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popculturebuffet · 4 years

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Amphibia Reviewcaps: Scavenger Hunt/ The Plantars Check In

KEITH DAVID IS HERE! KEITH DAVID IS HERE AND NOT IN SHADOWY STINGER BITS BUT FULL CHARACTER! And okay other stuff happened I guess. Anne deals with her insecurity over her girlfriend being way more smart and acomplished than her, then the Plantars meet King Keith David, followed by Sprig reinacting the plot of Home Alone 2 mixed with a bit of Blank Check. You know that forgetable disney movie about the white dumbass who uses his computer skillz to get rich and has to deal with the mob.. I assume. I really have no idea exactly what blank check was about and neither do you. KEITH DAVID, under the cut.

Scavenger Hunt

And with Marcy’s big intro out of the way we’re back to simplier problem of the week episodes, though this one does lead into the next which does have some solid plot progression, and the new setting and fresh injection of Marcy mean they do feel a bit newer after the road episodes. Like a good road trip after all that time you finally get to see the sights, enjoy the place and just relax. And also eat because your usally hungry when you first arrive, which is what the plantars and new addition Marcy are doing to start. Marcy’s treating, because she’s friends iwth the king and as we learn next episode the king gives his friends acess to the royal treasury because he’s a seemingly nice dude. Again, more on that in a minute. While Hop Pop marvels at Marcy’s smarts and analytics, a messag efrom the king arrives.. and yes I too have “A MESSAGE FROM THE KING A MESSAGE FROM THE KING’ from hamilton in my head right now.

Turns out the King likes to send Puzzle grams, basically sending marcy on scavenger hunts to tell her something because their both massive dorks. And it is taking ALL my willpower not to jump right ot the keith david of things, but for the sake of profesionalism I will stay here. So our party splits up: Marcy, Anne and Sprig go off to solve the puzzle and see the town while Hop Pop ends up staying because you can get free shit the more you eat, which yeah is a nice thing and all but is usually not worth what you spend. But it’s not his dime so fair enough. The king’s toilet’s are probably gold with gems and the softest seats in the land. I mean if I were king of the world I”d want the best toilet in the world. I’d also install free health care and other good stuff, but I’d expect a really nice crapper as one of the perks of the job.

Anyway the hop pop plot really is just him eating a lot to get free stuff and showing up at the end , so i’ll focus ont he main plot which is pretty standard: Anne is insecure about how smart Marcy is, and TRIES to out marcy her in solving the puzzle, while befrending various people: Resucing a girl’s cat/caterpillar from a tree, befreinding an old lady and doing her nails, and then bonding with the gnatcho cart lady.. which made me want nachos bad, who enocourage a dispondent anne to be herself and try anyway. But yeah Marcy suceeds instead, Anne gets depressed, then Anne tries TOO Hard on the last clue when Marcy is stuck and ends up in the sewer with the alligators.. which unlike real life sewer gators, were put there on purpose by marcy to eat garbage when she redid the sewer system.. because of course she did she’s the best. It’s a really nice gag. They escape the gator when the various people Anne helped form a chain, along with an exasperated hop pop and Polly. Then sprig blabs about Anne’s insecurity, and Marcy comforts her, pointing out that while she’s a genius and what not.. she dosen’t.. get people. Anne does, which.. I found a nice twist. The first thing she did,g etting the cat, made me think “oh their going to go with her physical skills”.. but instead in a nice twist that made me like this episode more, it’s her heart. And it’s not something they pulled out of thin air: While it hasn’t really come into play a lot this season, last season was all about Anne slowly connecting with the town and being suprisingly good with people.. she can be blunt, dosen’t think things through.. but she does have empathy, problem solving and a desire to genuinely help people who need it. It’s a hard trait to learn and it’s one she does with natural ease. It’s a nice bit of showing her character and what she’s good at. Also the message turns out to be “bring the plantars” which.. yeah the second the first clue was bring, even without next episodes description, I could’ve guessed. And they close the episode as all episodes should close.. feeding nachos to a sewer gator.

Final Thoughts I: As you could tell by how easily I sped through it, the episode was...eh. It’s not bad, but no episode of the series has been truly terrible. It honestly, and this kind of complaint is overused, feels like filler. And granted I rarely watch anime, I know cartoons work different.. but this episode feels like it’s just there to provide more Marcy before we focus primarily on the Plantars again, and before the plot turns them against her. Which isn’t a bad thing mind and she’s great as she was last week. The problem is Anne. Her feeling down about herself, while a normal human emotion.. just dosen’t jibe with her normal brand of overconfidence. It’s not entirely out of the blue for her not ot feel as smart as marcy, it’s just set up poorly. We could’ve easily used a flashback or something to the human world to help make it feel like a more longstanding issue, than one that just crops up because Polly said a thing after a full episode of her being totally fine with Marcy being way smarter than her. Even the intro has her entirely fine with it. It would’ve flowed better if she played off she was fine, but secretly was trying to one up her and did feel dumber versus that being spelled out so early, as it woudl’ve fit more with the character. So yeah this one’s more just forgetable, a stop gap between two plot important episodes. And I don’t mind catching our breath after the last episode given it was a huge one what with introducing a new major character and a new setting and having a lot of action set pieces, I just know the show can do that BETTER, as seen with HandY Anne following up , if a year after, from the emotionally draining season 1 finale, they just.. didn’t this time and it just flopped a bit, but still had enough nice moments and good bits to make it still enjoyable.

That’s something I do have to give the show credit on as I have been hard on it, as i’ve said reviwing more forgetable episodes is hard: Most shows don’t make it out of season 1 without at least one terrible episode. OK KO had “Let’s Not Be Skeletons”, Ducktales had “The Beagle Birthday Massacre” (And i’m a huge fan of Lena as a character, just to be clear, her debut episode was terrible for other reasons) , Steven Universe had Arcade Mania, Adventure Time had “Freak City” and Legend of Korra had “The Spirit of Compettiton”.. and really the whole love triangle plot but that’s a story for another day.. all of these are really..e xcept arcade mania that one’s just dull and pointless. But i’m not: My point is it’s still a really good sign the show hasn’t really flopped over in the span of two seasons, with even the annoying quarallers pass still having some really good stuff to it. I may be critical, because as a critic that’s my job no one pays me for, but I do love this show and want to make it clear it’s still excellent. I’d rather watch this episode again than any episode of “Hoops”.. seriously I have no interest in that show and I question why Jake Johnston thought signing on for it was a good idea. Then again, Keith David was in this

And this

And BOTH of these

So I can’t blame Jake for wanting an easy paycheck when Screen Legend Keith David has done far worse for one. Speaking of Keith David....

The Plantars Check In

IT’S TIME.

We’ve had a sample of keith david with the omnoius end from last week but now we get the full package. And i’ve made no secret how much I absolutley love Keith David or how excited I was to see him joint he cast. The main is a voice acting and regular acting legend. Sure he usually does bit parts, but he does the hell out of them.

The man also has a longer history in disney than I ever realized. While I knew he played Goliath and Dr. Facilier, I had no idea just how much minor voice work he’s done for disney over the decades, doing a LOT of minor roles during the 90′s and even vocing Mufasa in “House of Mouse”, subbing for James Earl Jones which.. yeah if anyone’s the next Jamers Earl Jones, it’s Keith. He’s the king of making a meal out of side rolls and on the ocasions he gets a big one he makes a damn buffet of it, as seen with Gargoyles and Community.

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So yeah, I love the guy and was excited for his first full apperance and pleasantly suprised. We open at what looks like a comibation of the temple of time and Hyrule Castle for Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time and I swear that’s what their going for with the background music here. Anyways after Lady Oliva tries to keep things formal, and reveals King Andrias has been king for over a thousand years, which makes things even more interesting, he .. happily hops off the throne, gives the Plantars a friendly greeting and then a bear hug. I was expecting him to be stern yet nice, for now, but this is a nice change of pace and i’ts shown by the way Olvia acts towards this behavior, wishing he’d be proper because “Most unorthodox” and all that monocle popping nonsense, that this is normal for him. So it’s not ENTIRELY an act for their benefit. He is apparently nice to his immediate subjects, vistors and especially Marcy. It’s also lovely to see Keith David play such a diffrent character from his usual villian, stoic badass or hilarious grandpa rolls, instead playing a cheerful and boisterous king. He honestly reminds me a lot fo River from star vs the forces of evil. Which by the way I also love Alan Tuduk and regret not bringing him up in either review river’s been in so far.

Anyway, we then get some more plot stuff as he meets anne, and we get a nice bit of him doing the “thumb of approval” and marveling at anne’s awkawrd fistbump in response. But it’s down to buisness, he wants to send his loyal knight and new friend he just met home, but needs the box. While anne reveals she don’t got it, with Hop Pop acting nervous as he realizes “oh shit, maybe lying to my surrogate grandaughter about something this important when we’re ont he way to a place where people will naturally want ot see the thing, and STILL not telling her after meeting Marcy and knowing sh’ed want to know about it too has started to backfire!” And yeah while he has sympathetic motives, and clearly knows SOMETHING about the box, and I supsect King Keith David does too but give me a second, his not telling Anne what he did at any time is only going to make it harder to trust him later, especially if Marcy ends up betraying them. He also notices something I actually failed to notice , as did Anne: The colorful stones on the calamity box are drained of color. So the King’s going to have to reserach this for a bit, with Marcy helping obviously and since Anne’s usless at research, the king instead happily treats the plantars to a vacation on him while they sort thigns out: A stay at the nicest hotel in the city, on his dime, and acess to his royal credit card, which given he’s king of everything means he just gave them the unlimited funds code.

Before we move on, my thoughts on the king: He’s hard to read. I do think he’s genuinely that nice a person.. but he CLEARLY has a dark side, having subjugated the toads and the frogs, which had to have happened under him as he’s first in his line and both remember the status quo as only such. Hop Pop dosen’t even question the way things are or one god king ruling over all for over a thousand years. The question is did he do so because he didn’t know better, because he thought he had to, or because

I do n’t know what that’s from but expect me to be using it a LOT from now on. My point is it’s hard to tell what his game is here. He could be a cruel asshole masquerading as a fun loving king on the service to sugarcoat his shadier actions.. or he could be a well intentioned extermist, doing awful things for what he sees as the greater good and possibly having lost the plot, or his empathy over thousands of years. Or he genunley could have no idea what he’s planning is bad and see no harm in it due to a different set of morals, again due to being immortal. There’s a LOT of intresting directions they can go with this character and i’m curious to see just what sort of vilian, or possibly good guy all along though I doubt it, he will be and given both grime, more recently i’ll admit but still, and sasha have been complex villians instead of one dimensional assholes, the show will no doubt give us something spectacular. HOpefully i’m not tempting fate but if I am, screw it, i’m rolling those dice. This is going to be godo and I can’t wait. It’ll also be intresting to see if he genuinely values marcy or is putting on the good king act and puzzles and all that to manipulate her. After all we’ve seen with Sasha that she’s easily manipulated, as far as we can tell, and sees this all as a game.. it’d be easy enough to lead her along by playing int othe genre and her desires to get her to play his game the way he needs her to. Though it’s also a question of if Marcy will see it or back the wrong side... though she MIGHT. while she isn’t great with people, she does know games and half the time a benevolent ally will turn out to be a dick in sheeps clothing. Though i’m hoping that isn’t the case for Marcy. But we’ll see..

Anyways with the first third or so of the episode down, the Plantars Check in, TITLE DROP, and Polly, Anne and Hop Pop all put on comfy robes and relax, while Sprig being sprig wants to go exploring though hop pop refuses to leave him wiht the card because of course he does. And honestly having done a few road trips myself.. yeah usually when you get back to the hotel first you want to just relax and crash, maybe go out for dinner or something with your friends, which they already did ahead of time, and recharge before doing allt he fun vacation stuff. Though I also relate to sprig as I too have been in hotels with arcades and pools from time to time as a kid and a teen and wanted to go do the fun stuff while everyone’s tired. Thankfully I also liked to read or play my various game consoles, from the game boy advance up to the switch on my most recent vacations,so I understand his restlessness. The rest of the episode goes about how you’d expect, with Sprig taking the card once hteir asleep and adventuring around and getting into various hilarious one off gags via montage, before loosing the card and fighting over it with a Bellhop Named Belle, played byt he always wonderful and always talented Krstien Schal.. about two episodes late for the gravity falls homage but never too late to do some voice acting. Sprig gets the card thanks to futurama caffine bullet time, saves paige and then saves her from firing by talking like a rich kid asshole to save paiges job before collapsing and being woken by everyone else wanting to go do fun shit.

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Final Thoughts 2: This one was better. While again I sped through the recap section this time.. it was funny> While the plot was a simple: kid sneaks out and does something he’s not supposed to yet and gets into trouble and ironic ending and all that, it’s funny enough to be enjoyable, Kristin is game as always, and the gag of Sprig using the card to wave off the snooty man at the counter is great. While most of the meat of hte episode is with the king at the start, the rst of it is still an enjoyable come down episode after the plot heavy first third of this one and marcy at the gates and does the job way better thant he previous episode. While it doen’t have a lot of tie to character or what not, it dosen’t WASTE any either. I didn’t realize till this episode that while sprig certainly hasn’t been unterutlized, he really hasn’t had his own episode this season, sharing Quaraller’s Pass with poly and only having subplots in “A Caravan Named Desire” and “Marcy at the Gates”. Here he gets a plot to himself and while it does nothing for his overal character, it’s entertaining enough, with some great gags like the caffine bullet time, the aformentioned rich people gag and the hair bit being the best “Now to put on my hat!”. It just lets the character loose to have a fun side story. See I can dog on an episode for WASTING a good opprotunity, even if I understand the stress of production and what not.. but I won’t dog one for just having fun and letting a character have the limelight if it’s still entertaining which this was. The problem with say “Scavenger Hunt”, “The Ballad of Hopidiah Plantar”, “A Caravan Named Desire” and “The Ballad of Hopidiah Plantar” is that while their not BAD episodes, they had far more potential. This one knows it’s basically home alone 2 meets blank check, but actually entertaining, and justh as fun with it. Is it hte best episode ever? Probably not. But was it fun and a nice change of pace, as well as relatable to me and thus giving me a bit of the warm fuzzies, especially in this hellscape of our lord 2020? Absolutley. That does it for this week. if you liked this review i’ve reveiwed the rest of the season so far , just check the Disney tab on my blog, along with many other shows, and i’ll be covering the show weekly for the rest of the season, along with Ducktales when it comes back next month, so follow if you want more of that and random reblogs and such. You can also shoot me an ask if you have any things you want my opinon on, any episodes you want to request or you can direct message me to outright comission an episode of any aimated show for me to review for 5 bucks a review. Either way, till we meet again, bwahahahahaha.

#King Andrias #amphibia #keith david #anne boonchuy #hopidiah plantar #hop pop #sprig plantar #polly plantar #marcy wu #lady olivia #reviews #recaps #reviewcaps

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cynicalrainbows · 4 years

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What are your opinions on Mary? I like her so much, but I see people saying that liking her is like liking Ted Bundy. What are your thoughts on that?

TLDR: Like whoever and whatever you like my dear. Anyone who tries to make you feel guilty for liking or wanting to write about a character sucks, and chances are they’re also being a massive hypocrite because I BET you that THEY like a character who could have similar claims made about them too.

Big long essay under the cut.

So when speaking of Mary from a fandom perspective, I think it is important to remember that there are different versions, if you will. There’s Mary Tudor, historical character. And then there’s ‘Mary Tudor as part of the ensemble of Six’ (because even if she doesn’t appear in the musical, existing in the fandom means she becomes a character rather than a real life historical figure, if that makes sense.)

And also, when using the word ‘like’, I think it’s important to remember that saying ‘I enjoy writing this character’ or ‘I enjoy coming up with scenarios for this character’ or ‘i think this character is interesting’ does not mean ‘if this character were a real person, I would support and endorse their actions unconditionally’.

AND finally to remember that engaging in fandom for the purposes of entertainment is not and should not be a sort of moral test in which we all compete to find The One True Character who is Best and Nice and Unproblematic (and to be clear- that also means it’s fine for the individual to decide they dislike a character for moral reasons. What’s not ok is forcing this belief on others. Like how I fully understand if someone cannot read American Psycho or Lolita or whatever BUT I also reserve the right to enjoy the books myself.)

In light of this: if some people don’t want to write or read fics with character Mary in, that’s fine! And valid! And that’s just as valid if it’s because they can’t get past the burning thing as it is if it’s because they find the idea of The Kids restrictive and dull (and this is how I nearly always view The Kids.)

HOWEVER if we start getting overly moralistic on this.....well, this things start to get complicated.

Can the irl Mary Tudor be considered a murderer? Yes, you could certainly make the argument for that. (But is Mary the only one who could be called a murderer? Absolutely not.)

Is it ok to not want to write Mary because of that? Of course! You needn’t write anything you don’t want to.

Is it ok to imply that other people are morally dubious for wanting to write Mary or for being interested and sympathetic in the irl or fictional character of Mary? Absolutely not!

Not only is it not ok, but I find it VERY hypocritical and odd too.

I mean, let’s all face up to the elephant in the room: Six is a weird af concept and writing fanfic for it is even weirder! Like, I’m writing about historical characters living in a houseshare? I’m writing about them just hanging out and making pancakes and having fights over the tv and crying because they lost their bus pass or whatever!

And that is fine and great and SO MUCH FUN!

But.

It also means we need to accept the divide between real historical characters and the versions we write for fic (and that Marlow and Moss wrote in canon).

I like writing about Cathy being scatterbrained and easily overwhelmed and good hearted. I am aware that the real Kateryn Parr likely had nothing in common with my version of Cathy Parr. And that’s good and right.

Just because you want to write a character as good and fun and nice, it doesn’t mean that their real life counterpart was ANYTHING like that. Nor does it mean that a character you don’t like was definitely evil incarnate irl.

Honestly? I don’t think anyone in Six would stand up to tumblrs moral standard.

Not only were these real people but they were real people with enormous, inordinate amounts of power and influence, all of whom did many morally questionable things in their lives.

Which is expected.

Some of the people did VERY definitely-wrong things: some because of the time they lived in, and some just....out of choice. And sometimes because of a mix of both.

Depending on a number of factors, sometimes you’ll be able to get over those things enough to enjoy writing the fictional character and sometimes you won’t.

Basically, there’s no point in people trying to act as if there are these big hard and fast clear moral rules for writing characters: it’s just personal preference.

Like, personally I like writing Cathy Parr best. But that doesn’t mean I think that Real Life Queen Katryn Parr was without blame in the relationship with Thomas Seymour and Elizabeth.

I can write Cathy Parr and put the real life stuff to one side. That doesn’t make me a bad person. And I apply this to everyone.

If someone says they cannot write about Mary because they feel personally that it’s the equivalent of writing about Bundy, then fine!

If someone says that writing about Mary is like writing about Bundy and ergo anyone who does it is the equivalent of glorifying Bundy, then I REALLY want to know how they can possibly be ok with writing ANY queen!

Because after all, Cathy joined in the grooming of her stepdaughter! And endorsed some absolute awfulness in Ireland. Anne had Mary treated terribly! Jane went to see Anne die!

I’d ask how they’re ok with writing Edward and Elizabeth, considering the stuff that THEY did. I’d ask how they’re ok with Catalina, considering the Inquisition was A Thing. I’d ask how are they ok with the concept of Six AT ALL- since didn’t everyone in it do questionable things?

Like, to be clear: Person A does not want to write Mary bc to them, they feel it’s like writing Bundy is fine. And saying so, when questioned, is fine. (Especially if they’re replying to someone being bitchy about them writing Mary ‘badly’: I have as little time for people who bully people for writing specific characters as I do for people who get off on harassing others for writing their favourite character ‘unfairly’.)

But I do have a problem if they are telling people who enjoy writing Mary that this makes them as bad person.

I have a problem with ANYONE trying to shame anyone for what they write: characters, plots, ships, whatever.

