna continued nodding.

“All right, come on!” Loki jumped out of the hammock. It flipped over, depositing Kuna on the ground. She hopped up, undisturbed, and ran for their satchel with the silver dagger.

Loki snatched it up. “Nope!” He stopped her at arm’s length with a hand on her head.

She giggled, trying to reach for the satchel.

“You’re going to learn with this.” He gave her the wooden dagger he had bought for her on Tenanci’i.

“Aww,” Kuna pouted.

“Stand up straight!” Loki commanded.

Kuna stood as tall as she could. Loki adjusted her feet until she stood about shoulder width. He positioned her left hand on the hilt of the dagger.

“When your other hand, your off hand, is empty, it’s going to balance you,” he said. “Don’t let it fall to your side like a dead fish.” Kuna chuckled at this. “Keep it up and always moving. You can use it to punch with, like this,” -he showed her a quick jab- “or to block.”

Kuna copied his movements. He began to call out actions for her to do, holding the dagger in a downward position in her left hand. When she was able to do this on command, Loki began teaching her movements with the dagger.

“It’s not all about stabbing, even though that’s pretty fun,” Loki said.

Kuna giggled, pretending to stab him.

He laughed and gently took her wrist, positioning the dagger in different ways. “You can slice and cut, forward and back, up and down, hack, and even stab with a dagger,” he explained, moving Kuna’s hand with each word. “They’re very multifunctional weapons. You can even throw it if you’re in a pinch.”

“But then I wouldn’t have a dagger anymore.”

“Very clever,” Loki said. “It should never be your first move if this is your only weapon. And there are better weapons for throwing anyways. Only throw this if it’s your last resort and you know you’ve got a clean shot. Otherwise, you’ll be in trouble.”

“Hmm.” Kuna weighed the wooden dagger in her hand. She turned it over and made a swipe at the air.

“Good,” Loki said. “Now, faster. Put more power behind it.”

She made the same movement again, swinging harder. “Don’t lose control,” Loki instructed. He readjusted her stance, and she struck the air again. “Better.”

They continued with different moves and attacks until Kuna was out of breath.

“Take a break,” Loki said, giving her one of their canteens. He smiled at her. “You learn quickly. I don’t even think I picked up a weapon this fast.”

Kuna could barely contain her happiness. She took the canteen and drank. The cold water felt good. She laid back in the grass under the trees.

“Do you think I could fight as good as you someday?” Kuna asked.

“Let’s find out,” Loki said. “Come and get me.”

A wooden knife, like a giant splinter, dug into the ground to the right of Kuna’s head. She gasped and rolled to the side, grabbing her own dagger. She came up on one knee and looked for Loki.

“That was impressive,” he said. Kuna ran towards his voice. He rose up out of a bush. She jumped up and slashed at him, but he disappeared.

“Hey!” she cried as she crashed through the bush. “You can’t use magic!”

“Why not?” his voice came from behind her.

“That’s cheating!”

“There’s no cheating in a fight, little raven,” he said, laughing as she bounded through another illusion. “You have to use what you’ve got. And I have magic.”

Kuna fell through another Loki. She stood and looked around. Something hard hit her in the back of the head.

“Ouch!” She looked down at an acorn rolling at her foot and frowned.

“And I have acorns,” Loki taunted. “What have you got?”

Kuna looked at her dagger. It wasn’t really helping her if all the Lokis were ghosts. Another acorn whistled towards her, this one from her right. She swung the dagger and blocked it with a satisfying thwack. A smile spread across her face.

“Don’t celebrate too long,” Loki chuckled from behind her. “Or you’ll be dead.”

She whipped around and dodged Loki’s arm as it came down to hit her. She stabbed at his leg, and he disappeared just as she had expected him too. With this Loki gone, she ran to the bushes to her left and pounced into them. She came down on an empty patch of dirt and twigs.

“Too slow!” Loki sang.

Kuna growled. She ran to the nearest tree and climbed up into the branches.

“Now, we’re using our brain. I was beginning to think you forgot it was there,” Loki taunted her.

She followed the sound of his voice and jumped through the trees towards it. An acorn smacked the back of her head. She turned to find the Loki that threw it and saw two Lokis, one in the tree and the other on the ground.

“Now, concentrate,” they both said. “Which one is me?”

Jumping towards the one in the tree, she made a quick jab at him, which he easily avoided. He gave her a good shove, sending her forward off the branch. She stretched out her arm and grabbed a lower branch, swinging to the ground. She felt a thump on the ground behind her and turned, slashing wildly with her dagger at the Loki that had dropped from the tree, but he disappeared.

Another appeared behind her, then another and another until there was a circle of Lokis surrounding her. She turned in a circle, trying to figure out which one was the real one. They each smiled at her devilishly.

Then a blue glow began to radiate from one of the Lokis to her left. A soft, lilting melody drifted on the air. She turned and leapt onto the glowing Loki, slashing at him. She crawled up his body and onto his back like a monkey.

“Ahh!” he screamed. The other Lokis vanished. She had caught the real one.

She raised her hand to stab him, but he caught her wrist and pulled her off his back.

“Aww,” she whined.

“So close, little one. Very impressive but I’ve been doing this a lot longer than yo-AHHH! DID YOU JUST BITE ME?!” He let go and she dropped onto her feet, giggling. She skipped up to him and stabbed him in the tummy with her dagger.

“Stab! I win!”

“Agh! I’m dead!” Loki yelled. He fell backwards dramatically. “Blah!” He stuck out his tongue and closed his eyes and made his body go limp.

Kuna walked over and put a foot up on his chest, raising her dagger to the sky. “I’ve defeated the mighty Loki!”

“Surprise!” Loki grabbed her around the waist and pulled her down. She squealed.

“No fair! You can’t come back to life!”

“Oh, but that’s sort of my thing, love,” he said. “I can’t believe you bit me. Come here! Let me see those teeth!”

“Grrrrrr!” She growled at him, baring her teeth.

“Do you have fangs?!”

“Raaawr!” She opened her mouth wide enough for Loki to see a row of sharp teeth, like a big cat’s, running back into her mouth.

“You have got fangs!” Rolling up his sleeve, he examined his wound. “Do you have venom in those? Am I going to turn into a Kuna, now? How have I never seen those chompers you’ve got in there?”

Kuna smiled big. Only one set of her sharp fangs was visible in her smile, the rest were hidden. She growled at him again and snapped her teeth, not able to control her giggles.

“Yeah, all right. You’re very ferocious,” he said. “But no more biting! Not me at least. Bite anyone else.”

“But you said I should use what I’ve got.”

“I did say that.”

“So, I could bite in a fight?”

“Yes, it’s rather effective actually,” Loki said, rubbing his arm. He picked up the canteen that was laying on the ground and took a drink. “How did you know which Loki was me?”

“The tesseract told me,” Kuna said, flipping her dagger in the air.

Loki spit out his water. “The what?!”

“The tesseract! I concentrated on trying to find you like you said, and the tesseract told me which one you were.”

“How did it do that?” Loki asked, a serious tone in his voice.

“Y…You were glowing, and I could hear the tesseract singing so I… I knew it was you.”

Loki sat in silence for a moment, thinking. Kuna pulled her legs up to her chest.

“Did I do something wrong?” she asked.

“No, you didn’t,” Loki said.

“Are you mad?”

“No. You did exactly what I would have done. I’m just concerned with how the tesseract is affecting you.”

“Why?”

“It affects people differently. Sometimes in strange ways. I’ve not known it to ‘sing’ to anyone before.”

“I like the way it sings.”

“What does it sound like?”

“Like, um, hmm…” Kuna wasn’t sure she could make the same sounds as the tesseract did. She tried to hum like it but the noise she made was not at all like the tesseract’s pretty sounds. “That’s not right. I can’t do it like the tesseract does.” She shrugged.

“Hmm. Well, I don’t hear anything.”

“Maybe your ears are clogged.”

“That’s probably it,” Loki said, chuckling.

She nodded and tried to flip the dagger in her hand again. The wooden blade smacked her hand and fell to the ground. She frowned at it. Loki picked it up.

“If that had been real, you would have lost fingers,” he said. “Watch carefully.” He flipped the dagger in the air and caught it effortlessly. “It’s all in the wrist.”

He smoothly turned the dagger over and offered the hilt to Kuna to try. She took it. She timed a toss of the dagger and it flipped gracefully, catching it by the handle this time. She smiled and looked up at Loki.

“Well done,” he said. “Just wait until you can do it with two at the same time.”

“Ooooh,” Kuna breathed.

Loki conjured two daggers and showed her a smooth double dagger flip. The glint of the daggers shown over Kuna’s face. She was overjoyed. She could not wait to start training with two daggers. She wanted to be just like Loki.

“I wanna try!” she said.

“I don’t think you’re ready for these yet,” Loki responded. “Weapons like these need to be treated with respect. They’re sharp and they’ll easily cut off those fingers of yours or more if you’re not careful.”

Kuna frowned.

“You’ll get there, little raven,” Loki said, tussling her hair. “Come on, let’s go inside and get something to eat.”

At the thought of food, Kuna happily bounded past Loki and jumped through the door. Loki had finally figured out a way to keep the door open, so he did not have to awkwardly squish through the awful honey-like material. Kuna bounced around the tent, gracefully avoiding the stacks of books Loki had left everywhere. She parried and jabbed with her dagger at invisible enemies.

Loki made her a sandwich from their supplies as she played. He frowned at the basket that kept their food. It was getting dangerously close to being empty. They would need to teleport somewhere to get more supplies soon, but there was enough for them to eat for the rest of the day.

He handed Kuna the sandwich as she hopped by. She barely stopped as she began stuffing bites of it into her mouth.

“No, no. Come, settle down,” Loki scolded. “You’ll upset your stomach, jumping around and eating like that.”

“Hmm,” Kuna mumbled and plopped down across from Loki. She held her sandwich in two hands and took big bites.

Loki frowned at her. “Do you even taste your food?”

“Mmm-hmm!” she nodded, cheeks bulging with sandwich. “It tastes so good!”

“Fair enough,” he said, taking a dainty bite of his own sandwich. He picked up a book and opened it setting it on one leg while he ate.

Kuna watched him. She sat up straighter and crossed her legs. She remade her sandwich, which had fallen apart in her eagerness to eat. Sitting up tall, like Loki, she took a small bite of her sandwich and chewed slowly. Loki turned a page and took another bite of his sandwich and Kuna did the same.

Loki caught on quickly to this game of pantomime. Without looking up from his book, he raised his sandwich to his mouth, Kuna following his movements. Before taking a bite, he lowered his hand and turned another page. He could see Kuna frown at being denied a bite but lowering her sandwich into her lap as well.

He lifted the sandwich again to his mouth and then looked across at Kuna. She stopped cold as if caught doing something bad. Loki lowered the sandwich, keeping eye contact. Kuna copied him. He quickly jolted the sandwich back up towards his mouth and Kuna did the same. His eyes narrowed. Then he smiled.

In a quick movement, he tossed the sandwich over his shoulder. Kuna gasped. Loki raised his eyebrows at her, daring her to copy him. She shook her head and shoved the rest of the sandwich in her mouth. He rolled his eyes and laughed.

“I don’t waste food,” Kuna said, mouth full.

“That’s very good,” he replied, revealing his own sandwich that he had hidden in a quick invisibility spell. “Neither do I.”

Kuna’s mouth fell open, chewed food showing on her tongue.

“Eww, gross, Kuna! Swallow that!” Loki laughed.

Kuna giggled and swallowed her food.

“Speaking of, we’re starting to run low on food,” Loki said, his tone changing.

Kuna glanced around nervously.

“It’s fine,” Loki consoled her, seeing her anxiety. “I mean to say, we’ll need to go shopping for more. I’m not going to let you go hungry.”

This comforted Kuna. “Where will we go?”

“I’m not sure yet. But I think we’ll need to pack up camp and move entirely. I don’t want to stay here for much longer.”

“Oh, but I like it here.”

“It is very peaceful here, isn’t it?”

Kuna nodded.

“But I think we’d get bored if we stayed here forever.”

Kuna cocked her head to one side, confused.

“Well, it’s nice, sure. But there’s no one else here but us. No creatures, no people. No excitement. I think we’d get bored.”

“Hmm.” Kuna thought about this. The excitement she had had with Loki regarding creatures and people so far had been mostly scary and life-threatening. “No, I like it here. I wouldn’t get bored.”

“I bet you would.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“You mean to tell me you don’t want to see all the beautiful planets out there in the universe? All the systems and stars and galaxies?”

Kuna thought even harder. All the beautiful things the tesseract had shown her had captivated her mind and visited her dreams for nights. She wanted to see them all.

“Is it safe?”

“Oh, absolutely not,” Loki said. Kuna paled. “But you have me with you and I’ll keep you safe.”

She relaxed a little.

“And now that you’re learning to fight, you can defend yourself, too.”

Kuna nodded, thinking about their lesson and her dagger.

“So, what do you think?”

“I guess so. As long as we’re together.”

“Always,” Loki said, smiling at her.

They spent the rest of the day relaxing. Loki attending to his research and Kuna studying her letters. As the day wound down, Kuna had her supper and fell asleep on her bedroll, cuddling her toys. Loki, surrounded by stacks of books, lit a small, dim orb of light with his magic so he could continue reading without disturbing Kuna.

He looked across the several stacks of books around him. He had taken hundreds. When they were in Odin’s study, he had seen how difficult it was for Kuna to catch all the books he was tossing to her in his raven form, so he had begun storing them himself, whisking away entire shelves of books into his pocket universe in some cases. As long as they were in the sections about curses, he could figure out if they were of use later.

Loki reached for a new book but bumped another stack with his elbow. It fell over, scattering across the floor. He grit his teeth at the sound and peeked at Kuna. She turned over and squeezed her dragon. Loki let out a sigh of relief and then groaned at the mess on the floor. He started to pick up a few books, when a large black volume caught his eye. It was quite old, embossed with ancient Asgardian runes that had been rubbed nearly clean of their golden sheen. However, what caught his eye was not the antiquated runes of a long dead language but deep cuts in the leather of the cover in the modern Asgardian runes.

BEWARE

DO NOT OPEN

EVIL RESIDES

“Well, that’s a little dramatic,” Loki said.

He picked up the ancient tome and sat back slowly onto the floor, crossing his legs. As he held it, he could feel a dark resonance emanating through his aura. He looked closely at the book and found it was not black leather at all, but that the book had been heavily burned. The ends of the pages too had been blackened in the flames. At some point, someone had tried to remove some of the charring on the cover, but the book would have been a total loss by any library’s standards.

“Seems like someone tried to burn you,” Loki muttered. He turned the book back over to the eerie message carved into the front. “And you clearly resisted.”

The graffitist had tried to destroy the embossed title of the book, but the restorer had succeeded in revealing what was left of the title.

G—M—IRE –F C—ES by ——————- ———————–

“A “Grimoire of Curses”, you say? You sound perfect. I’m gonna open it,” he said, deviously. He could almost hear his father admonishing him for not heeding the rather specific warning on the cover. “I don’t negotiate with book defacers. Or book burners.”

He gently opened the cover, and the title page confirmed his guesswork.

GRIMOIRE OF CURSES

THE QUEEN OF DEATH

“’The Queen of Death’,” Loki read. “How delightful.”

He chuckled at the author’s absurd name and then flipped to the next page.

It felt suddenly as if a lump had caught in his throat. He swallowed hard. The more Loki read, the heavier his chest began to feel. The resonance he had felt in his magic before began to grow. The air felt thick with each breath he took. It felt as if a whirlpool had started in the page break and was slowly sucking him in. He shook his head and blinked, steeling himself, strengthening his aura against this onslaught.

The book was clearly cursed itself and he was certain for any novice sorcerer it would be impossible not to be corrupted by it. But he was no novice. He let out an exasperated breath.

“You won’t hide your secrets from me.”

The book seemed to react to his determination. He felt a pain in his head like he had been hit with an axe. He felt cold. He’d never felt cold. He shook his head and glanced up at Kuna.

“I’m doing this for her,” he said under his breath. He felt the thickness subside and turned to the next page.

He searched the book for Kuna’s curse, his shaky finger tracing down the lengthy column of curses in the table of contents.

“Curse of agony, blah, blah, curses of fear, of frenzy, da, da, da, of lies, of leaping, oh my, of melting flesh? No, no, no, Loki, we’re here for a reason,” he stopped himself, pulling his eyes away from the page and taking a deep breath before looking back again. “Da, da, da, of poison, oh, of possession. Stop! ‘T’ where are the ‘T’s””

He stopped abruptly on an entry:

CURSE OF TIED TONGUE

As he turned to the pages and began to read through the ritual for cursing an individual with a tied tongue, the blood began to drain from his face. He clenched his jaw so tight his teeth began to hurt. The heaviness he had pushed out began to creep back over him. His ears began to ring. With each step he read to this vicious ritual, a pit in his stomach grew.

“Restrain the victim, if possible, for they will struggle incessantly to escape. Some form of hypnosis or mind control will also suffice. For ease of the caster’s concentration, keep also the victim’s mouth gagged for the duration of the ritual, except for final steps.”

Loki tried unsuccessfully to block out the image of a restrained and frightened Kuna from his mind. He grunted in frustration and forced himself to focus.

“Force the victim into a state of agony - by any means of the caster’s choosing - whilst chanting the following incantation which bars them from speaking of the caster’s chosen subject.”