Because really, tumblr is SUCH an excellent place for making these big sweeping statements- X is bad! Y makes you bad! Enjoying Z makes you terrible!- that really don’t make a lot of logical sense when examined. And unfortunately, the sorts of people who make these claims often don’t really GET that you can like a thing without endorsing it OR that you can dislike a thing without having to condemn it.

And that’s a real shame.

So in answer: write what you like. Tag it appropriately, clearly and consistently. Don’t let anyone make you feel guilty about it.

Enjoy it.

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arrtemisia · 3 years

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Hey so... If you could redo cannon Makoto what would you do? How would she change? I'm curious cause out of the main cast she was the only one that I just couldn't get a solid interest in (aside from Ann but that's just cause the idea of her being a fashion model confuses me more than anything I think)

God. So much stuff.

There's a couple big things about her that bug me, and none of them really change at all in her canon vs fanon portrayal, which means it's hard for me to enjoy her even in fanworks. In my opinion, I think her biggest flaw is that she's simply miscast, and her character would have worked much better as a confidant instead of a thief, which would've given her a place of her own to shine and avoid the weird dissonance between different aspects of her character (and this was actually their original plan, so Hifumi would have taken her place which. She would've fit in much better imo bc she's actually suffered under another's will like every single one of the others and she's an actual strategist instead of just """smart,""' but that's a topic for another post), but since we're talking about how I'd personally fix Makoto in the role she currently fills, I'm going to list some of the issues I take with her and potential solutions.

First of all, just to get it out of the way, she needs an actual reason to be here. She doesn't have one, full stop.

The big thing tying the thieves together is that they're all victims of abuse and oppression who rebel against their tormentors and want to prevent anyone else from suffering like they did. I'm not saying Makoto has never struggled, because she has, but it's really, really not the same type of struggle.

This leads to weird moments where everything about Makoto's personality and characterization, such as being a stickler for the rules, idolizing the police, etc mean that she has no in-character reason to stick with the thieves after kaneshiro is dealt with and should maybe even be opposing the thieves' way of doing things, but the plot drags her along anyway because the game really wants her to be a party member. And really, what's up with her awakening? She gets threatened once and then bang-boom-kapow she has a persona? It's weak.

Also before anyone says "well all those things about her personality change when she awakens and she sheds her good girl personality and yada yada," no she doesn't, actually, and I'm getting there I promise

The easiest solution here is also the most drastic. Swap when Makoto and Akechi join. This kills two birds with one stone; Makoto gets an actual reason to awaken through Sae, and Akechi's betrayal hits harder because he's pretending to be with you for longer (although admittedly this is much less needed on Akechi's part ever since royal).

Not only does this give Makoto a much stronger reason to awaken and join in the first place (Sae starts twisting into something horrible and Makoto wants to help both stop and save her), but it also gives her an internally consistent reason to stick around. Before, unlike the others (who all at least have "I want to stop others from feeling like I did," or in Futaba's case, "I wanna find the ppl who killed my mom."), once Kaneshiro is done with, Makoto has no real big personal reason to stick around other than "I'm a thief now and the plot says so ig." Now, of COURSE she'd want to go after Shido because he's the one that was manipulating her sister, and after that of COURSE she'd want to help take down mr divine sippy cup in order to get Shido tried and jailed.

However, if we're not going to shuffle around the order of party members bc that'd nuke the canon plot a little, then we need to rework the entire Kaneshiro arc and/or Makoto's backstory and values as a whole. Yeah this is why the first solution was the easy one.

I'm going to go in-depth about how I feel Makoto's personality and values should be reworked later I'M GETTING THERE, so I'll talk about that then. As for reworking Kaneshiro, I... don't have a whole lot of ideas. The palace itself is fine, it has one of the coolest atmospheres in the game (c'mon, there's got to be a fun bank heist in a game like this), but Makoto's connection with him is very weak. Maybe have it be that he was extorting her for years in secret and she never said anything? Maybe have him be the one that ordered the hit on her father? I'm not sure what would be strong enough to match to the other palace leaders, without feeling forced. I'll have to come up with more ideas for this one.

The second big issue I have with her is less of one specific thing and more of a collection of smaller problems that all come from the same source. She waltzes in, takes over, and starts acting like she's the boss of things. She then names herself the "strategist" and yet only ever states the obvious and, to use a word I hate, mansplains things to you that you already learned two palaces ago. She's constantly condescending and passive agressive to the other team members, especially Ann and Ryuji, berates everyone for not being as naturally book smart as her when all the other characters are smart in their own ways and just not good at academia, all the while everyone around her, even characters that normally wouldn't take that (ryuji, ann) or are too prideful to admit to anyone bring better (mona), are constantly like "You're so cool, Makoto!"

It's a classic case of show don't tell, and rhe game is obsessed with telling you that Makoto is "smart" and "cool." Once she joins the team, all the characters that were originally shown to be smart in their own ways are never allowed to say anything meaningful ever again bc Makoto is the "smart" one. She never does anything particularly different compared to the other party members, but the game is constantly insisting she's special.

I'm very hesitant to call her a mary sue, because I don't think she is one, and also I disagree with the use of that term at all as these days it's just meant to devalue powerful characters that happen to be girls, but I definitely think she's emblematic of a common writing flaw that can lead to mary sues. The problem with making a character the "smart" one as a personality trait instead of something that just comes naturally is that you have to dumb down everyone else's characterization to make them look smarter or cooler by comparison. It means that the character you're trying to prop up bends everyone else around them, making them act in ways they normally wouldn't in order to make the one character you're trying to look cool seem better by comparison.

This has an easy solution: cut that shit out. Have her slowly find her place on the team naturally instead of forcing her way in as a pseudo-leader. Don't give every single "well, duh" line to her, and cut the scenes where she stands around explaining obvious things you already know in a condescending manner so she looks smarter. Let the other characters actually act like themselves when they're in the same room as her instead of bending around her to prop her up. Have her treat those characters with respect in turn, bc for all intents and purposes when it comes to thief stuff they are her senpai, instead of just having her act like she's better than them, or boss them around, or be passive agressive about the fact that their grades are bad. Show that other characters are smart in other ways instead of acting like Makoto's book smarts are the end-all be-all. And for fuck's sake, stop acting like "smart" and "punches stuff real good" are personality traits, which leads me into my last big point.

Makoto and Queen don't really feel like the same character. Okay, so to explain this, let's walk through her awakening again.

Makoto is a good girl who's a stickler for the rules, sucks up to authority, idolizes the police, is obsessed with her grades and academic performance, and looks down on others who don't do the same. A couple people call her useless and then she gets threatened by a mob boss, after which she decides to live her life for herself and completely shed her good girl lifestyle and rebel against everyone pressuring her.

That is, except for the teensy tiny detail where she doesn't.

Nothing significant about her personality changes all post her awakening and joining the thieves, aside from the part where she sucks up to authority maybe a little less. She's still uptight, her grades (and the grades of those on her team) are still her top priority, she still idolizes the law and those enforcing it.

Y'see, persona has a bit of a common problem with saying one thing about a character, be it making a reveal or saying they're gonna change in some big way, but not fully committing to it. You can see it most in p4 (party members saying they're gonna quit/stop/do whatever and then backtracking in the last two ranks of their social link), but it's rarely so severe that it completely ruins their personality and character arc as a whole. Makoto, I feel, is the main exception.

The writers want Makoto to become this tough, rebellious biker queen who oozes badassery in every move and will never follow anyone's wishes for her ever again, but they also want to keep her old personality of the uptight naive rule-following law-abiding academic. So, instead of altering one to better fit the other, they try to do both... badly.

Instead of integrating the two parts of her personality, it just feels like she swaps between them whenever the plot calls for it which is really, really jarring. She'll be stuttering about following the rules and getting to know her generation one second, and then the next she'll be yelling about mowing down shadows with her motorcyle the next. It feels like Queen and Makoto are two separate uninteresting half-characters, with only a couple personality traits each, instead of one whole well-rounded character.

Either rework Makoto's thief aesthetic to better suit her personality as a whole and give her something other than "I'm totally not a good girl anymore" to make her compelling, or actually commit to Makoto shedding her past life everyone around her had forced on her and change her personality. Have her grades start to slip, have her talk back to Sae, change the way she dresses so it's rougher and less perfect, hell, maybe even have her quit student council. Just, anything to make her more well-rounded as a character.

I have some other nitpicks with her here and there, like the fact that her confidant is actually just Eiko's confidant and doesn't give Makoto herself any development, or the way the game keeps trying to set her up as Joker's waifu or whatever, but those are just that; nitpicks. The three big things I mentioned earlier - her not having a compelling personal reason to be a part of the thieves, the way the writers shove her into the spotlight by putting down everyone around her, and the fact that her characterization is just one badass half and one smart half that don't mesh and have little else in between - are the problems I feel are what's actually holding her character back.

Again, I do think that all of this stems from the fact that she's miscast, but it's too late to fix that now. While I personally really dislike Makoto, I do kind of understand her appeal for others when she's written well, and she's a totally valid character to like. I just wish she was portrayed better.

(Also, if anyone wants to reblog this, feel free I ask that you please don't put this in Makoto's main character tag. I know how much it sucks to get a bunch of negativity in a character's main tags as I am an Edelgard fe3h fan)

#mod answers stuff #long post #really really long post #defiant-firefly #yeah so i know u were probably wanting just. a quick sum up #but i might have just. written an essay. whoops #sorry lol #there's just so much abt her that drives me up the wall

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kiarcheo · 4 years

Text

Obliviousness, thy name is Katherine

Kat is oblivious and Anna is a good friend.

Once again inspired by an incorrect quote that snowballed into this...maybe I should start a series.

Also posted on Ao3

‘What’s taking them so long?’ Kat wonders aloud as she and Anna are waiting for Anne and Catherine to return with their drinks.

‘Take a guess.’ Kat just looks at Anna confused. ‘They are flirting.’ She explains, rolling her eyes.

‘What?’

‘Look at how Anne is hanging on her every word?’ Kat turns around and sees her cousin leaning against the counter, listening attentively to Catherine…Four drinks sitting in front of them unattended, waiting to be picked up. ‘I bet that Catherine is just telling her about her day because Anne asked about it.’

‘So what?’ Kat frowns slightly. ‘Cathy always asks me about my day.’

‘Yeah, and how often does she ask about ours?’

----

Anna will admit that Cathy is not the suavest flirter. Modesty aside, that’s herself. Cathy does it more in a cute, sometimes fumbly, way. But the problem is not how she flirts. It’s that the recipient of her flirting is totally oblivious. Anna loves her best friend, but she is completely clueless. More than once she or Anne, and a couple of times even Catherine, had to step in because a guy had mistaken Kat’s friendly attitude with a positive reaction to his flirting. And she has lost count of the times she had seen Kat leaving guys and girls dumbfounded when their flirting would go over her head, she’d reply something nice and then just turn around and leave. The most recent one had been a guy offering to buy her a drink. Kat had politely told him that she already had one, raising the glass in her hand, thanked him and then turned to Anna, carrying on the conversation they were having while starting to move towards their table. When Anna, out of earshot, had inquired whether she had found him cute or not, Kat had looked at her in confusion. ‘Who?’

It's not that she is dumb, far from it, she just always assumes friendship rather than romantic intentions and often it’s quite endearing if not downright funny.

Like that time that Kat had all but collapsed next to Cathy, put her head on her shoulder and sighed, ‘Can someone take me out, please? I’ll pay them.’ Cathy had immediately replied, ‘I’ll gladly do it for free.’ Without even raising her head Kat had gone, ‘I don’t know if I should be happy that you’re such a good friend who wants to help me out,’ Anna had seen Cathy ready to say something before Kat had continued, ‘Or worried that you jumped at the chance to kill me?’ Anna remembers Cathy’s impression of a fish, opening and closing her mouth trying to find…any word, really. So yeah, it could be funny…although probably not for poor Cathy, so Anna decides that maybe it’s time she gives Cathy a hand and Kat a little push.

So next time they are out together she makes sure to complain again about Anne and Catherine. To be fair they are constantly bickering – which is their preferred way of flirting – so it’s easy to find an excuse. And then she proceeds to point out and list all the ‘coupley’ things they do.

‘I still don’t get it.’ Kat’s brows are furrowed. ‘Me and Cathy do things like that all the time.’

Anna merely gives her a long, level look.

----

‘What?’ Cathy asks, looking fondly at Kat, who is giggling while looking at her phone.

‘Nothing, was doing this quiz Anne sent me,’ Kat turns her phone to show Cathy. ‘What vegetable are you?’

‘What did you get? A cutecumber?’

‘No, actually I got– wait, did you just flirt with me?’

‘Have been for the past year, but thanks for noticing.’ She smiles, no trace of bitterness in her voice, only affectionate teasing.

Kat plops down. Face in her hands she groans out, ‘So stupid’.

‘You’re not.’ Cathy swallows. ‘I can stop if it makes you uncomfortable.’

‘It’s not that.’ Kat shakes her head. ‘I just…didn’t know?’ she sounds unsure of herself. She falls silent and Cathy waits for her because she knows she is collecting her thoughts.

‘Every time we ate alone?’

Cathy nods and she knows from Kat’s intake of breath that she has seen it.

‘When you asked me for a walk at the park…or around the lake…all those time…?’

‘Uh uh,’ Cathy smiles remembering them. They had been nice even if she knew that Kat hadn’t realised she had been trying to test the waters and ask her out. They had talked, and laughed, and sometimes they had gotten snacks to eat while strolling around. She cherishes those memories.

‘I am so sorry. I never realised-’

‘Yeah, I noticed.’ She interrupts her with a soft laugh. The last thing she wants is for Kat to feel guilty or to think she is upset. ‘But you kept saying yes to my invites, so I figured out you didn’t mind hanging out with me too much anyway.’

‘I love spending time with you!’

‘And I never got a talk from Anne or Anna…’ Not just to tell her to leave Kat alone because she was making her uncomfortable…Cathy would hope that with her being their friend too, she’d get the courtesy of being spared further embarrassment and being told if she had absolutely zero chances and Kat would never be interested (if she ever emerged from her obliviousness).

‘Anna.’ Kat looks like she has a sudden realisation. ‘You know, it’s not you. I just don’t realise these things. In general. The other day Anna was complaining about Catherine and Anne. And she pointed stuff out. Like them doing “couple things” and…’ She groans out a laugh at herself. ‘I told her that I still couldn’t see it. Because we would do them too. We as me and you,’ she gestures to herself and Cathy. ‘She just gave me a look. That I now realise was saying “you absolutely dumbass” probably.’

‘I have seen people flirting with you,’ Too many times for her liking, she wishes she hadn’t. ‘And you completely missing it.’ This part she did not mind too much. ‘I don’t know why I thought that if I were the one flirting, it would be any different.’ Cathy admits. That was another reason why she would get disappointed (of course, she is only human) but never too upset. She knows Kat and she knows that she genuinely wasn’t getting it. Cathy never thought for a minute that Kat was ignoring it on purpose.

‘I just…always think…friendship, you know. Eating out? Going to the cinema? I do it all the time with Anna. Or Catherine. Or Jane. And they are my friends. Never gave it a second thought. So if someone else asks? Why should I think that they don’t want to be friends but something more? Why if someone is nice then they must want something more? Aren’t people nice to their friends?’

‘Hey, you’re right, it’s totally fine.’ Cathy covers her hand, but she keeps her touch light so that if Kat doesn’t appreciate the contact she can easily slip away. She starts again once she thinks Kat’s rant is over. ‘I love being your friend. Would I love to try and be something more? Sure. But if you don’t want anything more than friendship with me? I’ll count myself lucky and be the best friend that I can be for the rest of my life.’ She sends her a reassuring smile.

‘I just never thought about it.’

Her smile slips a bit, but Cathy nods. She meant her words. She might need some time to get over it, but it’s fine. She will be damned before she loses Kat’s friendship over this.

‘I mean, why would you even be interested in me?’ Kat continues, sounding genuinely puzzled.

‘Why wouldn't I???’

They look at each other.

‘So you actually want to go on a date with me?’ Kat asks for clarification, still sounding quite surprised.

‘One that you know it’s actually a date? Absolutely. If that’s something you’d also like?’ Cathy hesitates. ‘I don’t want you to feel like you have to say yes just because I told you I was flirting with you.’

‘You know that I had other people flirting with me, right?’ Kat pauses. ‘That sounded different in my head. I mean telling me.’

Cathy just looks at her, confusion clear on her face.

‘Like,’ Kat tries to explain. ‘Anna telling me that someone was hitting on me. Or people saying it to my face…that they were trying to flirt.’ Kat trails off, frowning slightly. She knows that she isn’t the quickest on the uptake, but is she really that bad as she just made it sound?

‘Yeah.’

Cathy’s deadpan, completely unenthusiastic, response brings her back to the point. ‘And how many times did I go on a date because they told me that they were flirting with me?’

‘None?’ As far as Cathy knows, at least.

‘Exactly. So do you know what this mean?’ Kat doesn’t wait for an answer. ‘That if I say yes to a date with you it’s because I actually want to.’

Kat has never seen Cathy beaming as brightly as she is. ‘I think I owe Anna several drinks.’ She says, barely containing a giggle.

Kat gives a little moan, suddenly realising something. ‘You know she is never going to let us live it down, right?’

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coruscantguard · 4 years

Text

Before the by-and-by

@loving-fox-hours - Fox Week - Day 4 - Undercover Mission

Commander Fox, Ysanne Isard, Armand Isard (mentioned)

Warning for child endangerment, references to child abuse, shitty parenting in general, abuse apologism, and general horrific implications masked by humor and Fox complaining.

(Ao3 Link)

Coruscant, Level 1329, 22BBY

"Do you know who I am?”

Fox freezes as a young voice-- a child’s voice, really-- cuts him off. He waits for a second, to see if anyone else is going to reply, and when no one does, he sighs and sends the bartender what he hopes is an apologetic smile, but probably looks more like a pained grimace.

The bar is much too empty for the kid to be talking to anyone else, and considering how nonexistent his luck is, Fox is pretty damn sure the kid is talking to him.

The kid is small, humanoid, and she’s making a face at him. The kid is much, much too small to be in a bar. The kid is dressed like a tiny bounty hunter.

But Fox is undercover right now. And that means the answer should be no. Is no. Because his undercover self doesn’t know anyone.

So he’s already saying the word no when he realizes that no, actually, that’s not correct. He does know the kid.

He’s seen the kid around the Senate building before. He’s seen the kid around RCMOP before. Osik, he’s seen the kid in both Senate Bureau and Republic Intelligence meetings before. He vividly remembers wanting to ask why a child was in a briefing, and he remembers not doing that, because contrary to poular opinion, Fox is not stupid or suicidal.

(It’s not like it was that weird the kid was there-- Fox learned about similarly brutal massacres as a cadet, just not via military briefing. If her father is fine with it, and the Chancellor is fine with it, then yeah, a kid who barely comes up to his elbow can sit in on a briefing about the Malevolence and the ion cannons. Fox supposes that the weirdness is probably because he’s used to natborns... coddling their children more. Maybe it’s just a Senator thing?)

“You’re Director Isard’s daughter,” he tells her, and he’s certain of that. Now that he’s looking, it’s obvious. She’s a spitting image of her father, from the inky black hair and white stripe above her temple to the casual look of chilly disdain on her face as she readjusts her stance.

He silently pleads with the Force that the kid doesn’t want him to actually know her name, because he’s got no idea about that little tidbit of information.

Thankfully, it doesn’t seem like the kid wants that, because she just sends him a toothy grin, before putting her hands on her waist and tilting her head to the side. Since cadets tend to loose their teeth at around three standard, and because he’s pretty sure it’s the same for natborn humans, the kid is probably at about seven standard in human years.

“I am!” she says, and waits for a second, before leaning in to whisper, “and you’re the Clone Commander of the Coruscant Guard.”

Fox blinks in surprise. Because, well. He’s undercover. “Right now I’m a bounty hunter from Coreilla,” he quickly corrects, keeping his voice at a low murmur. “But yes, I am,” he replies, because she’s not wrong, and he’d rather her not fight him about actually being a clone.

“I know,” the kid says. “I know what I’m going to be,” she informs him matter-of-factly. Fox blinks again, because. Just. What.

“Do you now?” he finds himself asking as he slowly backs up, bringing the two of them away from prying ears and eyes. He’s not exactly sure what the kid is talking about, but if it’s going to break his cover, he’d rather be near a door for it.

“Mmmhmm,” she says, nodding vigorously as she follows. “The Director of Intelligence. “

Kark’s sake, what the kark, Director Isard, why is your child here--

“After all, I am to be my Father’s heir,” the kid announces as they spill out onto the street. ‘So maybe you’ll work for me one day!”

“Maybe,” Fox allows, and he grabs the kid’s hand as he starts moving down the street. He’s obviously not going to meet with his contact when there is a cadet-aged child there, so his plan has to change. “It’s good to have drive,” Fox says noncommittally, and he could find the leather-rats and drop her off with them, but the CSF is corrupt at best, and he’d rather not be the reason Director Isard’s kid turns up dead in a ditch--

“Dad says that when children aren’t given purpose, they grow up to be unmotivated and... in-comp-e-tent.” She pauses, scrunches up her nose. “I think that’s what he said, anyway.”

Suddenly, he feels a tug on his hand, and realizes that she’s stopped in the middle of the road. Of course.

“Lady Isard,” he starts, and her eyes widen.

“Nope!” she says, cutting him off, and she goes digging in her dress’s pockets until she pulls out a small black comm unit. “Undercover, remember?”

The kid slaps the comm on her wrist before he can even begin to consider how to reply to that, and she hits a button. A digital passport pops up, with a photo of her on it. “Right now, I’m Anne Antilles! Your daughter. Uh, here. Dad told me to give this to you,” she says, and shoves a crumpled up piece of flimsi at him. And--

Director Isard sent his karking child to level 1329 alone to play messenger?

Right. Okay. That’s, whatever. Not important. Not his jurisdiction, not his business.

Fox nods once, but then he sees something out of the corner of his eye, and he’s moving. He grabs her under her arms, lifts her up so he can get both of them off the main street. The shadows of an alley greet them, and his pace is brisk as he moves away from what might be one of the leather-rats’ patrols. The kid masks her surprise in seconds, and she wraps her legs around him as he settles her on his hip. Her arms loop around his neck automatically, and osik, at least the Director’s kid knows how to make a quiet getaway. The kid is silent-- impressively so, he can barely hear her breathing-- and they make it out onto another street without any fanfare.

Fox skims the updated mission parameters flimsi with one hand as he walks. This could... go very badly very quickly if he’s not careful. Director Armand Isard is not a forgiving man. The fact that his daughter is apparently joining Fox on this mission is a fact that threatens to be a Problem with a capital peth, and he’d really rather it not be.

Force’s sake. Why didn’t Thire get this mission? Thire is good with kids. Thire likes kids. Thire would probably like this.

“Can I have a blaster?” the kid suddenly asks in an exaggerated whisper.

“No,” he says, because he learned that lesson well enough.

“Come on! I know how to use them,” the kid protests.

“Still a no.”

“Dad-uh, my other dad would let me have a blaster,” she complains, and Fox snorts. He does not doubt that for even a second. “Wait, should I call you Papa instead of Dad?”

“Nope.”

“But I can’t call you both Dad.”

“Yes, you can.”

“Here, I’ll call my dad Dad, and you can be, um... Buir!”

Oh Force karking hell, lords of kriffing atron, kark me--

“Wait, you clones do know Mando’a, right?”

“Most of us do, yes” Fox grits out, as he silently resolves to never go on an undercover mission ever again. It’s not a resolution he’ll be able to actually fulfill, but it’s nice to at least consider it. “And you can just call both of us dad. In fact, that’s what you’re going to do. Okay?”

He is going to get so, so drunk after this mission, and hopefully forget the entire goddamn thing. Thank the Force that Cody isn’t here right now, kriffing hell. If his batchmate made a crack about him being in a relationship with the karking Director of Republic Intelligence, Fox would be obliged to kill him, which would then make both Wolffe and bottle-blonde pissy, and he has enough problems as it is.

“Ugh. Fine. You’re boring.”

“Didn’t you just say that I’m Dad?”

The kid hits him for that, which, okay, that’s fair. He’d hit Cody if Cody made that joke.

Then she tightens her grip around his neck, and he has to actually fight back a snicker. The kid is maybe 50 pounds soaking wet though, so strangulation isn’t an effective method of punishment. He then tells her so, because he’s pretty sure Thire once said something about how helping children grow and improve their skills is important.

“If I want to strangle you, you won’t see it coming,” she shoots back, but she slowly loosens her hold again. “You’ll be dead, because I’ll actually strangle you.”

“Oh, yes, I’m sure you will,” he replies, voice dry, as they turn onto a smaller, more crowded street. “Sometimes miracles do happen.” This is where the contact the Director wants him to meet with should be...

“I don’t believe in miracles,” the kid replies haughtily, sounding almost offended, and she sniffs in what Fox guesses is distaste. “I’m an Isard! We make our own luck.”

I’m an Isard, she proclaims, and the flinch Fox stifles is instinctive, his body reacting and putting him on high alert before his mind has even started processing. I’m an Isard, she says, and he casts his eyes out to the crowd to check and see if anyone reacts to the name, because kriff, worst timing ever there, kid. If the Director’s contact is paying attention, hears the Director’s name, and if he thinks he’s about to be brought in--

Well. It’s best not to consider that possibility prematurely. He can deal with it if it occurs.

(And Fox is pretty damn sure that this, this, is why the Republic doesn’t use cadets for undercover missions. No matter how good one might be with a blaster, they’re still shinier than the gleaming armor of the bastards in blue, and that’ll always show in some way.)

“You’re an Antilles,” he reminds the kid, and he forces himself to breathe through the instinctive flash of both anger and annoyance. Director Isard’s kid, he reminds himself. Could ruin your life with one word.

The kid’s eyes widen as she realizes what she did, and he can tell that she’s seconds away from looking back over his shoulder in panic, which would undoubtedly give them away, so he bops her on the nose.

The kid punches him in the neck in retaliation, but she manages to keep herself from giving them away, so Fox dismisses it. “We do make our own luck, though,” she mouths to him after a few seconds of silence, because apparently someone really wants the last word.

Fox just nods in response, ceding the point to her. He’s not about to argue with an eight year old about luck, and considering her tone of voice, he’s 99% sure that she’s just repeating something that someone told her. Probably her father, honestly. Director Isard is not one to wait for the tide to shift in his favor. He’s more fond of doing whatever he must, and sacrificing whomever he must, until he can bend the tide in his favor with his own two hands. It would make sense that his daughter has a similar point of view.

It’s also a point of view Fox has never had the privilege of having, and the truth of that stings as it settles into his chest. Because none of his brothers have gotten to even consider having that point of view, without immediately being laughed at. They’re clones. They belong to the Republic. You don’t get to just gaff off and make your own luck when the kriffing Republic is the one that holds both your leash and noose. Not unless you want to choke on it, anyway.

Kriffing Natties.

... But that’s his own karking problem, and it’s not a problem he can afford to ponder during a mission. Or ever, honestly.

Force. Hopefully the Director’s contact will show up soon. Fox would really rather start forgetting this mission sooner than later, but he can’t do that while there’s a child in his care.

RCMOP: Republic Center for Military Operations

Leather-rat: Slang for the Coruscant Underworld Police, insult

Bastards in blue: Insulting version of “Boys in Blue” which refers to the Senate Guards (And the police, but here Fox is insulting the SG)

#commander fox #ysanne isard #armand isard #tcw #the clone wars #commander fox week #my writing #navn rambles

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pluviophile-bookworm · 4 years

Text

AWAE 2x6 rewatch: thoughts and reactions

I see this episode picks up right where the last one left off - all of Anne’s hair has just been cut off and now she refuses to go to school - what else? I feel like this cold open is going to be long and dramatic.

I also see they’re building suspense for the reveal. And Diana is waiting for it along with us. And, good friend that she is, she gives Anne her ribbon, and thus Anne’s first hair evolution look of this season is completed. Now it’s finally time for us to see it.

Oh, there’s Gilbert, too. Of course he’s back now and it’s a complete surprise. I want to see his reaction. Oh, but there’s no reaction at all, and I think this is the best possible reaction right now. I love this guy.

So it wasn’t enough for Phillips to effeminate and humiliate Cole in front of everybody, but now he’s mocking Anne too? This dirt-bag has no place as a teacher.

I told you this cold open would be dramatic. But it ended so abruptly...

Ooh, Marilla intends to give Josie’s mother a piece of her mind about how her daughter has been treating Anne. I love this. But I do wonder where it’s going to lead. Bullies aren’t easily stopped by talking to their parents.

So nobody knows yet about the new man in town. And he is certainly struggling with Canadian winter. Well, he will get used to the cold soon enough. For now I just wonder how he’ll be received in his new home by his new neighbours.

Late John Blythe’s room is as sad as ever. And there’s something in the was Bash says ‘Mr. Blythe’ that reminds me of his mother’s attitude to Gilbert in season 3. Although there was a hint of irony, the bitter traces of black-as-opposed-to-white history are still there. This scene has three levels of sad - the grief over John Blythe’s death, the heartwarming feeling of Gilbert giving Bash something that was his father’s, and the aforementioned race segregation that is still there. #blacklivesmatter

Gosh, Diana looks so magnificent in her dress and tiara... and so would Anne, if only she wouldn’t refuse to try it on. Cole, on the other hand, is more than ready to do just that. I love that guy. I love how. at least around his friends, he is never ashamed to be 100% himself. The world needs more people like Cole Mackenzie. Also, Anne being the boy with Cole as the girl is a hilarious kind of heartwarming. Thanks, I love it.

Awkward... Marilla’s reaction to the scene playing in Anne’s room was... what I expected and not what I expected at once - if that’s even possible. But I see it doesn’t faze the kids one bit. So that’s great.

I love the parallel between Anne, Diana and Cole and the young children singing Twelve Days of Christmas. I love parallels, and, for a non-Christian, I love Christmas carols a bit too much. And watching the preparations for the pantomime in full swing when it’s not even quite autumn yet... it’s surreal. A beautiful, warm kind of surreal.

I can’t bear Phillips - he asks for his line and then, when Prissy gives it to him, he says ‘Don’t tell me!’ And how dare he yell at her like that? Neither his position as her teacher nor that as her almost-future-husband gives him the right to treat her so badly.

If poor Matthew went mad from all this noise, I wouldn’t blame him. Sure, it’s young children making the noise, but it’s still overwhelming. I got dizzy just by watching the scene. Of course he would run off ‘crying like a baby’, despite the rudeness of that description.

‘Did you ever have any childhood?’ Whoa, that was rough. Sure, it comes from a place of pure curiosity, but hey, it’s not like Anne had much of a childhood herself before arriving in Green Gables. Still, it must have hurt Matthew a little to be asked that question. See, his childhood memories are strongly connected to Michael and it was with him that Matthew’s childhood was gone all at once. Heartbreaking.

Great, now Anne is crying in Matthew’s spot. Heart-brea-king. And I see Anne has an idea. A brilliant one, no doubt.

‘You’re the one talking about it, not me.’ See, Jerry couldn’t be more right. If Anne didn’t think everybody was staring at her hair and judging her, it would probably attract much less attention. See, Gilbert said nothing about it, even though he couldn’t not have noticed it. She should, you know... ‘Talk less. Smile more.’ Then maybe nobody would see any difference.

This ought to be interesting. Marilla meets Bash for the first time and her reaction is just what I expected. ‘You must be...’ She must have thought Gilbert had brought back some help. And while Bash will be a great help to Gilbert in his otherwise lonely life, he is not, and will never be, the help. This interaction was so flipping awkward.

Oh, so that is Anne’s plan - an experiment to see how people would treat her if she ware a boy. But it’s almost ruined when she sees her puff-sleeved dress in the window-shop. And Jeannie is the only one who recognised her. She knows her too well, and she’s not at all upset about her meddling in her and Matthew’s correspondence. I like that woman a lot.

The way Billy stares as the girls admire Cole’s talent... jealous much? Maybe if you weren’t such a dirt-bag, Billy, they would admire something in you too. Why do you think they’re all over Gilbert and Cole? It’s not just because of their looks. It’s because they act like real men - which you’re apparently not. I mean, no real man hurts another man on purpose just to assert dominance (which he can’t have in any other way). Pathetic. But now... poor Cole won’t even be able to finish his work of art. Thanks, I hate it. And by it I mean Billy.

Awww... that is so heartwarming! And I bet Jerry is the only one Anne would forgive for missing the E in her name. She so obviously loves the card, I might just cry of happiness.

But then there’s Cole. He’s so devastated about his unfinished piece... but he’s forgotten one thing - he’s got so many friends to count on, and they’re all going to help. I’d give anything to have friends like them. And I love how Moody takes initiative to paint first.

I love how excited Anne is to meet Bash, and how happy she is at last despite her hair drama earlier in this episode. And let’s not forget how beautiful she looks in her dress, long hair or short.

Anne, Anne, remember what we talked about: Talk less. Smile more.

Not to Gilbert, girl, you can talk to him. Nay, you really should.

I’m more of a Yule person myself, but I love this particular Christmas. Oh, and there’s the dictionary. I see the spelling contest has just begun. :)

Another person who assumes Bash is the help. I hate it when people assume things based on skin colour. Rachel makes for many awkward situation.

So this is how Anne becomes the boy... but there’s still no shovel. And here, as we know, is where Matthew steps in, whether he likes it or not. He’s a true hero. #inmatthewwetrust

Diana is so magnificently beautiful as the fairy queen... it makes me want to draw her like this... I might just do that once I’m finished with this rewatch.

I don’t know who looks more awkward on stage - Thomas Lynde or Matthew. Oh, well, I’ve got to say - both were actually magnificent in their own way. But you’re killing me - Phillps as the dashing hero? At least he’s got one of those roles everyone laughs at, like Billy as the owl. At least at the panto people get to show their true faces - however ironic that might sound.

Ah, now they’re going to blame Bash! I can’t. But at least Matthew is there to save the day. And he gets to live a part of his childhood he’s missed out on - being part of the Christmas panto, if only for a couple of minutes. Breathe, Matthew, breathe. There, he did it - for Anne, no doubt. I love this man. I love this family, and I love this episode. But I remember loving the next one a tiny bit more. We’ll see next week how it holds up.

Let’s sum up this episode: Anne’s got the pixie cut of shame; Phillips is a dirtbag - but we already knew that; Gilbert is back and Bash is received awkwardly by the people of Avonlea; Matthew’s own childhood trauma; Jerry dishes out wisdom; Anne is a boy for a day; Billy is a dirt-bag, injures Cole out of pure pathetic jealousy; Jerry spells Anne without the E, but it’s fine because it’s him; preparations for the Christmas panto; Talk less. Smile more. (I might or might not have listened to The Room Where it Happens from Hamilton a few times too many before coming into this rewatch); the pocket dictionary; Bash is not the help!; in Matthew we trust; a magnificent Christmas panto with a magnificent fairy queen, a magnificent boy and a magnificent snowy owl (Matthew, not Billy).

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beautifulletdownfics · 4 years

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harry is fine and nina is fine too: part v

It’s two days before they tell anyone.

Nina’s housemates Jane and Sarah are the only people who know Harry and Nina are back together and there’s something perfect about the bubble they’ve been allowed to exist in for 48 hours.

“I should call my mum,” Harry says, his eyes focused on Nina’s hand in his, her leg draped comfortably over his thigh on the park bench. There’s a peaceful hum of water from a large fountain in front of them, “She’s left two messages now about dinner in Cheshire this weekend.”

Nina’s head snaps over to look at him, “She doesn’t know you’re not in England? Are you kidding me, Harry!”

“I came over to New York in a hurry,” He tells her, “It was all very romantic.”

Nina would role her eyes at him but it’s still raw, there’s still a huge part of her—of them both— that’s terrified they’ll turn around and the other won’t be there.

"Let's get a coffee and go back to the flat and call her," Nina suggests.

Harry lets out a laugh, "I thought we left the flat so we could actually talk."

"We have been!" Nina responds, comfortable with where they had managed to get themselves talking everything through over the course of the afternoon, "But I don't want to cry in public, which is what will happen if we call her here."

Harry gives her a serious look, "How do I know if we go back you'll behave and not just jump my bones as soon as we're through the door?" Nina laughs and hits his chest with the back of her hand, "We left because you couldn't keep your hands to yourself."

"Nonsense! You've turned into a sex feign."

"You have been entirely complicit."

Harry leans over and gives her a sweet kiss to the cheek, which instantly changes the tone, "I've missed you."

Nina feels tears come to her eyes, "Don't."

Harry's face softens, "We're going to be okay. Please don't torture yourself. C'mon, let's get you a latte."

They walk hand in hand through the park to a coffee kiosk Harry has occasionally stopped at when he's been on a run and given up halfway. They order and Harry sits on a brick retaining wall, Nina climbs up behind him, squats and leans her chest into his back, leaning her chin on his shoulder and watching as he types a reply to an email.

"Your hair is scratchy," He says, shivering when the ends of Nina's hair tickles his cheek for the second time.

"Sorry, but my boyfriend of two days isn't paying me attention so I've resorted to extreme measures."

Harry stops typing and tilts his head to meet her eye, "I am not your boyfriend of two days. We've been dating for four years. It doesn't reset, that's not how it works."

"Coffee's ready," Nina says, jumping down next to him and snatching Harry's phone out of his hand, "Your Christmas card list can wait."

"I was not doing a Christmas card list," He insists, petty but loving playing with her. Still, there was a sick feeling from hearing Nina say they'd only been together two days. That felt wrong. “I'm actually kind of a big deal, I was doing important work."

Harry doesn't try to extract his phone from her pocket, he likes the modern day intimacy of it, of Nina having his phone. She accepts the hand he holds out for her and they slowly make their way back to his apartment, having opted to stay there for the privacy it awarded them. He bit his tongue thinking about the intimate moments they'd been able to have that he doubts Nina's New York roommates would have been on board for. He and Nina had been overcome with lust and love in all rooms of the house, and he was glad for his own kitchen, and his own bathroom and his own living room to be able to take advantage of.

"You're thinking about sex," Nina pulls him away from the memory of their breakfast romp that morning. "I am," He doesn't bother denying, "I've just realised we boiled the kettle for tea but never made it. You walked in wearing just your underwear and it's all hazy from there."

"Hazy? That's the word you want to go with?"

Harry squeezes her hand and smiles over at her, “Obviously I remember every single moment in great detail. Hazy is a reference to the cloud of ecstasy you cast over my mind.” “Okay,” Nina draws out with a laugh, “Please don’t write a song with that as a lyric. It’s seedy.”

Harry starts humming a tune and singing out tales of lustful weather systems and foggy bathroom mirrors. Nina pretends not to be charmed by his beautiful voice and how very much she’s missed hearing him sing, even when his express purpose is to embarrass her.

Something close to both their hearts warms, loosens and settles comfortably back into place.

+++

Anne cries and so does Nina.

Harry calls his mother when they get back to the flat and manage to make a cup of tea without feeling each other up. He puts his phone on speaker and places it on the coffee table, his body curved around Nina’s on the sofa.

“I’m with Nina,” is all he says before both women are crying.

“Really?” His mother cries through the phone, “You’re with her now? Oh! How is she? Are you—I mean—Oh Harry, is she there?” “You’re on speaker,” He’s grinning and he really should have told her that sooner, it was rude not to have but Anne was lost for words and Harry liked Nina seeing that even without context his mother was overjoyed at him being even just physically with her. “And yes, she’s sitting right here. We’re back together, Mum.”

“Oh Harry!” She repeats and Nina can hear the emotion in his mother’s voice, “I don’t know what to say, I’m so happy for you both. You must be sick with happiness. Nina! Love, hello!” “Hello,” Nina starts quietly, holding her sleeve up to her wet face for a moment, “Hi. I’ve missed you so much, how are you?”