Through the din of ringing that had begun in his ears, Loki thought he heard Kuna scream. His breath caught in his throat as he sat up hard against the wall. There was absolute silence in the tent, save for Loki’s ragged breathing. He looked at Kuna, fast asleep on her bedroll.

“Kuna?” he whispered.

“Mmmm,” Kuna hummed softly in her sleep, undisturbed.

Loki closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. He opened his eyes and looked down at the book. He felt exhausted. Slowly, he opened the book again to the page he had been reading.

“When the ritual is complete, the victim can be released. They will no longer be able to speak of subject of the caster’s choosing. Instead, the action will be replaced by the agony the caster forced upon them. Persistent attempts by the victim to speak of the subject can result in eventual amnesia in its regard. Examples of successful states of agony include pain of the body (specific or generalised), inability to breathe, inability to speak, inability to form coherent speech, etc, etc.”

Additional agonies had been scratched in the margins in different hands and inks.

“Sudden onset of singing, dancing, sleeping.

Frenzy.

Fear.

Death.

Melting flesh.

Combine ‘agonies’ to increase power of curse.”

“Gods,” Loki cringed.

He scanned further down the page, looking for how to reverse the curse. Not seeing it, he turned the page.

“UNTYING THE TONGUE”

“Gross,” Loki muttered. He ran his finger down the page, reading the instructions.

“This doesn’t seem so bad,” he said. “Actually, seems rather easy. We could do this tomorrow. Or now.”

He noticed a smudge at the end of the page and leaned closer to see. The dim light he had conjured was not the best for night reading. The little orb of light bobbed around the ceiling of the tent, occasionally flickering.

“Come over here, you stupid orb!” Loki whispered aggressively at the floating sphere. “You’re supposed to be over here! By me!”

The light tottered over, bumping into the wall as it drifted towards him.

“Useless thing,” Loki grumbled as the light settled over his head.

He leaned in close to see the smudge was actually an indication of a footnote.

“Ugh, of course, there’s always a bloody footnote.” He rolled his eyes and searched for the footnotes. The more digging he did in the book, the heavier the feeling in his aura became, and the more agitated he felt. Finally, he found them, buried in the back of the book.

“Here we go,

Only the casting sorcerer can lift a tied tongue curse. Death of the caster does not release the victim from the curse.”

Loki looked up, staring blankly across the room. He sat up and slowly closed the book. He stood and walked outside the tent into the crisp night air. His fist was clenched tight, his teeth near to cracking under the pressure of his jaw. He looked down at the book in his hand. His whole body now shaking with anger.

He threw the book as hard as he could, letting out a shout as he did. The book sailed kilometers into the darkened horizon. Loki growled and hissed. He felt the sting of tesseract energy as a portal opened beside him and the book sailed through it and smacked him in the face.

“Arrrrgh,” Loki growled. He glanced back at the tent, and Kuna still asleep inside. He swung the book around in frustration. Opening another portal to a random place, he stuck his head through and screamed with all his might.

He felt no remorse for the humans on the other side of the portal, whose dinner he appeared to have abruptly and loudly interrupted. When he had finished, his energy felt clean again, free from the book’s dark grip. His mind felt lighter, though he was still racked with rage over the conditionality of these curses.

He returned to the tent. Kuna had not moved. Loki stood over her for a moment, watching. How could someone do something so horrible to someone so small? What threat could she possibly pose to anyone to justify such drastic measures?

He shook his head. It didn’t matter now. What was done was done and he was going to undo it. He stretched and popped his back. Laying down on his bedroll next to Kuna, he watched her chest rise and fall with her gentle breathing. He pushed a lock of hair off her face and pulled the blanket up to her chin. With a flick of his hand, the dim light he had been using to read by went out and he fell asleep.

***

Kuna’s eyes opened slowly. She felt a weight on her side that had not been there when she fell asleep the night before. She looked down and saw Loki’s arm draped over her. She smiled. Very, very slowly, she turned over onto her other side to face him. She put her head on his chest and snuggled close. He didn’t push her away this time. He was still asleep.

She drifted in and out of sleep for a bit, savoring cuddle time with Loki. Light began to shine in through the windows of the tent. Kuna wondered how long Loki would sleep in. She was normally up before sunrise.

Her stomach growled. She grimaced and looked up at Loki, watching him. Carefully, she wiggled out from under his arm, replacing her toys under his arm where she had been. He snored softly but did not wake.

She stretched and yawned, then flinched at the sight of the room. There were books scattered everywhere. Loki had clearly been up reading last night. Kuna got up and started picking up books and stacking them in neat piles. She lined the walls with them, so they were out of the way. Each stack was perfectly level, spines facing out.

Finished with this task, she looked around for something else to do. Her eyes landed on a rogue book. A big, black book with scratches on the cover. She walked timidly over to it and knelt down to pick it up. Her hand hovered over the book, suspended in the air like it was repelled by a magnet. She shook her head and stood up. Something felt wrong about that book. It felt magicky. Stepping just outside the tent door, she picked up a stick and returned to the book and pushed it with the end of the stick over to the wall.

She looked over at Loki, cuddling with her toys on the floor. She had grown impatient with Loki’s excessive sleeping and so had her tummy. She laid down and crawled close to him.

“Loki?” she whispered. He did not stir. “Loki,” she said again, a little louder this time. Still there was no response. She apprehensively raised a finger and poked his arm. He snored on. Kuna frowned.

“Loki?” she asked again, a little louder. He turned onto his back, taking her toys with him. Kuna jumped and dove under her blanket. She peeked out from under to see if he was angry, but he was still asleep. Crawling closer once more, she poked him in different places, his arm, his leg, his chest, even his face, but he did not wake. She lifted her finger again and moved slowly towards his hair.

“Don’t you dare,” he said, a smile creeping across his face.

Kuna erupted in giggles. Loki sat up. He held out the stuffed animals in his hand and looked at them, confused and laughed, then grabbed Kuna putting her in his lap. She squealed with joy.

“Loki! Loki! Loki!” he mimicked, over and over, poking her chest and sides and neck. Kuna could not contain herself, she was giggling, trying to poke him back. He set her down and shook his head, laughing.

“What? What is it, child?” he asked, still laughing.

“I’m hungry,” she said, sheepishly.

“Are you?”

Kuna nodded.

“Well, we’re going to have to fix that, aren’t we?”

She nodded some more. “Yes, please.”

“Let me see here,” Loki said, as he searched the basket for some breakfast for Kuna. He pulled up only a small bit of bread. “Oh, is that it? I think it’s time for us to go shopping again.”

“Did you eat dinner last night?” Kuna asked him.

“Hmm? Oh, no, I was reading for a long time and the book was very frustrating and–” Kuna pushed Loki’s hand with the piece of bread back towards him. “And… I must have forgot. Kuna, you’re going to eat this. Don’t worry about me. We’ll go shopping today and get more. I’m fine.”

“You have to eat too,” she said.

He gave her the bread. “I’m fine. Eat this for now.”

“You eat.”

“No, you eat.”

Kuna stood and shook her head. “No, you.”

“Kuna–”

“You! Ah!” She pointed at Loki and then opened her mouth and pointed inside.

“You’re becoming very stubborn,” he said. “Who knows where you could have gotten that from.” He took a small bite out of the bread to pacify the defiant child. “Oh, you cleaned. You didn’t have to do that,” he acknowledged the tidied tent.

Kuna shrugged. “I don’t mind. But I think there’s something wrong with that book over there.”

“Which one? The black one?”

She nodded.

Loki gulped, choking a bit on the dry bread. “You didn’t open that one, did you?”

“I didn’t, I swear!” Kuna said, dropping to her knees and putting her hands over her head. “I promise! I didn’t open it. I promise!”

Loki sighed. “No – it’s all right—I didn’t mean to scare you like that. I—I just—oh, please don’t cry.”

“I promise I didn’t look at them without your permission!”

“It’s all right. I believe you. Please, don’t cry.” Loki reached forward and put his hand on Kuna’s shoulder. “I’m not upset with you, I promise.”

She looked up at him and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Scooting closer, she reached out to him, and he picked her up, setting her in his lap.

“Is that book bad? Will it make me blind?” She sniffled.

“No, no, no. It won’t blind you, darling, but it’s not a very nice book. I think it’s been cursed.”

Kuna shrank in his lap, staring at the book. “Did you open it?”

“Yes. But I’m a very powerful sorcerer so I know what to do with books like that.”

“Throw them away?”

“No!” Loki chuckled. “You don’t want to throw a book away! What if there are incredible secrets in there?”

“They should stay that way,” Kuna whispered.

“Oh, where’s your sense of adventure, Kuna? That book,” -he pointed at it- “gave me the answers to what we were looking for.”

“It did?”

“Yes. Well, sort of.”

“What did it say?”

Loki had fallen into a trap. “Um, well.” He feared unintentionally setting off Kuna’s curse by telling her about it. “It gave me instructions on how to help you.”

“Me?”

“Yes, that’s why we took all these books.” Loki was surprised by her lack of memory regarding the reasons they had gone to Asgard.

“How can a book help me? You’ve already helped me so much. You freed me and you gave me food and clothes and toys and–”

“Yes, but… well.” He ran his fingers through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck. Kuna looked up at him inquisitively. “That book is a book about curses. All the different kinds of curses and how to perform them. That’s why I didn’t want you to read it.”

“A cursed book of curses?”

“Precisely.”

“That sounds scary,” she whispered, wrapping herself in Loki’s cape. “How is that going to help me?”

Loki hesitated. “Well, Kuna, I think someone on your home planet may have cursed you.”

Kuna’s face went blank, expressionless. She turned grey. She shook her head, first a little then frantically, side to side.

“Now, now, everything’s all right,” Loki consoled her, gently rocking her.

“No. No!” she whispered. “I’m not cursed! It’s not true!”

“Shhhh,” Loki whispered, rocking her. “I’m going to fix it.” He gently stroked her hair and hugged her, holding her tight.

“I don’t have any magic, sir!”

Loki closed his eyes. He had triggered her curse. With time, she calmed down, clutching a handful of his hair. She sniffled and occasionally let out a sob.

“Look at me, darling. Do you remember who did this to you?”

“No,” she whispered.

“You told me once someone hurt you with magic,” Loki said. “Who was that?”

Kuna shifted uncomfortably, rubbing her arms. “Sometimes when I was bad, my masters would use their magic to punish me. It hurt a lot.”

“Mmm,” Loki nodded, hugging her again. “I’m sorry, darling. They were horrible people. I doubt were ever truly ‘bad’.”

Kuna stared at the ground.

“I’m guessing these Masters don’t let slaves use magic,” Loki said.

“Oh no!” Kuna exclaimed. “For a slave to have magic is the worst sin imaginable! If a slave has magic,” -she shuddered with fear- “all the masters slaves must be culled, and the slave’s family too.”

“My, that seems a bit much,” Loki said.

Kuna shook her head. “Slaves shouldn’t have magic. They would use it for evil things.”

“And who told you that?”

“The Masters,” they both said in unison. Loki nodded.

“Yes, I’m starting to understand,” Loki said, rolling his eyes. “What sorts of evil things would a slave use magic for?”

“Slaves are weak, and magic makes weak people do bad things. Slaves would use magic to trick and steal and kill people.”

Loki put both hands on either side of Kuna’s head. “My child, you have been brainwashed.”

Kuna put her hands on Loki’s. “No one’s washed my brains!”

“No, it means that these Masters on your home-system have forced you to believe all these things that are not true so that they can continue doing whatever they want to you.”

She gasped. “With magic?”

“Mmm, no. Propaganda can be just as powerful as magic.”

“Propa-what-now?”

“Propaganda. I’ll explain later, what’s important is that they are very wrong about slaves and magic and you.”

Kuna looked down at the ground again. She did not know what to think. The Masters had never been wrong about anything. Ever. At least, not that she could remember.

“Kuna,” Loki said. She looked up at him. He wiped the tears off her cheek with his thumb. “I know this is a lot to take in. It isn’t easy learning that your life has been a lie, believe me. But I’m going to make things better for you. Do you trust me, darling?”

Kuna nodded and hugged him tight.

#Loki #God of Mischief #Father #Submitted fic #Loki's Daughter #traveling_classicist #chapter 13

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serialkillerinthemaking · 3 years

Text

below the cut is my insanely long analysis of sa and its metaphors its bad but i did in an hour with a headache so it is what it is

analyzing sa even though it's been said so much it's redundant I just need a place to collect it all ya know

note: none of this is chronological to the story and its probably just going to be the song lyrics

there are many run-on sentences and grammar problems sorry. I'm writing this off the idea that everyone has a decent understanding of sa and its plot.

obviously, mama who bore is about Wendla’s mom not telling her about sex. mwbmr is the same thing except it shows none of the girl's mom tells them about sex.

all that's known starts with the boys robotically repeating Virgil's Aeneid before Melchior breaks out and starts singing. He explains that science and facts are pushed aside in favor of religion and his parents wanting him to fall in line and not question what is taught. that's the general theme of the song. he is determined not to become part of the hivemind and question what is taught. he wants to find and see and experience more than what they know of and are teaching in terms of the world and he himself.

He mentions the stars and them being sort of all-knowing. stars are brought up again in those you've known sort of being a metaphor for society and the children of his generation and the ones to come. In those youve known, he vows to read Moritz and Wendla's dreams to the stars because they are dead and can really communicate with him and therefore rely on him to spread the word of their thoughts and ideas and stories. this being a cautionary tale, those stories must be told.

he mentions the repression of free thought. children are naturally curious of the world around them but as they grow up the adults push them not to be and only to accept what we know now. he doesn't want to lose this and stop eternally searching for more. this is sort of put into the term "purple summer". meaning the story, the cause, the prevention, and the tragic beauty of the story. we'll come back to the meaning of purple summer itself.

he says one day all will know generally meaning what is happening beneath the surface and societies refusal to talk about it and explore it. in purple summer this comes back more concrete. instead of one day, more like a distant hope, he says all shall know. they will know now, soon, not one day in the distant future. In the end, his journey is complete and it goes from one day all will know to all shall know.

tbol and my junk are pretty straight forward you guys don't need me for those.

touch me is basically about the yearning for sex and to know what is. there are some metaphors but they are pretty self-contained within the song itself and don't really have enough grasp on them to go too deep. either that or they're really not actually that deep lol.

woyb is basically about Melchior and Wendla wanting to be with each other and trying to resist the temptation because of oppression

The dark I know well is about the rape and sexual assault of Martha and Ilse at the hands of her father and artist friends, respectively. Again the song uses one central self-contained metaphor that is never brought up again in the context of the show and is pretty easy to understand.

and then there were none has frau Gabor intermittently reading a letter she wrote in response to Moritz asking for money to escape. Moritz jumps in and sings his thoughts as he reads the letter and basically watches his last hope fall through. he feels she tries to sugarcoat the point of the letter. he is mad for saying things in an attempt to make him feel better and to try her best to help, such as writing a letter to his parents. she tells him she still cares for him but can't help him. he feels he has no other option left after failing his tests. you all know the plot you don't need me to explain it.

mirror blue night Melchior is horny blah blah blah I hate this song moving on

I believe while they disobey the church and its a church song irony yeah

(it's so late I'm sorry)

don't do sadness blue wind ohoho lets goooo

Moritz wishes to be a butterfly, no longer having to deal with life, and happily flying. he says he doesn't do sadness because he just can't handle it anymore. the failing the test hurt him and frau Gabor refusing to help was the straw that broke the camel's back. he can't take it anymore. Ilse comes in and sees he's sad. it's cold and dark outside symbolizing his current mood so she sings about the happiness of spring and summer to cheer him up. fall and winter are analogies for sadness and pessimism, spring and summer are happiness and optimism, hence spring awakening, the happiness coming back after the sad times. purple summer also references that but that's for later. she talks about when they were kids happily playing in the sun. wind, a cold sad month thing always comes back but it always goes away. happiness will always come and sadness will always go just like the seasons. Moritz is only living in fall and autumn, not seeing the spring and summer ahead. Ilse gets through her life through optimism relying on the blue wind never taking when it creeps up and always going away once again. and then it just kinda repeats you get the rest.

left behind. he never got to grow up and be an adult and its his parent's (mostly his dad's) fault. metaphor once again fully in the song not really brought up again.

you guys got the rest (more than sufficient critical conjecture on woybr) until WHISPERING whooo

she hears the ghosts because throughout she alive and dead. sort of. everyone is sad. she describes her family's grief at her funeral. the preacher uses her as a cautionary tale and warns others of her fate. they say she did bad things and this how she ended up. such a shame, such a sin. she feels powerless, like she didn't have a voice and only could do what was told of her. she didn't know any better despite her best efforts. she mentions summer longing in the wind. happiness being swept up by sadness was pretty much her whole "relationship" with Melchior.

👏those👏you've👏known

there is so much I'm just gonna analyze it line by line (i consider this the pinnacle of metaphors in theatre considering the buildup)

MORITZ

Those you’ve known

And lost, still walk behind you

All alone

They linger till they find you

self explanatory pretty much

Without them

The world grows dark around you

And nothing is the same until you know that they have found you

Melchior's world has crumbled, he feels like it never going to be the same without them, but he found them.

WENDLA

Those you’ve pained

May carry that still with them

All the same

They whisper: “All forgiven.”

He hurt her, and she's still hurting but she forgives him because there is love in heaven, all will be forgiven.

Still your heart says

The shadows bring the starlight

And everything you’ve ever been is still there in the dark night

everything she was was left behind, but she still finds it here.

WENDLA

When the northern wind blows

The sorrows your heart holds

There are those who still know –

They’re still home

We’re still home

he's still hurting, they're still there.

MORITZ (Sung In Counterpart)

Though you know

You’ve left them far behind

You walk on by yourself, and not with them –

Still you know

They will fill your heart and mind

When they say there’s a way through this

he's living and must continue without them but they are still there in his heart.

MELCHIOR, MORITZ AND WENDLA

Those you’ve known

And lost, still walk behind you

All alone

Their song still seems to find you

They call you

As if you knew their longing –

They whistle through the lonely wind, the long blue shadows falling

they are still there!

MELCHIOR

All alone

But still I hear their yearning

Through the dark, the moon, alone there, burning

The stars too

They tell of spring returning –

And summer with another wind that no one yet has known

The stars are back! they are all knowing and tell of the sadness passing, the happiness returning, with something new.

(MORITZ and WENDLA Join with Counterparts)

They call me –

Through all things –

Night’s falling

But somehow I go on

You watch me

Just watch me –

I’m calling

From longing

a call back to all thats known

WENDLA (Sung in Counterpart)

When the northern wind blows

The sorrows your heart’s known –

I believe…

she still believes in forgiveness.

MORITZ (Sung in Counterpart)

Still you known

There’s so much more to find –

Another dream, another love you’ll hold

he doesn't have to be stuck on them and they are giving him permission to move on and find happiness again.

Still you know

To trust your own true mind

On your way – you are not alone

There are those who still know

a call back to all that's known,

MELCHIOR (Sung Alone)

Now they’ll walk on my arm through the distant night

And I won’t let them stray from my heart

Through the wind, through the dark, through the winter light

I will read all their dreams to the stars

i dissected this line back in all thats known but STARS! they back

I'll walk now with them

I’ll call on their names

I’ll see their thoughts are known

they know now! all will know he knows and know they know! their story will be told!

WENDLA

Not gone –

they are still there!

MELCHIOR

They walk with my heart –

And I'll never let them go

they are still there!

I’ll never let them go

You watch me

Just watch me

I’m calling

I’m calling –

And one day all will know

ALL👏WILL👏KNOW👏

P U R P L E S U M M E R

purple has historically represented freedom, the kids now have freedom and summer here means happiness. so now they have both. purple summer is just yeah knowledge and freedom of oppression and the hivemind because this Germany 1890 bad (its a john Mulaney reference I'm so sorry im losing my mind)

And all shall know the wonder

I will sing the song of purple summer

All thats known, all will know all shall know. They will know because we will tell them.

And still, I wait

The swallow brings

A song of what's to follow -

The glory of the spring

The happiness! The knowledge! The freedom! Its coming! It waking it up! SPRING IS AWAKENING! ahhhhhhhhhh

#spring awakening #dwsa cast #long post #add your own mine are crap #i wanna hear your interpritations of it #gotta give it up for duncan sheik #he really did the most here

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amirosebooks · 5 years

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Dean’s Old Yeller Principle

“He made me so mad at first that I wanted to kill him. Then, later, when I had to kill him, it was like having to shoot some of my own folks. That’s how much I’d come to think of the big yeller dog.”

— Fred Gipson, Old Yeller, Chapter 1 (Published in 1942)

When I was twelve or thirteen my English teacher passed out copies of Old Yeller as assigned reading. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the book, the quote above from the opening chapter tells you most everything you need to know for the context of this meta post. And for those of us who are still emotionally scarred from the damned book, I’m sorry for dredging up those memories.

Now, before I go any further, a disclaimer: Blah, blah, blah, this meta and interpretation of canon is my own. I’m not trying to “preach” to anyone about why Dean “is allowed” to be an asshole while he’s grieving or going through some shit. Or any other argument that consistently gets thrown back in the face of meta posts like this whenever Dean is being an emotional dick. You’re entitled to your interpretations, feelings and reactions, as am I. I’m merely offering this meta to 1) get it out of my mind 2) point and wave about the nods to this classic book that’s traumatized generations of American children 3) cheer Dean on for turning yet another teaching from the “older, wiser generation” John came from on its head.

Groovy? Okay, now we can move on.

I’m gonna throw the rest of this under the cut for length and to keep people who are sensitive to pets / animals dying in really sad ways from having their days ruined by talking more about the book unless they’re good with having that happen.

Now, as I said in my disclaimer bit, Old Yeller is largely considered classic literature here in the states. My memories of it are a weird mix of vague on the details and strong on the emotions it evoked. From what I remember, the main character was a young teenager when his family brought home Yeller. For whatever reason, our main character hated this dog. I don’t remember the details and they’re honestly not important to this meta. The hate he felt toward the dog is important. So is the fact that the hate slowly turned into love and devotion to the dog. Which made it even more gutting when, on a hunting trip (if I remember correctly) Yeller was bitten by a rabid animal and contracted rabies.

At the end of the novel, the Coates family are once again attacked by a wild animal, a wolf, and saved by Yeller’s bravery. Yeller is bit during the attack and becomes infected with rabies. Travis knows that despite his connection to Yeller and Yeller’s protection of his family, the dog must be killed before it becomes fully rabid and does any harm to him and his family. As the man of the house while his father is gone, Travis takes it upon himself to put Yeller out of his misery with his hunting rifle. Travis is heartbroken by what he has done, but knows that it was the right thing to do for his family. (From here.)

Sound familiar? Good. That’s what I thought too when we got the shot above in the graveyard in 14x20.

[Obviously, rabies, once there are symptoms like Yeller had, is incurrable, so putting him down was literally the only option. And we are talking here about Supernatural, which operates on soap opera rules so anything goes, but let’s just roll with the similarities for the sake of argument.]

I remember telling my husband while we were watching it “Dude, they’re really going to Old Yeller Jack, omg.” (I even made fanart of the moment.)

And then, something incredible happened.

Dean threw out the script yet again and set off season 15 with the dull thud of a gun being tossed into the grass.

Now, I hear you. “That’s great, Ami. Why should we care?”

Lemme tell you a thing, friend.

In order to tell you thing thing, I want to take a trip way back to season 4. Back when the brothers were still nose deep into John Winchester’s gospel of Monster = Evil = Kill The Thing.

(Screencaps are all from Home of the Nutty.)

4x21 - When the Levee Breaks

Sam: Stop bossing me around, Dean. Look. My whole life, you take the wheel, you call the shots, and I trust you because you are my brother. Now I’m asking you, for once, trust me.

Dean: No. You don’t know what you’re doing, Sam.

Sam: Yes, I do.

Dean: Then that’s worse.

Sam: Why? Look, I’m telling you-

Dean: Because it’s not something that you’re doing, it’s what you are! It means- Dean cuts himself off.

Sam: What? No. Say it. (Sam has tears in his eyes.)

Dean: It means you’re a monster. (Transcript from here.)

I remember the first time I watched the show and I got to this episode. That fucking line was such a gut punching moment. And it was such an effective and emotional moment that Ruby was able to extend it later to further manipulate Sam.

Now, the screencap I grabbed for this moment is of Dean in tears (well, that single man tear he’s known for) after labelling Sam a monster for a reason. I want to remind all of us of just how much it killed Dean to have to use that label for Sam. To have to try to rationalize that the boy he raised, his brother, the guy who has been there forever and has always been Dean’s charge to take care of is now the thing that Dean is going to have to put down because he falls under the label of monster.

You know what, let’s go back a little farther, to the first episode of season 2. To this moment:

Remember this look? The one we later learned was thanks to John telling Dean that Dean was going to need to put Sam down? That Sam was going to become a monster? Yeah, ouch.

I added the year Old Yeller was published (1942) to the quote at the top of this meta to help give some context about the time it was written and the world it was released into. I’d also like to make note that in 1957 (or about a year before Henry Winchester jumped forward in time to meet the brothers in season 8 and give them keys to the bunker and had to choose to abandon John when John was still a fairly young boy) Disney released a movie version of the book. It’s absolutely, if the movie exists in the SPN world, the kind of thing young John would have watched and taken some kind of black and white moral guidance from.

It’s the kind of book/movie that John would have probably (note, this is where we start diving into my own headcanons for a moment) made sure the boys were aware of when he started thinking about bringing them on hunts to keep them from freezing because the “person” on the other end of their shotgun is someone’s mom. I could see it being the kind of thing he’d use as a way to show them both that, yes, shit is hard but you have to do the right thing and sometimes that means killing the thing you love. At least, I could picture him thinking that way. (Also, this still makes me wonder about exactly how early John started suspecting there was something different about Sam, but that’s a whoooole other post.)

Moving on and forward to season 6.

6x20 - The Man Who Would Be King

Castiel: The angel-proofing Bobby put up on the house – he got a few things wrong.

Dean: Well, it’s too bad we got to angel-proof in the first place, isn’t it? Why are you here?

Castiel: I want you to understand.

Dean: Oh, believe me, I get it. Blah, blah, Raphael, right?

Castiel: I’m doing this for you, Dean. I’m doing this because of you.

Dean: Because of me. Yeah. You got to be kidding me.

Castiel: You’re the one who taught me that freedom and free will –

Dean: You’re a freakin’ child, you know that? Just because you can do what you want doesn’t mean that you get to do whatever you want!

Castiel: I know what I’m doing, Dean.

Dean: I’m not gonna logic you, okay? I’m saying don’t… Just ‘cause. I’m asking you not to. That’s it.

Castiel: I don’t understand.

Dean: Look, next to Sam, you and Bobby are the closest things I have to family – that you are like a brother to me. So, if I’m asking you not to do something… You got to trust me, man.

Castiel: Or what?

Dean: Or I’ll have to do what I have to do to stop you.

Castiel: You can’t, Dean. You’re just a man. I’m an angel.

Dean: I don’t know. I’ve taken some pretty big fish. (Transcript from here.)

This was after two seasons of Cas fighting by their side. Two seasons of Cas giving heaven the middle finger on behalf of the Winchesters. It was enough time for Dean’s first reaction in a time of confusion on a hunt was to call Cas for help. And it was enough time for Dean to go from assuming Cas was a demon summoned with “bad mojo” to drag him out of hell on behalf of Sam to genuinely starting to care about Cas.

Dean did threaten to take Cas out here if he persisted down the path he was on, but you can tell by the rest of the conversation and just how hard it was to convince Dean that Cas was lying to them that Dean was hoping talking would work and he wouldn’t be forced to put Cas down.

Unfortunately…

6x22 - The Man Who Knew Too Much

Castiel: You doubted me, fought against me, but I was right all along.

Dean: Okay, Cas, you were. We’re sorry. Now let’s just defuse you, okay?

Castiel: What do you mean?

Dean: You’re full of nuke. It’s not safe. So, before the eclipse ends, let’s get them souls back to where they belong.

Castiel: Oh no, they belong with me.

Dean: No, Cas, it’s it-it’s scrambling your brain.

Castiel: No, I’m not finished yet. Raphael had many followers, and I must punish them all severely.

Dean: Listen to me. Listen, I know there’s a lot of bad water under the bridge, but we were family once. I’d have died for you. I almost did a few times. So if that means anything to you… Please. I’ve lost Lisa, I’ve lost Ben, and now I’ve lost Sam. Don’t make me lose you too. You don’t need this kind of juice anymore, Cas. Get rid of it before it kills us all.

Castiel: You’re just saying that because I won. Because you’re afraid. (Behind him, Sam picks up the angel killing sword.) You’re not my family, Dean. I have no family. (Sam stabs Castiel in the back with the angel killing sword. Sam groans. Nothing happens. Castiel pulls the sword out. There’s no blood on it. He puts it down.) I’m glad you made it, Sam. But the angel blade won’t work, because I’m not an angel anymore. I’m your new God. A better one. So you will bow down and profess your love unto me, your Lord. Or I shall destroy you. (Transcript from here.)

Again, Dean tried to argue with the overpowered angel, he tried bargaining, pleading, and appealing to Cas’s fondness for them, but it didn’t work. Sam was the one who was forced to try stabbing Cas and it… also didn’t work.

7x01 - Meet the New Boss

Sam: Dean, look, I know you think that Cas is gone –

Dean: It’s 'cause he is.

Sam: He’s not! He’s in there somewhere, Dean. I know it.

Dean: No, you don’t.

Sam: No, I don’t. But, look, I was pretty far gone sometimes myself, and never gave up on me.

Dean: Yeah, and it turns out that you’re about the Same open book as you’ve always been. Hallucinations? Really? I got to find out from Death?

Sam: What was I supposed to do?

Dean: How about not lie? How about tell me that you’ve got crazy crap climbing those walls?

Sam: Why? You can’t help. You got a lot of pretty severe crap swinging your way lately, and – and I thought –what? I thought why burst the one good bubble you had left? It’s under control.

Dean: What? What, exactly, is under control?

Sam: I know what’s real and what’s not.

Dean: Sam –

Sam: Dean, look, we can debate this once we deal with Cas.

Dean: Yeah, you know how I’m gonna deal? I’m gonna stuff my piehole, I’m gonna drink, and I’m gonna watch some Asian cartoon p**n and act like the world’s about to explode because it is. Hey. You got to be kidding me. “Massacre at the campaign office of an incumbent Senator by a trench-coated man.” There’s security footage. Well, I think reaching Cas is, uh… out of the cards. (Transcript from here. And hopefully my slight censoring the last paragraph keeps tumblr from blacklisting this post into the aether…)

Here’s a sad thought for you, how often do you think–while Cas was terrorizing the country as Godstiel and, later, after he walked into the lake and exploded into Leviathan goo–Dean thought about how he should have listened to Bobby and Sam and taken Cas out before he had the chance to swallow the Leviathans and become super powered? Probably a lot, I’d guess.

This moment, as much as I, personally, hate seasons 6 and 7, went pretty damn far to reinforce this Old Yeller principle in Dean’s moral code.

He had to sit back and watch, literally, while someone he cared about went out of their goddamn mind with power while killing and terrorizing people. He had to do that knowing that there was a moment when he could have done something to prevent it. He could have killed Cas when he had him locked up in the ring of holy fire and they were having one of their many breakup moments.

Dean felt like he could have stopped all of this, but he’d been weak and tried talking it out first instead. And you can’t convince me that he didn’t check the news and every drop of blood Godstiel brought about to the blood on his own hands because of that choice to give Cas a chance to see reason.

10x09 - The Things We Left Behind

CASTIEL: How are you, Dean?

DEAN: Fine. [Cas gives him a look.] I’m great!

CASTIEL: No, you’re not.

DEAN: Yeah, well, I lost the black eyes, so that’s a plus. But I still have this. [Dean reaches over and gently slaps the Mark on his arm.]

CASTIEL: Is the Mark of Cain still affecting you?

[Dean flashes back to his dream from earlier, of the blood covering him, the dead bodies lying around him.]

CASTIEL: Dean?

[Dean blinks hard, coming back to the present.]

DEAN: Cas, I need you to promise me something.

CASTIEL: Of course.

DEAN: If I do go dark side, you got to take me out.

CASTIEL: What do you mean?

DEAN: Knife me. Smite me. Throw me into the freakin’ sun, whatever. And don’t let Sam get in the way, because he’ll try. I can’t go down that road again, man. I can’t be that thing again.

(Transcript from here.)

I may hate seasons 6 and 7, but holy damn do I love season 10. I know it’s not a favorite among many people in the fandom, but it’s one of mine.

This moment, this burger date of sadness and pain, is a big favorite for me. Dean sees the writing on the wall. He’s been a Knight of Hell now. He’s been as darkside as he can get. He’s, likely, being reminded daily of his time in Hell in the last ten years of his stay there where he was torturing souls. And he’s begging Cas to keep him from returning to that place. He’s begging Cas to adopt the Old Yeller principle because he sees it as the only option left if the mark consumed him again. And that kills me.

Let’s take another jump forward to season 13, where Dabb & Co really started putting Dean’s Old Yeller principle into text in a heavy, purposeful way.

13x02 - The Rising Son

SAM Dean, wait a second. (Sighs) The kid came through for us today. Jack saved us.

DEAN No. No, whatever that was, that was a reflex. It was a sneeze. Maybe next time he sneezes, he kills us. Good night.

[DEAN hears a clacking sound coming from a distance. He follows the noise to JACK’s room.] JACK Ah!

[DEAN finds JACK trying to stab himself with a blade. The wounds immediately heal.]

DEAN Okay. What the hell? (he gets in the room) Give me that. You—Don’t be an idiot. Look, A, this is not gonna do anything to you, okay? And B, you… What the hell?

JACK Exactly. What the hell am I? I can’t control… whatever this is. I will hurt someone.

DEAN You know, my brother thinks you can be saved.

JACK You don’t believe that.

DEAN No, I don’t.

JACK So… if you’re right?

DEAN If I’m right… and it comes to killing you… I’ll be the one to do it.

[DEAN leaves.]

(Transcript from here.)

Can I just bask in the glory of the grieving widow!Dean arc from the beginning of 13 for a moment? I’d also like to take a moment to 🙌 Jack for being a wonderful Team Free Will mirror (and mimic) from the word go.

Ahhh…

Okay, moving on.

I loved this bit in 13x02 so much. Partially because it’s such a heavy handed foreshadow to 14x20, but also because it shows so clearly how good Jack is at reading the emotions in the room. He’s, like, three days old at that point, but he’s already having an existential crisis about whether or not he’s evil. He already understands (yes, thanks to jackass grieving widow!Dean…) the whole Monster = Evil = Kill The Thing.