“Amazing! Wonderful! I’m perfect,” Anne pauses for a moment and lets out a loud breath, “You know I don’t like to interfere in your personal life, Harry, but …”

Harry squeezes Nina’s thigh before he speaks, “I know, Mum. It always had to be Nina.”

Nina holds her breath at what he's said, her heart breaking again and again, "I'm sorry but Harry won't make it to Cheshire this weekend," she starts talking slowly, "He's in New York with me."

"Oh, I'd forgive you for that a thousand times a day!" Anne shushes Nina quickly, "I'm so happy for you two. Have you told your sister, Harry?"

Harry looks to Nina who’s eyes give her away straight away, “We haven’t no, she’ll be our next call, I would think.”

Nina says nothing and Anne feels the need to comfort the woman not only her son loved, but both her children, and consequently both had been heartbroken in Nina’s absence, “You best hand the phone over, Harry, those two will have a lot to catch up on.”

“They will,” Harry smiles softly at Nina who has a few stray tears leaking from her eyes and more threatening to follow, “We’ll get onto that now, Mum, and maybe FaceTime you tomorrow?”

“Yes! Yes,” Anne cries, she sniffs and it gives away her emotion, “I’m so happy for you both. And for us, our little family has missed you dearly, Nina.”

“Love you mum,” Harry says, ending the call and leaning over to kiss Nina’s hairline delicately, “I love you as well. Would you like a moment of privacy to call Gem? I’ll go shower.”

Nina nods quietly, Harry’s phone in her hand and she doesn’t say anything as this pointer finger flicks around on the screen and hands Nina the phone with his Favourites on the screen. He kisses the corner of her mouth and stands up, watching Nina for a short moment before deciding he’s okay with what he sees and he turns on his heel to head for the bathroom. Gemma’s contact is sitting there, but Nina’s eyes are drawn to her own, still in top place on the list. He never took her off, she’d been sat in his favourites this whole time.

Nina lets out a long breath before hitting the call button for Gemma. The pair hadn’t spoken since Harry and Nina broke up, the severing of her friendship with her boyfriend’s sister had ended up being almost as painful as losing Harry himself. Nina always had an ally in Gemma, and she’s petrified there’s no way to get that back.

Nina presses call before she can psych herself out of it.

“Hiya, be quick, I’m about to jump in the car,” Gemma answers the phone assuming it would be her brother on the other end.

For a brief moment Nina panics and wants to hang up, but she doesn’t. She clears her throat and presses her forehead to her knees, speaking into her lap, “Sorry. Sorry … Hi, it’s Nina … Harry’s just in the shower.’

“What?” Nina hears Gemma’s car door slam and the background noise disappears, “It’s not Harry. It’s me.”

“Get fucked,” Gemma breathes out quickly, “Nina?”

“Yeah, hi.” “You’re with my brother?”

“I am.”

“Are you joking me?” Gemma’s voice cracks.

Nina nods her head and wipes at her newest wave of tears, “No. Harry came to New York and … We’re back together.”

“You wouldn’t joke about that,” Gemma says scarily firmly, so firmly Nina almost thinks Harry’s sister isn’t happy at the news, but her next words are laced with tears and Nina can hear the wetness in Gemma’s voice, “You can’t joke about that.”

“I’m not joking,” Nina reassures her quietly, “I’ve missed you so much. I’m so sorry I disappeared on you.”

“It was too hard, I understood.”

“Yeah,” Nina sighs, leaning her head against Harry’s shoulder when he slipped back into the space next to her, shirtless and smelling of soap. “I couldn’t bare to lose you all gradually. I couldn’t stand the thought of you telling me you didn’t want to speak to me anymore.”

“Fuck this,” Gemma laughs, “I just spent twenty minutes doing my makeup and now its all over my sleeve!”

Nina laughs with her, covering her mouth with her hand and shaking her head, unable to stop the tears falling harder, “God I’m such a bitch.” “You really are! I’ve always bloody hated you.”

“Oi!” Harry interrupts, pulling Nina’s phone out of her hand and hitting the speaker icon, “I heard that, we’re not quite at the being mean to each other stage yet. We’re quite fragile.” “Oh, you’re fragile, okay,” Gemma snarks back, “You stole my best friend and in the name of being a supportive sibling I’ve not told you just how fucking angry with you I’ve been for that. Nina, get your arse back to London, I’ve bloody needed you.”

“I’ve needed you as well,” Nina confirms, “I moved to New York and didn’t know a soul, the number of times I’ve wanted to call you …”

Harry squeezes her shoulder lightly, his lips finding her hairline again and staying there, his own silent tears rolling down his cheeks. Putting aside the bravery heartache forced him into felt calm and quiet and comfortable, but the fear at having not gotten on the plane to New York—or Nina having moved on and away from him—still restricts his insides unpleasantly.

“I haven’t been back since I moved,” Nina tells them both, “A visit seems overdue.”

+++

Harry’s not sleeping through the night.

He wakes up scarily close to 3am every morning and reaches out for Nina to make sure she’s still there.

It takes a few minutes for his heartbeat to regulate, and at first he was worried the thumping of his heart against her back would wake her, but a week into the routine he’s no longer concerned. He grips her hips and pulls her whole body into his, holding Nina as tightly as he can without disturbing her sleep.

Except for now, when he’s held on a little too tightly.

“Harry,” She croaked, “You’re too hot, lemme move.” Nina’s trying to kick the duvet off her legs and get her arms free from him, but Harry’s slow to release her.

He groans against her shoulder blade, “Shh.”

“I’m overheating and you’ve tucked the sheets in too tight.”

“Go back to sleep.”

She goes limp in his arm and huffs, he’s not loosening his grip any time soon.

The same thing happens with Nina goes off to classes. Harry walks around the house, trying to write songs or find recipes he thinks Nina will like but really he’s waiting for time to pass so he can pace in the kitchen waiting to hear her key in the door.

Every day he constructs a scenario whereby she’ll not come back to him.

Harry keeps it to himself for nearly a week before he confesses to Nina. The next day he sets up a call with his shrink in LA who talks him through the anxiety he’s projecting onto the situation. He’s just so sure he needs to be ready for another blow, like he can’t possibly have lost everything and then managed to get it all back again. It felt too good, too precious, too fragile.

“I picked up wine on the way home,” Nina calls from the door.

Harry deserts his cold cup of tea on the kitchen bend and skids into the hallway to greet her, he coughs into his shoulder, “Hi.”

“Hello,” She coos, falling against his chest and threading her fingers through the hair at the base of his neck, “Did you have a good day?”

“Yeah,” Harry breathes against her neck, hands falling to her behind and pulling Nina’s hips snuggly against hers, “Missed you.”

“You’re warm,” Nina’s fingers move around to his forehead and she flips her hand to press the back of it to Harry’s forehead, “Do you feel poorly?”

“A bit,” He mumbles, breathing in and feeling his chest rattle a touch. The warmth in his cheeks all day and the slight ache in his joints only now registering as possible sickness.

“I spoke to your mum on the way here, she’s worried about you, H,” Nina draws back and tilts his chin so Harry’s looking at her, “I am too.” Harry gulps, “I feel like I’m going crazy,” he admits.

Nina frowns, “You’re not crazy.”

“I feel like it …” He whispers, struggling to hold her gaze, “When you’re not here I’m sure you won’t come back.”

“I love you, why would I not come back?” Nina’s watching his eyes fill with water and she feels like her stomach hits the floor, “Harry, baby.”

“I don’t know, it’s just where my head goes,” Harry shrugs helplessly and watches her, her gaze worried and gentle.

“Go and have a shower and get into fresh, comfy clothes,” She says softly, Nina pulls his head down so she can kiss between his eyebrows, “Set yourself up on the sofa and I’ll join you.”

Nina can see he’s run down, anxious and coming down with something. Which isn’t surprising really. He’s putting himself under a lot of stress and Nina knows as well as anyone how easily anxiety can physically manifest in the body. Harry’s worked himself into a state and it breaks Nina’s heart to think at the core of it all is a fear of losing her.

Twenty minutes later she’s left the wine in the fridge in favour of two fresh mugs of tea and a plate of honey toast. She puts the breakfast tray on the coffee table in the lounge and runs upstairs to get out of her jeans and slip into her pyjamas.

Harry’s barricaded himself into the corner spot of the L shaped sofa, his thick woollen socks peaking out under the throw blanket. He’s wearing an old tour hoodie and grey tracksuit pants and his head is resting back on the top of the sofa. When Nina lifts the corner of the knitted blanket and eases down into the spot next to him, Harry lifts and arm and waits a moment before draping it around her shoulders.

“Here,” She passes him a mug of tea and then balances the plate of toast on her knee, “You’ve run yourself into the ground, Harry.”

He shuts his eyes and holds his mouthful of hot tea in his mouth for a moment before letting it drain down his throat, “I just feel like … I’m in this scary state where the last 6 months didn’t happen. Or like they’re about to happen again, I don’t know. I spent the whole time we were apart just wanting this again and I thought it would feel … different.” “We won’t just snap back into place,” Nina tells him carefully, “As much as I know we’d both like to … There’ll be growing pains, H. We’re both hurt and scared, and I know optimism isn’t usually my strong suit, but you don’t prevent bad things from happening by worrying about them.”

“I know, I just guess I hadn’t really clocked how bad my mental state was … I’m falling apart inside, Neens. It’s like I got used to telling myself over and over that we had to get back together and now we have my brain has flipped it and is knocking on the door saying, ‘Just kidding, this thing has an expiry date, mate’.”

He watches Nina frown into her tea, deep in thought. Somehow she’s seemed to come out of this much better, probably because she had moved on with her life. Harry’s coping mechanism was to try to keep everything the same—Nina moved to the other side of the world and has managed to deal with the break up in a healthy way.

“I mean,” She starts slowly and Harry hopes she has the silver bullet, “I think the only way I can help is with time. You don’t feel safe yet, which is understandable. It might take some time for that to come back, that feeling secure in the relationship.”

“I feel like a needy idiot,” He laments quietly, his words harsh and cutting.

Nina puts the plate to the side and slips a leg over Harry’s knees, seating herself in a straddle over his lap, leans in and kisses his lips softly, “It’s scary to think we might still be apart,” Nina whispers, “I get it, Harry. I feel like such an idiot if I think about it too much. I thank whatever the heck is out there beyond us that you got on that plane to New York.”

Harry winds his arms low around her back, “Is it weird that I just want to take you back to London, and move all your stuff back to my place? I fucking hate that your shit isn’t all over my house anymore. Missed that the most,” His lips find her collarbone and sit there for a moment, “Every now and again something would come for you in the post and I’d want to scream. There’s a stack of shit from brands in a wardrobe waiting for you. Didn’t have the heart to throw them out, or give it to Gem.”

He’s sharing his suffering, so Nina tries to swallow the way what he’s telling her is hurting. Nina got invites to attend events and emailed a bunch of Harry’s travel bookings the first few months they were apart. Every now and again an assistant would slip and Nina would get details of his hotel or fights like she used to.

“The easter long weekend is coming up,” She says, “Why don’t we go home for a few days? Fly into Manchester and spent a few days with my family and then a few days with yours?”

Harry’s runnings his fingers up and down Nina’s back under her shirt and he nods against her throat, “Yeah. That sounds perfect. Finish in London, I owe Rodger some top shelf gin for calling me after he saw you. Needed him to kick my arse into gear.”

“Okay,” Nina says with an air of finality, “That’s that then. The UK for Easter. And maybe you could bring back an actual suitcase of clothes this time? Not just what’s on your back and fresh pants?”

Harry laughs, letting her tease for the way he jumped on a plane here with only the gym bag that was in his car. He likes that she’s not stepping around him coming back to New York with her. He’ll be wherever she is until she’s ready to move back to London.

“Mmm, might even bring a second pair of shoes, how about that?” He attaches his lips to her jaw and presses her chest against his. Nina’s hands sink down his chest to the waistband of his joggers, slipping just underneath them, “Careful,” he warns.” “Careful?” Her hand goes lower, pumping him once, twice and then she sits back to watch it between them, “Are you feeling too unwell?” Harry’s breath is caught in his chest as he hurries to shake his head, “No. N-no, never.”

Nina smiles, “Good.”

#1dff #hina #alternative hina #fic: someday someday #fic: twenty good reasons #one direction #harry styles #harry fic #harry stories #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #one direction fic #one direction fanfiction

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hihoneyimdead · 4 years

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a dissection of anime nathaniel hawthorne in relation to the scarlet letter

In Which I’m Bored and Want to Talk About Anime Nathaniel Hawthorne and Why He’s More Interesting Than the Fandom Wants to Admit, and Also About Arthur Dimmesdale And Shit

This is going to be long. Fuck.

(spoilers through the manga, which i have not read all the way through, so take everything i say with a grain of salt. same goes for the scarlet letter, which i haven’t read in nearly four years. ripperoni bro)

Above is the topic of today’s procrastination, Anime Nathaniel Hawthorne from Bungo Stray Dogs. He is a member of an American organization called the Guild, he’s a preacher, and he has a superpower/ability called The Scarlet Letter that allows him to manipulate his own blood into scripture that can either harm or defend via spears and shit and then shields and shit.

He’s also a simp for Anime Margaret Mitchell, but I’ll be getting into that in a moment.

Anyway, here’s a better picture of our lovely reverend, this time with his ability:

Funny, right? But that’s what I’m gonna talk about today simply because I’m bored and I should be writing but I’m currently not and I really have a soft spot for this bitch of a preacher. Hawthorne here has a lot more to his character than a lot of people give him credit for, which makes sense because he is a relatively-minor character and all he’s been doing recently is getting cucked by Anime Fyodor Dostoevsky, and while he may currently be Comrade Assassin, he’s still a complex character if you look past what our favorite Russian pimp has been up to.

So a bit more about Hawthorne before I crack open my copy of his most famous book:

He is a preacher, not a priest, as shown by his choice in clothing. Priests don’t wear that, take it from a former Catholic. His clothes resemble the robes worn by classic Puritan preachers (such as the Reverend Arthur Dimmesdale, but we’ll get to him in a minute.) Whether that was on purpose or not I don’t know, but I’m aiming for a yes because Margaret Mitchell, his partner, wears a Southern belle-style outfit that Scarlett O’Hara (the main character of Mitchell’s most famous work, Gone With the Wind) wears, and John Steinbeck wears clothes reminiscent of Tom Joad (the main character of Steinbeck’s most famous work, The Grapes of Wrath.) It’s kind of a thing with the Guild. Edgar Allan Poe wears clothes that a goth around the time of Poe’s life would’ve worn. Same goes for Louisa May Alcott, Mark Twain, and H. P. Lovecraft. Meanwhile characters such as Lucy Maud Montgomery, F. Scott Fitzgerald, and Herman Melville wear clothes that their characters (Anne from Anne of Green Gables, Jay Gatsby from The Great Gatsby, and whoever the fuck was in Moby Dick, respectively.) Hawthorne fits in with that last set of characters, which is funny considering the real life Hawthorne’s works.

In reality, Nathaniel Hawthorne was an American author in the early-to-mid-1800s who wrote many short stories, novels, and poems and shit, usually Romantic in nature. He started off, though, as a big member of the Transcendentalist movement. Transcendentalism, if you don’t know, is kind of like the 1800s equivalent of hippies. They were pretty anti-government and anti-religion, usually specifically anti-Christianity. These institutions corrupted the basis of mankind. Hawthorne himself helped form a utopian commune up in New England (it didn’t last long, don’t worry.) As he grew older, he grew out of that kind of writing and lifestyle and into the works we know him for today, such as his most famous novel, The Scarlet Letter. It, like many of his other works, contains allusions to religion and exists as a sort of criticism on it.

The Scarlet Letter is set in the middle of the 1600s in Puritan New England. The Puritans were known for being Super Christian. They did not pass the vibe check. The main character is Hester Prynne, a young woman convicted of adultery with an unknown father. After being “released” from prison after the birth of her daughter, Pearl, Hester is allowed to move around outside of prison. But to signify her “evilness”, she must have a red letter ‘A’ on the front of her dress at all times (the eponymous and extremely metaphoric scarlet letter.) Besides Hester and Peal, main characters include Roger Chillingsworth, a doctor and Hester’s ex-husband from England who has vowed to track down the father and have him punished as well, and the Reverend Arthur Dimmesdale, who is sick All of the Time For No Apparent reason. By the end of the novel it’s revealed that Dimmesdale’s illness is actually a manifestation of his guilt because he was Pearl’s father despite him being a reverend and all and Hester being an unmarried woman. He ends up dying in the end after professing his guilt and showing the town the red letter ‘A’ that God supposedly engraved upon the skin on his chest.

So let’s start here with a brief summary of Dimmesdale’s actions in the book as recalled by someone who hasn’t read it in four years but who is looking at the Wikipedia article right now.

We first meet him when he and another minister, John Wilson, question Hester as to who the father of her child was. She doesn’t answer. The next time we see him in person is when Hester goes to the governor to ask if she can keep Pearl. She pleads with Dimmesdale and Wilson (who is there too for some reason), and he manages to persuade the governor to let her keep her child. At some point soon after, his health really begins to decline, and Chillingsworth moves in as a physician. Chillingsworth discovers a weird symbol of guilt on Dimmesdale’s chest while the poor guy sleeps after suspecting that the preacher’s illness is a manifestation of an unknown guilt. Dimmesdale, filled with guilt, goes to the town square in the middle of the night one day and screams his guilt to the heavens, but he can’t make himself do it during the day. Hester, shocked by the poor guy’s whole deal, decides to break her vow of silence. She calls Dimmesdale outside of town and tells him that they’re going to move to Europe together and start a new life with Pearl. He agrees and seems reinvigorated. They go back to town, and all’s fine until he gives a really good sermon on Election Day. After that, he professes his guilt and dies in Hester’s arms. People there claim to see a “stigma” in the shape of a letter ‘A’ on his chest, though others say there’s nothing there.

Dimmesdale is a man consumed by his guilt. He physically and mentally declines because of his guilt and his unwillingness to expose himself for the sinner he really is, though, through it all, he supports Hester and Pearl as best he can considering his station as the town minister. He’s supposed to be the beacon of mortality, the person everyone should look up to and respect and learn from. And here he is, an adulterer, and a liar. And when he finally grows past his guilt and decides to let it out in favor of leaving and starting life anew, he dies, consumed, supposedly, by the wrath of God. He “falls” as a sinner, struck down by the very flames of Hell themselves. Or, more likely, a regular heart attack. He died of shock, poor guy.

Compare that to Anime Nathaniel Hawthorne. He starts out as a member of a secret association who, according to its leader, Fitzgerald, doesn’t do good, but does what needs to be done. That’s probably why Hawthorne joined it in the first place. While his main goal has always been eradicating sinners from the face of the Earth, he probably started out as a regular old minister. Eradicating doesn’t always mean killing, and this is shown as he only attacks those who threaten his work, his partner (wink), and himself. This changes after the woman he loves throws herself in the way of an attack and nearly gets herself killed saving him. In canon, she’s still in a coma. In canon, he gave himself completely into sin because of his guilt and love for her. And that’s where the similarities between Hawthorne and Dimmesdale really start.