He also shows that he understands the Old Yeller principle. And, for better or worse, he and Dean reach an unspoken agreement here about it. (Again, this is my reading. Your mileage may vary.)

13x04 - The Big Empty

JACK I’m afraid.

MIA/KELLY Why? Why are you afraid?

JACK Sam thinks you were right, that—that I’m good. He wants me to believe it, and I wanna believe it, too. It’s just, I… I’ve hurt people. I didn’t mean to. It was an accident. And I know I should feel bad, and I say I feel bad, but most of the time, I mostly… I don’t feel anything. And that’s why I think maybe… Maybe I’m a monster.

MIA/KELLY Jack. It doesn’t matter what you are. It matters what you do. And even monsters can do good in this world.

JACK You really believe that?

MIA/KELLY I have to. I have to.

[MIA hugs JACK again.]

(Trancript from here.)

Killing me would be kinder than subjecting me to these feelings so soon after being introduced to this fucking character. Omg. Poor Jack.

Now, yes, a huuuuge part of Jack’s opinion of monsters and the whole “What do we do with monsters children? That’s RIGHT, we kill them.” thing is because Dean is an asshole when he’s emotional and grieving and deep into survival mode.

But, that doesn’t change the fact that Jack is still worried about the fact that he doesn’t feel things the way that everyone else seems to. That he has powers no one, including him, can understand. And that he’s killed people without meaning to. He’s afraid of himself just like Dean was afraid of what he was capable of if the mark took him over again.

13x23 - Let The Good Times Roll

(Sam continues down the hallway while Dean turns to another hallway and approaches his bedroom door. He stops as if to listen to something and then continues down the hall, away from his bedroom door. He enters Jack’s room, where Jack is sleeping and talking in his sleep)

JACK Stop! No!

DEAN Jack? (Dean touches Jack’s shoulder to wake him) Hey. (Jack jumps up, anxious and disoriented. Dean holds out his hand towards Jack to calm him) Hey, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Easy. You’re just having a bad dream.

JACK (breathing heavily) Sorry.

DEAN It’s okay. You don’t have to apologize. I have 'em, too. All the time.

JACK You do?

DEAN Sure.

JACK You, um… What do you see?

DEAN Well, depends. Mostly…mostly people I couldn’t save.

JACK Me, too. Over there in the other world, I said I’d protect those people. But…I saw so many of them die. And…I tried to save them. I…I tried, but… I’m sorry. I wasn’t strong enough.

DEAN Jack… (Dean sits on the edge of Jack’s bed) it’s not about being strong. I mean… Look, I don’t know what you saw over there, and I don’t know what you went through. I know it was bad. But I also know that you came out the other side because you are strong. But even when we’re strong, man, things are gonna happen. We’re gonna make mistakes. Nobody’s perfect. Right? But we can get better. Every day, we can get better. So whatever you’re dealing with, you know, whatever…whatever comes at us, we’ll figure out a way to deal with it, together. You’re family, kid, and we look after our own.

(Transcript from here.)

It’s not about being strong. IT’S NOT ABOUT BEING STRONG.

This is where we veer away from Old Yeller a tiny bit because, again, in the book Yeller had rabies which they could do nothing about.

The moments I’ve highlighted in this post all come back to one motivation. The overpowered person/angel/asshole in question was trying to gain enough strength through supernatural (lol) means in order to have the power to destroy a (perceived) bigger threat than whatever the cost was to get that power.

Sam’s demon blood drinking was supposed to give him the power to destroy Lucifer and get revenge for Mary and John and their lost childhood. It went badly and earned Sam the label of monster and falling, at least temporarily, into the territory of the Old Yeller principle.

Cas started lying to the brothers and working with Crowley so they could gain the power to stop heaven from starting yet another apaocalypse. Cas wanted to keep the Winchesters (Dean) safe from being destroyed in a holy war after being forced to fight his brother to the death. Again, this did not go well and lead to Cas succumbing to the Leviathans’s power and dying front of Dean after losing the Winchester’s trust.

Dean took on the Mark of Cain to defeat Abaddon, the evil that made John grow up without a father. It left him torn between going on a, essentially, soulless killing spree or becoming a Knight of Hell… again.

Hell, even the way Jack came into the world was fraught with Sam lying to Dean about working with the BMoL to have the power and strength to defeat Lucifer/the nephilim. Not to mention the months of lying Cas did after he decided that Jack’s power and strength was the only way they could destroy Lucifer once and for all. Again, this ended with Cas dying in front of Dean and the BMoL trying to exterminate everyone including the American hunters.

That’s the lesson Dean is trying to instill (hypocritically, let’s be honest) to Jack here. Strength and power come at a terrible cost and if you can solve a problem without resorting to that level of fuckery that things will be better.

And, also, that if things do go bad, that Jack is family and “we look after our own.” To Dean, this is where the Old Yeller principle kicks in. It is, in a rather fucked up but well earned way, the best option he knows for making sure another one of his loved ones doesn’t fall under that monster label. That none of them end up with more blood on their hands or bringing about the end of the world, again, because of their soap opera problems.

13x23 - Let The Good Times Roll

JACK I’m sorry.

(Jack walks towards the exit and Castiel goes to follow him)

CASTIEL Jack!

(Dean grabs Castiel’s arm)

DEAN No, hey, just – just let him go.

(Jack is walking through the woods, banging a closed fist into his hand and punching his shoulder)

JACK You keep hurting people! You keep… (Jack flashes back to all the people he has hurt with his powers – Nate, Sam, Dean, the female police officer) hurting… (flash to the male sheriff) (yelling) Why do you keep hurting people?!

(Transcript from here.)

This lesson, the lesson of power and strength not being the best answer because of the cost it comes with is not an easy one to learn. Especially when you were born as a superpowered, emotional Winchester by adoption. Life is scary when that’s the hand you’ve been dealt and using the power you have is an appealing balm to combat that fear.

13x23 - Let The Good Times Roll

JACK (moving towards Lucifer, eyes glowing and hand outstretched)Tell me the truth!

(Lucifer’s eyes start to glow, his head tilts to the side and he starts speaking)

LUCIFER She saw me when I was scouting out the bunker. She saw me and she screamed, and then…so I crushed her skull with my bare hands. And it was warm and wet, and I liked it.

(Lucifer’s eyes return to normal and he looks confused)

JACK You’re not my father. You’re a monster.

LUCIFER (yelling) Come on, man! (Lucifer bellows so forcibly that Sam and Dean cover their ears, his eyes glowing red) Okay. I tried with you. I really tried with you.

JACK Everything you told me was a lie.

LUCIFER Because I told you what you wanted to hear, man. So what?! I killed the girl! Big deal! She’s a – she’s a human! She doesn’t matter!

JACK So am I!

LUCIFER Yeah? And that’s your problem. (pointing at Jack) You’re too much like your mother.

(Transcript from here.)

To me, this moment reads as Jack embracing that black and white Winchester thinking. He has yet (even now that’s he’s currently dead in season 15) to grasp the concept of people being morally gray. He sees himself as either embracing the monster side of himself from his bio dad or rejecting that side of himself to embrace Kelly’s human side. The side that can’t hurt people on accident. The side that makes him more like the Winchesters. Because he doesn’t want to fall under than monster label. He doesn’t want to fall under that Old Yeller principle. He doesn’t want to hurt so many people that he will have to die because neither he or anyone else can control him.

Yes, this moment is FAR more complicated than just that, but it’s definitely part of it.

14x10 - Nihilism

DEAN Sam said that one of your reapers really came through with the assist. I’m thinking that was probably you.

BILLIE Don’t tell anyone.

DEAN You broke the rules.

BILLIE I took a calculated risk. I warned you about the dangers of jumping from world to world. But you ignored me, didn’t you?

DEAN Rescuing Mom and Jack, helping out those other folks – I’d say it was worth it.

BILLIE And just look at you now. Do you remember visiting my reading room? The shelves and shelves of notebooks describing the ways you might die?

DEAN Yeah. Upbeat classics.

BILLIE Well, it’s the funniest thing, but they’ve all been rewritten. They all end the same way now – with the archangel Michael escaping your mind and using you as his vessel to burn down this world.

DEAN All of them?

BILLIE All of them. Except one.

(Billie hands Dean a book. He opens it and then looks at her, stunned)

DEAN What am I supposed to do with this?

BILLIE That’s up to you.

(Dean looks at the book again and when he looks up, Billie is gone. He looks back at the book and then looks around, a mixture of fear and confusion on his face)

(Transcript from here.)

Remember what I said about Dean being well aware of the price that has to be paid in exchange for the power and strength to defeat supposedly unbeatable enemies?

Yeah… Dean “knows” that the time has come for him to call his own bluff. The one from all the way back in 10x09 (not that he was bluffing then, but he didn’t have to take action on it then) when he asked Cas to take him out. “Knife me. Smite me. Throw me into the freakin’ sun, whatever.”

We didn’t know that was what this moment was until the next episode. But this is the moment when the Old Yeller principle went into effect again. And you can see how much it hurts Dean, how resigned and heartbroken he is over it.

14x11 - Damaged Goods

DEAN It’s a Ma’lak box. [DEAN closes the door to the box. He and SAM are standing over it.] Secured and warded. Once inside… nothing gets out, not even an archangel. Especially an archangel.

SAM Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’ve – I’ve read about these, but – but no one’s ever – they’re impossible to build.

DEAN Yeah, well, not so much.

SAM That’s your plan? You want to be buried alive?

DEAN Buried’s not safe enough. Plan is, pay a little hush money, charter a boat to take me out to the Pacific. Splash.

SAM You and Michael, trapped together – for eternity?

DEAN Yeah.

SAM You do realize how insane this is, right?

DEAN It’s the only sane play I’ve got. Michael gets out, that’s it for this world. And he will get out.

SAM Well, how do you know that for sure?

DEAN Because I do. Because I can feel him in my head. That door is giving. I can feel it giving.

SAM But there has to be another way.

DEAN There’s not, okay? There – Sam you’ve tried. Cas has tried. Jack… And I love you for trying. But none of it’s gonna work.

SAM We don’t know that.

DEAN Yeah, we do.

SAM What?

DEAN Billie.

SAM Billie?

DEAN She paid me a little visit. She said that there’s only one way this ends right. And this is it. This, right here, this box. So, she gave up the special recipe, and all I had to do was the work. It’s fate.

SAM Since when do we believe in fate?

DEAN Now, Sam. Since now.

(Transcript from here.)

Here is the moment. The one where Dean was at his absolute lowest. When he hit that point where resignation about his fate met having to act on his principles.

14x12 - Prophet and Loss

DEAN Well, I will call this a win. Kinda nice. Going out on a high. SAM “Going out” being the operative phrase. DEAN Sorry. SAM “Sorry.” How sorry are you? Sorry that you fight to keep Donatello alive, but when it comes to you, you just throw in the towel? Or are you sorry that, after all these years, our entire lives, a-after I’ve looked up to you, after I’ve learned from you, I-I-I’ve copied you, I followed you to Hell and back… are you sorry that all of that it – it – it means nothing now? DEAN Who’s saying that? SAM You are, when you tell me I have to kill you. When you’re telling me that I have to just throw away everything we stand for, throw away faith, throw away family. We’re the guys who saved the world. We don’t just check out of it! [SAM pushes DEAN.] DEAN Sam, I have tried everything. Everything! I got one card left to play and I have to play it. SAM You have one card today! But we’ll find another tomorrow. But if you quit on us today, there will be no tomorrow! You tell me, uh, you don’t know what else to do. I don’t either, Dean. Not yet. But what you’re doing now, i-it’s – it’s wrong! It’s quitting! I mean, l-look what just happened. Donatello never quit fighting. So we could help him because he never gave up. [SAM moves closer to DEAN.] I believe in us, Dean. [DEAN doesn’t say anything. SAM gets angry and punches DEAN in the face.] I believe in us. [SAM tries to punch DEAN again, but he stops him.] DEAN Hey, hey, hey, hey! [SAM hugs DEAN.] SAM Why don’t you believe in us, too? DEAN Okay, Sam. Let’s go home. SAM What? [SAM pulls away from the hug.] DEAN Let’s go home. Maybe Billie’s wrong. Maybe. But I do believe in us.

(Transcript from here.)

And just like Dean predicted in 10x09, Sam was able to talk him out of sacrificing himself. How was he able to do that? By reminding Dean that they were the fucking Winchesters. They fucked with the cosmic balance constantly and always, always found another way. A way to avoid the Old Yeller principle. A way to live and fight again.

Which, they totally did, but the price of not throwing Dean into the ocean for an eternity of alone time with alt!Michael banging away in his head was their adopted child.

14x20 - Moriah

JACK: You’re not gonna lock me up again, are you?

DEAN: No.

(Dean raises the gun, aims at Jack and exhales deeply. Jack kneels down and bows his head. Dean, looking puzzled, lowers the gun and walks closer towards Jack. When he’s right in front of Jack, he aims the gun directly at his head. At this moment Sam comes speeding into the cemetery, car tires screeching. He gets out of the car and starts running towards Dean and Jack)

SAM: Dean? Dean!

JACK: (to Dean) I understand.

(Sam is still running, yelling for Dean. The music is getting more suspenseful as Dean holds his aim steady at Jack)

SAM: Dean, don’t! Dean? Dean!

JACK: I know what I’ve done.

SAM: No, no, no, no, no, no, no, Dean! Hey, hey, hey! Dean!

DEAN: Stay back, Sam!

SAM: (Panting)

JACK: And you were right all along. (Chuck comes up alongside Sam) I am a monster.

SAM: (to Chuck) Do something. … You’re enjoying this.

CHUCK: Shh.

(Dramatic music plays)

(Dean cocks the gun. He looks Jack in the eye for several seconds and then slowly lowers the gun. At this point, Castiel also comes running towards the area)

(Dean uncocks the gun and tosses it to the side)

(Transcript from here.)

I have yet to rewatch this episode, but from what I remember I don’t think it had completely sunk in to Dean in that moment of choice that Chuck was there revealing that he was invested in the outcome of this showdown between Dean and Jack. In that moment, that split second of choice between following through with what he’d believed for so long for following through with an extension of the order John gave him about Sam back in the hospital back in 2x01, Dean made a choice for himself. And that choice was to believe that they’d find another way. He decided that when it came right down to it, he couldn’t kill his child for making the same bargain for power and strength that he himself had made multiple times over the last 14 seasons.

He was also directly confronted with a similar situation to that from the end of season 6 and beginning of 7 with Cas and the Leviathans, in that when it really came down to it, he wasn’t capable of murdering someone he considered family.

And then Chuck had to go and erase any chance they had in following up on that. He killed Jack so that they didn’t have a chance to find a way to help Jack balance the power he’d absorbed from destroying Michael or living without his soul.

So yeah, from where we sit now with only one episode of season 15 under our belts waiting with baited breath to see where the rest of this end of the road season takes us, it makes sense that Dean, of all people, would be in the middle of an emotional fucking collapse. And that he would be a huge, whiny, pissbaby douchebag about it because that’s the Dean Winchester way.

Does that make his behavior okay? No, of course not. But does that turn any of the rest of them into saints? Nope, of course not. And I, personally, wouldn’t have it any other way. I like that they’re flawed and fucked up and keep getting back up and going back to each other and keep trying. That’s why we’ve had 15 goddamn seasons of this. Because it’s what they do.

#15x01 #spn spoilers #spn parallels #jack kline #dean winchester #spn meta #season 15 #jack the nougat nephilim #my spn meta #tumblr mobile ate this post the first time i tried posting it but it was in the cache on my laptop so it's back!

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gloriousstudentfury-love · 4 years

Text

The Death of Mrs. Resnick ✰

y/n’s POV

I sat squished between Alex and his baseball gear, on the way to one of his games. I wasn't my plan to go, but Penelope and Alex didn't really give me much of a choice.

"Mom, I'm gonna miss the first pitch. Go faster!" Alex groaned

"Alex, you know Mrs. Resnick doesn't go faster. Unless we're going downhill, then she might not stop." Penelope sighed, grilling tighter on the steering wheel

"We are so late. Just try." He complained, slouching further down into his seat

She slammed the petal to go faster and the car started rattling. I held on to my seat with slight fear of stopping in the middle of LA traffic.

"Mom, I smell gas." Elena said

"All right." Penelope nodded, whipping out a bottle of air freshener to get rid of the smell

"Wow, That smells nice. What is that?" I asked, slightly sniffing the air

"It's Hawaii." She smiled

"Maybe the car's mad because papi stuck it with a name like Mrs. Resnick." Elena joked

"You know your papi named her after a hot teacher he had a crush on." Penelope informed her kids

"Our math teacher is pretty hot." I said16

Alex flicked me and I flicked him back. We got into a flicking war until he decided to speak up about the car, again.

"Yeah, but by now I bet Mr. Resnick's traded her in for a younger model." Alex said, making me smack off his hat

"That's not funny papito." Penelope snapped

"It's not funny. Society treats middle aged women shamefully. I read a study online-" Elena started, prepared to go on a full on rant

"Okay, who wants to hear some tunes?" Penelope interrupted

We all groaned, as she began to play a sappy live song. Penelope smiled at the song choice and began to sing along. Elena grew annoyed with the obnoxious music and paused it.

"Aw, right before the good part." Penelope complained

"There is no good part." I commented

"That CD has been stuck in this car my whole life." Elena said

"Uh, excuse me? It's a cassingle." Penelope said, offended by Elena's words

All of a sudden the car began to make sounds started slowing down. I looked out the window to notice the other cars attempting to pass the one we were in.

"Why are we slowing down? Who turned on the AC? You know Mrs. Resnick can't handle that!" Penelope freaked

"I'm sorry, but it's 90 degrees and you won't let us roll the windows down." Elena apologized with a small sigh

"Because then they don't go back up. And it's only a crime to leave children in a hot car if it's parked. I looked it up!" Penelope continued to rant

The car stopped and we all sighed as we sat in the middle of the street.

"Great. Okay, guys. You know the drill." Penelope spoke

We all held hands in prayer, while Penelope tried to fix the car the broken down car. She turned the key in the ignition and the engine started. We all cheered in happiness as the car began to more forward again.

"See? Mrs. Resnick's still got it." Penelope said

The engine sputtered one last time before it finally died out, with no chance of starting it up again.

"It's probably 20 minutes until the tow truck gets here. So, what should we do to pass them time?" Penelope asked after she'd called a company and let them know about where we were

She smirked before she started to play her music again. I sighed but ultimately let a smile take over my face when I realized that me and Alex were still holding hands from our prayer.. Maybe I do like my best friend, as much as I'd rather not admit.

____________

Later, we walked into the Alvarez apartment to find Lydia on the couch with a face mask on. I've used plenty of face masks before, so I wasn't to bothered to find the woman's face covered.

"Oh, hello." Lydia greeted

"What are you doing, Mami?" Penelope asked with a small laugh

"This is supposed to make your skin glow. It's called a shit mask." Lydia said

We all laughed at the way she pronounced it, while I took a seat in the arm chair besides the couch.

"Mami, 'sheet'. It's called a sheet mask." Penelope said, putting emphasis on the proper way to pronounce it

"That's what I said, shit." She repeated, finding no difference in the way we pronounced it vs the way she did

"So, would you say you are sheet-faced right now?" Elena joked

"Stop! Or the sheet will hit the fan." Penelope joined in

"You are back so late, I decided to have a little me time." Lydia commented

"Can you feel it working? Hey, guys." Schneider greeted, coming out from the kitchen wearing a similar mask.

His phone alarm went off, making me jump a bit. He took it out of his pocket, and smiled at the older woman on the couch.

"And we are 29 again." Schneider smiled as they took off their masks, "Where you guys been? And why didn't you text me?"

I knew his last question was pointed at me, so I gave him a small smile, "My phone died."

"Mrs. Resnick broke down again and had to be towed to the mechanic." Elena said, referring to the first question he had asked

"Hector's lookin at it now." Penelope said

"Oh, how is Hector? I feel like I haven't seen him in days." Lydia said

"Oh, papito. What happened to your pants?" Elena asked, smirking at the tear in Alex's pants

"I ripped them getting out of the trunk." Alex said, glaring at me as I laughed

"You keep him in the trunk now?" Lydia asked

"No, the doors got stuck again so we all had to climb out through the back." Penelope said

"It's terrible. Now the whole team calls me "Butt-Trunk Boy." Alex groaned

"They could've call you 'junk in the trunk.' It was right there." I added, still laughing at his accident

The cell phone rang and Penelope picked it up, letting us know it was Hector. Not wanting to bother myself with information about the car, I made my to the kitchen to get some food.

When I came back in, Penelope was in the middle of telling the story of her first date with their father.

"He even wrote our initials in a little heart in the bill. I still have it somewhere." She said, making me smile even though I hadn't heard the rest of the story

"Aw, you never take us to Malibu." Alex said

"That's what you got from that story?" I asked, popping some of the grapes I stole into my mouth

"Yeah, but the good news is you're getting a new car." Schneider said

"Oh, sure, I'll just have the butler pick it up." She sarcastically replied

"Oh, butlers work at the estate." Schneider said laughing, "Chauffeurs pick up the car."

"Lupe, if you need money for a car, I am here to help. I will teach dance again! It is a gift that I have withheld from the world far too long." Lydia declared with a large smile

"She taught me how to salsa. She was amazing." Schneider agreed

"I do it for the joy. You owe me $30." Lydia said, pointing at the tall man

"Okay, well, why don't we take public transportation and reduce our carbon footprint? It's the best way to save money, and besides, I don't want you to have to go into my college fund." Elena said

"College fund? You see that dish of change by the door? That's your college fund. Well, not the quarters, cause I need that for laundry." Penelope laughed

"Elena, mi niña, a family needs a car. In Cuba, my best memories are the long rides with my papi in a Chevy the size of this apartment. It was glorious. His beloved daughter on one side and on the other, his beloved bottle of rum." Lydia said

"That sounds dangerous." Alex commented

"No, no, no, no, we didn't have seatbelts back then. We would just roll out quick." Lydia insisted

"Well, I'm going to start taking public transportation, you know, to help atone for the environmental devastation that my ancestors and their gas guzzlers so cruelly left to this earth." Elena said

"Why does everything have to be a crusade that is also annoying?" Lydia asked

"Abuelita is right. We need a car, but we can't afford a car. Unless we get a crazy good deal, which means we're screwed, because... car salesman are scary." Penelope said

"But not to you. You were in the Army!" Alex said

"Yeah, you're always saying you're a badass." Elena agreed

"I am a badass! But I'm also kind of a scaredy cat, you know, because .... I never bought a car before, you know? That salesman is gonna see me coming a mile away. Then he's gonna do that thing where he talks to the guy. And then they're gonna day something about floor mats, and then blah blah blah, I wake up in an ice tub, because someone took my kidneys." Penelope said

I shut my eyes and zoned out the rest of their conversation.

____________

The next day, Schneider, Alex, and I all came back from Alex's baseball game. Again, I was dragged from ballet practice to the game, because Schneider insisted he needed moral support. Not for Alex, but himself.

"Mom, today was the best!" Alex grinned, slamming open the door

"Ooh!" Penelope cheered, noticing all of our happy expressions

"Everyone saw me in Schneider's Range Rover and thought I was a total pimp!" Alex laughed

I rolled my eyes at the boy's excitement. You'd think he'd be happy that they won the game, but he cared more for his bragging rights.

"Don't say pimp or you'll get grounded!" Penelope snapped

"Seriously, Mom. His car is amazing. The seats warm up. You wouldn't think you'd want a warm butt... but you totally do." Alex said

"It's all the best parts of peeing your pants without any wetness." Schneider said

"You should've seen Schneider. The other parents were obsessed." I said, finally joining in on their conversation

"Connie Merkelson told me she's never seen someone slice apples with such grace." Schneider said as me and Alex headed to his room.

______________

Schneider has fallen asleep after we finished watching a bunch of romantic comedies, so I decided to go see my friend. Knowing everyone else was probably asleep, I took Schneider's main key and quietly opened the door

"Alex!!" I whispered knocking on his door

"What?" He asked gently opening it, so I could come in

"Schneider fell asleep and.. I don't think that needs a further explanation." I said, taking a spot on the end of his bed

"That's not as bad as the signs that my Abuelita put around town." He said, shuddering at the memory

"Also, here's your sweatshirt back. I borrowed it that day you spilt food all over me, so here." I said handing him the grey hoodie

"Nah. Keep it. Looks better on you anyway." He smiled going back to the homework that sat on his desk

I blushed lightly at his comment, but brushed it off before composing myself once again

"Did your mom get a new car?" I asked, changing the subject

"Uh huh, it's no Range Rover but it's nice." He smiled

"Mhm." I said, flopping onto his bed, "Wake me up if I fall asleep."

______________

Yeet! Update! Also, what are some other shows you guys would like to see? I need ideas.

#odaat #alex alvarez

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shadow-and-quill · 5 years

Text

.:RP:. Politicking

Characters: Ritsuka Aoki (male Keeper), Shen Kotodama (male Raen)

Rating: General

Origin Date: 4 Nov 18

Shen and Ritsuka discuss ways forward dealing with the Yukimura and other manners. The eldest of the Kotodama and their loyal shinobi tend to be quite an amusing pair.

“>blah<” indicates Doman

---------------------------------------------------------------

Ritsuka Aoki blinks as he walks into his office. "Kotodama-sama, we didn't have a meeting." It was said with such certainty, his schedule memorized.

Shen Kotodama had only just been there, a cup of tea in hand. Head canting back. "No. I didn't have bothersome juniors until today. Do you have any pressing matters?"

Ritsuka Aoki shakes his head, going to his desk to pull out a new set of glasses. There are about a dozen or so stashed there. The cracked ones from the practice spar are set aside to be repaired later.

Shen Kotodama observed this stash with some quiet bemusement playing upon his eyes. "As many glasses as the shoji we've replaced?" A tease. He'd almost lit the last person to run through them on fire himself.

"I would need an entire shelf to match that number," was the dry tone. "Can I get you anything?" Ever the host. He goes to move the plushie off his desk and to the corner. More toys had appeared with Saeha staying with him.

Shen Kotodama hefted up briefly his own cup of tea. "You honor me with your graciousness; so I thought to do so equally in preparedness," was the slow reply as he switched to Doman. “>Have you trained someone in the ways of the diplomat before?<”

Ritsuka Aoki shifted his glasses up his nose. ">I have not. I was self-taught as it was. Is there someone that you're considering?<" An eyebrow raise.

Shen Kotodama sighed softly to this. “>This makes you even more impressive, Aoki-san. If you were born a Raen you would hold an office in the Bakufu.<” For once he didn't sound like he was playing at someone. Rather he respected Ritsu's abilities quite a bit. “>Yes. I had intended for you to teach Kiyo before her emotional nature swallows her clan.<”

Ritsuka Aoki knew that fact /very very/ well. A bit of an annoyance in his life but fortunately his spot had more than enough financial stability to suit him and his sister. His tail swished in a rare content motion at the praise. ">Daimyo Yukimura?<" The tone in his voice betrayed how he felt about how successful THAT would be.

">You can call her Daimyo with a straight face?<” A subtle rising of his brow to this. His face it's usual socially kind mask. “>Though yes, Daimyo Yukimura. Only lightly less of a lost cause than our own sitting Daimyo.<” The sitting part stressed softly in his tone.

">She has inherited the title as tradition dictates so I will address her as so.<" Just as neutral a tone. ">Both of the Daimyo are quite young.<" He sets his book on the desk after retrieving it from his robes. ">And untrained. If there was a more experienced one of their station, that would be the best way for them to learn.<"

Shen Kotodama momentarily has an actually genuine look of disgust come across his features. But this is soon gone. “>Both are young and raised outside of the traditional bounds of our culture. If we find no other option, there are my ancestors to consider towards their training.<”

Ritsuka Aoki tilts his head to the side at that. ">Or look about Doma. Clans are reforming and those that were in hiding are re-emerging. Surely there is one that the Clan has ties to that would be willing to mentor two young leaders?<"

">We have ties to other clans; this is to assume that they are trusted however. To influence our leaders as this, Aoki-san, I'm sure you understand I want to keep our influence and control of the heads.<”

">Of course, Kotodama-sama. I understand completely.<" A shift of his glasses. ">That is why I will go and monitor the lessons myself if one is found worthy.<"

Shen Kotodama closed his eyes for a moment. Offering a minor nod. “>Then I will entrust this to you. Perhaps it is a thing I should have seen set in motion sooner as I will be speaking to Yukimura-dono soon about the siege. Perhaps I can have her draw on me.<”

Ritsuka Aoki can't help a bit of a wry smirk at that. ">My suggestion is that you stop antagonizing the woman. I caught the last of your bickering earlier after Rokuyo-san arrived. You are just as guilty for antagonizing here.....ser.<"

Shen Kotodama sighed deeply. Canting his head back a bit. “>She reminds me of my junior sister, in truth. I assumed such hard lessons and her losing with her outburst would be sufficient. She is valuable even should her request be difficult.<”

">She is on the defensive. And when some feel backed into a corner they lash out. The constant poking at her while she is in such a state will only make things worse.<" He rested fingers on his book for a moment, leaning a bit forward on the desk. ">I overheard she is to meet the kifujin of Hausuganji concerning a political marriage.<"

">Mmm.<” Shen looked down at Ritsuka at this. “>This would be quite troublesome. With us actively losing our host reclaiming their mountain.<” Though the man was in the traditional way far underselling it.

Ritsuka Aoki raises a dark eyebrow again. My goodness, were all born Domans this silly? ">I would think you would be concerned being the only suitable male in the running for the Kotodama. Even if you are perhaps past your prime for your husbandly duties.<" Said so plainly.

Shen Kotodama would have agreed, people born Doman were quite silly creatures. “>I am the only suitable male currently free. A younger brother did survive... last I had seen him in the prisoner camps.<” The mark upon his forehead was a brand, after all. “>Even aside. I am hardly concerned for myself. The marriage is more important than the contact; one of her consorts can fill the role for bringing a child. Though I doubt my body lacking in ability.<” Pride, or something else!

Ritsuka Aoki does his best to repress a smile. All men were the same. But he soon regains himself. ">Firstly, if you have family in the camps, they should be freed now. Should we set out to find him? Secondly, you had better improve your interactions with Daimyo Yukimura if you wish to keep her swayed to the Kotodama.<" He opens his book, clawed fingers running down a line. ">Though...<" A pause. ">You always leverage her honor in the fact that you /are/ giving her her home back.<" A glance back up.

Shen Kotodama cocked an eyebrow to this. The other point could wait for a moment. “>I do, as this is the fact of the matter. Her father was lacking valorous honor; but his daughter is a woman of fire... ironically so.<”

Ritsuka Aoki is quiet for a few, tapping his page. "> You are fond of her then.<"

“>Of her potential,<” Shen corrected. “>I believe she wouldn't have abandoned her homeland. That her pride wouldn't have let her do so.<”

Ritsuka Aoki tilts his head. ">She admitted today that she made the call to retreat when the attack happened.<"

Shen Kotodama hummed softly to this, making to sip at his tea, but it was all gone. “>I find it hard to believe a child could have called a retreat; she was little more than this when they fell.<” Though it certainly brought doubt to his thoughts. “>If she is the same coward as her father however we're wasting considerable resources.<”

Ritsuka Aoki walks over to take his cup and go to fill it. ">Think of it. She was likely in her later teenage years when it happened. Freshly assumed the mantle of Daimyo due to her father's sudden death. And her village slain by a yokai twin. Her Clan would be gone if they hadn't run. That has to be admired.<" Back and forth he flopped on opinions, curious of reactions.

Shen Kotodama sighed. Eyes closing as the cup was filled. Ritsuka would have been frightening if he had been born anything but a miqo'te. “>There is nothing to be admired in retreat, Aoki-san.<”

">Not even in survival? Ensuring your blood lives on?<"

">What worth is that blood if it is tainted by meekness?<”

">It's life.<" He leans his hip against the desk, a bit of his formality fading. ">I am here, alive, with my sister because I left Eorzea. Was your praise from earlier given to the meek?<"

">It would seem so.<” Though Shen was simply being prideful now. The man only sighed in the end. “>Can you have a gem retrieved from the Clan’s temple? I will be taking to the field.<”

Ritsuka Aoki is hardly offended, in fact the curl of his lips implies he's amused. ">If you trust a meek miqo'te like myself to do so, Kotodama-sama.<"

Shen Kotodama glanced down at Ritsuka. Eyes narrowed; towards anyone else it would be a glare! “>I would rather you go. The Ancestors won't bother you. I will admit to Kiyo she was correct before I go to assuage her ego.<”

">You'll just have to give me a location so I can gauge how far I'll have to prepare. There are still rogue Garlean elements roaming Doma.<" He doesn't remark on his latter words but that shite-eating smirk remains on his face.

Shen Kotodama wondered if he should have burned this miqo'te instead of the Daimyo! “>It's an island off the coast. I'll have it's location sent to you. Perhaps a half day’s travel If you need a body guard I'll have one sent with you.<” It went without saying; Ritsuka had won.

">A bodyguard will simply slow me down. I work best alone. Please just send me all the details. I will head out after some planning once I receive them.<" A more proper bow.

Shen Kotodama returned Ritsuka's bow. Only pausing once he stood. “>If I didn't enjoy your company I would have to sneer at such smugness.<” And that was close as admitting he enjoyed someone as he would give. “>I'll leave you to your evening now. I imagine Saeha-chan will be back soon.<”

">Indeed she will be. Hopefully she didn't completely exhaust X'nihru-san.<" An adjustment of his glasses. ">And it was a pleasure to have such an enlightening discussion with you as well, Kotodama-sama.<"

">I fear it was too enlightening. Do make sure to find someone to train Yukimura-dono. I would do it myself, but she might actually try to kill me and I would hate to have to act upon such.<” Though it's unlikely he actually would.

">I will see what I can arrange. She is a beautiful young woman,<" even he could admire that despite his preferences, ">I am sure an eager young man would be happy for such an opportunity.<"

">If their eagerness comes from beauty he'll find himself beneath her boot.<” It earned an amused snort. “>May the ancestors watch over you, Aoki-san.<”

">That is what will be entertaining. And it would eliminate some annoying competition in the government offices.<" Another fix of those glasses. Two birds with one stone. ">Be careful in the field. The latest supplies leave in two days' time. You can likely travel with the caravan.<"

">You've kept up with the timetables well. I'll ensure to join them. I have some other small tokens to put into place...<” Then an odd grin. As he strode away he couldn't really lie to himself; he was looking forward to the field.