Let’s start with the obvious guilt complex. This goes along with what I believe Dostoevsky’s ability, Crime and Punishment, does. I believe it feeds off of an individual’s guilt, manipulating it and their mind in the process. We see this with Karma, a young man Dostoevsky kills. Karma, in his last moments, goes through all he went wrong with in his life (you know, or as much as a manga page or two can have) and dies knowing that he’ll never achieve his dream. That’s a more extreme example, I think, and not one I should really be using as evidence for anything considering it’s the only example of this really happening. Every other person that Dostoevsky kills with his ability just drops dead without the audience seeing into their thoughts. He’s got an insta-kill ability, but my theory builds off the idea that he can control living or dying. Hawthorne came to Dostoevsky to work for Dostoevsky’s organization, the Rats in the House of the Dead, in exchange for Mitchell getting “revived”. He might look cool on the outside, but he left the Guild, his friends, because Mitchell got hurt. He loves her, and he says as much in the manga (the anime didn’t say so, but left it unsaid and obvious to those looking.) The next time we see Hawthorne, he’s a mindless assassin who really only remembers Mitchell from his past, and the assassin who nearly killed her. His guilt twisted him into someone completely different from how he was before, even looking physically leaner and as different a brief appearance in a manga and anime can make someone look. He’s even lost his glasses, and any normal look in his eye. It’s kinda like the main character of Crime and Punishment from what I can tell, but I also haven’t read that book so take what I say on that with a gain of salt.) He’s consumed by his guilt (thanks, Fyodor.) Guilt is a big part of his character (as much of a character as he has currently, anyway.) The same can be said for Dimmesdale, who, as I’ve said before was consumed by his own guilt and sin until his death.

I hope that Hawthorne doesn’t end up as dead as Dimmesdale did when he reunites with his supposed love interest (love interests aren’t really a thing in this series, which makes Hawthorne and Mitchell even more interesting to me.) I hope he gets a happy ending, but... that probably won’t happen unless Dostoevsky dies, which seems like an end-game thing to me. He’s a bad dude with slight plot armor.

Anyway, past the guilt, their relationship with the respective women in their lives is another important and interesting parallel. Dimmesdale, even through Hester’s punishment, more or less treats her as he would’ve before Pearl. I believe that he did truly love her in his own pitiful way, though not as much as he loved his relationship with God, as seen by his continued guilt and shit. But it’s important to note that he seemed to admit his own love for Hester by agreeing to run away to Europe with her, and he did so in little ways throughout the story by helping her keep Pearl and by really just giving her a lighter sentence than a lot of women would’ve gotten. Puritan ministers were up there with government officials in the law (look at the witch trials, for example), so he would’ve definitely had input on her punishment. Most women would’ve been stoned or banished from the town or colony. Hester, notably, was let off relatively easy with just the emblem and the vague banishment to living in a house outside of town alone with her daughter. Hawthorne’s partner was Margaret Mitchell, and from the very beginning until the assassin skewered them, the two of them argued. Honestly, they bickered a lot like an old married couple. It was kinda cute in a weird way. Neither of them would obviously admit their feelings for each other. Both are proud people, Mitchell coming from a disgraced rich family and Hawthorne being a man of God. But his concern for her becomes evident the moment she gets stabbed clean through and impaled a dozen feet above the ground. That’s when he really gets on the offensive, and when she’s destroyed (image below), he calls her by her first name for the first, and only, time, looking completely destroyed (image also below.) He nearly manages to kill the assassin. And when he wakes up and sees that she isn’t going to wake up, he leaves those he cares about to fix his mistake of letting her get this hurt.

When we see Hawthorne next, he is willing to do anything to redeem himself for his mistake. When we meet him as an assassin for the first time, in the manga he says something along the lines of “I, for the revival of the one I love, will fulfill the contract of death”. Which is... not normal, I’ll admit. Poor guy. In the anime, he says something different that I don’t remember, but that was similar if not slightly different (again, the anime isn’t as explicit with their relationship as the manga.) Meanwhile she’s in a coma and is likely not to be revived by those Hawthorne pledged his allegiance to, but those he left behind.

The two ministers here follow generally the same path of sin. They start out as the badass ministers they really are, men of God. Then, one way or another, they fall deeper and deeper into sin as they go. For Dimmesdale, that was boning Hester Prynne and hiding it from the town and corrupting himself with his guilt. For Hawthorne, that was ‘allowing’ his partner to ‘die’ and surrendering himself to a higher power to try and get her back, losing himself in the process. In the end, both men are shells of their former selves. Dimmesdale dies sick. Hawthorne is a brainwashed assassin. Dimmesdale’s higher power, God, is ultimately what killed him, and his devotion is what really did him in. Hawthorne is probably gonna die or get otherwise written out, I have a feeling (several villains in this show have, just look at Pushkin and Mark Twain and even Mitchell herself.) If he is, it’ll be Dostoevsky or one of his weird Russian friends doing him in or taking him out of the picture. He’ll likely never see Mitchell again and he will die due to his newfound devotion to a “god” who is willing to punish him for going to far.

And guys, Hawthorne’s ability is literally the titular scarlet letter. What else can I say?

Honestly, I’m not sure what this post was, only that I killed a good three hours writing it and that it gave me yet again a newfound appreciation for something I used to hate. It was Anime Hawthorne, but before that it was IRL Hawthorne and The Scarlet Letter. Thank you American public school system.

#i refuse to tag this but yeah.#this isn't going in the main tag #i mostly wrote this bc a couple folks on the discord wanted to see it #i've gotten a real appreciation for anime hawthorne recently so yeah #he's still a villain but he's more complex than some people make him out to be #i guess #i wanna do more of these with other unlikable characers #next is steinbeck... which would mean i have to actually read the grapes of wrath ew #or watch it ew

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primedirection · 5 years

Text

The Difference

This is the final part of the series I hope y'all like it! Either way let me know. Fair warning though this is long.

You're somewhat of a hurricane once returning home and getting past the barrier of the door. Sweeping up and through everything you think you might need. Clothes, electronics, toiletries and more tossed into a suitcase.

You had no idea where you were going but anywhere was better than staying here to deal with his insufferable aloofness.

Thankfully you retrieved a headstart by ubering here with Gemma. Who was not only worried about you going off alone, but admittedly didn't want to risk giving off the impression of taking Harry's side by riding with him.

The quiet calm of the house is only temporary though, seeing as it's ruined as soon as he arrives. The very energy of it seems to seep and drain out at the sound of his voice in the distance. Arguing with Gemma about where you are. Which inevitably doesn't take long for him to figure out.

Without needing to look you can feel his gaze burning holes into you as he takes in the sight of you packing. A sharp surprised breath breaks the silence just before he urgently pleads, "Y/N, can we just talk for a minute,"

Especially after coming closer and seeing your almost full suitcase.

"We did that, and you still didn't listen. I'm done talking!" You reply aggressively shoving a perfume bottle inside of a side compartment. It was a favorite and you'd be pissed if you left it. "Now, I need some space,"

"Space for what?"

"To figure things out— to figure us out. I can't do that here,"

"What is there to figure out? We're getting married in several months. I love you, you love me. We love each other right?" Getting frustrated with spectating you going back and forth from dresser to suitcase, Harry takes it upon himself to interfere. Grabbing a top you just picked right out of your hand to make you focus on him.

Which was indeed annoying but it's more of what he said that bothers you, "Don't, don't do that,"

"Do what, what the hell am I doing now?!" He asks exasperated, raking his fingers through the front of his mane.

"Making it seem like I'm the one who had doubts all along! That's not true and you know it's not. You're the one that's had a funny way of showing it while I've been in this waiting for you to come around, and I can't keep doing that to myself!"

Taken aback he frowns hard, "That's not what I'm saying at all Y/N! I just meant that we're supposed to be spending our lives together why does this small thing have to change that?"

See this is why you wanted to go, you can feel your bugged eyes almost fall out of your head, "Small thing?! Harry we have major fucking issues!”

As usual he's in denial, "So what? No relationship is perfect, that's the whole point of working on it together. That's what makes it worth it,"

You snatch your top back out of his hand and blindly toss it in the suitcase beside you, "Together? Harry I don't even know what I did wrong for you to start treating me this way in the first place. It honestly feels like nothing I do is good enough for you anymore,"

Harry abruptly pauses at that, your words finally resonating with him. And if his crestfallen face was any indication of it, you'd swear that they bore an immense weight.

Not sure if it's to steady you or himself he halts you in place by the forearms pleading, "Stop, yeh don't mean that,"

"Yes I do," you sullenly affirm pulling away.

To hear you say that like it was the only thing that your were sure of, gutted him to the very core. Literally knocking the wind right out of him. You are his entire world that kept him going most of the time. How could he have fucked it up that royally bad to the point you couldn't see it? It profoundly terrified him.

He had to fix it, "Y/N you're more than good enough,"

Understandably so, you don't want to hear it, "Since when? Hmm? You said so your yourself, my little blue collar office party certainly wasn't."

In his current state of unnerved contrition, panic gets the best of him, "I never said that. Now you're puttin' words in my mouth,"

"Am I? Okay, lets pretend that's true.. It doesn't matter. You still never want to be around me. Hell I'm not even good enough for you to take the time out of your day off to work on our wedding! So why are we doing this?" You deadpan.

"Y/N, I admit that my timing was shit with Ken and you're right I really shouldn't have taken work out on you. I've been a right selfish prick. But just cos' I fucked up, doesn't mean that I don't want to be with yeh,"

You mutter a tongue in cheek, "Hard to tell," devastating him even more.

Being on the receiving end of the disparaging only makes him desperate, and in every sense.

He clutches onto you again, "Yeh know I love you, Y/N!" Defiantly you stare at the bed feeling yourself getting emotional, because you wanted to belive that again without doubt so badly. The menacing tightening in your chest and throat bring on the burning threat of impending tears. "Look at me lovie please?"

Sooner or later you do, annoyed that a few manage to escape. You wipe them away angrily with the back of your hand, "What?"

The look on his face is not only distressed but tormented, "Don't leave. Look I get it, I don't think about making you feel loved like it's something I've got to get done everyday. Yeh know? Like everything else, but it is and I'm going to from now on! I promise,"

"You've made promises before, how do I know that you'll keep this one?"

His hands slide down from your arms to hold both of your hands firmly. You noted as something he did out of habit whenever he wanted to stress something important to you, "Cos' anything else for us is not an option. I'll do whatever it takes,"

It's always sad when anything has to get to this point. But of course as reality would have it, nobody is perfect. As people we do need room to make mistakes in order to grow. Harry included. Faults aside, he was still very much the love of your life. For that he at least deserved the chance to prove himself.

Especially since he seems to be aware of his own errors now and finally taking accountability. It was the only way to move forward.

Although still perturbed in time you relent, "Fine. But I don't want to hear anymore talk of weddings or marriage until you prove to me that you're all in. Not until we're both sure that this is absolutely what we want,"

He wanted to argue til he was blue in the face that this is everything he wanted but settles for a relieved, "Okay then,"

Harry should've known that he was pushing it when he went to hold you right after, but he couldn't help himself. This very opportunity was on borrowed time and he refused to take it for granted. Even if it isn't reciprocated and is void of all enjoyment.

When he let's go you don't even look at him, you just get back to sealing and securing your suitcase. Which scares the life out of him, "Wait where-"

You sigh irritated, "I still need some space. I can't be directly up under you right now."

He wasn't estatic about it. Watching you brush coldly past him, but he'd compromise for you staying in the room down the hall over other extremes any day.

****

"You're on in ten!"

Harry should be used to Good Morning America by now after all the performances he's put on here, and yet here he was pacing. His stomach had been in knots from the moment he woke up this morning.

Normally the first shows were always the best and yet the worst. New music meant new reactions and although he trusted the unyielding support of his fans, others that weren't so nice would hear it as well. Which honestly wasn't so bad, it's just when he has to get on a stage and see their live reactions for himself is usually what's so nerve wracking. This time though he was a nervous wreck for one reaction in particular.

On cue of the third second his eyes land on the empty sofa across the room once again. He hadn't been able to stop checking for the past two hours. You said that you'd be here.

A couple weeks have passed and your relationship was very much still on the rocks. Apologizing helped to put a stop to your hurt but did nothing to mend the damage that was already done. Blatantly shown in the distance you kept.

An entirely new barrier went up between you. For all intents and purposes you moved into the guestroom. You'd be gone before he got up in the morning and in bed asleep before he even got home, even on days off. So affection and any room for proper communication were really off the table.

You were thoroughly guarded and while he kind of understood after so many ridiculous: It's over! Caught Red handed in wedding boutique with ex! headlines launched. He still hated every facet about it.

The new resentment from trying to explain the situation to family members, the total separation while under the same roof, the bullshit single word responses whenever he'd try and have a conversation through text when you actually were apart, or the way either of you didn't laugh together anymore. It was driving him absolutely mad.

He had talked to Anne and Gemma asking for advice on different occasions, pleading his case of how you wouldn't really speak to him, and they both managed to say the same thing: It's your fault!

Which wasn't necessarily wrong, but he needed an actual solution in order to fix what was happening. There wasn't much he could do with your jaded demeanor but he refused to give up. He had to do something to prove that he was still in this and not just to go through the motions.

Eventually Harry came up with the idea to extend an olive branch of sorts. To fix the parts that he had initially fucked up to show you that he is really going to change.

Today marked the start of one his biggest shows on the schedule. The first official televised live performance for the new album, and he couldn't think of a better moment to share. So he kind of purposely blocked you in the driveway the other night so that you'd have no choice but to talk to him in order to leave. And he didn't waste the opportunity to ask you to come hangout backstage before he went on for support.

As he suspected you'd been reluctant, especially given the last rehearsal that you attended, but overall you did agree and he was thrilled. But as time passed on up until the day of the show, that thrill shifted to excitement, and when the hours dwindled down to minutes before going on that excitement morphed into worry. He called twice earlier but received no answer. None of his team had received any sign of you arriving at the venue either. And as he walked through the curtain and onto the stage his hope was fully crushed.

****

Despite being able to force himself to go through the performance with a smile and all the bells and whistles. He couldn't withstand the facade of it any longer once the moment was over.

Other than disappointment he didnt know what to feel.

The band offered to go out to celebrate their phenomenal return and he politely refused. The urge to get an explanation consumed his every thought and was the highest of priorities at the moment.

So here he was pulling into your shared driveway at his earliest convenience. Noting the majority of lights on in the house and the unfamiliar vehicle parked out in front.

Inside the sound of your cheery voice alerted him instantly. Is this how you were normally when he wasn't around? And if nothing was really wrong then why didn't you show up or at least respond to his phone calls?

The answers to his inquisition come in the form of you sitting on the sofa, head tossed back in laughter nursing a glass of wine and you're not alone. At first glance he questions the random massive bloke in his home, but as Harry wanders closer he realizes the bloke isn't so random after all.

He'd seen him a zillion times in yearbooks and family photo albums and had even been introduced a few years ago. Since then every encounter with him had always been the same. Now Harry didn't like to use the word hate because it was really strong, but he absolutely hated Noah.

Anyone that knew Noah knew that he had a massive thing for you. They knew that he'd probably been pining for you from the moment that you met and at every opportunity given he'd try to weasel his way in.

Harry could admit to being unbearably pathetic when he was jealous, but Noah always managed to bring out the absolute worst in him by getting directly under his skin.

Above the borderline creepy and annoying core that made Noah... well Noah, was the exterior of layers that he put on and he put them on very well.

Not only did he get an insane amount of leverage for being your childhood bestfriend. Noah was charming and in a way that gave Harry a run for his money. Speaking of money Noah was rich and successful in that he owned his own company, that usually up until now kept him busy and away from you. In Harry's personal opinion, worst of all, Noah was devilishly handsome. Dark thick hair and brows over blue dreamy eyes and a strong chiseled jaw and cheeks that were neatly covered in hair that connected smoothly in which Harry could never attain himself. He couldn't even begin to get started on his physique. Noah had more muscles than Harry knew what to do with.

At the thought Harry could've sworn that he cut himself just from the tight grip that he had on his keys. The sharp sting pulling him out of his reverie.

"...sorry he's not usually like this it must of been one hell of a show...” Harry barely registers you addressing him or that he's been made out.

"Should be careful with that, didn't one of his band mates struggle with his hearing due to the high pitched little girls?" Noah adds and Harry's nerves are immediately irked.

"Noah, didn't know yeh were stopping by would've made proper arrangements if I had," Harry greets lacking any and all enthusiasm. Imagining barricading all the doors and windows just so he'd think no one was home and leave for good.

"Hopefully I'm not intruding. Work had me really swamped and I just thought I'd pull my head out of my ass for a moment to properly congratulate my friend. She works so hard, the least I could do is show my face,"

That stupid fucking face... Harry thought.

"Noe, you've already sent flowers and all that you don't have to explain anything to me I totally get it," you gently reassure and Harry finds himself aggressively rolling his eyes. The difference in your reaction is baffling to him.

"Of course I do." Noah's gaze narrows, but as he takes a sip he seems to remember something. "Mmm, I know it's not much, but I did bring some gifts. For the new office.." Placing his glass down he reaches towards the ground and retrieves a gift bag for you.

You open it absolutely giddy, "Oh my God Noe, this is so cute thank you!" You smile genuinely grateful for the personalized mouse pad; a picture of you two from graduation, a day that had truly changed everything for you both. Then a few inspirational plaques and framed art pieces to hang up.

Meanwhile Harry feels extremely out of place in his own home watching your face light up like fireworks on New Years. He also doesn't miss the smug side eye Noah gives. "I've got one just like it in my office too,"

When a smile to match graces Noah's face, Harry's hand begins to sting again. Fucking creep!

To his ultimate annoyance Noah isn't finished yet. Reaching in his pocket and revealing a black box too, "And...this is for the anniversary party, I know you'll find something perfect to go with it,"

Your eyes widen three times their size at the sight of from what Harry can see is expensive jewelry, "Noe this is, I- I can't accept this,"

"I'll be genuinely offended if you don't," he smiles openly smug this time, sitting back and swirling the wine in his glass. "I've had it revamped but it was my grandmother's. I promised her on her death bed that I would give it to someone special,"

Harry isn't suprised when you coo and thank him a little too much for his liking. But Noah's pretentious show almost made him miss the important part of what he just said. Slowly he puts two and two together, "Anniversary party? Your parent's?"

"Yeah it's this weekend, Noah's my date," You reply disinterested, eyes still glued to the gorgeous necklace Noah brought.

Harry isn't so sure where to begin with that information, but the lack of said information is a start. "I see, and where was my invitation?"

At his tone your gaze meets his and it's peeved to put it mildly. He had no such place but for the sake of your guest you play it cool, "I know you've got work to focus on so I thought I'd skip bothering you. Plus my parents love Noah,"

"It's probably for the best man, I can't imagine that you'd enjoy walking into the lion's den," Noah for some reason finds it appropriate to add teasingly.

Harry struggles to restrain his offense, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Let's be honest, Y/N's family doesn't live under rocks. They're not very happy with you," Noah grimaces with a condescending shrug and sip of wine.

Harry is easily baited and enraged by his gall, "And how the hell would you know mate?"

Knowing that it normally takes quite a bit for Harry to get worked up, nonetheless to the extent of fighting, makes this situation all the more alarming. Noah hardly uttered two sentences and Harry was unnecessarily on edge. You literally step in before further escalation. Leaving your spot on the couch to somewhat drag Harry out of the room by the hand, "I don't know what the hell your problem is, but you need to relax."

"What's he even doing here?" He demands.

"What do you mean he's my best friend, why can't he visit?!" You whisper incredulous.

"Oh okay... so it's cool for yeh to do it but I can't have one bloody drink with mine without yeh making a fucking scene for the world to see? Got it." He sneers.

Harry's clearly baiting you into an arguement and you nearly fall for it until you realize that Noah would hear everything you're saying. So instead you opt out, "I'm not going there with you right now. Go take a shower or do some fucking yoga and we'll talk about it later."

At your dismissal Harry scoffs and shakes his head disappointed. Surprisingly he relents, roughly brushing past you and heading to the bedroom, "Right, whenever that is."

****

It didn't feel right to have Noah stick around after that embarrassing exchange. So you apologetically promise to reschedule and thankfully Noah didn't seem too bothered by it. Squeezing you goodbye and offering that you call if you needed anything. Which low key meant brute force for Harry.

Rooms away Harry had to actively pretend like he couldn't hear you and Noah laughing. He wanted to drain the noise out by getting in the shower but he didn't trust Noah enough.

His nerves were on a distinct edge until he heard farewells exchanged and the front door finally closed behind him. But they teeter off once you grace him with your presence because he's wildly upset. You enter stoically and sit criss crossed on the edge of the bed. Watching him flutter about stripping down and collecting things for a shower.