#roleplay #rp #shen kotodama #siege arc

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neoduskcomics · 7 years

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Iron Fist Review (SPOILERS)

Generally speaking, I only like to review shows, movies, or games that I like, because my enjoyment of those things compels me to dissect, understand, and share what I believe led me, and usually other people, to enjoy them.

This review is an exception to that. I did not like Iron Fist. I thought it was bad. And I, in fact, thought it was such an underwhelming and at times frustrating show that I felt the need to articulate why I think I and so many other people were deeply dissatisfied with it.

As a preemptive to this review, I will be giving full spoilers. If you still want to watch the show, don’t read on. I also am writing this acknowledging that I am of Asian American descent, but will not in any way be allowing that or the choices of the script with regard to its portrayal of Asian culture or possible appropriation thereof to influence my review of this show. I’ve also never read a single Iron Fist comic in my life, so please don’t tell me that if you segregate the show from the comic, it works. The review will be based solely on what I view to be the merits of its scripting and storytelling alone.

Also, this is going to be long. Just a heads up. I’m going to be rambling a lot, because that’s how I write. I’m sure about two of you will actually read all of this, but this is just catharsis for me so that’s fine.

That being said: on with the review.

I’m going to start with what I think is the most damning flaw of this program, or at least the thing that frustrated me the most and it’s the protagonist, Danny Rand. Danny is not a good main character, and here’s why. The show opens up with him returning after being presumably dead for fifteen years. He immediately expects that he can just waltz into his family’s company, meet with the man in charge, and immediately reclaim everything that he had left behind.

This could’ve just been an affectation of the character. Maybe he’s just dumb and quirky like that, as a contrast to the other Marvel heroes. But it’s not just that. It’s an indication of a pattern that permeates the rest of Danny’s character arc. He repeatedly makes stupid decisions, does not seriously acknowledge or assume his responsibilities, and allows his emotions and poor judgment to lead things awry.

The first two episodes of the show are painful, not simply because it’s slow, but because so much of what goes on is a result of Danny just being incompetent and rash. He forces his way into Rand, makes very threatening and disconcerting gestures throughout his interactions with his “friends” (whether it’s your intention or not, breaking into people’s homes, holding them at gunpoint, stalking them, spewing unbelievable nonsense at them and almost killing them does not help your sanity case or your trust case). It is drama perpetuated by poor character writing, which is some of the worst kind. When Danny’s put into the psyche ward and the Doctor finally believes that he is who he says he is, he follows up by saying the most inane crap that no one in their right mind would believe, thus ensuring his further captivity there. WHO. WROTE. THIS.

Danny continues to get in over his head throughout the show, taking on opponents or threats he can’t beat, setting himself up for idiotic, black and white moral dilemmas, and basically putting everyone near him in danger because he’s incapable of assessing his situation thoroughly, seeing from other people’s perspectives, and resolving any issues by punching first and asking questions later.

Danny constantly allows his emotions and first instincts to rule his judgments, and while it may all work out in the end, it causes a lot of unneeded strife and regret in his life. How many times did you count him royally fucking up and then saying “I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry” Tenth Doctor style throughout the show? Even two is too, too many. Not when you want to craft a character for me to believe in, sympathize with, and stand behind. There’s a scene in the eighth episode where he’s telling Claire and Colleen that he plans to go to China, and they’re like “are you sure you know what you’re doing?” And what’s his response? “WHAT, DON’T YOU TRUST ME?” And they’re like, of course.

WHY.

Danny has done nothing but fuck up, be a hypocrite, and be totally irresponsible since you met him. He actively screws up reuniting with his friends, getting out of the psyche ward, proving his identity, getting his company back, getting evidence of Gao’s drug operation, interrogating Gao, keeping his friends safe, rescuing hostages, not just blindly following whatever anyone tells him to do, and he even screws up at summoning the iron fist—the one thing he’s supposedly good for. None of those things would’ve worked out had some outside force made it so for him.

Other Marvel Netflix protagonists screwed up, but they proved their competence in different ways. Daredevil was still a force to be reckoned with in the courtroom as well as in a fight. Jessica Jones was a stellar deceiver and investigator, as well as brawler. Luke Cage knew how to gain the trust and support of the people, and how to stick to his guns.

Iron Fist sometimes knew how to do some things but usually he would screw it up and someone would have to bail him out. And you can argue to me that this is just part of his character. He’s emotional and rash but that’s what he struggles with and it’s how he develops. But, I’m sorry, it goes too far. It makes the writing seem almost insulting of the audience’s intelligence that it seems to think we’re meant to buy into this drama caused by and frequently followed up with Danny’s idiocy. And the major lack of redeeming actions and qualities just make him unlikable (to me).

But it’s not just that Danny is a screw up. He also is irresponsible. He becomes the majority shareholder of Rand and seems to have some genuine interest in the welfare and integrity of the company, but he does JACK SHIT. All he does is attend one meeting, tell them “No, don’t do that. Do this” and then he walks away. And then he pulls the same thing later with the chemical plant. Does he do this with good intentions, and does it show that he has moral fiber? Yes, sure, and that’s good. But he doesn’t deal with any of the consequences. He basically holds people to a level of responsibility that he does not hold himself to. He tells people to do things a certain way because it’s what he believes is right, but then he expects them to deal with the ramifications that come with such stark decision-making, because he’s too busy chasing down evil Kung Fu ninjas. And yet he’s constantly talking about how disciplined and morally fibrous he is and tries to give people advice about values and family and blah blah blah SHUT UP YOU HYPOCRITE.

Danny has this frustrating tendency to expect things to go a certain way, do things he wants to do, and then not take responsibility for any of it. Got the Iron Fist? Shirk your responsibilities and run away. Got friends? Fuck them, run off and do superhero shit. There’s a company? Fuck the people who built and maintained it, it’s YOUR company. Now bitch until you get it and then don’t actually spend any effort in running it.

And, okay, that could work if it became an integral facet of the plot that his inability to cope with being both the Iron Fist and an eminent figure at his company created conflict and drama and led to story and character development. But it doesn’t. Danny basically never deals with any of the consequences of his total shirking of responsibility at Rand, just like he scarcely deals with the consequences of any of his other terrible decisions and rash behavior. Because eventually everything just happens to work out for him as a convenience of the plot or a side effect of his vigilantism. It’s. Not. Good. Writing.

And perhaps I could have forgiven all of this—all of it—if I just felt like I had a firm grasp of Danny as a fleshed out, likable character. But I feel like I never got that opportunity. Either Danny is always going into a fit of rage or he’s ashamed of his own inability to live up to the person that he believed himself to be. We get so little of anything else out of him. There are a couple scenes in the first and seventh episodes where we are allowed to observe the quirkier and funnier sides of his character, but that’s it. Most of the show, he just feels like a hormonally imbalanced teenage stereotype, lashing out at people, rushing headfirst into crap he can’t handle, and then apologizing afterward (or not apologizing and letting other people deal with it, or placing the blame on someone else). This sort of thing can work but only if you do it right.

Zuko from Avatar was a good example of this. Yes, he was emotional, had a short fuse, was full of shame, and often lashed out, but he also, over the course of the show, learned and DEMONSTRATED patience, introspection, critical thought, and compassion. Even in his earliest and worst days you could get the sense of honor and fairness that he had in the way that he treated both his peers and his enemies. We do not get much of that from Danny beyond a couple instances of him babbling about fighting honor or emotional control like he memorized a book on meditation.

And with regard to that, Danny keeps talking about where he comes from and how he was raised and the lessons he was taught but we hardly ever SEE ANY OF IT. For crying out loud, Marvel, SHOW. DON’T TELL. I cannot become invested in a character’s backstory if all I’m going to get is recounts of the philosophy he was taught and the responsibilities that were explained to him. Let me see the damn place. Let me see how his formative years went. How did he become the person he is? What were his relationships like? How did they foster the psychology he now possesses and the emotional conflicts he now harbors? Who the fuck knows. Danny, I can’t get invested in you as a character if I’m not given more of a foundation for all of your problems and motivations. This is the same issue I had with Man of Steel and Superman. Yes, I get it. You want to save lives. BUT WHY. Actually, Man of Steel did a much better job than Iron Fist, because at least you did get some form of explanation for why Superman does some of the things he does and has some of the issues that he has.

And this is connected to another problem that the overall narrative experiences. An overarching theme in this show is friendship and family. Danny seems to very, very much value family, as is demonstrated time and again in the show. He holds his name as priceless, regards Joy and Ward as siblings, treats Howard like a second father, and (purportedly) does whatever he can to protect and care for the people closest to him as the basis for his whole modus operandi. Family is precious to Danny, and informs the general philosophy of the show and its emotional through line.

You know why that doesn’t work, though? Because there’s almost no goddamn examples of POSITIVE relationships in this entire show. Everyone hates each other. Everyone is either lying to, manipulating, threatening, or straight-up stabbing everyone else that they have any connection to. Ward and Joy are constantly at odds. Ward despises his father, who is an enigmatic dick. Danny, Joy, and Ward openly show aggression, distrust, and resentment for one another. There’s a scene where Danny calls Ward his brother, acknowledges that he was a complete fucking dick to him his whole life, but still his brother. In that scene, Danny himself points out the vast and irritating dissonance between the values espoused by the show and what it actually portrays. We don’t even get flashbacks, save for one where Ward is, big surprise, being a dick to both Joy and Danny.

So what is Danny fighting for? Himself, whom we’ve been given very little opportunity to care for and like? Oh, no, wait, his parents. His parents are the cornerstone of his life experience and his purpose. And you know who we never get to see in the show outside of the scene where they literally both die? This is another example of the show withholding from its audience the opportunity to understand and become emotionally invested in anything that the characters, especially Danny, is ever fighting for or talking about. What kind of a man was Danny’s father? What did he do? What sort of relationship did he have with Danny? How did he make Danny who he is? How did he make the company what it was? What does the company even supposedly really stand for? Apparently, the show doesn’t care to tell you outside of a few scant tidbits.

So how about the other characters? Honestly, I can’t say much about them. Most of them are pretty boring. Colleen is okay, but she’s not particularly interesting. She’s very similar to Danny, as Claire points out, and functions mostly as a romantic foil. Joy is sort of just your token female supporting drama character who has some moral fiber that she sometimes acts on and tries not to take shit from anybody but generally she does very little in the way of helping the plot along and mostly just reacts and gets treated as a plot device. Howard, the antagonist of the show, could be intimidating at times, but he was largely a one-note character who had very little nuance and room to be sympathized with. And he loses a lot of that intimidation factor after it turns out he’s just the Hand’s bitch.

Ward probably has the most dramatic and fleshed out character arc in the show. They actually take the time to illustrate what sort of life he leads, why he does what he does, what causes him to have the feelings and thoughts that he does, and how he deals with them. Unfortunately, he’s still kind of a manipulative dick who doesn’t generally do a very good job at being either the good or the bad guy (and I’m sorry, but he does NOT redeem himself).

Honestly, the best characters in this show were probably Hogarth and Claire—the two characters not native to this show. Claire especially was good for the fact that she would, on occasion, actually point out Danny and Colleen’s bullshit and what terrible, stupid people they are. Small victories for the impatient and flabbergasted audience members.

The writing is lackluster. There was a whole stealth sequence in one of the episodes with Danny and Colleen where they’re just having banter for a few minutes, and it was just nothing. I almost skipped through it, I was so unamused. The dialogue often feels lazy. Scarcely anything in the script is ever very clever, enlightening, or funny. And speaking of funny, this show really could’ve done with some levity. I mean, seriously, going back to Danny as a character, having a more quirky, funny, fun protagonist would’ve been such a welcome change of pace for the Marvel Netflix shows. And it’s such a major letdown that, while you can see the seeds of it in some moments, those qualities of Danny largely are overtaken by his angst and self-pity. Seriously, Hogarth was probably the closest thing the show had to a comic relief, and she was in about ten minutes of it.

And, okay, let’s address those first couple of episodes. People complained that the show starts out really slow, and I’ve seen some people defend how slow it is. They say “well, you know, people looking for an intense, energetic action show should just shift gears and appreciate its smoother pace.” Bullshit. Slow does not make a show bad. Bad makes a show bad. You want to see a show that’s both slow and awesome? Go watch the new episodes of Samurai Jack. It understands that those slower moments are used to build character, tension, and atmosphere. Season 1 of Daredevil also understood this. You do not.

The first couple episodes are probably the worst in the show because, as people have already criticized, it’s dumb, boring, predictable, frustrating, seen-it-a-million-times soap opera drama. It’s the same problem that Arrow had for two seasons before people finally started to wise up to it and decide that it was BS and to stop watching. And the rest of the show isn’t much better, because while the pace picks up a bit, it intertwines all the Soap Opera drama BS with generic action drama BS. Plot twist after plot twist after contrived threat after cliff hanger happens over and over again, like the show is trying to distract you from how little weight there is to anything actually going on.

Later into the series, you find out that Colleen is a member of the Hand, and had been deceiving Danny this whole time. But, she also professes that the faction of the Hand to which she belongs is actually a “good” faction, as it carries out justice and helps those who need care, support, and shelter. But, Danny, who is convinced that the Hand is just plain bad and evil because that’s what he was raised believing (again, a period in his life that it would’ve been good to actually see), reacts very strongly negatively and cuts off ties with Colleen.

Now, what you had here was an opportunity for a genuinely interesting plot development which could’ve helped imbue the show with an actually evolving and challenging story. Maybe Danny would have to question his beliefs, look inside himself, see things from other people’s perspectives for once, grow as a person, and start understanding things on more than just a surface, emotional level.

But that’s not what happens. What happens is that the faction of the Hand of which Colleen is a member turns out to be evil after all. Colleen has to apologize to Danny for being so in the wrong, Danny is vindicated, he doesn’t learn jack shit, we get another positive relationship undercut by distrust and negativity, and the plot goes on as it always has with no real significant changes or new stakes. That is how this and shows like Arrow or Agents of SHIELD or movies like DCEU films operate and why they have lost their support as the years went on. Some, maybe not everyone, but some people wise up to contrived, clichéd, formulaic, ill-executed BS writing like that.

There was a scene towards the series’ climax where Danny has to make this big moral choice that seems like it’s some huge dilemma that will serve as a making-or-breaking point for the character. And it infuriated me. Because they were delivering it with so much dramatic emphasis that the scene DIDN’T DESERVE. You can’t just make 10 episodes and then have some big dramatic development and expect it to be emotionally engaging. You have to WORK UP TO THAT. You have to get me INVESTED in the CHARACTER and the STORY. You have to allow me to feel like I UNDERSTAND and EMPATHIZE with what the people in the story are going through. You have to fluidly and skillfully CONVEY AND EXEMPLIFY the themes and underlying philosophy of your narrative. You can’t just be like “guy has a tragic accident, learns kung fu, is messed up, learns a lesson.” No. That is how you tell a story immediately after you learn what a story is in the third grade. You are professionals. You are showrunners. You are handling a character which people value who belongs to a franchise which people value. GET IT RIGHT. DO IT JUSTICE. LEARN. EVOLVE. EXCEL.

Now, do I think that this show is just…top to bottom terrible with no redeeming qualities? Like, they wrote the script in a week and gave it no thought or effort? No, I don’t. I think plenty of effort and care, on some level, must have gone into this. But the issue is that all of that effort and care almost comes across as nothing more than an affectation or a mask of the show, as opposed to a foundational crux of its overall quality and spirit. The show just felt directionless, like it was trying to be something great but it didn’t understand what that was or how to do it. I get similar impressions from the DCEU movies (sometimes). It has the look of something amazing, but underneath is just gobbledy gook.

It’s a show that maybe worked on paper, but supremely failed in execution. Maybe you like this show, and I won’t tell you that your opinion doesn’t matter or that you shouldn’t allow what I’m saying to affect you. Because that’s bs. Of course your opinion matters and what I’m saying should affect you because people care about what other people think. It’s what makes art and discussion matter in the first place. But, seriously, you have to at least acknowledge that this is, from some understanding, a heavily, heavily flawed show. I know some people think critics are all full of hot air, the level of criticism this show has been getting is not something you can just dismiss as critics not knowing what they’re talking about. There’s a line. And this is the show that crossed it.

I’ll close my review by saying this: I hope Defenders is better, or else I’m swearing off Superhero dramas for a while. If you want a dramatic and dark show with martial arts and awesome direction? Go watch the new season of Samurai Jack. It even has humor.

EDIT: Iron Fist’s action also sucks.

#iron fist #review #spoilers #netflix #marvel

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laularlau8 · 7 years

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The history of India’s independence and the creation of Pakistan had been unfamiliar to Gillian Anderson when she took the role of Lady Mountbatten for her new film Viceroy’s House. The actor had once hired a private history tutor, a dozen years ago, to fill in some gaps of history she was hazy on – “Stuff that just wasn’t in my brain” – but this had not been one of them.

“No, I’d thought let me start with a couple of things that I don’t actually know that much about, or I can’t remember that much about, which was the first and second world wars.” She starts to laugh. “But it was a disaster. Because I have no memory. I took notes, blah, blah, blah, but couldn’t remember a thing he taught me. Nothing. I’m not even sure, if you’d asked me the next day, I could have told you what I’d learned. You know, even my favourite books, I couldn’t tell you what they were about. It’s always been that way.”

The menopause hasn’t helped, and lately things have become so bad that she’s going to get herself tested to see if she might actually be dyslexic. “Somebody had said to me that dyslexia isn’t just about seeing words backwards, it’s also about the assimilation of information. I’d always been afraid to look into it, because I was afraid that if I found something out, I would think that I couldn’t do anything that I wanted to do. I have this impression that I can do whatever I make up my mind to. But the reality is...” She lets the sentence fall away with a grimace.

By a bit of luck, the one thing the actor has always been able to remember are her lines. “But of course that’s terrifying for me, thinking, well, what if this problem that exists in the rest of my life shows up in that respect, too? Then I’d be buggered.”

If this creates an impression of a ditzy blonde, it would be misleading. We meet at the photographer’s studio, where a rack of stylist’s clothes stands unused; she chooses to be photographed in her own, and the way she chuckles about this makes me think the preference is par for the course for Anderson on shoots. Her fitted black trouser suit and heels are a sort of corporate/fashion hybrid, and her manner is similarly friendly but business-like. Apart from her enormous eyes, everything about Anderson is tiny, and the compactness reinforces the sense of efficient self-possession she conveys. She was just 24 when, as FBI agent Dana Scully in the paranormal TV drama that would make her a global star, she captivated X-Files fans for 10 years with her hyper-rational cool, before moving to London where her career has been equally sure-footed. From period dramas (Bleak House, House Of Mirth, War And Peace) to big-budget TV series (Hannibal, The Fall), to independent movies (The Last King Of Scotland, A Cock And Bull Story), comedy (Boogie Woogie, Johnny English Reborn) and theatre (A Doll’s House, A Streetcar Named Desire), Anderson seems to get busier the older she gets. It’s a tall order for a beautiful blonde to play consistently powerful, intelligent women, but Anderson has pulled it off.

The actor brings her air of serious purpose to the role of Lady Mountbatten, giving us a less flighty version of the aristocrat than the good-time girl caricature we’ve been accustomed to. She evokes her character’s classic colonial glamour, but depicts her dashing about nursing the sick and injured, and being a generally good egg.

“One of the things that I was surprised by in studying Edwina was that there was certainly a turning point in her life when she went from being predominantly a socialite, and wafting around and having affairs, living pretty much from holiday to holiday and leaving her children at home. But when the war happened and she started to participate in nursing et cetera, her escapism completely switched over to being of service, so everything she did from that moment on was about properly digging in and working around the clock.”

Viceroy’s House opens with the arrival in India of Lord Mountbatten and his wife in 1947, to oversee the nation’s transition from colonial rule to independence. Hugh Bonneville plays Edwina’s husband, and their official residence – Viceroy’s House – is not so much the film’s setting as the third star member of the cast. Sumptuously filmed, at moments the movie is a sort of Downton Abbey of the Raj, with all sorts of romantic intrigue going on below stairs among the 500 Hindu, Sikh and Muslim household staff. But there is not so much as a hint of the affair Lady Mountbatten was rumoured to take up with the man about to become India’s first prime minister, Jawaharlal Nehru. Their romance was to have been the subject of a 2009 film, Indian Summer, until the Indian government took exception to the salacious storyline and forced the movie to be cancelled. In the hands of British director Gurinder Chadha, whose own family were among the 14 million displaced in the violence and bloodshed of the period, this new version of India’s independence is less racy, if rather more substantial, and concerns itself with the politics of partition.

Anderson says she was always conscious while making the film that some viewers will find the concept of a “good” colonialist inherently problematic – “yes, absolutely, absolutely” – and 70 years after independence, she found herself revisiting colonialism’s dynamics on location. They filmed in Jodhpur, staying at the Umaid Bhawan Palace hotel, where the film was also shot, using the palace to double for the real Viceroy’s House. “And, you know, we’re in a situation where we’re in a developing country and we are filming at the height of luxury and, yes, there’s an uneasiness to it. There was one actor we worked with, who does a lot of work around the world in – I can’t remember whether it’s around poverty or Aids – who would not stay there. He refused to stay in the hotel, and wanted to stay in some place that felt more like India.”

Even by the standards of activist actors, Anderson’s own involvement in social and political causes is prolific. The 48-year-old has campaigned variously for women’s rights in Afghanistan, against sexual violence towards girls in Myanmar, for better access to HIV treatment in South Africa and education in Uganda, against domestic violence in the UK and child trafficking across the globe, for the rights of indigenous tribes in South America and conservation of cheetahs in Namibia, against deforestation in the Amazon and rabbit fur farms in China – and that is nothing like the full list. I was therefore expecting her to be quite forthright about current political affairs, but am completely wrong.

“I generally have a tendency to steer away from outright political discussion in interviews, because I am an actor, and there’s so much that I don’t understand, and I don’t for a second feel like I have a right to that platform. I don’t want to get into a discussion about Trump or about Brexit or any of that – I feel it’s best left to people who really understand the very, very complex issues. Not for a second am I going to pitch in, because I don’t really know what it is that I’m talking about. I have opinions, but I don’t think my opinions are more valid because I’m an actor and have more of a platform than others.”

I wonder if this is her way of saying she shares the view that actors ought to stop turning awards ceremonies into anti-Trump rallies, but she looks faintly alarmed. “No, no, no, I’m not saying that at all. I’m only talking about myself. I don’t have an opinion on whether or not actors should speak out.”

She has, on the other hand, just co-written a book called We: A Manifesto For Women Everywhere. Rather like Anderson, it is less polemical than one might guess from the title, and more a manual for spiritual self-improvement. Co-written with her close friend Jennifer Nadel, a former barrister and BBC documentary maker, Anderson has described it as a work of advice to her younger self. “I have struggled with self-esteem myself,” she said last year, “and in looking at the ways that I have dealt with overcoming those things, I started to think that maybe some of it might be potentially useful for other people of all ages.”

According to the introduction, it is a “manifesto for a female-led revolution”, and Anderson stresses that it is “not a self-help book”, although it reads a lot like one. Chapters are called things like Acceptance: Making Friends With What Is, and Courage: Ending The Victim Trap, and its pages promise to “change your life”. It prescribes a detailed programme of fairly recognisable techniques, which range from meditation, affirmations (“This is who I am and I’m glad to be me”), messages to oneself on Post-it notes stuck to the bathroom mirror (“My name is Decca. I am a good and kind person. I do not need to please everyone. I do enough. I am enough.”) and a nightly gratitude list of reasons to feel grateful to the universe. As is often the case with this sort of book, I find myself torn between cynical giggles and the mesmerising thought: what if it works?

Anderson swears it does, but she has such cut-glass British poise that I struggle to picture her solemnly reciting affirmations. It might have been easier to reconcile her voice with the book’s rather Californian, new-age tone had we met in America, for she is what’s called bidialectal; when in the US, she speaks in an American accent, but here she sounds completely British, and says she has no control over it. “I was in Los Angeles recently with a couple of Brits and I thought, I’m going to see what it’s like to talk among Americans with a British accent, and I felt so uncomfortable. It felt so disingenuous, and I kept thinking they must think I’m a complete twat. But when I’m here, it’s nearly impossible for me to maintain an American accent.”

Anderson was born in Chicago but moved to London aged five, while her father attended film school in the city. When she was 11, the family moved back to the States, to Michigan, but continued to spend summers in London, and by her early teens Anderson was rattling off the rails. Punk rock, drugs, an addict girlfriend and a much older boyfriend all featured heavily in her adolescence, and her classmates weren’t wrong when they voted her “most likely to get arrested”. On the night of graduation, she broke into her school to try to glue the locks shut, and was charged with trespass.

She has been in therapy since the age of 14, and the book is interspersed with personal passages on her own experience of mental-health difficulties. “There were times,” she tells me, “when it was really bad. There have been times in my life where I haven’t wanted to leave the house.” But there’s a bit of a dance between disclosure and discretion, because whenever I ask her to elaborate on the personal vignettes in the book, she shuts down.

I kept hearing myself say, ‘I’ve got to slow down, I’ve got to slow down, I’ve got to slow down’

The book contains enough 12-step-style advice to make me think addiction issues went beyond teenage experimentation for Anderson, and when I say so, she nods. Could she say a little more? “No.” After 24 years in therapy, and writing the book, I’m guessing she has a good idea where her problems stem from, but the question receives a chilly, “Pourquoi?” There are “quite a few”, she says, but “I would have put them in the book if I wanted to talk about them out loud.”

Her first husband was a Canadian art director she met on the set of The X-Filesand married at 25. Their daughter Piper was born a year later, but the marriage was over within three years; her second marriage, in 2004, to a journalist and producer, ended within two. Months later, she announced she was pregnant, and had two sons – Oscar, now 11, and Felix, nine – with a British businessman, before they split up five years ago.

I’m curious about how a single mother who has been working flat out for 25 years (she was back on the X-Files set nine days after giving birth to Piper) can even find the time to practise all the spiritual techniques her book recommends.

“Well,” she smiles, “I’ve definitely deliberately slowed down. Because I kept hearing myself say, ‘I’ve got to slow down, I’ve got to slow down, I’ve got to slow down.’ I must have said that for 10 years, or maybe even 20 years. I was just sick and tired of hearing myself. I just thought, why do I do this to myself, and why have I done it for so long? People would laugh at me because I’d be like, ‘I had an extra 10 minutes, so I stopped in to say hi, you know.’ It became enough of a joke among my friends that I had to start paying attention to it. So one of the things I try really hard now to do is, no matter what, after I drop the kids, I go back home so I can meditate.”

Why has she always pushed herself so hard? “Well, the bigger-picture part is that I’m responsible for quite a lot of people financially, so it’s that. But it’s also a little bit of fear of what happens when one slows down. When I think about an empty period of time, fear comes up. I’m quite good at being on my own, so it’s not necessarily fear of myself, but probably fear of facing those things like: why do I drive myself so hard?”

Does she really compile a list of things to feel grateful for every day? “Yes! I do a gratitude list every night. I mean, it’s in my head now, but I go through stages where I think I’m just complaining all the time again. It’s too floating in my head, it needs to be on paper.” Complaining all the time is “probably one of the things I struggle with most. I suffer from great intolerance. Such intolerance of so much.” Such as? “Oh, intolerance of myself. Intolerance of situations. Intolerance of people on the street. Intolerance of whatever. So I have to constantly settle myself down from the state of being aggravated.”

I try to picture her stropping about, grumbling about roadworks or noisy neighbours, and find this image easier to conjure than the new-age version of her intoning, “My name is Gillian Anderson, I am a good and kind person.” She has a steeliness about her that I really like, but whether it’s proof of the success of her spiritual techniques or indicates the limits of their powers, I can’t decide. She certainly feels like someone in full control of herself and her life, and if this keeps her at a slightly cool distance, it is also rather enviable.

She says she used to be pitilessly intolerant of her own physical self, but won’t elaborate on how that manifested itself, because she refuses to allow herself that line of thinking. “I will not go there. I simply will not allow it any more. Because the things that we might be critical of ourselves about actually don’t matter. The only thing that really matters in terms of our peace of mind is our peace of mind itself, and how we react to things. All I know is that when I meditate, one goes beyond the physical, and it is possible to tap into a sense of absolute contentment and joy in that place. So if that’s where you’re starting, then actually none of this,” and she gestures to her body, “means anything, really.”

How is it possible for a working actor to liberate herself from concerns about physical appearance, when her existence is so entwined in it? After eight seconds of silence, she replies: “I don’t know. I mean, as I get older, I imagine the roles that I’m able to get are going to change. There will be a certain point where I’ll make the decision to go grey, you know. There might be a certain point where I decide that it’s silly for me to continue being blond when I’m in my 60s. I’ve also always wanted to direct, I’ve also always wanted to be an artist. Maybe when the kids are out of college, I can decide to downsize and go grey and get less work.”

The art of acceptance is one of her new book’s biggest themes. As someone who is terrible at it, I’ve never been sure how realistic an ambition true acceptance really is.

“Well, there’s an opportunity for fear around every corner, fear of the future, fear of what if,” Anderson says. “But the acceptance of wherever we are, whoever we are, is freedom. So, you know, I can sit and bemoan the fact that I don’t get the same roles, or bemoan the fact that my skin is starting to look like chicken skin, or bemoan whatever it is. But that’s not reality. That’s fighting reality.”

#gillian anderson #viceroy's house #film #culture #television & radio

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pisati · 4 years

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had a cat euthanasia this evening at work and euthanasias are always difficult appointments but.. the owners had called and were talking to my coworker before the appointment and they were asking if it was something their 8-year-old should see. so my coworker reassured them that it’s just a few injections and it’s peaceful, they do look like they’re sleeping

we were expecting an 8yo child, not three children. it was probably the 8yo that was the most distressed but by the time it finally happened we could hear all the kids crying all the way down the hall.

something about that just changed the tone of the entire rest of the night. I think it’s good they decided to bring all the kids. it’s a hard thing to experience, but at the end of the day, if they do it right, it’ll be good for their emotional development. you have to learn how to deal with something as complex and painful as loss, and as much as you want to shield your children from pain, you just can’t avoid death. but man. that was hard. even the tech and the doctor looked pretty wiped after that appointment.

we had a euthanasia on saturday too, and I had to keep myself from tearing up sitting at the front desk just thinking back on my own losses. of the 10 rats I’ve had, I lost 7, only 3 of which were euthanasias, and of the 4 left only one was old age. it’s hard enough when it’s their time and you have to gather the courage to say goodbye. it’s another thing when you hear the heart failure cough, rush over, try CPR, beg them to come back to you... and their life slips right through your fingers. I should’ve been there for frankie. I should’ve paid the extra $40 to be with jay. too many ‘should have’s. I can hardly remember all the guinea pigs, and all of those were natural causes. mom never wanted to take them to the vet. I don’t remember rosie dying, but I remember burying her. I remember annabelle, curled up and quiet. I don’t remember apricot. wasn’t there for fuzzy. I knew it was coming with thunder and lightning. I laid thunder back in her cage when I felt it coming, after holding her and crying all day. she convulsed a few times, looked like she yawned really big, and then laid still. lightning died in my lap, she may have convulsed a few times too. I wish I’d had the money as a child to get them to the vet. they all deserved better. but I guess that’s why my mom just shouldn’t have pets. there were a lot of animals we had in her house as children that were neglected, because she never taught us how to properly care for them. got mad at us when we didn’t care for them well enough but didn’t want to own up to the fact that children just are not good pet owners and most of the work should fall on the parents.

I don’t know how all that affected me. it sure as hell prepared me for losing humans in my life. I don’t know if I was ever shielded from the reality of death; I knew exactly what happened when I was 8-9 and came home from chicago with my dad to learn that fuzzy had died while I was gone. mom never told me that pets ran away or anything like that. I never had any self-comforting ideas that they weren’t really gone and could come back somehow. kind of funny, I don’t ever remember having my world turned upside down by learning some harsh truth about life; like, you know how some kids are devastated to find out santa isn’t real. I did grow up jewish, but I always knew. same with the tooth fairy and the concepts of angels, demons, the devil, etc. that could also have been a being-raised-jewish thing. I feel like I always knew death was permanent. I was never fooled by people in costumes. never seemed to live in some colorful shielded world that a lot of children grow up in, where cartoons are as good as real and things are sunshine and rainbows for the most part. people don’t believe me when I say I struggle with creativity, but even as a child I could only ever conceive of reality. maybe it’s devastating to learn the world isn’t as nice or fantastical as you thought it was, but I have to wonder how much of my depression is owed to the fact that I never thought it was to begin with.

I’m learning to tell myself I did all I could, when it comes to my own pets. it takes a lot of loss to be able to come to terms with that. I wouldn’t wish so much grief on another person, but it seems like a lot of people avoid it. a lot of people own pets that live for 12-20 years, and they only experience so many losses in their life. I’ve held hamsters and guinea pigs while they died. I’ve watched my rats put to sleep. I’ve tried to revive a few. people ask me a lot, when I tell them rats only live 2-3 years tops: how can you do it? I could never. it’s so hard to get attached to a pet and then lose them so soon. it is hard. I make it look easy because I’ve had almost a full lifetime of loss. I’ve learned through plenty of experience how to grieve. how to walk myself through regret and remorse. how to learn and do better. I’ve learned that, even though it didn’t feel like it at first, my heart can hold a lot of love for all my pets, and it doesn’t ever diminish. loving one doesn’t ever take away from loving another. sometimes you do need some time to process once you lose one, and getting another won’t fill the void that’s left. but it’s not meant to. I’ve learned that no pet can ever be replaced, and no pet is ever a replacement for another. it’s another life you’re taking into your care, and you love them for them, and do the best you can for them until it’s their time. and that’s all you can do. people don’t seem to understand that the losses never get easier; or maybe they do, but they can’t put themselves through it so many times. the losses hurt. always, always, always. after losing frankie so horrifically, that was the first time I really thought about if I should continue adopting rats. the losses are never easy. but you do get better at dealing with them. that’s how I do it. that’s how I continue to do it. I’ve lived with a lot of pain in my life, but the pain of losing a pet also means that I had a lot of love in my life too. I had something I loved so much that losing it really hurt. sometimes the loss will come back to me and it’ll hurt again. but I try to keep all the pictures I can. remember the good things. celebrate their life rather than continually mourn their death. grief is complex and pretending that it isn’t just makes it harder to deal with.

blah blah. anyway.

weird, tiring day today. two long days and two early days coming up. I haven’t had two consecutive days off in weeks and I’m exhausted.