"So you're family doesn't like me now? That's great." He retorts flustered tugging his shirt by the hem and pulling it over his head.

Harry seems to do his best putting on this angry front, but you know better than anyone that he's really just hurt about your parents. Usually he was enamored with them and vice versa so to find out that they didn't invite him really cut deep.

With that in mind you try to cut him some slack, bracing yourself for his misdirected frustration, "They're just not happy with you, huge difference,"

Indignant he turns to glare at you, "Same difference actually and what the hell happened to yeh today?"

"He just showed up when I was on my way out, and I couldn't just leave it felt rude. Plus I hardly get to see him because of our schedules,"

Harry bit his tongue to refrain from arguing that you obviously had been in contact when Noah sent flowers. Instead choosing to focus on issues of today, "And yeh couldn't call me back?"

"Again it felt rude to interrupt him just for that. I thought I'd have more time to-"

"Just for that? Yeh don't think it was rude to leave me hanging and checking non stop for you to show up?" Harry suddenly snaps.

Which is annoying but you couldn't entirely fault him for it, since you'd been in his shoes and knew all too well exactly where he was coming from. Today's show was a huge deal and you missed it, point blank. So you honestly admit, "Yes I do think it's rude given I know exactly how that feels, but I didn't do it on purpose. Sorry," You're met with silence as he simply shakes his head and turns his back to you, unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his jeans. Pure curiosity makes you push the envelope, "I guess it's a bad idea to ask how it went?"

He scoffs pushing them down his legs, "When I feel let down and disappointed, yeah."

This conversation was going nowhere and fast, "Okay then... Never mind." You give up and head towards the door.

But he apparently isn't finished, "Were yeh even gonna tell me about your parents anniversary party?"

"Yes," you confess, crossing your arms and lean against the doorframe.

Gruntled disbelief consumes his features as he tosses his worn clothes into the hamper, "Really? Cos' yeh already made plans with Noah without consulting me,"

"I only did it for you! They're upset Harry, do you really want to be on the opposing end of cold shoulders and side eyes? Not just by them, but by my aunts and uncles and cousins too!"

"Can't believe yeh told them in the first place," he mutters not so under his breath wandering into the closet not really knowing what he was looking for.

His blame game was beginning to piss you off now, "Did you forget that they were there with me? I didn't have to say anything, and they read blogs and comments like everyone else. What did you expect?"

On that note, in true stubborn Harry fashion he avoids addressing the problem anymore and in the process jumps the gun, "It's fine— it's fine, I'll fix it. I'll just get them a really great gift for the party and-"

"You shouldn't go, it's not a good idea," you quickly protest. Knowing how fast the party would become a shit show specifically on his behalf.

Though of course he's not thinking that way. Wholly offended he concludes, "I shouldn't go or yeh don't want me to?"

"Both," You admit and it makes Harry immediately see red.

"Why? Cos' yeh rather show off Noah and how great he's always been to yeh?" He seethes.

"No, because if you go it's just gonna draw unnecessary attention and I really don't want to deal with that," You argue.

”So how am I supposed to fix it then?" He deadpans in a tone so cynical you're not quite sure if his question is rhetorical.

"I don't know, just send the gift with me and I'll-"

For some reason your solution sets him off, "Do yeh not realize how incredibly insincere that is? I'm not some bloody coward that can't own up to mistakes and needs yeh to fight my battles for me!" He shouts.

Forcing you to yell back, "I know that! But there's a time and place for everything and their party isn't it. If anything it's better to just start with a peace offering,"

He rolls his eyes and suddenly deems it appropriate to remove his boxers and throw them in the hamper as well, "Didn't know we're at fucking war,"

"Well they're my family they care a lot," You sigh averting your gaze defeatedly, feeling an all too familiar dismissal coming on. After all, how long was he going to stand around naked? But just before you grant him some privacy and leave you decide to beat him to the punch.

"You should be worried if they didn't."

****

Secluded a little less than an hour later in the guest room, Harry knocks on the door. Peering in hesitantly once you call for him to come in. You're in the middle of coordinating your outfit for work tomorrow so you don't initially catch his newly calm mood.

Only offering a rather cold and distracted, "What do you want?"

Harry lingers in the doorway not really sure what to do with himself, "Em... To say goodnight... and apologize,"

Your expression is nothing short of skeptical when you inevitably turn to look at him, "For what?"

Harry's terrible posture deflates even more after releasing a forlorn sigh, "For being a shit person,"

"I'm listening," You goad unsatisfied with just that.

Harry anxiously scratches his temple, "S'not an excuse but I guess my feelings were hurt. One thing after another and it just felt like it was all on purpose. And well... I did what I did and said what I said,”

He was right there wasn't an excuse, but you could respect his honesty. So you grant him permission to sit on the unoccupied side of the bed and reward him with some of your own, "Even if I wanted to get back at you it wouldn't be like this. I know how much you love my parents and how much Noah bothers you— for whatever reason. If I was just going to play games of who could hurt who more, I wouldn't even be here,"

Relieved to hear that, Harry feels safe enough to indulge more of where he was coming from, "I know, I just... I don't know he's got the muscles, the company, and he's got that cool macho beard and mustache thing going on. Yeh always call mine a crustashe!" You laugh at that but do genuinely appreciate the candid insight.

For his comfort you sit beside him, "Because I prefer you fresh faced, I like that you're adorable and wholesome looking!"

Harry smiles and his dimples pop but it still doesn't quite meet his eyes, "He's already done things for yeh that I never did,"

"Like what?" You drill curious.

"Getting yeh cool stuff to decorate you're office...and I haven't even seen it," he gestures sullenly toward the paintings leaning against the wall.

Now he was being ridiculous, "Harry it's literally just a room with a desk and computer. And it's stuff I can easily buy myself,"

Still he sulks, and eventually you realize that this is meant to be more of an overdue explanation rather than a episode of debunking his worst fears. So you let him continue.

"I never told yeh, how proud I am. Yeh were hurting and I should've said it then, cos' it was the least I could've done. But I was so set on waiting for that perfect moment and wanting it to feel organic, but then everything happened and I thought it might come off like I was obligated to. So I thought it would be better if I didn't say anything at all, and it was the complete opposite,"

You couldn't begin to describe how much this clarification meant to you. For so long it's all you wanted. Why couldn't he just say that?

"Well what's stopping you now?" Optimistic you nudge his shoulder with your own, "I thought we established a long time ago simplicity goes a long way,”

For the first time since he entered this room he looks you properly in the eye. He almost looks scared. Biting down on his bottom lip he carefully reaches for your hands, in which you allow him to hold firmly. He takes a deep breath before speaking, "Y/N, I am deeply honored to have someone like you to be a reflection of me out there. I love your ambitious, go getter, never say quit attitude, and I couldn't ask for a better inspiration that makes me want to be the best I've ever been everyday,"

Flattered your eyebrows raise to nearly meet your hairline, "Wow... Yeah if you had said that then it would have probably saved us some trouble down the road. Definitely didn't enjoy having an existential crisis thinking you were ashamed of me."

"What?" His face drops in unfiltered horror, "Love no I- .. I'm such a dipshit! I'm so sorry!"

Looking back now after getting his side of it you can't help but feel like you overreacted. It was honestly embarrassing, but knowing that there is no way to change the past you shrug halfheartedly, "I mean better late than never though,"

Harry looks at you as if you have three heads and shakes his, "Please stop being so forgiving, you're making me angry at myself all over again,"

You squeeze his hands this time, "Well don't be, I don't want to be angry with you anymore. You already apologized for it we're supposed to move on,"

Not so easily swayed Harry pulls his own hands free. In fact he feels so completely undeserving to even be in your presence he stands from the bed. "Yeah but your feelings are real, they matter and I was a proper cunt. I see why yeh wanted to leave,"

You were glad that he was finally seeing things from a different perspective but you didn't want him to beat himself up either. Harry didn't have to invite you to his show but he did; and he didn't have to come in here and explain himself but he did and the effort was greatly appreciated.

"You're getting better," you reassure.

Harry sighs unconvinced, "I need to be," Hating that he wasted enough of your time as it was, he decides to call it night. Obviously you had better things to do than deal with his shit, "G'night, I love you,"

Even though you're confused by his sudden departure you don't stop him, "Night, I love you too," assuming that maybe he just really needed some time to think for himself. You just hoped that he wouldn't over do it.

Before he closes the door behind himself you call, "Hey! Don't stress about my parents either, they'll come around eventually. Especially if you get them a good gift that we both can cosign,”

He scoffs at the unattainable idea, "Yeah but what?"

You shrug whimsically, glad to give him something productive to think about. Also hoping that a vote of confidence would go a long way, "I don't know, I'm sure you'll think of something."

****

For once you didn't mind that work kept both you and Harry occupied. While he was away out of town you hoped that the distraction would level him out and bring him to his senses.

It wasn't lost on you how irrational he'd get whenever Noah came around. Harry was undeniably jealous and it was cute until it wasn't.

While you appreciated the more frequent phone calls and the sincere declarations of love at the end of them. You detested that they mostly happened to be when you were out and about with Noah. During shared lunches and dinners over plans of the anniversary party. Even the initial improvement of thoughtful 'just checking in' face time calls gradually became interrogations of your whereabouts to see if Noah was around. At it's worst when he found out you started working out together.

Nope take that back!

The absolute worst was when he called you in the middle of a Netflix marathon, cozy and clad in pajamas together on the couch. Harry had a full out meltdown threatening to come home in that instant. It was too much.

Noah definitely is a catch. Funny, smart, and so beautifully made it's annoying. But he wasn't what you wanted, nonetheless your type. He was like a brother to you. It was astounding that the person that actually knew you the best didn't realize that.

On the other hand, you mentally took note of the mirror effect. With Noah around Harry strangely didn't have time for Kendall. As a byproduct, partying and drinking had also fallen completely off the agenda. Although you figured that might also have something to do with his touring regimen, it was definitely an improvement either way.

Ultimately though, today couldn't have come fast enough. You yourself for the most part had been dodging family criticism and now it was time to face the music.

Noah, ever the strategist, made sure you arrived at the perfect time. Not too early, not too late, but just the right time where greetings were already issued and the festivities were beginning so everyone would be too distracted to notice your presence.

Though when they did Noah was sweet enough to avert the subject, keeping it totally at a surface level. That is until you run into the countriest auntie of all time. Also the worst gossip in the entire family. Clearly there was no courtyard big enough for her not to find you like a heat seeking missile.

"Noah honey, I didn't think we'd be seeing you again! Especially after that rock star hmm," You get playfully elbowed and can't help rolling your eyes, "Oh Y/N baby, don't be embarrassed it happens to the best of us! Mine was a marine that couldn't keep it in his pants to save his life! Shame ya didn't at least make it to the prenuptial though. His alimony would've changed your life," She fans herself at the thought utterly oblivious to her lack of tact, "But you and Noah have always been two peas in a pod so no love lost. Y'all belong together anyway!" She smiles knowingly.

Just when you think she's done pushing boundaries she opens her mouth again with a cunning look in her eyes, "Speaking of, Noah.. Times a ticking! When are you gone' make a honest little lady out of our Y/N?"

You look to Noah with stunned wide eyes, unconditionally embarrassed that he was being put through the wringer like this. You silently mouth, "I'm so sorry!"

And yet he simply chuckles sharing one of his charming butterfly conjuring smiles with her before focusing on you, "Whenever she's ready,"

Your aunty awes and coos while you stare at him amazed, he played it so cool sometimes it made you wonder...

****

As the sun went down everyone was gathered at tables to view a slideshow of memories on a projector screen. But just before playing it your parents decide to open their gifts.

Obviously you go first, unveiling an antique wind chime and matching custom pottery vases for future garden parties. In which they love since they were expanding their yard. As a matter of fact they talked your ear off about nothing but gardening whenever you spoke most of the time. So your gifts are perfect.

Noah goes next since he's your guest and reveals two all expense paid cruise line tickets to Hawaii and front row complete season passes to see the Golden State Warriors. When your dad can't pick his jaw up off the table, your mom actually jumps out of her seat to hug him, making everyone laugh. "I don't care what anyone says, you're my son in law!"

Your laughter immediately stops though. You understand that she is excited but that was taken entirely too far and way out of line. Comments like that weren't fair to any one of you.

For the first time ever you began to regret bringing Noah. It was weird, and it honestly wasn't his fault. Since you never really corrected anyone about your current status. But once the feeling of betrayal set in so did the guilt and it really didn't feel right being here without Harry.

You end up standing to excuse yourself for the evening but loud commotion in the distance halts you in place. It sounds like construction, and grows louder and louder as a side entrance to the courtyard is opened by staff members and in comes an entire forklift truck.

"Um, excuse me! What is going on here?" Your mom bristles completely appalled at their timing considering they haven't even got to the slideshow yet.

The driver proceeds take what looks like another massive table to the platform beside the actual projector and effortlessly lowers it to the ground. By then your father gets up for your mother's sake, trying to get his attention but to no avail. He drives off and everyone is left utterly confused.

"I'll go see what's happening," Noah reassures you standing up too.

But before he can leave the table an all too familiar voice calls out, "Sorry I'm late, I couldn't wrap this one but I just had to bring it along!"

Harry's here dressed in a nice suit and he's not alone.

"Oh... my God," you gasp.

Strolling in behind him were a couple of the venue staff members with items in hand. Though more importantly stood right beside him is none other than Elton freaking John! In a signature over the top flashy suit you couldn't begin to describe. He makes his way over to what the forklift driver dropped off, to reveal a grand piano from under a thick white cloth. The staff were evidently there to set up the microphone and speakers.

Harry continues speaking gaining everyone's attention again, "A little birdy once told me, that a pair of teenagers met at a skating rink in 1974, and when they heard a certain song they fell in love and have been ever since. Fast forward 47 years later and that song still creates the same magic on this day every year. Magic that I think we all hope to have," he announces and for a moment his eyes hold yours full of intensity. "Hopefully that magic makes today even more special. Ladies and gentlemen I give you Elton John and this is Bennie and the Jets!" Harry bows out with exaggerated extended arms excusing himself.

Your parents are still stood there frozen in shock until the opening keys are played and everyone else starts clapping along to help with the beat. Eventually your dad takes the lead and they fall into the rhythm, swaying to the music while everyone gathers round to watch.

At the sight of your parents on the make shift dance floor, the smile on your face was not only outright painful from doing it so hard but watery too. You couldn't believe that he did this— that he remembered! You told him that story once while you were drunk off your ass, when you first started dating.

It's almost funny because you've always wanted a cheesy but kind of romantic Rom-Com moment and now you finally got one and it's absolutely surreal.

Harry playfully clears his throat somehow suddenly behind you, and he's got a mischievous gleam in his eyes, "Not to ruin the moment but can I have this dance?"

An emotional mess, you nod and allow him to lead you to the area where everyone is dancing now. Relief also swarms you when as you pass through the crowd of family members, Harry is celebrated in pats on the shoulder and appproving nods. Surprisingly started by your obnoxious auntie.

It could be the other gazes on you or maybe just Harry's, but your stomach is pumped to the max with giddy butterflies. This is all you ever wanted, Harry with you and all in during the important moments.

Once he pulls you in close you never want him to let go.

****

By the end of the night everyone is tired out from dancing and all too happy to say their goodbyes.

The time spent today socializing is more than enough to last you a lifetime. Now you were content to squeeze back into your little bubble of life. Harry has a private heart to heart conversation with your parents while you collect your things.

Back at the table you jolt at the reminder of Noah. Who completely slipped your mind once Harry swept you off your feet so unexpectedly.

Since he did drive you here it was only fair to let him know you'd be going home with Harry instead. Though when you find him at a table with some boisterous uncles, sitting down with his head resting on the table, he's drunk beyond all recognition.

In all good conscience you couldn't leave him like this, he certainly wouldn't leave you.

"Noe, you wanna crash at mine so you can sleep this off?" In response he mumbles something unintelligible and so you just take it as a yes anyway.

To your dismay, Harry wasn't too happy about it when he recieved the news. Complaining the whole time you both struggled to load Noah into his back seat. Mostly worried that Noah was going to puke in the car on the way there. But thankfully there was no such case.

When arriving home and with one arm draped over your shoulder, you heave Noah's drunken dead weight into the guest room. Which meant for the first time in weeks you would have to sleep with Harry.

Noah groans as you roll him onto his back on the bed. Making sure that he was centered enough so that he wouldn't fall off. "Don' leave me,"

"I'm not going anywhere I'll just be in the other room okay?" you promise, thoroughly amused. Noah wasn't one to let himself get this sloppy since college.

"S'not what I mean..." He swallows hard, barely able to peek through his heavily lidded eyes.

Simultaneously scared that he might throw up and of what he might say next, you get up and close the door quickly. Definitely not needing Harry as an audience if he said something wild.

He seems to understand and waits until you come back to speak, "I meant what I said before. If this doesn't work out for you I will always be here. You know that right? Single, taken, abducted by aliens, or whatever you just say the word,"

You exhale heavily through your nose hoping that's just the liquor talking, "Trust me, if this doesn't work out I'll be knocking your door down," you tease laughing but he doesn't. Instead his glossy eyes seem to search yours for something that just isn't quite there.

It's uncomfortably quiet for a minute too long so you decide to just leave. Noah's adorable droopy eyes follow you all the way to the door before he speaks again. A hoarse but sincere, "I love you Y/N,” leaving his lips.

Frozen in place you say the only thing that felt right in that moment, ”I know. Goodnight."

After leaving his room your nerves came out to play and it honestly had nothing to do with what just happened. But more so at the fact that you and Harry would be sharing a bed.

The lights were still on when you entered the room and Harry was topless already in bed. Sitting up against against the headboard patiently waiting for you.

"Alright?" He asks with a quirked brow. Gaze following you around concerned as you undress, switching into a tank top and shorts.

"I think so," you honestly reply finally removing your gifted necklace and placing it on your nightstand before slowly climbing in bed.

His warmth underneath the blankets naturally made you gravitate towards him. Thus why you started sleeping in the guest room in the first place. When you turned to lay on your side Harry didn't miss a beat sliding in behind you into your preferred big spoon position.

You could feel it as Harry took a deep relieved breath, "I'm so glad that I didn't listen to yeh,"

Amused you snort, "Me too," and snuggle into him more, "Talk about an ace in the hole... I'm pretty sure my parents love you more than me now,"

"No arguements here," Harry teases but also gives a loving squeeze, "Doesn't matter though, I'm gonna love yeh more anyway," He promises, pressing his soft lips to the exposed skin on the back of your shoulder sending chills down your spine. The contact easily making your pulse race so fast you swear you could hear it. And without any signs of protest Harry continues to press one after another and another...

He's far too amped and too aware to sleep right now and honestly so are you.

Harry's at peace with just having you in his arms again but that doesn't stop him from wanting more. Before you know it you are twisted around to face him and his lips are desperately searching for yours.

God you missed this!

The intensity makes your stomach drop off an endless cliff and your skin singes at every point of contact. Your bare thigh hinged on his hip, his hand grasping fervently at your back to get you closer, all the while your hands tangle in his hair not feeling close enough either. You don't even separate to breathe.

It's not long before that yearning and urgency of desire takes control.

Your kisses growing more heated, when his tongue coerces yours into a sweet dance you knew all too well. Unabashedly ravenous you roll onto your back and pull him on top of you. Craving to be stupendously enraptured by him.

Harry has never needed you more than in this moment and yet something in his subconscious will not let him enjoy this. Perhaps the small voice in the back of his mind worried that this was only temporary. Afraid that you would go back to basically being roommates instead of lovers.

The more he thought about it, the more he couldn't bear it.

So risking it all he parts from you, hovering just enough to see you properly. Almost in reflex you reach out to continue where you left off but he stubbornly resists. He needed to know where you stood. Breathless he asks, "Can we just.. start over?"

Confused you pant out, "What?"

He sighs laying it all out on the table, "I mean like really start over, I'm tired of being at odds with yeh. I miss yeh, I love yeh and I just want to make up already,"

Despite his horribly timed interruption you can't help but laugh. This entire time you thought you already had. But you do appreciate his push for verbal confirmation and decide to rib him a bit, "Maybe,"

Unfortunately his expression is hopelessy incredulous not catching on to your joke, "Maybe? What's stopping yeh? Tell me exactly what I have to do to-" you lean up and interrupt him with a languid kiss.

Your teeth tug playfully at his bottom lip until it snaps back into place and your restless hands delve into his boxers, grabbing on and squeezing him tight enough to make him shudder from head to toe, "I'd rather show you."

If it weren't for the painful strain in his arms from holding himself up during that. Harry would've sworn that he was dreaming.

****

Harry had an axe to grind and he wanted everyone in the vicinity to know it. How loud you both were last night and early this morning did just the job. Putting him in greatest of moods because all finally felt right in the world. Like a demon had been exorcised. Although in reality the actual demon was knocked out on top of him. Drooling like a grizzly while still maintaining the appearance of an angel.

Once stealthily peeling you off, he quietly went to the kitchen to get a headstart on breakfast in a daze. Reflecting on his favorite moments.

Sex and making love with you was one thing but make up sex blew everything out of the water. It just hit different.

The passion was on another level entirely, God the scratching, biting, squeezing, screaming and down right rabid carnal—

"Fuck!"

"Holy shit!"

Both Harry and Noah startle at the unexpected sight of each other in the hall. Harry rubs his chest to soothe the coronary he almost had, and Noah drops his hand mid turn of the front door doorknob suddenly hesitant in making his hasty exit.

Harry couldn't be happier to see him leave, sublty flauting his semi nudity. He smirks proudly, "Not staying for breakfast?"

"Uhh no, I've got to get back to work," Noah replies sheepishly, scratching the back of his his neck clearly uncomfortable.

It takes everything for Harry to resist the urge to gloat and he shamelessly fails, "Are yeh sure? Yeh look exhausted mate, did-.... did we keep you up last night?" Harry feigns embarrassment though internally he's pointing and laughing like a spiteful child, "I'm so sorry mate, it was the built up tension and frustration and just finally touching base, we had to channel it into-"

The more Harry spoke the more disgusted and enraged Noah became, "You know just because you hooked up, doesn't mean this is over. You'll blow it again eventually and she'll come to her senses. And when she does, I'll be there to pick up all the pieces. We'll see who's laughing then."

Harry knew that he didn't like Noah for a reason, and as he anticipated his true colors finally came out.

But he's not at all worried. In fact, it makes Harry smile a genuine shit eating smile. Because if there's anything in this entire world that he's sure of it's your love for each other and he would die before he allowed anything or anyone come between that.

Harry replies extremely enthusiastic, "We all have shit dreams at some point mate. Did you know, I wanted to be a baker?"

At that Noah outwardly can't handle it anymore and heads out with a firm slam of the door. In which Harry locks and laughs to himself almost madly. He couldn't believe it.

****

When you woke up and looked at Harry with stars in your eyes today, Noah's revelation and all the other drama of yesterday, had practically become a thing of the past and Harry didn't mind keeping it that way.

Especially when he got to sweep his arms around you from behind and steal some neck kisses while you filled a mug with coffee. Humming along in satisfaction. His heart swelled at the sight of your engagement ring back on your finger while you stirred in your sugar.

He couldn't remember being this happy in years and he prayed that it would last in the following.

#Harry styles angst #Harry styles imagines #Harry x reader #Harry styles #one direction imagines #Harry Styles one shot #One direction one shot #harry styles drabble #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #all me #I write I guess

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selena000fang · 3 years

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Photo Manipulation

According to the Code of Ethics: Photographic and video images can reveal great truths, expose wrongdoing and neglect, inspire hope and understanding and connect people around the globe through the language of visual understanding (NPPA). The distinction and use of artistic and journalistic photography are very important. The main difference between art and press photography is to define the boundary between the two fields of photography. Art photos and press photos are both photos taken by artists at certain moments. But in terms of purpose, content, meaning, and requirement, art photography is completely different from press photography.

Art Photograph - Sarah Ann Loreth

First, press photography is mostly captured for publication on news, magazine, television, and media channels (Staff, 2016). It includes daily events, life issues, and society. On the other hand, art photography has the pure purpose of capturing moments. It is a souvenir and documentary about people, animals, or nature.

Press Photograph - Eastern Daily Press

Second, press photography is highly documentary. Newspapers are updated with new information every day, timely and accurate. Photographers are photographers. The photos they take are not for personal needs but for providing documents. "A photo is more than a thousand words" - just by looking at the photo that the journalist took, we can understand the whole story behind it without having to read any more lines in the article. Press photography is static, but what we see in the photos is accuracy and honesty. Articles can add or remove details to suit the tendency of readers. When looking at the images, there is only one thought, a single content, which can not be understood otherwise. Therefore, a press photo must not be interfered with by software or adding or removing. They only record moments that are sometimes only seen by the photographer. Art photography is different from Press photography. The art photography is the arrangement, the artistic image. If the power of journalism is news, then the power of artistic photography is emotion. There is no limit to the composition of art photography. It only limits on the artist's abilities. "Art photography focuses on specific concepts that mean something special to their creators" (Dara & Taya, 2021). Reality is just an excuse for artists to simulate, exaggerate and add fiction with magic tools - photoshop. Collages can use the photo editing tools to compose in all forms from the most classical to the most modern as long as the author's ideological intentions are fully expressed.

Art Photograph - Carolyn Hampton

As analyzed above, the press photos do not allow detailed editing by software such as adding scenes, deleting scenes. Press photography can only use simple techniques such as brightening, or adding a little color for a clearer picture, but must have clear captions, but do not use software to add or edit. "Editing should maintain the integrity of the photographic images' content and context. Do not manipulate images or add or alter the sound in any way that can mislead viewers or misrepresent subjects" (NPPA, 2021). Because, if you cut or add a small detail in the image, the content and meaning of the photo may be misunderstood. Quite the contrary, artistic photography is allowed to choreograph. This means that the author can use props and software to make it look like the event that happened or the idea and then capture it. It is not the photographer who was present at the event or the photo completely depicts the scene at the time of the shoot. That is why collages contain less information and do not need to be as authentic as photojournalism. Photographers spoil for creativity according to their ideas. Besides, there is no law that art and press photography may or may not modify, add or remove details. But editing magazine photography with the help of other software to edit or crop and add in images is a matter of morality. Editing may cause the public to misunderstand the content. Example: Gould (2005) also emphasizes the need to follow standard journalistic ethics in the age of digital manipulation, because media “Causes distrust among consumers and must come to an end immediately” (Icevska, 2021)

Press Photograph - Paul Hansen

In short, press photography and art photography differ in the purpose of serving the viewer. Artistic photography is a photographer's creativity, brand, and artistic style. Press photography is a true reflection of life through the "evidence" of reporters. Art and press photography need to have a clear distinction. Although there are times when the boundary between photojournalism and artwork is quite fragile, they are still in two distinct areas. Press photography celebrates truth, is rich in information. Artistic photography celebrates creativity, emotions, and imagination.

My Pictures

THE BEGINING

Original Photograph

Edited Photograph

I added a white border and tweaked the lighting to the photo. Then I added a shadow effect. I adjusted the light for the original photography to become brighter to give the feeling of more sunlight shining on the wings. The shadow effect also adds a sense of mystery to the picture or further emphasizes the photo's meaning - freedom and move forward. I edit the photo to make it more impressive to the viewer. Besides, when changing the lighting and adding shadows, the photo content is also bold. When looking at the second photo, the content will not change or be misunderstood compared to the first photo. Both pictures cannot post in the media because they unpublished and edited photos. They are just for the sake of art and my creative ideas. These photos are not the fickle documentary nature of social life at all.

JAPANESE RAMEN

Original Photograph

Edited Photograph

In this photo, I just adjusted the brightness of the bowl of Ramen noodles. I make the ingredients in the noodle bowl, such as meat, eggs, green onions, to have a brighter color. When I edit the lighting, the food looks eye-catching and more delicious. The edited photo did not make viewers misunderstand the meaning compared to looking at the unmodified photograph. Both pictures can use for food articles or food information sites. They have real food implications - Japanese Ramen.

References:

Staff. February 24, 2016. A Brief History of Photojournalism. Retrieved from https://www.photography-schools.com/photojournalismhistory.htm

Gordana S. Icevska. 2021. HOW PHOTOGRAPHS IN THE MEDIA BETRAY US. Retrieved from https://drive.google.com/file/d/1yxRcnaDQuvHXMyk15IYqIBNjYwbpHM-J/view

NPPA. 2021. Code of Ethics. Retrieved from https://nppa.org/code-ethics .

Taya & Dara. 2021. 22 Best Fine Art Photographers You Should Know. Retrieved from https://expertphotography.com/best-fine-art-photographers/

Image: Art Photograph - Sarah Ann Loreth. Retrieved from

https://expertphotography.com/best-fine-art-photographers/

Image: Press Photograph - Eastern Daily Press. Retrieved from https://www.blanc-creative.com/what-is-press-photography/

Image: Art Photograph - Carolyn Hampton. Retrieved from

https://expertphotography.com/best-fine-art-photographers/

Image: Press Photograph - Paul Hansen. Retrieved from: https://www.google.com/search?q=press+photo&rlz=1C1GCEA_enCA800CA800&sxsrf=ALeKk00M1kga6gwIoYKYRKRzeYOOrFqOXg:1615340165844&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwjZ25qGy6TvAhUETKwKHaidCGMQ_AUoAXoECA0QAw&biw=1242&bih=545#imgrc=tzoXFenWjtTGLM.

#Ngoài điều này bạn cần biết thêm về nó.

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sourwolf-sterek32 · 4 years

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THIS MEANS WAR (Daryl Dixon x Reader)

Summary: It’s been nearly two years since the war with the Saviours ended. You and Daryl now ran the Sanctuary together and for once life was starting to look good. However, little did you know, your whole world was going to come crashing down around you very soon and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Jesus’ Twin Sister!Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: Blood, guts, language (just usual twd warnings) violence

Chapter 4-

"So, these assholes just get a free pass? Is that it?" Daryl questioned angrily, throwing his hands up in frustration and you sighed, rubbing your face with your hands.

You, Daryl, Rick and Carol had been having this conversation for nearly 10 minutes and you just seemed to be going around in circles.

"It's just a few more days. I don't like it either, but we're in a rush to get that work done. They're strong. The Saviours are over half the workforce, and we've had too many walk off already." Rick responded, referring to the Saviours who had just disappeared recently.

You had no idea why they seemed to be slowly disappearing one after the other, but you couldn't give two shits about it either. One less Saviour to worry about was all you could think about.

"Yeah. 'Cause that's who they are. Some of 'em ain't ever gonna fall in line, just 'cause ya say so." Daryl muttered as he paced the small area inside the tent while you turned back towards Rick and Carol who were standing near the meeting table.

"Daryl's right. These people have never had to live together. And we can't expect them to just forget what's happened." Carol added and you nodded in agreement.

"I know. It won't be, not for a while, but it's not about forgetting. It's about moving ahead, all of us, together. We keep doing that, they'll see we're all on the same side." Rick replied glancing between you and Carol as Daryl turned around facing the three of you.

"Are we, though? Are we on the same side, Rick?" Daryl questioned, staring at the other man.

"Well, you tell me."

"Thing is man, I've been tryin' to. But ya don't seem to wanna hear it." Daryl answered, his voice calmer as he stared at Rick for a few seconds before he walked out the tent. Well, that went well.

"Daryl." Rick called after him, but he didn't turn around as he continued walking off.

"I'll go talk to him." Carol says, glancing over at you and you nodded, watching as she walked out the tent before you turned back to Rick standing on the other side of the table.

"It's complicated. It's been different since Gregory, maybe since before that." Rick tried explaining, shaking his head and you knew he was stressing over everything.

"You should talk to him." You said softly nodding towards the door of the tent, but Rick shook his head.

"And say what?"

"Rick, you're my best friend and I love you like a brother, you know that. I get what you're trying to do here, it's the right thing. But maybe for some of them, they're just not ready for it." You said shrugging your shoulders as you stared at Rick.

You honestly had no idea if this whole thing with the Saviours would ever settle down, if everyone could one day live together in peace, but you weren't about to say that to him, he already had so much on his mind.

"I've been with you since the start, before we even met anyone else and you know I will stick with you through anything, but you gotta talk to Daryl. He thinks you're not listening to him anymore and I know you're not doing it on purpose, there's so much shit going on, but... just try and hear him out, please?"

"I know... I know." Rick sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as you gave him a small smile before walking out the tent.

You didn't know how to help Rick or Daryl at the moment, so you figured you'd might as well go to the logging site, at least there you could help.

Working at the logging site was quieter than working at the bridge. There were only a handful of you guys there cutting and stacking the large wooden logs. Most of them Saviours, but Aaron was there as well and gave you a friendly wave when you arrived.

You spotted Jed standing on top of the stacks of logs, a fresh bandage wrapped over his nose that Enid must have done for him and you smiled.

You tried to stay clear of Jed as you picked up a handsaw from the ground and began sawing away at the branches and twigs sticking off the logs, knowing you needed clean straight logs for the bridge.

Daryl eventually showed up and began sawing the logs with you. It was nice just the two of you working together, until Aaron called for your help with lifting another wooden log up on top the large stack of them.

Just as your were about to go and help him you saw Jed standing on top of the log pile that Aaron was talking about. Great this was going to fun.

"He hurts ya again, I'm gonna kill him." Daryl muttered glaring in Jed's direction as you rolled your eyes.

"I can take care of myself, I'll be back in a minute." You replied as you stuck your saw into the log so nobody could step on it before walking over to Aaron and another Saviour who were tying rope around the log they wanted to move.

"Can you climb up those logs with Jed? That way you two can pull the log up with the rope while we'll push from the bottom." Aaron instructed, but you didn't miss the small look he shot at you which meant 'don't start another fight'. You nodded and within seconds you were standing on top of the stack of logs beside Jed.

"On three. One. Two. Three." Aaron shouted as you began pulling at the rope like you had done a million times before with all the other stacks of logs. But, every time it shocked you with how heavy one log was, even with four of you trying to lift it.

"A herd's comin'! Bug out now!" Daryl's voice suddenly shouted and your eyes locked with Aarons for a split second, panic spread across the mans face.

"We nearly got it, keep going!" You yelled, knowing it would be quicker to get the log up onto the stack rather than slowly lowering it back down onto the ground.

Without warning, Jed suddenly let go of his rope, jumping down from the stack.

"No!" You screamed quickly wrapping the rope around your hand, trying to pull his end up as well, but you weren't strong enough as the log suddenly fell to the ground, taking you with it.

Sudden pain erupted through your head as your forehead slammed against the log when it hit the ground. You instantly felt blood dripping down between your eyes from the cut it caused.

Your vision turned blurry for a few seconds and you feared you were going to pass out before it quickly cleared and that's when you saw Aaron's arm pinned under the log as Daryl and the other Saviours tried lifting it off.

"Go! Get out of here!" You heard Aaron try to shout, but you shook your head. No way in hell were you going to leave him behind.

"Jed! Use the axe as a leaver while the rest of you push! I got the walkers." You yelled, stumbling to get to your feet as you pulled your machete out from your belt. You didn't miss the panicked look Daryl sent your way, but there was no time for discussion.

You ran towards the herd of walkers that were getting way to close to the men on the ground and started taking them out. There were too many walkers for you to take on alone, you knew that. But, you didn't have a choice. You needed to buy them as much time as possible to get Aaron free.

Walker after, after walker, after walker, you slashed with your machete, slicing through their rotten skulls before moving onto the next. Suddenly, you caught a glimpse of Rick and the others all running towards you and the herd. Thank God.

"We got this. Get him back to camp." Rick shouted as you glanced over your shoulder and you sighed with relief realising they had gotten Aaron free before you turned back to the walkers and continued taking them out.

You fought for what felt like hours, but was probably only a few minutes before the last walker finally dropped as everyone scanned the area, making sure there weren't anymore.

"Everyone alright?" Rick questioned as you looked up for the first time realising how many people were actually here.

Rick, Carol, Ezekiel, Alden, Gabriel, Ann, Diane, Beatrice, Cyndie and many more all standing around the walkers bodies, everyone glancing at one another making sure nobody was bit.

"Shit, Y/N." Rick suddenly said, walking over to you in concern as he stared at the deep gash on your forehead along with all the now dry blood down the middle of your face, but you knew it probably looked worse than it was.

"That definitely needs stitches." Alden commented with a grimace as he walked over to the two of you, but you shook your head at the former Saviour.

"Enid needs to focus on helping Aaron, I'm fine. Lets start piling the bodies and burning them before the whole site starts to smell like rotten flesh." You responded, glancing around at the group of people who were now all staring at you before they all quickly got to work and began piling up the walkers.

You noticed Carol walk off back in the direction of camp, but you figured she was going to check on Daryl and Aaron.

"Y/N." Rick said softly, nodding his head for you to come over to him while the others moved the bodies. "One of the sirens didn't go off to redirect the herd, they weren't meant to come through here."

"Who was meant to sound the second siren?" You asked, knowing Jerry worked the first siren, but you weren't sure who had the job of the second siren, but by the look on Rick's face you could tell it was one of the Saviours.

"Justin. Carol has gone back to camp to speak to him now." Rick answered and you shook your head in disbelief. Of course it was his fault, you should have guessed that.

"We'll deal with it later, lets clear these walkers and call it a day?" Rick suggested grabbing your shoulder as you looked over at him with a nod before the two of you started helping the others.

By the time you got back to camp the sun was already setting. You stayed back at the lumber site, while Rick and most the others called it a night and went back to camp.

It was only you, Diane and Alden left as you finished burning the last pile of walkers before the three of you collected any axes and saws on the ground before making your way back to camp as well.

People were sitting out by multiple camp fires and inside tents as they all chatted happily amongst each other. You spotted a couple of the Saviours by the fires joining in as you walked along the outskirts of the camp, knowing it was quicker to get to the infirmary tent that way.

"You need to keep your dog on his leash." Justin yelled, spotting you walking past his tent, but you didn't bother to respond as you continued walking past.

"Hey! Your bitch of a boyfriend damn near killed me over nothing." He shouted as he followed you before you suddenly stopped and turned around, noticing fresh stitches over his cheek bone and you knew Daryl must have punched him again.

"Over nothing? You had one fucking job! And now people are hurt because of you! Daryl had every right to punch you. He should have hit you harder to try knock some sense into that tiny brain of yours." You snapped, taking a step towards him in anger when suddenly Rick appeared.

"What's going on here?"

"Trying to tell this dumb bitch to keep her boyfriend in check. He nearly killed me over nothing!" Justin complained throwing his hands in the air in frustration as Rick's eyes glanced over you for a second before he turned back to Justin, walking over to him.

"I know you. See, I used to be a cop. And every Saturday night, I'd pick up some dipshit like you and have to listen to him run his mouth in the back of my car, every one of them trying to blame someone else for their own damn problems." Rick began saying before Justin cut him off.

"I don't need to listen to this."

"Wrong. You're gonna stand there and listen to every word." Rick stated as he took a step to the left, blocking the man from walking past as he stared at him. "Now, I gave you the benefit of the doubt. That is done. Now, you pack your shit and get out of here first thing in the morning. If I see your face again, stitches won't fix what I do to you." He threatened, pointing towards the other mans face before he shook his head.

"Wouldn't stay if you begged me. I'm not waiting till morning, either." He responded, already walking off in the other direction.

Finally, Rick was starting to listen to Daryl. Justin should have been dealt with a long time ago, but better late than never.

"You still haven't gone to the infirmary yet?" Rick asked taking in the dry blood still on your face.

"Was just about to head there now, heard anything about Aaron? Is he gonna be okay?" You asked worriedly as the two of you began walking towards the infirmary tent.

You hadn't see what injuries the man had gotten from the log, but you knew it wouldn't be good. If that log landed on his head, he would have been dead instantly.