A is coming down for his spring break in a few weeks. I don’t know how I feel about that. I’m still going to have to work, but whatever. I requested mornings, and I’m sure he’ll be glad for the opportunity to sleep in for a few days and relax. I used to really look forward to his visits, and I can’t say I’m not looking forward to the company. I like that we’re comfortable with each other. I just. I don’t know. something’s been off for years and I’ve given up on figuring out what it is.

soon it’ll be warm again. not so dry. I’m tired of shocking myself on the doors and shelves and pets and printers at work.

some things I’m nervous about but looking forward to. unrelated. I have a feeling it won’t be like I hope it will. but it’s nice to dream a little. would be nice.

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wtburadio · 7 years

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INTERVIEW: Esperanza Spalding

Esperanza Spalding was scheduled to come to the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum on Feb. 9 as a part of the museum’s RISE concert series. The series is meant to highlight up-and-coming artists. Unfortunately, the Boston snow caused the show to be cancelled, but WTBU DJ Matt Garamella was able to interview Spalding about her new album, creative process and inspirations.

Matt Garamella: You have a concert coming up at the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum on Feb. 9. How does it feel to be coming back to Boston, one of the places where you both learned and taught music?

Esperanza Spalding: Yeah! I am coming to participate in this event that the museum is putting on. I should just be clear that this is not my concert. I’ll be accompanying Ysaye Barnwell and she’ll be accompanying me for a few excerpts from my repertoire, but it’s sort of a special combo collaborative evening.

MG: That’s very exciting. While you were at Boston, were there any professors or artists that inspired you or your work?

ES: Of course! I mean first of all, it was the students, you know. I had never been around that many people from that many places. So to me, the richest part of being in Boston was connecting with the international students and the students from around the country. I started to learn about South American music and European music, Eastern European music, Middle Eastern music, African music, elements of American music, North American music that I hadn’t been in touch with. I would say that was the most formative aspect of my time at Boston, but the teachers that come to mind and really stood out where John Lockwood, Hal Crook, and my counterpoint teacher, whose name is escaping me. I remember my counterpoint two class really gave me the confidence to –oh! And Rick Peckham, oh my gosh, I had a great time playing with and working with him. But my counterpoint two teacher…something about that class really revealed the truth that all theory comes after the music. He really gave his students the confidence to trust our ears and instinct in music and show that’s how all the theory and the logic in the pedagogy that developed simply to make sense out of what works, and what’s beautiful, and what’s resonant. And of course Leo Genovese in Boston; he’s been an ally and friend, and partner, and teacher, and collaborator for the last almost 15 years.

MG: Wow! So, I’d like to talk now a little bit about your recent album, Emily’s Devolution-

ES: D-plus-evolution.

MG: I’m sorry—D+evolution. Could you explain the meaning of the album’s title?

ES: Sure! So, D+Evolution is a phenomenon that I think is a more accurate description of both progress and transformation than devolution or evolution. I think I have experienced the two forces; the two directions of growth happening simultaneously, always. One structure has to be broken down, or repurposed, or reimagined, to build up a new structure. And I think often when we’re in kind of the rut of deconstruction or devolution—when we feel we are stepping backwards, or things that happen all the time that we want or progress that we’ve made—we’re in the two-steps-backward phase. That’s an integral part of growth, and in that, if we can look at the devolution or deconstruction, or even destruction as holding the seeds of evolution and reconstruction. I think we used all these ingredients, all the parts, all the phases of growth in that change. So, for me, that’s what D+evolution means and Emily was a character—a being—that came through me to introduce me to that idea; introduced me to that phenomenon as it relates to love, or religion, or to economic structures, or family structures. Or even your desires, your sexuality, or whatever. So, that’s what Emily’s D+evolution means.

MG: So, do you feel this evolution, or devolution is centric to the United States, or more of a global kind of context?

ES: Oh, I just mean it’s like the way that growth is inherent in everything, or change. Even in rock. Rock is undergoing a very slow and imperceptible change constantly—everything is. So, I’m not speaking to any specific institution or entity or nation. I’m just speaking to the phenomenon of evolution as a phenomenon. It doesn’t have to be about the biological sense in reference to species. So, D+evolution, sure, it could be speaking to our country, or our culture, or our society, or our family, or global politics, or the environment, or travel, but for me, it’s very personal. I got in touch with the phenomenon in a personal way and I started to see how it was present and other phenomenon outside of my own personal trip, you know. But I had to get in touch with it first in order to perceive it elsewhere.

MG: Just to go on a little bit more about this album, could you tell me about your creative process?

ES: Yeah! I knew in one night that I was going to embody a character named Emily and I was going to write songs as her or through her and that I was going to perform as her and that it was going to be its own thing energetically, sonically, aesthetically. That happened on the night of Oct. 17 or 18. And there was no math involved; I wasn’t formulating how I was going to do it. It was just like, ‘oh shit!, this is what I’m going to do—let’s do this!” I just saw really clearly, and I was hearing the sound and the aesthetic. But then, once that original insight hit, I spent the next two years packaging that. So, some of that happened writing in my house—my family’s house in Oregon—some of it happened in my apartment in New York, some of it happened in rehearsals with the band on the record, and honestly, a lot of the creative development of the project happened once we had started trying it and performing it live. Because so much of what this project was about was breaking open, you know, breaking down the structures I had gotten accustomed to as a performer, as a musician, as a woman, and exploring what else there is in me, and on the stage, and what else is possible connecting with my collaborators, and etc. So, a lot of the creative change, the creative work, happened post album release—watching videos of the performances, taking inventory of what happened night-to-night, how the audience reacted, how I reacted, clarity of narrative, clarity of song, blah blah blah. So it was kind of like all in all, a three-year creative process. Kind of inception to what I laid the project to rest and let it diffuse back out into the ether at the end of my (inaudible).

MG: Ah, and do you ever seek any inspiration outside of music for your work?

ES: Of course! I rarely seek inspiration inside of music. I don’t really seek inspiration, it’s coming, it’s happening, it’s all the time. It’s coming in, of course, from everywhere, from everything, from this conversation too. It’s like breathing, you know? Stuff is always coming in, stuff is always coming out, so there are so many realms of expressions; of art, of performance, of sound, of language, of imagery that were pouring in, I suppose.

MG: Do you feel that women in jazz get treated differently than men in jazz?

ES: Of course, women get treated differently everywhere, you know that. I don’t think there is any realm—I don’t think there is any place. Men get treated differently than women. So there are so many qualitative differences: energetic… yeah, I guess the reason I said it like that was because I don’t know, really, what it’s like to feel like a man in music. I have no idea. But I have had a really pleasant experience, I can say that… in music. And everything that I run into as a woman is the same kind of shit I run into as a woman everywhere else, so I don’t have an kind of particular feelings about my femininity, or sexuality, or whatever within jazz that aren’t exactly the same as they are in every other aspect of my life.

MG: In the past, you’ve included social messages in your music. Do you feel that it’s really important for artists to make social and political statements in their work?

ES: If it’s important to them, yes. If it’s not important to them, no. Because then it’s just— well I don’t want to say annoying, but what’s important in your work has to do with what’s important to you. Speak about what you mean and be yourself. If you’re grappling with a social issue that you want to explore in your sound, in your songs, in your lyrics, do it. But if you don’t have other things to say (inaudible). I mean, it’s like it’s not helpful for a doctor to give you a diagnosis if they don’t: A) care about your health, or B) really know what they’re talking about. But if you’re curious about medicine, and you’d like to get into that field, go for it! You know what I mean? Music is such a powerful medium; it really can penetrate people’s neurological systems, heat and spirit, as you know. So, I don’t think anybody should ever feel forced to talk about something that they don’t really, really believe, or really, really feel connected to. But if you’re somebody who is on the fence about speaking to what matters to you, and you feel strongly about it and it’s aching your heart or your mind, you’re angry. Protest in your music because it’s kind of our job; that’s how we administer our medicine; as human beings to each other, as creators.

MG: And do you feel that our recent presidential election will have a strong impact on artists and their music?

ES: I don’t know. I don’t know. It’s not having an impact on me; I don’t want to give him credit, you know, for that, but I don’t know. I can’t say. I’m not talking about him, but I’m talking about the environment that he’s a system of.

MG: Now I’d like to talk a bit more about jazz and music in general. Are there are any new artists that you feel are breaking new ground, whether in jazz music, or in general?

ES: (inaudible) Zhu Yin is an amazing composer. I just saw her in New York at this composer’s forum, town hall—I don’t know what you call it. We were sitting around talking about composition, and we each played a couple of pieces and she totally blew me away. Yeah, there are lots of artists doing extraordinary work. Did you say young people?

MG: Or just new artists in general, or just contemporary artists; people that are breaking out now, or maybe people that don’t get enough attention, or anything really.

ES: I think Wayne Shorter is somebody who is breaking out now and is one of the most modern and innovative people on the planet and is still happening right now, for sure. I’m always surprised by his work. MF Doom, in case you were wondering. Album-after-album. I don’t feel very up-to-speed on younger-generation jazz musicians. I think, of course I’m a little bit biased because I’m close to him, but Leo Genovese—one of the most innovative, brilliant beings in music I have ever met, and he is just constant. Yeah, and others. (laughs)

Listen to the interview here!

#wtbu #college radio #esperanza spalding #rise #isabella stewart gardner museum #interview

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misskymhall · 7 years

Text

One way ticket anyone?

Regardless of your beliefs, whether it's in the Big Bang or Darwin's theory of evolution it's a fact that at some point on this earth there was a first man and a first woman. Whether their names were Adam and Eve is irrelevant. What is relevant is our purpose.

Through the centuries we have evolved through societal structures, behavioural patterns and intelligence. Well, that's what history tells us. However, we live in an era of ever decreasing levels of happiness, increased levels of prescribed medications such as anti-depressants, homelessness is at its highest level and with no solution of the housing crisis. Kindness is such a rarity these days that it's mistaken as flirting or an invitation to bed. Suicide rates in teenagers is dramatically on the increase. Does this really sound like an evolution of mankind? As a teenager your life is just starting, these should be the best days of your life, not the worse and certainly not so bad you don't want to live. These facts are alarming and beg the question; are we evolving, revolving or regressing?

I just want to take a minute to ask you something. As a person reading this right now, are you aware of what makes you happy? On a scale of 1-10 how happy are you? What makes you unhappy? On a scale of 1-10 how unhappy are you? Which of these questions was easier to answer?

Every person on this planet right now causes an effect. Where there is effect there is cause, they are one and the same. Without cause there is no affect, like a ripple in the pond. There would be no ripple if there were no stone. Fact. However where is the intention within our cause? Cause and intention have to be an equilibrium for congruency to be prevalent. There is often little thought given to our intention because we act in cause. The effect we have is misaligned with our purpose because the cause of the effect is given little if any regard. We act against our instincts despite it being the greatest tool we have all been gifted with. In the busy lives we lead, it's too easy to silence that gut feeling, to dismiss the little voice inside us and it's only when we're lost do we wonder what happened. The truth is that, that little voice is your soul guiding you. My favourite Steve Jobs quote is "be lead by the soul, it's the only one that knows the way and it's best when we let ourselves be guided by it." Have you heard your soul before? Let's take a minute to listen to our soul right now. Stop what your doing right now. Close your eyes, listen to your breath, let your thoughts flow until they have run dry and then absorb the silence. That silence right there is your soul, it's beautiful isn't it? (If you struggle with this bit then there are many guided meditations on YouTube that are free. If you are struggling with the feeling you are experiencing in the quiet of your mind, please know it's perfectly normal. It may even feel scary. I remember the first time I observed the feeling of a silent mind and it was dark and very daunting. But trust yourself. This is just a tunnel taking you through to the other side of consciousness. You are simply awakening your mind. There is nothing in your thought process you can't control. You are perfectly safe.)

As we grow, we evolve. Our learning becomes constant, we listen more and ask more and more questions. My Granddad always said "you have two ears and one mouth girl, use them in that order." I had no idea what he meant until I actually shut my mouth and started actively listening. To listen to someone without thinking is a beautiful gift. To really stop what you're doing, open your mind to their speaking, close your mouth and really give someone your attention is amazing. You notice so many different elements you didn't notice before. The way they breathe and the sparkle in their eyes. It doesn't happen often, people are often busy thinking of a response they need to give in the conversation or messing with their phones or thinking what they need to cook for dinner.

The more I evolve and grow the more I realise how little I know. But the further I get along this journey the lighter I become. There's a constant decrease of negative people in my life and a lot less emotional baggage I'm carry around with me these days. The biggest lesson my Granddad taught me is death is inevitable, fact. We are all going to die. Whether we like it or not, there will be a point when you and I don't exist. It may not tomorrow or the day after, but there will come a day when you and I will no longer be here. Does that thought scare you? What scares you most about knowing you will die? Life is the journey to the destination that is death. Why are we all racing there? Take a minute right now to look at your life. Do you love your life? Whatever the answer, now ask yourself do you think it's possible to love your life more? Let me tell you the answer is yes. Plain and simple but you are the only you can create a life you love so intensely. No one else will do it for you, we are all working on loving our own lives.

We may be on this planet a long time or a short time, we don't know. But time is only relevant when we compare it to something other than itself. For example a life that exists for one year isn't very long when we compare it with the life of that of a 85 year old. But when we compare one year with one second it seems quite a lot longer. Knowing you may die in one second, one year or 85 years is only relevant when it's compared. But where does that leave this moment right here? In this moment as you are reading this, and as I am writing this to you. This is the most important moment of your life. Really. Why? Because it is the only thing that is real. This moment right here and now is the only moment that exists, and you have the power right now to take your life into your hands and be the happiest you've ever been. So as you read this, take a deep breath in, fill all your lungs with air, look up and smile. As you exhale, breath out with gratitude for the air you are breathing. It's more than some people have right now. Understand you are so rich in life right NOW. Feel your lungs as they fill with air and know that is the gift of life. Forget about the past, learn from it. Don't focus on the future, it doesn't exist yet. Breath in the now and exhale the love and gratitude life is giving you, right now. How amazing is that?

I'm going to tell you a little secret, no ones life is perfect. Well not as perfect as they make out on their Instagram account anyway! Society pressures programme us to know and feel that we are lacking, we are not enough, nor do we have enough. You know the feeling. We think we need that 50" television, or the latest iPhone...blah blah! Currently I'm saving up to buy myself a MacBook Pro! But we have to established and understand we don't NEED anything but oxygen, food and water. Actually we WANT those things, there's a difference. It's fine to want them, but don't allow yourself to become obsessed with them and then place your every ounce of happiness in purchasing them, it will only leave you feeling dissatisfied. Let me ask you a question, does that thing you're working towards getting, whatever it is, does it define your soul?

Our purpose in life is only to experience our souls desire. That doesn't mean we can't have the big house, expensive car but know the difference between wanting and needing, soul defining and enriching. Know yourself enough to know you are enough exactly as you are. Exactly. With faults and all. That extra 2kg your carrying right now around your waist doesn't define you nor does it make anyone love you any less because it's there. Love everything you are. No one else will love you greater than the love you can show yourself. Be kind to yourself. The things we tell ourselves are things we would never say to another. Would you tell your friend that they look fat today, that they should have done better in that job interview? No, so why do we feel it's acceptable to tell ourselves that? I'll tell you why, because we are taught to. When we look at magazine covers, adverts, films, it's drilled into us that we are not enough. We're fat, we're not successful enough, or rich enough. All these elements should be measured on personal preference, not defined by societies dictations. I want you to know that you can make a change today and realise you are enough. How? Listen to me and know I'm telling you that you are. If you want to disagree with me that's cool. I'll take you for coffee and tell you everything I see that's beautiful in front of me when I look at you. That's a promise and I'll keep telling you that you're enough until you don't need me to tell you anymore because you believe it.

So, where does that leave us? Well, to maintain happiness of course. Who doesn't want to be happy for the rest of their life? We just need to take one step at a time. Remember this is not a race, and if it is I'm happy to come in last. I'm not ready to die anytime soon, are you? Don't rush a single moment. Live and breath the good the bad and the ugly moments that are waiting for you around the corner. That's the beauty of life. Everything is temporary. Everything. Happiness and sadness, fear and love. It doesn't last forever. Embrace the pain you will experience, it only means your growing and evolving. Wouldn't it be tragic if we looked back at our life in 10 years time and it was exactly the same? Life is hard, yes, and you will experience some really shit moments, that I can promise you. You will cry, scream and hate. That's life. But you will also experience happiness, you will laugh so hard you cry and your stomach hurts. You will experience love, and whether it's love for yourself or love for another intensity it, embrace it and embody it. Love is the gift of life, receive it with open arms as though it's the best gift you could be given on your birthday. The only effect I want to have from you reading this that you know you are loved. That is my greatest intention, and I hope this is the cause for you to start loving yourself. Let's stop revolving, let's start evolving in the revolution against society and be happy. Not because we have material possessions but because we can tell a stranger we love them and show compassion and kindness without it being mistaken for an invitation for sex. Tell someone today that you love them, don't be afraid to tell a friend they look pretty and buy the homeless guy a coffee. Acts of kindness are the revolution and the key to a beautiful future. We are in control of what we choose to receive so don't let anyone ever tell you again that you are not enough. Know you are beautiful and loved. Share this article with someone you love today and don't be afraid to tell them why you are giving them the gift of happiness. Life can be as beautiful as we make it. Let's make it the most beautiful gift of all. Change can happen if we happen together.

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