"I don't know, all I know is that Enid had to amputate his arm." Rick answered and your eyes went wide with shock.

If only you were stronger, then you might have been able to hold the log up just a little bit longer giving him time to get out the way. But, you weren't and as soon as Jed let go you didn't stand a chance and now Aaron had lost an arm.

As the two of you walked into the infirmary your eyes instantly landed on the infirmary bed to find Aaron lying on top under a few blankets, his left arm amputated from the elbow down.

Daryl was sitting on a chair beside him while Enid stood by the door to the tent, watching over her patient. You could see Daryl staring at you in concern obviously having not seen the cut on your forehead when the whole thing went down, but you just nodded slightly indicating that you were alright as you walked over the bed.

"Well done. He's gonna be alright?" You heard Rick ask from behind you as you knelt down beside Aaron, your forearms resting on the edge of his bed. You could feel tears building up in your eyes as you took in how pale the man was.

"Yeah. If we can keep the wound from getting infected. But he's still in a lot of pain." Enid answered and you sighed with relief.

"He's still holdin' on though." Daryl commented as you felt Aaron move slightly on the bed.

"Damn right I am." He mumbled weakly, his eyes still closed as you smiled sadly before Daryl stood up from the chair beside you, allowing Rick to sit down.

"I'm so sorry this happened to you. We were all supposed to be working together. I thought we were." Rick began saying as Aaron opened his eyes weakly looking up at Rick.

"You couldn't have known." He replied and Rick sighed, shaking his head.

"I've been pushing everyone hard. I know I have. I put this project first and you paid the price." Rick continued, glancing down at you before focusing back on Aaron.

"It was worth it. When the dead started to rise... I thought I was seeing the end of everything. But you changed all that, Rick. It's not the end of the world anymore. It's the start of a whole new one. I'll always be glad I was here to be a part of that." Aaron responded, his voice still weak but he kept his eyes on the man next to him as Rick rested his hand on Aarons chest giving him a sad nod before he left the infirmary.

"In the morning I will take you back to Alexandria, get Sidiqi to make sure everything is okay and to get you some antibiotics so it doesn't get infected. I'll organise for one of the babysitters at Alexandria to help with Gracie and everything, so don't worry about her. Just get some rest alright? I'll be back in the morning." You explained quietly as Aaron gave you small smile.

"Thank you, Y/N." He mumbled and you nodded, standing up from the ground as you turned around towards Daryl and Enid who both nodded at you to come over to them.

"Sit down, I'll get this cleaned up. You should have came to me sooner, this is a nasty cut." Enid said softly, not wanting to wake Aaron who was now asleep again as Daryl rested his hand on your shoulder, placing a gentle kiss the side of your head.

Enid began cleaning and stitching the wound with stitching tap since it had stopped bleeding a while she didn't need to use actual stitches apparently. You just let her do whatever she thought needed to be done. You didn't know much about this stuff and you trusted the young girl.

That night you and Daryl stayed in the infirmary, not wanting Aaron to be alone as the two of you slept in the wooden chairs on the othersider of the room.

The next morning you and Rick took Aaron back to Alexandria. Rick wanted to head home for the day to spend time with Judith and Michonne and you made a promise to Aaron.

It felt weird riding through the front gates of Alexandria. You were sitting beside Rick in the horse cart while Aaron laid in the back of the cart, asleep again. You hadn't been inside the community since after the war and you felt a shiver run down your spin as you remembered Negan was inside the walls of this town.

You helped Rick take Aaron into the infirmary, letting Siddiq take a proper look at him and hooking him up to an IV drip.

The good news was that Enid did a good job with the amputation, but Siddiq wanted to keep him in the infirmary for the next few days just to make sure.

"Aunt Y/N!" A young girl suddenly called causing you to turn around in confusion, but when you spotted a young girl with beautiful long curly blonde hair running through the door to the infirmary you instantly knew who it was.

You dropped down on one knee holding your arms out as Judith jumped into your arms, pulling you into a tight hug.

"Oh my gosh, you have grown up so much, Jude!" You responded, tears threatening to spill from your eyes, your hand cradling the back of her head as you held the young girl to your chest.

"I love you so much." You whispered as the little girl pulled away from you slightly, her hands coming up to your face.

"Why are you crying?" She asked in confusion causing you to laugh softly as a few tears spilled from your eyes.

"It's been a difficult few days." You answered with a sad smile as she rubbed away the tears on your cheeks.

"Uncle Daryl wouldn't want you to be sad." Judith replied as she grabbed the corners of your mouth and pushed them up into a smile. She was too pure for this cruel world, Judith deserved so much better than this world.

"Come on, let's go find your mum and dad." You said after a few seconds grabbing the little girls hand as you walked out the infirmary in search of Rick or Michonne.

"There she is! Judith, don't run off without our permission." Michonne yelled as you turned around to find her and Rick walking over to you.

"Sorry, I found Aunt Y/N." She apologised staring up at you with big brown puppy dog eyes before looking over at her parents.

"I was just going to sort out a babysitter for Gracie while Aaron is out of action for a while and then I was going to head back to the camp." You informed looking back at Rick and Michonne.

"Don't worry about it, I've already got everything sorted. Aaron and Gracie will be well looked after." Michonne replied and you sighed with relief. You didn't want Aaron having to worry about Gracie while he was recovering, but you were glad Michonne was usually in Alexandria so she could keep an eye on everything. That was one less thing to worry about.

NEXT CHAPTER

A/N- Link in bio for Masterlist, I will reblog with my Daryl Dixon tag list, if you want to be added to the list just comment below.

Another chapter is up, sorry for the slight delay work has really just hit me and I’m looking forward to my 3 days off next week after my night shifts are finished (going camping at the beach with my family and I m so excited)

Anyway, I hope you all liked this chapter, I would love to hear your thoughts about it below. But until next time stay safe everyone and have a great day xx

#Daryl Dixon #Daryl Dixon x Reader #The Walking Dead #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon imagine #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead imagine #twd #Norman Reedus #paul rovia

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frankchurchillsaysrelax · 5 years

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ANGST 18. “Leave! Me! Alone!” Malex

It’s been 84 years. Nonnie, I don’t even know if you’re still around or if you remember sending this but here you go! This will need to be edited later but I really wanted to get this up tonight.

p.s. this is what happens when you wake up at 4:00am in Arizona, land at 4:30pm in Detroit, try to go to bed at 10:00pm, and end up never actually going to bed until noon the following day. You be the judge of whether that worked out in my favor I guess.

—

When they were younger, there was a t-shirt he and Max would always fight over. Michael can’t remember what it even looked like, only the good-natured teasing and playful fighting that would strengthen their bond as brothers every time it was even mentioned. Although, much like the t-shirt, over time that bond would become nothing more than threads, faded and useless.

Back then Max was always giving Michael clothes he’d outgrown or simply didn’t wear because he had so many options at his disposal. He would easily lie to his mom and say they had disappeared somewhere between his closet and the washing machine, and every time Ann would see another vanished item on Michael, she would give him a kind smile and say nothing. Isobel would eventually try to buy him brand new things, but he always refused, secretly craving the physical proof that he and Max were family.

Michael slips into the other man’s clothes now and feels nothing but loss and a disconnect from reality that follows him these days like a fog, always making everything just a bit hazy and unfamiliar. He slips into Max’s shoes like a perverse metaphor and feels inadequate in the way that his feet slide around, not quite filling all of the empty space.

Isobel cries when he walks out of Max’s bedroom. He rushes to comfort her but it’s Max’s scent clinging to the fabric he wears like an ill-fitting disguise and he tries not to dwell on the fact that she holds him tighter than she ever has before.

“Liz is going back to work today. I’m going to head over to the lab and try to heal some dying rats if you want to come.” Her hands shake as she adjusts his collar.

“As fun as that sounds, I think it’s better if I stick around here.” Isobel nods like she already knew that was what he was going to say but she doesn’t look happy about it. “Tell Liz I’m gonna try to recreate some of my notes, get her something she can work with.”

Isobel purses her lips and levels him with the same steely look she’s been wearing for months. She stares shrewdly, deciding whether or not she’s going to say whatever words are running through her head.

“Fine,” she relents, “but you’re coming down tonight and we’re having dinner. It’s not healthy for you to be alone up here for this long.”

Michael scoffs, walking into the kitchen to grab a beer from the fridge. It’s the only thing in this prison that belongs to him; the only thing that makes him feel like himself. “I’m not exactly popular right now in case you haven’t noticed. We’ll get turned away from any place we try to step foot in.”

“We don’t have to go out. Be at my house at six. Liz and I will grab something on the way from the lab and we can eat it there.” She picks up the bag containing the smoke drenched clothes he’s been wearing since last week and is out the door before he can argue, the door sliding shut hands free behind her.

It’s for the best. He would have fought her on it because he’s a stubborn asshole, but they both know that she would have gotten her way in the end. Isobel has spent the months since everything went to hell desperately needing to take control of every situation and for the last week Michael has needed someone to give him his marching orders, tell him where to be, when to eat, how to breathe.

He watches her car as it heads back towards town, the dirt her tires kick up into the air the only reminder that he isn’t alone once she’s out of sight. But after a few minutes that settles too and he’s surrounded by stillness, the house existing in the quiet void Max’s absence has created that he is now clumsily disturbing just by existing in it.

He’s stepping into a dead man’s life and trying to make it his own, but Max’s house, like his shoes, is too big, too empty; nothing like the known comfort of the airstream. His clothes are too neat, his truck is too new, and everything that Michael sees reminds him that he never fit into the life Max had built for himself.

—

“So when did you learn an alien language?” Alex is standing close behind him, closer than he has in weeks.

Michael looks at him with one brow raised, unimpressed. “It’s physics.”

“Same difference.” Alex grins, white teeth on display and his eyes bright with pride at his own stupid joke. He’s beautiful and Michael has to force himself to look back down at his notebook.

Alex lets him get back to his equations and wanders off to pick up and play with various objects in the underground lab simply because he knows it annoys him. He sets a beaker down a little too rough and Michael glances up sharply.

“What are you doing here Alex?” He turns in his stool until he’s facing him directly. He’s sure that if he just lets him say whatever he came to say that he’ll leave and let him focus on his work. A traitorous voice in the back of his mind asks him if that’s really what he wants.

“You’ve been cooped up down here for two days Guerin. Time to come out and see the sun.” He plants himself in front of Michael, crossing his arms as if trying to intimidate him. It’s cute.

“No can do. Kinda got more important things to be doing right now. The sun will still be there when I’m done.” He starts to turn away again but Alex grabs him by the shoulder, stilling him instantly.

“Look,” something flashes behind Alex’s eyes for a moment before they turn stony. “Just because things didn’t work out between you and Maria, it doesn’t give you an excuse to close yourself off.” He speaks bluntly, devoid of emotion like a good little soldier. Michael knows it’s to protect himself but it still makes him bristle.

“Other way around, private.” He sighs in annoyance as Alex’s face pinches with confusion. “Things didn’t work out between us because I was closing myself off.”

Alex only hesitates for a second. “Why?”

Michael launches off of his stool, needing to move around and release some of his nervous energy if they are actually going to have this conversation. Alex’s hand falls to his side.

“Look man, just because Maria knows now thanks to Rosa’s big mouth - which, for the record, is what put us on borrowed time in the first place - doesn’t mean that she needs to be involved in all of this. None of you do.” He runs a hand through his curls, wondering if he should quit while he’s ahead. “If your family wasn’t already at the center of it all then I’d shut you out too. You and Valenti, and god, Liz too. This is Is and my mess to deal with.”

Alex’s face morphs into a look Michael is very familiar with. It’s the how-can-you-possibly-be-this-stupid face.

“That is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard, Guerin.” He holds a hand up to prevent Michael from interrupting. “We’re all in this because we want to be, because we want to help. I get that you guys are used to doing things on your own, but the world is bigger now and you’re just going to have to deal with that.

“I’m not getting in the middle of whatever is going on with you and Maria, but you need to listen to me on this.” He takes a step forward, cornering Michael into pressing his back against the table. His eyes blaze with a fierceness that melts Michael’s resolve. “You are not alone, Guerin. You have people you can rely on.” He pauses, tongue poking out to wet his lips, and it takes everything within Michael not to close the distance between them. “You have people who love you.”

Michael watches as he turns and walks toward the ladder and begins to climb. He purposely leaves the hatch open to let the sunlight shine in.

—

Michael wakes with his cheek stuck to a piece of paper and an incessant pounding in his head. One beer had quickly become two, and once the fridge was empty he had gone rummaging in search of something stronger, finally finding a half empty bottle of tequila. He’d silently cursed Isobel for confiscating all of the acetone.

There’s a reason he doesn’t drink tequila and it is currently trying to burst through his skull.

He glances at the clock on Max’s wall and eventually comes up with a ten minutes to five. He needs to sober up if he’s going to show up at Isobel’s on time, and oh what he wouldn’t give for some fries and a bucket of coffee from the Crashdown right about now. He knows he can’t go, can’t show his face anywhere in Roswell without a trail of whispers following him.

For years he’s heard rumors based on his behavior and the things he wanted people to see, and he’d reveled in it. The reputation he’s cultivated since high school serves as punishment for the guilt he’s felt since that night. And now, like everything else in his life, it’s coming back to bite him in the ass.

“Damnit Alex.” He presses his fingers hard against his eyes and for a moment it redirects the pain from his head. Strangely, the pounding stays consistent.

Michael looks up, black spots blocking his vision until eventually he can see Maria knocking repeatedly on the door. It’s glass and he’s sitting directly in view, he doesn’t know why she doesn’t just let herself in. It’s not like it’s his house anyway.

He slides the door open with his mind and for a second Maria retreats in surprise before entering the house, closing the door behind her on her own.

“Took you long enough.” She takes in the sight of him slumped over the desk, the now empty bottle of tequila within arms reach. “I thought we learned that you and Jose don’t get along back in 2012.”

Michael stands, wobbling only slightly, and walks towards the kitchen. “What do you want Deluca? I’m busy.” They’d cleared out most of the food in the house just after Max went into the pod but there are still some k-cups that will have to do the job. With the Keurig running, he takes a moment to undo the top two buttons on his shirt, the memory of Max nearly suffocating.

“I ran into Isobel earlier.” Maria follows him, hopping up onto the counter and staring at him like she’s trying to do a reading. “She said you were up here going all Kaczynski so I thought I’d come keep you company.”

Michael flinches, nearly dropping the mug he’s just pulled from one of the cabinets. Without looking at her he spits out with unconcealed contempt, “Kaczynski made bombs.”

Silence is the only response he gets, and when he glances over his shoulder Maria sits with her mouth wide open and tears in her eyes. He sighs but refuses to feel bad or apologize.

“I know I’m not that familiar with relationships, but aren’t you supposed to like hate the sight of me right now?” He turns his focus back to preparing his coffee, his brain telling him that he should probably stop talking until he’s less drunk, but as usual he ignores it.

Maria places a hand lightly on his back and he immediately steps to the side and out of her reach. “Michael, just because we’re not together doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. I’m worried about you. Alex wouldn’t want–”

“Don’t,” he whispers harshly, spinning to face her. The mug of freshly poured coffee shatters behind him. “Don’t you dare use him against me.”

Never one to be intimidated or back down from a fight, Maria just glares at him. “You’re not the only one that lost him, Guerin. He’s my best friend. And you know just as well as I do that he wouldn’t want you blaming yourself.”

“Hell, why not? Everyone else is!” Maria looks like she’s been slapped but Michael needs to get this out in the open. “You’re a bartender, I’m sure you’re hearing all the great things people are saying about me, huh? What is it now? Local war hero dies in town drunk’s meth lab on wheels? Man, I’m surprised Valenti hasn’t sent her new deputies out to arrest me.” Michael’s chest moves rapidly as it tries to cage his pain.

Tears run down Maria’s face, one after another after another and not for the first time, Michael envies her ability to remain calm even while falling apart. “What does it matter what they think Michael? You know the truth and you can’t blame yourself for–”

“I don’t know shit, Maria. No one knows what really happened and knowing the truth isn’t going to bring him back.” Ugly, heart wrenching sobs break through, each painful burst chipping away at the dam he’s painstakingly built around himself over the last few days. One after another after another. He turns and hangs his head low between his shoulders, fists clenching around the edge of the counter, desperately trying to regain control. “Just leave me alone, ok,” he pleads, tears threatening to fall. If he starts again he doesn’t think he’ll ever stop.

Maria’s hand hovers near his arm and he wrenches it away before she can touch him. “No! Leave!” In the other room a loud thud echos throughout the empty tomb that is his brother’s house. Maria jumps and a sick part of him feels satisfied. He stalks toward her, each step causing her to take one back towards the door. “Me!” Various objects float and drift closer, encroaching on them. Maria looks around with obvious concern. Her eyes meet his and he realizes that she’s more worried about him and not her own safety. “Alone!” The door snaps open with enough force that the glass shakes in its frame but doesn’t even crack. Stupid Max and his fancy ass windows.

Maria takes her cue to step outside, tears continuing to fall from wide, sorrowful eyes. Michel clenches his jaw and stands his ground. He has nothing more to say, simply waits in a quiet storm of emotion until she retreats back to her truck.

—

A dark cloud of smoke hangs over Sanders’ Auto as Michael pulls up in his truck, using his powers to put it in park as he’s already halfway out the door before it even fully stops. The flames are smaller than he would expect, but the smoke clings to everything like a thick blanket not meant to comfort but to smother them all.

“Mr. Guerin, you can’t go in there!” Sheriff Valenti blocks him and he lets her, watching in horror as his home continues to burn, the metal structure still in tact but the contents probably little more than ash. Photos of him, Max, and Isobel, his hat, books and years of work that he’d taken out of the lab when Isobel or Alex would stop by and force him to sleep.

His eyes fall to the earth below the trailer where the hatch lays open underneath the trailer, more signs of destruction billowing out ominously. His breathing picks up as terror runs down his spine at what they’ll find during their investigation.

“Mr. Guerin, I’m going to need to ask you some questions.” The sheriff continues speaking but he only hears snippets as his pulse beats louder and faster in his ears. “…to be an explosive…” A fireman steps from the trailer gripping something in his hands. “…any enemies?” He walks toward them, a grim look on his soot covered face. “…may be in shock….” Behind him, two others exit the trailer, something carried between them. “…sit down and…”

The world stops as the long black bag is revealed. Michael no longer hears his heart beating, no longer feels his lungs burn with labored breath. Nothing moves except the smoke as it continues to press close and suffocate. His vision is blurring at the edges but he sees the first fireman closing in. A gloved hand slowly unfolds, something metal resting in its palm. Sheriff Valenti uses a pen to hook around a chain, slowly raising it until the dog tags catch the light, and then everything around Michael goes dark.

—

“Michael!” Isobel’s voice carries through the closed bedroom door sounding frantic. “Michael, where are you?”

He knew she’d be pissed when he blew off dinner but he’d thought the most he would get was an angry phone call. The door flies open and bounces off the wall as the room is flooded with light. Michael raises an arm to shield himself from it and blinks until he can clearly make out Liz and Isobel both standing there with wide smiles.

Liz rushes forward to sit at the edge of the bed and grabs Michael’s hand. Her smile is pure relief but a lingering worry lurks in her eyes. “It’s not Alex.”

“What?” He tries to pull his hand back but red nails dig into his skin and in an odd way it grounds him, the pain confirming that this moment is real.

Isobel steps forward but stops at the foot of the bed. “After the dental records came back a match, Kyle apparently snuck down to the morgue to do some snooping. Taking this private detective thing a little far if you ask me.”

“He found enough tissue to get it tested and he just got the results back. It’s not Alex.”

She looks so excited, tears smudging her makeup and making her eyes shine. Michael doesn’t share her joy, staring back at her with newfound dread.

“Then where is he?”

#anonymous #my fic #prompts #malex #malex fic #roswell new mexico #don't hate meeeeeeee #i'm gonna kicked back off tumblr aren't i?

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